The Russian Folk Epos in Czech Literature. 1800–1900 9780231897143

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THE RUSSIAN FOLK EPOS IN CZECH LITERATURE

1800-1900

COLUMBIA

SLAVIC

A SERIES

OF

STUDIES THE

DEPARTMENT O F SLAVIC COLUMBIA

LANGUACES

UNIVERSITY

E R N E S T J. S I M M O N S , G E N E R A L

EDITOR

THE

RUSSIAN FOLK EPOS IN CZECH LITERATURE 1800-1900

WILLIAM E. HARKINS

NEW YORK

KING'S CROWN PRESS COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 1951

King's

Copyright

1951 by

WILLIAM E .

HARK I N S

Crown

established ty

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purpose

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incorporating econony

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Published by Geoffrey

in Great

Britain,

CtiMberlege, London,

MANUFACTURED IN

Toronto,

Canada,

Oxford and

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and i ty

India Press

Bombay

THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

FOREWORD THIS monograph deals with the impact of one kind of o r a l poetry of one Slavic people on a single century of l i t e r a r y development of another Slavic people. At f i r s t glance such a topic might seem overly s p e c i a l i z e d . But the Russian epos belongs to the most v i v i d and archaic, most puzzling and fascinating spheres of the whole of Slavic f o l k l o r e and of the European oral tradition in general. On the other hand, in the c u l t u r a l l i f e of Slavic countries there are few examples of such an impetuous and v i t a l drive as the Czech nineteenth century, and i t s poetry i s the most eloquent expression of t h i s prodigious national renascence. For the h i s t o r y of i n t e r - S l a v i c c u l t u r a l r e l a t i o n s , the Czech nineteenth century, with i t s dramatic emphasis on the controversial "Slavic Idea," i s p a r t i c u l a r l y i n s t r u c t i v e , and in t h i s connection the Czech response to Russian l i t e r ary stimuli demands c a r e f u l inquiry. Since one of these stimuli, the heroic epos, played a more substantial role in Bohemia than even Russia's Romantic poetry and i t s worldrenowned R e a l i s t i c prose, t h i s unusual situation merits spec i a l attention, a l l the more since Russian epic songs l e f t no s i g n i f i c a n t imprint on other foreign l i t e r a t u r e s , find since in Czech poetry of the l a s t century important pastiches of the Russian epos spread e a r l i e r and were entrenched deeper than on Russian native s o i l . I t i s tempting to match these intriguing f a c t s with the strong influence of the Ukrainian folk-song on Polish poetry of the early nineteenth century, or with Pushkin's penchant f o r Serbian epic foras as well as with h i s unresponsiveness to the Russian byllny. For a Slavic l i t e r a t u r e the a t t r a c tion of a foreign Slavic lore l i e s in the tension between two similar and, a t the same time, unlike l i n g u i s t i c and poe t i c patterns. The stimulus i s close enough to be grasped and y e t remote enough to be focused, and c r e a t i v e l y answered. In reshaping h i s model the poet inevitably switches i t s function and s h i f t s both symbolism and external form. Usually the l a t t e r i s brought c l o s e r to the more familiar pattern of native l o r e . Thus separate offshoots of the coiraon Slavic poetic patrimony converge anew. And the most i n t e r e s t i n g

Foreword

vi

fact i s that such crossings do not remain on a merely experimental l e v e l , but become a productive factor for the development of modern poetic forms. Beside comparative Slavic literature, the general theory of l i t e r a r y art may draw valuable material and suggestions from the successful attempt by William E. Harkins to approach these intricate problems. Roman Jakobson Harvard

University

PREFACE THE subject of the present study is in a certain sense an artificial one, since the influence of the Russian folk epos on Czech literature of the nineteenth century is only one of a series of non-Czech, Slavic influences important in the development of that literature since its revival at the end of the Age of the Enlightenment. Yet there is ample reason for isolating the particular and specific influence of the Russian folk epos in the development of the Czech literary epic, as the present study seeks to demonstrate. Parallel and related influences, such as that of the Old Russian written epic The Lay of Iior's Raid, of the Serbo-Croat folk epos, and of the Russian lyric folk songs, have by no means been neglected in this study. Hie subject as presented, it is believed, forms one of the most important developments in the history of inter-Slavic literary relations, one which is particularly striking in view of the relative weakness and comparative lateness of the influence of Russian nineteenthcentury literature on Czech literature. The writer expresses his extreme indebtedness to Professor Roman Jakobson, formerly of Columbia University, for the latter's inspired, generous and conscientious advice and criticism given on every phase of this dissertation. Without the extraordinary knowledge and keen intuitive perception of this great scholar this study would not have been possible in its present form. Acknowledgment for valuable advice is likewise due to Professor Ernest J. Simons and Dr. Gojko Ruzicic, of Columbia University. Especial thanks are due to Professor Simmons for his painstaking reading of the manuscript and invaluable advice on matters of form and style. Acknowledgment is likewise due to Professor C. A. Manning, of Columbia University, and to Professors Bohuslav Havranek, Bohumil Mathesius, Antonin Grund, and Dr. Vaclav Polak, of Charles University, Prague, to Dr. Ota Ritz-Radlinsky, formerly of that university, and to Dr. A. S. Nagr, former editor of the Slovansky prehled, for their valuable comment and advice. Credit also belongs to Mr. Jindrich Chalupecky and Miss Jirina Haukova, of Prague, for their kind assistance with regard to diffi-

viii

Preface

cult questions of Czech metrics, and to Messrs. Bruce Livie and Walter Roziewski for their careful reading of the Manuscript and advice on natters of style. Special thanks aust be tendered to the Institute of International Education of New York for the award of a Czechoslovak Government exchange fellowship for the year 1947-48, without which this dissertation would not have been possible. Similarly, thanks are due to Dr. Miroslav Havranek and to others connected with the Czechoslovak Ministry of Education who administered this fellowship, and who helped to make life and study in Prague easier and more pleasurable. Hie preparation of the manuscript has been aided by a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation to the Department of Slavic Languages of Columbia University. W.E.H.

CONTENTS Foreword by Roman Jakobson

Preface I

ν

vii

The Russian Folk Epos in the Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries 1 II Ihe Czech Revival and Russia 30 III First Influences of Russian Folk Poetry in Czech Literature 43 17 The Climax of the Czech Pre-Romantic Movement: The Work of F. L. Celakovsky 64 V Josef Jaroslav Langer 104 VI Echoes of Russian Epic Influence in Czech Poetry of the Mid-Nineteenth Century 118 VII The Russian Epos and Czech-Slovak Scholarship of the Romantic Period 128 VIII Czech Literature and Russia, 1860-1900 139 IX Translations and Studies of the Russian Epos in the Second Half of the Nineteenth Century 146 Cosmopolitanism and Nationalism: Karel Leger, X Frantisek Kvapil, Frantisek Chalupa 153 XI Realism in Czech Poetry: Frantisek Ttfborsky 180 XII Czech Cosmopolitanism and Neo-Romanticism: Julius Zeyer 185 XIII Conclusion 221 Appendix: Sumarokov's "Chorus to a Perverse World" 233 Notes 239 Bibliography 265 Index 273

Chapter I THE RUSSIAN POLK EPOS IN THE EIGHTEENTH AND EARLY NINETEENTH CENTURIES THE major purpose of this work is the analysis of the influence of the Russian folk epos in Czech literature. But it will be helpful first to present a survey of its influence on Russian written literature and its place as an object of critical study by Russians during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, that is, up to the time when the Russian folk epos began to prove influential abroad, and especially in Bohemia. This will provide a norm by which to measure the influence of the Russian epos on Czech literature It will also enable us to evaluate better the complete and striking originality of the Czech approach to the Russian epos, an approach independent both of Russian literary adaptations and of studies of the Russian epic poems, or by liny. 1 The eighteenth centuiy has often been regarded as a period of comparative indifference and even hostility toward folklore. Certainly among the higher nobility this was to a great extent the case. But, on the other hand, folklore played a considerable part during the eighteenth century in influencing certain literary genres. Attitudes toward folklore were ambivalent, and though it was not admitted into the more serious literary genres, it was allowed to influence the lower forms of Russian pseudo-classical literature: parodies, burlesques, comedies, comic operas, fables, et cetera. Scarcely an author was entirely free of its influence after the middle of the eighteenth century. Tred'jakovskij's poems are especially rich in quotations and phrases from folk songs and proverbs. In spite of the restrictions of Pseudo-Classicism, it must be remembered that Russian eighteenth-century poetry had no earlier tradition from which to draw, save that of Polish and Ukrainian poetry. Hence authors were quite willing to borrow from native folk forms in creating those literary genres in which Pseudo-Classicism permitted some freedom. French Pseudo-Classicism likewise allowed folk forms to exercise a certain influence in the composition of the lower genres of literature. Earlier interest was unsystematic, to

2

Elihteenth

and Early nineteenth

Centuries

be s u r e . I t l a r g e l y ignored t h e folk epos in favor of the f o l k l y r i c and non-poetic genres, e s p e c i a l l y the proverb. The l i t e r a r y epic was one of the s t r i c t e s t of p s e u d o - c l a s s i c a l forms, and hence i t could not copy the f o l k epos a t t h i s t i m e . But toward the end of the e i g h t e e n t h century t h e r e arose a f a r g r e a t e r wave of i n t e r e s t in f o l k l i t e r a t u r e , and e s p e c i a l ly in epic poems and f o l k t a l e s . This i n c r e a s i n g i n t e r e s t was s t i l l l a r g e l y unobjective and s u p e r f i c i a l , but broad enough in i t s e f f e c t to be described as a powerful trend in Russian i n t e l l e c t u a l and l i t e r a r y l i f e . More than a dozen c o l l e c t i o n s of f o l k songs were published; f o l k t a l e s , h e r o i c songs, operas and h i s t o r i c a l e p i c s based on f o l k s u b j e c t s were composed. And e a r l y in the n i n e t e e n t h century we f i n d s c h o l a r s h i p in f o l k t r a d i t i o n s and l i t e r a t u r e f i r m l y e s t a b l i s h e d . I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g t o note t h a t t h i s wave of i n t e r e s t in f o l k l o r e which swept Russia during the second h a l f of the e i g h t e e n t h and the beginning of the n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r i e s p a r a l l e l e d but was not r e l a t e d to s i m i l a r waves a l l over Europe: Percy in B r i t a i n , Rousseau in Prance, and Herder in Germany. In Bohemia and Slovakia during t h i s period many c o l l e c t i o n s of f o l k l o r e were made, but most of them remained in manuscript. The clue to the explanation of t h i s powerful wave of i n t e r e s t may be found in the Russian a d j e c t i v e narodnyj, which means both " n a t i o n a l " and " f o l k . " J u s t a s the poets of the Czech r e v i v a l l a t e r tended to confuse these two concepts and t h e i r i m p l i c a t i o n s , so the Russians confused them. In the i n c r e a s i n g d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n with p s e u d o - c l a s s i c a l l i t e r a t u r e , which had never become completely acclimated t o Russian s o i l , Russian authors t u r n e d , a t f i r s t timidly and h e s i t a n t l y , to the techniques and devices of t h e i r own f o l k , or " n a t i o n a l " l i t e r a t u r e . The e x i s t e n c e of a Slavic pagan mythology made t h e t r a n s i t i o n e a s i e r : might not the Greek and Roman gods of p s e u d o - c l a s s i c a l l i t e r a t u r e be replaced by a n a t i v e Pantheon? Thus Bogdanovic peopled the Mt. Olympus of h i s long n a r r a t i v e poem, Dusenka (1778), with a witch (baba ja$a) taken from Russian folk t a l e s (shazki) and with a fabulous dragon (Zmej Gory nie) from the shazki and by liny. But t h i s turn to f o l k l i t e r a t u r e also i n f i l t r a t e d from below: the merchants and p e t t y gentry who had s c a r c e l y been touched by the f o r e i g n , p s e u d o - c l a s s i c a l l i t e r a t u r e , continued t o read t h e i r own chapbooks (lubocnye hnlil), which included t a l e s of romance, f o r e i g n f o l k t a l e s , and n a t i v e shazki and byllny in manus c r i p t form. As these c l a s s e s gained in number of r e a d e r s , i t became i n c r e a s i n g l y p r o f i t a b l e t o publish t a l e s , o f t e n based on f o l k s u b j e c t s , s p e c i f i c a l l y f o r them. A second reason f o r t h i s wave of new i n t e r e s t in f o l k l o r e was h i s t o r i c a l . I t was necessary to show t h a t Russia had a g r e a t and g l o r i o u s past with a strong sense of p o l i t i c a l and moral o r d e r . This point of view was held by w r i t e r s who, l i k e

glihteenth

and Early Nineteenth

Centuries

3

Denis Fonvizin, distrusted the uncritical importation of European fashions and manners, an importation often s u p e r f i c i a l and serving to destroy the moral authority of Russian l i f e and culture. This camp formed about the Freemason Novikov and his publishing house: i t included M. D. Culkov and N. A. L'vov, editors of early c o l l e c t i o n s of Russian f o l k songs; Levsin, author of an o r i g i n a l collection of pastiches, Russian Folk Tales; and A. N. Radiscev. These men believed that Russian l i f e should be l i b e r a l i z e d and serfdom done away with. To find h i s t o r i c a l support f o r their ideas, i t was necessary to demonstrate the existence of a democratic society in early Russia. 2 The meagre number o f Old Russian documents known to these men led them to turn to f o l k l o r e f o r their evidence. Besides this s p e c i f i c interest in old Russian l i f e and h i s tory, there was a growing general interest in Russia's past, partly to be associated with a rising sense of p a t r i o t i c feeling and national pride. I f we have largely forgotten the wave of n a t i o n a l i s t i c l i t e r a t u r e which swept over Russia about the turn of the century, i t i s not because i t did not e x i s t : f o r a time almost every Russian poet was engaged in planning or writing an epic on old Russian history or on a subject from folk tales or the f o l k epic. Ihe a r t i s t i c i n s i g nificance of such works, due partly to their dependence on pseudo-classical techniques, t h e i r bizarre character and lack of accurate h i s t o r i c a l foundation, has led us to f o r g e t them and hence to place the Genesis of Russian n a t i o n a l i s t i c l i t erature a whole generation l a t e r , that i s , with the period o f the Napoleonic Wars, the appearance of Karamzin's History, and the writings of Äukovskij and Puskin. Early Studies

of the Folk Epic

Tred'jakovskij was the f i r s t Russian scholar to turn his attention to f o l k poetry. Believing that folk songs o f f e r e d a clue to the character of Old Russian verse, he wrote: I t i s most l i k e l y that our pagan priests were our own f i r s t poets. And although there i s not one surviving example of our pagan poetry, s t i l l even now i t i s evident from our peasants' songs that our oldest poems, employed by our priests, were composed in metrical f e e t , were without rhyme, and were t o n i c . . . . For the most part the f e e t were either trochaic, or trochaic and d a c t y l i c , or dactylic alone; or were iambic, or iambic with anapestic alone. 3 Tred'jakovskij then quotes several examples of the rhythms described, taken from Russian folk poetry. I t i s characterist i c of the attitude of the times and his own modesty that he begs his readers' indulgence f o r quoting "fragments from our lowly, but ancient poems." His discovery of the tonic p r i n c i -

4

Eighteenth

and Early

Nineteenth

Centuries

pie in folk poetry confirmed him in his |introduction of tonic rhythms into Russian poetry, previously syllabic, in verses of more than eleven syllables. In the Preface to his verse translation of Fenelon's Telemaque (1766), Tred'jakovskij referred to the metrical form of Russian folk songs as a source of his hexameter (the hexameter was not a Russian folk rhythm, however) and of the lack of rhyme in his verses. The early historians made occasional references to the folk song. Tati scev mentioned the existence of songs concerning the personages of his History (1768), Prince Vladimir, for example.4 But he rejected the use of fables and poems as a historical source, since these "darken history and conceal the truth." He was aware of the part songs and tales had played in the composition of the early chronicles, and was suspicious of the narration of the founding of Kiev and the v i s i t of St. Andrew the Apostle to Russia. The travel diaries of Lepekhin and Ozereckovski.i (published by the former in 1771), based on their geographical expedition over Southeast and North European Russia, mention folk tales and narrative poems, which they call basni (poetic fables) and skazkl (folk tales). 6 Pierre-Charles Levesque, the French historian, a visitor to Russia during the 1770's and author of an early history, Histoire de Russie, tiree des chroniques originales, de pieces authentiques, et des mellleurs Bistoriens de la nation (Paris,

1782) reflected the current low opinion of Russians concerning their folk heritage: Si l'on en excepte des annals, ecrites avec autant desecheresse que de simplicity, des chansons ont forme longtemps toute la litterature des Russes. On a conserve quelques vers des temps anterieurs au regne de Pierre I , et i l s ne sont pas regretter qu'on n'en ait pas conserve davantage.7

The Russian historian I . N. Boitin was likewise contemptuous of the folk epic. In his notes on the French historian N. G. L e c l e r c ' s Bistoire

de la Russie

anclenne

et

moderne,

Boitin observed that the ancient songs about I I ' j a Muromec (the best known of the heroes of the byliny, or botatyrs) and about Vladimir's feasts "show the taste of that age, not of the people, but of a rabble, of i l l i t e r a t e s , and i t may have been a vagrant who earned his living by such a trade." 8 Here Boitin may be recalling the skomorokhi, roving singers and jugglers, dancers and musicians of Muscovite Russia, whose gay calling brought them into disfavor with the Church. Boitin likewise agreed with prevailing opinion in according a very ancient origin to these songs, an antiquity which, however, no one of the period could define more exactly than to say that they reached back to pagan times. 9

Elihteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

5

Though historians rejected the epic songs as almost without value for the study of history, writers began to defend them as an unparalleled source of cultural information about early Russia. Thus Levsin, in the Preface to his Russian Folk Tales,10 states that works of folk literature "have given us the most faithful descriptions of ancient peoples of every land and of their customs."ι N. A. L'vov, in the Introduction to his Song Book of 1806 declares that a study of folk songs w i l l shed much light on national character: Perhaps this collection will not be without value for philosophy i t s e l f , which seeks to deduce our national character from folk songs. In the minor tones . . . of these drawn-out songs typical of Russian music, philosophy w i l l ultimately see that tenderness, that sensitivity of the Russian people, as well as that disposition of the soul to melancholy which produces great people in a l l races. 11 Prince N. A. Certelev wrote of folk songs and tales: "In them are preserved many customs, moral traits and patterns of thought of our ancestors.1,12 In this connection i t i s interesting to note that the f i r s t two Czech writers to make extensive use of the Russian by liny both stress their value for the study of the Russian character, manners, and customs. As the epic songs became better known, investigation turned to the question of their antiquity. There was at f i r s t f a i r l y wide agreement that the songs were the legacy of ancient times, though they had been very much corrupted by the peasant surroundings in which they had survived. Derzavin, the greatest poet of the end of the eighteenth century, was of the opinion that the songs had been composed after the l i b e r ation from the Tatars, since most of them ended with a description of the Tatars' defeat, 13 and this view was widely held, being shared by Karamzin. Ihe counter-view, held by S. Glinka and Gavrilov, called attention to pagan elements in the songs and concluded that they had been composed before the Christian era. 14 But later analysis began to contradict these views. The philologist and translator N. F. Grammatin, basing his argument on linguistic analysis, and especially on the presence of words borrowed from the modern European languages, concluded that the epic songs had been composed only about two hundred years e a r l i e r . ^ A l l of these c r i t i c s lacked a specific appreciation for the transmutability of folklore: they assumed that once i t had been composed, i t was static. K. F. Kalajdovic, one of the most astute philologists of his time, realized this problem; in his Introduction to the 1818 edition of Rirsa Danilov's Drevnija rossijskija stikhotvorenija (Ancient Russian Poems) he argued that the songs were probably composed in the f i r s t

6

Eighteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

decade of the eighteenth century, because of the great number o f poems which date from that period and the fact that, apparently, none dates from a l a t e r time. But he adds that the origins o f some are l o s t in a n t i q u i t y . 1 6 The comparative c o r rectness of his conclusion i s marred by the f a c t that he could not decide whether Kirsa had composed the songs or only c o l l e c t e d them, and he seems to have inclined to the former, i n c o r r e c t , view. The problem of authorship likewise arose e a r l y . We have a l ready noted B o i t i n ' s speculations that the folk epics may have been composed by vagrants and i l l i t e r a t e s . The discovery o f the name of the poet Bojan in the Lay of Igor's Raid gave r i s e to the theory that the songs were the work of Bojan, or o f others like him. Hie f i r s t edition of the Lay of Igor's Raid, published in Moscow in 1800, contains a note on Bojan and adds an opening fragment of a by Una as a possible sample of h i s work. The editors note that t h i s bylina, unlike the Igor Lay, which was in poetic prose, has regular poetic s t r e s s , but ascribe t h i s to l a t e r reworking. 17 Though nothing s p e c i f i c was known about him, Bojan was soon identified with the bards and skalds of the West. Thus the poet Kheraskov writes that he would sing l i k e Bojan and the other ancient Russian bards: Mne by slogom pet' vsegda odnim, Kak pevali Bardy Ruskie, Bardy Ruskie s t a r i n n i e , Kak Bojan pel drevnij s o l o v e j . 1 8 (I would ever sing in the same s t y l e , That of the Russian bards, The ancient Russian bards; That of Bojan, the ancient nightingale.) N. A. L'vov wrote in the Introduction to his song book o f 1806: In Russia the authors o f folk songs are t o t a l l y unknown, and consequently they must belong to the whole nation. By the content of some songs we may conclude that the authors were Cossacks, bargemen, archers, men r e t i r e d from servi c e , laborers, s o l d i e r s , s a i l o r s , c a r t e r s . 1 9 Towards the end of the century two camps gradually developed in regards to the question of the a r t i s t i c worth of folklore and the epic songs, l y r i c songs were popular, but the skazka and e s p e c i a l l y the epic song did not fare so f o r tunately at the hands of the c r i t i c s . Their endless r e p e t i tions and hyperbole did not please the taste of the day. Thus Granmatin wrote about the c o l l e c t i o n of Kirsa Danilov:

Eighteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

7

The greater part of these songs or tales, written in verse, and especially those in which Vladimir i s g l o r i f i e d , are nothing but Russian folk tales (skazki), and are f u l l of the most foolish inventions.... Whoever the author of these tales may have been, he must have been t o t a l l y without knowledge. 20 Derzavin, though he was not without feeling f o r the l y r i c folk songs, likewise treated the epic songs contemptuously: We cannot say that they [ l y r i c folk songs] are e n t i r e l y without poetry, though not a l l of them. There are some in which we see not only the l i v e l y imagination of primitive nature, the exact stamp of the times, and touching, tender f e e l i n g s , but even a philosophical acquaintance with the human h e a r t . . . . But with regard to old songs, published by Kljucarev [the 1804 edition of Kirsa Danilov] . . . there i s almost no poetry in them, nor variety in images, nor in the prosody, except in a very few. They are of one color and one tone. In them giganticism governs to such an extent, or heroic bragging, in hospitality as in combat, devoid of a l l taste. In one breath they drink a tub of wine, they k i l l hundreds of i n f i d e l s with the corpse of one of them, held by the l e g s , and similar nonsense displaying barbarity and crude disrespect f o r the female sex. And as the t a l e s of such v i c t o r i e s almost a l l come to an end with the Tatars, i t must be concluded that they were composed by some one person, a f t e r the liberation, and not by many, and hence do not show the taste of the entire nation. Worthy of note in them i s only the fact that some places show repetitions, as in the Homeric songs, of the same content in the same wo rds. 2 1 Derzavin's c r i t i c a l attitude was shared, though in a more obj ective form, by his friend and correspondent the Metropolitan Evgenij Bolkhovitinov: In vain you turn to the songs of the Ancient Russian Poems (Drevnija

ruskija

stikhotvorenlja)

o f K l j u c a r e v . They a r e

nothing other than Northern ballads or romances, -as you yourself have stated e a r l i e r . Giganticism, or hyperbole, and the repetitions in them are the true northern, Scandinavian taste. Boasting of strength during drinking bouts i s of the same o r i g i n . Geral'd, Prince of Norway, brought up at the Court of Jaroslav in Novgorod and Kiev, also boasts of his strength. Hie very savageness and crudeness of manners portrayed in these poems shows their antiquity, a l though you w i l l probably conclude that these poems were a l ready written by the Tatar Age [on the contrary, Derzavin had concluded that the poems were written a f t e r the l i b e r a -

8

Eighteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

tion from the Tatars], or at least in the spirit of e a r l i er times. In our chronicles i t is evident that our ancestors were heavy drinkers and fighters. Our ancient Russian prose tales are of the same taste. And therefore I consider the poems of Kljucarev, like these tales, most valuable survivals of our antiquity. 2 2 Even Kalajdovic, who was one of the best equipped scholars of the day, criticized Kirsa Danilov sharply for the great number of "farces" in his collection, and for his neglect of the rules of restraint and good taste. 2 3 But the epic songs had defenders. Perhaps the most ardent and enthusiastic was A. S. Siskov. Though time has in part decided against §iskov's conservative views on language, there was much which was sound in his theories, especially in his insistence that Russian literature and rhetoric must be based, not on foreign models, but on native ones. Indeed, Siskov was one of the soundest philogists of his day. His second Conversation

on Literature

between

Two Personaies,

A

and. Β (1811) stresses the importance of Russian folklore as a source for written literature of the time. The author i s firmly convinced that folk songs are more natural, more expressive and striking, and show a more exact use of the Russian tongue than do a l l the poems of eighteenth-century Russian literature. He calls attention to the characteristic devices of the folk epic, which he recommends to contemporary poets: repetition, use of fixed epithets, preference f o r diminutives, and the use of antithesis or negative comparison.24 Rather than accept the rhythmic irregularities of the folk songs, he suggests that these may have arisen from errors in their transmission.25 Siskov's belief in the a r t i s t i c merit of folklore was destined to stand alone for a long time, and the Conversations, though they did a certain service in c a l l ing attention to folk songs, did not create an unqualified admiration for them. Kalajdovic's Introduction to the 1818 edition of Kirsa Danilov's collection gave the most scholarly evaluation of the epic songs of which the period was capable, and raised most of the questions about folklore which concerned students of the day. Unfortunately, Kalajdovic's analysis i s weakened by his oscillation between the view that Kirsa Danilov had only collected the songs and the view that he was their author. In the end he seems to have decided in favor of the latter, the more customary view of the times. However, noting the existence of other variants of poems on the same subjects, such as "The Village of Preobrazenskoe Given to Nikita Romano v i c , " he concluded that Kirsa was not in every case the original author. "Perhaps he possessed ancient fragments of folk songs, but, unfortunately, reworked them."26 The heroes

Eighteenth

and Early

Nineteenth

Centuries

9

of others, such as Dobrynja N i k i t i c , Vladimir's uncle, or I l ' j a iuromec, buried at Kiev, are known to Kalajdovic from h i s t o r y ; so are many others, and he suggests that some o f them are based on history, but s t i l l more on folk t a l e s . 2 7 He was struck by the numerous anachronisms, especially in the use of words, which had already led Grammatin to assign a r e cent origin to the poems. "Neither in language, which does not show the stamp o f antiquity . . . nor the context can we place the author in those periods which he describes. 1 , 2 8 The presence of many Siberian words, especially those of the r e gion of Irkutsk, led Kalajdovic correctly to ascribe Siberian origin to the poems, though Kirsa Danilov himself, he t e l l s us, must have been a Cossack, judging by the form o f his name. 29 Folk

Poetry

and the Development

of Russian

Prosody

Hie beginning of the nineteenth century saw a great increase in the amount of attention accorded folk poetry by w r i t e r s . The increasing d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n with the influence of PseudoClassicism in solving l i t e r a r y problems, especially at a time when Sentimentalism began to c o n s t i t u t e a challenge to the e a r l i e r l i t e r a t u r e , led to the notion that many problems o f composition, and e s p e c i a l l y those of style and prosody, could be solved by use of Russian folk a r t and the popular spoken language as a source for l i t e r a t u r e . The great success of Krylov's fables, which began to appear in 1805, and which were written in popular colloquial language and a f o l k - l i k e prosody, supplied an impetus to t h i s movement, as did the vastly greater success of Russian stage comedies, in which, following Lomonosov's doctrine of the three s t y l e s , the l a n guage of the common people could be used freely, though i t was not allowed in serious works. The playwright Kapnist besought Russians to stop imitating the l i t e r a t u r e of c l a s s i c a l antiquity and of other peoples, and expressed regret that Lomonosov, along with h i s many other reforms, did not r e introduce the ancient Russian prosody, "so superior to a l l foreign ones." 3 0 Uvarov, the equally n a t i o n a l i s t i c successor o f Siskov as Minister o f Education, declared: Homer in a Russian peasant's coat i s j u s t as repulsive to me as he i s in a French dressing-gown—. Without basic knowledge and long study of our ancient l i t e r a t u r e , nothing new can e x i s t . . . . Without indigenous forms, c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of our language, we can never have a true national l i t e r a ture.' 3 1 And in a l e t t e r to Kapnist he adds: " I s i t proper for us, the possessors of a rich language, with a metrical prosody, to

10

Elihteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

borrow the poorest part of foreign languages and their prosody, completely uncharacteristic for us?11*2 A. N. Radiscev noted at the time that "Lomonosov, Tred'jakovskij, and Sumarokov have set examples which are too strict. 1 , 3 3 First to attempt the systematic use of folk-epic verse in a work of written literature (aside from Sumarokov, whose experiment was completely isolated by circumstances and without influence) was Karamzin, in his unfinished poem " I l ' j a Muromec" (1794). 34 This poem was composed in a trochaic tetrameter with dactylic ending. Of his new rhythm Karamzin mistakenly wrote: "In discussion of the metre I w i l l say that i t i s completely Russian. Almost a l l our old songs are composed in such verses." 35 Actually this rhythm is common only in Russian soldiers' songs of the eighteenth century.36 This rhythm became highly popular, and i t was mistakenly considered the Old Russian epic metre. Kirsa Danilov's collection had not yet appeared, and when it did i t was commonly believed to be Kirsa's own work. Karamzin's new metre began to •

. ν ν

be used extensively in epic verse. Thus A. N. Radiscev and the young Puskin used i t in their poems about Prince Bova, the hero of a tale taken from chap literature. Kheraskov used i t in his Bakhariana (1803), and N. A. Radiscev in his

Heroic

Tales in Verse (1801). I t remained popular throughout the f i r s t quarter of the nineteenth century, even after Vostokov had shown i t s incorrectness. I t was used by Prince Certelev in his Vasilij Novgorodskij, in poetic translations of the Lay of Igor's Raid made by Ivan Sirjakov (1803), Levitskij (1813), an d Grammatin (1823), and in many translations of foreign epics made by L'vov, (inedic, Grammatin, and others. 37 The f i r s t quarter of the nineteenth century saw a veritable epidemic of books and articles devoted to the question of folk prosody.38 The most enlightened of this series was the work of A. Kh. Vostokov, a philologist of remarkable a b i l i t y . His a r t i c l e , "An Investigation into Russian Prosody,1,39 is the f i r s t correct analysis of Russian folk rhythms.40Unlike earlier students, notably Karamzin, Grammatin, and §iskov, Vostokov did not attempt to reduce Russian folk poetry to a regular metrical system comparable to classic or to Russian eighteenth-century verse. He calls attention to the fact that folk poetry, though ancient in i t s origin, is not necessarily ancient in i t s existing form, since many changes have occurred in oral transmission. Vostokov divides Russian songs into two types, epic and l y r i c , with corresponding differences in prosody, l y r i c songs tend to have a fixed number of syllables to the line as well as a fixed placing of the stresses; epic songs lack both of these, having three stresses, irregularly distributed, but often with dactylic ending. 41

Eighteenth

and Marly Nineteenth

Centuries

11

Yostokov believed that folk rhythms might be used in contemporapr poetry, pointing to already existing attempts to use l y r i c rhythms. He observes that the so-called "Rnssian" verse of Karanzin's " I I ' j a iuromec" and of later epics i s a c tually l y r i c and unsuitable f o r long epic poems. Epic folk verse might be suitable for use in verse novels, in the style of Ariosto, he believes, but not for heroic epics, since the unstressed dactylic endings produce too light an e f f e c t for serious subjects. 4 2 The rhythm of Karamzin's " I I 1 j a Muromec" began to be used l e s s as a result o f Yostokov's c r i t i c i s m , though i t s death was a slow one, and i t i s found as l a t e as the 1820's. 4 3 Vostokov himself used the epic verse which he had described in his own poetry with success. Hie rhythm o f h i s Rossijsklja reki (Russian Rivers; 1813) i s the f i r s t accurate use of the f o l k - e p i c rhythm. Unfortunately the immediate influence of such poems was not great: the form was too radical f o r acceptance, and further use of i t , in a modified form, was made only by Puskin during the 1830's. I t i s notable that Vostokov's own translations o f Serb songs (1825-27) used t h i s same rhythm, but with a trochaic ending, and thus constituted the precedent f o r Puskin'a use of a similar f r e e rhythm in the Songs of the Western

Slavs.44

Influence of the Russian Folk the Elihteenth and Early

Epos on the Literature nineteenth Centuries

of

I t was A. P. Sumarokov, perhaps the most t y p i c a l adherent o f Russian l i t e r a r y Pseudo-Classicism, who wrote the f i r s t poetic work showing the influence of the native f o l k epos, the "Khor ko prevratnomu svetu" (Chorus t o a Perverse World; 1763)· 45 Sumarokov was the f i r s t Russian poet t o i n s i s t on naturalness of s t y l e and sentiment, though h i s own works o f ten f e l l short of such an i d e a l . Certain of h i s l y r i c s show dependence on the f o l k l y r i c . 4 6 Hence i t i s not strange that Sumarokov should have imitated the s t y l e , form, and content of a Russian f o l k s a t i r e , " P t i c y " (The Birds), in composing his great poetic s a t i r e on the p o l i t i c a l and s o c i a l f o l l i e s of his day. The s a t i r e was an open declaration o f those r e forms, including the a b o l i t i o n or limitation of serfdom, which were to be enacted by the new and supposedly l i b e r a l empress Catherine I I . Enjoying the freedom given him by the masquerade performance of his s a t i r e , i t i s l o g i c a l that Sumarokov turned to the oral l i t e r a t u r e of the peasants f o r a model f o r the work which should proclaim the grievances o f the peasants themselves. But the empress was more cautious than Sumarokov. His satire could not be performed, and was l e f t unpublished u n t i l 1781. Hence i t was without influence on Sumarokov's contemporaries and followers, and remains an

12

Eighteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

i s o l a t e d i f b r i l l i a n t work of the l i t e r a t u r e o f the eighteenth century. The second occasion f o r the use of elements taken from the Russian folk epos came almost twenty years l a t e r , in the Russkie skazki (Russian Folk T a l e s ; Moscow, 1780-83), of V a s i l i j Alekseevic Levsin, a minor w r i t e r coming from the p e t t y gentry. Levsin 1 s Folk Tales had been preceded by a number o f attempts to write a f r e e r prose l i t e r a t u r e o f romance and adventure f o r the r i s i n g merchant c l a s s and the petty gentry, to whom the more exalted p s e u d o - c l a s s i c a l l i t e r a t u r e of the period had scarcely penetrated. This new l i t e r a t u r e d i f f e r e d l i t t l e from the lubocnaja literatura ( l i t e r a t u r e of chapbooks), which had c i r c u l a t e d widely among these c l a s s e s . Yet the new l i t e r a t u r e , composed o f s u b j e c t s and themes from Russian f o l k l o r e and from the lubocnaj a literatura i t s e l f , a s well as from western t a l e s of chivalry and romance and o r i e n t a l t a l e s (the Arabian Sights), s e t i t s e l f up a s the serious r i v a l of the older and s t u f f i e r Pseudo-Classicism. I t s popularity was t r e mendous, and many o f the serious authors o f the times began to i m i t a t e i t , though nothing o f great worth resulted, with the possible exception v of Puskin's Ruslan and Ljudmila. Before L e v s i n ' s attempt, Culkov had already produced h i s Peresmesnik ( S c o f f e r ; 1766-68), a s e r i e s o f comic and s a t i r i c essays, sketches, and t a l e s , some few of which had distant roots in Russian folk t a l e s ; the s i m i l a r i t y of these l a s t to L e v s i n ' s own work led l a t e r generations to confuse the two and award the authorship of the Folk Tales to Culkov. 47 Though Levsin pretended that his Folk Tales were an almost l i t e r a l recording o f the t a l e s of the people, t h i s was a great exaggeration, one evidently dictated by considerations o f nat i o n a l i s t i c pride or by a faulty knowledge of authentic folk byliny and skazki. L e v s i n ' s technique i s that o f montage: the t a l e s , t h e i r p l o t s and c h a r a c t e r s , even in places t h e i r s t y l e , are bodily " l i f t e d " from a whole s e r i e s of varied works which could be counted on to appeal to popular t a s t e . Not only were Russian byliny and skazki drawn upon, as well a s the lubocnaja literatura, but a l s o western t a l e s o f chivalry and romance, the Arabian Nights, the Arthurian romances, Ariosto, Le Sage, Cervantes, Milton, V o l t a i r e , e t c e t e r a . 4 8 Yet a l l t h i s borrowing had i t s function. Levsin was not wrong in concluding t h a t the Russian public was not ready for the byliny and skazki in t h e i r unadulterated form; what they wanted was the assurance that Russia had possessed the same glorious past which the c o u n t r i e s o f the West had, with knighthood, c h i v a l r y , and a l l the trappings which they read o f in t r a n s l a t e d romances, as well as the magical panoply o f eastern t a l e s . The Arabian Nights, f i r s t t r a n s l a t e d and published in Russian in I763~7l> had proved tremendously popular. Levsin's use o f the Russian lubocnaja literatura was perhaps made for the same reason,

Elihteenth

and Early Nineteenth

Centuries

13

though i t must be added that he probably could not d i s t i n guish between true f o l k l i t e r a t u r e and i t s corrupted semil i t e r a r y successor, the luboinaja llteratura. Hence he took great pains t o demonstrate the existence of chivalry in e a r l y Russia. He describes the order o f knighthood t o which bo£atyrs belonged and the oath which they took when they entered t h i s order. He has invented an e n t i r e l o r e concerning these knights which i s completely f a n t a s t i c , though he presents i t as s c i e n t i f i c truth. Levsin also takes great delight in reconstructing the S l a v i c Pantheon, a popular scholarly pastime of the day, adding many inventions o f h i s own. Likewise he has a f i c t i t i o u s ancient history of Russia, an ancient geography with a f a n c i f u l l i s t o f place names, and even a personal etymology. Should L e v s i n ' s preoccupation with t a l e s of romance and chivalry seem puzzling t o us, then i t must be remembered that t h i s type o f production did not d i e , even a f t e r being parodied in Don Quixote; rather i t became the property o f a d i f ferent s o c i a l c l a s s , the rising middle class of the l a t e r eighteenth century. In t h i s new milieu the romance acquired two new c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s : (1) an element o f parody crept i n , whether at the demand of the readers or as the natural reaction of the authors to exhausted materials, i t i s hard t o say; ( 2 ) the previously international character of these t a l e s gave way to nationalism, and the old t a l e of c h i v a l r y combined with the national f o l k t a l e . Presumably the r i s i n g middle classes of the eighteenth century were not equipped to deal with a t a l e o f international character, while the authors, themselves, of course, t r i e d to bring novelty and freshness to t h e i r overworked material. Both o f these charact e r i s t i c s are shown in Levsin's work. This eighteenth-centuiy development i s of course important to the coming of Romanticism, which also used the t a l e of c h i v a l r y , but in a new way.'® S t i l l Levsin possessed a real f a m i l i a r i t y with the byllny, and had assimilated t h e i r s t y l e t o the point where he could imitate i t almost a t w i l l . He t e l l s us that he had been the possessor of a manuscript c o l l e c t i o n of byllny: To my extreme vexation a c o l l e c t i o n of old heroic songs . . . was destroyed in a f i r e . The s t y l e of the poem and fragments of the words have remained in my memory, and I g i v e them here: I z daleca, i z daleca vo cistom pole, Kak dalee togo na ukraine. Kak i d e t , poedet dobry.i molodec, S i l ' n y j moguc Bogatyr' Dobrynja, A Dobrynja ved' t o , bratcy, N i k i t ' e v i c . I s nim ved1 edet, Tarop sluga,

14

Eighteenth

and Early nineteenth

Centuries

Some scholars have been led to suggest that the c o l l e c t i o n Levsin r e f e r s to was a copy of Kirsa Danilov in manuscript, but t h i s i s most doubtful, since the passage quoted here, though a c l i c h e found in many byllny in approximately t h i s form, i s not e s p e c i a l l y close to any in Kirsa Danilov, while Tarop (or Torop) the servant does not appear in Kirsa a t a l l . I t would be f u t i l e to analyze a l l the various d e t a i l s of L e v s i n ' s t a l e s as they r e l a t e to the byllny.50 Only two of the t a l e s show any c l o s e s i m i l a r i t y : the "Tale of the G l o r i ous Vladimir V s e s l a v ' e v i c , Sun-Prince of Kiev, and of His Mighty Bogatyr Dobrynja N i k i t i c " and the "Tale of V a s i l i j Boguslaevic"; the others have at most a few names or occas i o n a l d e s c r i p t i v e d e t a i l s of c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n from the byllny. The f i r s t of these t a l e s u t i l i z e s a large number of e p i t h e t s , s i m i l e s or c l i c h e s from the byllny: goj e s i nas batjuska Vladimir knjaz 1 Kievskoe solnysko V s e s l a v ' e v i c ! 1 , 5 1 ("Hail thou, our f a t h e r Vladimir, Sun-Prince of Kiev, son of V s e s l a v ! " ) . Hie v i l l a i n i s thus described: "Golova ego byla s pivnoj k o t e l , a g l a z a , kak pivnye k o v s i . " ("His head was large as a beer k e t t l e , and h i s eyes were l i k e beer l a d l e s " ) . In describing the hero, a c l i c h e of the byllny i s used: "Kon1 pod nim, aki l j u t y j z v e r ' ; sam on na kone cto j a s e n sokol" ("His horse beneath him, l i k e a savage b e a s t ; himself on the horse, l i k e a b r i g h t f a l c o n " ) . The leading male characters, Dobrynja, Tarop h i s squire, Tugarin-Zmeevic, and Vladimir, are a l l from the byllny. Tugarin's horse, l i k e that of the boiatyr I I ' j a Muromec, can t a l k . Itogarin has wings of paper, as he i s described in c e r t a i n byllny. The q u a l i t y of hyperbole i s o f t e n reminiscent o f the byllny. But the f a n t a s t i c a l l y involved t a l e of Levsin, f u l l of turns and counter-turns of plot caused by magic, i s u t t e r l y unrelated to the byllny and completely d i f f e r e n t in s t y l e . Only one d e t a i l of plot i s a borrowing: the scene opens on a f e a s t given by Prince Vladimir in Kiev, as i t veiy o f t e n opens in the by liny. The "Tale of V a s i l i j Boguslaevic" i s a paraphrase of the by Una of that name, and i s quite close to the o r i g i n a l . The s t y l e i s not e n t i r e l y uniform, however: in some places the language of the o r i g i n a l i s followed c l o s e l y , in others i t i s completely modified and even basic elements of the l a n guage o f the byllna are l e f t out. To a c e r t a i n extent t h i s modification i s dependent on the reworking of the poetic n a r r a t i v e as a prose one. Levsin was not content with the rather c r y p t i c story of the o r i g i n a l , and f e l t constrained to r a t i o n a l i z e the t a l e and supply motivation, which the byllna seemingly lacked, in the form of a p o l i t i c a l s t r u g g l e f o r power, a s t r u g g l e a t most only i m p l i c i t in the o r i g i n a l . And in t h i s course he has also been compelled to add a great

Elihteenth

and Early nineteenth

Centuries

15

deal of his own invention and to s a c r i f i c e the style of the o r i g i n a l . Notable, however, i s the absence o f the magical and the e r o t i c ; only hyperbole remains, so that in content the work i s s t i l l very much in the s p i r i t of the o r i g i n a l of Novby Una. In Levsin's version the burghers (posadnlkl) gorod attempt to prevent V a s i l i j ' s succession to the throne. F i r s t they ask his mother to force him to stop his pranks, as in the by Una. He consents, but asks to form a druzlna, a retinue. The burghers, disturbed at this move, resolve to t r i c k him into showing his lack of wisdom in order to prove his incapacity to rule. They i n v i t e him to a feast where, as in the o r i g i n a l , each boasts. They encourage V a s i l i j to boast, and he f i n a l l y brags that he w i l l be f i r s t in Novgorod. They declare him unfit to rule, but he replies that he w i l l defeat them a l l . As in the o r i g i n a l , his mother hears o f his boasting, and locks him in the c e l l a r . But he s l i p s out through a window and puts the whole attacking force to rout with nothing but a club. Hie absence of his retinue from the f i g h t i s construed as a comic motif, though in the o r i g i n a l i t i s presumably a serious one, employed to exalt the boiatyr's prowess. While Levsin has changed a great deal, s t i l l most of these innovations in plot do not v i o l a t e the s p i r i t of the o r i g i n a l . His version seems to be a serious attempt to reconstruct the l o g i c of the events to which the o r i g i n a l f a i l s to ascribe motivation, and as such i t i s noteworthy f o r i t s day. No para l l e l work seems to exist in a l l o f Russian l i t e r a t u r e . Hie "Tale of V a s i l i j Boguslaevic" i s absolutely unique in Levsin's work. The other tales are of the type of "Dobrynja N i k i t i c , " f u l l of e r o t i c motifs, quick turns caused by magic, tales within the whole t a l e , et cetera. They are almost impossible reading, so complicated are the plots. Their author seems to have lacked a sense of restraint, though this sort of production i s noteworthy f o r i t s lack of that v i r t u e : the more feats of magic which could be crowded into one t a l e the greater the astonishment of the reader. Though Levsin defends the by liny on n a t i o n a l i s t i c grounds, s t i l l his attitude toward them seems to have been a joking, rather disrespectful one, as we might well expect from the times in which he l i v e d . He was amused by t h e i r hyperbole, and, l i s t i n g the chief boiatyrs in his Introduction, he goes on to say: Should the army of an enemy come, numbering from two to three hundred thousand, any other monarch who did not have a greater army must pay tribute or submit; not so Vladimir! He sends but one boiatyr — and woe, woe to the invaders! "Neither storms, nor whirlwinds are rising on the plains, nor i s black dust c i r c l i n g ; i t i s the strong, mighty bogatyr Dobrynja N i k i t i c who rides forth (or someone e l s e ) on

16

Eighteenth and Marly nineteenth

Centuries

his heroic horse." [Note here the use of antithesis, an example completely in the style of the by liny.] Interesting is the reaction of an anonymous reviewer of Levsin's work: he suggests that it might have been better to collect originals. As for the edition of the ancient heroic folk tales, we are in agreement with the editor, but to tell the truth we should have been better pleased if in the execution of his intention he had held more closely to the ancient style of the folk tales, explaining their unclear passages with historical and etymological footnotes. In this, however, as in many other things, it is far easier to wish than to execute. As for the added original tales of the editor, as that which concerns the thief Timokha, Qygan, etc., they could have been left for the lowest taverns and drinking houses with greater profit for the work, for any intelligent peasant can invent similar ones by the dozen, and if they were all to be published it would be a waste of paper, pens, ink and type, not to mention the work of the author.52 This low opinion of the Russian Folk Tales, while it would agree with our own taste, hardly represents that of the day. Levsin's work had the greatest influence on other writers who composed heroic skazki and epics: Catherine II, Krylov, L'vov, Rheraskov, Derzavin, N. A. Radiscev, 2ukovskij, and

even Puskin in Prince Βουα and Ruslan and Ljudmlla. And even

after poets had long forsaken the style, Levsin's work survived in numerous cheap reprints. In a sense Levsin's work was beneficial, focussing attention, as it did, on the Russian byliny and skazki, till then relatively unknown to authors and reading public alike, except from a very few collections, such as Culkov's, and in them only meagrely represented. But to an equal extent it was a harmful influence. I^evsin's work helped to destroy all feeling for what was characteristic and proper to folklore and what was not. All the works which are dependent on his suffer from this same fault. Most of them, like the Russian Folk Tales themselves, have fallen into complete oblivion today. Levsin's "Tale of Vasilij Boguslaevic" is the main source of Catherine the Great's opera, The Boiatyr Boeslaevic of subtitled "a Comic Opera, Based on a Folk Tale, Novgorod, Russian Songs, and Other Compositions" (performed 1780).53 •Just as Sumarokov had found the epic poems suitable material for use in preparing a composition for a masque, so there could be no objection to the use of epic material in an opera, where the eighteenth centuiy tolerated fantasy and parody.

giehteenth

and Early nineteenth

Centuries

17

Catherine's opera was l a r g e l y , of course, the work of her s e c r e t a r y , K h r a p o v i t s k i j . In i t s origin i t i s almost comp l e t e l y derived from Levsin's "Tale of V a s i l i j B o g u s l a e v i c , " published the sajne y e a r , and certain long speeches are taken over word f o r word. This sane u n c r i t i c a l borrowing (or i s i t the desire to parody?) seems to have been responsible f o r the rather humorous stage directions, sometimes strangely couched in bylina phraseology, with fixed epithets: V a s i l e j , obtaining permission from his mother, c l e a r s a space by h i s white-stone palace (u svoe£o dvorca belokamenna) by his g a t e s . . . . The b a l l e t , among which there stand oaken tubs, pours into them green wine (zelena uina) and intoxicating beer (ρίυα p'janago). Yet there are c e r t a i n indications that Levsin was not the only source employed by the co-authors. Hie s u b t i t l e , "Based on a Folk Tale, Russian Songs and Other Works," suggests that other sources were used. Moreover, the h e r o ' s name, Boguslaevic in L e v s i n ' s t a l e , i s Boeslaevic in the opera. Since t h i s bylina i s not found in any publication of the day, i t must have been known to Catherine in manuscript or o r a l l y . Bessonov suggests that a copy of Kirsa Danilov in manuscript was the source, but there i s no p a r t i c u l a r reason to accept t h i s theoiy, e s p e c i a l l y since the form Boeslaevic does not appear in K i r s a ' s c o l l e c t i o n , but rather, V a s i l i j Buslaev. The work contains a considerable amount of language taken from the byliny, most of i t from Levsin, of course. The transplanting of L e v s i n ' s newly introduced bylina phraseology to the stage was presumably enough to create the e f f e c t of o r i g i n a l i t y , probably one not lacking in humor. We have already noted that the rhythm of Karajnzin's " I I ' j a Muromec"54 had a widespread and, in a sense, harmful i n f l u ence. In i t s subject t h i s poem i s another of the progeny of L e v s i n ' s Folk Tales. Karamzin's poem begins as a parody of Russian Pseudo-Classicism. The poet t e l l s us that he does not want to climb Parnassus: i t i s too high and the road too rough. He has seen how "Our heroes, our rhymesters, i n t o x i cated by song, crowd to the summit of Pindar, draw back and plunge downward, not with crowns and wreaths, but with the ears (ah!) of a s s e s , f o r the r i d i c u l e of p r a n k s t e r s . " The poet then exhorts the goddess Untruth to come to his aid in t e l l i n g the t a l e . Though the bylina t a l e was not admissible in serious pseudo-classical poetry, i t paralleled i t in c e r tain respects, e s p e c i a l l y in i t s conception of the hero, or in i t s reference to pagan ma^ic and r i t u a l . So the epos could have supplied an e x c e l l e n t means f o r such s a t i r e of pseudoc l a s s i c a l poetry. Unfortunately, Karamzin does not keep s t r i c t l y to the s t y l e of the byliny, but d i l u t e s i t with a

18

Eighteenth

and Early nineteenth

Centuries

weak, sentimental s t y l e , and attaches to i t an e r o t i c , fant a s t i c plot dependent on Levsin's "Tale o f Alesa Popovic." The t a l e as such opens with a preamble (zapeυ), not unlike that of many byliny in that i t i s a description of an object o f nature, the sun, which here appears on the c l e a r blue heavens: Solnce krasnoe j a v i l o s j a na lazuri neba cistago, (The f a i r sun appeared On the azure of the c l e a r sky,) But the s i m i l a r i t y i s soon l o s t in a wave of sentimental description, here resulting in a certain bathos: Raramzin's hero seems tender and effeminate, with the colors of roses and l i l i e s on h i s cheeks. I I ' j a finds a l i g h t - b l u e tent with with an unsaddled horse in f r o n t . This situation i s found in several byliny, but here i t , as w e l l as the following action, i s taken from Levsin's "Tale o f Alesa P o p o v i c . " He enters and finds a l o v e l y maiden l y i n g asleep, her armor cast aside. The hero waits a whole week f o r her to awaken, neither eating nor sleeping. But she does not wake. F i n a l l y , seeing a f l y on her l i p s , he brushes i t o f f with his hand. His ring, which touches the maiden's l i p s , c a r r i e s a talisman which awakens her from the magic sleep l a i d upon her by the enchanter Cernomor (of the Russian f o l k t a l e s ) . Bnbarrassed by the lightness of her costume, she puts on her armor as he waits modestly outside. She j o i n s him t h e r e , and they s i t in silence. At l a s t , a f t e r two minutes have passed, a miracle occurs: ν t r e t ' j u cudo s o v e r s a e t s j a . . . The poem abruptly ends here. I t was tremendously popular in i t s day, and many young people knew i t by heart. 5 5 Puskin has an epigram which asks Karamzin why he did not f i n i s h the work: "Poslusajte: j a skazku vam nacnu Pro I g o r j a da pro ego zenu, Pro Novgorod, pro vremja z o l o t o e , I , nakonec, — pro Groznogo c a r j a . " " I , babuska, z a t e j a l a pustoe! Dokonci nam I l ' j u - b o g a t y r j a . " (1816) ( " L i s t e n , I ' l l t e l l you a t a l e Of I g o r and h i s w i f e , Of Novgorod, of the golden age, And f i n a l l y , about Ivan the T e r r i b l e . " "And, grandmother, you've begun a f o o l i s h t h i n g ! Rather f i n i s h ' I l ' j a Muromec' f o r u s . " )

Eighteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

19

Karamzin's use of the folk epic p a r a l l e l s those of Sumarokov and Puskin. As in Levsin, too, there i s an element o f parody in a l l attempts to use the by liny as material f o r written l i t e r a t u r e in this period. Hie famous obscene, unpublished poems of Ivan Barkov, composed a f t e r the middle of the century, were also in part parodies of folk forms, notably o f wedding rhymes. With the exception of l y r i c songs, f o l k l o r e could supply written l i t e r a t u r e of the eighteenth century with material only f o r fantastic romances, s a t i r e s or parodies; otherwise folk materials could not be adapted to the l i t e r a r y forms of Russian Pseudo-Classicism or Sentimentalism. The Boiatyrsklja pouesti υ stlkhakh (Heroic Tales inVerse; Moscow, 1801) of N. A. Radiscev, son of the f a r more famous l i b e r a l writer and e x i l e to Siberia, are simply poetic r e workings of several of Levsin's folk tales. They include the t a l e s "Al'osa Popovic" and "Öurila Plenkovic." Puskin and many others of his day mistakenly attributed them to the more famous father (who himself had written a long narrative, Prince Βουα, based on the well-known tale from cliap l i t e r a t u r e ) . These verse tales have absolutely no relation to the bylin;/ except in their t i t l e s and rare uses of by Una s t y l e derived from Levsin. They are notable f o r their attempt to use freer rhythms; both the verse of Karamzin's " I I ' j a Muromec" and an iambic verse of irregular length are employed. In the l a t t e r metre Radiscev t e l l s us that he wants to sing of the Russian bo$atyrs in free verses and unflorid words: No j a khocii pet' vol'nymi stikhami, Vekudrevatymi slovami, Rossijskikh V i t j a z e j , Bogatyrej, Vladimirovykh slavu dnej. Radiscev's verse tales were, along with Levsin's Folk Tales, a strong influence on Puskin's Ruslan and Ljudmlla.56 Kheraskov's Bakhariana, or the Unknown (Moscow, 1803), subt i t l e d "a Tale of Enchantment, Drawn from Russian Folk T a l e s , " i s an attempt to duplicate the success of Karamzin's " I l ' j a Muromec" by using the same rhythm and the same sort of fant a s t i c , invented t a l e . The misleading subtitle i s only the typical catch-phrase of the times. Kheraskov's poem has no essential dependence either on skazki or byliny. The last of this group of heroic poems was the Dobrynja of N. A. L'vov (published posthumously in Drug prosvescenija, 1804), and subtitled "a Heroic Song." I t d i f f e r s from the works which preceded i t in i t s attempt to find a more s a t i s factory rhythm to express the free verses of the f o l k e p i c . Working from Karamzin's trochaic tetrameter with f i n a l dactyl, L'vov invented a more complex verse, two trochaic dimeters

20

Elthteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

with dactylic endings, united in a long line, but separated by a strong break. Hie line thus consisted of ten syllables in a l l , instead of Karamzin's nine: 0 temna, temna / noc osenjaja! Strasen ν temnu noc / i dremucij les, Vyjdu, vyjdu ja / ν pole cistoe, 1 poklon otdav / na vse storony, Slovo vymolvlju / bogatyrskoe: Okh ty, goj esi, / Ruskoj tverdoj dukh! L'vov's rhythm is quite a r t i f i c i a l , however, being no closer to epic folk rhythms than Karamzin's had been. I t s monotony makes i t unsuitstole for a longer work. In spite of his poor opinion of the byliny, Derzavin returned to them to write a play called Dobrynja (1804), subt i t l e d , "a Theatrical Presentation in Five Acts with Music." A footnote to the published edition of 1808 adds that "all the acts are taken from history, from folk tales and folk songs." Again this is the usual mystification of the period: the only fact taken from history i s the kinship of Vladimir and Dobrynja. The supposed folk songs introduced into the work (described as "songs of Bojan") are actually Derzavin1s own youthful compositions. The idea for such a work seems to be derived from L'vov's poems and from a tragedy of Kljucarev, Vladimir the Great (1779)·57 But the main source is again Levsin's "Dobrynja N i k i t i c , " in which Dobrynja, Tarop his squire, Vladimir, and Tugarin likewise appear. The general outline of the plot is also derived from Levsin. As in Levsin's tale, the subject i s anachronistic: Vladimir's Kiev is attacked by Bulgarians under Tugarin; these Bulgarians are likewise described as "Tatars"! Yet Derzavin apparently knew the original by Una about Dobiynja and Tugarin (or Zmej Gorynic), for at the conclusion of the play the chorus sings a song to Dobrynja which w i l l be sung "for a l l time": Kak edet, poedet dobryj molodec, S i l ' n y j , moguc bogatyr', Dobrynja-to, bratcy, Nikit'evic, Da edet s nim ego Torop sluga, I srazaetsja on s Tugarinym, U Tugarina, sobaki, k r y l ' j a bumazskija: Letal on, sobaka, po podnebes'ju, I pal on, sobaka, na syru zemlju. (A brave young man rides, A strong, mighty boiatyr', I t is Dobrynja, my brothers, Nikit'evic, And with him rides Torop his servant. And he fights with Ttogarin;

Eighteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

21

Tugarin, the dog, has wings of paper: He flew, the dog, over the heavens, And he f e l l , the dog, to the damp earth.) This fra^nent reminds one of the passage quoted "from memory" by Levsin in the Introduction to his Folk Tales, but comparison shows certain differences in rhythm, length of lines and content (also the different spelling of the name, Tarop— Torop) which lead to the conclusion that Deraavin took the fragment from other sources, presumably directly from a bylina, one not recorded at the time. The metre of the verse play is entirely regular iambic and trochaic, except for the above passage. Later Derzavin wrote a heroic poem, Car' devica (The Maiden Tsar; 1812). The subject was taken from Levsin's "Tale of Alesa Popovic," and the central figure of the work i s undoubtedly Catherine the Great. To this poem, however, the byllny contributed nothing. Between 1804 and 1808 Zukovskij wrote a comic opera, Bogatyr'

Alesa

popovic

ill

strahnyja

razvaliny

(The Bogatyr

Alesa

Popovic, or the Haunted Ruins), a work which remained in manuscript until the twentieth century. Written in prose, with verses, songs, and choruses, the play was again based on Levsin's tale, "Alesa Popovic." The content i s far more that of medieval chivalry than of Russian history or the byliny.58 The last of this type of fantasy was Krylov's Ii'ja the Bogatyr (1806), an opera combining the fantasticality of Levsin's tales with a considerable amount of low comedy. The name of Tarop, jester to Vladisil, seems to derive from Levsin's "Tale of Prince Vladimir and Dobrynja N i k i t i c , " in which he i s Dobrynja's squire. The figure of Solovei the band i t is taken from the byllny. Solovej's nest is spread over twelve oak trees, and his most frightful weapon is Iiis unearthly whistle. I I ' j a likewise sits by the stove for thirty years, an authentic detail from the epic poems. There i s a l most no use of the style of the byliny, except for a single line describing I I ' j a : "Where he shoots an arrow, there l i e s a street; Where he waves his spear, there l i e s a square" ( "gde strelu pustit'—tamo ulica, gde kop'em makhnut'—tamo ploscad'^'), a description found in the by Una about Vasilij Buslaevic. Though l i t t l e enough has been taken from the folkworks themselves, i t is notable that again they are used in a work of fantasy and comedy. Though some of these rather crude adaptations of the byllny were very popular in their own time, particularly Levsin's Folk Tales and Raramzin's " I l ' j a Muromec," and though the form persisted until Puskin's Ruslan and Ljudmlla, s t i l l i t was dooned to failure. Its appearance was part of a protest against the restrictions of Pseudo-Classicism, an assertion

22

Eighteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

of the right to possess and enjoy a literature of amusement, even though i t s standards of taste and craftsmanship might be questionable. But i t f a i l e d to produce an o r i g i n a l form, being dependent on outdated romances, tales of chivalry and oriental f a i r y - t a l e s , works which were more enjoyable in their o r i g i n a l form and to which the authors of the late eighteenth century f a i l e d to develop a satisfactory relationship. Their only contribution toward the development of a new form was a weak and ineffectual parody of materials which men of the Enlightenment could not help but parody, but here they had long since been anticipated and outdone by Cervantes. Though these tales are an early appearance of nationalism in l i t e r a t u r e (they coincide in time with, or are the immediate predecessors o f , Fonvizin's comedies and a number of h i s t o r i c a l dramas and epic poems such as Kapnist's Vadim Novtorodskij, as well as the linguistic and l i t e r a r y nationalism of Siskov's group and the publication of Karamz i n ' s History), they were doomed to be supplanted, paradoxically enough, by the further rise of nationalism. Siskov's Conversations on Literature (1811) initiated a new period by taking Russian folk literature with a complete seriousness, while Vostokov's "Investigation into Russian Prosody" (1812) spoke contemptuously of the invented metres of the e a r l i e r fantastic poems, pointed out the actual folk rhythms, and called for their imitation. The fables of Kiylov had already demonstrated the s u i t a b i l i t y of the rhythm of Russian folk l y r i c s and the speech of the peasants f o r composed poetry. To be sure, there were limits to the extent to which the Russian folk epic could enter into written l i t e r a t u r e . Yostokov had already warned concerning the unsuitability of the Russian folk-epic verse f o r the heroic epic, l i m i t i n g i t s use to the novel in verse in the style of Ariosto, in other words, to a type of work which was already doomed to disappear. And in spite of a l l Siskov's pronouncements, the epic remained too s o c i a l l y conditioned, too closely associated with the common people f o r any widespread l i t e r a r y use. Unlike the f o l k l y r i c , i t had no inherent elegance o f feelings to recommend i t , and the skazka was richer in pure fantasy and invention. Doubtless the epic's close association with history also helped to render i t unusable. I t was suitable f o r use c h i e f l y in the historic epic or drama, but here i t s hyperbole, i t s f a n t a s t i c a l i t y and historical u n r e l i a b i l i t y rendered i t d i f f i c u l t i f not impossible to use. So long as Russia's attitude to her history was not completely serious, i t could be used, but no longer. The liaison between the folk epic and the fantastic tales of Levsin and his progeny l i k e wise served to compromise i t , and the use of epic language in the period of Pre-Romanticism and early Romanticism seems already to have become an outworn humorous device. Only with

Elihteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

23

Lermontov could a completely serious attitude to the epic again be taken; Puskin, after abandoning a plan for an epic work in the outdated style of Levsin, used i t only as Sumarokov had done — s a t i r i c a l l y . Nor, in spite of Lermontov's enormous a r t i s t i c success with his Soni of Tsar Ivan Vasll'evlc and. the Merchant Kalasnlkov, could the serious attitude to the epic be maintained for long, and again the parodying use returned with Alexej Tolstoj's humorous byllny. This preponderance of parody over serious use can, I believe, be explained by the byllny themselves: their archaic, pompous language and their frequent use of repetition, a device easily lending i t s e l f to humorous use or to parody,59 helped to prevent writers from taking them with complete seriousness. Or, taken seriously, their devices could be utilized only a few times before they became so characteristic that again they became objects of parody. Hie byllny were too stylized, too patterned, too rich in formal devices peculiarly their own to inspire the greatest writers, who, like Puskin, seem to have preferred to work with folk forms which were freer and which provided themes and motifs which could be developed into an original work, rather than with ready-made forms which were already complete. Such reasons could not apply, however, to attempts to use the byllny in other languages, such as Czech, in which the archaic style and language and the high degree of stylization of devices never became so familiar that they constituted an obvious object of parody. None the less, certain elements from the epic poems were actually used in satire and parody by the Czechs, while others, serious in intent, were misconstrued as humorous. Puskin and the Russian Folk

Epic

Puskin's works influenced by folk motifs and forms may be divided chronologically into three groups. The f i r s t , which we may describe as imitative, produced the narrative poems Prince Bova J1814) and Ruslan and Ljudmlla (1820), i n f l u enced by L e v s i n ' s Folk Tales and the Eerolc Tales In Verse

of N. A. Radiscev, as well as the tales from the lubocnaja llteratura about Prince Bova and Eruslan Lazarevic. These poems, i f not devoid of fine craftsmanship, have l i t t l e relation to Russian folklore. In them Puskin approached folk themes indirectly, by way of secondary and unreliable sources. The second period, ranging from 1821 to the end of the 1820's, we may c a l l a period of acquaintance and assimilation of the materials of Russian folklore. This period produced the brilliant opening to the Robber Brothers (1821-22), the lyric lament "Uznik" (The Captive; 1822), the recordings of two songs about Sten'ka Razin, which inspired a t r i o of original songs about that hero (1826; f i r s t published in 1881),

24

Btghteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

and the b r i l l i a n t prologue to Ruslan and Ljudmlla (1828), in which the poet compensated f o r the shortcomings o f the e a r l i e r work, d e f i c i e n t in a c t u a l folk influence. The third and f i n a l period, which we may describe as that of accomplishment, witnessed the f i n e s t productions in personalized folk forms which Puskin himself developed: the folk t a l e s , Rusalka (1S30-32) raay and the Songs of the Western Slavs (1833)· I t objected that the l a s t works c o n s t i t u t e a return to the e a r l i e r period o f imitation in t h e i r dependence on Merimee's u n r e l i a b l e v e r sions o f Serb songs and on other sources o f even more dubious o r i g i n , rather than on pure folk m a t e r i a l s . The answer l i e s in the f a c t that Puskin's a r t i s t i c method c a r r i e d him away from l i t e r a l imitation o f f o l k l o r e in proportion as h i s study brought him ever c l o s e r to i t s real s p i r i t . For Puskin, there could be l i t t l e i n t e r e s t in the l i t e r a r y adaptation of folk models themselves, f o r the folk works were conceived by him as already finished works o f a r t , the s t y l e and devices o f which were quite proper to the milieu in which they e x i s t e d and the a r t i s t i c aims which they subserved. 6 0 L i t e r a r y adaptation meant a compromise, a return to the type o f production represented by Levsin's Folk Tales, a watering down o f the e s s e n t i a l vigor o f the folk works in favor o f a content improper to i t but designed to "dress i t u p , " — t o render i t s o c i a l l y acceptable to the upper c l a s s e s in whose minds i t had remained too c l o s e l y connected with s e r f s and peasants. Such a method could produce only an a r t i s t i c compromise. And in the end Puskin forswore i t in favor o f the creation o f o r i g i n a l f o l k - l i k e works o f a r t . The source o f h i s m a t e r i a l s i s supremely unimportant, j u s t as the source o f a folk t a l e i s unimportant to the peasants who rework i t : hence P u s k i n ' s a t t r i b u t i o n of sources which never e x i s t e d , and lack o f mention o f those which did. All the importance i s placed on the technique of reworking the m a t e r i a l : c e r t a i n , though by no means a l l , o f the devices and s t y l e s of f o l k l o r e are put t o c r e a t i v e use to fashion a work which could stand on i t s own f e e t , yet appeal to noble and peasant a l i k e as a work with new content but in a t r a d i t i o n well-known and a c c e p t a b l e . This method ( i f , indeed, we may c a l l i t a method, r a t h e r than an i n t u i t e d and t e s t e d observation) was arrived a t only a f t e r a g r e a t deal o f experimentation with d i f f e r e n t techniques of reworking folk m a t e r i a l s . The statement i s sometimes made that Puskin made l i t t l e or no use o f Russian folk m a t e r i a l s , and that he preferred t o use folk sources o f other lands, or folk m a t e r i a l s embodied in the l i t e r a t u r e o f other peoples. Such a b e l i e f , though doubtless a well-intentioned c o r r e c t i v e to a blindly n a t i o n a l i s t i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f Puskin, i s q u i t e wrong. The early 1 8 2 0 ' s find Puskin engaged in a c a r e f u l study of Russian f o l k l o r e , the poetic r e s u l t s o f which are only limited by h i s

Elihteenth

and Early

Nineteenth

Centuries

25

apparent uncertainty as to how such materials ought to be used. Of his folk tales, two depend quite s p e c i f i c a l l y on Russian folk models, while others show clear echoes of them.61 Some of his materials are western in origin, but here the question is not from where the material was taken, but rather, how i t i s treated. The f o l k - l i k e verse of the "Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish" and the "Tale of the Priest and His Workman, Balda" show the use of the Russian folk sources. The other folk tales are in trochaic pentameter. The use of a trochaic metre i t s e l f shows the possible influence of Russian folk songs, which are at least trochaic in tendency; certain songs of late origin are actually trochaic. But more conclusive i s the striking tendency to separate the lines in couplets among which there i s no enjambement. Likewise there is a strong tendency toward parallelism of syntax and metaphor. These facts make i t more than probable that Puskin consciously attempted to rework these tales a f t e r Russian folk models.62 The same treatment was accorded the Songs of the Western Slavs, in which a characteristically Russian folk rhythm (three stresses to the line irregularly placed, but with constant trochaic ending) is used. Ulis i s the metre of Sumarokov's "Chorus to a Perverse World" (see Appendix), but i t i s more than doubtful i f Puskin took i t from Sumarokov. Rather he borrowed i t from Vostokov, who, i t has been noted, developed i t on the basis of his own study of Russian epic folk songs. Puskin1s early imitative period comes to an abrupt end with the narrative poem The Robber Brothers (1822), which boldly opens with an antithesis in the style of countless openings of byliny or other folk poems, which often open with the antithesis: Ne staja voronov sletalas' Na grudy tlejuscikh kostej, Za Volgoj, noc'ju, vkrug ognej Udalykh sajka sobiralas'. ( ' T i s not a flock of ravens come together To heaps of rotting bones; Beyond the Volga, at night about camp f i r e s A band of brave men has gathered round.) Puskin's contact with Russian folk poetry dates from his stay in Kishinev (1820-23). There he began to c o l l e c t folk songs and legends, but unfortunately a l l of this material has been lost without trace. 6 3 Preserved, however, is a plan for a historic poem t i t l e d Vladimir, in which I l ' j a Muromec, Dobrynja N i k i t i c , and other boiatyrs were to appear. One of the episodes of the work was to have been I l ' j a ' s battle with his son, while the poet also proposed to treat the Christian-

26

Eighteenth

and Early

Nineteenth

Centuries

ization of Russia. In spite of the boldness of this conception, the plot is hardly original. I t i s fantastically complex, f u l l of nagical complications and counter-complications, the kind which had characterized Levsin's Folk Tales. The fabulous sword of Eruslan i s likewise taken from Levsin and the writers among his progeny who had used i t . We can scarcel y wonder that Puskin never carried out the intention. 6 4 The early 1820's show Puskin's special interest in brigand songs (razbojnlc'l pesnl), and there i s good reason to bel i e v e that he considered these to be the main development of Russian folklore. 6 5 Even in 1836, when he made a group of translations of Russian folk songs into French,66 he included seven brigand songs, of which two were about Razin and one had been the favorite song of Pugacev, while the other folk enres are represented by only two historical songs, one love y r i c and one recruiting song. This emphasis on brigand and Cossack revolutionary songs i s of course in accordance with the ideology of the young Puskin, and is in large measure due to his Decembrist associates. The Decembrists took a keen interest in both history and folklore, seeking expressions of the Russian people's love of liberty and their willingness to fight f o r i t . They rejected the folk l y r i c as too gloomy and f u l l of resignation, and i t i s interesting to note that Puskin never used the lyric as a specific source in his work. Their chief interest lay, in the light of their ideology, in Cossack and brigand songs. The almanac Russkaja starlna (1824), edited by the Decembrist A. Kornilovic, was the f i r s t published collection of such songs. Puskin's friendship with the Decembrist Ν. N. Raevskij seems to have been the origin of his own interest in these types of songs. At Mikhajlovskoe he recorded one of the two songs about Sten'ka Razin, and wrote to his brother to send him any materials about Razin, "the single poetic personage in Russian history," as he c a l l s him; at the same time he asked for a bibliography on Pugacev.67 This period produced three original songs on Sten'ka Razin (1826). They are completely independent of the songs about Razin which Puskin had earlier recorded, nor have songs about the Cossack revolutionary leader with similar subjects come down to us. Puskin apparently took the subjects from the chronicle tales about Razin, or from folk tales, rather than from songs about him.68 Even in their devices the original songs are to a large extent independent of the recordings, though they are quite in the s p i r i t of folk poetry, showing that Puskin's acquaintance with this type of song was far deeper than the two recordings he had made. In rhythm they are a f i r s t example of the type of verses used later in the Songs of the Western Slavs and the "Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish," with irregular length of lines and a fixed number of accents, irregularly distributed, but with a regular cadence, trochaic or dactylic. 6 9

i

Eighteenth

and Early

Nineteenth

Centuries

27

Though his collection of French translations of folk songs t e s t i f i e s to his continuing interest in this type of song, s t i l l the songs about Razin could not be published, and the p o l i t i c a l reaction of the times forced the poet to turn his attention in other directions. The result »ras his folk tales. There are occasional echoes of the influence of the byllny of Kirea Danilov's collection on several of the folk tales: for example, the figure of the Tsarevna Lebed' in the "Tale of Tsar Saltan," doubtless taken from the byllna about Potok. Likewise a few isolated names from the byllny figure in others of his tales. Only one, however, i s closely connected with the folk epic, the unfinished "Skazka ο medvedikhe" (Tale of the Female Bear, frequently referred to as "Nacalo skazki"; 1830). Vsevolod Miller f i r s t pointed out the work's dependence on the s a t i r i c a l poem "The Birds," which Puskin could have known from Culkov's collection. The idea of a parody of human society by equating birds and animals to the classes of society gave Puskin his subject: a mock funeral attended by various animals. There are a number of specific correspondences: "The Birds" (Culkov): Vse ptiSki na more b o l ' s i e Vse pticki na more men'sie. (All birds on the sea are great; A l l birds on the sea are little.) The pun of gumen — Humen

almost the same phraseology: Voron na more igumen, Zivet on vsegda pozad' gumen; (On the sea the raven is abbot, Always he lives behind threshing f l o o r s ; )

Puskin's "Tale of the Female Bear": Prikhodili, pribegali zveri bol'sie, Pribegali tut zveriski men'sie. (The great beasts hastened and came; The l i t t l e beasts hastened here.) in the original is repeated in

Prikhodil tut bajbak igumen, Zivet on, bajbak, pozad1 gumen. (There came the marmot, the abbot, He lives, the marmot, behind threshing f l o o r s . )

Also similar are the t i t l e s of certain professions: torgovyj gost 1 —torgovyj gost'; dvorjane—dvorjanin; knjagini—knjaginecka; pod'jacij—pod'jacikha; c e l o v a l ' nik — caloval'nik. The metre used in this poem is Puskin's favorite folk metre, borrowed from Vostokov's translation of Serb songs. I t i s a line of irregular length with three obligatory

28

Blihteenth

and Early nineteenth

Centuries

s t r e s s e s and dactylic or trochaic cadence. In the use of dact y l i c cadences only does Puskin's metre d i f f e r from Songs of the Nestern Slavs or "Song of the Fisherman and the Fish." Russian eighteenth-century verse permitted masculine, feminine, or dactylic cadences, while Russian folk verse allowed cadences which were trochaic or d a c t y l i c ; Puskin therefore limited his choice to the l a s t two p o s s i b i l i t i e s . Puskin's verse i s close to that of Sumarokov's "Chorus," but Sumarokov had ended h i s verse with a trochee. I t must also be added that, while Sumarokov's verse has a trochaic tendency, Pusk i n ' s in t h i s poem has rather an iambic one. Like Sumarokov, Puskin wrote certain l i n e s in a regular or almost regular metre in order to avoid the appearance of prose which the work might otherwise have given. Hence we cannot conclude that Puskin's rhythm i s derived e i t h e r from "Hie B i r d s , " which also shows a trochaic tendency, or from Sumarokov's "Chorus," but i s rather an experimental form based on Vostokov's studies in the metre of Russian folk poetry. 7 0 Another source of the poem i s a well-known song about the hedgehog, also found in Culkov: Culkov: Okh, bednyj ez goremycnyj-ez, IV kudy p o i z e s ' , kudy ezis'sja? (Oh, poor hedgehog, miserable hedgehog, Where are you crawling, where are you shrinking?)

Puskin: Prikhodil c a l o v a l ' n i k - e z : Vse-to ez on e z i t s j a , Vse-to on sceminitsja. (There came the tapster, the hedgehog: Ever the hedgehog shrinks, Ever he s h r i v e l s . )

As with Sumarokov, the serious epic did not lend i t s e l f to Puskin's particular type of creation. I f used consistently throughout a work of l i t e r a t u r e , i t could have sounded l i k e a parody. Moreover, i t was already a perfect form in i t s e l f , and reworking might have e a s i l y detracted from i t s o r i g i n a l perfection without substituting anything b e t t e r . But the s a t i r e of "The Birds" was a form of epos more usable. I t s l i g h t , humorous parody was curiously indeterminate: in the f o l k versions the object of s a t i r e i s at most implicit: i t i s the whole perverse race of men which i s being s a t i r i z e d . I t s s a t i r e could be turned wherever the poet w i l l e d , or l e f t in i t s indeterminate s t a t e , which Puskin did. Nor i s "The Birds" a finished work. Unlike the narrative etarlny, i t has no ending; only a beginning and a middle. I t could be added to i n d e f i n i t e l y without actual imitation. I t i s in t h i s s p i r i t that Puskin seems to have turned to i t . In no case can we c a l l the "Tkle of the Female Bear" a mere imitation, for too l i t t l e has been taken from f o l k l o r e . Rather i t i s a variation on a basic theme suggested by the folk songs, a variation

Biihteenth

and Early

nineteenth

Centuries

29

which, had the poet been willing, could have been developed indefinitely. Russian l i t e r a t u r e never created a definite tradition for treating the by liny. I t could scarcely have done so, for, as we have noted, each use of the byliny immediately suggested a parodying reaction. Hence a f t e r Puskin, i t i s impossible to speak of tendencies in treating the Russian epos, but only o f individual men and t h e i r productions. Lermontov's Soni

of

Tsar Ivan

Vastl'evic

and the Merchant

Kalasnlkov

(1837) i s t o t a l l y d i f f e r e n t from a l l which went before i t . Lermontov constructed h i s work d i r e c t l y from epic materials. Puskin's only contribution seems to have been to free him from the tyranny of the Levsin school and i t s methods. Yet Lermontov produced but one work in t h i s form, and i t inspired no imitators. For his success was of that sort which defies imitation, and further advance could only parody i t . Aleksej T o l s t o j , during the 1850's and 1860's, parodied the byliny, thus rendering them for another generation unsuitable e i t h e r for further imitation or for parody. Not t i l l the Symbolists came a t the end of the century with a t o t a l l y new l i t e r a r y ideology was i t possible to make new creative attempts to t r e a t the materials of the Russian epos seriously.

Chapter I I TOE CZECH REVIVAL AND RUSSIA THE concept o f Slavic unity and the consciousness of the existence of Russia as a great and independent Slav s i s t e r nation were not ideas which were born in. Bohemia only with the Czech r e v i v a l . 1 On the contrary, the tradition of i n t e r Slavic consciousness dates from the e a r l i e s t recorded documents and, presumably, from the break-up of the Slavic t r i b e s . There are many reasons for supposing that the t r a d i tion o f the conmon ancestry o f the Slavs, known to the Russ i a n s and expounded in t h e Primary

Russian

Chronicle,

is

based on an e a r l i e r version of the same found in a MoravianPannonian Chronicle no longer extant, but presumed to e x i s t from l a t e r sources; i f t h i s i s so, then i t i s l i k e l y that Moravian consciousness of kinship to the Russians was continuous from the time of the division of the Slavic peoples. 2 The Russian chronicles likewise t e l l us that friendly r e l a tions existed between the Russian and Czech courts as early as 996, when an exchange o f emissaries was made. The e a r l i e s t mention of the Russians found in extant Czech sources i s in Kosmas' Chronicle (written 1119-25); the chronicle quotes a supposed l e t t e r from the pope demanding that the liturgy in the newly established Czech diocese shall have none of the Slavonic elements "of the service of the Bulgarian or the Russian people." The anonymous Prague chronicler who follows Kosmas gives us a whole s e r i e s of events occurring in Russia between 1206 and 1260. The Dalemil Chronicle from the beginning of the fourteenth century contains several mentions o f Russia; one passage s t a t e s that Methodius was a Russian (with the increasing development of Russian national consciousness there appeared tendencies to link the beginnings o f the Slavic church with Russia, and t h i s i d e n t i f i c a t i o n spread outside of Russia). Dalemil also mentions the capture of Kiev by the Tatars. The o f f i c i a l chronicler of Karel IV, Pribik Pulkava ζ Radenina, whose chronicle was written s h o r t ly a f t e r 1374, t e l l s the story o f the brothers (5ech, Lech, and Rus, and thus establishes the relationship of the three peoples. Ulis t a l e was taken by the chronicler from an e a r l i e r

The Czech Revival

and Russia

31

source, and th i s i s one of the arguments f o r the postulation of a Moravian-Pannonian Chronicle of the njnth c e n t u r y . 3 Another i s the n a r r a t i o n of the legend of Cech, Lech, and Rus found in the Polish Latin Chronicle of Bogufol, taken, as the chronicle s t a t e s , from e a r l i e r sources ("ex v e t u s t i s s i m i s c o d i c i b u s " ) , a l s o presumably from the e a r l i e r MoravianPannonian Chronicle.* A period of more a c t i v e r e l a t i o n s was i n i t i a t e d by the journey of Jerome of Prague to the East in 1412, perhaps made f o r the purpose of e n t e r i n g into r e l a t i o n s with the Orthodox Church. That the Hussite times did not completely ignore the ideal of Slav unity i s also shown by the teaching of Jan S i l van, a Czech Hussite who preached in Poland, who spoke of the unity of the Slavic n a t i o n s : Bohemia, Poland, Hungary, Bosnia, Bulgaria, Russia, Serbia, Albania, Dalmatia, and Croatia, a l l of which, Silvan added, were joined by t h e i r common use of the Czech language. This l i s t of "Slavic" nations i s t r a d i t i o n a l in Czech l i t e r a t u r e from the f i f t e e n t h century up to the l a s t defences of t h e Czech language. 5 Grammarians began to s t r e s s the l i n g u i s t i c unity of the Slavic peoples as early as 1571, when Jan Blahoslav published h i s Declaration, a revised edition of the e a r l i e r Czech grammar of Opta't, Gzel, and Philomat of 1533· H»e Declaration c l a s s i f i e d the Slav languages and pays p a r t i c u l a r a t t e n t i o n to those words which have the same form in Czech and Russian. Of e s p e c i a l i n t e r e s t t o us i s the f a c t that the work contains the Ukrainian folk song, "Dunaju, Dunaju, comu smutnyj t e c e s " recorded in Trans-Carpathian Russia; i t i s the e a r l i e s t known recording of a Ukrainian folk song e x t a n t . Matous Benesovsky's d i c t i o n a r y of 1587, Knlzka slov ceskych vylozenych (Czech Words Defined), contains many Russian words as well as prove r b s , and, c l a s s i f y i n g the various branches of the Slavic languages, c e l e b r a t e s the vast expanse over which these l a n guages a r e employed, being spoken "in more than one hundred l a n d s . " B a l b i n ' s Dissertatio apoloietica pro liniua slavonica, praecipue bohemica, w r i t t e n in 1672-73» but published in 1775» likewise s t r e s s e s the huge area inhabited by speakers of the Slavic tongues, and especially Russian. The same t e n d encies a r e shown by Vaclav Rosa's Mluvnice ceskeho jazyka (Grammar of Czech) of 1672. The Czech J e s u i t David was sent to Moscow in 1686 to work toward the union of the Russian Orthodox Church with Rome; on h i s return in 1689 David printed in S i l e s i a a grammar of Russian, the f i r s t to be publ i s h e d by a non-Russian. He also drew a map of eastern Russia and S i b e r i a and published an essay on economic and c u l t u r a l conditions in the Muscovite s t a t e (Status modernus Mainae Russiae seu Moscoviae). Hajek's Chronicle of 1541 likewise placed s t r e s s on e a r l i e r Czech-Rnssian r e l a t i o n s ; i t was t h i s very chronicle which served to emphasize and sustain Czech n a t i o n a l consciousness a t a time of strong German pressure.

32

The Czech Revival

and

Russia

These are a l l i s o l a t e d moments, i t i s t r u e , but they do suggest the continued t r a d i t i o n of a consciousness of Slavic unity in Czech thought. When, a t the dawn of the Czech r e v i v a l , such w r i t e r s as P e l c l , Tham, Durych, Dobner, Prochazka, and others emphasize t h a t Russia i s a g r e a t , powerful Slavic s t a t e , and t h a t the Russian language, r e l a t e d to Czech, i s the most widespread of the Slavic languages, we can s c a r c e l y be surprised t h a t the e a r l i e s t years of the Czech r e v i v a l should witness a renewal of i n t e r e s t in Russia. Russian a r mies, indeed, had passed through Bohemia on t h e i r way to the Rhine in 1735_36> and again in 1748, giving the Czechs ample opportunity to observe t h e i r l i n g u i s t i c kinship with the eastern Slavs. But these occasional references to Russia and the Russian language were vague and undefined, and the Czech scholar Durych judged t h a t in h i s youth there was not a single p e r son in Prague who could read the azbuka.6 I t remained f o r Joseph Dobrovsky, by f a r the g r e a t e s t of the scholars of the Czech r e v i v a l , to begin the systematic study of the Russian language and of Russian l i t e r a t u r e . The f i r s t g r e a t moment in the h i s t o r y of the renewal of Czech-Russian r e l a t i o n s was Dobrovsky's t r i p to Russia, undertaken in 1792 a t the request of the newly founded Bohemian Royal Society of Sciences, l a r g e l y f o r the purpose of studying Old Slavonic B i b l i c a l t e x t s , grammars, and o t h e r t e x t s . Dobrovsky a l s o worked in Russia on the problem of a s c e r t a i n i n g the o r i g i n a l t e x t of the Primary Russian Chronicle from the mass of extant v a r i ants. Dobrovsky described h i s journey in h i s Nachrichten von einer auf Veranlassuni der böhm. Gesellschaft der Ulssenim Jahre 1792 unternommen Reise nach Schweden und schaft

Russland, published in Prague in 1796. The work i s no more than a dry f a c t u a l report of h i s t r i p , submitted to the Royal Society of Sciences, but the supplement contains a f i r s t attempt a t a textbook of Russian for Czechs, in the form of a l i s t of Russian words and phrases: Verileichuni der Russischen

und Böhmischen

Sprache,

compiled on t h e b a s i s

of tiie comparative d i c t i o n a r y published by Catherine I I in 1787-89· Indeed, the g r e a t e s t e f f e c t of Dobrovsky's journey, besides i t s inaugural of a continuous period of i n t e r - S l a v i c s c i e n t i f i c r e l a t i o n s , i s the aid i t gave to the spread of a knowledge of Russian aiiong the Czechs. Besides the compilat i o n of words and phrases r e f e r r e d t o above, Dobrovsky publ i s h e d a Neues Hülfsmittel zu verstehen, vorzüileich

die russischen Sprache leichter für Böhmen ( 1 7 9 9 ) , and i n 1813,

when there were many Russian s o l d i e r s in Bohemia, he compiled a new l i s t of Russian words and expressions, which he p u b l i s h e d anonymously a s Verzeichnis der russischen und Redensarten, die im gemeinen Leben am häuf listen

Wörter vor-

The Czech Revival

and Russia

33

kommen. Even more important (though we know very l i t t l e about them) must be reckoned his private lectures on the Russian language, Old Slavonic and Slavic antiquities, begun in Prague iq 1812 or 1813· Among his pupils were Hanka, Linda, and Celakovsky, and thus these lectures, the f i r s t such to be given in Bohemia, must be considered a starting point in the history of the influence of the Russian epos in Czech literature. One cannot help but speculate as to whether Dobrovsky observed examples of Russian folk poetiy and folk customs during his journey. His Litterarische Hachrlchten are silent on the subject, but his subsequent letters indicate that he observed such things closely. 7 Probably he intended to publish his observations, for he writes in the Litterarische Hachrlchten: "Bemerkungen über Sitten und Gebräuche der Russen, in wiefern sie zur Erläuterung der slawischen Sprache und Völkerkunde gehört, versparre ich absichtlich auf ein andere Zeit und Gelegenheit.1,8 But he never published them. Dobrovsky and the Study of Slavic

Folklore

Masaryk called Dobrovsky a "decided Russophile.1,9 In the sense that Dobrovsky was the f i r s t Czech scholar to turn his attention and that of others to Russian philological problems, as well as to problems of the Slavic world as a whole, the characterization is exact. Dobrovsky's Russophilism must be understood as a part of the broader attitude of Slavophilism (in the cultural sense) which was his. I t was he who opened up so many new areas of investigation in the newly born f i e l d of Slavic studies, among which was the scientific study of Slavic folklore. Thus, in his letters to Durych and Kopitar, 10 he asked for specimens of Czech and Russian proverbs, Serb folk songs, fables, riddles, et cetera. Proverbs were his special delight, and he collaborated with Pyschel on a collection of Czech proverbs.11 In his Slavln12 he included collections of Serb and Russian proverbs (the latter from the Moscow collection of 1787), together with their translation into German. These were evidently intended to t e s t i f y to the wisdom of the Slavic "mind."13 A true son of the Enlightenment, Dobrovsky doubtless preferred proverbs to other types of folklore, for their plain common sense made their value iumediately e v i dent to the rationalist of the late eighteenth century. But there is evidence that Dobrovsky was interested in other types of folklore. He knew the Ancient Russian Poems of Kirsa Danilov, though how early is uncertain.1* Kubka i s of the opinion that he erroneously considered the Russian song which he published with a musical setting in Slovanka to be a folk song, since he placed i t beside a short note

34

The Czech Revival

and

Russia

about the folk songs of Vuk Karadzic's collection, but this is certainly doubtful.15 Our best record of his interest in folklore is his correspondence with the Polish scholar Bandtke. On -June 5» 1810, he wrote to Bandtke: "Eine kosakische duna möchte ich zur Probe einmal aufnehmen [for his projected Slovanka, then in preparation]. Kroatische Lieder habe ich schon erhalten. Kleczewski in seinem Lechus sagt, man habe die dumy verboten, ne animentur ad rebellionem.1,16 Only five years later, however, did Bandtke send him a collection of sixty-five Ukrainian folk songs (none of them Cossack) , too late to be included in the Slovanka.17 In the meantime he had sent Dobrovsky six Polish fables (published in their correspondence) as well as a folk song of the Krakov district, not preserved. In return Dobrovsky wrote: "Das Krakauer Bauernlied gefällt mir nicht weniger, als manches Gedicht von Werner."*8 Later Bandtke sent him a Ukrainian folk song, to »Aich he added some lively Polish songs of the Krakov district, writing: "und da werden Sie Rusnaken-Lieder und Krakowiaczki haben und so manches, was die Welt noch nicht kennt."19 later Bandtke sent Dobrovsky some Ukrainian songs. The binder which contained them has been preserved in the library of the Bohemian Museum with a note from Bandtke to Dobrovsky.20 The originals are missing, but with the binder there are copies in Dobrovsky's own hand. Probably he was preparing them for a new volume of his Slovanka. But he never published them, and the later years of his life witnessed a great decline in his folklore activities; why is not certain. Perhaps his interests turned elsewhere; perhaps he felt that the more romantic preoccupation of the younger generation with folklore was excessive, and he reacted against it.21 To these direct testimonies concerting Dobrovsky's interests, we must add the probable influence he had on his friends and pupils, Kopitar, Hanka, Linda, Öelakovsky, in inspiring them to collect and study folklore. It was in Dobrovsky's rich library that Hanka certainly found many of the materials and models which he later used for the RKZ·22 But we must beware of exaggerating Dobrovsky's interest in folklore, or of distorting its true nature. Unlike the generation of Czechs which followed him, Dobrovsky did not fall under the influence of Herder's theories about folklore. For him folk songs remained at the most a source of material for linguistic, philological, and historical studies. We have no evidence that he was ever conscious of their esthetic value, or of their possible use as an inspiration or model for the development of Czech literature. Thus, writing to Bandtke that, "Das Krakauer Bauernlied gefällt mir nicht weniger, als manches Gedicht von Werner,11 he adds immediately, "Sonderbar, dass die Bauern da herum kein sz, cz, ζ haben sollten,

The Czech Revival and Russia

35

sondern dafür s, c, z.1123 It is also evident in his correspondence with Kopitar and Bandtke that it is the others, and not Dobrovsky, who show the greater interest and write more on the subject. On November 7> 1826, Dobrovsky wrote to Kopitar concerning the Serb folk songs and Kirsa Danilov's Russian songs in the following terms: Die serbischen Lieder II und III habe ich ganz durchgelesen ohne Wörterbuch.... Die Aidukenstreiche mögen den Serbiern eben so gut gefallen, als den Deutschen ihre Nibelungen, oder andere Gassenhauer. Am ähnlichsten in Rücksicht der ungeheuren Lügen und Prahlereyen sind den serbischen die russischen drevneje stichotvorenije [sie]. Vom vorzüglichem Alter können selbst die ältesten (Tom II) nicht sein.24 And several months later Öelakovsky quotes him as saying: Ich weiss nicht, was die Leute nur mit dem serbischen Liedern haben wollen? Das hat alles Kopitar so ausgeschrien, dann haben sie dem Goethe was weiss gemacht, und jetzt machen sie soviel Lärm. Und es sind doch nur Gassenhauer! Etwas anderes sind die russischen, die haben doch noch in der dritten Person sing, das alte t£|25 One would scarcely expect such a harsh reaction to the Serb folk songs as this, but we have no right, of course, to expect a man of Dobrovsky s generation and temperament to have felt their charm, so foreign to the Age of the Enlightenment, in which there reigned the idyll and pastoral, not the folk song. Concerning the Lay of Igor's Raid26 Dobrovsky had a higher opinion. "Ein Gedicht, dem nichts an die Seite gesetzt werden kann," he described it.27 None the less it can hardly be shown that his admiration was more than philological and historical. 2 8 Josef Junimann To an even lesser extent was Josef Jungmann interested in Slavic folklore.29 Jungmann published a collection of about sixty Russian proverbs in his Literature,30 and intended to publish an anthology of Slavic literature which might well have included folklore. But he did not feel himself qualified for such work, and he lacked the necessary materials.31 His interest in folk poetry seems to have been unsystematic and spasdomic. Greater was his interest in the Lay of Igor's Raid, which he wished to publish in a parallel edition containing texts in Kyrillic (Old Church Slavonic), Russian, Latin tran-

36

The Czech Revival and Russia

scription, and Czech translation. He worked on this project during the year 1810, and so his translation, published only in 1932 in Prague, was the first in Czech. The Igor Lay gave •Jungmann his first sample of the azbuka to read.32 Though his interest in folk poetry was not great, he does seem to have displayed a considerable interest in folk verse, especially in its comparative aspects. He came to the conclusion that the Old European epic verse had been of ten-syllable length, and that the number of syllables alone had governed the prosody, citing the Serb epic as an example. In his analysis of the Serb epic verse he was quite correct, since, though considerations of quantity do play a part, and there is a trochaic tendency in the verse, still it is basically a syllabic verse with quantitative cadence. A comparison with the Greek paroimiakos strongly suggests that this metre may have been Indo-European in origin, as Jungmann believed.33 Jungmann found Czech folk verse to be trochaic; there are also iambic lines, but these he considered as trochees with an anacrusis. Though he deceived himself in believing in the authenticity of the RKZ, none the less he was struck by the similarity of "Libusa's Judgment" (RZ) to Slavic folk poetry and to the I tor Lay, and wrote: When one glances at these invaluable fragments of Old Czech poetry, when one compares them with other Slavic songs, with the ancient poem of Igor, and especially with the Serb folk Muse, and when one recalls Ossian and the ancient bards, druids and skalds, there arises the important notion that throughout Europe a similar poetry must have governed, t h a t — i f not as today among peoples—then at least among their nobles and poets, there must have been a more or less widespread knowledge of one another.1,34 Herder, Kopl tar, and Hanka It must not be supposed that Dobrovsky was the first Czech to interest himself in the collection and scientific study of folklore. During the period between 1750 and 1770 several collections of folk songs were made by Czechs and Slovaks. Most notable for us is the one made by Hanka1s father, also named Vaclav, preserved by his son among the latter's papers in the Czech National Museum.35 It has been supposed that Dobrovsky's interest in folklore linked this wave of earlier activity to the second and stronger wave which began in 1806 with the publication of a collection of folk songs made by Bohuslav Tablic in the first volume of his Poezie (Poetry), and which reached its climax with the "discovery" of the RKZ in 1817 and 1819 and the publication of Celakovsky's Slavic Folk Songs during the 1820's.36 Doubtless there is a certain

The Czech Revival

37

and Russia

amount of truth in this view; certainly Dobrovsky played a considerable part in helping to stimulate the somewhat sporadic and unsystematic quality of the earlier wave of interest, and in broadening i t s base to include Slavic folklore in general. 37 Yet the rather one-sided and "potential" quality of Dobrovsky's interest in folklore prevents us from assigning him credit for this second wave of interest, far more powerful and qualitatively so different in nature from either the earlier wave or from Dobrovsky's own activity. Rather i t is to the German Pre-Romantics of the period of Sturm und Drang, and especially to Herder, that a very considerable part in the revival of folklore interest in Bohemia between 1800 and 1820 must be assigned. Herder's role has doubtless been exaggerated in past studies; the existence of folklore collections as early as 175^ prevents us from giving him sole credit for inspiring such an interest. Nor can we overlook the fact that Herder's influence could scarcely have taken root in Bohemia i f political and social developments there had not already prepared the soil to receive i t , and i f the struggle of the newly revived Czech literature had not needed this strengthening influence. S t i l l we require an explanation of the form of activity which the Pre-Romantic generation of the Czech Revival chose; granting that the motive power for their a c t i v i t y came from conditions at home and not abroad, i t i s s t i l l necessary to explain why the literary interests of the young Czech patriots were to a very considerable extent channelled in the direction of folklore. I t i s to Herder's work that we must look for the explanation. Even Dobrovsky, though of a temperament quite different from that of Herder and the Pre-Romantics, and completely uninfluenced by their views on folklore, was strongly influenced by Herder's ideas on language,38 and reprinted the famous chapt e r on the Slavs from the Ideen

der Menschheit

zur Philosophleder

f1784-87; 1791) in his Slavin.39

and the Stimmen der

Völker

in Liedern

(1788-89)>

Geschichte

Herder's Ideen including,

as the latter work did, Slavic songs at a time when the Czechs scarcely knew of their existence, brought the younger Czechs to a consciousness of the worth and beauty of their own and and other Slavic languages and folk literatures. For Selakovsky the Stimmen der Völker was of the greatest importance, and he followed i t as a model in making his own collection, the Slavic Folk Songs.*0 Jungmann, Palacky, Safarik, Linda, and Langer a l l knew his works and were under his influence; indeed the whole generation was. I t played a direct part in the creation of the RKZ, and the ancient Slavic poet Lumir is perhaps a composite reflection of Herder's philosophy of folk poetiy and the figure of Bojan in the Lay of Itor's Raid.41 Herder made the identification of nationalism and the cultivation of folk poetry inevitable for the politically frustrated

38

The Czech Revival

and

Russia

generation of Czech poets of Pre-Romanticism. Like Herder the young Czechs applied esthetic c r i t e r i a in their choice of folk songs; like him, they lacked a clearly defined concept of folk poetry, and hardly distinguished between actual folk songs and those merely "in the folk s p i r i t . " Hanka's entire activity showed such a confusion, and only with the third volume of the Slavic Folk Songs did Celakovsky entirely omit composed songs, to return to them, however, in his two volumes of Echoes. Like Herder, Öelakovsky seems to have believed that the singer of folk songs may be the educated man as well as the savage or peasant.4* Here the confusion of the two senses of the German word Volk and similar d i f f i c u l t i e s in the use of the Czech terms lid and ndrod seem to have been a source of much confusion. As late as Langer, there i s confusion between folk songs and songs which express ideals of the nation; paralleling this difference, of course, is that between true folk songs and those only composed "in the folk spirit." I t was Herder, then, who showed the forgers of the RRZ how they might recreate the vanished Czech epic. Lacking a rich folklore of their own, or, rather, thinking that they lacked one, 43 they naturally turned to the folk songs of the other Slavic peoples in the attempt to recreate their own. When Herder included in the Stimmen der Völker a poetic reworking of that portion of Hajek's Chronicle concerned with Libusa's judgment (which he called "Die Fürstentafel"), he pointed out how the young generation of Czechs might recreate their glorious but lost folk heritage by taking i t from Hajek, who, i t seemed, had written his chronicle under the direct or indirect influence of the vanished Czech epic. And V. A. Svoboda eagerly defended Herder's practice (Svoboda himself had translated "Die Fiirstentafel" into Czech) before Dobrovsky, who was well aware of the unreliability of Hajek: "Perhaps Herder saw in Bajek, as Niebuhr did in Livy, traces of old epic folk poems, and tried to reproduce such songs again from his narrative." 4 4 Hough not himself a Czech, but a Slovene, B. Kopitar played a considerable part in bringing the generation of the Czech Pre-Romantics to the study of their folklore. Inheriting Herder's views on language, race, and folklore with but few modifications of his own, Kopitar applied them to the Slavic peoples, thus becoming one of the f i r s t adherents of l i t e r a i y Pan-Slavism.45 Standing halfway between the generation of the older scholars of the enlightenment, such as Dobrovsky, and the younger Romantics, Kopitar formed a bridge between them. Like Herder he regarded the folk song, not only as a source of linguistic, historical, and philological material, but also as poetiy possessing esthetic worth in i t self. 4 6 As early as 1809 he asked fellow Serb and Croat stu-

The Czech Revival

and Russia

39

dents at the University of Vienna to c o l l e c t folk material f o r him. Later he met Vuk Karadzic, whom he encouraged and aided in the l a t t e r ' s early collections of Serbo-Croatian folk songs. 47 During his attempts to induce Vuk to make these collections, Kopitar brought him Herder's Stimmen der Völker to read. 48 I dwell on Kopitar 1 s a c t i v i t y , not only because his i n t e r ests are manifested in his correspondence with Dobrovsky, but because his work must be regarded as exerting a formative influence on the young Vaclav Hanka, who, a f t e r a short p e r i od of study under Dobrovsky, had come t o Vienna in 1813· Here he and Kopitar worked together on Eromddkovy Prvotlny (Hromadka's Harbingers), a Viennese l i t e r a r y and s c i e n t i f i c supplement published for Czechs. The exact details of their association are not known, but i t i s almost conclusive that Kopitar influenced the young Hanka, already interested in folklore from his youth because of the a c t i v i t i e s of his father and mother. 49 I t i s not important whether i t was Kopitar or Hanka who wrote the enthusiastic review 50 greeting the arrival of the f i r s t volume of Vuk Karadzic's Son! Books and Ivan Prac's Collection of Russian Songs in the Czech world. 51 I f i t was Kopitar, then Hanka surely knew the a r t i c l e and approved of i t ; i f i t was Hanka, then the a r t i c l e must be regarded as a probable evidence of Kopitar's teaching, f o r Hanka1s own a c t i v i t i e s in the f i e l d of folklore began only with his stay in Vienna. Certainly i t was Kopitar who, with his translations of Serb f o l k songs into German, provided the models f o r Hanka's own translations, f i r s t of Serb, l a t e r of Russian poetry. Kopitar himself recommended that Hanka translate some songs from the second volume of Karadzic's Song Books.52 And of the Serb songs which Hanka included in his subsequent Serb Folk Muse, Transported to Bohemia, S3 more than half had already been translated by Kopitar into German. There i s good evidence that Hanka, though undoubtedly he translated these songs from the Serb originals, relied on Kopitar's German versions, probably to bolster his own faulty knowledge of Serbian. 54 But to return to the review which appeared in Bromadka's Harbingers.55 I t i s noteworthy f o r us in two respects. F i r s t , the writer translates into Czech a song from each o f the c o l lections which he reviews, and as such they are among the f i r s t samples of Slavic folk songs to appear in Czech translation. But more significant, the author c a l l s on Czech w r i t ers to use f o l k literature as a model in their work: I t would be highly desirable i f some gentle patriot would carry out the task of collecting our own lovely f o l k songs f o r us, so that we Czechs might again be reunited to the Slavic folk song, from which, alas! we have strayed so f a r ,

40

The Czech Revival

and Russia

at least in the c i t i e s , because of the harsh German tongue and i t s cultivation there; our certainly deserve the merit of being held up present writers, for what people can show us majestic, more l o f t y and more sacred than i s mily pane"?

sounds of the old songs most as models for songs more "Otce nas,

I t is a proclamation of literary Pan-Slavism; the Czech song is to be reunited to the body of Slavic folklore from which i t has developed, and Hanka's later literary a c t i v i t y , as well as the forgery of the RKZ, must be viewed in this l i g h t . One i s tempted to ask why Hanka (assuming, as we probably may, that the writer is Hanka) did not take up his own challenge and begin the systematic collection of Czech folkmight never have been lore. Had he done so the Manuscripts forged (certainly the necessity for them, in Hanka's own mind, might not have been so great), and a great part of Czech l i t erary history might well have been quite different. The answer to this question, resting so largely in the secret springs and contradictions of Hanka's own personality, is d i f f i c u l t . Probably Hanka considered himself as a creative poet, above the menial work of mere recording and collecting. Indeed, his f i r s t poems, following his return from Vienna to Prague, were " o r i g i n a l , " and only somewhat later did he turn to translation and imitation of the folk song. Thus Hanka must be seen as the strange contradiction of a man who well realized the importance of folklore as a model for the development of Czech literature (and, indeed, who used i t himself as such a model in his own poetry), but who refused to undertake the systematic work of collecting. The Napoleonic

Wars and

Their

Influence

In

Bohemia

The political orientation of the young Czech patriots toward Russia, rendered inevitable by their opposition to the Austrian reactionaiy government and their growing consciousness of the ideal of Slavic unity, was vastly accelerated by the wars of Emperor Alexander I . To the young Czechs, Russia, the Slav sister nation, led by the young and "liberal" emperor, appeared to be a crowned republic. And Russia was the state which, a f t e r the defeat of Napoleon, became the most powerful on the continent of Europe. Austria's weakness had been made obvious by the Napoleonic Wars, and so Czech patriotism turned to the East. And i t was Russia, indeed, and Russia alone, that could and might possibly liberate the Austrian Slavs, for she was the only independent Slav state of the day. Without this faith in Russia, Czech patriotic hopes and aspirations of the period were meaningless. And even Czech conservative c i r c l e s could, at least for the time being, see in Russia the strongest ally of the Austrian Empire.

The Czech Revival and Russia

41

The presence of Russian troops, and of Alexander himself in the Czech lands gave support to the Czechs' new-found patriotism The Russian army of Suvorov had been on Czech soil in 1799, and was received with great joy. Celebrations were organized in honor of the soldiers in Prague, Pilsen, and other cities, and the heroes were greeted with enthusiasm by the Czech patriotic magazines.56 During this campaign Czechs learned Russian songs from the lips of Russian soldiers, doubtless folk songs as well.57 In 1805 Russian armies returned to fight at Austerlitz, and in 1813 they came again, and Alexander with them. His arrival in Prague (where be stayed on the Hradcany) was greeted with enthusiastic ovations. The Czech poets, entranced, greeted the great ljberal with poems such as -Josef Rautenkranc' "Zpev plesajicich Cechil ο slavnosti pokoje 1814" (Song of the Dancing Czechs on the Celebration of Peace in 1814), Antonin larek's "Vitej, uteseny hoste, do Cech nasich," (Welcome, Delightful Guest, to Our Bohemia), and V. A. Svoboda's "Na mir Evropy roku 1815" (0n the Peace of Europe in 1815)·58 In 1815 the Emperor returned to Bohemia, on his way home from France, this time staying in the castle of Orlik u Schwarzenberka. A contemporary Czech folk song celebrates his generosity and respect for peasant labor.59 In 1822 he stopped in Pilsen, on his way home to Russia from Verona, and was again greeted with an extravagant demonstration by the inhabitants. For the young Czech patriots Alexander never ceased to be a great liberal. In him they reconciled their Pan-Slavist hopes (which were little more than their dreams of being liberated from Austria by Russia) with their own liberation and hatred of the Austrian reaction. Most able at this was Vaclav Hanka, friend of §iskov and Uvarov, and proud holder of imperial Russian orders which commemorated his distinguished work in Slavic studies, but among the young Czechs outstanding during his younger years as a radical.60 Hanka's dual attitude may e considered to be deliberate hypocrisy, but not so that of elakovsky, who mourns the death of the good tsar in his poem "The Death of Alexander," in the Echoes of Russian Songs. In 1825 the young Czech liberal, hearing the news of the Decembrist Revolt, wrote the following words: Thank God that it was discovered in time! That fair monarchy would certainly have been destroyed. Poor Alexander! As far as we can tell, he fell, a victim to those madmen. That pestilential air from Germany has blown there — and that fact makes it twice as base. They wanted to cut the Russian Empire up into bits, into small principalities, after the German fashion.61 In the Decembrist Revolt Celakovsky saw the attempt of the Russian nobility to destroy the central government, after the

42

The Czech Revival

and

Russia

• o d e l of t h e r e a c t i o n a r y Gernan n o b i l i t y whom he knew c l o s e r t o hone; h i s confusion of such b a s i c i s s u e s i s symptomatic of t h e f a i l u r e of t h e Czech l i b e r a l s of h i s day t o understand Russian s o c i a l and p o l i t i c a l c o n d i t i o n s , so d i f f e r e n t from t h e i r own, a s well a s . t h e q u i t e s e p a r a t e problems of the Russ i a n i n t e l l i g e n t s i a . t e l a k o v s k y ' s deception l a s t e d , indeed, u n t i l 1835, when, a s e d i t o r of the Prazske novlny (Prague News), he described a speech made by Nicholas I to a Polish deputation from Warsaw i n the following terms: "The speech can be understood without conment, f o r i t belongs t o t h a t c o l l e c t i o n of w r i t i n g s which include t h e speeches of the Tat a r khans t o t h e Russian princes of 400 y e a r s a g o . " 6 2 U l i s p o l i t i c a l o r i e n t a t i o n of the young Czechs t o Russia was a d i r e c t impetus to t h e i r study and use of t h e Russian epos and Russian f o l k l o r e as a model f o r t h e i r own c r e a t i o n s . Thus, Vaclav Hanka, who expressed such extravagant admiration f o r t h e Russian troops in 1813» 63 and published a Brief Description of Russia and Her Armies in 1815, l a t e r imitated Russian f o l k songs and the Lay of Igor's Raid in h i s own poems and in t h e RIZ· And t h u s , Celakovsky, p a t r i o t i c a l l y moved by the Russian war a g a i n s t the Turks, wrote h i s "Russ i a n s on the Danube in 1829," d e s c r i b i n g t h e passage of the Russian t r o o p s in the s t y l e of the a n c i e n t Russian h i s t o r i c a l songs. For n o t only was the Russian epos one of the c l e a r e s t m a n i f e s t a t i o n s of p a t r i o t i s m to be found i n S l a v i c l i t e r a t u r e , but H e r d e r ' s i n f l u e n c e , as well as the need to c u l t i v a t e purely S l a v i c and non-Germanic sources of l i t e r a r y i n s p i r a t i o n , made t h e i d e n t i f i c a t i o n of n a t i o n a l i s m and t h e c u l t i v a t i o n of f o l k l o r e , both Czech and S l a v i c , i n e v i t a b l e . I f the Czech epic — the testimony of the Czech people concerning i t s own g l o r i o u s p a s t and i t s r i g h t to independent n a t i o n a l e x i s t e n c e — had been destroyed, then i t must be r e c r e a t e d , and f o r such a t a s k Russian and Serb f o l k poetry supplied ready models f o r i m i t a t i o n . In t h i s r e s p e c t w§ may make l i t t l e d i s t i n c t i o n between Hanka's f o r g e r i e s and Celakovsky ' s more honest t r a n s l a t i o n s and p a s t i c h e s . 6 4 Both were cond i t i o n e d by t h e psychology of a time which sought t o found the weak and newborn Czech nation and i t s a s p i r a t i o n s on the f i r m e r and broader support of a Slavic, and in p a r t i c u l a r , a Russian c u l t u r a l o r i e n t a t i o n .

Chapter I I I FIRST INFLUENCES OF RUSSIAN POLK POETRY IN CZECH LITERATURE The Poetry

of

Vaclav

Hanka

IN the preceding chapter Hanka's a c t i v i t i e s in Vienna were described. Under the influence of Kopitar, i t was no doubt he who wrote the a r t i c l e in Hromadka's Harbingers which inspired his fellow Czechs of the younger generation to collect folk poetry and to use i t as a model for written literature. Returning to Prague in 1814, Hanka began to carry out the second part of his challenge, though not, as indicated, the f i r s t . During the years 1814-18 poetry was his chief a c t i v i t y . Most of what he published over these years he represented as original writing, but subsequent research has shown that i t was largely derivative. Among the many and varied sources of his work, folk poetry, and especially that of the Great Russians and Serbo-Croats, supplied his models. A collection of Czech folk songs, published by him in 1815, shows that he had already learned to imitate Czech poetry. Later he turned from Czech to Russian and Serb sources. Both Öulkov's Collection of

Various

Songs1

and the newest

and Complete

Russian

Song

Book2 are known to have been in his possession,3 perhaps as early as 1813, since one of the volumes bears the name of a Russian o f f i c e r who presumably l e f t i t in Bohemia when the Russian army was there during that year. 4 In 1816 Hanka published Dvanäctero plsni (Twelve Songs), a collection of pastoral and love lyrics, supposedly original, but showing the influence of Russian folk songs in Culkov's collection. 5 In 1817 he printed a collection of translations, Prostonarodni

Srbskd

Muza do Cech prevedena

(The Serb Folk

Muse, Transported to Bohemia), jwhich contains, besides translations of eight Serb songs, two Russian ones taken from the Moscow Song Book.6 This collection promised further attempts in the same style, and Hanka wrote on the cover: "Should this small attempt at Serb folk songs please the public, I shall try to publish for my fellow-countrymen an entire collection of the folk songs of a l l the Slavic peoples." The plan was never carried out, Hanus believes, because of the carelessness

44

First

Influences

of Russian Folk

Poetry

of Hanka's work and his lack of mastery of the Czech poetic language, for his own was packed with numerous Russianisms and Serbisms.7 Also probable is the explanation that Hanka was engaged in more "serious" work during this period: beside the RKZ, the succeeding years of his poetic activity saw the publication of a series of "original" poems. The inadequacy of Hanka's work is shown by his tendency to translate word for word, whether a given word has the same meaning in Czech that it has in Russian or not. Hius, in "The Lovers Parting," the heroine "na dvor pospesala, druzocka vstrecala, pro ego zdorov'e sprosila, pro svoe nescast'e emu razskazala" ("hastened to the court, met her friend, asked concerning his health, told him of her unhappiness"). Hanka translated this as, "na dvflr pospechala, druzecka ^otkala a pro jeho zdravi druzecka proslla i pro sve nestesti jemu rozkdzala"· ("she rushed to the court, met her friend, beiied the friend for his health and ordered to him for her own unhappiness"). In "Petersburg Song" he translated "net ni minuty, ni casa" (there is not a minute, nor an hour") as "neni minuty ani casa" ("there is not a minute nor time").8 These apparent mistakes, as well as the numerous Russianisms in Hanka's work, are more understandable when one remembers that he was a partisan of Jungmann and sought to revive the Czech literary language by extensive borrowing from Russian, Serb, and Polish.9 In this, it need hardly be said, he was not always successful. In 1819 Hanka published an "original" collection of songs, Bankovy pisne (Hanka's Songs). These poems, again brief lyrics, are full of reflections of Russian folk songs. In the case of one, "Secret Love," Hanka notes that it is composed "die RuskAo" ("according to a Russian model").10 But in other cases he gives no intimation of the source. Thus the beginning of his poem "Complaint" shows its relation to a song from Culkov's collection: "Complaint": Zatmelo se krasrie slunecko, zatmelo. (The fair sun was darkened, Was darkened.)

Culkov, number 178: Tumanno, krasno solnysko, tumanno. (Overcast the fair Sun, overcast.)

Many other poems in this collection are simple paraphrases or adaptations from Öulkov.11 Sometimes Hanka reworks the rhythm by changing a ten-syllable verse to five. Thus ^he poem 'Myself" begins with a paraphrase of a poem from Culkov, with this simple change of metre:

First

Influences

"Myself": Porodila mne moje maticka porodila mne ν krasny Vesny den, ν krasny jarni den ν zelenem sade, mezi rhzemi, mezi rdzemi plnokvetymi (My mother Bore me, Bore me On a f a i r day in spring, On a f a i r spring day, In a green garden, In a green garden, Among roses, Among roses, In f u l l bloom.)

of Russian Polk

Poetry

45

Gulkov, number 184: Porodila da menja matuska, Porodila da gosudarynja, V zelenom ta sadu guljajuci, Uto pod gruseju pod zelenoju, Cto pod jablon'ju pod kudrja. voju, Sto na travuske, 11a muravuske, Na cvetockakh na lazorevykh. (And my mother bore me, My dame bore me, Strolling in a green garden, Under a green pear tree, Under a leafy apple, On the grass, on the sward, On the sky-blue flowers.)

Hanka noted that "Myself" i s written "duchem staroceskym" ("in the Old Czech s t y l e " ) . Actually i t is composed of two parts, one derivative from Russian folk poetry, the other from Serb. 12 The relation between "Myself" and "Kytice" (The Bouquet) of the RK was observed long ago, and i t was believed that the former was modelled on the latter. Today i t is impossible to say which of the two was written f i r s t . Hanka's technique in these adaptations is to alternate translation with free paraphrase, at times bringing in elements of his own invention. 13 In 1816 Hanka's friend, Josef Linda, "discovered" the "Pisen pod Vysehradem" (Song beneath Vysehrad), and i t was f i r s t published by Hanka in 1817 in his Starobyla skladanl (Ancient Compositions). Again the beginning was composed according to a Russian folk song from Culkov's collection: "Song beneath Vysehrad": Ha ty nase slunce, Vysegrade tvrd! Ty smele i hrde na prikrie stojies, na skale stojies, vsem cuziem postrach; pod tobu reka bystra valie se, etc. (0 thou, our sun, Firm Vysehrad!

Culkov, number 187: Akh ty nas batjuska •Jaroslavl' gorod, ty khoros, prigoz, na gore stois 1 , na gore stois' na vsej krasote, promezdu dvukh rek, promez bystryikh, etc. (0 thou, our father, •Jaroslavl' the city,

46

First Influences of Russian Folk Poetry

Boldly and proudly Thou standest on the heights, On the cliff thou standest, A terror to all strangers; Beneath thee the river Rushes quick, etc.)

Thou art fair, comely, On the hill thou standest, On the hill thou standest, In all thy beauty, Between two rivers, Between two swift ones, etc.)

The situation, expressions and rhythm are quite similar. In September, 1817, Hanka "discovered" the Queen's Court Manuscript (RK). The lyrical songs of the RK have long been known to have been composed by him and constitute little more than a continuation of his earlier work in imitating Russian folk songs. Indeed, certain striking similarities were noted soon after the supposed discovery of the RK· Celakovsky pointed out the relation of the lyric "Ruze (The Rose) to a poem from Culkov's collection in a footnote to his own translation of the same poem: "Is this pure chance? Or must the reason for such similarity be searched for more deeply, in ancient times? Who will decide this? Certainly it is a strange matter."14 He was also struck by the same poem's relation to "Nehezky sen" (Hie Unpleasant Dream), his translation of another poem in Culkov, and he adds a similar footnote to this poem in the

Slavic Folk

Songs.15

"The Rose": Ach ty roze, krasna roze! cemu si rane rozkvetla? rozkvetavsi pomrzla? pomrzavsi usvedla? usvedavsi opadla? Vecer sedech dluho sedech, do kuropenie sedech; nie dozdati nemozech, vse drezky, lucky sezeh.

Usnuch, sniese mi se ve sne,

Culkov, number 145: Akh ty sad li ty moj sadocik, Sad da zelenoe vinograd'e, Κ cemu ty rano sad razevetaes', Razcvetaesi sad zasykhaes', Zemlju list'em sad ustilaes'? . . . . [22 lines] Ja vecer^ vecer moloden'ke Dolgo vecer prosidela, •Ja do samova razsveta, Vsju lucinusku pripalila, Vsekh podruzenek utomila, Vse tebja, moj drug, dozidalas'. Culkov, number 143: Akh vy vetry, vetry bujnye, Vy bujny vetry osennie, Potjanite vy s etu storonu, S etu storonu, so vostocnuju, Otnesite vy k drugu vestocku, Cto neradostnuju vest' pecal' nu j u. Kak vecer to mne maladesinke,

First

Influences

jako by mne nebosce

na ρ rave j ruce s prsta svlekl se zlaty kamenek.

Kamenek nenadjidech zmilitka se nedozdech. (Ah, thou rose, lovely rose!

of Russian Folk

Poetry

47

Mne malo spalos', mnogo videlos'. Nekhoros to mne son prividelsja, UX kaby u menj a u mladesinki, Na pravoj ruke na mizincike, Raspajalsja moj zolot persten 1 Vy kat i 1 sj a do rogoj kam en1 Raspletalasja moja rusa kosa, Vyupletalasja lenta a l a j a , Lenta alaja, Jaroslavskaja, Podaren'ica druga milova Svet dorodnova dobrova molodca.

(Ah, thou garden, ah my garden, Garden and green grapevine, Why dost thou bloom so early? Why dost thou bloom so early, Blooming, to freeze? Blooming, to wither, Freezing, to wither? Strewing the ground with Withering, to f a l l ? leaves? . . . .[22 lines] Last night I sat, long I sat, Last evening, I the young one, Long I sat through the evening, T i l l the cockcrow I sat; Until the very dawn, I burned a l l the kindling, I wearied a l l my friends, I waited for nothing, Ever I waited for you, my dear I burned a l l the kindling and one. embers. Ah, winds, violent winds, Violent winds of autumn, Blow from that side, From that side, from the east, Carry news to my dear one, Joyless news, mournful news. Tell how last evening I , the young one I f e l l asleep and dreamed: Slept but l i t t l e , but dreamt As i f from me, poor g i r l , much. From the finger of my right I saw a bad dreajn: hand From the l i t t l e finger of my Someone took my golden ring, right hand, My golden ring cajne loose, Pulled off the precious stone. The precious stone rolled out, My red braid unwound, My red ribbon unfastened, My red ribbon of Jaroslav, The g i f t of my dear one,

48

First

Influences

The stone I did not find; >ty lover I was not to s e e . )

of Russian

Folk

Poetry

The light of my stout young man.)

Masaryk has made a detailed study of Hanka's adaptation of these two Russian songs. He finds the e s t h e t i c worth of Hanka's version considerably below that of the o r i g i n a l s . Hanka's poem loses e f f e c t because of the combination of two unrelated motifs from two sources. In Culkov, number 145, the hopeless waiting o f the g i r l a l l night i s more simple, natura l , and touching than that the g i r l should f a l l asleep and have a bad dream, a dream which, indeed, i s unrelated to the motif of the young man's failure to return. Thus, because of the a r b i t r a r y combination of two unrelated motifs, Hanka's poem i s l e s s f a i t h f u l to the s p i r i t of true folk poetry. And Hanka's narration of the dream i t s e l f i s simply f a c t u a l , without the personal and emotional expression of the narrator in Culkov, number 143· The end o f Hanka's version again loses e f f e c t , for the g i r l ' s ring i s l o s t only in her sleep, while the lover i s l o s t in r e a l i t y . 1 6 Though I cannot share Masaryk's point of view completely, none the l e s s there can be l i t t l e doubt that Hanka's work in combining these two originals of diverse character shows a certain quality of mechanicalness, as well as a f a i l u r e to capture the s p i r i t of the o r i g i n a l . Hanka's work has an a r t i f i c i a l , contrived quality; thus in "The Bouquet," perhaps the f i n e s t l y r i c in the RK, the g i r l , reaching for a bouquet floating on a stream, loses her balance and tumbles in. She then (presumably while s t i l l in the water) addresses a melancholy request to the bouquet to t e l l her who sent i t . Goethe noted t h i s comic discrepancy, and in h i s translation of the poem he places the address to the bouquet before the maiden's f a l l into the stream. For Masaryk Hanka's version can hardly be considered true folklore, for a peasant might see only a crude sort o f humor in such a s i t u a t i o n . 1 7 Masaryk also gives a detailed c r i t i c i s m of the other l y r i c poems o f the RK, and for reasons similar to those for which he c r i t i c i z e s "The Rose" and "The Bouquet," he shows the unnatura l n e s s , often confusion, of these poems, as well as t h e i r f a i l u r e to f u l f i l l the demands of true folk a r t . 1 8 The e s s e n t i a l relation of Hanka's own poetic a c t i v i t y to the Russian folk o r i g i n a l s in his possession becomes evident. From the Russian sources he has taken rhythms, phrases, poetic mot i f s , ideas, and images. He has changed only enough to conceal the identity o f his source and to produce the e f f e c t of o r i g i n a l i t y . And the changes he has made and the material which he has added are often i n f e r i o r in quality to the o r i g i n a l s , and are unsuited to the nature of true folk a r t .

First

Influences

of Russian

Folk Poetry

49

But inadequate a s Hanka's work i s from the p o e t i c s t a n d p o i n t , h i s borrowings and a d a p t a t i o n s have a deeper s i g n i f i cance than t h a t of merely cloaking h i s own l a c k of p o e t i c i n v e n t i v e n e s s . For n e i t h e r in h i s w i l l i n g n e s s t o borrow from f o r e i g n s o u r c e s without acknowledging them, nor in the l e v e l of h i s p o e t i c t a l e n t , did Hanka d i f f e r s i g n i f i c a n t l y from t h e o t h e r w r i t e r s of h i s time. Most of Czech l i t e r a t u r e of t h e day was d e r i v a t i v e , which was t o be expected of a time when w r i t t e n l i t e r a t u r e had t o be formed a r t i f i c i a l l y , o r , a s i n t h e case of Czech l i t e r a t u r e , re-formed a f t e r a t o t a l break with t h e p a s t . For example, compare Russian l i t e r a t u r e of t h e e i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r y . Hanka's p a r t in t h e f o r g e r y of t h e RKZ h a s no doubt s i n g l e d him out f o r s p e c i a l and undoubtedly well deserved c r i t i c i s m . But the important t h i n g i s not t h a t he borrowed, but what he borrowed and from where he took i t . And in t h i s r e s p e c t Hanka i s well-oigh unique among t h o s e of h i s decade. I n s t e a d of t u r n i n g e x c l u s i v e l y t o t h e w r i t t e n l i t e r a t u r e of t h e West f o r h i s i n s p i r a t i o n , he went t o t h e f o l k l i t e r a t u r e of t h e o t h e r S l a v i c n a t i o n s . In doing so he achieved a double advantage: (1) he opened up a source of l i t e r a r y i n s p i r a t i o n which, he f e l t , was c l o s e r t o t h e Czechs and t h e i r n a t i o n a l i d e a , and thus helped make p o s s i b l e t h e c u l t i v a t i o n of a t r u l y Czech l i t e r a t u r e , one not d e r i v a t i v e from the West; and (2) in t u r n i n g t o f o l k l i t e r a t u r e f o r h i s i n s p i r a t i o n he found new forms of p o e t r y ; h i s use of t h e f r e e r , o f t e n unrhymed v e r s e 1 9 of Russian f o l k poetry was an innovation which was l a t e r t o have important consequences f o r Celakovsky and Erben. Hanka e r r e d in i d e n t i f y i n g t h e f o l k t r a d i t i o n of t h e Czechs with what he supposed must have been a common S l a v i c f o l k t r a d i t i o n , 2 0 and h i s p o e t i c p r a c t i c e i t s e l f did n o t measure up t o h i s t h e o r i e s . But i t i s important t o n o t e t h a t Hanka was a pioneer in Czech l i t e r a t u r e in t h e t a s k of opening t h e doors t o t h e use of f o l k songs a s models f o r w r i t t e n l i t e r a t u r e . This q u e s t i o n deserves f u r t h e r t r e a t ment, but f i r s t i t w i l l be b e t t e r t o examine t h e e p i c songs of t h e RKZ. The Epic Poems of the RKZ In the b a t t l e which took place over t h e a u t h e n t i c i t y of t h e RKZ d u r i n g t h e 1 8 8 0 ' s , i t was assumed t h a t Hanka had had one o r more c o l l a b o r a t o r s , but t h e i r i d e n t i t y was not known. Hanka himself was no e p i c poet and h i s own a t t e m p t s a t e p i c p o e t r y were t o t a l l y u n s u c c e s s f u l . 2 1 Hanus, in h i s e x h a u s t i v e a r t i c l e on t h e s u b j e c t , 2 2 attempted t o show t h a t t h e c o l l a b o r a t o r was •Josef Linda, and t h a t Linda was l a r g e l y r e s p o n s i b l e , i f n o t s o l e l y so, f o r the e p i c songs of t h e RK and the RZ, Hanka's r o l e perhaps being only t h a t of t h e t r a n s l a t o r of t h e s e songs i n t o Old Czech. 2 3

50

First

Influences

of Russian Folk

Poetry

Hie word-by-word analysis of the RKZ which was made during the years 1885-1900 has shown detailed correspondence between the l y r i c s of the RK and Serb and Russian folk songs, but i t has been f a r more d i f f i c u l t to show that such correspondences exist in the epic songs of the two Manuscripts. The epic songs are rather a highly complex interweaving of motifs and phrases from diverse sources. I t w i l l be s u f f i c i e n t to note here that these sources show a remarkable correspondence to the favorite books of Josef Linda, which included such varied works as Ossian, Homer, Shakespeare, and the Lay of Iior's Raid. 2 4 In the Iior Lay Linda saw a "true, timehonored heroic epos, as true as Homer and Ossian [ ! ] , coming directly from nature, transfused with original heroism." 25 A second Russian source i s Karamzin's History, especially the third chapter of the f i r s t part, which treats the character and moral nature of the ancient Slavs. Karamzin's Rousseaul i k e descriptions of the Slavs' love of l i b e r t y , the organization of the Slav family, i t s economic s i g n i f i c a n c e — a l l this stood Linda in good stead and formed one of the bases of his novel Zare nad. pohanstvem (Light over Paganism), as well as of certain details in the RKZ.26 The Iior Lay supplied some interesting parallels with the language and expression of the epic songs of the RKZ: The Lay of Iior's

Raid

(Hanka's translation): naciti starymi slovesy povesti

(to begin the tale in ancient words)

RKZ·.

tichymi slovesy hovorichu ["0 ldrich"] vetchyni slovesy nad sim ospechu ["Jaroslav"] (Spoke with quiet words,) (Hastened with ancient words)

Bojan roztekaval se . . . serym vlkem po zemi, sivym orlem pod oblaky

zarve jarym turem [RZ]

(Bojan would f l y l i k e a gray wolf across the land, like a gray eagle beneath the clouds)

(He cried out like a bright aurochs)

vsednem na svoje rychle komone

i vsede Vojmir na rucie kone ["Öestmir·'] vskoci Vojmir na svoj ruci komon ["Cestmir"] (And Vojmir sat on his swift horse) (Vojmir jumped on his swift steed)

(seated on their swift steeds)

First

Influences

of Russian Folk

Poetry

51

otna zlata stola (of his f a t h e r ' s golden table)

s otna zlata stola [RZ] (from his father's golden table)

slunce s v i t i se na nebese, Igor knize ν Ruskej zemi

vstane jedno slunce po vsiem nebi, vstane Jarmir nad vsiu zemiu opet. ["Oldrich"] (One sun shall rise in a l l the heavens; Jarmir shall stand over the whole land again.)

(the sun shines in the heavens; Igor the Prince i s in the Russian land.)

and many others. 2 7 There are also numerous Russianisms throughout the RKZ, some taken from Karamzin; others, such as the comparison to the aurochs (tur, jar tur), clearly come from the Iior Lay, in which Prince Vsevolod i s compared to an aurochs ( j a r y j tur).

Another influence of the Igor Lay on the RK i s in the conception of the ancient Slavic poet Lumir "ky slovy i peniem biese pohybal Vysehrad i vsie v l a s t i , " ("who with words and song had stirred Vysehrad and a l l the l a n d s , " — " Z a b o j " ) , undoubtedly modelled on the figure of Bojaii in the Iior Lay.36 A probable influence of the Iior Lay (and perhaps also of the Russian f o l k songs and byliny) i s in the choice of rhythms f o r the epic poems of the RKZ, which show a great variety of types: 'Oldrich and Boleslav" and "Jaroslav" have ten-syllable lines, and thus presumably show the influence of the Serb epic songs (though the caesura or stop does not always follow the fourth s y l l a b l e ) , while "Zaboj," "Cestmir," and "Jelen" employ f r e e r rhythms. To which of the diverse influences acting upon the poet this use of free rhythms may be traced i s problematical, but undoubtedly the Iior Lay and the Russian folk songs had e f f e c t . Hanus writes: The freedom of the rhythms in "Zaboj," "Cestmfr," and "Jelen" i s not found in any poet before the year 1 8 1 7 (according to Professor K r a i ) ; with this freedom of rhythm Linda evidently sought . . . to create the e f f e c t of great antiquity, and thus he acted under the influence of Ossian's poems and Iior.29 Much more problematical i s the possibility of the i n f l u ence of the Russian f o l k songs, especially of the byliny. Believing Hanka to have at least collaborated in the composition of the epic songs of the RKZ, Machal suggests two possible parallels between these songs and the poems in Culkov's c o l l e c t i o n , but he prudently admits that the matter i s much more doubtful than i s the case with the l y r i c s of the RK.30 Uiu§, "Benes Hermanov" in the RK opens similarly to a poem in Culkov:

52

First

Influences

"Benes Heraanov": Aj ty slunce, aj slunecko! t y - l i j si zalostivo, cemu ty s v i e t i s na ny, na biedne ludi? (Ah, thou sun, ah sun! Art thou sorrowful? Wherefore dost thou shine on us, On us poor folk?)

of Russian

Folk

Poetry

Öilkov, number 192: Akh ty solnce, ty solnce krasnoe, ty k cemu rano za l e s - k a t i s 1 sja? (Ah, thou sun, thou f a i r sun, Why dost thou sink behind the forest early?)

But the parallel here i s far from certain, and the use of the apostrophe to the sun and general mood of the passage suggest many parallels, among them Jaroslavna's lament in the Iior

Lay:

Jaroslavna rano placet Putivle na zabrale arkuci: "Svetloe i tresvetloe si"nee! vsem teplo i krasno esi. 1 1 (Jaroslavna weeps at morn in Putivl' town on the city wall, wailing: "0 bright and thrice-bright sun! Towards a l l art thou warm and f a i r . " ) Machal also suggests the following parallel between the beginning of "Libusa's Judgment" and Culkov, number 129: "Libusa's Judgment": Aj Vletavo, ce mutisi vodu, ce mutisi vodu strebropenu? zdali te luta rozvlajse bilra, sesypavsi tucu s i r a neba, oplakavsi glavy gor zelenych, vyplakavsi zlatopiesku glinu? (Ah, Vltava, why dost thou becloud thy water, Why dost thou becloud thy silver-foamed water? Has a cruel storm stirred up thy waves, Strewing with clouds the wide heavens, Bathing the heads of the green mountains, Washing the golden sands?) Culkov, number 129: Oj! ty nas batjuska tikhoj Don^ O.i, cto ze ty tikhoj Don mutneconek teces'? Akh, tak tikhu Donu ne mutnonni t e c i , So dna men,ja tikha Dona, studenyj kluci b ' j u t , Posered menja tikha Dona bela rybica mutit, e t c . (0 thou, our father, quiet Don,

First

Influences

of Russian

Folk

Poetry

53

Oh, why dost thou flow so turbid, quiet Don? Ah, how can the quiet Don not be turbid, On my bottom cold springs strike forth, In ray midst a white fish s t i r s me up, e t c . ) Here the parallel is closer, but such apostrophes to rivers are quite common in Slavic folk poetry, and Gebauer has pointed out a Serb parallel which seems equally possible: Oj Dunave, tia vodo, sto t i tako mutna teces? I I ' te jelen rogom muti? i l 1 Mirceta vojevoda? Nit' me jelen rogom muti, n i t ' Mirceta vojevoda, vec djevojke djavolice svako jutro dolazeci. 3 2 (0 Danube, thou water, why dost thou flow so turbid? Has a stag beclouded thee with his horn, or Mirceta the leader? No stag beclouded me with his horn, nor Mirceta the leader, But the devilish g i r l s , coming each morning.) Hanus, too, suggests that parallels can be found between Russian folk songs, this time the by liny, and the epic songs of the RKZ· But he points out no such parallels, and satisf i e s himself with quoting one passage from Linda's Jiri of Podebrad: "po nebi se cerno rozmracnilo, po lesich se temno roztemnilo" ("over the heaven black spread out; over the f o r ests dark spread out"), which he f a i l s to identify with any particular bylina. Stating that traces of the influence of the by liny may also be found in the RKZ, he does not suggest what the character of these influences may be. 33 Unfortunately the whole question of the possibility of the influence of the by liny on the RKZ is greatly complicated by the fact that the Serb epic songs, the Serb and Russian l y r ics, and the Lay of Igor's Raid are known to have influenced the composition of the RKZ· I t is d i f f i c u l t to isolate any particular phenomenon and trace i t to the influence of the by liny themselves. I do not deny that Linda or Svoboda may have known Russian folk songs, and even the by liny; as Hanka's close friends they very likely knew the Russian song books in Hanka's possession, and these collections do contain a few epic songs. But even assuming that they knew these works, i t does not follow that they used them as important sources of inspiration or as models for the composition of the epic songs of the RKZ· Nor, indeed, i s the question perhaps so important as i t might at f i r s t seem. For Hanka, Linda, and Svoboda the differences between Serb and Russian scarcely existed, either in their ideology or methodology; that close union of the Old Slavic language, character, customs and folklore in which they firmly believed j u s t i f i e d their calling either the Serb

54

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of Russian Folk

Poetry

or Russian folk poems "Old Slavic." Indeed, the composer of the epic songs of the RKZ seems to have shared Jungmann's theories about an Old European epic, and for him Homer and Ossian are sources as valid as anything Slavic. We cannot be certain whether or not the forgers knew the by liny at the time of the composition of the RKZ, 34 but certain a priori reasons support the argument that even if they had known them, they might well have neglected them in favor of the Iior Lay and the Serb epic poems. For one, the ideologr and plots of the byllny are rarely so clear as in the former works35 (despite all the unclear passages of the Iior Lay, its ideology and the general plot structure are clear), and what the forgers wanted was a straightforward ideology and narrative form. With its battle scenes the Iior Lay was especially useful to the forgers. And the famous nature parallelism of the Iior Lay, in which events in the world of nature parallel those of the world of m e n — a r e even related to them inter-causally — supplied a stylistic device more suitable to Pre-Romantic poetry than the innumerable repetitions and parallelisms of the byllny. An analysis of form and devices of style gives us no clear indication of exact sources. Stylistic devices are so similar in the Russian and Serb folk poems that it is extremely difficult to trace sources.36 Russian folk poetry does use the Instrumental of Comparison, as does the Iior Lay: "Bojan ... to roztekaetsja mysl'ju po drevu, serym vlkom po zemli, sizym orlom pod oblaky" ("Bojan would fly in fancy over the trees, like a gray wolf over the ground, like a blue-gray eagle under the clouds"). The Serb epos does not use this device. But its use (somewhat spasmodic) by the forgers can be explained by the Iior Lay alone. Russian folklore is richer in parallel ism than Serb, and in the reinforcement of parallelism through the use of asyndeton and polysyndeton (omission of conjunctions or their use where they would normally not be expected) but the Serb epos shows great variations in this respect, and some Serb poems are as rich in parallelistic devices as the Russian. We must also note that the individual poems of the RKZ show great variations in this matter. While "Oldrich and Boleslav" and "Libusa's Judgment," as well as certain of the lyrics, are quite rich in parallelism, the other epic songs are relatively poor in it, as well as in repetitive devices. Likewise the types of nature parallelism employed are strikingly different in the separate poems of the RKZ· Only in certain ones do we find that type which characterizes the Lay of lior's Raid, and to a lesser extent Serb and Russian folk poetry, especially lyric poetry, in which nature parallels man's actions and moods with actions and moods which are sympathetic. For example, in "Oldrich and Boleslav" we read:

First

Influences

of Russian Folk

Poetry

55

vstane jedno slunce po vsiem nebi, vstane Jarmir nad vsiu zeniiu opet. tOne sun shall rise in all the heavens, Jarmir shall stand over the whole land again.) In "Zbyhon" the youth: zalostivo sede, s nemym lesem mice, i prilete holub, zalostivo vrka. (Sits mournfully silent, like the dumb forest, And there flies up a pigeon, mournfully cooing.) Prijde rane prijde nova (There came trees to There came

slunce vrcholy drev k hradu, radost ν junosino srdce. the morning sun over the tops of the the fortress; new joy into the youth's heart.)

The lyric, "The Bouquet," begins: Ve^je beze (The The

vetriecek s kniezeckych lesov, zmilitka ku potoku. breeze blows from the prince's woods; lover runs to the stream.)

But in other poems of the RKZ this type of parallelism is lacking, and events and objects are only compared to those in nature, not actually paralleled by them. Such comparisons are occasionally formed with the instrumental; more usually with the connective jak ("like" or "as"). The characteristic device of direct simile without connective, represented in texts with a dash, and common in both Serb and Russian folk poetry, is not found in the RKZ. Not is the antithesis, or negative comparison (rhetorical statement or question immediately negated, the purpose of which is to compare the subject of discourse to the object negated) used. Its use would have helped to isolate Russian and Serb influences, since Russian folk poetry uses chiefly negated statements, and Serb negated questions. This variation in the use of certain devices in different poems of the RKZ, as well as the variation in the amount of parallelism, particularly noticeable in contrasting the lyric poems lo the epic, likewise suggests separate authorship. Another device used in Russian folk poetry which is lacking in Serb folk poems, as well as in the Lay of Iior's Raid, is the use of epithets such as mat', batjuska (mother, father) for cities, rivers, et cetera. This device is not used in the RKZ, suggesting that the forgers were not familiar with it (if they had been it presumably would have appealed to them

56

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Poetry

as a t y p i c a l "Old S l a v i c " f o l k d e v i c e ) , and hence, were not f a m i l i a r with the Russian f o l k e p i c . Thus i t i s d i f f i c u l t t o assert d e f i n i t e l y that the RKZ show the influence o f the Russian by liny. Indeed, the t o t a l influence exerted by Russian sources on the epic songs o f the RKZ i s hardly so great as we might e x pect. Those passages which have p a r a l l e l s in Russian works (I$or and Karamzin) are not so numerous as those which have t h e i r p a r a l l e l s in Hajek's Chronicle, Ossian, or Homer.37 Russian influence on the epic poems i s g r e a t e s t in the number o f Russian words and grammatical forms employed, such as the a t t r i b u t i v e use of the short forms of the a d j e c t i v e s . I t i s somewhat less from the point o f view o f form, where Ossian and Serb f o l k poetry were a l s o i n f l u e n c e s , and i t i s l e a s t o f a l l , perhaps, from the point of view o f actual content. The f o r g e r s ' f a i l u r e to u t i l i z e the Russian epic as a systematic source of inspiration shows up most in the "non-epic" charact e r o f the poems, f i r s t pointed out by Talv,j. 3 8 They are characterized by the r e l a t i v e shortness of the poems in comparison t o the great amount of n a r r a t i v e content, by lack o f breadth o f development (thus in "Jaroslav" a b a t t l e occupies only three l i n e s ) , by the lack o f an epic hero who stands a t the center o f the work, and by lack o f d e t a i l e d descriptions o f places and o b j e c t s . 3 9 In these respects a systematic i m i t a t i o n of the Russian f o l k epic might have produced rather d i f f e r e n t results. Thus a contrast i s shown between the l y r i c songs o f the RK and the epic songs o f the RKZ· In the former, Russian f o l k poetry forms a consistent and systematic source of i n f l u e n c e ; in the l a t t e r i t s influence i s at best not g r e a t , and the t o t a l Russian influence exerted (Karamzin and the Iior Lay) i s but one of many d i v e r s e sources, non-Slavic more than S l a v i c . Hence i t seems more than probable that Linda or Svoboda was the c h i e f author of the epic poems of the RKZ, and that Hanka's influence on him was small. I f Hanka had collaborated with Linda in the composition o f these poems, we might j u s t i f i a b l y expect them to show a c l e a r e r o r i e n t a t i o n toward the Slavic world ( j u s t as we f i n d such an o r i e n t a t i o n in Hanka's l y r i c songs), and l e s s borrowing from western sources. 4 0 The great use of Russian f o l k models in the l y r i c songs o f the RK corresponds exactly with what we know of the i d e ology o f Vaclav Hanka. He turned to Russian because o f h i s well-known preference f o r that country. In h i s use o f Russian f o l k models he was guided by his b e l i e f in a c l o s e r kinship o f early S l a v i c languages and f o l k l i t e r a t u r e s than had a c t u a l l y e x i s t e d , and even, perhaps, by a conscious d e s i r e to prove with his own f o r g e r i e s that such a c l o s e r k i n ship had a c t u a l l y e x i s t e d . 4 1 In a l l h i s l a t e r work Hanka's

First

Influences

of Russian

Folk

Poetry

57

interests were clearly Slavic; only in his very early w r i t ings did he show any tendency to borrow from the West. Linda, on the other hand, in his Lltht over Paganism and his other works, showed the same assortment of influences to be found in the epic poems of the RKZ, in which Slavic influences form a relatively small part of the whole. Hence i t seems l i k e l y that Linda or Svoboda was actually the chief author of the epic poems, just as Hanka was apparently the author of the lyric works, and that Hanka's role in relation to the epic poems was perhaps limited to their translation into Old Czech. The Significance

of

the

RKZ for

Czech

Literature

The motives of the forgers of the RKZ have occasioned a great amount of discussion. Why did they remain silent until their deaths? Why did they, and especially Linda ( i f indeed he was involved), choose to sacrifice personal fame to the task of providing the Czechs with a great epos? We shall be able to answer these questions more satisfactorily i f we consider the role which the forgers intended the Manuscripts to play in Czech literature. The early years of the nineteenth century were a c r i t i c a l period in the history of the Czech people. Czech was near extinction as a literary language: Dobrovsky himself had grave doubts as to i t s chances of survival. Hie Czech literary tradition of the past had been violently broken o f f , and the new literature of the Enlightenment, for the most part a pale imitation of western models, could make no claim, literary or linguistic, upon the attention of any but the most advanced and ardent patriots of the times. 42 Against this trend there worked only the patient e f f o r t s of Dobrovsky and the other scholars of the Enlightenment. Obviously more dramatic e f f o r t s were needed in order that the Czech people might be convinced that i t had a right to national existence, that i t had possessed a great and b r i l l i a n t past, that i t s language and l i t erature were worthy of preservation and continuation. I t was necessary to provide models for the development of literature in line with the older tradition, and to identify the Czech tradition with the broader Slavic tradition, and so turn embryonic Czech p o l i t i c a l consciousness toward the greater Slavic world. But this dramatic e f f o r t could only be produced in secret. Collections of Czech folk literature were not the answer, for this folklore was too closely associated with the lower strata, who would not have read i t in published form in any event. Nor would the ideology of Czech folklore have been clear and sharp enough at once for immediate e f f e c t . And both Hanka and Linda had been notoriously unsuccessful in their own poetic endeavors. Open publicizing of a l l the tenets of their

58

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of

Russian

Folk

Poetry

cause would have incurred the disfavor of Dobrovsky, upon whom Hanka's own future largely depended.43 Dobrovsky's cautious scepticism would have prevented them from g l o r i f y i n g the Czech past on the basis on which they wanted to g l o r i f y i t — b y f i l l i n g i t with romantic fantasies of nationalist self-consciousness and peacefulness of disposition. Likewise he would have opposed their trying to unite i t too closely to the past of the other Slavic races. Thus i t was necessary to circumvent Dobrovsky without incurring his disfavor, and i t was necessary to produce a stronger dramatic e f f e c t than either Hanka or Linda was capable of producing on his own account. The forgeries were the result. This special psychology is well illustrated by Svoboda's defense of the RZ against Dobrovsky. Referring to the English poet Chatterton, he writes: We would be happy to have a second Chatterton among us, and, placing no special importance on the historical exactness of his work, we would ask him only to compose many such works for u s . . . . From our soul we are convinced that the inspired Chatterton was of more help to culture than those men who, by their exaggerated criticism, rob the century of i t s [great] men.*4 Ulis was the conviction of Hanka and his friends: h i s t o r i cal truth i s to be sacrificed to e f f e c t , and, in part, to artistic effect. In such a discussion we enter the realm of speculation. But i t is possible to assert, as -Jakobson does in a stimulating a r t i c l e on Hanka's work,45 that the specific purpose of the forgeries was to give direction to the developing Czech national culture, and, in a large measure, to i t s embryonic literature. A commentary was needed to explain the sense of the Czech past, to prove that the past had been great, to replace imitation of the West with a solid core of true Czech and Slavic ideology, to supply the missing dimension of time to the newborn literary language, in which every word was, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, at once an archaism and an innovation, thus impeding the precise use of language necessary to achieve the a r t i s t i c e f f e c t desired by the writer. I t was necessary to indicate new directions in literature, especially in the domain of form, through the introduction of Slavic folk rhythms and poetic genres not found in Czech l i t erature at the turn of the century. I t was an ambitious program, and no doubt Hanka and Linda f e l l far short of i t in execution. But some such conception they must have had. That they must have had i t is evident from the early a r t i cle, presumably by Hanka, in Hromadka's Harbingers, where he wrote that "our own songs most certainly deserve the merit of being held up as models for present writers." I t is evident

First

influences

of Russian

Folk

Poetry

59

from the poetic activity of Hanka, who produced a series of poetic l y r i c s modelled 011 Slavic folk songs, and from the works of Linda, especially Lliht over Paganism, in which he sought to recreate just such a great Czech past, closely related to a common Slavic heritage. I t i s evident from Hanka's reported boast that with the publication of the RK he had provided Czech literature with a reviving stimulus.*6 And, lastly, i t i s evident from the content and e f f e c t of the RKZ themselves. Critics of Hanka have pictured him as a literary hack, a poor poet and indifferent scholar who realized that his only chance for fame lay in unearthing some great manuscript of the past, as a selfish, hypocritical, and even treacherous person who could side with the liberal patriots in his own land, yet curry favor with the reactionary Russian government of the day. Much of this he undoubtedly was, though he has now generally been cleared of the charge of informing against Celakovsky and so causing the latter to lose his university professorship. But such a view of his character is by no means inconsistent with the ideas we have described. The argument that Hanka forged the Manuscripts only to gain fame from finding them seems weak: not only did he run the risk of discovery, which was considerable, but the amount of fame which he gained seems out of proportion to the e f f o r t , which could as well have been applied to some honest task for which he could have claimed the credit. And granting Hanka's vanity: what greater pride could he have had than that he had not only discovered the Manuscripts which meant so much to his people, but that he himself had actually written them! And how else can we explain the self-sacrificing e f f o r t s of his collaborator, who, unlike Hanka, gained no fame from the discovery of the Manuscripts, but who produced his greatest poetic works in the epic songs of the RKZl I t seems probable that he must have written them with some such view as to their purpose and function. Concerning the influence of the RKZ there may also be disagreement. Hanus writes: Although Jungmann eagerly recommended their imitation to the younger poets, and Svoboda wrote as early as January, 1818, that, thus and thus only should we write poetry in Czech, neither Kollar, Celakovsky, Macha, nor Erben showed any deep, fundamental influence of the RKZ; we find only superficial, purely external imitation in Celakovsky, Koubek, Langer, J. J. larek, and many others. 47 Hanus cites a great many poets as having been influenced by the RKZ: except for the f i r s t four mentioned, to be sure, they are of "less significance." Such a viewpoint has, unfortunately, been a l l too characteristic of Czech criticism,

60

First Influences of Russian Folk Poetry

which, morally outraged by the forgery of the Manuscripts, chose to attack the· from every conceivable point of view. Certainly the Manuscripts are weak enough artistically and historically; nevertheless, their weaknesses are those of the literature of the generation as a whole. And considered as original poetry they are perhaps the greatest poetic work of the decade. Yet critics have been harsh not only toward their esthetic merits. Though for over half a century Czech scholars were deceived by the fraud, still it is fashionable among them to declare that the errors of the Manuscripts are "obvious" ones, and that Hanka's knowledge of Old Czech was extremely weak; actually it was one of the best of his day.48 Granted, the Manuscripts produced certain very harmful results. They colored the historical conclusions of the Romantic school, notably Palacky and Safarik. In philology not only did they lead to many erroneous conclusions, but, closely associated with the Romantic scholarship which had grown up in their protecting shade, they helped to delay the introduction of the more critical Diffusionist and Historical Schools in Bohemia by a whole generation. In folklore science they prematurely satisfied investigators who were searching for a Czech epos, and as a result the discovery of the real Czech folk epic form, the ballad, was delayed for a generation. But still the RKZ exerted an immense formative influence on the rebirth and early development of Czech literature. Under no circumstances can we speak of "only superficial, purely external imitation." In language alone the RKZ were extremely influential and, whether for good or for evil, almost one hundred Slavic words not found earlier in Czech entered the language.49 These words automatically acquired a poetic shade of meaning, and hence helped to fill the literary need for a vocabulary in which certain words should be free from the popularizing and vulgarizing tendencies of everyday speech. Even more important, perhaps, in this respect, was the effect which the discovery of the RKZ had in destroying the authority of the linguistic conservatism of the so-called staromilcl (Dobrovsky and J. Nejedly), who sought to prevent the growth of the Czech literary language and keep it to the model of literary Czech of the end of the sixteenth century.50 In metrics the RKZ supplied the only model for a Czech free verse without rhyme. Though certain Czech folk verses, notably wedding rhymes, had been free, as well as Dalemil's Old Czech Chronicle, still these verses had been rhymed, and they were too far removed from the Pre-Romantics of the nineteenth century to make imitation of their verse forms possible. To these men the RKZ provided a model of free verse without rhyme, at a time when the purely qualitative verse demanded by Dobrovsky threatened to dominate Czech metrics

First

Influences

of Russian Folk Poetry

61

completely. The RKZ made possible that union of quantitative and qualitative principles which i s now the rule rather than the exception in serious Czech poetry, as well as l a t e r experiments in the direction of lines of unequal length. Celakovsky, Langer, and Erben made fruitful use of these principles. That Celakovsky took his models from Russian folk poetry rather than the Manuscripts does not a l t e r the situation; in making his experiments he s t i l l had the RKZ as a precedent, and could reckon on an audience which had read them and was influenced by them in i t s l i t e r a i y tastes and prej udices. Even in content, where they were weakest, the RKZ proved of enormous significance. To deny their importance here i s to forget much of the development of nineteenth-century Czech music and a r t : Smetana, Manes, and tyslbek made extensive use of subjects taken from the Manuscripts. Even larger bulks their ideological influence, in terms of which their use as a source of inspiration in l i t e r a t u r e , a r t , and music can only be completely understood. I f Palacky found the idea of r e sistance to invasion and oppression to be the characteristic idea of Czech history, then the Manuscripts verified the existence of such an idea from the earliest times. Just as i t was the German people who ruled the Czechs during the nineteenth century, so i t had been the Germans with whom they had struggled, and successfully, at the dawn of Czech history. The parallel could scarcely f a i l to be obvious to the new generation of young and enthusiastic patriots of the early nineteenth century. In serving as a source of specific influence on the content of l a t e r poetry, the Manuscripts were less important. But even here they were far from s t e r i l e . Even telakovsky, whose work i s surprisingly free of specific influence of the RKZ for a poet of his generation and one who was so enthusiastic about their discovery, shows i t none the less in such passages as the battle scene in " I l j a Volzanin." And Macha and Erben, a whole generation l a t e r , s t i l l turn back to the Manuscripts. Compare the descriptions of Prague in Macha's poem, "Na prichod krale" (On the Coming of the King; 1835) and in Erben's "Yestba ke snatku Prantiska Josefa I . ζ r . 1854" (Prophecy on the Wedding of Franz Josef I in 1854) with each other and with the description of Prague before the b a t t l e in "Oldrich and Boleslav": "Oldrich and Boleslav": a j , vs'a Praha mlcie ν j u t r niem spani, Vltava se kufie ν ranniej pare,

Macha and Erben: Vysehrad spal ν modrein j i t r a stine . . . jenom Praha—Praha j e s t e ν stine . . . [Macha] Praha spala ν huste pare ranni [Erben]

62

First

Influences

of Russtan

(Ah, a l l Prague lay s i l e n t in morning sleep, The Vltava lay smoking.in the morning mist,)

Folk

Poetry

(fysehrad slept in the blue shade of morn . . . Only Prague — Prague was s t i l l in shadow . . . ) (Prague slept in the thick haze of morning)

Cely kraj ν rfizove plane z a r i [Macha]^ jasnou z a r i zfjlanul Vysehrad: a ν te z a r i b i l a , krasna pani . . . modrotemne nebe nade hlavou, [Erben] (Behind Prague the peaks stood (The whole land burns with a blue, red glow, ) (Vysehrad flamed with a bright Beyond the peaks the gray glow, east lay b r i g h t . ) And in that glow a white, beautiful lady . . . The dark-blue heaven over her head,)

za Prahu se promodruji v r s i , za vrchy vzchod sedy projasnuje.

Or in the triumphant conclusion of the three poems: Vstane jedno slunce po vsiem nebi, vstane Jarmir nad vsiu zemiu opet

Slava Öechum! slunce j im vych^zi, Pokoj Cechüm! jasny den vyvstava . . . Vzhledne slunce — starec ν jare s i l e . . 4 Öechu kral j e Cechu slunce ;jasne . . . [Macha] Slunce vidim na jihu te c h v i l e , otcuv slavnych syna jasneho; slunce vidim ν mlade jara s i l e , [Erben]

(One sun s h a l l r i s e in a l l the heavens; Jarmir shall stand over the whole land again.)

(Glory to the Czechs! Their sun r i s e s ! Peace to the Czechs! The bright day a r i s e s — The sun w i l l l o o k — a n old man in vigorous strength . . . The Czechs' king i s t h e i r bright sun.) (Then I see the sun in the south, The bright son of glorious fathers,

First

Influences

of Russian

Folk

Poetry

63

Hie sun I see in the young strength of spring.) But most important of a l l for literature we must reckon the e f f e c t of the RKZ in clearing the a i r of outworn and borrowed pseudo-classical forms, such as the i d y l l , the pastoral, the allegory, and the fable. In spite of a l l the weaknesses of Hanka's l y r i c s in the RK observed by Masaryk, i t must s t i l l be added that as l y r i c s they were unequalled in Czech poetry of their day. The heroic epic, partly modelled on Slavic sources, might never have become the important form that i t was destined to become in Czech literature, had i t not been f o r the RKZ· And trochaic pentameter, most used in the v e r s i fication of the Czech l i t e r a i y epic, was the rhythm of the many ten-syllable lines in the RKZ. As a model f o r prosodic reform the RKZ are the direct predecessor of Celakovsky. Whether or not his a c t i v i t y , to some extent paralleling that of the Manuscripts in i t s results, could have existed without them or not i s an i d l e question. Hie fact is that he continued in the path which they had begun. I t i s no accident that Celakovsky dedicated the f i r s t volume of his Slavic Folk Sonis to Vaclav Hanka, f o r in the task of bringing folk forms into written literature Hanka i s his direct predecessor. And so, i f in part only indirectly, the Manuscripts had a powerf u l and lasting influence on the great Romantic generation which followed them.

Chapter IV TUE CLIMAX OF THE CZECH PRE-ROMANTIC MOVü?1ENT: 1ΉΕ WORK OF F. L. CELAKOVSKY Translations

of

Slavic

Folk

Songs

TOE exact origin of Öelakovsky's i n t e r e s t in folk poetry i s unknown. He passed through a period of preliminary devotion to German l i t e r a t u r e , and his t a s t e s were f i r s t shaped, f o r tunately, by poets o f the stature of Goethe, S c h i l l e r , and Bürger. Only l a t e r , partly under the influence o f Planek, the ardent Czech patriot and carpenter of Celakovsky's home town, did he begin to read Czech l i t e r a t u r e . In 1817 he went o f f to Prague to the university; there Bolzano's lectures in philosophy introduced him to Herder's ideas on ethnic unity. I t i s possible that t h i s acquaintance was responsible for the t r i p he made about the Czech countryside a year l a t e r , in search of folk songs and proverbs. However, there i s no r e c ord o f his having read Herder's Stimmen der Völker u n t i l a year l a t e r . 1 I t i s known that Celakovsky engaged in t h i s early c o l l e c t i n g a c t i v i t y only for his own pleasure, 2 and that the similar i n t e r e s t s shared by his l i f e l o n g friend, Kamaryt, were largely responsible for encouraging him in his l a t e r and more serious work. Celakovsky seems to have regarded t h e i r scheme o f publishing a c o l l e c t i o n of Czech folk songs as o r i g i n a l , and Kamaryt was in despair when Hanka told him that he was preparing a similar c o l l e c t i o n (which, however, never appeared). "And that cursed Hanka! Here we want to c o l l e c t folk songs, and Hanka has anticipated u s , " he wrote. 3 Indeed, Celakovsky's and Kamaryt's e f f o r t s were something in $,he nature of an entry in a contest: Safarik, Palacky, Stepanek, Kollar, Stepnicka, and Snajdr were a l l preparing collections at t h i s time! Doubtless the idea for such a c o l l e c t i o n , though voiced only rarely in the written records o f the period, was a conmon one; not only Herder's c o l l e c t i o n , but also the numerous Russian song books and the c o l l e c t i o n of Karadzic, which began to find t h e i r way to Bohemia a f t e r 1814, must have served as inspirations and as models, as well as Hanka's Vienna a r t i c l e , which Safarik and

Climax of Pre-Romantic

Movement:

Celakovsky

65

Palacky are known to have read, and Hanka's own poetic a c t i v i t y , notably, o f course, the RKZ. The contemporary c r i t i c Karel Dvorak has t r i e d to minimize the importance of Herder's influence on the young Czech pat r i o t s o f the period and on Celakovsky in p a r t i c u l a r , and has in part assigned to Dobrovsky, Jungmann, and t o the general current o f thought of the times the r o l e formerly a t t r i b u t e d to Herder by such students a s Murko. I could agree with t h i s view more completely i f Celakovsky's l e t t e r s were not so f u l l o f r e f e r e n c e s to Herder and e n t h u s i a s t i c comments on the Stimmen der Völker, while he was correspondingly s i l e n t concerning the "debt" which he may have owed to Dobrovsky, -Jungmann, or o t h e r s . More probable than t h i s assumption, which Czech c r i t i c s have never been able to support by actual documentary evidence, i s that he may have been under the influence o f Hanka, whom he met in 1820, and who was o f great help in furnishing materials for Celakovsky's c o l l e c t i o n , the Slavic

Folk

Songs.

In a number of respects Celakovsky's conception o f f o l k l o r e was quite l i k e Herder's, though l a t e r he went beyond Herder. Both accepted f o l k l o r e as a f a i t h f u l mirror o f the "soul o f the people." Celakovsky developed a s t r i c t e r point o f view on the origin o f the folk song among the people: for him, the best folk songs come from the country. This i s evident from an a n a l y s i s o f the sources o f h i s Czech songs in the Slavic Folk Songs, as well as h i s l a t e r deprecation o f R i t t e r s b e r k ' s c o l l e c t i o n for i t s inclusion of c i t y - s t r e e t and f a i r songs. Like Herder, Celakovsky's c r i t e r i a in choosing songs were e s t h e t i c , though for him picturesqueness of images was a desideratum o f equal, i f not o f g r e a t e r , importance than mere melodiousness o f sound. 4 Both included poems composed in the " f o l k s p i r i t " in t h e i r c o l l e c t i o n s along with true folk poems, though Celakovsky was l e s s g u i l t y of t h i s , and in the t h i r d volume o f the Slavic Folk Songs he excluded them completely. None the l e s s h i s Ohlasy (Echoes) are in more than one sense a return to destroying the boundaries between the true f o l k song and the composed i m i t a t i o n . To Herder, too, partly b e cause we cannot t r a c e the growth and spread o f the idea more p r e c i s e l y , i t i s probable t h a t we must award the c r e d i t for inspiring the Czech a s s o c i a t i o n o f f o l k l o r e with the portrayal o f n a t i o n a l character, as well as the part folklore plays in preserving the heritage o f the past. Such a conception seems to be t o t a l l y lacking in Dobrovsky's approach to f o l k l o r e , but present in the work of a l l the representatives of the P r e Romantic generation which followed him. Doubtless i t was an idea which was common property during the times, and we have already seen i t in Russia long before Herder's work became known t h e r e . Indeed, the s i t u a t i o n in Bohemia a t t h i s period was quite p a r a l l e l to that in Russia several decades e a r l i e r :

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Climax

of Pre-Romantic

Movement:

Celakovsky

in both countries there was a sharp break with e a r l i e r l i t erature and general d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n with i t s international form, techniques, and ideas; i f anything the break was sharper in Bohemia. This d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n produced a vacuum which only folk l i t e r a t u r e was able to f i l l , especially in Bohemia, where there were powerful n a t i o n a l i s t i c reasons f o r r e j e c t i n g foreign l i t e r a t u r e s , among which only German was w e l l enough known to be of widespread influence. We may best define Herder's influence, then, as that of suggester and confirmant; naturally i t would be a great error to suppose that he alone created a movement in Czech l i t e r a t u r e f o r which there were not substantial reasons and motive forces in Bohemia i t s e l f . But i t would be an equal error to c r e d i t Dobrovsky and Jungmann with ideas and values which they never had; the sharp cleavage in the thinking of the older generation of the Enlightenment, represented by Dobrovsky and Jan Nejedly, and the younger generation of PreRomantics, represented by Hanka, who opposed the older generation on questions of s t y l e , prosody, and in their whole interpretation of Czech h i s t o r y , shows that the younger generation would hardly have accepted the leadership of the elder generation in questions of f o l k l o r e study. Moreover, i t seems impossible to reconcile the purposes of Dobrovsky's f o l k l o r e study with those of Hanka and Celakovsky. Dobrovsky would have been sympathetic with the principle of R i t t e r s berk' s collection of 1825, that of producing a s c i e n t i f i c a l ly representative c o l l e c t i o n of f o l k l o r e , rather than an a r t i s t i c a l l y pleasing one. Celakovsky c r i t i c i z e d t h i s princ i p l e sharply. I f i t be objected that Hanka and Celakovsky might have rejected Herder's influence as German, then i t must be answered that Herder's ideology and work were i n t e r national, and especially favorable to the Slavs. For t h i s reason the c o l l e c t i o n of Arnim and Brentano, Des Knaben Wunderhorn, was not nearly so far-reaching in i t s influence on the Czechs. Celakovsky's acquaintance with the Russophile Professor Frantisek Klicpera in Linz, and the a v a i l a b i l i t y of h i s larg;e l i b r a r y , with i t s many Slavic books, seem to have i n i tiated his l i f e l o n g i n t e r e s t in Slavic languages and l i t e r a tures. At Linz he learned Slovenian from student friends. The desire to read Russian books in K l i c p e r a ' s library led him to teach himself that language. 5 In Linz he also began to learn Serb and Polish, and to read Russian l i t e r a t u r e extent e n s i v e l y . We can scarcely regard his turning to the broader concept of Pan-Slavic unity as consciously and s p e c i f i c a l l y p o l i t i c a l . When Plänek, in 1832, asked his opinion about the contemporary situation in Europe, Celakovsky replied, "What have I to do with p o l i t i c s ; my business i s l i t e r a t u r e . " 6 Most l i k e l y lie saw, or rather sensed, in Pan-Slavism a broader

Climax

of Pre-Romantic

Movement:

Celakovsky

c u l t u r a l foundation on which to found the newly reborn Czech l i t e r a t u r e . Here, too, his motives were no doubt largely personal and e s t h e t i c , rather than p o l i t i c a l : in folk poetry he found something a r t i s t i c a l l y more s a t i s f y i n g than the inadequate Czech l i t e r a t u r e which he attacked so b i t t e r l y a few years l a t e r in his Krkonos Literature, and no doubt his love for the other Slavic l i t e r a t u r e s , and especially for t h e i r f o l k l o r e , was also conditioned by e s t h e t i c reasons. Thus, for example, he regarded Russian and Serb songs as more b e a u t i f u l than the Czech ones. 7 But we must beware of assuming that Celakovsky completely lacked p o l i t i c a l motivation. He wrote to Planek on March 6, 1829, concerning the Russian v i c t o r i e s over the Turks: Each dispatch concerning t h e i r v i c t o r i e s s t i r s my heart as i f I myself were one of them. That people, both in t h e i r might and t h e i r a r t , are achieving greater and greater t r i umphs with each day They alone will be our avengers and, perhaps our support. What would the other Slavs be without them? All o f us would f a l l into poverty, and i f the German rabble were not forced to give heed to them, believe me, we would be squeezed so that soon not one shred o f a Slavic caftan would be l e f t on our backs, and the Slavic language would be s t i l l e d completely. 8 Later, when his Russophilism was already far l e s s vehement, he wrote: "Must we be surprised that the Austrian Slav sees his hope in the growth of the northern giant [that i s , Russia], though in the opposite case he might well tremble before his iron s t a f f . 1 , 9 Thus, though he lacked a s p e c i f i c p o l i t i c a l program, the ideological element played i t s part in Celakovsky's thinking. We s h a l l find evidence of his tendency to give Pan-Slavism a p o l i t i c a l interpretation in his works. Nevertheless, his poems were not written for ideological reasons alone. In i t s o r i g i n a l conception the Slavic Folk Songs was only to be a Czech c o l l e c t i o n , the motive for which seems to have been a purely e s t h e t i c one. The idea for the publication of a c o l l e c t i o n of folk songs was born in Celakovsky's mind in 1822, a f t e r he and h i s friend Kamaryt had already been c o l l e c t i n g for more than two y e a r s . 1 0 At f i r s t i t was to have been only a collection of Czech songs; what inspired the change i s d i f f i c u l t to say. Herder's Stimmen der Völker, upon which Celakovsky's anthology i s c e r t a i n l y modelled, 1 1 may have served as an example of such an international c o l l e c t i o n . Then, too, Celakovsky and Kamaiyt experienced d i f f i c u l t i e s in finding enough Czech songs for ; the work, 12 while the songs o f other Slav peoples were a t celakovsky's ready disposal in the c o l l e c t i o n s which Hanka lent him. Here again i t i s more than possible that Hanka may have been of

68

Climax

of Pre-Romantic

Movement:

Celakousky

influence, may even have suggested the idea for such an a l l Slavic collection. The steady growth of telakovsky1s command of the Slavic languages made the scheme more feasible, and may even have suggested i t . So in 1822 was published the f i r s t volume of the Slovanske närodni pisne (Slavic Folk Songs), the f i r s t all-Slavic anthology of folk songs. In 1825 and 1827 two additional volumes were published, while telakovsky's later separate translations were subsequently added to them. I t is notable that such an undertaking .was f i r s t carried out in Bohemia, just as i t i s notable that Dobrovsky, the f i r s t great Pan-Slavic scholar, was a Czech. Not only does the geographical position of Bohemia serve to make her a crossroads of the Slav world, but the Czechs, close to Russia and, unlike the Poles, never suffering at her hand, were the f i r s t to grasp the idea of union among the Slavs under Russian leadership. Similarly they arrived at an early formulation of a program of unity and cooperation among the Slavs of the Austrian Empire. Celakovsky's collection shows a predominantly esthetic interest in these songs, and he did not strive for any quality of representativeness in his work. Nevertheless, though he published only those songs which he considered a r t i s t i c a l l y satisfying, he was relatively scrupulous about making alterations. On occasion he recombined variants, but only rarely and with great care did he make changes on his own account.13 The choice of poems for the volumes of the Slavic Folk Sonis was dictated not only by his estimate of their artistic worth, but also by their availability. Thus, Polish songs are especially few. Russian songs are well represented by lyrics, of which Celakovsky could find as many as he wanted in the numerous Russian song books at his disposal, but there are comparatively few songs of an epic nature. On September 2, 1823, he wrote to Kamaryt that he was planning to translate the "Stare ruske' basne" (Old Russian Poens)14 (undoubtedly he referred to Kirsa Danilov's collection, the Drevnie rossijskie stikhotvorenija, since he capitalized the phrase as a t i t l e ) , but he never did this, and indeed, he did not select anything from Kirsa Danilov for translation until 1827, after the publication of the third volume of the Slavic Folk Songs. Why he did not use Kirsa Danilov's collection to round out the small number of epic songs in his anthology is a question. Certainly we can hardly conclude, as Machal does, 15 that lie showed a preference for lyric over epic, for the letter to Kamaryt a l ready cited, as well as the ample selection of epic songs in the later Bcho of Russian Songs, reveal his interest in the Russian epic song. When he received A. S. Siskov's Conversations on Literature not long before the publication of the third volume of Slavtc Folk Songs, he immediately selected an epic song, "An Old Russian Bogatyr" (Bohatyr Starorusky),

Climax

of

Pre-Romanttc

Movement:

Celakovsky

69

from i t for translation. Most probably Kirsa Danilov's c o l lection became unavailable to him, for one reason or another, until 182?. 1 6 Unfortunately no study of Celakovsky's Slavic Folk Songs considers either the method of translation or the prosody employed. The reader is here referred to Karel Dvorak's excellent edition (Prague, 1945), which includes complete notes, a l i s t i n g of the original sources of the songs in so far as they are known, and a comprehensive study of the background of the collection, but no actual analysis of the translations themselves. In view of the great importance of this and l a t e r works by Celakovsky for Czech literature and Czech prosody, such an analysis i s much needed.17 Any comprehensive study, especially of the work's prosody, would by no means be easy, for a l l his l i f e the poet oscillated between a quantitative and a qualitative system, seeking to find a compromise which would incorporate them both. Though he a r gued theoretically for a quantitative prosody, most of his verse i s accentual. Very often, however, he substitutes a long syllable for an accented one, especially in words of three syllables in which the second i s long. Certainly, the total e f f e c t of the quantitative principle i s very important in his work.18 Of the twenty-six Russian songs in the f i r s t volume of the collection 1 9 three may be described as ballads: "Song of the Prisoner," "Drowning," and "Walled I n . " The Russian ballad i s a h a l f - l y r i c , half-epic foini, usually concerned with love intrigues and tragic in character. Rhythmically the three translations scan almost perfectly, and in this respect the translations are far more regular than the originals. Russian folk poetry is rhythmically most regular at the ends of the lines. In one type of epic song the stress i s usually on the third syllable from the end; in the other i t is on the second from the end. The by liny, as distinct from historical songs and ballads, usually have the former. When the stress i s on the third syllable from the end, then in recitation there customarily f a l l s a secondary rhythmic stress on the l a s t syllable of the verse, which grammatically may be stressed or unstressed. Thus the distribution of stresses on the end of the verse forms either a dactylic foot or an amphimacer (/ _ /)- 2 0 Whatever this cadence may be, i t has a tendency to repeat i t s e l f regularly throughout the poem; this tendency i s most regular in the ballads and those epics which are closest to lyrics, and weakest in the by liny. This more or less regul a r ending establishes the metrical character of the whole and marks the^boundaries of the lines. In these poems of the f i r s t volume Celakovsky does end his lines with the same rhythm as the originals. However, the regular character of his verses scarcely corresponds to the freer rhythm of the

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Russian songs. Nor do his translations vary so greatly in number of syllables to the line. In the twelve Russian songs of the second volume there are three which we may consider as epic: one bylina, "The Bogatyr Surovec"; one ballad, "A Girl of the Seaside"; and one army song, "Song of the Retinue," a song of Celakovsky's times, written by a Major Mikhail Sulepnikov. In this second volume Celakovsky develops the basic rhythm which, with few exceptions, he uses later in a l l his translations and imitations of Russian songs. I t is trochaic, but in his hands i t becomes extremely free. First of a l l , as we have noted, he frequently replaces an accented vowel with a long one. The occasional use of this device produces a very striding e f f e c t in Czech poetry. Its too frequent use, of course, destroys the basis of the rhythm, but Celakovsky avoids this. Next he often replaces one trochee in a given line with a dactyl. The position of this dactyl varies from line to line, and in some lines i t is lacking altogether. And last, he frequently varies his trochaic line by adding a prothetic, unstressed syllable, an anacrusis. In developing this free rhythm Celakovsky attempted to f o l low the Russian folk song in s p i r i t , i f not in l i t e r a l form. The lines of the Russian songs and the by liny likewise may open with a stressed or an unstressed syllable (indeed, they quite often begin with an unstressed syllable, but a basically iambic verse was unknown in Czech poetry of Celakovsky's day, and even the sonnets of Kollar's Daughter of Släva are in trochees). Hieir lines and individual feet may vary greatly in length. In the byliny the number of unstressed syllables placed between stressed ones may vary from one to four, even occasionally to f i v e ; the Russian lyric songs and ballads are more regular. The nature of Czech prosody, which prevents more than two unstressed syllables from occurring in succession except in unlikely combinations of monosyllabic enclitics, was such that Celakovsky could not reproduce the f u l l freedom of variation in the number of unstressed syllables to the foot. Hence his alternation of trochee with dactyl must be considered as the only possible free substitute. After the translations of his f i r s t volume Celakovsky made no attempt to preserve the cadences of the originals, and the lines of any of his poems may end with either trochaic or dactylic feet in irregular alternation. Apparently he did not attempt to preserve this most fundamental feature of the rhythm of the Russian folk song because of the extremely mannered impression i t would have given in Czech. The regular use of dactylic cadences in Czech poetiy would have limited the choice of closing words to those of three or f i v e s y l l a bles (those with two or four would give a trochaic cadence), while a final dactyl in a fundamentally trochaic rhythm would

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Celakovsky

tend to have a caesura before i t , isolating i t from the rest of the line. Hence Celakovsky satisfied himself with alternation of dactyls and trochees. Otokar Fischer argues that Celakovsky learned Russian from books and therefore did not know the accents. 21 But we can scarcely believe that he was totally ignorant of them; he met many Russian visitors to Prague, and one must suppose that he had some knowledge of the Russian spoken language. And not a very great knowledge of the Russian stress is necessary to determine the rhythmical patterns of the ends of the lines in the ballads, which often terminate with the present or past tenses of verbs of completely regular conjugations, and hence with fixed stress; with the by liny the matter is far more complicated. Then, too, he used this same alternation of accents in the later Echo of Russian Songs, at a time when he already knew the stress pattern of the Russian folk songs from Paul von Götze's Stimmen des russischen

Volkes

in Liedern

(Stuttgart,

1828).

I think we must conclude that Celakovsky was aware of the regularity of the stress pattern in the verse endings of Russian poetry, but deliberately decided not to imitate i t , perhaps also because he did not wish to limit himself while doing the d i f f i c u l t work of translation. 22 Throughout the third volume of Slavic Folk Songs, this same basic rhythmic pattern is followed. "An Old Russian Bogatyr" is the least free, with short, six-syllables lines (occasionally f i v e ) , and with the trochaic pattern of the verse rarely interrupted. "Birds and Their Functionaries," a translation of the Russian starina known as "The Birds," is perhaps the most free, with lines varying between six and ten syllables, and again with the same irregular trochaic metre. Also very free is "The Boat Sokol," the exact source of which i s unknown. Hie poem is a sort of ballad; the whole of the work shows many points in common with Kirsa Danilov, number 47 ("Sadko's Boat Stopped on the Sea"—"Sadkov korabl' stal na more"). In this poem Celakovsky alternates a verse of from eleven to f i f t e e n syllables with a refrain; the trochaic pattern is of the freest. "The Revenge," a ballad, is not so free. So far we observe a steady evolution of Celalcovsky' s work from a regular form with a definite number of syllables to a free form. That this tendency is not completely progressive in his work we see from the poems which were later added to Slavic Folk Songs: "Potok Michajlo Ivanovic," and "Bragging Brings Destruction." The f i r s ^ i s a bylina, the freest form of Russian musical verse, but Celakovsky translated i t by using a quite regular trochaic metre, in which every line has exactly ten syllables. The only variation is the occasional substitution of long for accented vowels. Ihis r i g i d i t y i s not so contrary to the form of the by liny as one might expect, however, since their many rhythmic variations seem to relate

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to the trochaic pentamenter as a nor·, and a few singers even use an almost rigid trochaic form.23 Celakovsky's use of trochaic pentameter may well derive from the Serb epos or the RKZ, or from his own intuitive discovery of this form underlying the Russian originals.24 In "Bragging Brings Destruction, " a satirical narrative, the verse is much freer in rhythm, but for the short, varying lines of the original (of from six to nine syllables) the translator has substituted a longer line, always of thirteen syllables. In free rhythm this longer line seems somewhat heavy. Doubtless these were experiments, especially "Potok." Perhaps Celakovsky was dissatisfied with the freer form of his earlier translations. "The Bo£atyr Surovec," the only epic of the earlier translations of the by Una type, had possessed short lines, which allowed considerable variation in the rhythm without sacrificing the unity of the line; perhaps Celakovsky feared that his free rhythm, applied to a long narrative poem with longer lines, might be unsatisfactory and too tiring for the reader. Or perhaps he was generally dissatisfied with his free rhythm, which he often uses somewhat

awkwardly and mechanically in Slavic

Folk Songs (in decided

contrast to his later work in the Echo of Russian Sonis), and sought to reduce it to its more regular trochaic model, acting, it would seem, with the example of the RKZ or the Serb folk epic before him. Is Öelakovsky's free trochaic rhythm suitable to the reproduction of Russian folk poetry? It ,is by no means, of course, a literal reproduction of the rhythms of the Russian songs, which Czech prosody in any case would not have permitted. But in general we may conclude that within the limits of Czech prosody of the time Celakovsky chose a quite suitable rhythm. Unfortunately a free rhythm such as his must be handled by a poet of genius, and in this collection Celakovsky often fell short of this description. Sometimes the rhythm of a given line is unclear, and we read it stumblingly and haltingly, at other places the irregular dactylic feet strike us as an unnecessary burden. Of course, the huge task which Celakovsky set himself in the Slavic Folk Sonis could scarcely be accomplished with uniform success throughout. In his later Echo of Russian Songs, where he enjoyed the freedom of an original creator, he was able to shape a necessary unity which embraced both form and content. The line in Russian folk poetry always forms a complete syntactic and often a complete semantic unit. Celakovsky was most scrupulous in observing this. For the most part he translated one Russian line as one line of Czech poetry. Only in "Bragging Brings Destruction" did he radically alter the content of the line, and even here he was careful that each line should form a unit. In "Potok" he omitted a few lines which

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were lacking in terseness by incorporating t h e i r content with another l i n e . He was c a r e f u l not to omit repetitions or rhet o r i c a l f i g u r e s , so important to f o l k poetry. To a large extent he avoids the ponderous and outdated syntactic constructions o f his great contemporary, K o l l a r . 2 5 Often one i s a s tonished at the virtuoso quality o f his performance: he has been able to translate a d i f f i c u l t Russian l i n e into a Czech l i n e o f l i t e r a l l y the same meaning, y e t i t remains u n s t i l t e d , fresh, and the essential unity o f the l i n e i s in no way a l tered. His command of Czech was e x c e l l e n t , e s p e c i a l l y when one r e members that the Czech language was even then in the process o f reformation. Rarely did he borrow Russian words, and then usually only to lend c o l o r to the work: f o r example, he used such Russianisms as hosudar, bohatyr, mlädec, ataman, et c e t era. There are far fewer Russianisms in Slavic Folk Songs than in the l a t e r Echo of Russia Sonis. This standard of puri t y was o f undoubted service to the young Czech language; i t needed to standardize the stock o f words which i t already possessed before turning to other languages f o r help. In regard to the other formal devices of the o r i g i n a l s , Celakovsky f o r the most part observed them and f a i t h f u l l y r e reproduced them in his translations. He noted the various types o f rhyme possible in the f o l k s o n g — t r u e rhyme, assonance, grammatical rhyme —and reproduced them in roughly the same proportion as the o r i g i n a l . He shows l e s s tendency t o use assonance, often very frequent in Russian f o l k poetry, however. Celakovsky also preserved the other sound devices of the o r i g i n a l s , reproducing a l l i t e r a t i o n , consonant c l u s t e r s , i n ternal rhyme, e t c e t e r a , in approximately etjual quantity. He repeated prepositions, f o r example, "kdy p r i c v a l i l k mori fee sinemu," f a r more often than does the Russian; undoubtedly he used t h i s device to f i l l out the rhythm of the l i n e . He a l s o adhered to the s p i r i t of Russian f o l k poetry in his treatment o f conjunctions. Russian f o l k songs, and e s p e c i a l l y the byliny, often use conjunctions ( c h i e f l y i or α i ) where we do not expect them (polysyndeton), or omit them when we would expect them (asyndeton). In general t h i s a r i s e s from the necessity f o r the lines of folk poetry to stand in a p a r a l l e l relation to one another, to exhibit parallelism or r e p e t i t i o n whether in meaning, grammatical structure, or sound. The subordinating tendencies o f highly c u l t i v a t e d speech are f o r e i g n to the Russian by Una, as to Russian folk speech: each action i s considered as a separate u n i t . For a somewhat similar r e a son the temporal sequence i s i t s e l f f r e e : at most the i s o lated verbs denote actions only in the order in which they occur, but with no mention of the r e l a t i v e lapse o f time b e tween separate actions. One may even speak of a tendency of

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the folk songs to isolate each individual line, so that the parallelism to the lines which precede and follow it will be more sharply exhibited, and asyndeton and polysyndeton are devices which aid, by the artificial barrier which they set up between lines, in this isolation. Celakovsky's translations show the use of both asyndeton and polysyndeton; again, he did not reproduce these devices slavishly, but, in the spirit of Russian folk poetry, he used them whenever the addition or omission of the conjunction would provide him with a satisfactory rhythmic alternation. He did not use them to the same extent as the originals, we may note. Celakovsky has been relatively faithful to the content of the original, and those mistakes or changes which he made are highly significant. His knowledge of Russian was good, though he made mistakes, as in line 15 of "Potok," where he translated zaocnuju (out of sight, far away), as velemilou (very dear), or when he translated skatnym zemcuiom (in large pearls) as ν drobnych perlickach (in fine pearls) ("Potok," line 36)· But such mistakes are rare. Passing over obvious changes which can be explained by the nature of the passage itself, or by that of the Czech language, the changes he makes show two main tendencies: (1) a tendency to rationalize the narrative; and (2) a tendency to embellish, to add description or descriptive ornament, where the Russian epic permits little or none of this. At the beginning of "Girl of the Seaside" the Russian original tells of a young widow (moloda vdova) who has nine sons and one daughter. Celakovsky makes her a rich widow (bohata vdova), and doubtless he is right. None the less it is a rationalization of the original. Moloda is here nothing more than a fixed epithet, often applied to widows who figure in Russian ballads and songs. It is more important for the Russian song to preserve the union of the fixed epithet and its substantive, handed down by tradition, than to be precise. More significant is the treatment of separate actions, especially in "Potok," the longest narrative which Celakovsky has translated. In this he showed a tendency to render a given action more rational by setting up logical relations between it and other actions. In this respect true folk poetry tends, as has been noted, to isolate the individual actions, and often the order in which they are presented supplies the only connection. Thus, in "Drowning" the original has: Voskolebalosja more, Siyra zemlja zastonala, Nacali sil'ny vetry duti. (The sea rocked,

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The damp earth groaned, Hie strong winds began to blow.) Celakovsky altered the order of the f i r s t and third lines: Naramni vetrove duli, vlhka zeme povzdychala, rozkolebalo se more. (Strong winds blew, The damp earth sighed, The sea rocked.) For him the logical order i s essential; the winds must blow before the sea can rock. For the Rissian poem this logical order i s unimportant; both actions are considered only as signs of turbulence. In "Potok" Celakovsky showed a tendency to establish the chronology of the narrative more precisely. Lines 65-66 subordinate one of two actions to the other, placing the l o g i cal stress on the more important: "Vsvihnuv se na dobreho kone, ν tato slova s devici se louci" ("Swinging himself onto his good horse, he took leave of the g i r l in these words" — the original has only sadilsja [he seated himself] and iovorll [he spoke], both in the simple past tense). Note also how much more descriptive Celakovsky's version i s in the second line here, where the original has only the stereotyped expression "govoril takovo slovo" ("he spoke these words"), without the least adaptation to the particular s i t uation. Line 88 shows the same tendency: " I priekhal on na laijazenetskoj dvor" ("And he came to the prince's courtyard") becomes "Kdyz ke dvoru p r i j e l knizecimu" ("When he had come to the prince's courtyard"). Lines 118 and 144 show similar changes. Lines 134-35 translate "Vtapory d l j a Potoka Mikhajla Ivanovica stol posel" ("Then the meal came in for Potok") as "Vladimir v e l i . . . i Potoku s choti prisednouti, kucharove j i d l a pfinaseli" ("Vladimir commanded . . . Potok and his bride to be seated, and the cooks brought in food"); here the rather cryptic statement of the by Una has been expanded into an entire process. Such examples may seem unnecessarily c r i t i c a l and carping. But they do show, I feel, that Celakovsky did not completely understand the construction of the by Una which, as Skaftymov has demonstrated so thoroughly, is arranged on a single mounting plane, leading toward the climax of the a c t i o n . " What is important is the series of actions, which create suspense, not their logical or chronological interrelation. Moreover, by using a simple narrative style, without subordination of clauses, lines are given syntactic parallelism (that i s , a l l forms of the verbs are grammatically of the

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same tense), a device which Calakovsky lost when he indulged in such changes. Presumably, of course, the reader of his day preferred a tighter, l o g i c a l , and chronological style to the archaic style of the by liny. "heretic," applied to Avdot'ja, The epithet of eretnlca, is omitted entirely: Celakovsky did not understand dvoeverie, the dual religious attitude of the Russian people which could permit a sorceress to be described (not i l l o g i c a l l y ) as a heretic, but s t i l l allow her to be the heroine of the tale and to be married in a Christian church — he did not understand i t , and i t did not suit his Christian morality and Romantic conception of good and e v i l , so he omitted i t . Evemmore important is Celakovsky's tendency to engage in ornament, in embellishment, and added description of characters and events. In the by liny descriptions and ornamental embellishments are largely limited to a stock of fixed e p i thets. Description does e x i s t , but rather in relation to the central action; i t is rare for i t s own sake. Such descriptions serve to make the hero's brave deed seem more d i f f i c u l t or the v i l l a i n more t e r r i f y i n g and powerful. They are limited to the hero (usually to his armament, with which his deeds w i l l be accomplished; his own features are rarely described, except through the use of fixed epithets) and to the v i l l a i n (who must be described as t e r r i f y i n g in order to heighten the suspense); rarely are other characters described, and objects only when they stand at the center of the action. And such descriptions, even when consisting of more than a stock of fixed epithets, are often l i t t l e more than stereotypes; the emotional pattern of the by Una, with i t s rapidly mounting climax, does not tolerate a great degree of individualization . 2 7 In contrast to the somewhat severe style of the byllny, Celakovsky shows a tendency to engage in description and ornament. Thus, in lines 73-74 of "Potok" he translated "I skoro on poekhal k gorodu Kievu" ("And quickly he went to the c i t y Kiev") as "Potok konem zatociv u j i z d i ku Kyjevu od more sineho ("Potok, turning his horse, rode o f f to Kiev from the blue sea"), thus adding a descriptive d e t a i l to the narrative. In line 80 of the same poem he translated "sama usmekhaetsja" ("she smiles") as "na mileho se usmiva" ("she smiles at her dear one"). Mileho (dear one) i s a term of endearment unlikely in the o r i g i n a l . Line 174 places Potok, in the grave, on his horse, though there i s no mention of this in the original, and the image i t gives is inappropriate to early Russian culture. Two lines l a t e r Celakovsky translated "I d l j a strakha" ("and for f e a r " ) as "tu pak hruzy bohatyra j a l y " ("here t e r ror seized the boiatyr"), a considerable exaggeration. In line 179 we are told in the original that v the snakes only "gathered" (sobiralis ' ) around Potok; in Celakovsky's trans-

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lation they "rush" (rltl se) toward him. Line 184 translates "Ubivaet zmeja ljutago" ("He k i l l s the f i e r c e serpent") as "Ostiym mecem litou san protekne" ("He runs the fierce serpent through with his sharp sword"), an added s p e c i f i c det a i l . In contrast, the byliny, though the battle i s the climax of a l l that precedes i t , often describe i t with the greatest brevity and carelessness as to details; i t i s the fact of the hero's victory, and not these d e t a i l s , which i s important. The victory i s purposely made to seem easy, to the greater glory of the boiatyr.26 In line 187, at the very climax of the poem, Celakovsky cannot refrain from exclaiming, " a j t a divu, divu velik&o" ("Ah, wonder, great wonder!"), though there i s no equivalent whatsoever for this expression in the original. Such a personalized expression of emotional reaction i s very rare in the byliny, but i s frequently added by Celakovsky, especially in the Echo of Russian Songs. In line 196 the more restrained "zyenym golosom" ("in a loud voice") becomes "hlasem velehroznym ("in a terrifying voice"), an adornment. I point out such cases not so much because they are of importance to the Slavic Folk sonis, where most of the translation i s admirable, both in form and in content, but because they show that Celakovsky's attitude to his work i s primarily esthetic; he i s not interested in mere recording. That the l i b e r t i e s which he has taken have caused his work to lose merit in our day only t e s t i f i e s to the extent to which he was dominated by the romantic s p i r i t of his age. Vie shall see these same tendencies at work in the Echo of Russian Sonis. Iftiat ideological tendencies can we discern in the Slavic Folk Songs? The small selection of epic songs makesvany conclusion d i f f i c u l t . However, we may note especially Celakovsky 's translation of the composed "Song of the Retinue." He accompanied this song with the note: "This song was sung by the Russian defenders during the French invasion of t h e i r land; i t was composed by Major Mikhail Sulepnikov, and i s completely in the folk s p i r i t . " Hie l a s t phrase was evidently intended to serve as an apology for the inclusion of a song not of folk origin (though there are a number of such songs in the f i r s t two volumes o f Slavic

Folk Sonis),

but in w r i t -

ing i t Celakovsky was evidently indulging in wishful thinking: though the poem does show certain t r a i t s in common with folk songs, i t i s obviously not one. Celakovsky's ideological purpose in including such a song i s apparent: he wished to portray the blind, heroic patriotism of the Russian soldier, to him, in the uncritical Russophilism of his youth, a thing of wonder and amazement. Later this theme recurs in the Echo of Russian Sonis. Among the Russian folk songs themselves i t i s quite possible that he found none which clearly embodied this quality, for the Russian songs are often oppositional in

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p o l i t i c a l character (compare the numerous songs about Sten'ka Razin and Pugacev). Hence Celakovsky chose t h i s composed song for translation. I t must be noted that the difference between true folk songs ( l l d o v e p(sne) and those of literary origin which have become the property of the folk ( z l i d o v e l e pisne) i s much weaker in Czech than in Russian. Hence Celakovsky was not so sensitive to this distinction in the Russian songs which he translated. 2 9 In his choice of "Potok" Celakovsky showed another tendency, a l l i e d with his own a r t i s t i c preferences. "Potok" i s one of the most fantastic of the by liny, and one most closely allied to the Russian folk t a l e s . In the Echo of Russian Songs his predilection for motifs which are more romantic or fantastic than the byliny usually admit will again be noted. In compiling Slavic Folk Songs a double purpose occupied Celakovsky, one which also characterized a l l of his other l i t e r a r y and philological work. F i r s t , he sought to bring the Slavic world into closer contact. He encouraged Kamaryt to c o l l e c t songs for the work in the hope that "perhaps some day some Cossack on the Don, or on the Volga, or on the Neva [!] will sing them." 30 Likewise he published the texts of his translations together with the originals; thus students might also use the book as a collection of texts for learning these languages. His second purpose was to supply literary models and sources of inspiration for the Czech writers of his day. Thus he wrote to Kamaryt on September 2, 1823: I t seems to me that such an undertaking [that i s , further translation of Russian songs] might be successful and might arouse a taste for folk and romantic poetry in many people, j u s t as i t might constitute a rejection of everything which i s opposed to true poetry, of every poetic banality and every unnatural verse. In the field of our l i t e r a t u r e nothing outstanding has appeared for a long time; to you only I can say that the young German students here have formed a society for the purpose of ridiculing Czech writers. 3 1 In the Introduction to the Slavic Folk Songs he reproached Russian writers for not making better use of their own folk l i t e r a t u r e , though they belong to the very Slav nation which has achieved most in the way of collecting: " I t i s a pity that . . . their poets are able to gain so l i t t l e p r o f i t from t h i s , rather selecting French writers for their models." 32 And in the same introduction he expressed the certainty that the collection and study of folk songs by Slavic writers would certainly cause "many unpoetic cliches to disappear and allow the Muse to appear to them in her true and original beauty. 1,33

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And so the second of the two great influences which were to shape future Czech literature was introduced: the folk song. When Josef Jungmann had turned to the West and to written literature for models, he had chosen only one of several poss i b l e orientations: Celakovsky, going to Czech and Slavic folk poetry, inaugurated the other; the interplay of these two tendencies has shaped Czech l i t e r a t u r e up to recent times. The Echo of Russian

Songs

The precise background of the conception of the Echo of Songs i s lost to us, largely because Celakovsky maintained such secrecy concerning the work while i t was in progr e s s . Doubtless he was to an extent d i s s a t i s f i e d with the humbler work of collection and translation, affording his talents less opportunity for display, and at the same time limiting the p o s s i b i l i t i e s f o r perfection of r e s u l t s . More original work gave him the opportunity to conceive h i s own form and content in a unified whole, f i l l e d with whatever formal devices he might choose to s e l e c t . The ohlas, or "echo," a free adaptation, worked out in the s p i r i t of the folk original, rather than to the l e t t e r , was Celakovsky's peculiar and most successful genre, and he i s the Czech master of this type of production. Indeed, as the l i t e r a i y h i s torian Jakubec points out, a l l his work i s in a certain sense an ohlas; i t i n f a l l i b l y reminds us of one model or another, yet i f we try to find a s p e c i f i c source which the poet imitates we cannot, so original i s h i s work at the same time. 3 4 Nor was Celakovsky's work of collection and translation of folk songs carried out entirely f o r i t s own sake; he also regarded folk poetry as a school in which the poet might prepare himself, as a source of fresh, unstilted forms, themes, words, and phrases. Thus, he wrote in the Introduction to the Russian

Echo of Russian

Songs:

You are acquainted, dear friend, with the charms and beaut i e s of the Slavic folk song, circulated abroad and renowned during our times not only on our own s o i l , but also in the most distant lands, and i t w i l l be no surprise to you that my inclinations have led me straight to my present work; rather you must be amazed, as I ain, that so f a r none of our more important poets has borrowed from that source. I have the hope that the popularity of the folk song w i l l save our poets from that bombast, that smoke and vapor which now constitute a defect rather than a virtue in certain foreign l i t e r a t u r e s , as well as in our own. Celakovsky not only collected and translated folk songs f o r models f o r written l i t e r a t u r e , but he himself used them as

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such models, and at the sane time set other poets an admirable standard of how such models should be employed. Celakovsky's second great purpose in writing the Echo, as well as for compiling Slavic Folk Songs, was his hope of bringing the Slavic world closer together; to weld i t into one cultural, i f not p o l i t i c a l , unit. Thus he wrote to Kamaryt (July 7 , 1829): I remember that once in a l e t t e r of yours, when and where I no longer know, you brought forth this idea, or almost t h i s , that i t would be a fine thing i f the Slavic peoples were to learn to know each other better, not remaining foreign to one another, and were to draw closer to each other, and that in this task poets, too, might well serve i f they should depict in charming form not only the l i f e of their own people, but also the l i f e of our brothers, and i f they should f i x special attention on whatever in their history and other spheres of l i f e i s worthy of attention. This thought, l e t drop by you long ago, took root in my mind, and I had i t in view when I composed the Echo, and would wish that a few pages of the work, at l e a s t , should serve such a purpose. 35 Indeed, a l l his l i f e Celakovsky showed himself a partisan of a Pan-Slavic rather than a purely Czech patriotism, an i d e a l i s t rather than a r e a l i s t . Hie fact that Goethe was his favorite poet did not prevent him from regarding German and western influences in Czech poetry with disgust and contempt.38 A great part of his Pan-Slavism was perhaps l i t t l e more than hatred of Austria and Germany, combined with a longing for strange, unknown lands, a longing made more acute by the misery of his own existence, but i t was a real and vigorous Pan-Slavic ideal. Why did Celakovsky choose Russian songs for imitation? F i r s t though Czech songs were doubtless dearer to him, he considered Russian and Serb songs more beautiful. 3 7 Russia was his favorite country among the Slavic nations, and during the 1820's he made repeated but unsuccessful attempts to go there. Then, too, he had more Russian materials at hand: there were more Russian collections of songs published and at his disposa l than other Slavic folk songs. His own relatively greater knowledge of Russia suggested subjects to him. And, most important, the Russo-Turkish War, reflected in his poem "Russians at the Danube in 1829," gave a specific impetus to the writing of the Echo. The war aroused great hopes among the other Slav peoples, who f e l t that Russia, demonstrating her Pan-Slavic intentions in the case of the Serbs and the Bulgars might l a t e r liberate the Austrian Slavs and form a Slavic federation. Unable to voice his sympathies for Russia openly (the

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Austrian censor forbade the publication of "Russians at the Danube," for example), Celakovsky did so indirectly by composing his Echo. Would Celakovsky have achieved his purpose more directly if he had used as models for his pastiches not Russian folk songs, but Czech? If his task was to create a national literature, expressing the character, feelings, and aspirations of the Czech people, would not Czech folk poetry have been his most fruitful source? Hiue he would have avoided all indirection. He would have disposed of the dangerous, if then coranon, assumption that the folk literatures of all the Slav peoples were similar, and had been one and the same in not too distant times (a delusion which Celakovsky himself does not seem to have held). The answer is that a satisfactory imitation of Czech folk songs was impossible in 1829· Only Hanka had attempted such a task, in his youth, and with even less success than in his awkward imitations of Russian and Serb folk songs. For Czech literature was too socially determined in the minds of the Czechs themselves. It was associated in the minds of the Czech intelligentsia with the peasants, and seemed vulgar and crude. And it was badly suited to express the ideology of the Pre-Romantic poets. Czech folk songs tend to be light, humorous, satiric, and closely associated with the daily life and psychology of the peasants and their work, in sharp contrast to the Russian and Serb epics, in which the peasant delights in escaping to that which is far away, to that which is as unlikely a part of his life as possible. The Czech PreRomantics had sought for a great and serious epic of past history, and failing to find it, they forged such an epic. Actual Czech folk songs were considered unsuitable for imitation, and only much later, when Czech literature was already solidly established, could they be used. German literature was close at hand and free from the social prejudice attached to Czech folk literature, and was, indeed, much used as a model: hardly an author of the Czech revival was free from its extensive influence, and even Celakovsky, though at times he rejected it and always had a dual attitude toward it, borrowed from it. But works in the German tradition could not fully satisfy the ideological demands of the new Czech literature, and could have little appeal to the masses. Hence the neglect of Czech folk poetry and the almost complete lack of its use in early Czech literature. Though Hanka knew Czech folk lyrics well, he used them comparatively little, even iη the lyrics of the RKZ. It was no accident that Celakovsky1 s Ohlas pisni ceskych (Echo of Czech Songs; 1839) had to wait for ten years after the Echo of Russian Songs for its publication, and was severely criticized when it did appear. Another reason is that imitations of native folk forms are in general more difficult than those of foreign folk

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literature, for the writer i s likely to overlook those very qualities which are most characteristic of his own folk l i t erature, especially i f he has known i t from childhood. The Czech ballad was not "discovered" by poets until the 1840's, and i t s imitation by Erben came only at a time when certain other literatures of Europe had largely begun to neglect folk works as· a literary source. Serb and Russian folk poetry, on the other hand, escaped the lowly connotation imputed to the Czech folk songs; for the Czechs they were associated with the whole people, and not with a particular class. The Russians and Serbs possessed a serious epic and a melancholy lyric poetry, largely free from the humorous, r e a l i s t i c overtones of the Czech folk songs which the Pre-Romanticists and Romanticists did not use. Serb folk poetry would doubtless have been a r t i s t i c a l l y as suitable for such use as Russian, but added p o l i t i c a l reasons gave the Russian songs extra weight. In the Serb epic songs the prince i s usually the hero, while in the byliny the boiatyrs are often of humble origin. This democratic e l e ment was greatly stressed in the Czech approach to the Russian epos, as w i l l be seen later. There are f i v e types of songs in the Echo of Russian Songs which may be considered as epic: imitations of byliny, represented by three works: "Bohatyr Muromec" (The Bogatyr Muromec), "Curila Plenkovic" and " I l j a Volzanin"; historical songs: "Velika' panichida" (The Great Mourning), "Smrt Aleksandra" (The Death of Alexander), and "Rusove' na Dunaji roku 1829" (Russians at the Danube in 1829); a brigand song, "Vyslechy" (The Hearing); a satirical song, "Veliky ptaci trh" (The Birds' Great F a i r ) ; and one humorous historical narrative which scarcely corresponds to any of the Russian folk genres, "Odplata" (The Reward). The relation of these re-creations, ohlasy, to the Russian forms and actual folk poems which they imitate is quite complex, and there may be considerable dispute as to which e l e ments Celakovsky actually borrowed from Russian folk poetry, and which he added. In the Introduction to the Echo of Russian

Songs he w r o t e :

The very conception of the following songs in Russian dress, as the reader himself w i l l soon observe, is taken from nowhere, i f we except the use of rhythm, certain so-called "fixed" poetic forms, found in many sorts of writing and constantly repeated, the use of a few grammatical peculiari t i e s , and certain other details which are intended to produce a more definite folk e f f e c t . Ulis passage would seem to be clear enough, and would apparently set up a sharp distinction between the source of his form, certain elements of which are borrowed from Russian

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folk poetry, and his content, which i s independent. Both the Czech poet Vrchlicky and the Russian l i t e r a r y historian V. A. Francev havs followed this passage in their c r i t i c i s m , and minimize the importance of the Russian influence on Celakovsky: 38 the former even remarks that "these are no 'echoes' of Russian songs, but only Frantisek Ladislav Celakovsky, d i s guised in the garments of a Russian." But other i n v e s t i g a t o r s , notably Jan Machal and Otokar Fischer, have gone to the oppos i t e extreme and have sought to find s p e c i f i c Russian sources f o r the subjects, themes, and motifs of his work, as well as s p e c i f i c descriptions, words, or phrases. 39 The c r i t i c E. A. ftykhlik, a Russian of Czech o r i g i n , even went so f a r as to say that the content of the Echo i s taken from the Russian songs as much as i s the form. 40 No doubt the truth l i e s between these two extremes. What Celakovsky's statement in the Introduction to the Echo means, apparently, i s that the poems are not translations or adaptations of s p e c i f i c o r i g i n a l s . But s t i l l there remain certain close correspondences between the materials o f the Echo and Russian | sources, f a r closer in nature than Celakovsky's statement would imply. Probably some of these were produced by him unconsciously, a f t e r thorough saturation in Russian folk models. But more often he must have used them consciousl y , as in the story told in "The Reward," which he himself acknowledged (in spite of his declaration to the contrary in the Introduction) to have been taken from a Russian h i s t o r i cal anecdote, and which he presumably had read in Richter's Russische Mtszellen.*1 But l e t us study these correspondences more c l o s e l y in two of Celakovsky's imitations of byllny. In "The Boiatyr Muromec" a young man i s attacked by three Tatars and s l a i n . As they are stripping him of his clothes and finery they are set upon by the boiatyr I l j a Muromec, who disposes o f them in succession without e f f o r t , buries the young man, and returns t o Russia. The poem, consisting of but s i x t y - s i x l i n e s , i s notable f o r i t s simplicity; the only complication o f device i s the extensive use of parallelism: the magnificent opening describes how a falcon i s destroyed by three hawks; in the same language are described the Tatars' attack on and murder of the young man. No bylina concerning I l ' j a Muromec i s similar t o this one. Celakovsky has taken the figure of the hero, with his courage and fame as a defender of the poor and weak, and transplanted him into a situation of his own invention. Machal suggests the p a r a l l e l of the situation in "Mikhajla Kazarinov" (Kirsa Danilov, number 22), where the boiatyr saves a captive g i r l from three Tatars. This parallel i s not very c l o s e , but there are certain p a r a l l e l s with other byllny in images, e s p e c i a l l y in the opening, in which the youth's coming and death are

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anticipated and paralleled by the ooming of a falcon and i t s murder by three hawks: Oj za horami, za vysokymi, za temi lesy, za hustymi, a za lesy, za hustymi Lichvinskymi vyletoval jasny mlady sokol na rychlych kridlech az pod oblaky a za tim za sokolem t r i jestrabi, t r i zbojci jestrabi jsou se hnali; oni sokola obletovali, oni k sokolu doletovali, ostre zobce mu do tela zatinali, az jsou oni sokola k zemi strhli a strhnuvse tak do smrti u b i l i . (Oh, beyond the mountains, beyond the Ihigh ones, Beyond these forests, beyond the thick ones, Beyond the forests, the thick ones of Lichvin, A bright young falcon flew forth, On swift wings a l o f t to the clouds, And behind him, the falcon, three hawks, Three fighting hawks came in pursuit; They flew about the falcon, They flew up to the falcon, Sank their sharp teeth into his body, Until they had hurled the falcon to the ground, And, hurling him down, they beat him to death.) Compare the opening with the following lines from "Kto Travnika ne slykhal" (Kirsa Danilov, number 65): Iz-za gor vysokiikh, Iz-za lesu, lesu temnogo Vyletal molodoj Travnik. (From beyond the high mountains, From beyond the forest, the dark forest, There flew forth the young Travnik.) Or with the Moscow Pesennik,

number 379:

Iz-za lesu temnova, Iz-za gor bylo, gor vysokikh Letilo stado lebedinoe. (From beyond the dark forest, From beyond the mountains, the high mountains, A flock of swans flew forth.) For a parallel to the fourth line of the opening Machal searches in Öulkov's collection, but in "Mikhajla Kazarinov"

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Movement:

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85

there is a much better one: "Kak jasen sokol von v y l e t i v a l " ("Like the bright falcon flying forth"), while the combination of epithets, "jasny mlady sokol" ("bright young falcon"), which seems to give Machal d i f f i c u l t y , is found in Paul von G ö t z e ' s Stimmen des russischen

Volkes

In Liedern

("Dem jungen

hellen Falken wird ein geliebten Jüngling vergleichen"), a work which, as we shall see later, Celakovsky undoubtedly knew. The rest of the tale Machal believes to be independent. The rhythm he parallels to that of "Mikhajla Kazarinov," though on what basis is not clear, since the rhythm of that poem is only that of the byliny as a group, and no more specific para l l e l s seem to be present. Like the byliny, Celakovsky used a line which has, for the most part, four main accents, but the ending of the by Una line ( / _ /, or / /), the most regular rhythmic feature of this folk genre, i s not preserved by him, for he uses dactylic or trochaic endings alternately. The variations in syllable count of the lines are 9-12 in "Bohatyr Muromec" as opposed to 8-14 in "Mikhajla Kazarinov," but such variation is likewise characteristic of the byliny as a group. For the rest Celakovsky uses the same rhythm which characterizes the poems of the Slavic Folk Sonis, but what a d i f ference there i s ! What in the earlier work had often been a merely mechanical imitation of the folk form, now becomes a completely organic rhythm. What the difference consists in is impossible to measure exactly. The rhythm is scarcely more regular, yet i t seems so. Hie difference seems to l i e in the fact that here Celakovsky has related the rhythm more closely to the language i t s e l f , and has made the lines parallel each other rhythmically more often, thus producing the impression of a regular rhythm. Besides this, he has often repeated parts of lines in the following line, thus again producing a repetitive e f f e c t tending to give the impression of regular-

ly·

Hie contemporary Czech c r i t i c Mukarovsky has made a special study of the rhythm of " I l j a Volzanin." 42 Counting the occurrence of stresses in lines of ten syllables, he charts the following distribution of stressed syllables: Syllable: I I I I I I IV V VI VII VIII IX X Number of times stressed: 70 30 42 20 58 27 40 »26 14 This gives the following as the typical rhythmic pattern of the work:

/__/_!/_/ that is, a dactyl, two trochees and a dactyl. Such a method, while i t has obvious advantages, also carries

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c e r t a i n d a n g e r s , e s p e c i a l l y when f r e e r rhythms, such a s Ö e l a kovsky's, are under i n v e s t i g a t i o n . F i r s t , being a s i m p l i f i e d s t a t i s t i c a l method, i t may i g n o r e c e r t a i n s u b j e c t i v e o s c i l l a t i o n s , such a s , in Celakovsky, the replacement of an a c c e n t e d s y l l a b l e by a long one, a f e a t u r e which Mukarovsky a d m i t s in C e l a k o v s k y ' s work, though r a t h e r in the Echo of Czech Songs and The Hundred Petalled Rose than in t h e Echo of Russian Songs.*3 Another weakness of t h i s method i s t h a t i t may g i v e us something which i s only a s t a t i s t i c a l a b s t r a c t i o n : t h e s o c a l l e d " t y p i c a l " l i n e which i s d e r i v e d from i t may n o t a c t u a l l y o c c u r in t h e poem a t a l l , being only a s o r t of a v e r a g e of a number of r a d i c a l l y d i f f e r e n t l i n e s . And o f t e n s e v e r a l m e t r i c a l p a t t e r n s a r e p o s s i b l e in a l i n e of i r r e g u l a r rhythm. A l l of t h e s e s u b j e c t i v e v a r i a t i o n s make t h e method a d i f f i c u l t one t o apply i n a s i m p l i f i e d form, one which may be m i s l e a d i n g because of t h e a p p e a r a n c e of o b j e c t i v i t y which i t g i v e s . I have a p p l i e d t h i s scheme t o "The Bogatyr Muromec," and find the following d i s t r i b u t i o n s : 4 4 Number of times s t r e s s e d in l i n e s of t h e following syllable length: Syllable 9 - s y l l a b l e 1 0 - s y l l a b l e 1 1 - s y l l a b l e 12-s.y l i a b l e . lines lines lines lines

I II III IV V vi πι VIII IX χ XI XII

3 3

1 4 1 4 2 4 0

12 7 7 9 6 10 7 9 10 0

10 13 8 9

13 5 9

12 10 13 0

11 6 7 7 5

10 6 4 11 4 14

0

Giving t h e f o l l o w i n g a s " t y p i c a l " rhythmic p a t t e r n s : I n l i n e s of n i n e s y l l a b l e s : / / I / / (or· _ / _ / _ / _ / _ ) " " " " " In l i n e s In l i n e s In l i n e s both / and

of t e n s y l l a b l e s : / / _ | / _ / of e l e v e n s y l l a b l e s : _ / / / _ / _ of twelve s y l l a b l e s : No c l e a r p a t t e r n i s a p p a r e n t · _ / _ _ I / _ / _ / _

/ _ _ / _ ! / _ _ / _ / _ seem t o be p r e s e n t . I f t h e v a l i d i t y of t h e method i s a c c e p t e d , s e v e r a l i n t e r e s t ing r e s u l t s follow: 1. There i s a tendency toward a balanced l i n e c o n t a i n i n g f o u r a c c e n t s , w i t h two d a c t y l i c f e e t and two t r o c h a i c f e e t , a r r a n g e d s y m m e t r i c a l l y in r e g a r d t o each o t h e r . Mukarovsky 1 s

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findings in regard to the ten-syllable lines of " I l j a Volzanin" corroborate t h i s . 2. Lines containing an odd number of syllables have a tendency to begin with an anacrusis. This alternation serves to keep such lines balanced. I have also analyzed the 126 lines of eleven syllables of " I l j a Volzanin" (the great majority of lines in that poem are either of ten or eleven syllables, and Mukarovsky's analysis of the ten-syllable lines we have already noted), and find the following distribution: Syllable: I Number of times stressed: 87

II

III

IV

V

π

VII

VIII

IX

39

56

51

47

48

50

86

34

Χ XI 86

0

While this gives rather inclusive results, one fundamental pattern seems to be:

/ _ / _ _ ! / _/ _/ _ This type i s not balanced. Thus there would seem to be a d i f ference between this work and "The Boiatyr Muromec" in regard to the regularity and balance of the individual lines. This "objective" conclusion can be corroborated subjectively: i f the reader peruses the two poems he may note that the rhythm of " I l j a Volzanin" seems less regular, less tidy, perhaps. But both poems, i t must be emphasized again, are written in what i s essentially a free rhythm. I t i s instructive to note that, excluding certain lines of eleven and twelve syllables and more, Celakovsky's lines tend to be constant in that a l l of them possess four stresses to the l i n e . Hence we may say that the verse i s a free one which possesses a fixed number of poetic stresses (with some variation in longer l i n e s ) , »Aich are, in turn, separated by a varying number of unstressed syllables, and in which the distribution of stressed and unstressed syllables tends to arrange i t s e l f in a balanced pattern around the caesura, or break. This concept of a free verse with a fixed number of accents seems to be the most satisfactory in dealing with &elakovsky's Echo.45 For one, i t explains the relation of succeeding lines of different lengths to each other. And i t shows that Celakovsky's free rhythm i s as close to that of the Russian by liny, which similarly have four stresses separated by an irregular number of unstressed syllables, as i t could be within the framework of Czech prosody. In content we have noted the extreme simplicity of "The Boiatyr Muromec." In this respect i t d i f f e r s quite radically from the byltny. Indeed, i f we examine i t closely, we discover that i t is not a by Una at a l l . The by Una i s constructed so that the suspense of the reader mounts steadily until the climax, which must occur at the very end or just

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before i t . The whole i n t e r e s t of tfye by Una i s provided by t h i s mounting wave o f suspense. 4 6 Celakovsky's "The Boiatyr Muromec" has two such climaxes, equally strong. And here there i s no r i s i n g wave o f suspense, customarily created in the bylina by b e l i t t l i n g the powers o f the hero and exaggerating those o f the enemy. 47 Indeed, Celakovsky's poem i s perhaps a s much l y r i c a s epic, s t a t i c r a t h e r than dynamic; f o r a l l the power o f i t s magnificent and s t a t e l y language i t does not succeed in being more than a heroic p i c t u r e . Likewise, Celakovsky avoids here the frequent hyperbole o f the by liny, a s .Jakubec has pointed out. His I l j a i s a c t u a l l y a Christian knight, a member of chivalrous n o b i l i t y . 4 8 The author permits himself but one b i t of hyperbole or fantasy: I l j a ' s horse, as in the byllny, can "cover h a l f a f i e l d in one jump." Here again we see Celakovsky's tendency to make h i s work more r a t i o n a l ; f o r him the greatness o f the hero i s measured in terms of the r e a l i t y o f h i s p o r t r a y a l , and n o t , as in the psychology o f the c r e a t o r s o f the folk epos, in terms o f h i s supernatural power. To a great extent t h i s was necessary, the r e a l i s t c r i t i c Jakubec b e l i e v e s , because, though the ι modern reader w i l l accept naivete from works o f f o l k l o r e , he demands r a t i o n a l i t y from the productions o f a contemporary p o e t . 4 9 The ideology of the poem i s s i g n i f i c a n t . The young man (dobry mladec) i s not n e c e s s a r i l y , a s we might at f i r s t b e l i e v e , a Russian. His n a t i o n a l i t y i s not mentioned. I l j a ' s coming, even i f too l a t e , to h i s defense symbolizes R u s s i a ' s willingness to p r o t e c t her Slav brothers against oppression. I f we remember t h a t the Echo was written a t the time of the Russo-Turkish War o f 1829, i t i s not d i f f i c u l t to equate Tatar with Turk, o r , indeed, Tatar with any of the n a t i o n a l i t i e s o f the oppressors of the S l a v s . The f a c t that I l j a returns home to Russia a f t e r he buries the young man i s s i g n i f i c a n t . This presumably underscores the symbolism of R u s s i a ' s aid t o one o f the Slav brother peoples. Note a l s o that the Tatars a t t a c k the young man from three s i d e s . This may sugg e s t the position o f Bohemia, e n c i r c l e d by Germans on three sides. In form there i s a c l o s e r correspondence to the byllny. The rhythm has already been discussed. Celakovsky's poem shows a tendency almost equal with the byliny to use rhyme (eleven out o f s i x t y - s i x l i n e s are rhymed in "The Boiatyr Muromec"), with a somewhat g r e a t e r tendency to use grammatical rhyme, and a l e s s e r use of assonance, a device in which Russian folk poems are often very r i c h , as well a s r e p e t i t i v e rhyme ( e p i phora) . His use of a l l i t e r a t i o n and of other sound devices i s a l s o comparable t o that o f the o r i g i n a l . In h i s use o f v a r i ous r e p e t i t i v e f i g u r e s and devices 5 0 Celakovsky generally follows the p r a c t i c e o f the byllny, both in q u a l i t a t i v e s e l e c -

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tion and quantitative use. However, he does make considerably greater use of anastrophe, a device not so common in the byliny, but one which occurs twelve times in the s i x t y - s i x l i n e s of "The Bogatyr Muromec," a somewhat excessive and mechanical use of a single device. In compensation, he employs epiphora and mesidoplosis l e s s than the by liny do. He also repeats h i s prepositions very o f t e n , not only to f i l l out the poetic l i n e , but also apparently to take f u l l advantage of the r e p e t i t i v e e f f e c t . Occurring ten times in the poem, the device i s perhaps too frequent. In general, the by liny themselves tend to show somewhat g r e a t e r d i v e r s i t y in the use of these devices, though there i s considerable v a r i a t i o n , of course, among d i f f e r e n t poems. The by liny show the very extensive use of p a r a l l e l i s m . Two l i n e s may be said to be p a r a l l e l when the second l i n e exhibi t s any sort o f duplication or r e p e t i t i o n of the f i r s t one, whether in rhythm, grammatical structure, or in meaning. 51 Parallelism i s the framework on which the separate l i n e s o f the poem, lacking regular rhyme or rhythm, are joined i n t o a whole. On the basis of the scheme I have indicated, as many as 70 per cent or more of the l i n e s o f a by Una may be c a l l e d p a r a l l e l . Non-parallel l i n e s arise when there i s a t r a n s i t i o n from narration to speech or to description, et cetera, or when the action embraces many d e t a i l s and must move at too s w i f t a speed f o r them to be related to each other. Celakovsky's "The Botatyr Muromec" l i k e w i s e preserves the extensive use of parallelism, and I count 89 per cent o f the l i n e s as p a r a l l e l , while the range o f types of parallelism employed i s roughly as great as that o f the by liny. Asyndeton and polysyndeton, the a r t i f i c i a l use of conjunctions t o heighten parallelism, are also preserved by him. Notable i s h i s use of the extended metaphorical comparison of some twelve l i n e s at the opening of the work, where the hawks' a t tack on the falcon i s c l o s e l y p a r a l l e l e d to that of the three Tatars on the Russian. The f i r s t part of t h i s comparison has already been quoted above; the second part, in which the young man rides out t o h i s death at the hands of the Tatars, is: O.i za horami, za vysokjnni, za temi l e s y , za hustymi, a za lesy hustymi Lichvinskymi na koni se ubiral dobry mlädec, on ne kvapem j e l , a jen p o j i z d e l , krizem race s l o z i v , hlavu p r i k l o n i v , jak by po si rem poli hore r o z s i v a l . I v z a l i se odnekud, priskakali t r i j e z d c i , vsickni sobaky tatarske; a oni dobreho mladce o b s k o c i l i , ze zad, ζ boku, ze predu nan d o r a z e l i ,

90

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ostre savle mu do t e l a z a t i n a l i , az jsou oni mladence s kone s t r h l i a strhnuvse tak do smrti u b i l i . (Oh, beyond the mountains, beyond the high ones, Beyond these f o r e s t s , beyond the thick ones, Beyond the thick f o r e s t s of Lichvin A brave young man made his way; He rode not at a g a l l o p , but at a slow g a i t , Folding h i s hands, h i s head bowed, As i f he had strewn h i s g r i e f over the broad plain. And from somewhere there galloped up Three r i d e r s , a l l Tatar dogs; They galloped around the brave young man, From behind, from beside, from before him they rushed at him, Sank cruel sabres into his body, Until they had hurled the young man from his horse, And hurling him down, they beat him to death.) Though t h i s passage i s in the s p i r i t of the by liny, which show t h i s type o f nature parallelism in which events o f the world are p a r a l l e l e d by those in nature, s t i l l Celakovsky's use of i t here i s somewhat more complex than we find in Russian f o l k poetry i t s e l f . The a n t i t h e s i s , o f t e n expanded into a metaphor, the negat i v e comparison, i s a s p e c i a l l y characteristic device, one of the most complex employed by Russian f o l k poetry. Celakovsky g i v e s us such uses as "on ne kvapem j e l , a jen p o j i z d e l " ("he rode not at a g a l l o p , but at a slow g a i t " ) , "on n e v y j l z d i , on vetrem l e t i " ("he did not t r o t f o r t h , but rode l i k e the wind"), e t c e t e r a . In t h i s poem, however, the a n t i t h e s i s i s not used metaphorically. The use of the f i x e d epithet i s another c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of the Russian f o l k epos. I t serves to emphasize the character o f the person or o b j e c t described and r e l a t e s i t to a s t e r e o typed l i t e r a r y pattern ( j u s t as the whole plot structure of the by Una i s in turn a s t e r e o t y p e ) , 5 2 as well as to g r a t i f y the h e a r e r ' s a n t i c i p a t i o n that the person or o b j e c t w i l l be of j u s t such a q u a l i t y as he expects. 5 3 In t h i s Celakovsky i s f a i t h f u l to his models, even employing the same e p i t h e t s as the o r i g i n a l s : "jasny mlady sokol" ("bright young f a l c o n " ) , "ostre zobce" ("sharp t e e t h " ) , "dobry mladec" ("brave young man"), "sobaky t a t a r s k e " ("Tatar dogs"), et cetera. In sharp contrast to the s i m p l i c i t y o f "The Bo£atyrMuromec," "Curila Plenkovic" and " I l j a Volzanin" are f a r more complex and f a n t a s t i c in character, and stand at the opposite extreme of the range of Celakovsky's epic creation. In the f i r s t o f these there are numerous elements taken from Russian f o l k poetiy, but the characterization of the hero derives not f r o ·

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the byllny, but from the Russian t a l e "Öurilo |Plenkovic," which Celakovsky knew from Richter's Russische Mlszellen.s4 This t a l e , l i k e the others in Richter's c o l l e c t i o n , i s a translation from Levsin's Russian Folk Tales. Hiey are not credited as such, however, and Richter seems to have been under the mistaken impression, f o r which Levsin, of course, i s responsible, that they were actual f o l k t a l e s . Hie only para l l e l between Celakovsky's poem and Levsin's t a l e seems to be the central situation: in Levsin, Öurilo saves Kiev from a t e r r i b l e dragon who has begun to devour the inhabitants; in Celakovsky, the situation i s the same, only the dragon i s r e placed by a giant b i r d . Aside from t h i s , however, Celakovsky's work seems to be independent of any influence of Levsin's c o l l e c t i o n ; certainly he does not give way to the violent excesses of fantasy which characterize the former, and his style i s f a r more consistent. I t i s notable that both authors stress the element of chivalry, absent from the byllny, and Celakovsky's conception of the boiatyrs as chivalrous knights, a conception more suitable to his own romantic ideology, may thus derive from Levsin. To the best of my knowledge, this i s the only case in which a Russian reworking o f a by Una subj e c t ( i f , indeed, one may even describe Levsin's t a l e as that) had any influence on a Czech writer, and i t i s s i g n i f i c a n t that this influence was transmitted by means of a German translation. 5 5 Even more complex and fantastic than "Öurila Plenkovic" i s the epic poem 11 I I j a Volzanin," Celakovsky's longest work in t h i s form. For this reason I have chosen the poem f o r more extensive analysis. I l j a i s enticed away from his mother by the River Volga, who has given birth to many daughters, the waves, but no sons, and now seeks brothers f o r them. In the beautiful palace o f the Volga (described at a length of some f o r t y - f o u r l i n e s ) I l j a grows up amid every luxury: On divu nemuze nadiviti se on lesku nemuze nasytiti se, jak to stropy, steny krystalove a drahym jachontem vykladane; jak to podlahy ζ ryziho z l a t a a zlato stribrem prokvetovane. (He could not look his f i l l of wonder, He could not sate himself with b r i l l i a n c e , Such were the c e i l i n g s , the walls of c r y s t a l , Inlaid with precious stones; Such the f l o o r s of pure gold, And gold interlaced with s i l v e r . ) Tired of his l i f e of ease, and f e e l i n g the strength of a

92

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bogatyr within him, I l j a f o r c e s t h e Volga to l e t him go back to t h e world of men and to equip him with a horse and armor. He then r i d e s home to v i s i t h i s mother, only to f i n d h i s n a t i v e c i t y in r u i n s . A mysterious voice from the r u i n s t e l l s him t h a t the Tatars have destroyed the c i t y and massacred the i n h a b i t a n t s , including h i s mother. I l j a r i d e s o f f to f i n d the T k t a r s , following the path of d e s t r u c t i o n which they leave behind them. He comes upon them a s they j o i n b a t t l e with t h e Russian f o r c e s , e n t e r s the f r a y and s l a y s the son of t h e Tat a r khan, Bajadur. But then t h e t r e a c h e r o u s Volga b e t r a y s him. The horse she has given him suddenly t u r n s t o sand, the sword i n t o an e e l , the helmet i n t o a t o r t o i s e s h e l l , h i s a r rows i n t o f i s h . He i s captured by the T a t a r s , imprisoned and t o r t u r e d in an attempt t o force him to become a T a t a r . He prays t o God, and t h e l a t t e r miraculously answers h i s p r a y e r by sending a divine messenger t o r e l e a s e him. He jumps on the k h a n ' s h o r s e , r e p u l s e s t h e T a t a r s a l l about him, cuid escapes. Doubtless t h i s i s t h e most independent of Celakovsky's c r e a t i o n s ; a s Fischer p o i n t s o u t , the f a c t t h a t the h e r o , I l j a Volzanin, does not e x i s t in Russian f o l k l o r e suggests t h a t in t h i s poem o t h e r elements are l i k e w i s e i n v e n t e d . " ' The motif of I l j a ' s adopted mother, the River Volga, suggests "Sadko, the Wealthy Merchant" (Kirsa Danilov, number 28), in which the hero Sadko r e c e i v e s help and advice from the River Volga, while I l j a ' s stay in the palace of the Volga s u g g e s t s Sadko's in the palace of t h e Sea King in "Sadko's Boat Stopped on the Sea" (Kirsa Danilov, number 4 7 ) · 5 7 But the d e s c r i p t i o n of the palace of t h e Sea King in the Russian poem i s only a b r i e f f o u r l i n e s , devoid of ornament, while Celakovsky's runs to f o r t y - f o u r ! Nasel on izbu v e l i k u j u , A izbu v e l i k u j u , vo vse derevo, Nasel on dveri i ν izbu p o s e l . A l e z i t na lavke, c a r ' morskoj. (He found a g r e a t house, A great house, a l l of wood, He found the door and e n t e r e d . There the Sea King lay on a bench.) Here again Celakovsky has v i o l a t e d the t r a d i t i o n of the byllny, which does not t o l e r a t e e l a b o r a t e d e s c r i p t i o n s which block the flow of the n a r r a t i v e and the development of s u s pense. Celakovsky's d e s c r i p t i o n h e r e , magnificent though i t i s , i s purely l y r i c , not e p i c , and not r e l a t e d o r g a n i c a l l y t o t h e r e s t of the poem. The c e n t r a l s i t u a t i o n of the second s u b j e c t i s undoubtedly taken from "Tsar Kalin" (Kirsa Danilov, number 25), in which I I 1 j a Muromec i s captured by the T a t a r s . 5 8 But I I ' j a f r e e s

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himself in his an^er; the motif of miraculous religious s a l vation, rare enough in the byliny, does not occur in the o r i g i n a l . In certain smaller d e t a i l s the work also p a r a l l e l s Celakovsky's own translation in Slavic Folk Son£s, "The Boiatyr Surovec," in which the hero also f i g h t s with the Tat a r s . 5 9 Hie prophetic raven in the l a t t e r may perhaps be compared with the mysterious voice in the ruins. Hie simile describing the two heroes' attacks i s similar; the by Una has: Yse posypalis' kak l i s t s dereva ( A l l were strewn l i k e a l e a f from a t r e e ) Celakovsky has: Travou prede vichrem Tatare k zemi l i s t i m prede vichrem Tatare ν outek. (Like grass before a whirlwind the Tatars to the ground; Like leaves before a whirlwind the Tatars turned to flight.) Also similar i s the description of Surovec' ride to find the Tatars: Gory i doly mez nog puskaet, Bystryja reki pereprygivaet, S i r o k i j a r a z d o l ' j a khvostom u s t i l a e t ; Po zemli b e z i t , zemlja d r o z i t . (Mountains and v a l l e y s he l e t s pass through his legs, Swift r i v e r s he gallops over, Broad expanses he covers with his t a i l ; Over the earth he g a l l o p s — t h e earth trembles.) and that of " I l j a Volzanin": I p r e l e t e l I l j a reky devatery, preskakal Volzanin doliny, hory, a horin, dolinin poctu neni. (And I l j a flew over nine rivers, Volzanin galloped over v a l l e y s and mountains, Mountains and v a l l e y s without end.) Both boiatyrs are captured by the Tatars. But the motif of the treacherous g i f t s of the River Volga i s original with Celakovsky. I t i s doubtful i f such a motif could occur in Russian f o l k l o r e , since a Russian river would scarcely betray a Russian in such a way. Another s i m i l a r i t y i s that between the warning of I l j a ' s

Climax

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of Pre-Ronantlc

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Celakovsky

mother not t o go near t h e River Volga and t h a t of Dobrynja N i k i t i c ' s mother f o r her son not t o go out from t h e bank of the River I z r a j : 6 0 Kirsa Danilov, number 48: Pojdes' t y , Dobrynja, na I z r a j na reku, V I z r a e reke s t a n e s ' k u p a t i s j a , I z r a j reka b y s t r a j a ona, s e r d i t a j a ; Ne p l a v a j , Dobrynja, za pervu s t r u j u , Ne p l a v a j t y , N i k i t i c , za drugu s t r u j u . (When you go, Dobrynja, t o the River I z r a j , And you bathe in the River I z r a j , The River I z r a j i s s w i f t and angry; Do not swim, Dobryn.ja, beyond t h e f i r s t c u r r e n t , Do not swim, N i k i t i c , beyond t h e second c u r r e n t . ) Ilja

Volzanin: ty nechod'j d i t e , na Volhu reku,^ t y do j e j ich se nepoustej proudu, bude tobe z a h u b i t ' b u j n o u h l a v i c k u . (Go n o t , c h i l d , to the River Volga, Do not e n t e r her c u r r e n t s , Else she destroy your brave head.)

The scene of t h e b a t t l e i s a cliche' of the by liny,^ found in s e v e r a l p l a c e s in Kirsa D a n i l o v ' s c o l l e c t i o n . To i t Celakovsky adds an a n t i t h e s i s : Jak d a l e c e , dalece ν sirem p o l i , ν sirem poli mezi horami, ne j e z e r o se leskne po rannim s l u n c i , a zbran to poleskuje dvojiho v o j s k a . (How f a r , how f a r on the broad p l a i n , On the broad plain between the mountains; Not a lake i t i s , s h i n i n g in the morning sun, But weapons of two armies which f l a s h t h e r e . ) The b a t t l e with the Tatars suggests another source, the RK, and the l i n e , "I s r a z i l a se vojska ν jednu s i l u " ("And the armies smashed i n t o one f o r c e " ) reminds us of the b a t t l e s in "•Jaroslav" ( " S r a z i l i se oba ostepajna" — "Both smashed t o g e t h e r with spears") or " Z a b o j . " 6 1 But in s p i t e of these numerous p a r a l l e l s , the g r e a t body of the work i s not derived from f o l k poetry. Celakovsky's poem f a l l s i n t o two h a l v e s ; the f i r s t p a r t d e a l s with the h e r o ' s adoption by the Volga, the second with h i s f i g h t with the T a t a r s . Otokar Fischer regards t h e s e two h a l v e s a s not q u i t e p e r f e c t l y r e l a t e d : the theme of adoption

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and of motherhood, so well begun in the f i r s t h a l f , i s never followed up in the second. 62 Yet in the attempt to explain the poem i d e o l o g i c a l l y , we find the link between these two parts. Every attempt to part from the mother i s wrong, and only e v i l and calamity w i l l result from association with strangers and the acceptance of g i f t s from them. Here the symbolization of the mother may well be chosen with an eye to the extraordinary closeness of the t i e s of Slav kinship. Unlike "Hie Bogatyr Muromec," in this poem we observe an extreme in the use of fantasy and of descriptive and embellishing images. Hie motif of the Volga's palace i s rather a f o l k - t a l e element than one from a by Una (and, indeed, the by liny about Sadko are closely related to the skazki). In general, Celakovsky shows a predilection f o r this f o l k - t a l e type of theme; the giant marauding bird in "Öurila Plenkovic" i s likewise more characteristic o f t a l e s . Doubtless t h i s type of t a l e , with i t s greater elaboration and richness of description, appealed to the Romantic in Öelakovsky more than the starker outlines of the bylina could have done. Certain byliny, too, of course, are fantastic, but their fantasy i s rarely elaborated f o r i t s own sake; i t exists to heighten the suspense, to exaggerate the fearfulness of the enemy or to increase the greatness of the hero. I t hardly seems possible that the true quality of this fantasy^,could have been observed by any author of the day. And Celakovsky seems to have ignored many elements of r e a l i t y and h i s t o r i c a l truth in the by liny, which blended with the fantasy to determine the actua l nature of this type of epic narrative. In form there are certain differences from "The Boiatyr Muromec." We have already spoken of the rhythm. Here f a r more assonances are used than in the previous work. Of the r e p e t i t i v e figures, polyptoton becomes of paramount importance, occurring no less than f o r t y - s i x times in 361 lines. Anastrophe i s used somewhat l e s s here, but i t i s s t i l l a frequent device, perhaps too much so. Repetitions of prepositions, very frequent in "The Boiatyr Muromec," occurs only once in the whole poem. On the other hand, very common, and often t i r i n g , i s the use of negative comparisons. There i s less t o t a l use of r e p e t i t i v e figures, however, and in the descriptive passages they scarcely occur at a l l , except f o r polyptoton and paregmenon, which correspondingly become more frequent. In these passages the ornament depends more on the beauty of the words and images than on mere repetition. Öelakovsky i s particularly fond, and especially in " I l j a Volazanin," of repetitions of consonants and vowels in d i f f e r e n t words, a repetition broader than mere a l l i t e r a t i o n : "Ach, vy_ sluhoue', vy moj_i nernf, vy sejdete se do jedineho," or, "to prokveiouaneto kostkov&ae." This preference of the poet's f o r repetitions of consonant and vowel sounds seems to explain the great use of polyptoton

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Celakovsky 0

and paregnenon. The Russian epic songs, too, delight in such sound repetitions, though i t i s likely that Öelakovsky's preference for them i s as much a personal habit as i t i s a conscious principle derived from the folk song. Ideologically these fantasies express nothing clearly. But i t i s notable that of the two kinds of byliny which we know, war byliny and by liny-novellen, Celakovsky chose only the f i r s t kind for imitation, though he used certain elements from the second, as, for example, the byliny about Sadko. And of the three poems in the Echo which imitate byliny, two deal with the invasion of the land by the Tatars and one with the tyrannous oppression of the land by a giant bird. I t i s easy to suppose that Celakovsky mirrored his conscious or unconscious p o l i t i c a l hopes for the independence of the Czechs in these brave bogatyrs, fighting off invasion or oppression. Even the danger to the Czechs of losing their nationality i s symbolized in " I l j a Volzanin," in which the Tatars torture I l j a to force him to become one of them. The motif of the Volga's palace, with i t s comfort and luxury, to which the hero does not allow himself to surrender, i s an example of a common theme of the period. I t symbolized resignation to German rule. Hie Czech patriots believed that s t r i c t self-discipline and courage would be necessary for the coming struggle. Similar themes are found in Rollar's work, for example. Note likewise how Celakovsky's poems are f i l l e d with motifs of Christianity: his "iuromec prays for the soul of the murdered youth, and Volzanin prays to heaven for salvation, Celakovsky did not appreciate, and seems to have ignored, the background of dvoeverie, duality of b e l i e f , which characterizes many of the byliny. In the h i s t o r i c a l songs of the Echo, Celakovsky departed even further from Russian folk poetry. The subjects he took directly from contemporary or recent history: the Moscow f i r e of 1812, Alexander's death, the Russian war with the TVirks. And his historical songs form a special genre of his own, l y r ic rather than epic, s t a t i c rather than dynamic. They are plotless and hero-less, they r e f l e c t and consider rather than narrate. "The Death of Alexander" i s actually a lyric elegy, fairly close, indeed, to certain Russian dirges and historical l y r i c s , but not a historical epic song. The ideology of "Russians at the Danube" i s worthy of spec i a l attention. Obviously the poem was written from enthusiasm at the victorious progress of Russian arms against the Turks. In the poem the Russians speak to the Danube of their long absence and t e l l i t how homesick they have been for the sight of i t s waters. This, of course, i s a hint concerning the right of the Slavic peoples to reoccupy and again rule a territory they once had held. The ending of the poem suggests the ending of the Iior Lay, as well as similar passages in the RK:

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97

Slunce ν jasnosti bude vzchazeti a slava ruska ζ neho s v i t i t i . (The sun w i l l rise in splendor, And Russian glory w i l l shine forth from i t . ) Nor does the humorous poem "Odplata" (The Reward) correspond closely to any Russian folk form, though i t does bear a slight resemblance to certain byltny-novellen about j e a l ousy, such as "The Death of Curila Plenkovic." But this is probably incidental, since we have already seen that Celakovsky took the plot from elsewhere. Machal tries to draw a para l l e l between this poem and "The Merchant Terent'isce" (Kirsa Danilov, number 2), describing them as "similar in mood and s p i r i t . " 6 3 But actually the only thing the two works have in common is the theme of illness; "The Merchant Terent'isce" i s lighter and more farcical, while in Celakovsky the comic situation suggests an ending which i s half serious, the reconciliation of the boyar and his wife. The one brigand song, "The Hearing" (Vyslechy), is to some extent related to the Russian ballads in form, and i s actually close to the lubocnaja pesnja or popular song about Van'ka Rain. Celakovsky himself had translated this work as "Song of the Prisoner," in which a prisoner is likewise tried by the tsar, speaks up boldly in his own defense, but only receives the sarcastic answer that for his fine defense he w i l l have a fine reward — the gallows. But "1he Hearing" d i f f e r s from such originals as this in having a happy ending, rare in the Russian songs themselves. Indeed, as Krejci has observed, Celakovsky had a strong preference for themes with happy endings, and the entire collection contains no more than two or three poems on sad themes.6* This choice of mood must be considered personal, for Russian folk poetry by no means shows such unanimity. Last of a l l there is one satirical song, a starina, "Veliky ptaci trh" (The Birds' Great Pair), obviously related closely to Celakovsky's own translation, "Birds and Their Functionaries." In spirit and form this poem i s quite close to the Russian original, "The Birds" (Pticy), and d i f f e r s only in that Celakovsky has provided a plot and pointed his satire in a clearer fashion. Doubtless this is the most f a i t h f u l of a l l his imitations of Russian epic songs; not that i t contains less of himself, but that i t contains less which i s hostile to the spirit of folk poetry. Again we have evidence of the remarkable influence "lÜe Birds" had on poets: the indeterminate quality of i t s satiric theme made i t one of the most usable folk works for adaptation. How close does Celakovsky come to actual folk poetry in the £cfto? We can scarcely accept his songs as the accurate imitations of Russian folk songs for which earlier criticism has

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taken them. His forms tend to be lyric, not epic, and even his epic is tinged with lyric qualities. His historical songs, though close to Russian historical lyrics and dirges, ignore the rich development of the historical epic. In this lyricism he is, of course, a product of his times: Czech Romanticism came sooner and more naturally to the lyric and the drama than to the epic. 65 Here the absence of a Czech folk epic played a role. The Russian c r i t i c Rykhlik severely criticizes Celakovsky for not depicting Russian v life completely.66 Such a criticism is certainly unjust, for Celakovsky never had the possibility of knowing Russia well enough to provide such a complete description. Such would have been out of keeping with his own ideology, indeed, for he was not a realist; likewise i t would have been out of keeping with Russian folk poetry i t s e l f , which is not realistic, and aims neither at descriptions nor summation. Yet there can be l i t t l e doubt that Celakovsky did attempt to reproduce at least the Russian national character in his work. In a letter to Kamaryt of -July, 1829» he wrote about h i s Echo of

Russian

Songs:

But you have not observed what your reaction is, how near, in your judgment, I have come to the character of the Russian people. That I did not entirely miss i t , I surmise. I t ave me difficulty to include a l l the forms of Russian folk] poetry so far as I knew them: epic, lyric, even sat i r i c or comic.67

f

Against such a standard i t cannot be concluded that he was completely successful; certainly not i f our criteria are objective ones, which, of course, his were not, since they subserved a certain ideological motivation. But how much more Russian are Celakovsky's poems than is Puskin's single venture into the domain of Czech poetry Czech in spirit, the fantastically non-Czech "Prince -Janys" in the Songs of the Hestern Slavs, in which a few badly spelled Czech names are coupled to a subject of doubtful origin to produce a "Czech" song.68 Yet Rykhlik's criticism does contain a certain amount of justification when he writes: The prevalence of jocular, comic, naive, tender, even sentimental motifs, deprived of a l l bold, sharp features, proves that Celakovsky was guided in his choice of these motifs by subjective enthusiasms, and that he preferred those subjects which were closer to his outlook on l i f e . 6 9 I t is certainly true that these songs, especially the lyrics, are guilty of a certain sentimentalism, characteristic of the age. As Krejci observes, Celakovsky lacked that "barbarous

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bloodiness which distinguished Lermontov's Soni of Tsar Ivan Fast I 'evil·,1,70 and which, i t may be added, also in part distinguishes the byllny. Celakovsky's heroes were conceived in the traditions of chivalry and Christianity. One may l e g i t i mately wonder, indeed, whether the non-Russian influences on the Echo are not greater than the Russian. Fischer suggests some of them: Gessner's i d y l l s , the writings of the Church fathers, especially Augustine (detectable in "Hie Hearing"), S c h i l l e r ' s Karl Moor from Die Räuber (again in "The Hearing"), the songs of the RK, old Czech fables and chronicles (in "The Birds' Great F a i r " ) . 7 1 More could be found: fairy tales and.tales of chivalry (Scott's Lady of the Lake, translated by Celakovsky) undoubtedly played a great part in the inspiration of these poems. Another influence discovered by Fischer was that of the German collector and translator of Russian folk songs, Paul von Götze, whose Stimmen des russischen

Volkes

in Liedern

was

published in Stuttgart in 1828, one year before the Echo appeared. Fischer has shown that several of the footnotes in the Echo are almost word-for-word translations from von Gotze's book. 72 Ano.ther source of factual information was Richter's Russische Miszellen (Leipzig, 1803), while i t i s also possible that Celakovsky had read von Busse's Vladimirs Tafelrunde (1819), a German translation of certain byliny. Fischer thinks i t highly probable that von Gotze's book may have influenced Celakovsky in certain formal aspects v of Russian folk poetry, especially rhythm. He argues that Celakovsky knew Russian only from books and hence had no knowledge of the metre of the poetry. He also suggests that the s t y l i s t i c devices of the Echo, and notably the use of repetition and fixed epithets, may be modelled on von Gotze's book. 73 Certainly, the Introduction to this work does contain an a r t i c l e on the rhyme and rhythm of Russian folk poetry, and i t also describes and gives examples of the use of the negat i v e comparison, fixed epithets, et cetera. On the other hand, against Fischer's thesis, i t must be argued that Celakovsky's use of many formal aspects, notably rhythm, does not d i f f e r essentially between Slavic Folk Songs ^published before von Gotze's book) and the Echo. Moreover, Celakovsky did not f o l low von Gotze's Introduction in his choice of f e e t for the ends of the l i n e s . Götze states that most verses in Russian folk poetry end with a dactyl or an amphimacer, and that the regularity of this f i n a l foot often established the poetic quality of the line, inasmuch as the preceding feet are usua l l y irregular. 7 4 As we have seen, Celakovsky did not follow this principle.^ And certainly i t i s not necessary to suppose that Celakovsky f i r s t learned about the use of fixed epithets and repetitive devices through reading von Gotze's book; surely he must have noted such features himself when translat-

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ing, and at most Götze's work could only have reminded him or confirmed him in his use of them. Celakovsky's use of such devices may also, of course, be dependent on his knowledge of Siskov's Conversations on Literature (Moscow, 1811, 1824), from which he took "An Old Russian Bogatyr" for the third volume of Slavic Folk Songs. Siskov's b e l i e f that the irregul a r rhythm of the epic songs may be due to errors in trananission i s perhaps the source of Celakovsky's regular trochaic rhythm in "Potok." In contrast to Rykhlik, Jakubec praises Celakovsky f o r his many-sidedness. 75 In his work are l y r i c , epic, and s a t i r i c poems. Indeed, Celakovsky's f a c i l i t y in many forms merits praise. But the range of his themes, which Jakubec t r i e s to present as so varied, is surprisingly small and r e s t r i c t e d : love, family l i f e , resistance to oppression, blind devotion to the tsar — these are the principal ones, and they are repeated again and again. Undoubtedly Celakovsky's view of Russia and Russian l i f e i s greatly restricted and f a l s i f i e d , and his work i s not comp l e t e l y Russian in i t s character. Today we are in a better position to appraise i t s merits. Our conclusion must be that, in the end, his poetry i s f a r more original than we had thought. Machal's comparison of him to a composer who writes a symphonic composition based on folk melodies is a just one. Like a composer, Celakovsky takes only a part of the materials available, only a few common devices of form from folk poetry; the rhythm of the poems and the a r t i s t i c whole created are his own. Perhaps the Czech poet Vrchlicky i s closest to the truth when he says that "these are no 'echoes of Russian songs,' but only Frantisek Ladislav Celakovsky, disguised in the garments of a Russian." Celakovsky uses a comparatively great number of Russian words and syntactical expressions in the Echo. The translator's work in Slavic Folk Songs had led him to r e j e c t most Russianisms, f o r a translation in which certain words were not rendered would have been only an incomplete translation. In the Echo, however, Celakovsky took advantage of the greater f r e e dom of the creative a r t i s t : Russian terms supplied color, while their use i s not excessive and does not hinder comprehension. Some he explains in footnotes: arsin, kamka, kysejny, husli, hudocky, sisdk, jachont, vecerinky, stolnlcit, ponizova

panichida, sobaka, suchota, (mestaj, ataman, jezaul, et

cetera. Others he does not explain, such as hosudar, sudar, monastyr, orda, knut, tovar, celovatl, sine posmesnik, celedinstvo,

versta, rubl, denezka, bohatyr, bojar, (more), syra (zeme), mladec, po nevoll, vojlnstvo, hadtna, e t c e t e r a . 7 6 He

also shows a tendency to use verb prefixes in their Russian sense rather than the Czech one: "na nebi hvezdy p o j e v i l y se" (note here also the use of the r e f l e x i v e pronoun a f t e r the

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verb, a Russianism), or "cap po bfehu sem tam pochazi."77 He creates new Czech diminutives after the pattern of Russian ones: dolinecka,

mladicka,

radicka.78

He also employs certain Russian syntactic expressions foreign to Czech. Most notable is the Instrumental of Comparison (for example, "vyskocili ζ K y j e v a — ν poli prach sloupem"), which he felt deserved a definite place in Czech.79 A second is the frequent use of po and the dative, to denote manner: "place po materskemu," et cetera. A third is the use of the emphatic particle, to, unknown in Czech in this sense. Here the use seems to be largely that of a rhythmic alternant. Different interpretations may be placed on this great body of Russianisms. The Czech philologist Bohuslav Havranek believes that certain of them were borrowed for the sake of their sound effect rather than their meaning (for example, kalenä strela) , 80 Similarly certain Russianisms such as sine more, syrä zeme, et cetera, can easily be explained on the basis of the poet's desire to preserve the unity of fixed epithet and object, such a striking characteristic of Russian epic poetry. Celakovsky himself wrote: Let us limit to no one the right of bringing in new words from Russian, Polish, or anywhere else, so long as they are good, suitable for us, and necessary. But let us ask that they first be examined to make certain that they are not chosen at random, that they are not awkward and against the spirit of our language.81 Ihe main stock of words in the Echo is Czech; most of the Russian words introduced are either names of things not known in Czech or characteristic Russian names used for the sake of the exotic coloring they give. Celakovsky, for example, borrows almost no Russian verbs.82 Hence, we can scarcely be satisfied with -Jakubec1 explanation that Celakovsky is seeking to bring the Slavic languages closer together.83 Jakubec is closer to the truth, it seems to me, when he emphasizes the great role of Celakovsky in teaching Czech poets to speak the Czech language with a purity which he himself had learned from Czech folk songs and from the older literature.84 His use of the Instrumental of Comparison and the Dative of Manner with po are harder to explain on such a basis, it is true, and here, certainly, we must accept, if not the doctrine that Celakovsky was seeking to bring the Slavic languages closer together, then at least the notion that he attempted to enlarge the means of expression in Czech by suitable borrowing from the other Slavic languages. But it would be entirely wrong to imagine his borrowing as wholesale. Most of his borrowings can be satisfactorily explained as stressing the Russian origin of his subjects.

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Celakovsky's adaptations of folk songs brought new poetic forms and techniques to Czech literature. His irregular, unrhymed verse was a new pattern and a precedent, notable for Erben. He introduced new forms to poetry, or reaffirmed the use of those scarcely developed: the l y r i c a l epic, the ballad, the romantic elegy, et cetera, forms which were fresh and f i l l e d with the spirit of the new Romanticism, and which were better adapted to the ideology of Romanticism than were such forms as the pseudo-classical i d y l l and fable. Celakovsky's influence was divided. In leading the lesser poets of his day to turn to the folk song for the inspiration which i t provided, as well as for i t s own beauty, his i n f l u ence was all-important, certainly the strongest single one of his day. Kamaryt, Snajdr, Kamenicky, Chmelensky—all either followed his lead or, caught up by the s p i r i t of the times, turned independently to such a c t i v i t y . More important than these is Langer, much of whose a c t i v i t y was done under the d i rect influence and inspiration of Celakovsky's two Echoes. Most important i s Erben. For much of his work Celakovsky's a c t i v i t y served as a model, and the young Erben was quite spec i f i c a l l y under his influence. 8 5 In part Czech folk songs, cultivated by Celakovsky, Langer, and the other members of Celakovsky's c i r c l e , later took over the leading role hitherto played by Russian folklore in i n f l u encing Czech literature. Then, too, we must not overlook the fact that Celakovsky, the f i r s t a f t e r Hanka to turn to Russian f o l k poetry for inspiration, exhausted the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of such imitation within the framework of the Pre-Romantic l i t e r ary ideology and techniques of his day. Further imitation was impossible until the time when a new interpretation could be given to f o l k l o r e , and new forms could be borrowed from i t , as was the case with Erben's later work with the Czech ballad. For Czech poetry Celakovsky's work was of paramount importance. In one bound he l e f t the Pseudo-Classicism of his generation behind and, combining German Pre-Romantic and Romantic influences with those of the models of native and foreign Slav folk poetry, he crossed the threshold of Pre-Romanticism and l e f t Czech literature at the beginning of the Romantic period. He brought Czech literature up to a par with foreign l i t e r a tures; thus Macha and Erben, the great Czech Romanticists who followed him, could already produce individual poetic works, on a l e v e l with the other literatures of their day. Though a lesser poet than either Puskin or Mickiewicz, Celakovsky's role in Czech literature was analogous: interweaving the influence of foreign literature with the l i v e inspiration of f o l k poetry, he produced a great national poetry, standardized the l i t e r a r y language, destroyed the dying Pseudo-Classical tradition and injected new blood in the form of new poetic genres, rhythms, and ideas into the stream of literature.

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Nor i s his influence wholly of the past. How modern much of his work s t i l l seems today! We have only to compare him with Kollar, his greatest contemporary, to see the f u l l s i g nificance of this modernity. Kollar 1 s work i s turned toward the past, Celakovsky1s toward the future. The great Czech symbolist Brezina has said of i t s poetry: " I t contains an already perfect free verse, of a sort which many tried later to attain in vain. 1,86 And Machar, the poetic realist who was Brezina's contemporary, praises i t for its vivid modernity: "That book is so alive; i t has as fresh colors as i f i t were a newspaper of the current week."87 And where Celakovsky i s closest to the spirit of folk poetry, as in the magnificent opening passage of "The Bofatyr Muromec," his work is s t i l l fresh and amazingly modern. This passage, which affected Vrchlicky so strongly (though in terms of the poetry of his own day he describes i t as archaic) , 88 now stands, in i t s great simplicity and the vigor of i t s powerful, irregular metre, as a triumph of poetry in the modern s p i r i t .

Chapter Υ JOSEF JAROSLAV LANGER A follower of telakovsky in his poetic p r a c t i c e , Josef Jaroslav Langer continued the use of certain formal devices from S l a v i c folk l i t e r a t u r e in h i s poetry. Yet he was sharply c r i t i c a l of certain of Celakovsky's teachings. He c l e a r l y foresaw the coming of a new romantic l i t e r a t u r e of subj ective f e e l i n g which would ultimately displace the systematic imitation of f o l k poetiy, which would substitute the autonomy of the a r t i s t ' s personal and individual f e e l i n g s , sensations, and ideas f o r the authority of the c o l l e c t i v e pattern, represented by the l i t e r a t u r e of the f o l k . Bat he himself was unable to create that poetry of s u b j e c t i v i t y . Like Celakovsky, Langer turned to the f o l k song as a stimulus f o r his own creation, but unlike the elder poet, he found an e x t r a - l i t e r a r y value in i t . For him folk customs as well as folk songs were worthy of study for the information they gave concerning the habits, b e l i e f s , and t r a d i t i o n s of the people. His own investigations in Czech f o l k l o r e were more s c i e n t i f i c and on a higher plane than anything which had preceded them. 1 L i t t l e i s known about Langer 1 s Pan-Slavic i n t e r e s t s and s t u d i e s . Apparently i t was C e l a k o v s k y ' s Echo of Russian

Sortis

which turned him to imitation of Russian and Serb folk poetry i n h i s Selanky

(Idylls),

though L i n d a ' s Light

over

Paganism,

portraying the ancient Czech past and linking i t closely to a common Slavic t r a d i t i o n , may have also influenced him in this respect.2 Langer's Pan-Slavism and his patriotism were ardently romant i c . The Slavs must unite to save themselves before i t i s too late: Our Austrian Empire, in which the greatest part of the population i s S l a v — h o w much does i t mean for us that s t i l l i t i s not Slav? I t i s great and i s in constant turmoil. Then l e t us show the f r u i t of t h i s greatness! We are many, but we do not know one another. We could t r u l y be many, but we do not know one another, and without that knowledge we are

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foreign to each other. The disease i s growing; l e t us learn to know ourselves! Disease brings death. Whosoever does not help himself k i l l s himself, and God punishes even the s u i c i d e s of peoples. But how can we help ourselves, when we do not know ourselves? Let us learn to know ourselves! 3 To a large extent the personal tragedy of Langer's l i f e seems to have been due to the contradiction between h i s own keen insight and his lack of creative accomplishment. His c r i t i c i s m of Celakovsky sounds l i k e a manifesto on the need for subjectivism in l y r i c poetry. The path of o b j e c t i v e imit a t i o n , which Celakovsky had followed (though in theory more than in p r a c t i c e , as Wejedly r i g h t l y observes) 4 was f a u l t y ; the f o l k i t s e l f embodies i t s own unadorned f e e l i n g s in i t s l y r i c songs, and for the cultured poet to imitate them i s u s e l e s s and f a l s e ; rather l e t the poet sing of his own f e e l ings. Though Celakovsky's a r t was d e r i v a t i v e , h i s poetry could well be great, for there was l i t t l e enough which had gone before him; h i s task was to catch up more than to forge ahead. But times had already changed, and Langer c l e a r l y saw the need for o r i g i n a l creation, springing from the f e e l i n g s of the Czech poet himself, and not based on mere imitation of f o l k poetry or on foreign models. He saw t h i s c l e a r l y , but f o r the task of creating such an a r t he was too limited, and the Czech tradition too tenuous. Unlike Macha, he found no Byron to inspire him, and unlike Erben, no Czech b a l l a d . And in h i s f a i l u r e h i s a r t i s t i c creation was almost a d i r e c t v i o l a t i o n of his own theories: he imitated folk songs d i r e c t l y in h i s Czech Krakovdcky,5 and in his other work he created l i t t l e in the way of new forms of subjective expression. 6 I t was the consciousness of these l i m i t a t i o n s , coupled, perhaps, with the t r a g i c determination to lead a poetic existence — to achieve in l i f e what was denied him in poetry—which drove him from Prague forever. Idylls

In 1830 Langer published a volume of i d y l l s , Selanky. These are quite youthful works, executed in both prose and verse and looking back to older poets f o r i n s p i r a t i o n . The e a r l i e s t i d y l l s rely on the Swiss poet, Salomon Gessner, and on Langer's early teacher of poetry, Josef Chmela, who translated Gessner into Czech. But l a t e r he submitted to influence c l o s e r to him: Linda, e s p e c i a l l y the author of Light over Paganism, the RKZ, Hajek's Chronicle, Celakovsky's i d y l l s and his Echo of Russian Songs. In Linda, Hajek, and the RKZ, Langer found the t r a d i tions and customs of the people and t h e i r f a b l e s ; these mode l s likewise influenced his choice of language. 7 His turning away from Gessner 1 s i d y l l can be explained by the f a c t that

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Gessner had already gone out of s t y l e , 8 but also by the need which he must have f e l t to create forms which were indigenous to the land and the people. But, like I Linda and Hanka, and in sharp opposition to C e l a k o v s k y , he f i r s t turned to sources which even he must have known were derivative and untrustworthy (for example, Linda and Hajek), and to the RKZ, which, though he could not have known t h i s , were likewise derivative. Only l a t e r did he apparently r e a l i z e the secondary and deriva t i v e quality of such sources, and, in his Czech Krakovacky and his t r a n s l a t i o n s of the Russian byliny, turn to the true folk l i t e r a t u r e of the Slavic people. In t h i s respect the young Langer was a b i t l i k e Hanka, who diligently searched the ancient l i b r a r i e s of Prague for old manuscripts and, f a i l i n g to find the s o r t which he was looking for, a t l a s t forged them himself, but who did not c o l l e c t the contemporary songs of the people. So Langer, in Prague, found i t easier to employ secondary and untrustworthy sources, close a t hand, than t o go d i r e c t l y to the folk i t s e l f for inspiration. Neither Hajek nor Linda was of much help in supplying the form for Langer's new i d y l l . Here he turned to the RKZ, to the Serb folk epic and, a f t e r the appearance of the Echo of Russian Songs in 1829, to Celakovsky. Whether Langer knew the Russian byliny in the original in 1829) or only through the medium of Celakovsky's work, i s d i f f i c u l t to say in view of the fact that i t was form rather than content which he borrowed from them. There i s no e v i dence as to when he learned Russian (in 1834 he apologizes for h i s faulty knowledge of the language).^ In view of what has been said concerning the derivative character of Lander's other sources, as well as the r e l a t i v e lack of knowledge of the byliny in Bohemia a t this time, i t seems safe to assume that he was b e t t e r acquainted with Celakovsky's Echo, which had j u s t appeared and was inmensely popular among the p a t r i o t i c i n t e l l i g e n t s i a . Moreover, the formal devices which Langer borrowed from Russian folk poetry were a l l used by Celakovsky: a n t i t h e s i s , anaphora, anastrophe, use of fixed epithets, et c e t e r a . But the byliny themselves may well have influenced him d i r e c t l y in the matter of length of poetic line and i r r e g u l a r i t y of rhythm: one of his poems, "Devatero krkavcu" (Nine Ravens), contains lines which vary in number of s y l l a b l e s from five to eighteen, a variation g r e a t e r than any of Celakovsky's translations or pastiches of Russian folk poems. In turning to Czech antiquity and Czech folk poetry for his subjects, langer was motivated by considerations similar to those which had led Hanka to these sources; in turning to Serb and perhaps Russian folk poetry for formal elements, he likewise followed the path, however unconsciously, o f the forgers of the RKZ. From Serb folk poetry Langer borrowed

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elements f o r the poems, "A Serb Riddle" and " I m p o s s i b i l i t y . " 1 0 P r o · Serb folk p o e t r y , the RKZ and Celakovsky's Echo he took m a t e r i a l s f o r t h e i d y l l , "Bludna s v e t e l k a " ( W i l l - o ' - t h e - W i s p s ) , a s well a s f o r t h e long b a l l a d with which h i s Idylls ends, "Devatero krkavcu" (Nine Ravens). "Will-o'-the-Wisps" i s a prose i d y l l , concerned with the simple l i f e of a fisherman, h i s love f o r a shepherdess, and t h e s t o r i e s and songs which they t e l l and s i n g . I n s e r t e d i n the t e x t i s a t r a g i c b a l l a d ( t h i s device of p l a c i n g poems in prose t a l e s r e c a l l s L i n d a ' s Ltiht over Paiantsm) about a k i n g f i s h e r who, a g a i n s t the advice of the f o r c e s of n a t u r e , f l i e s home t o r e j o i n h i s love, f o l l o w s some w i l l - o ' - t h e wisps and p e r i s h e s . Hie t a l e i t s e l f i s a b a l l a d r a t h e r than a h e r o i c song, and the only r e l a t i o n between i t s c o n t e n t and Russian f o l k poetry i s animation of n a t u r e , an element p r e s e n t , of course, in much of f o l k l o r e . On the s i d e of form, however, the correspondences a r e c l o s e r . The l i n e s a r e a l l of ten s y l l a b l e s , suggesting t h e Serb epic songs (or the RKZ); the rhythm i s a reasonably r e g u l a r t r o c h a i c . Suggestive of the i n f l u e n c e of t h e Serb e p i c in t h i s poem i s the e l a b o r a t e negative comparison with which Langer d e s c r i b e s the f l i g h t of t h e k i n g f i s h e r : Co to l e t i ze tmaveho l e s a ? Zeleny to sokol? c i l i o r e l , Cerny o r e l ν soumraku vecernim? Aj, neni to sokol, a n i o r e l , Ale Kalvod j e t o , rybak mlady, (What i s i t t h a t f l i e s from t h e dark f o r e s t ? I s i t a green falcon? Or an e a g l e , A black eagle in the evening t w i l i g h t ? Ah, i t i s no f a l c o n , n o r an e a g l e , But Kalvod, the young k i n g f i s h e r , ) We a l s o n o t e anastrophe find anaphora, two of Celakovsky's f a v o r i t e devices: Rakose hovorny, a ty vodo, Vodo sumna.... Podle brehu padi jinoch rusy, Podle brehu hromohlucne reky. Other f i g u r e s a r e f r e q u e n t , n o t a b l y e p i z e u x i s and o t h e r kinds of r e p e t i t i o n : Bezi pres hory a doly prudce, Pres hory a doly ku n e v e s t e ! Hoj, ty June, june z l a t o v l a s k y , ( t h i s l i n e i t s e l f i s repeated t h r e e times)

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Ma lucine na druhem bfehu ( r e p e t i t i o n of prepositions) The instrumental o f comparison, a f a v o r i t e device of C e l a kovsky's, likewise appears: Bezi lesinou jelenem prudkym, Sumnym vetrem ρ res vysoke hory. (She runs through the wood l i k e a s w i f t s t a g , Like a b l u s t e r i n g wind over the high mountains.) In t h i s l a s t example Langer has i n e p t l y combined two I n s t r u mentals of d i f f e r e n t meanings and o r i g i n s : lesinou (through the wood) i s a Czech use of the instrumental, while jelenem prudkym. ( l i k e a s w i f t stag) i s Russian. Short a s the poem i s , there i s a case of the use of a fixed e p i t h e t , repeated three times: june zlatovlasky (goldenhaired youth). Other e p i t h e t s have that t y p i c a l q u a l i t y so c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of Russian and Serb f o l k poetry: osud kruty (cruel f a t e ) , voda sumna ( r u s t l i n g water), vysoke hory (high mountains), e t c e t e r a . But Langer a l s o showed a tendency to avoid the numerous r e p e t i t i o n s of f o l k poetry; thus f o r him the r i v e r (J-eka) i s by turns s w i f t (prudkä), thundering (hromohlucna),

terrifying

(hriizotnä),

and t u r b i d

(kalna).

"Nine Ravens," the second of the poems in Idylls to suggest the d i r e c t or i n d i r e c t influence of. the Russian e p i c , i s a long b a l l a d . This poem, along with Celakovsky's "Toman and the Forest Maiden," occupies a leading place in Czech l i t e r a ture before Erben, and must be regarded as Langer's g r e a t e s t contribution to the develoDment of new forms. The poem t e l l s o f nine brothers, transformed into ravens by t h e i r f a t h e r ' s hasty and l a t e r regretted curse. Their s i s t e r performs mirac l e s of devoted heroism to rescue them. The poem achieves considerable suspense and i s characterized by a v i v i d and able use of language, by a fresh, s t r i k i n g s t y l e which i s purely Czech. Langer does not borrow words from the^other S l a v i c languages, in contrast to Hanka, Linda, and Celakovsky. I t i s in form that the piece shows i t s r e l a t i o n to the Russian byllny, e i t h e r d i r e c t l y or through the medium of Celakovsky ' s Echo. The l i n e s vary in length between f i v e and eighteen s y l l a b l e s . The metre i s t r o c h a i c , but with many i r r e g u l a r i t i e s and v a r i a t i o n s . Some lines· scan p e r f e c t l y as t r o c h a i c , others begin with an anacrusis, others s u b s t i t u t e d a c t y l i c f e e t f o r t r o c h a i c , in s t i l l others long unaccented s y l l a b l e s (or even short unaccented ones) replaced accented s y l l a b l e s . Some l i n e s are e n t i r e l y d a c t y l i c . The Czech p h i l o l o g i s t , Josef Krai, author of the standard work on Czech prosody, s t a t e s that many o f the l i n e s can hardly be scanned at a l l . 1 1 In t h i s respect "Nine Ravens" stands in sharp contrast to the other poems of

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Idylls, a f a c t which argues f o r i t s l a t e r composition, undoubtedly a f t e r the appearance o f Öelakovsky's Echo. In s p i t e o f the rich profusion of rhythmical d e v i c e s and v a r i a t i o n s which langer produces, the rhythm o f t h i s poem and of Langer's other works in free verse i s not always s u c c e s s f u l . The a l t e r n a t i o n of p e r f e c t l y r e g u l a r and extremely i r r e g u l a r l i n e s i s t r y i n g f o r the reader, who s c a r c e l y knows how to read them. Hie a l t e r n a t i o n of very long and very short l i n e s i s s i m i l a r l y trying in Czech v e r s e . But in c e r t a i n places the work i s rhythmically powerful. Diverse i n f l u e n c e s can be detected in "Nine Ravens." Most s i g n i f i c a n t , probably, i s that o f Linda's Ltiht over Paiantsm and the epic songs of the RgZ. Compare these l i n e s with the description of Prague from "Oldrich and B o l e s l a v , " quoted in Chapter I I I . Hie e p i t h e t s used are s t r i k i n g l y s i m i l a r : Ζ dalekych lesu se ranni v a l i l a para, Nebe se roz^asnilo, a oblaka se zamodrala, A vlhka zeme rozzelenala s e . Po ranni rose, po bujnych lucinach Kraci divka do prastareho l e s a , Ζ l e s a do udoli a do cernych hor, do strasnych. (Prom f a r - o f f f o r e s t s r o l l e d the morning hazes, The sky brightened, and the clouds turned blue, And the damp earth became green. Through the dew o f morn, through the pleasant meadows, The g i r l walked t o the primeval f o r e s t , From the f o r e s t to the v a l l e y , and to the black mount a i n s , the t e r r i b l e ones.) The r e p e t i t i o n of prepositions in the l a s t l i n e again suggests Celakovsky's i n f l u e n c e . Occasionally an e n t i r e passage i s reminiscent of the S l a v i c f o l k epic, a s , f o r example, the following: P f i j d e do prostred l e s a , l e s a c e r n A o , A ν torn prostred l e s e byla zelena louka, Po te louce poskakovalat' sobe s v e t y l k a , A to svetylka zelena, a svetylka modra. (She came to the center of the f o r e s t , of the black forest, And in the middle of the f o r e s t was a green meadow. Over t h i s meadow w i l l - o ' - t h e - w i s p s were leaping, Green w i l l - o ' - t h e - w i s p s , and blue ones.) The l a s t l i n e of t h i s passage shows the Russian-like use of the i n d i c a t i v e pronoun to, very often used in Russian f o l k works in t h i s way to supply f u r t h e r explanation or comparison. Note the use of anastrophe, c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of 6elakovsky:

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Divotvorna bylina, a ta kvete bile, Bile kvete, a tmavozelene roste. (A magic herb, which blossoms white, Which blossoms white, and grows dark-green.) The following passage suggests the beginning of "Potok Mikhajlo Ivanovic," which Langer might well have known from Celakovsk^'s translation. Compare the way in which attention s h i f t s from one group of three sons to the next with the s h i f t i n g of attention from one to another of the three bo£atyrs in "Potok": I pribehne t r e synuv jeho, Ti n e j s t a r s i rychlonohymi j e l e n y ! I pribehne t r e synflv druhych Ti ^ostarsi zelenymi sokoly! I prizene se dve synüv j eho, Ti mladsi to sumavymi vetry! (And there ran up three o f his sons, The eldest, l i k e swift-footed stags! And there ran up three more sons, The next eldest, l i k e green falcons! And there ran up two other sons, The youngest, l i k e blustering winds!) Kirsa Danilov (number 23) has: Bylo pirovanie, pocestnoj pir Na t r i brata nazvanye, Sveto-russkie mogucie bogatyri: A na pervogo brata nazvanogo Sveto-russkogo mogucego bogatyrja, Na Potoka Mikhajla Ivanovica; Na drugogo brata nazvanogo, Na moloda Dobrynju Nikitica; ^a t r e t ' e g o brata nazvanogo, Cto na moloda Alesu Popovica. (There was a f e a s t , a feast of honor, For three sworn, comrades, Bright Russians and mighty boiatyrs: For the f i r s t sworn comrade, For Potok Mikhajlo Ivanovic; For the second sworn comrade, For the young Dobrynja N i k i t i c ; For the third sworn comrade, The young Alesa Popovic.) Like the by liny, and Slavic folk poetry in general, the work i s f u l l of repetitions, and words, whole lines and

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motifs are repeated when a s i m i l a r context a r i s e s , ftiregmenon and polyptoton are a l s o common. Fixed e p i t h e t s o f the s t e r e o typed s o r t are everywhere: black f o r e s t (cerny les), dark cavern (tmavd jeskyne), old woman (stard baba), pale moon (bledy Meslc), e t c e t e r a . A s p e c i a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of Danger's creation i s the use o f a group o f two or t h r e e synonomous or r e l a t e d a d j e c t i v e s , adverbs or verbs, o f t e n with i n t e r n a l rhyme or assonance. By using t h i s device again and again throughout the poem many powerful e f f e c t s are secured. For example: Kouri se to sedive, cerne a rude ( I t smokes gray, black and reddish) Vzhuru ona k r a c i , bezi a l e t i (Upward she walks, she runs and f l i e s ) The work i s one o f considerable e f f e c t i v e n e s s , and had Langer followed the path which he started with t h i s poem he might well have achieved something g r e a t . He might have taken the path which Erben l a t e r followed; 1 2 why he never did so remains a mystery. "Nine Ravens" enjoyed the g r e a t e s t populari t y ; Kamaryt and Öelakovsky praised i t warmly, and i t was even declaimed in the s t r e e t s o f Prague. Certainly discouragement was not responsible f o r turning Langer away from the b a l l a d . Perhaps, l i k e Celakovsky, he f a i l e d to find the l i v ing form among the people, and so the spring o f h i s i n s p i r a tion dried up. Lanier's

Theoretical

Vrltings

We have already noted that Langer's writings on the s u b j e c t o f f o l k l o r e were o f the g r e a t e s t importance f o r t h e i r a s t u t e ness and s c i e n t i f i c exactness; they are e a s i l y the f i n e s t things o f t h e i r kind in Czech l i t e r a t u r e of the day. F i r s t appeared a German a r t i c l e describing Czech wedding customs, Die böhmische Hationalhochzeit (1831), which, however, was never published. L a t e r , in 1834, Langer published an a r t i c l e in the Journal of the Czech Museum under the t i t l e o f "Czech Folk Customs and Songs." Here he gave a very high evaluation o f the Czech folk song. A. Müller, professor of e s t h e t i c s a t Charles University and a leading c r i t i c of the day, one who may have had great influence on Langer's own views, had made the observation that Czech songs were i n f e r i o r in worth to Russian and Serb songs. Langer observed that such a comparison i s u n j u s t : i f comparison must be made, then Czech songs ought t o be compared with Russian l y r i c folk songs, f o r the Czechs lack epic songs. I f t h i s i s done, Czech songs w i l l

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come out t h e v i c t o r , f o r they a r e e s s e n t i a l l y more s i n g a b l e , more Musical. Often they a r e u n i t e d with the dance, and, i n Langer 1 s opinion, were composed t o a l r e a d y e x i s t i n g melodies; hence t h e i r highly musical q u a l i t y . I d e n t i f y i n g t h e i r musical q u a l i t y with l y r i c i s m , Langer r i g h t l y n o t e s t h a t in t h e i r l y r i c q u a l i t y Czech songs are unique and a r e c o n t r a s t e d to t h e songs of the o t h e r Slav n a t i o n s . True, t h e Czechs have the RKZ, which Langer c a l l s eptco-lyric; he observes i t s s i m i l a r i t y t o the Russian type of f o l k song and a t t r i b u t e s t h i s d i v e r gence from the t y p i c a l Czech song t o the g r e a t age of the work. I t i s noteworthy, however, t h a t he recognized the e s s e n t i a l l y "Russian" q u a l i t y of the poems of the RKZ. More s i g n i f i c a n t f o r u s i s the I n t r o d u c t i o n t o h i s Starozitni basnS rusk4 (Ancient Russian Poems), 13 t r a n s l a t i o n s of the Russian by liny. Here he gives a complete statement of h i s a r t i s t i c principles. Celakovsky had held t h a t Czech p o e t r y , in i t s s t r u g g l e t o become n a t i o n a l , must turn t o f o l k l i t e r a t u r e and model i t s e l f upon the S l a v i c f o l k song. S t r i c t adherence t o such a program, of course, would have r e s u l t e d in g r e a t l y l i m i t i n g the range of p o e t i c a r t and in the danger of i t s becoming no more than i m i t a t i o n . Fortunately Celakovsky was a b e t t e r poet than a t h e o r e t i c i a n , and h i s own works a r e f a r more than such l i t e r a l i m i t a t i o n s of f o l k l i t e r a t u r e , a s we have s e e n . 1 4 ^ A f t e r the t r a d i t i o n e s t a b l i s h e d and developed by Hanka and Celakovsky had been brought to p e r f e c t i o n , i t was necessary t o f i n d l i b e r a t i o n from t h a t t r a d i t i o n , i f a r t was t o progress f u r t h e r . Langer attempts to f i n d i t . He r e j e c t s in p r i n c i p l e , i f not always in p r a c t i c e , two of t h e dogmas of Celakovsky's p o e t i c creed: (1) t h a t l y r i c poetry should be based on f o l k songs, since they are the t r u e s t expression of f e e l i n g and embody the n a t i o n a l s p i r i t ; and (2) t h a t simple r e p e t i t i o n , a b a s i c and common device of the f o l k song, should be introduced i n t o w r i t t e n p o e t r y . Thus Langer w r i t e s : Never in Bohemia have so many songs been w r i t t e n in the f o l k s p i r i t a s in these y e a r s . But are many of them s u c c e s s f u l ? We have people who place g r e a t importance on the f a c t t h a t they can rhyme f o r us in the peasant manner; they must c e r t a i n l y be of the opinion t h a t when anyone wants to write anything n a t i o n a l (neco närodniho) he must w r i t e only in t h e f o l k s t y l e (nijak nez prostondrodne), and t h i s f o l k s t y l e leads him i n t o a kind of l a b y r i n t h , f u l l of p l a i n words and base e x p r e s s i o n s . 1 5 The l y r i c f o l k song i s f i r s t of a l l improvisation, improvis a t i o n o r g a n i c a l l y r e l a t e d t o t h e musical n a t u r e of t h e f o l k l y r i c . Hence i t s a r t i f i c i a l i m i t a t i o n w i l l produce nothing of merit.

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Imitation of the l y r i c i s impossible, for the l y r i c i s subj e c t i v e by i t s own nature. The a r t i s t must embody his own feelings, not those of the common people, so different from those he himself f e e l s in his poetry: Folk songs . . . can be given to us by no one but the common people — for only the common people can sing of t h e i r own, unadorned feelings in their own form for us. The educated poet — should he, too, give us his own feelings in a folk form—then ceases to be a true l y r i c poet: t h i s very f a c t i s true of almost a l l composed i d y l l s . 1 6 Freedom of form i s likewise e s s e n t i a l , and he i s not afraid to c r i t i c i z e Russian folk poetry for what he describes as "the nauseatingly frequent repetition, monotony of so-called 'fixed' forms and of s p i r i t , a l l of which are trying beyond measure." 17 Yet his own poetic practice frequently turned to repetition: here again, a f t e r contradicting Öelakovsky, his practice i s inconsistent with h i s theory. Re-creation of folk epics and "epico-lyrics" i s possible, Langer continues, for unlike folk l y r i c s these do not express individual feelings d i r e c t l y , but rather only as embodied in fixed forms. S t i l l such work must be done with the greatest caution, and through inspiration the poet raust imaginatively put himself in the place of the people, otherwise his poem w i l l be no more than a burlesque. From the poets of the Enlightenment we may expect none, or certainly few enough, at l e a s t , of such poems, and everything of the sort which has been composed by them i s e i t h e r purely epic or e p i c o - l y r i c ; t h i s so-called " e p i c o - l y r i c " has in turn a dual character: either the poet impersonates the peasant — which leads to l a u g h t e r — o r , in imagination l i v ing the l i f e of the different sorts of common people, he gives us pictures of t h e i r hearts and t h e i r reason . . . here belongs the Echo of Russian Songs of Öelakovsky, in which everything throughout i s successful. 1 8 To be sure, one sort of imitation of the folk l y r i c i s legitimate and possible: the parody. And i t i s only as parodies that we can find merit in the imitations of the folk l y r i c which have been written, notably in Celakovsky's Echo of Czech Songs [which Langer knew from several preliminary excerpts published in the Journal of the Bohemian Museum; the entire Echo of Czech Songs was not published until 1839]> should we examine i t from the same point of view, for almost half of i t i s more of a parody (not, to be sure, of individual poems, but of the Czech song in general) And unfortunately we cannot even c a l l i t a perfect parody. We do not find such f a u l t s — r e a d wherever we will — anywhere in the above mentioned Echo of Russian

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Songs, and we may boldy name i t with the g r e a t e s t pride of our poetry. I t s a r t i s t i c e x c e l l e n c e i s obvious to everyone. 19 Unfortunately, most of what i s known o f Laöger's e s t h e t i c t h e o r i e s i s contained in these b r i e f fragments. But i t i s c l e a r t h a t he foresaw the coming o f a poetry of s u b j e c t i v e f e e l i n g , and we cannot but r e g r e t that h i s t h e o r e t i c a l w r i t ings, l i k e h i s poetry, were so b r i e f and incomplete. Langer's t h e o r i e s place him in the development o f the t r a d i t i o n of folk imitation which was one o f the two major l i t e r a r y princ i p l e s which the Czech Revival brought to the creation o f a new l i t e r a t u r e . The t r a d i t i o n had been begun, or rather ant i c i p a t e d , by^Hanka in h i s i m i t a t i o n s of Russian, Serb, and Czech songs. Celakovsky had c a l l e d f o r c o l l e c t i o n and wholes a l e imitation of folk poetry on the b a s i s o f a p a r t i a l l y def e c t i v e theory resting on a confusion of the terms folk and nattonal. But in p r a c t i c e he had gone f a r beyond the l i m i t s o f h i s own t h e o r i e s , and r a t h e r than mere imitation he had created a new and d i s t i n c t l i t e r a r y form, the ohlas, in which c e r t a i n elements of folk poetry appeared, but in a new cont e x t and united to other elements of non-folk o r i g i n . But the form o f the ohlas could hardly appeal to every poet, and though the high stage o f development to which Celakovsky brought h i s new form did not completely preclude f u r t h e r imit a t i o n or use of folk poetry in written l i t e r a t u r e , i t did render such attempts i n s u f f i c i e n t l y o r i g i n a l in the l i g h t o f the already e x i s t i n g t r a d i t i o n , and hence f u r t h e r use of folk m a t e r i a l s had to wait f o r the discovery o f new f o l k forms and techniques f o r handling them. Langer began in the i m i t a t i v e t r a d i t i o n with ohlasy o f h i s o w n — c e r t a i n of h i s Idylls. But, perceiving the i n s u f f i c i e n t o r i g i n a l i t y o f h i s attempts, he broke sharply with the i m i t a t i v e t r a d i t i o n and c a l l e d f o r a new l y r i c poetry o f s u b j e c t i v i t y . He did not l i v e t o c r e a t e such a poetry; rather he returned to the task of c o l l e c t i n g and t r a n s l a t i n g folk poetry, perhaps in the hope o f finding a new approach to folk m a t e r i a l s . His g r e a t e r contemporary, Karel Hynek Macha, likewise began in the same t r a d i t i o n , and Macha's early poems show the influence o f the Czech folk songs, the RKZ, and the composers o f ohlasy. But Macha completed the revolution which Langer had only foreseen, threw o f f the folk influence, and produced a great s u b j e c t i v e poetry. Lanier's

Translations

of Byltny

Langer l e f t four t r a n s l a t i o n s of Russian byllny, taken from the f i r s t edition o f Kirsa Danilov o f 1804. These a r e : "Svatba knizete Vladimira" (Prince Vladimir's Wedding), "Dobryna Cud' p o k o f i l " (Dobryna Humbles the Cud*) "Kalin c a r " (Tsar K a l i n ) ,

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and "Michaila Kazarinov." Part of a translation of "Daren" (The Fool), a comic song from Kirsa Danilov, was found among his papers.20 There i s reason to believe that Langer translated most, i f not a l l , of the 1804 edition of Kirsa's c o l l e c tion, but no other translations were ever found.21 Langer avowedly makes these translations for a given purpose: to show the Czech public what a masterpiece Celakovsky's Echo of Russian Songs was. To the same extent that he disliked the Echo of Czech Songs, he admired the former work: I f one wishes truly to know the poetic beauty of Celakovsky's work he must f i r s t make the acquaintance of the Russian folk songs . . . and with the collection of Kirsa Danilov . . . and he w i l l be convinced, together with us, that Celakovsky's Echo, as far as form is concerned, i s everywhere equal to those Russian poems which, as is obvious, served as a model for i t ; and as for the internal, purely poetic worth, i t is greater and far surpasses all of them.™

In his opinion Russian folk poetry is likewise important for knowledge of and better relations with the Russians. Hie greatest value of the by liny is that they present us with descriptions of old folk customs, morals, and manners. Indeed, Langer does not know another work whicn contains so much information about these things, coming, perhaps, from ProtoSlavic times, and f u l l of pagan b e l i e f s . 2 3 This exposition of ancient customs and manners must be considered as forming the basis for Langer's selection of byliny to translate: "Prince Vladimir's Wedding" in particular is f u l l of feasting and wedding customs. How finely in a l l these poems there everywhere shines forth the character of the Russian people of the day, simple, to be sure, but none the less good, true to the laws of nature and s t i l l not touched, either in reason or in heart, by any foreign, non-national culture. What i s in their hearts is on their tongues. Whatever a bogatyr says, he w i l l f u l f i l , l e t come what may.24 Langer notes that the byliny are constructed according to a formula. They begin with a feast given by Vladimir, who conceives some daring adventure which must be carried out. His followers are t e r r i f i e d and hide behind one another. Finally a bogatyr volunteers for the mission, jumps on his horse and gallops o f f to f u l f i l i t . And last, the f i n a l burst of humor, in such byliny as "Tsar Kalin" and "Dobryna Humbles the Cud'," appealed greatly to the s a t i r i s t in Langer:

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Often you w i l l f i n d nothing humorous in the whole poem, but the ending w i l l be f a n c i f u l and sometimes h i l a r i o u s . I t then seems t h a t such a humorous, or b e t t e r , an epigrammatic ending of the Russian poems i s h a l f a kind of f i x e d p o e t i c form, and r i g h t l y can be l i s t e d with the hundred o t h e r c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of Slav f o l k p o e t r y ; not only here but a l s o in o t h e r songs of the Russians, Serbs, and even among us Czechs i t i s found more than o c c a s i o n a l l y . 2 5 Langer c l o s e s h i s I n t r o d u c t i o n to these t r a n s l a t i o n s with an apology f o r h i s i n s u f f i c i e n t knowledge of Russian. Cert a i n l y he makes mistakes in t r a n s l a t i o n , more than Celakovsky had. In "Prince V l a d i m i r ' s Wedding" he t r a n s l a t e s " s p o k h v a t i l s j a " ("he r e c o l l e c t e d himself") as "udobril se" ("he was r e c o n c i l e d " ) . L a t e r he t r a n s l a t e s "a i t a l i N a t a s ' j a korolevisna" ("and she, N a s t a s ' j a the princess") a s "a snad to Nastasia k r a l e v i c n a " ("and perhaps Nastasia the p r i n c e s s " ) , though li here does not mean snad ( p e r h a p s ) . In "Tsar Kalin" he renders " s i l y po t r i tmy" ("a f o r c e of t h r e e h o s t s " ) as " s i l a — n a t r i temy" ("a f o r c e of t h r e e r e g i ments"). In "Michaila Kazarinov" he shows ignorance of Russ i a n s o c i a l l i f e when he t r a n s l a t e s "byla j a doc' g o s t i n a j a " ("I was a merchant's daughter") as "Jät* jsem b o j a r k a , d c e r a kupecka" ("I am of the boyar c l a s s , a m e r c h a n t ' s d a u g h t e r " ) , though the terms boyar and merchant apply t o completely d i s t i n c t s o c i a l c l a s s e s , and the g i r l i s unmarried. For the rhythm of h i s t r a n s l a t i o n s Langer chooses a f r e e l i n e , varying in number of s y l l a b l e s between s i x and twentyone, and u t i l i z i n g a l l the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of v a r i a t i o n which have been described in the discussion of "Nine Ravens." This form has been described by the Czech a u t h o r i t y of prosody, •Josef Krai, a s "prose, arranged in l i n e s . " 2 6 Though t h i s i s a g r e a t exaggeration, i t does i n d i c a t e the r e l a t i v e degree of freedom used in the rhythm. No attempt i s made to use a fixed number of s t r e s s e s to the l i n e , which tends to have the same l e n g t h , content, and even word order a s the o r i g i n a l . This o f t e n gives the impression of an untidy n e g l e c t of rhythm and o t h e r d e t a i l s of p o e t i c c r a f t s m a n s h i p . In h i s use of f r e e rhythms in the Idylls, and e s p e c i a l l y in t h e s e t r a n s l a t i o n s , Langer again stands in a c l e a r r e l a t i o n t o the t r a d i t i o n . The RKZ had used c e r t a i n folk rhythms exp e r i m e n t a l l y . Celakovsky had c a r r i e d the t r a d i t i o n f u r t h e r and used f r e e verse more c o n s i s t e n t l y , but had been c a r e f u l t o r e t a i n the unity of the p o e t i c l i n e with i t s fixed number of s t r e s s e s . Langer brought the t r a d i t i o n of f r e e verse t o i t s extreme: h i s p o e t i c l i n e s a r e uncontrolled by any r e g u l a r r u l e s except the requirement t h a t the l i n e c o n s t i t u t e a s e mantic and s y n t a c t i c u n i t y . But t h i s r e v o l u t i o n was too r a d i c a l , and extreme f r e e verse did not p e r s i s t . Ma'cha, though a

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revolutionist in his prosody, i s such because of the introduction of a new conservative pattern, the iamb. Erben preserved free rhythm of the trochaic-dactylic type, the h e r i tage of the older tradition, and decreased the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of i t s variation. There i s very l i t t l e rhyme in Langer1s translations, l e s s than in the originals, though he did make considerable use of assonance. Occasionally he omitted some repetition which occurs in the originals, in accordance with his dislike of excessive repetition, but for the most part he reproduced them faithfully. He preserved the unity of the individual l i n e , and almost everywhere one line of the translation corresponds to one line of the original. He used far fewer Russianisms than Öelakovsky had. In general Langer's translations are too l i t e r a l to be completely satisfying. His free rhythm does, perhaps, correspond to the freedom of the originals, though the fixed number of stresses of the original i s ignored. But i t f a i l s to impress the reader as having any character or logic of i t s own. His translations, far more than Celakovsky1s, are done in a l i t e r a l , almost word-for-word order. 2 7 In the general history of Czech literature Langer begins a new era. But for us he closes an older one. With him a period of influence of Russian literature and l i f e , and in particul a r of Russian folk poetry, on Czech literature comes to tin end. For this decline in Russian influence we may ascribe three reasons. F i r s t , the cultivation of native folk poetry replaced Russian and Serb models with native ones, as in the work of Erben. Second, folk poetry ceased to pl^r such a leading role in Czech literature (Macha). And third, Russia's reactionary policies of the 1830*s and the 1840's, and e s pecially her cruel suppression of the Polish Revolt of 1830, destroyed much Czech interest and sympathy for her. PanSlavism and i t s adherents remained, but on one hand they concentrated more on Poland (Macha), or on the other they found a program for unity of the Slavs within the Austrian Empire (Palacky).

Chapter VI ECHOES OF RUSSIAN EPIC INFLUENCE IN CZECH POETRY OF THE MID-NINETEENTH CENTURY Κ. H. Macha and K. J .

Erben

THOUGH the great poets of Czech Romanticism did not concern themselves directly with the Russian epos, still the tradition of Öelakovsky lived on through the Romantic era. His work, together with the RKZ and the Czech folk songs, formed a legacy of the past which came to represent tradition to writers of the 1830's and 1840's. Some availed themselves of this tradition; others revolted against it. Langer1s revolt against the use of the folk lyric as a model for written poetry has already been discussed. To be sure, Langer's revolt carried a great deal of the prejudice of the 1820's and 1830's against the Czech folk song. Langer completely accepted Celakovsky's Echo of Russian Songs, in spite of the fact that the majority of Celakovsky's composed imitations of Russian folk poetry were lyric; their models were too far from Langer for him to judge them. On the other hand, Czech lyrics were too near, and it was inevitable that he should find Celakovsky's imitations of Czech lyric songs a vivid parody of the folk songs which were well known to him both in collections and from life. It was a question of a faulty perspective which distorted the Czech approach to Czech and Russian folk literature at this time. Karel Hynek Macha was destined to cariy Langer's revolt to its conclusion. During his early youth Macha wrote poems based on native influences, including the RKZ and adaptations of folk songs, notably, of course, Celakovsky's Echo of Russian Sonis. Wiese poems represent no more than a stage in the poet's development; remaining unpublished, they gave way to Macha's later work, strongly individualistic and free from folk influence. His tales and dramatic fragments, however, remained dependent on the RKZ· We have already noted their influence in the poem "On the Coming of the King" (1835)» the comparatively late date .of which suggests that the influence of the'Manuscripts on Macha never entirely disappeared from

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his work. Apparently the poet found it necessary to use certain elements of the style and language of the RKZ in creating historical tales, dramas, and poems, since at the time there was no other tradition for handling such historical material. Linda had done the same in his Jaroslav of Sternberg and in Hiht over Paianism. But Macha's great masterpiece, Maj (May; 1836) is almost devoid of such elements from the Manuscripts. Similarly, the young Macha was an eager student of Russian literature. It is extremely doubtful whether he knew Russian, and almost certainly he was not fluent in the language.1 But this, of course, did not prevent his study of the literature. There is little doubt that he knew the Lay of Iior's Raid, probably in Hanka's translation of 1821, since we find echoes of the Lay in his poem ".Jaroslavna." Not only does the name of the heroine seem to be taken from the Lay, but Macha's Jaroslavna longs to merge with the source of life, the sun. In the Iior Lay Jaroslavna reproaches the sun for helping to destroy her husband Igor and his army. Macha has taken the motif of Jaroslavna's lament to the sun from the Iior Lay as a point of departure for an individualized rhapsody; at the same time he seizes on certain pagan elements in the Lay and adapts them to his purposes. Macha was likewise familiar with certain works of Del'vig, 2ukovskij and Puskin which he knew in German translation, and his notebooks contain comments on them. But, like the German periodicals from which he knew their work, he underestimated the importance of these poets, and especially of Puskin, and the latter interested him chiefly as a fellow poet who had worked in the tradition of Byron, but in a radically different direction.2 That the influence of folk materials on Macha's work was largely confined to that of the RKZ is not difficult to explain. For Czechs of the period the RKZ were works apart from the folk songs of the day; their supposedly great antiquity saved them from social condemnation for the same reason that distance in space saved the folk poetry of the Russians and Serbs from the social condemnation they gave to Czech folk songs. The RKZ represented the great literary tradition of the past in Czech literature. Though Macha revolted against this tradition in principle, none the less he was compelled to follow it at times in practice. If he wished to compose historical poems, tales, and dramas, he had little choice but to use certain elements of the style and content of the Manuscripts. But elsewhere his practice follows Langer's theory, even expands it. For Macha lyric and epic alike,must be free, not only from the influence of folk literature, but from literary tradition itself. Art is the embodiment of the author's subjective feelings, and Macha is the greatest subjectivist in

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Czech poetry. Even the epic i s to be made the embodiment of s u b j e c t i v e f e e l i n g s , a s in May, where they are projected into the workings o f l i f e and destiny. In t h i s poem Macha denies that l i f e has a higher aim: the p o e t ' s own f e e l i n g s are the f i n a l a r b i t e r o f l i f e . Macha f e e l s pain but cannot explain i t s cause; hence he makes t h i s sensation an absolute r e a l i t y of l i f e . 3 Of course, dacha's poetry did not e x i s t in a vacuum: he had Byron and Mickiewicz as models. But f o r Czech l i t e r a t u r e o f the 1 8 3 0 ' s there was nothing t r a d i t i o n a l in e i t h e r Byron or Mickiewicz. In them Macha saw fellow devotees of the c u l t o f s u b j e c t i v i t y , and he used them to f r e e himself from the tyranny o f a l i t e r a r y t r a d i t i o n which denied t h i s s u b j e c t i v i t y . Macha1s choice of Mickiewicz as a model rather than Puskin i s partly to be blamed, no doubt, on h i s t o r i c a l accident; partly on the ardent nature o f Macha's pro-Polish f e e l i n g s , inspired by the unhappy Polish revolt o f 1830. The cruelty o f Russia's treatment o f the Poles helped to turn h i s attention to Polish l i t e r a t u r e , and once t h a t a t t e n t i o n was fixed on Mickiewicz, Puskin was no longer necessary to him.* In rhythm Macha likewise c a s t o f f t r a d i t i o n and introduced the iamb. Previously in modern Czech poetry iambic l i n e s had occurred only in poems which were t r o c h a i c or d a c t y l i c in metre, and arose through the n e c e s s i t y to begin c e r t a i n l i n e s with a p r o c l i t i c . But these l i n e s were considered as t r o c h a i c with an anacrusis. As long as the s t r i c t q u a l i t a t i v e verse o f Dobrovsky was upheld, the iamb remained unknown, for i t involved beginning every l i n e with an unstressed monosyllable; otherwise the opening s y l l a b l e would be accented, according to the older laws o f Czech v e r s e . Such an iambic verse would have been very monotonous. But Macha, relying on the f a c t that Czech words of three s y l l a b l e s may be considered as stressed on the second s y l l a b l e (an a l t e r n a t e p o s s i b i l i t y we have already seen used by Celakovsky), created an iambic rhythm which was extremely varied. In s p i t e o f i t s revolutionary c h a r a c t e r , the innovation l a s t e d , and iambic verse assumed a dominant place in Czech prosody alongside t r o c h a i c . The v i o lence of Macha's revolutionary step w i l l be apparent i f we r e member that the Manuscripts, the authority of t r a d i t i o n , had been composed in t r o c h a i c and d a c t y l i c metres, or in free rhythms which were t r o c h a i c and d a c t y l i c in tendency, and that Czech scholars such as Jungmann and S a f a f i k , relying on the RKZ and Serb epic poetry, had concluded that t h i s t r o c h a i c d a c t y l i c metre was the o r i g i n a l Indo-European verse. Macha's innovation a l t e r e d the whole theory o f Czech prosody. But every a r t i s t i c revolution demands i t s reaction, though sometimes t h i s reaction f a i l s to endure and we remember only the revolution. The force o f Czech t r a d i t i o n reasserted i t s e l f in Karel Jaromir Erben. Erben's a c t i v i t y was extremely broad

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in scope. Besides writing original poetry influenced by folk models, he was an ardent collector and editor of folk songs and tales, a theoretical philologist of the school of Grim, and a translator. His Russian interests are attested to by his articles on Russian folk poetry written for Rieger's Encyclopedia and discussed in the following chapter, as well

as his published translations of the Primary Russian Chronicle (1867) and the Lay of Ifor's Raid and the Zadonsclna (1869)· He began his activity under the strong influence of Celakovsky and Langer by collecting Czech folk songs, which

led to the publication of his Folk Songs in Bohemia (1841,

1843, and 1845)· Unlike earlier collectors, he soon realized the importance of the Czech ballad, the only epic form of Czech folk poetry, which had been largely overlooked up to this time. From 1836 he began to write his own ballads, which depend upon folk sources. In their relation to folk poetry these ballads show a considerable advance on Celakovsky 's method: Erben did not hold himself so closely to his folk sources. He selected certain motifs, not only from Czech ballads, but from tales as well, and from the folk literatures of other Slavic peoples, and cast them into a form and rhythm which was his own, though also dependent on folk inspiration. These ballads he collected as Kytlce ζ povesti n&rodnich (A Bouquet of Folk Ikies; Prague, 1853), a work which became one of the greatest classics of Czech literature. In 1836 Erben began the first of these ballads, "Zahor," a work which was intended to oppose the revolutionary individualism of Macha's May, as well as its new poetic form. Hie relation of this uncompleted work to May is a hotly disputed question. Antonin Grund, Erben's biographer, argues that "Zahor" was written under the influence of May, an influence which only later did Erben come to oppose when he broke away from Macha's ideology and perceived the unsuitability of Macha's poetic techniques to the ballad form, for which the folk type of narration was more suitable.5 Against this thesis Roman Jakobson and Jan Mukarovsky, and earlier Stanislav Soucek, have conclusively shown that "Zahor" was written to oppose Macha's May both in form and ideology. It is a strange fact of literary criticism that it can be so difficult a century later to conclude whether a work written soon after another, on which it depends, should be an imitation or a parody of the earlier work. The facts are that "Zahor" and May agree in subject: in both the hero is a bandit who has killed his father. In Macha's poem the bandit is presented as ignorant of his father's identity, and kills him (for us justly) as the seducer of the girl whom he loves. For this he is punished by torture and execution. In spite of this conclusion the poem aroused a storm of protest; the

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youth was, as it were, condemned for the revolutionary individualist ideology of the poet himself. What aroused the indignation of the readers was that Macha1s hero never repented of his crime, for in the poet's judgment no crime had been committed, and the poem rather represents the injustice of the world to the individual. In Erben's "Zahor" the hero likewise has murdered his father, for reasons which are left a mystery, and from which the contemporary reader might deduce the presence of an Oedipus complex. Ulis fact may have led Erben to rework "Zahor" as the later and more conservative "The Bed of Zahor" (published in A Bououet).6 But Erben's hero is full of selfrecrimination, though he continues his life of evil. How the poem would have ended we cannot say positively, but it seems highly probable that, as in the final version of the work, Zahor would have repented in Christian fashion and have been pardoned for his sins. In this respect, "Zahor" may be considered an answer to May, as Grund himself admits.7 In other respects, "Zahor" shows its dependence on May. Euphonically its many combinations of consonant clusters recall Macha's work. The description of the succession of seasons parallels that in May. 8 But equally striking are the contrasts. "Zahor" and the later poem, "The Bed of Zahor," are written in a development of the traditional free verse of the RR, Öelakovsky, and Langer, rather than the new iambs of Macha. Macha, stressing the injustice of fate, writes of a youth, while Erben, whose philosophy was that of resignation to fate and its acceptance, portrays the adult man. Macha's speeches are all monologues, while Erben's are dialogues: thus Macha underlines his philosophy of individualism; Erben that of the supremacy of the social order over the individual.9 These differences make it plain that Erben, just as he opposed the ideology and poetic forms of Macha in his later work, was attacking them in the earlier period. Those similarities which exist between the two works arose from Erben's desire to make his poem parallel that of Macha, in order that its opposition to Macha might be more evident. Any other hypothesis leaves us in difficulties. How can we assume, for example, that the young Erben would consciously have imitated a work which met with extreme opposition and was almost universally condemned at the time of its appearance, when Erben himself belonged to the camp which opposed Macha most strongly by virtue of his activity as a collector and imitator of the folk song? How can we reconcile such a theory to Erben's own philosophy as expressed both in his work and his life: that of resignation to evil and the submission of the individual to the group; is it likely that a poet of such a temperament and psychology would have launched his career as a poet with a work so similar to the radical and individualistic Macha?

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The rhythm of "Zahor," preserved in the completed "Bed of Zahor," i s a development of the t r a d i t i o n a l Czech free verse. I t i s the answer to Macha's revolutionary and individualist i c iambs; Erben counters them by taking refuge in the c o l lective pattern of traditional prosody. He turns to folk l i t e r a t u r e i t s e l f for the same reason: in his l i t e r a r y adaptations of folk themes, he further subjects the individualism of the creative a r t i s t to the force of tradition and the c o l lectivity. The rhythm of "The Bed of Zahor" was f i r s t correctly i n t e r preted by Lev §olc in 1893· R e compares the verse to that of the Russian by liny in that each line contains a fixed number of stresses, with a free number of intervening unstressed s y l l a b l e s . Sole also compares this rhythm to the free verse of the RK·10 He does not mention the obvious p a r a l l e l to Celakovsky, but Roman Jacobson notes the close relation of the poem's rhythm to Celakovsky's "Opustena" in the Echo of Russian Sonis. The norm in Erben's poem i s a s i x - s y l l a b l e hemistich, but 43 P e r cent of the l i n e s have a syllable l e s s in the f i r s t half of the verse, and 26 per cent in the second "Opustena" also alternates between f i v e - and s i x - s y l l a b l e hemistichs. 1 1 •Jan Mukafovsky likewise compares Erben's rhythm in the "Bed of Zahor" to that of Celakovsky. Erben's verse i s trochaicd a c t y l i c . S t a t i s t i c s on the distribution of stresses are: Syllable: I I I H I IV V Π VII VIII IX X Number of times stressed: 72 33 34 50 19 60 40 30 40 24 giving the following rhythm as the norm:

/ _ _ / _ !

/_

_/_

Like Celakovsky's rhythm, the poem has a fixed number of stresses with a varying number of unstressed s y l l a b l e s between s t r e s s e s . 1 2 In other devices of form "Zahor" shows i t s dependence on §elakovsky and hence on the Russian tradition pioneered by Celakovsky. The frequent i n t e r j e c t i o n s , oj, hoj, aj, a, et cetera, suggest Celakovsky's Echo and the RKZ· The Russianlike use of the particle to has already been noted in Celakovsky ' s work; i t appears in "Zahor" as well: "kmen to jablonovy," "pes to velikansky," et c e t e r a . 1 3 There are also a few typical epithets which suggest Celakovsky's Echo: kyj ohromny (giant club), postava strasllvd ( t e r r i b l e figure), syrd zeme (damp earth — t h e use of the epithet syra i s a Russianism, of course). At one point there i s a metaphorical antithesis:

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Aj, coz schazi loupezniku ν lese? C i l i to dnizina, po niz toahu nese? 0, ne to druzina: dva mat' on druhy, tovaryse dob re a verne sluhy: pes to velikansky — postava strasliva — a kyj ohromny—keen to jablonovy — (Ah, what seeks the brigand in the forest? I s i t a band of followers for which he longs? No, i t i s not followers: he has two friends, Good comrades and true servants: A gigantic dog—a terrifying figure — And a huge club — the trunk of an apple tree —) This a n t i t h e s i s , in question form, reminds us of Serb poetry, but Erben probably knew the device better from the work of Gelakovsky. Hie l a s t three lines are strikingly similar to Öelakovsky's translation of the Russian lyric "Song of the Prisoner" (Pisen vezne, from Öulkov, Volume I , number 131)> in which the prisoner answers the t s a r bravely: prvni muj spolecnik temna noc byla, druhy muj spolecnik ocelovy nuz, t r e t i to spolecnik muj dobry konik. (My f i r s t comrade was the dark night, My second comrade was a steel knife, My third comrade my good horse.) Even the use of the syntactic connective to, a Russianism, i s the same in these two passages. "The Bed of Zahor" i s comparatively free of these devices. Not that the work depends l e s s on tradition, for i t s free verse remains the same. But as Erben learned more and more from Czech folk l i t e r a t u r e , the Russian and Serb devices of Celakovsky and langer became unnecessary to him, and he substituted Czech ones in their stead. I have dwelt on Erben's "Zahor" because i t shows the extraordinary v i t a l i t y of the Russian-Serb tradition which began with the Manuscripts. But with Erben the influence of this tradition came virtually to an end. lacha's influence proved very strong on the generations which followed. An increasing interest and sympathy for Poland and Polish l i t e r a ture likewise developed, and to a great extent crowded out Russian influences. Erben himself initiated the systematic imitation of Czech folk l i t e r a t u r e , now established on a firm b a s i s . Rissian folk influence had played i t s role: the new Czech l i t e r a t u r e had acquired strong roots and could develop on i t s own.

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Kare I Havlicek

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Borovsky

Yet one more phase of this cycle needs to be described. After the extensive cultivation of a particular literary form, there often comes i t s parody, destroying the form and making i t unusable for a time. Ulis did not occur in Czech l i t e r a t u r e . Langer had indicated the possibility of the parody of folk forms, but had never undertaken i t . Though the by liny were not actually parodied in Czech literature, the poet Havlicek did take one or two motifs from them for his great unfinished poetic sat i r e Krest svateho Vladimira (The Baptism of S t . Vladimir, written between 1848 and 1854), a violent attack on the conditions of Austrian and Russian l i f e in Havlicek 1 s day, and secondarily, on the Christianization of Russia, the subject of the poem. To the work the byliny gave negative elements which permitted a s a t i r i c a l approach to this great event of early Russian history. Only the byliny present a negative picture of Vladimir. In them he appears as a fool, a coward, a cheat, a glutton and drunkard, a murderer. Needless to say, the byliny were alone in such a c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n .

The Primary

Russian

Chronicle,

which is Havlicek 1 s main source, presents a purely o f f i c i a l version of the facts of Vladimir's l i f e and the Christianization, though i t i s sometimes possible to read between the lines, as Havlicek undoubtedly did. The origin of the sharply negative picture of the Russian prince found in the byliny has long been a puzzle to scholars. Some, notably the Slavophiles and certain Soviet c r i t i c s , found i t an evidence of the democratic attitude of that class which had composed the byliny, or at least which had preserved them: the byliny subordinate the figure of the prince to the boiatyrs, who are often of humble origin. Others, the Formalist c r i t i c s among them, have concluded that Vladimir i s derogated for a r t i s t i c reasons: the bogatyr i s the hero, and therefore he must necessarily outshine the prince; hence the l a t t e r i s deprecated. The most current explanation i s that the name Vladimir, appearing in e a r l i e r epics, was handed down by tradition, but to this name were attached features of l a t e r rulers. Havlicek had excellent opportunity to know the byliny. In 1843 he went to Russia, where he spent a year as tutor to the son of S. P. §evyrev, whose house was a meeting-place for many Slavophiles: Khomjakov, and the ardent collectors and students of Russian folk songs, Bodjanskij and Kireevskij. Havlicek, already an enthusiast for Czech folk songs, spent much of his time copying Russian songs. In his papers 118 pages of manuscript copies of Russian songs from Sakharov's Traditions of the Russian people were found. His primary interest was in Ukrainian songs, to be sure, of which he made a

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special rhythmical study (the form and rhythm of the Ukrainian kolomyjky did, in fact, influence that of the Baptism, of along with the Czech folk songs), but the exSt. Vladimir, cerpts from Sakharov, as well as a few which he sent to Rittersberk in Bohemia, show that Great Russian songs received his attention as well.1* The opportunity for association with Bodjanskijvand Kireevskii might also have supplied him with material. Celakovsky's "Curila Plenkovic," from the Echo of Russian Sonis, in which Vladimir is presented as a coward, was most certainly known to him. Havlicek has taken little of a specific nature from the byliny. This is hardly strange, since the time which elapsed between his stay in Russia and the composition of the Baptism would hardly have permitted him to remember of St. Vladimir specific details unless he had recorded them. His methods likewise precluded the use of specific details. His humor is based on anachronism, and his Vladimir, the members of his court, army, and police are all Austrians, types perhaps known to the satirist from real life. However, Vladimir's habit of feasting is probably taken from the byliny. Just as many byliny open with a feast given by Vladimir, so Havlicek's poem opens with a feast: the celebration of Vladimir's name-day. The largest group of byliny which characterize Vladimir negatively are those which concern his quarrel with the boiatyr Il'ja Muromec, in which Il'ja is put in prison, in some versions because of his refusal to attend Vladimir's feast. H i s situation parallels that in the Baptism, in which the god Perun refuses to provide thunder at Vladimir's name-day celebration, curses Vladimir, and is punished by being hurled into the Dniepr. The Slavophile critics early arrived at the theory that II ja Muromec was to be identified with the god of thunder, the Norse Thor or the Slav Perun. Havlicek may well have been influenced by this identification and the close parallel τη the situations to use this element from the tale of Il'ja's quarrel with Vladimir in his satiric poem. This is highly speculative, of course, and no published version of the bylina treating Il'ja's quarrel with Vladimir existed at the time of Havlicek's stay in Russia, or even at the time of the composition of the Baptism. Still Havlicek might have known this subject from Kireevskij or others of the Slavophile circle. In any event it is clear that the negative picture of Vladimir found in the byliny is the source of Havlicek's characterization of Vladimir, since nowhere else could he have found such a characterization. Thus, while the byliny were never parodied in Czech literature, we do at least see the creation of a parody on Russian history for which the byliny furnished materials. With this the cycle of Russian influence on Czech literature is completed: introduction of certain techniques and motifs with

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Hanka; open and f u l l development of Russian f o l k materials in Czech l i t e r a t u r e with Celakovsky; denial of the Russian t r a d i t i o n with lacha; i t s reassertion in an already domesticated form by Erben; and f i n a l l y , a parody attack on t h i s t r a d i t i o n by Havlicek. Hie phases of t h i s cycle of l i t e r a r y a t t i t u d e toward Russia correspond exactly t o p o l i t i c a l sentiment t o ward her. Indeed, Russia's whole past and her f o l k l i t e r a t u r e were judged in terms of t h i s p o l i t i c a l sentiment. For none o f these authors did the Russian folk poems become an a r t i s t i c end in themselves, worthy of c u l t i v a t i o n f o r t h e i r own sake. Öelakovsky came nearest to t h i s point of view, no doubt, but even in his work considerations other than purely a r t i s t i c ones loomed l a r g e . Hius he wrote to Kamaryt a f t e r the complet i o n o f the Echo of Russian Sonis and asked him, not whether his imitations might pass f o r Russian f o l k songs, nor whether they were worthy of standing as great poems in t h e i r own r i g h t , but whether or not the character of the Russian people had been portrayed e x a c t l y . 1 5 At no time did Russian f o l k l i t e r a t u r e gain an independence from the ideas of Pan-Slavism of the period. The influence o f the Russian epos was a part of a l a r g e r aggregate, in which Russian written l i t e r a t u r e , old and new, the study of the Russian people, t h e i r history and i n s t i t u t i o n s figured in the program of gaining c l o s e r union, cultural and perhaps even p o l i t i c a l , with Russia.

Chapter ΥΠ THE RUSSIAN EPOS AND CZECH-SLOVAK SCHOLARSHIP OF THE HDMANTIC PERIOD Pavel

Josef

Safarik

TOE Russian folk epos, which had so extensive an influence on Czech literature during the f i r s t half of the nineteenth century, also occupied a large place in Czech literary scholarship of the period. Mention has already been made of the Preface to Langer1s Ancient Russian Poems, more closely a l l i e d to literary criticism than to exact science. But the Russian by liny also received attention in the work of other investigators of the day: the philologist and literary historian P. J. Safarik; the philosopher, c r i t i c and publicist Ludovit Stur; and the Romantic poet and folklore collector Karel -Jaromir Erben. Pavel Josef Safarik was, next to Dobrovsky, the greatest of Czech Slavicists and perhaps the profoundest student of Slavic antiquities, Old Church Slavonic, and Old Czech of his generation. In his youth he was f i r s t attracted to poetry, and in 1814, when he was only nineteen, he published a collection of poems, The Tatra Muse with a Slavic

Lyre.

He had previously

been an eager collector of Slovak folk songs, and the epics of his published volume show certain traces of the influence of folk poetry. Like Hanka, in his youth Safarik published a summons to Czech patriots to collect folk songs in Bromadka's Earbiniers (1817), in which he cites the example of Prac's Russian collection. He also refers to the example of Herder and Goethe: even these great men were not ashamed to collect and study the folk song: Let no one reproach us with the harshness of our own dialect or frighten us away f r o · competition with our brother Russians and Serbs.... We do not wish to compete with anyone, but only to show the world that the harsh laniuaie of educated

authors

is not the speech of our common

people.1

In 1818 Safarik and the historian Frantisek Palacky, also a

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Epos andCzech

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of Romantic Period

129

poet in h i s youth, published Pocatkove ceskeho basnlctvl, obzvlästl· prozodle (Foundations of Czech Poetry, E s p e c i a l l y of Prosody), in which they a t t a c k e d the Czech t o n i c v e r s e of Dobrovsky and defended a m e t r i c a l prosody. Since Czech has independent s t r e s s and length of vowels, the consequent s t r u g g l e between q u a n t i t a t i v e and q u a l i t a t i v e prosody was d e s t i n e d t o be a long and b i t t e r one, and only today i s i t b e coming c l e a r t h a t , though a b a s i c a l l y q u a l i t a t i v e prosody seems b e t t e r adapted t o the c h a r a c t e r of t h e language, s t i l l the employment of t h e q u a n t i t a t i v e p r i n c i p l e as a v a r i a n t i s immensely important to the rhythmic v i t a l i t y of Czech p o e t r y . 2 § a f a r i k and Palacky a t t a c k e d t o n i c prosody as a borrowing from German p o e t r y . In t h e i r advocacy of a m e t r i c a l p r o s ody they were of course t o a g r e a t degree under the sway of Pseudo-Classicism, but s t i l l i t i s only f a i r to c r e d i t them with a keen e a r f o r t h e c h a r a c t e r of Czech and Slovak speech. One argument they advanced f o r q u a n t i t a t i v e verse was t h a t no q u a l i t a t i v e metre appeared in t h e Czech and Slovak folk songs, in s p i t e of t h e i r obvious melodiousness; hence they must have q u a n t i t a t i v e prosody. Later S a f a r i k gave some of the f o l k songs he had c o l l e c t e d to K o l l a r , who published them. Forsaking poetry more and more, though he continued to do a c e r t a i n amount of p o e t i c t r a n s l a t i o n , § a f a r i k devoted h i m s e l f t o p h i l o l o g y . Although he was under the i n f l u e n c e of the German Mythological School and Jakob Grimm, and consequently placed almost as high a value on f o l k l o r e as a source of h i s t o r i c a l and p h i l o l o g i c a l information a s on w r i t t e n records and a r c h e o l o g i c a l f i n d i n g s , s t i l l he himself had a f a r g r e a t e r knowledge of such records than of f o l k l o r e , and h i s study of Russian f o l k poetry i s a t b e s t fragmentary. Hie circumstances of h i s l i f e , p e r m i t t i n g him to t r a v e l in Serbia but not i n Russia (though, t o g e t h e r with Hanka and Celakovsky, he made s t r e n u o u s e f f o r t s during the 1820's t o secure a u n i v e r s i t y c h a i r t h e r e ) led him to c o n c e n t r a t e most of h i s a t t e n t i o n on South Slav and Czech f o l k l o r e , and the Czech Manuscripts. In the Journal of the Czech Museum f o r 1833 he published an a r t i c l e , "Slomnske narodni p i s n e " (Slavic Folk Songs), a survey of e f f o r t s to c o l l e c t S l a v i c f o l k songs during t h e preceding twenty y e a r s . In 1838, in the same magazine, he supplied a comprehensive bibliography of c o l l e c t i o n s of S l a v i c f o l k songs already publ i s h e d o r in manuscript. Though S a f a H k apologized f o r h i s lack of d i r e c t knowledge of many of t h e sources c i t e d , none the l e s s h i s extensive correspondence with S l a v i c s c h o l a r s of the day enabled him to supply a remarkably complete and a c c u r a t e b i b l i o g r a p h y , which served as a standard source f o r •any y e a r s . Besides the Russian song books he a l s o l i s t s Kirsa D a n i l o v ' s c o l l e c t i o n in the more complete e d i t i o n of 1818, as well a s the t r a n s l a t i o n s made from i t by Celakovsky,

130

Russtangpos

andCzech

Scholarship

Langer, and the German Busse (Fürst

of Romantic Vladimir

Period

und dessen

Tafel-

runde, Leipzig, 1819)· Of more interest to us is his conclusion, likewise in the s p i r i t of Grinn's theoiy concerning the close relation between folk epics and historical chronicles, that the Primary Russian Chronicle, and in particular the section dealing with the ancient Slavs, had incorporated material from an early folk epos. He was oonvinced, moreover, that this epic was s t i l l preserved among the people, and that subsequent c o l lecting a c t i v i t y would uncover i t . 3 In this, like Grimm, he gravely overestimated the antiquity of folk poetry surviving in our times. In an a r t i c l e , "Prehled pramenu stare historie slovanske" (A Survey of Sources of Slavic Ancient History), he cited Kirsa Danilov's collection as a source of valuable historical material about ancient times. 4 And in the Lay of Igor's Raid Safarik saw the remnants of an older folk epos; in his later views on the Iior Lay he held that i t had been composed by a poet who had some knowledge of the old folk songs, which he had used to hide his own poverty of invention or to boast of his own knowledge. Thus the work i s not a pure embodiment of the ancient poetic genius of the nation, but rather a composite of d i f f e r e n t ingredients, though none the less i t has value. 5 In his book, written together with Palacky, Die älteste

Denkmäler

der böhmischen

Svrache

(Prague,

1840),

he made an attempt to compare the RKZ to the epic literatures of the other Slavic lands, largely on the basis of rhythm, though here he mentioned only the Serb and Ukrainian epic poems, and not the byllny.6 In an introductory commentary on the RKZ, written for J. M. von Thun's German edition of the Manuscripts, he discussed the relation of the rhythm of the Czech epic to the folk rhythms of other Slavic peoples. The free rhythms of "Öestmir," "Zaboj," and "Jelen" he finds hard to c l a s s i f y metrically. The other poems are predominantly trochaic, dactylic, or both together, seldom iambic. The types of verse in the RKZ are a l l found in other Slav folk poetries, especially those of the Serbs and Ukrainians, and Safarik concludes that the Serb ten-syllable epic verse with break a f t e r the fourth syllable was the original Slav epic verse. This type, trochaic-dactylic, we may call the IndoEuropean rhythm, he argues, while the freer verse is a Semitic t y p e . The l a t t e r i s found in the Lay of

Igor's

Raid and in the

Russian poems of Kirsa Danilov's collect ion. These poems, like Semitic verse, are characterized by extreme use of parallelism. 7 This last observation, though somewhat far-fetched in linking Semitic and Russian poetry, shows the acuteness of Safarik's observation in noting that the absence of a fixed rhythmic structure i s compensated for by increase in the amount of parallelism, which then forms a structure of i t s own.

Russtangpos

andCzech

Scholarship

Ludovit

of Romantic

Period

131

"Stur

More important for us is the work of Ludovit Stur. Though most famous for his leadership of the movement which carried out the formulation of the Slovak literary language and i t s schism from the Czech, Stur is also notable as one of the most ardent Pan-Slavists and Slavic Messianists of the generation which f i r s t studied Hegelian philosophy and applied i t to the study of Slavic culture, the program for creation of Inter-Slavic unity, and the prediction of the future greatness of the Slavic world. S t u r ' s book,

0 narodnich

pisnlch

a povestech

piemen

slo-

vanskych (On the Folk Songs and Tiles of the Slavic Peoples; Prague, 1853), the f i r s t comprehensive analysis of Slavic folk literature as a whole to be written in the territory now included in Czechoslovakia. I t is also the third such survey in the world, the f i r s t two being I . M. Bodjanskij's 0 narodnoj

poezil

slavjanskikh

piemen

(On the Folk P o e t r y

of

the Slavic Peoples; Moscow, 1837; note the similarity to Stur's t i t l e ) and T a l v j ' s Historical View of the Languages and Literatures

of

the

Slavic

Nations,

with

a Sketch

of

Their

Popular Poetru (New York, 1850; German translation in Leipz i g , 1852)·8 Stur used Bodjanskij's book as a source for his own work (in fact, the two men were personally acquainted); whether he knew T a l v j ' s i s more problematical. Safarik possessed a copy of the English edition, and Hanka, who sent i t to other investigators, may possibly have sent i t to Stur. There are no specific correspondences between the two works, but both agree in their common-sense treatment of the subject, largely free from the fantastic theories of the Mythological School. 9 Influenced by the theories of Kollar and Safarik concerning the great future of the Slavic peoples and the role they would play in world culture, as well as tjie similar conclusions reached by Bodjanskij in his book, Stur developed an ardent Pan-Slavism. Hegel's philosophy of history, which he had studied in Halle between 1838 and 1840, gave him a philosophical basis for his conclusion: the Slavic world, not the German, was to create the synthesis which would combine the antithetical tendencies of oriental, classical, and romantic cultures. 10 Stur's position as the literaiy and cultural arbiter in Slovakia made this turn to Pan-Slavism inevitable; for the Slovaks, far fewer in number than the Czechs, PanSlavism was the only conceivable alternative to Hungarian oppression.11 Stur's Pan-Slavism i s firmly orientated towards Russia; in Das Slaventhum

und die

Veit

der

Zukunft

he u n h e s i -

tatingly proclaimed Russia as the model Slav state and accepted the supremacy of her institutions with a fervency which would make even the writings of a Russian Slavophile

132

Russian Epos and Czech Scholarship

of Romantic Period

pale by comparison; among other things, he argued for Russian as a comon Slavic language. special interest in folk l i t e r a t u r e may well date from his childhood in a poor, deserted mountain v i l l a g e . 1 2 In general Stur and the group of Slovak patriots about him manifested an exceptional interest in folklore collection. I t i s in Slovakia, we must remember, that the e a r l i e s t collections of Czecho-Slovak folk songs had been made. The break away from the Czech literary language which §tur led deprived Slovak of even that slender heritage of the past which the Czechs possessed at the s t a r t of the nineteenth century; hence for him and his school, Slovak literary study was necessarily identified with the collection and study of folklore. Stur's book, On the Folk Sonis and Tales of the Slavic Peoples, i s actually a compilation of a series of lectures which he delivered at the lyceum between 1841-44. He wrote the book during that grim period of silence which followed the uprising of 1848, and i t was published in 1853· He was collecting material for a second and more complete edition when he died, in 1856. In spite of the fact that his book was written in Czech and published in Prague, i t aroused l i t t l e i n t e r e s t , perhaps because Stur was under police supervision at the time of the book's appearance ( i t was the severest period of Austrian oppression during the nineteenth century), or because of Czech resentment at i t s author's leading role in the Slovak schism. 13 The opening pages ο f Stur's book lay the h i s t o r i c a l and esthetic foundation for his study. His views concerning art are derived from Hegel. Art arises from the desire of individuals and of the people to mirror the divine in man, and hence each art i s largely devoted to serving God. More s p e c i f i c a l l y , art i s the embodiment of s p i r i t in various kinds of matter, presented in such a way that s p i r i t i s clearly discernible. Each form of a r t , passing progressively from architecture to poetry, embodies more and more of the human s p i r i t , and the l a s t can present us with a l l human thoughts, feelings, and emotions. I f poetry i s to be a r t , then i t s material (words) must be so completely united to their subject (the human s p i r i t ) that the subject will appear clearly and the material not stand in the way. Words must create images, otherwise they are l i f e l e s s . Hie closer a race i s to nature the more vivid and less a r t i f i c i a l i t s use of words to produce images will be; hence the primacy of Slavic folk poetry over that of Western Europe. Each race has excelled in the creation of some particular art to the detriment of other forms: the Hindu with his temples, the Persian with his sacred writings, the Egyptian with his pyramids and obelisks, the Greek with his statues, the Roman with painting, the German in music, the Slavs with their folk t a l e s and moving songs. Conversely, the other arts are almost non-existent in the Slavic world.

Russian gpos andCzech Scholarship of Romantic Period. 133 There is no people which exceeds the Slavs in number and beauty of folk songs. Ihe word Slav may be derived from slovo, "word," and in this sense, "tale" or "song." In song the Slav speaks to the world, and older generations to the younger; in song the people express their most ardent feelings and the dearest creations of their imagination. Just as dumb creatures are below those who speak, so it is spiritually more lofty to embody the human spirit in song. In this respect the Slavs are above their Indo-European brothers. Opponents of the Slavs will object that they have no single unified work, no synthesis of their thought, such as the Bible or the Iliad. This is due to the fact that the Slavs have been divided since ancient times; when, in the future, they will be reunited, they will make up for this lack. Still, the Slavs possess great and unified works of folk literature: the RKZ and the Lay of Igor's Raid (which Stur, in common with many of his day, considered to be of folk origin), the Serb epic songs, the Ukrainian dumy. Three types of poetry may be classified, depending on the relation of idea (or spirit) to matter (or nature). One or another of these three types dominates in the poetry of the Indo-European peoples. The first type is Symbolism, in which nature dominates over idea, and the latter is only dimly sensed. Only divinity, revealed in nature, can be a poetic subject for the Symbolist. This type of poetry dominates in the East, where the individual is unimportant in relation to nature, and at its mercy, as well as in a great part of the earliest poetry of the Slavic peoples. When spirit and nature are in even balance, we have the classical poetry of Greece. When spirit realizes its own supremacy over nature, we have romantic poetry, in which the world is overlooked. This poetry is inspired by Christianity, which exalts the individual. Woman becomes more important; the ideals of romantic love and chivalry appear. Up to this point Stur follows Hegel's lead almost literally, except in his application of the theory to the Slavic peoples. Hegel, however, had taught that classic poetry was the highest form; romantic poetry in seeking to scale greater heights of spirituality became unbalanced and passed beyond the realm of art, in which matter is a necessary component. But Stur, forced to declare that Slavic poetry is the supreme type, shows confusion in relating Hegel's theory to his conclusion. He cannot, of course, identify Slav poetry with classical poetry, for Hegel the ideal type. Hence, after telling us that the early stages of Slav poetry are founded in Symbolism, he by-passes the rest of the question. Apparently for him Slav folk poetry of that time was largely to be identified with Romanticism, though it was a Romanticism of a "healthier" kind, perhaps a further synthesis of the three kinds, though he does not say so.

134

Russian

Epos andCzech

Scholarship

of Romantic

Period

In his active disapproval of contemporary literature, which Stiir characterizes as strongly materialistic, man's disillusioned turning away from Romanticism when he finds that his dreams cannot be f u l f i l l e d , to the worship of the body and sensuality, Stur also departs from Hegel's theory. Byron is especially to be criticized from this point of view; for Stur Byron is not a Romantic. In contrast, the poetry of the Slavs is free from sensuality, and is largely concerned with the soul. In his exaltation of the Slavic love for nature Stur's views border on pantheism, a pantheism which conflicts with his Christianity. 1 * Here again he partly follows Hegel's lead. Bodjanskij had taught that the Slav's love of nature can be explained by his agricultural pursuits; Stur accepts this theory, but goes deeper and shows that i t depends on primeval concepts of honoring nature. Later he attempts to reconcile this pagan pantheism with a purely Christian morality of fraternal love, respect for women, and sexual chastity. This c o n f l i c t in his ethical views i s one of the most serious defects of the book. The Slav's lonely l i f e makes him seek companionship in nature, and turning to i t he finds his own soul mirrored in i t (again pantheism). The body of Stur's book, following this theoretical introduction, is divided into two parts: "The Relation of Man to Nature," and "Man's Social Relations." Each section is well documented with selections taken from Slavic folk poetry. In his choice and use of selections Stiir displays an admirable taste and thoroughness of method. The poems are published in the originals, together with footnotes interpreting those words most d i f f i c u l t for a Czech. The work i s an admirable anthology of Slavic poetry, and the f i r s t comprehensive one to follow Celakovsky's in Bohemia. Unfortunately, Stur gives few examples from Russian folk poetry, and l i s t s only one source for his Russian folk songs, I . Sakharov's Traditions of

the

Russian

People.15

On the basis of the Slav's close relation to nature, Stur explains the numerous apostrophes to her found in Slavic folk poetry, as well as the emotional sympathy and aid which nature often gives him. Here belongs the frequent use of nature parallelism in Slav folk poetry, as well as the numerous sat i r i c a l poems in which birds and animals enact the roles of human beings. The Slav's lonely existence turns him to his fellows. Even to strangers and foreigners he i s generous and helpful, but to the members of his family and his race he feels himself closest. The institution of the family is all-important among the Slavs. The three themes most frequent in folklore are the love of mother for son, the love of sister for brothers, and

Russian

gpos

andCzech

Scholarship

of Romantic

Period

135

the love of the whole family for the youngest son; these three relations are naturally the most tender. The family is all-important, to the exclusion of individual rights and the concept of romantic love. Fighting over g i r l s is rare in Slavic folk poetry, as is the impassioned g r i e f or violence of those disappointed in love. Virginity and chastity have a very high value, for the stability of the family depends on them. Other social relations are very close. The Slavs had a pattern of adoptive brotherhood and sisterhood. The Slav feels himself more closely related to people and state than the Westerner; for him state means a union of communities, inhabited by one people and speaking one language, possessing one set of manners, morals and laws; i t includes himself, his family, his people; the earth, fields, rivers and mountains. How different this conception i s from that of the West! Like Bodjanskij, §tur points out the gloomy, sad nature of Slav folk poetry, even when it sings of subjects which are gay, and like Bodjanskij he finds the explanation in the harsh and unhappy oppression the Slavs have lived under for centuries. The last part of the book contains certain theoretical comments concerning Slav folk poetry, especially its formal aspects. A l l Slav songs have come from a common ancestor; they are similar in thought, emotion, form, and even language. Even peoples far removed have similar sonps, for example, the Russians and the Serbs; under such conditions we cannot speak of borrowing. Note that §tur belonged to the Mythological School, but he here anticipates, and t r i e s to refute, the later Diffusionist criticism. The best conditions for the production of folk poetry are when the state i s s t i l l weak and only half formed, when i t requires a l l the e f f o r t s of i t s citizens to support i t . Such a period gives rise to epic songs, which celebrate the brave deeds of the heroes who defend the fatherland. Epic songs are narrative; in lyric songs the singer expresses his f e e l ings directly. Epic songs are the older (though not so old as the folk t a l e ) ; the oldest ones extant are those of the RK, some of the poems of which date from the eighth or ninth century(l). Stur does not mention the supposedly older RZ. Next comes the Lay of Igor's Raid, from the twelfth century, the Serb epic poems, beginning with the fourteenth century, and the Ukrainian dumy, from Cossack times. The Czech poems are a r t i s t i c a l l y the finest, then the Serb, next Ukrainian, and last Russian. In general, the Russians do not have so rich a poetry as do the other Slavs, partly because their climate is colder and their l i f e gloomier, partly because their state i s more stable. Here Stur is evidently drawing his conclusions from his lack of Russian sources, rather than

ljß Russian gpos and Czech Scholarship of Romantic Period fro· his actual knowledge of the·; his belief that the glooaier life of the Russians is due to their harsher cliaate is taken fro· Bodjanskij. He had read the Iior Lay in Hanka's translation, and perhaps the deficiencies of that version caused hi· to give a lower appraisal of it. Stiir devotes a brief coaaent of a few lines to the Russian by liny, in contrast to his far «ore extensive treatment of the Serb epic songs. Hie brevity of his reearks is doubtless due to his lack of direct information. The collection of Sakharov, the only one he Mentions using, contains only about fifteen by liny, a representation which may have given hi· a poor opinion of them. Hie great national heroes of the Slavs are those who fight to win or to assure their liberty. In Russia these are the

boiatyrs.

Hie Russians, too, have heroes who are glorified in their folk songs and who, of their own accord and alone, accomplish great feats, for example, Ilia Muromec and Curila Plenkovic; in these songs, however, they are clothed in half fabulous garments. The songs place them in the time of Vladimir the Great, and ascribe supernatural and heroic deeds to them, such as the overcoming of terrifying bandits [presumably "II'ja Muromec and Solovej the Bandit" is meant here] and of various strange monsters ["Dobrynja and the Dragon," et cetera]. Vladimir himself rewards their heroic deeds, even comes as a guest to their courts, surrounded, according to the words of the songs, by an iron palisade ["Curilo Plenkovic"].16 This passage is most interesting in that Stur assumes that the boiatyrs were actual heroes from early history; here he departs from the fythological School and anticipates the later Historical School. Perhaps §tur's relatively low rating of the by liny is due to their fabulous, supernatural character; perhaps they did not seem nationalistic enough to please him, and therefore he awards the palm to the RK and the folk songs of the other Slavic peoples. lie older epic songs, the RZ and the Iior Lay, exhibit the greatest freedom of form, in Stur's opinion. They also display a closer relation to nature, and hence are better. Russian, Serb, Bulgarian, and Old Czech (the RK) verse is unrhymed; the others show rhyme. Undoubtedly early Slav poetry had no rhyme, but as the older musical settings of the folk songs were lost, they acquired rhyme in compensation. The Slav verse varies in number of syllables from five to twelve and more; favored are lines of eight, ten, and twelve syllables. Repetition is veiy frequent, especially of words and even whole lines of greater importance. The melodies of the songs are of great beauty, as well as of the greatest number and variety.

Russian Epos andCzech Scholarship

of Romantic Period

137

The language of the songs Stur describes as simple and concise. In this conciseness the Rl i s especially notable; next come the Serb songs. Doubtless Stur is correct here; certainly there is not so much repetition as in the Russian byliny, and this criterion nay explain Stur's preference for epic songs other than the Rissian. I t is not our purpose here to c r i t i c i z e Stur's work, the philosophical and ideological weaknesses of which will be obvious to everyone. We have already observed that Stur's esthetic is taken from Hegel; i t must be added that many of his facts and conclusions are borrowed from Bodjanskij. The virtue of Stur's work is in his combination of the two, and while very l i t t l e in his book i s original, the whole which he has created i s ; Stur's work i s stronger than Bodjanskij's and rests on a sounder basis. Aside from the philosophical weaknesses of the book and i t s tendentious^ess, i t s greatest weaknesses l i e in i t s reliance on the RK (Stur finds i t the most perfect work, perhaps, of Slav folk literature) and i t s comparative neglect of Russian folk poetry. On the other hand, the work has many excellences:.besides those already commented on above, we must mention Stur's correct observation of the importance of nature in Slav poetry, taken from Bodjanskij, no doubt, but developed through examples to a point far beyond Bodjanskij. Doubtless Stur lacked a viewpoint on literary history, 17 but in many of his observations he seems to be working toward such a viewpoint, as in the passage where he attempts to argue that the similarities of the folk songs of various Slav peoples cannot possibly be explained by diffusion. And perhaps the greatest merit of the work was that, in part directly through the use of quotations, and in part indirectly, i t showed the striking similarity between the different Slav folk literatures, and paved the way for their comparative study. Kdrel Jarom.fr Erben

During the 1860's Erben contributed a number of articles to Rlegruv Slovnfk naucny (Rieger's Encyclopedia; Prague, 1860-74, eleven volumes and three supplemental volumes), the earliest Czech attempt at such a work. For the encyclopedia Erben wrote articles on epic poetry, Slavic mythology, and Slavic folk poetry and i t s literature. Under the entry, "Epic Poetry," Erben divides the Slavic epos into past (the RKZ and the Lay of Igor's

Raid,

f o r example), and

present,

that s t i l l alive among the people. He makes no distinction between written and folk epos. He describes the Iior Lay and the Zadonsilna (both of which he later translated in 1869) as the greatest Russian epic works. The byltny he defines as historical epic songs, a rather surprising definition in

138

Russian gpos andCzech Scholarship

of Romantic

Period

view of Erben1s own adherence to the Mythological School of folklore study, as well as the fact that the historical songs proper exist as a distinct f o r · , while certain byliny have l i t t l e or no connection with history. The definition does not even exclude the I£or Lay and the Zadonsclna, which Erben certainly does not intend to include. Erben states that the Russian byliny center about Vladimir and his court, and compares them in this to the Arthurian tales. He l i s t s about ten of the principal boiatyrs, and the collections of Kirsa Danilov, Sakharov, and Rybnikov (1861).18 In the separate a r t i c l e on I I ' j a Muromec he t e l l s the story of I I ' j a at some length, evidently using the byliny in Rybnikov's collection as his source. He unites the individual byliny into a single narrative, though this gives rise to inconsistency: in the tale of I l ' j a ' s healing the monks prophesy that he w i l l never be killed in battle, but in the byliny describing the end of the Russian boiatyrs he is none the less turned to stone. Erben notes this inconsistency. 19 He t r i e s to consider the byliny as a single epopee, which is not usually done in Russian s c i e n t i f i c practice, though certain narrators do unite two or three separate tales. In an article on the folk song Erben adds that in Russia and Yugoslavia the folk lyric exists alongside the epic, but i s far weaker.20 This only partially correct observation e v i dently grew out of Erben's reliance on collections, which up to this time had given the preference to epic songs as the most distinct and most ancient form of Russian folk poetry. But the Russian epic songs are today much localized and in the process of disappearing, while the lyric s t i l l shows strong evidence of survival. I t is notable, however, that the Russian l y r i c shows strong epic coloring. Erben's articles are barely more than descriptive and give only a minimum of facts. Yet, with the appearance of new Russian collections of songs, the Czechs came to a far broader and more direct knowledge of the Russian epic poems, hitherto known to them through the distorted mirror of Celakovsky's Echo. The 1860's usher in a period of|re-acquaintance and more direct and comprehensive knowledge of the Russian folk epics.

Chapter VIII CZECH LITERATURE AND RUSSIA, 1860-1900 WITH this chapter we enter the so-called period of "Revival of the Czech Nation" (Obrozeni ndroda), distinguished from the earlier period of "National Revival" (Narodni obrozeni), to use the slightly confusing but meaningful terms employed by Arne Novak. The distinction i s that in the earlier period only a small group of patriotic intellectuals had been act i v e ; a f t e r the 1860's the whole Czech people joined in the cause of nationalism. I t was a period of mass education, and the base of Czech culture was greatly broadened. With this era we enter a second cycle of the influence of the Russian folk epos on Czech literature, one quite d i f f e r ent in character. Following Langer1s death, no translations of the Russian by liny are found in Czech literature until 1867, and hence this new wave of influence i s largely independent of the f i r s t wave, though the influence of Celakovsky did persist to a oertain extent. The period from 1840 to 1867 was by no means devoid of Russian influence. The Pan-Slavic ideal was too strong to be lost entirely, even in the harsh Austrian persecution which followed 1848. §tur's work f a l l s within this period, as does Öelakovsky's Visdom of

the Slavic

Peoples

Erben's Hundred Slavtc

Folk

(1864), and h i s t r a n s l a -

Hattala's translation of the Lay of Iior's Tales

in Proverbs

(1852),

Raid (1858),

tion of the Primary Russian Chronicle (1867)· A few translations from Russian literature of the day likewise appeared, notably those of Havlicek from Gogol and of Bendl from Puskin. Doubtless this period saw more actual translation from Russian than the f i r s t decades of the century had. But Russian influence on Czech literature was smaller. And this loss of interest in Russia preceded the beginning of the Austrian reaction by some f i f t e e n years! Öelakovsky's disillusionment with Russian absolutism has already been pointed out. I t was followed by that of Havlicek, expressed in his pictures of Russia, reflections of his trip to Russia in 1843-44. Russia's cruel suppression of the Polish uprising destroyed the basis for Pan-Slavic unity. Ibe part

140

Czech Literature

and Russta,

1860-1900

played by Russia in suppressing the Hungarian uprising of 1848, as well as the failure of the f i r s t Pan-Slav Congress in Prague of the same year — a l l served to disillusion Czechs with a Pan-Slavisa in which Russia should play the leading role. Pan-Slavism gave way to Austro-Slavism, and could only return to its earlier forn (though with the Polish question s t i l l unsolved) when the Czechs saw fresh evidence of Russia's liberal intentions in the reforms of the 1860's. Whatever interest did survive in Russian literature during this period was greatly changed in character. Written literature largely replaced folk literature as a source of translations and literary influence. In this we may find a partial repudiation of the Russian national idea and the national (or folk) literature which had interpreted i t to the Czech mind; folk literature was replaced by written literature of a politically neutral or even oppositional character (Gogol's Inspector

General and Dead Souls).

Havlicek, whose Baptism

of St. Vladimir was the most significant example of a work influenced by Russian sources during this period, employed them in a sharply critical attack on one of the firmest bases of Pan-Slavic unity: the acceptance by Russia of Christianity in the tradition of the Moravian Mission of Cyril and Methodius. The political oppression of the Austrian regime of Bach made direct, firsthand information concerning Rissia wellnigh impossible. And Russia had lost prestige tremendously as a consequence of her defeat in the Crimean War. The position of a first-class European power, won by Catherine I I and Alexander I , suddenly vanished. Hie administrative scandals of the war and the proof of the ineffectiveness of the police-state ideology of the government of Nicholas I contributed to this loss of prestige at home as well as abroad. Hence the lull in Pan-Slavic development in Bohemia during the 1850's and 1860's; even after the defeat of the Austrian reactionary party the Czechs were more concerned with finding a modus vivendi with Austria than with looking outside for help. In Bohemia Czech folk literature replaced Russian in importance after its belated discovery, and this emphasis on native Czech material, s t i l l not completely comprehended and assimilated into literature, continued throughout the 1850's, 1860's, and even the 1870's in the work of the Nationalist School. But at the same time Czech nationalism prepared the basis for a Russian and Pan-Slavic revival, as i t had done earlier in the century. The failure of Austro-Slavism and the Old Czechs' policy of passivism could only result in complete despair or in a revival of Pan-Slavism and the longed-for prospect of Itassian political and military aid. The f i r s t moment in this revival is the reforms of Alexan-

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der I I . As early as 1861 his f i r s t land reforms were described and welcomed in the Czech newspapers, the Motional

Meus and the

Motion.1

Following this year Russia found a progressively more friendly attitude in the Czech press. A turning point came with the Ethnographic Exposition in Moscow in 1867· The Czech delegates were warmly received by the emperor and the Russian people. Palacky's former distrust of Russia's policy of imperial aggrandizement was dispelled, and with some h e s i tation he accepted Russia as a friendly nation, the people of which were very close to the Czechs in national charact e r . 2 Rieger was more hesitant; social conditions in Russia did not please him, and he disliked the insistence of Russians on Orthodoxy as a condition of Pan-Slavic unity. 3 I f the exposition did not allay the Czechs' distrust of Russian social conditions, i t did suggest to them that many Russians, too, longed for progress and liberalism. The reactionary policies of Austria themselves encouraged the new Pan-Slavism. True, the harsh censorship and oppression of the Bach government came to an end, but the premature hopes of the Czechs for the restoration of t h e i r ancient autonomy were dashed to the ground in 1867, when the new constitution granted autonomy to the Hungarians but not to the Czechs. In 1870 the newspaper Proiress editorialized: "We will be only coldly polite to Austria, but for the Slavs we will remain friends and brothers." 4 Earlier the Motional Mews had written: Hie Czech people may rely on Russia; the Russians are aware of our distrust of Austria, and so will not deceive our h o p e s . . . . Russia i s aware that the eyes of a l l Slavs are turned toward her, and that she must lead them to liberty and independence.* Such words did not v e i l even thinly the hopes which the Czechs of the time must have cherished for Russian p o l i t i c a l or even military aid. And in general the Czech newspapers of the day displayed great interest in a l l Russian p o l i t i c a l questions. 6 Indeed, i t must be held to their discredit, and i s completely typical of the character of wishful thinking which pervaded Czech thought, that the Czech papers, and e s pecially the Matlonal Mews, the organ of the Young Czechs, were often silent concerning the darker sides of Russian l i f e . Particularly sharp were Czech attacks against Poland, in which the Czechs saw the "Achilles' heel" of Slav unity. 7 To be sure, there were warning voices. The writer Antal Stasek (one of the few authors, even of the 1870's, to show any considerable influence of Russian l i t e r a t u r e ) , was one of but a few Czechs who knew, from the work of Ryleev and Herzen and from the history of the Decembrist Revolt, that

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there existed any Russia save the o f f i c i a l one; the t r i p he made to Russia in 1874 impressed him strongly with the negat i v e aspects of Russian l i f e and destroyed his f a i t h in an early revolution there. 8 Another warning voice was raised by Pavel Durdik, a journalist and translator of Gogol, T\irgenev, and Tolstoj. He had spent ten years in Rissia (186878), and on his return wrote many a r t i c l e s warning the Czechs that they knew Russia but poorly, and that their enthusiasm f o r her existed only on paper. 9 But the outbreak of the RussoTurkish War of 1877 placed a l l camps firmly on the side of Russia. Many Czechs volunteered for service, and the national Mews g l o r i f i e d in the strength of the Russian armies. 10 Would not the Czechs be the next ones to be liberated, since Russia was waxing so powerful and Austria was already crumbling?11 The journalists led in this campaign of blind worship of Russian l i f e and culture. Jaromir Hruby, notable f o r us because of his translations of by liny, became an apologist f o r Russian autocracy as a result of a t r i p he made to Russia in 1883· The blind adoration of the Russian peasant f o r his tsar led him to the conclusion that the Russian government was a just one, and he f e l t that the t s a r ' s existence was by no means an obstacle to progress. 12 S t i l l more uncritical was Josef Holecek, who combined Slavophilism with the o f f i c i a l Russian autocratic philosophy. For him most of the tsars were goed, but even bad ones might be forgiven, for the Russian people want bad tsars! He concluded that there i s more real democracy in Russia than in the West. 13 The wave of journalistic a c t i v i t y we have described began as early as 1861. Not so the wave of l i t e r a r y interest in Russia, resulting in translations, c r i t i c a l a r t i c l e s and l i t erary influence. Translations began to be numerous only in 1867, the year of the publication of Erben's translation of the Primary Russian Chronicle and of Gebauer's translations from the Russian by liny, while actual l i t e r a r y influence, except f o r one or two individual writers, came only more than a decade later. How shall we account f o r the small number of translations from the Russian during this period, when Russian prose was reaching i t s highest development in the work of Turgenev, Dostoevskij, and Tolstoj? Only a f t e r the 1870's did Turgenev become well known in Czech translation, while the other two were forced to wait for the turn of the century f o r wide recognition. The reason seems to l i e , not only in the lack of Czech knowledge of Russia during this period, but also in the inrnaturity of Czech literature i t s e l f , especially prose literature. Czech prose was i n s u f f i c i e n t l y developed f o r i t s readers to appreciate the very high l e v e l of Russian l i t e r a t u r e . Czech prose literature as a continuous development was not actually begun until the publication o f Bozena Nemcova's famous novel, The Grandmother, in 1855· Though

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r e a l i s t in tendency and a work of surprisingly high quality for the time, The Grandmother was below the level of Russian r e a l i s t l i t e r a t u r e of the same period. Only when Czech prose literature had progressed to a point where i t s readers could more easily make the transition from i t to foreign prose works was the Russian novel widely translated. The 1860's and 1870's are the so-called "period of Neruda and Halek." The main group in Czech literature, led by these two writers, was that of the Majovci, joined about the j o u r nal Maj (May). They were Romanticists, with roots in Byron and the French Romantics, as well as llacha. S t i l l these writers had strong r e a l i s t inclinations, and t h e i r predominant interest was in social and ethical problems of the day. They turned from fantasy to reality, from the past to the present. To an extent their writings were tendentious and journalist i c . To a great degree they were influenced by the similar movement of Young Germany. But Russian influence on their work was small. This i s surprising in view of the striking similarity between these writers and the early Rnssian r e a l i s t s , especially Ttorgenev. Hie influence of the Russian r e a l i s t i c novel could have been extremely f r u i t f u l at this time; actually, with but a very few exceptions, such as Halek's early play, Tsarevich Alexej (I860), and his novels, there was no influence of Russian literature at a l l . All the more strange i s this in view of the fact that the members of t h i s group were favorably disposed toward Russia. Certainly one could hardly expect influence of the Russian epic at such a time, characterized by i t s interest in the here and now. But i t i s t h i s r e a l i s t i c interest in the present and the homeland which undoubtedly helped to shut out Russian influence in general. For one, Czech energies were absorbed in the p o l i t i c a l struggle of their own land with Austria and in the subsequent p o l i t i c a l battle of the Young Czechs and the Old Czechs, the leading literary result of which seems to have been to discourage literature by diverting the energies of the Czech i n t e l l i g e n t s i a . 1 4 Second, the Czechs lacked direct knowledge of Russia, which they began to acquire only with the Exposition of 1867; under such c i r cumstances only a literature of fantasy (compare Celakovsk^'s Echo) could have existed, but the r e a l i s t i c character of the literature of the 1860's prevented t h i s . He persecution of the reactionary Bach government caused a break with the older tradition of Czech-Russian relations, and made travel and a competent knowledge of Russian, all-important for l i t e r a r y influence, well-nigh impossible. Even more important through a l l of this period was the lack of stimulus from the Russian side. Russian o f f i c i a l Pan-Slavism was largely limited in i t s application to the Orthodox Slav peoples, for Russian policy was anti-Turkish, but not anti-Austrian.

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The end of the 1870's witnessed a c o n f l i c t in Czech l i t e r a ture which was to have far-reaching consequences. This was the battle between the Nationalists and the Cosmopolitanists, a struggle which opposed the two strongest tendencies of a l l Modern Czech literature. Both tendencies had been followed by the group around the journal May, which conbined native Czech influences (including folklore, especially in the work of Balek and Heyduk) with those of western Romanticise and Young Gernany. But this synthesis was only tentative, and more modern tendencies in t i e literature of the West caused i t to break apart. Today we can see that a large part of the battle resulted from mutual misunderstanding: the Nationalists were willing to admit foreign influences as long as they were worked into some sort of native literary substratum (they persistently pointed out that no great literature had ever existed which had been completely cut o f f from i t s native roots), while the Cosmopolitanists, or Lumfrovcl, were quite willing to allow nationalist literature, even writing i t themselves, as long as literature was not shut o f f from modern currents in the literatures of other nations. But there were very real issues at stake. Hie Cosmopolitanist poet Vrchlicky wrote: "The mere tinkle of the inherited forms of folk poetry no longer s a t i s f i e s us; rather we w i l l forgive a b i t of eccentricity, a b i t of foreign influence, but we want a poem to move us." 15 Thus, one issue separating the two camps was their relation to folk literature. The Lumtrovcl confused national poetry with folk poetry, and accused the Nationalists of trying to limit the boundaries of poetry to a mere "tinkle of inherited fonns," though the Nationalists had never actually maintained that i t should be so limited. 1 6 The real issue, perhaps, was modernism against conservatism and, considered even more fundamentally, the eternal struggle of two concepts of art as "art for l i f e " and "art for a r t . " "In no respect is art i t s e l f a goal f o r me, but always only a means toward those desires, however differently they may be called, which seek to make humanity better and happier," wrote the poetess E. Krasnohorska, one of the leading representatives of the Nationalist School.17 On the other hand, the Cosmopolitanists, even when they handled materials purely national, remained f a i t h f u l to their Parnassian doctrine of art for i t s own sake. Hiis battle, though never resolved by the older generation which began i t , found an almost inmediate, though highly tentative, resolution in the work of younger poets who, in 1878, published an almanac called Maj (Nay). These poets are often referred to in Czech literature as Vrchlicky's " s a t e l l i t e s " (the term used was epiiont), but actually this was not entirel y so. Though Vrchlicky influenced their style and technique very strongly, their point of view was their own. Their foremost representative, Frantisek Kvapil, wrote:

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I t has become the fashion to proclaim us as " s a t e l l i t e s " of Jaroslav Vrchlicky. To stand close to soneone does not mean to be h i s lackey. We have lived in the same times, breathed the saae a i r — and every age seals the work produced by i t with the saae stamp. I f Vrchlicky has broken a window for us onto Western Europe, then we have made a deeper cut into the Slavic world. But j u s t as Mickiewicz, Puskin, Preradovic, and t h e i r contemporary and l a t e r f o l lowers are not unknown to us, n e i t h e r are Sielley, Browning, Tennyson, Hugo, Alfred de Vigny, Banville, Leconte de Lisle, or f i n a l l y Ibsen and Bjornson, not to speak of the prose n a t u r a l i s t s , who not long ago set the tone in literature.18 So t h i s group sought to find a compromise between the two camps, broadening Czech nationalism to the wider concept of Pan-Slavism, and introducing new l i t e r a r y techniques of both East and West. Russian l i t e r a t u r e could supply i n s p i r a tion for both groups. To the N a t i o n a l i s t s i t gave the broader, firmer base of Pan-Slavic ideology (Svatopluk Cech); to the Cosmopolitanists i t gave the riches of exotic t a l e s and legends (Zeyer).

Chapter IX TRANSLATIONS AND STUDIES OF THE RUSSIAN EPOS IN 1ΉΕ SECOND HALF OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

DURING the lapse of time between the f i r s t wave of interest in Russian folk poetry in Bohemia, lasting from 1813 to 1835» and the second wave, beginning in 1867» significant changes had taken place in Czech and European views on the nature and significance of folklore. The Romantic view, emphasizing the a r t i s t i c value of folk l i t e r a t u r e as a thing in i t s e l f and as a stimulus for poetic creation, was destined'to a long survival. The work of the Grimm Brothers and their influence in Bohemia somewhat changed this poetic emphasis to a historical and philological one. But the Grimms were also a r t i s t s , that union of scholar and a r t i s t which to a greater or lesser degree had characterized Langer, §afarik, and Erben. To be sure, certain dissenting voices were raised: the poet Vaclav Nebesky denied Celakovsky's premise that folk songs were the peak of the creative activity of a people, and maintained that they should be collected and studied, not imitated. The poet and scholar Frantisek Susil, likewise denying the esthetic a l l importance of the folksong, argued f o r s c i e n t i f i c accuracy in recording. Later s c i e n t i f i c interpretations of the meaning of folklore shattered the union of scholar and a r t i s t , represented by the Grimms, Safarik, langer, and Erben, almost irreparably. Grimm himself had prepared the s o i l for this schism by postulating an a n t i t h e s i s between written and folk l i t e r a t u r e . Hie rise of the so-called Diffusionist School dealt a death blow to Griimi's theories and, in particular, to this very antithesis. Folk l i t e r a t u r e was no longer a thing to be sharply contrasted to written literature; i t was composed under the same essent i a l circumstances, and the only difference lay in the fact that i t had survived in an oral tradition, allowing for greater modification, but modification in essence l i t t l e different from the mistakes or intentional changes made by scribes who copied works of ancient literature. Works of written l i t e r a ture, i t was discovered, might even become folk l i t e r a t u r e .

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But the destruction of Grin's antithesis did not [reestablish the possibility for the reunion of the scientific and artistic approaches to folk literature; rather it forced these approaches to draw still farther apart. For if folk literature was essentially no different in nature from written literature, if it was drawn, not from the collective soul of the people, but from an international stock of travelling tales and motifs, then folklore could no longer be a "faithful mirror of the people's soul," the characteristic possession of each people and the height of its creative activity. The Romantic, almost mystical identification of national poetry and folk poetry was dead, a victim to the corrective views and excesses of the Diffusionist School. To be sure, the identification of national poetry with folk poetry died a slow death. In the last chapter we have seen the Cosmopolitanists accusing the members of the Nationalist School of falling into this mistake, though it is at least doubtful if the charge is justified. Authors continued, as before, to collect, adapt, and translate works of folk literature. But the importance of this work for national literature was gone, and such work became but one literary genre out of many, not essentially different in many respects from literary adaptations of Biblical tales or of other ancient works of written literature. But if the theories of the Diffusionist School destroyed the premise that national literature is to be identified with folk literature, and hence the corollary that the folklore of the other Slav nations might serve as a stimulus and model in the creation of a Czech national literature, it supplied, none the less, another principle, not so powerful or vital, but one characteristically significant for the literature of the latter part of the nineteenth century: folk literature, as a species of exotic literature and a treasure house of legends, myths, and fables, chiefly from the East, was opened for literaiy exploitation. If the East was the source of folk tales, as the Diffusionists held, why not turn directly there in search of literary motifs which could be utilized, not because by their nature they were easily assimilable into the national literature, or were close to it, but for the exactly opposite reason: because they formed such a striking contrast to it? And if the East was the original source of these tales, then Russia was a stop halfWay between East and West, and her exotic literature a treasure linguistically more available to the Czechs and perhaps (for the artist of the day was no scientist) something a bit closer to the Czech "spirit" after all. Certainly writers did not cease to be Pan-Slavists, nor did they cease to turn to the literature of the other Slav nations for inspiration. But after I860 they turned, for the

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most part, to written literature. And we w i l l find no Czech literary adaptation of the Russian by liny during the second half of the century so faithful to i t s source as was Celakovsky's Echo. Translations

—Jan

Gebauer

Though most famous as a student of the Czech language and as the leader of the band of philologists who eventually d i s proved the authenticity of the RKZ, Gebauer's a c t i v i t y was extremely broad in i t s scope. I t carried him into the wider f i e l d s of Slavic and Indo-European philology. During his youth Gebauer was keenly interested in Slavic folklore and especially the Russian byliny, though he later deserted f o l k lore study. A follower of Julius P e j f a l i k , both he and the elder philologist did much to introduce the new comparative methods of the Diffusionist School to Bohemia, and especially to apply them to the analysis of the RKZ, the results of which led to the disproof of the Manuscripts' authenticity. Between the years 1865 and 1872, the Czech weekly Kvety (Blossoms), under the editorship of Neruda and Halek, published a great number of samples from the folk poetry and tales of the other Slav peoples in translation. Gebauer contributed translations of the Russian byliny. In 1867 he published an article called "Two Old Russian Songs," including the Ukrainian duma, "Sea March of an Old Pagan Prince" (Morsky pochod stareho knizete-pohana) and the by Una "Slavik Budimirovic,1,1 together with a brief commentary on these songs. The following year he published a series of translations of the byliny under the t i t l e of "Staroruske rhapsodie" (Old Russian Rhapsodies), containing partial translations of sixteen songs, grouped by heroes, together with a running prose commentary narrating the contents of the parts not translated. All but one of these byliny are taken from Orest Miller's

Essay at a Historical

Survey of Russian

Litera-

ture, with an Antholoiy; Miller's texts are likewise abridged, but not so much as are these translations. 2 The Introduction to the translation of "Slavik Budimirovic" attempts to relate the song to the time of i t s probable composition. Gebauer ascribes the work to the tenth century, saying, "We know of no case when an epic was composed without the author's possessing direct knowledge of the hero." Apparently Gebauer i s trying to relate the composition of the work to the time of Vladimir the Great, who appears in this byllna. The principle he upholds, however, is simply not applicable here. The Vladimir of the byliny became a stock character who was preserved, and he figures in byliny of much l a t e r composition. In the Introduction to the "Old Russian Rhapsodies" Gebauer

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points out the fragmentary nature of the Slav epos in general and the Russian in particular. But in his translations he unites the separate tales about a given hero into a connected narrative, in contradiction to this principle. Most interesting is his observation that the byliny reflect the democratic spirit of the Russian people. Ibis is shown by the frequently democratic origin of the boiatyrs and by the subordinate role which Prince Vladimir plays in the poems. This connent, as well as Gebauer's other information, is based on Orest Miller's Essay with Antholoiy.3 This democratic attitude is doubtless a strong reason for the popularity of the byliny among the Czechs, whose own tradition and folk literature were democratic in tone. Gebauer's work as a translator is scarcely very inspired, nor did he intend it to be. His.aim is to familiarize the Czech reader with the byllna as one of the outstanding forms of Slav folklore, and to give a brief background of explanation necessary to fuller understanding and appreciation. He pays some attention to divergent variants, often summarizing them in the prose commentary which fills in the gaps of his translations. His interest as a translator is largely scientific. His method of prose narrative and poetic translation of selected passages is suggested by 0. Miller's work, and is the first use of this method in Czech translations of the byltny. His method of grouping several songs about one hero (in the case of II'ja Muromec, as many as five) in a unified narrative is also taken from Miller; in the works which we shall study it was followed only by Machal in his book, On

the Slavic Heroic Epos.

An innovation is Gebauer1s rhythm, a regular trochaic with but few irregularities. Where dactyls are used the entire line tends to be dactylic. The anacrusis is used very rarely. The length of line is quite free, varying from six to fourteen or more syllables, but the rhythm itself is regular. Evidently Gebauer found a regular prosody easier than the difficult task of attempting to create an "equivalent" irregular metre. The times themselves were against the use of a freer prosody; no poet of the second half of the nineteenth century really attempted to cope with this problem in the byliny, and only one translator, Vymazal, used a free rhythm, which in his case is often little better than prose. In his use of a regular trochaic metre Gebauer followed the prosodic taste of the period in Bohemia, which did not tolerate free rhythms. In Russia, too, the freer, folkinspired rhythms of Puskin and Lermontov almost disappeared in the second half of the nineteenth century. But he has also followed the lead of tradition: Öelakovsky had already chosen the trochee for his translation of "Potok," while the RKZ and the Serb epic poems, as well as the trochaic tendency

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in Russian folk poetry i t s e l f , helped to make the trochee the standard epic rhyth· of modern Czech l i t e r a t u r e . Lack of space and the l e s s e r importance of these translators (of whom only Vymazal's work has survived to any extent) forbid extensive quotation. All three, Gebauer, Hruby, and Vymazal translated the same bylina, "Vol'ga Buslaevic," using only s l i g h t l y d i f f e r e n t variants as sources. I t may be of interest to quote the opening passage f o r comparison. The original has: Zakatilos' krasnoe solnysko Za goruski vysokija, za morja za s i r o k i j a , Razsazdalisja zvezdy castyja po svetlu nebu; Porozdalsja Vol'ga sudar' Buslaevic Na matuske na svjatoj Rusi. (The f a i r sun had set Behind the high mountains, behind the broad seas, The many stars were being set about the bright heaven; There was born Vol'ga, Lord Buslaevic In holy Mother Russia.) Gebauer has: Slunko cervene zapadlo za vysoke hoiy, za siroke more, hvezdy huste rozstavily se po jasnem nebi, narodil se Volha, sudar Buslajevic, na maticce svate Rusi. (The red sun had set Behind the high mountains, behind the broad sea, The thick s t a r s were placed about the bright heaven, Hiere was born Volha, Lord Buslajevic, In holy Mother Russia.) Note that Gebauer mistranslates the epithet krasnoe ( f a i r ) as cervene (red), the meaning of krasnoe in modern Russian only. Gebauer 1 s work, in spite of the f a c t that i t i s buried today in the obscurity of a magazine and that i t i s hardly s a t i s f y i n g from the poetic point of view, i s none the less important. I t i s the f i r s t attempt to familiarize the Czech public with anything more than a few scattered samples of the byliny. I t attempts to treat a l l the major heroes, and, l i k e Langer 1 s translations, to give a few brief explanatory comments. Jaromir

Hruby

This well-known Czech journalist and translator from Russian of the late nineteenth century entered l i t e r a t u r e as a

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translator of Russian folk poetry. He was an eager student of Slavic folk poetry, and under Stur's influence wrote several studies of Slavic folk songs, notably "The Danube in the Slavic Song," which appeared in Lumir in 1877· His stay in Russia as a tutor (1880-90) gave him firsthand knowledge of Russian folklore and village customs, reflected in his work, Letters from a Russian Village, a series of sketches on peasant l i f e modelled on Turgenev's Sportsman's Sketches. He was also a p r o l i f i c translator from Russian, notably of Tolstoj, Dostoevskij, Turgenev, Nekrasov, Tjutcev, et cetera. Later he became editor of Otto's Russian Library, many of the volumes of which he translated himself. Most interesting to us are Hruby's translations of Russian byliny. He was a member of Slavia, a literary and discussion society of young Czech students especially interested in folkl o r e . In 1874 Slavia published A Bouquet of Slavic

Folk Poems,

on the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of Jungmann. I t represented the collective work of five poets, and contained selections from the folk poetry of a l l the major Slav peoples, as well as Lithuanian (probably under the influence of Celakovsky's translations). I t is the f i r s t such collection to appear in Bohemia following that of Celakovsky. Translations of seventeen Russian folk poems are included, most of them the work of Hruby; among them are two byliny: "Volga Buslaevic" and "Danilo Lovcanin."4 Like Gebauer's translations, Hruby's approximate a regular rhythm, but iambic, not trochaic. During this period the iamb became a popular Czech epic rhythm. In this western influence was followed, of course. There are some lines which approach a regular trochaic, but they are f a i r l y rare. There are almost no anapestic or dactylic feet, but there is some tendency to substitute long syllables for shorter ones. Hruby's translation is the least l i t e r a l and most consciously poetic of the three translators mentioned in this chapter. Besides a feeling for rhythm he had a keen sense of sound values, and emphasized the iteration of certain consonants, especially the sonorous ones, r, I, m, and n, alliteration, and the interplay of long and short vowels, a most important sound feature in Czech poetry. He may perhaps be accused of having softened the essential vigor of the Russian folk verse and having substituted tinsel for rugged strength. But his keen ear for sound produces a decidedly desirable poetic e f fect, and i t is questionable whether a translator who lacked Celakovsky's grasp of free rhythm could have produced a more desirable solution of the d i f f i c u l t problem of finding a Czech equivalent for Russian folk verse. In other respects Hruby's work is scarcely noteworthy; there are mistakes, as when he translates "slukhajte bol'sago bratea" (listen to your elder brother") as "poslyste velkeho bratra" (listen to

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your great brother"). His translations are archaic in language, and there are a number of Russianisms, as in a l l of these translations, which followed Celakovsky's lead and repeated many of the Russian words, especially fixed epithets, which he had f i r s t introduced. A number of these words subsequently entered standard Czech. Like Gebauer, Hruby translated "Vol'ga Buslaevic." His translation begins: J i z pozapadlo prekrasne slunicko tam za horami vysokymi, za more siroka: a rozsazely hvezdy po svetlem se nebi: Tu narodil se Volga pan nas Buslajevic na maticce, na svate Rusi. (Already had the most f a i r sun set There beyond the high mountains, beyond the broad seas: And stars had been set over the bright sky: Then was born Volga, our lord, Buslajevic In holy Mother Russia.) Later Hruby translated seven more Russian folk songs, one of them a by Una; the others, though usually grouped with the by liny, are actually more akin to ballads. He published them under the t i t l e of From the Russian Princely Songs (Z ruskych zpevu knizecich). 5 The t i t l e i s taken from the phrase, "Knjazeskija pesni bylevyja" ("Princely epic songs"), applied by Kireevskij to a group of songs which are closely related to ballads, and many of which, though not a l l , concern princes. Thus, in translating these songs, Hruby presents the Czechs with a new Russian epic genre. The translations are generally of the high technical quality of Hruby's e a r l i e r work. They are most interesting for us in that they experiment with a f r e e r rhythm than that which Hruby had used before. Here he employs various combinations of the trochee and the dactyl. In a given poem the combination i s generally used without v a r i a tion throughout the poem. The types of rhythms which he develops are: / _ / _ _ / _ _ ; / / _ _ / _ / _ ;and/_ /_ / _ _ / _ · Doubtless Hruby1 s work i s most important in the wider frame of reference of the Slavic anthology to which he contributed. Like Gebauer's, his l a t e r translations, consigned to the more temporary setting of a magazine, could hardly have been expected to exert lasting influence. Frantlsek Vymazal Though now almost forgotten, Frantisek Vymazal was one of those amazing figures who astonish by the p r o l i f i c nature and

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Studies

immense range of their a c t i v i t i e s . A polyglot, he published popular granmars of an immense number of languages; suffice here to mention his grammars of Russian and Old Church S l a vonic. Besides his regular profession as a proofreader, a task which subsequently made him blind, he published over one hundred books, most of them graimars. Thoroughly delightful in his collection of aphorisms, Zrnka (Kernels), largely about writers and readers, partly from the refreshingly d i f ferent viewpoint of a proofreader. Vymazal passed through an intense period of interest in the literatures of other Slav peoples and their folklore; i t s f i r s t fruits were Slavic

Poetry,

a Selection

from Slavic

Folk

and Written

Poetry

In

Czech Translations,6 a collection of translations from Eastern and Western, but not Southern, Slav folk and written poetry, made partly by the editor, partly taken from other sources. Later (1883) he also translated Afanasev's great collection under the t i t l e of Ruske ndrodni pohadky (Russian Folk I k i e s ) . Vymazal gave special attention to folk poetry in his work; in the volume devoted to Russian poetry there are t h i r t y seven folk songs, of which fifteen are by liny. Most of these were Vymazal's own translations, though one was taken from Langer and two from Gebauer1s translations in Kvety. The work may be c r i t i c i z e d in that a l l of the translations are not of the same worth, and are taken from sources very different in time and purpose. Both Öelakovsky and Slavia's Bouquet were drawn on heavily, for example, for the folk lyrics of the collection. 7 Besides the amplitude of this collection of by liny, almost as extensive as Gebauer's work and more complete in i t s individual translations, Vymazal's work i s noteworthy for i t s extensive introduction, by far the greater part of which i s devoted to the Russian byllny. Here he narrates t a l e s about the bogatyrs not related in the translations themselves, and there i s an attempt to give a background of commentary. Vymazal begins by postulating a balance between folk and written poetry in the Slavic world: the longer the former i s preserved the more slowly the l a t t e r develops. For illustration he points to Polish l i t e r a t u r e . Though interesting, the theory i s hardly true: i t overlooks the dependence of written literature on folk literature for inspiration, as well as the existence of the older Slavic written literatures. He advances on Gebauer by noting the distinction between the real Vladimir and the prince of the byllny. He observes the independent nature of the preambles of the by liny (zapevy), and more significant formal features such as antithesis. He notes the unity of each line and the extreme freedom of the rhythm of epic poetry, which he attempts to reduce to a pattern in which he admittedly follows the lead of the Russian poets, Nikitin, Kol'cov, and Polezaev:

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(The a c c e n t s narked by a s i n g l e stroke are stronger.) This verse appears in Russian epic poetry much more seldom than in l y r i c . Vymazal notes that in Czech t h i s verse can be imitated only by a r t i f i c i a l l y strengthening the f i r s t and t h i r d s t r e s s e s . He does not use t h i s verse in h i s t r a n s l a tions. The source of the information contained in t h i s Introduction and in the f a i r l y frequent footnotes which Vymazal adds to the poems a r e , besides Gebauer's work, the Russian c o l l e c t i o n s from which he t r a n s l a t e s sind t h e i r introductions. His a r t i c l e i s notable in that i t attempts to give a f a i r l y broad background to the poems he t r a n s l a t e d , considerably broader than that given by e i t h e r Langer or Gebauer. Vymazal's t r a n s l a t i o n s are almost devoid of poetic q u a l i t i e s . Ihey s u f f e r from an unfortunate l i t e r a l n e s s . Often the word order o f the Russian l i n e i s retained without change, while the a u t h o r ' s tendency to t r a n s l a t e Russian words with Czech words of the same root, g r e a t e r than that of any other t r a n s l a t o r we have studied, shows a lack of poetic imaginat i o n , though not, i t must be added, a d e f e c t i v e knowledge of Russian, which he t r a n s l a t e s quite capably. Vymazal*s rhythm i s untidy, i t s i r r e g u l a r i t i e s often seem a r b i t r a r y . His verse i s t r o c h a i c , with frequent d a c t y l s . Some of the shorter l i n e s are even regular t r o c h a i c , and h i s use of the anacrusis i s r a r e , but the i r r e g u l a r l y placed d a c t y l i c f e e t of the longe r l i n e s j a r with the r e g u l a r i t y of the shorter l i n e s , and o f t e n the reader i s a t a l o s s as to how the verse should be read. Lacking Hruby's f e e l i n g f o r the play of long and short s y l l a b l e s , h i s v e r s e often f a l l s into prose. His t r a n s l a t i o n of the opening o f "Vol'ga Buslaevic" has: Krasne slunecko z a v a l i l o . s e za hoiy vysoke, za more s i r o k a , rozsazely se huste hvezdy po svetlem nebi: narodil se Volha sudar B u s l a j e v i c na maticce na svate Rusi. (The f a i r sun r o l l e d i t s e l f down Behind the high mountains, beyond the broad seas, Thick s t a r s were s e t over the bright heaven: There was born Volha, Lord B u s l a j e v i c In holy Mother R u s s i a . ) Vymazal's tendency to t r a n s l a t e too l i t e r a l l y i s i l l u s t r a t e d by h i s rendering of the Russian zakatit 'sja (to s e t , of the sun; l i t e r a l l y , to r o l l behind) by the Czech zavalltl se, a verb which a l s o means "to r o l l , " but which i s not applied to the s e t t i n g o f the sun. Vymazal's t r a n s l a t i o n i s an honest,

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155

l i t e r a l rendering of the original; the translator trusts that the poetic values of the.original will speak for themselves, an implicit trust which Celakovsky, for a l l his love of the folk song, was unable to give. Thus Vymazal translates the Russian vtapory (then) as ν ty doby (in those times), which, however etymologically accurate a translation i t nay be, deprives the word of the instantaneous meaning with which i t i s used in the Russian songs. Notable i s Yymazal's translation of the so-called Knlia iolublnaja (Pigeon Book), the f i r s t translation of a Russian religious epic song to appear in Czech. The work of none of these translators met with any great reception when i t appeared.8 Only Yymazal's translations, to the best of my knowledge, have survived, one of them being found in at least one present-day anthology published for school children. Yet they are significant, at l e a s t , as a symbol of awakening interest in Russian folk poetry, and they may well have been effective in turning the Czech writers of the decade which followed toward the Russian epos as a source of inspiration. Scientific

Studies

During the 1870's Gebauer published two a r t i c l e s on Slav folk poetry in the newly founded review, Llsty flloloilcke (Philological Papers), of which he was co-editor: "On the Metaphorical Images of Polk Poetry, Especially Slavic" 9 and "On Those Preambles Which Are Preferred in Folk Poetry, Espec i a l l y in Slavic." 1 0 The a r t i c l e s , though somewhat specialized, are notable in their attempt to use the comparative method and to survey Slavic folk poetiy as a whole. Hie f i r s t i s a study of the types of metaphors in Slav poetry. Gebauer c l a s s i f i e s simple metaphors, single clause containing metaphorical image and object compared, parallelism (image and object standing in adjacent clauses), comparison through the use of like or as, and antithesis or negative comparison. In his attempt to explain the similarity of images in the poems of the separate Slav peoples, he uses the following explanations: 1. Chance, or better, chance repetition of similar poetic logic 2. Inherited tradition of the individual poet, tribe or people 3. Diffusion Though Gebauer employs the comparative methods of the Diffusionist School, he rejects the l a s t hypothesis as improbable. The second a r t i c l e i s a study of the types of preambles (zapevy) found in Slav folk poems, especially in epic poems.

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Preambles nay be direct (that i s , the narrative once), or constructed. Constructed openings may from images or declarations. Hie l a t t e r form i s epic poens, for exaaple, the opening of the Iior

begins at be formed preferred for Lay.

Jan Machal

Far more significant i s the work of Jan Machal, Gebauer's pupil, and especially his book On the Slavic Heroic Epos.11 Space forbids anything like a resume of this work, nor i s i t necessary, since the book i s more a narration of the contents of the Russian epic poems and a survey of the opinions of Russian scholars (notably 0. Miller, V. Miller, Veselovskij, and Khalanskij) concerning their mythological or historical significance, or their origin in borrowed subjects. Beginning under the influence of Erben's theory of "comparative mythology," Machal and the other members of Gebauer's school later turned to the Diffusionist School, and sought to place Slavic folk poetry in i t s proper background of world literature. For him folic poetry was a valuable record of popular l i f e , as well as the literary creation of individuals, a f fected by many foreign influences. 12 His work on the South Slav epos in this volume is highly original, and in this f i e l d , less well investigated than that of the Russian epos, he often broke new ground.13 In his treatment of the Rissian epos he relied more heavily on the work of Russian investigators, but this hardly diminishes the importance of his book, for his knowledge of their work was complete and up to date. At a stroke he introduced Czech scholarship to the great body of Russian folklore study which existed in the second half of the nineteenth century. When we remember that the last comprehensive survey of Slavic folk literature published in Czech before Machal's book was that of Stur, we can grasp the immensity of his undertaking. Nor is the section of the work which is devoted to the Russian epos entirely a review of other sources. Machal was primarily a Diffusionist, and he suggested many valuable comparisons between the Russian epos and other sources, notably South Slav epic poems and tales and eastern tales. 1 4 Originally Machal's work was designed to be a complete survey of both content and form of the Slav epos. Only the f i r s t volume, however, was ever published. I t contains an introductory chapter which gives a complete history of recordings and collections of the byliny, an analysis of the regions of Russia where the byliny are s t i l l known, a characterization of the Russian peasant narrators, and a brief historical sketch of the schools which have investigated the byliny. The main section then relates the exploits of the individual heroes (eighteen of them) in narrative fashion, joining the contents

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of separate poems to form a continuous t a l e . Considerable a t tention i s given to variants. The views of Russian scholars concerning the origin of the plot, the names of the charact e r s , and the h i s t o r i c a l significance of the poem are described and commented upon. Hie second volume of the work was intended to be an analys i s of the form of the Slavic epos. I t was never written, but in a b r i e f e r fashion Machal treated this subject in his Slavic Literature.15 Here he compared the Russian to the South Slav epos; the l a t t e r he found simpler in form: f o r the most part each poem contains but one definite subject, while the Russian songs are composites of materials of varied origin worked into a highly complex whole. For this reason he accepted Russian songs as standing on a higher plane. He also compared them to the Ukrainian and Cossack dwny: the l a t t e r tend to r e f l e c t h i s t o r i c a l events d i r e c t l y , while in the byllny the h i s t o r i c a l event i s often concealed or changed, and intermingled with f a n t a s t i c elements. He\notes the special preambles and closings of byllny, and discusses their various forms. He observes the minuteness of description, the a l t e r nation of stereotyped passages and individual passages, which describe the action of the individual t a l e . He notes most of the formal devices of the byllny, and closes with a discussion of conflicting theories (Maslov's and G i l 1 f e r d i n g ' s ) concerning the nature of the by Una verse. Machal's work, the f i r s t to replace that of Stur, served to c l e a r the a i r of romantic theories. The prestige of Erben and the b e l i e f in the authenticity of the RIZ had delayed their death in Bohemia. His work ends a century and begins a new one in Czech folklore scholarship, and i s typically Czech in i t s attempt to furnish a synthesis of the l i t e r a t u r e of the separate Slavic peoples. His book was the f i r s t attempt a t a study of the whole Slavic epos. In Russia there have been several studies dealing with certain Slavic folklore problems: Khalanskij's comparison of the South Slavic with the Russian epos, Miklosic's stucty of the descriptive techniques of the Slav epos, and Potebnja's monograph on the symbols of Slavic folk poetry, but no comprehensive comparative study of Slavic f o l k l o r e . Machal's book i s a f i r s t and daring attempt to cover the whole f i e l d of the Slavic epos, and in spite of the development of comparative Slavic studies during the twentieth century, no other scholar has attempted to follow his lead.

Chapter Χ COSMOPOLITANISM AND NATIONALISM: KAREL LEGER, FRANTTSEX KVAPIL, FRANTlSiX CHALUPA THOUGH the struggle which took place between the Cosmopolitanists and the Nationalists at the beginning of the 1880's was a sharp and intense one, and seemed at the time to throw both camps into clear-cut opposition on all fundamental questions of literary orientation, the perspective of time shows us that this was not entirely so. It is not possible, for example, to group all writers of the day according to their adherence to one or the other of the two camps, and some of them, such as Karel Leger, Frantisek Chalupa and Frantisek Taborsky, as well as others who united around the Almanac May, underwent both tendencies successively or at the same time. We have already indicated the position of this group as a compromise one, but this term, though it does describe the effect of the new Slavic orientation they pointed out, may easily be misleading. In the first place this "compromise" scarcely touched the writers who had most vigorously defended the positions of the two hostile schools: Vrchlicky, Sladek, Krasnohorska, and others. These continued to defend their original views. Second, it was not a compromise for the members of the May group themselves, most of whom, like Frantisek Kvapil, were essentially Cosmopolitanisms at the time of the publication of May, and who simply added to Cosmopolitanism the Slavic complex of problems which had not been at the center of Vrchlicky's interests, and which the times demanded. The historical importance of this compromise was limited by the failure of the group to produce first-rate poetry. And lastly, the group around May had no monopoly on the Slavic world; if it was highly instrumental in suggesting an orientation to it, then it was not alone. The translations described in the preceding chapter also played a role, and Erben's translations of the Primary Russian Chronicle (1867), and of the Lay of Iior's Raid and the Zadonscina (1869) were of first importance, though their immediate fruits were limited.

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In the last analysis, the May group did not have any essential unity of its own, and can likewise be divided into the sane two groups of Cosmopolitanist and Nationalist. Kvapil and Leger aade such of the exotic elenents in the Russian byllny, while Chalupa rejected the exotic alnost completely, turning to Russian history for realistic pictures of the Russian people and its suffering under the Tatar yoke. To be sure, the conon ground of these poets was equally great: all were products of their times in style and technique, all were patriotic Pan-Slavists, and all sought through adaptations of the by liny or tales to portray the heroic character of the Russian people.

Karel

Leier

First to turn to the Russian by liny as a source of inspiration for his own poetry was Karel Leger. Later a poetic and prose realist, Leger began his literary career as one of the "satellites" of Vrchliclgr. In his treatment of Russian epic subjects and in the other poems of the same period, short epic subjects treated lyrically, he showed a preference for the strange, exotic, and fantastic themes and lofty, sonorous verse of Vrchlicky's school; for mythological and historical motifs, romances, idylls, and grotesques; for philosophical pessimism and a predominant mood of irony or melancholy. Like the Czech Parnassians, he loved to create parables and myths of "universal" philosophical significance. In 1880 Leger published two poems on subjects taken from the Russian byllny in the magazine Ruch: "Sadko the Merchant" and "Nightingale the Bandit."'1 The first of these was a reworking of the byllna tale of Sadko and the Sea King. Leger remained reasonably faithful to the details of the byllna, though he has heightened the erotic interest of the original. Retained is the motif of Sadko's boasting, the cause of his misfortunes: "Tvoje sila, vodni cari, pramalo me desi!" ('Tour power, 0 Water Tsar, frightens me but little!"). Also retained is Sadko1s throwing of rich presents into the sea to appease the Sea King. But Leger omits the casting of lots, frequently repeated in some versions of the original, in which Sadko commands lots to be prepared from different sorts of wood in an attempt to determine who is the cause of the Sea King's displeasure and avoid punishment himself. Leger sought to give us a concise, colorftil tale of romance and adventure, and for the poetic effect the byllna had secured by endless repetitions he has substituted ever new ornament and quick turns of plot. Reaching the king's palace, Sadko entertains him by playing on the iusll, but from here on the whole tale is quite different. The hero is surrounded by beautiful water sprites. His playing causes the king to fall asleep,

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and, followed by the water s p r i t e s , Sadko l e a v e s the palace and comes out on the shore. Of a l l t h i s only Sadko's playing of the iusll i s taken from the byllna; f o r the m a t t e r - o f - f a c t f o l k realism of the r e s t , Leger has substituted a l i g h t , merry, i r o n i c fantasy: i t i s a f a i r y t a l e he has given us, and one l a r g e l y o r i g i n a l . Ihe by Una has only supplied him with a s i t u a t i o n . The l i g h t humor and irony of h i s point of view i s confirmed in the ending of the poem, which t e l l s us that a l l water s p r i t e s have deserted the s e a , and now walk in s i l k and gold through the s t r e e t s o f old Novgorod. We may l e g i t i m a t e l y wonder i f such an ending, suggested by nothing in the o r i g i n a l , i s not irony, the p o e t ' s poking fun a t the s t o l i d , primitive pompousness of the Russian epic poems. Indeed, i t i s perhaps a s a t i r e on the very b a s i s o f the f o l k t a l e , i t s u n r e a l i t y . The byliny l e n t themselves w e l l to such a s a t i r e because of t h e i r archaic q u a l i t i e s and s t r i c t form. "Nightingale the Bandit" 2 i s much f r e e r : here the poet has borrowed only the f i g u r e of the t e r r i f y i n g bandit and h i s supernatural power, and placed him in the s e t t i n g of a romantic plot o f h i s own invention. Nightingale surprises a b e a u t i f u l maiden by a stream, s e i z e s her, and demands that she become h i s w i f e . Showing no f e a r , she consents, but i n s i s t s that he show her f e a t s of h i s prowess. Accepting the challenge, he f i r s t rescues a prince, held c a p t i v e by a Tatar, then goes o f f to c o l l e c t pearls f o r h e r ; in the meantime she escapes with the prince. The p l o t has a strong suggestion of the f a i i y t a l e , but the character of the p i e c e , which challenges the very j u s t i c e of the outcome, has a more a r t i f i c i a l quali t y : i f anything, L e g e r ' s sympathies l i e with the deceived Nightingale. Again he has produced a work which challenges the naive b a s i s of the f o l k t a l e and substituted an urbane, i r o n i c viewpoint. Leger 1 s Verses a l s o contains s e v e r a l poems on s u b j e c t s from the byllny.3 "Svatogor" shows Leger in another mood, t h i s time s e r i o u s : he has t r i e d t o create a parable out of the poem about S v j a t o g o r and Mikula. Certainly t h i s i s the most p a r a b l e - l i k e of a l l the byllny, and h i s treatment seems j u s t i f i e d . Svatogor i s described in a l l h i s g l o r i o u s , though d e s t r u c t i v e , strength. His e f f o r t s to help Mikula with the l a t t e r ' s plowing are of no a v a i l , however, and f i n a l l y he promises to spare the poor peasant i f Mikula w i l l t e l l him the s e c r e t of the plow's heaviness. Whereupon the other answers that i t i s "human need" which makes the plow so heavy. Except f o r t h i s answer the piece i s quite in the s p i r i t of the o r i g i n a l , but most s i g n i f i c a n t i s the f a c t that Leger has chosen t h i s p a r t i c u l a r work from among the byllny f o r r e - c r e a t i o n . His s o p h i s t i c a t i o n has kept him from any cons c i e n t i o u s attempt to r e t e l l the byliny as simple epic narra-

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tives, and he can only treat them in a mood of urbane irony, or sub specie aeternltatls, as the mirror of some greater truth. Verses also contains a poem called "Prince Vladimir," but except for the name of this prince, his epithet, "our sun" (nase slunko), and his reputation as a giver of feasts, i t is a l l quite foreign to the by liny. Vladimir, having reached the age of one hundred, ponders as to what kind of death would be most pleasant. As he is sunk in thought, a beggar passes the court and sings a folk song describing the fame and greatness of the prince. With a smile on his face Vladimir dies. Hie poem may perhaps surprise us a bit by its sentimentality, but again i t is a sophisticated sentimentality. And in i t we ha/e an inkling of the later nationalistic path which Leger was to follow in his poetry. In the matter of technique Leger took almost nothing from the byllny, other than a very few Rissianisms: hoj! sine more, sird zeme. He was most inclined to the use of epithets of the typical sort, sometimes even becoming fixed in his treatment, as: Sadko cernovlasy (black-haired Sadko); others are si nave more (bluish s e a ) , bile

dlane

(white palms), sumne vlny

(mur-

muring waves), cerny havran (black raven), bujny les (dense forest), et cetera. But few of these are necessarily Russian. Other formal devices from the byllny Leger could not use: his verse is heavily charged with images and sound effects of the lusher sort, and the crude strength of the primitive repetitions of the byllny might have jarred with them. His technique is skilled, his verse fresh and sonorous, and his treatment at best extremely striking and successful. He uses trochaic heptameter with a break after the eighth syllable: thus his verse is that of Havlicek's Baptism of St. Vladimir, in which trochaic lines of eight syllables alternate with those of six. Leger1s ironic tone seems to have been responsible for his choice of this metre, already associated with a burlesque treatment of Russian l i f e and history. I t is strange that Leger, the most gifted of the three poets of the May group who worked with materials from the byllny, deserted this form and the camp of the Parnassians in general. Doubtless the change of Czech poetic taste, swinging violently from Parnassianism to Realism, was the chief factor. Leger used the byllny for reasons quite free from any motivation of patriotism or Pan-Slavism; unlike Kvapil or Chalupa, he was not interested in making the great heroes of Russia's past live again. He turned to the Russian epic poems only as one source among many, in search of fantastic, fairy-tale subjects, and when he finally deserted Parnassianism for the camp of the Realists and Nationalists, and even turned to Bissian written literature (especially Puskin, Gogol and Dostoevskij) for inspiration, he was unable, apparently, to

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gain new insight into the Russian folk epic, though such insight would certainly have been possible. Prantisek

ivapll

Though most of his literary activity concerned Polish l i t erature (he translated Erasinski and Asnyk, and was the personal friend of the latter), Kvapil's greatest work was his Princely Songs,4 a collection of fantastic narrative poems, most of the subjects of which were taken from the by liny. Kvapil was joint editor of the almanac May (1878) together with Ulrich. Here he showed himself strongly under Vrchlicky's influence, though his reaction to being called a disciple of Vrchlicky has already been noted. The following year he went to Paris to study; there he acquired a knowledge of the French Parnassians, as well as direct contact with many prominent Polish refugees of the day. Such contacts may have been responsible for the strongly anti-tsarist attitude of the Princely Songs, in which Kvapil compared present-day Russia with its glorious past, to the discredit of modern Russia. He was editor of Ruch in 1885-86, during which period he contributed many articles and translations to this Slavic review, mainly on Polish literature. Besides the Princely Songs, he wrote largely fictional accounts of the lives of Slav women who had loved poets, Hives and Lovers

of

the Slavic

Poets

(1893)> including Puskin's Natasa, Lermontov's Katusa ("in the embrace of a demon"), Kol'cov's Dunasa, and others. The title of Kvapil's collection, Princely Songs, was obviously suggested by that of Hruby's translations in Ltmir, "Prom the Russian Princely Songs," though Hroby had used i t only for a particular group of Russian songs. Kvapil's title is oddly inappropriate; his chief hero is the democratic I l j a Muromec, whom he opposes to Vladimir. Probably the title was intended in a metaphoric sense. Kvapil's work appeared in two series: the f i r s t , written between the years 1880-83 and published in the latter year, contains fourteen narrative poems. The author conscientiously appended a note, explaining that he did not make literal use of the Russian by liny, but only used them: "Here more freely, there in greater detail.... Connoisseurs of Russian folk poetry will not find it difficult to tell to what extent and in what way I have added to them from my own imagination." All of these poems are narratives. Most of them are based on subjects taken from the by liny. I t would be a mistake either to think of Kvapil's poems as imitations of the byllny, however, or to attempt to compare them too closely to Celakovsky's Echo, though this reaction was frequent in the c r i t icism of the day. Celakovsky sought actually to re-create the byllny, to make them live again in the Czech language, i f in

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a Modified and personalized f o r · . Kvapil t r i e d r a t h e r to adapt the by liny to the point of view of Parnassian poetry. He took one or two motifs f r o · the by liny, by no means always the most important ones, a few names and d e t a i l s of background, and developed them i n t o a new n a r r a t i v e of h i s own, o f t e n a parable or symbolic moral t a l e . He added modern tendencies, psychological motivation cogent to the reader of h i s day, l y r i c passages of h i s own invention, and numerous monologues and dialogues. He was not averse to supplying a comp l e t e l y new denouement t o a s i t u a t i o n which he took from the by Una, nor to writing an e n t i r e l y new poem about by 11 ny chara c t e r s . Most important f o r h i s work i s h i s attempt to create parables and myths. He was not i n t e r e s t e d in f i d e l i t y to h i s sources, to the s p i r i t or background of the times which he depicted, nor even in accuracy of f a c t u a l and descriptive det a i l s . Lastly, he added a considerable amount of the e r o t i c i n t e r e s t popular in h i s day. "Hie Pilgrims" r e t e l l s the story of the magical healing of I l j a Muromec. In Kvapil's version, as in c e r t a i n o r i g i n a l s , I l j a i s v i s i t e d by Christ and P e t e r . Kvapil's Muromec i s a philosopher pondering the e t e r n a l destiny of man, the basic t r u t h s of r e l i g i o n . He has nothing in common with the hero of the by liny, save that he s i t s and i s healed by a potion. He i s a would-be medieval a s c e t i c , a philosopher; he i s Yrchl i c k y ' s Hilarion, and the poem a medieval r e l i g i o u s t a l e . 5 I t i s notable that the Russian poet Bal'mont, Kvapil's contemporary, attempted j u s t t h i s s o r t of "metaphysical" reworking of the by liny t a l e s . In the next poem on t h i s hero, " I l j a in the Forest," we find a new I l j a , likewise of Kvapil's invention, and again the symbol of myth. Here, a s in "Battle with the Wolf" and "Death of the Bear" from the second s e r i e s , I l j a appears as a slayer of f i e r c e wild animals, a theme never connected with I l ' j a Muromec in the byliny. In these t a l e s Kvapil's poetry a t times a t t a i n s considerable power and suspense, and the poet shows f e e l i n g f o r the use of sound and rhythm to create tension. But i t i s a l l too long, and the power of the opening image i s destroyed when I l j a begins a monologue of f i f t y - f i v e l i n e s . This i s necessary f o r the myth. I l j a i s a s o r t of peasant Prometheus: he w i l l k i l l the wolf, c l e a r the steppe and f o r e s t , plow and sow grain. Next I l j a appears in "Peasant Mikula," where he s e t t l e s the dispute between Svatogor, symbolizing the s p i r i t of destruct i v e s t r e n g t h , and Mikula, that of creative s t r e n g t h . Here the moral element i s more in harmony with the s p i r i t of the o r i g i n a l , also a myth. I l j a represents mankind, who accepts both c r e a t i v e and destructive strength as good. "Nightingale the Bandit" preserves the e s s e n t i a l character of the o r i g i n a l , though the f o r e s t s e t t i n g leads the author

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more than ever into the temptation to alternate action with long lyric pictures of nature. Hie end preserves the Russian I l ' j a ' s independence and "democratic" attitude: I l j a , offended at Vladimir's capriciousness, overturns the tables and breaks the chairs of the feast hall. In " I l j a in Captivity" myth is replaced by parable. Love overcomes a l l . The Amazon-like Nasta challenges the Kiev boiatyrs to single combat; as in the bylina Ales and Dobryfia ride out against her and are defeated, a motif which Kvapil used again and again in other poems, and which does accord very closely with the spirit of the by liny, both in i t s repetitive nature and in its exaltation of the hero's feat, impossible for others to accomplish. Finally I l j a goes, but there is no combat: I l j a is at once defeated by the power of Nasta's love for him. In "Duet beneath the Stars" no attempt has been made to adhere to any original. I l j a ' s love for Nast'a inspired Kvapil to write an operatic duet, as the t i t l e suggests. The piece is frankly ridiculous, and today i t is hard to repress a smile: 0 chop mne ν naruc, l i b e j mne ν usta!

Jsem lesk a vune, lan jsem a lvice — müj prs je pin, stesk ν srdci mem vzrusta! Jak broskev ρΐά me hrdlo i lice, slibej s nich zar! (5 chop mne ν naruc, l i b e j mne ν usta!

(Oh, clasp me in your arms, kiss me on the mouth! I am lustre and perfume, I am doe and lioness; My breast is f u l l , the longing in my heart is growing! Like a peach my throat and face burn —kiss away their heat! Oh, clasp me in your arms, kiss me on the mouth!) The poem ends as I l j a hears the sound of the approaching Tatars and goes off to fight, deserting Nast!a forever. "Prince Vladimir's Wedding" remains fairly faithful to the details of this bylina. But i t is told in monologue, a favorite device of Kvapil, and one which, in his treatment, destroys a l l suspense.6 Apparently Kvapil used this form for i t s lyric and dramatic possibilities; he is not entirely at ease with the more restrained epic style, and even when he uses i t he must frequently intersperse i t with long lyric passages and dialogues. Ironically, his use of the monologue and dialogue to increase dramatic quality often lessens i t , probably because their use is forced and often incongruous. "Prince Vasil" likewise remains fairly faithful to the details of the original, "Vasilij Buslaevic." Kvapil supplies a background of motivation for his hero's actions: he has been

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expelled from the city by an act of treachery on the part of the Novgorodians; in the original there i s no such explusion, and V a s i l i j ' s actions apparently stem from his daring and roguishness. But Kvapil's tendency to rationalize his poems betrays him. When his Vasil k i l l s a hundred men sent against him (a self-evident result for the by liny), i t appears only as a childish exaggeration. Kvapil took his ending and his moral from one of the v a r i ants of the by Una: V a s i l ' s mother comes to him from behind and clasps him in an "embrace of love" which he i s powerless to break. Though the whole i s softened and sentimentalized in his version, the essential point i s the same. The end i s one of those rare passages where Kvapil follows his source closel y enough so that a comparison may be of value: " V a s i l i j Buslaevic": Kvapil, "Knize Vasil": Aj ze ty, moe cado miloe, Ukrot', synu, svuj hnev slzou Molodoj Vasil';jusko Buslav'matky, evic! Novgorod te rad j i z v i t a Ukroti svoe serdce bogatyrskoe, zpatky, Ne serdis' na gosudarynju otevre t i brany tezke zas, matusku, smrtici zbran nech tu ν poli Ubrosi svoe smertnoe poboisce, sirem— 1 Ostav' muzickov khot na stitem v l a s t i bud'a bohatyrem, semena. ρ red nimz by se vrah nas bazni Tut Vasil'jusko Buslav'evic tras!... Opuskaet svoi ruki k syroj Zalkal Vasil: Chytre, matko, zemle. vera Vypadaet os' zeleznaja iz s k r o t i l a ' s mne, prepadsi mne belykh ruk ν seru Na tuju na mat' syru zemlju, od zadu, l i p nezli mnohy druh; I govorit V a s i l i i Buslav'Ale kdybys, neobejmouc jemne, evic ζ predu byla sama p r i s l a ke Svoej gosudaryne matuske: mne, Aj ty, svet sudarynja matuska, byl bych tebe z a b i l , pri sam Taj a ty staruska lukavaja, buh! Lukavaja staruska, tolkovaja! Umela unjat' moju silu velikuju, Zajti dogadalas' pozadi menja, A ezeli b ty zasla vperedi menja, To ne spustil by tebe, gosudaryne matuske, Ubil by za mesto muzika Novgorodskogo! 7 (Ah, thou, my dear child, (Moderate, son, thy wrath with Young Vasil'jusko Buslav'the tears of thy mother, evicI Novgorod gladly welcomes thee Soften thy heroic heart, back again,

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Be not angry at thy mother, Abandon deathly carnage, Leave a few men for conception. Here Vasil'jusko Buslav'evic Dropped his arms to the damp earth, the mother, And V a s i l i j Buslav'evic spoke To h i s darae, to his mother: Ah, thou, dame my mother, Thou clever old woman, Clever old woman, and ingenious ! TCiou hast been able to moderate my great strength, Thou hast been clever enough to approach from behind! But i f thou hadst come to me from in front, Hien I should not have f o r given thee, dame my mother, I would have killed thee in place of a man of Novgorod!)

Opens i t s heavy gates to thee again, Leave thy deadly weapons, here in the broad f i e l d — Be the shield of thy land and a boiatyr, Before whom our enemy would shake with fear! Vasil sobbed: Cleverly, mother, in truth, Thou hast tamed me, f a l l i n g on me in the darkness From behind, better than many \ another; But i f , f a i l i n g to embrace me tenderly, Thou hadst come alone to me from in front, Then I should have killed thee, by God Himself!)

"Song of the Merchant Fedor" is a reworking of the by Una, "Solovej Budimirovic." In Kvapil's version the boiatyr i s changed to a merchant who secretly loves Vladimir's niece, but cannot aspire to her hand until he has cured her ailment, which, of course, i s love for him. What induced Kvapil's radical alteration i s hard to say: perhaps the original t a l e attracted his fancy, but i t s motif of a mysterious boiatyr coming from f a r away, in i t s e l f interesting for Russian l i s teners who knew other byllny, seemed pointless to him. His substitution of a merchant for the boiatyr stresses the democ r a t i c point of view of his collection. " V a s i l i s a " i s likewise taken from the byllny, this time from the song about Danilo Lovcanin. The choice of this byllna, in which Vladimir i s pictured as a murderer, i l l u s trates Kvapil's a n t i - t s a r i s t attitude. "Nikita" i s taken from the poem entitled "When a Youth Came to the Great Period of L i f e " (Kogda bylo molodcu pora, vremja velikoe), from Kirsa Danilov's collection. As in the o r i g i n a l , the youth's boasting, the unforgivable sin of the heroes of the byllny, causes his downfall. "Winter Tkle" i s an independent creation, perhaps suggested by the by Una about the destruction of the Russian boiatyrs. When the boiatyrs prove unable to defend Kiev, Frost Boiatyr emerges from the c i t y on a white horse and, turning the Tatar enemies to ice, liberates Russia. Probably

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the poet intended to say that the Russian people, making their home in a land of cold and hardship, learned to bear suffering and oppression and to r e s i s t . The conception of Frost as a bogatyr i s found in the Russian folk tales, where he appears with bound hair which, when he releases i t , produces an intense cold. 8 Doubtless Kvapil's conception of Frost as a warrior i s influenced by the memory of Napoleon's campaign in Russia, as was the folk tradition i t s e l f . Hie poet may also have been influenced by Nekrasov's poem, Frost the Red Nose, i t s e l f based on folk tales in which Frost i s a living being. The f i r s t series also contains a ballad-like by Una, "Prince Roman Kills His Wife." Kvapil has made many changes from the original, apparently in search of greater dramatic and narrative e f f e c t , but he scarcely seems to have found i t . The repeated, frightened questionings of the helpless c h i l dren in the original as to where their mother i s , climaxed by the final discovery of the parts of her body, seem much more striking than Kvapil's traditional three brothers, confronting the murderer with the dead woman's body and dispatching him. Again Kvapil has rationalized the tale by supplying a motive for the killing, though the Russian folk songs often only hint at the motivation. Lastly Kvapil has taken one character from the Primary Russian Chronicle, Oleg Svjatoslavic, for the hero of a new poem of his own imagination, "Prince Oleg." Oleg, having defeated Prince Svatopluk, boasts of his power, only to return home and find that Svatopluk has abducted his wife. This is invented. Hie heroes are the historical princes Oleg Svjatoslavic and Svjatopolk Izjaslavic, who had many conf l i c t s during the 1090's, but Kvapil's plot i s not taken from the Russian chronicles. Probably he wished to embody the subject of the internecine wars of the Russian princes in a poem, and, at a loss to find a subject suitable for a short narrative, invented one. The part played by Oleg's boasting, which foreshadows his tragedy, i s very typical of the by liny. The second series, published together with the f i r s t in 1897> includes twelve additional poems and a prologue. The new edition contains a note telling us that a l l these poems were composed between 1894 and 1896, except " I l j a ' s Anger," written in 1889· Some of the poems of t h i s second series were f i r s t published in individual numbers of the magazine Zlatä Praha. Kvapil here strenuously rejects any comparison of his work to that of Öelakovsky. He was unsatisfied, he t e l l s us, both with a mere paraphrase of the byliny and with any attempt to imitate their f o r · , and hence developed his own method of reworking them. The prologue, "To Holy Russia," written in 1881, but not

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included in the o r i g i n a l e d i t i o n , c l e a r l y shows us K v a p i l ' s h o s t i l e a t t i t u d e toward contemporary Russia. The comparison between h e r o i c , f r e e , old Russia, and modern Russia, bound in chains, i s apparently the "point" of the c o l l e c t i o n . I t i s noteworthy that t h i s prologue was written in the year o f the murder of Alexander I I , and thus r e f l e c t s the beginning of new reaction in Russia. In the second s e r i e s the c h i e f hero i s again I l j a Muromec. "Tsar Kalin" i s f a i r l y f a i t h f u l to i t s o r i g i n a l . Kvapil has Kalin disarm I l j a by asking f o r h i s weapons as presents, thus causing him to be defenseless in the coming s t r u g g l e . This ingenious touch, while a s p e c i f i c explanation o f a sort which the byliny o f t e n overlook, i s c e r t a i n l y in t h e i r s p i r i t . "Song of the K i l l i n g of Sokolaik" concerns I l j a ' s b a t t l e with h i s son. Kvapil has r a d i c a l l y changed the o r i g i n a l , r a t i o n a l i z i n g i t s brachylogic t a l e , and turning i t s theme into that of the vanity of heroic d e s i r e s . I l j a laments not only f o r h i s son when he r e a l i z e s who i t i s h i s ambition has led him to k i l l , but f o r himself as w e l l . Especially e f f e c t i v e i s K v a p i l ' s retention of the questions which I I ' j a puts to the boy in the o r i g i n a l and which the l a t t e r contemptuously r e f u s e s to answer. " I l j a ' s Anger" i s based on the bylIna about I l ' j a ' s quarrel with Vladimir. In the o r i g i n a l Vladimir i s s l i g h t e d by I l ' j a ' s f a i l u r e to appear at h i s f e a s t , or (in other versions) I l ' j a i s offended by Vladimir's f a i l u r e to i n v i t e him. Kvapil choses the l a t t e r v a r i a n t . Ihe rest i s o r i g i n a l . I l j a appears, denounces Vladimir f o r h i s crimes, c h i e f among them being the murder of Danilo Lovcanin, and s t a l k s away. Meanwhile the Tat a r s attack the land, and Vladimir sends the boiatyrs, led by Dobryna, to beg I l j a to return. I l j a i s not the l e a s t moved by Vladimir's repentance, and r e l e n t s only when he hears of the s u f f e r i n g s o f Russian widows and orphans. Here Kvapil r e l i e s on I l ' j a ' s fame as a defender of the poor and defensel e s s . In some versions of the bylina I l ' j a ' s quarrel with Vladimir begins the poem of "Tsar K a l i n , " and I l j a consents to f i g h t only when he r e a l i z e s that the land i s in danger; t h i s version seems to have inspired K v a p i l ' s poem. Second in prominence as a hero i s Curilo Plenkovic, c a l l e d C y r i l by K v a p i l . 9 This hero, r e l a t i v e l y a minor one in the byliny, seems to have been chosen by Kvapil because of the e r o t i c s u b j e c t s connected with him. Retaining the byliny's c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n of him as a man of great appeal f o r women and a boaster, Kvapil has none the l e s s made him more sympat h e t i c , and h i s C y r i l , unlike Curilo in the byliny, performs brave deeds. At a l o s s to find them in the o r i g i n a l s , Kvapil t e l l s us that he^has k i l l e d the g i a n t b i r d , Velikan, taken, o f course, from Celakovsky's independent poem about Curila. " C y r i l Plenkovic" shows him wagering with the other boiatyrs

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that he can win the attention of their wives by f l i r t i n g with them. He wins the wager, the boiatyrs become enraged and prepare to attack him, but then Vladimir's wife, Apraksia, likewise f a l l s under his spell, and the others, seeing the joke, give in. Only the motif of Curilo's attraction for Apraksia is taken from the by liny. "The Game of Chess" and "Death of Cyril Plenkovic" are both taken from the by Una about Öurilo's death; Kvapil has retained the chess game of the lovers and makes a charming narrative love poem out of i t . The final work is faithful to the details of the o r i g i nal: the poet has used Bermjata's questions about Curilo's clothing to build up a ballad-like series of such questions and the w i f e ' s terrified but ingenious answers. The treatment is surprisingly objective for Kvapil, and the poet wastes no sympathy on his hero. The work thus achieves the striking power of the true ballad. Of the other poems "Volha Buslajevic" is also inspired by the byliny. But only inspired: Kvapil has taken the two mot i f s of Vol'ga's magic power and his retinue's perpetual lack of success and built up a completely independent tale about them. He saw the humorous aspect of the original rather than i t s serious side: here he was apparently deceived by the repetition of the retinue's lack of success as contrasted to the easy accomplishment of the hero, aided by magic. Ulis type of situation is usual in the byliny, where i t is employed in order to aggrandize the hero and make his feats seem more d i f f i c u l t of accomplishment.10 But i t is quite natural that Kvapil should have misunderstood the nature of this motif, so strongly suggesting humor in i t s contrast of repeated lack of success with repeated facile accomplishment. I t is just this humorous association which, as I have suggested earlier, helped to make the Russian epic so d i f f i c u l t for Russian poets to rework. "Song of Bojan" is a completely independent l y r i c lajnent for the f a l l of Russia under the Tatars. Only the name of Bojan is taken from the Lay of Iior's Raid. Hie poem ends with Bojan's exultation as the Russians rise to overthrow the Tatar yoke, an anachronism impossible for Russians, since Bojan, referred to in the Iior Lay, would have lived in the twelfth century or before. "Dobryna Goes to Subjugate the Cud'" is f a i r l y faithful to the originals in details, i f not in s p i r i t . Kvapil misinterprets the Russian word Cud' as draion; actually i t was the Russian name for a tribe of Finns. Kvapil has retained the hearty, ribald humor of the ending of the original: I rika se: Mel svatbu Ales Popovic, vsak ηerne1. s kym by spal. (People said that Ales Popovic had a wedding; But s t i l l he had no bride with whom to sleep.)

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Compare one version of the original, Kirsa Danilov, number 21: Zdravstvuj, zenivsi, da ne s kem spatJ! (Hail, married one, who has no one to sleep with!) The tale of "Rojrneda" i s taken from Karamzin's History, where i t i s retold from the chronicles. Rogneda, exiled by Vladimir, is visited by him. While he is sleeping she attempts to k i l l him from jealousy, but he awakens in time. She reproaches him for his i n f i d e l i t y to her. He resolves to k i l l her, but their young son Izjaslav gives his father a sword and asks that he, too, may perish. Vladimir relents, •faking council with his boyars, he pardons her, and, building a new city, Izjaslav, he sends his wife and son there. Kvapil keeps most of the details of this story. For greater suspense he places Rogneda's attempt on Vladimir's l i f e a f t e r her reproaches. He ends with the complete reconciliation of a l l three and Rogneda's return to favor. Unfortunately, the poem i s spoiled by the exaggerated rhetoric of Rogneda's long speech. In turning to this tale Kvapil was perhaps a t tracted by i t s epic qualities. Undoubtedly the story of Rogneda i s a reflection of an earlier epos which was preserved in the chronicles. 11 The final poem, "Destruction of the Boiatyrs," i s again taken from the corresponding by Una, and the details of the story are largely the same. At the close I l j a turns to stone, but Kvapil t e l l s us that he w i l l l i v e on until Russia w i l l need him again. This motif he apparently took from the Czech tale of the Knights of Blanik, who sleep among castle ruins, waiting for the time when their country should need them. The collection ends with a short epilogue, in which the moral of the book is made clear: Takto slovo starodavne k chvale reku znelo, ο slave tak svate Rusi ν pisni vypravelo... Nerodi Rus maticka j i z hrdinfi kmen j a r y — ale popy, cinovniky, generaly, cary. Oj, ty lide, ruslpf lide, co t i smysly mate? Neni reku, neni stesti na Rusi j i z svate. (Hius the ancient tale sounded in praise of the heroes, Of the glory of holy Russia i t was told thus in song. No longer does Mother Russia bear this vigorous race of heroes, But parsons, o f f i c i a l s , generals, and tsars. Oh, Russian people, what purpose do you have?

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No longer are there heroes, no longer is there happiness in holy Russia.) The last two couplets suggest another source of Kvapil's poetry, Havlicek. In these couplets Kvapil, like Havlicek, was comparing the past to the present, and hence the satirical rhythm of the latter's Baptism of St. Vladimir was quite suitable to his purpose. To a great extent Kvapil shows the continuation of the Czech tradition of satiric treatment of Russian history and the Russian epos rather than its purely serious acceptance in the light of Pan-Slavic ideology. Both traditions had been begun by Celakovsky, but the satiric one, found in his "The Birds! Great Pair," his negative treatment of Prince Vladimir in "Öurila Plenkovic," as well as that in Havlicek's Baptism, had remained comparatively undeveloped until Leger and Kvapil. The second half of the nineteenth century, possessing a dual attitude toward Russia of friendship for the Russian people but condemnation for the Russian political and social system, was more favorable to the development of the satiric potentialities of the Russian epos, and hence we find this critical treatment in the work of Leger and Kvapil. The second series is considerably stronger than the first. Kvapil has largely abandoned his attempt to create parables and myths of philosophical significance, a task demanding far greater powers than were his. He has engaged more in narrative for its own sake, and there is less of his dialogue and monologue, often pompous and rhetorical. The central theme of the collection is the Thtar invasion and the heroic Russian resistance to it. Here Kvapil has preserved for us two general characteristics of Russian folk poetry: its expression of a passionate love for liberty and its adoration of the heroism and strength of the Russian people.12 Kvapil's preoccupation with the theme of the Ibtar invasion must be considered as typical for the Czech approach to Russian history and folk literature. As with Celakovsky, this subject suggested the similar oppression of the Czechs by the Austrians. Kvapil has taken many formal elements from the by liny. To be sure, his use of them is sparing enough, and in many of his poems, notably in those most independent of the originals in content, he did not use them at all. Most frequent is his use of negative comparison, or antithesis: Nerozbiha se to po stepi vlk sedy; neleti to k slunci orel na vyzvedy, lec syn Svatoslava, knize Oleg, ('Tis not a gray wolf running over the steppe, Nor an eagle flying aloft to scout, But the son of Svatoslav, Prince Oleg,)

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Except for antitheses, however, extended parallels are rare, and most are only short similes formed with jak (like or as). Very rarely a characteristic passage is taken almost literally from the by liny: Na nebi je s l u n c e — ν jizbe slunce nove, na nebi je m e s i c — ν jizbe mesic jiny, na nebi jsou h v e z d y — ν jizbe svit jich siny, na nebi je z o r a — ν jizbe na blankytu cervanky se rdi a plapolaji ν trpytu! (In the sky is the sun — in the chamber is a new sun; In the sky is the moon — in the chamber another moon, In the sky are the stars — in the chamber is their azure light, In the sky is the dawn — in the chamber an aurora Reddens and burns against azure in splendor!) Compare "Solovej Budimirovic," from Kirsa Danilov's collection: Na nebe solnce, ν tereme solnce; Na nebe mesjac, ν tereme mesjac; Na nebe zvezdy, ν tereme zvezdy; Na nebe zarja, ν tereme zarja I vsja krasota podnebeskaja. (In the sky is the s u n — i n the chamber the sun: In the sky is the moon — in the chamber the moon; In the sky are the stars — in the chamber the stars; In the sky is the dawn — in the chamber the dawn, And all the beauty of the heavens.) Kvapil was also fond of apostrophes to nature: Hoj, Volho, reko sumna, diva, pust' k sestre na druhy näs breh! Chcem zvedit, zdali zdrava, ziva; ηώη tezky smutek ν dusi leh'. (0 Volga, river bubbling and marvellous, Let us cross to our sister on the other bank! We want to know if she is alive and well; Heavy grief has fallen on our souls.) Repetition of certain lines and phrases is fairly common, though not nearly so much so as in the byliny. Often this repetition takes the form of a Western European ballad, and Kvapil seems to have preferred this form, which he used to good effect.

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Fixed epithets chosen for their typicalness are likewise quite conon: dobra druzlna (the good retinue), υ Ik iedy (the gray wolf), mlady Ii ja (young Ilja), sire pole (the broad field), slrd step (the broad steppe), sine more (the blue sea), Rus mattcka (Mother Russia), et cetera. Many of them are taken directly fro· the by liny. Other foraal correspondences than these are not found. Kvapil's rhythm is the completely regular, rather monotonous verse of his day. He uses rhyme regularly. Interesting is his attempt to vary the rhythm in some of the longer poems by using alternant passages with longer or shorter lines. Interesting, if unsuccessful, is his poetic style. It is a mixture of varied elements: Romanticism, Parnassianism, Russian words and syntactic figures, archaic words and expressions, et cetera. These diverse elements are not always successfully combined. Among his Russian borrowings we may list: ataman, bojar, iusle, kaftan, klnzal, orda, panichlda, zmej, ho], et cetera. Many, though not all, are explained by him in a special glossary. Interesting is his extensive use of vrah in the Russian sense of enemy, a sense known in Czech only from the RX, where it was used on the model of Russian. Hie literary historian Josef Jirasek criticizes Kvapil very severely for his great deviations from the content and spirit of his originals. We may question if such a criticism is entirely just. Certainly the use of folk themes as points of departure for free artistic treatment is well within the limits of poetic license. Kvapil can scarcely be criticized for writing in the spirit of his day, though he can be criticized for failing to rise above the average level of poetry in his own day. But in a sense Jirasek's criticism is just. Had Kvapil's imagination been able to supply new elements as good as those he omitted or changed in the by liny we could hardly criticize. But unfortunately it could not. To a considerable extent the Russia he describes is devoid of specific detail, which belakovsky had so delighted in. This, together with Kvapil's thoroughly western philosophy and psychology, often crowd the real Russia completely out of the picture. Particularly unsuccessful is the poet's attempt to create parables and myths, and his pompous rhetoric often fails him here. Characteristic is the inconstancy of his treatment: how can we reconcile Ilja the religious philosopher of "The Pilgrims," Ilja the peasant and hunter in "Battle with the Wolf," Ilja the temperamental hero in "Nightingale the Bandit," Ilja the symbol of mankind in "Peasant Mikula," and Ilja the operatic lover in "Duet beneath the Stars"? The same fault is found in Kvapil's style: the bylina-like tone of "Destruction of the Boiatyrs" is in violent contrast to the romantic operatics of "Duet beneath the Stars"; still worse is that similar contrasts can often be found in the same poem. Yet in Kvapil's

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defense i t must be observed that the by liny themselves are inconsistent, as Erben had pointed out. Some are purely narrative, even with erotic interest, while others are r e f l e c tions of historical events; s t i l l others, such as the by Una about Svjatogor, are best considered as parables or myths. Yet, in spite of his faults, Kvapil has virtues. His work i s usually colorful and interesting, especially in the second series, where he largely refrained from philosophizing, i f not from rhetoric. Especially characteristic of his work and often excellent are his v i v i d l y r i c pictures of nature; o f ten, to be sure, poorly related to the narrative, but at t h e i r best organically united to i t , yet forming a striking contrast to the archaic quality of the narrative in their modernity. Though both he and others have rejected a l l comparison of his work with that of Celakovsky, s t i l l there are f a r more points of similarity than Kvapil probably realized. Both poets took single themes and motifs from the by liny and wove them into stories of their own making. Both borrowed fixed formal elements from Russian folk poetry. Both engaged in long descriptive pictures. Both added elements popular in t h e i r own times. Both ignored discrepant or jarring notes in the originals and hence often l o s t , probably did not even understand, the epic o b j e c t i v i t y of the by liny. The work of both was much more the product of the poetic trends of their times than of Russian folk influences. Yet there i s a d i f f e r ence, though Kvapil himself did not, perhaps, realize exactly what i t was when he rejected a l l comparison of his work to Celakovsky's. He seems to have f e l t that Celakovsky's Echo represented a f a r more l i t e r a l reworking of the by liny than his own versions. 13 Actually the difference, beside d i f f e r ences of style and period, was rather that of ideology. Celakovsky's poems are f u l l of hope and optimism; Kvapil's are more s a t i r i c , sophisticated, often f u l l of melancholy or helplessness. At their best they are clever modern paraphrases of the by liny. But the ideological motive behind Celakovsky's work has largely been l o s t . Kvapil has lost Celakovsky's vision of Russia leading her smaller Slav brothers to freedom; for him the r e a l i t y i s the ironic contrast of modern Russia, shackled in chains, yet possessing a g l o rious past. More closely bound to the style and techniques of their day, Kvapil's poems, though,very popular when they appeared, did not endure so long as Celakovsky's, and are now largely forgotten. Frantisek

Chalupa

Less significant for this study i s Frantisek Chalupa. Had he lived longer, this poet's work might have served as a

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bridge between the older N a t i o n a l i s t i c School, already r e a l i s t by tendency, and the younger R e a l i s t s . He produced one volume o f epic poems on subjects taken from\Russian, Serb, and Czech history and legend: Heroic Songs.1* Chalupa, l i k e Leger and Kvapil, was a member of the group which had published the almanac May, though h i s work was more independent of Vrchlicky than was that of other members o f the group. Early in l i f e Chalupa began a systematic study of Russian language, l i t e r a t u r e , and c u l t u r e . By the third year of the gymnasium he was already studying Russian, and by the sixth he was translating poetry and publishing verses of his own. His poet friends referred to him as a "Russian peasant" on a c count o f his huge frame and s p e c i a l i n t e r e s t in Russian l i f e , especially that o f the peasant. 1 5 Later he published two v o l umes o f t r a n s l a t i o n s of Russian poems: Niva (Hie Meadow) and Kufti ζ ruskych luhü (Blossoms from Russian Pastures), t r a n s l a t i o n s of Puskin, Lermontov, Majkov, Tjutcev, Kol'cov, Sevcenko, and others, arranged as s e l e c t i o n s of poems dealing with Russian nature and rural l i f e . His own poetry also showed traces of the influence of these poets. His poem, "Puskin," embodied the great Russian poet's longing for l i b e r t y , as well as the whole tragedy of the Russian poet's death. Though Chalupa did not meet with a complete lack of success (he was editor of Euch from 1880 to 1882, for example), s t i l l he lived in great poverty, and the conditions of his l i f e , his Bohemian existence, and perhaps a consciousness of h i s own lack of e s s e n t i a l genius and poverty of inspiration contributed to h i s death a t the age of thirty-two. One of h i s friends has described him as "a t r a g i c a l l y destined poet, gloomy, neurotic, physically unhealthy." 1 ® His tragedy was very l i k e that of Langer: both were popular poets in t h e i r own day, both lived in periods o f transition and foresaw future trends in poetry, but were unable to embody them successfully in t h e i r own workj Both opposed the reigning school o f poetry: langer that of Celakovsky; Chalupa that or Vrchlicky. The Heroic Songs are epic songs and Chalupa's independent creations. The t i t l e and plan for the c o l l e c t i o n are modelled on that of Kvapil. But these poems have almost nothing in common with the Russian byliny, other than the very occasional use of a few formal devices, and the word bohatyrske, used in Chalupa's t i t l e , seems to be used in the general sense of "heroic" rather than as applying to the Russian bogatyrs. Chalupa did not even seek to create new heroes and write new byliny; h i s work i s f a r too r e a l i s t i c and too independent for t h a t . The book i s a c o l l e c t i o n of r e a l i s t i c "heroic songs," based on subjects taken from history or fable, celebrating the courageous resistance of the Slav peoples to invasion and oppression. The collection contains six poems on Kievan-Russian themes,

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a s well a s eleven poems on Czech s u b j e c t s and one each on Serb and Cossack Ukrainian themes. "The Expedition of V l a d i mir Monomach" t e l l s of an expedition d i r e c t e d a g a i n s t the Cuman T a t a r s , e v i d e n t l y the one undertaken in 1111, s i n c e Chalupa's b a t t l e i s located near the River Dob. The Primary Russian Chronicle i s t h e source of Chalupa's i n s p i r a t i o n . He w r o t e , "I am now reading N e s t o r ' s Chronicle in Erben's t r a n s l a t i o n . " 1 7 From t h e Chronicle he took the c h a r a c t e r of Vladimir Monomakh, brave, devout, f a r - s i g h t e d , a l e a d e r not only of h i s own p r i n c i p a l i t y , but of a l l Russia. How much Chalupa admired Vladimir i s shown by the a r t i c l e he wrote about him, "The S i g n i f i c a n c e of Vladimir Monomach in Russian L i t e r a ture." 1 ® Likewise, the motif of S v a t o p l u k ' s r e t i n u e , who exp r e s s t h e i r d i s t a s t e f o r the campaign by saying t h a t i t i s poor time to take the peasants from the f i e l d s , i s borrowed from the Chronicle. Chalupa developed t h i s motif i n t o an e l o quent speech made in favor of peace, on the ground t h a t war would be too g r e a t a hardship f o r the peasants, and placed i t , not in the mouths of the retinue^ a s in the Chronicle, b u t in t h a t of Prince David S v j a t o s l a v i c , perhaps t o symbolize the discord of the Russian p r i n c e s which Vladimir must overcome. Vladimir answers t h e o b j e c t i o n by p o i n t i n g out t h a t the peasa n t s w i l l have no horses t o use or f i e l d s t o plow in any case i f t h e Cumans invade the land; the whole scene can perhaps be a p p l i e d t o Czech-Austrian r e l a t i o n s of Chalupa's day, and the schools of Czech p o l i t i c a l thought concerning Czech r e l a t i o n s to Austria. Otherwise Chalupa takes the g r e a t e s t l i b e r t i e s in t r e a t i n g h i s s u b j e c t . His Vladimir p e r i s h e s in b a t t l e , though the r e a l Vladimir died in bed. He invents the names of p r i n c e s who never e x i s t e d or who were not a l i v e in 1111: Ivan, a f a n t a s t i c •Jarvod, R a s t i s l a v . The h i s t o r i c a l Oleg S v j a t o s l a v i c did n o t t a k e p a r t in t h i s campaign. Apparently Chalupa wanted t o sugg e s t t h e unity of t h e Russian people under the l e a d e r s h i p of Monomakh. Next comes "Hie P r i s o n e r , " a long n a r r a t i v e poem about Tatar t i m e s , t e l l i n g of a s i s t e r ' s devoted love f o r her b r o t h e r , whom she rescues from prison by s e l l i n g h e r s e l f i n t o s l a v e r y . Hie idea of the poem seems to have been suggested by a s i m i l a r Russian f o l k song, in which a young man in prison w r i t e s to h i s f a t h e r and mother and begs them t o purchase h i s freedom f o r him. 1 9 They r e f u s e , and he then w r i t e s t o h i s former mist r e s s , who r e a d i l y agrees t o pay h i s ransom. Chalupa has p r e served a l l these d e t a i l s , only changing the g i r l i n t o the y o u t h ' s s i s t e r and complicating the plot by having her s e l l h e r s e l f i n t o slavery t o pay the ransom money. "The Mother" i s l i k e w i s e l a i d in Tatar times: the poem dep i c t s the s u f f e r i n g s and death of a mother and her c h i l d r e n under the Tbtar yoke. "Episode from the Tatar Wars" i s a semi-

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humorous description of the capture of Kozel'sk by the Tatars. Chalupa has the Russian defenders flee with their prince, while the women deliver the city up to Batu and the enemy. The latter hold a great orgy, and the intoxicated Batu, wishing to sleep with the princess, is tricked by the Russians, who substitute an old woman in her stead. While the poem is written with an air of verisimilitude, it is all pure fabrication. At the end Chalupa indulges in a bit of poetic "wishful thinking": regretting that his pen cannot supply an ending more to his liking, he goes on to imagine one which would please him better. The Russian men return to the city and, taking advantage of the intoxication of the Tatars, recapture the city and force Batu to flee for his life. Such an ending is scarcely in the best of taste, especially in a volume of poems almost propagandists in ideology and designed to show the courage and heroism of the Russian people. Apparently these last two poems are products of the author's imagination, though the motif of the substitution of the old woman for the princess suggests a folk-tale origin. The details, too, are rather general in character, and aside from the names there is little which is characteristically Russian either in subject or in treatment. With a minimum of substitutions these poems could be applied to any conquered people of earlier times and their oppression by another. The next poem, "Song of the Tsarevna," has a basis in Russian history and was taken either from Karamzin's History or from certain of the later chronicles. It relates the mission of Prince Feodor Jurevic, son of the Grand Prince, sent in 1237 to Batu with presents in an effort to win peace. Batu, hearing of the great beauty of Feodor's wife, Evpraksija, wishes to see her, but the prince replies that "Christians do not show their wives to dishonorable pagans." Batu has him executed, and Evpraksija, learning of the death of her husband, throws herself with her little son out of a window and to her death. Chalupa has retained all these details; to them he adds the ballad-like motif of the Tatar envoys, who come three times to the princess after Feodor's death and seek to lure her away to Batu, while each time she defeats them with her clever replies and the last time with her death. It is interesting to note the extent to which women figure in the poems of Kvapil, Chalupa, and Zeyer. This is a part of the Czech tradition; it had already appeared in Langer's ballad, "Nine Ravens." Part of this emphasis may be ascribed to the Czechs' lack of a heroic epos. In compensation they have tended to stress romantic elements in folk and historical subjects, of which this greater participation of women is an example. In spite of its name, the final poem on a Russian subject, "IIja Mu romec' Shelter," has little more relation to the Rus—

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sian byllny than any of the others. I t s conception seems to have been taken from K v a p i l ' s poeas concerning I l j a , while the f o r · i s Chalupa's own. In i t I l j a appears as a slayer of wild a n i n a l s — h e k i l l s an a u r o c h s — a motif found in Kvapil. Vladimir Monomakh, admired by Chalupa, was famed as a hunter of the aurochs, i t may be noted. As I l j a prepares f o r sleep by a campfire and his conscience reminds him of the years in which he has never seen home or parents, an old woman with the voice of a young g i r l appears to him. She t e l l s him that she i s Russia, h i s true mother, and reminds him of h i s duty to f i g h t against the Tatars, who have entered the land and are ravaging i t . In t h i s the poem reminds us of K v a p i l ' s "Duet beneath the S t a r s , " in which I l j a deserts Nastfa when he hears the sound of the invading Tatars. Certainly the two poems are related. And both may be compared to Celakovsky's " I l j a Volzanin." A l l three poems are attacks on escapism: j u s t as Celakovsky's I l j a deserts the comforts of the Palace of the Volga to f i g h t the Tatars, so K v a p i l ' s and Qialupa's hero leaves comfort to f i g h t them. By doing so they express the i d e o l o g i c a l a t t i t u d e s of t h e i r authors toward contemporary problems, and demonstrate the unity of the Russian epic t r a d i t i o n in i t s constant ideological s i g n i f i c a n c e in Czech l i t e r a t u r e . The symbolism of " I l j a Muromec' Shelter" was Chalupa's only concession to Czech Parnassianism in t h i s group of poems, and even here the poet has combined i t with a r e a l i s t i c picture of the hero's daily l i f e and thoughts. A very l i t t l e has been taken from the byllny. Chalupa's I l j a speaks to his horse, which r e p l i e s , but otherwise the picture i s a r e a l i s t i c one, without hyperbole or ornament. Thus reduced to the stature of a r e a l man, I l j a i s devoid of a l l folk-epic q u a l i t y . But the popularity o f I l j a with the Czechs i s in part explained by h i s democratic origin and a t t i t u d e s , and reducing him to the s t a t ure of a real man may have been intended to underline these democratic q u a l i t i e s . Throughout these poems the treatment i s predominantly r e a l i s t i c . Like the r e a l i s t s of a decade l a t e r , Chalupa i s c h i e f l y concerned with the coimnon people, and not the ruling c l a s s e s , and even his Vladimir Monomach i s great by v i r t u e of h i s concern for the fate of the peasants. This i s presumably Chalupa's reason for choosing I l j a from among the Russian boiatyrs. Like the l a t e r Realists he was fond of the use of popular expressions, and these are found even in the narrative i t s e l f . His s t y l e , largely free of the varied elements which Kvapil had t r i e d to combine, i s stronger and more consistent. His verse i s predominantly narrative, and both l y r i c descriptions and dialogue are rare. Chalupa lacked a sense of climax, and his worst f a u l t i s that he i s very often boring. Beside an i n a b i l i t y to imagine and invent, h i s work, though f u l l of r e a l i s t i c d e t a i l , lacks c h a r a c t e r i s t i c d e t a i l . In s p i t e of his immersion

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in Russian culture, he does not seem to have been able to embody the Russian character, and h i s verse never rises above the level of a foreign imitation. Apparently he was conscious of t h i s lack of creative o r i g i n a l i t y , f o r of the Heroic Songs he wrote: "The poem, 'Song of the Tsarevna, 1 taken from Russian history, i s ready, but i t i s weak." And: "I write l i t t l e , and that i s not worth much." And later: "I went over those poems last evening.... Hiey are weeds, sweepings, no roses, no f i r trees—nothing new. 1,20 In form Chalupa shares the monotonous rhythmic regularity of his day. 2 1 A very few formal devices have been taken from the by liny, notably in the poem "The Expedition of Vladimir Monomach." Occasionally he uses antithesis, but only of a rationalized, non-metaphoric kind, as in "Ne vlk zvire, lec vlk clovek zabouril na silne dvere" ("Not the beast-wolf, but the man-wolf, raged against the strong door"). Rarely a repetitive device recalls the byllny: "do Kijeva k Vladimiru vola, do Kijeva vola' temi slovy" ("he c a l l s you to Kiev to Vladimir, to Kiev he c a l l s in these words"); or: "a ζ nich vyletely hrozne mouchy, hrozne mouchy: Pecenehu roje" ("from them flew out t e r r i b l e f l i e s , terrible f l i e s — swarms of Pechenegs"). The syntax and content of the l a s t metaphor also strikingly recall the byliny. The River Don makes a speech to Vladimir Monomach, and such personification of nature i s e v i dently modelled on Slavic folk poetry, though this device, in c o n f l i c t with Chalupa's realism, i s rare enough. The poet uses few epithets, but a few of them r e c a l l Russian folk poems: verny druh (true friend), sestra mladä (young s i s t e r ) , labut' blla (white swan), matka Volga (Mother Volga), otbik Don (Father Don), et cetera. There are almost no Russianisms; the few which do appear are already j u s t i f i e d by a long t r a d i tion of Czech usage: hoj, sine vlny, et cetera. Chalupa can hardly be reckoned as an imitator of the byliny; rather he borrowed only a very small number of formal devices with which he sought, evidently, to lend his work a Russian character. For the most part, however, he tried to achieve a Russian atmosphere d i r e c t l y , without resort to formal means, but his basic inability to embody specific t r a i t s of national character, or to invent typical details, seems to have f a i l e d him here.

Chapter XI REALISM IN CZECH POETRY: FRANTI§EK TÄBORSKY POETIC Realism, the dominant school in Czech poetry at the end of the nineteenth century, was a combination of two tendencies. The f i r s t was the European-wide movement of Realism, which entered Czech l i t e r a t u r e , thought and l i f e rather bel a t e d l y , but which was of great influence. The second was the influence of the Czech t r a d i t i o n i t s e l f , from which the Czech R e a l i s t s borrowed generously, e s p e c i a l l y from the Nationali s t s , who themselves had already bordered on Realism. In form Czech poetic Realism sought a s t y l e which was as m a t t e r - o f f a c t as possible, a t i t s best concisely d e s c r i p t i v e and l a c k ing in bombast and unnecessary ornament, a t i t s worst descending to mere /journalese or the cruder phrases of the vulgar tongue. No doubt Czech r e a l i s t i c poetry t r i e d to pattern i t s e l f too c l o s e l y on the model of prose, and today i t can be seen that t h i s period in poetry was l i t t l e more than a b r i e f and not e n t i r e l y s u c c e s s f u l i n t e r l u d e . I t was a necessary r e action against the excesses of Vrchlicky's school, the r e a c tion of a growing commercial and i n d u s t r i a l c l a s s with i t s demand f o r a poetry which would combine the charm of the o l d er Romantic poetry with c l a r i t y and s i m p l i c i t y and something a b i t more " p r a c t i c a l . " This i s not to condemn Czech poetic Realism. I t was a necessary part of the whole movement of Czech Realism, which, though weak both in i t s l i t e r a r y prose and poetry, brought great progress in p o l i t i c a l and s o c i a l thought, scholarship, and c r i t i c i s m . During the period when these forward s t r i d e s were made i t was i n e v i t a b l e that Realism should enter l i t e r a t u r e as w e l l . What part could the Russian epic have played in Czech r e a l i s t i c poetry? The e a s i e s t answer would be to say none whatever, and such an answer would almost accord with the f a c t s . The poets of the second h a l f of the nineteenth century ins i s t e d on viewing the Russian epic poems as something e x o t i c , f a n t a s t i c , devoid of r e a l i t y . Not a single poet approached thera with anything s i m i l a r to Langer's view that the byliny were of value because they revealed ancient customs, habits of l i f e , and b e l i e f s . V r c h l i c k y ' s followers confused fantas-

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ticalness with hyperbole. The l a t t e r is always characterist i c of the Russian epic, i f not of the folk epic in general; the former is chiefly restricted to certain byliny-novellen, to those which, like "Sadko" or "Potok Mikhajlo Ivanovic," are most closely related to the skazkl; others, like "Tsar Kalin," "Dobrynja Subjugates the Cud'," or "Curilo Plenkovic," may be quite down-to-earth and matter-of-fact in relation to the limits of the by Una form, and their speech is often most vivid, concise, and popular in s p i r i t . Langer certainly realized this r e a l i s t i c , often earthy quality of the byllny; that Celakovsky, who showed greater partiality for more fantastic subjects, observed i t i s more questionable; none the less his "The Boiatyr Muromec" is quite r e a l i s t i c , though in a manner rather different from that of the by liny. The Russian epic poems, then, were not at fault i f the Czech r e a l i s t i c poets of the end of the century did not use them. But i t must be realized that to a large extent these poets were not interested in searching for their materials so far from home. Their realism was that of the here and now. Subjects were to be found on every side. There was no necessity to turn to the past and to a foreign literature for them. One other reason must be mentioned here. The byllny could hardly have been accepted by the Czechs as anything else but fantastic works. To some extent the Czechs, as Slavs and a people geographically close to Russia, are free from that impression of exoticism, strangeness, and fantasticalness which almost every work of Russian literature, even the most realistic, invariably leaves on readers in countries farther to the west. But to a great extent they are not. Doubtless as a people they are relatively more familiar with Russian literature: d i f f i c u l t i e s of translation are less and l i t e r ary interest in Russia has been reinforced by p o l i t i c a l interest. S t i l l , certain basic currents in Russian literature have remained totally foreign to the Czech s p i r i t . The modern psychological novel, created by Dostoevskij, has remained essentially foreign to their literature, for example, and though i t is possible to name a number of western writers of stature who are direct descendants of the Russian novelist, i t is scarcely possible to find a single leading Czech novelist who can be described as such. Hie development of the Czech a r t i s t i c past, especially since the middle of the last century, has been so strongly under Western European influence that for a long time i t could be said that Czechs found Russian written literature only through the medium of Western Europe. Yet one Czech realist poet came under the influence of the byllny. Frantisek Ttfborsky showed a knowledge of the Russian epos, and wrote several poems based on ideas or characters

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Taborsky

taken from i t . But he went no further than this. Nor did he borrow foraal or lexical elements from the by liny, though this, of course, would have been more d i f f i c u l t for a poet of Czech Realism. No matter how popular, vigorous, or downto-earth a Russian phrase, epithet, or syntactic construction might be in the original, in Czech i t could scarcely rid i t s e l f of the exotic tang of a foreign mode of expression. 1 Taborsky was a member of the pro-Slavic group about the a l manac, May, though he did not publish in that almanac; he contributed to the Almanac of Czech Youth (1879), as a member of the group's Moravian wing. He was then a disciple of Vrchlicky, but very soon he threw o f f the l a t t e r ' s influence and, using poetic elements and expressions taken from the folk poetry and the popular speech of his Moravian homeland, he created a fresh and vigorous popular idiom, especially well suited to satire. His interest in Russian literature and art was amply attested to by his fine translations of the poetry of Puskin, Lermontov, Griboedov, Polonskij, Tjutcev, and Merezkovskij, as well as by his articles and books on Russian painting and architecture. He was the f i r s t Czech to introduce his fellow-countrymen to Russian art. Taborsky's early collection, Poems, 2 contains one poem, "Geirrodh and Svjatogor,"· in which the figure of the central character and his magnificent strength are taken from the by liny. In contrast to Leger and Kvapil, who had represented Svjatogor as a symbol of brute, destructive strength, Taborsky made him a symbol of just and mighty Russia. Insulted by Geirrodh, the giant of the Scandinavian Eddas, Svjatogor at f i r s t ignores his taunts as beneath his dignity, but finally takes offense. Striding across the Baltic in a single step, he pays no heed to the terrified giant's protestations that he has always been Svjatogor's friend, picks him up, and ducks him in the sea. The political significance of the poem is not hard to discover: i f we may conclude that Svjatogor is a symbol of the Slavic world (and Taborsky calls him "Svjatogor nas, obricek to rusky"—"Our Svjatogor, our Russian giant"), then we may identify Geirrodh as a symbol of the Teutonic world. I t should be noted that this poem was written during the period of progressive disintegration of Russo-German relations which followed the Treaty of Berlin of 1878. Nothing 'but the figure of Svjatogor is taken from the byllny, and his character has been substantially changed. Here and there a line may suggest the by liny in i t s syntactic construction, but the parallels are far from certain: Vystrikly vystrikly postrikly a pobrezi

hned vlny polekane, az k nebi vysokemu, i hvezdy rozzarene kolem do daleka.

Realism

in Czech Poetry:

Taborsky

183

(At once the frightened waves sprayed up, Sprayed up to the veiy heavens, Sprayed even the shining stars, And round the shore far and wide.) Likewise Taborsky's "The Birds' Great Assembly"3 is based on a theme taken from the Russian starina, "The Birds," which, as we have seen, is a satire in which birds enact the roles of various classes and professions of human society. Taborsky could have come across this motif in the Russian epic songs themselves, but i t is even more probable that he knew i t from Celakovsky's translation of "The Birds" in the Slavic Folk Songs and in his "Hie Birds' Great Fair" from the Echo of Russian Songs, the t i t l e of which suggests Taborsky's own.4 Taborsky's t i t l e and the plan for his satire are in part also based on the New Council (Nova rada) of Smil Flaska ζ Pardubic, written in 1394 or 1395» 811 allegorical epic in which animals and birds gather to advise their king how best to keep the peace and care for the honor and welfare of his subjects. Unlike a l l these works, however, Ttfborsky's poem has a satiric plot. His birds long f o r freedom. To satisfy them their prince, the eagle, grants a charter embodying their l i b e r t i e s . But before the charter i s ready the lark, a poet, speaks and denounces the world they l i v e in as unjust and perverse. Enraged, and fearful of being regarded as revolutionaries, with the danger of losing the promised charter, the birds attack him and peck him to death. The prince then returns their charter, signed and sealed, and they hold a great feast, at which everyone gorges himself. Hie satire is l i v e l y and extremely vivid, humorous and moving by turns. Taborsky's greatest merit is his ability to write short, picturesque expressions and turns of speech, and the poem moves by virtue of these. This may have been suggested by the popular language of the Russian poem "The Birds" or of Celakovsky's poems, but the method and specific phrases are of course Taborsky's own,5 and the sharpest element in the satire. From the original starina only the device of equating the various species of birds to members of human society, on the basis of their size, shape, or appearance, has been preserved. There do not seem to be any specific correspondences in this, aside from the fact that the eagle is prince in both. But i t could hardly have been otherwise, for the only fundamental element of interest in "The Birds" is its equation of members of the bird world to human society; the details might be varied ad Infinitum, and for the sophisticated reader a plot must be added to sustain the interest. Nor do there seem to be any formal correspondences. Taborsky does not even follow the tradition of free verse, which began to reenter Czech l i t erature about this time, though he knew i t from his source,

184

Realism In Czech Poetry: T&horsky

"The Birds' Great Fair" of Celakovsky, and used i t himself in h i s translation of Puskin's "Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish." I t i s interesting to note how often the single poem, "Hie B i r d s , " i t s e l f something of a unique work in Russian f o l k l i t e r a t u r e , has reappeared during t h i s study. I t has been used, for one purpose or another, by Sumarokov, Puskin, Celakovsky, and Taborsky — by various schools: pseudo-classical, romantic and r e a l i s t i c ; by both Czechs and Russians. This cannot be explained by any fact of the occurrence or publication of the song i t s e l f , which i s no better known or no more widely circulated in print than many another Russian epic song; indeed, i t i s l e s s well known than many others about popular boiatyrs. Rather the explanation seems to l i e in the song's adaptability: i t i s limited by no plot or ending of i t s own. I t s s a t i r i c idea, i t s e l f not s p e c i f i c a l l y directed against any particular o b j e c t , could be u t i l i z e d by an author in any way he wished. Sumarokov and Taborsky used this.subj e c t s a t i r i c a l l y to show the perversity of the world. Celakovsky and Puskin, whose adaptations are only a year apart, used i t p l a y f u l l y rather than s a t i r i c a l l y . A certain amount of s a t i r e remains in t h e i r poems, but i t i s very general in character, as in the o r i g i n a l . Both unite the subject to a plot of t h e i r own invention, or one taken from other sources.

Chapter XII CZECH COSMOPOLITANISM AND NED-ROMANTICISM: JULIUS ZEYER NOT only has a separate chapter been reserved for Julius Zeyer because of his greater stature as an artist and his comparative lack of dependence on Czech Cosmopolitanism as a literary movement, in sharp contrast to the Cosmopolitanists discussed in Chapter X, but also because his reasons for turning to Russia and Russian folk literature were peculiarly his own. The works which he based on Russian subjects are strongly characteristic and individual in their nature, purpose, and choice of themes, and differ from any which have been discussed up to this time. Not only are Zeyer's reworkings of Russian folk tales independent of any earlier Czech writer of Russian ohlasy; they are even, so far as it is possible to tell, unsuggested by the very existence of previous Czech re-creations.They are the product of Zeyer's own love of Russia, a love which found its origin more in the springs of his nature than in the Czech political or social orientation of the day. Zeyer's special love for Russia began at an early age. Already in 1869, when he was only nineteen, he wrote to his friend, Kaspar, in Russia and asked him to insert an advertisement seeking a position for him as a tutor. His interest in Russia at this time seems to have been due to a youthful desire to travel and to see strange, exotic lands, but also in part may be due to the prominence of Russian literature, then at its peak. His letters sgeak of his intense longing to see Russia, and he writes to Kaspar in St. Petersburg: When I shall have grown tired of life there and shall be familiar with conditions I shall return to "Europe."... At least I shall have seen a bit of the world, which, it seems to me, may look somewhat different from what I see from the windows of my study.1 And again: I do not know what to do now, I am powerfully drawn on to Russia; I sit, so to speak, on the threshold, waiting until

186

Cosmopolitanism and Neo-Romantlclsm: Zeyer

the gates of the Slavic Mecca will open to ae; for me it is like Odysseus sitting on the banks of the sea.2 Much of Zeyer's longing to see Russia »ras due to a general desire to travel. A great part of his life was taken up by his travels, made to all parts of Europe. Life in Bohemia seems to have been too narrow for him, too restricting: his mind constantly longed for those exotic and foreign lands which he depicted in his works. He had already travelled through Germany and to Vienna, and he had heard of German students who journeyed to Russia with little or no money.3 The phrase, "Slavic Mecca," used by him, cannot be overlooked: it suggests both a religious association with Russia, one which became progressively stronger in Zeyer's later life, as well as a concept of Pan-Slavism. Zeyer's cosmopolitanism, his love of foreign lands and exotic tales, and his deeply religious character may make us lose sight of the fact that he was also a patriot and Pan-Slavist, though not, to be sure, in any strictly political sense, for he showed little concern for politics as such. But in a wider sense he had a keen interest in Pan-Slavic developments. The Russo-Turkish War affected his sensitive soul deeply. He wrote to Kaspar in December, 1877: My God, it was a frightful, horrible year. Slav blood flowed like water, and still there is no end to it, no certainty, no salvation. I cannot tell you what I have suffered. The Russian defeats and the triumphs of our bestial enemies have had such a crushing effect on me that I have fallen ill; I am so upset and exhausted as a result of constant sleeplessness.4 And when peace was already concluded, Zeyer felt the lack of success most painfully: God, that disillusion after the Berlin Congress. In truth I fell ill, and from that time I have been as if stupefied. I begin to have strong doubts about a better future for the Slav world. Everything and everyone is against us; in truth it is a heavy curse.5 But though Zeyer undoubtedly longed for Slavic unity, and though he loved Russia for her tremendous, if only potential strength, his Pan-Slavic feelings seem to have been characterized by that same sense of futility which almost everything in life gave him: The Germans do whatever they wish, the world now actually belongs to them. What tricks they play against Russia everywhere, and Russia does nothing. What trouble they [the Rus-

Cosmopolitanism

and Neo-Romanticlsm:

Zeyer

187

sians] could sake for them i f they set up something on the very border of Bohemia. And i f they l e f t off the persecution of the Poles, then they could have a fine dance in Germany i t s e l f , in Poznan, for example. But they are not even interested in the Russians in Hungary.6 Zeyer's lifelong attraction to Russia can be scarcely understood without a comprehension of his deeply religious, almost mystical nature. This question, the subject of a special monograph,7 would take us too far afield for lengthy discussion here. Zeyer's mysticism was a typically fln-deslecle phenomenon, but that did not make i t any the less real or strong, and he passed through an intense spiritual c r i s i s during the 1880's, a f t e r which his b e l i e f became firmer, and lasted t i l l the end of his l i f e . He was strongly sensual by nature, as his writings bear witness, and was therefore greatly preoccupied with r i t u a l elements in r e ligion. Hence the Russian Orthodox Church made a strong appeal to him, and for a time he considered joining i t . 8 Typical was his request to Kaspar to send him objects from Russian churches, old lamps, ikons, even an ikon-screen. In these t r a i t s of his character will be found much of the explanation of his attraction to Russia. I t was a religious one, and in Russia Zeyer found what he sought: a union of mysticism, estheticism, and simple, unquestioning faith, undisturbed by any questionings of reason. This was a combination «Aich no longer existed in Europe. And hence Russia remained for him his favorite land; he returned to i t many times, and a f t e r each trip he longed to v i s i t i t anew. Zeyer made four trips to Russia during his lifetime. His f i r s t disappointment at not being able to find a position there was short-lived. In 1873 he unexpectedly inherited a few hundred francs and set out for S t . Petersburg in the hope that, once there, he could find something: upon his a r rival he soon obtained a place with Prince Golicyn as a reader and clipper of foreign newspaper a r t i c l e s on economic questions, but, dissatisfied with the work, he soon exchanged i t for the position of tutor and companion to the son of Count Yaluev, a minister. His l i f e with the Valuevs was a l most ideal; they were educated, sensitive people who befriended Zeyer at once, and the husband had a thorough acquaintance with Russian l i t e r a t u r e , was himself a writer of novels, and encouraged the young Zeyer, s t i l l uncertain of his vocation, to continue writing. 9 But becoming homesick for Prague, Zeyer returned the same year he had gone. At once he longed for Russia again, but financial d i f f i c u l t i e s prevented his return. I t i s to this period that Zeyer's interest in Russian folklore, his greatest single interest in Russian literature and

188

Cosmopolitanism

and Neo-Romantids«:

Zeyer

the c h i e f source of h i s "Russian" works, belongs. On his f i r s t a r r i v a l in S t . Petersburg in 1873 Zeyer stayed with his friend Kaspar, who was living at the house of an Old Bel i e v e r . Of t h e i r association with their landlord Kaspar writes: We lived on Vasilovskij Ostrov at the house of the Old Bel i e v e r Subin . . . who told us many fine things about his family and l i f e in the North; he also explained the Old Believers' faith and r i t e s , a l l of which interested Zeyer greatly, so that he thought but l i t t l e of home.10 Whether Count Valuev also played a part in cultivating t h i s interest i s uncertain, but i t might well have been he who f i r s t pointed out the collections and studies of folklore which Zeyer l a t e r acquired and studied so carefully. In 1880, a f t e r the Russo-Turkish War, Zeyer found a place as tutor to the son of a Russian general, Popov. But his relation with h i s employers was far from happy, and on receiving word of his mother's death, early in 1881, he l e f t for home. But soon his desire to return took l i f e again; he was even sorry that he l e f t the Popovs. 11 Now he wanted to see the Crimea and the Caucasus, but lack of money prevented him. Only in 1893 did he return, now as a tourist. He travelled for five months, going to Kiev, down the Dniepr, through Crimea, and to the Caucasus. Probably i t was on t h i s t r i p that Zeyer heard the blind singer recite the song of Aleksej, the man of God, as he t e l l s us in his rendering of that t a l e . In 1899 Zeyer returned to Russia for the last time, again as a t r a v e l l e r , this time remaining only for the summer, stopping in Moscow, along the Volga, and in the Crimea. In our emphasis on the Russian aspects of Zeyer's work we must not lose sight of the fact that Russia was but one of the many countries which he loved and in which he travelled, and Russian influences but one group of many foreign elements which went into the making of his works. Yet Russia was probably his favorite land, and Russian l i f e presented him with an enigma which intrigued him, the enigma of the Russian character, far from Zeyer's more western mind. I t i s as an attempt to solve this enigma that we may perhaps best understand his work and the painstaking study of folklore, ancient works of l i t e r a t u r e and modern as well, a l l of which went into his writings. Creation on the basis of Russian themes was far more d i f f i c u l t for him, a westerner by birth and education, than any other. The religious solution of this enigma we will find in his work.

Cosmopolitanism

and Neo-Romantlcism:

Song of the Revenge

Hie Song of the Revenge for Igor12

for

Zeyer

189

Igor

i s the f i r s t work o f

Zeyer's to show the influence of the Russian folk epic, though i t i s not the f i r s t to be based on Russian themes. Ondrej CernySev (1875), a novel of the time of Catherine the Great, and Darija (1879), a tale of the Russian society which Zeyer learned to know during his f i r s t two v i s i t s to Russia, had preceded i t . I t i s impossible to say accurately when Zeyer wrote the Song of the Revenge for Igor,

but probably i t

was in 1881, a f t e r his return from his second journey to Russ i a . Presumably Zeyer f i r s t learned to know the story of Olga and her t e r r i b l e revenge for her slain husband from Erben1s Czech translation of the Primary Russian Chronicle (1867), 1 3 but i t is certain that he also used Russian sources in the composition of the work, specifically F. Giljarov's Ancient Historical

and Poetic

narratives

of the Russian

Land

(1872),

which also contained the tale of Olga's vengeance; The Sainted

and Blessed

Russian

Historic

Grand Princess

Ol'ga

(supplement t o Mir-

skoj vestnik, 1862), from which he took the tale of Olga's youth and her meeting with Igor; and I . P. Khruscev's On Old Tales

and narratives

( 1 8 7 8 ) . A l l o f these

works were l a t e r found in the poet's library. I t i s also probable that he used the Lavrent'evskij text of the Chronicle,

and Ε. V. B a r s o v ' s Laments of the Northern

Country (1872),

which he used in writing Olga's lament for her dead husband.14 The range of these works suggests the extent of Zeyer's famili a r i t y with Russian scholarly literature, as well as the great care with which he prepared himself for his task. The subject could not help but intrigue him; the tale i s one of the longe s t and most d e t a i l e d o f a l l in the Primary Russian

Chronicle,

and the version given there i s already presumably a borrowing from an e a r l i e r folk narrative or epos; 15 the raw material of h i s t o r i c a l fact has already been organized into a finished a r t i s t i c form, and a l a t e r writer such as Zeyer could u t i l i z e i t without the necessity for making those distortions and omissions which, even i f necessary for a r t i s t i c unity, a conscientious a r t i s t s t i l l hesitates to make. Perhaps this i s the most perfect and absorbing tale in a l l early Russian l i t erature, and Zeyer, with his well-known preference for women with strong passions, could not help but be attracted by the character of Olga, whose cruelty interested him. Zeyer retains a l l the main elements of the chronicle t a l e , translating nearly a l l of the numerous speeches and intermingling them with material of his own invention. He f e l t free, however, to depart from the Chronicle in two significant respects: in the addition of invented detail and ornament, and in strengthening the psychological side of the original, in particular the motivation of the personages and their characterization.

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Cosmopolitanism and Meo-Romanticlsm:

Zeyer

Viskovataja believes that i t i s possible Zeyer o r i g i n a l l y intended to model the verse on the Russian by liny.16 The comparatively frequent use of the fixed epithet, and in particul a r of many fixed epithets employed in the byliny themselves, leaves l i t t l e doubt that these poems influenced the work's s t y l e . 1 7 But i t i s doubtful that he ever planned to model his verse on them, as Viskovataja argues. The somewhat "special" metre which she attributes to this work turns out, upon examination, to be nothing but a completely regular, unrhymed trochaic pentameter, the t r a d i t i o n a l Czech epic metre of the RIZ, based on the Serb ten-syllable epic metre. This metre served in Czech poetry not only as a traditional metre f o r the composition of Czech epic subjects, but f o r Czech reworkings o f epic subjects o f the other Slavic peoples. I t s use in Celakovsky's "Potok" and in Gebauer1s translations of the Russian byliny has already been mentioned. Kvapil likewise used i t , along with other trochaic metres. Hence i t i s the Czech tradition Zeyer has relied on, rather than that of the Russian byliny. Besides the extreme d i f f i c u l t y which a f r e e r rhythm would have given a Czech poet of his day, neither his special love f o r the sounds of words and t h e i r images nor his psychological development of the work could have e a s i l y been reconciled to the rough metre and s t y l e of the byliny. Not that the task would have been impossible, but f o r i t s successf u l undertaking a poet o f greater powers than Zeyer had would have been required. Zeyer opens his t a l e with a gloomy and foreboding picture o f Kiev, in which there are several fixed epithets from the byliny: Hustd mlha l e z i nad Kyjevem, krvave zapada ν snehu slunce, posmurne se diva zlaty Perun, jehoz hlavu o b l e t u j i vrany, dolu s chlumu na udatni reky, kteri zbrane svoje s t i t y , skvosty k noham jeho kladou, prisahaji blede Olze poddanost a vernost. Bild labuf Olga beze slova s t o j i podeprena ο v e r e j e . (A thick fog lay over Kiev, Bloodily the sun sank in the snow, Gloomily golden Perun looked down, His·head surrounded by f l y i n g crows, From his summit onto the valiant heroes, Who placed their weapons, shields and jewels At his f e e t , swearing To pale Olga devotion and f i d e l i t y . Without a word the white swan Olga Stood leaning against a door post.)

Cosmopolitanism

and Meo-Romantlclsm: Zeyer

191

The f i r s t l i n e s remind us of the description of Prague in "Oldrich and Boleslav" from the RK, and of the poems of Macha and Erben which were l i k e w i s e based upon i t . "Oldrich and Boleslav": A j , v s ' a Praha mlcie ν jutrniem spani, Vltava se kurie ν ranniej pare. (Ah, a l l Prague lay s i l e n t in morning sleep, The Vltava lay smoking in the morning m i s t . ) The r e l a t i o n of Zeyer's introduction to t h i s passage i s c l e a r : both describe a c i t a d e l high above a r i v e r , while the c i t y and r i v e r l i e waiting in a n t i c i p a t i o n , as i t were, of the coming of great and dramatic events. In s i l e n c e Olga receives the news of the death of Igor, s l a i n by the Drevlanians when he attempted to c o l l e c t a g r e a t e r t r i b u t e from them. Zeyer omits t h i s l a s t d e t a i l , found in the Chronicle; presumably too great a complication of the moral issue of the story was against h i s purpose, and he was not interested in the r e l a t i v e j u s t i c e of the two s i d e s . O l g a ' s maidens come in to her, and a dialogue follows which i s modelled on Russian funeral laments, reproduced from Barsov's work. 1 8 In one of the Russian laments death i s personified in three aspects: as a young w i f e , a b e a u t i f u l g i r l , or as a kallka perekhoztj, a wandering p i l g r i m . 1 9 Z e y e r retained t h i s conception of death as personified in three forms, as w e l l as many of the images of the folk laments, but has varied the forms in which death may appear in order to i n t e g r a t e them more c l o s e l y to the narrative: in h i s work i t takes the forms of a famished woman,20 a brave s o l d i e r , and a merchant. Zeyer reproduced the f o l k laments f o r s e v e r a l reasons. F i r s t , the introduction of the lament allowed him to depict the v i o l e n c e of Olga's g r i e f and furthered the psychological development of the n a r r a t i v e . And second, by taking h i s l a ment from Russian f o l k sources, Zeyer gave i t the stamp of a u t h e n t i c i t y without l o s s to the poetic e f f e c t and unity of the whole. As w i l l be seen l a t e r , he had an e s p e c i a l i n t e r e s t in the funeral r i t e s of the Russian people, not only because he wished to acquaint Czech readers with them, but a l s o because h i s e n t i r e poem i s constructed upon them: they provide the unity of h i s work and i t s a r t i s t i c " p o i n t . " He has even preserved the f u l l r i t u a l character of the lament: i t does not spring a t once from O l g a ' s heart, but i s prompted by the form questions put to her by her maidens. l a t e r , however, Olga's lament becomes i n d i v i d u a l i z e d , and Zeyer seeks to suggest the motive f o r her revenge: i t i s her passionate love f o r her husband, a love which w i l l destroy her with i t s very violence i f vengeance i s not f u l f i l l e d .

192

Cosmopolitanism

and Meo-Romantlclsm:

Zeyer

And Igor has been buried without the necessary funeral r i t e s . Olga's desire for vengeance cannot be quieted t i l l these neglected rites have been performed. Hie Greek preacher, offering Olga the path of Christian salvation tor her g r i e f , a path which she rejects until her vengeance shall be accomplished, is Zeyer1s own conception. In introducing him Zeyer was not merely yielding to a sentimental whim; rather he sought to unite a l l of Olga's l i f e into a psychologically explicable unity: her later acceptance of Christianity is a direct consequence of her act of revenge, the wild passion of which, once spent, could yield only to madness or religious salvation. Hence Zeyer has organized his material into a far wider unity than that achieved by the Chronicle, which gives us only a series of tales, and is not concerned with psychological analysis; Zeyer united these separate tales into the psychologically interrelated actions of a living woman. The coming of the Drevlanian envoys to propose that Olga marry their prince, Mai, returns us to the Chronicle narrat i v e . Zeyer has translated the speeches of the envoys in the Chronicle and reset them in longer speeches of his own fashioning: Primary

Russian

Chronicle

(Erben's translation): Muze tveho jsme z a b i l i , neb rauz tvfij byl jako vlk dravy a loupezny.

Zeyer's Son! of the Revenue for

I tor:

Ubili jsme proto muze tveho, proto, He jak vlk näs napad1 drave, ν porobu nas uvrh1. (We have killed your hus(We have killed your husband, band, for your husband was Because he f e l l on us like a rapacious wolf, like a rapacious and thieving wolf.) Hurled us into submission.)

The passages inserted between these adapted speeches serve to individualize the characters or to supply ornament. Most vivid in Zeyer's version (though not found in any original) is the poetic, dreamy brother of Prince Mai, who comes with the envoys and who seeks to persuade Olga to return with them through his nostalgic descriptions of his native land. In the Chronicle Olga t e l l s the envoys that the Russians w i l l carry them to her the next day in their own boat, as a sign of honor which she wishes to accord them. In pagan Russia the boat was a symbol of dual significance. First, i t was a sign of honor, strength, and pride; second, i t was a symbol of death, since the Russians were often buried in boats. 21 Hence Olga's proposal takes the form of a riddle which the Drevlanian envoys are unable to solve. On the surface the proposal implied honor shown toward the envoys, but i t s deeper s i g n i f i -

Cosmopolitanism and Neo-Ronanticism: Zeyer

193

cance was that they should die. The Drevlanian matchmakers, unable to guess the riddle, are therefore again condemned to death, the customary fate of matchmakers or suitors in folk tales who cannot guess the riddle propounded to them.22 Here again we are reminded that the narrative about Olga is taken from an older narrative or epos. Zeyer has not entirely understood the use of the boat as a pretended sign of honor and respect, and his heroine seeks to justify her offer on the invented pretext that the Drevlanians1 boat is an enchanted one, which she is curious to see. But later he supplies a ritual reason: the boat, hurled into the pit with the envoys in it, is a sacrifice to Igor, and is intended to serve him in the world to come. This was in accordance with the Slav custom of burning or burying their dead together with their wives, slaves, houses, cattle, weapons, and everything which might be of use to them. One of the objects customarily buried was the boat.23 Thus, in Zeyer's poem Olga's vengeance takes a particular form: she is performing those rites which have been neglected for her husband. The burial alive of the envoys springs from a similar motive: Igor had been left unburied. 24 Zeyer's insistence on the depiction of rites continues throughout the poem. With this he sought to give his work artistic and psychological unity. With every act of Olga's vengeance she performs a rite which has been neglected at the death of Igor. To a large extent her vengeance must be conceived as motivated, not by egoistic cruelty, but from religious reasons. That this is the sense of the narrative in the Chronicle we cannot doubt, though presumably it was hidden from the Christian chronicler, who does not mention it. Kotljarevskij writes: His soul [Igor's] demanded not only revenge, but also the appeasement of funeral honors and sacrifices, and this, it seems, governed the actions of 01'ga; she brings the Drevlanian envoys as a sacrifice to the unplacated soul of her dead husband, performing the religious funeral rites over them while they are still alive." In view of Zeyer's great interest in funeral rites, it would seem highly probable that he knew Kotljarevskij's book, published in Prague, rather than that he intuitively sensed the hidden meaning of Olga's vengeance; in either case, however, to him belongs the credit for having perceived the full artistic possibilities of this explanation, shedding light on Olga's character and her actions, and uniting the isolated events of the tale into an artistic whole. Olga's next act of revenge is likewise explained by this principle. Hie Slavs not only buried their dead; they also

194

Cosmopolitanism,

and Neo-Romanttclsm:

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burned the·. As in the Chronicle, Olga, pretending that the f i r s t envoys are s t i l l alive, asks the Drevlanians to send more, f i t t i n g to conduct her to their city, Korosten. Receiving the·, she invites the· to enjoy the refreshment of a bath. When the Drevlanians are a l l in the bath the doors are locked and the building set on f i r e . Here again the burning of the envoys serves to compensate for the rite of burning, a r i t e neglected for Igor. The bath likewise had a dual symbolism for the pagan Russians. On one hand i t represented a great honor accorded to guests; on the other i t was a symbol of death, torture, and revenge. This is the origin of the pun which i s placed in the mouth of St. Andrew the Apostle in the Chronicle, who, beholding the ancient bathing customs of the Russians, remarked that i t was torment (mucenle), and not bathing (mouenle). Thus, Olga's invitation to bathe was likewise a riddle, the significance of which the envoys were unable to guess.26 Olga then sets out for Igor's grave, to meet Prince Mai and to perform funeral rites over the grave of her dead husband. Olga gives way to wild g r i e f , then proceeds to the r i t e s . The pouring of a libation of wine, described by Zeyer, was an actual ceremonial rite performed by the Slavs in honor of the dead.27 As in the Chronicle, the Drevlanians soon become drunk and f a l l an easy prey to Olga's men. Again, Olga's vengeance has a ritual significance: i t is necessary to provide the dead Igor with slaves and horses. The combination of a great feast with the performance of the death rites again represents a dual symbolization of marriage, which Olga pretends in her riddles to accept, and of death.28 Only Mai escapes and reports the horrible deed to his people, who prepare for defense. Olga besieges the city for the whole summer, but cannot take i t . Finally she proposes peace. The words of her o f f e r are taken almost l i t e r a l l y from the Chronicle:

Erben's translation: Ceho chcete se dosedeti? vsak vase mesta vsecka vzdala se mne, i podvolila se k dani, a zdelavaji nivy sve a zeme sve; a vy chcete promriti hladem, nepodvolice se k dani.

(What w i l l you attain by

Κ cemu chcete dale se mi branit, k cemu krev polevat, hladem hynout? CeLsi vase zeme jest j i z moji, plati dan a z i j e opet ν miru, role svoje vzdelava i sady jako drive . . . Prijdle tez a smluvime se k smiru. (Why do you wish to resist me,

Cosmopolitanism

and Meo-Romanticlsm:

s i t t i n g ? All your c i t i e s have surrendered t o me, and subm i t t e d to t r i b u t e , and now c u l t i v a t e t h e i r f i e l d s and t h e i r lands; but you wish to d i e with hunger, not submitting to t r i b u t e . )

Zeyer

195

Why shed blood and p e r i s h with hunger? All your land i s now mine, Pays t r i b u t e and l i v e s in peace, C u l t i v a t e s i t s f i e l d s and orchards As b e f o r e . . . Come and we s h a l l agree t o peace.)

As in the Chronicle, the Drevlanians o b j e c t t h a t she only wishes to revenge h e r s e l f f o r h e r husband. In the Chronicle she answers t h a t she i s already revenged t h r i c e over, and seeks revenge no more. Zeyer adds t o t h i s an eloquent p i c t u r e of her longing t o r e t u r n home, doubtless t o make h e r speech more b e g u i l i n g and t o add an even more s i n i s t e r c h a r a c t e r to her s u b t l e t y . The Drevlanians o f f e r to pay t r i b u t e in honey and f u r s . But, a s in the o r i g i n a l , Olga t e l l s them t h a t she w i l l have p i t y on them, s i n c e they have nothing t o pay, and asks only t h r e e doves and t h r e e sparrows from each c o u r t . Receiving them, she has matches t i e d t o each. Flying back, they s e t f i r e to the c i t y . As the i n h a b i t a n t s f l e e t o the g a t e s , the Russians f a l l on them and slay them. A l l t h i s i s taken d i r e c t l y from the o r i g i n a l ; f o r Zeyer, the v a s t s c a l e of t h i s c r u e l t y and ingenuity s e r v e s a s a measure of O l g a ' s love and personal d e s i r e f o r vengeance. Here r i t u a l reasons can no longer be brought in e x p l a n a t i o n ; 2 9 the r i t u a l demands have a l r e a d y been f u l f i l l e d , and Zeyer now p a i n t s a powerful p i c t u r e of Olga's personal t h i r s t f o r revenge. Returning home, Olga renounces h e r passion and h e r vengeance; now she w i l l be a good r u l e r , a good mother; now she w i l l accept C h r i s t i a n i t y . She has a sense of t h e g r e a t wrong she has committed and a passionate wish to f o r g e t in the new faith. In the c h a r a c t e r of Olga, Zeyer has attempted to d e p i c t a unique, extremely complex being, a n a t u r e which could embrace t h e g r e a t e s t love, passion, and c r u e l t y , but which could a l s o turn these passions to good. In g e n e r a l , what we may d e s c r i b e as Zeyer's "psychologism," h i s attempt to portray complex p e r s o n a l i t i e s and t o probe t h e i r motivations, tends toward a simple, perhaps even i l l o g i c a l acceptance of s t r i k i n g cont r a s t s . One maytspeak of the dualism of many of h i s c h a r a c t e r s . He h i m s e l f , i t must be remembered, struggled to reconc i l e j u s t such i r r a t i o n a l l y opposed extremes in h i s own n a t u r e . In the d e p i c t i o n of t h e c h a r a c t e r of Olga he has been only p a r t l y s u c c e s s f u l . O l g a ' s C h r i s t i a n i t y seems too easy a s a l v a t i o n , compared with the h o r r o r s which she has wrought. And Zeyer himself did not attempt t o excuse o r diminish

196

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these horrors; rather he painted them in the boldest colors and has even showed how Olga's own subjects are revolted at her cruelty. In this way he has increased the esthetic e f f e c t , and the contrast between Olga's cruelty and the r e a l i zation that, once her love and sense of duty and vengeance are s a t i s f i e d , these forces may be turned to good, i s extremely s t r i k i n g , i f not e n t i r e l y successful. Olga i s mode l l e d on the c o n f l i c t s in Zeyer's own nature which must have a f f e c t e d him during his religious c r i s i s . The f i e r c e passions of t h i s world, wild and beautiful though they are, w i l l destroy us by t h e i r very violence unless we subdue them, unless we turn from them to Christianity. Note that the Soni of the Revenge for Iior was written only several years before the climax of Zeyer's own r e l i g i o u s c r i s i s , which presumably originated from the same c o n f l i c t of unresolved elements in his nature. And in relating the work to Zeyer 1 s own character, i t must not be forgotten that his interest in funeral r i t e s , the dominating motif of the work, may well proceed from his personal fear of death, a fear which haunted the l a t t e r part o f his l i f e . Zeyer has c l e a r l y perceived that his Olga i s such a powerf u l character that she must stand at the very center of the narrative. Thus the murder of Igor, which might easily have tempted a lesser poet to depict i t in a dramatic scene, i s only b r i e f l y reported in the poem. The scene opens on Olga in Kiev. Not only did Russian sources influence the content and form of the plot and o f particular passages, they penetrated to the s t y l e of the work i t s e l f . We have already commented on the frequent use of fixed epithets, many of them taken d i r e c t ly from the Russian byliny, such as: bila labut' (white swan), blla hadra (white breast), syrä zeme (damp earth), sira plan (broad p l a i n ) , bila ruka (white hand), cernS lesy (black f o r e s t s ) , krutd smrt (cruel death), sumnd voda (murmuring water), bujnä hlava (high-spirited head), zvucny hlas (resonant v o i c e ) , et cetera. Doubtless Zeyer desired to give the work an authentic Russian f l a v o r , as well as the stamp of antiquity which these expressions l e n t . But aside from these he used few Russianisms or devices of Russian folk poetry. And h i s use o f fixed epithets i t s e l f i s completely organic: he did not use the epithet f o r i t s own sake as a pure device, but f o r the image i t gave, often fresh and striking when introduced into Czech. The fixed epithet i s almost the only dev i c e of Russian f o l k poetry used consistently in Czech pastiches of the second h a l f of the nineteenth century. I t was the easiest device to use: i t did not f e t t e r the form, could be repeated or omitted at w i l l as a rhythmic alternant, and often gave a quite o r i g i n a l and striking e f f e c t when reproduced in Czech.

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Bat some passages of the Son£ for the Revenge for Hor do recall the Russian epic. Zeyer was fond of comparisons to objects of nature, and indeed his comparisons nearly always relate to natural objects, a feature of the Russian epic poems: trasla se jak strora, kdyz blesk ho mine (It shook like a tree, when the lightning passes it) hrda jako orel nad oblaky, velebna jak zora na severu (Proud as an eagle above the clouds, Magnificent as the glow in the north) dupot jejich konü snici stepi zadunel jak rachoceni hromu. (Hie trample of horses over the dreaming steppe Roared like the pounding of thunder.) But such comparisons are always formed with like or as, and do not employ the varied devices of syntax and parallelism which the byllny use. Some passages suggest the Russian epic by their breadth, power and content: Zadunela zeme mocnjTn padem, kolibaly lesy sumne hlavy, (The earth thundered with the heavy fall, The woods rocked their rustling heads,) rychle pluli modiym proudem Dnepru, hustym lesen kaceli si cestu, jako vitr hnali kvetnou stepi. (Swiftly they sailed along the blue current of the Dniepr, They broke their way through the thick forest, Like wind they rushed over the flowering steppe.) Ihe sources of these passages are rather to be found in the RIZ, however, in Czech epic poetry of the tradition of the RKZ, and perhaps in the Lay of Hor's Raid, rather than in the Russian folk epos itself.30 Zeyer's work is almost completely organic. Unlike Kvapil or Leger, he has not tried to impose his own logic on an ancient tale; rather he has studied it carefully and let it grow within the frame of his imagination. Ihe added details either follow logically, or flow from the necessity for psychological characterization and motivation, which the originals avoid altogether; or are poetic ornaments and details

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which result from a painstaking study of the landscape and the customs of the times. 31 Hie style, too, is in keeping with the subject. I t may perhaps be objected that the addition of psychological development and ornament is a violation of the spirit of the original. Perhaps, but i f one refuses to admit the desirability for these, he would do away with a l l necessity for a modern reworking of the subject; a simple translation of the narrative in the Chronicle, a perfect work of art in i t s e l f , would have sufficed. Zeyer has succeeded in the d i f f i c u l t task of creating a human being where the Chronicle gives us only a deviser of ingenious stratagems. That he has succeeded so completely is in i t s e l f a great merit. He was not always able to avoid the romantic sentimentality of the day, which is so strongly out of keeping with the o r i g i nals. Thus, the Drevlanian children and maidens come forth from the city with sparrows chirping on their shoulder.32 But the larger outlines of Zeyer's tale are certainly faithful to the original, or do not violate its s p i r i t . AlexeJ,

Man of God

A gap of seventeen years l i e s between the Song of the Revenge

for

Igor

and Alexej,

Man of

God.33

Why was t h i s gap so

long, when Zeyer had already produced three works on Russian subjects between 1872 and 1882, and was destined to write three more at the very close of his l i f e ? Though Zeyer1s interest in Russian written literature was great, he never produced a work under i t s influence. In spite of his love for Russia, he remained a Westerner, and the influence of the literature of Western Europe was always predominant in his work. Russian religious and psychological novels offered him much, to be sure, and Zeyer is known to have read Tolstoj and Dostoevskij. 34 But he neither desired nor was he capable of the intense psychological analysis to which these authors submitted their heroes; his own kind of psychological analysis was external, concerned with the conf l i c t of the sharper, more primitive passions and desires, and not given to the complex subtleties of the great Russian novelists. Tolstoj's later writings might have helped him, but these were finished works in themselves, not capable of further refinement or development. Zeyer rather sought mater i a l s which could be reworked. Hence, in seeking to understand the enigma of the Russian people and its deeply r e l i gious sentiment, Zeyer turned to folk literature. For a long time he contemplated a study or adaptation of the by liny. "You ask me i f I am s t i l l reading Russian," he wrote to Vrchlicky on March 12, 1881. "Well, I am; I want to make a thorough study of the Crimea and of the Russian bogatyrs of the Vladimir cycle. 4 ' 35 In 1896 he again wrote: " L i f e is flying

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past so, the end is approaching, and I s t i l l have two or three works near to my heart, which I would like to leave behind me: f i r s t there i s my Mysterium, and then the Russian epos. 1,36 And in 1898 he seems to have been contemplating an adaptation of the by liny, and writes to Kaspar on April 4 : "But I need a copy of the Orthodox l i t u r g y . . . . I am at l a s t writing those 1bogatyrs1 from the byllny, and I need i t for that, for the sake of one episode." 37 More probably Zeyer used this liturgy in the composition of Alexej, Man of God, but he could scarcely be using the term "bogatyrs" (in quotation marks in the l e t t e r ) to apply only to that work. Perhaps he contemplated a whole series of pastiches of the byllny, which he never lived to complete. Hie study and a r t i s t i c use of Russian folk literature were doubtless d i f f i c u l t for him, a Westerner by education, unacquainted with the Russian common people and far from Russian folk l i t erature by a r t i s t i c preference. We have already seen how carefully he prepared himself for writing the Song of the Revenge for Igor. A study or adaptation of the byllny would have required a preparation equally careful, and i t i s more than doubtful i f Zeyer, deeply religious and a confirmed romantic, could have produced anything a r t i s t i c a l l y worth while from them. Perhaps his consciousness of this fact kept him from going further. Some time before 1898 he discovered the Russian religious songs, and these, though they required equally thorough study and careful reworking, promised better results in his hands. Presumably he neglected the byllny in their favor. Alexej, Man of God i s an adaptation of the Russian religious epic poems, while Song of the ffoe of the Good Youth, Roman Vasilic i s in a s p i r i t closely related to them. I t i s worthy of note, moreover, that Zeyer 1 s works on Russian themes f a l l into two chronological groups. The f i r s t three, written between 1873- an d 1882, are a l l chiefly of a non-folk character. Ondrej iernyeev, a novel, i s based largely on documents and l e t t e r s , the t a l e Darija on Zeyer's personal experience in Russia, and the song about Igor on ancient Russian l i t e r a t u r e . Only in the l a s t did he begin to show folk influences. In contrast, the l a t t e r group, also consisting of three works and published in 1899-1900, shows the dominant influence of folk literature throughout. Quite possibly the intervening period was required for Zeyer to become acquainted with Russian folk literature and develop a l i t e r a i y technique for reworking i t . Presumably Alexej, Man of God i s a reflection of Zeyer's trip to Russia in 1892, when he journeyed down the Dniepr. The t a l e opens with the author, a skeptical "man of the world," travelling on a Russian steamer. On the boat he f i r s t sees the kaliki perekhozle and hears their songs, and finally the song of Alexej. 3 8 One questions i f this introduction i s necessary.

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Zeyer's tale is a powerful one, and the ending especially is spoiled by the sentimental description of the effect of the tale on the "»an of the world's" emotions. Probably Zeyer felt the necessity to explain to the unenlightened who the

kallkl perekhoile were.39

Nor did Zeyer confine himself to the song about Alexej. He has worked five other religious songs into the tale, subordinating them completely to that of Alexej, however, so as to produce a perfect unity. In the introduction he gives a fairly literal reworking of several variants of the song, "Christ's Ascension."40 "Christ's Ascension": Zeyer: Kak voznessja Khristos na Kdyz na nebe Kristus ystunebesa, P°v&l, rozplakali se horkym Razplakalas' niscaja bratija, placem, zebraci, bratri, rozRazplakalis' bednye-ubogie, plakali se placem horkym slepye i khromye; ubozi a bidni, slepi a chromi, Uz ty istinny Khristos, Car' a ν placi zvolali: 0, ty nebesny! Kriste^ νpravde jsi ty car Cem my budem bednye pitat'sja? nebesky! 0, rci nam,5im my^ Cem my budem bednye odevat'chudi zivi budem ted', kdo nas sja, obuvat'sja? odeje a obuje? (When Christ ascended to (When Christ ascended to Heaven, Heaven, there wept with bitThe brotherhood of beggars ter tears the beggars, brothwept, ers; the poor and unfortunate The poor and unfortunate, wept with bitter tears, and the blind and lame wept: cried: "Oh, Christ, truly "Thou art the true Christ, thou art Lord of Heaven! Tell the Lord of Heaven! us how we, the poor, will What will we, the poor, eat? live; who will give us clothWhat will we have to put on7")ing?") Christ offers to leave them the great wealth of the world. But St. -John the Evangelist has better counsel: instead of wealth Christ should leave the beggars his name, in which they may ask for alms. Christ finally accepts this advice. The song sets the tone for the coming tale of poverty and renunciation. Zeyer's translation is almost literal, but never slavishly so; the rough, strong metre of the original he has reproduced throughout in poetic prose. The effect is much smoother and less striking, but still pleasing and far better suited to the ornamental effects in which Zeyer delighted than any more literal reproduction of the Russian metre might have been. At the author's request, the old man begins the tale of Alexej. For this tale Zeyer used the versions found in Bessonov's collection.41 He did not use the numerous Western

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201

European v e r s i o n s of the i n t e r n a t i o n a l l y known t a l e . * 2 V i s k o v a t a j a suggests t h a t he d e l i b e r a t e l y sought to c u l t i v a t e the s i m p l i c i t y and d i r e c t n e s s of the f o l k v e r s i o n s , and t h e r e f o r e ignored w r i t t e n v e r s i o n s . 4 3 This may well be t h e reason which the poet kept b e f o r e h i m s e l f , but none the l e s s h i s version i s l i t e r a r y in c h a r a c t e r , and he did not hold himself s t r i c t l y to the s i m p l i c i t y of the f o l k o r i g i n a l s . In h i s mind, presumably, the work was inseparably a s s o c i a t e d with Russia and the r e l i g i o u s psychology of the Russian peop l e , and hence he did not wish to use o t h e r s o u r c e s . For the beginning of h i s s t o r y Zeyer holds t o v a r i a n t 29 i n Bessonov f a i r l y l i t e r a l l y : Vo slavnom vo gorode Ryme, P r i c a r e bylo p r i Onorie, Z i l celovek blagocestny, Veliki E f i m ' j a n k n j a z ' ; Supruga ego Aglaida. i i l i o n i mnogija l e t a U nikh ne bylo d e t i s c e ni edinago. M o l i l i s j a Bogu so slezami: Sozdaj Ty nam, Gospodi, cado. P r i mladosti nam na pogl.i adnen' e , P r i s t a r o s t i nam na sberezen'e. P r i smertnom casu na pomin dus! (In t h e g l o r i o u s c i t y of Rome, In the time of Tsar Honorius, There l i v e d a man of p i e t y , The g r e a t Prince E f i m ' j a n , And h i s w i f e , Aglaida. They l i v e d many y e a r s , But had not a s i n g l e c h i l d . They prayed t o God with tears: Give u s , Lord, a c h i l d , For us to look a t in our youth, For our support in our old age, To honor our s o u l s a t the hour of our d e a t h ! )

v . . . bylo to ν slavnein meste Rim? za cara Honoria, i e ν p a l a c i svem belokamennem z i l Efimian, o r e l , k n i z e mocny a bohaty, se svou zenou dobrou, s krasavici Aglaidou.... Z i l t ' Efimian se svou zenou uz dlouhou radu l e t . . . d i t e k vsak u nich n e b y l o . . . . Efimian z a l o v a l Bohu ν n i t r u svem. Nedas nam, Pane, syna, vzd^chaval, aby byl r a d o s t i n a s i ν l e t e c h j e s t e mladych, aby ν s t a r ! nasem nam byl pomoci a posleze utechou a pozehnanim na l o z i smrtelnem.

( . . . in the g l o r i o u s c i t y , Rome, under Tsar Honorius, t h e r e dwelt in h i s w h i t e walled palace Efimian, the e a g l e , a prince mighty and wealthy, with h i s good w i f e , the b e a u t i f u l A g l a i d a . . . . Efimian had lived with h i s wife f o r many y e a r s , but had no c h i l d r e n . . . . Efimian complained to God in h i s h e a r t : '"TCiou g i v e s t us no son, 0 Lord," 1 he signed, "to be our joy in our youth, o u r help in our old age, and f i n a l l y , our comfort and b l e s s i n g on our deathbed.")

202

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Further on he adds elements of his own invention, such as the «other's promise that the child, i f granted them, w i l l be more God's than theirs. Three old men appear at the child's birth, come to prophesy Alexej's future. These innovations seem to be prompted by Zeyer's desire to unite the tale into a closer unity: the second motif, of course, is suggested by countless tales. Another innovation is the decision of Alexe.j's parents to bring him up shut o f f from the knowledge of pain and suffering. This detail is undoubtedly borrowed from the songs about Barlaam and Iosafat, in which Iosafat is reared apart from a l l knowledge of Christianity. As w i l l be seen, Zeyer also used these songs in creating his tale. In selecting this detail Zeyer heightened the esthetic and moral e f f e c t : Alexej chooses poverty of his own free w i l l , in the face of forces which could allow him to forget the very existence of suffering. Perhaps Zeyer was expressing a philosophical belief here: man's consciousness of suffering and the necessity and obligation for him to suffer i s inherent, he would t e l l us, and not dependent on circumstances of l i f e . Alexej, asked by his father why he is so sad, answers: I do not know myself. But i t seems to me that every being i s called by God for something, is designated for something, and so I am sad, because my l i f e is so useless and purposeless.... I do not know myself what i t is, but I think I should say that I want to suffer. This mystical concept of suffering Zeyer may well have learned from his reading of Dostoevskij. Though i t is not expressed directly, he considered that i t is inherently implied in the Russian religious songs, and is one of the keys to the enigma of the Russian character. Thus again he sought to throw the light of psychological motivation on the tale: in the originals Alexej is a saint and suffers because of predestination; for Zeyer he becomes one as the result of w i l l , acting on the promptings of inner nature. Seeking to find the answer to his questionings, Alexej escapes from his home unobserved. He meets three old men, the same who had prophesied at his birth. They t e l l him three tales, each a reworking of a Russian religious song. The f i r s t is modelled on "A Woman of Grace and Mercy," 44 a song based on the apocrypha, the heroine of which is sometimes called "Alleluevaja zena" in folk parlance because the song ends with a chorus of Alleluia. Zeyer has retained the naive touch which this name lends. The tale concerns the f l i g h t of the Virgin with the Child from the l a t t e r ' s would-be murderers, who are close at their heels. Coming upon a hut in which a woman sits by the f i r e and rocks her baby, the Virgin begs her to throw her own child into the f i r e and pretend that the

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203

infant Christ is hers. The woman obeys, and Christ is saved. H e lesson is that one Bust sacrifice hone and loved ones, even those nearest, for the sake of faith. Zeyer has translated literally fro· certain passages in the originals, but freely adds details and ornaments of his own invention. The second inserted tale is that of "Tsarevich Iosaf, the Hermit,"*5 a folk borrowing from the Old Russian narrative of Barlaam and Iosaf. Zeyer did not use written versions of the tale, but did employ certain folk poems which were closer to the written version. Nor, interestingly enough, did he use the Old Czech poem about Barlaam and Josafat. Apparently he consciously restricted himself to Russian folk sources. The early life of Prince Iosaf, brought up in ignorance of the existence of Christianity by his pagan father, is taken from those Russian versions of the song which are closer to the written original. Barlaam finds a way to the prince, tells him of Christianity, and converts him. Journeying near a desert, Iosaf resolves to live the life of abnegation of his teacher, leaves his servants, and goes off into the wilderness. Here Zeyer turned to other versions of the folk song, more original, which describe the almost weirdly beautiful dialogue of Iosaf with the desert: Vo dal'nej vo doline, Tam stojala mat1 prekrasnaja pustynja. Prikhodit--li vo pustynju Mladoj carevic Iosafij: Ljubeznaja moja mati, Prekrasnaja mat' pustynja, Priemli menja vo pustynju Nauci menja, mat1 pustynja, Kak volju Boz'ju tvoriti; Dostavi menja, pustynja, Κ svemu ko nebesnomu carstviju.46 (In a far-off valley There stood Mother Desert, the fair; There came to the desert The young Tsarevich Iosafij. "Kind mother of mine, Fair Mother Desert, Take me into the desert, Teach me, Mother Desert, How to fulfill God's will; Bring me, 0 Desert, To thy heavenly kingdom.")

A prisel carevic do hluboke doliny, prekrasna lezela pred nim ... matka pustina a zvolala nadsena duse Joasafa: 0, preluzna ty moje mati^ pustino ticha a hluboka, ό, prijmi me.... Naucis me ... jak Bohu slouziti ... jak vule jeho konat, a ukazes mi cestu vedouci do carstvi nebeskeho!

(And the tsarevich came to a deep valley, and fair there lay before him Mother Desert, and overjoyed, -Joasaf's soul cried: "Oh, fairest mother of mine, deep and quiet desert, oh, take me.... Thou shalt teach me ... how to serve God ... how to fulfill his will, and thou shalt show me the way leading to the Kingdom of Heaven!")

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Further on the desert argues that he will forsake her. but he begs insistently, and she finally accept him with joy. Zeyer has translated most of this strange dialogue almost literally. Hie third tale is a free reworking of a Russian religious song about the Last Judgment, based partly on the Bible, partly on apocrypha.47 Each of these three tales has a special significance for Alexej. Hie first teaches him that he must be ready to desert home and family for Christ, the second that he must give up riches and power, the third tells him of the terrible suffering which will come to other men. Hearing the last, Alexej is filled with longing to suffer for their sins. Thus, through the inclusion of these three songs, Zeyer points the moral, heightens the artistic effect by paralleling the coming action, and supplies Alexej with a motivation for his future life of poverty and abnegation, a motivation not found in the originals. In addition, he parallels the story of Joasaf with that of the motif he had earlier borrowed from that same story and applied to Alexej's youth; perhaps the borrowing of the motif suggested the possibility of introducing this tale, and subsequently all three. Zeyer apparently sought to give us as many of the tales of the kallki perekhozie as he could without doing violence to the unity of the whole; as usual, he is not concerned only with the moral and artistic effect of his tale, but with its instructive purpose as well. Moreover, it is quite possible that these three tales had an inner significance for Zeyer: they set up three fundamental spiritual laws of primary importance for a religious creed: self-sacrifice, self-denial, and suffering for others. Doubtless these three principles relate very clearly to the Russian religious character as Zeyer knew it from his reading and his travels, and the close rendition of the dialogue of Joasaf with the desert suggests that here especially he tried to approach this semi-mystical phase of the Russian religious nature. On his return Alexej is summoned to his betrothal feast and later to his wedding. Though he asks his father to abandon his plan for the marriage, still he dutifully submits to it. Here again Zeyer has filled in the logical gaps of the songs, in which it is not clear whether Alexej knows of his "election" before his marriage. The wedding scene is filled with Russian wedding customs: the father greets the couple with bread and salt and blesses them with an ikon. These details are not in the Russian originals, and the use of details so patently naive seems a lapse of taste. Alexej's parting with his wife, his gifts of the belt and ring, and his prophecy of the fact that he and his wife will be buried together are all taken from the originals. Alexej also exchanges clothing with

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the beggar a f t e r leaving hone, but the incident is far more developed than in the originals, as is his magic voyage in the boat to Ephesus. Here, giving away a l l that he has, he becomes a beggar at the doors of the church. He prays to God to change his countenance, so that no one who knows him may recognize him.48 After remaining in Ephesus for seventeen years, Alexej conceives the desire to emulate Joasaf and go into the desert. This is an innovation of Zeyer's. Again he has turned to the story of Iosaf for a detail which supplies a moral and an art i s t i c parallel.* 9 But, as in the originals, the Virgin appears in a dream to the sexton, telling him that she wishes to speak with a certain holy man who s i t s in front of the church. T^ie sexton w i l l know him i f he prays to Christ for guidance. The sexton does so, Alexej comes to him, and is taken into the church. The Virgin t e l l s him that she wishes him to return to Rome and reenter the home of his parents. This w i l l be his greatest suffering, to look on those he loves and not be recognized by them, she t e l l s him. In the original i t was sufficient for this reason to be l e f t implici t , for at no point are we given any picture of Alexej's psychological processes. Hie appeal of the epic song is in i t s sound, i t s miraculous detail, and in the turns of the narrat i v e . But Zeyer, adding psychological detail, must make this reason for Alexej's return explicit, for the reader must be led on by i t to imagine the suffering which i t w i l l bring to his soul. But—another departure from the originals — the Virgin does not command him to go; he has his free w i l l and may decide. In the originals Alexej's actions spring from his preelection, and the interest is that of miracle, of feats impossible for the average man; Zeyer wishes to rationalize his work and to teach the moral lesson that a l l men are capable of such s e l f - s a c r i f i c e i f their w i l l elects i t . Alexej accepts his task and returns to Rome, again, as in the songs, in a magic boat. Coming there, he meets his father, throws himself at his feet and begs to be taken into his home on charity. Here Zeyer has omitted an important detail of the songs, in which Alexej t e l l s his father that he had met his son on his wanderings. In the songs this provides an explanation for the father's ready acceptance of the strange beggar's wish. Why Zeyer, continually on the hunt for motivations only implicit in the originals, omits this i s not clear. Most l i k e ly he sought to preserve the essentially spiritual character of the work. Even Alexej's parents and his bride act from spiritual reasons, though of a lower order than Alexej's, and the author sought to show the inherent generosity of the parent, especially at a moment when he is led to think of his own son.

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Alexej is admitted to his parents' home and given a corner under the staircase. But soon he is neglected and, as in the original, treated roughly by the servants. Zeyer, as one would expect, places more emphasis on his contact with his parents and his bride. The night before his death Alexej sees his bride at the window and hears her song, a Russian apocryphal song about Zion. When she finishes the heavens open, and, unable to bear the sight, he falls unconscious. The next morning, feeling that he is going to die, he writes down the story of his life. All this except the writing are innovations of Zeyer's. In Zeyer's version Alexej's letter is addressed to his family, a feature lacking in the songs. The miraculous phenomena which occurs at the moment of his death are taken quite literally from the originals: Kolokola-zvony zazvonili, Carskija vrata razrusilis', Cerkovnyja knigi razvratilis' Sami kadily zakadili.50

... rozzvonily se zvony kostela, carska vrata se rozevfela, svata kniha evangelii se rozlozila, kaditelnice samy sebou dymaly.

(The church bells rang, The tsar's gates were broken down, The church books opened wide, Themselves the censers began to waft their incense.)

(... the bells of the churches rang, the tsar's gates opened wide, the sacred book of the Gospels was opened, the censers themselves began to smoke.)

The priests inform the Pope (in the Russian songs a patriarch), the tsar (Zeyer has retained this term), and the people that a saint has died. These discover the dead Alexej with the letter in his hand. Zeyer has reproduced the passage in which the tsar and the Pope cannot take the letter, but only Alexej's father, for whom it is intended. In some versions of the original songs it is the patriarch who takes the letter, however. Zeyer cannot reconcile himself to the thought that Alexej's life of self-denial has been a source of grief to his parents, a consideration quite foreign to the Russian songs. Hence he makes the letter, which in the originals only tells the saint's identity, a request for forgiveness from his parents and his bride. That this thought should have interested Zeyer is significant for the light it may conceivably shed on his own personality. Presumably, in spite of the great attraction of the ascetic ideal for him, his more rational nature told him that in itself it was not the way to salvation. The laments of Alexej's parents are taken from the originals:

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Uvy mne, sladcajsi moj cado, Beda mne, ty moje dite, Aleksej, Bozi, svet, celovece Alexeji, clovece ty bozi.... .... 0, proc jsi se nezjevil memu Cego ty mne togda ne javilsja? srdci?... Byl bych ti ji .... zafidil ve zlate sini sveho Postroil by ja kel'ju ne palace, vedle komnat zeny tve! takuju V svoem knjazeveckom podvor'e I vozle by komory zeny tvoej.51 (Woe to me, sweetest child of mine. Alexej, my light, 0 man of God, Why didst thou not reveal thyself to me?

(Woe to me, my child, Alexej, man of God.... Oh, why didst thou not reveal thyself to my heart?... I should have built a cell for thee in the golden hall of my palace, beside the chambers of thy wife!)

I should have built thee another cell In my princely house, And beside it thy wife's chambers.) But here Zeyer has developed a new theme, at most implicit in the originals: the self-reproach of the parents for the way in which they have neglected their child. And, in a burst of inspired subtlety, he points the moral most clearly: they could have had that which they most desired, the opportunity to love and serve their son, if only they had given their love to the poor beggar! The wife's lament is largely original. As in some versions of the Russian songs, she dies, fulfilling Alexej's prophecy. And, as in the originals, the sick and infirm are healed on this holy day. For Zeyer's tale this has a special significance: Alexej has suffered for others, and by his suffering he has won mercy for them. As in the originals, Zeyer's version ends with an Alleluia. In spite of the fact that the work is stylistically a medley, a kind of montage, combining highly ornamental and descriptive passages of Zeyer's own invention with almost literal translation from a number of originals, still Zeyer achieved the difficult feat of a unity of style. This he did partly by his uniform poetic prose, partly by the insertion of ornamental details into the translated passages themselves, bringing them closer to the invented passages. What did Zeyer seek to achieve in this work? Not to reproduce or translate the epic poems which inspired it: his work is too lyrical, too ornamental, too full of details for that. Nor has he given us a convincing psychological portrait of a

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•an who becomes an ascetic and a saint, though his work does lean in this direction, especially in its attempt to provide motivation. But to complete such a task would have been beyond his powers and his intention, father he sought to move the heart, not appeal to the reason. In this he has added ornamental details, and in particular, the subjective sensations of Alexej. Moving as the originals are, Zeyer doubtless felt that they were too restricted in form and unemotional in content. Their effect on their hearers lay in the details of narrative and miraculous feats; the exotic details which Zeyer has added would have been beyond the comprehension of the Russian people. Zeyer1s tale is above all a product of his age: it nay well be compared to Flaubert's story, "La Legende de Saint Julien l'Hospitalier," in the Trots Contes, a work which Zeyer probably knew. Zeyer's method remained the same as it had been in the Revenue for Iior. Retaining the main outlines of the original without change, he developed them organically, filling in omitted details and explanations, developing the characterization of the participants, adding themes from other songs when it seemed desirable to do so. His purpose was to re-create the religious songs of the Russian people, and through them, to lay bare the enigmatic religious character of that people, to touch the heart of his reader by showing their character in all its grandeur. Details were added because they heightened interest and emotional effect. And if they contradict the starker epic character of the Russian songs, they do not contradict the religious message of self-denial which the songs preach. Nor must we forget the personal significance of Alexej. In the Revenie for Iior Zeyer had portrayed an individual in the grip of the strongest passions of the world, saved by ,religion only when these passions are already burned out. In Alexej he presented a more positive alternative: the denial of these passions before they can wreak their destruction. In Roman Vasilic he was to depict the third and most terrible possibility: the individual destroyed by these passions.

Song of the Woe of the Good Youth, Roman

Vasiltc52

Zeyer subtitled this work "ohlas velkorusky" ("an adaptation from the Great Russian"). Coming almost on the heels of Alexej it is closely connected with that work in content. Its use of verse, rather than poetic prose, likewise stems from Russian epic folk poetry, this time from the well-known songs about Woe, in which the latter is personified as a living being. These songs, though they constitute a special, marginal genre among the Russian folk songs, are composed in the verse of the by liny and are sung only by singers of the by liny. Zeyer knew, and to some extent he employed, the well-known

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seventeenth-century verse narrative, the Povest' ο iorezlocastli ( I k l e o f Woe and Misfortune), discovered in 1856 by Pypin. 'Biis work i s a r e t e l l i n g o f the f o l k songs about Woe, and how Woe brought a youth to a monastery, with c e r t a i n added elements taken from the written t r a d i t i o n of the o l d e r r e l i g i o u s l i t e r a t u r e . However, i t p a r a l l e l s certain f o l k songs about Woe very c l o s e l y , and i t i s perhaps the one work o f the o l d e r Russian written l i t e r a t u r e which i s c l o s est to f o l k l o r e . I t s i r r e g u l a r metre, p a r a l l e l devices, and language place i t close to the bylina-epos. For the most part Zeyer used purely f o l k versions o f the t a l e , however, taken from the c o l l e c t i o n of Itybnikov. 53 Here again he showed his tendency to adhere more c l o s e l y to f o l k sources. Itybnikov's c o l l e c t i o n was in Zeyer 1 s own l i b r a r y . S 4 I t i s quite possible that he f i r s t knew the work in i t s f o l k forms, and only turned t o the l i t e r a r y version of the t a l e when the scheme o f the whole had already taken shape in his mind. This work i s evidently the outcome o f Zeyer's e a r l i e r resolution to write an adaptation o f the by liny, and doubtl e s s he came across the poems about Woe during h i s study of the Russian f o l k epos. That epos, as has been noted b e f o r e , could scarcely have o f f e r e d rauch to his tastes and i n t e r e s t s , at l e a s t not without considerable modification. But the poems about Woe had a stronger appeal f o r him. The moral o f the t a l e , that the youth should perish because o f h i s s e l f willedness, h i s unbridled passion f o r l i f e , formed the complement to the story of A l e x e j . Moreover, the p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n o f Woe as a l i v i n g being o f f e r e d i n t e r e s t i n g a r t i s t i c a l poss i b i l i t i e s . Doubtless the t a l e had l i t t l e to o f f e r h i s sensual d e l i g h t in sound and c o l o r , and he did not add so much ornament to i t as he had in his previous works on Russian subjects (though his conception o f Woe as a charming g i r l i s a notable departure in this respect); s t i l l the moral e l e ments o f the story must have had a strong enough appeal to him to outweigh t h i s . Last o f a l l , h i s purpose was again i n s t r u c t i v e : j u s t as in the Revenge for Iior he had treated ancient Slav burial customs, and in Alexej he had explored the Russian r e l i g i o u s epic, so here he has re-created the Russian songs about Woe, another marginal v a r i e t y o f epos not known e a r l i e r to the Czechs. And to the end he avoided dealing with the by liny themselves: they were already s u f f i c i e n t l y known and appreciated in Bohemia, and Zeyer may have despaired o f improving on Celakovsky. Zeyer begins the t a l e with a short prologue, reminiscent o f a bylina preamble: Aj ty horo, horo ty strma, hedvabnou travou porostla horo, jaky to junos po tobe kraci?

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(Ah, Mountain, steep mountain, Grown ap with silken grass, What youth i s i t t h a t walks over thee?) He goes on to describe how a group of f r i e n d s assemble and l i s t e n to a song sung to the accompaniment of the iusll. As in the introduction t o Alexej, the purpose of t h i s i s c l e a r ly i n s t r u c t i v e . The t a l e i t s e l f begins with an almost l i t e r a l t r a n s l a t i o n from the song, "About Woe and the Good Youth": U batjuske u matuske z i l molodec Odinaki syn vo drokuske El sladko, i n o s i l krasno, r o b o t i l legko. Zakhotelos' dorodnju dobru molodcu Skhodit' ν cuzuju d a l ' n u j u storonusku l j u d e j posmotret 1 i sebja pokazat 1 . Unimali molodca otec-matuska.

U dobreho otce, u nezne matky jediny syn z i l , jun Roman Vasilic, I n Roman Vasilic jak ν hedvabu mekce, medova j i d l a chystala matka, nejtencim suknem s a t i l ho otec, ν praci j e j s e t r i l . Prece se jinochu zachtfclo vyjit do sveta daleko, na c i z i strany, uvidet l i d i , nezname k r a j e ,

Zacal tu otec tak dcmlauvat ^nu, (A youth lived with h i s f a t h - (With his good f a t h e r and h i s e r and mother tender mother, An only son, The youth Roman Vasilic l i v e d , He a t e sweet food, wore f i n e an only son, clothes, worked l i t t l e . The stout youth began to wish Roman Vasilic lived as in To t r a v e l to faraway lands, soft silk; See people and show himself. His mother prepared honeyHis f a t h e r and mother t r i e d l i k e food f o r him; to pacify him.) His f a t h e r dressed him in the f i n e s t cloth, Spared him a t work. Nevertheless the youth began to want to go away Into the f a r world, to f o r eign lands, To see people, unknown lands, His father began to rebuke h i s son.) Hie name of Roman V a s i l i c , Zeyer 1 s hero, i s an invention, though these names o f t e n appear separately in the byllny.

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Hie youth's parents warn him of the consequences of his desires, and tell him tragic tales of what has happened to other sons who have left home. Again, as in Alexe J, Zeyer sought to include as many Russian songs as possible, and here he has chosen two for this purpose. The first, told by the father, is the well-known song, "About Van'ka the Steward," known in some variants as "A Youth in the King's Service."55 Zeyer prefixed to this tale the invented story of how this youth, too, deserted his home and parents; otherwise he followed his usual method of translating certain passages almost literally, varying others, and adding picturesque details of his own invention. The mother also tells her son the story of a youth who leaves home and perishes. Zeyer chose as his model a Russian folk song about a father whose anger drives his son away.56 But Roman will not heed his parents' advice. Finally, his mother tells him her strange dream of Woe, who roams the world, and from whom men cannot escape. The theme of her narrative is taken from a folk song about Woe,57 to which Zeyer has added the motif of Woe's pursuit in the guise of birds, a motif found in other songs about Woe and again at the end of Zeyer1s own tale. The images he employs, though his own, are completely in the spirit and language of Russian folk poetry: Jdes-li sirym polem — holubem tam vrka, jdes-li hlubym lesem—slavikem tam leta, znaven j des na loze — stoji hore ν hlavach, pri pocestnon hodu — ν prvni rade seda. (If you go over the broad field, she coos there, a dove. If you go through the deep forest, she flies there, a nightingale; Weary, you go to bed; Woe stands at the head; At the feast of honor she sits in the first row.) Zeyer's motive for including these songs is again clear. He wished to anticipate the coming action, in which Woe assumes the guise of birds and animals, to supply parallels to it, and thus tie the work into a closer whole. He also wished to include other Russian songs, and has added no less than six to this work. Finally Roman's parents yield, and the youth sets out. They give him rich clothing for the journey, and the description of these clothes, as well as the advice his parents give him, is taken from the originals, this time from "About Gray Woe and Upav the Youth":

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Cadο nase miloe Cadelko nase ljubinoe! I budes' ty na cuzoj na dal'ne.]" na storonuske, I prosla prolegla dorozka Mimo tot carev kabak, Ne pej carocku zelena vina, Kak, vyp'es' tu carocku zelena vina, Voz'mut tvoj u sapon'ku cernykh sobole^j I voz'mut tvoju sapon'ku doroguju,

Dite nase drahe, jediny muj synui Povede te cesta kolem carskych krcem, nevej di tarn nikdy, treba by te zvali! Nepij ani cisku zeleneho vina! Vypijes-li vina, nemas vuli svo.i i.

V krcmach zli se take potuluji lide, opojen kdyz vlnem ν tezky padnes spanek, I budes' na pocestnom na vezmou ti i subu lemovanou bol'som pira, Ne sadis' vo mesto vo bol'see: zlatem. Bude stois' mesta bol'sago, Pozvou-li te k hodu, draha Tak posadjat tebja vo mesto bol'see, moj e duse, A bude ne stois' mesta k hodu ctnemu, pod krov pohosbol'sago, tinny, Tak osmejut ljudi dobrye. skromnjrai bud' a nesedavaj za stul bez pobidky na prvni snad misto! Budes-li se zdat jim hoden toho mista, sami vybidnou te, jinak dobri lid ® by se posmivali tobe, nebo ν hnevu nelaskavym slovem by te pokarali! (Our dear child, (Our dear child, my only son! Our beloved child! Should you be in faraway Your way will lead you past lands, the tsar's taverns, And the road should pass Never enter there, even if The tsar's tavern, you are bidden! Do not drink a goblet of Do not drink even a goblet of green wine; green wine! Else your cap of black sable If you drink wine, you have be taken, not your own will. Your expensive cap be taken .. In taverns there roam wicked And should you be at a great people, feast of honor, And when you are drunk with Do not sit in the highest seat; wine, in heavy sleep,

Cosmopolitanism and Meo-Romanttctsm: Zeyer If you are worthy of the highest seat, They will place you in the highest seat; And if you are not worthy of the highest seat, Good folk will laugh at you.)

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They will take your furs lined with gold. Should you be invited to a feast, darling of mine, To a feast of honor, under a hospitable roof, Be modest, and sit not at the table, Without being bidden, in the highest seat! If you shall seem worthy of the highest seat, They themselves will bid you; otherwise good people Will jeer at you, or in anger Rebuke you with unkind words!)

In the steppe Roman meets Woe, who takes the form of a lovely girl, standing before a great tent. He asks her name, but she will not tell it, saying only that he would fly from her if he knew it. Hiey play at chess: he for her love, she for his heart and soul. He loses three times, whereupon she says that she will stay with him till the coffin and the grave, and strikes him three times on the forehead with a chessman. He falls unconscious, and awakes to find himself alone. All this is an addition of Zeyer's. Apparently he was impressed by the necessity to symbolize Roman's self-willedness and appetite for self-indulgence in one concrete desire: his longing for a woman. Hence he invents this mysterious beauty in the wilderness, for whom the youth longs and searches in vain, while a secret weight lies in his heart for the next three years. The fact that Roman finds her before a tent suggests the influence of the by liny, where a strange vnmaa-boiatyr is often encountered so. Hie game of chess, too, may well be taken from the by liny, which not infrequently use it to decide important wagers. At this point Zeyer returns to the originals. Roman comes to a strange city. Seeing his unhappiness, a tavern girl invites him to come in and drink. Roman remembers his parents' admonition, but yields to the temptation. Zeyer retains much of the originals here, even translating passages, but he changes the whole emphasis. In his version it is the attraction of the charming girl which tempts Roman to ruin; in the originals drink itself is represented as the chief evil. This change is quite natural. In the time of the composition of the songs about Woe (the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries) drink was a vice, a temptation extremely characteristic of

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Russians, and the girl, if she appears at all, serves chiefly to tempt the hero with the attractions of wine. For the sophisticated and cultured Zeyer, living in the late nineteenth century, drink could scarcely have been a worthy cause of a hero's downfall, whereas the lure of women was still the chief symbol of the temptations of pleasure and worldly self-indulgence.58 It may be regretted that Zeyer resorted to this rather hackneyed symbol of his times, and that he did not choose to give us a broader, deeper picture of Roman's passion for self-indulgence, perhaps even developing its subjective side and suggesting its motivation to us. But here he stays very close to the Russian originals in their objectivity and lack of development of psychological motifs, and in this respect again this is the closest of his works to the folk originals. Certainly in this light one cannot quarrel with his decision to substitute a simple, more comprehensible symbol of self-indulgence of his own day, which the folk songs, had they been composed at a later time, would doubtless have chosen as well. Intoxicated by the wine and the good company of his newfound "friends," Roman eagerly follows the charming girl to her room. The result is the saae in both Zeyer's version and the original ("About Gray Woe and Upav the Youth"): he is robbed of his rich clothing and given rags in exchange. Hie girl is ready with an invented excuse when he awakens. In the original she invites him to further enjoyments at once, a bit illogical unless it be understood as irony. In Zeyer's version the girl sends Roman away, but bids him return whenever he has money again. Going on, Roman comes to the house of a rich merchant, where a feast is being held. Here again Zeyer follows the original ("About Woe and Upav") very closely. Roman, though ashamed of his clothing and the fact that he does not have the customary gift of white bread, enters the house. As in the original, the host seats him "in a middle place." Upav falls asleep at the feast; Roman sits silent in the midst of the wild gaiety and his head bows with grief, so that it only appears he is asleep. Zeyer uses the wedding scene to introduce a Russian lyric song.59 The host, thinking that Roman has actually fallen asleep, tries to rouse him and offers him a bed, but the youth answers by telling the tale of his woes. The merchant offers him work, and, as in the song "About Woe and the Good Youth," Roman stays with him for three years, works diligently and buys new clothing with the money he saves. Hiough seemingly happy, the youth conceals a secret wound, his vague but passionate longing for the mysterious beauty of the steppe. Ulis, of course, is an addition of Zeyer's, and Roman's vague longing is to return to the way of self-indulgence, the desire

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for which wells up in him in spite of his outwardly contented existence. At the end of the three years the merchant, seeing Roman's sadness, advises him to marry and offers him his own daughter. Noticing the youth's hesitation, he gives him time for consideration. In the Russian song about Upav, Woe now appears and counsels Upav not to marry the girl, but to go to the tavern and drink. Zeyer preserves this idea, but complicates it. Roman walks out of the city along the river and comes to a great palace. Here a feast is being given, and the youth is filled with a sudden thirst for life: he wants to join the guests and rejoice with them. At that moment Woe appears (Zeyer repeats his earlier description of her quite literally). Seeing her enter the palace, Roman rushes after her into the feast hall. Without bowing to the ikon or to the guests, in sharp contrast to his previous behavior, he follows her to the table and begins to reproach her for having deserted him. She smiles at him and answers that she has been with him: has he not felt grief in his heart? Necitils po celou tuto dobu tiz ν svem osirelem, vroucim srdci? chmurnou dumu ν bujne mlade hlave? neurcity smutek ν chore dusi? Ona tiz, ten smutek, ona duma byla ja jsem, Verna tvoje druzka! (Have you not felt all that time, A weight in your lonely, fervent heart? A gloomy thought in your fiery young head? A vague grief in your sick soul? That weight, that grief, that thought, Was I myself, your faithful friend!) And drinking with Roman to their now twice inseparable friendship, she tells him who she is. Horrified, Roman rushes from the hall. Notable is the phrase, "Yague grief in your sick soul,11 typical of literature of the fin de slecle, and, of course, irreconcilable with folklore. Fleeing from Woe, Roman runs home and, seeing his bride-tobe, begs her to renounce him. She falls senseless and dies the same night. The description of her death is quite typical of the Russian folk songs. The merchant asks God to forgive Roman and begs him to leave. Roman goes and again comes to the tavern where he had been robbed. Again he meets the tavern girl, now obviously Woe herself. Desperately he follows her advice to drown his sorrows in wine. Again he becomes drunk and is robbed of his fine clothing. Awakening, he sees Woe behind the stove, as in

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the Russian original about Upav. Again he seeks to flee; coming to an oak wood he stops before a nightingale's nest and begs the bird to fly to his parents' home and tell them how their son has perished. This motif is not found in any of the Russian songs about Woe, but is fairly conaon in other songs.60 Presumably Zeyer added it here so that the parents might learn of their son's death: thus the work would have a more finished effect, closing on the same scene with which it began. The pathos is likewise increased. Like Upav, Roman flees on to the River Smorodina. In desperation he threatens to try to swim the river, upon which the ferrymen take pity on him and ferry him across. But in Zeyer's version they first sing a song, almost a literal translation of a Russian folk song.61 The song tells of a youth's death in a foreign land, and it moves Roman to resolve on the desperate step of plunging into the river, so that he may not die away from home. Here again Zeyer has added a folk song for the sake of the artistic parallel it gives. On the opposite bank, Roman feels a magic power, and in a last desperate attempt to excape Woe he turns himself into a series of animal forms, as in the original about Woe and the good youth: Obvernulsja molodec serym volkom, Pobezal on po razdol'icu cistu polju: A Gorjusko za nim sobakoju,

promenil se na sereho v l k a — bezel tichym drimajicim polem. ale Hore za nim divou fenou.

(The youth changed himself (He turned himself into a into a gray wolf, gray wolf, And ran over the expanse of Ran through the quiet, sleepthe clear field; ing field. And Woe after him, as a dog,) But Woe was after him, a savage bitch.) Pal on ο matusku syru zemlju, Obvernulsja molodec jasnym sokolom, Poletel on po podobolac'ju; A Gorjusko za nim vsled cernym voronom. (He fell to the damp Mother Earth, The youth turned into a bright falcon, And flew under the clouds; And Woe after him, a black raven.)

Padl k zemi, ale hned se vzchopil, ν sokola se zmenil caromocne, vzletl vysoko az pod oblaka — ale Höre za nim cernou vranou! (He fell to the ground, but at once rose up, By magic turned himself into a falcon, And flew aloft to the veiy clouds But Woe was after him, a black raven!)

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and Neo-Romantlclsm:

Zeyer

217

The endings of the Russian songs are different: one ending brings the youth to a monastery; in another he dies from Woe's persecutions, and the l a t t e r weeps over her lost victim I t is curious that Zeyer, with a l l his admiration for asceticism, chose the latter ending. Probably he f e l t that the f i r s t lacked dramatic power. But he changed the details, and the form of death which he chose for Roman is most curious. The youth l i e s down under an oak and begs the tree to f a l l on him so that his body may be covered and protected from harm. The oak grants his prayer. Woe weeps over her lost victim. In the closing scene Zeyer portrays the sorrow of the youth's mother and father, mourning the news of their son's death, brought to them by the nightingale. This poem i s the work of Zeyer's which i s most closely related to the folk songs themselves. I t employs no less than six inserted songs, for the most part translated rather l i t erally, in addition to the songs about Woe. A l l the devices of Russian folk poetry are used, and profusely. Notable are several Russianisms which Zeyer has introduced to Czech, aside from the usual stock of fixed epithets, the legacy of Celakovsky. These new introductions are za muz datl (to give in marriage), tuman ( f o g ) , and u nlch nebylo (they had not). This poem is significant in i t s return to the use of freer rhythms. No other poet of the second half of the nineteenth century employed free rhythm in pastiches of the Russian byliny. Hie earlier tradition of the RKZ, Celakovsky and Erben was dead, and even the influence of the metrically irregular Russian originals could not inspire these poets to throw o f f the restricting rules of Czech metrics of the second half of the century. But in Roman Vasilic Zeyer made a beginning. In this work the lines are of nine, ten, eleven, or twelve s y l l a bles, with those of ten or twelve syllables being most common, These are in regular trochaic metres, but lines of nine or eleven syllables have an inserted dactylic foot as an a l t e r nant. Unlike his earlier works, Zeyer has l e f t a l l psychological development out of Roman Vasilic. Like the Russian folk originals, he sought to give an objective picture of moral degeneration, not to show i t s causes or subjective states of mind. And there is far less ornament in this work than in Alexej, where i t had served the function of a contrast to Alexej's own simplicity and poverty. Here i t appears chiefly in those passages which are original with Zeyer and which are connected with Roman's temptation, where i t has an obvious function; in other places i t would have served no purpose except that of i t s own interest. The tale i t s e l f is rich enough in detail, and the interest centers in the weird personification of Woe, from which too much added ornament would have only detracted. Indeed, i t must be observed that

218

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and Meo-Rcmantlctsm:

Zeyer

the weakest passages in the work are Zeyer's own; nothing of his can compare with the magnificent scene of the youth's attempts to escape from Woe in the guise of animals. From the moral point of view the work is obviously the complement of Alexej. The two narratives even start out with the sane theme of the parents' concern that the child should be happy and comfortable and protected from all conceivable harm. There are clear parallels in the expression: Alexej, Man of God: Oci jeho nemely spatriti nez krasu, sluch jeho nesmel vnimati nez slova ladna. Nesmel zvedeti, ze na svete jsou slzy a vzdechy, ze je na svete hrich, zlo a nestesti ... hudba ukolebala jej na vecer ν sen na poduskach ζ mekke'ho hedvabi. (His eyes could behold only beauty, his hearing could hear only harmonious words. He was not permitted to know that there were tears and sighs in the world.... Music cradled him to sleep at evening on pillows of soft silk.)

Roman Vasilic: Roman Vasilic jak ν hedvabu mekce, medova jldla chystala matka, nejtencim suknem satil ho otec, ν praci jej setril a borna vzdy slova Roman jen slysel a usmev jen videl, (Roman Vasilic lived as in soft silk, His mother prepared honeylike dishes; His father dressed him in the finest cloth, Spared him at work, and Roman Heard only kind words, and saw only smiles.)

Why has Zeyer given Woe a double role to play: that of Roman's temptress and his destruction? Presumably he did not intend to suggest that the youth wills and seeks for his own destruction, though this would have been an interesting possibility for reworking the Russian originals.62 But if Zeyer had had such an idea in mind his hero would scarcely have fled from Woe when he learned her name. Nor is he apparently making an artistic economy; indeed, the fusion of the two symbols is puzzling for the reader. Seemingly he wished to identify the youth's temptation directly with his fate. The close, inevitable logical relation of the two he expresses by the union of the two symbols. For this reason the tavern girl is likewise identified with Woe. And in this, indeed, he again follows the lead of the original song about Upav, in which Woe tempts the youth to refuse his bride and go to the tavern and drink, thus serving both to tempt the youth and to destroy him. Zeyer is most important for Czech literature in his function of Kulturträger. As an original poet he did not achieve

Cosmopolitanism

and Meo-Romantlctsm:

Zeyer

219

f i r s t rank in Czech l i t e r a t u r e . Particularly happy, then, was his choice of his own.particular form of a r t i s t i c creation, the adaptation. Like Celakovsky, Zeyer was at his best when working in this genre. His own individuality was too strong to allow him to be a mere translator, but too weak to permit him to create independently. Vrchlicky t e l l s how Zeyer would smile at any d i r e c t , l i t e r a l translation. 4 3 Doubtless he was wise enough to realize that the national character of a people, the s p i r i t of an age, and the individual character of an a r t i s t are a l l intangibles which r e s i s t translation, which often achieves only a reversal of the values of an original work: the usual becomes the exotic, the strange the coimonplace. And therefore he was so painstaking in preparing hims e l f for the task of reworking h i s materials: he knew that mere translation could never s a t i s f y the reader who lacked the same amount of careful study and preparation for the understanding of what he reads. Zeyer was f a r more than a transl a t o r ; he was an interpreter and a popularizer in the best sense of the word. Doubtless he made mistakes and errors of t a s t e , but s t i l l we are f a r richer for possessing h i s works than we would have been had he given us mere translations. Zeyer 1 s technique of montage must be stressed. In this his work d i f f e r e d from that of a l l the poets who preceded him. Celakovsky had borrowed from the by liny, but his pastiches remained his own. Zeyer's are s k i l l f u l l y reassembled from pieces taken from various originals. Hie proportion of i n vented, original material i s f a r smaller, and plays a subordinate role in the work, the main outlines of which are r e constructed from a series of originals. Russian opera based on the byliny (for example, Rimskij-Korsakov's Sadko) u t i l ized this technique, but elsewhere i t i s not found. Indeed, Zeyer i s the f i r s t a f t e r Celakovsky to bring a new tradition of reworking Russian folk songs to Czech l i t e r a t u r e , and the only Czech poet of the tradition to be independent of Celakovsky. Ulis independence i s , of course, part of Zeyer's i n dependence of much of the tradition of Czech l i t e r a t u r e ; his roots lay outside of the borders of his native land, which he found so " s t i f l i n g . " Zeyer i s also unique in his production of large-scale works based on Russian folklore. Only Celakovsky's "Curila Plenkov i c " and "II,ja Yolzanin" are at a l l comparable in the Czech tradition, and only Lermontov's Song of Tsar Ivan Fasll'eulc and the Merchant Kalasnlkov in the Russian. Though the Rus-

sian Symbolists were Zeyer's contemporaries, and in many ways shared his aims and interests, nothing that the Symbolists or Post-Symbolists, Bal'mont, Blok, Belyj, Kljuev, or Esenin did was nearly so complex. Moreover, Zeyer was unique in his recognition of the great a r t i s t i c potentialities of the Russian religious epos. At a distance from Russia, he seems to have realized this f a r better than the Russian poets themselves.

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Zeyer

I t i s precisely because Zeyer stood so f a r from the main stream of Czech literature that he could give i t so much. In the task of discovering the whole world f o r Czech l i t e r a t u r e , Zeyer i s surpassed only by Vrchlicky. Thanks to his e f f o r t s , Czech literature could pass out of the narrow bonds of nationalism, even provincialism, and become a truly world l i t erature. And, though Zeyer's creation i s emphatically a product of i t s d a y — i n some respects, even, behind the tastes and technical level of the literature of other countries of his t i m e — s t i l l he and Vrchlicky achieved much. I t was not accident that Czech Symbolism followed on their very heels. And i f the great Czech prose writers of the 1920's had a world as well as a Czech viewpoint, then i t i s to Zeyer and Vrchlicky to whom they owe their thanks.

Chapter XIII CONCLUSION

The Russian Folk Epos at Borne and Abroad RUSSIAN literature produced no tradition for employing the byliny as a systematic influence in written literature. Such a tradition was in the process of being developed at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries, when the newer romanticist tendencies brought a sudden change during the 1820's. After 1830 there were a small number of poets who utilized the byliny: Lermontov, Mej , A. K. lb Istoj, Bal'mont. But it is impossible to speak of a continuous tradition. None of these writers resembles each other in choice of subjects, treatment, ideology, or even in the form of his pastiches of byliny. Most striking is the failure to develop a fixed ideological approach to the byliny. In Bohemia, though the influence of the byliny was exerted in two distinct periods, still there is a constant ideology associated with them: praise of the valor of the Russian people, together with criticism of the absolute tsar. The Czech romantic revolt against the influence of folk poetry in written literature, led by Langer and Macha, had no parallel in Russia. The Russian literary pattern which carried the support of tradition was that of eighteenth-century Pseudo-Classicism. Folk literature in Russia never attained the status of an obligatory model, as it did in Bohemia during the first decades of the nineteenth century. Hence, though there was a romanticist revolt in Russia as in Bohemia, it was not directed against folk literature. The great influence of the Russian folk epos in Bohemia is unique. No other Slavic nation, not even Russia herself, borrowed so much from the Russian epos. Though the Poles lacked a folk epic of their own, political hatred for Russia prevented literary use of the Russian byliny. "The byliny, the epic part of Russian folk songs ... have had no success in Poland, though the analogous group of Serb songs has found many translators and even investigators there."1 A. Lange's "Ilja Muromec," partly a translation, partly a paraphrase, is

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Conclusion

the sole exaaple of by Una influence on Polish l i t e r a t u r e . Though interesting, i t has almost been forgotten. T. iopolews k i ' s translations, Daune Wlersze Ruskle (1933). are unique. 2 The Poles, of course, knew the Ukrainian epos, and their cultural t i e s with the Ukraine led t h e · to turn to i t . The so-called "Ukrainian School"' in early nineteenth-century poetry (Malczewski and others) was influenced by the Ukrainian f o l k epics, and this influence passed into Polish epic poetry. In the South Slav lands the local epic tradition was too strong, and the Russian epos has played only a very minor and quite recent r o l e , producing translations only. The existence o f a highly developed Serbo-Croat and Bulgarian epos provided epic stimulus f o r writers of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Of course, this in i t s e l f i s not a complete answer, f o r the Serb epos was i t s e l f influential in Russian l i t e r a ture, in spite of the existence of a native Russian epic t r a dition. But the two cases are not entirely p a r a l l e l . The Serb folk epos was more widely and directly known to writers, while the Russian by liny epos was greatly localized, and few writers had an opportunity to know i t outside of collections. And the Serb epos was celebrated a l l over Europe by Goethe, Merimee and Kopitar. The Russian epos, though translated into German and admired by Celakovsky, failed to attain similar recognition. Here the general current of European literature seems to have been very important for Russia and especially for Puskin. The Serb epic penetrated to Russia on the crest of the wave of widespread international enthusiasm for i t , while the native epos, f a i l i n g to gain such recognition, was ignored even at home. I t must be added that the South Slavs came into contact with Russia and Russian literature a decade or more l a t e r than the Czechs did. 3 Hie Czechs turned to Russian literature too early to find Puskin, and besides a few minor l y r i c s by the l a t t e r and a few poems of Derzavin, they knew almost nothing from Russian written literature until 1850; rather they concentrated on Russian folk poetry, which supported their ideologic a l l y preconceived notions of Russia. The Croats turned to Russian literature several decades l a t e r , when Puskin and Lermontov were well known, and they accepted and cultivated these poets. But, l i k e the Czechs, their interest in Russian l i t e r ature was ideologically biased, and though they accepted Puskin, Lermontov, Slavophile poets such as Khomjakov, and even such forgotten writers as Zagoskin, they paid l i t t l e or no attention to Gogol, Turgenev, or Dostoevskij until much l a t e r . Why did the by liny play a r e l a t i v e l y small role in the f o r mation of Russian literature? And why did they f a i l to produce a continuous l i t e r a r y tradition? I t is only when we consider the enormous influence of other Russian folk genres that we see the importance of the question

Conclusion

223

The l y r i c song, the folk t a l e , and the proverb, a l l proved of immense influence in Russian written l i t e r a t u r e of the nineteenth century, and i t i s scarcely possible to name a single author of prose or poetry of that century who did not a t l e a s t quote samples of these genres in h i s work. Hence i t would seem t h a t the epic genres, and especially the by liny, the most c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of the Russian folk forms, and the r e l i g i o u s e p i c s , should have had greater i n f l u e n c e . The c i r cumstances of the Russian l i t e r a r y revival closely paralleled those of the Czech r e v i v a l . In both countries there was a sharp break with the older l i t e r a r y t r a d i t i o n . In both a new l i t e r a t u r e developed simultaneously with a r i s i n g wave of nationalism and much t h e o r e t i c a l discussion and conscious concern that the l i t e r a t u r e should be as "national" as p o s s i b l e . I t may be objected t h a t Russian l i t e r a t u r e r e l i e d r e l a t i v e l y more on the West. But the Czech r e v i v a l , too, drew very heavily from the West, while Russian folk l i t e r a t u r e also played an important part in the renewal of modern Russian l i t e r a t u r e . Here, however, a q u a l i t a t i v e d i s t i n c t i o n i s of importance. Russian l i t e r a t u r e succeeded, a f t e r many f a l s e s t a r t s and a long period of s t e r i l e imitation, in c r e a t i n g a great l i t e r a t u r e with western models. Fonvizin, Derzavin, Zukovskij, and Puskin were f i n a l l y able to produce works in European l i t e r a r y genres, o f t e n inspired by Western European models, but p e r f e c t l y adapted to the Russian language and s p i r i t . But Czech l i t e r a t u r e f a i l e d to do t h i s , and the development of Czech l i t e r a t u r e before the appearance of the RIZ and Celakovsky's Echoes was largely a b o r t i v e , i f one excepts the t r a n s l a t i o n s of Jungmann, which were only t r a n s l a t i o n s . The Russians succeeded where the Czechs f a i l e d (presumably because the Russians began imitation of Western European models e a r l i e r , and t h e i r e f f o r t s took place over a much longer period), and created a l i t e r a t u r e of a r t i s t i c worth from western models. l a t e r , of course, the Czechs themselves produced a great development of Western European l i t e r a t u r e in the works of Macha, and s i g n i f i c a n t l y , i t was during t h i s period that Russian influence on Czech l i t e r a t u r e was lessened. Part of the explanation of Russian neglect of the by liny no doubt l i e s in the tendency to ignore that which i s f a m i l i a r and close to home. Czech l i t e r a t u r e , though drawing heavily from Russian and Serb folk poetry, overlooked the Czech l y r i c song and the ballad, a t l e a s t f o r a time. A great part of the explanation must be found in the form of the byllna i t s e l f . The by Una i s c e r t a i n l y the most chara c t e r i s t i c of Russian folk genres, and the most patterned. I t s form i s the s t r i c t e s t in terms of obligatory use of p a r a l lelism, fixed e p i t h e t s and c e r t a i n types of metaphor. I t i s a form i n which c l i c h e s of p l o t , c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n , and language

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play a very important part. A good narrator can easily improvise when he has forgotten. Urns, i t i s very d i f f i c u l t to disguise the origin of any materials or formal elements taken from the by liny. Imitation of them would have been relatively simple, but i t would have produced nothing new. Reworking by Una materials in a new context would have been d i f f i c u l t , however, for the devices of style and form were so characteristic that they inevitably recalled their source. Hence imitation of the by liny, even the use of certain isolated but characteristic elements, would have destroyed the impression of originality, even i f the author had tried to be original. In Czech literature quite the opposite was the case: the use of the strange and exotic form produced the e f fect of great originality, even where there was none. In this connection we have seen that Puskin worked only with those types of epic which were capaDle of development outside of and beyond their original context. I t i s also of interest here that the byllny were of great influence in Russian painting and music (for example, Yasnecov's painting, Bo£atyrs, Rimskij-Korsakov's opera, Sadko, and Gliere's " I l ' j a Muromec" symphony), in which the medium of the art was d i f ferent. Isolated elements of style and content, even, were d i f f i cult to borrow. The devices of nature parallelism and antithe s i s might seem to have been worth borrowing. To a degree the former was borrowed into the general tradition of Czech epic poetry, though not, i t must be added, the l a t t e r , which was so strikingly characteristic that i t remained closely associated with epic poems on Russian and Serb subjects. In Russia, too, the use of these devices would have immediately suggested the source. In one element of form, however, the byllny did make a contribution to Russian poetry. Their irregular metre was imitated throughout the f i r s t half of the nineteenth century. But masterful though such experiments were, they do not seem to have exerted any influence on the general current of l i t erature. Both Puskin and Lermontov confined their use of freer rhythms to their folk-like poems. Apparently free rhythms were too closely associated with folk poetry, and these poets preferred to develop new rhythms of a s t r i c t e r sort in treating non-folk subjects. Since i t s form was so s t r i c t , the byllna provided an excellent opportunity for parody. All of the numerous pastiches and works influenced by i t during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries were in one sense or another parodies, as has been noted. Lermontov and Mej were almost alone in using the form seriously; Aleksej Tolstoj used it seriously, but also parodied i t . Extensive use of the byllna form in Russ ian poetry would doubtless have only increased this tendency to parody.

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225

But, even i f the s t r i c t form of the byllna, which o f f e r e d such l i m i t e d p o t e n t i a l i t i e s f o r v a r i a t i o n and development, could not have been used, why could not the c o n t e n t s have been separated from the form and used independently? Russian l i t e r a t u r e p r e s e n t s only a s i n g l e example of t h i s : Leo T o l s t o j ' s prose v e r s i o n of the h i s t o r i c a l song about Ennak, 5 and even in t h i s case T o l s t o j ' s paraphrase has r e tained much of the s t y l e and phraseology of the o r i g i n a l . App a r e n t l y the s t r i c t form of the byliny produced an involunt a r y a s s o c i a t i o n of the content of the epics with t h e i r form. And much of t h e c o n t e n t , of course, was likewise composed of cliches. There were o t h e r reasons why the content was so d i f f i c u l t t o use. Like t h e form, i t , too, i n s p i r e d parody. Ihe extreme pompousness of the bogatyr, h i s bragging, h i s crude treatment of women—these q u a l i t i e s were d i f f i c u l t to r e c o n c i l e with Russian n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y l i t e r a t u r e . The absence of romant i c love in many byliny i s s i m i l a r l y a reason. Thus Potugin, in Turgenev's Sitofee, a Westerner, r e j e c t s the byliny a s not c o n t a i n i n g a s i n g l e t y p i c a l p a i r of l o v e r s ; in t h i s , he obs e r v e s , Russian epic l i t e r a t u r e i s unique in Europe and Asia. He goes on to s a t i r i z e the appearance and behavior of the Russian bogatyr, quoting byllna phraseology and parodying i t . Sologub, in h i s humorous play, Van'ka the Steward and the Pate Jean, based on the Russian b a l l a d s about Van'ka the Stewa r d , s a t i r i c a l l y compares t h e c r u d i t y of love a s depicted in the Russian b a l l a d with t h e g e n t e e l c h a r a c t e r of t h e French t r a d i t i o n of c h i v a l r y . The ideology of the byliny was likewise d i f f i c u l t to adapt to n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y l i t e r a t u r e . Had the n a t i o n a l i s m of the f i r s t decade of the century p e r s i s t e d , i t would have been poss i b l e to t u r n the bogatyrs' p a t r i o t i s m and t h e i r h e r o i c b r a g ging i n t o p o s i t i v e n a t i o n a l i s t i c propaganda. But too few of the great Russian w r i t e r s of the century were s t r o n g l y n a t i o n a l i s t i c p a t r i o t s . The byliny might have been used n e g a t i v e l y , of course, because of t h e i r c r i t i c i s m of the p r i n c e . Here, in f a c t , they were more i n f l u e n t i a l : Lermontov's ideology in h i s poem i s r a t h e r negative than p o s i t i v e , while Aleksej T o l s t o j a l s o used them to support h i s c r i t i c i s m of Russian p o l i t i c a l and s o c i a l l i f e , old and new. But such a t t a c k s were, of course, dangerous, and the use of the c r i t i c i s m of Prince Vladimir in the byliny a s a source f o r s p e c i f i c a t t a c k s on t s a r i s n was d i f f i c u l t throughout the n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y . Thus, H a v l i c e k ' s Baptism of St. Vladimir, with i t s s a t i r i c approach t o t h i s g r e a t event of Old Russian h i s t o r y , could be publ i s h e d in Russian t r a n s l a t i o n only a f t e r t h e r e l a x a t i o n of the censorship in 1905- Only with the Revolution did the a g g r e s s i v e l y n a t i o n a l i s t i c ideology of the byliny f u l l y accord with that of s t a t e o f f i c i a l s and the r u l i n g p a r t y , a s well a s

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that of certain w r i t e r s , and then the by liny enjoyed a new influence in l i t e r a t u r e . Majakovskij 1 s 150,000,000 was o r i g i n a l l y e n t i t l e d Ivan,

a Byltna,

Epic

of

the Revolution.

The

government supported the ideology of the epic poems to such an extent that in November, 1936» parodies of the by liny were sharply c r i t i c i z e d . 6 Russian epic poetry i t s e l f was weak throughout the nineteenth century. Hough Puskin and Leraontov wrote long narrat i v e poems, these were not heroic e p i c s . Apparently the posit i v e ideology necessary f o r the production of an epic was lacking, while the censorship prevented the unfettered expression of any counter-ideology. Another explanation f o r t h i s apparent i n d i f f e r e n c e to the byllny i s to be found in the emotional mood of the f o l k epos. Russian l i t e r a t u r e of the nineteenth century, both poetry and prose, i s poor in happy endings and emotional optimism. The poet Khlebnikov, in an essay, "Hie Teacher and the Pupil," observes the s t r i k i n g differences in emotional tone and subj e c t matter between the folk song and Russian written l i t e r a ture. Khlebnikov'3 comparison i s made in simplified but s t r i k i n g terms: f o r the f o l k song l i f e i s beauty; f o r the writers of the end of the nineteenth century i t i s horror. For the folk song l i f e i s something p o s i t i v e , worthy of cent r a l attention; f o r the writers, i t i s death. The writers defame Russia; the folk songs exalt her. The writers condemn war; the folk songs praise i t . 7 To a certain extent the negative a t t i t u d e and mood of Russian nineteenth-century l i t e r a t u r e was a consequence of p o l i t i c a l oppression and the s t r i c t s t r a t i f i c a t i o n of s o c i a l c l a s s e s , resulting in the almost enforced idleness and uselessness of the gentry, to which most nineteenth-century writers belonged. Though most of the greater w r i t e r s were against the government, they f a i l e d to develop a s a t i s f a c t o r y counter-ideology of t h e i r own. Hence the pessimistic tone of t h e i r works, general, even vague in i t s lack of d i r e c t i o n . The byllny, with t h e i r happy endings, exaltation of the hero and boasting tone, could hardly f i t the mood of such a l i t e r ature. Leraontov supplied his own personal mood of pessimism and resignation to f a t e in his Song of Kalasnlkov. A similar pessimism or melancholy dominates Aleksej T o l s t o j ' s serious pastiches of byllny. Yet there were byllny of a melancholic or pessimistic chara c t e r , such as "Svjatogor," "The Death of Curilo Plenkovic," and "The Destruction of the Russian Bogatyrs." But i t must be noted that none of these byllny had been included in the c o l l e c t i o n of Kirsa Danilov, and i t was only in the second h a l f of the nineteenth century that they became well known. Though the last-named bylIna became extremely popular a f t e r i t s publication by Mej in 1856, the damage had already been

Conclusion

227

done, so to speak. The first half of the century, with its higher artistic evaluation of folklore and its respect for it as a "faithful mirror of the soul of the people," was already past. It is strange that the Slavophiles, with their interest in Russian folklore and the Russian past, did not imitate the epic songs. Their energies seem rather to have been devoted to the collection and study of folklore, as in the case of Bodjanskij and Kireevskij, and not to its imitation. Bodjanskij's underestimation-of the importance of the Russian folk epic, responsible for Stur's subsequent neglect of it, seems to have been significant here. Nor was Bodjanskij alone in underestimating the importance of the folk epic. The tendency to neglect it was quite general until the middle of the nineteenth century. Kirsa Danilov's collection was misinterpreted and misunderstood. The widespread belief that he had been the author of his poems, and not their collector, contributed to this neglect. The poems themselves helped to create such an impression, with their frequent anachronisms, lapses in taste, and the brachylogic character of their narratives. Russians were in search of something more akin to the I§or Lay. Lacking a comprehensive theory of the nature and transmission of folklore, they were incompetent to approach the songs of Kirsa Danilov. For the Serbs and Croats this was no problem, for they found their own epos still living about them; for the Czechs it was not a problem since they had no norm by which to measure the poems of Kirsa Danilov's collection. In this connection it is significant that Puskin, though he knew the Ancient Russian Poems, considered brigand and Cossack songs to have been the central development of the Russian folk song, and turned from them to the skazkl apparently because pastiches of poems in these traditions could not have passed the censor. And Lermontov's Sonf of KalaSnlkov was also partly based on brigand songs. The appearance of Sakharov's Skazanija russkago naroda (Tradit ions of the Russian People) during the 1840's, the first collection after that of Kirsa Danilov to contain by liny, did little to dispel this skepticism. Sakharov's reliance on Kirsa Danilov and Culkov for much of his material cast doubt on the folk origin of the rest of it. Only with the appearance cf the exhaustive collections of Kireevskij and Rybnikov of the 1860's was it understood how much wider and more living was the ancient epic than had been realized. But by then the motivation and attitude to folklore necessary to literary cultivation of folk forms had already passed. It must be pointed out that, unlike the Czechs, the Russians did not have to fight for their national heritage. Hence there was a weaker tendency to propagate that heritage.

228

Conclusion

Russians of the nineteenth century were even curiously apologetic concerning Russian l i t e r a t u r e and c u l t u r e , both old and new. And though the West has acquired an i n t e r e s t f o r c e r t a i n authors of modern Russian l i t e r a t u r e , i t has to a g r e a t extent overlooked the leading works of the older Russian l i t e r a t u r e , such a s the Lay of Iior's Raid and the Tale of Voe and Misfortune, as well as most of Russian folk l i t e r a t u r e , excepting the skazkl. Though much of t h i s i s the f a u l t of the West, s t i l l Russian modesty and the tendency of a great part of the Russian society to accept unquestioningly the leadership of the West have in part also been responsible. Of the other folk epic forms one might a l s o expect the r e l i g i o u s epic to have been more i n f l u e n t i a l . I t was b e t t e r known from l i f e than the by Una, i f l e s s well represented in c o l l e c t i o n s . But again i t s ideology was apparently u n s u i t a b l e . Though most of Russian nineteenth-century l i t e r a t u r e has a moral b a s i s , very l i t t l e of i t has a r e l i g i o u s foundation taken from Russian Orthodoxy. Here again one might have expected the Slavophiles or Dostoevski,] to have made g r e a t e r use of the r e l i g i o u s epic, but they did n o t . Toward the end of the century the poetic movement known as Symbolism was able to revive the l i t e r a r y use of folk forms, in which i t discovered parables and symbolic t a l e s . We have seen how popular the byltny about Svjatogor were with Czech poets of the end of the century, as well as the use of the Russian r e l i g i o u s epic by Zeyer. These s u b j e c t s could l i k e wise have been f e r t i l e in Russia. But aside from Bal'mont's attempts to r e - c r e a t e the by liny (which were a t once c r i t i cized as extremely weak by Brjusov), and Kljuev's use of mot i f s from the r e l i g i o u s epic, there i s nothing. Only in Sovie t times has there appeared a new tendency to emphasize the byltny as the g r e a t e s t and most p o s i t i v e form of Russian f o l k l o r e . New "byltny" about Capaev, Lenin and Stalin have even been created by " s o c i a l comand." Doubtless the Soviet government, in chosing a f o l k form such as the bylIna f o r the purpose of g l o r i f y i n g i t s heroes, i s seeking to achieve the a i r of spontaneous popularity which celebration in a folk form suggests. The Russian Folk Epos In Czech

Literature

Die Russian folk epos entered the Czech world a s part of a complex of Russian and Slavic l i t e r a r y and c u l t u r a l i n f l u ences which were f e l t in t h a t country early in the l a s t cent u r y . This complex a l s o included Serb epic poetry and, to a l e s s e r degree, the folk poetry of t h e other Slaivic peoples. I t a l s o included Russian l y r i c poetry and the Lay of Iior's Raid. Hence the s u b j e c t of the present study i s in a sense

Conclusion

229

an a r t i f i c i a l one. During the second half of the century these various influences can, i t is true, be separated more easily, but even then the complex described retains a certain unity. Yet there i s a real purpose in the subject of this study. Russian folk influence on Czech literature has always been carefully distinguished in the Czech mind from the influence of Russian written literature. This is most strikingly illustrated by the f i r s t half of the nineteenth century, when, except for the Iior Lay, a handful of lyrics by Puskin (those most reminiscent of folk lyrics), and several poems of Deraavin were almost a l l that was translated into Czech. Likewise there is a real purpose in distinguishing the influence of Russian epic folk poetiy from that of the l y r i c . The Czechs had a highly developed folk lyric of their own, and they did not need to borrow the Russian lyric. Except for Hanka and &elakovsky, they largely ignored i t . Hie Czechs lacked a heroic folk epos; the Manuscripts were forgeries, and in any case were not usually considered as folk works in the strict sense, but as works of a very early written literature. The Manuscripts were deficient in many of the qualities most characteristic of the heroic epos: central position of the hero, his supernatural or exaggerated power, hyperbole, breadth of development. They lacked or were poor in certain devices which the Czechs found in both the Russian and the Serb epos: use of fixed epithets, antithesis, rhetorical figures, and repetitions. And, most important of a l l , their ideology was purely Czech, while political conditions in Bohemia demanded a conmon Slavic orientation. Ulis orientation was expressed in the studies of Dobrovsky, Safari k, and Stur, in the Pan-Slavic sonnets of Kollar, in Hanka's early imitations, in Erben1s adaptations of Slavic folk tales and Slavic folk motifs in his ballads. Hie Czechs were never satisfied with a literature which had its sources only in their own land and people. Yet »Ay, of the whole of Russian literature, did the Russian epic alone play such an important role? Why did CeJakovsky, the translator of Scott's Lady of the Lake, not translate more of Puskin? Why did the vogue of Byron in Bohemia produce no greater interest in Puskin and Lermontov? In this respect, of course, Czech literature in no wise lagged behind the rest of Western Europe, which was also very slow in coming to ein appreciation of these writers. Moreover, the period of greatest Czech interest in Russian literature lay between 1812 and 1835» when i t was s t i l l somewhat early for f u l l appreciation of Puskin, not to mention Lermontov. After 1835 there was considerable loss of enthusiasm; Russia failed the Czech hopes which had grown out of the war with l\irkey in 1829, ω ά showed her absolutist intentions in crushing the Polish Uprising.

230

Conclusion

Nor were the Czechs equipped to understand Puskin and Lermontov. From the former poet Celakovsky chose only s e v e r a l l y r i c s o f l e s s e r importance, reminiscent of f o l k l y r i c s , f o r t r a n s l a t i o n . Puskin and Lermontov did not w r i t e the sort o f l i t e r a t u r e which the Czechs wanted, a strongly n a t i o n a l i s t i c or Pan-Slavic l i t e r a t u r e with a p o s i t i v e program o f action or with g l o r i f i c a t i o n o f a great past. Hence the Russian epic was the strongest Russian influence in Czech poetry. The poetry of neither Puskin nor Lermontov was w e l l known to the Czechs u n t i l Czech poetry had d e v e l oped t o a point where i t did not need t h e i r influence. Yet the by Una never achieved the status o f a form which was o f a r t i s t i c worth f o r them in i t s own r i g h t . In every case i t subserved a secondary purpose f o r the Czechs: an expression o f patriotism, love o f freedom and resistance to oppression; a key t o the Russian character and to old Russian customs and t r a d i t i o n s . Even in Zeyer, where Russian epic poems came nearest t o a t t a i n i n g a r t i s t i c independence, they seem to subserve the function o f a key to the Russian r e l i g i o u s and e t h i c a l character. Yet the by liny were o f immense influence on Czech poetry, even on that which was not linked with Russia in subject. We have already seen how Cela,kovsky influenced the e n t i r e generation o f poets who followed him, including Langer and Erben, n e i t h e r o f whom wrote about s p e c i f i c a l l y Russian subj e c t s . In the second h a l f o f the century Ttfborsky and Zeyer are a l s o to be placed in this category. Most o f the devices of the Russian e p i c which came into Czech poetry, i t i s true, remained c l o s e l y associated with Russian subjects. This was the case with the use o f f i x e d e p i t h e t s ( e s p e c i a l l y those epithets which in themselves were Russianisms), a n t i t h e s i s , and nature p a r a l l e l i s m , though the l a s t did enter Czech poetry to some extent by way o f the Manuscripts. In Langer and Erben these devices did attain a p a r t i a l independence, i t i s true, but i t did not p e r s i s t . In rhythm, however, the Russian f o l k epos (together with the Lay of lior's Raid, which was in poetic prose) provided the only example of f r e e , unrhymed verse which the Czechs possessed, and,the whole development of Czech f r e e verse during the f i r s t h a l f o f the nineteenth century i s due to this i n fluence. As in Russia, t h i s f r e e verse remained associated with works o f a f o l k character, but f r e e r rhythms did begin to be used f o r many f o l k - l i k e poems o f non-Russian o r i g i n , as i s notably the case with Langer and Erben. And when f r e e r rhythms began t o return a t the close o f the nineteenth century, the models o f Celakovsky and Erben were of greatest importance. In the case o f Zeyer 1 s Roman Vaslllc, the Russian f o l k poems exerted a new, d i r e c t rhythmic influence of t h e i r own.

Conclusion

231

flie Russian epic was borrowed to fill the lack of a Czech heroic epos, but the Czechs tended to interpret the Russian epos lyrically, partly, indeed, because the Czechs lacked an indigenous epos. Thus, Celakovsky ignored the Russian historical epic in his Echo, but gave us three historical lyrics. His "Bogatyr Muromec" is a static picture, while the long lyric description of the palace of the Volga in "Ilja Volzanin" is not at all characteristic of the by liny. Czech literature followed this tendency. Leger's poems contain lyric descriptions, as do Kvapil's, Chalupa's, and Zeyer's, while Kvapil also introduced a frequent dramatic quality in his poems in the form of monologues and dialogues. The lack of a Czech heroic epos seems to have been determinative here. In harmony with this increased lyricism the Czechs sentimentalized and softened the hearty vigor of the byllny. They added erotic subjects, omitted discordant notes or "errors in taste." They changed plots to make them accord more closely with their own ideology, as Kvapil did in "The Destruction of the Bogatyrs," in which Ilja is turned to stone, to awake and revive when Russia should need him again, a motif taken from the native folk tale about the knights of Blanik. This sentimentalizing, eroticizing tendency, conspicuously absent from both Old Russian literature and Russian folk literature, was a natural addition for the Czechs to make in the light of their own folk lyric, lighter and merrier in mood. Ihe pessimism, melancholy and unquestioning acceptance of fate, especially characteristic of Russian lyric laments and brigand songs, were ill-suited to the Czechs' political ideology. Though the Czechs altered the Russian epos in many respects, still it never completely lost an impression of exoticism for them. Hie epic poems were never accepted as something entirely real in the popular psychology of a brother people. During the second half of the century this exotic quality was especially stressed, and it is during this period that the technical devices of the Russian epos, including rhythm, proved most difficult to use outside the framework of a Russian context. Although this study terminates with the year 1900, it must not be thought that the influence of the Russian epos disappeared. During the present century are found Josef Holecek's studies and pastiches of Russian epic poems, B. Herbenova's prose translations^ and a recent volume of poetic translations by Peter Kficka. But since the character of Czech literature changed very rapidly after 1900, this is in essence a third period of influence of the Russian epic, a period presumably ended by recent events in Czechoslavia, and beyond the limits of this study.

Appendix SUMAROKOV'S "CHORUS TO Α PERVERSE WORLD" SUMAROKOV was the literary ideologist of a Russian Fronde which developed during the 1750's and 1760's, and which helped to elevate Catherine II to the throne. The political leader of this party was Count Panin. It represented the interests of the greater and more enlightened nobles of the period. Their ends would have been best served by the limitation of the power of serf ownership, since serfdom was already proving uneconomical, especially on the great estates. They likewise sought to purge the corrupt Russian bureaucracy, to end the practice of tax-farming, and to limit the power of the monarchy by a constitution which, of course, would have favored the power of the higher aristocracy over the petty gentry.1 Needless to say, Catherine was at first sympathetic to such a program, especially since the move for limitation of the monarchy was not openly set forth, and since she owed the party of Panin a debt for her own elevation to the throne. But eventually the power of the lesser nobility proved greater: they insisted on retaining serfdom and unlimited monarchy as a check to the power of the higher aristocracy. From the very beginning, indeed, Catherine treated Sumarokov's manifestoes very coolly, and the speech he made on her coronation, which embodied almost all the demands of his party, and which even boldly hinted at limitation of the power of the throne, could not be printed. Sumarokov seems to have been too blind or too headstrong to realize the danger which led to his eventual fall from favor and subsequent poverty. In 1763 a great masquerade spectacle, "The Triumphant Minerva" (Torzestvujuacaja Minerva), celebrating the coronation of Catherine (who herself, of course, was represented as Minerva) and propagandizing the ideology of the new regime, was arranged in Moscow. One of the tableaus was to represent the perverse world (PrevratnoJ svet), showing the inconsistency between men's ideals and their actions. For this section Sumarokov prepared a chorus, the famous "Chorus to a Perverse World," the sharpest satirical attack on the vices and injustices of Russian life written in· poetry during the eighteenth century.2

234

Sumarokov's

"Chorus to a Perverse

World"

The folk origin of the "Chorus" has long been clear, but to date no specific source has been found for i t . A certain by Una of a marginal sort, or starina, called "The Birds" (Ptlcy)

or "The Birds and the Animals" ( P t l c y t zvert)

is

well known in the Province of Olonec.3 This poem was one of the f i r s t epics to be published, one version appearing in Culkov's collection of 1770-74, so that i t is possible that i t was widely known even earlier. The Province of Olonec is not far from St. Petersburg, the capital city, or from Sumarokov's birthplace in Finland.4 And though the song has been found only in the Province of Olenec, i t may have been more widely known in Sumarokov's day. "Hie Birds" is a Russian poetic version of the international folk theme which equates members of the animal world to those of human society. In most versions there is an extended preamble, or zapev, in which a bird f l i e s in from across the sea and is questioned by an assembly of Russian birds as to what social conditions are found there: "Who is great in your land beyond the sea; Who is l i t t l e beyond the Danube?" {Kto u vas za morem bol'sll,

Kto za Dunaecktm men'sll?

Note that

the phrases "beyond the sea" and "beyond the Danube" are identical in meaning in Russian folklore). The bird answers that the Russian birds are foolish to ask such questions — a l l are great beyond the sea and a l l are l i t t l e , that is, a l l

are equal (Vse u nas za morem bol'sil,

Vse za Dunaecklm

men'sll.) 5 These lines show the object of the satirical content of the whole poem: i t was an attack on the injustice of a rigorous caste society. The humor consists in taking the various classes of Russian society and imagining birds (and in some versions, animals) in their places. There is no plot, unlike certain western versions of the same folk theme, nor did there need to be: the strictness of the caste system in Muscovite Russia made the substitution of birds for sacrosanct social classes humorous enough in i t s e l f . Most of the versions do not even point the satire, which is intrinsic rather than extrinsic. However, one version does contain a sort of refrain which makes i t clear that the song is the protest of the peasants against the condition of a caste society: after the naming of certain classes in the society of birds, there follows the invariable: Pse ona krest