#beloved Cossack knight

[theophan-o]

Seeing yesterday magnificent art by @pomarlisko has inspired me to show you here something (or someone:-), who is very dear to me. This tiny (c. 10 cm high) Cossack hero stands on my desk, accompanying me all the time and inspiring my writings and drawings. He has been created by a contemporary Ukrainian artist as Ivan Bohun, this historical one, but in my opinion he resembles Jurko quite much. Perhaps, a bit older? After all, no matter which Bohun it is, I like them both:-)

[meadowlarkx]

Any of the Fall prompts for Jan!

Fall - theone person/cause/ideal they would sacrifice everything for (x)

ONE?! AS IF.

Jan Skrzetuski is raised on stories of sacrifice. EverySunday, at the very least, there is Christ’s sacrifice in some church or thechapel at Łubnie: he can see the carven thorns even when he’s too little tounderstand the Latin. Jan is a bright child and learns quickly: to give yourselfup is love.

Back when there was some light left in his mother’s eyes,she used to tell her son more earthly stories. Noble knights and fair ladiesand just lords and loyalty. She would smile asking “and do you know what he didthen?” and Jan would smile back, dark eyes shining, and respond gladly, not yetappreciating the words’ full significance:

“He vowed to serve them always, without thought of profit orpersonal gain. And then…”

At his father’s funeral, they eulogize a soldier’s duty –the love of one’s country – the honor in committing everything you can to whatis right. Dying in battle is a noble sacrifice, but a sacrifice nonetheless.Jan, too young to label such thoughts sacrilege, imagines his father layingdown his head on the altar in church for the immense love he bore theCommonwealth and cries whole streams of tears.

At his mother’s, they do not. But Jan can fill in the blankshimself. If she had given all she was to her beloved, how could anything beleft to live afterwards?

(i.)

“I feel I could do anything for you,” Jan tells his prince.The words burst out after a short “Thank you, your Highness,” when he hadn’t,quite, meant to say them; Jan’s control has never been perfect. He is fifteenand it is his first year in the prince’s service. (Who could have believed thatfor an act of disobedience, a mercy killing, he could have been rewardedinstead of punished? His unquestioning devotion is – without question – hardlyany price to pay.) He blushes.

He repeats it in bed only a few years later, dazed and dizzy:immeasurably grateful for his prince’s arms around him, holding him close.

“My Jan,” Jeremi murmurs in agreement.

(It has a tone of finality to it. Jan hardly dares say more.)

(He speaks to his prince in parentheses now, in asides:“Yes, my prince.” I love you. “Gladly.”You ask where you could command, dearest– how I love you for it. Doesn’t my prince know he hardly need do either? I amyours heart and soul. A faulty system, you’d think, but it works.)

(ii.)

When Jan is twenty-one he falls in love.

The girl’s quiet dark eyes go to his head like wine. Hecould write paeans to her calloused hands.

Jan falls in love, and what else can he do but promise heranything and everything? In the first few words they exchange he is alreadystriving to communicate the way his heart feels immeasurably full and light andglad in his chest at the sight of her, the way he knows already that all he isbelongs to the blushing young woman standing across the open carriage doors.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he says as the party turnstowards Rozłogi, leaning close to the window.

“Oh!” Even in the dusk, he can see the color spread over herface. (It seemed perfectly natural on Jan’s part that he would dedicate himselfentirely without so much as knowing her name, yet even he feels as if he’s beenswept heedlessly away, spinning up into the air; he could take wing at anymoment.) But her eyes flicker, alight with fresh joy. Merriment, too, but whenshe responds “Helena” the soft, smiling word feels like being entrusted with agift.

Jan traces her name over in his mind. Helena. Helena.

When he gave all of himself to Helena he did so freely and,he’d swear to it, honestly. He could never – he would never even think of –

Think of your pain asjust one drop in a sea of suffering.

How naïve he had been, thinking he was his own to give.

Jan sacrifices Helena, and with her he buries himself, herkisses, the anticipated joy of waking each morning at her side and fallingasleep nestled against her; he buries all those vaguely-formed thoughts ofsummer weddings and small children. Jan’s control is not perfect. Selfish, he reproaches himself wheneverthese things return to haunt him and his empty chest aches, so selfish.

(aside:)

“Anything?” Helena says. He can feel hersmile against his shoulder; she kisses his collarbone.

“Yes,” Jan says, utterly helpless. He doesn’t speak inparentheses anymore.

She props herself up on her elbows, dark hair swinging – belowthe level of her shoulders now. Her warm eyes are serious, intent. “Then Iwould wish you to be happy. And here with me as often as you can. And honestwhen I ask you questions, if you trust me with the answers.”

“Nothing more than that?”

“Jan,” she says, beaming, “I love you.”

“Oh.”

(iii.)

For all that Jan’s parents hail from Wielkopolska, their sonis born not in Skrzetuszewo, but in Ukraine. The toddler is delighted with theash tree turning, yellow deepening to orangey reds in bright sunset tones.Reaching out little hands to catch the vermilion leaves when the wind whirlingin from the steppe sends them flying.

Jan loves his country.

The truth is it all seems very fair to Jan when it isexplained to him. The Sejm, the pacta conventa.The majority vote. His shining empire is blessed above all others, highlyfavored for its justice, its tolerance, its good.(When he speaks to Chmielnicki – “I know no power in the world but theCommonwealth that would exhibit equal patienceand clemency” – it is with Jeremi’swords, after years of hearing the same. But it must be said that the warm flushof pride such would-be criticism inspires never quite leaves him. Mercy, Janthinks, can never truly be a bad thing.)

As for the Cossacks and the serfs and the rest – well, Jan supposesquite earnestly that those gilded structures would or ought to accommodatethem, showed they the merit to stand there. He had not realized, though, thedepth to which these things were rotten. When Jan feels the hatred of the crowdat Czehryń, shimmering in the night air like heat from a flame, his first,stumbling reaction is one of confusion. He knows this, knows everything leadingup to it, but it simply cannot be. Afterwards – if there can even be said to bea beginning and an afterwards – each new wound they discover of Jurko’s, longscarred-over by a lifetime of wary instinct, is enough to make him despair.

“It’s how it is,” Bohun says, voice hard, and Helena bowsher head, squeezing his hand in silent comfort: they are both orphans who Jan’sgolden Commonwealth failed to protect.

“You deserved better,” Jan can’t help but voice, “I – I wish–” How to explain that he feels personally responsible in this moment foreveryone who ever treated Bohun as lesser, or sent him away when he was cold?Jan knows he himself is on that list.

There is an odd look in Jurko’s blue-green eyes when he saysthis, not quite the all-too-familiar I-don’t-want-your-pity-Lach.It is strangely soft. He watches Jan, waiting.

When Jan kneels at Kisiel’s deathbed, he is barelytwenty-five and would give anything – everything – for the vision of a land whosepeople are at peace and happy – their fields as green and well-tended as Helena’sgarden at home, safe where wounds can close and heal. (It’s all too clear eachtime he returns to the Ukraine that he will never see this dream fulfilled, notin a year, not in a century, and each new skirmish lengthens that time.)

He takes the old man’s fragile, peacemaking hand in his own andKisiel smiles.

[theophan-o]

The famous duel between Jurko Bohun & Michał J. Wołodyjowski

by my beloved Polish artist-illustrator, Jan Marcin Szancer (1902-1973):

on the left: charcoal version from the "Ogniem i mieczem" Polish edition, 1954;

on the right: ink version from the "Ogniem i mieczem" Polish edition, 1963.

Polish Knight vs. Ukrainian Knight - choose your Hero or (better) love both!

It is a fan&didactic account, existing only for the Cossack Heroes glory and promoting Ukrainian & Polish heritage worldwide. Copyright belongs to the Artist/Museum.

[theophan-o]

Jurko Bohun and romantic Cossack heroes from the writings of Juliusz Słowacki (1809–1849), one from the major figures of the Polish literature

Fragment of an article by Tadeusz Bujnicki (b. 1933), Professor of literary studies from the Jagiellonian University in Kraków, specializing himself in the Polish literature from the 19th century, and in particular - in Henryk Sienkiewicz's writings and their reception in the modern Polish culture. In his study he sums up the results of research of various scholars, showing us, to what extent H. Sienkiewicz was inspired by the Romantic tradition and the writings of Juliusz Słowacki (Beniowski, The Silver Dream of Salomea, Żmija):

My imperfect English translation (quotations from the novel "With Fire and Sword" in Jeremiah Curtin translation):

The syncretism in using patterns, typical of Sienkiewicz, often makes it impossible to clearly indicate the sources of his inspiration. Moreover, the writer often brings together a “bundle” of various inspirations in one character. Bohun is undoubtedly such a “synthetic” hero. Researchers noticed in him the features of Sawa (Beniowski, The Silver Dream of Salomea), Semenko (The Silver Dream of Salomea), and Hetman (Żmija). Bohun embodies the Romantic Cossack myth, he is a “fairy-tale” character and a type of “tragic lover” who is separated from his beloved by a social barrier and hostility. He is a steppe knight, a romantic lover and a hero of (epic) songs: Blind minstrels sang songs of Bohun […] Who he was, whence he had come, was known to no man. This much was certain, — the steppes, the Dnieper, the Cataracts, and Chertomelik, with its labyrinth of narrows, arms, islands, rocks, ravines, and reeds, had been his cradle. From childhood he had lived and communed with that wild world. […] Among nobles he knew how to be a polished cavalier; among Cossacks he was the wildest of Cossacks. In knightly company he was a knight; among robbers, a robber. […] He served the steppes, the whirlwinds, war, love, his own fancy. Bohun is distinguished from the “rude leaders” and “the whole robber herd” by his rich emotionality and the fierceness of extreme emotions. Like Semenko from The Silver Dream of Salomea, being in love with “Laszka”, he can be cruel as a Cossack ataman and gentle in his feelings (Semenko’s words “I have scared the little bird” correspond to Bohun’s behaviour towards Helena in Horpyna’s cottage). They both have similar “leadership” ambitions. Bohun boasting to Helena (“I will […] give you half the Ukraine; for though I am a Cossack, not a noble, I am a bunchuk ataman. Under me are ten thousand men”), repeats Semenko’s words: “I was [...] brought up to be a hetman, not a peasant”. Bohun, despite the cruelty of his actions, the ruthlessness of revenge and savagery, is portrayed in the novel as a harmed person who does not deserve the reader’s condemnation. “The beautiful ataman” arouses sympathy as a tragic lover whose revenge drives him to Khmelnytsky’s camp.

Source: T. Bujnicki, Wpływ Słowackiego na Sienkiewiczowski obraz Ukrainy w Trylogii, [in:] idem, Trylogia w kontekstach, Kraków 2019, p. 141-142.

Another piece of "Bohunologia":

@pomarlisko, let's talk about Juliusz Słowacki;-)))

I don't know, how it is possible, that there was hardly nothing about all these connections between Słowacki and Sienkiewicz on my blog before...

[theophan-o]

Jurko felt a bit upset and jealous, seeing me posting a lot about Jędruś Kmicic here and praising another “Trilogy” Knight than him, so I have to remind my Cossack-Queen, who is the most beloved Boy here.

By the way, it is a good occasion to point out, that my beloved Boy is the Cossack Ataman, not the Actor playing him (for obvious reasons, unfortunately).

[theophan-o]

And what about Sienkiewicz’s emotional attitude towards Bohun?

The character of Bohun is treated with great sentiment by the writer. From the moment of his first appearance in the pages of the novel, the young Cossack arouses the reader’s interest, because the narrator speaks of him as a hero: he is known on both sides of the Dnieper, the blind sing songs about him and tell stories of his extraordinary, adventurous life. The steppes were his cradle, “soon he became the favorite of the entire lower country, a leader of others, and surpassed all men in daring. (...) He never warmed any place long. Caprice was the motive of his deeds. At times, (...) he had terrible frolics with other Zaporojians; at times he lived like a monk, spoke to no man, escaped to the steppe. (...) He was an unrestrained and maddened soul. (...) He served the steppes, the whirlwinds, war, love, his own fancy. This fancy of his distinguished him from all the other rude leaders. (...) Bohun took plunder, but preferred war to pillage; he was in love with peril for its own charm; he gave gold for songs; he hunted for glory, and cared for no more... He best embodied the Cossack-knight, that’s why... his name became famous all over Ukraine.“ [Jeremiah Curtin’s translation of With Fire and Sword, BOSTON: LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, 1904 + some own translation]

Bohun is something of a romantic hero: shrouded in legend, a wild steppe romantic, handsome, dashing and rich, he loves freedom and adventure. He evokes terror with his impulsiveness, wildness and vengefulness. At the same time, he moves the reader, being completely lost in his genuine romantic love for Helena, with his tenderness and impulsiveness. Controlled by his great affection, lack of understanding and approval from his beloved, deceived by the Kurcewiczs – all this makes him a tragic figure. Bohun is touching when he confesses his feelings to Helena after her kidnapping: a famous warlord at the feet of his beloved is asking for his love to be reciprocated, promising in return a life full of splendour and total devotion. There is nothing more important or precious to him than his beloved girl.

Mournful and longing – to soothe his pain – he rushes to the far steppe, singing melancholic songs. The unhappy, unrequited love deprives his life of joy, leading him to the path of revenge against the wrongdoings caused against him. Bohun goes to Chmielnicki’s side and is determined to fight against the Lachs.

Sienkiewicz loved the young warlord! He not only endowed him with perfect beauty and all possible soldier qualities, colored him with the richness of life, made him the embodiment of Cossack freedom – but also showed him as a passionate, doting man, rejected for another man’s love. Bohun arouses the reader’s sympathy, but also great compassion. He is often compared with Skrzetuski – a man of great merit for his homeland, but who is also somewhat lacking in comparison to the vigorous character of the Cossack.

 This text has been taken from the Polish school-book (for children in the age of 10-12): Janina Pelczar, “Ogniem i mieczem” Henryka Sienkiewicza, Poznań 1999, p. 41-42.

I would like to thank here my very talented Friend, @biscuit-drivels, who made for me this magnificent English translation, not being the native speaker of English, nor Polish, and even corrected and completed omissions in the Jeremiah Curtin’s translation:-)