MYKHAILO DRAGOMANOV: A Philosopher Ahead of His Time
Mykhailo Drahomanov / wikipedia.org
Mykhailo Drahomanov (September 18, 1841 — July 2, 1895) was a Ukrainian philosopher and historian. He was also a publicist, folklorist, literary critic, and politician. Drahomanov advocated for the creation of an independent state («a union for self-defense against others»), as he believed the leading cause of all Ukrainian problems was the lack of independence.
He emphasized that everyone who chooses to serve the people wears a crown of thorns. He demanded physical and personal inviolability for the people.
Drahomanov wrote over two thousand works and used numerous pseudonyms, including Ukrainian, Kyrylo Vasylienko, Volynets, Tolmachev, Halytsky, Hordienko, Petryk, and Chudak.
He rejected any form of violence and was firmly against revolutions. Drahomanov promoted Ukrainian humanism.
THE MEETING AND THE FIRST STEPS OF LOVE
Mykhailo made an immediate impression. He was of average height, with broad shoulders and strong legs, though they were slightly short for his body. His thick eyebrows grew at an angle, and his dark chestnut hair fell onto his forehead, which he persistently brushed back. His lips were hidden by a beard he never shaved.
The girl had just played the role of Katerina in Ostrovsky’s play «The Storm» and felt exhausted, having passionately loved, confessed to infidelity, and drowned in the Volga for two hours straight. Drahomanov couldn’t take his eyes off the actress. Could this really be the same Lyudmyla he played with as a child?
Her mother was the godmother of his sister (Olena Pchilka), so their families were connected through this bond. While he was gaining knowledge at the University of St. Vladimir, his neighbor had grown up unnoticed. She graduated from Madame Nelgovskaya’s boarding school for noble maidens, mastered the piano, and trained her diction. She had become a dark-eyed beauty with radiant porcelain skin.
That evening, the young people exchanged only interested glances. Later, they began to see each other more often. Mykhailo loved to walk a lot, while the girl grew tired from fast walking and avoided looking into his eyes, as they were unbearably blue and radiated a magical glow.
She watched his gestures and the furrows on his forehead as if enchanted. She observed how he waved his tiny hands and their trembling — perhaps he was nervous or angry.
Mykhailo had a phenomenal memory and knew five languages, but he respected French the most. He praised it for its clarity, brevity, and lack of abruptness and ambiguity.
He recalled with particular reverence how he met Taras Shevchenko’s coffin near Kyiv and mourned at the farewell dinner of the surgeon Mykola Pirogov.
LOVE AND LIFE TOGETHER
Soon, the lovers were married. In the Church of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, the choir sang «Grant, O Lord» with inspiration. It was August outside, filled with the scents of phlox and chamomile. Summer apples and pears were ripening. Happiness filled their glasses.
The newlyweds rented a few rooms in the Wojciechowski house on Gendarme Street. They settled in: shelves with books, a writing desk, an old wardrobe for clothes, and a few chairs. Their kitchen essentials were modest: a frying pan, inexpensive plates, and a tea set given as a wedding gift. The bed was narrow for two.
Money was tight, as Mykhailo supported his brother and sister after their father’s death. However, mutual love smoothed over everything. Lyudmyla adored watching her husband at work. He would sit at his desk for hours, hurriedly reading one book after another and quickly jotting down notes.
At such moments, he reminded her of the bust of Jupiter housed in the Vatican. Occasionally, he would put down his pen and try to explain his ideas, emphasizing that a pure cause requires clean hands. He believed that once Ukrainians gained independence, they would take their rightful place among the nations of the world.
He spoke of the Cossacks, denying they were mere bandits, and supported the Ukrainian movement and humanism. He explained that his surname, Drahomanov, comes from the word «dragoman,» meaning interpreter or translator. Lyudmyla listened attentively, mostly keeping silent. She shared her husband’s views and thoughts but was constantly tuned to herself. She was carrying their child.
EMIGRATION AND FAMILY LIFE ABROAD
Lida was born in October, a year after their wedding. Mykhailo rejoiced in fatherhood and actively sought additional income. He and his wife attended Saturday meetings of the «Old Community» society, where he engaged in heated debates due to his unique perspective as a historian.
In these moments, sparks flew from his eyes, and he was captivating. Lyudmyla was equally active. She organized the first shelter for workers’ children, taught in Sunday schools, and translated her husband’s works for Russian publishers and journals, believing everyone should know Ukraine’s historical past.
Soon, the university sent Mykhailo Drahomanov on a European research trip. He worked in the archives of Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Zurich, and Florence. Lyudmyla managed the household, cared for six-year-old Lida, and supported her philosopher husband in all his endeavors. They lived abroad for three years: one year in Germany and two in Italy.
Upon returning home, their child spoke Ukrainian, Russian, German, French, and some Italian, while Mykhailo was enriched by his European experience. He continued to promote all things Ukrainian and asserted, «Anyone who gives a Ukrainian a Moscow or non-Ukrainian book harms him.»
He lectured, wrote articles, and defended democratic values until the Ems Ukaz came into effect. Mykhailo was dismissed from the university and barred from any government position, leaving emigration as the only option. The scholar and philosopher moved to Switzerland, becoming the first political exile from the Russian Empire.
In Geneva, the family rented a cheap, modestly furnished apartment where their daughter Ariadna was born. Mykhailo founded a free Ukrainian printing house, publishing 112 books and brochures without censorship, 37 of which were in Ukrainian, and continued his research activities. He was dressed in an embroidered shirt and a knitted vest with sleeves at home.
Outside, he wore a starched collar, tie, and a wide gray suit. To protect himself from the heat (in the Tuscan manner), he covered his neck with a brimmed hat. He always bowed widely and deeply, and his handshake was energetic and friendly.
At the literary congress in Paris, Mykhailo Drahomanov delivered a report titled «Ukrainian Literature, Banned by the Russian Government.» In it, he discussed the Ems Ukaz and the prohibition on translating even the Holy Scriptures into the Ukrainian language. He assisted emigrants and lent money without asking for its return.
He corresponded with his niece Larysa (who would later become known as Lesya Ukrainka). When she was young, her letters covered a wide range of topics, from the cancellation of gymnastics to her grandmother buying a glass and burying snake eggs in the ground to hasten their hatching. Later, their communication evolved into an intellectual exchange.
Her uncle recommended books, assisted with translations, and explained some things while dismissing others. He encouraged her to collect folk songs, beliefs, and folklore in general, and his niece diligently fulfilled these tasks.
At home, Lyudmyla managed the household. She washed clothes, delighted the children, and prepared fresh soup with meat and greens daily. She was a thrifty and skilled homemaker. They lived on the income from Mykhailo’s articles and her small estate. They hosted guests, and Lyudmyla warmly greeted everyone despite her pallor and frequent ailments.
She constantly inquired about Kyiv, and it was evident she genuinely missed the city. She was pregnant with their third child. Mykhailo gave their son an actual Slavic name, Sviatozar, as he had grown tired of familiar names like Borys and Volodymyr. The child was a late blessing: Lyudmyla was forty-two, and Mykhailo was forty-three.
The children in the family were adored. Mykhailo taught his daughters history, telling them about the Hetmanate and the Cossack times. He practiced «English female upbringing,» encouraging his eldest daughter Lida to be independent, to undertake solo travels, and to visit the post office and bank. He condemned cowardice, gossip, and insincerity.
Once, he confessed his sin, recalling how, as a child, he used to prick serf girls with a pin for fun, and they remained silent, not complaining. He now felt deep shame and remorse for this. Sometimes, Lida tried to act contrary, so he would often remind her, «You are free in your actions, but I will consider what you plan to do to be cowardice.»
Mykola Lysenko dedicated the romance «The Cherry Orchard by the House,» based on Shevchenko’s poem, to Lida. When she gave birth to a son and was recovering from a difficult delivery, her father took on the role of nanny for his grandson.
LAST YEARS AND LEGACY
Gradually, the family found themselves isolated and in great need. Mykhailo’s views diverged from those of the «Old Community,» and they stopped their financial support. Friends and comrades quickly turned away. Work became scarce. Lyudmyla was often ill, and Mykhailo took on all responsibilities, including those of a governess.
Bulgaria saved them from starving. Mykhailo was invited to teach history at Sofia University, and he went there without taking any papers, notes, or books. In time, he reported that he was satisfied with everything: «The students are attentive, the Bulgarians are an interesting people. There’s a lot of Asia here, but it will pass. My lectures (given in Bulgarian) are praised, financial matters are improving, so pack your bags.»
The family reunited, and Mykhailo resumed extensive teaching, publishing, and correspondence (he wrote with a gold pen with a platinum nib, a gift from his mother). Still, he also found time to communicate with his children. He encouraged walking towards the mountains, talked about how the sun sets in Ukraine and the moonlit and starry nights there, and sang Ukrainian songs.
He raised his children in the spirit of democracy, allowing them to express their thoughts freely. He never forbade them from making noise, seeing children’s energy as a helpful noise that helps in thinking and reasoning. He exchanged letters with his niece Lesya, who considered her uncle an authority in all matters and addressed him as «Dear Uncle.»
The last three years were overshadowed by illness: aortic aneurysm. Mykhailo developed shortness of breath and a cough, and his voice became hoarse and impure. On his way to the university, he would complain, «If only I could somehow squeak out my lecture.» The Bulgarian government respected the scholar and offered him citizenship. The professor listened, thanked them, and wept as he longed to return home — to the land, the Dnipro River, and the weeping willows.
One day after lunch, he stood up from his chair and suddenly fell face down. His wife rushed to him, but he had already lost consciousness. A doctor came, examined him, and confirmed his death. That was it. The family’s life instantly fractured. First came numbness, followed by bitter grief. Mykhailo was only fifty-four years old.
They buried him according to the Protestant rite. A heavy summer rain poured from the sky. Students respectfully carried the gilded tin coffin, even as the rain quickly turned into a downpour. Hail struck the cobblestones, but despite the foul weather, the students never once laid the coffin on the hearse. Afterward, twenty-five wreaths were placed around the earthen mound. Lesya Ukrainka kept a clump of soil from her uncle’s grave until the end of her life.
Lyudmyla never fully recovered. She no longer sat at the piano or ran her fingers over the black and white keys, instead finding solace in drawing. She organized her husband’s papers, erected a cross and a fence at his grave, and planted three trees.
She and Sviatozar returned to Kyiv and settled at 14 Pankivska Street, in apartment number 4. On any matter, she would quote her late husband. Lida mentally turned to her father until her death, always asking, «If I do this, will it be cowardly?»
