Main Motifs of Norwid's Poetry

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Wacław Borowy

Main Motifs of Norwid’s Poetry

Literary Studies in Poland 18, 99-121

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W acław Borowy

M ain M otifs o f N o r w id ’s Poetry

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W hen you im m erse yourself in C yprian N o rw id ’s poem s, you alm ost feel the winds o f history blow ing through it. In fact, next to “ tru th ,” the w ords historia or dzieje (history) them selves, along with their derivatives, are am ong his favorite words which he charges with m ore poetic m eaning th an any other ones. A reader o f N o rw id ’s poem s will certainly recall lines such as “ From the heights o f history / I look dow n on .the h um an c o n d itio n ” (“ H um an C o n d itio n ”); “ H istory like a lioness in la b o r” (“To the R uler o f R om e”); “ Y ou can sense history, as it moves forw ard like an old clock on a spire” (“T o B ronisław Z .”). He will recall quips such as th at a b o u t “ h isto ry ’s great insult” {On the A rt fo r Poles. A Dedication

L etter); a b o u t “h isto ry ’s sweeping floods” {Promethidiori)\ ab o u t

“ h isto ry ’s la b o rs” (Tim es), “h isto ry ’s levy” (“The H e ro ”), “h isto ry ’s app lau se” (“T he Polish W o m an ” ), “history textbooks tu rn in g into m arb le” (“Y esterd ay -an d -I”), or the “M ass o f h istory” (“ W hat to D o ? ”). All these are accom panied by different degrees o f em otion. Some are pervaded with pent-up feelings, as those lines a b o u t D em biński, who stand s “ where h isto ry ’s watchful eye will find no blem ish,” or those in “S ariusz” which end with the w ords, “A nd w hining wind from A sia b ark s: H istory is alive!” But elsewhere you will merely find a p h ilo so p h e r’s skeptical smile, as in “The R ipe L au rel,” “A nd w hat in life were wings, history often shows to have been heels” ; or in the b itte r w ords o f “O u r E pic” :

A śm iech ? — to p o te m w d ziejach — to p o to m n i N iech się uśm ieją, że my tacy m ali,

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100 W acław B o ro w y

[L augh? This will c o m e later, with our su ccessors, / Let them laugh heartily that we were so puny / A n d they are so happy and con fident.]

N orw id devoted m any poem s to great figures o f his own epoch — Pius IX, Botzaris, A bd-el-Q uader, Joh n B row n, M ickiewicz, C hopin, Bem, A dam C zartoryski, D em biński, W ładysław and A ndrzej Z a m o y sk i... Indeed, his poetry reverberates with echoes o f m any m ovem ents and events, ranging from the 1848 Springtide o f N ations to the French-P russian war. This is true o f works such as “ Psalm on C hristm as Eve,” “A m en,” “Socialism 1848,” “T o the R uler o f R o m e,” “ A Song o f O ur L an d ,” “Reply to Italy ,” “Shall I Apply for A m nesty?,” “John B row n,” “Y e sterday-an d-I,” “ Im provising on a Q uestion ab o u t News from W arsaw ,” “Polish Jews 1861,” “Answer to a Q uestion ab o u t Why I W ear a C on fed erate C a p ,” “Holy Peace,” “S iberias,” “M eanw hile,” “ In M em oriam A lbert Szeliga,” “C h o p in ’s P ia n o fo rte,” “A D e d icatio n ,” “A Besieged M a n ’s Encycli c al,” “T o My C o n tem p o raries,” “ F rance Is N o t Yet L o st,” “W hat to D o ? ,” or “The D ism em bered” (to m ention only the best pieces). Very m any o f his poem s are ab o u t p ro m in en t historical personages or at least include nu m erous references and allusions to such people. In N o rw id ’s verse you will com e across M oses, H om er, Socrates, P lato, S partacus, C aesar, C icero, Paul the A postle, M arcus Aurelius, C olum bus, A dam K rafft, Raffaele, M ichaelangelo, K ościuszko, N a p o le o n ... Some o f these nam es crop up repeatedly in N o rw id ’s poem s. M ost o f his longer works, including his only long poem

Quidam or his plays K rakus, Wanda, the lost “P a tk u l,” Tyrtej,

“C leo p atra and C aesa r,” are historical in character.

When it com es to articulate em otions which were specific for a given historical m om ent, N o rw id ’s pow er o f expression is overw helm ing as well as convincing. T ake for exam ple a poem o f his series called Salem o f 1852:

A p o k a lip sk ie sp ięły się rum aki, A od narodu lecą d o narodu S p ło szo n y m stad em legen d y i znaki.

[The steed s o f the A p o c a ly p se balk / W hile legen d s and sign s, in a scared fligh t,/ T ravel from n a tio n to nation .]

These w ords express the atm osphere o f fru stratio n following the R evolution o f 1848. O r take the following w ords said by a Pole

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M a in M o tifs o f N o r w id ’s P o e tr y 101 ab o u t his country a sho rt time before th at event (from “A Song o f O u r L a n d ”):

W ięc m am że nie cz u ć , jaką na w u lk an ie Stałem się w yspą, gdzie łez w in ob ran ie I czarnej krw i?

[So I am n o t to feel that I am n o w an isle / u p on a v o lc a n o where tears and black b lo o d are the harvest?]

These w ords, rem arkably enough, were w ritten by a poet who was often accused o f overindulgence in abstractions. But he was able to describe excellently changes in social m ores or historical clim ate; recall the in tro du ction to his “ Emil na G ozd aw iu,” for instance.

N o rw id ’s presentations o f social m ores or historical clim ates are designed to have m uch m ore than merely decorative value. It is typical o f N orw id, even when he refers to great historical figures, never to keep his artistic attentio n confined to those people’s person al experiences. In all o f N o rw id ’s poetry you will sense the presence o f huge masses, pow erful social forces, and great currents o f civilization. His “C leo p atra and C aesar” used to be com pared with S h akespeare’s Anthony and Cleopatra. W hat is the chief difference betw een the two w orks? Shakespeare describes the tragedy o f several great historical figures entangled in historical processes; N orw id presents above all the pressure o f trad itio n , custom s, beliefs, political interests, social aspirations etc. on the m asses and on great individuals alike. In his Quidam, each ch aracter stands for one form o f civilization o f his times. A reader o f Quidam gets the im pression o f witness ing prim arily m ovem ents o f large groups, while individuals' actions are o f secondary im portance. The sam e is true o f Tyrtej. N orw id im parts a new significance to the legend ab o u t W anda, as he builds her personal life into the great process o f transitio n from paganism to C hristianity. Rytygier, Skald and the Jew-like the ch aracters o f Q uidam — are spokesm en o f different currents o f their epoch in Tyrtej. R akuz and K rakus, the protagonists o f the o ther m ythical play, are also presented not only as two different individuals but also as two different strains o f culture. M uch the sam e holds for those o f N o rw id ’s w orks which refer to his own tim es; hum an em otions are indigenous to all m ankind, b u t situations and conflicts are determ ined by the m oral atm osphere o f the epoch.

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T his can be seen in The 1002nd N ight, in Pure Love, in The Ring

o f a Great Lady, in Behind the Scene, indeed in m ost o f his lyrical

and epic poem s in both verse and prose. N o rw id ’s own definitions o f tragedy and com edy are telling enough. Tragedy, says N orw id in his an n o tatio n s to Krakus, is “a visualization o f historical or social fate which is peculiar to a nation or an ep o ch .” L a haute comedie, you will read in the preface to the Ring, is a work in which “a society, as a civilization, is looking at itself in an act o f soul- searching.” In a buffo-type com edy, N orw id rem arks, the difference is th at one group is looking at another. There is no p oin t in discussing at this place the adequacy o f these definitions, b u t let us realize how strongly N orw id em phasizes the historical aspect in them .

In general, N o rw id ’s poetic world hardly ever leaves one free o f a sense o f the past. It bears out the assertion th at “the past is now, only som ew hat further b ac k ” (poem “The P a st” in the collection

Vade-mecum), th at “for things o f som e rem ote past / the present

is hu rtin g us like a cilice” (Christmas Eve); th at those who scream ab o u t their own day are hanging like A bsalom on their h air held by hands “which died long ago” (“G re at W ords”). M any m ore such instances could be m entioned in which the a u th o r’s poetic em otion focuses on the same aw areness o f con tin uity o f all hum an things in history.

Even the m ost intim ate em otions, which often push o th er poets away from society and tow ards n ature, do have historical undertones in N o rw id ’s poetry. This happens not only to friendship b u t also to love, as readers o f Assunta (Song IV 11. 7 — 8) m ay recall.

Even in his nostalgia o f certain places N orw id m akes som e historical accents. W arsaw , for exam ple, is presented in sym bols which function as m on um ents; you find these in descriptions o f a parish church, or o f “b u rg h e rs’ m an sio ns,” or o f “Sigism ond’s sword in the clo u d s,” or o f streets ridden by C ossack regim ents (“C h o p in ’s P ia n o fo rte”); or, elsewhere, W arsaw shows its face in the strange sym bol o f the m erm aid, or in the bew ildering ap pearance o f cobblestones w ithout a trace o f blood and tears on them . All these are pictures not o f a W arsaw know n from view-cards but o f a city which was the scene o f great historical events.

But th at pervasive presence o f history has never been regarded as a determ inistic factor by N orw id. The im portance o f h u m an will

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M a in M o tifs o f N o r w id ’s P o e tr y 103

is never obscured in his poetry. In N o rw id ’s world, hum an beings carry the b u rd e n —good and bad alik e—o f the past. It is up to m an to realize the existence o f th at heritage and to do som ething abo ut it. It does n o t imply a resigned acceptance o f all inexorable co n sequences o f things which happened a long tim e ago, b u t the p artak in g o f the experience o f a great d ra m a involving b o th individuals and entire nations, indeed all o f civilization. French poets contem porary with N orw id often extolled history as a spectacle m eriting close attentio n. So did Tyutchev, an o u tstan d in g R ussian contem porary o f N o rw id ’s. In his poem Cicero, Tyutchev says, “ H appy is he who w atched / the w orld in times o f change and b re ak th ro u g h : / the gods called him to their hom e / to p arta k e o f their feast / to attend their sacred council / to watch their noble games / and, a living h u m an in en rapture, / to drink from their cup o f im m o rtality .” N ow this kind o f contem plato ry attitu d e tow ards history is im pon derable in N o rw id ’s case. I f he extolls a great m an, th an only to express his solidarity with the idea behind the m a n ’s act, to m ake the read er cry out in an irresistible urge tow ards ap c th e o sis— “On and o n ,” as he does at the end o f his “ M ourn in g the M em ory o f G eneral Bern.” 1 T o be true, you have got to be an actor, also in a th eate r” (“ On Freedom o f E xpression” II). T hat was w hat m ade N orw id praise Joh n Brown, a heroic figure of A m erican B lacks’ liberation m ovem ent. T h at was w hat m ade him pay tribute to em ir A bd-el-Q uader, a noble M oslem who stood up in defense o f people who shared neither his religion n or his nationality. T hat was why N orw id devoted a rh apsody to Bern, who “caught up with spears m any id eas.” N orw id paid tribute to C zartoryski for his relentless and p atient w ork (kolodziejstw o) to reassure Poles. Indeed, th at was always his reason to write abo u t great men in history at all. His heroes were great n o t only on account o f their courage or scope, but also their resolve and will. A bd-el-Q uader’s greatness, according to N orw id, was th a t he knew “when to m o u n t his horse.” And, for the sam e reason, B ern’s accom plishm ents are sym bolized by his “steed” ; and, again for the sam e reason, that “steed” can be

1 W ith a different p u rp o se in m ind, K . W. Z a w o d z i ń s k i , “ U ro cz y sto ści N o r w id o w e ” (N o rw id F estiv ities), M y ś l W sp ó łcze sn a , 1947, n o . 7 /8, p. 149, co m p a res N o rw id 's poetry with the universal p h ilo so p h ic a l poetry o f T y u tch ev and som e others.

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goaded with a spear like with “an old sp u r” on m a n k in d ’s difficult road even after the h e ro ’s d eath . Even P a u l the A postle is presented as “a rider in clear fields / bow ed on his horse, in a beam of light” {Salem). The hero o f the future, too, app ears to N orw id as a sim ilar rider, “The knight will again p u t on a new cloak, / and will em brace m any N ations with his Love” {ibidem).

“ He will em brace m any N atio ns with his Love” —these words are also typical o f N o rw id ’s attitu de tow ards history. In N o rw id ’s poetic w orld, readers constantly feel th at history has its own “conscience” {Times)', th a t—as he puts it in S a lem — “history writes wise eq u a tio n s” ; th at (“Polish Jews 1861”) “history is a mess only ap parently / for there is wide strength and order in it.” So, m an is obliged to acknow ledge his history. This tru th is whispered by sand in the sand-clock to the n a rra to r o f the short-story A Handful

o f Sand.

Pray k n o w that it is trad ition by w hich m a n ’s m ajesty is d istin g u ish ed from field an im als, and that he w h o has stifled the c o n sc ie n c e o f h istory b eco m es a savage in a rem ote isla n d and is gradually b e c o m in g an anim al h im self.:

In history conceived o f this way, the respective positions o f men o f action an d o f artists appear to be closely sim ilar. C ho pin was a great m an not because he gave expression to Polishness in his works b u t because he gave expression to this P o land , “the P oland o f ennobled w heelw rights” cast against a b ack d ro p o f h isto ry ’s “om ni perfection.” M ickiewicz was a great m an not only on account o f his m asterful use o f language b u t also because, being a m aster o f words, he cast “a rainb ow o f pearl-like seeds,” o f “ Love and L aith ” {Salem), and th at he left this w orld saying “ L et’s love each o th e r.” R eferr ing to L ord B yron, in his “C onversation o f the D e a d ” N orw id recognizes B yron’s personal involvem ent in G reece’s w ar o f n ational liberation as a greater accom plishm ent th an his writings (not w orrying ab out co m paring two areas o f w ork which are really in com p ar able).

- M. J a s t r u n w rites in terestin gly ab o u t this in his P reface, [in:] C. N o r w i d ,

W iersze w ybran e (S e le c te d P o em s), W arszaw a 1947: “N o r w id has a c lo se sen se o f each

m o m e n t’s h istorical sign ifican ce [p. X ; but] h istorical m o m e n ts are in terestin g for N o rw id o n ly in sofar as they stan d for a m oral tru th ” (p. X I).

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M a in M o tifs o f N o r w id ’s P o e try 105

N orw id, accordingly, is pervaded with a p rofo un d sense o f h isto ry ’s presence. He is truly exceptional in this. His repeated co m plaints ab o u t the “un histo ricity ” o f his own times m ay seemingly disprove this view. W hich o f N o rw id ’s readers will n o t recall his references to th at “no m in al” epoch (in “A D o rio ad P hryg iu m ”), to his times being “w ithout history and colorless” {Salem) or m any sim ilar form ulations, beginning with his early poetic letter “To M y B rother L udw ik,” where he said:

I w d o czesn o ści pijanej się gubię. N ie śm iejąc w iekiem n azw ać — i o sąd zić, Ż e taki o g ro m czasu m o żn a — błądzić.

[I am co n fu se d at these tim es / W hich I d o n ot dare call a century. / N o r can believe that o n e can roam aim le ssly for so long.]

It was th at opposition to his own epoch which m ade him coin a whole array o f poetic invectives, a host o f sarcastic poem s, indeed his quite m any satires. T h a t attitu d e o f protest, too, accounts for som e o th er works having been p roduced at all, e.g. those which express the pain o f looking forw ard to things which m ay happen only in historical perspective. N orw id excelled in expressing this p artic u la r pain. Indeed, the entire effect o f his poem “Y esterday-and -I” derives from th at peculiar p a in —you should hide your face behind a coffin cover and wait to see “history textbooks turning into m arb le .” In “M eanw hile,” N orw id says, “ My days are delays, my years a long w aiting.” His personal life appears as ju st an “in terlud e” in the con tin u o u s stage play o f history. This d ram a o f w aiting for history to arrive a t a certain point is am ong N o rw id ’s m ost original poetic m otifs.

T his specific dram atic experience brings also a specific type o f hero on the stage. The knight o f “the new w eapon” is not necessarily one w ho fights in the literal sense— he m ay also be “the one who is w aiting,” as N orw id puts it in his half-jocular poem “A nswer to a Q uestion abo u t W hy I W ear a C onfederate C a p .” A nd, as you m ay read in “The H e ro ,” “C hristian sw eetness,” accom panying valor, “p arta k es in the victory by its sp irit.”

N ever, though, does his sense o f alienation from his own epoch, his opposition to its m ain currents, lead him to despair or do u b t in the pro fo u n d m eaning o f history. He concludes his very som ber

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letter “To My B rother L udw ik” (1844) with shaking off his pessimism, “A nd yet I will no t condem n this w orld ,” whereas later in Salem N orw id com pares th at “epoch w ithout h isto ry ” to the tim e o f the G ospel story ab o u t a m aster who leaves his house in the care o f a bad k ee p er—the day will com e when the m aster returns and will dem and o f the keeper to show all accounts. The same m otif, though in a different picture, recurs in “A D o rio ad P h ry gium .” So, n o tw ith stand ing all his grief, his outrage, his protests, N orw id pervades his poetic world with a certainty th a t actually no epoch is “w ithout h istory.” The unhistoricity o f som e periods is only an illusion. Even in an epoch which appears to be m erely “n o m in al,” history now and then rem inds people o f its course: a Jew is standing in fron t o f a hut “like an ancient obelisk” ; a plough now and then brings to the light o f day an old a rm o r; a p o rtra it now and then falls off the w a ll... All th at pertains to the ultim ate reckoning o f history. W hat is nom inal is less significant th an what is essential, even though by its com m onness it m ay ap pear to be som ething beyond the scope o f history. 19th-century P o lan d is “dism em bered” (as N orw id describes it in one o f its strangest late poem s called “The D ism em bered: A B allad” ; so w hat? A re n ’t the Vistula, the W arta or the N ida flowing as ever? Isn ’t the plow m an plod din g along behind his plough? A re n ’t children going to school in the m ornin g?

The progress o f history is visible everywhere. Also in ruins, which are am ong the m ost frequent m otifs o f N o rw id ’s poetry (“ H um an C o n d itio n ,” “ In V ero na,” “Old G raves,” “A P ray e r,” “ W h ite-M arble,” “P om pei,” “ R u in s,” Quidam, and others). One o f the m ost significant features o f N o rw id ’s poetry stands out when his poem s ab o u t ruins are com p ared to analogous poem s o f others. N atu rally , the first poem to com e to m ind is G o e th e ’s Traveller, which was know n in P oland owing to M ickiew icz’s translation. As is know n, G oethe sings the praise o f N ature, which tells a swallow where am o ng fine sculptures o f m ouldings it should build itself a com fo rtable nest, which tells people how to pu t “tiny hom es” in openings between m agnificent buildings o f “ the previous ce n tu ry ” and thus to “live on upon a grave.” A n other poem ab o u t ruins th at com es to m ind while reading N o rw id ’s own is The Italian Villa by Tyutchev. T h a t poem shows ruins which look m ajestic by their em ptiness an d peace, and slowly and soundlessly m elt together with the m ild n atu re arou nd them .

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Tourists enter the yard, and som ething like a stir moves the ruins. “W h a t’s th a t? Is th a t w hat the evil life with its endless feverishness has carried ou t across som e secret th resh o ld ?” In co n trast to Tyutchev and G oethe, N orw id presents an entirely different picture o f ruins. For him, ruins are prim arily convincing pieces o f evidence o f h isto ry ’s presence, o f m a n ’s creative will (as in the concluding lines o f his poem “O n Freedom o f E xpression,” ch ap ter XIV, show ing the colum ns o f Palm yra).

R uins o f buildings rem ind him o f the n a tio n ’s life which is also in ruin. All o f the n a tio n ’s rights m ay have been destroyed. Yet public opinion still rem ains; despite its trite and uninspiring designation, it is as pow erful as before, always loom ing dangerously over tyrants, those who violate the law, and renegades. N orw id had no qualm s about using w hat were called prosaic words. But he was able to im part great poetic pow er to such words. It took a poet o f N o rw id ’s posture to pu t dow n (in p a rt two o f Promethidioń) these words, “Oh opinion, thou art the hom eland o f h o m elan d s—your pow er / Com es from the p eo p le’s own voice,” and to show th at this voice’s pow er com es precisely from the fact th at it is ju st a voice, som ething like the voice o f prophets who wore no arm s or any kind o f m aterial back-up; nothing, it would appear, and yet such a m ight.

Thus, w hat appears to be an absence o f history tu rn s out to be ju st one o f m any varieties o f histo ry ’s presence in peo ple’s lives.

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Just as no periods w ithout history exist, in N o rw id ’s poetic realm you will never find people or m atters w ithout significance. A lm ost all o f his poem s open great historical perspectives. But great historic figures d o not always ap p ear in the forefront. N orw id says this explicitly in his letter “To W alenty P om ian Z .” :

O w szem w ięc, m ój b o h a ter i jed en , i drugi W ielkich nie czynią rzeczy, to zaś ich sp o ty k a , C o ludzi m iernych a lb o m a ło zn a czn e sługi.

[True, this or other o f my h eroes / A re d o in g n o great d eed s, and their lives / A re lives o f p uny p e o p le or d isp en sa b le servants.!

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even a nam e, who moves like a ghost throu gh the pages o f this great historical poem . But these words also hold for o ther o f N o rw id ’s poem s. In The Ring o f a Great L a d y, perhaps the best o f his plays, you find a very insignificant pro tagonist, called M ak-Y ks. In the short-story “The S tigm a,” a vista opens to a boundless universe o f history, but the story begins with a truly trifling p oint. Even when he introduces great historic figures into the scene o f his w orks, they are not always show n in w hat are “great actio n s.” N o single battle n or a single m ajor diplom atic dispute takes place in “C leo p atra and C aesa r.” Such things do happen, but only som ew here in the b ack ground, and N orw id draw s the re a d e r’s atten tio n to things which are m uch closer to everyday concerns o f his epoch. This is even m ore true o f w orks concerning con tem p o rary events. “A D o rio ad P hrygium ” has as its plot ju st a Gypsy w o m an ’s fun eral; “ Emil na G o zd aw iu ” deals with the painful d isenchantm ent o f an old forgotten w et-nurse. The plots o f poem s such as Szczesna or The

Wedding, o r even Assunta, which is longer th an the two form er

ones, can be told in a few simple sentences w ithout high-flown words. M inor and com m onplace m atters are used as plots in m any m inor poem s.

But w hat is apparently a trifling m atter can be presented in a m ann er which changes entirely the actual dim ension o f things. A colonel m ay not be an athlete at all b u t only a cripple. A hero is no t necessarily a fam ous w arrior, som etim es he may be ju st an obscure w orkm an, like one Jan Gajewski killed by a boiler blast in a factory. N o t only your m other but also your w et-nurse deserves love. This is why the “m ap o f life” is so dissim ilar to the m ap o f the E arth ; if som eone tried to draw that m ap, then “m o u n tain s and d eserts,” as you will read in “A D o rio ,” “would swap places in a tw inkling o f the eye, and the ocean w ould dry to barely a te a r.”

W hen you look at things in this w ay—as if th ro ug h the p o e t’s m icro scop e—the bo undary line between uncom m on and com m o n things fades. It tu rns ou t th at “ordinary people have ex trao rd in ary things in th e m ” (“To My B rother L udw ik”), th a t com m onness hides m any “things m ystical and in scrutable” (“A m idst This C o m m on Life”).

Indeed, ordinary clean w ater appears as truly precious; w ater which people tend to forget in their affluence, b u t w ater which proves m ore valuable than anything when a fire breaks out.

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M a in M o tifs o f N o r w id ’s P o e try 109

O ! w o d o c z y s t a ... b ard zo za p o m n ie li cieb ie, S łu żeb n ej, cich ej, prostej, sz c z e g ó ln ie u bogiej, W której jest b łęk it n ieb io s i która jest w n iebie.

[Oh clea r w a t e r ... they fo rg o t y o u , / T he p a tie n t, the q uiet, the sim p le, the p o o r, / W ater in w h ich there is the blue o f the sky and w hich is in the sky.]

W ater is praised in different m anner in Assunta (this time along with the glass, like in “The T o a st” where it gets praise along with a pail):

W od y nie piłem n a życiu tak czystej N i łza m i kiedy o b iła się skorzej

O szklan k i gm innej k ryształ p r z e ź r o c z y sty ...

[N ev er have I drunk clearer w ater / N o r has m y tear as m errily b ou n ced o ff / T he clear crystal o f an ord in ary g la s s ...]

O r take the frequent pictures o f dust, sand o r cobbles in N o rw id ’s num erous similes and m etaphors, particularly in Assunta (I) or in Quidam (XI). Recall the faintly lyrical tone in “T he D ed ication ” w here a cobble-street in W arsaw “on which no b lood or tears are shining” is rem em bered. O r recall the handful o f sand from a poem in prose under this title. O r his w ords a b o u t “dust stirred by feet from the floor” (“ F am e”), which has som ething o f “ hum an rem ain s” in it.3

N o rw id ’s poetry also shows repeatedly how very significant m inor events and m inor things may prove to be in a p e rso n ’s life—words which are being uttered too loud or inaudibly, a cup o f tea which interru p ts a conversation, a fan, a bracelet, a cap with a sheepskin rim . O ne recu rren t m o tif are flowers throw n carelessly or sent to som eone with a card. One such flower turns out to be an

un-' T h is particular p red ilectio n brings to m ind yet an o th er o f N o rw id un-'s favorite m ann ers o f w riting ab o u t art (and he w rote a b o u t art frequently). N o rw id is fond o f u sin g im ages o f creative or recreative artisan sh ip to p resent artistic em o tio n s. W hen sp ea k in g ab o u t the fine arts, N o rw id usu ally in trod u ces ch ise ls, brushes, p a in ts gravers, etc. A d d ressin g the o u tsta n d in g v io lin ist N . B iernacki, N o rw id sp o k e ab o v e all o f the b o d y o f his v io lin , the strings, the h orsehair o f the bow . “C h o p in ’s P ia n o fo r te ,” a p o em d ev o ted to the great c o m p o se r , is sign ifican t by its very title. E ven tw o early p o em s d ev o ted to literary w ork are en titled w ith technical w ords, “ Print C h a ra cters” and “T h e P e n ,” apart from using n u m erous technical w ord s in the text. T h is series o f m o tifs w as d iscu ssed by K. W y k a , C yprian

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suppressable, h aun ting and obsessive recollection o f the chief ch a racter o f The 1002nd Night.

A “flower sent with a letter” appears later, in a dram atic and ironical presentation, in Szczesna. In “ M a n ,” studying his h e ro ’s potentials, N orw id refrains, as it were, from asking some questions, such as “ Will the wom b which is dearest to you and not o f your kin — show er you with jasm ine b lo o m s?” ; and later he speaks o f “beautiful and charm ing lassies” who know how “to th ro w cabalistic daisies in your face.” The unnam ed m an from Epirus, the ch ief ch a rac te r o f

Quidam, m entioning a laurel leaf throw n by A rthem id oros the

philosopher and instantly “to rn a p a rt” by his discipes, rem inisces a b o u t his own youth, “this is w hat I once did to a cornfield flower.” In “A D o rio ,” this m o tif dom inates the un fo rg ettab le series o f loose-end com parisons. “ Like when one hurls a bunch o f violets / A t a m an in his face, saying n o th in g .”

In this, N orw id is un do ub ted ly a c o n tin u ato r o f 18th- and 19th-century realism , a literary cu rren t which fully acknow ledged and confirm ed the significance o f detail, and which began with Sterne. Indeed, Sterne him self was the first to show th a t tiny, apparently accidental m ovem ents, words, even gestures are indicative o f m ore p rofou nd psychological, m oral or social m eanings. R elying on S terne’s observation, subsequent writers developed an entirely new literary current. T he great Balzac, N o rw id ’s own co ntem po rary , was a prom inent representative o f th at school o f literary creation. T he Polish poet, who was very co n tem p tu o u s o f his co n tem p orary nove lists, sparing no caustic rem arks ab o u t them , did have certain com m on features with them . He absorbed them at a very early stage o f his work. All poetic m otifs o f his youthful poem s are borrow ed from a com m on and direct observation o f life. T heir com parisons and m etaphors are also usually in this range. Y ou will find in those poem s com m on plants, com m on birds, “cou nted eggs being p u t into the b ask et,” a feather used in inocculation against sm allpox. T houghts are com pared to “hired villains” d em and in g to get paid, letters o f the alphabet to a b ird ’s wing with which you sweep off crum bles. Even the m ost im aginative o f all his juvenile poem s, “An Evening in the W ilderness,” is a conversation betw een real ordinary objects. The only personified ab straction to be found in the poem is C alm (indeed this fact itself is telling enough).

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M a in M o tifs o f N o r w id ’s P o e try 111 From his earliest period the poet was aw are th at all those “short-lived b ubbles” have their m eaning “and each trifle thing has consequences, each wise rem ark has consequences” (“ M ed itatio n ” II). N o rw id owes m any com p on ents o f th at belief o f his to the literary current initiated by Sterne. It is not im p o rtan t w hether he drew th at know ledge from the original m aster’s own w orks o r from those im itating Sterne, who were num erous early in the 19th century, viz. Xavier de M aistre, W ashington Irving, T hum m el, B estuzhev-M arlinsky (whose works were translated into Polish when N orw id was young), or perhaps from Józef I. K raszew ski’s first strongly Sterne-like novelettes.

But this philosophy o f the specificity o f detail, which in his predecessors did n o t go beyond the psychological or social fram e work, was soon given a m ore com prehensive, universal perspective by N orw id, who elevated it to the religious sphere an d pervaded it with pow erful em otions. It was only th a t developm ent which explained N o rw id ’s sarcasm tow ards people who im agine th a t “ im m or tality is ju st a Sunday break to in terru p t the all-pervading prose o f life” (“ F am e”). It is this which explain his w ords, “miracles happen even today, bu t you m ust be able to see th em ” (Psalm o f

Psalms), or even the view expressed in “W hat Shall I Tell Y ou,

M ad a m ?” th at “there are no graves except in o n e ’s heart or conscience.” T here are no graves, for no thing ever really d ies—in the realm o f the spirit and in the realm o f m atter alike. H ere is w hat N orw id says in “ F am e,”

[ ...] onej ćm y zielon ej a to m , C o w leciał o k n em led w o d o strzeż o n y , I d yja m en to m , i we w łosach kw iatom S zep cząc c o ś z n ik a ... m yślicież: stracon y?

[ . . . t h i s green m o th ’s a tom / W hich ca m e in through the w in d o w b arely n o tic ed , / W h isp erin g so m e th in g to d ia m o n d s and to flow ers in the hair / D is a p p e a r s ... you think it is lost?]

H ardly anything is m ore typical o f N orw id th an the poetic significance the w ord “a to m ” is given in his poetry. M any examples could be quoted to show this. In his youthful poem “T o M y B rother L udw ik,” people are referred to as “rulers o f ato m s” while th ought is com pared to a “divine ato m .” In his “P o m pei,” you can read about “m arb le’s rigid ato m s.” His character Szeliga in The Ring speaks o f an “atom o f fatalism ” (Act II, Sc. 3), while M aria H arrys

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adm its she m ight once have had “some tiny a to m ” o f feeling for him (Act II, Sc. 6). In an 1873 poem , those huge flowers were “a green atom am idst pots with e a rth .” In Quidam, the m an from Epirus m entions “loud systems o f ato m s” (X III) and A rth e m id o r’s disciples say he is “as free as ato m s” (V).

A further aspect o f atom s is show n by N orw id in the passage from his letter “T o W alenty P om ian Z .” where N orw id p u ts him self in opposition to M ickiew icz’s K o n ra d :

B o jam nie d ep tał w szystk ich m ęd rcó w i p r o r o k ó w ... A le m ię h uśtał w icher, ssałem u o b ło k ó w

I czu łem p r o c h ó w a tom na tw arzy upadłej.

[But I did n o t defy all w ise m en and p r o p h e ts ... / I w as sw u n g ab o u t by the w inds, I sucked from c lo u d s / A n d felt a to m s o f d u st o n m y p rostrate face.]

This is no longer ju st a hyperbolic detail o r a sym bol o f free dom , as it was in the previously q u oted lines; here it expresses the entire drift o f civilization N orw id senses so profou nd ly.

In one o f his last poem s, “T o B ronislaw Z .” (1879), N orw id says, “ D id n ’t N e w to n ’s apple reveal great tru th s ? ” 4 Indeed, small things som etim es open great tru th s to us. A nd great tru th s often do w ithout m any words. Som etim es a word o r two suffices,

i p o n o ć to zw ie się: E p ok a,

słó w dw a, a z których jest p o te m treść cią g ła , jak te n ieliczn e: Z iem ia jest ok rągła.

[and this is w hat they call an E p och / tw o w ord s, w h ich later p ro d u ce la stin g truths / like these few w ord s: T h e Earth is r o u n d — A ssu n ta, IV, stanza 4).

In a world where this happens, m a n ’s designation as ruler o f atom s or Jeh o v a’s dusts (“P ray er”) is no exaggerated description.

U ndoubtedly, N orw id can be regarded n o t only as a poet o f history bu t also as a p oet o f the atom .

W henever he speaks abo u t the “a to m ” N orw id constantly rem inds us o f its role in the universe. “A to m ” or “d u s t” are frequent m otifs in his poetry, but so are “the E a rth ’s globe,” planets, stellar space,

4 T he sam e m o tif perform s a different fu n ctio n in Part II o f B ehind the Beene, where O m egitt says, “ A ch ild , seein g a fallin g apple, reach es its hands o u t for it as i f it w ould lik e to c lin g to its m oth er. But the sa m e in cid en t held a different m essage for N e w to n , p u sh in g his th o u g h ts in an o th er d ir e c tio n .”

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M a in M o tifs o f N o r w id ’s P o e tr y 113 “wind which em braces the G lobe and sings G o d ’s p ra ise ,” and so on. This particu lar co m bination o f these two series o f m otifs is typical o f N orw id. In such com binations, m inor things an d m atters grow big, huge things com e closer, and distances betw een them disappear.

In Assunta, you can find several instances o f stellar con trasts com bined with one an o th er in the p resen tation o f love. H aving told ab o u t his first encou nter with A ssunta (II, 9), N orw id says, “Only the two o f us were in the g ard en —in the w orld.” W hen A ssunta, d ro p p in g a tear on an ivy leaf, runs away, N orw id thus describes his em otion (II, 17): “Only this leaf and I were th e re —all alone in the w orld, big and serene as it is.”

His sense o f the enorm ity o f the universe is a p recon dition for realizing the value o f a trifle or a b rief m om ent. T his tru th is expressed, Sterne-like, by Szeliga in The Ring (Act I, Sc. 6), for example.

Just how characteristic such experiences are o f N orw id can be seen in the very expressive sym bols used in a little poem concluding his essay on “C ritics and A rtists” (1849) in which he p a in ts a vision o f the arts in the future as a “tem ple o f the co v e n an t.”

O ccasionally N orw id im parts a slightly satirical or jo c u la r tone to this very typical m otif, as he does in “ M ario n ettes,” in “P ain ter o f N ecessity,” or in “W hat Shall I Tell Y ou, M ad a m ?” or in sim ilar trifling verse, where N orw id puts on airs o f a m an-of-the-w orld and, in this role, com plains “ H ow can you avoid getting b o re d — if there are a m illion silent stars above the G lo b e?” O r, when he tries to sta rt a draw ing-room conversation “ab o u t the rhythm o f forces which m ake the planets m ove a ro u n d ,” or “th a t the seasons are m ore th an ju st the freezing and thaw ing o f w ater,” all he gets in reaction from the p arty are rem arks ab o u t how to bind a bow tie properly or ab o u t latest fashions in clothes or hairstyles.

But m ore often this p artic u la r voice o f N o rw id ’s th ro b s with em otion. T his happens when he addresses Pope Pius IX with the w ords, “ I t’s you who stand alone in this w orld !” This happens when he pays tribute to a fighter for B lacks’ liberation (“T o C itizen Jo h n B row n”), who is reported to have kicked away a box from u n d er his feet on the gallows, and with it also “the disgraced p la n e t.” This happens when N orw id speaks about the S avior's feet

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having been pierced with nails and “ru nn in g away from this p la n e t,” (“T o a D ead Person), or when (in his later poem “T o the M ost H o no rable Lady I.”) N orw id says he would like “to see th e S av ior’s feet rested m ore firm ly.”

3

The atom and the universe, then, are the two bounds o f N o rw id ’s poetic w orld. They encom pass the ch ief realm o f his observation as p o e t—the realm o f m an.

In his “ U nknow n A u th o r,” N orw id o f course m eans him self when he presents a po et who began “to sing m a n ’s duties and p u rsu its,” which alienated his potential audience. In this unconventional pick o f w ords, he presented him self in the style o f a Delille or som e other m oralizing rhym ester. G enerally, however, the w ord “m a n ” in the sense o f “hum an being” is used by N orw id in a highly em otional context (even though it is always a restrained kind o f em otional expression). N ext to “tru th ,” “h isto ry ,” the “G lo b e” or the “ato m ,” this is one o f N orw id m ost favorite words. A cknow ledging L enartow icz’s long-standing friendship in an 1856 poem , N orw id th an k s him in this way: “Let the L ord confer His grace u po n you / no t for caring for me, b u t for a h u m an being.”

The h ero o f Szczesna concludes his last letter, which he writes in despair, with the words, “Ju st two m ore w ords: I do c a r e ... I lo v e ... m a n .” H e strikes a satirical and ironical to ne in his “ E pim enides,” where he describes an archaeological expedition digging up an ancient tom b, taking all necessary m easurem ents, deciphering inscriptions, studying pots, fragm ents o f nails, traces o f laurel e tc .—

forgetting n o thing at all, “nothing except the m a n ” Paul the A postle was am ong those historical figures N orw id esteem ed m ost, because he was jailed by som e pagans, proclaim ed god by others, and yet he kept to this hum anity, “to this consciousness o f being a hum an being” (“The M arty rs”). T o be hum an is no easy thing; it is “virtue,” as C aesar says in “C leo p atra and C a e sa r” (Act II). It is this p artic u la r “virtu e” which N orw id him self aspires to above all in his poem s. In his “ R eply to D eo ty m a” (1858), co m p arin g him self

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M a in M o tifs o f N o r w id ’s P o e tr y 115 with other poets he says the follow ing words which later becam e quite p o p u la r: “ Let others crave laurels and honors, / I have one h o n o r: to be h u m a n .” H e signs one piece in his im p o rtan t cycle o f gnom ic lyrics, Vade-mecum (X C II: “ F in is”) as “A M o rta l.”

His overriding am bition, then, is no t so m uch to individualize him self, to becom e different from others, as to stand for hum anity in a m ost general sense o f being hum an.

W hen speaking ab o u t hum anity, N orw id often uses alm ost H o ra tia n ab stractions, although his pow er o f em otion is different than H o ra c e ’s (e.g. in Vade-mecum, XVI).

M any o f his poem s, especially those in Vade-mecum, can be viewed as illustrations o f different aspects o f abstract paradoxes — “T he Pilgrim ,” “T he S phynx,” “T enderness,” “N arcissus,” “N erves,” “ F a te ,” “ H a rm o n y ,” “H oly P eace,” and m any others. He frequently presents situations in which hum anity faces a test o f its inherent strength.

A lm ost all poem s ab o u t poetry or art in general are ju st new essays in his co ntin uous poem ab o u t being hum an. R eaders m ay recall his “Essays,” for exam ple, where after a m ock praise o f “ra sp b erry ” and “cran b erry ” songs N orw id proceeds to an honest praise o f authentic h um an em otion as the only truly living poetry.

Indeed, his definitions (in Promethidion) o f beauty as “the shape o f love” or “the profile o f tru th and love” are significant in them selves.

C ritics who com p are N orw id with great poets o f nature, such as Fyet (and dism iss the Pole as incom parably inferior to the R ussian) are totally w rong because they are trying to find in N orw id som ething he deliberately shunned.

It is no t true th at N orw id had no sense at all o f the beauty o f nature, or th a t he was unable to express it. Recall the picture o f the countryside in “A D o rio ” with the lines ab o u t the song sung by “a beetle intoxicated with flow ers’ sweetness” or ab o u t th a t “tipsy song, carried from calyx to calyx” which I am sure neither a Fyet nor a K eats would be asham ed to write. O r take the pictures o f scenic beauty in the opening stanza o f chapter X I in Quidam or stan za VI o f the poem “T o L .K .” T hose are all m agnificent hym ns on the beauty o f nature. B ut N orw id sings a different so n g — th at o f the

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116 W acław B o r o w y

“realm o f m a n k in d ” as he puts it in his “Essays” ; he addresses the M use which is the “pillar o f an invisible church / S tanding upo n a sapphire p edestal.” 5

As K azim ierz W yka poin ted out in reference to this m atter (cf. his article “The A bsent N o rw id ,” Odrodzenie, 1945, no. 19), it is “the objective world o f cu ltu re ” which is N o rw id ’s “indigenous poetic w o rld.” This rem ark is p robably shrew der th an attem p ts to com pare N orw id with Fyet or Tyutchev. A great m any o f the m otifs N orw id used in his poetry fall into the category o f objectively existing culture, and his m etap hors and similes are all draw n from this realm . It is particularly striking th a t this type o f m etap h o rs and similes are used by N orw id to describe natu ral phenom ena. A lready in his youthful poem s you will find “the bed o f an om inous clo u d ” (“The O rp h a n s”) or a “silky le a f ’ (“A D re am ”) lying by a poppy-head. A village is looking like “a flute which holds m any songs in it” (“ R ecollection o f a V illage”): a nightingale is “entan gled” in “veils” o f fog (“T he N ighting ale”); the M oo n paints things on trees and tru nk s “with its soft white b eam ” like a priest on Tw elfth N ight does with “consecrated ch a lk ” (“A n Evening in the W ilderness”), or it pulls a cloud upon it “ as tho ugh wiping her tears with her sleeve” (I.e.). Y ou will com e across m any such pictures in his later poem s too. In the “Essays,” for exam ple, trees “grow up like colum ns from the g ro u n d ,” while against the sky the poet sees “bows o f soft b ra n ch es—like in h arp s.” In the poem “T o L .K .,” n atu re is said to em brace a w o m an ’s waist with em erald m oss as if with a robe while little birds floating above m ake up som ething like a diadem . In Quidam (XVI), the M oon “was p u ttin g her bro ad beam s into the open h a ll—like pages o f an abso rb ing b o o k .” Even m ore frequently, N orw id uses m etap ho rs and similes to link hum an problem s with the world o f objective culture. F or exam ple, in Assunta (I) the n a rra to r telling the story o f the m onk says “ I was standing before L esueur’s p ain tin g ,” whereas in song IV describing the beauty o f his beloved w om an he says, “I w atched her like Phidias his D ian e ,” m eaning o f course her statue.

-s J a s t r u n , op. c it., p o in ts o u t that “ N o rw id has co m e to be regarded a b o v e all as a p h ilo so p h er, a thinker. T hat is w rong. N o r w id is prim arily an artist, but an artist w ho finds the m ost in terestin g kin d o f m aterial in th ou gh t, in reflectio n , in m ank in d 's cultural h eritage” (p. X II). I fully agree.

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M a in M o tifs o f N o r w id ’s P o e tr y 117 This shows N o rw id s p reoccupation with the m eaning o f hum anity. Indeed, hum anity often even eclipses n atu re itself. This holds even m ore for hu m an experiences. Even in his pictures o f love, the h um an being eclipses the lover in m an. W hen N orw id speaks o f u nhappy love (and he alm ost always speaks only o f such love), we hear less from him a b o u t an u n fo rtu n a te lack o f sym m etry o f feel ings th an abo u t sins against being h u m a n —feigned feelings, h ea rt lessness, contem pt. Y ou will find this in “T rylog,” in Szczęsna, in

The 1002nd N ight, in Pure Love, in The Ring o f a Great Lady.

Recall those pusillanim ous m atrim on ial projects in Assunta, the fal seness, the cynicism , the calculation, the contem p t, the brutality which pervade those plans. H arm o n io u s love is rare, and it is either doom ed to fail {Wanda, “C leo p atra and C aesa r”, and probably also in Tyrtej which is no longer extant in its full version) or cut sho rt by early d eath (as in Assunta).

But even in happy love the hum an elem ent predom inates. W hereas M ickiewicz could write, “ My love, w h a t’s the use o f talking to each o th er? ,” such w ords w ould be im possible to use, even as a jok e, for N orw id in his erotic poem s. Again like in Balzac, in N o rw id ’s poem s conversation is the m ost essential p a rt o f a relation between m an and w om an, even if it is, paradoxically, a conversation w ithout words {Assunta). The tragedy o f love, for this reason, often finds expression in N o rw id ’s poetry in an inability to com m unicate with each other. He attain s a particu lar pow er o f poetic expression when he presents a m an who in the course o f a conversation sees the tru th clearly and sharply, and yet succum bs to his fascination, at does the “P ain ter o f N ecessity,” for example.

Szeliga’s case in The Ring o f a Great Lady is an o th er example, and sim ilar situatio ns are presented in the poem “ W hat Shall I Tell Y ou, M ad a m ?” and elsewhere. This is the true message o f m ost o f N o rw id ’s poetry in which this poet o f the hum an elem ent is being describ ed as a poet o f the salons, o f social life and rom ance. This attitu d e gives birth to his m ost p en etrating poem s o f ch aracter, as the one abo u t those close acquaintances {Vade-mecum, L) who

znają cię, ja k się litery Z n a, p ó k iś ku nim z w r ó c o n y ...

I p ó k i tw arzą w tw arz p rzestajesz z nim i, Z a ś ani c h w ilę ju ż p o tem .

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[They k n ow you like typed ch aracters / A s lo n g as you face them d irectly / A nd as lo n g as y o u r face is before his, / But not for a seco n d thereafter.]

O r recall the people Szeliga m entions in The Ring o f a Great L ad y, III, 1. In the “S o n n et” addressed to G ujski (1871) N orw id advises the artist to paint a w om an in such a m anner as to give a slight illusion o f som ething m asculine in her p o r tr a it: she should be “herself and som ebody else, as you saw her: / a co n stan t process, herself and not herself.”

Being hu m an, then, is a quality to which N orw id im parts different aspects and dim ensions. It is the sam e vein th at he ironically rem arks in “ A D o rio ” th at the w ord “m a n ” becam e used disparagingly to denote som ebody who is dependent and inferior to others. In his poetry you can also see a civilization condem n itself to death by confining the sense o f com m unity o f all hu m an beings to o n e ’s own nation alone, which induces all peoples to regard themselves “as

first am ong all o th ers” (“ V anitas,” in Vade-mecum, X X X V I).

B rockhaus Encyclopaedia's biographical note on N orw id, which was consulted with the poet himself, says th a t “his first reflex is one o f a hum an being, and one o f a Pole com es only second.” N orw id devoted m any of his w orks to his own people: its heroic deeds, its cultural legacy, its suffering, its dignity. But, in N o rw id ’s und erstand ing , a Pole is prim arily a hum an being, whereas the Polish question is p a rt o f the general cause o f all m ankind. W h at does his poetry say ab o u t m a n k in d ’s hopes and future?

The general tone is far from w hat is usually referred to as optim ism . N orw id begins one o f his poem s with the w ords, “ A sad song will I sing” and these w ords can justifiably be regarded as a m o tto o f m ost o f his works. Such w ords are by no m eans encouraging, as can be seen from what he says ab o u t “perpetual fu tu re ” in the 1844 poem “ In L .A .’s A lb u m .”

N o rw id ’s lyrics are basically pensive. O ne w ord which evokes sorrow ful tones is “o rp h a n ,” which he uses frequently. N onetheless, N o rw id ’s poetry is never really one o f desolation, and has n o th in g to do with despair. It rests on a solid fo u n d a tio n o f a rig o ro u s kind o f Stoicism and on his C atholic faith, which give him a lot o f confidence. Even the m ost painful reflections in his poetry end up as noble resignation o r spiritual elevation in prayer.

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L u d zie kiedy m ię m ylili,

B yło m i za w sze tym rzeźw iej d o B oga I ro zp ió rza ły się ra m io n a m oje,

P atrzyłem w zaw rót gw iazd , w w ieczn e sp o k o je.

[W hen p eo p le let m e d o w n , /' I a lw ays co n fid e n tly turned to G o d / A n d I spread my arm s like w in gs, / A nd w atched the stars a b ove, the eternal p eace.]

T hese words are taken from the afore-m entioned elegy sent as a letter from A m erica to M aria T rębicka (“A Sad Song Will I Sing”). In a poem w ritten m uch later (in 1861), “To L .K .,” N orw id says:

G d zie nie m a o a z, o a z ą o stro g i, A w iatr gd zie p alm y p o ru szy ć nie m oże, B o p alm y nie m a, tam oczy zw róciw szy D o g w iazd , w ystarczy raz za w o ła ć : B o że! I w ied zieć, że jest w n ieb ie step sz c z ę śliw sz y .6

[W here y o u d o n ot find an o a sis / Y o u r spurs will lead y o u to o n e, / A nd w here the wind ca n n o t m o v e a p alm / B ecau se n o palm is in sig h t, turn your eyes / T o the stars, and cry ou t ju st o n c e , O h L ord! / A nd you will k n o w that h ap p ier p astu res are in heaven.]

T his is N o rw id ’s reaction to the b itter tru th o f h u m an existence. M ore or less the sam e m essage is conveyed in poem s such as “ F o r Teofil,” “ M a n ,” “The R ain b o w ” and m any others; G o d rules over the E arth , and even His w rath rem inds the o rp h a n ed hum an being o f his “n eigh bo rs” and the “ F ath er o f F ath ers.”

T h at p artic u la r attitu d e is accom panied by an aw areness th a t m an m ust keep to rigorous m oral stan dards in everyday duties. Few people ride to the “heavenly vau lt” like the p ro p h e t Elijah on a ch ario t o f fire, and therefore everybody m ust oil the axles o f their ow n ch a rio ts; this, incidentally, is one o f the m ost typical images in N o rw id ’s early poem “T o My B rother L udw ik.” Elsew here (“In L .A .’s A lbum ”) there is the im age o f a cross each h u m an being has to chop into shape for him self before they “p u t it into his dead h a n d s.” This is no t to say, o f course, th at d eath is the only craving o f hum an beings. C ritics co nstruing N o rw id ’s poetry as allegedly indicative o f a death wish are w rong. There is a world o f difference between N o rw id ’s poetry and poem s by other poets who praise

6 A lot has been w ritten a b o u t N o r w id ’s relig io u sn ess, m o st o f it m istakenly h o w ev er. H is relig io u sn ess, for in sta n ce, w as w ron gly put in the line o f m ysticism .

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death, such as The H ym ns to the N ight by Novalis. It was N orw id, after all, who contem plated w riting the fourth p a rt o f L a Divina

C ommedia, which w ould be called E arth. Indeed, he w rote some

lines for th at projected poem .

The E arth exists tangibly in N o rw id ’s poetry, and m an, living in it, m ust live up to his duties. D eath by itself is n o t the end o f everything, because it m ay be noble o r despicable (the poem “The H e ro ” is a poetic m editation on this m atter). D eath m ay frighten m an because o f its sem blance to ann ihilation, b u t it m ay also take the shape o f a dignified and calm fulfilm ent, as it did in the case o f Jó ze f Z., “an officer o f N a p o le o n ’s G re at A rm y ,” who p arted with life

“with th at royal calm and serenity / with which a priest puts

the host back on the tab ern acle” (“On the D eath o f the Late

Jó ze f Z .”).

This way, m an as an atom , who creates hum an history, elevates him self above death which (as you will read in Vade-mecum, L X X X II), only “touches situ atio n s,” bu t n o t the “h um an p erso n .” It is m a n ’s destiny to brave m isfortune. M isfortune ju s t turn s up on m a n ’s way, as N orw id puts it in the poem “ F a te ” in Vade-mecum, X X X . It tu rn s up, and waits to see “w hether he sways o f his co u rse.” W hen he does not, m isfortune disappears, ceasing to be itself.7

(This, incidentally, is the only case o f aesthetism in N o rw id ’s

verse.)

H aving developed this p articu lar attitu d e tow ards life, N o rw id ’s C leo p atra says th a t “true love is always / h a p p y —because it is!” (“C leo p atra and C aesa r,” Act II, Sc. 3). This attitu d e enables one to find serenity and calm in life, like those N orw id presents in his strange poetic letter where he describes a p arty at an orphanage. In th a t letter N orw id com bines m elancholy with a smile, grief changes into calm , and his irony, initially biting, becomes benign. T he children are snatching oranges, which are still too large for them to hold in hands.

S zczęście, w id zisz, m ój d ro g i, jest — i O jczyzna — i L u d zk o ść (Z p o m a r a ń c z b ierz d o w ó d ... azali N e w to n o w e ja b łk o

7 S. S z u m a n has p ro v id ed a so p h istica ted study o f this p o em in his b o o k

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Praw d nie p o u c z y ło z n a m ie n ity c h ? ...) jest i p o tę g a istn a sztuki Żyw ej w ted y, gdy b lisk ie u m ie id ealn ym zn am ien o w a ć.

[So y o u see, m y d ear, that h a p p in e s s— and the M o th e r la n d — and M a n k in d —exist / (T hese oran ges p rove t h i s . . . d id n ’t N e w to n ’s apple / R eveal great t r u th s ? ...) —and art p roves to be p o w erfu l / A n d livin g, w hen it k n o w s h o w to to u ch the near with th e ideal.]

In this succint yet excellent hexam eter, N orw id conveys what is probably the gist o f all his poetry, indeed o f his m ind. M iriam - Przesm ycki, a great p o pularizer o f N o rw id ’s poetry (whose stylistic m annerism s should n o t m ake us forget his m erits), justly pointed ou t the p o e t’s “ spiritual consistency [...] which to o k increasingly m anly tones, to develop eventually as [...] a great and n atu ra l seriousness o f a m an for whom ‘the entire firm am ent is his own la n d ’.” This is the essence o f greatness o f N orw id p o e try 8.

T ransl. by Anna N iera d a 8 T his paper w as o rig in a lly a lectu re d elivered on O ctob er 1, 1947, at the C ra co w seat o f the A d a m M ick iew icz Literary S ociety.