Arany János was born March 2, 1817 and died on Oct 22, 1882. He is one of the major literary figures of Hungary.
His parents were on the older side. Although his mother had given birth to ten children in all, only one sister and János made it past early childhood. At his birth, his only living sister was much older and already married, and he grew up in a quiet, peaceful home as an only child alongside his Protestant parents. He stood out early on for his academic achievements. By the time he entered school at six years old, he was an avid reader and knew Bible stories, songs, and was well-versed in popular literature. While he was still a student, he became known around the city for his poetry. To pay for his tuition costs he became an assistant to the teacher from a very young age.
At the age of 16 he moved to Debrecen to further studies to study poetry formally. However his money ran out and he had to drop out of school to go to work in the rectory of the Protestant church. He made friends with the bishop, who opened up his library to the young man. He read day and night and taught himself German, French, and Latin. He translated works into Hungarian and even tried to write poetry in those languages. After he saved up enough money, he returned to Debrecen to attend school once more. He impressed his teachers with his earnestness, and soon he was at the head of the class. To keep financially afloat he became a tutor, and even the nobles of the city wanted him to tutor their children.
Many assumed he would go on to become an academic, but he wanted something more exciting out of life and often said he wished to become a painter or sculptor. So, at the age of 19 he left the university. To the surprise of many, he joined an actor's guild briefly, and went on to tour with traveling actors, and saw some of the countryside through their journeys. However, he realized that many of the areas they were touring in were very impoversished. This left a strong impression on him.
One night, he had a disturbing dream about his mother, so he started off that day on foot towards his home. He learned much to his dismay that his father had gone blind, and two weeks before his mother had died of cholera. While he mourned their passing, his inner muse was silenced, and he did not create any art for a while. His parish and town felt sorry for his loss and gave him various positions including as a grammar school teacher, and various clerks' jobs at the town hall. While he did not write during this time, he still read avidly. During this time he favored Shakespeare and Homer as well as the works of various French poets. He also got married in 1840 to a young woman named Julianna, whom he had two children with. His son especially would follow in his father's footsteps and become a poet, and János was very proud of that.
In 1842, an old school friend, István, came to visit. He was surprised that János was no longer writing, and encouraged him to take it up again. János started translating various Greek tragedies into Hungarian, and learned English at this time as well, and started translating Shakespeare from the original texts as well. In 1845 he wrote a satirical piece that won him several awards. From this point on, he got further encouraged to write full-time, and went on to win many contests and became a popular figure among many. Famous writers and poets of the era wrote to him to welcome him into their circles. The famous Petőfi especially befriended him, and they started a lasting relationship which encouraged the man through dry periods. The poem "For my Friend" was written in 1847 and dedicated to Petőfi:
You're encouraging me to write more poetry
And I wish I could obey your command
But Pegasus is a wretched old nag
It doesn't gallop, nay. It barely stumbles along.
It seems to me that yesterday I sat down to write
But I only got to the point where I chewed up my pen
But - crows tear apart an insubordinate horse -
I couldn't encourage the words to giddy-up, move along.
Today I put on your kucsma [winter hat], so perhaps
A little of your essence would stick to me
I scratched a few "with" and "towards" down
But the muse balks and chastises me: "Enough of this!"
Why am I even trying to bother with all of this effort
When my heart is full of such turmoil?
A guest has arrived at the house, and brought cares along.
Every little feeling in me is fretting and fussing, obliged but unable to please.
Crazy windswept nation! The horses run without a goal
And bump into one another constantly
But it's no wonder, the guest of the heart is great
And quite dear to it, because that guest is you.
During the 1848-49 revolution his themes turned more patriotic, and he wrote several speeches as well, and a few songs. The government founded a newspaper called the Nép Barátja (The Friend of the Nation) and asked him to be the editor of it. He turned the position down, however. He did contribute some poetry and political articles for it, but his heart wasn't in it. He put in military service briefly and then took various government posts. This provided him unwelcome political exposure however, and for a time he went into hiding, until officially giving up any association with public posts.
When the revolution failed, he went back to his passions of writing, translating, and teaching. In his early forties, his health began to fail, and he had frequent stomach problems. Despite these, he wrote prolifically. In 1865 his daughter passed away after a painful illness, and János was again plunged into grief. To make things worse, János and his wife adopted their grandchild, who also died at the age of 21 from illness. When he attempted to start writing poetry again, he stopped after the fourth line. He wrote in his journal that things were too painful and he couldn't write any more. For a decade onwards, the poet in him stayed silent, and his own health problems worsened. He continued teaching, writing, and directing various institutions.
Towards the end of his life, despite numerous painful health issues and the decline of his vision and hearing, the muse returned to him, and he wrote numerous poems and ballads, including some of his most famous works. Chronic bronchitis finally endangered his life. He caught a bad cold at the dedication of his friend Petőfi's memorial statue, and this turned into pneumonia. He died a few days later at the age of 65, after more than 40 years of marriage. His grave became a place of literary pilgrimage, and his likeness was memorialized in several works of art throughout the nation.
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