Hungarian literature

by Emil Reich

CHAPTER XXXII.

The number of lyrical poets is very great in modern Hungary. It may be stated that, as a rule, a Magyar poet has more chances of attracting public attention by a good lyrical poem than by a good novel. Perhaps the female portion of Hungary are not as anxious for novel-reading, as are their sisters in more western countries; and thus the balance of attention to poetic works is spent on the drama and on lyrics. This fact is on a line with the predilection of the Hungarian public for songs and airs, as against native musical works of a more extensive description. The great Hungarian lyrical poets of modern times may properly be divided into several groups, of which the first is the school of poets with whom the beauty and purity of Form is the principal concern of their art. Considering the innate Magyar tendency to rhapsodic and shapeless exuberance, the relative value of the works of that group is very great. The Hungarian language, just on account of its large share of musical elements, has somewhat of that indistinctness and vague emotionality which, like that of music, must be strictly kept within the bounds of Form. Even in the more advanced poetry of the Teutonic nations, whether German or English, the significance of poets cultivating pre-eminently the chaste beauty of Form, is still very considerable. Fortunately for Hungary, both Paul Gyulai (born in 1826) and Charles Szász (born in 1829) have, especially the latter, untiringly worked at providing their countrymen with works of poetry, original or otherwise, in which the law and beauty of Form predominate over emotionalism. Szász has thus deserved very highly of Hungarian Literature. His delicate sense of metre, rhythm and architectonics, in his original epics and lyrics, as well as in his exceedingly numerous translations from the works of great western poets, is on a par with the wealth of his linguistic resources; and while English poetry may perhaps afford to be less encouraging to the adepts of Form, Magyar literature is to be congratulated upon having at once recognized and thereby not missed the numerous works of her Richard Garnett.

To this group belongs also Joseph Lévay (born in 1825), whose popular works move in the sphere of elevated serenity.

Another group of lyrical poets is formed by the nationalists, who vied with one another in sounding exclusively the note of Magyar sentiments and ideas proper. Local colour seemed to be everything, and in language and subject nothing was used outside the purely Magyar elements. The most gifted of that class was Coloman Tóth (1831-1881); next to him ranks perhaps Andrew Tóth (1824-1885); nor must Coloman Lisznyay (1823-1863), Joseph Zalár (born in 1827), and Joseph Székely (born in 1825) be omitted.

Quite by himself stands John Vajda (born in 1827). He is to Hungarian poetry proper, what Kemény ([see pp. 153, etc.]) is to Hungarian novelistic literature. His is the gloom and power of pessimism; and in his fight with Destiny he conjures up all the furies of scorn, despair, rage and hatred: see especially his “Szerelem átka” and “Gina emléke.”

The lyrical poets of the sixties and seventies of this century tried to avoid excessive nationalism, true to the spirit of the time when Hungary through the final regulation of her constitution as an autonomous state, assumed a European attitude herself. The more prominent names are Béla Szász; Victor Dalmady; Joseph Komócsy; Lewis Tolnai; Ladislas Arany, Alexander Endrődi, Julius Reviczky, etc. In Joseph Kiss there is much of that power of discovering poetic riches in subjects hitherto ignored by poets, which goes to make the really great poet. The emotional conflicts between orthodox Jews and Christian peasants living in the same village, conflicts of love and hatred alike, have been worked into powerful ballads by Kiss.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

It would be impossible, to write even the shortest sketch of Hungarian Literature without dwelling on one of the less conspicuous, yet chief sources of suggestion and inspiration of Hungarian poets. We mean the folk-poetry of the Hungarian people. Now that we can study that poetry in numerous and comprehensive collections, published by John Erdélyi (1848), Paul Gyulai and Ladislas Arany, John Kriza (1863), Lewis Kálmány, Coloman Thaly (in English, the collection of L. Kropf and W. Jones, “Magyar Folk-tales,” 1884), etc., etc., we cannot but acknowledge the profound effect that these countless poems, ballads, songs, fables, epics, and ditties must have had on the minds of Hungarian poets who spent their youth in the midst of people singing, reciting or improvising them. In intensity of colour, in fire and varied picturesqueness, Hungarian folk-poetry is certainly not inferior to that of the people of Italy. In humour and exuberant audacity it is probably its equal. But while Italian folk-poetry frequently stoops to the indecent and obscene, it may be said without fear of contradiction, that such stains are unknown to the folk-poetry of the Magyars. In it lives the whole life of that nation, its sorrows and humiliations, as well as its moments of triumph and victory. The complete ethnography, historic and present, of the Magyars could be gleaned from that poetry. Nay, so intense is the poetic feeling of those lowly and obscure peasant-poets, that every object of the rich nature of Hungary has been framed and illumined by them. The puszta, and the two mighty rivers of the country; the snow-clad Carpathians, and the immense lake of the Balaton; the abundant flora and fauna of their land—all is there, instinct with poetic life of its own, and embracing, sympathizing or mourning the life of the shepherd, the outlaw (betyár), the lover, the priest, the trader, the Jew, the constable, the squire, the maiden, the widow, the child. There is in that folk-poetry a tinkling, ringing and pealing of all the bells and organs of life. Like the music that almost invariably accompanies it, it is teeming with intense power, and hurries on over the cascades of acute rhythms, and the rapids of gusts of passion. As if every object of Nature had revealed to it the last, brief secret of its being, it describes scenes and situations in two or three words. Its wit is harmless or cruel, just as it chooses; and in its humour the laughing tear is not wanting. Chief of all, as the great pundits of Cairo or Bagdad, whenever they are at sea about some of the enigmas of the idiom of the Koran and the Makamat, send for advice to the roving Bedouins of the Arabian deserts: so the Hungarian poets have gathered their best knowledge of the recondite lore of the Magyar idiom, in the pusztas of the Alföld, between the Danube and the Theiss, where the true Magyar peasant is living.