This text was originally written in Latin by Alexander Dukhnovych and describes his life from childhood (born in 1803) up until roughly 1861. He died only a few years later on March 30th, 1865.
Alexander Dukhnovych was born in the village of Topoľa, at the foot of a mountain called Beskid in Zemplin County on April 24, 1803. His father, Vasyl Dukhnovych was a Rusyn priest in Topoľa, who around that time was transferred to the parish of Stakchín. His mother, Maria Herberii, was the daughter of Ivan Herberii, who by then was the parish priest of Dzurdyosh. On May 1st of that year, he was baptized by Mykhailo Puza, then the parish priest of Kryvutsk and later transferred to Klenová. His godparents were Alexander Syrmai and Klara Bellovych. His father did his best to be the most diligent in educating his second son in the Rusyn national script, and so he taught his son first at home and then later sent him to study with his mother’s brother-in-law in Staryn, Dmytro Herberii, then the parish priest of Klokochov. After completing his elementary schooling there, his father took him to Uzhhorod in 1813, where, under the tutelage of teachers Ivan Beniovskyi and Anton Bem, he would complete public school in three years and go on to attend a gymnasium, which he finished without interruption under the tutelage of Eker, Mykhailo Polyankai, Ihnat Kysel, Yuri Duranii, and Mykhailo Povulnyi.
But as a young boy, I suffered a bitter fate in 1816. That year, I lost my dearest and most beloved father, who was torn away from this world by the merciless typhus, and thus I was left an orphan. My dearest mother, on whom the whole burden of six children now fell, encouraged me, as the oldest of us all, to go to theological studies, and so, although I intended to study geometry, I obeyed my mother’s wishes. In 1821, I went to Pryashiv, and after being accepted by bishop Hryhori Tarkovych into the secular clergy, I went to Košice for two years to study philosophy with a scholarship of 150 florins. In 1823, I began theological studies at the Uzhhorod Seminary. Upon graduation, I was assigned to the diocesan office as an actuary, and the diocesan records will attest to how diligently I worked there. However, my fate in the diocesan administration was difficult. Although I confess that I worked very hard under the then secretary Vasyl Popovych, although I had no rest day or night, and although I was praised by my superior many times, I did not receive a single dinar in reward and had to suffer great hardship. My very clothes were torn, and more than once (in all honesty I tell the truth) sitting at home barefoot, I still wrote very diligently, and not only did I not receive any generous favor or mercy, but the bishop, a man of strange character, refused me food and lodging out of sheer avarice. In vain did I beg for any cooperation, in vain did I ask for the then very small parishes of Zhashchov and Volkovo, in vain did I ask for any dwelling.
Not only did it get any easier, but, on the contrary, I would be subjected to the most cruel treatment by the bishop. No amount of begging, no amount of shedding too many tears, no amount of trying to console myself and my diligence helped—I had to come to the conviction that I had been born into an unfortunate planet and on an unfortunate hour. So what was I supposed to do? I was rejected to be given any accommodation and even a transfer to a different eparchy, where I would have been welcomed. Suffering for so long was beyond the young man’s powers! So (I thought to myself), I had nothing else to do but look for the means for my living. And so, at the end of October 1830, after some proper thinking, without saying goodbye to anyone, bitter tears in my eyes, with one florin borrowed from Atanasi Jaromys, the parish administrator, shabby and half-barefoot, I left the place of my torments and went to Uzhhorod like a fugitive. The local bishop, who had gotten to know me personally at the Seminary, received me kindly and immediately but with the caveat transferred me to the clergy of the Mukachovo Eparchy. However, because of bishop Hryhori Tarkovych’s resistance and not wanting to let me go (from the eparchy), like one of the homeless, I was left without any place to live. But divine providence shone kindly on the unfortunate man even at that time. Stefan Petrovai, the vice-official of the county of Ung, took me under his care, accepted me into his home, and entrusted me with the upbringing of his seven-year-old son, Akakii. And I, as an exile, wishing to repay him, brought up his son, perhaps even better than my own, according to the best principles of pedagogy and raised him to become a scholarly and respectable man. At the same time, I became a friend of a very respected house in the land, and I am even pleased to boast of the ties of this friendship. Through the connections of the Petrovai house, I became acquainted with all the gentlemen of the Ung, Berehovo, Zemplin, and Sabolch counties, with the houses of the aristocracy, with whom I still am on friendly terms.
However, in 1833, bishop Tarkovych called me back to the eparchy, and as an obedient son, I returned to Pryashiv to be once again appointed to the eparchial office. But the bishop’s vengeful temper came at me again, and he constantly showed his anger against me. He began to deny me even a small meal and wanted me to leave. At that time, the prominent parish priest of Komlóska, Stefan Skorodynskyi, died, and I was humbly appointed administrator to his widow, the mother of five orphans. So there I lived for one year with the widow and orphans. The local supplier got me the poor foodstuff, and I was constantly busy with the affairs of the parish. But Josef Pavlovych got to this parish as well. One year past, I was transferred to the empty parish of Bilovezha, which had been empty for three years because no one wanted to take it. I lived in that parish, which at that time did not provide much income, for four years, unfortunate and unfamiliar with the economy, without even food, cattle, or farm tools.
Here, for sure, the exile I was would have suffered a fate worthy of lamentation, for the parish did not even bring in enough income to cover daily needs. But even at that time, God’s providence protected his servant. The neighboring stewards of the Kamarov estate, two gentlemen, Josef and Ernest Bidenskut, took care of the poor priest of Bilovezha, and in addition to the many kindnesses they did me, they gave me free food in both their houses, and I will never cease to be grateful for those kindnesses as long as I live. Just like people, who at every opportunity show gratitude to their pastor. That place was not at all unpleasant for a lonely man who made up for his loneliness by studying first of all botany as well as gardening to the point where he never felt lonely.
It is not unreasonable to recall here a dream I had in 1829 when I served in the diocesan administration. So, one night, I remember how in winter, I saw Bilovezha, although I had never seen it before, and its name had never come to my mind. However, in my dream, I saw a rocky road. I saw the whole neighborhood. I saw the churches with five towers. I saw the stinking parish house, that is, a village hut. I saw the fence and the rocks, and the whole place seemed to me like a prison in which I was locked up. Later, when I was taken there in a dream and told that I would live there, I cried out in fright: “This is my island of Saint Helena!” And then some genius came to me whispering precognition, “Do not be sad, do not cry. You will only live there for four years, and after four years you will be released and you will be well.” I had this dream in 1829, and in 1834, when I was transferred to Bilovezha and was surveying this neighborhood, I remembered the dream and involuntarily cried out, “This is my Saint Helena island!” But at the same time, I recalled the precognition that it was only for four years. Indeed, on April 1, 1838, I was summoned by the newly named bishop of Mukachovo and dismissed from the parish I had held from April 1, 1834, until April 1, 1838. I was convinced that the dream had been fulfilled and said goodbye to my people (parishioners) forever.
Being summoned, as I said, by the bishop of Mukachovo and having received a leave note from the ordinariate in Pryashiv, I went to Uzhhorod and was placed as a notary of the local consistory. There I was sincerely engaged in a pleasant-to-me service from April 23, 1838, until January 1, 1844, although on April 11, 1843, I was affectionately called an honorary Scholastic, and on July 23 of the same year I was installed.
Speaking of the transition to the Mukachovo Eparchy, it would suffice to say that I would not advise anyone to move from one eparchy to another, but rather to take a slightly larger parish because if you have not had enemies before, you will surely have many in a foreign place.
And so, on January 1, 1844, I became a resident of Pryashiv again and I tried to fulfill my new service with joy. Later on, in 1846, by the grace of God, I was called honored custos starting June 13 of the same year by the royal diploma as of May 7, 1846. And in 1851, I was called honored precentor by the diploma dated February 24, 1850. Finally, by a diploma dated August 18, 1857, I was called honored lector and installed to the position on December 15, 1857.
Among the events of my life worthy of remembrance, I consider the fact that I was sent as a representative (ambassador) to the regional Sejm by the Pryashiv chapter. The Sejm gathered continuously during 1847 and 1848 in Bratislava, where I stayed as an ambassador for 6 months and thus was the first and last representative of the Pryashiv chapter in the regional Sejm.
It would be sufficient to note that as if by fate, this Sejm put an end to the old Hungarian constitution. For the ambassadors, to tell the truth, being carried away by some national frenzy, under the leadership of Lajos Kossuth, together with the proletariat supporters alike himself, were imbued with the idea of fundamental reform of everything and everywhere. It was not considerate thinking but rather violence and some kind of unusual anger that prevailed at the open meetings. Reckless youths who had gathered from all parts of the country screamed and shouted without reason so that even if someone wanted to speak about the good of the motherland, they could not say a word. No one paid any attention to the voices of the more considerately thinking parties, both spiritual and secular, and they did not even discuss any of the proposals but considered them to be rejected by default. The camp of the dissatisfied included most of the magnates and nobles who were so blindly pushing for constitutional changes that they did not understand themselves. They only acted as a passive machine of Lajos Kossuth, swaying back and forth like leaves in the wind. These unfortunate ambassadors set out to establish a great Magyar state and decided that only the Hungarian language should prevail and that every citizen should start learning this language and even speak it. Under the pressure of this principle, it was decided that the Kingdom of Hungary should break away from Austria as an independent state, to be governed by its own Hungarian government.
The imagined hope of some kind of freedom fanned their emotional fire; freedom glittered in the meaninglessness distorting mirror in the form of democracy, which actually was demonocracy, especially among the agitated youth, who had nothing honest, nothing sacred left but Magyarism and freedom! To the anger of the whole of Europe, Hungary used to be a true paradise for a noble man about which it was said that there is no life outside Hungary, and if there is one, it is not quite the life that it should be.
But even good things get boring for a person, and the sweetness of honey becomes bitter after a long time. Under the influence of some imaginary freedom, the Hungarian gentry, having joined the majority in the Kossuth camp, fought against themselves, rejecting true freedom. They tried to destroy themselves, and under the influence of those principles slowly turned to revolution.
REVOLUTION!
In 1848, an unfortunate revolution broke out in Hungary, beginning with a clash between Croats and Hungarians, or rather between Slavs and Magyars. A formally civil war broke out, initially only in the Serbian Vojvodina around Drava and Sava. It was terrible on both sides and later spread nationwide. Let others write about that war. Here it is sufficient to say that there were great destructions in the city of Pryashiv as well. The citizens of Pryashiv, with the exception of a few Magyarons (because there were no greedy Magyars there), sided with the dynasty and the King, for which they were persecuted and often endangered by the Magyarons, i.e., the Magyars of Slavic and German descent. On April 7, 1849, on the very day of the Great Latin Sabbath, Hungarians (mostly the Spiš Germans, who liked to call themselves Hungarians, although they did not speak a word of Magyar) under the command of Benytskyi attacked the city of Pryashiv, which was vigilantly defended by Slavs under the command of Blovdek. Benytskyi had two cannons and a larger and stronger army, while the Slavs, being poor volunteers, having neither the required military uniforms nor any munitions, bravely resisted and defended the great bridge against the revolutionaries’ advance from 10 a.m. until 4 p.m. At the end, at 4 p.m., the Slavs set fire to the great bridge and retreated to Raslavice, losing only two people, while the revolutionaries, having lost 17 people, entered the city.
And I also had to suffer from this sad revolution, that is, for belonging to the imperialist side and writing Rusyn books, I fell under suspicion at the instigation of the enemies. On the unfortunate day of April 27, 1849, I was seized by furious Hungarians and was first locked in the town hall. Then on the same day at about one o’clock like a robber, I was escorted by a large escort to the place of execution among four hussars and two cannons, with one unit of Poles in front, a unit of Magyar Honvéds [soldiers] behind, and a squadron of hussars on both sides! I will never forget that unfortunate day of April 27, which caused me, a 50-year-old man, so much fright and heartache.
Amidst the incessant ridicule and shameful curses of the proud revolutionaries, I was escorted to a Jewish house with a large guard at the first station Lemy. Soon after I got a fellow in misery in the person of Andri Krasnianskyi, archdeacon of Šariš and parish priest of Kohuty of the Latin rite, who was escorted by the proud revolutionaries with a noose around his neck amidst ridicule and extreme joy to the same Jewish tavern where we the hungry people were detained under armed guard until the evening. From this unfortunate place, we were escorted by four actual hussars, who, however, treated us fairly, to Košice, where we arrived at eleven at night. The revolutionaries were celebrating the supposed dethroning of the King’s power and the independence of the state there at that time. It should be noted that in the parliament, which was moved from Pest to Debrecen, Kossuth’s henchmen went to nonsense so far as to approve the process of dethroning the best and most pious King, Ferdinand V, and explicitly declare the Hungarian state independent of the Habsburg dynasty. On the occasion of this event, they rejoiced with a kind of frenzy, praising the victory in songs. The city of Košice, which mostly belonged to the revolutionary camp, was brightly lit. Among the unbridled joy of not the people, but rather a crowd of vagrants drunk with wine, we were escorted along the streets to a loud shouting. We could have easily fallen victim to the evil people had we not been defended from the attacks of the beastly mob by our guards. Then, I remember, I cried bitterly with regret and called out— Si est dolor sicut dolor meus! [If there exists a pain/sorrow like my own!]. So they took the two of us and a third fellow, a merchant from Pryashiv named Mitterman, to the town hall of Košice and locked us up in a common room, with two haiduks armed with sabers in the room and a couple of policemen with loaded shotguns in the yard outside the door. This was happening on the 27th and 28th of April. On the 29th our fellow in misery, Andri Krasnianskyi, was taken to the Kalov prison, while I without any guard was taken to the Seminary, where I remained in a room being sick until the fifth of May. The head of the Seminary, honorable Adam Solchanii, who felt my grief as a brother, treated me favorably as much as possible. There, as I said, I was left unguarded. I was forbidden to leave the place however. On the fifth of May, with the permission of Baron Luzhynskyi, I was allowed to go home, but under guard, I secretly returned to Pryashiv, where I was held under surveillance and forbidden to leave the city.
I still remember one very sad incident, namely, when I was being so shamefully escorted on April 27. Among other pranks of the revolutionaries, and most of all the Polish ones. On Drienov Hill, I was approached by a red-haired Pole who was called “Captain”. This man cursed me with very rude expressions, shamed me, ridiculed me, spat on me, and finally ordered me to take off my boots so that I would walk barefoot. And that was of great torment for me! And when having taken off my boots, I couldn’t keep up with the henchmen, the red-haired Pole bashed me in the face and then left me alone. I certainly didn’t wish him well.
In connection with the memorable Hungarian revolution, or rather the civil war caused by the disgruntled proletarians, it should also be noted that some of the clergy, both monastic and secular, followed the spirit of the revolutionaries and became very zealous defenders of the nationality, understood to be Magyar, in the hope of gaining undeserved promotions with the help of the rebels, as otherwise they were deprived of hope for a better parish. Unfortunately, in this diocese of Pryashiv, which, however, consists of Slavic people, there were also Kossuth’s henchmen, who, however, after peace was restored with the help of Russian troops, atoned for their crimes. Thus, among others from this diocese, the following people were sentenced: the honorary Mykov parish priest, Josef Bovankovych to two years in prison in the Mukachovo castle, and Count Iosif Kreit, the Matysová parish priest, to six years in the Josefstadt prison.
After the Hungarian revolution was suppressed, there was an interim German government. The German language was introduced in administrations and schools. The Bach system came, and the whole of Hungary was filled with Germans. They imposed terrible taxes and thereby dealt a fatal blow to the hitherto free Magyar nobility. Not so long-ago glorious knights became silent and did not even have the courage to show themselves. Although they all hoped for and wanted a new revolution, not one of them dared to even move. That is how it was clear that the Hungarian heroism was only great when it was unopposed!
In 1860 hope started floating around for Hungary once again. His Majesty, Emperor Franz Joseph, after an unfortunate war with Italy, gave the peoples a constitution, by the power of which the Germans and Czechs, who had already settled in the entire Magyar country and called it “their new land”, received an order to get out of the country, that is from the government. The political government (administration) of the country (except the finances) and the judicial system were returned to Hungarians. The newly returned institutions were once more welcomed with great joy. Solemnly large meetings, where very long speeches were delivered, were held. In those speeches, apart from attacks on the Germans, there was nothing wise. The government positions were occupied almost exclusively by the nobility again. Violence and tyranny were renewed. In a word, the Egyptian-like slavery was re-established against non-noblemen. But that whole government lasted only for one year, as His Majesty, seeing the terrible abuses, unleashed the Pest state council and re-introduced the state of interim administration, in which the nobility refused to take their seats. Because of that, His Majesty affectionately appointed the top officials, as well as the royal commissioners, who selected their subordinate officials by themselves.
So, two Rusyns were appointed royal commissioners. Among them was Alexander Nehrebetskyi, the son of the Nižná Rybnica parish priest. He was the most senior commissioner appointed. Later, he was appointed the lord-commisioner of Ung [Uzhhorod] county. The second one was Petro Dolynai, the commissioner of Máramaros. This way, many famous and talented people reached the top government positions. Some of them cannot be mentioned quietly. For instance, the county official Ivan Liakhovych of Ung, and Kornylo Dobriansky also in Máramaros. Many were appointed notaries, treasurers, judges for the noble, and so on. In Šariš [county], Ivan Hlavach, a hitherto unknown man, was appointed lord-lieutenant. The following people became noble judges: Aleksander Martiak, Mykhailo Nevytskyi, Shtefan Petryk, Josef Bezegii, Anton Zavadskyi, Yuri Ladomyrskyi, treasurer Stefan Kovalytskyi, legal assessor Josef Roikovych, etc., all honest and sincere Rusyns. So the door to the public administration offices, which before then was iron-locked, was opened for the poor Rusyns.
English Translation by Kanstantsin Loichyts
Editing and Typesetting by Starik Pollock