Humour

Józef Bachórz

Although The Doll is quite bitter throughout and ends on a poignant note, many dramatic events and moments are laced with humour. They met with disapproval of the positivist critics. Even Józef Kotarbiński, sympathetic to Prus, wrote that right next to large-scale portrayals of great value, the author puts some humorous vignettes, vibrant and side-splitting but a bit camp and cartoonish, and Leon Okręt diagnosed some of the novel’s scenes to be of rather offensive mirth. Such reviews were representative examples of the view commonly held by the critics of that time, which was perhaps expressed most pithily by Aleksander Świętochowski, the “Polish Pope of Positivism.” When writing about Prus, he claimed that the author, as a contributor to the Kurier Warszawski, developed an inclination for entertaining the crowd: with his wry humour of a columnist, he has been spraying the streets with water, sweeping the gutters, cleaning the yards, upbraiding cart drivers, tidying public gardens, and discussing women with license worthy of a satyr. This last and favourite topic, which can be traced in some lubricious details of his Kroniki [Prus’s weekly press columns], has repeatedly earned our wag both public and private criticism. Eventually, Świętochowski concluded, Prus directed his wit more and more towards such ingratiating titillations and has gained some privileges that no other Polish publicist can boast. Consequently, even though Świętochowski appreciated the excellent humour in the “Journal of the Old Clerk” chapters, he added that this one quality was not adequate compensation for the novel’s lack of deeper thought or originality. In fact, wit and sense of humour were not in high demand in nineteenth-century Poland as laughing was considered improper in a country under foreign occupation (after the failed November Rising of 1830–31, the still-popular Polish playwright Aleksander Fredro was reproached for writing comedies, and the national poet Adam Mickiewicz was frowned upon for the inappropriate – that is light – tone of his masterpiece Pan Tadeusz).

Prus was offended with Świętochowski’s criticism. He found it insulting to be called a crowd entertainer and a wag. In a polemic essay titled Słówko o krytyce pozytywnej (A Word on Positive Criticism, 1890), he described the critics’ mistake of mixing up the talent for conceit, jokes and witticisms – with humour. A witticism, Prus explained, is just a product of fancy, invention, intelligence. Humour is different: the author discusses it as a sort of philosophical stance and aesthetic category, consisting not in the creation of some fancy juxtapositions, not in puns, but in taking a double perspective and seeing things both as good and bad, small and large, dark and bright. For an optimist, every person is ‘decent,’ for a pessimist everybody is ‘suspicious,’ while a humourist studies people from many different angles, seeing something of a hero and something of a villain in everyone. A true humourist, like Shakespeare or Dickens, is indulgent and calm in his observation of everything and everyone. He does not accept any dogmas, he does not perceive anything as necessary or impossible – just probable. As regards his perspective on reality, he sticks to the borderline from which both the concrete facts and mystical shadows of the supernatural world can be discerned. This notion, if complete with a comic quality and indulgence for a smile, is close to today’s concept of humour (a similar definition is given, e.g., by A. Okopień-Sławińska in her dictionary of literary terms). When considered this way, the humourist attitude becomes an integral component of a mature perspective on the world and finds its expression in a certain forgiveness for human flaws and sins from the very first pages of The Doll. There is no ideal hero in the novel. The protagonist, Wokulski, has his moments of weakness bordering on ridiculousness, but the third-person narrator treats him with actual liking and respect. In “The Journal of the Old Clerk,” Rzecki writes about him with cordiality, though the problems of his marriage to Małgorzata Mincel are also noted down and commented upon. Even the noble Duchess Zasławska, a wealhy relative to two generals, reminisces about her only true love, the poor officer Wokulski, thus: ‘they separated us. Perhaps we were too virtuous… But no matter, no matter,’ she added, smiling and crying. ‘Such things can only be spoken of by a woman in her seventies.’

“The Journal of the Old Clerk” itself is an impressive showcase of the many and varied humorous elements, often combined with lyricism. The reader here encounters a parade of excellent eccentrics of old Warsaw, such as a former Polish Legion soldier who adorned his room with six portraits of Napoleon, his friend who is even fond of absinthe, and Mr Raczek, who got married in old age to have his wife rub ointment into his back. “The Journal” includes scenes that took place in the shop and the flat of the old Mincel, some great episodes of humorous or comical nature such as students’ japery in Wokulski’s house and in the court-room, when one of them plays dead in front of Baroness Krzeszowska. Rzecki’s memories abound in self-ironic touches, sensitivity and receptiveness to many different types of comedy and humour (including grotesque, as exemplified by droll coinages by Jan Mincel, calling his brother a scoundrel whom a self-respecting dog would not shake hands with, and then a conjurer whose tame eagle has spit in his top-hat). Humour in The Doll is also represented by derisory and sarcastic comments (excelled at by Doctor Szuman) as well as ribaldry (Rzecki’s remark on agent Wirski, whose eyes sparkle at the recollection of Helena Stawska: the gentry are such that they’ve no head for scholarship, nor yet for business, you never get them to work, but they’re always ready for the bottle, for fighting and chasing women, even if they get to them in a coffin. Profligate creatures!).

A symphony of humour develops from the beginning to the end of the novel also outside the context of “The Journal of the Old Clerk.” In Chapter I, entitled “The Company of J. Mincel and S. Wokulski Seen Through a Bottle,” the reader is let in on the latest gossip concerning Wokulski, spread by a bunch of beer lovers – without actually getting annoyed with their drunken tittle-tattle. Chapter II (“The Reign of an Old Clerk”), in turn, describes the course of a typical working day at the store together with jibes and scoffs exchanged by shop assistants as well as a squabble over grey hair and baldness between Rzecki and Lisiecki. These are followed by more chapters full of humorous scenes and occasional satirical episodes (usually featuring drawing-room parasites such as Rydzewski and Pieczarkowski, whose names in Polish are derived from mushroom names). There is a peculiar tragi-farcical touch even towards the end of the last chapter. When Rzecki finds out that he is spied on at the request of the new shop owner, Szlangbaum, he locks the spy in the shop, and leaves with the words: Stay there until morning, serve you right for being poorly… You can leave your boss a souvenir. It is enough to say that the spy feels sick and is about to vomit, and his name is Gutmorgen. Prus obviously considered humour to be an integral part of the realistic portrayal of life.

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