The Role of Marko Vovchok (1833-1907)
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Copyright @2013 Australian and New Zealand Journal of European Studies http://www.eusanz.org/ANZJES/index.html Vol. 2013 5(2) ISSN 1837-2147 (Print) ISSN 1836-1803 (On-line) Normalising a Ukrainian Intellectual Identity in the Nineteenth Century: The Role of Marko Vovchok (1833-1907) MARKO PAVLYSHYN Monash University, Australia [email protected] Abstract: A question that confronted educated Ukrainians, predominantly landowners descended from Cossack notables, in the Russian Empire in the first half of the nineteenth century was whether they should foster an identity distinct from an all-imperial one. A sense of historical distinctiveness, the value placed by the late Enlightenment and the Romantic Movement upon the culture of ordinary people and the wealth of Ukrainian folk culture persuaded many of the need to generate a high culture employing the Ukrainian language. Yet, prior to the Ukrainian-language prose of Marko Vovchok (Maria Markovych), an element essential for the development of a multifunctional modern culture, and of an identity able to be shared by a modern Ukrainian intelligentsia, was lacking: a stylistically transparent prose able to function not only in a poetically charged way, but as a neutral medium for communicating content. The paper identifies the features of Marko Vovchok’s writing that made this innovation possible. Keywords: identity, intellectuals, prose, public sphere, Ukrainian literature, Marko Vovchok In 1841 Haidamaky, a long poem by Taras Shevchenko (1814-61), was published as a small book.1 It told the story of the great 1768 uprising by Cossacks and peasants known as ‘Haidamaky,’ inspired by memories of Cossack glory and hopes for restored liberties, against the nobility of the declining Polish- Lithuanian Commonwealth. Haidamaky combined verse narrative with dramatic dialogue in a range of metrical forms. Accumulating scenes of carnage and pillage in diverse locations, it confronted its readers with the panoramic image of a landscape engulfed by a revolutionary conflagration. Not only was the poem an immensely ambitious poetic project; it also articulated complex historical and ethical questions, such as that of responsibility for social and religious oppression, but also of whether the oppressed have a right to violence and vengeance. Haidamaky was probably the most challenging and important work of the fledgling modern vernacular Ukrainian literature to date. Curiously, at the end of this serious work came a piece of prose paradoxically titled ‘Foreword’ and a paragraph addressed to the book’s subscribers, both rather colloquial and chatty, full of exclamations, questions and direct speech, and clearly reminiscent of the burlesque tone of what had already come to be regarded as the foundation text of modern Ukrainian literature, Ivan Kotliarevsʹkyi’s Eneida (1798), his travesty of Virgil’s Aeneid. The opening sentences with their construction of a guileless, sketchily educated speaker all at sea as to the practices of the publishing world are typical of the two prose texts in their entirety: 1 The research project of which this article is one of the outcomes received support from the Australian Research Council, the Ukrainian Studies Support Fund of the Association of Ukrainians in Victoria and the Ukrainian Studies Foundation in Australia. I gratefully acknowledge the research assistance rendered to the project by Ms Khrystyna Chushak, Ms Zoryana Dorzda and Mr Dmytro Yesypenko. 61 Pavlyshyn ANZJES 5(2) After the word itself comes the foreword [Po movi – peredmova]. One could do without it, but, you see, every book that I’ve seen printed (seen, mind you – I’ve read very little) has a foreword, but mine doesn’t. If I hadn’t intended to print my Haidamaky I wouldn’t have needed a foreword. But now that I’m sending it out into the world I have to deck it out properly, so that people don’t laugh at us beggars […].2 The same pose of eccentric informality was characteristic of Ukrainian-language epistolary prose, including that of Shevchenko, and of the brief editorial essays that appeared in the Ukrainian-themed almanacs of the time – Hryhorii Kvitka-Osnovianenko’s ‘Suplika do pana izdatelia’ (Petition to Mr Publisher) in Utrenniaia zvezda (The Morning Star, 1833), for example, or Ievhen Hrebinka’s ‘Tak sobi do zemliakiv’ (To Our Countrymen, More or Less) in Lastivka (The Swallow, 1841).3 When it came to literary prose, as in the case of his diary of 1857-58 or his short novels, written in exile in the 1850s, Shevchenko wrote in Russian. Why so? It seems unlikely that Shevchenko saw himself as choosing between the burlesque and some other tone when writing Ukrainian prose, or between Russian and Ukrainian when writing his prose narratives, richly interspersed with aesthetic, psychological and cultural reflections. It is more plausible to conjecture that in Shevchenko’s judgment there simply was no usable tradition of neutral, transparent reflective prose in Ukrainian, and therefore no means in that language for discussing ‘serious’ public issues or, indeed, any matters requiring intellectual abstraction or generalisation. Mainstream public concerns were the domain of the imperial language, Russian. Ukrainian, insofar as it was written at all in the educated class of society, was reserved mainly for intimate, informal, ‘in- group’ communication within a community demarcated by social, historical and territorial attributes: the landowning gentry descended from Cossack notables. Acquired by members of this educated elite through childhood contact with servants and peasant playmates, the Ukrainian language was not visible to them as a valuable cultural possession: in the first decades of the nineteenth century it was not, in general, part of the ‘cultural capital’, to borrow Bourdieu’s term, that one built up through education.4 Hence there was no possibility of invoking, through Ukrainian-language writing, an ‘intellectual’ identity – an identity similar to that of people accustomed to writing from a perspective of secular reason on general questions and matters of public concern in the West European countries since the late seventeenth century, in Central Europe from the last third of the eighteenth century, and in the Russian Empire from the 1830s. In the following discussion I propose that a major obstacle to the evolution of a Ukrainian intellectual identity lay in the difficulty of imagining a community of public discussion whose membership would be defined by competence in the Ukrainian language. This went hand in hand with the difficulty of thinking of Ukrainians as a socially multi-layered nation with elites as well as masses, in contrast to 2 T. Shevchenko, ‘Peredmova [do vydannia: ‘Haidamaky.’ Poema T. Shevchenka. Sanktpeterburg, 1841]’ in Shevchenko, Zibrannia tvoriv u shesty tomakh, Kyiv, Naukova dumka, Vol. 5, 2003, p. 201. 3 The notion that the burlesque style was expressive of the culturally circumscribed but materially replete lifestyle of the Ukrainian gentry was reflected in Nikolai Gogol’s early ‘Ukrainian’ tales. In the speech of Rudyi Panʹko, the comic narrator of Vechera na khutore bliz Dikanʹki (Evenings on a Farm near Dikanʹka, 1831-32), Gogol created a Russian-language equivalent of this comic mode. The stereotypical association of the Ukrainian language with earthy comedy was not limited to a particular genre: it was as evident in belles lettres as it was in the small corpus of Ukrainian-language expository and epistolary prose. The power of this stereotype is reflected in the code-switching that was characteristic of the correspondence of the 1840s and 1850s. Almost all of the letters written by the Ukrainian literati of the time are in Russian, whether they are addressed to Russians or Ukrainians. But when Hrebinka or Kulish in correspondence a compatriot wish to make a point forcefully or to express themselves colourfully, uncouthly or, sometimes, intimately, they often switch from normal polite Russian into a pronouncedly rustic Ukrainian, as in Kulish’s letter of 6 December 1847 to Viktor Bilozersʹkyi: ‘[In Russian:] The electrotyping is going very well indeed. I made the mould of an ornament for a picture frame and suspended it [in the electrolyte] myself. The result was even better and stronger than previously. [In Ukrainian:] There you have it: if you’re on a roll, the devil himself rocks your children to sleep! [In Russian:] I’m perfecting my English’ (Panteleimon Kulish. Povne zibrannia tvoriv, Kyiv, Krytyka, 2005, 2003, Vol. 1, p. 196-197.) 4 P. Bourdieu, ‘The Forms of Capital’ [1983], trans. Richard Nice, in J. Richardson (ed.), Handbook of Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education, New York, Greenwood, 1986, pp. 241-258. 62 Pavlyshyn ANZJES 5(2) thinking of them as a one-dimensional plebeian ethnos, ‘the people’ (narod). I also want to suggest that the Ukrainian-language writings of Maria Markovych (born Maria Vilinskaia; she published under the pseudonym Marko Vovchok) provided an example of a kind of prose that was able to be a vehicle for intellectual communication within a Ukrainian-language sphere, and therefore an enabling factor for the emergence of a Ukrainian intellectual identity. Since the 1920s there have been numerous discussions of the features of the social group that is commonly labelled as ‘intellectuals.’5 My purpose is served by regarding intellectuals as defined by their social role and the kind of social consciousness of which they are carriers: they are people who write from a position of critical secular reason