Adam Mickiewicz Collected Poetical Works Read online

  Adam Mickiewicz

  (1798-1855)

  Contents

  The Life and Poetry of Adam Mickiewicz

  BRIEF INTRODUCTION: ADAM MICKIEWICZ

  ODE TO YOUTH

  THE CRIMEAN SONNETS

  KONRAD WALLENROD

  PAN TADEUSZ

  The Poems

  LIST OF POEMS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER

  LIST OF POEMS IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER

  The Prose

  MY FIRST BATTLE

  The Biography

  ADAM MICKIEWICZ: A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH by Edna Worthley Underwood

  The Delphi Classics Catalogue

  © Delphi Classics 2017

  Version 1

  Adam Mickiewicz

  By Delphi Classics, 2017

  COPYRIGHT

  Adam Mickiewicz - Delphi Poets Series

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2017 by Delphi Classics.

  © Delphi Classics, 2017.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form other than that in which it is published.

  With special thanks to Leonard Kress for permission to include the verse translation of ‘Pan Tadeusz’.

  ISBN: 978 1 78656 216 6

  Delphi Classics

  is an imprint of

  Delphi Publishing Ltd

  Hastings, East Sussex

  United Kingdom

  Contact: [email protected]

  www.delphiclassics.com

  NOTE

  When reading poetry on an eReader, it is advisable to use a small font size and landscape mode, which will allow the lines of poetry to display correctly.

  The Life and Poetry of Adam Mickiewicz

  The Historic Market Square at Navahrudak — Adam Mickiewicz was born at his paternal uncle’s estate in Zaosie (now Zavosse) near Navahrudak or in Navahrudak itself. At that time the town was part of the Russian Empire, though today it is located in Belarus.

  Zaosie manor, the poet’s supposed birthplace

  Ruins of Navahrudak Castle by Napoleon Orda

  BRIEF INTRODUCTION: ADAM MICKIEWICZ

  By William Richard Morfill

  From ‘1911 Encyclopædia Britannica’

  ADAM MICKIEWICZ (1798-1855), Polish poet, was born in 1798, near Nowogrodek, in the present Russian government of Minsk, where his father, who belonged to the schlachta or lesser nobility, had a small property. The poet was educated at the university of Vilna; but, becoming involved in some political troubles there, he was forced to terminate his studies abruptly, and was ordered to live for a time in Russia. He had already published two small volumes of miscellaneous poetry at Vilna, which had been favourably received by the Slavonic public, and on his arrival at St Petersburg he found himself admitted to the leading literary circles, where he was a great favourite both from his agreeable manners and his extraordinary talent of improvisation. In 1825 he visited the Crimea, which inspired a collection of sonnets in which we may admire both the elegance of the rhythm and the rich Oriental colouring. The most beautiful are The Storm, Bakchiserai, and Grave of the Countess Potocka.

  In 1828 appeared his Konrad Wallenrod, a narrative poem describing the battles of knights of the Teutonic order with the heathen Lithuanians. Here, under a thin veil, Mickiewicz represented the sanguinary passages of arms and burning hatred which had characterized the long feuds of the Russians and Poles. The objects of the poem, although evident to many, escaped the Russian censors, and it was suffered to appear, although the very motto, taken from Machiavelli, was significant: “Dovete adunque sapere come sono duo generazioni da combattere . . . bisogna essere volpe e leone.” This is a striking poem and contains two beautiful lyrics. After a five years’ exile in Russia the poet obtained leave to travel; he had secretly made up his mind never to return to that country or Poland so long as it remained under the government of the Muscovites. Wending his way to Weimar, he there made the acquaintance of Goethe, who received him cordially, and, pursuing his journey through Germany, he entered Italy by the Splügen, visited Milan, Venice, and Florence, and finally took up his abode at Rome. There he wrote the third part of his poem Dziady, the subject of which is the religious commemoration of their ancestors practised among Slavonic nations, and Pan Tadeusz, his longest poem, by many considered his masterpiece. A graphic picture is drawn of Lithuania on the eve of Napoleon’s expedition to Russia in 1812. In this village idyll, as Brückner calls it, Mickiewicz gives us a picture of the homes of the Polish magnates, with their somewhat boisterous but very genuine hospitality. We see them before us, just as the knell of their nationalism, as Brückner says, seemed to be sounding, and therefore there is something melancholy and dirge-like in the poem in spite of the pretty love story which forms the main incident. Mickiewicz turned to Lithuania with the loving eyes of an exile, and gives us some of the most delightful descriptions of Lithuanian skies and Lithuanian forests. He describes the weird sounds to be heard in the primeval woods in a country where the trees were sacred. The cloud-pictures are equally striking. There is nothing finer in Shelley or Wordsworth.

  In 1832 Mickiewicz left Rome for Paris, where his life was for some time spent in poverty and unhappiness. He had married a Polish lady, Selina Szymanowska, who became insane. In 1840 he was appointed to the newly founded chair of Slavonic languages and literature in the Collège de France, a post which he was especially qualified to fill, as he was now the chief representative of Slavonic literature, Pushkin having died in 1837. He was, however, only destined to hold it for a little more than three years, his last lecture having been given on the 28th of May 1844. His mind had become more and more disordered under the influence of religious mysticism. He had fallen under the influence of a strange fanatic named Towianski. His lectures became a medley of religion and politics, and thus brought him under the censure of the Government. A selection of them has been published in four volumes. They contain some good sound criticism, but the philological part is very defective, for Mickiewicz was no scholar, and he is obviously only well acquainted with two of the literatures, viz. Polish and Russian, the latter only till the year 1830. A very sad picture of his declining days is given in the memoirs of Herzen. At a comparatively early period the unfortunate poet exhibited all the signs of premature old age; poverty, despair and domestic affliction had wrought their work upon him. In 1849 he founded a French newspaper, La Tribune des peuples, but it only existed a year. The restoration of the French Empire seemed to kindle his hopes afresh; his last composition is said to have been a Latin ode in honour of Napoleon III. On the outbreak of the Crimean War he was sent to Constantinople to assist in raising a regiment of Poles to take service against the Russians. He died suddenly there in 1855, and his body was removed to France and buried at Montmorency. In 1900 his remains were disinterred and buried in the cathedral of Cracow, the Santa Croce of Poland, where rest, besides many of the kings, the greatest of her worthies.

  Mickiewicz is held to have been the greatest Slavonic poet, with the exception of Pushkin. Unfortunately in other parts of Europe he is but little known; he writes in a very difficult language, and one which it is not the fashion to learn. There were both pathos and irony in the expression used by a Polish lady to a foreigner, “Nous avons notre Mickiewicz à nous.” He is one of the best products of the so-called romantic school. The Poles had long groaned under the yoke of the classicists, and the country was full of legends and picturesque stories which only awaited the coming poet to put them into shape. Hence the great populari
ty among his countrymen of his ballads, each of them being connected with some national tradition. Besides Konrad Wallenrod and Pan Tadeusz, attention may be called to the poem Grazyna, which describes the adventures of a Lithuanian chieftainess against the Teutonic knights. It is said by Ostrowski to have inspired the brave Emilia Plater, who was the heroine of the rebellion of 1830, and after having fought in the ranks of the insurgents, found a grave in the forests of Lithuania. A fine vigorous Oriental piece is Farys. Very good too are the odes to Youth and to the historian Lelewel; the former did much to stimulate the efforts of the Poles to shake off their Russian conquerors. It is enough to say of Mickiewicz that he has obtained the proud position of the representative poet of his country; her customs, her superstitions, her history, her struggles are reflected in his works. It is the great voice of Poland appealing to the nations in her agony.

  His son, Ladislas Mickiewicz, wrote Vie d’Adam Mickiewicz (Posen, 1890-1895, 4 vols.), also Adam Mickiewicz, sa vie et son œuvre (Paris, 1888). Translations into English (1881-1885) of Konrad Wallenrod and Pan Tadeusz were made by Miss Biggs. See also Œuvres poétiques de Mickiewicz, trans. by Christien Ostrowski (Paris, 1845).

  Mickiewicz as a young man

  Mickiewicz in later years

  ODE TO YOUTH

  Originally published in 1820, Ode to Youth was one of Mickiewicz’ first poems and remains one of his most enduring works. The theme concerns the duties and rights of the youth in the service of an overarching, higher ideal. According to Mickiewicz, the youth have a moral obligation to take action, demonstrating the influence of the thinking of Friedrich Schiller and his Ode to Joy. Mickiewicz deftly exploits neo-Classicist poetics in order to subvert the discourse that engendered them and the poem has been described as a manifesto of the secret student organisation, the Philomaths, to which Mickiewicz belonged at that time.

  Mickiewicz completed work on the poem in 1820, but it was not included in his first tome of poetry, published that year. This was due to the poem’s overt patriotic and revolutionary themes, which would be problematic for publication in the Russian portion of partitioned Poland where Mickiewicz spent his youth; it was swiftly rejected by the reviewing Russian censor in Vilnius. Ode to Youth would not appear officially for many years, though unofficial copies were made in such numbers that at the time of the November Uprising (an unsuccessful Polish insurrection against the occupying Russian forces) in 1830 the poem was already well known. It was first published, unauthorised, in Lviv (in the Austrian Partition) in 1827; the first version to be authorised by Mickiewicz was published in Paris in 1838.

  CONTENTS

  ODE TO YOUTH - ORIGINAL POLISH TEXT

  ODE TO YOUTH - ENGLISH TRANSLATION by Jarek Zawadzki

  ODE TO YOUTH - DUAL POLISH AND ENGLISH TEXT

  The 1820 manuscript

  ODE TO YOUTH - ORIGINAL POLISH TEXT

  Oda do młodości

   Bez serc, bez ducha — to szkieletów ludy.

  Młodości! podaj mi skrzydła!

  Niech nad martwym wzlecę światem

  W rajską dziedzinę ułudy,

  Kędy zapał tworzy cudy,

  Nowości potrząsa kwiatem

  I obleka nadzieję w złote malowidła!...

   Niechaj, kogo wiek zamroczy,

  Chyląc ku ziemi poradlone czoło,

  Takie widzi świata koło,

  Jakie tępemi zakreśla oczy.

   Młodości! ty nad poziomy

  Wylatuj, a okiem słońca

  Ludzkości całe ogromy

  Przeniknij z końca do końca!

   Patrz nadół, kędy wieczna mgła zaciemia

  Obszar, gnuśności zalany odmętem:

   To ziemia!...

   Patrz, jak nad jej wody trupie

  Wzbił się jakiś płaz w skorupie:

  Sam sobie sterem, żeglarzem, okrętem;

  Goniąc za żywiołkami drobniejszego płazu,

  To się wzbija, to w głąb wali;

  Nie lgnie do niego fala, ani on do fali,

  A wtem jak bańka prysnął o szmat głazu!...

  Nikt nie znał jego życia, nie zna jego zguby:

   To samoluby!

   Młodości! tobie nektar żywota

  Natenczas słodki, gdy z innymi dzielę;

  Serca niebieskie poi wesele,

  Kiedy je razem nić powiąże złota.

   Razem, młodzi przyjaciele!

  W szczęściu wszystkiego są wszystkich cele.

  Jednością silni, rozumni szałem,

  Razem, młodzi przyjaciele!...

  I ten szczęśliwy, kto padł wśród zawodu,

  Jeżeli poległem ciałem

  Dał innym szczebel do sławy grodu.

  Razem, młodzi przyjaciele!

  Choć droga stroma i ślizka,

  Gwałt i słabość bronią wchodu,

  Gwałt niech się gwałtem odciska,

  A ze słabością łamać uczmy się za młodu!

   Dzieckiem w kolebce kto łeb urwał hydrze,

  Młodzieńcem zdusi centaury,

  Piekłu ofiarę wydrze,

  Do nieba pójdzie po laury!...

  Tam sięgaj, gdzie wzrok nie sięga!

  Łam, czego rozum nie złamie!

  Młodości! orla twych lotów potęga,

  A jako piorun twe ramię!

   Hej! ramię do ramienia! Spólnymi łańcuchy

  Opaszmy ziemskie kolisko!

  Zestrzelmy myśli w jedno ognisko

  I w jedno ognisko duchy!...

  Dalej z posad, bryło świata!

  Nowymi cię pchniemy tory,

  Aż opleśniałej zbywszy się kory,

  Zielone przypomnisz lata.

   A jako w krajach zamętu i nocy,

  Skłóconych żywiołów waśnią,

  Jednem stań się z bożej mocy,

  Świat rzeczy stanął na zrębie,

  Szumią wichry, cieką głębie,

  A gwiazdy błękit rozjaśnią:

   W krajach ludzkości jeszcze noc głucha,

  Żywioły chęci jeszcze są w wojnie...

  Oto miłość ogniem zionie,

  Wyjdzie z zamętu świat ducha,

  Młodość go pocznie na swojem łonie,

  A przyjaźń w wieczne skojarzy spojnie.

   Pryskają nieczułe lody

  I przesądy światło ćmiące.

  Witaj, jutrzenko swobody,

  Zbawienia za tobą słońce!...

  ODE TO YOUTH - ENGLISH TRANSLATION by Jarek Zawadzki

  No Heart, no Spirit – Lo! cadaverous crowds!

  O Youth! Pass me thy wings,

  And let me o’er the dead earth soar;

  Let me vanish in delusion’s clouds,

  Where many the Zeal begets a wonder

  And grows a flower of novelty up yonder,

  Adorned in Hope’s enamellings.

  Who by his elder age shall darkened be

  His toilsome forehead to the ground bent low,

  Let him no more perceive or know

  Than his thus lowered selfish eyes may see.

  Youth! Up and over the horizons rise,

  And smoothly penetrate

  With Thy all-seeing eyes

  The nations small and great.

  Lo there! The space of dearth,

  Where putrid vapors in the chaos wrestle:

  ’Tis Earth!

  Up from the waters where the dead wind blows

  A shell-clad Reptile rose.

  He is his own rudder, sailor and vessel.

  He often dives and rises up with little trouble,

  For some smaller brutes he craves,

  The waves cleave not to him nor he to the waves;

  And suddenly he bumps upon a rock and bursts like a bubble.

  Nobody knew his life, and of his death nobody wists.

  Egoists!

  Oh Youth! The ambrosia of life be Thine

  When I with friends do share the time so sweet

  When youth
ful hearts at heav’nly feasting meet

  And golden threads around them all entwine.

  En masse, Young Friends!

  In happiness our ends.

  Strong in unison, reasoned in rage:

  Move on, Young Friends!

  And happy he that perished in the strife

  If for the others he’d prepared the stage

  Of fame and honored life.

  En masse, Young Friends!

  Though steep and icy be our path

  Though force and frailty guard the door:

  When force is used, with force respond and wrath;

  While young, upon our frailty wage a war.

  Who, as a child, detached foul Hydra’s head,

  In Youth, shall strangle Centaurs even;

  Snatch victims from the Devil dread,

  And for the laurels march to Heaven.

  Up and reach the places out of sight,

  Break that to which the brain can do no harm!

  Youth! Mighty as an eagle’s is Thy flight,

  As a thunderbolt – Thine arm!

  Hey, arm to arm! by chains

  Let’s bind the earth around;

  To one focus bring each sound,

  To one focus spirits bring and brains!

  Move on, Thou Clod! Leave the foundations of the world!

  We’ll make Thee roll where Thou hast never rolled,

  When finally vanishes from Thee the mold,

  Green years shall be once more, Thy sails unfurled.

  Since in the land of darkness and of night,

  The Elements have fallen out;

  By a simple “Let there be”, due to Heaven’s might,

  The world of things is made;

  Gales are blowing, shelters give no shade,

  And soon the stars will brighten Heaven all about;

  While in the land of men a night so dumb,

  The elements of Will are yet at war;