AS: Have you come across any unknown facts during this exploration?
AF: There are many books about Herbert’s works and his life, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the subject has been exhausted. Herbert’s biography isn’t a simple topic. Two years ago, I released the biography of Czesław Miłosz. This poet left behind many traces, for he had documented his own life and written many letters, which are a great source of information for readers today.
By contrast, Herbert protected his privacy – for many different reasons. One of them was certainly his experience with postal censorship, which was practiced regularly in the Polish People’s Republic. But his character was also a factor, because Herbert was very reluctant to talk about himself.
Herbert would slip between relationships, escaping the eyes of other people. Recently, I've been imagining him as a man who stands on ‘cat's paws’. In fact, he could be the life and soul of the party, but when asked about his own life, he would turn against storytelling. Supposedly, the ideal form of biography from his point of view would be a work which speaks for itself, but at the same time, is completely detached from the author's life.
AS: Herbert’s mental health was a taboo topic for a very long time. Will you tackle this issue?
AF: Yes, of course. It’s difficult to understand the motives behind Herbert’s actions and opinions, which were sometimes very radical, without being aware of the fact that he was struggling with the bipolar disorder. For example, I’ve come across a letter he wrote to one of the translators, in which he completely bashes the recipient. Two years later the poet apologised to the same translator and explained that he wasn’t himself back them – it was the illness that blurred his perception of reality. Bipolar disorder causes alternating periods of depression and euphoria. There are traces of it in Herbert’s work.
At one point, I realised that the poem Mr. Cogito – Notes from a Dead House isn’t set in an abstract or symbolic reality. Instead, it’s a distant echo of Herbert's stay in a psychiatric hospital. Of course, this experience acquires a universal dimension. I’d like to strongly emphasize that I am not claiming that mental illness explains each and every one of the poet’s decisions, his political inclination or even his behaviour. The case is far more complex, but his health problems undoubtedly constituted an important aspect of his decision-making.
AS: Do you think that the conflict with Miłosz can be explained by one of his relapses?
AF: I think that the background for the conflict, which started in 1968 between Herbert and Miłosz, cannot be limited only to mental health. It involved many factors – and certainly a feeling of frustration with Miłosz. Herbert considered him a master, but at the same time, he wanted to rebel against the older poet. The difference in their political stances about the meaning of patriotism, about what can be criticised and what must never receive any criticism, played a crucial role as well.
Miłosz had a more critical outlook on pre-war Poland. He perceived at it as an adult, whereas Herbert was merely a young man at that time. While Miłosz mocked the pre-war uhlan uniforms, Herbert reminded us that the people wearing those clothes were also dying in them. These were two different sides of sensitivity – Miłosz was more ironic, impartial, prone to undermine dogmas. Herbert, in turn, had his borderline of imponderables, which he would never cross. He was attached to the traditions of Interwar Poland; he loved soldiers’ songs. It's extremely difficult to picture Miłosz posessing such tastes.