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Roman Jakobson:
linguistica e poetica
Ledizioni
© 2018 Ledizioni LediPublishing
Via Alamanni, 11 – 20141 Milano – Italy
www.ledizioni.it
info@ledizioni.it
Il volume è stato realizzato grazie al contributo del Dipartimento di Studi Letterari, Filologici e Lingu-
istici dell’Università degli Studi di Milano e del Dipartimento di Studi Umanistici dell’Università del
Piemonte Orientale.
Prima edizione: 2018
Stefania Sini, Marina Castagneto e Edoardo Esposito (a cura di), Roman Jakobson: linguistica e poetica.
Le riproduzioni a uso differente da quello personale potranno avvenire, per un numero di pagine non
superiore al 15% del presente volume, solo a seguito di specifica autorizzazione rilasciata da Ledizioni.
Testi e testimonianze di critica letteraria
Collana diretta da
Edoardo Esposito e Laura Neri, Università di Milano
Comitato scientifico
Enza Biagini, Università di Firenze
Roberto Ludovico, University of Massachusetts Amherst
Caroline Patey, Università di Milano
Tim Parks, Università IULM
Daniela La Penna, University of Reading
Roman Jakobson, 1978.
With the permission by Linda Waugh, Executive Director of the Roman
Jakobson Trust
Indice
I. POETICA E OLTRE
Peter Steiner, Which Side Are You on? Roman Jakobson in Interwar Prague. 75
Elmar Holenstein, One or Two? Two Kindred Poems by Qianlong and Goethe 237
II. LINGUISTICA
Fonosimbolismo
Morfologia e Sintassi
1
Roman Jakobson’s letter to Grigorij Vinokur, November, 1920.
76 Peter Steiner
over the Soviet Red Cross Mission from the moment its Berlin train crossed the bor-
ders, posterity knows exactly when Jakobson (as a translator) and six other members
of the group, headed by Dr. Solomon Gillerson, reached Prague’s Woodrow Wilson
station: July 10, 1920 at 4:32 p. m. Since the Czechoslovak government did not offi-
cially recognize the Soviet regime, the Mission’s charge was supposed to be purely
humanitarian, the repatriation of Russian P.O.W.s stranded in that neck of the former
Habsburg empire. But given the political situation, the ongoing Russo-Polish war,
and the recent Communist uprisings in Germany and Hungary inspired by the Soviet
October revolution, the atmosphere was heaving with distrust. The personal belong-
ings of the travelers were searched and ten large boxes that the wayfarers imported
from Berlin impounded for later inspection.2
The septet provisionally settled in a downtown Hotel Imperial where a suite also
substituted for an office, and a squad of undercover detectives began its surveillance.
Yet, about two weeks later, the local Red Cross offered their Russian colleagues an
additional three rooms in its own building in Neklanova St. in the Vyšehrad section
of Prague. This, though, was not an entirely charitable act as we learn from a confi-
dential report by the Ministry of Interior from July 27. What apparently motivated
it was «the Czechoslovak Red Cross’ suspicion that the [Soviet Mission] is not con-
cerned solely with humanitarian or social activities but with political and commer-
cial ones». Moreover, the vice-President of the national Red Cross, Dr. Procházka,
approached by the Ministery of Interior two days prior to the Soviet delegation’s
arrival, promised to share with the police his ‘extra-official’ observations.
The separation of the Mission’s dwelling from the office space complicated,
to some degree, the surreptitious watch on its members. The distance of about 3
km between the Hotel Imperial and 34 Neklanova St. necessitated the doubling of
the surveillance team, as requested by the Prague police in a July 30th letter to the
Ministry of Interior’s Councilor, Mr. Šlechta. Because of this, all moves of the dodgy
Bolsheviks, from the moment they would leave their dwelling until their return, are
pretty well documented. But, alas, these reports yield uninspiring reading, void of
any salacious indiscretions, abounding, instead, with transportation details, names
of visited places, and the identities of those trying to contact the delegation. We also
know the addressees of the letters deposited by the Mission at the local post office.
Furthermore, all telegrams went through special scrutiny to determine whether or
The boxes contained 15 million in so called ‘duma rubles’, currency issued by the
2
Provisional Russian government after the February revolution still used in Russia at that
time, and 6 million in old Austrian notes which, however, without the revenue stamps of the
Czechoslovak Finance Ministry, separating them from the same currency circulating in other
successor states of Austro-Hungary, were not considered legal tender.
Which Side Are You on? Roman Jakobson in Interwar Prague. 77
not they could be actually sent. It was several of Jakobson’s messages to the head
of the Russian Telegraph Agency, Mikhail Levidov, relating the political situation in
Central Europe, which compelled the police on July 21 to notify Černín Palace that
«the Russian mission does not seem to be concerned solely with the issues of friend-
ly social help but that it also pursues other objectives».
A cat-and-mouse game between the police and Jakobson took an unexpected twist
on January 24, 1922 at 11:30 a. m. when Jakobson deliberately locked up an un-
dercover agent, František Böhm, in the Hotel Imperial’s room no. 64 used to ac-
commodate diplomatic couriers. The police protocol taken immediately after the
incident and dully signed by Jakobson describes what happened. The cause of the
altercation was the presence of another member of the Moscow Linguist Circle,
Peter Bogatyrev, whom Jakobson put up in the room overnight (apparently in the
company of the Mission’s stenotypist, Ms. Tamara Iulievna Lange whom Bogatyrev
married a year later) without a proper hotel registration. Learning about this, the
vigilant Böhm, who was on duty at that time, decided to identify the stranger and
entered the room asking Bogatyrev (who arrived in Prague on January 10 to join the
Commercial Delegation) for his ID. Jakobson protested this action on the grounds of
exterritoriality and since the policeman blatantly disregarded his objections, he ran
out locking up the room. He did so, Jakobson stated in the protocol, since Böhm’s
action violated the self-jurisdictional status of the premises and he was off to call
Zamini to dispatch somebody to record this breech of diplomatic protocol. The po-
lice did not buy his argument, and only a police doctor’s intervention pronouncing
Jakobson sick (his temperature was measured at 100.4 F) spared him from immedi-
ate arrest. Two days later, the Presidium of the Interior Ministry passed a dossier con-
taining all the incriminating evidence on to the Ministry of Justice requesting that the
felon be charged with the criminal offence of impairing Böhm’s personal freedom.
But this was not to happen! On the afternoon of February 1, the phone rang on the
desk of Dr. Novák of the Justice Department with Dr. Beneš, the Foreign Minister
and, simultaneously, the Czechoslovak P. M., on the other end of the line. According
to the memo, Novák jotted down about this conversation, Beneš, despite Novák’s ob-
jection that neither Jakobson, nor Bogatyrev enjoyed diplomatic immunity, affirmed
that Jakobson was in his right for the mission’s space was, indeed, exterritorial. To
this the P. M. added that he was also concerned about the safety of the Czechoslovak
representatives in Moscow who might be equally amerced by the Soviet police.
Finally, he insisted that the indictment was quashed for otherwise, «the blunder we
committed would be revealed to the entire world».3 The M. P.’s wish, needless to say,
3
The incident, however, did not go unnoticed. It was reported, for example, in the leftist
paper «Tribuna» on February 1 under the heading: Exterritorialy and the Prague Police.
With glee, the blunder was attributed to the fact that the policeman most likely did not under-
78 Peter Steiner
source was the parents of Russian students now in Prague who keep imploring him
to warn their faraway offsprings through diplomatic channels about Jakobson’s foul
play. Girsa openly declined to do so out of fear of being compromised, but since
those who asked him were numerous and trustworthy, he became convinced «be-
yond any doubt that Jakobson is an agent of G.P.U. charged with the intelligence
task among the Russian emigrants in the Czechoslovak Republic». A two-page long
rebuttal to Girsa’s allegation came from a trusted employee of Zamini’s 3rd section
(intelligence and propaganda) Jaroslav Papoušek, Jakobson’s personal acquaintance,
who categorically denied any merit to all Girsa’s accusations. The letter is pretty fac-
tual and does not mention any working relation with Jakobson. Yet, it suggests cer-
tain ambiguity in his position. «My overall impression from Jakobson’s behavior»,
Papoušek opined on March 5, «is that he meticulously avoids not only all politics
but also all that could compromise him and that he is gradually preparing the ground
for settling either in Czechia or in Germany to devote himself fully to scholarly and
literary work while keeping the door to Russia open».
The first known leak of a confidential information to the Czechs on Jakobson’s
part occurred in 1924. That year the Russian Academy of Sciences began prepara-
tions to celebrate its bicentennial anniversary and the highest echelons of the Soviet
power were involved in selecting the distinguished invitees from abroad. The new
head of the Prague Mission, Vladimir Antonov-Ovseenko, suggested to Moscow
on June 9, at Jakobson’s instigation, as a possible candidate, Tomáš G. Masaryk – a
well-known philosopher – but also, currently, the Czechoslovak President. But while
Moscow mulled over this idea, Jakobson apparently disclosed this nomination to
another employee of the 3rd section of the Černín, Josef Šrom, who passed it on to
Masaryk himself. Whether Jakobson did so to curry a favor with the President is a
matter of interpretation but the Soviets who learned about this indiscretion were put
into an uncomfortable situation, and they launched an official inquiry to find out who
blabbed. But even before the results were known, the Commissar for Foreign Affairs,
Georgii Chicherin, in his account to the Secretariat of the CC of the Bolshevik Party
pointed his finger at Jakobson calling him «unreliable but absolutely indispensable
for the functions he performs». And Ovseenko’s report about the affair sent three
days later (July 9) explains why it is so: «Jakobson is extremely useful for us and his
actual benefit to us exceeds the potential harm. So far there are no evidence incrim-
inating him in any duplicity. A good half of our information comes from him or his
sources».6
6
Marina Sorokina, ‘Nenadezhnyi, no absoliutno nezamennyi’: 200-letnii iubileii
Akademii nauk i ‘delo Masaryk-Iakobson’, in In Memoriam: Istorcheskii sbornik pamiati
A. I. Dobkina, edited by Vladimir Alloi and Tatiana Pritykina, St. Peterburg, Fenix, 2000, p.
139. It is most likely that «the Czech journalist Shromm», the conduit between Jakobson and
80 Peter Steiner
Ovseenko’s defense of Jakobson was well warranted because his «loose tongue»
need not to be viewed solely as a liability but could also be harnessed as a useful tool
of misinformation. Let me explain. One of the perennial irritants in Czechoslovak-
Soviet relations was the lack of the de-jure diplomatic recognition of the Moscow
government by Prague. The Kremlin increased its demand in late 1926 when
Narkomindel threatened to close the Czechoslovak Khar’kov Mission unless it was
upgraded to a consulate and the same status was granted to the Soviet Mission in
Bratislava.7 Jakobson’s confidential report to Papoušek from October 25 was un-
doubtedly part of this campaign. It purported to divulge the Kremlin’s retaliatory plan
if Czechoslovakia failed to recognize the Soviet government within weeks: «Those
who demand a decisive solution took over in Moscow», Jakobson intimated sub
rosa, from an insider’s perspective, and he provided a short summary of the broken
promises by various Czechoslovak political parties to change the status quo. «For
all these reasons», he concluded, «it has been allegedly decided that short of quick
recognition, the [Soviet] Political Representation would be recalled to Moscow, all
commercial orders cancelled and relations suspended until the USSR is recognized».
Yet, the Czechoslovak Mission in Moscow who received a copy was not impressed
by Jakobson’s scoop at all. This warning cannot be taken seriously, the anonymous
correspondent blasted the messenger just five days later, because there are many
weighty reasons why the USSR cannot afford to snub Prague (the missive lists three
of them). Furthermore, he also questioned its author’s intentions. «Earlier I have al-
ready given the Ministry of Foreign Affairs a notice concerning Jakobson’s attitude
towards us and the Soviets. The attached document convinces me once again that the
Soviets are using [him] to pass on to the Ministry unofficially what the Soviets wish
that our government knew. There cannot be a slightest doubt that ‘Mr. Jakobson’s
message’ is no act of a goodwill on his part but a simple execution of an order from
above…. It is clear to me that via Jakobson the Soviets are exerting pressure on the
Ministry and it cannot be ruled out that this is their way of hoodwinking it».8
But if it suited its own purpose, the Czechoslovak political leadership was more
than eager to rely on Soviet fabrications. I have in mind a curious affair of the
‘political’ General Radola Gajda unfolding on many levels from 1926 to 1928 in
Masaryk, according to Sorokina, was Josef Šrom who from 1921 to 1929 served with the
Czechoslovak mission in Moscow as an intelligence and propaganda officer [zpravodajský
referent] and from 1930 was the Head of the Press Office at the Embassy in Vienna. We will
return to this man later.
7
See, e.g., Igor Lukes, Czechoslovakia between Stalin and Hitler: The Diplomacy of
Edvard Beneš in the 1930s, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1996, p. 21.
8
Curiously enough, the author uses a Russian idiom vvesti v zabluzhdenie for to hoo-
dwink.
Which Side Are You on? Roman Jakobson in Interwar Prague. 81
which Jakobson’s spins played a role. President Masaryk viewed this hero of the
Czechoslovak Legions in Russia during the Civil War with a dark suspicion because
of his evidently pro-Fascist leanings. He was afraid that Gajda might misuse his po-
sition as the Acting Army Chief of Staff and imitate a successful coup d’état staged
in neighboring Poland by Józef Piłsudski in May, 1926 to become a local strongman.
The Soviets too had their own axe to grind with Gajda and were happy to collude.
He was not only one of the initiators of the so-called ‘Cheliabinsk incident’ - the
Legions’ refusal to surrender their weapons to the Bolsheviks that enabled them to
fight their way through Siberia to the port of Vladivostok, but also a general in the
army of Admiral Kolchak - one of the principal leaders of the White forces chal-
lenging the Reds in the Civil War. The plot was hatched and Gajda was accused of
being, among other wrongdoings, a Soviet spy who, during his studies at the French
Military Academy in the early 1920s, passed on to the Soviets sensitive military
manuals for which crime Ovseenko vowed to provide the incriminating evidence.
In this affair the Soviet Mission, the preserved documents suggest, used Jakobson
in two ways. On the one hand, he was pressing the Czechs, not entirely confident that
the charges against Gajda would stick in court, to take a quick action. He allegedly,
«advised the director of the propaganda section of the Foreign Ministry, Hájek, and
repeated the same during the reception at Minister Beneš […] on July 4 that Gajda
knows that he is being accused and is contacting those who could testify against
him to win them to his side. He also warned, that the French already know about
the case and there is a danger that they are going to publish [what they got] one
way or another». Therefore, he argued, «it’s preferable to speed up the solution and
investigation». On the other hand, Jakobson was also striving to explain to the local
skeptics why the evidence against Gajda initially promised by the Mission might not
materialize. Around July 28 he was apparently clarifying for Arne Laurin, the Editor-
in-Chief of the «Prager Tagblatt», the semi-official German newspaper in Prague
which counted Masaryk among its readers, «a rather tense relationship between the
Military and the Foreign Affairs Soviets […] and he expressed his opinion that it will
be difficult for Ovseenko to obtain permission from the Soviet government to release
the documents […] because the Military Soviet would hardly pass these documents
on to the Foreign Soviet if it exposed its spies».9 The promised evidence never ar-
rived and so still in 1928 the desperate Masaryk dispatched the above-mentioned
Josef Šrom to inquire with Chicherin, «whether he could be allowed to copy the ma-
terials pertaining to G. by hand. Mr. Chicherin listen with interest», Šrom reported
back, «and promised to respond later».10 But he never did.
9
Quoted from Antonín Klimek and Petr Hofman, Vítěz, který prohrál: Radola Gajda,
Paseka, Litomyšl, 1995, pp. 91-92 and 114.
10
Ivi, p. 188.
82 Peter Steiner
Jakobson’s diplomatic career came to its end in 1928. He was fired as a non-Com-
munist during a wholesale reshuffling of the press officers at all important Soviet
Missions abroad despite Ovseenko’s valiant efforts to retain him.11 But this sep-
aration was definitely not inimical because despite Jakobson’s decision to stay in
Czechoslovakia, he retained Soviet citizenship and the Representation regularly is-
sued him new Soviet passports (the last one in 1934).
According to the Prague police report dated February 1, 1933 (I will return to this
document later), «Jakobson – even after terminating his official relationship, was
often visiting the Soviet Representation […] and the Commercial Delegation». And,
as if this was not strange enough, despite «Jakobson’s refusal to obey the order to
return to Moscow […] he did not begin to speak against the Soviet government and,
also, the Soviets did not take any reprisals against him». At the same time the Czech-
oslovak Foreign Ministry issued him a re-entry visa so that he could visit Germany.
Later he was regularly obtaining temporary Czechoslovak passports to travel abroad
where his nationality was listed as ‘indéterminée’. He was also granted permission
to stay in Prague until December 10, 1932.
11
For details, see Vladimir Genis, Iakobson, konechno, vozmutitsia…, in «Voprosy isto-
rii», dicembre 2008, pp. 120-125.
Which Side Are You on? Roman Jakobson in Interwar Prague. 83
Despite a marked change in his status, the Czechoslovak security apparatus did
not let Jakobson vanish from its crosshairs. But, at the same time, its negative assess-
ments of him as a security risk were always counterbalanced by Foreign Ministry in-
terventions. Thus, in February 1929, for example, the Ministry of Interior informed
all relevant governmental bodies that an article critical of the political situation in
Ruthenia appearing in the Soviet paper, «Proletarskaia pravda», under the initials A.
G. was, most likely, authored by Jakobson.12 The Prague Police Directorate – from
where the information emanated – was, however, forced to retract this insinuation
on July 3 after strenuous objection from the Černín Palace that this could not be the
case. Jakobson, its statement of June 10 insisted, was currently fully occupied by
preparing himself for a doctoral examination and by editing an academic journal,
«Slavische Rundschau», published by Franz Spina, who, it should be mentioned, was
then not only Jakobson’s Doktorvater but also the Minister of Health and Physical
Education in the Czechoslovak Government.
This tug-of-a-war about Jakobson between the Interior and the Foreign Affairs
Ministries intensified in the 1930s when, after receiving his PhD from the German
University in Prague, he was invited by Brno Masaryk University to join its new-
ly established department of Slavic philology. Prof. Bohuslav Havránek, a member
of the Prague Linguistic Circle and Jakobson’s strong supporter, chaired the hiring
12
The initials A. G. suggest that this article was authored by Jakobson’s erstwhile boss,
Vladimir Aleksandrovich Antonov-Ovseenko (transferred to Lithuania in 1928), who used
the pseudonym A. Gal’skii.
84 Peter Steiner
committee. As expected, the reactions of the two Ministries involved in the vetting
process were quite different. The Interior’s position stated in its memo to the Minis-
try of Education on October 18 was reserved if not outwardly hostile. «Quite excep-
tionally, we do not have any objections to Roman Osipovič Jakobson’s appointment
as a contractual Professor of Russian philology» providing that there are no suitable
native candidates for the job.
The Černín Palace, as expected, was much more forthcoming. It should also be
noted that while hitherto its letters concerning Jakobson were supportive but aloof,
from this point on they turned enthusiastic, presenting Jakobson as the Ministry’s
ally and a valuable asset. Reacting to Havránek’s four questions about Zamini’s posi-
tion on Jakobson’s appointment from March 6, Jan Hájek denied the contention that
his Ministry was involved in any way with scuttling Jakobson’s application to study
at Charles in 1920. On the contrary, he declared, we are «ready, if necessary, to sup-
port [Jakobson’s] candidacy if Masaryk University proposes it». And his colleague,
Papoušek to whom Havránek’s letter was addressed, amended a copy of Hájek’s
reply with a marginal jotting. «Pro domo: Minister Dr. Beneš was apprised about the
matter. He agreed that the response should be positive and favorable».
The «positive and favorable response» addressed to the Ministry of Education was
drafted on October 16 by the Černín Palace man number two, the historian Kamil
Krofta, who signed the letter «On behalf of the Minister». «The Ministry of Foreign
Affairs», he did not mince his words, «does not know a single case of Dr. Jakobson’s
disloyalty or incorrectness toward our state; on the contrary, it knows many cases
when Dr. Jakobson evidently wished to help our nation and did help». Thus, «the
Ministry of Foreign Affairs has no doubts that Dr. Jakobson will be able to render
very good services to our state also in the future; therefore, we do not only have no
objections to his appointment as a contractual Professor at Brno Masaryk University
but, in accordance with the Ministry’s interests, we recommend it».
Krofta’s recommendation was heeded and Jakobson appointed in Brno. But to
make his position regular, he still had to go through the customary ‘habilitation’
procedure. This took place in 1932/1933 and precipitated yet another confrontation
between the two Ministries. A four pages long memo prepared by the Prague Police
Directorate for the Interior Ministry Presidium on February 1 (from which I have
already quoted) listed all instances of Jakobson’s purported criminal, subversive or
treasonous behavior and culminated with a devastating coup de grâce: «After tak-
ing into account all presented circumstances, this office considers Jakobson polit-
ically unreliable [original emphasis] and justifiably suspects that he resides in the
Czechoslovak Republic on behest of the Third International which charged him
with a political mission. It is likely that he is, at its instigation, striving to attain
an influential position precisely in Slavistics in which field, as a university profes-
sor, he could foremost apply Communist principles and further the interests of the
Which Side Are You on? Roman Jakobson in Interwar Prague. 85
USSR». Fortunately, this document has also its comic relief: a fifth page appended
to it containing additional accusations by some Dr. Fišer, a functionary at the Interior
Ministry, who «in connection with the appointment of Dr. Roman Jakobson as a con-
tractual professor at Masaryk University in Brno brought out that, 1) his brother is a
Professor in Berlin and [Jakobson] frequently commutes there; 2) that he lives above
his means, patronizes bars and recently in one Prague bar he made a scene slapping
somebody across his face».
But Zamini did not allow the Interior to have the last word in this confrontation.
On February 21, a Czech diplomat of whom we have heard before, Josef Šrom, sent
Havránek from Vienna his personal testimony absolving Jakobson of any connec-
tions to the Communist cause. Šrom emphasized in his letter that he has not only
known him for more than ten years but that he is also acquainted with his wife and
their relatives in Moscow. Because of this, he wrote emphatically:
I could, esteemed Mr. Professor, declare solemnly and in front of any forum
that the Jakobsons were never members of the Communist Party, never ren-
dered it any special services and never to the least vitiated their gratitude to
Czechoslovakia for the hospitality extended to them. Dr. Jakobson, because of
his knowledge and his sympathy toward the Czechoslovak Republic, would be
the pride of any of our universities.
With the rise of Hitler in neighboring Germany in the mid-1930s, the political
situation in Central Europe changed considerably. The threat of Nazi expansionism
displaced to a considerable degree the earlier fear of Communist subversion and
in 1935, Czechoslovakia fully recognized the Soviet government. Under these new
circumstances Jakobson’s scholarly expertise was welcomed by the 3rd section of
Zamini as a valuable intellectual component of its ‘Kulturkampf” with German pro-
paganda. The Foreign Ministry covered his expenses to attend scholarly meetings
abroad and subsidized his travel within the country. Černín also solicited Jakobson’s
advice in matters related to Russia, like the program for a delegation of Soviet jour-
nalists visiting Czechoslovakia in October 1935. But the old suspicions lingered in
some quarters even after Jakobson was granted Czechoslovak citizenship in 1937—a
condition for making his teaching position at Masaryk University permanent. On
June 12, he even felt obliged to write to a high official at Zamini, Dr. Jan Jína, urging
him to alert Krofta, now the Minister of Foreign Affairs, that his job might still be at
jeopardy so that he would intervene on his behalf if needed. As his source of infor-
mation, Jakobson listed a prominent Czech journalist, Hubert Ripka.
The German occupation of Czechoslovakia on March 15, 1939 propelled Jakobson
into his second, Scandinavian, exile. If his loyalty toward Czechoslovak Republic
was previously in doubt, now, after this state ceased to exist, he avowed it uncondi-
86 Peter Steiner
tionally. In the letter from Charlottenlund, Denmark of April 27, 1939 Jakobson no-
tified Ripka who was now in Paris busy with organizing the National Czechoslovak
Committee that he places himself «at the full disposal» [original emphasis] of this
body. And, on December 16, after moving to Norway, he signed at the Czechoslovak
consulate in Oslo the following declaration: «By my signature I affirm my pledge
to voluntarily join the Czechoslovak army in France if such, in the case of a war, is
established. If recognized as fit for military service, I will present myself whenever
summoned».