#bohdan khmelnytsky

Next site, is a Ukrainian who I already talked about in the thread, but we're going to again. Ivan Stepanovych Mazepa (Іван Степанович Мазепа), because Oleksandr Usyk was holding up his actual sword after defending his heavyweight title, which is flippen awesome. He was Hetman of the Zaporizhian Host from 1687-1708, which means he was the head of state of the Cossack Hetmanate. When he found out that Peter I planned on replacing him as Hetman of the Zaporizhian Host with a "russian" statesman, he defected and sided with Charles XII of Sweden. In 1708, the "russian" Orthodox Church laid an anathema (excommunication) on him, and they've never removed it. Luckily, the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople, which the Ukrainian Orthodox Church is now affiliated with, doesn't recognize the anathema & that it was placed for political reasons, so is uncanonical. Take that muscovy Patriarchate! During soviet times, Mazepa's name was used derogatively to describe pro-independence movements & anti-"russian" sentiments as "Mazepintsy," but that started to change with Ukrainian Independence in 1991. He is now considered to be a hero of Ukraine, so it's very appropriate for Oleksandr Usyk to be showing his sword to the world. It was brought by museum officials in Ukraine for the event. The Ukrainian Navy's first corvette, the Hetman Ivan Mazepa, is named after him.

And, I've talked about this before. I love the long history represented here. We have Bohdan Khmelnytsky, the very first Hetman of the Zaporizhian Host, from 1648-1657, then Ivan Mazepa, & finally, President Zelenskyy, all with the bulava.

#StandingWithUkraine

#СлаваУкраїні 🇺🇦🌻

Me watching Ogniem i mieczem: Yes, bat'ku hetmane! I'll be quiet as a mouse. Just let me watch this scene five more times to properly admire you...

Oh, and this scene too ;)

(Some ramblings about an unlikely, tragic, and compelling couple)

In retrospect, I don’t know what first brought the thought of Bohdan/Jeremi to my mind: 

The letter-writing scene, where everyone jeeringly proposes salutations like "son of a dog" and Bohdan settles for the most impeccable formality and politeness - for tactical reasons, of course, but also (or so I suddenly wanted to believe) because writing respectfully, admiringly even, still comes more natural to him, still feels somewhat familiar?

The thought that Bohdan’s attempt to gain Jan’s understanding for his point of view, Jan’s respect and maybe even affection would get such a fascinating new layer of meaning if one imagines there was already a Bohdan/Jeremi relationship in the past?

Or was it, after all, that strange but fascinating dream I once had where a librarian conspiringly proposed to show me some very secret letters of prince Jeremi to Bohdan Khmelnytsky, from a time long before the uprising?

It doesn’t matter what was first. For a while now some little corner of my mind has been inhabited by the thought: What if sometime in the early 1630s Bohdan and Jeremi were close to each other, admired each other, were probably also attracted to each other, until irreconcilable ideological differences broke their relationship apart and about a decade and a half later made them face each other as enemies?

To be very clear here: I do not believe that this is in any way a believable scenario for the real historical Khmelnytsky or the real historical Wiśniowiecki - but I do find it fascinating for the fictional characters based on them. And what is also important to me, independent of what others do or don’t consider possible: For me it is purely an idea for their past. Once the events of OiM have happened, there’s no going back to that  past. Because what both of them did to each other’s people is something to heal in generations, not in their lifetime - and certainly not something to be overcome by them personally. So, if I want at least a semblance of psychological believability for my figment of the imagination, any Bohdan/Jeremi-relationship will necessarily be a story of failure. But the nature and reasons of this failure are not without interest.

As I’ve mentioned, the time when their relationship would make most sense in my opinion is in the early 1630s. Which means Jeremi was very young, maybe in the 18-20 range, and Bohdan already in his mid-thirties. The future "terrible prince" was no enemy of Cossacks yet. Maybe he even played with the thought of joining them? It would not have been so strange for an adventure-seeking young nobleman who was, at that time, still of the Orthodox faith… At this time and in this situation Jeremi could have been quite impressed by the much older Bohdan who had already experienced battles, had been a prisoner of war and survived, had come back knowing many countries, cultures and languages. And Bohdan might have seen Jeremi’s splendid potential, might even have thought he was dealing with a future Cossack hero, a worthy descendant of the famous Baida (who was, in fact, a Wiśniowiecki). Is it so difficult to imagine that they would have been in some way fascinated with each other? That from some admiring letters and „What if…?“ scenarios in both of their heads their relationship could have developed until they came close to becoming pobratymy in the Orthodox tradition…?

But there is also already conflict: cultural, religious, ideological. Jeremi grew up between two worlds: that of the (Orthodox) Cossacks and that of the (Catholic) Polish nobility. Or rather: they both grew up between these worlds. But Jeremi is still young and seeking his place in the world. And I think he has a different temperament than Bohdan when it comes to living with complexity, variety, contradictions. Bohdan seems to me someone who can integrate elements of different cultures and mentalities he encounters into his life without losing his own. If an element fits him, if it is useful to him, it stays. If it doesn’t, he can live next to it for years and simply not be convinced by it. He came back from captivity speaking Turkish and Crimean Tatar and making good use of his language skills despite the unfortunate circumstances under which he acquired them. But he was also educated by Jesuits, took what their school had to offer, probably knowing quite well that they offered it in the hope of converting people - and simply didn’t convert. And that at an age that is famous for insecurity and influenceability.

Jeremi, however, is struggling much more. Not that he isn’t already headstrong and determined - such character traits usually show early in life. But I think he has a much lesser tolerance for ambiguity, for uncertainty, for „mess“. What feels like mental richness and versatility to Bohdan can easily feel like lack of principles to Jeremi. He has a need for a straight path in life. For serving one cause and only one. He needs a clear decision: which culture, which part of society, which religion does he belong to? So at the end of this mental process, there isn’t pobratymstwo, there’s conversion. And a Bohdan who finds himself in the unexpected role of a remnant of the past, an embarrassing reminder of the world Jeremi decided against. 

It is difficult to say how much of Jeremi’s decision was caused by belief that he was choosing the truth and how much by the fact that one choice was more suitable to securing his status in society than the other. Jeremi, whatever one can criticize him for, is very clearly not a shameless opportunist. He does have convictions, and they do not make life easy for him. But he is also not immune to wanting power, nor to valuing his status and reputation very highly, so I suspect it’s some kind of mixture, maybe with a lot of sincerely wanting to believe what, in the background of his thought process, he knew to be more advantageous. 

If it was the decision of a stranger, with no influence on his own life, Bohdan probably wouldn’t even blame him for it. He is, after all, no stranger to opportunism, to ambition, to vanity. It’s just that it isn’t the decision of a stranger, but something very personal at this point, and to the pain of being left and the feeling of betrayal is added the humiliation of suddenly being regarded as a lesser human being.

Because he loses Jeremi to a mentality that believes in a vast difference between themselves, the nobles, the only truly cultured members of society, and everyone else (the peasants, the Cossacks…), who can be closer to cattle than real humans in the eyes of these nobles - reduced to their physical existence, devoid of the honour, dignity, intellect, and culture that are considered the prerogative of nobility. (Now, the irony here is that the real Khmelnytsky didn’t seem to have had much respect for peasants either, at least not during times of his life when he was in a position that allowed him to consider himself superior - but as I said, this is about the OiM character, not the historical person, and anyway: sometimes being a hypocrite themselves doesn’t protect a person from suffering from the hypocrisy of others. It just makes them as contradictory and complicated as we humans tend to be.)

So, there they are: two partners who are clearly equal to each other in intellect, education, and courage, with Bohdan probably even in the role of a teacher sometimes because of his much greater life experience at this time - and then young Jeremi becomes more and more fascinated with a way of thinking where Bohdan (no matter how much he believes he has some claim to nobility himself) is "just a Cossack". Someone Jeremi becomes slowly but unmistakably more ashamed of in the company of those whose respect and admiration start to matter more to him than Bohdan’s. It is likely that in the beginning Jeremi will still have thought of Bohdan as a kind of exception, similar to how his own family, despite its origins, was an exception in his eyes. But Bohdan won’t have missed how talk that considered the likes of him as lesser humans slowly became normal. Until even Jeremi himself couldn’t regard what was left of their mutual feelings and attraction as a relationship between equals anymore, but began to see it as a temptation to be resisted - lest it might pull him down to that more physical, animalistic sphere of life that he, the noble, had been able to rise above…

I tend to imagine Jeremi in his later years as rather ascetically inclined. And as someone who looks down on Bohdan in disgust and contempt as that dissolute, undisciplined, gluttonous and drunken Cossack. Because, as is the nature of asceticism, he believes in a clear divide between the spiritual/intellectual/cultural side of life and the physical: a drunkard is automatically considered deficient in their spiritual and religious life, a person who likes food too much cannot be truly intelligent or courageous - and so on, and so on. The problem Jeremi has: Bohdan is living proof that this dichotomy and asceticism Jeremi subjected himself to (and now suffers from, even though he doesn’t want to admit it) has never truly been necessary, because life isn’t divided like that. He’s also living proof that this other dichotomy that goes hand in hand with it - ascribing the spiritual/cultural/intellectual sphere to the nobles and the physical sphere to the Cossacks and peasants - doesn’t work either. That the alleged cattle is just as fully human as he is himself.

That would be highly unpleasant to someone as convinced of his own righteousness as Jeremi in any possible scenario, but in one where he needs to look down on Bohdan to get over the remnants of his attraction to him and the feeling that he has lost something on the path he has chosen? It’s outrageous. How does this Cossack dare to be this undeniably intelligent and courageous in public while also being unashamedly physical - feasting and drinking and going about in a ridiculous amount of sumptuous clothing - and not even seeing a contradiction in it? And how in all devils’ names does he dare to write him such a letter - impeccably polite, sophisticated, showing off his education - instead of something that could believably be dismissed as the filthy scrawl of an uncivilized savage?

That Jeremi’s hate for everything Bohdan represents knows no limit at this point probably no one knows better than the messenger who had to deliver this letter. And Bohdan, in this version of events, will know that his messenger’s cruel fate is not just the most drastic and brutal answer to his political proposals, but also to him personally and to their past.

Generally speaking, I’ve long had a feeling that the horrible executions Jeremi (though of course not only Jeremi) has a liking for serve not just the obvious tactical purpose of terrifying the enemy, but also have a psychological function for him: to convince himself that he is right. To finally reduce the enemy to that physical sphere which is the only one that befits them in his opinion.

But his old trouble keeps haunting him: because the Cossacks simply refuse to "get the message". Yes, for sure, they’ll be terrified, and some (though by far not enough to secure his victory) will be deterred from rebellion. But the horror and ugliness of the end some of them face doesn’t erase their humanity - neither in their own mind when they decide to fight against him nor in that of the survivors who will remember them as heroes. The fact that Jeremi has the power to turn their bodies into a nauseating spectacle during their last hours on earth does not obliterate who they have been in life. And when he thinks that it would he reveals more about his own beliefs than about those he wants to destroy.

To return to less gruesome topics: I've only realized quite late while thinking about these two (though it might be obvious to anyone reading this early on ;)) how much I am seeing this relationship from Bohdan's point of view. But no matter how much Jeremi's ideological development might have played the main role in their estrangement, it is unlikely that Bohdan had no role in it at all. So what were Jeremi's grievances? Was he the more conscientious of them, and Bohdan's relationship with the truth rather flexible, not just in diplomatic contacts? Was it impossible for him to reconcile their relationship with Bohdan's already existing marriage and family, or did he think that Bohdan was not acting honorably in trying to reconcile these things? Were the psychological consequences of Bohdan's previous life experiences (the war with the Turks and the following captivity) and maybe a beginning struggle with alcohol - though not a moral failure as Jeremi believed - still difficult to deal with, especially for a young person with not that much life experience themselves? Maybe someone more inclined than I am to seeing things from Jeremi's point of view might have some ideas here...

What I do believe played a role - and it is no one's fault, but a serious incompatibility that is difficult to overcome in a relationship: their personalities did not complement each other well at all anymore when Jeremi got older. While very young, he might still have been able to admire an older and more experienced partner without feeling uncomfortable, but it is not a role that would have suited him for long. Jeremi, unlike Jan, does not have that longing to look up to someone and loyally follow them - he wants to be that person who commands loyalty. Which is why Jan/Jeremi is easy to imagine (even if probably not the most fortunate path for Jan either), but Bohdan and Jeremi are predestined for trouble as soon as Jeremi fully grows into his later personality. Because Bohdan, though not incapable of caring and admiration for his partner, has no liking for a subservient role at all. And I personally don't imagine him needing or wanting any strict roles (gender-related or otherwise) in a relationship, but if he had to choose, because Jeremi needs it - he and Jeremi would certainly find themselves wanting the same kind of role instead of complementary ones.

Some other interesting aspects of imagining Bohdan/Jeremi as a backstory:

The Czapliński incident is no longer the first, but at least the second time Bohdan has to realize that, no matter how much he thinks of himself as equal to them, in the moments that count he will always be "just a Cossack" for noble society. And whereas the first time hurt because the particular nobleman who believed it was close to him, now the realization hits him during the greatest catastrophe of his life - and this time, he can’t bear it anymore, and that feeling of humiliation that has been with him for long explodes into furious hate.

As already said in the beginning: Bohdan’s conversations with Jan and especially any potential Jan/Bohdan would gain an entire new layer of meaning. Most obviously if it is one-sided and Bohdan can, in some way, even now understand why Jan loves Jeremi, even while trying to gain Jan’s respect and affection himself. But also if it’s reciprocated: because while Jan’s love might heal some very old wounds for Bohdan, losing Jan to him of all people would be so devastating to Jeremi that it’s difficult not to feel sorry for him (which is, I have to admit, quite an unfamiliar feeling...).

Last but not least, there’d also be new aspects to another beloved couple, Jan/Jurko, as now Bohdan and Jeremi would unavoidably be reminded of their past: Jeremi feeling responsible for making sure that Jan never repeats his own "mistake" of getting involved with a Cossack, Bohdan, though wanting to trust Jan, worrying if the same disillusionment awaits Jurko that had once been waiting for him, and both of them wondering what these two did differently to be happy now that they themselves never managed.