Who Was France Prešeren
A Prešeren Day Special
February 8 (five days ago) was Prešeren Day in Slovenia. Apart from Njegoš Day in Montenegro - a poet who, like Prešeren, is very deserving of his own day - it is, as far as I can tell, one of only two official state holidays (including no work and school) in the Slavic world dedicated to a poet. (Though it is also worth noting that since 2013, Njegoš has also become an Orthodox saint)
If we expand that category to its loosest, we might also include “Czech Valentine’s Day” on May 1, whose rituals are inextricably linked with May, the greatest Czech poem written by Karel Hynek Mácha. But while it coincidentally corresponds with a state holiday, May 1 is not a state holiday in the Czech Republic for that reason.
(Incidentally, Mácha and Prešeren met in person during their lives. It would be fabulous to learn what kind of conversation they had with each other.)
It is a pity that apart from the Slovenians, the Montenegrins and the Czechs to a lesser extent, the Slavs do not celebrate their poetic strengths in the modern day. Poetry is one of the Slavic people’s rawest and most natural talents. And given the setbacks the art of poetry has suffered in relevance in the modern day, state holidays are a small and easy way to encourage the appreciation of poetry. Whether it actually works that way is something of which one must ask the Slovenians. But until something larger and more regional is attempted, we’ll never really know if such a thing would work. Days for Prešeren, Njegos and Mácha are fabulous; but why isn’t there (at the least) a Mickiewicz Day in Poland, a Gundulić Day in Croatia, a Shevchenko Day in Ukraine and a Pushkin Day in Russia? We here at Černobog's Shadow very much hope that the Slavic countries will choose to follow Slovenia and Montenegro’s example.
But what is that example? Who is France Prešeren? And why does he have a special day of celebration in Slovenia?
Aleš Debeljak - a prominent contemporary Slovenian poet who has a few collections translated into English - wrote an essay titled Slovenia: A Brief Literary History. In it, he sums up the Slovenian writer’s duty as follows:
Writers were traditionally invested with the uneasy obligation and the concomitant risk of acting as the keepers of the national flame, guardians of the moral, social and spiritual values embedded in the Slovenian culture and its language. It was precisely the language that represented the foremost national treasure and was a distinctive mark of identity for the Slovenian people, since historically they lacked many other full-fledged political, economic, or social institutions that might have helped shoulder the burden of maintaining and deepening a sense of national commitment.
Later in the essay, when summarizing the history of immigration, Debeljak mentions another very interesting tidbit:
Like many other immigrants, Slovenians had fled exploitation and foreign domination. Yet unlike many other emigrant groups, Slovenians left behind an emotional home, not a political state of their own.
While Slovenian literature has since taken on the topical “messiness” of the contemporary era, it is hard to read about the relationship between the Slovenes and the art of poetry and not find it poignant and even moving. In a way, the Slovenes are the “purest” example of the shared Slavic relationship and even need of poetry; while Russian poetry, exceptional as it is, is intrinsically connected with Imperial and Soviet history - as is Polish poetry, but to the fate and destiny of the Polish nation - Slovenian poetry removes all that from the equation. Allowing Prešeren Day to manifest as a pure celebration of Slovenian-ness with no strings attached, not even nationalist strings. Apart from the greater history of Romantic literature, no political actor can truly lay claim over Prešeren; he is immune.
This used to be true of other poets; until very recently, Adam Mickiewicz was a poet Poles of all stripes could lay claim over. At most, some simply disagreed that Mickiewicz was number one because they preferred Juliusz Słowacki; this debate did not, however, detract from Mickiewicz’s talents or relevance to Polishness. Now that his legacy is being liquidated from the school curriculum by the Tusk regime, however, a new stance has been declared in the Polish speaking world; a pro-Mickiewicz stance, and an anti-Mickiewicz stance.
We here at Černobog's Shadow hope that nothing of that sort has happened, or will happen, to Prešeren’s legacy in Slovenia. Because Prešeren Day is about just that; legacy. It is more than just a celebration of the man and his talents. It is a celebration of how synonymous Prešeren has become with Slovenia’s greater destiny as a nation. (Especially as it is, now, a nation and not just an emotional home.)
Born in 1800, it is interesting that unlike in America (where we commemorate our secular heroes on the day of their birth), Prešeren Day is celebrated on February 8, the day he died in 1849 at the age of 48. (From a liver disease caused by lots of drinking in his younger years) As “death days” are also the days in which the Christian world celebrates the feasts of saints - who, when they die, begin the next journey into the afterlife - the choice of Prešeren’s day of death is very telling. While the Slovenes no doubt commemorate the accomplishments of Prešeren’s lifetime, Prešeren Day symbolizes the “national afterlife” and the effect it has had on the nation.
And indeed, like so many greats before and after, France Prešeren was not the most famous in his lifetime. Born in a large Catholic family where two of his uncles had become well-educated priests, Prešeren displayed a thirst for knowledge that saw him get a full education in Ljubljana, then a provincial town. Prešeren, naturally, spoke great German; at the time, German was the language of both high culture and administration, it being a part of the Austrian Empire. (Many Slovenes continue to live in southern Austria; at that time Graz (Gradec in Slovene), not Ljubljana, was the more Slovenian city) But while in Ljubljana, he fell under the influence of a poet named Valentin Vodnik (sweet name!) who encouraged the young Prešeren to develop his skills in the Slovenian language.
Like so many of his counterparts in the Romantic Era - especially his Czech counterpart, Mácha - Prešeren symbolized the cultural birth (or rebirth) of respective Slavic languages as cultural forces in the world. In his case, Slovenian: but unlike Czech which had once been a language of deep religious thought both Catholic and Hussite, Prešeren had a much “blanker slate,” if you will. Among other things, Prešeren would author the first Slovenian sonnet and the first Slovenian epic. (The Baptism on the Savica) Prešeren generally found a most welcome home in the sonnet form, a turn of phrase not used by coincidence; one of his most famous sonnets, O Vrba, is dedicated to his village where, today, tourists can visit a small museum in his honor. (Fans of The Baptism on the Savica include Slovene philosopher and fellow Substacker
)At the moment, I apologize for not being able to go into greater depth on his poems themselves. As chance would have it, I am awaiting a rare copy of an equally rare anthology of his work translated into English. I was lucky to find it at a good price on Abebooks. Suffice to say I will write more deeply about his poetic work in the near future. The fact that it is this rare should be an embarrassment for the Anglo-American literary world. But fellow admirers of Slavic cultures who do want to read Prešeren will be happy to know an English translation does exist, even if one must take a bit of trouble to track down a copy.
The young Prešeren excelled well enough in his studies to gain admission to the University of Vienna. There, he studied the great poetic legends of the past, from Homer to Goethe, building upon his already substantial knowledge of Slovenian folk poetry. Here, his dedication to poetry over almost all else began to take hold; despite his Catholic upbringing, Prešeren lost a teaching post at a Jesuit institute for disseminating forbidden poetry.
Despite this interest, Prešeren obtained a law degree so as to pay the bills. And this he did: upon obtaining said degree, he returned to Ljubljana. Even if his home village of Vrba lived in his heart, Prešeren’s time in Ljubljana most definitely increased the future cultural capital of what would eventually become the actual Slovenian capital. For this reason, one of the most central squares in Ljubljana is named after the poet. It was during this phase of his life that he met Czech bard Karel Hynek Mácha; in the meantime, thanks to another Czech poet and critic, František Čelakovský, Prešeren’s reputation began to spread into the rest of Greater Slavia.
Legally Prešeren had the relatively humble ambition of opening his own legal firm, something only accomplished later in life. His time in Ljubljana, however, is defined by what one might call a tragic love life; it is, at least, the kind that enables us to understand that Lotte and Werther’s doomed relationship in Goethe’s timeless novel was not pure poetry. (Or, I should say, “pure prose”) Falling in love with a merchant’s daughter, Julija Primic, his love was ultimately one-sided; marrying another woman, Ana Jelovšek, whom he treated with respect and had children with, it was not a marriage of love as attested to by several extramarital affairs on Prešeren’s part. Nor did Primic (or shoul I say her spirit in Prešeren’s imagination) abandon the role she had taken on as his muse.
Not long after his acceptance that Primic would never be his - a difficult period in his life - Prešeren got around to establishing his own legal firm in the Slovenian city of Kranj. (Today the third biggest city in Slovenia, after Ljubljana and Maribor) Prešeren had already been forgotten at this stage of his life, though this was probably in part due to an estrangement between Prešeren and a friend who also ran a literary journal. Another factor was Austrian censorship. Incidentally, Prešeren had been introduced to the poetry of Adam Mickiewicz around that time; the Bard of Poland would become an important influence on his later work. Prešeren had something of a last public hurrah when a politician named Janez Bleiweis asked him to write for the cultural section of his journal. Prešeren certainly didn’t view it as his last hurrah, since other projects were in the works. (Including prose projects) But his youthful drinking caught up with him and Prešeren, like a number of great poets, died too soon.
If he wasn’t quite impoverished on account of his legal firm, he was, however, forgotten for a spell. This changed in the 1860s, when a “national” discussion took place that recognized Prešeren as their great poet. A role Prešeren has occupied since then, though not without challengers. (Most notably, the widely celebrated poetry of Tomaž Šalamun)
First created in 1945 as a holiday for the Socialist Republic of Slovenia within Yugoslavia, it remained a holiday following the collapse of Communism and Slovenian independence. But if celebrating Prešeren was fine in and of itself, to what might be the surprise of some the Slovenian government’s declaration of Prešeren Day as work-free was met with opposition since some thought the legacy of Prešeren would become banal. A counter-Prešeren Day emerged on December 3, Prešeren’s birthday. Making Slovenia not just one of the few Slavic countries to have a state holiday for a poet; but the only one to have two celebrations of the same poet!
Irrespective of which side is right or wrong, it seems that the establishment of Prešeren Day as a work-free state holiday has only been a net positive across the board for Prešeren’s legacy. The fact of the matter is: the transformation of Slovenia the emotional home into Slovenia the nation and political entity meant that Prešeren, whether he would have liked it or not, is also a symbol of Slovenian autonomy and, by default, statehood. While the counter-Prešeren Day is very popular, the original criticism of February 8 becoming banal does not appear to have been realized. (Though I suppose it would depend on who you asked) This is perhaps remedied by the announcement the night before of the winners of the Prešeren Award, Slovenia’s highest literary honor. Giving Prešeren Day a contemporary angle that doesn’t exclusively have to make Prešeren Day about reading “old” poetry. (The prize is not only given to writers, but cultural figures in general)
Past winners of note have included Dane Zajc, my personal favorite Slovenian poet (in 1981), Tomaž Šalamun (1999) and the frequently translated and well-respected novelist Drago Jančar. (1993) This year’s winners are Dragica Čadež, a sculptor, and Dragan Živadinov, a theater director whom the super art nerds might recall as one of the cofounders behind the Neue Slowenische Kunst movement of the 1980s and the man behind a movement called retrogardism. Sadly, I am unaware of any sources in English on this movement or on Živadinov, which is a pity since his artistry sounds immensely interesting. But from what I am able to read, it sounds like Živadinov at least is very deserving of the prize.
That is about all I have time to write about this week. So I’ll end here. If any Slovenians are reading this, I hope they had a happy (and not banal) Prešeren Day. And for my fellow admirers and advocates of the Slavs, forming a fully developed opinion on Slovenia and the Slovenes is not possible without understanding and (ideally) reading Prešeren. I look forward to returning to his work at a future date.