OleszkiewiczSource: The Slavonic and East European Review, Vol. 17, No. 51 (Apr., 1939), pp. 490-494Published by: the Modern Humanities Research Association and University College London, School ofSlavonic and East European StudiesStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4203511 .

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THE DAY BEFORE THE FLOOD IN ST. PETERSBURG, 1824

OLESZKIEWICZ1

When winter makes the sky glow cold and clear, It turns dark blue; black spots of frost appear. Like those that mark a dead man's frozen face, When near a stove is placed the stiffened clay, And, drawing warmth, not life, to its embrace, It breathes forth only vapours of decay. Warm winds began to blow.-Those towers of smoke, That airy city of gigantic size, That vision of enchantment, thinned and broke,

10 And fell in ruins from the darkened skies. Smoke flowed in rivers through each street and square,

I A painter well known in St. Petersburg for his virtues, his deep learning, and his mystic prophecies.-M.

J6zef Oleszkiewicz was born in 1777 in Zmudi (a province of Lithuania), of poor parents. He studied painting in Paris under David. In I8Io he went to St. Petersburg, where in I812 he was elected an honorary member of the Academy of Fine Arts. He died there on October 5 (old style), I830. One of his works is a portrait of Mickiewicz.

The following quotations are from an obituary notice of Oleszkiewicz by Fr. Malewski:

"Endowed with a strong and active intellect, Oleszkiewicz never ceased his efforts to penetrate the mysteries of the universe and to interpret the Word of God. The Bible became the subject of his meditations day and night; to this Book of Books he related that past and the future history of the world and of man .... No one held more dear the word neighbour; no one was stirred by it to so prompt and sincere sympathy.. . . His handsome figure, his noble features, his serene brow, and his pleasant voice made it possible for him to banish despair from an afflicted heart and to give consolation."

Another author, Mikotaj Malinowski, writes of him:- " J6zef Oleszkiewicz was a theosophist, almost a prophet, to whom

Mickiewicz became deeply attached and whom he admired profoundly, maintaining that he should not regard himself as a poet until he had a hundredth part of the inspiration possessed by Oleszkiewicz. And indeed Oleszkiewicz had a powerful imagination, a wonderfully kind heart, huge industry, and fascinating eloquence, marred, however, by a thin, effeminate voice, which in moments of excitement became strident. Absorbed in mysticism, he would have extraordinary visions by broad daylight.... He did not hesitate to maintain that the Book of Books tells of all that was, is, and is to be. He believed this so fervently that from prophetic texts he would foretell for long years to come the fate of nations, especially of his own. He was the author of the idea, developed later by Mickiewicz, Krasitski and Odyniec, that the Polish nation had received from God a special, sacred mission to guide humanity along the paths of God."

490

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THE FLOOD IN ST. PETERSBURG, 1824. 491

Mixed with warm vapours in the close, damp air; Before night fell, the snow's relentless thaw Had buried pavements neath a Stygian flood. Sleighs fled away, and carriage and landau Cast off their runners; wheels splashed through the mud. But in the humnid, smoke-filled, murky night The carriages and cabs are lost to sight; Only their lanterns wander to and fro,

20 Like flames that over marshlands dance and glow. At dusk our youthful travellers walked beside

The Neva's shore. They choose the eventide, For thus they shun the ster official eye, And in the empty street will meet no spy. Engaged in foreign chat they strolled along; At times they gently hummed some foreign song: Then they would pause and look around for fear Some one was listening. Not a soul was near. Humming, they loitered on the path atop

30 The Alp-like quays that to the water drop, Until they halted where a roadway led Down through the granite to the river's bed. And there below they saw a man who bore A lantern, standing on the lonely shore: No spy, for something in the stream he sought; Nor ferryman-who sails o'er ice by night ?- Nor fisherman, for in his hands was naught Except a sheaf of papers and his light. The lads drew near: he did not glance about;

40 A rope, sunk in the water, he pulled out, Counted the knots, and jotted down a note; He sought to plumb the far depths of the stream. The ice threw back his ghostly lantern's gleam, Flooding his weird, white ledgers as he wrote. Above the candle's glow his face was bowed, As saffron-tinted as a sunset cloud: A handsome face, noble of cast yet stern. His ledgers with such industry he read That, hearing steps and voices overhead,

50 Who it might be he did not seek to learn; He only seemed to ask, nay, to demand, Strict silence by a movement of his hand. His gesture was so startling and so grim

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THE SLAVONIC REVIEW.

That, though the lads stood almost over him, Whispering, gazing, laughing silently, They all grew still and dared not disobey. One looked into his face and cried, " 'Tis he !" 'Tis who ?-A Pole, an artist in his day, But now become a sage in occult lore,

60 For paint and pencil he employed no more: The Bible and the cabala he read And even talked with spirits, it was said.

The painter, rising, closed his mystic text, And mused aloud: " Those who survive this night Will see great marvels of Jehovah's might: This is his second test, beware the next ! The Lord will shake the fair Assyrian throne; The Lord will shake the walls of Babylon. Lord, ere the third test come, let me be gone! "

70 He spoke, and left the travellers alone, Climbed slowly upward, carrying his light, And soon behind the wall was lost to sight. None could explain the message that he gave: Some laughed in scorn, but others were amazed; All cried: " How strangely conjurors behave! " Then for a moment more they stood and gazed, Till, noting how the stormy night had sped, With hasty step each traveller sought his bed.

One lad alone dashed up the steps, and ran 80 Along the quay. He could not see the man,

But merely glimpsed his lantern from afar, A twinkle like a pale and distant star. Although he had not seen the painter's face, Though his friends' comments he had scarcely heard, Yet had the mystic voice, the startling word Thrilled him. Now could his recollection place That voice, heard once before; with all his might He ran on blindly through the stormy night. The lantern, carried swiftly, winked and tossed;

90 Grew smaller, in the misty dark seemed lost, As though it had gone out: it stopped at last In a great square, amid an empty space. To reach his goal, the lad increased his pace. He saw a heap of stones, impressive, vast; And on one block he saw the painter stand.

492

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THE FLOOD IN ST. PETERSBURG, 1824.

Quite still amid the shades of night he stood: His shoulders wore no cloak; his brow, no hood; His arm was raised, the lantern in his hand, And from the angle of his light it seemed

oo00 He gazed upon the palace of the Tsar. There at the very end one window gleamed And glittered: he observed that earthly star, Whispered, as though the heavens to invoke, Then raised his voice, as to himself he spoke:

" Thou art not sleeping, Tsar! The night is still: Thy courtiers sleep, but thou seek'st rest in vain. The Lord hath sent his angel once again To warn thee sternly not to flout his will. Yet still the Tsar seeks sleep, his eyes shut tight;

IIo And soon deep sleep will come. In days of yore His guardian angel warned him o'er and o'er, With yet more dreadful visions of the night.

"For once he was a man, he was not vile; Slowly he fell into a tyrant's role: God's angels left him, and his ageing soul Sank ever deeper under Satan's guile.2 This last faint urge, with gentle counsel fraught, He thinks a trifling dream, a thing of nought. His pride each day his flatterers will increase

120 Till under Satan's heel his crimes shall cease. " These wretched serfs who in their hovels cower,

And not the Tsar, will first meet punishment: For lightning, striking a dead element, Smites first the lofty mountain and the tower; But in the world of men this is reversed: It strikes the lowly and the guiltless first.

" Mid quarrels, lust and wine they fall asleep, Poor corpse-like skulls, to waken in the morn! Rest ye, dull beasts, in slumber sunken deep,

I30 Till the Lord's wrath awake you like the horn Of forest hunter, whose swift sword lays bare A path of slaughter to the wild boar's lair!

" I hear-afar- the storm winds raise their heads Like polar monsters, from their icy beds: Already they have spread their cloudy wings;

2 The reference is to the shift of Alexander I, after I818, from a liberal to a reactionary policy, toward Poland as in other matters.

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THE SLAVONIC REVIEW. THE SLAVONIC REVIEW.

They mount upon the wave, its strength unchained. I hear! Now the deep ocean, unrestrained, Champs on its icy bit, strikes out, and springs. Now to the skies it arches its moist neck:

I40 Now! Still one chain, but one, holds it in check- Soon that will part ! They strike it blow on blow-"

He spoke; then, sensing his lone auditor, Blew out his candle and was seen no more. Thus had he gleamed and gone, foreboding woe, Like an ill omen, smiting suddenly, Then passing by-an awesome mystery.

End of the Digression

This Digression the Author dedicates to his Russian friends.

TO MY RUSSIAN FRIENDS

Do ye remember me? When musing traces Friends' deaths, and banishments and baffled schemes, Ye also gather, and your foreign faces Have right of citizenry in my dreams.

Where are ye now? Ryleyev's' noble shoulders That once, I clasped, now by the Tsar's decree Hang on the gallows, where his honour moulders; A curse on folk that murder prophecy! The hand Bestuzhev2, that brave knight and poet,

I0 Stretched out to me, is torn from sword and pen; On mine-pit toil the Tsar's commands bestow it, Beside a Polish herd in that bleak den.

1 Kondraty Ryleyev was a talented poet, but is more famous as a leader in the Decembrist conspiracy against the Russian government. He was one of the five conspirators who were hanged for their share in the revolt, on I3 July, I826.

2 Four brothers of this name took part in the Decembrist movement. Mickiewicz probably refers to Nikolay Bestuzhev (I79I-I855), who collabo- rated with his brother Alexander and with Ryleyev in editing a magazine, The Polar Star. For his share in the conspiracy he was condemned to hard labour for life, first in Schlusselburg, later in the Nerchinsk mines. He was released from forced labour in I840 and spent the remainder of his days as a colonist at the newly-founded settlement of Selenginsk.

They mount upon the wave, its strength unchained. I hear! Now the deep ocean, unrestrained, Champs on its icy bit, strikes out, and springs. Now to the skies it arches its moist neck:

I40 Now! Still one chain, but one, holds it in check- Soon that will part ! They strike it blow on blow-"

He spoke; then, sensing his lone auditor, Blew out his candle and was seen no more. Thus had he gleamed and gone, foreboding woe, Like an ill omen, smiting suddenly, Then passing by-an awesome mystery.

End of the Digression

This Digression the Author dedicates to his Russian friends.

TO MY RUSSIAN FRIENDS

Do ye remember me? When musing traces Friends' deaths, and banishments and baffled schemes, Ye also gather, and your foreign faces Have right of citizenry in my dreams.

Where are ye now? Ryleyev's' noble shoulders That once, I clasped, now by the Tsar's decree Hang on the gallows, where his honour moulders; A curse on folk that murder prophecy! The hand Bestuzhev2, that brave knight and poet,

I0 Stretched out to me, is torn from sword and pen; On mine-pit toil the Tsar's commands bestow it, Beside a Polish herd in that bleak den.

1 Kondraty Ryleyev was a talented poet, but is more famous as a leader in the Decembrist conspiracy against the Russian government. He was one of the five conspirators who were hanged for their share in the revolt, on I3 July, I826.

2 Four brothers of this name took part in the Decembrist movement. Mickiewicz probably refers to Nikolay Bestuzhev (I79I-I855), who collabo- rated with his brother Alexander and with Ryleyev in editing a magazine, The Polar Star. For his share in the conspiracy he was condemned to hard labour for life, first in Schlusselburg, later in the Nerchinsk mines. He was released from forced labour in I840 and spent the remainder of his days as a colonist at the newly-founded settlement of Selenginsk.

494 494

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