#Przybyszewska

[enlitment]

A List of Relatable Things Stanisława Przybyszewska has done/written:

Studied philosophy at a university for one semester until "nervous exhaustion forced her to abandon her course"

Dated her letters by the French Revolutionary Calendar

Was known to often be humming La Marseillaise

Called Camille a twink in her play (okay, to be fair she used the word 'ephebe', but I'd argue that is as close to twink as you can get in the 1920s)

Worked at a leftist bookstore (and was subsequently arrested for it)

Took a stray cat from the street which at one point "was the only creature keeping her company"

Complained in at least two letters spanning over 3 paragraphs about a group of loud people playing football near her windows ("For the past forty-five minutes they have not been roaring, they have not been howling, they have been simply shrieking (...) like animals being slaughtered. Screams of that sort must be frightfully tiring for the vocal chords.")

When she wrote "I must write in order to be able to think. As a matter of fact, I am a remarkably unthinking person. Well, of course, that holds true too when I'm talking. But if I don't have either paper, or a human ear to listen to me, then I'm no more of a philosopher than a cat is."

1 + 8 - since I study philosophy at uni & am currently working on my thesis, these felt particularly relatable. I'm not more of a philosopher than a cat is definitely hits. Kind of want to put it in the preface.

2 + 3 are things I may have done myself before (okay, not letters but a diary, but it counts, right?)

7 - as someone who struggles with misophonia, I felt s e e n.

4- I'm sorry guys, I had to. But as someone who frequently asks herself "Are you really calling 30-somethings who have been dead for more than 200 hundred years twinks?", this felt like a vindication of sorts.

Also- I feel kind of conflicted about making this types of Tumblr posts about her since her work is really profound and serious and I have a sneaking suspicion she would have not appreciate them. At the same time, she has been living in my mind rent-free for the past week and this is a way to cope I guess?

SOURCES: 1. A LIFE OF SOLITUDE: STANISŁAWA PRZYBYSZEWSKA Author(s): JADWIGA KOSICKA and DANIEL C. GEROULD Source: The Polish Review , 1984, Vol. 29, No. 1/2 (1984), pp. 47-69 2. BBC Reith Lecture Three: Silence Grips the Town. Dame Hilary Mantel, 2017 3. Stanisława Przybyszewska: A Brilliant Playwright Preoccupied With Revolution. Alexis Angulo. Retrieved from: https://culture.pl/en/article/stanislawa-przybyszewska-a-brilliant-playwright-preoccupied-with-revolution 4. Przybyszewska, Stanisława. 1930. The Danton Case.

[aedesluminis]

Philippeaux is the real chad here.

-from "The Danton Case" by Stanisława Przybyszewska

[saint-jussy]

Reading The Danton Case and I'm so ??? at this scene

[citoyenneprzybyszewska2]

Dear Sir,

Mr Augustyński has kindly informed me that you have read my one-act play [93] and decided that staging it is impossible. I'd like to point out that if Mr Augustyński asked you to accept the play - as his letter seems to indicate - the idea certainly wasn't mine. I requested him to find out what had happened, not to promote the play.

I'm not at all surprised that you haven't sent back the script to me yet - I'm not surprised, but I won't tell you the thoughts I have about you as day after day I confront an empty mailbox.

Stanisława Przybyszewska, Letter to Leon Schiller, 7 Dec 1927

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

She reserved for herself the full right to her life

A small note at the beginning: the text below was what I presented during my first ever scientific conference this month. The main theme of this event was types of artistic methodology and research, and it was directed at people who knew exactly nothing about Przybyszewska, therefore the readers of this blog probably know all fo this already. I still feel like putting it out there, because I care about spreading awareness of Przybyszewska’s existence and uniqueness any chance I have.

Stanisława Przybyszewska remains to this day relatively unknown, as was the case for the majority of her life. She was painfully aware of it, especially since she has grown up by the side of her mother – Aniela Pająkówna,  a celebrated Polish painter – as well as growing up in the shadow of her extremely popular father, Stanisław Przybyszewski, a writer whose fame only few could have matched back in the day. There is no surprise then, that little Stasia from very early on decided not to settle for anything less but to be celebrated as a genius she always felt she was.

Her life was marked by hard work since the very beginning. Given her mother’s unlucky circumstances, she was a witness to how a woman can – and must – survive on her own, with a small help from friends and family, but mostly making living through her own works. It was in a time and place where this much independence was not yet taken for granted for women, and it surely reflects in Stanisława’s later life. Her mother made sure Stasia was extremely well educated when it came down to artistic subjects, taking her to exhibitions (which in the 1910s in Paris were understandably on a very high level) and paying for private lessons in painting and violin; she also always encouraged her to write, and send the fruits of her labours to the distant, mysterious father. Because Aniela was dying from tuberculosis, she made precautions for Stanisława’s fate and secured mentors and guardians from among the family members and close friends, of whom she was sure they would continue pushing her daughter onto the path of greatness.

It did pay off. Stanisława was a very well educated young woman, whose only fault at the time was that she was too interested in too many subjects at once and so she tried her hand at everything, unable to decide on a career path for longer than few months. In her defense, it has to be said that as a child she proved to be brilliant at everything she tried, from painting, through philosophy, to mathematics. Aged 13, she wrote this in a letter to her aunt: Luckily I'm not as bored as I used to be, I found two things to do: [one is] journaling, the second one is easy - […] drawing [passers by]. It requires a lot of craftsmanship, which I would like to train myself to possess. Beside that, I'm studying anatomy for artists and would like to combine fine arts and science, namely electrotechnics and mechanics, but it's almost impossible. I do some sports with monsieur Geroges, namely running, gymnasticks and a bit of fencing. But that in itself isn't much, I don't know enough about fencing yet. Having received her education in various european countries, she spoke several languages and she thought about becoming a painter, a violinist and – naturally – a writer.

While this last choice seems to be heavily influenced by the mysterious on-and-off presence and absence of her father in her life, it was the best one she could have made. Not many of her drawings and paintings have survived, but those which did show off her creativity rather than enormous talent – the later lack of artistry could also be an effect of prolonged morphine usage. The epoch in which Stanisława was growing up was filled to the brim with brilliant painters of both genders (it was a golden age for female painters in Europe, who started gaining artistic and personal independence at a rate unmatched by any previous period in history), the competition was fierce and she surely would not have gained recognition for her visual works. In fact, she knew it herself, having dedicated the entirety of the year 1926 to painting only (setting writing aside, even writing for solely financial purposes as a feuilletonist to a newspaper), but to her dismay, she realised she had not had sufficient talent to lose herself in fine arts. And if she had chosen violin and became a musician, she would not be remembered for much longer after her death. The ephemeric nature of music, especially in times with limited recording technology, would not play in her favour. Thus, choosing literature and theater was the surest way to establish herself as a prodigy.

Due to the lack of family ties she inadverently gained independence at a fairly young age and had to make a living somehow. She tried working as a teacher, later as a secretary and a clerk in a bookshop, but all of these mundane tasks bored her to death. Aware of her exceptional talents, she felt she was wasting away the potential she could exhibit some other way. Luckily for her she did not care for the money – and even more luckily for her, her distant family cared about her and sent her small allowance, just enough to get by. This enabled her to fully immerse herself in the creative process of researching, writing and correcting the texts she wanted to publish.

What were the prevalent factors in making Przybyszewska a great author? In my opinion, a lot of this boils down to strict work ethics. When one takes a glance at her life, it’s clear she was not necesarily predestined to become great: born a bastard, orphaned in young age, betrayed by her father (who sexually abused  her, emotionally manipulated her and introduced her to morphine, resulting in her lifelong addcition), widowed after only two years of marriage – none of this set her on an easy path. Were it not for her aunt Helena Barlińska, Przybyszewska would not have suffficient means to live, nor another person to confide in through letters. Because of her reclusivity and uncompromising way of being, she did not have many friends, and she usually managed to lose the ones she had made. It was as if she did not care at all about what others thought of her, or in what conditions she lived in (and these were abymsal), if only she was permitted to work.

After years of being a gifted child, a good student of various schools and private classes, she was well equipped to discipline herself into a literal working machine. This aligned perfectly with her views on humanity and personhood – she maintained a vision of them that was decidedly mechanical, or even robotical. She demanded of herself an inhumane amount of focus, regarding this as the only sure way to achieve greatness. Soon after her husband’s death in 1925 she cut almost all of the ties with the society and set on the path to become an impeccable author the only way she knew how: by putting herself through a regimen of hard work. I shall never be free, do you understand? Never. A succession of twenty-hour day of ever-heavier work until I die. [...] Today I have no personal life anymore. I cease to be a man: human sensibility, human feelings, desire – all these gradually wither and fall away in that hellish temperature of concentrated effort. I am becoming an impersonal, monstrously expanding, inflamed brain. Today I can see what is happening to me because I have time... and I feel strange. said she through words of Robespierre, her most famous character, but she was expressing her personal views on the matter in the same time.

The date that marks a shift from her previous actions (when she still tried numerous „normal” jobs and hoped for a financial independence from her family) is beginning of 1929. It is then that Przybyszewska writes to her aunt for the first time after 3 years long period of silnce: I have decided on what my profession would be. Two years ago; rather early, isn’t it? – I could be a writer, or nothing at all. Because, aside from this, I am not fit to be anything else, not a cook, nor a stenographer. [...] All questions aside, I flirted with  literature ever since I was seventeen, but until I was twenty five I had serious doubts. My own works were not trustworthy enough. Now I am certain and will act, not only feel, by it. It means that I reserve for myself the full right to my life – this means Liberty with a capital L – no matter the price. And it is quite steep. Firstly and foremostly, it’s my dignity. And comfort. And safety. [...] I know from experience that one has to have their full powers at their disposal, if one wants to work in a creative field. [...] Therefore I balance myself just above the surface of Hades by means of miraculous acrobatics and divine interventions in the eleventh hour. Ever since this day, she fully proclaimed artistic independence rather than any other – looking at it from another side, her deciding on becoming a writer as her sole occupation, meant becoming a parasite as well, passively preying on her benefactors.

There is no doubt, though, that she took her decision very seriosuly and turned out to be a relentlessly hard worker, which can be proved by her epistolography. She has left as her legacy only a handful of creative works, but it’s letters where her natural talent shone. Thanks to professor Stanisław Helsztyński they were all gathered and published some 30-40 years after her death and can now offer a glimpse into her everyday life. Her life – which consisted of little more than writing and rewriting her own works, or pondering over them; she wrote sometimes about everyday matters, especially political ones, but rarely with genuine interest. Her world was then small and narrow, but incredibly deep to plunge into, which created a perfect space for honing her craft.

It is from her letters that we know what her normal day of work looked like. Her American biographers, Jadwiga Kosicka and Daniel Gerould sum it up this way: The pattern of Przybyszewska’s daily existence was rigorous but dreary: eight to ten hours of serious work (her artistic ‘output’), done almost entirely by night, occasional trips to a nearby grocery store to buy essentials on credit [...] visits to her German doctor Paul Ehmke to ger prescriptions for morphine, without which she could not concentrate or write, ventures out to the tobacco shop to get cigarettes (another addiction), or to the newsstand to buy papers, which she despised but could not stop reading, and rarer outings to the movies (she [...] found film superior to theater [...]). It is worth noting that even if she spent ‘only’ ten hours on the physical act of writing, almsot all of the other actions she undertook during the day were aimed in one way or another at bettering herself as an artist; even morphine she considered absoltely necessary for writing, while she abandoned such ‘luxuries’ (which any other person would consider ‘necesities’ rather) as kerosene for her stove. And in fact, the life described sketches in just few lines how self-denying her existence was.

Another part of a work-oriented life is undeniably studying. In the case of Przybyszewska, whose works were based on a specific period in european history (the Great French Revolution), this aspect was even more important. She researched Robespierre in times when it was in fashion to demonize him in order to jusitify the Dantonists. She studied in depth Albert Mathiez’s history books, the only ones who at least partially spoke to her convictions. Out of all of numerous plays about either the fall of Danton or the fall of Robespierre that had been written up to that point, she was the first to present a thouroughly Robespierre-centric point of view. She felt so misunderstood and alone in this position, she was often frustrated with her studies, but nonetheless, she persisted and almost all of her works depict this period of history.

How was it that a person so completely focused on work alone has produced not much more than what we now know to be her texts? Only three dramas, only one of them celebrated and fully finished. It’s important to say, too, that despite their excellency, she faced refusal after refusal when she tried to show them on stage and during her life time it looked like she would never be able to do it (the only premiere she had she did not even go to, sensing that the director did not do justice to her vision, and the play was taken off stage in a record setting time). A handful of short stories, which were not published in fullness until few years ago. Even lesser amount of sketches and paintings, which were never exhibited at all, and are stored away in the national archives in Poznań, never to be seen. The regimen she put herself through was her final undoing. She kept losing herself in her work, literally going mad whenever her cheap, rusting typewriter was  in need of repairs, but did not agree to any help, including medical (after refusing to go to a drug rehab, she lost the last source of income she had). Just like characters from her works, she finally lost the battle of intellect&spirit, and flesh – in this instance: weak, plundered by addiction and malnutrition flesh – finally gave in. She died of an unknown cause, of which the most probable was freezing to death in her own apartment.

[edgysaintjust]

Finally got my copy of the Danton Case and Thermidor and already ordered A Life of Solitude. I wish I could read everything she wrote.

Przybyszewska's writing is incredible! I am so happy to hear about people interested in her works, they are totally worth it!

[enlitment]

If you have time and haven't done so already, I highly recommend you read this summary of Przybyszewska's The Last Nights of Ventôse.

It puts it better than I ever could, plus it's written by a native Polish speaker.

I'll just quickly add that to me, there's hardly a better proof of the fact that people have always been into the same things, and quite often, the trends we think magically appeared twenty years ago have been with us for centuries.

(all I need now is for archaeologists to discover stone tablets with someone's Gilgamesh/Enkidu fanfic)

My thoughts on “The Last Nights of Ventôse”

Keep on reading for info about probably the first Saintmoulinspierre fanfic ever.

It’s windy and cold outside. No wonder, it is the last night of Ventôse after all. Tomorrow night, Germinal an CCXXIII starts and I hope it’ll bring better weather. Anyway, I’m not gonna be original - it seems like the perfect time to rant a bit about Stanisława Przybyszewska’s “The Last Nights of Ventôse”.

My edition is probably the only available in Poland, based on Przybyszewska’s manuscript, released many years after her death. Pages: 165 including the preface, chapters: IV, heartbreaks caused: countless, dammit. 

There it is, the ultimate Maxime/Camille fanfic. And probably not what one would expect. It is slashier than some frev tumblr drabbles. We are not interested here in historical accuracy. Just Przybyszewska’s story. An 80-year-old fanfic. And believe me, even if something seems very OOC in Maxime’s or Camille’s behaviour, the story itself is extraordinary and can produce a friggin’ Seine of tears.

Begins with Maxime’s illness - feverish nightmares, anxiety attacks and doubts concerning the inevitabe - Camille’s arrest and execution. There’s also a short conversation between Maxime and Eleanore (Leo). She generally talks about her feelings for him and how he has changed. He, on the other hand, rejects her and regrets that he gave in and used her affection once. A short exchange that always makes me smile: “- Let us sit. - No, Leo. Or if… Then, three paces away from each other.”

Later, Maxime has even worse nightmares and premonitions, so he sends for Camille. Our dear journalist is playing cards with Danton at his own house and he is clearly not in a good mood. “- Camille, you didn’t even notice that you lost. What are you thinking about, boy?! - About you, my love!”

Camille is a little meanie; he can’t really tell why he is angry with Georges but oh he is, and he is almost furious (later it’ll become clear that it’s because of a very serious fault of Danton’s - not being Robespierre). He speaks those words with a mocking, mean tone, yet sweet at the same time, pretending a young damsel. 

In this glorious piece of 80 years old fanfiction, Camille is the cutest, most adorable, sometimes really, really mean and childish trashy-tempered baby ever AND he is wonderful that way. Maxime later calls him all kinds of pet names, such as: child, Cami, little flower, boy, lovely child, genious boy, poor thing, little Camille, little one - but he is cool and composed while Camille loses his temper all the time, but I’ll get to that.

Camille doesn’t want to see Maxime but when he hears of his illness, he goes to him immediately. When he sees him… That fragment is very hard to forget and heart-wrenching. “Camille’s love bursted with thousands of flames from tips of his nerves, hissing with pain. - Desmoulins, first of all, you must forget for a while that our acquaintance is a private one. In other words, you have to look at me as if you were looking at a colleague or at a neighbor, not an object of your… Feelings, you know which. Will you manage? - No - replied the guest, his voice hoarse with excessive strictness.” *the sound of my poor shipper heart exploding into million aching pieces*

Later, there’s a very harsh dispute between them about Camille’s situation and his trust in Danton. I intend to translate the whole story in summer when I’m done with my thesis, so, in short: Maxime is cold and composed while Cami (what a cute nickname!) is in despair. Camille is furious with Maxime as he’d rather stay unaware of his very probable death drawing near, he practically panicks and yells a lot. Maxime in his thoughts admits (cruelly!): 

“It is, after all, a soul fragile and frail as threads of glass; oh, I should have left him in peace, he would suffer only for three days, later, death - well, it’s too late now. Oh, Camille, Camille, poor thing - what a favor I’ve done to you!”. And later: “Their mutual feelings were stronger than frienship - it was simply love on both sides, Camille’s with a strong dose of admiration. Nevertheless, the older’s feelings were probably even stronger, though they didn’t bind his existence totally.” (then, a long description of Maxime’s feelings for Cami - very caring, almost maternal, “filled with nervous anxiety and insatiable tenderness […], hidden carefully”). “For the last six months, Camille inflicted a blow after blow, deliberately, skillfully, aiming perfectly at his weakest point. […] Love of this kind is so bereft of dignity - the more the beloved child teases, the more precious he becomes.”

Then Maxime asks about why he is so stuck on Danton and Cami answers that he is only at Georges’ side because Maxime used to be so cold and composed around him, barely noticed when Camille was not at his side, “forgot about [Camille’s] existence”. The more cold and indifferent Maxime was, the more Camille was drawn to him, but eventually he had enough. Danton was the perfect negative of Maxime and actually appreciated Camille, praised him a lot. Cami missed Maxime anyway.

Maxime asks a lot of questions about them (jealous much, M?). Then: “- Do you even know this man? Are you sure of his sincerity? […] - Well, no - except for when he is drunk. Then, it seems, he likes me with no reservations or calculations. These times, he practically cavorts over me. Draws me close, embraces, kisses, boasts… As if I were a woman. Robespierre suppressed a groan. He wriggled. - Do you like it? […] - Why do you ask? How’s this relevant? - Very relevant, but I’ve already guessed.” Fanfiction much?

Maxime talks to Camille about how Danton is using him and Camille realizes he is right. He is in such shock that he jumps to his feet. “Don’t touch me”, but Maxime does anyway, he holds him by his arms and doesn’t let him go. His touch eventually comforts Camille, but: “- What do you want from me? Let me go at last! - I won’t. Break away if you want to. […] - You are stealing away my life. […] You grasp another’s soul with your claws. How dare you? - By the right of the stonger one - whispered Robespierre”.

Fanfiction MUCH? Just wait until… Right, then Camille is lost in his thoughts for a few pages - his anger with Danton and adoration for Maxime clearly visible. Eventually he drops at Maxime’s feet, emotionally exhausted. He’s so lost in his adoration that he actually kisses Maxime’s foot (fanfiction very f*****g much? Yeah it gets slashier!). 

Maxime of course wriggles out and acts coldly again (but anyway he describes Cami in his thoughts as “a handsome boy, cute, […] absolute beauty” - they should just get a bed and there is an available one, come on!).

Camille is heartbroken. Rejected again. He has to know why Maxime cannot stand his touch. He even says that had Maxime acted differently, it might’ve saved Camille, for he would abandon Danton at once and do everything possible to convince everyone that he changed sides. He would save his life if Maxime had any use for him. Well, he wouldn’t even turn to Danton in the first place, were things different. This part of their conversation is really interesting. I have no time now (unfortunately) to translate Maxime’s rant about male/male love, but I’ll try to do that tomorrow, it’s really interesting. 

Camille’s reaction to it? He is wounded, a blow right in his adoration. He thought before that Maxime doesn’t understand that kind of feelings, but after hearing him out… For Cami that sounds as if Maxime knew these feelings all too well, but Camille was not the one Maxime had those feeling for. Even tough he felt a pang of hope at times listening to it all, but he was quickly disillusioned. 

Maxime is almost certainly speaking about Camille (or is he? *ekhm* Antoinevisitshimlater *ekhm*). Cami is so furious, poor thing. “Why did you tell me all of this? […] Haven’t you done me enough wrong already?”.

Maxime states that as a revolutionary he cannot waste time on personal matters (“I do not have a private life”) and does not like the fact that Camille is willing to offer himself to someone to the point of sacrificing his own freedom. And Maxime is very uneasy about the physical manifestations of Camille’s feelings, they embarass him. 

Camille: “I have to have the right to embrace my friend whenever I want to without feeling his muscles turn into a hostile armour under my touch. I have to have the right to kiss him, for such kiss is what makes two beings one.” Right in the feels, Cami, right in the feels. But you can do better. “All it took was giving up just for a while that what your inhuman pride requires. To bear calmly one innocent kiss, even the pope allows that. To bear the fact that for a one short while you are only a beloved human living in a human body […] I’ll remeber your pudeur virginale even in the another world, if not after falling rightously asleep in Sanson’s two baskets.” I want to hug him and I need a large box of tissues.

Camille tries to leave (not for the first time) but Maxime stops him and even embraces him as tightly as he can. Maxime scolds him for being childish and reckless. He admits he loves him and acted that way because he is ill and everything irks him. He reminds Cami how much he’s done for him even after all Camille did to harm him. He speaks of Camille’s unstability, how he’d run to Danton’s side and that even now Maxime risked so much to save his dear friend.

Sweet, rash Cami of course thinks Maxime is mocking him. “-How does it change anything, that you actually care for my life, since you won’t even let me near you?! - So you have wasted your life, your talent, and now you’re practically pushing yourself on the gallows and all this scrupulous destruction for an embrace rejected? To die of longing for a kiss, what a beautiful death!” Sorry, but were I there, I would stuff Maxime’s mouth with jam tarts so he’d just shut up. “- But there, if it’s the only cause, kiss me all you want, I won’t interrupt you. Kiss me until you get bored, that is, if you won’t get burned.” Oh and there goes all my wrath and all my shipper feels and I practically squeal because of that passage. Then I actually have this sudden urge to hit my head hard with something heavy. Maxime, you... You.

“-How… D-dare you!!! - he whispered, his voice trembling. - So no, then? You won’t take the opportunity to have something to remember in the other world? That’s a pity, I’d actually like to try, you’ve made me curious. Maybe it can actually give pleasure, and I’m curious because until now the sight of two men exchanging caresses seemed amusing to me.” Maxime, please, please take your curiosity elsewhere or stop with all this indifference; boys, cease the angst and heartbreak and make use of the bed. Please. There is one available and the room is cold. Ekhm.

Then Maxime actually scolds him again and starts to talk about politics (not exactly the right moment, huh, M?). In his opinion, Camille is selfish since he concentrates his thoughts on his personal misfortune when the future of the Republic is shaping. He is so concerned for his own unstable future that he eventually asks Camille: “- If it’s me who dies, not you, can you swear to me that you will contact Saint-Just? Camille rose. - Saint-Just… Why him? - He is the only leader except me, he is the only one that understands my thought and wants what I want; he is the only one who can succeed me. - And me… I’d be to serve him? - […] Not him, idiot, but the oppressed people!”.

Poor Cami, you sound like a jealous schoolboy. But whatever. The fragment about contacting Saint-Just is tricky because of a Polish word used here that can mean both “contact” and “reach an agreement” - it is not clear from the context. Oh, they would certainly not reach any, Maxime, come on. You know them.

Maxime again begs Camille to save his own life while he still can. Camille is desperate to do anything to make Maxime feel better since his fever is getting worse, so Camille agrees. He feels helpless and he’s so cutely concerned for his friend… In the end they simply say their goodbyes to each other because they are both gravely tired and Maxime feels worse and worse with every minute.

Maxime spends his next day waiting for any news or rumours about Camille’s decision. We all know what happened next. Camille condemning Maxime again. Maxime’s so shocked that he even contemplates suicide thinking it could save Camille’s life. Eventually he realizes that there’s nothing more that he can do and he accepts the necessity of arresting Camille. 

Then voilà, Saint-Just appears at last. He visits Maxime when it’s already dark and they can’t see each other. But they hold hands. “Their hands found each other without hesitation, as if they were driven by a mutual attraction. They both fell silent in this voiceless yet ardent meeting. The hand of the guest, still cold after a long walk in this humid night, a bit larger, much stronger at the moment, clasped the hot hand of the tribune in a lenghty squeeze. This contact had a soothing effect on the other. It made him feel at peace, reborn.” Ekhm, Maxime? Ekhm? Wasn’t that you who teased Camille with cold indifference not so long ago? Ekhm? But okay, keep holding Antoine’s hand. We shippers are definitely not complaining. Just so you know, Camille reacted to YOUR touch exactly this way.

Maxime reveals to him his ultimate decision about the Dantonists and Camille. Antoine offers to deal with the matter on his own because it’s too personal for Maxime, and also he is concerned for Maxime’s health. In the end, Maxime insists that he is perfectly able of handling it by himself and decides to get up… Only to get dizzy and fall straight into Antoine’s strong arms. Yes. Right. That’s exactly what happens. Antoine even calls him “my dear” as he helps him to come around. 

Then we have a very isteresting description of Saint-Just when he lights the candles and the “impenetrable darkness” is no more. How does Maxime see him? “A while of silence. All the candles were burning. Behind them, lit from underneath, a face of an archangel, his features of  an inhumanly beauty, delicate as a woman’s but of the nobleness typical for men. Big violet eyes, a marble-white face framed by black hair reaching his jawline. His back straight, slender in his tighly fastened suit, Saint-Just awaited in silence.” I do not exactly imagine him that way (violet eyes? Pretty, though) but the description is interesting anyway. Maxime, are you crushing? Are you? Even despite all that happened, Maxime actually has a half-smile on his face when he looks at him. Okaaay. And Saint-Just actually calls him in his thoughts “beautiful in this deathly paleness, so gaunt, his eyes burning”. 

And then: “He [Saint-Just] said even, breaking the feverish silence: - No one in France has a will like yours. No one’s thought is as vital as yours is. You are - the only One.”

After a while Maxime goddamn faints again, and guess where he ends up again? In Antoine’s arms. Yes, right. He even ends up laughing loudly and it is described as a sincere laughter but to me, it’s still hysterical. As if he tried to get rid of all his anger and gloom that way. “[…] Saint-Just turned towards him and embraced him with his other arm […] they closed each other in a tight, silent, loving embrace.” In the end, they just leave for the Committee meeting.

Yeah. Gosh. Fanfiction much.

But isn’t it entertaining? Most probably the first Saintmoulinspierre fanfiction ever. For me, that’s certainly heart-breaking. Camille is absolutely adorable in his rashness, moving the reader to tears. As for Maxime, I wanted to pinch his side while reading this very, very often, but at the same time it was impossible not to feel sorry for him and relate to each and every of his words. He’s a very mysterious figure here, I tell ya. Antoine has this dangerous yet charming vibe, come on, even Maxime fawns over him. 

I have to add that while Przybyszewska in one of her letters wrote that it’s actually possible that there was something between Maxime and Camille, she does not believe that there could ever be something between Maxime and Antoine, they were more like brothers in arms or soulmates (I don’t really remember well, I need my own copy of her letters and I need it badly). That doesn’t mean she doesn’t ship them, though, as it’s pretty visible in “Last Nights” and her plays. 

Przybyszewska practically admitted (probably in the same letter) that she has a certain kind of a soft spot for homosexuals. Citoyens, that’s the 1930’s term for “hello, I’m a slash/yaoi fangirl”. Oh girl, you made it visible.

I was born and grew up in a city in which she spent some longer period of time, in a place I often visited, so there’s probably a Saintmoulinspierre germ in the air there, even after all of these years. And oh did I get infected.

Thanks for reading my thoughts on a 1930s fanfic by a Polish girl who, as Mantel said, “died on Robespierre”. There are many perks of being Polish and being able to buy a copy of this and reading this is certainly one of them.

It’s almost 2 a.m. here. Ventôse is ending, Germinal soon begins but even after the cold winds cease, there’ll be other things to remind me of certain days from years long gone by. I’ll be still thinking about what that story did to me. I can’t get it out of my head since I’ve read it and finally got to share some of it. Even though it was impossible to contain in this note all that is there. Only a full translation will. 

Thank you again and stay on the Saintmoulinspierre ship for it won’t ever sink. Have a good day/good night and don’t mind the cold winds.

[muchas-azjas]

Stanisława Przybyszewska - Thermidor

[makiitabaki]

I sleep well knowing that Wojciech Pszoniak (the ultimate dilf Robespierre. Sorry LRF fans) had the chance to play Maxime abiding Przybyszewska's play.

[enlitment]

Managed to get my hands on a copy of Przybyszewska's play The Danton Case from Prague's central library!

Literally so thrilled. Started reading it today and I have a lot of thoughts already. I'll probably try to write down stuff relating to the actual content in a later post, but so far:

The fact that it's a copy from the 70s written on a typewriter somehow already makes it feel so special. Really wonder how many people had borrowed this copy before me

It's written in Czech, obviously. Can't say how good the translation is, but if the original is in Polish it couldn't have been that hard to translate I think, since both languages are quite similar?

The only slightly odd thing is that the revolutionaries keep calling each other "soudruzi" (comrade in Czech) which to me as a Czech feels kind of anachronistic? Like the word has a pretty strong connotation in our language given our history. Would love to know how it is in the Polish original

Definitely need to find more info on how and why it got translated into Czech

I know I said I won't address the content in this post but the first scene with Robespierre and Eleanor really was something else. I mean I wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't... that. Nightmare fuel for sure.

But yeah it's excellent so far

[sansterreurnivertu]

I have just finished reading the Danton case. I was very moved by it. It is easy to understand why many consider it a masterpiece of frev literature. But I got the (inappropriate?) impression and sympathy that was completely contrary to the author's intentions, so I'm not even sure I should write about it here.

I must confess, I felt sympathy for Danton. As a lonely, hurt for a long time, painfully sad person, he is much more sympathetic than any of the "manly" hero of the Third Republic (or Wajda's movie). (This is one of the reasons why I like LRF more than other movies, but I'll save that for another time).

How strange that he was created by an author who loathed him.

I have a lot more to write about, but haven't decided yet if I'm going to post it or not. (It was a constantly moving read, finding similarities to historical facts that I'm not sure the author knew, and to movies that have nothing to do with either frev or her, etc.)

[citoyenneprzybyszewska2]

Excuse me.

[enlitment]

reblogging this post as well because it includes a great analysis of Louise Danton.

Sure, Louise as a literary character in Przybyszewska's play that is just based on the real woman, but I'd say it is still important, especially if so little is known about her as a historical figure.

And the character breakdown of Lucile and Éleonore is obviously worth reading as well.

It is absolutely doubtless to me that Przybyszewska had a problem or two when creating and describing/explaining her heroines, problems, which do not seem to occur when men are concerned. I do think, however, that in The Danton Case (not to mention her prose) she managed to build female characters with distinct personalities, which is more than can be said of some other classics.

Going back to the way sexuality is being portrayed in The Danton Case, I honestly think that in order to be able to discuss it with good sense one needs to understand and respect asexuality. I am being somewhat in opposition to what Monika Świerkosz proposes in her article on the subject, I do not think that Przybyszewska's women "deny themselves any pleasure" when they choose ascetisim or politics, because one cannot deny themselves anything if one doesn't believe in the existence of such "pleasures". I feel that in this very personal aspect of a human life, Przybyszewska was drawing from her own experience more than on any other occasion: the pleasures of life was, to her understanding, ascetisim/celibacy and politics, and choosing them in no way indicates negating oneself. "It would appear then Przybyszewska realises that "a full lack of the element of desire" in regards to the world is a more radical violation of the norm than homosexuality or perverse sex; it is something for which there are no words". With this though, I agree in fullness. And so, all of Przybyszewska's heroines seem to share one quality, that is – they resemble ancient virginal goddesses of some sort, not exactly because there is an aura of divinity about them, but because they do not seem to be fully, wholly human. This "virginal" quality has little to do with their sex lives, and more with the desire for autonomy on all levels of being (physical and spiritual, not to mention – mental). I reserve for myself the singular right to my life was Przybyszewska's credo and arguably the strongest, firmest phrase she has ever coined. And this is the energy she breathed into all three women in The Danton Case (excluding, I must add, the few appearing in the very first scene; but most of the time no one reads it anyway); the level of intensity and the direction of this desire varies, but it is always present. I would like to present this in three parts, each relevant to one of the characters of the play.

Eleonore is evidently Przybyszewska's favourite, if only because she's devouted to Robespierre – but I think she is also modeled a lot after Przybyszewska herself, not just in terms of this undying devotion, but hers is the type that is later reproduced in many short stories (which, unlike the plays, are filled with women of different kinds to the brim), which makes it obvious she was armed with qualities the author found appealing. That's why it's so strange that Przybyszewska has essentially created two very different Eleonores: one in the play, and one in The Last Nights of Ventose. The first one is definitely meant to be depictured as elder, she has an ironic sense of humour and is very decisive and firm, despite making allowances for Maxime and his rigid rules. The second one is definitely younger, has a hard time grasping at irony, is timid at times and yields to Maxime rather than moves not to be crushed by his wishes. For a reader – probably any reader – the first one is definitely more appealing, more fun to read – more complex even, and given a will of her own, which makes her stand out among the majority of the play's characters (for example: the other members of Comsal have less distinctive personalities than her).

There is a weakness in her, though, or at least the way I see it: she does not feel natural. I'd give anything to have a strong, believable female character in that play, but Eleonore is... not it. Her sense of humor, her quips, her behaviour when she's constantly being met with disappointement don't read real in my eyes, it reads as something "too cool to be true" – therefore, it probably isn't. She has some occasional moments ("You viper!" comes to mind) when naturality shines through her words, but it isn't 100% of the time.

How does Eleonore express her femininity, does she do it at all? Well, yes and no. She seemingly willingly puts herself in a position, which is stereotypically feminine, that is to say: but an accomplice to the man of her life, putting herself second and him first, occupying herself with stereotypically feminine tasks of housekeeping and taking care of others (it is worth noting that these are all traits that have potentially negative quality about them, they can easily be distorted into degradation). In the same time, she assumes the air of equality when talking with Robespierre, is deeply interested in politics and holds her own when Maxime tries to dismantle her attempts at reaching out to him. She is also decidedly "virginal", if we are to reach out to the terminology from before, taking a firm stand against motherhood, even expressing a certain amount of contempt for the idea; this is, however, where the virginity of hers ends, because she is otherwise a very sexual person. To be honest, the way in which she is being presented to the audience – literally­ sliding down Robespierre's torso and kneeling to him, gripping tightly at his knees and very visibly trying to give him a blowjob first thing she sees him well after weeks of illness – is rather disgusting, not necessarily because sex is (a disclaimer, which could probably be put at the beggining of this post, since it's a bit relevant: OP is asexual and has nothing positive to say about sex), but because this is how she imprints in the audience's minds. No feigned irony of hers, no clever remark will be taken as just that, all will be tainted with the image of this otherwise sensible woman degrading herself for a scrap of attention from someone who says bluntly that she is indifferent to him (and as I always underline, in the universum of this play, Robespierre only ever speaks the truth, at least in the spiritual/mental matters, so we know he means it).

For the reasons listed above, I see her as both womanly and manly, if we could call it that. Monika Świerkosz, a Przybyszewska scholar, said that "[...] in Przbyszewska's prose works womanhood and manhood stand in a binary oppsosition to one another, and neither is an enclave of happiness of identity." – I don't think it's strictly accurate. To my understanding, the phenomenon relies on Przybyszewska not relying on any kind of deeply rooted gender stereotypes in creating her characters. It's not like she's taking a steretypically understood masculinity and simply sprinkles it over her heroines! She is operating in the fields of transsexuality, demisexuality and nonbinarity (not exactly in the convential meanings of these words, but there is something to it). I find it hard to put in words, perhaps the thing I want to say is mostly that her characters as a whole don't fit a clearly defined niche and live their own lives at the outskirts of customarily understood gender instead of being solely mouthpieces for the author.

Going back to the concept of virginity, which is especially relevant in Eleonore's case (and especially the one from TLNoV), when it comes to the woman who is always in Robespierre's orbit, it is being contrasted with his own attitude and thoughts on the topic. She's the one begging him to reconsider his stance on the subject, she's the one trying to sneak up on him and shutter his defenses (which is, again, explored and explained in a more detailed way in the novel). It is worth mentioning, though, that while she is constructed as a somewhat sensual person, she is still babyfied about it, there are narrator's remarks about her naivete and innocence in this regard, despite some – very limited – sexual experience. For this reason I'm on the fence in deciding how exactly is this trait used in Eleonore's case. Is she meant to be seen as more mature because she's had experience, knows what she wants, and she's willing to do a lot to obtain it? Or is she meant to be seen as more silly and childlike, not understanding her own desires to the fullest? Are we to admire her or pity her?

Willingly or not, Eleonore becomes an embodiment of a very important characteristic which Przybyszewska uses extensively in her short prose works. If she, for whatever reason, cannot achieve the fullfilment of what she's striving towards, she then personifies ascetisim. And ascetisim is the clou of all of Przybyszewska's life. At the heart of matters, she doesn't care for either virginity or motherhood (in this making equal two things treated usually as polar opposites) as long as ascetisim remains in the world. It is for Przybyszewska a synonym of both "autonomy" and "agency", two ideals powering her life (though, might I add, there is a bit of falsity in this, for her own autonomy relied on being dependent on the financial help received from others and she gave up an almost full autonomy – which could be found in providing for herself – in exchange for the absolutely full autonomy in just one aspect of her life: writing).

I have mentioned before that Eleonore doesn't seem to be entirely natural in her behaviour. Przybyszewska was to a very large extent fascinated by futurism (for her the Revolution, as well as any potential revolution, was worth taking notice of because it brough in the new), and a big part of european futurism was its own fascination by machines. While I, personally, disagree with the notion that machines and robots become a synecdoche of a man, perhaps it really were so for the futurists. A machine ceased to be something completely external and foreign to the humans, it begun to be more of an external part of a perosn's body, a complement of sorts. I think this is why "female" robots, or in general any mesh-up of robots and women may seem more natural to us: they usually already have this one additional organ, and through it, they can produce more humans. And this is what ties back to the idea of Przybyszewska's female characters being sort of divinities, but in a cold, rigid (ascetic!) sense of the world.

For none of them is exactly warm. Moving from Eleonore onto Louise,we can see she's even colder, and not without a reason, there is a cause for why she is the way she is – standing as a contrast to the fleshy, "humane" Danton she couldn't be anything else. What I like particularly well about this portrayal is that it's never shown in a negative way (and not even because Danton is... I think Przybyszewska's own sad experience with sexual abuse played a part in that). For the reasons of the sexual abuse she underwent, Louise is also portrayed in a decidedly virignal light: the things that have happened to her do not define her. She is so in a very different way than Eleonore, she weaponizes this part of her life which is seen as stereotypically connected to womanhood, while being detached from sensuality: motherhood. Her pregnancy is the first respite from Danton she has and she clings onto it, not even in a desperate way, it's cold, calm and calculated. Her young age also serves the same purpose, it detaches her from the customarily understood femininity, it makes her less "womanly" and more "girlish". I don' think I speak only for myself when I say the audience would have a hard time imagining Louise actually becoming a mother; for her this is only a weapon, a means to an end and that is because she is not yet fully formed woman, in a sense.

There is a thing about her and her appearance in the novel and how it presents to us that begs a moment of distraction. In his movie, Wajda took care of presenting both Eleonore and Lucille in a visually masculine way, but he did nothing of the sort with Louise (he barely included her at all, but even so, she was over the top feminine in visual aspects). I don't think this was a good move on his part, in all honesty, it creates a division between her and the other two heroines, while there should be no such thing. I think all three serve a much more unanimous role than what he'd have us believe and this text is partially meant as an explanation why.

So Louise, for obvious reasons, is rather disgusted by all matters pertaining to sex (and that is seen not only in her interactions with Danton, but also with Legendre, that's why we can safely assume so at large). She is shown as strong, strong-willed and intelligent, which is another thing pointing us in the direction of her mentality of an "ancient virign" (I use some terms liberally, but I hope I convey the meaning behind them well enough). She was stripped of all of this in the movie, and this time it was sadly yet another rung on the ladder meant to elevate Danton. In order to powder his face to make him presentable, Wajda had to exclude Louise from the movie and make her a prop rather than a person. I dare say he, as a man, saw Louise as a "anti-woman" because of her attitude and his artistic choice was the nearest antidote; but he was wrong. Przybyszewska's heroines aren't fully human, yes, and aren't fully womanly – but they aren't "antiwomen", they are "superwomen" (in the same sense of the word as "superlunary", for example). They are beyond femininity in many aspects and the only reason why we are even discussin them in any terms pertaining to gender and womanhood is becuase a. I have no other language to do it and b. these things exist in the same reality, I need to underline the fact these heroines are "superwomen" only because they, too, have an idea of what "a woman" should be and exist as a some kind of response to it. Louise, for example, has no need for it, because the root of her problems lies in the lense of femininity through which Danton sees her and if it weren't for his demise, he would continue to threaten her in a sexually abusive way, tied closely to her "role as a woman" (one of the last things he says to her is an accusation of sexual nature regarding her).

Lucille's response seems to be a lot less firm (if not: less aggressive) because her environement didn't condition her to be so fully womanly in the first place. A sfar as husbands go, Camille was a much better one than Danton: just as childish, but treating Lucille not only as a beloved, but also as an equal. This allows her for space to grow as her own peson, and if this person includes affirming her femininity (for example through being a partner to her husband, in being a tender mother, in caring for Camille when he needed her most, in loving him to the point of madness) we can rest assured it is her own choice and part of her agenda. She is not weaker than Eleonore nor Louise, she just has more space to breathe. And like Eleonore, she is deeply interested in politics, and not only that, but has a better graps of it than Camille does, connecting the dots quicker than he would. I can't say if this is a part of characterisation of the women in the play, to show them as autonomous beings capable of political thought, or if it was simply a way of gentle reminder every now and then to the audience that politics permeated the universum of the play so thoroughly everybody in it knows their way about it (it is worth noting that Louise also understands the then political troubles, but unlike the other two, she consciously cuts ties with it, for this is yet another thing which belogns to the realm of Danton, and she doesn't want to be further tainted by him).

I like the fact that Przybyszewska included a scene between Lucille and Louise, especially because it was not strictly necessary for her to do so. It is another facet of her craftiness and intention regarding the way women are being portrayed in the play, because while it exists on the structre lied down by the political plot, the most important things that an audience can draw from the scene are: while Lucille loves Camille greatly and will do anything to save him, it is not necessary for the plots/the overall theme of the play for her to act so (as proven by the indifferent Louise, who is in no way villified in her choice) and Louise is not evil as a character, because she doesn't shrink her responsibilities as a decent human being: she doesn't want to help Danton, specifically, but she provides Lucille wih a logical and pretty good way to attempt what she wants to do. Perhaps this is too little to call it a sisterhood between them, but I find this portrayal contrasting attitudes reassuring.

[edgysaintjust]

Illustrating the Danton Case + Thermidor

[revolutionary-catboy]

Guess who's just acquired the recording of a stageplay of Przybyszewska's "Thermidor" from 2015 👁👄👁

[divorcemotif]