Literature and Politics Research Papers (original) (raw)

‘But – Grandson – Thou Shalt Remember’. Reception of Norwid’s Poetry between 1939 and 1956.
The outbreak of the Second World War was a turning point in the reception of Norwid and his literary output, which shared the fate of other prominent works of Polish culture, condemned to many years of clandestine existence. At that time (which also included the initial post-war years), reading Norwid had a different dimension than in the inter-war period: his works revealed the depth of the 19th century poet’s ethical and philosophically historical reflection, engaged in a fundamental dispute with the contemporaneity, and transformed – according to Henryk Markiewicz – into a ‘social fact’, since the reactions it caused reflected, ‘just like a splinter of the mirror, a significant part of the history of Polish intellectuality’. External circumstances imposed the way his literature was read and had a predominant influence on the scale of its effect in the first years of the Polish People's Republic, when it was doomed to a subdued existence, and published rarely and then only in an extremely exclusionary manner.
The period between 1939 and 1956 was distinguished not by the extensiveness, but the depth and intensity of the effect of Norwid’s literature. During the war, representatives of the younger literary generation confronted the attitudes of 19th century poet’s with historical reality, and, taking the real-life consequences from his works, wrote about his ‘fundamental creative stance’, which assumed the primacy of ethics in art and subordinated literature’s aesthetic functions to the postulate of shaping national awareness and man’s mature attitude towards history.
The first part of the book Norwid’s Third Shadow is devoted to the poet’s presence in the intellectual and literary life of twenty-year-olds, who – according to Andrzej Trzebiński – ‘believe in the necessity of deep spiritual transformations, and yet – at the same time – learn numerous things from the 19th century, appreciating the hitherto neglected values of the Polish tradition’. What I mostly scrutinise there is the journalistic writings, poetry and prose written by authors associated with the covertly published monthly Art and Nation [„Sztuka i Naród”], and works by Krzysztof Kamil Baczyński, a poet who owed as much to Norwid as he did to Słowacki. An important supplement to the picture of how Norwid’s poetry was received in German-occupied Poland is the information on individual editions of his works available during the war and the story of Zenon Przesmycki’s collection of Norwid memorabilia, found in the debris of the capital after the Warsaw Uprising.
In the second part entitled ‘Ferocious Cracking of Clouds’. Ideological Struggle for and against Norwid, I focus on the presence of Norwid’s output in Polish culture between 1944 and 1955, paying particular attention to attempts made to deprive the poet of his fully-deserved position in the history of our literature and the initiatives to counteract them (taken by such prominent Norwid experts as Wacław Borowy, Juliusz Wiktor Gomulicki, Hanna Malewska, and Kazimierz Wyka).
Immediately after the war, Church-related cultural circles endeavoured to make Norwid the patron of the state’s reconstruction. His philosophy of labour, most comprehensively expressed in Promethidion, seemed to be the most appropriate programme for those years. The exhibition of his works and memorabilia, held to commemorate the 125th anniversary of his birthday, not only consolidated his legendary status, but also propagated his output among a wider range of readers. In the first years after the war, before Marxist ideology gained its dominant position, it seemed that Norwid would occupy one of the most significant seats in the pantheon of artists.
However, it soon transpired that the new leaders had an entirely different vision of tradition. The poet who, according to Czesław Miłosz, ‘became monopolised by certain Catholic and nationalist circles’ in the inter-war period, was now considered inconvenient, mainly due to his ‘fideism’, ‘idealism’, and his inclinations for ‘metaphysics’. The new authorities found Norwid of no use politically, since he could not be incorporated into the progressive traditions as his works were perceived as useless in the process of shaping the socialist man.
Advocates of Norwid utilised arguments taken from their ideological adversaries – they presented him not as a Catholic and a foe of the revolution, but as the first ‘proletarian poet’ in the history of Polish literature, who had to earn his keep by working his fingers to the bone, and was an intransigent critic of the bourgeoisie and capitalism. And they sought arguments to support this thesis in his writings.
The fate of Norwid himself and his works proved that it was worth being faithful to the path man had chosen to follow and not admitting defeat, despite the most adverse circumstances. In the reality of the totalitarian state, this meant being ready for violence and being willing to pay the highest price. The most illustrative example of such a tenaciousness was the attitude of Jerzy Braun, the pre-war editor-in-chief of the periodical Zet, an expert on Norwid and Hoene-Wroński, and – during German occupation – the founder of the underground organisation named Union [Unia], whose members included Karol Wojtyła and Mieczysław Kotlarczyk.
In the next part of the book, I discuss Two Models of Reading Norwid, focusing on his presence in the literary journalism and poetry of two prominent authors – Mieczysław Jastrun and Julian Przyboś.
The former was minded to recognise Norwid as a forerunner of modernity, and a poet whose works can only recently be appropriately read and appreciated. In his interpretation, Jastrun stated primarily that what distinguished Norwid’s writings was a skilful blend of moralisation and high artistry. The accomplished writing and the vision of the world incorporated into the 19th century poet’s works had a profound influence not only on Jastrun’s poetry, but also – apparently – on his political views. In the 1950s, Jastrun underwent a transformation from an active campaigner for ‘a new face’ of culture and an apologist for the communist authorities to their fervent adversary. Traces of Norwid’s works can be found in all Jastrun’s collections of poems that document his ideological evolution.
What primarily separates Przyboś from Jastrun is the rudimental ambivalence of his opinions on Norwid, who both fascinated and repulsed him. Thus, Przyboś demonstrates his approval for Norwid’s poetic mastery and accomplished writing, and yet rejects his Catholic worldview. He remains a stranger to Norwid’s intention for literature engaged in the transformation of reality, as he believes that poetry should not have to address any extra-artistic objectives but focus exclusively on its innate aesthetic function.
The final part of the book is devoted to events in 1956 and their impact on the dynamics of the reception of Norwid’s works (the picture is completed by the description of the 1958 anniversary ceremony). According to Stanisław Barańczak, Norwid writings seemed to ‘fill the gap left by the spiritual disaster of Stalinism’ after October 1956.
The basal thesis formulated within the book could be summarised as follows: between 1939 and 1956, Norwid was read as a poet of difficult moral dilemmas and a preacher of internal freedom. The statement ‘Son – shall discard my scripture, but – grandson – thou shalt remember’ was taking the shape Norwid would find closest to his heart: his works were gradually becoming ‘a testament to the act’, and resulted in personal sacrifice (Baczyński, Trzebiński), unshaken loyalty to principles of Christian ethics (Braun, Ostromęcki), and a quest for the truth (Jastrun), burdened by mistakes, errors and naiveties. It all confirmed the opinion stated by Stefan Kołaczkowski in the inter-war period, who wrote: ‘I know of no other author who could better than Norwid prepare people for historical maturity, and who could be deeper and nobler in his comprehension of the role of man as the creator of history’. It is this dimension of Norwid’s presence in the awareness of his 20th century readers that the subheading of the book – On People, Books, and History – attempts to capture.