FEDKOVYCH AND THE VOID
«I had set a goal to master, as minutely as possible, the essential astrology of all old and modern civilized nations, and after ten-year- long excruciating research which took so much of my effort, I achieved at last a result that greatly surpassed all my expectations. This is why I can assert in the boldest terms that the destiny and future of man undoubtedly lend themselves to study.» Thus wrote on Phoenix Day, March 21, 1883, Osyp Yury Cavalier von Fedkovych de Hordynsky, a Chernivtsi poet and exotic artist, a retired Austrian army officer, a veteran of the 1859 North-Italian expedition, a land surveyor, a chemist, a lover of patriotic critique, a «Bukovinian nightingale» and the «Carpathian Shevchenko» in one person, a Guzul with almost half of his blood being Polish thanks to his father, and a romanticist who loved the people of the whole world. He would have been 165 on August 9.
Ten years of his life turned into the ten thousand pages of an astrological treatise written in a specific Bukovinian version of the classic High German language. (This language might have also been spoken by Olha Kobylianska. But Paul Zelan, no doubt, spoke a different tongue). Judging by photos, slurred over by the river of time, Fedkovych was always wearing a Guzul keptar (fur-lined sleeveless coat — Ed. ) in spite of his absolutely Viennese physiognomy. Or, probably, in reality he never wore it, but would put it on specially for a photographer. Being fully consistent in his feeble imitation of Shevchenko, Cavalier de Hordynsky could regard this garment as a purely Bukovinian analogue of Shevchenkian sheepskins and fur hats.
In the last analysis, the then Chernivtsy, situated on the main trade route from Lviv to Iasi (now perhaps from Lviv to Istanbul), was full of such colorful ethnic diversity that it was an almost hopeless thing to surprise anybody with attire. Fedkovych was recognizable from afar. A waiter friend of his from the cheap next-door restaurant The Green Hunter brought over every day a small decanter of plum vodka and handed it to him on a tray through the open window. Word has it this was a token of respect on the part of the restaurant's owner, for Fedkovych sometimes made free horoscopes for him and his kith and kin.
At the turn of the century, his collected works included an introduction (almost eight typewritten pages) to the above-mentioned treatise. The Gothic-outlined German letters of its text inevitably provoked an association with other things popular at that time (Nietzsche, Zaratustra, the Aryan symbols of fire, the swastika, etc.). A big Ptolemaic map of the starry sky, which German romanticists rapturously called «firmament,» would have also been handy. However, the too progressive publishers interpreted the treatise, quite in the spirit of their positivist outlook, as a quaint brainwave in Fedkovych's not-so-sober head. Even the iron logic and artillery- style accuracy of narration failed to convince them. Nor were the publishers attracted by the biographical plot, of which we read further: «...an astrologer foretold the future to him (the author), when he was still young, and the prediction has now come true word for word, so this circumstance induced him to a lengthy indefatigable research which claimed so much effort.» Of no result was also a sensational statement that «the author has the right to think he has found the once lost key which even the ancient Egyptian astrologers used to open the mysterious gate of the future.»
But how did he take possession of this key? We ask this question after Fedkovych himself who, frankly speaking, gave the most exhaustive answer: «This should remain a secret.»
Yes, this should remain a secret.
But still, how did he take possession of this key? What part of Northern Italy did he bring the priceless trophy from? From what astronomer, traveling magician, or local charlatan disguised as barber could he receive that exclusive — Persian, Indian, Egyptian — knowledge? Or, maybe, it came to him as a vision partially encoded in Guzul dreams and rebellious archetypes? Is it the Carpathians, a wild structural mixture of plants, languages, beverages and feelings, that triggered a torrential cosmic reaction which makes it possible to read everything that reveals itself and comes through in the world, as if it were a palm pattern?!
The final touches of the treatise introduction are as eclectic as they are ecstatic. The demiurge defeats the land surveyor. The alchemist towers over the chemist. The free tremor of essences and substances engenders a solemn throbbing of the lungs and diaphragm:
«Praised be Thine eyes, the Eternal One, the Soul of the Universe, the Lord of never-ending times, the Caretaker of Phoenix, who shineth the sacred light of life! Halleluja to Thee as high as heaven! And, if Thou hast Thy way, grant it onto Thy servant who testifies to the truth, Thine eternal truth, for the good and honor of the righteous, for Thou art the eternal truth! And Thou, the Only-Begotten Son, who holdeth Seven Stars in Thy right hand and a double-bladed sword in Thy mouth, help me with all Thy might to prove to the unfaithful that Thou art the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end! Thou, who hast neither the beginning nor the end!»
I am not sure the treatise itself still exists. I hear it does, but I have not seen it myself, so I do not believe. For, in reality, manuscripts do burn, and no one else knows this better than the arsonists.
We know a different Fedkovych, but what has remained of this, cosmic, one is only an echo ringing in the void.
«I had set a goal to master, as minutely as possible, the essential astrology of all old and modern civilized nations, and after ten-year- long excruciating research which took so much of my effort, I achieved at last a result that greatly surpassed all my expectations. This is why I can assert in the boldest terms that the destiny and future of man undoubtedly lend themselves to study.» Thus wrote on Phoenix Day, March 21, 1883, Osyp Yury Cavalier von Fedkovych de Hordynsky, a Chernivtsi poet and exotic artist, a retired Austrian army officer, a veteran of the 1859 North-Italian expedition, a land surveyor, a chemist, a lover of patriotic critique, a «Bukovinian nightingale» and the «Carpathian Shevchenko» in one person, a Guzul with almost half of his blood being Polish thanks to his father, and a romanticist who loved the people of the whole world. He would have been 165 on August 9.
Ten years of his life turned into the ten thousand pages of an astrological treatise written in a specific Bukovinian version of the classic High German language. (This language might have also been spoken by Olha Kobylianska. But Paul Zelan, no doubt, spoke a different tongue). Judging by photos, slurred over by the river of time, Fedkovych was always wearing a Guzul keptar (fur-lined sleeveless coat — Ed. ) in spite of his absolutely Viennese physiognomy. Or, probably, in reality he never wore it, but would put it on specially for a photographer. Being fully consistent in his feeble imitation of Shevchenko, Cavalier de Hordynsky could regard this garment as a purely Bukovinian analogue of Shevchenkian sheepskins and fur hats.
In the last analysis, the then Chernivtsy, situated on the main trade route from Lviv to Iasi (now perhaps from Lviv to Istanbul), was full of such colorful ethnic diversity that it was an almost hopeless thing to surprise anybody with attire. Fedkovych was recognizable from afar. A waiter friend of his from the cheap next-door restaurant The Green Hunter brought over every day a small decanter of plum vodka and handed it to him on a tray through the open window. Word has it this was a token of respect on the part of the restaurant's owner, for Fedkovych sometimes made free horoscopes for him and his kith and kin.
At the turn of the century, his collected works included an introduction (almost eight typewritten pages) to the above-mentioned treatise. The Gothic-outlined German letters of its text inevitably provoked an association with other things popular at that time (Nietzsche, Zaratustra, the Aryan symbols of fire, the swastika, etc.). A big Ptolemaic map of the starry sky, which German romanticists rapturously called «firmament,» would have also been handy. However, the too progressive publishers interpreted the treatise, quite in the spirit of their positivist outlook, as a quaint brainwave in Fedkovych's not-so-sober head. Even the iron logic and artillery- style accuracy of narration failed to convince them. Nor were the publishers attracted by the biographical plot, of which we read further: «...an astrologer foretold the future to him (the author), when he was still young, and the prediction has now come true word for word, so this circumstance induced him to a lengthy indefatigable research which claimed so much effort.» Of no result was also a sensational statement that «the author has the right to think he has found the once lost key which even the ancient Egyptian astrologers used to open the mysterious gate of the future.»
But how did he take possession of this key? We ask this question after Fedkovych himself who, frankly speaking, gave the most exhaustive answer: «This should remain a secret.»
Yes, this should remain a secret.
But still, how did he take possession of this key? What part of Northern Italy did he bring the priceless trophy from? From what astronomer, traveling magician, or local charlatan disguised as barber could he receive that exclusive — Persian, Indian, Egyptian — knowledge? Or, maybe, it came to him as a vision partially encoded in Guzul dreams and rebellious archetypes? Is it the Carpathians, a wild structural mixture of plants, languages, beverages and feelings, that triggered a torrential cosmic reaction which makes it possible to read everything that reveals itself and comes through in the world, as if it were a palm pattern?!
The final touches of the treatise introduction are as eclectic as they are ecstatic. The demiurge defeats the land surveyor. The alchemist towers over the chemist. The free tremor of essences and substances engenders a solemn throbbing of the lungs and diaphragm:
«Praised be Thine eyes, the Eternal One, the Soul of the Universe, the Lord of never-ending times, the Caretaker of Phoenix, who shineth the sacred light of life! Halleluja to Thee as high as heaven! And, if Thou hast Thy way, grant it onto Thy servant who testifies to the truth, Thine eternal truth, for the good and honor of the righteous, for Thou art the eternal truth! And Thou, the Only-Begotten Son, who holdeth Seven Stars in Thy right hand and a double-bladed sword in Thy mouth, help me with all Thy might to prove to the unfaithful that Thou art the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end! Thou, who hast neither the beginning nor the end!»
I am not sure the treatise itself still exists. I hear it does, but I have not seen it myself, so I do not believe. For, in reality, manuscripts do burn, and no one else knows this better than the arsonists.
We know a different Fedkovych, but what has remained of this, cosmic, one is only an echo ringing in the void.
Newspaper output №:
№31, (1999)Section
Culture
