Musicology Today 2011 Émigré Composers

Musicology Today ⋄ 2011
Volume 8
Émigré Composers
Institute of Musicology, University of Warsaw
Musicology Section of the Polish Composers’ Union

Editorial Board
Sławomira Żerańska-Kominek (General Editor)
J. Katarzyna Dadak-Kozicka
Zofia Helman
Iwona Lindstedt (Secretary)
Publication financed by the Institute of Musicology of the University of Warsaw
and the Ministry of Science and Higher Education
Typeset by Iwona Lindstedt
Book cover design by Jerzy Matuszewski
Printed and bound by BEL Studio Sp. z o.o. (http://www.bel.com.pl/)
Circulation 200
c○ Copyright by the Musicology Section of the Polish Composers’ Union
and Institute of Musicology, University of Warsaw 2011
ISSN 1734-1663
Editorial Office: Institute of Musicology Musicology Section
University of Warsaw of the Polish Composers’ Union
00-927 Warsaw 00-272 Warsaw
Krakowskie Przedmieście 32 Rynek Starego Miasta 27
tel/fax: (22) 552-15-35 tel/fax: (22) 831-17-41
e-mail: imuz@uw.edu.pl e-mail: zkp@zkp.org.pl

Contents
1 Émigrésby Choice Zofia Helman page 5
2 Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration
Violetta Wejs-Milewska 26
3 Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity Elżbieta Szczurko 61
4 Neoclassical Ideas in the Works of Michał Spisak Danuta Jasińska 86
5 Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man Marlena
Wieczorek 103
6 An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity. Life in Emigration and the
Artistic Output of Tadeusz Zygfryd Kassern Violetta Kostka 134
7 Karol Rathaus, the Transplanted Composer Jolanta Guzy-Pasiak 163
8 Polish Symphonies of the 1980s as Public Statements against Martial
Law Beata Bolesławska-Lewandowska 178
9 The Work of Sorbian Composers and the Issue of Their National Identity
Teresa Nowak and Tomasz Nowak 192
List of contributors 205

1
Émigrés by Choice 1
Zofia Helman
The forced emigration of artistic and intellectual elites appears to have been
a cyclically recurring phenomenon in Polish history for more than 200 years.
Each successive generation adds its new experience to this tradition, creating
different variants of Polish refugee culture. Political emigration differed,
however, in causes and effects, from economic one or from the simple fact
of taking residence abroad. After World War II there appeared a very specific
situation which we could label as e m i g r a t i o n b y c h o i c e 2 –not
forced, but leading to unintentional breaking of contacts with one’s environment.
This was the situation faced by Polish composers born c. 1895–1915,
who either stayed abroad after the war had ended or left the country in the
late 1940s/early 1950s. The reasons for their emigration were greatly varied,
as also were their relations with the authorities of communist Poland and
with the Polish musical world. What they had in common was the initial
motive – a more or less openly manifested unwillingness to support the new
system established in Poland under the auspices of the Soviet Union.
The oldest among those émigrés: Karol Rathaus (1895–1954) and Alexander
Tansman (1897–1986), composers of Jewish origin, had chosen the émigré
status already before the war. Rathaus, forced to leave Berlin already in
1 This article is a revised version of the author’s text Muzyka na obczyźnie [Music in Exile] (1992:
209–227). Published also in French translation (1992a: 187-202).
2 A term used by Jagoda Jędrychowska (1988: 84).

6 Zofia Helman
1932 before the Nazis took over, settled in New York in 1938. Tansman, resident
in Paris from 1919, reacted to the growing hostility of nationalist organisations
in Poland by accepting a French citizenship in 1937. A large group
of Polish composers studying in Paris before the war, centered around the
Association of Young Polish Musicians, decided to stay abroad after the war,
encouraged by their favourable experiences of working in the French environment.
Feliks Łabuński (1892–1979), one of the leaders of the Association
and its president in 1930–34, took permanent residence in the United States
as early as in 1934. The outbreak of the war found Antoni Szałowski (1907–
73) and Michał Spisak (1914–65) in Paris, where they would return in 1945
after their stay in Vichy. Szymon Laks (1901–83), deported from France in
1941, survived the hell of Auschwitz and Dachau and returned to Paris. Jerzy
Fitelberg (1905–51), forced to leave Berlin in 1933, resided in Paris for several
years and emigrated to the United States in 1940. Michał Kondracki (1902–84)
came back home after his Parisian studies, but shortly before the outbreak
of the war he travelled abroad again and eventually settled in the United
States, never to return to Poland. Roman Maciejewski (1910–98) stayed for
12 years in Sweden (1939–57), then moved to California, and from 1976 –
resided in Göteborg. Tadeusz Zygfryd Kassern (1904–57), from 1945 representing
the Polish state as its cultural attaché and then consul general in the
United States, gave up both his diplomatic post and the Polish citizenship
late in 1948, and settled in New York. Roman Palester (1907–89), who remained
in Poland during and shortly after the war, left with his wife for
Paris in 1947 as a delegate of the Polish Ministry of Culture and Art. At first
he maintained contact with Poland and, even though he refused to take part
in the World Peace Congress in Wrocław, he still came, at the Ministry’s invitation,
to the historic Assembly of Composers and Music Critics in Łagów
Lubuski in 1949. After his return to Paris, however, he and his wife applied
for refugee status, deciding to stay abroad. In 1951, when Palester was summoned
to return to Poland, he failed to turn up at the Polish Embassy in Paris
and prolong his passport. “Palester is the first eminent artist from behind the
iron curtain who chose ‘freedom’,” wrote the émigré press (Dziennik Polski
i Dziennik Żołnierza 1950).

Émigrés by Choice 7
Not connected in any way with the Association of Young Polish Musicians
in Paris, Constantin Régamey (1907–82) lived in Poland before and during
the war and after the Warsaw Uprising found himself in Stutthof concentration
camp, later – in a camp near Hamburg, from which he was released
as a Swiss citizen and left for Lausanne. Roman Haubenstock-Ramati (1919–
94) left Poland in 1950 for Tel-Aviv, then (1957) for Vienna, where he lived till
the end of his life. Andrzej Panufnik (1914–91) was the last to make up his
mind when he used an official stay in Switzerland in 1954 to travel in secret to
London. Those were the composers whom I call “émigrés by choice.” Each of
them could return to Poland after the war, and those who left in 1945–50 did
not have to take refuge for political reasons, because they were not threatened
in any way in their country. They chose emigration because they could
not accept the ruling political system in Poland, though most likely they believed,
at least initially, that at one point they would be able to return. Their
emigration was a form of passive resistance to the new authorities. All the
other composers who left the country later did it quite legally and were no
longer eliminated from Polish musical life by means of official bans. For this
reason, they will not be included in our category of “émigrés by choice.”
Quite different was the situation of composers living before the war on
Poland’s eastern territories which were occupied in 1939 by the Red Army.
When these territories were annexed to the Soviet Union, the composers became
Soviet citizens – definitely not “by choice” – and against their will,
they were no longer regarded as Polish composers. This was the case with
Adam Sołtys (1890–1968) and Tadeusz Majerski from Lvov (1888–1963) or
with Mieczysław Weinberg (1919–96; in the Soviet Union from 1939 he used
the name Moisey). Similarly Roman Berger (b. 1930) from Zaolzie (Cieszyn
Silesia) was forced to move to Bratislava in 1952 and henceforth represented
the Czechoslovak, not the Polish state.
In the first years after the war, works by composers resident in the West
were still performed in Poland and appeared in the programmes of Polish
music concerts performed abroad, e.g. at the first postwar festivals of the International
Society of Contemporary Music. However, already then the ministry
had a definite view on the matter. Andrzej Panufnik recalled that at one

8 Zofia Helman
of the concerts featuring pieces by Spisak and Szałowski that he conducted
he “was strongly attacked by the Ministry of Culture for supporting ‘Fascist’
composers who lived abroad” (Panufnik 1987: 160). Political repressions
and censorship affected, however, only three composers: Kassern, Palester
and Panufnik, who by leaving the country manifested their protest against
the totalitarian regime. After Kassern’s death his name could again be included
in publications and encyclopaedias, but the censor’s ban on Palester
and Panufnik was only lifted in 1977 and that only in part, as even then their
works appeared in concert programmes extremely rarely. It was in the case
of these two composers that the regime’s methods of sentencing artists to
oblivion became the most evident. Both lost their membership in the Polish
Composers’ Union, their names disappeared from all concert and radio programmes,
their already published scores were destroyed and ordered to be
removed from libraries (the latter order was fortunately not carried out in
full), and their publishing contracts were cancelled.
The remaining composers (except for the period 1949–55, when émigré
music was not even mentioned) were not banned by censorship and their
works continued to be performed in Poland, which did not mean that they
could count on state patronage. After 1956 contacts with the mother country
were maintained, most of all, by Constantin Régamey, Michał Spisak,
Aleksander Tansman, Roman Haubenstock-Ramati, and Roman Maciejewski.
Émigré compositions were included in the programmes of the “Warsaw
Autumn” festival, which after 1977 also presented some works by Panufnik
and Palester. Some composers (e.g. Régamey, Laks, Kondracki) also published
articles in Polish music press. However, when Szymon Laks submitted
for publication his book Musique d’un autre monde, 3 (Coudy, Laks 1948)
dedicated to memories from concentration camps and the history of the Auschwitz
orchestra, of which he was a member and conductor, the book was
rejected – twice, in the 1950s and then in the 60s. Few émigré composers ever
had their works published in Poland, and the poor knowledge of their oeu-
3 Revised and extended by Laks alone and published in Polish as Gry Oświęcimskie [Auschwitz Games]
in Oficyna Poetów i Malarzy [Poets and Painters’ Publishing] in London (1979); English version:
Music of Another World, Evanston 1989; published in Poland only as late as 1998 (State Museum
Auschwitz-Birkenau).

Émigrés by Choice 9
vre resulted in their omission from both synthetic historical publications and
from detailed contributions to the history of Polish music after World War
II. 4 The situation of Polish composers abroad was generally not very good, either.
Initially only Tansman had a well established position as a composer.
The others, though they had already scored some major international successes
in the 1930s and 40s, became inconvenient partners once they turned
into refugees. Roman Palester, recalling his first journey to London after the
war (to the ISCM festival in 1946) made the following remark: “we witnessed
with our own eyes, which was incredible – a deep dislike for Polish émigrés
and an excessively manifested enthusiasm for guests ‘from the other
side’ [that is, from behind the iron curtain – comm. ZH]. Later as emigrants
we experienced the same ourselves in France, and especially in Germany”
(Jędrychowska 1988: 79). The same topic appears in Panufnik’s autobiography:
The welcomes I had received when an official guest from Poland had convinced me that
IwasreasonablyknownandrespectedwithinthemusicalfraternityinBritain.[...].The
musical fraternity which had welcomed me as a visitor was much less friendly now that
Ihadcometostay.[...]IhadleaptfrommyPolishpositionofNo.OnetoNoOneatAll
in England (Panufnik 1987: 244–245).
The composers staying in Paris after the war already in 1945 attempted to
revive the former Association of Young Polish Musicians, which, thanks to
the rather meagre support of the Polish American Congress and the French
Committee for the Support of Intellectuals, was still able to organise concerts
and offer aid to its members. In 1946–48 Polish composers who came
to study in Paris (incl. Witold Lutosławski, Andrzej Panufnik, Kazimierz Serocki,
Stanisław Skrowaczewski, Zbigniew Turski, and Wawrzyniec Żuławski)
became members of the Association for some time, its Managing Board
addressed the Polish embassy in Paris with a request for subsidies. The embassy,
however, demanded a political declaration of the Association’s support
for the authorities of communist Poland and propaganda concerts for
4 In the last dozen years or so, a number of books have been dedicated to the life and work of émigré
composers, e.g. Anna Granat-Janki (1995), Zofia Helman (1999) Ewa Siemdaj (2003) Elżbieta
Szczurko (2008).

10 Zofia Helman
Polish workers in France as a condition for receiving a subsidy. The Managing
Board refused, 5 as the Association had never engaged in political activity
before the war. In 1950 the Association’s activity was discontinued. Simultaneously,
from 1949, Polish culture underwent the process of Stalinisation,
and all contacts between émigre composers and their mother country were
broken. In one of his articles, Roman Palester wrote to an unnamed friend:
entering the path of exile, you’ll find yourself – artistically speaking – nearly in the
same situation in which you were twenty years before, at the start of your career. You
will be left in tragic circumstances, without your works, without the music which the
government in Warsaw will order to remove from libraries and bookshops, without
that situation, which, as you know, is such an important matter, and – most importantly
– without contact with that concert public which understood you the best. Your work
will not be needed here by anyone (Palester 1951: 15–16).
Frequently deprived of their means of living, the composers took up various
activities depending on their skills and circumstance: they became teachers
(Rathaus, Łabuński, Kassern, Kondracki), reporters (Palester in Radio
Free Europe), conductors (Panufnik). Régamey was a professor of linguistics
in Fribourg and Lausanne; Haubenstock-Ramati took up a post in Universal
Edition in Vienna. With time, they achieved some stability but had to pay for
their position by temporarily, or in some periods even permanently giving
up their creative work. Gradually, Polish composers would accept the citizenship
of the country they resided in. Only Roman Palester never applied
for a foreign citizenship and used a refugee passport (the so-called Nansen
passport) till the end of his life.
Many years of silence about the achievements of Polish émigre composers
– silence resulting from the state’s cultural policies and sometimes also from
the censor’s restrictions – mean that our picture of Polish music after the war
still appears to be glaringly incomplete. In the present situation, the mapping
of “uncharted territories” cannot depend on a mere filing of facts concerning
the life and art of émigré composers (this systematising work has
already to a large extent been done). Their oeuvre also needs to be appreciated
from the artistic point of view, interpreted critically and aesthetically,
5 Based on the archive materials of: The Association of Young Polish Musicians in Paris, University
Library in Warsaw – Music Collection, Archive of Polish Composers.

Émigrés by Choice 11
and assessed with respect to its significance for the past and present of Polish
music. When we get to know works written several dozen years ago, unconsciously
we put them in the context of our present. The expectations and
value judgments of present-day listeners are used as the basis for artistic selection,
which means that a part of the émigré output is rejected again. Only
the greatest works can withstand the passage of time. Selection is a natural
phenomenon, though, and it concerns to an equal extent also composers who
stayed in the country. The only difference is that the latter got their chance
to be recognised in their own time, while the émigrés were then eliminated
from cultural life. Apart from critical interpretation based on contemporary
axiological criteria, researchers can also apply a historical interpretation of
artistic works in their original context and in relation to larger-scale phenomena
such as styles, aesthetic trends, or the history of the musical genre. That
other perspective is particularly important when we study the music of émigré
composers. Abroad, they did not form any coherent environment, and
the significance of their music becomes apparent only when we compare it
with the musical productions of composers back at home. As the music of
at least some émigrés had in some periods no reception at all in communist
Poland, we should undertake to reunite what has been divided and what has
functioned in different environments.
The fact of their separation from the country and from their musical environment,
as well as their unfavourable refugee status in the West, frequently
combined with financial straits, were the factors that limited their creative
activity and hampered their career growth. On the other hand, these composers
could make contact with European music centres, were free to choose
their creative path and had the sense of personal freedom. The universal
character of musical language (at least in the Euro-American world), as opposed
to e.g. literature, was – on the one hand – an advantage, but on the
other it did not provide composers with that natural link with their native
culture which the language offered to writers of literary works. In the case
of musical art, the meaning of the term “Polish music” is less obvious, and
it is more difficult to define the national identity of composers who accepted
a foreign citizenship. Those artists, however, never renounced their Polish-

12 Zofia Helman
ness 6 and always stressed their connection with the mother country. They
were aware that in exile they still served their nation and contributed to Polish
culture. It was only in communist Poland that the term “Polish music”
was very often used exclusively with reference to works written within the
political borders of Poland as defined by the Yalta Conference.
In retrospect studies of émigré music, the years 1945–56 are the most important
as the greatest number of composers were active at that time, and
their independence from the socialist realist doctrine allows us to observe
the first authentic line of development in the history of Polish postwar music,
the tensions that appeared and the emerging new directions. If we shift
accents, that first decade looks very different from its traditional descriptions
prepared on the occasion of national anniversaries (Cf. Chomiński and Lissa
1957, Dziębowska 1968). We do not mean, however, to suggest an opposition
between, on the one hand, the mass songs, cantatas about Stalin and
in praise of peace, primitive arrangements of folksongs and operas about
class struggle created in Poland, and on the other – high art applying innovative
composition techniques, created by the émigrés. This kind of opposition
would be demagogical and would not reflect the real artistic trends. Regardless
of the fact that the products of socialist realism were then put in the
limelight by the critics and sumptuously awarded, it seems much more suitable
to compare the (mostly unnoticed) compositions then created by émigrés
with the works of those composers at home who represented the most
neutral response to socialist realism. The slogans about politically involved
art appeared when Polish music was dominated by Neoclassicism based the
principles of the autonomy of art, which remained in radical opposition to
the Leninist concept of music as a reflection of reality. For the proponents of
6 Alexander Tansman said in an interview: “One cannot delete from one’s biography the childhood
and adolescence, the cultural traditions, the memory of the environment in which we grew up.
Volens nolens, whether they know my music in Poland or not, I still belong to Polish culture. I am a
French citizen and I owe France a lot in terms of my artistic evolution, personal life and international
reputation; but it does nor change my national artistic identity, which has always been present in all
my works from the beginning till the present.” (cf. Cegiełła 1976: 61). In the same collection – an
interview with Régamey: “I am connected with Poland by indissoluble family ties and professional
links. I also spent six years of the occupation here, which created even stronger ties. Naturally, I am
Swiss [...]. But at the same time musically it would be difficult for me not to consider myself a Pole”
(Ibidem: 151).

Émigrés by Choice 13
the new ideology, Neoclassicism was synonymous with the so-called “formalism”,
which they strove to eliminate. Neoclassicist aesthetics, developed
in Hanslick’s Vom musikalischen Schönen and Igor Stravinsky’s Musical Poetics,
was summarised in Stefan Kisielewski’s work Is Music Non-Humanist
(1948), which presented music in the categories of pure form as organised
sound systems remaining in constant movement. Polish music on both sides
of the iron curtain was, then, first of all a continuation of Neoclassicism, and
it was on the basis of this style that artists developed their individual idioms,
attempted to extend its conventions and open their art to changes. All
the postwar output of composers such as Tansman, Fitelberg, Spisak, Szałowski
derives from Neoclassicism, exemplified by such works as Tansman’s
Musique pour orchestre, Concerto pour orchestre, Spisak’s Symphonie concertante
No. 1 and Symphonie concertante No. 2, Szałowski’s Violin concerto, or Kassern’s
Sonatina for flute and piano. Neoclassical in style are also some of Palester’s
compositions from the postwar period: Serenade for two flutes and string orchestra,
Sinfonietta for small orchestra, Divertimento for 9 instruments, String trio
No. 1, as well as works composed in Poland by Grażyna Bacewicz (Concerto for
string orchestra), Kisielewski (Concerto for chamber orchestra), Turski (Olympic
symphony), Malawski (Toccata for orchestra, Symphonic studies for piano and orchestra),
Szabelski (Concerto grosso), Woytowicz (String quartet No. 2).
In music composed in the country we can sometimes observe a kind of
compromise between universal Neoclassical style, the national character and
the requirement of popular accessibility. The compromise depended on introducing
folk motifs or stereotypical forms of musical expression, in agreement
with the socialist realist principle of creating “emotional” music; sometimes
the compromise meant an excessive simplification of musical language.
Some composers escaped from the dictates of political involvement without
exposing themselves to accusations of “formalism” by presenting stylisations
of early music such as Panufnik’s Gothic concerto (Concerto in modo antico),
Baird’s suite Colas Breugnon, Malawski’s Sonata on themes by Janiewicz,
Krenz’s Classical serenade and Symphony in the old style. A similar attempt to
draw on early musical traditions, though much more interesting musically,
was made in emigration by Palester in his Concertino for harpsichord and 10

14 Zofia Helman
instruments on themes of dances from Jan of Lublin’s Tablature (Cf. Helman
2003: 425–434).
The demand for a national style, emphasised in the first postwar decade,
was in fact not anything new in Polish music (except for its distorted interpretation
as a synonym of mass culture) and it opened up some opportunities
for innovative exploration as well as for a development of Bartók’s idea of
universal folklore, as exemplified by e.g. Lutosławski’s Concerto for orchestra
or Panufnik’s Sinfonia rustica. All the same, the various possibilities of using
folklore in combination with the new types of harmony, texture, rhythm and
timbre had already been all but exhausted in the interim period between the
wars, starting with Szymanowski, and so in émigré music folklorism did not
enjoy much interest. One of the exceptions in this field is Laks’s Quartet No. 3
on Polish folk themes. Conversely, Szymanowski’s idea that the original ethnic
features in music must be sought in layers deeper than just folk music still
inspired postwar composers, even though they had now gone a long way
from their master’s models. One example of a piece that explores the Polish
idiom without references to folklore is Palester’s cantata The Vistula (1st
version – 1948) to words by Stefan Żeromski. The choice of musical genre
and the underlying national idea might suggest that this was the first in a series
of cantatas composed in the coming years under the auspices of socialist
realism. Still, Żeromski’s text from 1918, celebrating Poland’s regaining of independence
and used by Palester to mark the 30th anniversary of that event,
was written at a time when Poland was seen as a “bourgeois” country hostile
to the Soviet Union. And so this cantata could be seen as a bit polemical:
the composer wished to present a piece with a national theme, maintaining
the Polish climate through its (recited) text, but at the same time universal
and innovative in its musical technique. The idea of this work had originated
earlier, as the composer explains – in the years of the Nazi occupation:
Years ago, in the darkest time of German occupation in Warsaw, in a small circle of artistfriends,
we discussed which place, landscape or atmosphere best expresses the gist of
that wondrous phenomenon of the Fatherland, of which we all feel a small insignificant
part, and whose name is Poland. Stefan Jaracz, who was then with us, claimed that the
Vistula Valley near Kazimierz could best epitomise all that was related to the mother
country in his heart. [...] Some time later this image became associated in my mind with

Émigrés by Choice 15
Żeromski’s beautiful prose. Like no one else, he managed to find the right words to
conjure up the same picture (Palester 1955a: 3).
Palester’s cantata is coherent and logical in structure, with a deliberately
dry sound resulting from the instrumentation itself (a reciting voice, mixed
choir and instrumental ensemble consisting of four horns, two harps, two pianos
and percussion), contrasting with Żeromski’s exalted words. The main
theme appears not in the beginning, but in the central part, and it consists of
twelve tones successively used, followed by the inversion of the first six. This
is not yet dodecaphony, but undoubtedly – a turn towards atonality and ’integral
chromaticism’, as the composed called it. The piece was commissioned
by the Belgian committee of the Chopin Year and first performed in Brussels
on 27th June 1950, in Poland – as late as 1957 and only once, so it could not
have impact in its own time and did not find a lasting place in the memory
of the audience as an original attempt to combine Polish tradition with the
new musical language.
The music of émigré composers also includes religious genres, completely
excluded in Poland in the first decade after the war. These genres are represented
by: Roman Palester’s Requiem (1945–1949) and Missa brevis (1951) and
Roman Maciejewski’s monumental Requiem of 1946–1959. Tansman’s oratorio
The Prophet Isaiah draws on the Old Testament tradition. Socialist realism,
it appears, did not manage to break the continuity of manifestations of
sacrum in Polish music between Szymanowski and Penderecki. Émigre works
also represent the rather scarce and not very interesting Polish operatic music
of the time, e.g. Tansman’s Le Serment to a libretto by Balzac (1953, staged
in Warsaw’s Grand Theatre only in 2009) and Kassern’s operas including The
Anointed (1949–1951) to the composer’s own English language libretto telling
the story of a 17th-century Jewish mystic and self-styled messiah. This work
became the composer’s artistic creed, both ideologically and musically. In it,
he applied his own original tonal system based on 21 sounds to the octave.
The same motif of a false messiah was later taken up by Tansman in his opera
Sabbatai Zévi, le faux Messie (1959).
We can see that in the music of the first postwar decade there were, apart
from similarities and points of contact between Poland and the emigration,

16 Zofia Helman
also differences. The works of émigré composers supplemented and enriched
the panorama of Polish music. Including their compositions, then unknown
in Poland and frequently even to our day existing only on paper (in print or
manuscript) in the chronology of Polish music history, we can observe a hidden
trend of stylistic transformations resulting from the individual strategies
of composers. In 1946–49 this trend is marked by such works as Palester’s Requiem,
The Vistula cantata and Symphony No. 3, Lutosławski’s Symphony No. 1
and Overture, Panufnik’sLullaby for 29 instruments and 2 harps, Circle of Fifths
and Nocturne. The transformations which were then inaugurated were continued
in émigre music: in Palester’s Symphony No. 4, Sonnets to Orpheus for
voice and orchestra, Orchestral variations and Preludes for piano, in Kassern’s
opera The Anointed, andinRegamey’sMusique pour cordes. Their innovative
character consisted in references to Viennese School atonality and to Alban
Berg’s expressionist poetics. In music written in Poland, similar changes
would be clearly evident only as late as approximately 1956.
The Neoclassical style, moderate in its composition techniques, made it
possible for composers in socialist countries to elude Zhdanov’s communist
party call for social involvement, but avoiding Charybdis meant falling
into Scylla’s paws: using the same formal and technical conventions without
innovations in musical language inevitably had to lead to Neoclassical
academism. The Polish communist regime strove to isolate composers from
centres of the world avant-garde and from Western music, which could explain
why the natural processes of change had come to a halt. One should
remember, though, that Neoclassicism had a stable and strong position also
among the majority of émigré composers, who expressed little interest in the
avant-garde movement.
Despite the rather shallow nature of the impact of the programme of socialist
realism on composers in Poland, for six years it effectively eliminated
from the country’s publications all axiological debate and any discussions
of the world avant-garde. It would be hard to imagine, in the years 1949–54,
any contestation of the Zhdanov theses. Exactly in the same period, émigré
publications revealed the real mechanisms concealed under the guise
of bridging the gap between the artistic elite and the masses. In 1951 in

18 Zofia Helman
by the machinery of the state. The idea of broadening the ranks of the audience,
of popularising music, has always been close to composers’ minds;
however, in a Sovietised society cultural policies do not serve the aim of musical
education of the masses, but rather – turn music into an instrument of
the propaganda.
The arbitrary imposition on all audiences – regardless of their level of intellectual development
– of the worst things proves once again that the policy aims to bring culture
to the lowest possible level and that the whole campaign has a fundamentally negative
objective: namely, to bring the minds of men to the greatest possible confusion and exhaustion,
in which state the “new culture” could most easily be planted there (1951a:
12)
Palester does not attempt to reduce the problem of music in socialist countries
to a mere questioning of artistic freedom, as art had never really been
free and the artist is limited by the qualities of his material as much as he
is determined by the achievements of his predecessors and contemporaries.
Neither does the author of the articles accept the extreme Neoclassical view
that music does not express anything apart from itself; rather, he willingly
admits that all art is a specific sign of its times. Still, Palester claims that
art has developed from a spiritualist and humanist worldview, so that the acceptance of
today’s ’scientific [i.e. Marxist] interpretation of phenomena’ must sooner or later lead
to the questioning of the very sense of the existence of all artistic activity (1951a: 7).
The difference lies in the fact that in previous ages
the composer’s role was to express the tendencies and thoughts of his society, since he
felt, thought, experienced and reacted in the same way as, sincerely and of their own
free will, did everyone in his community. In the Soviet system, however, the artist only
ostensibly expresses the “tendencies” of the nation and of his contemporaries, whereas
in fact he is pushed by all kinds of means – by political pressure, bribery, flogging and
caressing – to walk hand in hand with that very small ruling cast which imposes on
him a standpoint full of lies and self-deception, one which no longer expresses either
his own experience or the thoughts of the society around him (1951b: 18).
The contemporary crisis of culture, however, is not, according to Palester,
caused by the economy and it develops simultaneously on both sides of the
’iron curtain’.

Émigrés by Choice 19
The assumption that the struggle to preserve the key values of our civilisation goes on
only on this side of the iron curtain, and does not take place among those millions that
have been enslaved by a hostile system against their will – is a tragic and mechanical
simplification, as also is the claim that on the Western side of the curtain our culture is
not undergoing a crisis (1951a: 8).
If, then, we are looking for elements which would help oppose the art of
the Sovieticised world on the one hand and commercial American art on the
other, Palester points to the remnants of the culture of former undivided Europe.
He illustrates the aims of those three worlds with the example of three
compositions: Dmitri Shostakovich’s oratorio Song of the Woods, Gian Carlo
Menotti’s opera The Consul and Luigi Dallapiccola’s opera Il Prigoniero.Only
that last work was written "in a thoroughly modern fashion, communicating
in a difficult, quite intricate musical language (1951b: 19), whereas the
compositions by Shostakovich and Menotti “are written in an easily accessible
style, several decades old, and bring absolutely nothing new; they do not
even try to achieve any originality or individual tone” (Ibidem: 19). In contrast,
it is “with a sense of relief, gratification and satisfaction” that Palester
moves on to a discussion of Dallapiccola’s opera, where
we sense that deep wisdom and maturity that comes from long centuries of serious
artistic tradition, to which we are referred for the understanding of every gesture, the
realisation of every stylistic value and all that vast content that lies in understatements.
And perhaps art – in our sense of the word – is indeed a speciality of the Old World
(Ibidem: 21).
In his articles, Palester moves freely from historical examples to contemporary
phenomena, from poetic language in the tale of Marsyas to a harsh and
caustic polemic. The main target of his criticism is the sociological approach
to music (in the contemporary Marxist sense). In the times when art was to
be spread among the masses and the individual was held in low regard, he
did not hesitate to say that “all that remains to us from the past, all that is
a living form of cultural continuity in us – all this was created by a small
minority, and for a minority” (Palester 1955b: 4). Palester himself, similarly
to his friends in emigration, did not try to create politically involved art àrebours.
They opposed the totalitarian tendencies in art with their individual
attitudes, the choice of emigration, escape from the captivity of the mind,

20 Zofia Helman
and, though more rarely – with radio broadcasts, like Palester, or with publications.
Their music, on the other hand, remained free from service to any
cause or political accents. The composer’s message contained in the works
of Palester, Tansman or Maciejewski (Requiem) is conceived in terms general
enough to represent universal ideas. Thus, also from the aesthetic point of
view, the émigrés contributed new values to the Polish aesthetic thought of
the period, which was otherwise polarised between the concept of politically
and socially functional art and the idea of music as a pure sound construct
(Kisielewski).
The programme of socialist realism in Poland collapsed after the breakthrough
of October 1956. It had never had a strong artistic impact among
composers and, most importantly, it could not lead to the creation of a new
style, though that was precisely the aim imposed on the artists. We can therefore
only associate the concept of socialist realism with music that had a propagandist
text, because in terms of composition technique socialist realism
was either a return to 19th-century tonal forms – not to those most refined,
but to the common and banal ones (as in the so-called “mass songs”) – or
a major simplification of the existing Neoclassical principles, the supraindividual
style which had dominated before World War II. In music, then, socialist
realism was not a “style”, but rather a lack of style or an adulteration
of style. The imposed aesthetic programme resulting from the change of political
system, brought the natural, autonomous transformations of musical
style to a halt, but did not manage to cause or even influence the emergence
of a new style. In this situation, émigré music, in combination with the authentic
trends in music created at home, but avoiding socialist realism, are
the two markers of the immanent development of Polish music.
After the 1956 crisis, Polish composers, wishing to oppose and reject the
recent past, turned to new trends and techniques, causing a sudden acceleration
in the search for new ways of approaching musical material. In the
1950s and 60s, Polish music went through a period of dynamic transformations
and worldwide expansion. The appearance of great artistic individualities
(Witold Lutosławski, Krzysztof Penderecki, Kazimierz Serocki, Tadeusz
Baird, Henryk Mikołaj Górecki) and of many interesting talents meant that

Émigrés by Choice 21
the “Polish school of composition” joined the mainstream of change. It might
seem that the isolation of émigré composers no longer made any sense. And
indeed, in the late 1950s their works began to appear again in programmes of
concerts held in Poland – only Panufnik still remained blacklisted. But after
1960, Palester was banned again. At the same time, there were already new
reasons for émigré music to be sidelined. The music of Tansman, Szałowski,
Spisak, or Laks had come to a standstill, using the same old Neoclassical
stylistic conventions. Others had died (Jerzy Fitelberg, Rathaus, Kassern)
or had fallen almost completely silent (Feliks Łabuński, Michał Kondracki).
Naturally, among the works of those émigré composers there are still masterpieces
which expand the old conventions in individual ways, but in that
period of fascination with the avant-garde, there was no longer any place for
them in concert programmes in Poland. Maciejewski’s Requiem, performed
at the Warsaw Autumn in 1960, met with no response at all. Michał Spisak’s
works were similarly regarded as relics of the past. On the other hand, pieces
by Régamey and Haubenstock-Ramati – composers associated with the world
musical avant-garde – found their place in the programmes of that festival.
There was still silence over the activity of Palester and Panufnik. Even at
the Congress of Culture in December 1981, interrupted by the introduction
of the martial law in Poland, the impoverishment of Polish music by the
state’s cultural policies, also after 1956, which deprived that culture of the
major values represented by émigré music – was not a subject to be discussed.
First foreign performances of went unnoticed in Polish press and
were not mentioned in the special publications containing chronicles of musical
events. Even when the censors ceased to cross out the names of Palester
and Panufnik, many years of oblivion still meant that, based on Polish publications
from the communist period, one could get the impression that émigré
art was of no importance to our musical present and belongs exclusively to
a past stylistic period. The truth is, however, that after 1960 Palester wrote his
greatest works testifying to his profound artistic individuality: the musical
action La Mort de Don Juan, the second version of Symphony No. 4, Concerto
for viola and orchestra, Symphony No. 5, Espressioni and Sonata No. 2 for piano.In
his music we can observe a symptomatic relation to past and contemporary

22 Zofia Helman
émigré literature: this trend in his oeuvre includes Three Poems by Czesław
Miłosz for voice and instrumental ensemble, Monograms – concerto for voice
and piano to words by Kazimierz Sowiński, and LetterstoMyMother–cantata
to words by Juliusz Słowacki. Conversely, the émigré poet Kazimierz
Wierzyński paid homage to the composer in his Poem for Roman Palester.
In the 1980s, three great works were completed by three composers in
Poland and abroad: Lutosławski’s Symphony No. 3, Palester’s Symphony No. 5
and Panufnik’s Symphony No. 9 – each bearing the mark of its author’s personality,
each composed in a different musical idiom, and yet all the three,
in more or less the same period, take up a similar artistic problem – coming
to grips with the most famous West European genre and reviving a great
symphonic form.
The situation of émigré music in the 1980s and 90s was not comparable
with that of émigré literature. The latter enjoyed great success, even under
the martial law in underground circulation or samizdat; but the music,
which in most cases was not immersed in political contexts, did not meet
with a similar response. It did not provide the Tyrtaean patriotic call to fight
for independence, which was much sought for in the period when the audience
preferred ethical to aesthetic values. One exception was the music of
Panufnik, which found fertile ground in Poland in the 1980s. Such pieces
as Katyń Epitaph (1967, performed at the Warsaw Autumn in 1989), Sinfonia
votiva (1980–1981, performed at the Warsaw Autumn in 1986), Song to the Virgin
Mary (1964, performed at the Warsaw Autumn in 1983), Bassoon concerto
(1985, played in St Stanislaus Kostka Church in Warsaw’s Żoliborz in 1987)
all had political undertones and represented the composer’s emotional response
to past and present events in the life of the nation. This is what the
composer wrote of Sinfonia votiva, composed in August 1981 during the workers’
strikes in Gdańsk:
With a surge of optimism I thought that, through the will of my oppressed countrymen,
change might at last be achieved in Poland: I decided to write the new symphony as my
own votive offering to the Black Madonna, joining my voice to the strikers’ by invoking
her aid on their behalf (Panufnik 1987: 339).

Émigrés by Choice 23
His Bassoon concerto was dedicated to the memory of Father Jerzy Popiełuszko:
Although the concerto was basically an abstract work without any literary programme,
listeners, especially those with some knowledge of Father Popiełuszko’s dedicated religious
life and savage death, might recognise in my music just an echo perhaps of the
priest’s patriotic sermon, his humble prayer, or even his last, fatal interrogation by the
Secret Police before his tortured body was thrown into the reservoir by the Vistula river
(Ibidem: 345).
To what extent can political contents be translated into music Panufnik
frequently states that he does not write programme music and that it was
only in specific conditions of reception that the audience looked for specific
contents and meanings in his works. The composer’s commentaries to such
works as Arbor cosmica or Sinfonia di sfere prove that he is most interested
in the links between geometric construction and musical architecture, and
in the structuring of intervalic cells. But, apart from these interests, he has
a mental need for patriotic gesture, for the manifestation of his attitude to
dramatic events in the mother country – which proves that the idea of “involvement”
is not quite dead in his music. It also betrays his hidden aesthetic
assumption that the link between music and reality depends on the choice
of a “theme” (which might even be extra-artistic) and on the expression of
the artist’s emotional attitude to political matters in his work. Quite symptomatic
here was Panufnik’s reaction to the reception of his Sinfonia elegiaca
in the West:
Why were they afraid to say what the symphony was about, to mention World War Two
and my lament for the lack of freedom in my own and other Communist-dominated
countries Would the West not allow music to have a theme Did we all have to be
abstract, polite, antiseptically detached from issues of importance Was art to touch
only upon the pretty sides of life and have no relevance to issues which affected huge
slabs of humanity Was I after all so conditioned by Socialist Realism that I wanted to
speak through my music even if along another line of thought (Ibidem: 258).
The works of émigré composers as discussed in the context of Polish music
after the war demonstrates a number of similarities which testify to shared
roots and to the common ground shared by that generation. External conditions
(life circumstances, the political and economic system) did not always

24 Zofia Helman
determine the character of their music and stylistic differences. What proved
more important was that generation’s common way of thinking about composition,
rooted in shared traditions and in the universal values of European
culture. The émigre music, on the other hand, owed its specific qualities to
outstanding artistic personalities who till the end of their lives strove “to add
a few tiny bricks to the immense edifice of our culture’s continuity and identity”
(Palester 1955a: 3).
Works cited
Bolesławska B. (2001). Panufnik (Cracow : Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne).
Cegiełła J. (1976). Szkice do autoportretu polskiej muzyki współczesnej. Rozmowy z kompozytorami
przeprowadził Janusz Cegiełła [Drafts for a Self-Portrait of Polish
Contemporary Music – Janusz Cegiełła’s Interviews with Composers], Cracow.
Chomiński Józef. M., Lissa Z. (eds.) (1957). Kultura muzyczna Polski Ludowej (1944–
1954) [Musical Culture in the People’s Republic of Poland (1944–54)], Cracow.
Coudy R., Laks S. (1948). Musique d’un autre monde,Paris.
Dziennik Polski i Dziennik Żołnierza [Polish and Soldiers’ Daily] (1950). London,
25th August.
Dziębowska E. (ed.) (1968). Polska współczesna kultura muzyczna (1944–1964)[Polish
Contemporary Musical Culture (1944–64)], Cracow.
Granat-Janki A. (1995). Forma w twórczości instrumentalnej Aleksandra Tansmana
[Form in Alexander Tansman’s Instrumental Works], Wrocław.
Helman Z. (1992). “Muzyka na obczyźnie” [Music in Exile]. In: Fik M. (ed.) Między
Polską a światem. Kultura emigracyjna po 1939 roku [Between Poland and the
World. Emigrant Culture after 1939], Warsaw, pp.209–227; French translation
(1992a): “Musique en exil,” Polish Art. Studies XIV, Wrocław–Warsaw–
Cracow, pp. 187–202.
Helman Z. (1999). Roman Palester. Twórca i dzieło [Artist and His Work] (Cracow:
Musica Iagellonica).
Helman Z. (2003). “Gra z tradycją w ‘Concertinie na tematy dawnych tańców polskich’
Romana Palestra” [The Interplay with Tradition in Roman Palester’s
“Concertino on the Themes of Old Polish Dances”]. In: Jeż T. (ed.) Complexus
Effectuum Musicologiae. Studia Miroslao Perz septuagenario dedicata, Cracow,
pp. 425–434.

Émigrés by Choice 25
Jędrychowska J. (1988). “Rozmowa z Romanem Palestrem” [An Interview with
Roman Palester]. In: Widzieć Polskę z oddalenia [Viewing Poland from Afar],
Paris.
Kisielewski S. (1948). “Czy muzyka jest niehumanistyczna” [Is Music Non-Humanist],
Znak no.4;reprintedin:thesameauthor’sMuzyka i mózg [Music
and the Brain], Cracow 1974, pp. 9–31.
Palester R. (1951a). “Konflikt Marsjasza” [The Marsyas Conflict], Kultura (Paris)
nos. 7(45)–8(46), pp. 3–16.
Palester R. (1951b). “Uwagi o muzyce czyli ‘Pazylogia’ i ‘współczesny Apollo”’
[Notes on Music, or “Pasilogia” and “the contemporary Apollo”], Kultura
(Paris) no. 12 (50), pp. 4–22.
Palester R. (1955a). “Nagroda muzyczna Oddziałów Wartowniczych” [Guard
Troops Music Award], weekly addendum to Ostatnie wiadomości, Mannheim,
23rd October, R. VIII, no. 43(360).
Palester R. (1955b). “O Leonie Schillerze” [On Leon Schiller], Wiadomości, (London)
30th October, no. 500. Reprinted in: Timoszewicz J.(ed.) Ostatni romantyk
sceny polskiej. Wspomnienia o Leonie Schillerze [The Last Romantic of the
Polish Stage], Cracow 1990, pp. 179–190.
Panufnik A. (1987). Composing Myself, London.
Siemdaj E. (2003). Panufnik. Twórczość symfoniczna [Symphonic Works], Cracow.
Szczurko E. (2008). Twórczość Antoniego Szałowskiego w kontekście muzyki XX wieku
[Antoni Szałowski’s Work in the Context of 20th Century Music], Bydgoszcz.

2
Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict”
as a Radical Vision of the Emigration
Violetta Wejs-Milewska
Under the date of 29th January 1977, Stefan Kisielewski noted:
Poor Roman Palester lingers on in that stupid Paris living off his Radio Free Europe
pension, and he still composes, but they don’t want to perform it. Perhaps in the end
his socialist motherland will take him in – and this will be the end of this epic tale
(Kisielewski 1996: 894).
Mercilessly, as he was wont to do, Stefan Kisielewski thus summed up
Roman Palester’s unfinished biographical “odyssey”, including his musical
oeuvre’s soon-to-be comeback to Poland. There is indeed much bitter truth
in that brief quote, summarising 26 years of the composer’s residence in the
West. The second sentence of “Kisiel’s” note is in fact prophetic: the 1980s
were favourable to the author of the Vistula cantata and, in a sense, the performance
of his compositions in Cracow in 1983 might suggest that the " socialist
motherland" had indeed “taken him in”. This might be true, but only
if we keep the phrase in inverted commas – though, on the other hand, it was
in the 1980s that Palester got performed most frequently.
The paradoxical and coincidental character of events had a bearing not
only on Palester’s personal life, but also on his music and writings. In his
own life, there came true all the essential points of his excellent essay entitled
“The Marsyas Conflict”, printed in nos. 7–8 of the Parisian culture (1951a) following
the publication of Miłosz’s “No” (1951). Palester’s essay presents the
gist of his personal artistic programme, puts in words the idea of the painful

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 27
and phenomenal coupling of art and fatalism. In order to explain that tragic
bond of necessity that determines art, Palester recalls and also transforms
the mythological story of the conflict of Marsyas and Apollo. By recalling
and refreshing the myth, he moves his discourse into the metaphysical regions,
as for the author the act of creation is linked up with a mind-boggling
mental imperative, with the hell of the self and the extreme endeavour to
embody individual artistic vision in matter. The source of that crystalline vision
that flows into the artist-instrument lies in the mysterious “beyond” or
“above”. This concerns not only the struggle with one’s own material, one’s
parole, but also – putting his artistic creation into a form possibly as close to
the intended one as possible. In that creative process and event, there is no
room for any aesthetic or ethical compromise other than that resulting from
the need to maintain a live connection with the listener’s world. The myth
does not leave any room for doubt also on that issue. And this is how Palester
begins his story:
When the young Phrygian named Marsyas – he who of all mortals was the best at the
difficult art of aulos playing – made up his mind to challenge Apollo himself to a contest,
the envious god punished him in a painful manner which was an insult to all sense
of ’justice’. Marsyas was ’tied to a trunk and flayed alive’, after which act he ’passed
beyond time and space with light steps’. Struck with a terrible punishment and dying
in torment, he became an unimportant, indifferent ’object’ and the power that took it
out on him was that tragic fatalistic force that determines not only mortal life, but also
that of the Olympians. [...]
“If we assume,” Palester soon concludes,
that Marsyas’ skill had all the beauty and the poetry that a man can put into a work of
art – which one cannot doubt if the myth is to retain any sense – than we cannot doubt,
either, that his conflict with Apollo was a fully conscious decision. He knew that he
had to challenge Apollo, and he was aware of all the inevitable consequences. Had he
not been aware of them, the tone of his double flute would surely have remained false
and dead. In modern terms, his challenge was simply the matter of “artistic honesty”
(1951a: 3).
It is not hard to guess that Palester refers here to the meaning of artistic
duty, to the phenomenon of the specific artistic “flaw”, stigma or complex, or
vocation – the “series of necessities” that determines everything. This series
of necessities, it should be stressed, will not become known without conflict,

28 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
and it pertains e x c l u s i v e l y to those who cannot resign from “giving
witness in their own radical way to the times and the people.” They are,
after all, heralds of their own truth. The strength of the artist’s condition,
conceived in this maximalist fashion, is “their personal, (hence) fatal vision
of the world” and “the unforgivable ability to think and doubt in the most
remarkable terms,” further explains the composer. Predictably, they pay the
highest price for this creative maximalism, and in most cases satisfaction has
at best a rather melancholy taste. The “light steps” of those who dared to
challenge Apollo (the authorities) and are now walking away mean that they
cannot win “here”, because life “here” is only the inside of the canvas – the
knots and seams, the unattractive grey warp threads, the chaos. Only the
other, “right side” is a perfect model, a model of sense and of deep meanings
capable of bearing with the tragic. This is, more or less, Palester’s ultimate
conclusion from the Marsyas story, but not the end of his discourse. The myth
– the allegory filled with centuries-old meanings – serves him as a framework
for the presentation to contemporary composers of the tension that exists
between creative maximalism and conformism, between the individual and
the world, and finally – between art and politics.
The fascinating story of Marsyas not so much defines as generally chalks
out the lines of division between ’true’ artists and those others – craftsmen
pursuing various crafts, those working on commission or mere copyists. At
the same time, the author’s narrative leads to a discussion of the meaning
and character of conformism, and of its many sources – both the obvious
and the individual ones. As a counterbalance, Palester introduces the categories
of Grace, spontaneity, and gift. 1 This, however, is not all. The problem
1 Palester spoke about the gift of grace, which is fundamental to his concept of artistry, in an interview
conducted by Jędrychowska (1988: 79): “I was brought up on Brzozowski and he was my main guide
in my youth. His thoughts have remained the closest to my mind ever since. No wonder that when I
discovered Kierkegaard in Paris, I saw him as a continuation of Brzozowski and Newman. His
anti-Hegelian, anti-Cartesian stand was very close to my own. For Kierkegaard, the aim is not
thinking in the Carthesian sense, but a lifetime of searching for God. Instead of the conscious
cerebral act he advocates the reflex, the feeling, the act of irrational faith. This brings us only a step
from Newman’s view that man’s relation with God must be spontaneous because it is a gift of
Grace. One who has been equipped with the gift of putting black notes on paper or combining
colours and forms so that they most magically come to life has been given precisely the same Grace
that other people find in other forms and disciplines.”

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 29
is immanent: it derives from the sphere of deep convictions, from the call of
truth and the strength of beliefs, or, in a nutshell – from the courage to tell
one’s own artistic tale, mostly – against the world. What Palester is trying
to say is, essentially, that ’men of letters’, ’painters’, ’composers’, even those
who have perfectly mastered the technique, the finite matter and precision,
but who d o n o t s e n s e the tragic Marsyas conflict behind the facade of
their craft – are in effect prone to too much compromise. This sounds like a
reproach, but also – like a justification. The greatness of an artist is measured
by the dimensions of his tragism and heroism, which still leaves space for
weakness. The essential conflict of which the mythological story tells takes
place “on another planet”, in the domain of metaphysics, even if the blows
are imminent. The artist’s exile has double nature: it is the hell of an individual’s
self, his inner constitution – and the cool “touch” of the world, its
haste, indifference, superficiality, as well as actions taken purposely against
the intractable artist.
Palester does not write exclusively about the specific situation of the artist
living in Poland in the 1950s (though this context suggests itself immediately),
but also about a certain timeless model situation. In “The Marsyas
Conflict,” Palester seems to say: it has always been like this. In the 1950s,
however, the scale of the phenomenon was quite new and the artist had
good reasons to be horrified. To use the mythological terms, the new situation
brought the ruthlessness of the “Apollonian pressures,” the terror of
the sociology of reception, of the public demand, the mass character (a modern
version of universality) and, finally – the most perverted form of an
obligatory declaration and decree of the conformity of reception with the
product of the quasi-artistic production in socialist realism. And yet there is
nothing new in the fact that the audience, or rather – the individual recipient
– enters the very space of the creative act and influences its final shape. Still,
there are significant differences if we compare the model of a “democratic
(i.e. mediated) circulation” of a work of art with the socialist realist variant
which Palester discusses in his myth.
The author brings in the institution of recipient and the tradition of “mediation”
between the recipient and the artist. Gradually he uses these cat-

30 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
egories to present the contemporary version of artistic conformism, but he
limits his own analysis of this attitude e x c l u s i v e l y to the domain of
art. He opens his presentation with this statement:
[...] the relations between the author and the consumer are based on the principle of a
wise and subtle aesthetic compromise which depends on each individual taking from
the work of art only what he or she requires. From the point of view of the artist, the recipient
has always appeared as an unknown, nameless mass similar to the atmospheric
pressure: he could not live without him, but we view his existence as something so
obvious and integrated into our lives that we almost never think about him (Ibidem: 5).
Another dichotomy interestingly presented in the essay is the relation between
artistic freedom and the Marsyas conflict, which leads to the question:
to what extent is it possible to balance the two wings of the artistic process
through mediation. On the one hand, artistic freedom with its paradoxical
complex (or need) of the adequate expression of sublimation, on the other –
the conscious choice of self-limitation which is also a necessity resulting from
technique, material, tools, tradition, the boundaries of the selected theme,
form, existing aesthetics formed the accumulated experience of one’s predecessors.
The realisation that, in this multitude of limitations, freedom can
only find a small niche – is a foretaste and harbinger of tragedy, and the unfulfilment
and shame, interspersed with moments of elevation, thrill and joy
are only the framework for the peripeteia resulting inevitably in fatality. Art
would only be absolutely free if it expressed nothing using boundless, infinite
means, Palester claims, and this alone is already a contradiction, as art
is a finite act projecting an “event,” which due to aesthetic mediation takes
place in the space of permanent change, in the interpretative discourse of
tradition. This conclusion leads the composer into the sphere of politics and
transports artistic activity into region of huge, perhaps the greatest risk. This
is what interests us most in Palester’s essay today, and in his time it was an
urgent issue awaiting intellectual analysis and prompt decisions concerning
the distinct attitudes that the authors of culture were to assume. In the essay,
we read:
Hence the demand for “freedom” transferred into this realm [of politics] from the 19th
century has caused a confusion of terms, destroyed the former equilibrium and resulted
in an ever deepening crisis of the artist’s relation with “the rest of the world.” Artists

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 31
have used all the overpowering force of their talents to cry out hymns of freedom in
various keys instead of speaking (not “singing”) about the specific freedoms of publication,
of personal freedom, and the principle of the nation’s self-determination. It is
naturally honourable and praiseworthy for a poet to stand up for nations fighting for
political freedom, but in effect this subject has led the artists much further than into the
regions of Platonic admiration of freedom. Inconspicuously, the subject has involved
the artists in politics tout court. The Marsyas conflict has thus been transplanted – either
consciously or not – into the sphere of political and sociological polemic, and the artists
themselves largely contribute to the rise of that homo politicus so characteristic of the
period of struggle for democracy.
All this happens to the obvious detriment of the purely artistic level of their works
(Ibidem: 6).
The artist, then, as a man and a citizen, member of a community ought
to speak out only as a member of that community, using a language that
does not belong to his artistic workshop. Employing that workshop in the
service of politics and using it to achieve specific political (i.e. practical life)
goals via a metaphor – proves in essence that one does not understand the
meaning of artistic vocation. If we take the materialist construct of human
existence as a certainty, cutting off all links with metaphysics, then Marsyas’
sad vicissitudes lose all sense. An unconditional acceptance of the “scientific
interpretation of phenomena” must lead the artist astray and make him
question both the aim and sense of all artistic creation. The Marsyas myth
(an allegory of the artist) then becomes only a ’phantom’ and an “extreme”
model of non-conformism.
Palester’s further line of argument comes close to Miłosz’s conclusions
from his essay “Nie,” with that one difference that for the composer the
moral crisis of the artist takes place on both sides of the iron curtain, though
“at the moment” (i.e. in the 1950s) it is freely discussed and verbalised on
“this,” i.e. Western side, which does not mean that in the totalitarian system
the intellectuals and artists collaborating on, or forced to support the
system’s machinery are not aware of that crisis (though it is not publicly discussed
there).
As for conformism, Palester’s argument pertains mostly to the reality of
communist countries; earlier, the composer briefly recalls the fascist totalitarianism
in its variant that existed on the occupied territories (the under-

32 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
ground artistic life in occupied Poland, links between artists, the joint effort
and the peculiar state of concentration that was maintained in the artistic
society, then threatened with annihilation). This experience paradoxically
yielded positive results in the first three years of communist Poland. We
follow the author as he unwaveringly treads the path of non-conformism.
Palester’s memories, it should be stressed, are important for the history of
artistic (musical) life in Poland, as they concern the earliest postwar period,
its atmosphere (influenced by the awareness of a clear rift between the prewar
times and that after the 1945 “liberation,” the experience of the Warsaw
Uprising, of the Yalta arrangements and their consequences for Poland) and
the growing sense of isolation, as well as necessity of taking a definite standpoint
in the face of the threatening new order. “After the horrid shock of
Yalta, of the Warsaw Uprising, and the ‘liberation’,” the composer recalled,
artists began to rebuild cultural life in the same manner as all other Poles, at the same
time being clearly aware of the fact that a period of harsh bondage and new struggle
was about to begin (Palester 1951a: 9).
It is essential that we note Palester’s words: “being clearly aware of the
fact that a period of harsh bondage [...] was about to begin.” This statement
is important because it contradicts historical fatalism and the belief in necessary
submission to history’s decrees. This statement also shows that e.g. the
artistic society (including musicians) was not so deeply “intoxicated” with
communism at all. Palester stresses, first of all, the society’s active stand (perhaps
something like involved scepticism), important as a standpoint and a
gesture in terms of long-term continuation of culture. “But since Poles have
had many occasions to learn how to fight the invaders in an unyielding, most
sophisticated way on a day-to-day basis,” we read further on,
work was started at once in an admirable harmony, because we and the others also knew
that we had to use that temporary gap in organisation, in state control, as well as the total
lack of any supporters of the regime, in order to do as much good as could be done in
that period. One could write volumes, filled with anecdotes, sometimes quite hilarious:
things that would not possibly ’do’ under the careful watch of the central authorities
in Warsaw were done in provincial towns where animosity between local party chiefs
could skilfully be used, and one cheated wherever one only could. [...] All this without
any euphoria, as we soon realised that even if some minister or another dignitary thinks
similarly to us – which in that initial period happened more frequently than it might

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 33
seem – still, without the decision of the secret boss of his conscience he could not see
to even the simplest things. And just as soon we also realised that the hidden Soviet
guardian serves mainly one goal – not to let anything positive or beneficial take place.
There was no question of voluntarily choosing emigration and exile in those days, and
everybody agreed in Poland that we had to stay, in order to fight the destructive impact
of the invader (Palester 1951a: 10).
That natural and spontaneous atmosphere of revival and reconstruction in
the shadow of totalitarianism would last, as Palester specified, more or less
till 1948. After that time, however, artists were treated to the stick and the
carrot in turns, and the composer also stresses that the regime had powerful
weapons of corruption which could often bring the desired effects. “By such
means,” Palester goes on,
the warm and friendly collaboration developed under the occupation was quite soon
undermined. [...] Composers could no longer take part in the organisation of musical
life, as the key positions were filled with people who were most inappropriate, but politically
secure for the party. At the same time, artists were offered living conditions
which were excellent in comparison with the rest of the society – and provided with
plenty of money. Many reacted with naive delight, but admittedly there are also others
for whom the position of the privileged fans of the regime has become more than uncomfortable.
Not to mention the fact that in this way the public’s enmity towards this
new aristocracy was shrewdly generated. It is sometimes said that in return for their
privileged material situation artists have allowed themselves to be seduced more than
the rest of the population by the fine promises of the regime – and this may partially be
true. Still, one can hardly expect everyone to be a hero in everyday life, especially since
all the changes in the life of our “satellite” country are introduced secretly and inconspicuously
behind the facade of “unshakeable” principles. No artist is being forced to
make an immediate “declaration.” The pressure continues for years and it would be a
gross simplification to suggest that an artist at one point receives a specific “order” to
follow one definite line. The pressure is exerted by all indirect means, and the final loss
of artistic freedom is not something that could be clearly pinpointed or dated. It takes
years and so becomes more elusive, especially since the artist himself is a witness to
ever changing official slogans and to the bitter fight of various cliques and tendencies
within the party and the government; and the incredibly low human standard of all
these actions allows him to cherish an illusion that perhaps after all he will manage to
retain some degree of internal independence (Palester 1951a: 10–11).
This perhaps rather lengthy quotation seems justified, first of all by the
fact that Palester’s essay and his argumentation have hardly ever been considered
so far in studies of the relation between art and politics, and secondly
– because it presents interesting insights into the earliest days of the

34 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
new regime’s intrusion into the space of both the spirit and of social reception.
The composer’s account of the functioning of institutions which were to
support artists and shape the aesthetics of reception is of great significance
to a better understanding of the first few years of communist Poland after
the war. Palester clearly states that there was no specific date or moment
that could be pointed as the start of the expansion of socialist realism or of a
uniform social philosophy, in which art was to participate. Relative freedom
did not last until some proclamation of the new dogma. Freedom had no
beginning, either (because of censorship and press policies determining the
numbers of copies); there was only the everyday "hacking through" to create
the space of relative freedom of action and limited creative space, only possible
(what a paradox!) thanks to shrewdness, deception, the acceptance of
double ethics in social life. Socialist realism as a set of binding rules begins
where the primitivism of the recipient’s background, of his readiness for the
prescribed type of art, becomes an authoritative order put into practice, so –
when it becomes a social fact.
The postulate of an art from which “involvement” or direct functionality
as an object is required is not new, and was not the invention of fascist or
communist totalitarian ideology, even though I believe that the very fact of
discussing its social rudiments might in a sense be taken as a symptom of
crisis. Nevertheless, in the past critics and commentators concentrated on
individual artistic objects, projecting or forecasting the future tendencies.
The twentieth century reverted this process: it began to practise prospective
criticism which prescribes rules without grounding them in the analysis of
individual works or the tendencies they represent. This phenomenon, interesting
in its novelty, contributed to a revival of arts and their environment in
the two decades between the wars through avant-garde artistic manifestos
questioning the existing values and undermining habits. The phenomenon
functioned a bit like yeast in that period. It only began to pose a threat for
art itself in the countries of socialist realism where the requirement of suiting
the language of artistic expression to the needs of the society became a
kind of new fetish, and detailed planning of this process – one of the most
compromising inventions of the Zhdanov Doctrine.

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 35
This is the problem taken up by Palester in another essay, “Notes on Music,
or ‘Pasilogia’ and ‘the contemporary Apollo”’(1951b),which is a direct continuation
of “The Marsyas Conflict.” Its interest lies also in the development
of the motif of artistic conformism as a factor adjusting the artist to his audience
on the grounds of an honest aesthetic discourse, and non-conformism
as a cause of dissonance, isolation, bitter unfulfilment and the faith in the
artist’s imaginary position as destroyer, unruly rebel, experimentator and the
Nietschean Übermensch. Either of these variants is accompanied by a sense
of defeat – by Marsyas’ fatalism. Giving up technical demands and the possibilities
of artistic expression offered by the accumulated workmanship of
generations is opposed to putting oneself at disposal, struggling with artistic
technique, solving problems which accompany the development of art.
These are the dilemmas and the source of intriguing interactive risk which
is the ultimate expression of sublimation.
In “The Marsyas Conflict,” however, which in this article is used as the
basis for my discussion of Palester’s model of exile, this adjustment or education
of the audience in communist Poland was presented as pure nonsense.
“It is clear,” the composer writes,
that each artist will willingly accept anything that widens the scope of his work’s reception,
and that Polish musicians, keeping Moniuszko’s Household Songbooks in fond
memory, have for many years organised a large number of open, popular or youth concerts,
etc., as part of their audience building campaign. It was precisely the continuation
of this campaign that the authorities attempted most forcefully to thwart after the war.
Even if we assume that the campaign had formerly been ill-advised, collecting even the
most basic statistics with regard to musical genres and kinds that workers, peasants and
the musically uneducated youth wish to listen to would help to deal seriously at least
the issue of the musical education of the wide populace. But no such action was ever
taken! The arbitrary imposition on all audiences – regardless of their level of intellectual
development – of the worst things proves once again that the policy aims to bring
culture to the lowest possible level and that the whole campaign has a fundamentally
negative objective: namely, to bring the minds of men to the greatest possible confusion
and exhaustion, in which state the “new culture” could most easily be planted there.
The struggle naturally goes on, but for now the reformers’ aim has been achieved: the
Polish artist has been completely deprived of the possibility of direct contact with his
audience (Palester 1951b: 12).
In the context of thus represented problem and the ruthless tactics of the
“Apollonian authority,” the Marsyas conflict takes on a total dimension, as

36 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
it takes place both in the individual and the general sphere and it affects everyone:
craftsmen and artists, though it is deeply experienced by “creators,”
that is, by those who, following Palester’s reading of the myth, are aware
of their Marsyas-like predicament and accept “walking away” in its many
variants, as Palester in fact accepted his own emigration.
In the rattling cogs of that terrible treadmill characters are broken 2 and necks are bent
down... How can we expect those people to “enter the contest” with Apollo What about
the rebellion against the condition of the individual and how can we demand from
artists that in those hardest conditions they keep their strength which would allow them
to conceal – in the long run – their true aim and desire Even assuming that the artist will
manage to create a sincere work inside the four walls of his studio, and will wait with
its publication for other, better times – what greatness and what concentration would it
take to express, to bring forth from the guts all the pain, the humiliation and that tangle
of misery, doubt, tragedy and hatred that is called “the lot of today’s human” (Palester
1951b: 13).
In such an oppressive environment, the voluntary mediated conformism
of the artist with his recipient or projected audience is no longer possible.
Each successive step towards resigning from individuality and from the risk
without which individuality (avant-garde quality) has no chance to manifest
itself in the space of art, also – from one’s own style – threatens to pull the
artist down into the cobweb of human, institutional and political relations.
By giving way, as it were, to himself, by betraying himself, the artist enters
the path of conformism, servility, of complete dependence, and his personal
(spiritual) discomfort is the greater, the more aware he is in this resignation
of the need to speak with his “own” voice.
2 Palester refers here to the practice of the so-called auditions, whose minutes were published in
music periodicals. He views these minutes as a proof of dishonour and the definite ill-will of
“leading personages”, of the madness and aberration of Marxist intellectuals, as well as weakening
resistance on the part of artists. “One cannot but feel pity when one reads in those minutes about a
certain symphonic prelude which its author entitled ‘Epitaph in Praise of Falllen Heroes,’ and I
quote: “As it turned out, the ‘Symphonic Prelude’ or else ‘Epitaph’ was in fact an overture to an
‘Oratorio for Transfiguration Day.’ Not only did the author mislead his audience, but it is only in the
light of this discovery that the criticism of the piece becomes completely justified.” True enough, the
cool tone of this note could bode nothing good... (and what is the saddest in this, the informer must
have been, in this case, someone in a close relationship with the composer... (underscored by
VWM). When some piece is sharply criticised, each of the composer’s replies begins with a
stereotypical denouncement: ‘he wrote the piece a long time ago, well, a year ago (!) and today he
himself does not like the piece at all!”’ (1951b: 13)

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 37
How does all this influence the so-called social function of art, its value,
and in this case – the sense of creating music Palester has no illusions – the
Soviet experiment leads to the utter destruction of the foundations of Western
European, Mediterranean and Christian civilisation; the new civilisation
is to be built on the ruins and at the expense of the old one. The dialectic
verbal juggling from Stalin’s and Zhdanov’s speeches, and in the context of
Polish music – Zofia Lissa’s talk of “base” and “superstructure”, of “class
struggle in the musical sector” and the habitual use of expressions like “the
struggle for” and “struggle against” – leave no room for doubt – the nature of
the project is evident. There is no space here for make-believe, for pretending
that this new cultural engineering has no future, for treating it as a curiosity
or with condescension. When the author was writing these words in 1952, he
was deeply convinced that the experiment has a big chance of succeeding,
not because there is any real social demand for it, but because for different
reasons the intellectual-artistic environment in its majority takes part in it
and bestows a quite undeserved status on the project. 3
“The Marsyas Conflict” and “Notes on Music” are essentially a record of
their author’s authentic anxiety about his contemporary world and the values
that were dear to him – such as individualism, personal and creative
freedom, decency and responsibility. Most of all, however, what was at stake
was his own Marsyas conflict which was and would remain (as he thought)
a permanent part of his creative effort. The effort, at least theoretically, could
take on various shades, assume a different basis and form depending on the
3 The problem was fully articulated in this essay. Nevertheless, Palester had already attempted to
interest the opinion-forming circles in the West (during his temporary residence in France) and most
of all – the Polish emigrants with the problem of “finishing off” Polish culture. His sensitivity to
cultural issues is obvious, as he belonged to a generation which co-created “national culture” in
Poland between the wars in a debate with the Classical and Romantic past, with folk (indigenous)
elements – by composing works in the spirit of Karłowicz and Szymanowski. His was the generation
that was aware of the importance of culture for the inalienable (as it was seen at that time) value of
the collective identity of the revived but still spiritually immature nation and state. This generation
could not possibly agree with the policies of communist authorities in postwar Poland. And so
Palester concluded that it was time to “begin the great cry.” He also believed that émigré press
underestimated the dangers of the situation, “which is arranged so exceptionally shrewdly that if it
continues for a dozen years or more, there will be no need for an ‘accession’ to the Soviet Union as
Poles in Poland will cease to ‘be Polish’ in the sense of any fundamental separate cultural identity.”
From Palester’s letter to Kazimierz Wierzyński of 9th August 1950. Quoted after Wyrwa (2010: 36).

38 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
time and circumstances in which it was made. Communism and socialist
realism were – for Palester’s work – that most real of all contexts that determined
everything in his later life in emigration.
How different the situation at that time was from what the composer had
been used to before the war may be illustrated by the following fragment of
“Notes on Music.” First and foremost – the political context: “The factor that
in recent years has had the greatest impact on artists’ attitude to the society,”
he writes,
was the unexpected intervention of politics, which took place in the countries that went
through, or are now going through, the epidemic of totalitarianism. The foundations
and institutions of the totalitarian state have been so widely discussed that every person
on earth now knows how the government interferes in those countries with all spheres
of human activity. As far as music is concerned, everyone remembers Goebbels’s recent
games and is aware of what the Soviet Russia has in store. Goebbels’s activity has
finished in the meantime, so it will suffice to recall that German artists under his rule
did not produce a single work of any major significance – this at least concerns those
composers who stayed in Germany and enjoyed the favours and support of the shortlived
regime. Hitler’s minister of propaganda was also the inventor of the first musical
“proscription lists” which sentenced “to death” a great many compositions. The whole
system now develops very well in Russia, the difference being that the lists of “prohibited”
works are not officially published as in Goebbels’s case. And yet despite all the
devastation caused by Nazism, the decline in German musical culture is not as great
as it might sometimes seem, and the level of the German public’s preoccupation with
music is quickly recovering.
On the other hand, the way this issue has been handled in Russia is much more dangerous
[...]. The Soviet system has long gone beyond the strictly political or economic
doctrine. Its basic and elementary aim is now – to destroy our civilisation. The changes
that Bolshevism has brought in the sphere of human interrelations are so huge that they
themselves necessitate the creation of a future, quite altered culture. The idea frequently
seems quite absurd to us, especially when the authorities in the Kremlin speak loudly
about the “new culture” they will build at their command in just a few years. But in fact
the thing is real, and it proceeds faster than we might suppose (Palester 1951b: 16–17).
This absurd idea has its own methodology, which the composer patiently
explains:
Plato in his time assigned completely different social functions to music, and the old
medieval order of things was different altogether. In those bygone times, the composer’s
role was to express the tendencies and thoughts of his society, since he felt, thought,
experienced and reacted in the same way as, sincerely and of their own free will, did
everyone in his community. In the Soviet system, however, the artist only ostensibly
expresses the “tendencies” of the nation and of his contemporaries, whereas in fact he is

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 39
pushed by all kinds of means – by political pressure, bribery, flogging and caressing – to
walk hand in hand with that very small ruling cast which imposes on him a standpoint
full of lies and self-deception, one which no longer expresses either his own experience
or the thoughts of the society around him. That fundamental lie comes to the surface on
every occasion, it hits one’s eyes – and the musicians’ ears – whenever we are confronted
with the “achievements” of “socialist realist” art. Distressed, we observe the terrible
aesthetic contortions that the otherwise talented Russian composers are forced to get
into, though many of them deserve a better fate, and with regret we recall the pieces
written several years ago, then ’accepted’ for performance, but now strictly “forbidden”
and withdrawn from circulation. Apparently in the meantime the “superstructure” has
been altered and perhaps even the “base” changed Among this obvious muck that is
officially protected and advocated, there is not a single major Russian work of the recent
period that will stand the test of a dozen years. In the end, it always turns out that the
piece is not sufficiently “class-oriented” or it “dulls our vigilance,” or else “expresses
contents out of step with the times;’! The reader will guess that all these terms and
phrases have no reality in the realm of music, so the judgment must in each case be
quite arbitrary (Palester 1951b: 18–19).
To walk away, then, in order to save and hear one’s own voice – something
impossible in the neverending noise of vulgar street propaganda – to
carry one’s own truth, one’s own unfathomed creative complex – these were
sufficient reasons for emigration, or, more accurately, for changing the manner
of exile. For Palester, emigration is precisely this kind of attempt to stay
faithful to what he considers as his first artistic duty – namely, his artistic
honesty. No matter, he writes, where this duty could be fulfilled more easily
– what matters is where it could be performed more accurately. When
he writes about escape from the world of the absurd, he again returns to
the problem of conformism. Not so dangerous at first, a moment later it becomes
an inclined plane down which one unnoticeably descends into total
dependence from the authority and its whims. In that gesture of “choosing
freedom”, of “escape,” Palester does not fight for quiet sleep, for elementary
legal safety or protection from infringements of personal freedom, as
the regime-supporting artists are its aristocracy and need not fear the security
force. The main issue is the impossibility of preserving a fresh sense of
resistance, of sharp insight; one may also hardly live on in the state of permanent
alert in order to adequately react to every lie, even the smallest. The
danger of dulling one’s critical sense, of extreme exhaustion – this is what
Palester really feared. No wonder that he remembered the first few years af-

40 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
ter the war mainly as a painful experience of grappling with contradictory
feelings: on the one hand – love for the country, its landscape, people and
spiritual climate, the familiar melodies and all that was so well known; on
the other hand – the suffocating sense of rebellion against the Bolshevist-style
modernisation, against actions that destroyed that spiritual bond developed
through the nearly forty years of Palester’s life in the cultural framework associated
with interwar Poland. The experience of the tiresome and absurd
present seems so painful that it leads him to the “ultimate” choice, to the
right of being silenced and of being actively in opposition.
“At the moment there are artists in Poland,” Palester writes,
who have been completely seduced by the official propaganda and do for money what
they are told to do. Such individuals have always been around and there is no need to
dedicate more space to them. There is also a multitude of talentless literary wannabes
to whom the deterioration of artistic levels in our time has opened up brilliant opportunities.
There are others who pay for the right to certain elementary freedom with
some individual concessions and with the services of a political informer. And there
are also a few of those who have not made any concessions yet, have preserved their
artistic honesty quite intact and have chosen – silence. [...] Some are destroyed sooner,
and others later. There are artists who have been allowed to practise a more “formalist”
art than others (as it is notoriously true that the clique spirit, connections, friendships
and ’sucking up’ play a much greater role there than in the criticised capitalist world,
and this only contributes to the general demoralisation). Some therefore happen to have
more freedom than others because they are on friendly terms with a minister or a party
dignitary.
And still each and every one, good or bad, artist or hack, has to lie round the clock
– lie to “stay on the surface”, lie at the critics’ audition [...], lie and stress at every point
that what he in fact hates brings him the greatest artistic pleasure [...]. [...] At artists’
assemblies, dedicated to important political problems of art, one can hear how for several
days several dozen people – including some outstanding artists – lie in every word
they say, as the minister chairing the meeting lies, and the representative of the working
masses also lies, and each of the present artists lies in his or her turn. [...] How long can
one listen to a torrent of lies without a sense of the deepest humiliation, especially as
they are accompanied by the sincerest looks in the world – though all of them know
that the others are lying (Palester 1951b: 14–15).
Emigration as a “choice of freedom” was the final consequence of the fatal
force; these were the “light steps of Marsyas passing beyond time and
space.” Artistically, exile puts one virtually back at the start of one’s career,
in a tragic situation without one’s works, music, scores (withdrawn by the
authorities from libraries and bookshops), without contact with the concert

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 41
public which potentially understands you the best, and – the most dramatic
result – no one needs you for any purpose any more. Possibly the only function
one might get was as an object deserving of compassion – a political
object, one should add. In the context of the Marsyas conflict, it is not important
whether totalitarianism will triumph eventually, and for how long. For
the artist-creator, what is important is only (and as much as) “preserving the
pure tone” of his lute.
It is easy to observe that Palester questions many stereotypical ideas concerning
the artist’s freedom, his uniqueness, the eminent or special position
that he deserves in the society, and the Romantic or modernist myth of a
genius and the absolute status of art in the life of the society. He also reduces
the importance of fear of the communist authority as a key stimulus
for artistic and intellectual circles in Poland. The original, fundamental feature
of Palester’s individual path is his care for workmanship of the highest
standard, the purest metier, a certain hand and full tone, as well as “alertness”
in artistic activity and in life. 4 These individual features were noticed
and praised by Gustaw Herling-Grudziński who, living on the other side of
the iron curtain, did not hesitate to write:
[...] we had the chance to read the beautiful, masterfully written and wise article “The
Marsyas Conflict” by Roman Palester. Perhaps the situation is still not so bad as concerns
“intellectuals in people’s democracies” if an eminent composer, who stayed in
Poland much longer than Miłosz and then also decided to emigrate to the West, could
call things by their true name with modesty, full humility and artistic honesty, without
dialectic acrobatics. Serfdom for him is serfdom, freedom is freedom, and independence
– the greatest treasure that an artist worthy of that name might crave for (Herling-
Grudziński 1998: 242).
Several months after the composition of “Marsyas Conflict,” Palester and
Grudziński met in Munich in Radio Free Europe and thus began their artistic
partnership and friendship which would last many years. Till the end, they
showed each other mutual respect.
4 On the generation and artistic formation (the Szymanowski school) that Palester belonged to we can
read in the very interesting essay Chylińska (1992: 197–208).

42 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
Between Ugolino and Ulysses
Marsyas’ shadow did not leave the author and his compositions. His music
had been cast into the abyss of wrong presence and lies at the bottom
of hell between Ugolino and Ulysses, condemned, like Palester, because he
had stayed away from his country for too long... But also the “conditions
of his stay” outside the country played a major role in Palester’s case. After
the many years that separated him from that dramatic decision, he attempted
to explain the reasons why he had left Poland. In his article entitled
“Truth Wrongly Present,” prepared for the conference Music Wrongly
Present in Poland, Palester with some sarcasm and impatience explained the
situation which he called “conscious emigration,” understood as complete
involvement. The artist became involved (especially in the 1950s and 60s) in
the work of the Congress for Cultural Freedom (CCF), and accepted of the
role of a regular commentator of cultural and political life in Poland on the
air in Radio Free Europe as someone who had never mentally emigrated
from Poland and spoke on its behalf nearly on a daily basis. The more frequently
he appeared in RFE, the more consistently his work was being erased
from Polish musical tradition. His name disappeared from all publications,
editions, encyclopaedias. His music could neither be performed nor written
about, his already printed works were destroyed, and library copies were
confiscated. His publishing contracts were cancelled. These facts also had
repercussions for the composer in the West. The lack of copyright regulations
made it difficult if not impossible to play his music on the Western side of
the iron curtain. These were the real, palpable consequences of the Marsyas
conflict. These measures, and the reaction of the musical environment, were
the subject of his article “Truth Wrongly Present,” where he wrote:
As for the reaction of the musical environment, it was at first limited to depriving me –
on the orders of the state authorities – of membership in the Polish Composers’ Union
on two completely false charges. 5 My colleagues did not condemn me, but news could
5 A letter of 19th April 1951, signed by PCU President Witold Rudziński, to Palester: “The PCU
Managing Board informs you that, since you submitted your resignation from Polish citizenship and
because of your unethical behaviour towards PCU Managing Board, in an unanimous resolution
passed on 7th April 1951, PCU Managing Board has deprived you of membership in the Polish
Composers’ Union. PCU Managing Board announces this resolution with great regret considering

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 43
leak through only with the greatest difficulty – do not forget that isolation from the outside
world called rather awkwardly “the iron curtain” was a reality. In the first years,
no letters could get through to me, so contacts consisted only in meeting artists, who
also rarely had a chance to travel. From Genia Umińska and Ewa Bandrowska, from
Sztompka and Drzewiecki, I knew that among those whose opinions I considered important
not only was there no one to condemn me, but quite the contrary – everyone
thought that I was right, and that one should speak out as much as possible and criticise
the new system of relations. And this is what I did.
There were also more complex standpoint. With my best friend, Ochlewski, we fell
out mortally from the moment we could correspond. He believed that I had “betrayed”
and he condemned me, as possible between friends, in the most terrible words – but between
the lines I could always feel a certain friendly affection and, it seemed, a peculiar
type of envy – that I can speak my mind, and others can’t! But in fact I was also not free
because all the time I had to consider the safety of people back in Poland... [...]
In the meantime, things took such a turn that after the October thaw of 1956 I managed
to get my works performed at several concerts conducted by such friends as Krenz,
Wodiczko and Skrowaczewski. In the press, Bogusław Schaffer wrote beautifully on my
behalf – I am deeply grateful to him for that. But soon afterwards things fell back into
a dead rut, which meant: one performance every several years, if possible – without
publicity and reviews.
We should also note the phenomenon of self-censure, which in Poland was something
new. With years, administrative sanctions against me were becoming weaker, but
the musical society was scared of having more relations with me than it was necessary.
It should suffice to mention Zbinio Drzewiecki – with whom before and after the war we
did lots of things together – but later he cut out of his memories any recollection of my
presence. Others did the same, and in many cases this self-censure went much beyond
what was necessary. Similarly with performances: what they feared was not any “ban”
but the long-term reaction which could come after many months or even later, in the
form of e.g. a refusal to issue a passport... That “self-censure” even had some peculiar
effect abroad – mostly in West Germany. When Brandt announced a wide “opening to
the West” and lively and friendly relations between Polish and West German musical
world began, those of us who worked in the West became, by our very presence, an
obstacle to the smooth development of those relations. [...]
When in 1963 Tadeusz Kaczyński conducted a long interview with me for the Ruch
Muzyczny journal, the authorities demanded that Mycielski – who was then editor-inchief
– should dismiss Kaczyński from the editorial staff. Mycielski refused and offered
his own resignation instead, which was not accepted. The whole affair slowly died
down, but for many years Kaczyński could not obtain a passport. It was only in the
latter half of the 1970s that censors lifted the ban on Panufnik and myself, but this did
not result in any major improvement as far as the frequency of performances was considered.
[...]
Polish musical life is regulated by tight and very strong coteries in extraordinary
harmony with the official authorities. Those coteries pigeonhole composers, putting
the fact that it concerns such an eminent artist as you are.” The document relegating Palester from
PCU can be found in the Roman Palester Collection – Archive of 20th Century Polish Composers,
University Library, Warsaw.

44 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
them in various classes and categories – and not even trying to hide this... (Palester
1989).
Admittedly, the terseness and relative self-restraint of this paper deserves
the greatest admiration, especially if we realise the scope and temporal dimensions
of the restrictions that affected Palester. This was most likely the
result of the passage of years, of getting reconciled to his fate and the blow
that the composer accepted as his Marsyas-like “duty.” It does not mean,
though, that he had completely recovered from the trauma of his dramatic
escape from the country, and especially his relegation from the Polish Composers’
Union under a false and particularly mean pretence (that he had renounced
the Polish citizenship, which in fact he never did, even though it
gave him many problems connected with his stay in the West and travelling,
and that he had “behaved unethically,” which is unclear and finds no explanation
in official documents). As he said, he could never completely get over
that blow. Palester could now afford such admirable conciseness, despite the
deeply hidden resentment (which he undoubtedly felt), especially since in
the 1960s he experienced some favours. In 1961 he received the first prize in
the competition of the International Society for Contemporary Music for his
Death of Don Juan, and in 1965 – an award for his entire oeuvre from the Alfred
Jurzykowski Foundation in New York. His compositions written in the West
were broadcast by Western radio stations. Radio Free Europe quite regularly
played his music and presented broadcasts (composer profiles, interviews)
dedicated to him. 6 Could those later awards blot his bitter experiences from
the time of Łagów Assembly and before – out of his memory Is it likely that
the many years of accusations of “treason” that reached his ears, of betraying
his friends, leaving them in oppressive circumstances, and the particularly
painful and momentous accusations that came from his own environment
with which he had collaborated in 1945–47 as well as during the war and
occupation, accusations that cast a shadow on his activity for many years –
became the fuel of Palester’s “intervention” programmes in Radio Free Eu-
6 E.g. J. Michniewicz, Roman Palester’s Profile, a special broadcast, 25th March 1978, Radio Free Europe
Archive. In: Digital Archive; P. Zaremba, Roman Palester’s Portrait, Panorama no. 3890, 23rd September
1969, Radio Free Europe Archive. In: Digital Archive.

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 45
rope 7 I am deeply convinced that the bitter memories never left him and
they became his hell.
That hell between Ugolino and Ulysses burned him to the quick, especially
in the early 1950s and during the political thaws, when it seemed that
hisreturntoPolandmightbecomepossible(andheputsomehopesinthe
liberalisation of life). He even received some offers from his country – even
though at the same time he made sceptical remarks in RFE broadcasts about
the real nature of the revival of cultural life – but he was not willing to accept
the "revival" on terms that did not suit him. Palester was truly a highly principled
person, at times – even radical and ready to accept maximum risk. He
was enviably true to himself and his work, both verbal (in the press and media)
and musical. This integrity probably burnt him out, ruined his nerves,
wore him out and brought returning waves of doubt in the meaning of resistance
and of the gesture of disagreement – but he found an antidote also for
that. The more tragic the world might seem, the more strongly he believed
in its sense and in the necessity of its acceptance by submitting to eternal
truths. This perspective of "eternal truths" translates into everyday practice.
Here is one example. Early in 1957, Robert Satanowski and Andrzej Szwalbe
addressed Palester with an offer of literary collaboration. I do not know the
details of the offer, though we can make some guesses based on Palester’s
reply. What is important is not so much the offer itself as the atmosphere
of the thaw and the transformation, whose strictly rationed, limited scope
stopped Palester from accepting the job. Palester’s non-conformism is evident
in both his music and his statements as a journalist and writer. In reply
to the proposal, Palester wrote on 24th February 1957:
Dear sirs, your letter with an offer of collaboration gave me true and unfeigned pleasure.
Still, the circumstances force me to resign from the pleasant possibility of such
collaboration. I owe you a few words of explanation:
By profession, I am only a composer and writing notes comes much more easily to me
than writing texts. Several years ago I took up the pen, but exclusively for the purpose
of fighting all that at that time oppressed musical and artistic life in Poland. Today that
period seems to gradually become history and we all hope that artists will be able to
express themselves more and more freely and without restrictions. That process has
only just begun and is still far from complete, which I am able to glean from e.g. the fact
7 More information about the composer’s writings in my book (2007), the chapter about Palester.

46 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
that my pieces still seem to remain blacklisted, both the new ones that I have written
in exile and the older ones, removed from catalogues or perhaps plainly destroyed in
the worst period of socialist realism. And still I can see – e.g. by reading the interesting
programmes of the Pomeranian Philharmonic – that the bans have for the most part
been lifted. I therefore assume that there must be some separate ban regarding my own
works.
That sad fact makes it impossible for me, at least at the moment, to begin literary
collaboration with the institution that you are the heads of. I hope you will understand
and agree with me that I cannot start collaboration as a writer when at the same time,
for reasons still completely incomprehensible to me, my music is still prohibited. 8
There were then more attempts to fulfil Palester’s conditions – unsuccessful,
as we know that in Poland his works got performed only occasionally,
and the ban on his oeuvre was only completely lifted at the end of the 1980s.
In Palester’s correspondence there are many attempts to restore normal
relations with the country. All of these, however, are tainted by some restrictions,
even if these were not verbalised. The composer’s correspondents
mention possible collaboration, but in a narrow and for that quite uncertain
field. For example, Ludwik Erhardt wrote on 4th September 1958:
[...] using the opportunity of my sojourn in France and the easier possibility of contact,
I take the liberty, as one of the editors of Ruch Muzyczny, to address you with the
following idea.
Our staff would like to use all their modest means to contribute to better relations
between Polish composers staying abroad and the Polish musical world. We wish to
inform our readers about the activities and achievements of émigré composers.
For this reason, I would like you to reply to the enclosed questions. We would like to
publish your reply in our fortnightly. 9
Palester himself used the opportunities he had to normalise his relations
with friends and colleagues left behind in Poland, especially with those from
his Cracow period. In this context, his proposal sent to Tadeusz Ochlewski
in a letter of 15th October 1958 is symptomatic:
Let us brush aside all the stiffness hat has recently appeared between us. It should not
appear between Palester and PWM Publishers. If we met, wouldn’t we hug each other
warmly and dismiss all our mutual grievances with a joke Life is still hasting on; it is
8 R. Palester’s letter of 24th February 1957 (in the Roman Palester Collection – Archive of 20th Century
Polish Composers, University Library, Warsaw).
9 Roman Palester Collection, ibidem.

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 47
complex, with many knots. Those which are unwelcome and tangled ought simply to
be cut. 10
The last sentence betrays how important it is for him to maintain contact
with people from the musical environment who were once close to him. Despite
the distance, he feels that he shares with them part of the old musical
bond, a bond which – as he would bitterly stress in many contexts – cannot be
restored. Life is complex and time passes – after one has made a resolute and
spectacular move, the consequences will last till the very end. This is in fact
the principle we can easily decipher from the many knots of Palester’s life.
He was never interested in half-measures or even the slightest concession to
fame and comfort at the cost of humilating self-limitation in art (this is how
he explains the servility of his environment). He claimed that concessions
were possibly only to a higher cause, to the vital need for the preservation of
inalienable values.
His work in the Munich RFE station was a compromise with himself and
a kind of pact. On the one hand, he was unwilling to use up his energy and
deconcentrate, as he felt he was first and foremost a composer and the language
of notation and sound is the closest to him. On the other hand, though,
he often furiously wrote essays whose subject was the wide borderland between
culture and politics. On such occasions he knew that what he did was
done from a narrow perspective and might prove to be a voice crying in the
wilderness (as in Kisielewski’s case), a collection of just statements which
still did not change the reality. The more years he spent in front of an RFE
mike presenting more or less legitimate statements, the more tired he grew
of the meagre results. But paradoxically the awareness that his voice got lost
in the interplanetary space, partly due to being jammed by communist sevices,
did not influence the standard of his broadcasts. Also in this sphere,
Palester did not make any allowances on himself, though naturally he treated
this job rather as the technical application of skills to immediate needs. He
wrote for RFE for twenty years (1952–72) plus several more as a freelancer,
with less and less hope for a return to his homeland. In the early years of
10 Ibidem.

48 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
his work there he believed, like many other émigrés, that the return would
become possible much earlier. He hoped for a miracle, and though the Polish
October did not leave him too hopeful for that lucky return, he still rejoiced
as a man that the terror had lessened and the system became less oppressive.
The years 1980–81 brought him a pleasant surprise, but this was a difficult
period in his life after the death of Barbara Palester and he could not seriously
think about a return. If the freedom had come earlier, much earlier
than in 1989, he would have been in Poland by then. He wrote about it to his
friends, saying that he did not need to stay in Paris permanently.
He often returned to his decision to remain in the West. In an interview
conducted by Jagoda Jedrychowska (1988), he claimed he was always wrong
in his political predictions. Paradoxically, had he been more patient and
waited those few years between 1949 and the thaw of 1956, the conditions for
Polish music in Poland then became much better, composing became possible
and it would have been much harder to choose emigration. Then he
would have needed to deal with the conformist necessity to make decisions
about concessions to the authorities. He would have had the chance to test
his recipe and see if it worked. After all, he always justified those concessions
that were made to save more precious, more important values, but not those
that justified a constant apology of the regime for the sole purpose of making
a personal career.
This is also why he was so critical of the activity of Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz,
Andrzej Panufnik, and Leon Schiller (Cf. Wejs Milewska 2007). 11 His decision
to stay in the West also left a permanent mark. We know Miłosz’s émigré
dilemmas rather better; Palester’s are of the same standard, though his
decision was not accompanied by a “storm,” as was that of the poet, possibly
because Giedroyć did not realise that Palester’s tale of life in the country and
of the moment of breaking away could also have a great propaganda value.
The composer’s inner conflict was more quiet, and he did not provoke as
much dislike in the émigre circles as Miłosz did, but the reserve, the distance
towards a man from behind the iron curtain and a potential “communist,”
11 In: Komentarze, recenzje, felietony (wybór) [Comments, Reviews, Essays – a Selection] –theauthor’s
statements about Panufnik (pp. 553–556), Iwaszkiewicz (pp. 566–568), and Schiller (pp. 569–572).

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 49
was nearly the same. In Palester’s correspondence with Jerzy Fitelberg, then
staying in the USA, we find this problem of the ideological uncertainty of the
West’s musical world, especially in the United States – if intellectuals from
America ought to send letters of recommendation to support Palester – already
after he had “chosen” freedom. Fitelberg wrote on 4th January 1951:
“Nobody said this openly about you, but I have the impression that people
are afraid of handing in any letters of recommendation for fear of digging a
hole for themselves if that guy ever had anything to do with communism.
Can you understand this”
And another example – a letter of 6th October 1950 which Zygmunt Nagórski
of Free European Press Service wrote most likely to Józef Wittlin:
I got your letter about Palester quite a long time ago, but only yesterday I talked about
it with a man who could offer concrete help. His name is Bill Raphael, Chief, Program
Section, Radio FE [...]. He said that he’d gladly try to use Palester – for instance at the
moment they are looking for a composer to write a “Song of Freedom” that could become
a hymn and a call to the nations occupied by Russia. Still he had doubts if Palester,
who needed five years to part with present-day Polish reality, could really understand
this kind of task. I couldn’t answer him, for I myself shared his doubts. 12
Taking up a post at RFE after such comments – was Palester’s gesture of
siding in with one party in the political conflict of the Cold War. Perhaps he
also counted, at least for some time, on getting an American visa more easily
after having worked in RFE Personally I reject this guess, as he was too well
informed by Fitelberg and warned by Wierzyński (quoted after Wyrwa 2010:
33–39) about the day-to-day fate of a classical music composer in the country
of triumphant American pop-culture to give up Europe for the United States.
Still, he had been considering this option and asked his correspondents specific
questions about it. In Radio Free Europe, his employment terms were
quite satisfying, as evident from Nowak-Jeziorański’s letter to Palester:
[...] I am genuinely happy to have you among my colleagues. On my part, I can assure
you I will do all II can to make your work here possible, as I really appreciate its significance
for Polish culture. 13
12 Roman Palester Collection, as above.
13 Letter of 28th February 1952. Roman Palester Collection, as above.

50 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
The same can be gleaned from Palester’s own memories. He was a valuable
acquisition for the Radio; he had already appeared on BBC with a socalled
letter of appeal to artists in Poland, he had published the essays “The
Marsyas Conflict” and “Notes on Music” in Culture, hehadbeganworkfor
the Congress for Cultural Freedom and made an unequivocal public declaration
as an enemy of communism. Finally, he knew the system, as it were,
from inside. He was also an excellent and extremely efficient writer.
In 1996 Jan Krenz said something significant that also sheds light on Palester’s
situation: “A composer may be brought back to life only by playing
his music” (Markowska 1996: 88). The same could be said considering his
writings and broadcasts: he could be brought back to life as a commentator
by having his radio work published. Both the performance of his oeuvre and
publication of his writings are waiting to be satisfactorily completed. First
of all, we should deal with Palester’s drama in the late 1940s, his hesitation
which became the backdrop for “The Marsyas Conflict” and the context for
his emigration on a Nansen passport, later – his “return” with the musical
works to the country, not to mention his radio presence there. Zofia Helman,
Teresa Chylińska, and Jagoda Jędrychowska have done very much to elucidate
Palester’s motives for emigration. Especially Zofia Helman, who dedicated
a monograph to the composer, presented many interesting sources
shedding light on the émigre’s dramatic lot. What was important for her understanding
of Palester was probably also her direct contact with the composer
and writer.
At this point we should return again to the time of crisis, to the breakthrough
years of 1947–49 in which his choice of emigratio eventually became
a fact. What is important in this context is the significance of his stay in the
country for his specific type of isolation. For Palester, his exile did not start
at the moment of emigration, but was experienced already much earlier –
which casts a doubt on the generally accepted view that the years 1945–48
were a period of relative freedom. As it turns out, the sense of absurd and the
experience of suppressing all spontaneous or civic activity had already come
much earlier. At first the almost superhuman and undoubtedly exhausting
effort concentrated on rebuilding the Polish cultural institutions from the

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 51
ruins in which they lay. Here, the triumphant and noisy propaganda of the
Lublin regime, arousing enthusiasm for the nearly superhuman heroism on
the one hand was accompanied by pessimism on the other, resulting from the
knowledge of the betrayal of Poland in Jalta, of being wrapped and wronged,
estimating the losses, the convinction that here an apocalypse has taken place
and there is no escape from the tragic scenario (this is precisely what Miłosz,
using other words, calls historical necessity). And a moment later, the feeling
that intentions do not meet practice at any point. This divergence between
intentions and practice was experienced as a lie, as some form of camouflage
applied by the regime. For Palester, it was unacceptable. His exile was,
therefore, the result of rejecting all that the artist was forced to take part in
communist Poland. The everyday propaganda noise and the ceaseless demands
of the authorities may have decided about his journey to the West
in the autumn of 1946, where he hoped to put together his thoughts and
his scores...Two years was then a sufficient time for the sense of isolation to
take shape (and these were, after all, years of intensive work for the widely
conceived musical environment. Zofia Helman quotes Palester’s letters to
Tadeusz Ochlewski which illustrate this point very well. To quote just one
passage from 1947: “[...] you will understand that in this kind of atmosphere
I am losing my will to live,” Palester wrote,
and I would give much to break away from it all for good. I can see no possibility of
undisturbed work here in Poland if the vast majority of my colleagues are to be furious
with me only because I am writing music and they are not. I can count on the fingers of
one hand those of them, like Wiechowicz, Lutosławski or Malawski, who have always
been loyal to me. 14
The temporary stay in the West related to contracts was – we can guess –
a respite, time to focus on composition. It was obviously naive on Palester’s
part to believe that this kind of formal relation with the country, representing
the state on the European forum, would continue without disruption for
a long time if not for ever. We might assume that he did not yet quite realise
the consequences of the referendum of 1946 and the elections of 1947; perhaps
he did not think that the authorities might apply a totalitarian stance to
14 Letter to Tadeusz Ochlewski (of 17th January 1947); PWM Edition Archive in Cracow – quoted after
Helman (1999: 160).

52 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
culture and introduce the tyranny of one style. But even this does not seem
very probable. In fact, he wished to remain in the West and represent the
country from there, and did not consider emigration in the strict sense of
the word. Ochlewski, as Helman points out, took care of the composer’s affairs
in Poland, and in the West he himself was looking for possible allies. In
a letter to Feliks Łabuński of 19th October 1947, he wrote:
The highly morbid and demoralising political atmosphere in Poland has a devastating
influence both on artistic work and on people’s characters. My friends are fighting most
terribly among themselves, and, most significantly, they compose almost nothing. Each
one is busy gaining more and more lucrative and influential positions, some have even
joined the party (PPR, the communists) [...] ...both myself and my wife preferred to
“change the climate,” though here our financial and living conditions are much worse
than what we had in Poland. [...] Naturally, we cannot afford to “break off” from the
country and we visit Poland from time, mostly for financial reasons. 15
Away from Poland, Palester expected honesty in letters and did not suspect
serious censorship, or the self-censorship of the authors themselves. The letters
that his colleagues sent were quite cautious, which possibly misled him,
and certainly confounded him. The atmosphere around his person in Poland
was exerting more and more influence on Palester’s unstable situation in
Paris. He was the state’s representative delegated to the West, he got performances
there (as Barbara Palester represented PWM Edition abroad), and
he acted as a promoter of Polish contemporary music. He accused Ochlewski
of writing in a sharp and cool tone, but he did not take into account the circumstances
of work back in Poland. This was undoubtedly the main problem
in his informal contacts with the musical environment. He did not come to
the Congress of Peace in Wrocław, he criticised the delays in the publication
of his scores in Poland, he complained of an unprofessional approach – in
other words, he was impatient, demanding and high-principled. He in fact
did not accept the fact that in the “new times” that were coming what was
decisive was not professionalism, but balancing on the surface of new reality
in communist Poland. 16 Even after the Composers’ Assembly in Łagów,
15 Roman Palester Collection, as above.
16 On the efforts of his friends from the musical circles, supporting Palester, see Helman (1999:
160–172).

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 53
despite all the disgust, he still did not make up his mind about the emigration.
He planned an opera to a libretto by Iwaszkiewicz, though – obviously
– nothing came out of it later; he seriously considered minister Włodzimierz
Sokorski’s proposals for artistic work; he wanted to be present in Poland with
his music, and yet write it in the West, where he wished to stay for as long
as possible.
This crazy and reckless plan could not work out. In Poland, Palester was
getting more and more marginalised, censored, which was meant to force
him to return – this was without any doubt the intention of the policy-makers.
The autumn of 1949 proved decisive. In a letter to Kassern, he described his
difficult and unclear situation in France:
[...] last year I went to a “conference” in Łagów and managed to return; now I would
probably be stopped. Till now I have had to ’be on good terms’ with them, because I
live here almost exclusively off that part of my income I receive from ZAiKS Authors’
Agency and Polish Film. I cannot accept any royalties on my works here, no copyright
payments. I am a ZAiKS member, so they send all my money to Poland. Now I even do
not have a valid passport, but the embassy apparently accept my status, though more
and more coldly. [...] I cannot obtain help from any quarters, and if nothing changes in
a month or two I will have to beat my breast and go back to Poland, never to be able to
leave again (or even worse, as they know what I have been saying here and you know
what a biting tounge I have always had!) [...] Sad is our fate, this generation and the
nation at large – one would think – “forgotten” by God and people. 17
The temporary residence in Paris was already a foretaste of emigration –
and it also tasted bitter, though later the taste was more intense, and frustration
resulted from the attitude of Polish authorities to both Palester himself
and all the postwar émigrés. Equally important was the perception of the
composer’s situation at that time by opinion-forming elites in Western Europe.
Those elites were leftist in character, not favourable to his decision of
breaking contact with Poland (though this contact had been getting looser
and looser from 1947), and unwilling to help. Between 1947–50 one could
observe another scene in the drama of the artist’s life – he could not return to
Poland, but neither could he infinitely prolong his stay as a guest in the West.
He was unwilling to experience the hell of final banishment, which would
make a permanent rift between him and the country.
17 Palester’s letter to Zygfryd Kassern of 26th May 1950 (Paris); Roman Palester Collection, as above.

54 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
When the decision was finally taken, consequences soon followed and the
full-scale banishment was felt. For a short time, he was also isolated from his
friends in the West, who saw him as an insecure intellectual breaking off from
his progressive motherland. He was also isolated from his country, from
which royalties for compositions and performances were no longer coming,
and from the political emigration, for whom he was suspect as a man from
communist Poland, possibly a communist himself or a crypto-communist.
A truly unenviable fate, confirmed by the commentary printed in the Polish
and Soldiers’ Journal of 25th August 1950:
Roman Palester, a well known Polish composer, has been blacklisted in Poland as a “formalist”
and a musician under Western influence. Called back to his country, he refused
and stayed in Paris. Palester is the first eminent artist from behind the iron curtain who
has chosen “freedom” (Jędrychowska 1988: 83).
A commentator of the Baden-Baden Radio reported after the première performance
of the Vistula cantata at the 24th ISCM Festival i Brussels, without
consulting the composer, that he had chosen freedom. From that moment
on, Palester’s professional situation back in Poland changed very quickly: he
gave up his ZAiKS membership (and was deleted from the member lists); he
applied to cancel his publishing contracts with PWM Edition hoping that,
as he said, “one day with the greatest pleasure I will be able to renew my
relations with PWM.” 18 Soon the news reached him about being deprived
of his membership in the Polish Composers’ Union. He did not manage to
untie his Gordian knots in Poland in a civilised manner and secure his financial
position in the West with royalties. The money that was supposed
to cover the cost of his stay proved not only insufficient, but also – from the
point of view of the authorities in Poland – misappropriated. He fell into
disfavour with more or less everyone: with the state of course; with his composer
friends, who accused him of "betraying" the interests of the musical
environment in Poland and had most likely been not favourable to his decision
to travel to the West (might have been hostile if they had been aware of
his dicreet attempts to stay there permanetly). Also – with Western European
artists, who put hope in the Marxist experiment, expecting some change of
18 Palester’s letter to PWM Edition in Cracow, dated 25th April 1951 (PWM Edition Archive in Cracow).

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 55
their own fate and a more privileged status for art. Political refugees were
not favourable, either, though they were not hostile; they accepted his decision
with some reserve, waiting for further developments. We could then
say that the years 1949–51 were for him the hell of a completed exile. Soon,
however, a new chapter was to begin in connection with his employment in
Radio Free Europe and his activities there, which left no doubt as to what
he means by creative freedom and with what hope he expects a democratic
breakthrough in Poland. It was this employment in RFE that doomed him
to a radical censorship ban: he was no longer just a disobedient composer;
he became a "reactionary" political refugee who ought to be persecuted by
all available means. The most effective, and most painful, was the total ban
on his musical oeuvre. Even in 1952, when he had written “The Marsyas
Conflict,” Palester could not know how severe the consequences of this ban
would be. He knew the space of ancient tragedy, but he was not aware of its
force with respect to his own life, though he expected the worst.
It was only in 1977 that Palester began to emerge from the state of absolute
silence, but for a full return it was not so much too late as the circumstances
(fate) were again not very favourable (I mean the period of the martial law).
From 1972, he was no longer a full-time staff member in Radio Free Europe.
These several years of waiting was necessary before the communist authorities
agreed to lift the ban. The very fact of lifting it coincided with actions of
the dissident intellectuals in Poland which created a new atmosphere of resistance
and contestation of the central power, not only in the field of culture.
Palester benefited from this fact in that by a happy chance 1977 was the 50th
anniversary of the foundation of the Association of Young Polish Musicians
in Paris, of which he had been a member, which eventually made it possible
to perform his String Trio and Dance from Osmoloda. Apart from a brief
episode in 1957, this was the second important presentation of his work in
Poland after emigration. There were more plans, like staging the Death of Don
Juan, eventually rejected by the Ministry of Culture and Art, officially – for
financial reasons (among others, the payment of royalties in hard Western
currency). In 1979, the “Warsaw Autumn” presented the first performance
of his Concerto for viola and orchestra. 1981 proved very promising: mem-

56 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
bers of the Board of the Polish Composers’ Union unanimously voted to annul
the decision from 1951 which had deprived him of PCU membership.
From the Liaison Committee of Artistic and Academic Unions, he also received
an invitation to the Congress of Polish Culture (11th–13th December
1981), which he did not attend because of poor health, but which he wholeheartedly
supported, as its intentions were a fulfilment of what he had for
so many years advocated in RFE broadcasts. He was then invited more as a
political writer, scholar and intellectual than as an eminent composer in exile.
The invitation was a gesture of appreciation for his achievements in RFE
and his commentaries on the radio. Palester realised this when he wrote: “As
for myself, For 30 years I have in my own humble way tried to fight with my
words in defence of those principles that are also dear to you [Jan Białostocki
and Klemens Szaniawski, who had sent the invitation].” 19
1983 was also a good year in his artistic biography, and despite the dark
atmosphere of the martial law (and the personal tragedy of his wife Barbara’s
death) he came to Poland, to Cracow with the help of the Pallotine Fathers
in Paris, and his works were performed. Official bans could not spoil the
friendly atmosphere created by the musical and musicological circles, Zofia
Helman recalled. He lived to get good reviews in Poland and see how his
difficult Marsyas choice was now appreciated. There were others, though,
who did not forgive Palester for his “betrayal” and his work for “the enemy”
in Radio FE. 20
Also in 1987 (the year of Palester’s 80th birthday) and 1988 his music was
performed in Poland, though without the composer’s presence. As Zofia
Helman wrote, it all happened late, one might say – too late. “Owing to external
circumstances,” Helman wrote in her monograph,
Palester’s works are not as well known today as they would deserve to be. But the immanent
value of that music, the specific qualities of its style, sound and expression, and
finally – its place in the development of 20th-century Polish music – may not be omitted
or annulled. [...] It is this ability to withstand the passage of time and the constant pos-
19 Palester’s letter to the Liaison Committee of Artistic and Academic Unions; Paris, 30th November
1981 (Roman Palester Collection, as above).
20 Reviews and interviews from 1983 confirm this, e.g.: Wierzbicki (1980; 1983); Walaciński (1983);
Polony (1983). A negative review came from Bruno Rajca (1983).

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 57
sibility of interpreting the works in a new way that eventually leaves all our judgments
open to the future (1999: 346).
In 1977, Stefan Kisielewski also wrote in his diary about Palester’s paradoxical
fate in emigration – this passage has already been quoted at the beginning
of my article. We can now complement it with another excerpt from
Kisielewski’s diary, dated 4th October 1979:
The 23rd Warsaw Autumn is over [...] A very pretty violin concerto by Andrzej Panufnik,
and Palester’s viola concerto. So they are playing the “emigrants,” but after how many
years. Henio says that Panufnik believes they play his music now on purpose, to lure
him to Poland and lock him up. What ideas may hatch in the minds of people... (1996:
936)
Admittedly, Kisielewski’s remark was accurate: the “socialist motherland”
had indeed “taken in” the composer’s oeuvre and his works came to be played
in Poland, not anywhere else. Interestingly, a year before Kisielewski made
a move in the opposite direction: he began to consistently publish his essays
in Giedroyć’s Kultura in Paris, and was accepted on the forum of the
emigration as a full-rights member of the “free-thinking diaspora.” He also
made this move with full awareness of its consequences, of the danger of
being excluded or marginalised. Kisielewski and Palester had known each
other well before the war; after the war, they worked together as academic
lecturers, and they also met in Munich. But Kisielewski did not value avantgarde
music and it is possible that his musical tastes also influenced his judgment
of the author. What is also interesting, Kisielewski does not comment
on Palester’s radio broadcasts in his diary – did he not listen to them or perhaps
he did not hear Very unlikely. In contrast, Palester dedicated several
texts to Kisiel 21 in an attempt to appreciate the relentless “calls in the wilderness”
that Kisielewski, a contributor to Tygodnik Powszechny, made from various
places and in various press titles, in Cracow, Warsaw, London, Paris or
Munich. Still, both composers belonged to the same generation of “musical
Poland,” and for both politics played a major role in their writings. An interesting
coincidence: so different, and yet so similar to each other, for example
21 Cf. Wejs-Milewska (2007). In: Komentarze, recenzje, felietony (wybór) – O Stefanie Kisielewskim,
pp. 557–579.

58 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
in their unfulfilled dreams. Palester only wanted to work with sounds, and
treated work for the media and criticism as a secondary activity that distracted
him. Kisielewski, on the other hand, composed and wrote about music
and literature, and hoped to become a political commentator and a writer
worth his salt. Both experienced the bitter taste of defeat and the tortures of
unfulfilment. These parallels, which suggest themselves immediately, might
lead to conclusions about the nature of that period and of the mid-20thcentury
generation – but this is already a topic for another fascinating study.
Let us now return for the last time to the Marsyas conflict, the artist’s fundamental
complex which determined all of Palester’s gestures known to me.
This is why was he so obstinate in treading Marsyas’ path. Was it worthwhile
We cannot find a satisfying answer on “this” side. On this side, we
only find the reverse, the knots and seams, marl hues, the rough and tangled
texture of the canvas of life. One thing is certain: the communist authorities
in Poland managed to do with Palester what Solzhenitsyn’s sledovat’el
summed up in these words: “In our country, a man was and lived yesterday,
but today he is not, and he has never been, end of the matter.”
Palester’s music has already been performed in Poland, but his radio commentaries
are still waiting to be published. As an RFE commentator, Palester
took a great risk that could reduce him to ashes and destroy his lute’s unique
work. He took up the risk and paid the highest prize. His work for Radio Free
Europe was, no doubt, a kind of substitute, as it gave him a chance to get involved
in the affairs of his country and the possibility of real influence (or an
illusion of influence) on that life. All that he said on the air in RFE was a consequence
of his awareness of the Marsyas conflict in its extreme variant, evidence
of his opposition to totalitarianism, to authoritarian power, the world
of pretence, stifling compromise, concessions and servility. It seems that as
he became immersed in the atmosphere of the émigré circles in RFE, his expectations
from Poles back in Poland were also growing. Was it the effect of
the bitter unfulfilment, lack of understanding and the aversion manifested
by his musical environment, or of overestimating his own possibilities and
the position he once had in his country All this is possible.

Roman Palester’s “The Marsyas Conflict” as a Radical Vision of the Emigration 59
Palester’s exile deepens with time: not only his musical work, but his entire
intellectual life, musical and literary-journalist, comes under siege. The
awareness of being a voice crying in the wilderness probably ever left him,
andyethecouldnotyieldevenaninch,becausehefollowedhisMarsyas
path leading directly into the core of the myth. His moira was completed and
even his death took on a symbolic dimension. He died on 25th August 1989
in Paris and was buried in Montmorency near Paris, close to Norwid, Mickiewicz,
Niemcewicz, and Wat – émigrés, most of whom struggled with their
own tragic non-conformist conflict. He eventually found his right place. He
did not experience the satisfaction, or even triumph that such persons as
Stefan Kisielewski certainly partook of. He could not know that 1989 would
become the year of the effective breakthrough in Poland. For him, it was too
late also for that.
He did not, so to speak, receive any confirmation from the outside that
his relentless work divided into the time for “propaganda” in RFE and the
time of composition – made sense. Again, the Marsyas myth proved right in
that it shows the ultimate importance of what we ourselves deem right – in
agreement with our own mysterious complex, with the driving force of our
activity, and with our own internal truth of life and self-creation.
And the last question: Does Palester’s tragic biography leave us with some
essential thoughts For me, as I am writing this essay, it certainly does. I only
wonder if contemporary artists still know the tale of Marsyas and his struggle
with the authority of Apollo Are they aware of the consequences and
willing to take similar risks
Works cited
Chylińska T. (1992). “Czy Roman Palester był emigrantem” [Was Roman Palester
an Émigré]. In: Fik M. (ed.), Między Polską a światem. Kultura emigracyjna
po 1939 roku [Between Poland and the World. Émigré Culture After 1939],
Warsaw, pp. 197–208.
Helman Z. (1999). Roman Palester. Twórca i dzieło [The Artist and His Work] (Cracow:
Musica Iagellonica).

60 Violetta Wejs-Milewska
Herling-Grudziński G. (1998). “Murti-Bing”. In: Wyjścia z milczenia. Szkice [Emerging
from Silence. Sketches], Warsaw.
Jędrychowska J. (1988). “Rozmowa z Romanem Palestrem” [An Interview with
Roman Palester]. In: Widzieć Polskę z oddalenia [Viewing Poland from Afar],
Paris.
Kisielewski S. (1996). Dzienniki [Diaries] (Warsaw: Iskry).
Markowska E. (1996). Jana Krenza pięćdziesiąt lat z batutą. Rozmowy o muzyce polskiej
[Jan Krenz’s Fifty Years with a Baton. Conversations about Polish Music],
Cracow.
Miłosz Cz. (1951). “Nie” [No],Kultura(Paris), no. 5.
Palester R. (1951a). “Konflikt Marsjasza” [The Marsyas Conflict], Kultura(Paris),
nos. 7 (45)–8 (46), pp. 3–16.
Palester R. (1951b). “Uwagi o muzyce czyli ‘Pazylogia’ i ‘współczesny Apollo”’
[Notes on Music, or “Pasilogia” and “the contemporary Apollo”], Kultura
(Paris) no. 12 (50), pp. 4–22.
Palester R. (1989). Prawda źle obecna [Truth Wrongly Present], typescript. Kolekcja
Romana Palestra – Archiwum Kompozytorów Polskich XX wieku, BUW.
Polony L. (1983). “Spotkanie z Romanem Palestrem” [A Meeting with Roman Palester],
Tygodnik Powszechny, no. 42.
Rajca B. (1983). “Bez akapitu” [Without a Margin], Gazeta Krakowska, no. 225.
Walaciński A. (1983). “U progu nowego sezonu” [At the Start of the New Season],
Dziennik Polski,7thOctober.
Wejs-Milewska (2007). Radio Wolna Europa na emigracyjnych szlakach pisarzy. [Radio
Free Europe on the Routes of Authors in Emigration] Gustaw Herling-
Grudziński, Tadeusz Nowakowski, Roman Palester, Czesław Straszewicz, Tymon
Terlecki (Cracow: Arcana).
Wierzbicki P. (1980). “Gdyby istniał muzyczny Nobel...” [If There Was a Nobel
Prizein Music...],Tygodnik Powszechny, no. 49.
Wierzbicki P. (1983). “Meteor”, Tygodnik Powszechny, no. 42.
Wyrwa T. (2010). “Z nie opublikowanych wspomnień z (nie tylko) emigracyjnego
życia kompozytora Romana Palestra” [From the Unpublished Documents
of Roman Palester’s Life in Emigration (And Not Only)], Pamiętnik Literacki
(London), vol. XXXIX.

3
Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 1
Elżbieta Szczurko
“It is the duty of Polish musicologists to know more or less as much about
us as they do about the composers who live in Poland” (Palester 1989: 28).
This is what Roman Palester wrote in his letter to the organisers of a symposium
devoted to the works of Polish émigré composers, organised in Warsaw
in 1988 by the Musicologists’ Section of the Polish Composers’ Union.
The conference, an event unique in that period, was supposed to include
papers dedicated to Antoni Szałowski (1907–1973); 2 however, in spite of earlier
announcements, they were omitted from the programme. Palester described
this as “something of a scandal” (1989: 28). Referring to the title of
the symposium, „Music wrongly present”, he remarked that it was inaccurate
in relation to the list of artists who were to be the subject of the conference,
3 since some of them, such as Michał Spisak, used to visit Poland
and maintained continuous contact with their native community, while their
works were published and performed in Poland. Others, a minority, were re-
1 This paper is based on the author’s book (2008).
2 According to Krystyna Tarnawska-Kaczorowska the paper on Szałowski was to have been written
by Adam Walaciński. She also mentions Władysław Malinowski, who was planning a presentation
on the influence of the émigré community on the evolution of creative paths, on the example of the
music of Palester, Panufnik, Spisak and Szałowski as examples. Cf. Tarnawska-Kaczorowska (1989:
10).
3 The conference papers discussed the music of the following composers: Roman Berger, Roman
Haubenstock-Ramati, Tadeusz Z. Kassern, Michał Kondracki, Szymon Laks, Roman Maciejewski,
Roman Palester, Andrzej Panufnik and Michał Spisak.

62 Elżbieta Szczurko
pressed, since the “wrong presence” implied a ban on the performance and
publication of their works, as well as on writing about their authors. Alongside
Andrzej Panufnik, Tadeusz Kassern and himself, Roman Palester also
included Antoni Szałowski in this second group. He wrote:
Szałowski is the only composer [...], whose punishment befell him by way of ricochet.
His views were more or less the same as mine or Panufnik’s, but he did not make them
public all that often. The administrative ban hit him simply because during the 1950s
the three of us were regarded as the official group of émigré composers (Palester 1989:
31).
Szałowski often emphasised the fact that the situation in which he found
himself after the Second World War was different from that of Palester and
Panufnik. He did not “escape” from Poland, he just remained in Paris, 4 where
he had arrived before the war, on a scholarship from the Fund of National
Culture, having completed with distinction (1930) his studies with Kazimierz
Sikorski at the Music Conservatory in Warsaw. 5 In a conversation with Tadeusz
Kaczyński, Szałowski admitted that one of his main reasons for going
to Paris was the situation of the music community prior to the Second
World War in Europe, and particularly in Poland. He remarked: “one made
[music] [...] almost in secret, hardly anybody was interested, and some regarded
[it] with contempt, considering composition as a totally useless activity”
(Kaczyński 1973: 4). This fact also played a part in Szałowski’s deci-
4 According to the composer’s wife, Szałowski was not too keen on “émigré circles”. At some point he
came to maintain closer contacts with French composers (including Henri Dutilleux and Henry
Barraud) than with the Polish ones. These contacts resulted from his collaboration with Paris Radio.
In February 1966 he joined the musicians’ section of the CGT union (Confédération Générale de
Travailleurs). This was the only union which possessed such a section. For many years he would not
apply for French citizenship, although this decision had a damaging effect on his work as a
composer and his material situation. He only changed his mind in 1970, on the advice of his wife
Teresa, who was concerned about the family’s future. He received French citizenship on 23rd
October 1970. This information was obtained from Teresa Szałowska, now Gourmaud, and the
documents to which she gave me access.
5 Szałowski grew up in a family with musical traditions. His grandfather Antoni (1836–1902) had
completed his studies at the Warsaw Music Institute (1866) and received a diploma of music teacher
in organ-playing and choir-conducting signed by Stanisław Moniuszko. He obtained the post of
organist at the chapel in Wilanów. The composer’s father, Bonifacy (1867–1923), a violinist, was a
pupil of Władysław Górski and Stanisław Barcewicz. He was a member of the orchestra at the
Warsaw opera, the concert master of Warsaw Symphony Orchestra, and during the season 1896–97
also of an orchestra in St Petersburg. In 1914 he became a professor at the Music Conservatory in
Warsaw. He is also the author of Six Caprices for solo violin.

Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 63
sion a few years later, in 1936, when he declined Kazimierz Sikorski’s offer
of a professorship at the Warsaw Conservatory made on condition that he
would return to Poland. He preferred to have a lower standard of living in
Paris than a better one in Warsaw, but to know that at least a small number
of people took an interest in what he was doing (Ibidem).
Living in Paris, at that time the most important musical centre in the world,
enabled Szałowski to come into contact with outstanding artists and musical
authorities (Stravinsky, Prokofiev, Ravel, Roussel), and to participate in the
changes taking place in music. During the interwar period the main trend
in musical avant-garde, regarded as a ferment of a bright future, was the
French-Russian “anti-Romanticism” represented by the works of Stravinsky
and young French composers. The need to be close to the Parisian centre was
frequently stressed by Karol Szymanowski, who claimed that a true and penetrating
understanding of the music being created there was one of the necessary
conditions for the future development of Polish music (Szymanowski
1925: 94–6). As has been pointed out by Zofia Helman, Szymanowski’s influence
on the views of young Polish musicians was decisive in establishing two
basic directions in Polish music of the 1930s: one was the folkloristic-national
trend, originating from the influence of Stravinsky and Bartók, the other –
the neoclassical trend, premised on reinterpreting the heritage of European
culture while making use of modern musical devices (Helman 1999: 32). In
choosing the neoclassical movement, young artists were to imitate French
music, and, adopting from it its particular ideal of classicism, to turn Polish
music into something of universal value. Not without significance for Szałowski’s
views was also the attitude of his teacher, Kazimierz Sikorski, who
took a lively interest in the issues of new music. He understood the idea of
progress in art, and supported his pupils as they moved away from academic
formulae and tried to find their way towards the contemporary (Ibidem: 74).
The expectations voiced by Szymanowski with regard to young artists included
their continued education under the guidance of outstanding teachers.
During the years 1931–1936 Szałowski studied with Nadia Boulanger,
the famous “Princesse de la Musique”, who supervised the development of
many composers of diverse nationalities and ethnic origins as they acquired

64 Elżbieta Szczurko
the French style of the “noble craft” (Modrakowska 1958: 13). Boulanger,
a proponent of pure art, who at that time was faithful to the ideals of Neoclassicism,
shared the views of the young “Parisian” Stravinsky about the need
to nurture an artistic attitude which would combine musical composition
with the classical theory of beauty (Morgan 1994: 3). She inculcated in her
charges the “anti-romantic ideals, hostility towards pathos, sentimentality,
expression of feelings through music and describing literary programmes”
(Helman 1985: 55). Music, understood as an autonomous art, was to be associated
with a striving for the classical balance between the emotional and
structural factors, and to guide towards a return to sérénité as the desired expressive
category. In seeking the classical balance, Boulanger acknowledged
the need for recognising emotion, intuition and ideas but only if they were
combined with knowledge, craftsmanship and discipline (Ibidem: 16).
Szałowski, who, during his early attempts at composition made while he
was still in Warsaw, was fascinated by the music of Szymanowski and the
sound qualities of the works of Debussy and Ravel, now, as a pupil of Boulanger,
turned towards neoclassicism for the fulfilment of his creative ideals.
His studies with Boulanger not only helped him perfect his compositional
métier, but were also decisive in his adopting the neoclassicist aesthetics and
in shaping his own stylistic idiom. Initally concentrating on chamber compositions,
he underwent something of a metamorphosis, from the stylistically
incohesive Sonata for piano 6 to String Quartet No. 2 (1934), which clearly belongs
to the neoclassicist trend. This composition, together with other works,
was presented in 1935 at the École Normale de Musique during the composer’s
concert, entirely devoted to the music of Szałowski. Judging String
Quartet No. 2, alongside Suite for violin and piano (1931), to be the most interesting
works performed at the concert, the French critic Maurice Imbert
remarked that the young, ambitious artist had chosen the right direction in
the quest for his creative path (Imbert 1935). Szałowski’s successive chamber
works continued the stylistic interpretation of the pre-war school of Nadia
Boulanger which he adopted, and which manifested itself in motoric rhythm,
simplification of melody and harmony, textural transparency, glittering in-
6 The first composition written under the guidance of Nadia Boulanger.

Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 65
strumentation, structural clarity and dimensional symmetry (Helman 1985:
76).
The carefully restrained comments about Boulanger’s pupil gave way to
enthusiastic praise in 1937, after the Polish Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted
by Grzegorz Fitelberg performed Szałowski’s Overture – his last composition
written in Boulanger’s class – at the Théâtre de Champs Élysées during
the Festival of Polish Music. This work, which was awarded the Gold
Medal at the World Exhibition in Paris, was judged to be the most important
event of the 1936–37 season, alongside Bartók’s Music for Strings, Percussion
and Celeste, by Florent Schmitt, an outstanding music critic and at that time
a highly regarded composer (Schmitt 1937).
Overture reflected the principles of neoclassical style in their purest form.
Fascination with movement and colour, accompanied by sensitivity to the
importance of melody and timbre, gave birth to a clear, logical construction,
carefully thought through in the smallest detail. The composer emphasised
his link with tradition by adopting the classical form of the sonata form and
preserving the traditional division of the work into exposition, development
and recapitulation. In the exposition Szałowski presented two themes, contrasted
in their melodic, rhythmic and expressive character. The first theme,
light and brilliant, entrusted to the clarinets, is a type of periodic structure
made up of two segments which function as an antecedent and a consequent
(see Figure 3.1). The second theme, the main part of which appears in the
first violins, is remarkable for its smooth, diatonic-sounding contour, graceful
motion and delicacy of expression (see Figure 3.2).
In Overture, the dominant manner of constructing the form is static (Helman
1985: 171), with individual sections juxtaposed on the principle of contrast
and similarity. Emphasis on structural features is achieved using the
orchestration technique (Malinowski 1958: 33). The colouristic effect of instrumentation
is most fully marked in the building up of thematic ideas and
in their development. The individualisation of sound is linked here to the
individualisation of movement, while the dynamic influence of instrumentation
is characteristic of fragments of the exposition and recapitulation as
well as the coda. The project of innovation is fulfilled in Overture through

66 Elżbieta Szczurko
2 Cl. B
2 Cl. B
Figure 3.1 Antoni Szałowski, Overture, first theme, bars 5–13, clarinet part
non-traditional organisation of sound material, but also through assigning
a new function to the development, where events are not so much elaborated
as diversified. The internal dialectic in this composition relies on the
continuous build-up and release of the tension, the diversification of motion,
colour, timbre and dynamics. At the same time the composer strove to unify
the musical ingredients by superimposing the material of the various sections
of the form or by using similar types of texture. In his quest for order
and perfect proportions he created a work which captivates by the clarity of
its line, grace of motion, originality of sound and lightness of its flow.
The success of Szałowski’s Overture, achieved through the power of his
talent, meant at the same time a collective victory for the new Polish music
in its attempts to establish itself on the world arena. It also meant that the
interest in the young musician in his homeland grew very quickly. In 1938,
during the composer’s visit to Poland, a number of concerts took place during
which Szałowski’s works were received with great enthusiasm. 7 Mateusz
Gliński wrote in one of his articles:
7 The press and specialist publications devoted most attention to Overture. This composition was also
included in the programme of the 17th Festival of the International Society for Contemporary Music
which was held in Warsaw and Cracow in 1939.

Cor.
Timp.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Vl.
III
muta D in C, E in Es, A in As.
cantabile
Vc.
Cb.
pizz.
Cor.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Vl.
Vc.
Cb.
Figure 3.2 Antoni Szałowski, Overture, second theme, No. 10 in the score, brass
instruments, kettle drums and strings

68 Elżbieta Szczurko
Szałowski has fully mastered that which is the greatest attraction of the French tradition:
the classical moderation of form, nobility and purity of contours, as well as clarity
and grace of colour. In this style the traditional clarté of texture becomes at the same
time synonymous with the most refined artistic taste, providing a guarantee of total absence
of brutal or sterile effects. These clear, expressive forms, measured with mature
moderation, provide the outlet for Szałowski’s individual creativity (Gliński 1938: 20).
Michał Kondracki also claimed:
Another important feature of Szałowski’s music deserves particular emphasis. That is,
it is purely Polish. This young composer, who has not indulged in even a shadow of a
quotation of a folk melody in any of his compositions, is Polish through and through in
the character of his inventiveness, in his perfectly crafted arabesques and in his unexpected
stylistic and melodic phrases (Kondracki 1938: 173).
Although during his stay in Poland in 1938 Szałowski became aware of
a perceptible change in the artistic views of his native milieu, and felt that
his works were being accepted, he did not decide to return to Warsaw on
this occasion either. It was difficult for the then young artist, acknowledged
by the Paris critics as one of the most talented musicians of his generation, to
forego contact with the European milieu which was expecting him to make a
brilliant career. A pupil of Nadia Boulanger, like other artists working in the
capital of France, he was aware of the fact that success in Paris was a measure
of success in the world. “If something ‘took off’ in Paris, it would then be
successful throughout the world”, reminisced Szałowski in his conversation
with Kaczyński (1973). And indeed, after the Paris success of Overture, that
composition was soon part of the repertoire of nearly all orchestras in the
world.
The Association of Young Polish Musicians, established in Paris in 1926
on the initiative of Piotr Perkowski and Feliks Łabuński, also played a not
insignificant part in nurturing talented young Polish musicians, promoting
Polish music and creating an atmosphere which was favourable to it. Szałowski
held various posts in it – that of treasurer, vice-president and president
from 1938. With the outbreak of the Second World War, he took with
him the most important part of the Association’s archive and, together with
his mother Felicja, Michał Spisak, Henryk Szeryng and Seweryn Różycki,
moved to the south of France. He did not compose much, suffering from

Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 69
health problems and considerable financial difficulties, but he was comforted
by news from Nadia Boulanger, whose letters from the USA told him about
such events as the performance of his String quartet No. 3 (1936) at the International
Festival of Contemporary Music in New York (1941), or the presentations
of his Symphony (1938/39) and Sinfonietta (1940), the scores of which
she took with her when she travelled overseas. 8
Szałowski returned to Paris towards the end of 1945. Although it was a time
of serious material hardships, the postwar years were the most fruitful period
in the development and the reception of his music. A significant role in
popularising his music was played by his musician friends (Grzegorz Fitelberg,
Nadia Boulanger, Paweł Klecki, Andrzej Panufnik, Wacław Niemczyk,
Feliks Łabuński, Grażyna Bacewicz). His works were presented during concerts
commemorating important events, such as the first anniversary of the
victory at Monte Cassino in 1945 or the opening of La Scala, restored after
the war, in Milan in 1946. Works by Antoni Szałowski were also presented
at International Festivals of Contemporary Music. His Sonatina for oboe and
piano (1945–46) was performed in Amsterdam in 1948, and the first performance
of the concert version of ballet Zaczarowana oberża [The Enchanted Inn]
(1947) took place in Frankfurt am Main in 1951.
During the early postwar years, Szałowski’s works occasionally appeared
in concert programmes in Poland, but after 1949, when Polish culture was
paralysed by the process of Stalinisation, a profound silence descended on
the artistic output of émigré composers. His Symphony, performed on 24th
January 1950 by the Radio Orchestra of Katowice conducted by Grzegorz
Fitelberg, was, according to the composer, his last work to be performed in his
homeland before his music came under the ban of censorship. 9 It was a ma-
8 Fonds de lettres autographes “Nadia Boulanger” (correspondance reçue provenant de particuliers), letters
from Antoni Szałowski to Nadia Boulanger: N.L.A. 109 (292–319), letter from Szałowski dated 12th
July 1941. (Hyères), Département de la Musique, Bibliothèque national de France, Paris.
9 Letter from Szałowski to Seweryn Różycki dated 5th June 1957, Zakład Rękopisów Biblioteki
Narodowej w Warszawie, III 10314. In a letter to Eugenia Umińska dated 23rd April 1960, Szałowski
writes that after the third “Warsaw Autumn” festival the government of the Socialist Republic of
Poland issued an official letter banning performances of his music by Polish Radio, and musicians
travelling to the West had Szałowski’s compositions crossed out from their concert programmes,
Zakład Rękopisów Biblioteki Narodowej w Warszawie, AKC 16 737/25.

70 Elżbieta Szczurko
jor disappointment to the artist to be removed from the Polish Composers’
Union in the early 1950s. 10 He blamed this on Jan Maklakiewicz and Tadeusz
Szeligowski who, according to him, were afraid of competition should Szałowski
return to Poland (Kaczyński 1973). 11
By the mid-1950s Szałowski had composed a large number of orchestral,
chamber and solo works. Most of them were commissioned by the French Radio,
with which he had begun to collaborate immediately after the end of the
war. As well as being heard in radio concerts, his works were performed on
prestigious occasions at various venues, such as the Palais des Beaux-Arts in
Brussels, where the international orchestra Jeunesses Musicales conducted
by Franz André gave the first performance of his Suite for orchestra in the
presence of Queen Elizabeth of Belgium (9th July 1953). Szałowski’s music
was also heard during the Congress of Polish Émigré Culture (10th September
1956), when Wacław Niemczyk and the Orchestre Radio-Symphonique
de Paris, conducted by Andrzej Panufnik, presented Szałowski’s Violin Concerto
(1948–1954), dedicated to the composer’s father.
The composition provides an example of a virtuoso concerto with a conventional,
three-movement structure. It is distinguished by the transparency
of its construction plan, compact narration and clearly drawn main thematic
thoughts. The element which links all the parts is the principle of constant
differentiation of sound by changes in motion and instrumentation. Rhythm
plays an important part in shaping the form of the concerto. The constitutive
role of rhythm is particularly apparent in the development phase of
the sonata allegro and in the final rondo. Its effect is especially clear in passages
with motoric rhythm, where multiple repetitions of the formulae impart
a dynamic value to the motion (see Figure 3.3).
In 1955 Antoni Szałowski, together with Roman Palester and Andrzej Panufnik,
received the music award of the Polish Guard Company (attached to
10 Szałowski was a member of ZKP during the years 1946–1954; this information comes from Zymer
(2006: 36) (the dates were established on the basis of lists of congresses of the ZKP); cf. Erhardt
(1995: 14).
11 Szałowski quoted to Kaczyński the year 1952 as the date of his being expelled from ZKP. The
personal file in the ZKP archive contains no information about Szałowski’s name being removed
from the list of members.

Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 71
Figure 3.3 Antoni Szałowski, Concerto for violin and orchestra, 1st movement.
Allegro non troppo,firsttheme
the American Army in Europe) for his artistic achievement. These were the
firstmusicprizestobeawardedbythecommandoftheGuardCompany;
in previous years such prizes had been given to writers, scientists, plastic
artists, printing artists and creators of beautiful Polish books. The jury, under
the leadership of Witold Małcużyński, included Ludwik Bronarski, Konstanty
Régamey, Tymon Terlecki and Paweł Hostowiec (the pseudonym of
Jerzy Stempowski). During the award ceremony, which took place on 7th Oc-

72 Elżbieta Szczurko
tober 1955 at the General Władysław Sikorski Historical Institute in London,
Dr Tymon Terlecki, while explaining the jury’s decision, referred to Antoni
Szałowski in these terms:
Among Polish composers, Szałowski represents the “French” style in the best sense of
the word. Avoiding pathos and rhetoric, distant from the conflicts which divide contemporary
music into shrines and coteries, he strives above all for perfection and clarity
of texture, expressing himself naturally and with truly Latin elegance. In spite of the
moderate and muted character of his works, his music is neither dry nor shallow; Szałowski
knows how to achieve, with a light touch, a soaring brilliance without recourse
to superficial effects (Terlecki 1995: 3).
Terlecki ended his speech with the following:
Antoni Szałowski has not experienced communist oppression. He has lived in France,
and in Paris, for the last 25 years. [...] One would not exaggerate by saying that Szałowski
has been paying a heroic price for his freedom – the price of an evangelical, sometimes
more than evangelical, poverty. It is a good thing that the award of the Guard Company
will let this recluse know that we are not indifferent to his stance (Ibidem).
Szałowski, who did not take part in the awards ceremony, sent to the Polish
Guard Company a letter which included this passage:
You have reached out a helping hand to a musician who, over a quarter of a century, has
written 50 chamber and symphonic compositions, half of which have been published
by great music publishers in France, England and the USA and are being performed
throughout the world, yet who cannot support himself out of the royalties and has not
even got the right to complain, since it is obvious that every country takes care of its
own artists first of all. In a word, I can only thank you as a human being, since as an
artist I have nothing to say about my music. I hope that it is good music, and I make
an effort to make it so to the extent of my abilities when I write it, but what it is like
beyond that should be judged by others – the listeners and the critics, and I bow to their
judgment (Ibidem: 4).
The ceremony, broadcast by Radio “Free Europe” and widely reported
in the émigré press, was not mentioned in Poland. The period of oblivion,
which lasted a number of years, meant that even later publications, appearing
after the “October thaw” of 1956, did not attach much importance to the
works of émigré artists (Helman 1992: 223).
The change of direction which took place in 1956 in Poland meant that
artists turned to new compositional trends and techniques. The music com-

Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 73
munity in Poland, which was slowly freeing itself from the shackles of Socialist
Realism and opening to the world which for so long had been presented
as the source of evil and depravation, now eagerly absorbed all the “experiments”
and “bourgeois excesses”. A fascination with the avant-garde meant
that towards the end of the 1950s the repertoires of Polish philharmonics included
such numbers of new music compositions as never before or since
(Gwizdalanka 1999: 233). New compositional ideas were to be presented at
the International Festival of Contemporary Music, “Warsaw Autumn”, initiated
by Kazimierz Serocki and Tadeusz Baird. It took place for the first
time as early as October 1956. The attention of listeners was focused on either
the latest offerings, or those which had previously been unknown because
of censorship during the Stalinist era or financial restrictions before the
war. Alongside works by Stravinsky, Schönberg and Bartók, the rich concert
programmes also included many works by composers of older and younger
generations. The only ones who were omitted were, in the words of Stefan
Kisielewski, the “rebellious émigrés”, a term applied to Palester, Panufnik
and Kassern, and the “loyal émigrés” represented by Kondracki (Kisielewski
1957: 20–22). At one of the concerts, the Grand Orchestra of Polish Radio conducted
by Stanisław Wisłocki performed Szałowski’s Overture twice, once in
the opening and at the end as an encore. Reporting the festival, Kisielewski
wrote:
Apparently the author was upset that we Bolsheviks played Overture without his permission.
Never mind: we play it and we will go on playing it, as that work has an eternally
young, enrapturing magic of freshness, elegance and brilliant temperament (Ibidem).
Szałowski’s music was heard again during the “Warsaw Autumn” in 1959.
At the third festival (15th September 1959) the Warsaw Reed Trio (J. Banaszek,
J. Foremski and K. Piwkowski) performed his Trio for wind instruments
which, like Overture, had been composed in 1936. Positive opinions
about Szałowski’s works came from critics who had been brought up on the
same, neoclassical aesthetics. Opposition to them came from young musicians,
passionate about avant-garde trends, for whom neoclassical compositions,
which in Poland carried associations with the period of socialist real-

74 Elżbieta Szczurko
ism, were no longer viable. On the other hand, articles by Polish composers –
Palester, Régamey and Kisielewski – referred to the need for a new synthesis
in music, where the existing classicist ideals of clear form would be combined
with expressiveness, with new sound qualities and the individuality
of the artist (Helman 1985: 71). By not following in the footsteps of Boulezists,
by not changing his compositional apparatus as did Stravinsky and, among
Polish composers, Palester and Panufnik, Szałowski was becoming unfashionable.
One of the critics who during the “new wave” period still tried to
defend the lost cause of the neoclassicists was Stefan Jarociński. In an article
published in Ruch Muzyczny in 1961, he wrote:
I do not understand [...] why at one or another of the turnings of our contemporary
history we decided to place a seal of secrecy on the works of Antoni Szałowski; it is as if
he had ceased to exist and to compose. [...] Is it the case that composers worth their salt
are two a penny in this country, taking it in our stride when our musical culture loses
an artist of Szałowski’s calibre (Jarociński 1961: 14–15)
Still in the same year, Szałowski’s music could be heard again in his homeland.
The orchestra of the National Philharmonic, conducted by Stanisław
Wisłocki, performed the concert version of The Enchanted Inn, andayear
later the full ballet was premièred at the Warsaw Opera House (7th February
1962). The music director was Bohdan Wodiczko, while the staging and
choreography were entrusted to Witold Gruca, who at that time was making
his debut.
The one-act ballet The Enchanted Inn (1943–1945), 12 where the main characters
are the Tapstress, a young and lusty peasant woman, the flirtatious and
elegant Prince and the god of wine, Bacchus, is remarkable for its light, concise,
witty narrative, woven around the cult of wine and joy of life. Moving
the action deep into the historical past (sixteenth century) and using a mythical
character enabled Szałowski to maintain the emotional distance postulated
for neoclassical music. Maintaining such a distance is also aided by
the aura exuded by the work, one of gaiety and flirtatiousness, of jocularity,
grotesque, and a situation where the conflict is slight. In The Enchanted Inn,
12 The libretto was written by Witold Conti, a film actor who was killed in 1944 during the bombing of
Nice.

Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 75
Szałowski recalls the classical models, where dances and pantomime scenes
are linked by the threads of one plot. The treatment of the musical matter:
lightness and purity of the phrases, lively rhythms, sophisticated harmony,
attractive orchestral colours, grace and elegance, all allow one to discern features
of the French style in the music of the ballet. The sound layer corresponds
perfectly to the subject of the work, itself close to the French tradition,
and fulfils an unobtrusively descriptive, at times clearly illustrative function
in relation to the plot of the ballet (Turska 1997: 380).
In the Warsaw staging Gruca rewrote the libretto and moved the action
to the twentieth century; he gave it the character of a grotesque, a persiflage
of standard American films (Waldorff 1962). Although The Enchanted
Inn in its new stage version met with the approval of the critics and the audiences,
13 Szałowski never accepted the wilful change of the libretto. In the
new stage version the distant, unreal world gave way to current events, comicality
turned into irony, and the carefree play became a dangerous game.
The change of content and time of the action broke the principle of distance
from reality, assumed by the composer. The composer could not recognise
his ballet in the Warsaw staging; it was to have been characterised by simplicity
of content, and its expression was to have been not sarcastic, but cheerful
and smiling instead.
In spite of his resistance to new trends in music, his perfect mastery of the
compositional métier ensured the continued presence of Szałowski’s works
on the stages of the world. At a time of general fascination with the compositions
of Pierre Boulez, Luigi Nono or Karlheinz Stockhausen he could not
expect the same degree of popularity as previously, but he still received commissions.
At the beginning of the 1960s, among his major works performed
in Poland were: Aria and Toccata for chamber orchestra (1962) and Concerto
for reed trio and orchestra (1962), which combined the features of solo concerto
and concerto grosso. Thus, at last, relatively new works by Szałowski
were being performed.
13 Jerzy Waldorff described The Enchanted Inn as the true sensation of the evening. Cf. (Waldorff 1962).

Figure 3.4 Antoni Szałowski, The Enchanted Inn, before No. 81 in the score,
filling the barrel with wine

78 Elżbieta Szczurko
The composer himself never courted recognition or fame. Persevering and
confident in the pursuit of his art, he was also a very private person, keeping
his distance from the artistic milieux, indifferent to artistic fashions and
novelties. By remaining faithful to his ideals, he was forced to work in very
difficult material circumstances, isolated from the native community and not
fully integrated with the artistic world of Paris. In 1958 he wrote in one of his
letters to his friend, Seweryn Różycki:
These days I do not meet with my former friends at all, there are things that separate
me from them; we do not have any common platform of understanding and each of us
is in a sense alone. 14
It was at that difficult moment in his life that Antoni Szałowski met his future
wife, Teresa Bończa-Uzdowska, a young woman from Warsaw, daughter
of General Bończa-Uzdowski. 15 She had graduated from the Department
of History and Archeology of Warsaw University as a student of Professor
Aleksander Gieysztor; and she came to Paris on a scholarship. This was the
beginning of a new stage in the composer’s life and creative activity. At last
he had his own family, where he found support and which gave a deeper
meaning to his earthly existence. He cared for his son Piotr with great devotion,
16 drawing motivation for creative work from his family life. In 1960
Antoni Szałowski received the first prize of French RTV for the radio ballet
La Femme têtue composed in 1958. It was the first time when the Paris broadcaster
awarded a prize to an artist who was not a French citizen. 17
At the same time Szałowski completed a commission for compositions inspired
by medieval literature and paintings – Cantata for female voices and
orchestra to poems from the Carmina Burana collection, and symphonic picture
Résurrection de Lazare based on Giotto’s fresco, in which he tried, in
14 Letter from Szałowski to S. Różycki (26th July 1958), Zakład Rękopisów Biblioteki Narodowej
w Warszawie, III 10314.
15 General Władysław Bończa-Uzdowski commanded the 28th Infantry Division (from 1927), which
he led in the defensive war in 1939. During the years 1939–1945 he was a prisoner-of-war in
Germany, cf. Petrozolin-Skowrońska (1995: 519).
16 Piotr Szałowski now lives in Canada. He has worked as a press photographer, journalist, graphic
artist, artistic director and creative artist in advertising, as a specialist in educational programmes
and as a producer of video games. In 2007 he published his first novel Le froid modifie la trajectoire des
poissons.
17 Letter from Szałowski to Eugenia Umińska, op. cit.

Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 79
a sense, “to go beyond the formal and aesthetic norms of Neoclassicism,” 18
highlighting the expressive possibilities of harmony and orchestration. Evidence
of the composer’s desire to break out of the classical patterns is also
provided by Szałowski’s late works, such as Music for Strings (1969–1970),
a composition integrated in terms of material, which provides an example of
reinterpretation of the traditional model of the sonata form, without the previously
expected symmetry of sections and clear segmentation of the form
(see Figures 3.5 and 3.6).
While during the 1970s works of émigré composers such as Palester or
Panufnik remained absent from Polish musical life, Szałowski’s works appeared
sporadically in concert programmes (mainly his prewar chamber compositions
and Overture). 19 The Polish première of Szałowski’s last composition,
Six Sketches for chamber orchestra (1971–1972), took place during the
sixteenth Music Spring in Poznań (4th April 1976). On that occasion the orchestra
of Wrocław Philharmonic was conducted by Marek Pijarowski. Zygmunt
Mycielski and Władysław Malinowski, who reviewed that concert,
both agreed that the music of Szałowski, one of the greatest composers of
his generation, went far beyond neoclassical formulae and deserved greater
attention. Malinowski wrote in Ruch Muzyczny:
One would like to believe that this performance will break the conspiracy of silence
against the composer, and return him to Polish culture (Malinowski 1976: 13; cf. Droba
1976: 8, Dziadek 2003: 109–111).
Although in recent years we do occasionally find the name of Antoni Szałowski
in concert programmes, he appears primarily as the author of a few
chamber pieces and Overture. These compositions were recalled during the
seventh Polish Radio “The Parisians” Music Festival, which took place in
Warsaw on 23th–30th May 2004. 20 It was also performed on a number of occasions
in 2007 to commemorate the centenary of the composer’s birthday.
This residual presence of Szałowski’s works in Polish concert life demon-
18 Information obtained from the composer’s wife.
19 In 1972 Szałowski received the lifetime achievement music prize of the Alfred Jurzykowski
Foundation in New York.
20 The National Symphony Orchestra of the Polish Radio conducted by Jan Krenz. The concert took
place in the Witold Lutosławski Concert Studio of the Polish Radio.

80 Elżbieta Szczurko
Figure 3.5 Antoni Szałowski, Music for strings, first movement. Allegro,first
theme, bars 1–6, beginning of section “a”
strates that this composer still awaits his place in the musicological literature
and the history of Polish twentieth-century music. That is the point from
which the significance of his legacy “ought to radiate, regardless of all the
convolutions of his artistic and life paths” (Mycielski 1973: 3).

Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 81
Figure 3.6 Antoni Szałowski, Music for strings, first movement. Allegro,first
theme, bars 16–18, beginning of section “b”
In summing up this brief sketch of the work of Antoni Szałowski, which
converged with the “actual Neoclassism” 21 of the school of Nadia Boulanger, 22
21 Zofia Helman employs this term to describe one of the branches of neoclassicism in Polish music,
alongside the “archaising trend” and “romanticising neoclassicism”. Cf. Helman 1985: 76.
22 The concept of the “school of Nadia Boulanger”, in use in many Polish and foreign musicological
publications, refers to Boulanger’s didactic activities and the works of the composers who studied
under her. Cf. (Jasińska 1998: 129).

82 Elżbieta Szczurko
one should emphasise the remarkable stylistic cohesion of his compositions.
Although his final works, distinguished by deepened emotionality, greater
stress on the expressive quality of harmonics or orchestration and a freer
approach to form, indicate an attempt to break out of the substantial neoclassical
norm, they do not, in the end, lead to an essential change of musical
language and, instead, add what might be termed an incidental shading.
Neoclassicism’s typical postulate of the objectivity of art was achieved
by Szałowski through distancing himself from programmatic character and
semantic interpretations of music. The selection and organisation of musical
means in his works indicates an acceptance of technical rules and subordination
to the discipline of construction. His compositions, logically constructed
and restrained in expression, are at the same time light and cheerful, marked
with humour, calm and lyrical subtlety. All these features are part of the concept
of sérénité as an expressive category, which results from a harmonious
combination of intellect and feeling.
Szałowski’s belief in the need to build the present on the foundations of the
legacy of the past found its expression by adopting the models of form and
genre particularly characteristic of the epochs of Classicism and Baroque,
and in referring to the traditional principles of organising sound material.
Turning to tradition thus allowed him to come close to major-minor tonality
and modality, the use of contrapuntal and concerting techniques, and
the organisation of the sound material in the forms of sonata, reprise or series.
From the school of Boulanger, the composer adopted the idea of linear,
but on the whole non-contrapuntal, thinking. He used imitation (e.g., String
Quartet No. 3, Overture, fugatointheConcerto for reed trio and orchestra),
but we do not find in his works such solutions as those employed by Spisak
(fugue in the Concerto for 2 pianos, String Quartet No. 1), and Palester (double
fugue in String Quartet No. 3). Szałowski felt closer to the classical than to the
baroque model. The superimposed lines in his works define the vertical flow
in his compositions, while repeatability and ordering of motives are coupled
with the principle of centralisation. On the other hand, the foregrounding of
the metro-rhythmic factor and assigning to it the role of a structural, formcreating
element, as well as activating its expressive effect, point to the influ-

Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 83
ence of Stravinsky and are most apparent in motoric constructions. Evidence
of drawing on the sources from the past is provided in Szałowski’s music by
the use of the concertante technique. Its constructive role manifests itself in
the ordering of timbrally differentiated sections which determine the shape
of the micro- and macroform. The attractiveness of motion and timbre which
is characteristic of his work and which links them to the French tradition results
from the composer’s particular fondness for, and sensitivity to, colour
qualities. The special quality of colour is achieved through the clarity of text,
chamber character of instrumental line-ups and differentiated selection of
voices, as well as the appropriate shaping in terms of melody and motion,
dynamics and articulation.
It is true that the greatness of an artist, who after all often makes use of
a repertoire of forms and is linked to one or another, closer or more distant,
tradition, depends on the degree to which his creative inventiveness transforms
and enriches that repertoire, thus opening new paths for the development
of music. In that sense, the value of the works of Antoni Szałowski, a
faithful follower of a particular musical tradition, as were many other pupils
of Nadia Boulanger, might be viewed as being somewhat historical. On the
other hand, it should be emphasised that Szałowski, who found “his world”
in Neoclassicism, did not merely move among “routine Neoclassicist formulae”,
but succeeded in imbuing his music with individual features. The artist
mastered the art of composing to perfection, and confirmed this perfection
with every work he produced. It thus seems vital that the works of Antoni
Szałowski should not remain forgotten, that such compositions as Overture,
Sinfonietta, Violin Concerto, The Enchanted Inn or Music for Strings should once
again find their artistic expression in new performances, while their composer,
the indefatigable “messenger of faith in joy as a means of musical expression”
(Droba 1976: 8), should come to be appreciated as an artist whose
works have enriched the landscape of Polish contemporary music.

84 Elżbieta Szczurko
Works cited
Droba K. (1976). “XVI Poznańska Wiosna Muzyczna” [The Sixteenth Poznań Musical
Spring], Przekrój, No. 1620.
Dziadek M. (2003). Moda na “Wiosnę”. Festiwal Poznańska Wiosna Muzyczna 1961–
2002 , [A Fashion for “Spring”. The Poznań Musical Spring Festival 1961–
2002], Poznań.
Erhardt L. (ed.) (1995). 50 lat Zwiazku Kompozytorów Polskich [50 Years of the Polish
Composers’ Union] , Warsaw.
Gliński M. (1938). “Współcześni kompozytorzy polscy. Antoni Szałowski” [Contemporary
Polish Composers. Antoni Szałowski], Muzyka, Nos. 1–2.
Gwizdalanka D. (1999). Muzyka i polityka [Music and Politics], Cracow.
Helman Z. (1985). Neoklasycyzm w muzyce polskiej XX wieku [Neoclassicism in 20th-
Century Polish Music], Cracow.
Helman Z. (1992). “Muzyka na obczyźnie” [Music in Exile]. In: Fik M. (ed.), Między
Polską a światem. Kultura emigracyjna po 1939 roku [Between Poland and the
World. Émigré Culture after 1939], Warsaw.
Helman Z. (1999). Roman Palester. Twórca i dzieło [The Artist and His Work], Cracow.
Imbert M. (1935). “Œuvres de M. Antoni Szalowski,” Journal de Débats, 11th June.
Jarociński S. (1961). “Paryskie dygresje” [Parisian Digressions], Ruch Muzyczny,
No. 4.
Jasińska D. (1998). “The School of Nadia Boulanger.” In: Jabłoński M., Jasińska D.,
Muszkalska B., Wieczorek R. J. (eds.), Contexts of Musicology (2), Poznań.
Kaczyński T. (1973). “Ostatnia rozmowa z Antonim Szałowskim” [The Last Conversation
with Antoni Szałowski], Ruch Muzyczny, No. 10.
Kisielewski S. (1957). “Utwory polskie na Międzynarodowym Festiwalu Muzyki
Współczesnej” [Polish Compositions at the International Festival of Contemporary
Music]. In: “Trójgłos o Festiwalu” [Three Voices about the Festival]
(Warszawa 1956), Ruch Muzyczny,No.1.
Kondracki M (1938). Tygodnik Ilustrowany, No.9.
Malinowski W. (1958). “Technika orkiestrowa a forma w ‘Uwerturze’ Antoniego
Szałowskiego” [Orchestral Technique and Form in Szałowski’s‘’Overture’],
Muzyka, Nos 1–2.
Malinowski W. (1976). “Wiosna nie tylko poznańska” [Spring not only in Poznań],
Ruch Muzyczny, No. 11.
Modrakowska M. (1958). “Wspominając studia u Nadii Boulanger” [Studying with
Nadia Boulanger – Reminiscences], Ruch Muzyczny, No. 11.
Morgan Robert P. (1994). “The Modern Age”. In: Morgan R. P. (ed.), Music and
Society. Modern Times. From World War I to the present, New Jersey.
Mycielski Z. (1973). “Antoni Szałowski 21.IV.1907 – 21.III.1973,” Ruch Muzyczny,
No. 10.

Antoni Szałowski – the Essence of His Creativity 85
Palester R. (1989). “Prawda źle obecna” [Truth Wrongly Present] [letter sent in
December 1988]. In: Tarnawska-Kaczorowska K. (ed.), Muzyka źle obecna,
vol. I, Warsaw.
Petrozolin-Skowrońska B. (ed.) (1995). “Władysław Bończa-Uzdowski.” In: Nowa
encyklopedia powszechna PWN,ed.,vol.I,Warsaw.
Schmitt F. (1937). “Festivals de musique polonaise,” Le Temps, 30th October.
Szczurko E. (2008). Twórczość Antoniego Szałowskiego w kontekście muzyki XX wieku
[The Works of Antoni Szałowski in the Context of Twentieth-century Music],
Bydgoszcz.
Szymanowski K. (1925). “Maurice Ravel”, Muzyka ,No.3.
Tarnawska-Kaczorowska K. (1989). “Narozpoczęcie”[ToStartwith].In:Tarnawska-Kaczorowska
K. (ed.), Muzyka źle obecna, [Music Wrongly Present], vol.
I, Warsaw.
Terlecki T. (1955). “Nagrody muzyczne Oddziałów Wartowniczych. Dr Tymon
Terlecki uzasadnia decyzję jury.” [Music Awards of the Polish Guard Company.
Dr Tymon Terlecki Gives Reasons for the Jury’s Decision]. Dodatek
Tygodniowy Ostatnich Wiadomości, No. 43(360), Mannheim, 23rd October.
Turska I. (1997). Przewodnik baletowy [A Guide to Ballet], Cracow.
Waldorff J. (1962). “Wanna z rusałkami” [A Bathful of Undines], Świat 18th February,
No. 7 (XII).
Zymer I. (ed.) (2006). Nowa dekada. Zwiazek Kompozytorów Polskich 1995–2005 [A New
Decade. Polish Composers’ Union 1995–2005], Warsaw.

4
Neoclassical Ideas in the Works of Michał Spisak
Danuta Jasińska
Michał Spisak (1914–1965) was a representative of the so-called “French and
Polish school of composition” (Helman 1972: 93). After completing his studies
(1933–1937) at the Silesian Music Conservatoire in Katowice (with degrees
in violin and composition), in 1937 he was granted a scholarship to
study in Paris, where he spent the rest of his life and where his artistic personality
became fully crystallised. He was a member, a secretary (in 1938–
39), and subsequently the vice-president of the Association of Young Polish
Musicians in Paris, which contributed to the propagation of Polish contemporary
music in France. 1 Although Spisak settled in Paris for good, he
maintained contacts with his country. This was possible because he did not
have an official status as an émigré in Poland, 2 and hence was not an object
of interest of the censorship, which was often the case with regard to the
numerous Polish composers, who, in the aftermath of war, were dispersed
around the world, and whose music was for many years either absent or
“wrongly” present in Polish musical life. 3 Spisak appeared several times at
1 The Association of Young Polish Musicians established in Paris in 1926 was very active with regard
to concert life, which resulted in the performance of works by, amongst others, Grażyna Bacewicz,
Feliks Łabuński, Michał Kondracki, Tadeusz Kassern, Szymon Laks, Zygmunt Mycielski, Roman
Palester, Piotr Perkowski, Michał Spisak, Antoni Szałowski, Tadeusz Szeligowski, Karol
Szymanowski, Aleksander Tansman, Bolesław Woytowicz. Cf.: (Helman 1972), (Kaczyński 1978).
2 In 1955, Spisak married a Frenchwoman, Andrée Thibault.
3 The fate of the émigré composers is presented by, amongst others, Zofia Helman (1992: 209–227); Cf.
also (Tarnawska-Kaczorowska 1989).

Neoclassical Ideas in the Works of Michał Spisak 87
the Warsaw Autumn International Festival of Contemporary Music, 4 and
also participated in the concert life and activity of the Polish Composers’
Union (from 1947 he was a full member of the Union), which commissioned
many of his works (in 1964 he received an award for lifetime achievements). 5
Most of his compositions were written in France, mainly in Paris, and during
the wartime, in Voiron.
Spisak’s works testify to him developing an individual composer’s idiom
and also adopting ideas associated with the Parisian environment, particularly
the school of Nadia Boulanger (Jasińska 1998: 129–134). With rare persistence,
the composer remained faithful to once adopted artistic poetics;
hence his works, if viewed from the perspective of style, are representative
of neoclassicism. During the interwar years, the advocates of this trend departed
from the legacy of the previous era, rejecting the unbridled tone of Romantic
expression, renouncing illustrative and programme music and symbolic
meanings, and instead searched for new expressive devices, where an
objective element could replace the subjectivity of expression. According to
Zofia Helman, the main principles of the neoclassical programme included:
treating music as an autonomous art; emphasising the importance of knowledge, intellect
and craft in the creative process; returning to the classical balance between the
emotional and the structural factor, and to serenitas as a desired category of expression;
presenting the act of perception as a purely aesthetic impression, unrelated to experiencing
the emotions evoked by the music itself (1985: 16).
The concept of an artist as an iconoclast was alien to neoclassical composers
– much closer to them was the concept of an artist as an artisan, who
perceived art in line with the classical ideals of moderation, proportions, balance
and perfection. The neoclassical breakthrough was based on the an-
4 The following works of the composer were performed at the Warsaw Autumn festival in his lifetime:
Suite for String Orchestra (1st WA – 1956), Concerto for Bassoon and Orchestra (1st WA – 1956), Concerto
Giocoso (2nd WA – 1958, 8th WA – 1964), Symphonie Concertante No. 2 (3rd WA – 1959), Suite for Two
Violins (3rd WA – 1959), Sonatine for Oboe, Clarinet and Bassoon (3rd WA – 1959), Allegro de Voiron (5th
WA – 1961), ConcertoforTwoPianos(7th WA – 1963).
5 Earlier he had been a winner of several prestigious awards, including twice the first prize in the
Queen Elisabeth International Music Competition of Belgium: in 1939, for the Serenade for orchestra,
in 1957, for Concerto Giocoso for orchestra; first prize for the Olympic Hymn in the International
Composers’ Competition for an Official Olympic Hymn in 1955; an honourable mention for the
Improvisazione for violin and piano in the 2nd International Henryk Wieniawski Competition in
Poznań in 1962.

88 Danuta Jasińska
tithesis of the aesthetic categories promulgated by Romanticism, but it was
also an opposition against dodecaphony and the works of the Second Viennese
School. The neoclassical “reaffirmation” of the past, which was one of
the leading postulates of the movement, meant a return to traditional rules
and the idea of the form – for Stravinsky, the one and only foundation of music.
No one else but Stravinsky wrote in his Musical Poetics about the need
for order and discipline in art, about “making” music, which requires established
principles and a perfect command of the composer’s craft. Since
music in its “pure” form is “free speculation”, the role of an artist is to act; to
choose and eliminate; to search for unity in a multitude. “Form arises from
matter,” (Strawiński 1970: 208) and its order is regulated by technical devices.
Among the basic devices, Stravinsky enumerates organising sounds
according to their interval relationships and organising musical time. Drawing
upon tradition does not mean, however, reconstructing old patterns, but
rather – using them in a creative way in a contemporary work. According to
Zofia Helman:
The traditional architectural models and stylistic conventions adopted from the past
received a new quality when combined with modern devices related to tonality and
harmony, rhythm and sound. The essence of neoclassicism is not the presence of past
conventions and rules but the way they are transformed and included in the new overall
system of the composing technique( 1985: 16).
Staying in Paris, familiarising himself with Stravinsky’s works and studying
under Nadia Boulanger – all of these factors gave Spisak a creative impulse
that directed him towards neoclassical poetics, which, in turn, became
so important and close to him that it in effect dominated his entire musical
legacy. The neoclassical idiom of Spisak’s works resulted, first and foremost,
from him becoming part of the ideological atmosphere of his times. It
was in Paris, starting from the 1920s, that the neoclassical movement became
very strong. And it was Karol Szymanowski who discerned and promulgated
the artistic role of this centre of European culture amongst young Polish
composers with a flair for modernism; he wrote about the need of modernising
and developing Polish music or stated that the works of Stravinsky,
whomheperceivedas“thegreatestoflivingmusicians”,“[...]havebecome

Neoclassical Ideas in the Works of Michał Spisak 89
a magic formula, showing suddenly and with great certainty the direction
of evolution.”(Szymanowski 1984: 139) In Zofia Helman’s opinion, the Polish
composers who studied at the Schola Cantorum or the École Normale de
Musique
adopted[...]toalesserorgreaterextent,thecharacteristicsoftheFrenchcraft–thelogical
and well-thought-out structure of form, the simple and clear texture, the lightness
and finesse of sound. At the school of Nadia Boulanger they received knowledge about
the history of music, and from there too they derived anti-Romantic ideals, aversion
to pathos and sentimentalism, as well as to expressing feelings and illustrating literary
programmes with music (Helman 1985: 55).
Spisak highly regarded the artistic personality of Nadia Boulanger – one
of the most eminent pedagogues of the time – whose importance he thus
assessed:
With regard to the Polish composers of my generation, Nadia’s school has this invaluable
merit that it liberated us from the anachronous influence of the German School.
Nadia’s school is as a matter of fact a very broad notion, including tens of composers,
sometimes outstanding individualities – even Igor Stravinsky is in a sense Nadia’s student
(Kaczyński 1964: 7).
Just as the studies under Nadia Boulanger contributed to Spisak mastering
his composer’s craft, he manifested in various statements his great enthusiasm
for Stravinsky’s music, expressing his admiration for the greatness and
perfection of his art. 6 “As far as I am concerned, I was and I am an admirer
of Stravinsky. I admit openly – and please let me use big words here – that
I love his music” (Kaczyński 1964: 7). “[...] Stravinsky’s aesthetics is closer
to me than, for example, the aesthetics of other great contemporary masters”
(Spisak 1957: 8). In this regard, Spisak shared Nadia Boulanger’s view that
the mastery of Stravinsky’s music, this embodiment of the classical idea, was
a measure of the ultimate artistic value. 7
Spisak, who remained mainly in the domain of instrumental music, which
by nature is devoid of extra-musical senses, emphasised – like other neoclassical
composers – the role of the composing technique. A perfect command
6 This is testified by, amongst others, mentions in Spisak’s letters to Stefan Jarociński and Adam
Mitscha. The correspondence was published in: Markiewicz (2005: 117–380).
7 Cf. (Boulanger 1925: 195). More on this subject: (Jasińska 2004: 545–553).

90 Danuta Jasińska
of this technique was required for the logical structure of a work. However,
this requirement did not preclude a conviction that in a work of music an
objective (rational) element should be balanced with a subjective element.
These are clearly Nadia Boulanger’s views, particularly the premise that intuition
and imagination are equally important for an artist as his craft and
intellect. A harmonious combination of both factors – that is, the classical balance
between emotio and ratio – is the best and the clearest example of this.
If an emotion is stirred, from which subsequently a creative thought arises,
its transformation involves the devices of the composer’s craft. Only perfect
command of the musical language and its rules, assisted by a sense of order,
allows for freedom of action, thanks to which the composer will follow his
own path and leave his mark on the work. In Spisak’s opinion, emotion is
fundamental for artistic work, which, besides knowledge and technical and
formal discipline, preconditions the ability to create and experience a work
of art. In a letter to Adam Mitscha he wrote:
There is no true music without the true heart. Everything is artificial today, or it will
beartificialtomorrow.[...]Purelyintellectualcombinationsinterestmeonlysolongas
they can find their way to the heart. 8
In a letter to Stefan Jarociński, in turn, he declared: “It is frankness and
simplicity that I keep fighting for. Nothing that is coerced can be good, nor
can it speak – and after all, this is what it is all about.” 9
Being a typical neoclassical composer, Spisak adopted an approach that
was in opposition to the achievements of the Second Viennese School and
was critical of contemporary avant-garde, whose activity he perceived as
mere technical speculations, which – in his opinion – had nothing to do with
real art. Similarly to Nadia Boulanger, he believed that without the assistance
of emotion and idea, technique and intellect are merely a means and not the
goal of a composer’s statement. In a letter to Adam Mitscha from 1956, Spisak
wrote:
I am interested in purely intellectual combinations only so far as they can find their way
to the heart. Therefore, I am very distant from the ‘explorations’ of the dodecaphonists,
8 Spisak’s letter to Adam Mitscha, postmarked in Paris, 16th February 1956 (Markiewicz 2005: 314).
9 Spisak’s letter to Stefan Jarociński, postmarked in Paris, 9th August 1950 (Markiewicz 2005: 246).

Neoclassical Ideas in the Works of Michał Spisak 91
or the composers of musique concrète and electronic music. [...] Among the composers
that I would willingly call ‘combinators’ because they are fond of combinations and
have a purely intellectual approach to music, I value Alban Berg. You could find the
soul there [...] I am wondering why my fellow composers in Poland are becoming so
interestedindodecaphony, [...].Wehad poorKoffler–that isenough. 10
In another letter, Spisak noted:
Of course, one must know dodecaphonists, but (in my opinion) they have no future
– you need the heart in music... Chopin, Mozart, Monteverdi, Stravinsky. [...] What
they do today in France or Germany are merely poor imitations. Maybe crowned with
greater command of technique and all those combinations but – to my ear – having
nothingincommonwithart. 11
Being a supporter of Stravinsky’s and not Schönberg’s music – which Nadia
Boulanger once described as “tormented and romantic art” (Kendall 1976:
70) – Spisak was not interested in the experimental approach, connected, for
example, with electronic music, in which he perceived no expressive quality.
He highlighted this in one of his letters:
[...]therearesomany“composers”whocannotgrasptheirownmusicevenwiththeir
own ear. There are many examples of this in the so-called electronic, concrete and similar
kinds of music. The experiment itself is very interesting but the effects have little to
do with real art. [...] I am right so far as the successes of these composers are mostly
related to the whims of fashion and not real spiritual needs. 12
Spisak’s aversion to dodecaphony and contemporary avant-garde is understandable,
because as an advocate of the idea of neoclassicism, he did not
approve of the phenomena that went beyond the stylistic poetics that were
close to him. In his opinion, true art depended not only on craft but first and
foremost on the spiritual and moral value, conveyed by a composer in his
work. In this regard, Spisak’s approach was in line with Nadia Boulanger’s
views: in her opinion, musical language was common to everybody; however,
it became unique when marked by an individual thought, which should
be united with a universal idea. (Monsaingeon 1980: 113) According to Nadia
Boulanger, “music only retains the highest and purest substance of the idea,
10 Spisak’s letter to Adam Mitscha, postmarked in Paris, 16th February 1956 (Markiewicz 2005: 314).
11 Spisak’s letter to Adam Mitscha, postmarked in Paris, 12th June 1956 (Markiewicz 2005: 315–316).
12 Spisak’s letter to Adam Mitscha, postmarked in Paris, 17th January 1956 (Markiewicz 2005: 312).

92 Danuta Jasińska
since it has the privilege of expressing all, whilst excluding nothing” (Cf.
Kendall 1976: 130). She saw this feature, first and foremost, in Stravinsky’s
music, which, although it may have seemed “impersonal” from outside, by
expressing “motion and life” had in fact a timeless quality, associated with
classical music, with its perfection and unique beauty. When speaking of the
qualities that he valued most highly, Spisak emphasised that “[...] simplicity,
frankness and the heart were [...] the true and the greatest qualities [...]
of art.” 13 Since Spisak wished to express “himself” in music, his own truth
that he professed, he opted for serenitas – the values of the neoclassical poetics
that carried such expressive qualities as lightness, clarity, moderation,
a sense of order and balance, cheerfulness, serenity and brightness. The composer’s
words confirm this: “[...] music gives me true joy – and if in addition
my music can give someone a moment of pleasure, I am truly happy.” 14
In one of his letters, he succinctly defined his musical credo: “[...] to make
people cheerful – this is my goal.” 15 Towards the end of his life, he conveyed
a similar message:
I always want to be and remain a simple artist and, independent of technique or style,
writemusicthatcouldbringsomejoyandsomeunderstanding[...].Iamstillnotable,
and I still cannot find this simplicity that is close to me and that one day would be as
clear as saying “good morning” or “good-bye”. I sense it, however, perfectly, and it is
my measure of optimism. 16
The homogenous stylistic idiom of Spisak’s music results from him adopting
a particular artistic approach and cultivating and implementing the principles
of neoclassicism. A constructive reference to tradition becomes a starting
point for developing a new formal, sound and expressive concept of
a work. The composer uses technical devices and formal models of more
baroque than classical provenance; however, the latter (for example the sonata
form) are also present in his works. With his preference for instrumental
forms of music (including orchestral, soloist and chamber) such as symphony,
concerto, concerto grosso, concertino, sonata, sonatina, suite, serenade, toc-
13 Spisak’s letter to Witold Friemann, postmarked in Paris, 12th August 1961 (Markiewicz 2005: 356).
14 Spisak’s letter to Adam Mitscha, postmarked in Paris, 10th January 1958 (Markiewicz 2005: 318).
15 Spisak’s letter to Adam Mitscha, postmarked in Paris, 27th July 1959 (Markiewicz 2005: 323).
16 Spisak’s letter to Adam Mitscha, postmarked in Paris, 20th February 1963 (Markiewicz 2005: 334).

Neoclassical Ideas in the Works of Michał Spisak 93
cata, and divertimento, and an extensive use of such techniques as concertante,
polyphony, figuration, variation, and ostinato, Spisak fulfils the neoclassical
postulate about the importance of craft, discipline and clarity of musical
structure. One of the important elements of craft, distinctly visible in
Spisak’s works, is a new way of organising sound material, where (despite
the reminiscence of some elements of the traditional system) a modal scalebased
order, interval-based structuring and sound centres become particularly
significant. The relics of functional harmony, if present (e.g. third motifs
or chords, including those with interchangeably treated minor and major
thirds), occur within short sections of music, but since they are shifted and
combined (e.g. with a modal scale), they lose their functional hallmarks, and
a particular interval structure or particular sound centres become the main
regulators that organise the linear and vertical relations. The central role is
achieved by, for example, sound repetition (e.g. in the initial fragment of the
Humoresque for piano), a pedal point (e.g. in the 4th movement Intermezzo
of the Symphonie concertante No. 1), but most frequently by ostinato figures
based on figuration or creating homorhythmic “blocks” of chords (e.g. in the
Concerto Giocoso). The centres, combined with interval-based structuring, attain
a new structural meaning, also from the point of view of the logical plan
of the form. Usually, in the final fragment of a given movement of the cycle
or work, the initial formula of the centre returns, which encompasses the entire
work like an arch (e.g. the main theme of the Allegro built on an opened
chord “A–C–E” – later modified by modal courses, counterpointing lines and
a concertante technique – is played by the tutti, in the quasi-reprise section
that crowns the first movement of the Symphonie Concertante No. 2).
The establishment of stable systems, typical of the oscillation around a centre,
is defined by the static character of the harmonic phenomena. A melorhythmic
factor, combined with a concertante technique, is the principal factor
that gives the course of music its dynamics. Quite characteristic is the
simultaneous reduction of sound, which is connected with the idea of instrumentation
that involves treating instrumental groups like a chamber ensemble
taking up a concertante part. The continuous motion of the sound
combined with the motive force of the rhythm give Spisak’s works a typ-

94 Danuta Jasińska
ically neoclassical colouring, shimmering like a colourful mosaic arranged
against a bright and distinct texture and form. On the other hand, the turn
towards modality and polyphony shows that linear thinking is fundamental
for composition. Also in this regard, Nadia Boulanger’s views turned out
to be inspiring for Spisak – she mentioned many times the issue of linear
hearing and the idea of music based on the so-called grande ligne, forwhich
she valued both Bach and Stravinsky so highly. She believed, inter alia, that
in order to achieve clarity of composition one should follow a linear development
and emphasise it by harmonic and instrumental intentions (Kendall
1976: 52). She associated the so-called grande ligne with the natural development
of a melodic phrase and the existence of a musical sense, which becomes
sensitised and activates itself in the act of creation, performance and
perception of a work. In her opinion, music should be listened to and heard
not as a “vertical” but a “linear phenomenon” (Monsaingeon 1980: 62). She
found this linear character of a composer’s thought in Stravinsky’s music in
particular, and like him, had a wide concept of the role of tradition, which
she viewed as a creative power that safeguarded the continuity of musical
work.
A turn towards the past, this combination of the old with the new, the
meeting of which creates a new stylistic quality, is a distinctive feature of
Spisak’s works. Hence the typical meetings in his works of, for example,
interval-based structuring and modal figuration (e.g. Grave and Allegro from
the 1st movement of the Symphonie Concertante No. 2. Compare also the modal
foundation of the slow movement of this cycle), ostinato-centralising formulas
with a concertante technique (e.g. 2nd movement of the Concerto for Piano
and Orchestra, aswellastheConcerto Giocoso and Symphonie Concertante
No. 2), a variation technique with a polyphonic motif evolution (e.g. in the
String Quartet No. 1 and the Concerto for Two Pianos), a figuration with contrapuntal
devices (e.g. Toccata, Suita for String Orchestra), a multi-sectional
structure and an arch form (e.g. Allegro de Voiron, 1st movement of the Concerto
for Piano and Orchestra), a concerto form with elements of a rondo and
a sonata form (e.g. the opening and the final movement of the Concerto for
Bassoon and Orchestra, AllegrodeVoiron), and a monothematic musical pro-

Neoclassical Ideas in the Works of Michał Spisak 95
gression with a quasi-reprise pattern (e.g. the slow movement of the Sonata
for Violin and Orchestra). The modal lines do not only favour going beyond
the functional system but permeate the interval structures that shape motifs
and themes, modified mainly by a concertante technique, and influence the
form of a given centre, which determines successive, symmetric and usually
short sections of the musical progression as a reference point. Hence the
modal material (fragments of scales and their various combinations) fits into
the organisation of the sound language well, gaining a structural and sonic
quality. The examples include, amongst others, the Concerto Giocoso, where,
especially in the first movement, the material that orders the course of the
music is derived from the Aeolian and Lydian modes. The elements of the
Lydian mode serve as building material for the centres and figuration lines
of the first movement of the Suite for String Orchestra. TheSymphonie Concertante
No. 2 has similar features. The chords initially derived from the Dorian
mode (Grave), and subsequently from the Aeolian mode (Allegro) inthefirst
movement (in the second movement, apart from a sound centre, lines based
on a diatonic scale, especially the Lydian mode, are developed) do not remain
in a functional relationship but follow the principle of interval-based
structuring and sound centres. In combination with the continuous presence
of the concertante idea, the resulting form resembles to some extent an “assembly”
– it is assembled from many contrasting sections.
An interesting research problem is brought up by Anna G. Piotrowska,
who claims that
[...]the waySpisaktreats the formofthe worksthat alludeintheirtitlesto past music
eras,[...] is manifested inthe way he constructs his works–by putting into sequences
audibly recognisable particles (2007: 118).
This characteristic “mosaic-like” structure is achieved by the repetitiveness
of units – contrasting and similar (or identical) “motifs” that occur in
a modified or unchanged form. The author notices similarities between the
structural principles on which Spisak’s and Stravinsky’s works are based,
and believes that this similarity results from “[...] mutual relationships between
basic and audibly isolated sound wholes,”(Ibidem) which, following
the idea of Alicja Jarzębska, who analysed the works of Stravinsky (2002:

96 Danuta Jasińska
260–384), Piotrowska defines as partons. According to Piotrowska, “while
creating form, Spisak does not only show his predilection for specific systems
that Jarzębska calls partons, but also shows a tendency for contrasting
melodic partons (that prevail in his works) with timbre partons in an explicit
way” (Piotrowska 2007: 118). While analysing Spisak’s Symphonie Concertante
No. 1 from this perspective, the author characterises both types of
partons, their distribution and structure in the five individual movements of
the symphony, the scope of their mutual relationships, and their functions
(amongst others, maintaining symmetric, parallel or frame systems within
one movement and an entire cycle; the colour function connected with instrumental
and sound layers; the thematic function; the function that constitutes
the form by dividing it into sections, with a predilection for putting
melodic and timbre partons into pairs or contrasting them, with a tendency
to keep the same sets throughout an entire work). In Piotrowska’s opinion,
the neoclassical inclination in Spisak’s works, explicit, say, in their relation
to tradition, references baroque techniques (concertante and polyphony), or
the attempts to overcome conventional norms involve rebuilding the composer’s
technique and as such have modernist features, marked by a creative
approach towards musical language. Sound centralisation and independently
treated non-functional sound structures, juxtaposed on the basis
of similarity or contrast, which contribute to creating a new sound (sensitised
to sonorism), and the form of the work, are important features thereof.
The structural role of intervals (with emphasis placed on a second and
third, sometimes a fourth, treated independently from functional relationships,
especially so that the second structures derive mainly from a modal
order, for which the third and other intervals are a contrasting counterbalance),
which manifests itself in the melodic motifs, the structure of chords
and the role of a given centre, is present in all of Spisak’s works, irrespective
of whether the heading says it is a symphony, sonata or suite. For example,
in the Toccata, a typical way of shaping the course of music is manifested,
which, derived from a chosen interval structure, repeated, contrasted
and sequenced, plays the role of a motif, a theme and an ostinato centre,
respectively. It is characteristic of Spisak to start with a microstructure and

Neoclassical Ideas in the Works of Michał Spisak 97
then expand it gradually, which leads to a diversified macrostructure. This
way, the composer attains consistency of the material, emphasised by the
interval relationships that occur despite the changeable systems of the formconstituting
units. This feature manifests itself especially in the cycles, and
also concerns the relationships between various works. Another common
feature of the works is a rhythmic pulse, characteristic of neoclassical composers,
with a vivid and therefore cheerful tone, attained due to the homorhythm
of figuration patterns coupled with various modes of the concertante
technique that have an impact on the continual motion of the sound.
Examples are: the Toccata for Orchestra,ortheSuite for String Orchestra,aswell
as both symphonies concertantes. In chamber music works (e.g. the Suite for
Two Violins, Sonatine for Oboe, Clarinet and Bassoon, andDuetto Concertante for
Viola and Bassoon) the concertante idea is supported by the polyphonisation
of the thematic lines, and sometimes variation technique devices (e.g. the
String Quartet No. 1, the passacaglia in the Concerto for Piano and Orchestra).
The idea of concertante, used universally in Spisak’s works and adopted
from the music of the past, testifies to the “baroque” vein in his neoclassical
idiom. The composer uses chamber line-ups in imitation of a “family” of
instruments, favouring stringed instruments, and in solo parts, often the violin
(nota bene, being a violinist himself, he knew very well the performance
possibilities of this instrument, which he used in his compositions). The reduced
chamber music sound of an ensemble can also be found in Spisak’s
symphonic works (he usually introduces a reduced line-up in the slow movements
of a cycle), where he treats the orchestra as a concertante chamber
ensemble (e.g. in both symphonies concertantes, and the Concerto Giocoso).
A similar idea pervades the form of a concerto for solo instrument and
orchestra (e.g. the Concerto for Piano, theConcerto for Bassoon) and chamber
music works. By using a successive and simultaneous concertante technique,
as well as a concertante technique that results from the accumulation of
both types (with regard to solo and ensemble settings, and the division into
different instrumental groups playing in concert with one another), Spisak
achieves a “kaleidoscopic” liveliness of the sound, which is particularly distinct
in his composing idiom. It consists, inter alia, in the gradual brighten-

98 Danuta Jasińska
ing of the timbre with “terrace-like” entrances of instruments (which is often
connected with modal material) or is based on simultaneous or alternating
concertante of homogenous groups, chamber ensembles or opposed groups
of instruments. In the latter case, a melodic line usually emerges in the highest
register, usually in counterpoint, and in the lowest register, a centre becomes
stabilised over a short section (which usually changes in successive
sections), derived from a basic interval structure and enhanced by a figuration,
ostinato or a chordal homorhythmic pattern.
The idea of concertante also means a certain sense of balance in the architecture
of the work, including arch-based references. In fast movements,
all types of concertante techniques occur; in slow movements, solo instruments
dominate the concertante parts. The composer uses a three-movement
pattern in concertos but also in his Symphonie concertante No. 2. On the one
hand, in the Concerto for Bassoon and Orchestra, a virtuoso or soloist element
prevails, which is a traditional device, and on the other, the remaining instruments
take on the concertante function, which means that both an alternation
and simultaneity of concertante in the opening and final movements is
connected with a multi-movement concerto of a rondo type, whilst the middle
movement, frugal when it comes to instrumentation, is characterised by
a monothematic pattern.
While using the music of the past, manifested in the techniques and forms
of instrumental music, Spisak leaves a new mark on them by assimilating
into them 20th century technical devices (interval-based structuring, sound
centralisation and the aforementioned melodic and timbre partons). Drawing
upon historical forms does not mean that they function in line with a traditional
model. Combining different elements contributes to transforming
these models; moreover, each of them comes closer, to a greater or lesser extent,
to the concertante form. The Sonata for Violin and Piano and the Concerto
for Piano and Orchestra can serve as examples; there, the concertante form,
with its “assembly” structure and new structuring of sound material, is constructed
on the classical model. Sometimes orchestral works are so strongly
pervaded by the concertante idea that the title of a given work does not, in
fact, reflect the form. This form becomes de facto a concerto for orchestra with

Neoclassical Ideas in the Works of Michał Spisak 99
the attributes of a 20th century form (as with Bartók or Stravinsky) and not
a traditionally understood suite, serenade or symphony. Although the title of
Spisak’s Suite for String Orchestra suggests a reference to a historical model, it
is closer to the idea of a concerto grosso (compare the alternating virtuosity
of the soloist and the ensemble) and the form of an orchestral (here chamber)
concerto. In the three-movement Symphonie Concertante No.2,thevery
division of the instrumental ensemble into soli and tutti points to the reference
to baroque patterns; on the other hand, however, it is a concerto for
orchestra, where one finds independently treated units of form and a modern
idea of sound that in some fragments has sonoristic qualities. (Jasińska
1980: 61–74) The juxtaposition of traditional and new elements, characteristic
of neoclassicism, is often manifested in combining or mixing forms, as,
say, in the Concerto Giocoso, which bears some features of a symphony but at
the same time makes use of the ideas of a concerto grosso. The juxtaposition
and modification of both models results in a form related to a new orchestral
concerto.
Spisak’s works have their place in the neoclassical movement that developed
in Polish twentieth century music, both in the works of the composers
who were active abroad (after the Second World War in emigration circles)
and at home. In contrast to other Polish composers, who drew upon folklore,
were interested in archaicising devices or moved towards the so-called
“Romantic-style” neoclassicism, or even dodecaphony, Spisak’s idiom represents
the features of the so-called proper neoclassicism that developed in
France, in the circle of Nadia Boulanger’s school. The composer, living away
from his country, with which he however maintained contact at all times, and
living in Paris, where – as one can guess from his extensive correspondence
and contacts with his musical compatriots – he felt himself a Pole, chose a
poetics that brought into his illness-ridden life harmony, joy and peace; that
is, the values of serenitas. According to Zofia Helman:
This word meant more than a cheerful and bright mood; it pointed rather to the kind of
moralconductthatembodiedahumanistideal[...];acheerfulspiritthatresultedfrom
a moral victory over passions, defeats and suffering (1985: 199–200).

100 Danuta Jasińska
One can believe that this approach gave Spisak an important anchor that
proved right also in his musical work.
In 1972, Nadia Boulanger described the artistic personality of the Polish
composer in the following words:
Spisak was a perfect and complete artist, not in the sense of looking for originality at all
costs but due to the distinctiveness and individuality of his style. His artistic thought,
although it manifested itself in a way that was generally adopted in his time, had its individual
character, which originated in the kind of man he was. If one is a great artist of
truequality,onealwaysadoptsthestylethatisthemostpopularinagivenera[...]and
which, nevertheless, is individual for every artist, although it does not distinguish itself
from others by any “peculiarities.” There are no peculiarities [...] in Spisak’s music. It
has something I cannot define [...] – an outstanding personality of an artist. [...] The
music of every country has its own distinct features. Spisak lived in Paris; however, his
nationalsenseofbelongingwasdeepandsincere.[...]Franceonlyhelpedhimtoknow
himselfbetter.[...]ThestrictlyPolishfeaturesofSpisak’scharacterdidnotpreventhim
from being more than a Polish musician – from being a Musician. [...] An artist never
expresseshimselfthroughprotesting.[...] He is madeup of the resourcesthat existin
his consciousness, in his intellectual and musical background, which results from the
continuous, evolutionary development of an artist. There is always something that attracts
the mind – and this was so natural about Spisak. He knew, of course, what he had
to know to create a work of art (he mastered all the secrets of the composer’s craft). But
theveryartisticideaderivedfromhispersonality[...].ThememoryofMichałSpisakis
stillalivetoday[...]throughhiswonderfulmusic–themusicthatsecuredhimasecure
and stablepositioninhistory.Andthis isthisgreat–the onlyreal–value[...](quoted
in Skobało (1976: 61–63)).
Neoclassicism played an important role in the development of Polish music,
starting from the interwar period when, associated with the Parisian
artistic centre and the fascination provoked by Stravinsky’s music, it became
the movement that showed a modernist and pro-European path to the young
generation of Polish composers – at that time more attractive than dodecaphony,
connected with the Second Viennese School. After the Second
World War, neoclassicism was still continued and, judging by the works of
the Polish composers who were active in the country, its role did not diminish
greatly until the late 1950s – the time when the composers turned towards
new composing techniques, which had even earlier been strongly represented
by the representatives of the avant-garde behind the Iron Curtain.
It is characteristic that some of the Polish composers who worked abroad,
such as Aleksander Tansmann, Antoni Szałowski, Szymon Laks, and Michał

Neoclassical Ideas in the Works of Michał Spisak 101
Spisak, and who were still connected with the French circle, remained faithful
to neoclassicism. It seems that irrespective of the individual achievements
and new quests of particular composers, and the continuous development of
their work, neoclassicism contributed an important message to Polish music
– the need for identifying oneself with European cultural tradition – a value
that today, despite the changes that have taken and are still taking place, is
still relevant.
Works cited
Boulanger N. (1925). “Stravinsky”, Lectures on Modern Music, January.
Helman Z. (1972). “Muzycy i muzyka polska w Paryżu w okresie międzywojennym”
[Polish Musicians and Music in Paris in the Interwar Period], Muzyka,
No. 2.
Helman Z. (1985). Neoklasycyzm w muzyce polskiej XX wieku [Neoclassicism in 20th
Century Polish Music] (Cracow: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne).
Helman Z. (1992). “Muzyka na obczyźnie” [Music in Exile] In: Fik M. (ed.), Między
Polską a światem. Kultura emigracyjna po 1939 roku [Between Poland and the
World. Emigration Culture After 1939] (Warsaw: Krąg), pp. 209–227.
Jarzębska A. (2002). Strawiński. Myśli i muzyka [Stravinsky. Music and Thought]
(Cracow: Musica Iagellonica), part II: “Konstrukcja muzyki Strawińskiego”
[Structure of Stravinsky’s Music], chapters on partons, pp. 260–384.
Jasińska D. (1980). “Przejawy neoklasycyzmu w II Symfonii koncertującej Michała
Spisaka” [Aspects of Neoclassicism in Michał Spisak’s Symphonie Concertante
No. 2], Muzyka, No. 4, pp. 61–74.
Jasińska D. (1998). “The School of Nadia Boulanger.” In: Jabłoński M., Jasińska D.,
Muszkalska B., Wieczorek R. J. (eds.), Contexts of Musicology, vol. II (Poznań:
Ars Nova), pp. 129–134.
Jasińska D. (2004). “Nadia Boulanger o Strawińskim” [Nadia Boulanger on Stravinsky].
In: Paczkowski Sz. (ed.) Muzyka wobec tradycji. Idee – Dzieło – recepcja
[Music and Tradition: Ideas – Work – Reception (Warsaw: Instytut Muzykologii
Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego), pp. 545–553.
Kaczyński T. (1964). “Dwie rozmowy z Michałem Spisakiem” [Two Interviews
with Michał Spisak], Ruch Muzyczny, No. 18.
Kaczyński T. (1978). “Stowarzyszenie Młodych Muzyków Polaków w Paryżu”
[The Association of Young Polish Musicians in Paris], Muzyka,No.3.
Kendall A. (1976). The Tender tyrant Nadia Boulanger. A life devoted to music. A biography
(London: MacDonald and Jane’s).

102 Danuta Jasińska
Markiewicz L. (2005). Michał Spisak. 1914–1965 (Dąbrowa Górnicza: Muzeum Miejskie
“Sztygarka”).
Monsaingeon B. (1980). Mademoiselle. Entretiens avec Nadia Boulanger (Paris: Editions
Van de Velde).
Piotrowska Anna G. (2007). “Neoklasycyzm w ujęciu Michała Spiska (na przykładzie
Symfonii koncertującej nr 1)” [Neoclassicism by Michał Spisak (on the
example of Symphonie Concertante No. 1]. In: Jarzębska A. and Paja-Stach J.
(eds.), Idee modernizmu i postmodernizmu w poetyce kompozytorskiej i w refleksji
omuzyce[Ideas of Modernism and Postmodernism in a Composer’s Poetics
and in a Reflection of Music] (Cracow: Musica Iagellonica).
Skobało D. (1976). “Dokumentacja materiałów pośmiertnych Michała Spisaka”
[Documentation of Michał Spisak’s Posthumous Materials], Zeszyty naukowe
PWSM w Krakowie [Scientific Journals of the State Higher School of Music
in Cracow, No. 1.
Spisak M. (1957). Reply to a questionnaire on Stravinsky’s works, Ruch Muzyczny,
No. 12.
Strawiński I. (1970). “Poetyka muzyczna” [Poetics of Music], trans. Stefan Jarociński,
Res facta,No.4.
Szymanowski K. (1984). Pisma [Writings]. In: Michałowski K. (ed.), Pisma muzyczne
[Writings on Music] (Cracow: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne).
Tarnawska-Kaczorowska K. (ed.) (1989). Muzyka źle obecna [Wrongly Present Music]
(1989), ii (Warsaw: Polish Composers’ Union, Musicologists’ Section).

5
Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist,
ATrulyFreeMan
Marlena Wieczorek
Building identity
Roman Maciejewski was a Polish émigré composer of the twentieth century.
Born in Berlin in 1910, he spent the first years of his life in that city, graduating
from the prestigious Julius Stern Conservatory (the piano class of Maria
Goldenweiser). From this period he remembered, among others, the specific
atmosphere associated with the rise of racism in Germany. Years later he recalled
that he was not popular in his school class because he was a Pole, 1 and,
as his brother claimed, “that experience was the first to make little Romek
aware of his national identity”(Kozub 2010: 252). Due to the unstable economic
situation and the worsening political and social conditions in Germany,
in 1919 the composer’s parents decided to return to Poland. The family
resided in Leszno, where Maciejewski went to Jan Komeński State Secondary
School for Boys. He did not abandon his passion for playing the instrument,
to which he dedicated all his spare time. 2 His interest was kept up by the
atmosphere of his family home, always full of music, as his mother was a piano
teacher. Maciejewski frequently recalled how she played Chopin, and
this influenced his musical taste and made him choose piano as his main instrument
(Gołaszewski 1999: 12). In Leszno, Maciejewski also joined the boy
1 Roman Maciejewski, comment made in the film Outsider, dir. by S. Szlachtycz, TVP 1993.
2 Based on Marlena Wieczorek’s interview with Wojciech Maciejewski, Warsaw 30th March 2002.

104 Marlena Wieczorek
scouts, which was a forge of patriotism, with a strong impact on the views
of young people (Kozub 2010: 252).
In 1924 Maciejewski began to study piano at the Music Conservatory in
Poznan, 3 where he met eminent artistic personalities, such as Bohdan Zaleski,
Stanisław Wiechowicz or Kazimierz Sikorski, who introduced him to
the secrets of contemporary art. The overall atmosphere of the university
and its concert activity also played a role in the formation of his musical
tastes. The composer participated, among others, in the concerts of the State
Music Conservatory choir and orchestra (for example in the performance
of Szymanowski’s Stabat Mater) (Latoszewski 1929: 213). This kind of events
sensitised him to developments in contemporary Polish music and helped
crystallise his compositional idiom. The first examples of his individual style
can already be found among his youthful compositions, such as Mazurkas
for piano (dedicated to Sikorski) or the choral Kurpie Songs,whosestylewas
modernist and up to date. These first attempts convinced Maciejewski that
he should study composition. He started at the Higher School of State Music
Conservatory in Warsaw in 1931. By choosing Warsaw, he followed his
master – Sikorski, who was at that time a professor in the Conservatory.
From the first moments of his stay in the capital, Maciejewski’s talent stood
out among other students and he was even called the hope of young music
in Poland (Drzewiecki 1971: 144). He also became one of the favorite composers
of Szymanowski, who quickly recognised the Maciejewski’s talent,
admired his music, served him with advice and even took him under his
care (Lilpop-Krance 1991:69). The master tried to expand the horizons of
his pupil and shape music tastes, among others by introducing him to the
artistic life of the capital 4 or arranging for public performances of his own
works. Thanks to these efforts, Maciejewski gained popularity as a composer
and pianist, and some predicted a great future for him (e.g. Zalewski 1977:
135). The Institute for Art Promotion played a special role in this context.
The first concert of Maciejewski’s works was held there in 1932. 5 Aclosere-
3 Based on the degree certificate issued by the Music Conservatory of Poznań (the original), in the
collection of R. Maciejewski Music Society in Leszno, Poland.
4 Letter of R. Maciejewski to Marcella Hildebrandt, 20th November 1932, Warsaw.
5 Letter of R. Maciejewski to M. Hildebrandt, 19th October 1932, Warsaw.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 105
lationship with Szymanowski helped Maciejewski to crystallise of his artistic
individuality, developed him both professionally and personally, but it also
prevented him from completing his conservatory studies. His student career
came to an abrupt end when the composer took part in a strike against Szymanowski’s
dismissal from the post of vice-chancellor. However, expelling
from the Conservatory (Kisielewski 1957: 36–37) did not break Maciejewski,
as he was strongly convinced that he had stood up for the right side. It did
not stop his artistic development and even opened up many new opportunities
thanks to his acquaintance with the Polish Minister of Foreign Affairs –
Józef Beck and his wife – Jadwiga. The Beck family were not only interested
in Maciejewski’s music, but also developed a liking for him as a man. He visited
them many times for various celebrations and also gave private concerts
in their villa, which met with acclaim. 6
Personal contacts in the circles of state diplomacy and politics proved useful
in Maciejewski’s career. One positive effect of these relationships was, for
example, a tour of the Balkans, where he presented his compositions, which
met with an enthusiastic critical and public reception (“Polska muzyka zagranicą”
1934: 40). Another effect was a government scholarship to study in
Paris, which Maciejewski obtained thanks to the patronage of Minister Józef
Beck and his wife.
Leaving the country, Maciejewski certainly could not know that as from
this moment on he would become a lifelong emigrant and that only the
urn with his ashes would came back to Poland. It does not mean, however,
that the composer forgot where he was from. The years spent in Poland had
formed him as a man, but had also shaped his artistic identity, to which he
would remain faithful till the end of his days. Also his musical inspirations
fit into the context of his biography, and the interwar period, when he developed
his artistic views, had a profound effect on him.
6 Maciejewski recalled in a letter: “Concerning the reception of my music. All the diplomats liked it
and as Mrs Beck said, they did not applaud me conventionally, as it usually happens, but they were
captivated. The result is that wife of the Romanian ambassador wishes to have a concert of my
music arranged in Bucharest and the Italian ambassador also said something about a similar event.”
Letter of R. Maciejewski to M. Hildebrandt, 14th [or 16th] January 1933, Warsaw. Dated after
Chylińska (2002: 18).

106 Marlena Wieczorek
Different shades of emigration
For a young composer during the interwar period a stay in Paris was the realisation
of dreams. The city attracted artists from all over the world; it was
the place for the first performances of the most important works, and the
atmosphere was favourable to creativity and development (Helman 1972:
81). The young scholar quickly immersed himself in the whirl of local life,
benefiting from his residence in the artistic centre of the continent; he expanded
his knowledge, built his views and developed his musical talent. He
met distinguished personalities of the world culture 7 and he also had numerous
Polish friends, such as: Kazimierz Kranc, Felicja Lilpop, Czesław Miłosz
(with whom he lived in one hall of residence), Alexander Tansman 8 and in
particular, Arthur Rubinstein, whom Maciejewski owed much and honestly
liked him (Cegiełła 1976: 169). The composer associated also with painters,
whom he joined almost every Sunday for a visit to the Louvre. The group
was guided by Józef Pankiewicz (Lilpop-Krance 1991: 81).
After arriving in France, Maciejewski began private consultations with Nadia
Boulanger, and although he rather quickly gave up these classes, he still
intensively studied and practised. The result of this work was the pinnacle
of his artistic achievement from that period – Concerto for Two Pianos, which
had many performances. The first one, in Paris, took place on 25th March
1936 at the Salle Chopin (at Pleyel House), with the composer himself and
Kazimierz Kranc as performers (Helman 1972: 103). The piece was also premiered
in Poland on 23rd February 1937 9 – the concert was broadcast on the
radio. On 23rd June 1937 the concerto was presented again in Paris during
a concert held in the Salle de Comedie Théatre des Champs Elysées, under
the auspices of the World’s Fair in Paris (ISCM festival). 10 A few months
7 Among others: Igor Stravinsky, Alfredo Casella, Darius Milhaud, Arthur Honegger, Albert Roussel,
Maurice Ravel, Francis Poulenc. Janusz Cegiełła’s interview with Roman Maciejewski, 19th June
1979; tape recordings with the interview come from the archives of Wojciech Maciejewski in Warsaw.
8 Interview of J. Cegiełła with R. Maciejewski and W. Maciejewski, 19th April 1979.
9 Kurier Warszawski no. 56, 25th December 1937, evening issue, p. 6, in Chylińska (2002: 246).
10 The programme also included compositions by other Polish contemporary composers (Woytowicz,
Szałowski, Gradstein, Palester). In the concert schedule printed in Zofia Helman’ s article (1992: 103),
there are two dates of the performance of Maciejewski’s Concerto: 8th or/and 23rd June 1937. It is
therefore not certain if there was actually one or two concerts.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 107
later, Maciejewski was invited by the section of contemporary music of the
Royal College of Music to London (“Polska muzyka i polscy wykonawcy zagranicą”
1938: 45), where he presented his concert in Wigmore Hall (Z.G.
1938). Thanks to this invitation he came in contact with the famous choreographer
and ballet master Kurt Jooss and, although the composer had fallen
in love in Paris at first sight (Cegiełła 1976: 168), he nevertheless decided to
start working at Dartington Hall (Totnes). 11 Jooss ordered with Maciejewski
dance music for two ballets for his group (Artsman 1980); it is, however, difficult
to say whether the music was eventually written. In Dartington Hall,
Maciejewski composed two intermezzi: Tarantella and Lullaby for two pianos
(Cegiełła 1991).
Shortly after the start of his collaboration with Jooss, Maciejewski fell in
love with one of the ballet dancers – a Swede named Elvi Galeen, who was
the daughter of a filmmaker – Henry Galeen 12 and, being fatally in love (as
he wrote 13 ), he married her in December 1938. 14 In the summer 1939 they
both travelled to Sweden in order to let the composer meet the family of his
wife. The outbreak of World War II stopped Maciejewski from returning to
England. He stayed in Gothenburg at the house of Elvi’s uncle – a lonely
millionaire – Axel Adler Adlerbert. From the beginning, the composer tried
to find employment, with varying success. Probably already at the turn of
1940–41 he began writing transcriptions for two pianos of well known works
from music literature. These were made for a series of piano duet recitals
that Maciejewski gave in Sweden in the 1940s (with the English pianist Mar-
11 Jooss was a German choreographer of international renown; his spectacle The Green Table won the
first competition of contemporary choreography (Archives Internationales de la Danse) in Paris. In
autumn 1933, due to the Nazi tendencies prevailing in Germany, Jooss’ team had to leave the
country. It found refuge at Dartington Hall in England, which housed a school, used as a refuge for
immigrants who for political reasons could not work in their homelands. In the 1930s and 40s, Jooss’
ballet gave a number of performances in countries like Belgium, the Netherlands, Poland, Sweden,
Norway, the USA. In the 1950s Jooss returned to Germany, where he worked among others as a
choreographer, teacher, ballet opera director in Düsseldorf and was the founder of Folkwang
Tanzstudio. Based on (Cohen 1998: 624–631).
12 Henrik Galeen was an important figure in German expressionist cinema; his greatest films include,
among others, A Student of Prague (1926) and Nosferatu –Symphony of Horror (1922). See (Bucher 1970:
5).
13 R. Maciejewski’s letter to Zygmunt Maciejewski copied by his mother Bronisława Maciejewska,
probably of 1947; date and the original letter are missing, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
14 Based on the Certified Copy of an Entry of Marriage. Private archive of W. Maciejewski, Warsaw.

108 Marlena Wieczorek
tin Penny and the Russian Alex Portnoff), which enjoyed much popularity
among the listeners (C.T. 1944). In that period he also wrote other works,
such as: Matinata for violin, viola and cello, Spanish Songs for soprano and
small orchestra, Primitiven for percussion, and, above all, more Mazurkas for
piano. The largest work composed by Maciejewski in Sweden (in terms of
the number of instruments) was Allegro concertante for piano and orchestra,
premiered on 11th January 1945 in the Gothenburg’s Philharmonic Hall, under
the direction of Heinz Freudenthal (G.N. 1945). Maciejewski’s other professional
activities included collaboration with the radio (where he played
different works, mostly Chopin, as well as his own compositions). 15 He was
also an accompanist and composer in the ballet school of Ellen Lundström,
through whom he met her fiancé – Ingmar Bergman. This director addressed
Maciejewski with an offer to write music for his plays staged at the City Theatre
in Gothenburg. As the first, Maciejewski composed music for A. Camus’
Caligula (premiered on 29th November 1946), then to William Shakespeare’s
Macbeth (premiered on 12th March 1948) and to R. del Valle-Inclan’s Divinas
Palabras (premiere: 3rd February 1950). He also collaborated with another
director from the City Theatre – Knut Ström – on Kao Tse-Tcheng’s Old Chinese
drama Lutans sång (Song of the Lute – premiered on 25th October 1947
in Gothenburg and in Oslo on 24th August 1948). Although Maciejewski,
due to the theatre’s difficult economic situation, did not have too many instrumentalists
at his disposal, his musical illustrations still achieved critical
acclaim (L. M-m. 1948).
The Swedish period was a breakthrough time for Maciejewski. This is
where he underwent three major surgeries and, due to the minimal chances
of recovery, he decided to change his lifestyle. He became interested in alternative
therapies, as well as in Eastern philosophy (including yoga and meditations)
(Danowicz 1979: 6), became a vegetarian, and took up systematic
physical exercise. He also re-evaluated his worldview. Maciejewski began to
meditate deeper on the purpose of human evolution, 16 and the source of en-
15 R. Maciejewski’s letter to his family (copied by Maciejewski’s mother), probably of 1946,
Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
16 R. Maciejewski’s letter to his family, 24th July 1957, 3424 W. Adams, Los Angeles 18.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 109
ergy ruling the world 17 which resulted in his withdrawal from active artistic
career, to which he preferred the simple fact of existence (and not its symptoms,
such as – being a composer) (Markowska 1997: 93). All this helped him
in his convalescence, and resulted in finding calm and inner balance. He said:
There were periods in my life when I fell silent, because in order to express myself,
to communicate inner truth, one must first understand it [...]. Then one also enters a
certain timelessness that makes it much easier to find the right attitude to the Time in
which one lives (Winnicka 1999: 138).
In this context, Maciejewski’s emigration acquires a new meaning. Apart
from emigration in the traditional sense (simply – leaving one’s place of residence),
it also can be interpreted in a symbolic way, as a change of the old
lifestyle and beliefs.
Without an explanation of Maciejewski’s ideological standpoint and without
emphasising the fact of his spiritual transformation, it is difficult to fully
understand the artistic path of a composer who chose the position of a free
artist, philosopher, even a sage. This freedom also concerned the music style
which he adopted – opposed to fashion and to his times, far removed from
the prevailing trends in music. After the inner crisis, he wrote:
I am trying to move away from modernity (Kaczyński 1995). [...]. The avant-garde [...]
is a total hysteria. I hate it. The avant-garde attempts to violate the laws of physics and
music 18 . [...]The avant-garde leads nowhere. 19
Naturally, he did not completely give up his artistic activity. On the contrary,
the illness and recovery even inspired Maciejewski to work on his Requiem,
which – from the original idea – became his ultimate artistic goal. He
17 Towards the end of life Maciejewski said that being closer to God, he was further away from
religion. Maria Woś’s interview with R. Maciejewski, Wrocław 3rd Sept. 1990. The recording comes
from the archive of W. Maciejewski, Warsaw.
18 Not without significance in this change of beliefs was the composer’s relation to nature. Taking
advantage of its gifts, in almost every aspect of life, influenced the artist’s aesthetic views and,
consequently, his musical language. When composing, he took into account the physiological and
psychological processes of the human organism, which were reflected in the elements of a musical
work (e.g. the rhythm modelled on the calm heartbeat or musical phrases – on the length of his own
breath, long arches of melody reflecting the physiological function of the lungs). See (Kaczyński
1995).
19 “Avant-garden [...] är helt och hållet hysterisk. Jag avskyr den. Avant-garden har försökt göra våld
på fysikaliska och musikaliska lagar. [...] Det går inte. Avant-garden leder ingenstans. Den behövs
lika lite som sjukdom” (Cleasson 1980).

110 Marlena Wieczorek
dedicated the mass, first and foremost, to victims of human ignorance, and
wars of all times. In this finest and largest of his works, he avoided all attempts
to find new, experimental musical techniques, a fact which was to
reflect the universal nature of the work and was in line with the composer’s
aesthetic views.
The composer admitted in his letters that in Sweden he experienced more
than in all the previous years of his life, and that he owed much to that country.
Despite this, he felt no attachment to it and was often thinking about leaving.
He even said that he sees Sweden as the North, alien to Poles, 20 which
sounds particularly harsh, given the fact that Maciejewski had Swedish citizenship.
21 A catalyst for negative emotions was also the divorce from his
wife (which enhanced the sense of loneliness), and a longing for a warmer
climate. His plans for leaving Sweden finally crystallised thanks to a visit by
Artur Rubinstein, who helped the composer obtain a visa and invited him to
his house in Los Angeles. 22 Departing from Sweden, Maciejewski believed
that in the United States he would find the conditions to complete his Requiem.
Before his arrival in California, Maciejewski stopped in Oshkosh with Kazimierz
Kranc, with whom in September 1951 he gave a concert of his own
compositions (mainly for two pianos), which was then repeated in Chicago. 23
Upon his arrival in Los Angeles, he lived in Rubinstein’s residence, and shortly
afterwards moved to Santa Monica, to the seat of Huntington Hartford Foundation,
which gave him a scholarship. He could work freely there, without
financial worries, but also – to present his works in concerts. 24 After leaving
the seat of the Foundation (in March 1953) Maciejewski rented his own
20 R. Maciejewski’s letter to J. Maciejewski, 2nd August 1948, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
21 In the certificate of his emigration to California, issued on 7th April 1951, we can find information
that Maciejewski was a Swedish citizen. It is not known whether upon its receipt he renounced
Polish citizenship. Comm. by M.W.
22 R. Maciejewski’s letter to J. Maciejewski, 6th October 1948, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
23 Based on the programme of the two concerts (Recreational Building, Oshkosh, 26th September 1951
and Mayfair Room, Blackstone Hotel, Chicago, 25th October 1951).
24 Matinata for violin, viola and cello, Spanish Suite for two guitars, a version of Lullaby for string trio,
two guitars, flute and celesta, and Notturno for flute, guitar and celesta. Programme of the concert
Summer Serenade, The Huntington Hartford Foundation, Santa Monica, 20th September 1952.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 111
apartment, where he intensively worked on completing the 1st version of his
Requiem.Hewrote:
[...] I’m so absorbed in my work on the mass that I have lost sense of time and physical
existence. I live in complete isolation, I do not see almost anyone and I do not maintain
any contacts with people. [...] All my thoughts are focused on this task. 25
In December 1954 he finished the most important part of the work on his
opus vitae and already on 27th March 1955 presented it to the Polish émigrés
(probably playing it on piano). In addition, he performed his other works –
Mazurkas and Lullaby. The concert took place thanks to the efforts of Janina
J. Dwonkowska (President of the Paderewski Art Club) in the Ocean Front
in Santa Monica. Leon Loński recalled:
[...] this Requiem sounded in my ears for a long time after returning home and in spite
of its piety, it provoked a rebellious thought: to summon the whole Polish emigration
to that one and only cry: We want Roman Maciejewski’s concerts! (Loński 1955).
Soon, in the autumn of 1955, Maciejewski moved to the vicarage of the
Polish Church of the Holy Mary of Jasna Góra in Los Angeles, where he
worked as conductor of a choir of Polish émigrés (“Apel do Polonii w Los
Angeles” 1955). While he felt well there and scored successes as a choirmaster
and organist, in 1958 was forced to resign from this position, because
some of the bigoted and conservative parishioners did not accept the composer’s
lifestyle (such as practising yoga on the terrace). In 1963 he came back
to the work of a choral conductor, this time – in the Franciscan Church of Our
Lady of Guadalupe and the Nativity Church in Torrance. In both churches,
he led the choirs, which soon began to gain recognition in Los Angeles and
the neighbourhood. Finally he merged the two choruses and founded the
Roman Choir, 26 with whom he gave a number of performances. These were
both large-scale, paid concerts and annual, charity tours-pilgrimages, undertaken
in order to promote sacred music and to give joy to the poor and
25 R. Maciejewski’s letter to J. Maciejewski, 5th August 1953, 1351 Ocean Front Santa Monica,
California.
26 Based on the programme of the concert Roman Choir in Sacred Music Concert, MiraCostaHigh
Auditorium, 18th December 1965 [in the programme, the year is not indicated – comm. by M.W.].
(Ossetyński 1965).

112 Marlena Wieczorek
the sick. For the Roman Choir, Maciejewski also wrote a number of religious
pieces for church use, mostly masses.
Notwithstanding his numerous professional activities, one must not forget
that Maciejewski still dedicated most of his thoughts to the Requiem; he
wanted the work to be performed in concert. For this reason, he decided to
present it in Poland. The performance took place on 20th September 1960
at the 4th “Warsaw Autumn” International Festival of Contemporary Music;
the Polish Radio Choir and Orchestra in Cracow was conducted by Maciejewski
himself. 27 Unfortunately, the Requiem did not bring the expected
success, but despite this, on his return to the United States the composer
presented the recording of the premiere in many places, which proves how
important the promotion of this work was for him. 28 . It was the only composition
he wished to promote among various circles of listeners 29 An example
of this might be his visit to Roger Wagner. The conductor recalled it the as
follows:
Twelve years ago, this strange little man appeared on my doorstep. [...] He was carrying
a huge suitcase, and he told me his name. [...] “That’s my work,]’ he said. [...] It was
the large and bulky score of his Requiem [...]. It was overwhelming. There was no doubt
in my mind, then or now. It is a master piece (“Composing Disturbs His Composure”
1975).
27 H. Łukomska – soprano, K. Szostak-Radkowa – alto, K. Pustelak – tenor, E. Pawlak – bass.
28 For example, in New York, on 5th May 1961, at a concert organized by the Kosciuszko Foundation
and Research Institute, the Polish world premiere recording of the Requiem was presented (Archived
Radio Recording, Polish Radio 1960, D. 96 / 1, D. 97 / 1, D. 98 / 1, 99 / 1; 2h 24 ’). Similar events
were held: on 26th May 1961 in the National House under the aegis of the 7th Circle of Singers’
Union in St. Marks Place in New York (after Czas 1961: 1); on 1st June in the same year at the Public
Museum in Oshkosh (source: (“Personable Composer...” 1961); on 1st April 1963 in St. Robert’s
Auditorium, organized by the Committee of Loyola University in Los Angeles for the Cultural
Advancement of the Westchester-Inglewood-Beach Cities (only fragments of the Requiem were
presented; the composer gave an introduction to his work; information based on the concert
programme). Then on 28th May 1963 the recording was presented on the occasion of the Memorial
Day at Mira Costa Music Club (R. Maciejewski’s letter to B. Maciejewska, probably of 1st February
1963, 11 Park Avenue, Venice, California); and on 30th June 1964 at a concert entitled The Bohemians
of Los Angeles at the Studio of Dr Arthur George Carr (based on the concert programme); also in the
spring of 1974 on the initiative of The Helena Modjeska Art And Culture Club a presentation of the
work was arranged in the villa of the famous actress of Polish descent – Stephanie Powers (The
Quarterly Review 1974).
29 Maciejewski intended to present the Requiem on the stages of many countries, e.g. through the UN,
as the work was dedicated to universal peace in the world. Cf. (Chruściński 1960: 7).

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 113
Maciejewski wanted his Requiem to be performed also in the United States,
and although the the American premiere was postponed several times, the
work was finally presented on 1st November 1975 in the prestigious Los Angeles
Music Center in Hollywood by the famous Los Angeles Master Chorale
and Sinfonia Orchestra conducted by Wagner. 30 The concert was an artistic
success, and the American press reviews were much better than the Polish.
The conductor was planning a wider promotion of the work in America
and more performances, also on television. 31 This plan was thwarted by
Maciejewski himself, who overwhelmed by numerous job offers, decided to
emigrate from the United States in 1977. He did not like splendour, but on
the other hand he realized that with the modest American pension he would
not be able to live on a satisfactory level. He was looking for a place where it
would be possible without constant struggle for money. 32 It is worth noting
that Maciejewski often changed his attitude towards America; at one point he
claimed that it was not a country for him, 33 and on another occasion he said
he admired the Californian climate, which suited his lifestyle. 34 In 1958 he
even submitted an application for American citizenship 35 – an idea he eventually
gave up. 36 Despite these mixed feelings, Maciejewski was leaving the
United States full of gratitude to the country where he found peace and inspiration
to write his Requiem (Kaczyński 1994: 55–56). Michał Wesołowski
summed up his American residence in these words:
I have met many people who knew him personally – he left behind many warm memories.
They all knew him – Poles from the church and social contacts, and others also
30 L. Cole-Adcock – soprano, Ch. Krooskos – contralto, J. Guarnieri – tenor, H. Enns – bass-baritone.
31 R. Maciejewski’s letter to W. Maciejewski, 27th February 1975, 900 A Esplanade, Redondo Beach,
California.
32 R. Maciejewski’s letter to W. Maciejewski, probably winter 1973, 900 A Esplanade, Redondo Beach,
California.
33 R. Maciejewski’s letter to W. Maciejewski, 16th April 1962, 11 Park Avenue, Venice, California.
34 R. Maciejewski’s letter to W. Maciejewski, 19th April 1966, 900 A Esplanade, Redondo Beach,
California.
35 The main reason for such a step was to obtain a scholarship from the Solomon R. Guggenheim
Foundation. Maciejewski had applied for it already in March 1956, and the only obstacle was the
fact that it was not granted to foreigners. R. Maciejewski’s letter to Arthur Rubinstein, 1st February
1955, the original and envelope are missing, 1343 Ocean Front Santa Monica, California.
36 The reason was that Maciejewski did not want to declare that in case of war he could be enlisted and
sent to the front. R. Maciejewski’s letter to Zygmunt Maciejewski, 20th June 1958, 11 Park Avenue
c/0 Bleckman, Venice, California.

114 Marlena Wieczorek
eagerly invited him; his personal charm and fame, though he tried to escape from it,
won over everyone. Despite persuasions, he did not “sell his freedom” and did not surrender
to the temptations of Hollywood – he worked and he was happy (2002: 10).
On his departure from Los Angeles, Maciejewski wanted to settle in a place
with a warm climate and unpolluted air, but close to Poland, so that he would
be able to visit it more often. Therefore, he chose one of the Canary Islands,
the desert isle of La Graciosa, where he experienced the life of a hermit –
he lived in a tent, met people only sporadically, slept without any set hours
and relished the sense of freedom coming from close contact to nature, away
from civilization. 37 Although the composer was delighted with the place,
after a few weeks he left La Graciosa, as he had to go to Sweden to obtain the
documents necessary to grant him the pension. He wanted to spend there
only a few days, but already during one of the first walks in Gothenburg,
quite spontaneously, he bought a piano which delighted him. He wrote:
[...] I discovered a wonderful instrument, a pre-war Swedish piano, like new, something
I have long dreamt of – and at a ridiculously low price – probably because it was out
of fashion, but the tone ... [...] makes me cry now when I touch the instrument with
devotion [...] 38
Eventually he decided to stay in Gothenburg with his beloved instrument.
There too, already about seventy years old, for the first time since his divorce
he started a relationship with a woman – Elsi Thorsten, who accompanied
him till his death (although they never lived together). In this last period of
life Maciejewski composed rather little, he only worked intensively on improving
the Mazurkas and creating new ones. He also re-edited the Concerto
for Two Pianos. Slowly his works began to attract the music institutions. And
so, on 3rd and 5th December 1980 the Gothenburg Philharmonic gave the
Swedish premiere of the Requiem conducted by Roger Wagner, 39 and the
piece was that claimed to be a work of genius (“Tropami Maciejewskiego”
1982). The performance was recorded by Gothenburg Radio, as also was an-
37 R. Maciejewski’s letter to W. Maciejewski, 29th March 1977, La Graciosa, Canary Islands.
38 R. Maciejewski’s letter to Wacław Gaziński, 7th August 1977, Rymdtorget 61/III, Gothenburg.
39 Performers: Könserthuskören and Gösta Ohlins Vokalensemble, Musikhögskolans Kammarkör, A.
Soldh – soprano, B. Kallenberg – alto, L. Devosa – tenor, C. Appelgren – bass. The artists were
tutored by L. Bernstrop.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 115
other work – the Wind Quintet – performed on 6th February 1979 by the Göteborgs
Blasarkvintett, 40 as well as Allegro concertante. In Sweden, Maciejewski
did find the desired peace of mind. He took full advantage of the benefits of
the surrounding nature; he jogged around the lake in the mornings, walked
in the woods, still practiced yoga and remained a vegetarian. He enjoyed the
green neighbourhood where he was given an apartment, which reminded
him to some extent of Podhale (the Tatra Mountains). 41 Andeventhough–
as he stressed many times – he was not particularly fond of the local climate,
Sweden became his second homeland, where he died in 1998.
The professional and financial situation of the composer in exile
As already mentioned, Maciejewski (especially after his mental breakthrough)
had little interest in material goods. He frequently repeated that his life needs
are minimal and that he earned money mainly to be able to work peacefully
on the Requiem. 42 His financial situation was therefore often difficult, though
in many cases it was his own doing. In this context, it will be worthwhile to
analyse his varied professional career and his sources of livelihood in emigration.
1. Composer
Maciejewski’s multi-faceted career as a composer means that his musical
output is of variable artistic quality. The most valuable were those works that
were not written to make a living, for example his first, youthful compositions
(Kurpie Songs, Triptych, Krzesany with the lost Zbójnicki), the Mazurka
cycles which he composed almost throughout his life, the Parisian Concerto
for two pianos, 43 or the Allegro concertante writteninGothenburg.Aboveall
40 S. Schön – flute, W. Lindgren – oboe, E. Andersson – clarinet, E. Schleiffer – bassoon, A. Linder –
horn.
41 R. Maciejewski’s letter to W. Gaziński, 7th August 1977, Rymdtorget 61/III, Gothenburg.
42 R. Maciejewski’s letter to the Kranc family, date missing, 1950 or 1951, Scotstown House, West
Linton, Peeblesshire, Scotland.
43 The original title was: Concerto pour deux piano solo. In 1984 the composer made a few small changes
in the work (four parts combined into three) and changed its title to Pianoduo concertante.

116 Marlena Wieczorek
these stands the Requiem. It defies classification, not only because of its musical
language, monumentality, the non-musical inspirations, related to the
composer’s artistic standpoint, but also because of the time devoted to the
completion of this mass (around to 15 years). The second group comprises
a considerable number of works of the so-called “functional” type. These
were written from his earliest years, 44 but especially after 1943. Maciejewski,
in order to fully dedicate himself to the creation of the Requiem, aswellas
earning a livelihood in the difficult conditions in emigration, began to write
works on commission and for commercial purposes (also – for his own piano
performances). Taking into account the functions of these works, they can be
classified as follows:
• Music for the theatre and film 45
• Dance music for ballet schools 46
• Works created for the choirs which the composer conducted 47
• Transcriptions associated with his concert activities. 48
44 For example, he agreed to write the music (as a contributor) for a newly created Warsaw academic
revue and musical illustrations to fourteen ballads by Bolesław Leśmian. R. Maciejewski’s letter to
M. Hildebrandt, probably of 17th November 1931, Warsaw. The future fate of these compositions is
unknown, perhaps they were never created. Comm. by M.W.
45 For example for Caligula by A. Camus, Macbeth by Shakespeare, Palabras divinas by R. del
Valle-Inclan, Lutans’ Sång by Kao-Tse Tcheng as well as Dziady [The Ancestors] and Koncert Jankiela
[Jankiel’s Concert] by A. Mickiewicz. An example of film music is e.g. Truk (presumably written for a
documentary film by Jacques Cousteaux, it also functions as an orchestral suite entitled Widoki znad
morza [Views from the Seafront]).
46 Among the works intended for dance, one could list four piano miniatures: Prelude, Fjättrad (Bound),
Drömmen (ADream), Eko (Echo)andBajka [Fable] for piano.
47 Msza Pasterska [Shepherd Mass], Missa Brevis, Missa Brevis a cappella, The Mass of Resurrection, Msza ku
czci św. Cecylii [Mass for St Cecilia], Carols, twoHosannas and Hosanna, Gloria, Sanctus,andAmerica the
Beautiful.
48 R. Maciejewski’s transcriptions include: No. 1, I. Albéniz – Navarre,No.2,I.Albéniz–Tango,No.3,
J.S. Bach – Fantasy and Fugue in G minor,No.4,J.S.Bach–Passacaglia, No. 5; L.N. Clerambault – Suite,
No.6,P.Tchaikovsky–Humoresque,No.7,P.Tchaikovsky–Chant sans paroles, No. 8, C. Franck –
Grande Fantaisie, No. 9, E. Granados – Andaluza, No. 10, G. F. Haendel – Concerto in F Major, No. 11, F.
Kreisler – Liebesfreud, No. 12, F. Kreisler – Liebesleid, No. 13: F. Kreisler – Schön Rosmarin, No. 14, F.
Liszt – Liebestraum, No. 15, W.A. Mozart – Variations ’Unser dummer Pőbel meint’, No. 16; I.J.
Paderewski – Elegie, No. 17; I.J. Paderewski – Mélodie, No. 18; I.J. Paderewski – Menuet, No. 19; I.J.
Paderewski – Nocturne, No. 20; I.J. Paderewski – Sarabande, No. 21; M. Ravel – Pavane pour me Infante
dèfunte, No. 22, E. Taube – Potpourri, No. 23, A. Vivaldi – J.S. Bach – Concerto in A minor. The
“functional” piano works also include an arrangement of traditional Negro spirituals for two pianos
and arrangements of the violin Capriccios by Paganini op. 1, for violin and piano.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 117
Maciejewski’s entire oeuvre is dominated quantitatively by works for piano
(especially miniatures and pieces for two pianos), which is largely a consequence
of the fact that the composer often wrote for himself as a performer.
Another quite important part of his output is choral music (in the United
States the composer conducted amateur church vocal ensembles, which required
a proper repertoire). In his piano music, the pride of place belongs
to the miniatures, particularly mazurkas, whereas his choral music is dominated
by masses. In quantitative terms, the percentage of orchestral and
chamber works is rather small. The solo song was not Maciejewski’s cup of
tea and remains marginal to his work. 49 The composer showed no predilection
for the great vocal, or vocal-instrumental and symphonic forms. The
exception is Requiem, which should be considered separately. Two trends –
the folkloric-national and the Neoclassical – provided the foundation for Maciejewski’s
work. They coexisted side by side and interpenetrated, deciding
about the continuity of his style. The composer built his idiom of those elements
that determined Polish music in the interwar period. The links between
his works and the currents of that time corresponded to the general
trend in Polish music, which on both sides of the iron curtain continued the
development of Neoclassicism and – as Zofia Helman writes – it was on the
basis of this style that individual compositional idioms were created. On the
other hand, what was characteristic of Polish artists working abroad was the
nearly complete neglect of folklore. Maciejewski, however, composed works
containing references to Polish folk music as well as national topics almost
throughout his life. His Requiem occupies a special place in Polish music, enriching
its heritage not only because of its artistic value, but also because the
genre of religious music was almost completely ignored by artists composing
in Poland in the first decade after the war (Helman 1992: 215–217). It should
also be emphasised that Maciejewski’s art was not involved politically, which
in this case brought him closer to other émigré artists, who "opposed the totalitarian
tendencies in art by their artistic standpoint and the very choice of
living in exile" (Ibidem: 221).
49 There are two preserved two “mini-cycles”: Pieśni Bilitis [Songs of Bilitis] andPieśni hiszpańskie
[Spanish Songs].

118 Marlena Wieczorek
2. Concert pianist and accompanist
Already in the mid-1920s Maciejewski began his professional concert career
(Markowska 1997: 103), which he later continued as an émigré. These
concerts were not so numerous if we consider his entire lifespan, but they
were quite diverse. They constituted not only a standard type of artistic activity
for an educated pianist, but also a way to bolster his household budget.
Most of Maciejewski’s recitals were held in Sweden (also in a duet). Based
on the reviews, we can see that his abilities as a pianist were highly praised,
though he is not generally regarded as an eminent instrumentalist. The press
praised e.g. the genius of his performance (G.N. 1945), perfect technique (C.T.
1944), emotionality (J.R. 1944), artistry (C. B.-g 1944), the vivid, masterly technique
(Atterberg 1944), temperament and musicality (Wirén 1944). What was
funny, Maciejewski did not like giving recitals, since he had no aspirations to
make a concert career. Once he even confessed that he had no qualifications
whatsoever as a concert virtuoso. 50
Maciejewski also earned a living as an accompanist. His first job of this
kind was in the private dance school of Walentyna Szaposznikow-Wiechowicz
in Poznań. He got this post thanks to his rare ability of quick sightreading;
he could also effortlessly and interestingly improvise (Dąbrowski
1999: 25). Later, in November 1931, he was engaged as an accompanist for the
spectacle Romeo and Juliet at the Polish Theatre in Warsaw. 51 Atthesametime,
Professor Turczyński recommended Maciejewski as a pianist-accompanist to
the Polish Radio, 52 and between 1931–33 Maciejewski worked for the School
of Rhythmics and Plastic Arts of Janina Mieczyńska in Warsaw. This professional
practice probably helped him obtain a post with Kurt Jooss and in
Ellen Lundström’s School, where he also composed music for dance routines
(Cegiełła 1991). During his stay in Sweden, Maciejewski worked as a pianistaccompanist
for Gothenburg Radio (“Stars of Europe Concert Stages...” 1951).
He played there once a month on average (Interview with R. Maciejewski
50 R. Maciejewski’s letter to Z. Maciejewski, 4th April 1957, 3424 W. Adams Los Angeles 18, California.
51 R. Maciejewski’s letter to M. Hildebrandt, 13th October 1931, Warsaw.
52 R. Maciejewski’s letter to M. Hildebrandt, 30th October 1931, Warsaw.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 119
1980), mostly the works of Chopin, 53 , but also e.g. Haydn 54 Gluck, Rameau,
and Couperin. 55 He gave recitals made up of his own compositions (such as
the Mazurkas 56 ) and works for two pianos (mostly with Alex Portnoff) (G.G.
1944).
3. Choral conductor and church organist
In 1920 the young Maciejewski joined the boys scouts movement, 57 where
he became conductor of the boy’s choir which gave concerts at numerous
events and during trips. 58 He really enjoyed this activity, so when in 1926
in Poznań he received from Wiechowicz an offer of conducting the choir of
Polish Singers’ Association (Koło Śpiewackie Polskie (Brodniewicz 1996: 93))
in the latter’s absence, Maciejewski agreed without hesitation. 59 He also had
contact with choral art at the academy in Warsaw; as Witold Lutosławski
recalled,
[...] he was a star among the students. He conducted even his own works performed by
a student choir, where I also sang. I remember, for example, a cycle of very beautiful
Kurpie Songs. Maciek – as we called him then – conducted with great enthusiasm and
temperament. 60
These experiences and skills proved useful to him in the autumn of 1955
when he took over the choir of the Church of the Holy Mary of Jasna Góra
in Los Angeles (Nowiński 1997: 50; cf. “Apel do Polonii...” 1955) and again
in 1963, when he founded The Roman Choir. 61 With that latter ensemble he
53 R. Maciejewski’s letter to Z. Maciejewski, probably of 1947, copied by his mother, date and original
letter are missing, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
54 R. Maciejewski’s letter to his parents, 28th July 1947, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
55 R. Maciejewski’s letter to his parents, 10th February 1949, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
56 R. Maciejewski’s letter to his parents, probably of 6th May 1948, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
57 On the basis of R. Maciejewski’s scout membership card of 1920.
58 Based on the author’s conversation with W. Maciejewski, Warsaw, 30th March 2002.
59 Maciejewski was probably the conductor of another choral ensemble in Poznań – the F. Nowowiejski
Circle. This can be gleaned from the following information about the choral competition in 1930:
“The Nowowiejski Circle is on a totally wrong way. From the beginning, it had no luck with
conductors, and also the current conductor cannot do anything [...]. It is unfortunate that the
Nowowiejski Circle was not able to keep Mr. Maciejewski. Mr. Maciejewski’s resignation was
reportedly the result of his excessive ‘artistic demands’ ” (Przegląd Muzyczny 1930: 12).
60 W. Lutosławski’s comment, in S. Szlachtycz’s film, Outsider.
61 On the basis of the programme of Roman Choir in Sacred Music Concert, MiraCostaHigh
Auditorium, 18th December 1965 [the year is missing from the programme – comm. by M.W].

120 Marlena Wieczorek
scored a number of artistic successes, noted by the American press: “It was
a masterful performance” (American Echo, Chicago); “a most beautiful and
inspiring performance” (New World, Chicago); “an outstanding choir” (Our
Affairs, Los Angeles); “the concert was wonderful ... first-rate performance of
sacred music” (Mission Santa Inez, Solvang); “these people are really praying
by singing” (Buddy Bishop, San Diego). 62
4. Scholarship holder and contest winner
Other sources of income included Maciejewski’s numerous scholarships received
both from institutions and from private individuals. The first major
support he obtained was a grant to study in Paris in 1934. It gave him opportunities
for development, but the meagre amount assigned by the National
Culture Fund for this purpose was rather insufficient, and so his financial
situation was difficult. 63 From the same source he received support when
he was in Sweden, thanks to which he could dedicate himself exclusively to
composition, 64 . Another example is the scholarship of Huntington Hartfort
Foundation, which in the years 1952–53 enabled him to stay and work undisturbed
in the so-called artist colony (located in a Santa Monica mountain
canyon). 65 Around 1957, Maciejewski again received financial support (from
unknown sources) to make microfilm photographs and bind the first volume
of the Requiem. 66 Polish émigré institutions strove to aid him as well, e.g. on
27th May 1961 the Women’s Branch of the Polish National Union voted to
set up a fund to help the composer return to concert life. 67 On the initiative
62 Based on the English-language information leaflet advertising activities of the choir, Redondo
Beach, California.
63 Maciejewski stated that despite receiving a state scholarship, it was not easy for him to make ends
meet, since these funds were sufficient only for the first half of the month. On the basis of interview
of J. Cegiełła and W. Maciejewski with R. Maciejewski on 19th April 1979.
64 During that time Maciejewski wrote for example: a number of pieces for two pianos, Allegro
concertante for piano and orchestra, and he began his work on Missa pro defunctis. Cf.R.
Maciejewski’s letter to Z. Maciejewski, probably of 1947, rewritten by their mother (date and the
original letter missing) Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
65 R. Maciejewski’s letter to J. Maciejewski, note on the letter: December 1951 (no date and no
envelope), 1139 Tower Road, Beverly Hills, California.
66 R. Maciejewski’s letter to A. Rubinstein, 1st February 1955, 1343 Ocean Front Santa Monica,
California.
67 A letter of 27th June 1961 from The Kosciuszko Foundation to Roman Maciejewski, The Kościuszko
Foundation, American Center For Polish Culture, 15 East65th Street,NewYork 21: “[...] The

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 121
of L. Dudarew-Ossetyński, on 26th July 1964 a Committee of the American
Première of Roman Maciejewski’s Requiem in the Millennium Year was established.
The work was considered to represent an important achievement
of the Polish culture in America and it was believed that, also because of
its theme, it would be a perfect choice to mark the one thousandth anniversary
of Polish Christianity. 68 The organizing committee consisted of a number
of eminent personalities (including Arthur Rubinstein as honorary chairman).
69
Maciejewski also received substantial support from private individuals.
Already in his childhood Count Krzysztof Mielżyński, in recognition of the
young musician’s talent and temperament, decided to grant him a monthly
scholarship for his musical education. 70 We know that while in the United
States, in New York he met up at least once with an unknown patron 71 who
provided him with financial assistance for no less than two years. 72 In the
early 1940s he is known to have been sponsored by his wife’s uncle – Adlerbert,
and many other friends also gave him a helping hand. For example, in
1951 he spent several months on the estate of his friend Jan Tarnowski in
Scotland; 73 he moved to California thanks to Rubinstein, who invited him
Kosciuszko Foundation forwards to you two cheque sent to the Foundation’s recently established
Roman Maciejewski Fund: 1) a cheque from the Polish National Association for $100 and 2) a cheque
from the Women’s Branch of the same Association for $100. [...]”
68 This view was expressed by Bronisław Młynarski at the concert on 5th June 1965. Cf. (Ossetyński
1965).
69 The members of the Committee were, among others: Leonidas Dudarew-Ossetyński, Michael
Chekov, Andrzej Tyszkiewicz, Sylwin Strakacz, Bronisław Młynarski, Anna Mahler (Gustav’s
daughter), Roger Wagner, Dr. Richard Wilk, Spinoza Paeff. (Based on an invitation to a concert of 1st
November 1975.)
70 The money enabled Maciejewski to go to Poznan for further education (based on the author’s
conversation with W. Maciejewski, Warsaw, 30th March 2002).
71 It was probably the same woman who had earlier for ten years helped Szymanowski. Her first
married name was Warthon, the second – Czitadini (Citadinni). Maciejewski met her in the
company of the Kochański family in Aleje Ujazdowskie in Warsaw. The composer also remembered
a meeting in a hotel in New York, during which the Rubinsteins asked him to take care of her health.
Interview of R. Cegiełła with R. Maciejewski, 29.06.1979.
72 R. Maciejewski’s letter to Bronisława Maciejewska, note on the letter: September 1951 (no date and
envelope), Box 66B, Route 1, Oshkosh, Wisconsin.
73 R. Maciejewski’s letter to his family, probably of 25th September 1950, 21 Woodville Gardens,
London W. 5.

122 Marlena Wieczorek
to his home in California and paid for the trip; 74 he also benefited from the
hospitality of the Kranc family in Oshkosh. 75 In the USA he lived for some
time at his friend Jack Bleckman and his mother’s house (Danowicz 1979: 6).
This family created ideal conditions for his work, and the Jewish community
to which they belonged, involved in the task of completing the Requiem,supported
his work. 76 Even the American premiere of the mass was funded by
a private person – Blanche Seaver (widow of Frank Roger Seaver, to whose
memory the performance was dedicated) (“Composing Disturbs His Composure”
1975).
In addition, Maciejewski was the recipient of several prizes, which were
often associated with financial awards, such as the I. J. Paderewski Foundation
Award which he received in 1959 for his work on Missa pro Defunctis. 77
He used this money to pay for a trip to Poland in order to present Requiem
at the “Warsaw Autumn.” Another organization which awarded him a prize
in the field of music was the Alfred Jurzykowski Foundation. 78
∗∗∗
In the context of this discussion of the composer’s financial situation in
emigration, it is important to note Maciejewski’s “nonchalant” attitude to
material goods, career and fame. What he cherished the most was a sense of
freedom, also the freedom to decide about the course of the day. He said: “I
am far from the professional doggedness that usually characterises artists”
74 R. Maciejewski’s letter to Nelli Rubinstein, 26th April 1951, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg. The
original is kept in the collection of the Albeniz Foundation in Spain. This letter contains information
about another letter of gratitude which Maciejewski wrote to Irene Cittadini. Possibly that patron of
art helped him finance his travel to the USA. Comm. by MW.
75 Mrs Kranc recalled that Maciejewski lived there for several months, introducing many changes in
the family’s life (1991: 190).
76 R. Maciejewski’s letter to Z. Maciejewski of 20th June 1958, 11 Park Avenue c/0 Bleckman, Venice,
California.
77 The chapter argued: “[...] Maciejewski’s composition is the greatest of the Polish artistic
achievements in emigration since the war. [...] The Foundation [...] awards not only the great talent,
but also the outstanding creative achievement resulting from many years of the composer’s work
and diligence.” Reprinted in Naród Polski ("Nowe dzieło kompozytora polskiego, R. Maciejewskiego"
1959).
78 The justification of the award by the Foundation’s chapter: “The Alfred Jurzykowski Foundation
presentsone of itsawards to: Mr.Roman Maciejewski [...],an outstandingcomposer, honoring him
for his subtle and penetrating works. His unusual talent, combining classical motives with
contemporary technique and form, has won him international recognition.” Alexis C. Coudert, The
Alfred Jurzykowski Foundation, 59 East 66 Street, New York, 10021, 09.02.1973.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 123
(Kaczyński 1961: 6). [...] “When [...] it comes to the tyranny of such delusions
and seducers such as wealth, reputation, position and fame, it seems to me
that I can thank God for being perfectly free.” 79
This attitude influenced both the financial situation and the artistic path
of the composer. He repeatedly rejected lucrative proposals, first – during
his stay in Paris, when he refused Serge Lifar who asked the composer to
write music for the ballet of Paris Opera. 80 Rubinstein, who was then at the
peak of his fame, hoped that he would obtain a Piano Concerto dedicated to
him – that was one of the reasons why he invited Maciejewski to America. 81
Similarly in March 1953 the composed decided not to write compositions for
André Segovia, although he regarded him as the best guitarist in the world. 82
Maciejewski could also become a teacher of composition. In 1974 he received
a proposal to give private lessons to a group of a dozen American composers,
who treated him as “an old master.” 83 Initially enthusiastic about the project,
he met them only twice and eventually gave up.
Maciejewski also received numerous offers to promote his works. For example
on 27th June 1972, the President of the Polish Arts and Culture Foundation,
Wanda Tomczykowska, sent him a letter in which she offered to promote
his music in a radio broadcast cycle entitled A History of Polish Music,
presented from 1966 by the KPFA-FM station in Berkeley. 84 Maciejewski was
79 R. Maciejewski’s letter to Z. Maciejewski, probably of 16th December 1947 (no date and envelope),
Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
80 Maciejewski argued: “I did not want to – that was first, and second – Lifar did not quite suit me as
an artist. He tried to create a new type of dance based on sound technical principles and patterns of
movement derived from the classical ballet, which did not interest me then. These attempts were
very naive. Furthermore, he staged his ballets with great pomp, which did not attract me.” Interview
of J. Cegiełła with R. Maciejewski, 19th June 1979.
81 Rubinstein reportedly joked that usually he refused to perform works written for him, but this time
it was the composer who did not accept his proposal. M. Wieczorek’s interview with W.
Maciejewski, Warsaw, 30th June 2002.
82 Maciejewski recalled: “[...] Segovia [...] asked me to start working immediately and write for him a
few pieces for solo guitar. However, I now have something else on my mind, not the guitar – but
some time I will probably jot down something, because I really like the guitar.” R. Maciejewski’s
letter to J. Maciejewski, note on the letter: March 1953, 1351 Ocean Front Sta. Monica, California.
83 R. Maciejewski’s letter to B. Maciejewska, probably of September 1974, 900 A Esplanade, Redondo
Beach, California.
84 An offer of promotion for Maciejewski and his works was also made by Jerzy C. Walter, who sent a
letter to L. Ossetyński with the following suggestions: “On another occasion we arranged to borrow
your friend Roman Maciejewski’s materials – the manuscript of his composition (the Requiem)as

124 Marlena Wieczorek
expected to write a note about himself and send a tape with a recording of his
compositions. 85 Also in Poland, in the 1970s, Maciejewski was to organize a
concert of his chamber works, as well as preparing a TV broadcast. For this
purpose, his brother – Wojciech – came in contact with Piotr Perkowski and
took care of the organisation of both projects. At the last moment, Maciejewski
resigned from these plans. 86 Another example was the success of Allegro
concertante in Sweden News of that success reached Witold Małcużynski,
who in 1945 sent a telegram to Maciejewski asking him to copy and send
the script to New York for performance. 87 The composer probably did not
respond to this request. Neither did he return to England to work with Kurt
Joss, though the choreographer asked him to do so. 88 When he was hired
by the film producer Samuel Goldwyn as music director in the film studio
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 89 he soon quit because he was not able to comply
with the demands, such as – being available. It was at odds with his sense of
well as the only one recording of that composition, which is in his possession. I was going to
organise an exhibition – naturally, a modest one. Now I am preparing to perform Krzysztof
Penderecki’s Passion, and so I thought that – the Requiem being a truly great composition of the best
quality, it would allow to push Maciejewski out of his Californian obscurity. The matter is urgent
and immediate – I have a feeling that it can be beneficial for Maciejewski. Please hurry and send the
materials as soon as possible as I have no doubt Maciejewski is in the possession of some other
manuscripts as well. We also need several of his photographs – it would be advantageous if he has a
copy or the original or the first edition of that fantastic Mazurka in C, aswellassomemanuscripts,
photographs (these are a must) [...].” Jerzy C. Walter to L. Ossetyński, The Polish Museum of America,
984 Milwaukee Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60622.
85 On the basis of a letter of the President of the Polish Arts and Culture Foundation W. Tomczykowski
to R. Maciejewski, Polish Arts and Culture Foundation, 1950 Oak Street, 27.06.1972, San Francisco,
California. It is not known whether he responded to this offer, possibly the plans did not work out
due to his trip to Poland, which took place in late summer and autumn of 1972. Comm. by M.W.
86 W. Maciejewski’s letter to R. Maciejewski, Warsaw 30th August 1972.
87 He wrote: “Can Photostat score here in one week kindly send score urgently air mail registered
guaranty return immediately after paying all expenses including transportations insist instantly
having opportunity introduce New York to major American Symphony Orchestras,” Witold
Małcużyński care of Michel Kachouk, 59 West 55 Street, New York, to R. Maciejewski, 13th
November 1945, 30 Kronhusgatan, Gothenburg.
88 Cf. the telegram written on Jooss’s behalf from Cambridge on 12th August 1942 (“[...] ballet Jooss
just returned from America want You immediately stop Possibility for composing publishing
existens for You and Elvi guaranteed stop Write immediately if interested return England. Love
Roshka”). Jooss also sent a telegram on 21st April 1945 from 13 Kings Parade, Cambridge (“Are You
interested to compose major ballet with me here earliest possible orchestra of 25 regards”). The
telegrams are in the collection of W. Maciejewski in Warsaw.
89 Maciejewski was able to work legally in the film industry because immediately after his arrival in
the USA he received a Social Security Account Number: 572 1944 2677.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 125
independence and, above all, was a threat to his work on Requiem. 90 Many
years later, he said:
The atmosphere of Hollywood never appealed to me. In my life I always had that luck
that I managed to run away in time from what seemed to pose a threat to my freedom
and to life without compulsion (Markowska 1997: 91).
Poland – a home which one always carries inside
Maciejewski’s emigration was not mainly the result of political factors or
strategic thinking about career development (although this aspect also appeared
in his biography). His life story was the result of a number of events
(often coincidental), and additionally, after his internal crisis, it was linked
with his worldview, in which the most important were freedom and life in
harmony with oneself. These psychological elements are essential and cannot
be omitted from a discussion of Maciejewski’s life; focusing on facts and
analysis of musical works will simply not suffice. Although Maciejewski –
because of his numerous trips – was a “world citizen” who did not like to
get attached to goods and places, it should be stressed that he always felt a
Pole at heart, and he proved his devotion to his homeland on many levels.
The most symbolic evidence of the depth of Maciejewski’s association with
Poland is his musical style, in particular the folkloric-national streak developed
in the decades between the world wars and continued in later years
(mainly in the Mazurkas. 91 . These were influenced by the mazurkas of Chopin
and Szymanowski. Roman Maciejewski, like Chopin, was writing them almost
throughout his entire life. Both émigrés expressed their relationship
90 On the basis of M. Wieczorek’s interview with W. Maciejewski, Warsaw, 30th June 2002.
91 References to folk material and characteristic features of folk music are also present in: Kurpie Songs,
Krzesany, thelostZbójnicki, two Mazurs, intheOberek – ballet scene for two pianos, Shepherd Mass,
Quintet for wind instruments, as well as Matinata (“folk” motifs in Part III). Given the literary
component, we can also list among those national-folkloric works illustrative functional music such
for such spectacles as Dziady [The Ancestors], Betlejem polskie [The Polish Bethlehem], Bajka [The Fable]
and Koncert Jankiela [Jankiel’s Concert] (incomplete). Through compositions in “the folkloric-national
spirit,” Maciejewski wished to maintain the idea of a broadly conceived Polish character in music –
comm. by M.W.

126 Marlena Wieczorek
with Poland in the same fashion – the very choice of the mazurka was a demonstration
of patriotic sentiments. After the first four youthful Mazurkas,
Maciejewski took a long break from writing these miniatures, but he was inspired
to return to their composition by a Polish Radio broadcast he heard in
Sweden, in which Stanisław Szpinalski performed one of his pre-war Mazurkas,
92 what further intensified his longing for the fatherland and became an
impulse to composer. 93 Maciejewski also returned to Mazurkas towards the
end of life. He said at that time that he feels as if he had returned to his
homeland, because in these works he sought to capture the fullest image of
the Polish soul (Wieczorek 2005: 14). Thus, such miniatures became a musical
reflection of the composer’s Polish identity, and a proof of his strong
relationship with the country.
Parallelly to elements of folk music, Maciejewski drew in his works on the
Neoclassical style, developed on the French soil. However for him it was not
a departure from the Polish character. He argued:
[...] I wrote a number of mazurkas, highlander dances, Kurpian songs, but under the
influence of conversations with Szymanowski, I developed a deeper view of the foundations
of the national style. Already in my sonata I broke with the so-called folklore.
The national character always manifests itself in music, it is not necessary to emphasise
it specially by borrowing or imitation of folk art. A good composer – no matter if he
wants to or not – will always remain national (Maciejewski 1937: 138–139).
One of the most important proofs of Maciejewski’s connection with Poland
is also the way he maintained ties with his family. Maciejewski’s extensive
correspondence with his parents and siblings is well preserved (over 200
items) In these letters he wrote not only about his life, but also about the
emotions associated with separation from relatives:
I miss you today and I missed you through all the years of our separation. Today also,
when I sufficiently know people and the world, I know how privileged I was to have
you and your home for my parents and my cradle. Often in moments of weakness I
sought and found solace in you and the strength to live. 94
92 Interview of J. Cegiełła with R. Maciejewski and W. Maciejewski, 29th June 1979.
93 R. Maciejewski’s letter to his parents, 5th January 1948, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
94 R. Maciejewski’s letter to parents, probably of 11th April 1947, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 127
For patriotic reasons Maciejewski played Chopin’s compositions nearly every
month on the Swedish radio (almost at the same time the music was
forbidden by the Germans in occupied Poland) (Kozub 2010: 252). He informed
about it his loved ones, because the fact that they listened to his
broadcasts had enormous significance to him – in this way, he was mentally
with his family. 95 Maciejewski’s patriotism, however, was not only manifested
in what he wrote about his attachment to the fatherland or in the performance
of Mazurkas on the radio, but also in his involvement in the aid
for Polish immigrants. In Sweden, he took part in concerts under diplomatic
auspices, profits from which were assigned to aid for the fatherland, 96 and
not later than in 1948 the Association of Poles in Sweden was founded, whose
chairman was Maciejewski. 97 This organization mainly helped refugees from
communist PolandḟootnoteR. Maciejewski’s letter to his parents, 22nd March
1948, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
The composer was always interested in what was happening in Poland.
As he wrote:
I take part in Poland’s life through the radio. I know everything that happens, concerts,
lectures, and exhibitions. When I’m talking about the state of affairs in Poland, it’s not
out of thin air. [...] I’m very strongly emotionally connected with Poland. That’s what
Tansman said – internationalism is a curse. 98
A “tradition” of maintaining ties with the country, despite living far away,
was initiated already in the Parisian period before World War II Then, thanks
to his friendship with Szymanowski, Maciejewski took part in meetings of
Polish artists, with whom he discussed literature, art, music, and also spent
some holidays (Lilpop-Krance 1991: 89). His relations with Poles were also
close in other countries such as the United States, for instance through his
95 R. Maciejewski’s letter to his parents, probably of 31st August 1947, note 47/5. Avidingsgatan 6,
Gothenburg.
96 For example, in Gothenburg, in the Small Philharmonic Hall in Stockholm on 8th May 1942, he gave
a concert (under the auspices of Polish and British ministers) for the Polish Aid Committee in
Stockholm. (“Polsk konsert” 1942)
97 On the basis of R. Maciejewski’s membership card (no. 3). The card comes from the private archives
of W. Maciejewski, Warsaw. Cf. A letter from R. Maciejewski to his parents, 31st May 1948,
Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
98 J. Cegiełła’s interview with R. Maciejewski, 2nd February 1979.

128 Marlena Wieczorek
work in Polish churches. As Wojciech Maciejewski explained, “He soothed
his longing for Poland which plagued him [...] by always maintaining some
contacts with the Polish community, and less with specific Poles” (Kozub
2010: 253).
Despite all this, during his many years in emigration Maciejewski visited
Poland only incidentally. His longest stay took place when he came for the
première of the Requiem in Warsaw. Maciejewski was then invited to the Ministry
of Culture and Arts, where the Vice-Minister Kazimierz Rusinek asked
him to take over the chair of composition in the Academy of Music in Cracow,
vacated by the retiring Stanisław Wiechowicz. He was also offered a flat
in Warsaw’s Old Town. 99 But however much the authorities insisted on his
return to Poland, he did not take up the offer, even though he had previously
declared: “only the longing for you and my country nags me and will nag
until I get back [...]”. 100
Why did he not return Because he was an opponent of the communist
system, he did not accept restricting the space of human rights man’s independence,
freedom of thought and creation. In this context we should note
the words he uttered during a walk through Bank Square (then Dzerzhinsky
Square) in Warsaw, when he said that he could not possibly live in a country
that erects a monument to Felix Dzerzhinsky 101 (Kozub 2010: 253–254).
Roman Maciejewski returned to his fatherland in 1998, when the urn with
his ashes was interred in the parish cemetery in Leszno.
∗∗∗
The varying fortunes of Maciejewski’s life had a direct impact on the reception
of his work in his homeland. One can distinguish three stages of its presence
in the awareness of Polish audiences, which, interestingly, were not correlated
with any evolution of the artist’s musical language. In the first period
(1924–1939), he was a star among the young modernists. The “society” valued
him for the exceptional emotionality of his works, for melodic invention
99 Based on M. Wieczorek’s interview with Wojciech Maciejewski, 30th June 2002.
100 R. Maciejewski’s letter to his parents, 22nd May 1947, Avidingsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
101 Polish-Russian communist revolutionary, famous as the first director of the Bolshevik secret police,
the Cheka. The agency became notorious for torture and mass summary executions, performed
especially during the Red Terror and the Russian Civil War.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 129
and technical skills. He had many supporters, not only among his colleagues
and teachers from the Music Academy. In the second period (1939–1989) for
the critics he became an eclectic and a forgotten outsider. The reason for the
near–absence of his works from concert life was the change in Poland’s political
situation, which was not favourable to the promotion of composers living
abroad. Lack of interest in Maciejewski’s works was also due to his change
of worldview, which meant that he was no longer concerned with the promotion
of his works (he did not care to have them published in print, did not
lend manuscripts to other artists, and presented them only in those places
where he currently stayed). The only exception to that rule was his willingness
to present the Requiem to the world; it was performed for the first time
at the Warsaw Autumn Festival. The première was not a success, though, because
in the era of the domination of the avant-garde, a work rooted in tradition
was seen as proof of the lack of individuality. The composer’s looks
and lifestyle were, on the other hand, too individual, and it stood out uncomfortably
in communist Poland. Jerzy Waldorff, his friend from the 1930s,
summed it up in these words:
When I saw him, I thought I would faint. [...] I saw an old prophet with tufts of gray
hair on his balding head, his eyes shining with an otherworldly flame, and in place of
his former wide smile a grimace of something like bitterness or amazement with the
surprising ways of the world. [...] For his stay in the Peoples’ Republic he chose a sort of
a white monk’s habit with a hood, with a matching long beard. He slept on the floor and
ate only raw vegetables. [...] The presented part of his Mass lasting more than two hours
without interruption did not gain success in Warsaw. It seemed eclectic and it dragged
on [...], and furthermore it stood out from the rest of that festival of contemporary music,
as a grandmother would at a teenage big-beat party. Maciek 102 remained dauntless he
put the recorded tape under his arm, returned to America, and again for a long time we
had no news about him (Waldorff 1966: 15).
The change in the attitudes to Maciejewski’s works which took place (more
or less) in 1989 was caused by several factors: in Poland the hegemony of the
avant-garde was over; Communism had collapsed; and, perhaps most importantly,
the composer passed the manuscripts of his works to his brother, who
became deeply involved in the promotion of his oeuvre. Thanks to Wojciech
Maciejewski his brother’s works begin a new concert life in Poland. After a
102 Maciejewski’s nickname from his youth. Comm. by M.W.

130 Marlena Wieczorek
period of obscurity, gradually his music experiences a renaissance. More and
more is said about the composer, not only in Poland but also abroad. Every
year, more compositions are printed, more records released, new academic
and popular scientific works are published (e.g. Wieczorek 2008). In the case
of the Requiem, there has been a noticeable change in the views of critics,
as compared with those from the 1960s, which is evident in this statement:
[The Requiem did not fit in with – ed. MW] the stylistic trends and the dominant moods
at the Warsaw Autumn, especially in those years. Against the background of pieces
born of a fascination with the Darmstadt avant-guard, noise sonorism, and the game of
chance, Maciejewski’s masterpiece, which presents a synthesis of the sound discoveries
of twentieth-century classics with the old polyphony, could appear as a manifestation of
a conservative standpoint, or ostentatious advocacy of the past. And yet – inspired with
genuine experience – the music proved much more lasting and vital than so many highprofile
compositions of the “avant-garde” programme. It is performed still today, and
its deep expression attracts and moves the listener even more than it did some decades
ago (Zieliński 2007).
Maciejewski example thus shows how over many decades the reception
of one composer’s work may substantially change. His musical language,
from the beginning seen as modernist and innovative, fell into disfavour
with the passage of years and was perceived as oldfashioned, eventually to
be reassessed as classic and timeless – a praise which it fully deserves. Maciejewski
himself is also becoming a cult figure. His life philosophy and the
colourful life story have made him into a charismatic outstanding and remarkable
artist. A composer living abroad, he nevertheless never gave up
his Polish identity, just as he did not give up his personal freedom, which
led him to live in places more favourable to his health, creativity and peace.
Staying away from his fatherland, he did not consider his choice as isolation,
which allowed him to say at the end of life: “I do not consider myself an emigrant.
I am a Pole, and some even claim that I speak Polish more beautifully
today than I did before leaving the country” (Tumiłowicz 1990).

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 131
Works cited
“Apel do Polonii w Los Angeles” [An Appeal to the Polish Community in Los
Angeles] (1955), Jednodniówka no. 10/43.
Artsman M. (1980). Interview with R. Maciejewski: “Jakt på orginalitet föröder
skapanedet,” Svenska Dagbladet, 24th November.
Atterberg K. (1944). “Musik för två pianon, ” Stockholms Tidningen, 10th March.
Brodniewicz T. (1996). “Główne nurty twórczości chóralnej w międzywojennym
Poznaniu” [Main Trends in Choral Music in Poznań Between the Wars]. In:
Astriab J., Kaczocha W. (eds.) Z dziejów kultury muzycznej Poznania [A History
of Musical Culture in Poznań], Poznań.
Bucher F. (1970). Screen Series – Germany, London and New York.
C. B.-g. (1944). “Musik för två flyglar,” Dagens Nyheter, 10th March.
C. T. (1944). “Två förträffliga pianister,” Göteborgs Morgonpost, probably 11th March.
Cegiełła J. (1976). Szkice do autoportretu polskiej muzyki współczesnej [Drafts for a
Self-Portrait of Polish Contemporary Music], Cracow.
Cegiełła J. (1991). “Roman Maciejewski o swoich związkach z tańcem” [Roman
Maciejewski on His Experiences with Dance]. In: Balet w jednym akcie do
muzyki Romana Maciejewskiego [Ballet in One Act to music by Roman Maciejewski],
a programme note, world premiere 25th May.
Chruściński Cz. (1960). “Roman Maciejewski z USA opowiada o Międzynarodowym
Festiwalu Muzyki Współczesnej” [Roman Maciejewski from the
USA about the International Festival of Contemporary Music], 7Dnino.
42 (183), 16th October.
Chylińska T. (2002). Karol Szymanowski. Korespondencja [Correspondence], vol. 4,
(1932–1937), Cracow.
Cleasson C.G. (1980). Interview with R. Maciejewski: “Pianot måste ju ha en lägenhet,”
Gőteborg-Posten Nordost, 20th November.
Cohen S. J. (ed.) (1998). International Encyclopedia of Dance, vol. 3, New York-Oxford.
“Composing Disturbs His Composure” (1975). Los Angeles Times, 26th October.
Czas (1961). 26th May.
Danowicz B. (1979). “Kompozytor, pianista, wegetarianin” [Composer, Pianist, Vegetarian],
Literatura, 7thJune.
Dąbrowski M. (1999). “Wspomnienie o Romku Maciejewskim z lat wczesnej młodości”
[A Memory of Romek Maciejewski from My Early Youth]: In Gawędy
starego muzyka [Tales of An Old Musician], Poznań.
Drzewiecki Z. (1971). Wspomnienia muzyka [Memories of a Musician], Cracow.
G. G. (1944). [], Aftonbladet, 10th March.
G. N. (1945). “Orkester-föreningen,” Goteborgs Handels och Sjofarts–Tidning no. 9,
12th January.
“Fundusz Romana Maciejewskiego”[The Roman Maciejewski Fund] (1961). Czas,
2nd June.

132 Marlena Wieczorek
Gołaszewski A. (1999). Roman Maciejewski. Warunki artystyczne rozwoju kompozytora
w latach 1910–1937 [Roman Maciejewski – Conditions of the Composer’s
Artistic Development 1910–37], I. J. Paderewski Academy of Music in Poznań,
branch in Szczecin, master degree thesis.
Helman Z. (1972). “Muzycy i muzyka polska w Paryżu w okresie międzywojennym”
[Polish Music and Musicians in Paris Between the Wars], Muzyka,No.
2.
Helman Z. (1992). “Muzyka na obczyźnie” [Music in Exile]. In: Fik M. (ed.) Między
Polską a światem. Kultura emigracyjna po 1939 roku [Between Poland and the
World. Emigrant Culture after 1939], Warsaw.
Interview with R. Maciejewski (1980). “Jakt på orginalitet föröder skapanedet,”
Svenska Dagbladet, 24th November.
J. R. (1944). “Dubbelpianister,” Göteborgs Tidningen probably 11th March.
Kaczyński T. (1961). “Rozmowaztwórcą‘Requiem’”[AConversationwiththe
Author of the “Requiem”], Tygodnik Powszechny,8thJanuary.
Kaczyński T. (1994). Interview with R. Maciejewski, Monochord. De musica acta,
studia et commentorii,vol.V,Poznań.
Kaczyński T. (1995). “Rozmowa z Romanem Maciejewskim” [A Conversation with
Roman Maciejewski], typescript (the text was printed in Tygodnik Powszechny
no. 12, 19th March 1995, entitled: W zgodzie z naturą [In Harmony with Nature].
Kisielewski S. (1957). Z muzyką przez lata [With Music Through the Ages], Cracow.
Kozub Z. (2010). “Rozmowa z Wojciechem Maciejewskim” [Z. Kozub’s Interview
with Wojciech Maciejewski]. In: Roman Maciejewski twórca charyzmatyczny
[Roman Maciejewski – A Charismatic Artist] (Poznań–Warsaw: I. J. Paderewski
Academy of Music, Fryderyk Chopin University of Music).
L. M-m. (1948). “Musiken.” Addendum to “Macbeth på Stadsteatern.” Göteborgs
Morgonpost, 13th March.
Latoszewski Z. (1929). Muzyka, 10th April.
Lilpop-Krance F. (1991). Powroty [Returns], Białystok.
Loński L. (1955). “Unusual Musical Treat,” Jednodniówka – California News no. 3/39.
Maciejewski R. (1937). “Co zawdzięcza Szymanowskiemu muzyka polska” [What
Polish Music Owes to Szymanowski], Muzyka nos. 4/5.
Markowska E. (1997). Szymanowski i jego Europa [Szymanowski and His Europe], Warsaw.
“Nowe dzieło kompozytora polskiego, R. Maciejewskiego” [The New Work of
the Polish Composer R. Maciejewski] (1959). Naród Polski,9thOctober.
Nowiński Cz. (1997). Dzieje polskiego kościoła rzymskokatolickiego w południowej Kalifornii
[The History of the Polish Roman Catholic Church in Southern California],
Wrocław.

Roman Maciejewski – An Independent Artist, A Truly Free Man 133
Ossetyński L. (1965). “Rzemiennym Dyszlem po U.S.A. Listy z podróży. Koncert w
Mieście Aniołów” [Taking Lifts in the USA – Traveller’s Letters. A Concert
in the City of Angels], Ameryka-Echo, 27th June.
“Personable Composer Relates Future Plans” (1961). Oshkosh Northwestern , 30th
May.
“Polsk konsert” (1942). Svenska Dagbladet,6thMay.
“Polska muzyka i polscy wykonawcy za granicą” [Polish Music and Polish Performers
Abroad] (1938). Muzyka Polska no. 3.
“Polska muzyka zagranicą” [Polish Music Abroad] (1934). Muzyka No. 1.
Przegląd Muzyczny (1930). Nos. 9–10, Poznań.
“Stars of Europe Concert Stages Re-United After Long Separation” (1951). Oshkosh
Daily Northwestern, 30th June.
The Quarterly Review (1974). April–June.
“Tropami Maciejewskiego” [In Maciejewski’s Footsteps] (1982). Przekrój, 4th
April.
Tumiłowicz B. (1990). “Diabła nie ma!” [The Devil Is Gone], Sztandar Młodych, 18th
Sepember.
Waldorff J. (1966). “Dziwne przygody polskiego Peer Gynta” [The Strange Adventures
of the Polish Peer Gynt], Świat no. 30, 24th July.
Wesołowski M. (2002). Edycja krytyczna wszystkich „Mazurków” Romana Maciejewskiego.
Komentarze redakcyjne [Critical Edition of Roman Maciejewski’s Complete
Mazurkas], Poznań.
Wieczorek M. (2005). Interview with M. Wesołowski: “Maciejewski na nowo odkrywany”
[Maciejewski Reinvented], Ruch Muzyczny,6thFebruary.
Wieczorek M. (2008). Roman Maciejewski. Kompozytor pokolenia zgubionego [A Composer
of the Lost Generation], Poznań.
Winnicka L. (1999). W poczekalni nieba. Rozmowy o życiu i śmierci [In Heaven’s Waiting
Room: Conversations about Life and Death], Warsaw.
Wirén D. (1944). “Musik för två pianon,” section “Music och radio”,SvenskaMorgonbladet,
10th March.
Z. G. (1938). “Polski kompozytor i polski pianista w Londynie” [A Polish Composer
and Pianist in London], Kurier Codzienny,8thFebruary.
Zalewski T. (1977). Pół wieku wśród muzyków. 1920–1970. Przyczynki do dziejów polskiej
kultury muzycznej [Half a Century among Musicians: 1920–70. Towards
a History of Polish Musical Culture], Part One – until 1945, Cracow.
Zieliński Tadeusz A. (2007). “‘Mazurki’ Romana Maciejewskiego” [Roman Maciejewski’s
Mazurkas], Ruch Muzyczny no. 25, 9th December.

6
An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity.
Life in Emigration and the Artistic Output
of Tadeusz Zygfryd Kassern 1
Violetta Kostka
Tadeusz Zygfryd Kassern (1904–1957) decided to emigrate from Poland at
the end of 1948, to remain in exile until the end of his life. At the time of
this decision, he was at the peak of his career in the field of law. From December
1945 he had been working for the Consulate General of the Republic
of Poland in New York, holding successively the following functions: a cultural
attaché, a culture and education adviser (from January 1947) and consul
(from August 1947). Providing assistance to musicians residing in Poland
and popularising Polish music in the USA, he gained himself a reputation as
the “Archangel Gabriel of Polish musicians.” 2 In October 1947 he became
the Polish delegate for cultural affairs to the United Nations Organisation.
Equally important were his achievements as a composer, which is what he
had been preoccupied with since the mid 1920s. He was known as the author
of, i.a., the post-impressionist Concerto for voice and orchestra, the folkloristic
Orawa Suite for two solo voices and male choir, and also many neoclassical
works of various types, such as Concerto for double bass and orchestra,
Concerto for string orchestra, Dies Irae – symphonic poem for orchestra,
4 Copernicus Motets for a cappella mixed choir and A Triptych of Mourning
for voice and piano. Both before World War II and during the time when he
1 This article is a summary of the last two chapters of the author‘s book concerning the composer
(2011).
2 W. Lutosławski’s letter to T. Kassern of 22nd April 1948, Warsaw University Library (in Polish:
“Biblioteka Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego”, hereafter referred to as BUW), K–LXXX.

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 135
worked in the Consulate, he received numerous awards for his compositions
in Poland and abroad, and his music was performed in Europe and America
by the best musicians, including Grzegorz Fitelberg, Ewa Bandrowska-
Turska, Stanisław Szpinalski, or Ada Sari. Some of these pieces of music were
performed at prestigious concerts, e.g. Concerto for voice and orchestra was
performed at the Polish Music concert in Berlin in January 1948.
Ending collaboration with the Polish government
When Kassern became consul in August 1947, he probably thought that his
mandate was going to last for a considerable period of time, during which
he would be able to realise his plans related to this function (Kostka 2007a:
33–35). The Consul‘s Card he was given in June 1948 was to expire in the
following year. Nonetheless, in October 1948 the Ministry of Foreign Affairs
issued an official letter to the consul, informing him that he was to report
in Warsaw in relation to a new work post. This sudden decision aroused his
suspicions. Since he had been in New York for the third consecutive year,
he was well acquainted with the American point of view on European and
Polish issues which were discussed in the press and on television. These
were the times of the cold war, which mainly manifested itself in the form
of anti-communist rhetoric practised by the American citizens. Apart from
information about Poland obtained from the Americans, Kassern also received
information from his family and acquaintances residing in Poland.
He was informed of events concerning everyday life and the music circles,
including the changes taking place in the Polish Composers’ Union (in Polish:
“Związek Kompozytorów Polskich”, hereafter referred to as ZKP) with
regard to its governing bodies, and changes of directors in the Music Department
of the Ministry of Art and Culture. All these actions took place
in an atmosphere of political arguments and discord. He also received two
official letters from the ZKP: the first one was intended to “persuade” him
to compose popular pieces of music (songs for solo voice or choir), and the
second one was a circular letter whose purpose was to provide information

136 Violetta Kostka
concerning the basics of the aesthetics of socialist realism adapted by a resolution
of the International Congress of Music Critics and Composers held in
Prague in May 1948. 3 Although he was not opposed to the idea of folk songs
arrangements, he could not tolerate the fact that the state interferes with the
sphere of art and culture. He had always disapproved of all manifestations
of totalitarianism, which was best expressed in his article of 1938, entitled
Twenty years of fighting for music culture (Kassern 1938: 4–5).
Summoned by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Kassern arrived in Warsaw
on or around 20th November 1948 and stayed in the Bristol Hotel. His meeting
at the Ministry was arranged for 2nd December. Prior to the meeting he
participated in various other meetings, observing the course of political affairs
in order to form his own opinion about the situation in Poland. It was
the time of preparations for the Unification Convention of the Polish Socialist
Party and the Polish Workers’ Party, which were going to merge into the Polish
United Workers‘ Party on 15th December 1948. It was enough to read the
press to realise that the political situation in Poland had changed substantially
in comparison with December 1945. On 27th November Kassern attended
the previously arranged meeting with ZKP members, during which
he gave a lecture on music–related issues in the USA (Biuletyn Zarządu Głównego
Związku Zawodowego Muzyków 1948: 7). His lecture met with great interest
although the issues he mentioned must have sounded unfamiliar to many
of the listeners. He talked about orchestras relying on two big radio corporations
for their existence; about composers‘ sources of income; about the
American League of Composers; about conductors who, when choosing the
repertoire, more frequently relied on audio presentations than on sheet music;
about “the Metropolitan Museum”; about film music, and many other
matters. The author of the report on the lecture, which was later printed
in Biuletyn Zarządu Głównego Związku Zawodowego Muzyków [The Bulletin of
Musicians’ Association Board], drew the following conclusions from it:
It was a very sophisticated and interesting lecture, delivered in an expressive way by
an excellent speaker. The listeners could be convinced that T. Kassern, having spent
several years in the USA, may be considered to be one of the major experts in the area of
3 Letter from S. Kołodziejczyk to T. Kassern of 5th July 1948, BUW, K–LXXX.

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 137
composing and performing music on the other hemisphere. It is always useful to know
about such issues and all musicians will benefit from obtaining such information: it will
give them guidance on both how to act and how not to act (Ksi[S. Kołodziejczyk] 1948:
8).
The second meeting he attended concerned his participation in an international
contest for a screenplay idea about the life and artistic output of Frederic
Chopin. The contest had been organised by the Polish Film magazine, in
conjunction with the Chopin Committee, to commemorate one hundredth
death anniversary of the composer. Although there were many participants
in the contest, Kassern‘s screenplay concept was awarded a distinction. 4
When Kassern turned up in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs on 2nd December,
he was nominated general consul for the Republic of Poland in London.
He and his wife were given new passports. 5 On 6th December he visited the
Ministry of Art and Culture which had commissioned him to write an opera.
This offer of financing one of his major artistic projects was linked with a creative
imperative he had so far been unable to realise. It appeared during the
uprising in the Warsaw Ghetto (April–May 1943), which he – a Pole of Jewish
origin – was fortunate enough to witness only as an observer placed on the
safe side of the wall. So immense was his empathy with the murdered Jews
that he decided to commemorate them by writing an opera about Jewish issues,
and the basis for this piece of music was going to be a drama by Jerzy
Żuławski End of the Messiah, which he had read before the war. As the circumstances
for realising this work of art had been unfavorable, he had only
prepared a draft and decided to wait for the situation to change. He returned
to this project in the autumn of 1948, when he was preparing the Polish premiere
of A Survivor from Warsaw by Arnold Schönberg. 6 Unfortunately the
Polish authorities in Warsaw did not approve of the project he presented to
them, which the composer commented in the following manner:
After the war, in Poland, I was offered a large commission to write an opera. I suggested
The Anointed as a ghetto-uprising memorial, but I was severely rebuked and forbidden to
4 http://www.fotohistoria.pl/main.phpg2_itemId=200925, 16th April 2009.
5 Passports and other documents of Kassern: BUW, unclassified Kassern resources.
6 F. Greissle’s letters to A. Schönberg of 5th October and 8th November 1948, Arnold Schoenberg
Collection, Music Division, Library of Congress, Washington.

138 Violetta Kostka
write this opera because the Communist Government considered it as favoring Jewish
“nationalistic” tendencies and this the Communists strongly opposed. 7
Finally a compromise was reached: he was commissioned to write an opera
for children. The outcome of these negotiations is described in a statement
issued to the Ministry of Art and Culture, dated 6th December 1948:
In accordance with the agreement with Vice Director of the Department, Zofia Lissa,
Mus. D., I hereby undertake to write a puppet opera in 3 acts, entitled A Little Wooden Boy
(Pinocchio). The detailed terms and conditions shall be included in the contract which
shall be concluded within six months. Tadeusz Kassern, New York, 542 West 113 Street. 8
Having dealt with all the formalities, Kassern took the nearest plane to
New York. Once he arrived there, he immediately resigned from diplomatic
service.
Basing on the opinions expressed by the composer himself, it has to be
stated that he ended his collaboration with the Polish government for purely
political reasons. To confirm this, three quotes shall be given of what he said
to different people and at different times. The first of them comes from a letter
to Roman Palester, dated 10th June 1950. Kassern wrote that in December
1948 he and his wife had been facing a choice of two paths, and they decided
to live as political refugees:
This is a decision my wife and I took. After my visit in Poland in November 1948, I came
to the conclusion that sovietisation of Poland was inevitable and I broke my relations
with the Polish government. My concerns were only confirmed by subsequent events,
such as the issue of Gauleiter Rokossowski. 9
His second statement explaining the reasons why he decided to emigrate
comes from a biographical note from October 1950 to the Headmaster of
Third Street Music School Settlement of Julius Rudel. It reads: “[He] resigned
this post [consul] in 1948 as protest against the openly progressing communization
and sovietization of Poland.” 10 Finally, the third statement comes
7 T. Kassern’s letter to J. Rudel of 22nd October 1950, BUW, K–LXXXI.
8 T. Kassern’s Official letter to the Ministry of Art and Culture of 6th December 1948, BUW,
unclassified Kassern resources.
9 T. Kassern’s letter to R. Palester of 10th June 1950, BUW, K–LXXXI.
10 T. Kassern’s letter n to J. Rudel of 22nd October 1950, op. cit.

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 139
from an application of 12th January 1953, issued to the Guggenheim Foundation.
Applying for financial assistance to help complete the operas he was
working on, the composer explains his situation and states his reasons for
deciding to live in the USA: “In 1948, in protest against the communization
of Poland and having always been anti-communist, I decided to stay in this
country.” 11
Apart from political reasons, Kassern‘s moral values might have been a
major factor contributing to his decision to emigrate. He used to be a loyal
citizen serving his country the best way he could, but by the end of the year
1948 his experience and knowledge of politics made him realise that if he
decided to accept the post of a civil servant – the general consul in London –
he would not be able to be true to himself. For him truth and honesty were
the most important values in life, as he wrote in 1952 in a letter to a close
person:
After all, a man should have only one rule and abide by it: to be true to himself, to do
what he believes is right in an honest way. The price for this is usually very high, but
no price is too high for honesty. 12
After Kassern resigned from working for the Polish government, the response
of Polish authorities was to “remove” him from Polish culture. The
fastest reaction came from the Music Department of the Ministry of Art and
Culture which already on 15th March 1949 decided to withdraw the order
for the children‘s opera A Little Wooden Boy. 13 The Polish Music Publishers
(now PWM Edition), which had been planning to publish his chamber music
compositions, 14 broke off cooperation with him. In spring 1951 his membership
in ZKP was revoked. At first the ZKP Managing Board tried to inform
him about it, but the Department of Press and Information of the Ministry of
Foreign Affairs requested that the matter should not become widely known
to the public and therefore further attempts were abandoned. 15 The most
11 T. Kassern’s letter to H. Mol of 12th January 1953, BUW, K–LXXXI.
12 T. Kassern’s letter to I. Sroczyńska of 27th March 1952, BUW, K–LXXXI.
13 Note on T. Kassern‘s application to the Ministry of Art and Culture of 6th December 1948 reads:
“Rejected: 15/3. 1949”, and the illegible signature may be one of Z. Lissa.
14 See the archive files of the PWM Edition in Cracow.
15 Official letter of the ZKP President, W. Rudziński, to the Department of Press and Information,

140 Violetta Kostka
difficult to bear, however, was the decision not to perform any of his music
at concerts.
Life in emigration
Having decided to emigrate, Kassern started to live a new life which consisted
mainly in struggling to support himself and his wife. Although those
times have been described as years of prosperity in the United States (Hawley
1995: 33–42), they were definitely not prosperous for a political refugee. He
was not financially secure in any way; there were no opportunities for him to
obtain a good post and earn good wages, and his educational background as
a lawyer proved completely useless. In one of his letters he wrote that he was
not even allowed to copy notes officially because he was not a member of the
local Musicians Association. His command of English was excellent and he
knew that European musicians had an exquisite reputation in the USA, so
he decided to seek employment in music schools.
In January 1949 he was employed as a teacher in the Third Street Music
School Settlement. 16 His duties included teaching piano lessons and theoretical
subjects. There is no information about the number and type of lessons
he taught in the spring semester of the 1948–49 school year, but we have information
concerning the lessons he taught in subsequent years: in the 1950/51
school year he taught piano lessons to approximately 30 students three times
a week, and in the 1953–54 school year he taught 3 harmony groups, 2 solfège
groups, an instrumentation group and he also had approximately 30 instrumentalist
students. His monthly wages from October to May were 150 USD,
which gave 1200 USD per annum. According to his letters, the minimum
wages on which one could survive were 200 USD per month, i.e. 2400 USD
per annum. This meant he had to earn an extra 1200 USD per year. 17
Foreign Posts Department of 21st April 1951 and Official Letter of the Press and Information
Department director in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, S. Mencel, to the ZKP Board, of 7th May
1951, files of the Polish Composers’ Union.
16 T. Kassern’s letter to J. Rudel of 22nd October 1950, op. cit.
17 T. Kassern’s letter to J. Rudel of 20th September 1950, BUW, K–LXXXI; T. Kassern’s letter to H. Mol of
12th January 1953, op. cit.

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 141
This situation was not conducive to producing creative work, but Kassern
did not surrender. He started to compose piano music for his students and
he reconsidered his plans for the opera concerning Jewish issues, which he
had been planning since 1943. He presented the general concept of the opera
to the Kussevitzky Music Foundation, hoping to receive financial support.
In May 1949 he obtained a grant from this foundation to realise his largest
composition project. 18
In order to support his home budget (his wife, Longina, was not gainfully
employed), in September 1949 he took an extra post as a lecturer at New York
University, in New School for Social Research. In the 1949–1950 academic
year he taught the subject called Music and Society, and in the summer of
1950 he taught the following courses: Music of the Renaissance and Origin of
Opera – Survey of its Growth (1600–1950) ([Bulletins] 1950). On 30th June 1950,
he submitted the following list of projects concerning his academic activity
to his superior at the university:
1. Music and Society – winter semester,
2. Opera – Libretto Workshop – winter semester,
3. Song Text and Song Music Workshop – spring semester,
4. Seminar in Musical Composition – both semesters, conducted jointly with
Mr. Cowell, Maestro Raffaelli and Dr. Zipper. 19
On the basis of this one may assume that he was seriously considering
a career as a university lecturer. Some changes must have occurred, however,
in the subsequent months, as on 25th September 1950 he resigned without
explanation.
Since at the beginning of their immigration the Kasserns were convinced
that their situation would be quite stable, they continued to rent their apartment
in the West where they had used to live before they became immigrants.
Probably at the end of 1949 they moved to Brooklyn, which was further
from the city centre and therefore cheaper. Their circle of friends and acquaintances
was different than the one from the times of working in the Con-
18 T. Kassern’s letter to R. Palester of 10th June 1950, op. cit.
19 T. Kassern’s letter to C. Mayer of 30th June 1950, BUW, K–LXXXI.

142 Violetta Kostka
sulate. Their contacts with Kassern‘s brother Stanisław and his daughters became
more frequent. Both nieces, Wanda and Danuta, studied in New York:
the first one stayed with their aunt and uncle in the summer of 1948, and the
second one visited them to take piano lessons in subsequent years. Apart
from their family, Tadeusz and Longina maintained relations with the pianist
Witold Małcużyński, the conductor Franco Autori, the composer Ralph
Shapey, the lawyer Françis Kuchler, and later with the composer Michał Kondracki
and others. They attended concerts and music festivals whenever they
were able to do so. In the summer of 1949 they participated in one of the most
famous festivals in the USA – Tanglewood Music Festival in Berkshire, Massachusetts.
20
As the first post-war political immigrant from the Polish music circles,
Kassern did not know how to find his place in the new situation. At first he
made an attempt to obtain a visitor’s visa, about which he informed Roman
Palester in the following words:
I thought [about this] in 1949, a few months after I broke my relations with the Polish
government, when I turned to Arthur Rubinstein, the founder of the Chopin Foundation,
with a plan to provide assistance to Polish musicians who were in all probability
going to protest against the sovietization of Poland in the same manner as I did. Unfortunately
Rubinstein demonstrated complete indifference to this plan. Further attempts
to make him change his mind, made by his brother-in-law, Bronisław Młynarski, have
so far failed. The reason might be that there have not been any other practical cases of
such musicians, apart from my own case – and I did not ask for anything to be done
in my case, since I decided to follow my own path. Anyway the basic rule here is that
everyone should take care of himself, without assistance from others. 21
It was incredibly inconvenient to have the status of stateless persons, so
after some time the composer and his wife decided to apply for the status
of immigrants to obtain US citizenship in future. This decision unfortunately
coincided with the decision of Truman‘s administration to sharpen
the immigration policy due to the increasingly intense “cold war” (Miscamble
1995: 5–29). The Americans started major investigations to reveal the
presence of “communists”. A special Congress Committee for Investigating
Anti-American Activity was appointed: it investigated the loyalty of the civil
20 Photograph with a description, files of K. Dymaczewska.
21 R. Palester’s letter to T. Kassern of 26th May 1950. Quoted after Helman (1999: 171).

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 143
servants and established a procedure for finding disloyal persons among its
own ranks. The symbol of “the red scare” was Joseph McCarthy, a senator
from Wisconsin (Hawley 1995: 56). Moreover, repressive actions were undertaken
all over the country. Although the immigration system was initially
going to be made more liberal, the Truman administration‘s actions yielded
completely opposite results in the form of legal acts concerning state security.
In June 1952, “The McCarran – Walter Act” was introduced, limiting immigration
to the United States. This law made the existing regulations even
stricter with regard to permits and prohibitions of entry as well as deportation
of dangerous foreigners, as set forth in the Internal Security Act. At the
beginning of 1950, Kassern filed his first application to allow him to reside
in the United States, and this application was unfortunately rejected. 22 His
subsequent applications also met with rejection. The reasons of the immigration
commission are not officially known, but it may be assumed that since
American authorities were particularly careful, they did not trust a Polish
refugee who had once used to be a high state official.
In 1954 Kassern at last found a job which satisfied both his financial needs
and his ambitions as a composer, at least to a certain extent. It consisted in
arranging already existing pieces of music. The first commission came from
the general director of New York City Opera, Joseph Rosenstock. 23 He was
commissioned to adjust the Strauss‘ Die Frau ohne Schatten score to the needs
of NYCO. The payment for completing this work by 15th September 1954
was going to be 3000 USD, paid in three instalments. In the following year
the Pole received a commission from a publishing company, G. Schirmer, “to
reconstruct a lost opera score,” 24 and in June 1956 the director of New York
City Opera, Erich Leinsdorf, commissioned him to provide “a new arrangement
and orchestration of Orpheus in the Underworld opera of Jacob Offenbach,
for a new text by Eric Bentley.” 25 He was going to be paid 2500 USD
for the arrangement, and 50 USD for each performance. The work was to
be completed by 20th September. After that, Frederic R. Mann Foundation
22 Bills issued by T. Kassern for R. Horn, BUW, unclassified Kassern resources.
23 J. Rosenstock’s letter to T. Kassern of 10th March 1954, BUW, unclassified Kassern resources.
24 Biographical note on T. Kassern of 1956 or 1957, BUW, unclassified Kassern resources.
25 E. Leinsdorf’s letter to T. Kassern of 18th June 1956, BUW, unclassified Kassern resources.

144 Violetta Kostka
ordered a re-instrumentation of the Piano Concerto in E Minor of Frederic
Chopin. Although the composer completed the work, he was never going to
hear it performed on stage.
In 1955 Kassern began working as a teacher in Dalcroze School of Music
in New York, the only authorised Dalcroze School on both American continents.
According to a bulletin found among the documents related to the
composer, he began this work by teaching a summer course lasting from 5th
July to 15th August, where he taught composition and orchestration: subjects
in which he had considerable experience ([Bulletin] 1955a). Each subject was
taught once a week and the lessons lasted one and a half hours. According
to another bulletin of Dalcroze School of Music for 1955–1956 school year, he
taught the following subjects:
1. Composition II. Sonatina form, minuet with a trio, rondo, theme with variations
and sonata form (2 meetings per week),
2. Composition III. Concerto and symphony (2 meetings per week),
3. Orchestration. Composing for symphony orchestra and for instrumental
ensemble, application of contemporary trends in orchestration, reading
sheet music, transposition, and discussion on various styles (1 1/2 hours
per week ([Bulletin] 1955b).
Today there is information on the internet that Dalmazio Santini (1923–
2001), a US resident of Italian origin, used to study composition under a Polish
teacher. 26 It is quite possible that it was in the Dalcroze School of Music
that he took these music lessons.
All the work Kassern was commissioned to do and the teaching in Dalcroze
School of Music were undoubtedly a source of satisfaction and additional
income, but his life was in no way more tranquil and stable. On the
contrary: it was the time when he suffered a nervous breakdown caused by
the fact that the Immigration and Naturalisation Office rejected his application
for immigrant status once again. The composer received an official letter
26 www.incontridimusicasacracontemporanea.it/artisti/dalmaziosantini.htm, 25th May 2004 .

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 145
from the Office on 26th September 1955, and four days later he attempted to
commit suicide. This fact was described in The People‘s Voice – Polish Weekly:
On 30th September his wife, Longina, found him unconscious in their bedroom. His life
was saved thanks to a fast medical intervention. Mr. T. Kassern had taken an overdose
of sleeping pills. The reason why Mr. Kassern decided to commit suicide was the letter
from the Immigration and Naturalisation Office informing him that his application for
USA citizenship had been rejected. Before he took the pills T. Kassern had written his
wife a letter explaining his reasons for the desperate step he had decided to take: “I am
not able to go through the pointless torture of the immigration procedure once again
– this procedure may even take years. Maybe Mr. Francis Walter (a Congressman from
Pennsylvania) and Mr. Besterman consider themselves to be stronger and wiser than the
law itself... In these last moments of my life I am praying that this cruel and inhuman
way of thinking is changed and that at least you are given the American citizenship”
(“Po ‘wybraniu wolności’ wybrał śmierć” 1955: 1).
The American administration employees mentioned in his farewell letter
were high government officials: Francis Walter was the co-author of the already
mentioned draconian act, i.e. “The McCarran – Walter Act” and simultaneously
the Chairman of the Non-American Immigration Commission,
whereas Besterman was holding the function of secretary in the Immigration
and Naturalisation Commission in the Congress. The fact that their
surnames were mentioned in the letter might mean that the case had been
considered by the highest immigration officials, and the only solution was
to initiate the procedure once again.
Having recovered, Kassern returned to work. As planned before, he moved
to a three-room apartment in New York City, with a beautiful view of the
state of New Jersey. 27 After the move, his life started to be more stabilised,
although not entirely devoid of problems. He wrote about this in his letter
to his sister-in-law:
Of course we encounter various problems and obstacles in our everyday life, but we
manage to overcome them and look forward to what will happen in future. Having
moved to a new apartment, we now have better conditions to work and to live, and are
very glad because of this. [...] Not having enough time to go to theatres very often,
we go to the cinema instead: there are two big cinemas near our place; we also go to
concerts. We listen to the radio a lot and watch a lot of television. 28
27 T. Kassern’s letter to I. Sroczyńska of 18th August 1955, files of K. Dymaczewska.
28 T. Kassern’s letter to his family in Poznań of 28th May 1956, BUW, K–LXXXI.

146 Violetta Kostka
Perhaps as a result of his desperate attempt described before, or else due
to the softening of immigration law, Kassern was registered as an immigrant
in the United States on 26th September 1956.
Artistic work in emigration
As already mentioned, the fact of emigrating to the USA did not diminish
Kassern‘s ability to create, but it definitely changed its direction and focus.
If before the war and during his work in the Consulate the composer mainly
focused on providing concert repertoire for musicians, i.e. concertos and concertinos
for different instruments, piano pieces and songs, now the opera and
teaching-related compositions took priority. This change of focus was partly
due to his previous interests, and partly due to the new circumstances in
which he found himself. After several years he confirmed that this change
of focus was a good decision: “I work a lot with music and I constantly put
maximum of energy in what I do. I feel these are my best years to create the
work which I feel I am best at composing.” 29
The first work created during the period of emigration was The Anointed:
a 4-act opera, which had been planned in 1943, with a libretto in the English
language. It was based on a play by Jerzy Żuławski, and Kassern had obtained
a grant for its realisation in May 1949 from the Kussevitzky Music
Foundation. 30 The opera presents a certain event from the history of Turkey
in the 17th century: a Jewish uprising against a sultan, the aim of which was
to win freedom (Kostka 2009). The uprising was led by a Jewish ascetic, Sabbatai
Zwi, who is the leading hero in the performance. He is depicted as an
extraordinary figure whose actions also prove fatal; the one who suffers the
pain of his nation but is at the same time above it; who is unattainable perfection.
Sabbatai Zwi is absolutely convinced that he is a messiah and, since
he remembers about the statement coming from Jewish books that only an
absolutely pure man may be a messiah, he renounces the earthly pleasures
29 T. Kassern’s letter to I. Sroczyńska of 10th July 1953, BUW, K–LXXXI.
30 Manucripts of score and of piano extract and typed libretto: Library of Congress, Washington and
BUW,Filenos.:Mus.CCXXVrps1,Mus.CLXIXrps1,Mus.CLXIXrps3.

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 147
and decides to become an ascetic, and is therefore regarded as a saint by
those who believe in the same cause. His mission, however, does not come
to a fortunate end: the hero surrenders to temptations of love. The person
behind this is his wife, Miriam, who not only forbids him to use torture and
takes care of her husband‘s health, but also makes his psychological condition
more stable and tranquil. Having lost his faith in his superhuman ability,
Sabbatai admits to the sultan that it had all been a mystification and that he
accepts his superiority. The Jews turn their backs on Sabbatai, but they still
believe that one day they will regain their independence, which is confirmed
by the last words of the opera: “the day of freedom is yet to come”.
Taking his inspiration from A Survivor from Warsaw by Schönberg, Wozzeck
by Berg, and the works of American composers influenced by the Vienna
School, Kassern presented his own kind of expressionism with neoclassical
elements in The Anointed. What is distinctive about this opera is its original
organisation of twelve-tone material which makes use of both the emancipation
of the dissonance and the euphonic harmony. The driving force behind
the events are the words presented in a diversified musical form, namely as
traditional singing, modern singing with large intervals and irregular phrasing,
Sprechgesang and several intermediate kinds of singing, and all of this to
be performed in one voice or in many voices. There are no permanent connections
between the words and the music, but two main motif tendencies
are visible and they depend on the emotions expressed. The first tendency
consists in combining the words expressing such feelings and emotions as
pain, fear, irritation, anger and hate with chromatic motifs, motifs including
intervals larger than the major sixth, motifs built on perfect fourths and
tritones, motifs based on the Sprechgesang technique and glissandos. The second
motif tendency depends on combining the words expressing love, hope
and tranquillity with motifs based on melodic triads, either complete or incomplete
but supplemented by transitional and adjacent sounds. Since there
are many moments of tension between various characters in the opera, the
first leading tendency mentioned above definitely dominates the second one.
Another feature of this composition is the diversification of timbres, which
is achieved by using a considerable number of performers: ten solo singers,

148 Violetta Kostka
a mixed choir of 4 voices, and, last but not least, a monumental and extraordinary
orchestra, composed of, i.a., the maraca, the Chinese block, the xylophone,
the vibraphone and the harpsichord. The constantly changing timbre
is accompanied by seven leitmotifs: four Jewish ones and three Muslim
ones, which, apart from their semantic function, also serve as tonal centres.
Another permanent element of the composition is the multilayered texture,
with the number of layers ranging from two to five. The result of the layers
superimposed on one another is mainly the dissonant harmony, giving the
composition its specific tone climate. The respective musical-dramatic parts
of the opera are joined together either by superimposition, or by sequencing.
This large composition is not a historical opera, although it may appear as
one. It is first of all marked by the category of symbol, ahistoricism, social and
psychological generalisations. It opens many ways of interpretation. According
to one of these interpretations, the quest for freedom of the Jewish nation,
when described in the context of a specific historical situation, becomes
a symbol of this nation‘s fight for freedom irrespective of the time and place,
and moreover it is a symbol of any suppressed nation. It is a well-known fact
that in 1948, i.e. before the opera was created, the actions of international
powers led to the creation of the State of Israel. However, according to the
above interpretation, the opera is still relevant, as the question of freedom
and independence of nations and countries is still important today. There is
another dimension to this opera. After the calamities of the 20th century, the
Holocaust being the worst of them, the opera is something that may be regarded
as a musical-historical monument. While watching Jews on stage and
listening to music of Jewish origin, we are to remember that it was human
beings who created such a fate for others.
Another opera by Kassern originated in his relation with Paul Aron, who
was well-known in the music circles in Europe and America, especially as
an steadfast promoter of modern music (Kostka 2005: 98–105). Aron lived in
New York and taught in the same school as the Polish composer, and in 1952
he organised a competition for a modern chamber opera, which he was going
to arrange to be performed in the New York avant-garde theatre, Provincetown
Playhouse. Kassern chose the famous play Sun-up by Lula Vollmer, an

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 149
American playwright, as the basis for his competition entry. The fame of this
play was such that it was moved to Broadway immediately after its first premiere
in the Provincetown Playhouse, and it was performed on Broadway
for two consecutive years; moreover, it was published four times and filmed
twice. The subject of the opera of the same title, based on the third act of
the play, concerns the complex relations between the inhabitants of mountain
areas in North Carolina, during two frosty days in February 1918. 31 The
heroine is Cagle, a widow who lives in a mountain house on her own. During
a snow storm, a young man, lost and freezing, knocks on her door, saying
that he is on his way to his mother‘s house. The fact that the young man remembers
his mother with love touches the widow‘s heart. She herself misses
her son, Rufe, who has been fighting in the war in Europe for several months.
When a sheriff comes to her house claiming that he is looking for a young
man who has deserted the army, the widow hides the young man in her
house and she is even ready to use a gun in his defence. Subsequently she
and her daughter-in-law, Emma, get to know to story of the young deserter.
Then from a letter all of them find out that Rufe died in a battlefield in France.
What follows is a sequence of memories about Rufe, and then comes the climax
of the opera: the sheriff arrives again to inform the widow through her
closed door that the runaway young man she is protecting is a son of her husband‘s
killer. The first thing that comes to the widow‘s mind is the idea of revenge,
but her son – whom she is able to hear – prevents her from putting her
thoughts into action and claims that it was revenge that also caused his own
death. The situation is resolved by Cagle, the widow, helping the stranger to
escape, and the sheriff not executing the law on her.
Unlike The Anointed, this is a chamber opera written for four solo singers
who also act, a 4-voice mixed choir not participating in the action and concealed
from the audience and an orchestra of 27 musicians. The style of music
is a mixture of radical neoclassicism and folklorism. The majority of the
opera is based on a method close to interval structuralism. This method consists
in repeating parallel three-note descending motifs (a minor second and
31 Manuscripts of score and of piano extract and typed libretto: BUW, file nos.: Mus. Mus. CLXIX rps 4,
Mus. CLXIX rps 5, Mus. CLXX rps 9.

150 Violetta Kostka
a major second) which simultaneously create three homo-rhythmic major
chords in a second relation, and in applying the intervals from this motifharmonic
structure in the remaining horizontal and vertical sound structures
of the whole opera. This specific organisation of the sound material
is accompanied by further assumptions made by the composer. One of them
is that the motif-harmonic structure is always achieved by homogeneous instruments:
three clarinets, three trumpets, three violin groups or others, thus
creating a certain analogy to what the structure sounds like when it is performed
by choir. Each of the two scenes ends in a folkloristic style, based on
the folk song Every Night when the Sun goes in, still popular in America.The
first arrangement of this song, Threnody, which makes use of the traditional
text, is maintained in the F-major key and it is to be performed by a choir accompanied
by three con sordino trumpets and a drum. While the choir is engaged
in performing the song, the instruments are to perform a punctuated
motif based on the major melodic chord, thus relating to the army traditions.
The second arrangement, Andante religioso, makes use of a new text which is
an integral part of the scene. It is accompanied by music in the B-major key,
set for contralto with a modest accompaniment of the choir and orchestra.
The opera has many significant musical moments. The leading one is the
motif-harmonic structure representing the central figure of the opera: the
widow Cagle. Apart from it, there are also four different leitmotifs representing
the other characters, including the absent Rufe. The mourning song
of Threnody may be interpreted as a song performed to mourn Rufe’s death,
but it may also be seen as more universal: as mourning the deaths of all the
soldiers who have died in battlefield. On the other hand, the Andante religioso
closing the opera returns to the senses suggested in the earlier part. It is the
same melody, and yet it is more lyrical, and, combined with the text about
sun rise and sun set, it represents the message of the opera: the need to resign
from revenge and feel love instead, as did the widow Cagle. The sun rise is
then a metaphor of faith, hope and love.
Having written two operas on serious subjects and touching upon the war,
Kassern‘s interests turned to comedy. In July 1953 he finished the piano ex-

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 151
tract of the Comedy of the Dumb Wife based on a play by Anatol France. 32 It
seems quite likely that the source of inspiration for this piece was the opera
The Rake’s Progress by Strawiński, which was particularly famous in New
York because of the recordings. 33 The opera‘s libretto is quite close to the
play whose main idea comes from Rabelais himself (Kostka 2006–2007: 56–
61). The leading characters are Judge Leonard and his dumb wife Catherine,
whom he used to love but who is currently becoming a burden to him. When
a friend of the judge‘s informs him that there are doctors in town who specialise
in such cases, the judge calls them immediately. During the first act
of the opera, Catherine does not utter a word, but the second act is filled
with her voice. The judge‘s wife comments on her husband‘s every move,
and brings up various stories, and in doing so she makes her husband want
her to be dumb again. The doctors, however, do not know how to do it, and
they only offer Leonard some medicine for deafness, which he finally takes.
Kassern‘s musical version of the satire on husband and wife demonstrates
an important connection with classical opera; in one of his letters the composer
describes it as “opera buffa in two acts.” 34 Its transparent formal strategy,
neo-tonal rules and the fact that the replicated patterns observe these
constraints are the factors which make it a proper neoclassical style opera.
Most vocal parts are sung in a way which is an intermediate form between
classical recitation and the classical aria; however, one does notice the presence
of typical arias, group singing and a folk song which appears throughout
the whole opera. Contrary to his previous operas, the Comedy has a texture
which does not go beyond simple homophony, polyphony and mixed
types. In comparison with his earlier neoclassical instrumental compositions,
this music is more modest and almost totally devoid of ostinati, polyrhythmic
and polymetric patterns. As required by a comic opera genre, it abounds
in expressive and semantic devices of comic nature. An example might be
Leonard imitating the talkative Catherine by means of a falsetto, which is
supported by two accompanying lines in the interval of a second. Another
example is Catherine‘s first monologue in which she talks about one of the
32 Manuscript of piano extract and typed libretto: BUW, file nos.: Mus. CLXXI rps 1, Mus. CLXXI rps 3.
33 Carnegie Hall repertoire for the season 1953–1954, BUW, unclassified Kassern resources.
34 T. Kassern’s letter to H.A. Moll of 12th January 1953, op. cit.

152 Violetta Kostka
biggest chatterboxes she knows, at the same time showing off her fast diction
combined with various types of coloratura figures. The opera is finished with
a scene of madness overwhelming all the characters, which is typical of 18th
century comic operas. Despite the lack of instrumentation, Comedy is a fullyfledged
composition, which meets the audience‘s expectations with regard
to entertainment and educational values.
Apart from the operas described above, Kassern also prepared librettos
for four chamber operas, among which three were operas for children and
one, entitled Hearts in Rucksacks, was a serious, historical opera. 35 The latter
presents the lives of a group of Poles from western areas of Poland in
Lwów (now Lviv), between mid September and December 1939; the composer
himself might have had similar experiences, since he used to live there
at that time. The action of the play was going to be accompanied by the song
referred to in the opera‘s title, which the composer described as very popular
among Poles during the Second World War. Perhaps the author meant the
song by Michał Zieliński of 1933. At the time of writing the above mentioned
librettos, Kassern also started composing a large opera entitled Eros and Psyche,
based on the famous play of Jerzy Żuławski. 36 However, Żuławski limited
the play to the scope of the Greek myth and enriched it with a philosophical
reflection, whereas the libretto writer /composer went much further beyond
the framework of the theatrical play. He described the idea behind this
opera in the following way:
Having the Greek myth of Psyche as a background, this opera depicts and glorifies the
fight of mankind for freedom from enslavements by totalitarian evils. The highly dramatic
action leads from the time of Arcadia to the final liberation from communism. 37
According to Michał Kondracki, whose words need to be quoted here as
the libretto itself is missing, Kassern rejected the ending of the Żuławski‘s
play and added his own instead. Out of the seven scenes, he set the action
of the two last scenes in the not so remote past: “the last but one act is set
35 Typed librettos: BUW, The princess marries the page – Mus. CLXXI rps 6, King Cole’s bubbles – Mus.
CLXXI rps 7, The loves of Lanny and Rosannah – Mus. CLXXI rps 8, Hearts in rucksacks – Mus. CLXXI
rps 9.
36 Manuscripts of part of score and of part of piano extract: BUW, Mus. CLXXI rps 4, Mus. CLXXI rps 5.
37 T. Kassern’s letter to H. A. Moll of 12th January 1953, op. cit.

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 153
in Oświęcim (Auschwitz), and the last one in a capital city prison of one of
the neighbouring power states” (Kondracki 1957a: 11). He made drafts in the
form of the vocal parts with piano for the first five scenes (about 120 pages)
and instrumental samples (several pages). By looking at the drafts one may
assume that the opera was going to be for eight soloists, a choir participating
in the action, and a large orchestra with a small organ in addition. The style of
this opera was going to resemble the expressionist and post neoclassical The
Anointed. Unfortunately due to lack of funds and opportunities for realising
the composition, neither this ambitious opera nor the aforementioned works
were ever finished.
What allowed the composer to take a break from the war-related issues
mentioned in these operas was his teaching-related output. 38 His small-scale
compositions for children and youth are very homogenous with regard to
style. They are mainly in a moderate neo-classical style, where the syntax is
ruled by the principles of neo-tonality and the main strategy is a programmatic
character or a classical sonata form. The largest group consists of 43 piano
miniatures in 4 program cycles: Candy Music Book, Amusement Park Music
Book, Blessed Music Book and Space Travel Music Book. The second group
comprises of 4 piano concertos for young people, called Teen-age Concertos
for Piano and Orchestra. Although all of them were going to be for piano and
orchestra, only the first one is written for orchestra, and the others are only
for two pianos. Another teaching-related work which is worth mentioning
due to its technical difficulty is Piano Sonatina on Stephen C. Foster Themes.All
these compositions were created to suit young people, taking into account
their capabilities and psychological constraints.
Although Kassern, being an émigré composer, had considerable competition
in the USA, his music was performed there. His teaching-related output
enjoyed considerable popularity: it was played in schools and a radio studio,
published (Schirmer, Carl Fischer) and recorded. As for the operas, only
Sun-up was performed; yet the poorly sung vocal parts and limited number
of instruments did not allow audiences to fully realise the composer‘s
idea (Kostka 2007b: 30–32). With regard to artistic instrumental composi-
38 Manuscripts of teaching-related compositions of Kassern are currently available at BUW.

154 Violetta Kostka
tions, Concertino for oboe and string orchestra was performed at Chautauqua
Festival in 1950, Sonata Brevis for piano – in Trenton in 1953 and at 16th New
York Radio Music Festival in 1955, and Adagio from Concerto for string orchestra
– in the famous New York Carnegie Hall in 1954.
Last months of life
1956 marked the “political thaw” in Poland and the previously rejected compositions
of Polish emigrants started to return to Polish stages. A group of
musicians in Poznań arranged two concerts, on 11th and 12th January 1957,
with Kassern‘s Concerto for voice and orchestra, performed in a marvellous
way by Ewa Bandrowska-Turska. Having noticed that the situation in Poland
was changing, the composer started to consider initiating contact with Polish
music circles. He managed to persuade Michał Kondracki to do it too.
On 20th February 1957 they wrote an article together for the Ruch Muzyczny
magazine entitled Musical Life in the USA (Kondracki 1957a). It was the first
article of the series, and apart from other issues it focused on the idea of popularising
Polish music in the United States by means of the methods available
there, and in particular by making recordings – an idea already expressed by
Kassern when he had worked for the Consulate:
It would be desirable to nominate a cultural representative of Polish music based in
New York, who would be in charge of bringing tape recordings of Polish contemporary
pieces, copying them on records and ensuring that they are broadcast as part of regular
radio concerts. Orchestra conductors might then become interested in the new Polish
music, which would finally become as popular in the world as is the music of other
nations (Ibidem: 13–14).
Kassern might have expected to become this “cultural representative”,
having been preoccupied with “arranging symphonic music records for one
of the major American companies” (Kondracki 1957b: 121).
Considering all the plans he was making for the future, as suggested by
the above mentioned article, it may be assumed that Tadeusz Kassern was
still in very good health in February 1957. This, however, changed dramatically
in the middle of the following month, when he found out he was suf-

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 155
fering from pancreatic cancer with metastases in the liver. 39 As the cancer
was incurable and progressing very fast, he and his wife informed all their
acquaintances and relatives of this fact. He was first visited by Michał Kondracki
and an American composer Ralph Shapey, and on 6th and 7th April
he received about 25 visitors. Michał Kondracki, who was taking care of his
friend, described him in a letter to Krystyna and Błażej Sroczyński in the
following manner:
We have known each other for a quarter of the century. As a musician and composer, I
have always thought very highly of his artistic output. Concerto for orchestra is one of
the major achievements in contemporary music, as are his operas, orchestra and piano
compositions. We all admire him not only because he is a great artist, but also an extraordinary
man with a great heart, impeccable character and elevated, beautiful soul.
How tragic it is that fate wants to deprive us of such an extraordinary individual, in
the moment when he could do so much for people and for Polish Music. I would like
to share with you my deepest pain and sorrow which I think all of us feel. It breaks our
hearts to witness him so calm and serene, knowing he will soon meet the eternity. 40
Kassern died on 2nd May 1957. In his death certificate the rubric “citizenship
of the deceased” reads: “POLISH”. 41 On the day he died, in Town
Hall, his student Miriam Osler and the teacher Allen Brings from Third Street
Music School Settlement performed Teen-age Concerto No. 1 to honour their
teacher and friend. On the following day New York Times published a large
in memoriam article with his photograph (“In Memoriam. Kassern is Dead”
1957: 10). He was buried on 6th May, in St. Charles Cemetery in New York. 42
people called in a special register for his memory, i.a. Ralph Shapey – composer,
Gustave Leese – director of the publishing house “Carl Fischer, Inc.”,
Tad Marciniak – librarian from Metropolitan Opera. 42 On 8th May his wife
Longina Kassern received a letter of condolence from the House of Representatives
of the US Congress, signed by William B. Widnall. 43 Soon in memoriam
notes were published by Ruch Muzyczny ([In Memoriam]. Tadeusz Zygfryd
Kassern 1957: 8) and the Parisian Culture (Kondracki 1957b).
39 L. Kassern’s letter to I. Sroczyńska of August 1957, files of K. Dymaczewska.
40 M. Kondracki’s letter to K. and B. Sroczyński of 8th April 1957, files of K. Dymaczewska.
41 Death Certificate, files of K. Dymaczewska.
42 A register of Friends who called in memory of Tadeusz Kassern, files of K. Dymaczewska.
43 W. B. Widnall’s letter to L. Kassern of 8th May 1957, files of K. Dymaczewska.

156 Violetta Kostka
Evaluation of his activity and output in emigration
On the basis of the documents and sources available, one may draw the conclusion
that Tadeusz Kassern was a very sensitive man, who resigned from
lucrative government posts in the period when totalitarianism started to rule
in Poland, in order to lead a difficult but honest life. Apart from political and
moral reasons, it was the state policy with regard to arts and culture which
made him emigrate. He had felt the consequences of this policy long before
other artists did. It is clear from his letters that his life as an emigrant was
the time of constant struggle and endless work, and his major concern was
his condition of a stateless man. Despite these circumstances, which were
rather unfavourable, he remained a man of honour until the rest of his life.
As an artist he seemed to represent ideas characteristic of expressionists, who
thought that an artist is the conscience of humanity, and art is to fulfil an ethical
function (Baranowski 2006: 63–64). His artistic output focused mainly
on the opera, in which he tried, symbolically or directly, to come to terms
with the war, the Holocaust and totalitarian systems. Another area of his activity
comprised compositions for children and youth, with clearly specified
teaching aims. As he was functioning in an environment where compositions
from Schönberg‘s circle were highly valued, Kassern felt compelled to create
modern music. The musical language of his last compositions is considerably
varied; his operas constitute original representations of selected music styles
or their blends, whereas his teaching-related output is mainly in proper neoclassical
style. In the context of Polish art in the period of socialist realism,
his music is part of “the hidden stream of stylistic changes”, as proposed
by Zofia Helman, which represents a transition from neoclassicism and folklorism
to the atonality of the Viennese School and poetic expressionism of
Alban Berg (Helman 1992: 217). Kassern‘s émigré compositions, which were
unknown in Poland for a long time, are beginning to attract interest in Polish
music circles. First concerts and performances already took place in the
1990s. Several premieres of his excellent compositions for children and youth
were held then, and the crowning event was the National Tadeusz Kassern
Competition for Young Pianists, organised in Gdańsk in 2006. In the same

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 157
year and place, with the support of the local Music Academy, Comedy of the
Dumb Wife was staged for the first time. In 2009 in Warsaw a concert was held
with musicians performing a range of stylistically varied songs for solo voice
and piano, and in 2010 in Nałęczów near Lublin, selected fragments of his
three completed operas were performed. It is planned that in 2011 an instrumental
version of the opera buffa will be staged. The other two “American”
operas are still waiting to be discovered, including The Anointed, considered
by the composer as his opus vitae.
Works cited
Baranowski T. (2006). Estetyka ekspresjonizmu w muzyce XX wieku [Expressionist
Aesthetics in the 20th-Century Music], Białystok.
Biuletyn Zarządu Głównego Związku Zawodowego Muzyków [The Bulletin of
Musicians Association Board] (1948). Nos. 10–11–12 (October–November–
December), Warsaw.
[Bulletins] (1950). New School 1949/1950, NewYork;New School. Summer Session
1950, New York 24th April and 8th May.
[Bulletin] (1955a). Dalcroze School of Music, 1955 Summer Session, NewYork.
[Bulletin] (1955b). Dalcroze School of Music 1955-1956,NewYork.
Hawley E. W. (1995). “Era Trumana – Eisenhowera” [Era of Truman – Eisenhower].
In: Critchlow D. T., Michałek K. (eds.) Historia Stanów Zjednoczonych Ameryki
1945–1990 [History of the USA 1945–1990], Warsaw, pp. 33–42.
Helman Z. (1992). “Muzyka na obczyźnie” [Music in Exile]. In: Fik M. (ed.), Między
Polską a światem. Kultura emigracyjna [Between Poland and the world. Emigration
culture] (Warsaw: Krąg).
Helman Z. (1999). Roman Palester. Twórca i dzieło [Roman Palester. The Artist and
His Work.] (Cracow: Musica Iagellonica).
“In Memoriam. Kassern is Dead. Composer was 53.” (1957). The New York Times,
3rd May.
“[In Memoriam]. Tadeusz Zygfryd Kassern” (1957). Ruch Muzyczny,no.3.
Kassern Tadeusz Z. (1938). “Dwadzieścia lat walki o kulturę muzyczną” [Twenty
Years of Fighting for Music Culture], Dziennik Poznański, no. 260, 13th November.
Kondracki M. (1957a). “Życie muzyczne w USA. I. Nowy Jork. Uwagi wstępne.
Muzyka polska w Nowym Jorku” [Musical Life in the USA. I. New York.
Introductory Notes. Polish Music in New York], Ruch Muzyczny,no.3.

158 Violetta Kostka
Kondracki M. (1957b). “Zgon Tadeusza Kasserna” [Tadeusz Kassern‘s death],
Kultura 1957, no. 9, September.
Kostka V. (2005). “Styl muzyczny opery ‘Sun-up’ (1952) Tadeusza Kasserna” [Musical
style of “Sun-up” (1952), an opera by Tadeusz Kassern], Forum Muzykologiczne.
Witold Lutosławski. Osoba i dzieło. Style muzyczne. Konteksty historyczno-kulturowe
[Witold Lutosławski. Man and Work. Musical Styles, Historical
and Cultural Contexts], no. 2, pp. 98–105.
Kostka V. (2006–2007).“Styl muzyczny opery ‘Comedy of the Dumb Wife’ Tadeusza
Kasserna (1953)” [Musical style of “Comedy of the Dumb Wife”, an Opera
by Tadeusz Kassern (1953)], Forum Muzykologiczne. Gatunek muzyczny, teorie,
zastosowania, przemiany [Musical Genre, Theories, Applications, Transformations],
no. 3, pp. 56–61.
Kostka V. (2007a). “Z konsula emigrantem politycznym. Przyczynek do biografii
Tadeusza Kasserna” [From a Consul to a Political Emigrant. Introductory
note to Tadeusz Kassern‘s biography], Ruch Muzyczny , no. 6, 18th March.
Kostka V. (2007b). “Prawykonanie opery ‘Sun-up’ Tadeusza Kasserna w Nowym
Jorku w 1954 roku” [First Night Performance of “Sun-up” by Tadeusz Kassern
in New York in 1954], Ruch Muzyczny, no. 8, 15th April.
Kostka V. (2009). “Opera ‘The Anointed’ Tadeusza Kasserna jako kompozytorska
odpowiedź na Holocaust” [Opera ‘The Anointed’ of Tadeusz Kassern as a
Composer‘s Response to the Holocaust], Muzykalia VII/ Judaica 2, pp. 1–9,
http://www.demusica.pl/cmsimple/images/file/kostka_muzykalia_7_
judaica2(1).pdf, 11th November 2009.
Kostka V. (2011). Tadeusz Zygfryd Kassern. Indywidualne odmiany stylów muzycznych
XX wieku [Idioms of the 20th-century Musical Dialects], Gdańsk–Poznań.
Ksi [S. Kołodziejczyk] (1948). “Echo Ameryki” [Echo of America]. In: Biuletyn
Zarządu Głównego...,op.cit..
Miscamble W. D. (1995). Stany Zjednoczone podczas zimnej wojny 1945–1975 [The
USA during the cold war 1945–1975]. In: Historia Stanów Zjednoczonych A-
meryki, op. cit, pp. 5–29.
“Po ‘wybraniu wolności’ wybrał śmierć” [Having “chosen freedom”, he chose
death] (1955). Głos Ludowy. People’s Voice – Polish Weekly, NewYorkno.40,
8th October.

An Artist as the Conscience of Humanity 159
Illustrations
Figure 6.1 Kassern’s diplomatic passport issued on 2nd December 1948. Warsaw
University Library, unclassified Kassern resources

Figure 6.2 Tadeusz Kassern and Franco Autori in front of a poster advertising a
performance of the composer’s work. New York, 2nd January 1954. Files of
K. Dymaczewska

Figure 6.3 Opera The Anointed, Act One, scene 1, bars 147–150

Figure 6.4 Opera Sun-up, scene 2, bars 556–558

7
Karol Rathaus, the Transplanted Composer
Jolanta Guzy-Pasiak
Composers who did not live in their native country but remained outside
it, dispersed in many parts of the world, yet who continued to emphasise
their bond with the homeland in their work and in their attitudes, were also
contributors to the history of Polish culture during various epochs. One of
such artists was Karol Rathaus, one of the few Poles who, in the first half of
the twentieth century, studied and achieved success as composers in those
centres of the German-speaking countries which were most significant in
shaping new concepts of sound and new musical sensitivity. These, at the beginning
of the twentieth century and during the interwar period were, consecutively,
Vienna and Berlin. Rathaus reached maturity within the sphere
of influence of two outstanding composers, Arnold Schönberg and Franz
Schreker, teachers of the excellent, highly talented young people who were
creating modern music (Guzy-Pasiak 2007).
Rathaus, born in 1895 in Tarnopol, studied composition at the Music Academy
in Vienna (1913–1915 and 1919–20) and at the Hochschule für Musik in
Berlin (1920–23), with an interval during the First World War, when he was
conscripted into the Austrian army. Alongside composition he studied history
at the University of Vienna, where in 1922 he was awarded a doctorate.
He achieved his greatest successes during the years 1922–32. 1 The ten-year
1 Among the most important pieces of the period one can count Symphony no. 2 op. 7 and a ballet Last
Pierrot op. 19a and an opera Foreign Soil op. 25a.

164 Jolanta Guzy-Pasiak
contract for the ongoing publication by Universal Edition of all his works
composed after 1920, proposed to him by Emil Hertzka, undoubtedly contributed
to establishing his position in Europe during the interwar period. 2
Works written during the 1920s confirmed Rathaus’s standing in Germanspeaking
circles, and the turning point in his career was the world première
of his one-movement Symphony No. 2 op. 7 at the closing concert of the festival
of the International Society for Contemporary Music in 1924 in Frankfurt.
He owed to this his reputation as a “radical” composer, and “one of
the greatest hopes of the new music” (Schrenk 1924: 215), although at the
same time he was a victim of attacks by some reviewers, who objected to the
advanced sound language of his compositions, and even more to the ethnic
origins of their author. As evidence, one might quote the comment by
Alfred Heuss, a music critic who later became known for promoting Nazi
slogans; referring to Symphony No. 2, he wrote: “the orchestra played an unbearable,
ultra-modern (...) symphony by Karol Rathaus, from somewhere
in the Balkans (...) The music of the Zulus is unquestionably of a higher
standard (Schüssler 1999: 19, footnote 22). Alongside composing works for
concerts and for the theatre, Rathaus was a very successful composer of film
music.
With the intensification of Nazi attitudes in Germany, the composer left
the place where his talent blossomed and found an exceptional degree of
appreciation, and moved to Paris (1932–33), hoping for employment in the
film industry. The crisis in French cinematography forced him to seek opportunities
in London (1934–38), but Great Britain also proved to be a difficult
place for a refugee without British citizenship to find work. The next location
where Rathaus could have expected to obtain commissions owing to
his international status as a composer of film music was Hollywood in Los
Angeles (1938–1940). However, the style of work in American production
was so different from the standards to which he had become accustomed
in Europe that he left the West Coast of America and moved to New York.
He lived there until the end of his life (1940–54). His work in the field of
teaching composition and theory at Queens College, City University of New
2 Such contracts were offered also to Schönberg, Schreker and Mahler.

Karol Rathaus, the Transplanted Composer 165
York, where he created the foundations of the Music Department, earned
him enormous renown. Like many other refugee composers, such as Arnold
Schönberg, Ernst Křenek, Ernst Toch, Darius Milhaud and Paul Hindemith,
he made a significant contribution as a teacher in the process of transferring
European music culture to the United States.
He held American citizenship, but never renounced his Polish citizenship.
The question of the interdependence between artistic creativity and the external
circumstances in which it takes place is posed particularly frequently
by researchers who examine creative art in the twentieth century. The fate
of musical culture, and art and science in general, became entangled with
political and social events to a degree not encountered previously. Writing a
history of contemporary music, Robert Morgan proposed inserting caesurae
between the fundamental stages in the periodisation of 20th-century music
on the basis not so much of changing stylistic tendencies, but that of historical
events – the two world wars which interrupted the normal development
of culture. 3
In his essay on Schönberg, Arnold Schönberg – Portrait of a Century, Hermann
Danuser makes the claim, with reference to historical, artistic as well
as personal events, that the creator of dodecaphony, who lived through the
“golden days”, as well as through the disasters and the rescues, may be regarded
as a paradigm of his epoch (Danuser 1998). Schönberg’s fate epitomises
the life and work stories of many other artists of his generation and
younger – those who survived the nightmare of wars, the growth of Fascism
and the enforced emigration which saved their lives. This common denominator
applies to the biographies of Paul Hindemith, Bela Bartók, Igor
Stravinsky, Bohuslav Martinů, Darius Milhaud, Ernst Křenek, Kurt Weill,
Ernst Toch, and, among Polish musicians – Karol Rathaus, Aleksander Tansman,
Jerzy Fitelberg, Tadeusz Zygfryd Kassern, Michał Kondracki or Feliks
Łabuński.
It is impossible to estimate the number of émigré composers, victims of
Nazi policies, even though for nearly 40 years now scholars and musicians
3 See Morgan R. (1991): Part I. Beyond Tonality: From 1900 to World War I, Part II. Reconstruction and New
Systems: Between the Wars, Part III. Innovation and fragmentation. The World after World War II.

166 Jolanta Guzy-Pasiak
have been making efforts at an international level to make reparations to the
victims of totalitarianism and to return to musical life the forgotten artists
and their works (Dümling A. 2002). According to some scholars, the number
of musicians who emigrated to the United States from all the European
countries was around 1,500 persons (Gay 1999: 21), but the internet database
“Lexikon verfolgter Musiker und Musikerinnen der NS-Zeit”, created in 2005
by Claudia Maurer Zenck and Peter Petersen at the University of Hamburg,
which includes émigrés from various countries, at present includes some
5000 names. 4 The divergence is thus high, since we know that emigration to
the United States was the most numerous.
So far, the extent of the emigration of musicians of Polish origins has also
not been established. One of the reasons for this is that most of them were
born during the period of the partitions, and thus in German- or Englishlanguage
sources they are often regarded as citizens of one of the three states
which ruled over the Polish lands until 1918. References to Polish émigrés
represent a miniscule proportion in foreign-language writings on the subject
of musicians in exile (Röder, Strauss 1983). Things do not look much better
in the basic Polish lexicographical works concerning emigration, from which
a number of composers’ names are missing, including those who held state
posts alongside their musicianship (Judycka, Judycki 2000). The passage of
time makes it more difficult to reconstruct the fate of those no longer living
who left Europe nearly eighty years ago.
A noticeable feature of the writings on the subject is the gradual replacement
of the term “exile” by the word “emigration”. The latter implies the
possibility of choice, which in fact was not available to the majority of the
victims. A number of authors draw attention to the ethical and methodological
problems which result from this tendency (Maurer Zenck 1980: 24).
The difficulties of finding oneself in a strange land and a strange continent
experienced by people (particularly of Jewish origin) who were forced
to flee to save their lives have been thoroughly described and analysed in
literature. Superficially, one might conclude that, among émigrés, musicians
4 http://www.lexm.uni-hamburg.de/object/lexm_lexmperson_00002643.

Karol Rathaus, the Transplanted Composer 167
would have had a greater chance of successful professional integration in
their new homeland than those representing other professions, in view of
the language of music being – to a degree – universal. However, in the opinion
of musicologists, composers, whose situation requires separate analyses,
could not preserve their European musical identity in the American reality,
since the creative process has specific characteristics which, to a lesser or
greater degree, bind it to a particular cultural context. They thus had to lead
a double life (having a “double parallel biography” in the words of Danuser)
on the intellectual-emotional level (Danuser 1999).
The description of the Polish musician given in the title of this text – the
transplanted composer – was taken from the title of an article by Ernst Křenek,
written in the year of his arrival in the United States (Křenek 1938: 36), and
used by Albert Goldberg in the title of a series of articles published in the
Los Angeles Times (See Goldberg 1950). The music critic intended to collect
and compare statements by prominent European composers who had been
working in the United States for around 10 years, on the subject of changes in
their compositional style after losing their homeland and settling in America.
Those to whom the question was addressed included such figures as Ernst
Křenek, Igor Stravinsky, Arnold Schönberg, Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco, Eric
Zeisl and Eugene Zador.
It is worthwhile quoting the opinions of eminent European composers
about the changes in their compositional style as a result of moving from
Europe to the United States, collected by Goldberger in 1950. These can be
grouped into three categories (Youngerman I. 2009):
1. those belonging to the first group did not observe any change in their
creative work;
2. those from the second group admitted that changes were forced on them
by the different level of cultivating music in the United States in relation
to Europe;
3. representatives of the third group did not observe a particular American
influence on their music, viewing exile from Europe as a form of alienation
of an artist from his/her environment which can be observed in any

168 Jolanta Guzy-Pasiak
society, regardless of whether one lives in one’s own country or a foreign
one.
The first group was represented by Arnold Schönberg, who expressed the
view that he had not observed any changes in his music dependent on any
external circumstances. Although in his output created after 1934 one can
easily observe a tendency towards traditional musical quality, according to
Schönberg himself he had preserved the autonomy of his art.
Among the composers surveyed, only Eric Zeisl admitted that he had noticed
changes, consisting, however, in his deeper experience of art and attributed
by him to emigration. All the remaining artists inclined towards the
third solution, i.e. the view that internal emigration, “splendid isolation” was
written into an artist’s fate.
A comparison of the responses to the questionnaire from sixty years ago,
and confronting these with contemporary writings devoted to the respondents,
who are no longer living, gives pause for thought. The composers’
statements undermine one of the most firmly established stereotypes, repeated
in many works: namely, that the changes in the musical language of
European artists, which consisted in invoking the traditional musical qualities
of romantic expression and classical order, resulted from their desire to
integrate into the culture of the “new homeland”, for ideological or material
reasons. There can be no doubt that a number of issues were simplified during
the effort to rehabilitate the authors of music which was forbidden in Germany
(“Entartete Musik”), as, for example, when artists who differed significantly
from each other began to be combined into one group, that of émigré
composers, purely on the basis of comparing their biographies. This levelled
out the features which made them distinct and stressed the shared experience
of the enormous tragedy which touched them all. People who were
not familiar with each other’s work and had no influence on each other at all
were ascribed common stylistic features, while citizens of different countries
were bracketed together on the basis of their use of the German language.
It would be a mistake for us to look at all the émigré composers as a group. They are
only a group when viewed from our outside perspective. The conductors—Klemperer,

Karol Rathaus, the Transplanted Composer 169
Reiner, Szell—were competing for the same jobs in Germany and then they were competing
for the jobs in America. We probably do note that Hindemith didn’t particularly
like Kurt Weill, and Weill lived in New York while Hindemith lived in New Haven.
Schönberg was living in Brentwood. Korngold was living in Toluca Lake. They didn’t
all have tea together and it is well known that although Stravinsky and Schönberg lived
perhaps two miles from each other in Los Angeles, they apparently never saw each
other. There was one concert at which both were present, but they sat on the opposite
sides of the auditorium. What an interesting conversation that would have been! Miklos
Rósza was Hungarian, and although he studied in Leipzig, he was not part of the
Austrian or German group. The Germans, like Franz Waxman, were separate from the
Austrians” (Cf. Mauceri 2005).
An authoritative opinion was formed at the same time that giving up musical
experiments, apparent in a number of artists, resulted from the impossibility
of bringing the unprepared American audiences around to accepting
such works; Ernst Křenek drew attention to the risks associated with such
simplifications on a number of occasions (Křenek 1959).
Karol Rathaus belonged to that group of composers whose professional
life can be divided – in brief – into two stages: the European one, devoted to
composing, and the American one, dominated by pedagogical activity. Polish
publications prior to the start of the Second World War established his
image as Poland’s outstanding representative abroad, as Rathaus left Galicia
(then under Austrian rule) as an eighteen-year-old and never again lived
in Poland. The question one might ask when trying to describe the links between
his emigration and the changes in his works concerns primarily the
point at which Rathaus – who permanently lived abroad – came to regard
himself as an émigré. Undoubtedly he must have perceived his status differently
when he lived in Vienna as an Austrian subject, or even in Germany,
where he continued his education and gained his early professional experience.
His few surviving letters suggest that he tried to stay as close as possible
to the main artistic trends, and did not choose any particular location; he realised
that abandoning Vienna or Berlin for Tarnopol would have meant the
end of his career as a composer. After his enforced departure from Germany,
expecting that the National Socialists would come to power, he began his
peregrinations through Europe and the United States, which lasted a number
of years. Being a foreigner and a Jew, he found that his search for the

170 Jolanta Guzy-Pasiak
opportunity to practise his profession everywhere met with restrictions imposed
at that time as a result of the arrival of the large wave of refugees.
Like many others, he chose the United States as his new homeland, and it
was there that, for the first time, he faced the problem of a conscious decision
to settle in a foreign country. He wrote about it in cautious terms to an
unidentified Madame:
Of course, all [this] needs time [...] I mean by it the question of emigration, which is not
settledyet(...) Weliveina countrywhere the continuation ofmyoccupationdoesnot
seem absurd, while my boy can grow and develop freely. We are entitled to share the
free life of a democratic country. And, we are perfectly aware of what this means. 5
In the letter, written from New York, he included much enthusiastic praise
for the country where he was living with his family. The extraordinarily optimistic
tone of this letter indicates that Rathaus could see a chance of creating
a relatively stable environment for himself and his family in his new homeland.
It is important to note that, when escaping from Europe and starting his
new life overseas, Rathaus was not fully satisfied with the course of his professional
career, and that America represented for him both salvation and
another chance of success. As has already been mentioned, the Polish artist
won acclaim as “the hope of new music” in 1924, but fulfilling the expectations
placed upon him turned out to be a serious challenge, since his artistic
development coincided with the period of increased importance of the National
Socialist Party.
Rathaus was regarded as a representative of the “new music” (Neue Musik)
because of the originality of his sound language, the inclusion of dissonance
in quasi-tonal structures. Although he did not feel himself to be a dodecaphonist,
contact with Schönberg’s ideas left a trace in his thinking, in his
acceptance of the emancipation of dissonance. The ideology of the “new
music” was promoted by such institutions as Universal Edition, a publishing
house which offered contracts to outstanding musicians, or those regarded
as the most promising, and the International Society for Contempo-
5 Karol Rathaus’s letter to an unidentified Madame of January 20,1940 (Karol Rathaus Archives, City
University of New York).

Karol Rathaus, the Transplanted Composer 171
rary Music, at whose festivals Rathaus appeared on a number of occasions,
and where he was the secretary of the German section. Rathaus’s work was
judged very highly at a particular concert organised by ISCM, where the
programme was arranged by Arnold Schönberg, and which also saw performances
of quartets by Szymanowski, Wellesz and Casella (Wolfsohn 1925:
28). However, in spite of the enthusiasm of a group of professionals, the anti-
Semitic reviews of his most radical work, Symphony No. 2, made him distance
himself from advanced tonal experiments even at the beginning of his professional
development. Conscious of the limitations placed on him by political
reality, he wrote: “As an artist I am now redundant (...) There is nothing left
for me to do but the romantic trick, escape on the wings (...) to the kingdom
of art” (Schüssler 1999: 20). One is reminded here of the statements of the
surveyed refugee composers regarding the inescapable conflict between the
artist and society, the lack of communication between internal and external
worlds.
However, Rathaus, whose views were close to those of the left wing, found
an ethical justification for combining serious art and the expectations of the
general public while he still lived in Germany:
Today, no artist should be allowed to claim from a pedestal that his alleged aim is far
from the aims of the “little” people. Radical socialism looks askance at art which lures
it into distant spiritual spheres, far from its ideological struggle, far from that life which
it must not be allowed to forget, lest it betray the class struggle and the revolution. The
new factuality is merely a sign of the times, a cleansing of the hypocrisy left by the
earlier era. Expressive music is limited, it reflects mankind (Rathaus 1928).
Of the composer’s two “committed” works: the ballet The Last Pierrot (1927)
and the opera Foreign Soil (1930), the first achieved significant success.
The change in Rathaus’s compositional style, which took place as early as
the 1920s, involved a “softening” of the harmony and a simplification of texture.
It reflected a turning towards “populism”, apparent during the 1930s
in the work of artists in the Third Reich and Stalinist Russia, as well as in
democratic countries.
Most of the contributions tended to romanticize the 1920s and view 1930s as an artistic
low point, but they did not restrict these negative characterizations to Nazi Germany or

172 Jolanta Guzy-Pasiak
other repressive regimes. Dahlhaus speaks of a compositional “regression” and turn toward
“populism” not only in the Third Reich and Stalinist Russia but also under democracies
(Potter 2005: 444).
A separate issue is that of the popularity and recognition in the field of film
and stage music, which Rathaus regarded as less valuable. The dizzying career
of the 1930 film Brothers Karamazov (directed by Fedor Ozep), produced
in close collaboration between the composer of the soundtrack and the director,
ensured a sufficient number of commissions to keep Rathaus employed
for the next few years. In his book on the subject of film music, Kurt London
described Rathaus’s film soundtrack as the model combination of the art of
music and of film (London 1946). Prior to 1939 at least eleven films were produced,
with such eminent directors as Alexis Granowski (The Trunks of Mr
O.F., Adventures of King Pausole), Fedor Ozep (Großstadtnacht, Mirages de Paris,
Amok, The Queen of Spades), Julien Duvivier (Halloh Berlin - Ici Paris) or John
Brahm (Broken Blossoms, Let Us Live). The composer was deeply committed to
his work on film music, but regretted the fact that his concert compositions
were not equally popular:
Imustadmit–notwithoutafeelingofdepression–thatitwastheperformancesof
my music for the stage that provided me with a position incomparably higher than
that which I succeeded in achieving during the whole 11 years devoted to ’absolute’
music. Die Ehe, after its success in Munich, was performed in Leipzig and then over
fifty times in Berlin; it focused on me the attention of those circles of the intelligentsia
who access music only through the mediation of the word, and for whom in Berlin there
existed only these composers: Holländer and – Weil. The extraordinary success of the
Karamazov film is a mystery to me. Foreign Soil – my opera, the child of my suffering,
wasnotasuccess. 6
The changes in compositional technique, becoming more widespread starting
from the 1920s, manifested themselves in a selection of technical means
which were more accessible to the general public, under the slogans of Gebrauchsmusik:
art which is ambitious but comprehensible.
The question comes to mind whether the separation from Europe, the actual
emigration, did influence the musical language of the Polish artist, when
6 Karol Rathaus’s letter to Hans Heinsheimer of January 4, 1932 (Universal Edition Archiv).

Karol Rathaus, the Transplanted Composer 173
the process of moving away from advanced experimentation had already begun
after the premières of the earliest works Those who favour the view
that contact with the American music scene caused the return to composing
in the major-minor system should take into account the fact that it is only
the educational pieces, written by Rathaus mainly for academic choirs and
instrumental ensembles, which are tonal. On the other hand, using untypical
instrumentation in these compositions probably resulted from didactic
needs, and would only have enriched, rather than limited, the composer’s
invention in the area of shaping sound qualities (Guzy-Pasiak 2009). Among
his concert works, which include all the genres initiated by the composer
while still in Europe (symphony, quartet, sonata), those which stand out are
his Piano concerto op. 45 (1939) and, written towards the end of the composer’s
life, Rapsodia notturna (1950) and String quartet No. 5 op. 72 (1954).
What deserves mention is the fact that, in the last of these works, for the
first and only time he made use of “the method of composing using twelve
notes”. The type of twelve-tonality used by the Polish artist is closest to the
solutions used by Alban Berg. One might conclude that in the case of Rathaus
this was not a turning point, initiating a career as a dodecaphonist, as in the
case of Stravinsky, but merely employing dodecaphony as an “additional”
technique. An interest in dodecaphony during the mature phase of creative
development in the 1950s can also be discerned in other Polish artists, such as
Roman Palester (Symphony No. 4 (1948–52), Passacaglia (1953) and Variazioni
(1955)) or Konstanty Regamey (Musique pour cordes (1951–53), Cinq études
pour vois de femme et piano (1955)) (Lindstedt 2001).
What is striking in the works of Rathaus are the new extra-musical inspirations
which influenced the style of compositions written during his émigré
period in America, which are evident in vocal (texts), as well as instrumental
music (programmatic titles of the pieces). Scholars researching emigration
literature have observed certain regularities in the legacy of poets and writers
separated from their homeland, and one can, with some reservations,
try to transfer these to the area of musical creativity. The trends in question
appeared in the work of Rathaus only after he had settled in America,
which seems to confirm the claim that, in the places where he had lived and

174 Jolanta Guzy-Pasiak
worked earlier, he had not felt totally separated from his own country. All
the categories listed below are linked to various aspects of discovering and
manifesting one’s own identity; they are:
1. missing one’s family home,
2. defining one’s national identity,
3. acceptance of parallel existence of two or more identities (Guzy-Pasiak
2011).
A return to the real or imagined childhood homeland when becoming an
émigré is the result of the compensation mechanism at work. Such a creative
effort is evident in Rathaus’s private correspondence, where he reminiscences
about Galicia with nostalgia, while a type of musical creation based
on the familiar sound landscape might be discerned in his piano miniatures
– stylised folk dances, in major-minor tonality, written in the style of works
which he might have come across during the first years of learning music at
home.
Life as an émigré during the war years crystallised in Rathaus an awareness
of himself as rooted in the Polish soil, and the fact that his wartime works
draw inspiration from Polish folklore, as well as his choice of forms, texts and
titles, testify to that. It is very significant that in his previous works the composer
avoided the use of folk themes, and all the prewar compositions with
text were arrangements of German-language lyrics. Evidence of his attachment
to Poland is provided by works such as Polonaise Symphonique, commissioned
by the conductor Artur Rodziński and performed in 1943 at the
Carnegie Hall, later broadcast by a radio station in New York “to give comfort
and succour”, Mazurka and Polish polka for piano from 1941, and Three
Polish dances from 1942 (1. Oberek;2.Kujawiak – in memoriam Ignacy Paderewski;
3. Mazurka); also the arrangement of the hymn Gaude Mater Polonia for fourvoice
choir and piano from 1943, and 6 Polish folk songs. During the period of
Hitler’s aggression against Poland, Rathaus, like many others, tried to confirm
through his compositions the existence of the country which had been
wiped off the map. He also became involved in the work of the Music Com-

Karol Rathaus, the Transplanted Composer 175
mittee of PIASA – Polish Institute of Arts and Culture of America, together
with Jerzy Fitelberg and Bronisław Huberman.
That unusual period of engagement, both as a composer and activist, in
Polish affairs, came to a close with the end of the Second World War. During
the years which followed the composer became known as a sympathiser of
the Zionist movement, expressing his enthusiasm for the forthcoming establishment
of the state of Israel, again in this way returning to the question of
his roots. Examples of Rathaus’s works expressing his commitment to that
cause can be found in the music he composed for two documentary films
from 1945 and 1946: Histadruth / Gateway to Freedom, directed by Paul Falkenberg,
and The Song of Israel.
A sense of belonging to the Polish-Jewish community did not preclude
his forming a bond with the culture of his new homeland, which found its
expression in music by turning to vocal forms with English text.
To an extent, the works of Rathaus reflect the changes in the direction of
his life. Tracing this evolution is made more difficult by the hetorogeneity
of his style (Guzy-Pasiak 2007) – a feature emphasised by all the researchers
who examine his legacy – and the absence of aesthetic stabilisation (on the
other hand, the search for novelty was a requirement of the times in which
he composed). It is above all the selection of texts, and the seeking of inspiration
in folk music, which confirm the conclusion that, during certain
periods, it might have been particularly important to the composer to assert
his own identity, as also happened during his period of emigration in the
United States.
Although music composed in different cultural spheres may vary stylistically,
the actual idea of creating music remained unchanged for Rathaus,
regardless of where it was created: throughout his life he wanted to “reach
the widest public through simple but artistic means” (Schüssler 1999).
The issues sketched here involve the relationship between compositional
work and the experience of its creator as an émigré; they show that this part
of our musical culture, regained quite recently, demands much further intertextual
and source research.

176 Jolanta Guzy-Pasiak
Works cited
Brinkmann R., Wolff, Ch. (1999). Driven Into Paradise: The Musical Migration from
Nazi Germany to the United States (Berkeley: University of California Press).
Danuser H. (1998). Arnold Schönberg – Portrait of a Century, www.schoenberg.at/
1_as/essay/essay_e.htm, accessed 28.08.2011.
Danuser H. (1999). In: Brinkmann, Reinhold; Wolff, Christoph (eds.) Driven Into
Paradise: The Musical Migration from Nazi Germany to the United States (Berkeley:
University of California Press).
Dümling A. (2002). “The Target of Racial Purity: The ’Degenerate Music’ Exhibition
in Düsseldorf, 1938”. In: Etlin Richard A. (ed.), Art, Culture and Media
under the Third Reich, Chicago.
Gay P. (1999). “‘We Miss Our Jews’: The Musical Migration from Nazi Germany”.
In: Brinkmann R.; Wolff Ch. (eds.), Driven Into Paradise: The Musical Migration
from Nazi Germany to the United States (Berkeley: University of California
Press).
Goldberg A. (1950). “The Transplanted Composer”, Los Angeles Times. (May14
Page: H5, May 21 Page: D6, May 28, Start Page: D4).
Guzy-Pasiak J. (2007). “Między Schrekerem a Schönbergiem – z zagadnień twórczości
Karola Rathausa” [Between Schreker and Schönberg – on the music
of Karol Rathaus], Muzyka, vol. 52, no. 3.
Guzy-Pasiak J. (2009). “Z zagadnień jakości brzmieniowych w twórczości kameralnej
Karola Rathausa: ’Confused intermezzo (The Pole in Spain)’ na flet
piccolo, fagot i fortepian z 1939 roku” [On sound qualities in Karol Rathaus’
chamber music: ’Confused intermezzo (The Pole in Spain)’ for piccolo flute,
bassoon and piano of 1939], De Musica no. 13, www.demusica.pl/Pismo_
De_Musica:De_Musica_XIII, accessed 28.08.2011.
Guzy-Pasiak J. (2011). “Emigracja w perspektywie postkolonialnej. Wybrane problemy
twóczości polskich kompozytorów emigracyjnych: Karola Rathausa i
Ludomira Michała Rogowskiego” [Emigration in Postcolonial Perspective.
Selected Problems of Polish Composers’ Output: Karol Rathaus and Ludomir
Michał Rogowski], Res facta nova, vol. 12 (21).
Judycka A., Judycki Z. (2000). Polonia. Słownik Biograficzny [Polish Biographical
Dictionary] (Warsaw: PWN).
Křenek E. (1938). “The transplanted composer”, Modern Music 16, no. 1.
Křenek E. (1959).“Amerikas Einfluss auf eingewanderte Komponisten”, Musica,
vol. 13.
Lindstedt I. (2001). Dodekafonia i serializm w twórczości kompozytorów polskich XX
wieku [Twelve-Note Music and Serialism in the Works of 20th-Century Polish
Composers] (Lublin: Polihymnia).
London K. (1936). Film Music, New York.

Karol Rathaus, the Transplanted Composer 177
Mauceri J. (2005). “Exiles in Hollywood”, text from 2005 MOLA Conference, www.
franzwaxman.com/exiles.pdf, accessed 29.08.2011.
Maurer Zenck C. (1980). Ernst Křenek – ein Komponist in Exil, Vienna.
Morgan Robert P. (1991). Twentieth-Century Music, New York, London.
Potter P. (2005).“What is ‘Nazi Music’” The Musical Quarterly, vol. 88, no. 1.
Rathaus K. (1928). “Ankieta na temat romantyzmu” [A Questionnaire about Romanticism],
Muzyka, no. 7.
Röder W., Strauss H. (1983). Biographisches Handbuch der deutschsprachigen Emigration
nach 1933. International biographical dictionary of Central European emigrés
1933–1945, 4 Bde (München: Saur).
Schrenk W. (1924). Richard Strauss und die Neue Musik, Berlin.
Schüssler M. (1999). “‘...możnadotrzećdoszerokiejpublicznościzapomocąprostych,
lecz wyłącznie artystycznych środków.’ Karol Rathaus i recepcja jego
dzieł” [“...One can reach the wide audience by simple yet purely artistic
means.” Karol Rathaus and the reception of his works], Muzyka. no. 4.
Wolfsohn J. (1925). “Korespondencje. Wiedeń. Przesilenie muzyczne. Premiery
operowe i koncertowe. Soliści” [Correspondences. Vienna. A Musical upheaval.
Opera and concert premières. Soloists], Muzyka,no.3.
Youngerman I. (2009). “Immigration, Identity, and Change: Emigre Composers of
the Nazi Period and Their Perceptions of Stylistic Transformation in their
Creative Work,” Naharaim. Journal of German-Jewish Literature and Cultural
History, vol. 3 no. 2.

8
Polish Symphonies of the 1980s
as Public Statements against Martial Law
Beata Bolesławska-Lewandowska
In the twentieth century most composers writing a symphony took into consideration
the rich and long tradition of the genre. As observed by Joseph
Straus,
twentieth-century composers cannot escape their past – it presses in on them in too
many ways. [...]. They know that the lost Eden of the tonal common practice can never
be regained in its original fullness. In this postlapsarian world, composition becomes a
struggle for priority, a struggle to avoid being overwhelmed by a tradition that seems
to gain in strength as it ages (1990: 185).
Straus was thinking here of the various musical genres taken over by 20thcentury
composers from their predecessors. In the case of the rich and long
tradition of the symphony, however, the struggle that composers had to face
was one of the hardest. It would scarcely be surprising, then, to find confirmation
that during the twentieth century symphonies of great importance
and originality were created by composers from various countries and of
a different musical orientation. In the second half of the century, for the first
time in its history, Polish symphonic music furthermore found a worldwide
resonance and recognition.
The symphony as a public statement
As suggested by Michael Kennedy (2004: 718), “there is more to a symphony
than its title. It implies an attitude of mind, a certain mental approach by

Polish Symphonies of the 1980s as Public Statements against Martial Law 179
the composer [...]”. This is a very important remark because for a large number
of composers in the twentieth century the symphony remained a genre
of very special significance, treated as an important statement of significant
“weight”. This implies a large-scale formal framework, necessary for developing
and transforming thematic ideas in a way that can reach the listener.
Therefore,itmeansthatthesymphonyshouldcreatesomekindofdrama
understandable to the audience. This meaning of the symphony is emphasised
by Alexander Ivashkin, who observed that
[...] the symphony cannot exist as just a musical composition, but becomes a sort of
“meta-symphony” and is therefore deprived of any basis as it were, outgrowing its
own logical framework. All the composers are actually “opening” the symphony to
the world, destroying its seemingly unshakeable foundations, demolishing them in any
case conventional boundaries between the music which exists primordially in Nature
and what for many centuries was usually called “the work of art” (1995: 258).
David Fanning (1997: 8) pointed out that “high ethical aspirations in the
symphony did survive the death of Mahler in 1911” and many composers
still treated the genre as the best place for expressing the deepest feelings of
humanity, carrying a substantial weight of argument. According to Ivashkin,
especially in the Russian tradition, “pure art” or “art for art” have simply
not existed, and the musical work was always connected with some symbolic
meaning, encoded in music for centuries of its existence (Ivashkin 1995:
269). Hence, the great symphonies of Shostakovich or Schnittke follow this
tradition.
A similar ideological attitude is also represented in Polish music, in works
such as Panufnik’s Sinfonia Sacra (1963) and Sinfonia Votiva (1981), Penderecki’s
Second Symphony “Christmas” (1980), Krzysztof Meyer’s Sixth Symphony
“Polish” (1982) and even Lutosławski’s Third Symphony (1983). The important
role of the symphony in the Polish music of the twentieth century was
stressed by Mieczysław Tomaszewski in his essay devoted to the Polish symphony
in the years 1944–94. (Tomaszewski 1996) According to him, in the
twentieth century in Poland, and especially after the Second World War, the
symphony became an important and representative genre because “if one
talks about Lutosławski’s Third, Palester’s Fifth, Penderecki’s Second, about

180 Beata Bolesławska-Lewandowska
Górecki’s Symphony of Sorrowful Songs or Panufnik’s Sinfonia Sacra, it is clear
that it concerns pieces of particular weight and significance” (1996: 13).
Polish public symphonies composed in the 1980s
The post-avantgarde period, which started in the middle of the 1970s, with
its tendency to restore traditional qualities, brought the subject of religious
faith, as well as the quality of “sacrum” in music, back to the fore. This tendency
was deepened by the fact that in October 1978 Cardinal Karol Wojtyła
was elected to the papacy and suddenly the Roman Catholic world had a Polish
Pope, John Paul II. During the whole period of communism in Poland, the
Catholic Church was a natural and powerful opposition to the government
and now “the relationship between Church and State, already severely tested
at the time of socialist realism, was to prove crucial on all fronts” (Thomas
2005: 253). The situation in which the Catholic Church was led by a Polish
Pope not only increased the hope for regaining full independence in Poland
but also intensified the popularity of religious music and compositions filled
with sacred or spiritual elements. The political circumstances meant that any
reference to a religious song or theme in a contemporary work was interpreted
as a public statement, especially when combined with some patriotic
dedication. The political situation in Poland caused many composers to
express their political feelings through their music, either to demonstrate
against the policy of the communist government or simply to encourage the
audience by filling their works with some patriotic references.
Particularly during the 1980s, marked by both the rise of Solidarity and
the time of the Martial Law (1981–83), the atmosphere in the country was
extremely vibrant: the hope for regaining more freedom was mixed with
fear and political repressions. This resulted in a situation where composers
found themselves in a position similar to the times of partition in the nineteenth
century. They could react either by stepping back from official life
or by openly referring to the political situation in their music. Lutosławski,
who refused to take part in any concerts or other official cultural events and

Polish Symphonies of the 1980s as Public Statements against Martial Law 181
did not appear in the media, opted for the former solution, while latter second
way resulted in works which could be understood as public statements
by carrying certain messages for the audience, serving as encoded patriotic
symbols. These symbols were usually quotations from religious or national
songs or dedication of the compositions to key national figures or events.
The most obvious and most elaborate example of such Penderecki’s pieces
is Polish Requiem (1980–84, 1993), composed initially as a series of individual
works, each dedicated to an important event in Polish history. 1 Asked about
the genesis of the Polish Requiem some time later, Penderecki answered:
I would not have created the Requiem were if not for the general political situation, for
Solidarity, though this theme had interested me for a long time. By composing the Requiem,
I wanted to take a certain position, to show on which side I stood (Janicka-Słysz
1993: 16).
Apart from the Polish Requiem, Penderecki’s other works composed in the
early 1980s were also seen as public statements, such as the Te Deum (1980)
dedicated to the Pope, John Paul II, and the Second Symphony “Christmas”
(1980).
Penderecki’s Second Symphony “Christmas”
This symphony stylistically represents the trend of “new Romanticism” and
most likely it would have remained a purely abstract work had it not included
short quotations from Silent Night. The appearance of Silent Night’s initial
motif in the material of the symphony met with a mixed reception among
1 The Lacrimosa for soprano, choir and orchestra (1980) was commissioned by the leader of Solidarity,
Lech Wałęsa, to celebrate the opening of the Three Crosses memorial in Gdańsk, commemorating
the tenth anniversary of the Gdańsk and Szczecin protests that had been bloodily suppressed by the
government in December 1970. The première of the piece on 16th December, 1980, in the presence of
thousands of people, became a political event in itself. The Agnus Dei for a cappella choir (1981) was
composed after the death of the Polish Primate, Cardinal Wyszyński, and was performed at his
funeral. The Recordare (1983) celebrates the beatification of Father Maksymilian Kolbe, who offered
his life in place of another prisoner in Auschwitz in 1941. The Dies Irae (1984) is dedicated to the
Warsaw Uprising (1944) and the Libera me (1984) to the Polish soldiers murdered by the Soviets in
Katyń in 1940. Katyń was a particularly politically dangerous subject in Poland as the Soviets kept
claiming that the murders in Katyń’s forest were committed by the Nazis. It was not permitted to
discuss the subject or even mention it during communist times in Poland.

182 Beata Bolesławska-Lewandowska
foreign critics who did not connect it with the Polish context (Thomas 2005:
248–249). Wolfram Schwinger observed that “for a few seconds the quotations
may suggest a ray of hope, but they are foreign bodies whose peaceful,
meek, idyllic diatonicism does not fit the melancholy chromaticism of the
symphonic action”. He also added that “Silent Night sticks out like a sore
thumb” (Schwinger 1989: 158) in the musical material of the piece. Indeed,
themelodyofSilent Night is different from the material of the symphony but
the composer introduces it as an allusion rather than as a real quote: the initial
motif of the tune appears as if from afar in the first part of the symphony
(see Figure 8.1) and is repeated only two times later in the piece. Therefore,
its function is not as obvious as the quotations from Polish patriotic songs
in other works of the period, such as Meyer’s Sixth Symphony, which will be
discussed below.
However, by including this quote, the symphony gained its unofficial subtitle
(it is not indicated in the score). Moreover, the composer provided a
symbolic element referring directly to the Catholic faith. This was enough
for Polish audiences during the time of Solidarity to interpret the piece as
a kind of public statement. This interpretation of the quote was particularly
emphasised by Tomaszewski, who pointed out that
[...] the song opens up a realm of experience that encompasses equally the rebellion and
triumph, the catastrophe and resignation of the funeral march. In Penderecki’s homeland,
Poland, the Second Symphony was immediately understood as national music, an
immediately and subjectively “romantically” affective tone, which gave expression to
the painful memory of the struggle, suffering, and hope of the Polish people. 2
However, outside Poland the piece was not understood in this way, as
Schwinger’s opinion confirms. Moreover, even other Polish commentators
did not stress the political meaning of the quote as strongly as Tomaszewski.
Tadeusz Zieliński, for example, connected it rather with recalling the atmosphere
of childhood, its calmness and happiness, so that the carol worked
as a symbol of something totally opposed to aggression, evil and brutality,
but without particular reference to the political situation (2003: 48) It should
2 Mieczysław Tomaszewski, note in a CD booklet for Wergo, WER 6270–2; also quoted and
commented on by Thomas (2005: 248–249).

Polish Symphonies of the 1980s as Public Statements against Martial Law 183
be added that not only the quotation from the Silent Night but also the Romantic
tone of the symphony itself deepened the feeling that the piece was a
significant public statement. Romanticism was in Polish tradition the time of
fighting for the lost independence of the country; therefore, thanks to such
an open application of a Romantic musical idiom, the connection between
past and present political oppressions may have seemed closer for both the
audience and commentators.
Figure 8.1 Krzysztof Penderecki, Second Symphony, Silent Night (first
clarinet)

184 Beata Bolesławska-Lewandowska
Meyer’s Sixth Symphony “Polish”
More direct references to the recent political situation may be found in Krzysztof
Meyer’s Sixth Symphony “Polish” (1982). Its subtitle openly indicates the
programmatic content of the piece and, although the composer did not want
to associate his symphony with any particular programme, he admitted that
it “was in specific circumstances, in the first days of Martial Law” (“Symfonia
polska Meyera” 1984: 12). In the programme book of the Warsaw Autumn in
1984, when the symphony had its Polish première (the world première took
place on 25th November, 1982 in Hamburg) the composer added:
Despite the inclusion of some historical melodies (e.g. Bogurodzica – The Mother of God),
this is a work about contemporaneousness, about the present day and problems preying
on our minds – the composer’s view on everything we witness and experience (Meyer
1984: 181).
The four-movement symphony has a monumental outline and reveals a
dark tone close to Shostakovich’s pieces (particularly in the second movement),
a connection which is not surprising considering Meyer’s great reverence
for that Russian master of symphonic writing. 3 The Polish character
of the piece is assured by using quotations from three songs which in Polish
history played the role of patriotic anthems: Boże coś Polskę (God, Who
Hast Protected Poland) in the first movement, Bogurodzica (Mother of God) in
the third movement and Rota (Hymn of 1910) in the finale.
Each time the original melody appears very clearly and is introduced by
a solo instrument (or group of instruments). In this respect, Meyer’s references
are much more obvious than those found in other contemporary or
earlier Polish music. An immediate association is one with Penderecki and
his allusion to Silent Night. Going further back to the period of late Romanticism,
quotations from Polish patriotic songs may be found in the symphonies
of Zygmunt Noskowski (1846–1909) and Ignacy Jan Paderewski (1860–1941).
However, in Meyer’s symphony, the quotations are used in a different way.
While in the symphonies by both Penderecki and Noskowski (in his Second
3 Meyer is the author of a monograph on Shostakovich (1973, 1986), translated into several languages,
including Russian and German.

Polish Symphonies of the 1980s as Public Statements against Martial Law 185
Symphony ‘Elegiac’, 1875–79) the motifs taken from the song (Silent Night in
Penderecki and Dąbrowski’s Mazurka in Noskowski) were short and appeared
unexpectedly in the material of the piece, Paderewski in his Symphony “Polonia”
(1909) incorporated the melody of Dąbrowski’s Mazurka into his original
musical material, which served to create an extended finale movement. In
this respect, Meyer remains closer to Paderewski, though he goes further by
presenting the original melodies in an obvious fashion and in considerably
longer versions. Only after being played in crudo are they incorporated into
the musical material, forming the basis for that particular section of the piece
(Figure 8.2 shows the introduction of Boże coś Polskę).
Figure 8.2 Krzysztof Meyer, Sixth Symphony “Polish”, first movement,
introduction of Boże coś Polskę (after general pause)
This is especially clearly audible in the third movement where the first
motif of Bogurodzica, introduced at the early stage, is interwoven between

186 Beata Bolesławska-Lewandowska
instrumental lines and counterpointed by percussion, resulting in an interesting
interplay of textures and motifs. Therefore, in Meyer’s symphony the
quoted songs function as easily readable, strictly patriotic symbols which
fill the symphony with a national flavour. The connection between Meyer’s
symphony and the symphonies by both Noskowski and Paderewski on one
hand, and with Penderecki on the other, can also be seen in the musical language,
close to the principles of late-Romantic, rotational symphonism, with
its slow and continuous development of initial musical ideas.
Panufnik’s Sinfonia Votiva
A different approach was presented by Andrzej Panufnik in his Sinfonia Votiva
(1980–81), another symphony composed in the context of the Solidarity
movement in Poland and serving as the composer’s public statement.
Panufnik, who had lived abroad since 1954 but was never indifferent to the
situation in his homeland, often referred his works to the political situation
in Poland. Besides Sinfonia Sacra (1963), dedicated to the millennium of Polish
Christianity and statehood, he composed Katyń Epitaph (1969), a little orchestral
piece commemorating a subject which it was still not possible to mention
in his native country (Penderecki, however, referred to it in 1984 4 ), and the
Bassoon Concerto (1985), dedicated to the memory of Father Popiełuszko, a
dissident priest murdered by the communist secret police in 1984. In these
works Panufnik made clear his patriotic inspirations, either in the dedication
or the information included in the programme notes (usually in both).This
concerns Sinfonia Votiva as well. According to the composer:
This symphony is dedicated to the Black Madonna of Częstochowa, the symbol for
all Polish people of independence from invading powers, also of profound religious
dedication. At the time that this symphony was commissioned, in the early 1980s, the
Black Madonna had become the symbol of the insurgent Solidarity Movement, the nonviolent
rebellion within Poland against Soviet domination, which led eventually to the
end of the Cold War (Panufnik Programme note).
4 In Polish Requiem, see footnote 1.

Polish Symphonies of the 1980s as Public Statements against Martial Law 187
In his autobiography he added:
Through the centuries, Poles have prayed to the ancient icon of the Madonna and taken
to her a great wealth of votive offerings, especially in times of national crisis when their
country was threatened by foreign invasion. [...] I decided to write my new symphony
as my own votive offering to the Black Madonna, joining my voice to the strikers’ by
invoking her aid on their behalf (Panufnik 1987: 339).
Fired by such an emotional inspiration, the composer provided in the symphony
a reflection of the turmoil engulfing his country through the expressive
intensity of his work, although it is typically controlled by an extremely
precise musical structure. Panufnik, always fascinated by symmetry and geometry,
decided to design Sinfonia Votiva by fitting it into the shape of two
large circles combined into the figure of 8 (see Figure 8.3), which represents
the two movements of the symphony (this is Panufnik’s Eighth Symphony).
The first movement, “Andante rubato, con devozione” is slow and meditative,
like a prayer. Its religious character is enhanced by the inclusion of
the first notes from Bogurodzica (Mother of God) in the solo instrumental lines
of the first movement (e.g. the entrance of the tuba) and an allusion to the
atmosphere of Gregorian chorale close to the end of the movement.
The second movement, “Allegro assai, con passione”, is a kind of battle,
marked by a fast tempo, rhythmical vigour and dynamic intensity, often emphasised
by the use of the orchestral tutti. The last, dissonant bars of the
movement close the piece on a note of anxiety which, in the composer’s opinion,
was intended to express a screaming protest against the lack of independence
of his native Poland (Panufnik 1987: 339) (see Figure 8.4).
Sinfonia Votiva, despite its political inspiration, remains different from both
Penderecki’s and Meyer’s symphonies, as public statements. This difference
is not connected with the symbolic function of the piece but with the type
of symphonism it represents. While both Penderecki’s Second Symphony and
Meyer’s Sixth follow the path of late-Romantic rotational symphonism (based
on the idea of continuous development), Panufnik remained more Classical
in his symphonic thinking. He planned the structure of Sinfonia Votiva
with architectural precision and care for detail, according to the principle
of dialecticism and tension between two opposing forces, which are repre-

188 Beata Bolesławska-Lewandowska
Figure 8.3 Andrzej Panufnik, Sinfonia Votiva, composer’s diagram
sented here by the two contrasted movements of the symphony, each divided
into two minor sections, also serving to create the dramatic framework of the
symphony.
The other significant symphony composed in the period of the Martial
Law is Witold Lutosławski’s Third (1981–83). Lutosławski, when asked about
the possible influence of political events in Poland on the symphony, answered
diplomatically: “I have never written programmatic music but I can-

Figure 8.4 Andrzej Panufnik, Sinfonia Votiva,finale

190 Beata Bolesławska-Lewandowska
not deny that some outside events can find their reflection in music.” 5 However,
there is nothing in the material, or even in the character of this piece,
which would allow it to be interpreted as a public statement in any sense
comparable to the other three symphonies discussed in this section. 6 In this
context Lutosławski’s Third Symphony basically remains an abstract work and
as such indicates another line of development of Polish symphonic music in
the late twentieth century.
Works cited
Fanning D. (1997). Nielsen Symphony No. 5 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Gwizdalanka D., Meyer K. (2004). Lutosławski. Droga do mistrzostwa [Lutosławski.
The Road to Mastery] (Cracow: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne).
Ivashkin A. (1995). “Shostakovich and Schnittke: The Erosion of Symphonic Syntax”.
In: Fanning D. (ed.) Shostakovich Studies (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press).
Janicka-Słysz M. (1993). “W poszukiwaniu siebie” (interview with Krzysztof Penderecki),
Studio,No.8.
Kennedy M. (2004). “Symphony”, The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Music, fourth
edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press).
Meyer K. (1984). Note in programme book of 27th Warsaw Autumn (Warsaw:
Związek Kompozytorów Polskich).
Meyer K. (1973, 1986). Szostakowicz (Cracow: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne).
Panufnik A. Programme note published at the http://www.boosey.com/cr/music/
Andrzej-Panufnik-Sinfonia-Votiva-Symphony-No-8/1555,accessed 5th
November 2008.
Panufnik A. (1987). Composing Myself (London: Methuen).
Rae Charles B. (1999). The Music of Lutosławski, third edition (London: Omnibus
Press).
Schwinger W. (1989). Krzysztof Penderecki: his life and work, transl. William Mann
(London: Schott).
5 Witold Lutosławski in a radio conversation with Andrzej Chłopecki (September 1st, 1981), quoted in
Tomaszewski (1996: 15). For more details of the possible connection between the events from the
1980s and Lutosławski’s Third Symphony, see Rae (1999: 177–178), as well as Gwizdalanka and Meyer
(2004: 331–333).
6 The interpretation of the Third Symphony in the context of the recent political situation was also
deepened by the fact that in 1983 the piece was awarded the Solidarity Cultural Prize by the
Committee of Independent Culture in Poland.

Polish Symphonies of the 1980s as Public Statements against Martial Law 191
Straus Joseph N. (1990). Remaking the Past. Musical Modernism and the Influence of
the Tonal Tradition (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press).
“Symfonia polska Meyera” (1984). Przekrój, No. 2017.
Tomaszewski M. (1996). “Sonorystyczna ekspresywność i alegoryczny symbolizm:
symfonia polska 1944–1994” [Sonorist expressiveness and alegorical
symbolism: the Polish symphony in 1944–94]. In: Droba K., Malecka T. and
Szwajgier K. (eds.) Muzyka polska 1945–95 [Polish Music 1945–95] (Cracow:
Akademia Muzyczna), pp. 13–40.
Thomas A. (2005). Polish Music since Szymanowski (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press).
Zieliński T. (2003). Dramat instrumentalny Krzysztofa Pendereckiego [Krzysztof Penderecki’s
Instrumental Drama] (Cracow: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne).

9
The Work of Sorbian Composers and the Issue
of Their National Identity
Teresa Nowak and Tomasz Nowak
Sorbs, currently the smallest Slavic nation, despite the very early disappearance
of their elites 1 have continuously been present in the annals of music
since the 16th century. The first documents confirming the activity of Lusatian
cantors and pipe organ players date back to 1551, and in 1571 the hymn
book of Albin Moller (1542–1618) was published, which included the first
translations of a selection of psalms, introits and other religious hymns into
the Lower Sorbian language (Moller 1574; Rawp 1978: 39). This period (1567,
1573, 1584) also marks the appearance of the first publications of Catholic
hymn books of the Bautzen deaconate that bear the mark of the local culture
(Rawp 1978: 39). The first half of the 17th century is the time of the artistic
activity of the first known Lusatian composers and editors: Bartholomäus
Brojnik (Bräunig, 2nd half of 16th cent. – 1st half of 17th cent.; Rawp 1978:
40), Abraham Škoda (Schadäus, 1556–1626), the publisher of Promptuarii musici
(1611–1613), but first and foremost – Jan Krygaŕ (Crüger, 1598–1662), who
was a cantor in the Berlin church of St. Nicholas and the author of Synopsis
Musica (1630), as well as probably the most popular Protestant hymn book of
the 17th century: Praxis pietatis melica (1647). All the above-mentioned composers
were fully devoted to religious music which reigned almost exclu-
1 This disappearance took place between the 10th and 12th centuries (Cygański/Leszczyński 2002:
24–30 and 34–35).

The Work of Sorbian Composers and the Issue of Their National Identity 193
sively in Lusatian musical life until the end of the 18th century 2 (save some
incidental lay compositions and the music-therapeutic piece Dissertationem
medicam de curationem morborum per carmina et cantus musicos), and remained
a significant aspect of their music until the 2nd World War (Rawp 1978: 38–
54). Heightened activity in the area of lay music was noted only in the 19th
century, accompanying the so-called national revival (serbske narodne hibanje)
in Lusatia.
The very question of the identity of Sorbs is not easy to answer. As discussed
by Stanisław Marciniak:
Lusatians are, in fact, bilingual and bicultural. It is an absolute truth that every Lusatian
speaks German at least as well as his own language. It is also true that a Lusatian
is embedded in the German culture as strongly as in his own. The share of Sorbian values
in the personal culture of Lusatians is, in quantitative terms, rather insignificant
(Marciniak 1992: 12).
Even though the above quote relates to the present, already in the 19th
century the wealthier Sorbian families (which were the usual social stratum
of origin for most of the composers of interest to us) experienced a similar situation.
A good example is Bjarnat Krawc (Bernhard Schneider, 1861–1948),
one of the most remarkable Lusatian composers and a director of Dresden
Conservatory, whose life and works were described in detail in a publication
by Achim Brankačk (Brankačk 1999). The family of the composer, residing in
Jitro (ger. Milstrich) near the Upper Lusatian Kamjenc (Ger. Kamenz) spoke
both German and Sorbian. Although Krawc’s father was Sorbian, his mother
was of mixed German-Polish-Lusatian origin and spoke German only. Therefore
in his family circle German was spoken, and Sorbian was only the language
of interaction between the father and the son. Thus, young Krawc
could feel as an heir to both the Lusatian and German cultures. However,
this feeling was revised when the 13-year old boy took to learning in the
Bautzen teachers’ seminar. His roots, as well as his knowledge of the Sorbian
language were enough for German school children to denounce him
as an alien. This was reflected, among others, in the derogative nickname
2 Here one should note especially the achievements of Jurij Hawštyn Swetlik (1650–1729) and Michał
Wałda (1721–1794).

194 Teresa Nowak and Tomasz Nowak
he was given: “wendischer Brummochse.” 3 In such conditions the feeling
of separation grew in pupils of Lusatian descent, resulting in limiting their
contacts to the immediate circle of people of the same nationality. This had
consequences also for their musical choices.
We find a confirmation of this in Krawc’s recollections:
[23rd April 1877 – birthday of the king of Saxony - T.T.N.] Director of the seminar, Leuner,
raised a toast “to his Lusatians”. Everyone expressed a wish for the Lusatian seminar
students to sing something in the Sorbian language, as there was enough singing
in German. We were scared, because we didn’t know too many Sorbian songs; However,
our history teacher – Šmit, a Lusatian from Přišec [Preuschwitz] – persuaded us
and we sang “Zady našej pjecy kuntwory hraja”. 4 It must have been quite distant from
the nightingales’ singing, as we were awarded with a bout of laughter. Such thing cannot
happen again. Already on 28th April Rachlowc, a fellow student, called together all
Lusatian students, and after a long debate and discussion we established the choir of
Lusatian students – “Swoboda” 5 (Brankačk 1999: 25).
Sources such as Krawc’s recollections that depict so vividly the conditions
of the coming-of-age and formation of the characters of Lusatian intelligentsia
– are scarce, but the activities of many of his fellow Sorbs with similar
educational background seem to confirm similar experiences. It is impossible
to describe them all in such a short paper, but it is necessary to mention
Korla Awgust Kocor (Karl August Katzer, 1822–1904), 40 years Krawc’s elder
– a conductor, pianist, pipe organist, singer and teacher, regarded by Lusatians
as their most prominent composer and the creator of Lusatian national
school of music 6 (Rawp 1958: 28). Born in a humble craftsman’s family, Kocor
grew up in the village of Zahor (Berge) near Bautzen, and his first musical
experiences did not differ from those of his fellow Lusatians.
3 We should add here that in previous historical periods calling a German a “Wend” was considered
to be offensive, and as such was persecuted by the law (Cygański/Leszczyński 2002: 30). In the
collective memory, negative connotations of the term “Wend” survived almost to our times.
4 A Lusatian folk song popular even nowadays, known from Jan Smoler’s transcription of from the
Rakecy area (niem. Königswartha; Haupt/Smoler 1841–43: 96) from around 1840 and also from
numerous songbooks (incl. Fiedler 1878: 110–111); its lyrics are sometimes erroneously ascribed to
Handrij Zejler (see Šołta 2009: 108).
5 It should be added that the Lusatian name of the choir means “Freedom”.
6 On the side it should be noted that in German musical historiography Kocor is either totally
ignored, or presented as a German composer, which – of course with due regard to the significance
of both composers’ oeuvre – bears some similarity to the treatment of Georg Friedrich Händel (Cf.
Reblink 2003).

The Work of Sorbian Composers and the Issue of Their National Identity 195
They included playing birchwood whistles as a child (later fondly remembered),
church organ and choral music, as well as the more secular repertoire
of the village “trombone choir” (Kościów 2005:11–12). With these experiences,
young Korla – just like Bjarnat Krawc – went to teachers’ preparatory
school in Bautzen, where he learnt, among others, music theory, the
piano, church organ and violin, and then moved on to the teachers’ seminar
(Landständisches Lehrerseminar in Bautzen). The information included in his
first seminar assessment certificate from Easter 1839 seems to provide a very
meaningful image of the relations there:
Katzer does not have bad habits, also his body surpasses his mind to a very large extent.
He is diligent, but he made only mediocre improvement in his knowledge of religion,
while his papers in German are weak both in content and form, betraying his Sorbian
pedigree. His advancement in Latin is also average, while he earned praise in music
[...] 7 (Raupp 1975: 85).
Despite the rather scornful treatment of Lusatian seminar students, the
seminar supervisors provided an opportunity for honing the Lusatian language
during extracurricular Sorbian language courses, and permitted the
activity of the Lusatian school association. This had a profound impact on
the awakening of the national consciousness of Slav students, which was
then reflected in their works and activity. For national musical activity it
was of great importance that the students were also prepared to fulfil the
role of cantors and organists. Therefore the curriculum included learning
to play the piano, organ and violin, singing with voice production basics,
solfège, harmony, history of music and composition. Moreover, the students
sang in choirs, played the organ during masses, and took part in copying
scores (of, among others, Cherubini, Haydn, Handel, Mendelssohn, Mozart)
for the seminar, the municipal theatre and Chapter Church of St. Peter in
Bautzen. The high standard of all these classes was ensured by a composer,
cantor and teacher employed in Bautzen seminar, Carl Eduard Hering (1807–
1879), the son of a renowned author of solfège and violin study books, Carl
Gottlieb Hering (1766–1853), and a student of Christian Theodor Weinling
7 Acta, das Land-Schullehrer-Seminar betreffend (1837–1840), HiSTA Bautzen, Ldst. Sem. Nr. 4054, p.
79, transl. Teresa Nowak, in: Raupp 1975: 85.

196 Teresa Nowak and Tomasz Nowak
(1780–1842) – teacher, composer and cantor in St. Thomas Church in Leipzig.
Kocor was one of Hering’s first students, and one of only three that received
a very good grade from this stringent pedagogue on the school-leaving certificate
(Kościów 2005: 12–16, 18).
His financial situation did not allow the talented musician and composer
to continue his studies. Therefore the 20-year-old Kocor took a job as a village
teacher in Stróžy (Wartha). Struggling with poverty, he did not forsake
his dreams, which were skillfully nurtured by a freshly acquainted minister
and poet from nearby Stróžy Łaz (Lohsa), Handrij Zejler (1804–1872). Under
his influence (Raupp 1975:93) Kocor, aged only 23, organized in 1845 the first
Sorbian Singing Fest (Serbski spěwanski swjedźeń). Its relevance to the needs of
the German-dominated Bautzen Lusatian community is proven by the fact
that already during the second Fest young Kocor was adorned with a laurel
wreath. The Fest, organised annually, led Sorbian music out of church
aisles and bourgeoisie parlours into public places, becoming a manifestation
of Lusatian cultural vitality.
In fact, the very form of the song fest, as well as Kocor’s composing skills, 8
stemmed directly from German culture. Direct inspiration was provided by
the German singing associations “Liedertafel” and “Orpheus”, which in 1842
had organised the first Saxon male singing fest. At the same time, the advancing
democratisation of social life, including its cultural aspect, brought about
the possibility of organizing a similar fest of Lusatian music. It would be impossible,
however, to define Kocor’s activity as merely copying the Saxon
example; the young composer was very skilled at filling generally accepted
musical and organisational templates with motifs of Sorbian folk songs he
knew from childhood and the practice of village teaching, as well as from the
freshly published collection by his friend – Jan Arnošt Smoler (1816–1884)
(Haupt/Smoler 1841–43). However, in his effort to bring the repertoire of
Lusatian songs to the level required for German song, Kocor avoided folk
lyrics. He made extensive use of the works of contemporary Sorbian poets,
whom he knew to an excellent degree: Handrij Zejler, Mikławš Cyž (1825–
8 It should be noted that Kocor’s first songs were settings of the poems/lyrics of Johann Wolfgang
Goethe and Heinrich Heine.

The Work of Sorbian Composers and the Issue of Their National Identity 197
1853), Michał Domaška (1820–1897), Korla Awgust Fiedler, Mikławš Jacsławk
(1827–1862), Korla Awgust Jenč (1828–1895), Handrij Lubjenski (1790–1840),
Křesćan Bohuwer Pful (1825–1889), Jan Arnošt Smoler, and Jan Wjeli–Radyserb
(1822–1907). He often worked on folk melodies, using characteristic
rhythms or melodic features, and created his own melodies for the songs on
this basis. Inspired by the pan-Slavic movement, he was searching for models
for a national repertoire in the activities of Polish, Czech and Russian composers.
During the music fests, he keenly introduced songs or just melodies
from various Slavic countries, such as Mazurek Dąbrowskiego or Mazurek Trzeciego
Maja. 9 which he reworked, added patriotic Lusatian lyrics and published
with the idea of building a national music movement (Fiedler 1897:
475–476) (see Figure 9.1). He had a remarkable charisma, bringing together
crowds of volunteer singers and amateur musicians in the first exclusively
Sorbian bands and musical institutions.
Kocor’s public activity, so strongly oriented towards building foundations
for national musical life, had a bearing on his compositions, the bulk of which
are vocal/instrumental forms of national character. First and foremost, these
include cantatas, entitled ’oratorios’ by the composer, who was raised on religious
repertoire: Serbski kwas [Sorbian wedding], 1846–50; Žně [Harvest], 1847–
83; Nalěćo [Spring], 1860; Israelowa zrudoba a tróšt [Israel’s sadness and consolation],
1861; Podlěćo [Early summer], 1883; Nazyma [Autumn], 1860–1886; Zyma
[Winter], 1887–89; So zwoni mer [The bells of peace], 1891. Of these works, only
Israelowa zrudoba a tróšt and So zwoni měr seem to move away in inspiration
and direct content from local folk character, shared by most of his cantatas,
but all of them are written in the Upper Sorbian language (see Figure 9.2).
Apart from cantatas, a significant place in Kocor’s oeuvre is occupied by
songs (often combined in cycles, such as Wěnc hórskich spěwow [A collection
of highland songs], 1860), among which the vast majority (c. 100 songs) are
composed to Upper Sorbian lyrics. 10 Other works in the national vein include
Jakub a Kata [Jacob and Kate] (1870–1871), Serbski rekwiem [Sorbian Re-
9 “Pan-Slavic” contrafacta were undoubtedly inspired by Jan Arnošt Smoler, a graduate from the Slavic
philology department in Wrocław (1841–1845), although this trend seems to be well established also
in the activities of other authors (por. Cyž 1984: 511–513; Hajnec 1984: 643; Mětškowa 1984: 355).
10 He composed a total of 43 songs to German lyrics, mainly in his youth.

198 Teresa Nowak and Tomasz Nowak
Figure 9.1 Songs from Fiedler’s popular song-book – Kocor’s simplified
compositions written for the Sorbian Singing Fests (Fiedler 1878: 24–25)
quiem] composed in 1894, or Wodźan [Vodyanoy] (1896). His remaining works,
mainly chamber music, 11 , seem to cater for the national repertoire for home
use, with quite frequent musical links to Lusatian folk melodies or Kocor’s
popular vocal compositions (see Figure 9.3). 12
The importance of Kocor’s works and activity for the culture – not only
musical culture, but also national, including awareness and identity – finds
confirmation in the already quoted recollections of Bjarnat Krawc:
Our singers became a strong foundation for the large choir “Lumir”, conducted during
largeLusatian concertsbyKocor.[...]Folksongsand Kocor’ssongsopenedourhearts
11 Incl. 8 kusow za husle a gitaru (1848), Tři sonatiny za husle a klawěr (1848–50), Frühlingslied i
Schlummerlied (1851), Smyčkowy kwartet (1879), Thema mignon z wariacijemi za husle, wiolu a wioloncello
(1884), 3 Kantileny, 4Impromptu (1888), Serenada za husle, wiolu a wioloncello (1889), a number of minor
works and a few arrangements of other composers’ works.
12 E.g. the middle part of Klawěrne trio (1873), Tři serbske salonowe reje za klawěr (1879), as well as a few
overtures and c. 60 arrangements of folk songs.

The Work of Sorbian Composers and the Issue of Their National Identity 199
Figure 9.2 Manuscript of the soprano aria Słónco kral from the oratorio Nalěćo
to our Sorbian roots. [...] We were discussing the situation of Sorbs and other Slavic
peoples,[...]which awakened ournational awareness (Brankačk 1999: 26).
Moreover, the works of Korla Awgust Kocor became a lasting blueprint for
other Lusatian composers for many years to come, incl. Korla Awgust Fiedler
(1835–1917), Jurij Pilk (1858–1926), Bjernat Krawc, Jurij Słodeńk (1873–1945),
or Jurij Winar (1909–1991). Invariably, until the 1950s, vocal or vocal-instrumental
genres, including operas and operettas, were especially favoured by
them. A regular and important, although insignificant in terms of numbers,
field of Lusatian composers’ activity were the arrangements of Sorbian songs
from the folk song collection of Jan Arnošt Smoler (Haupt/Smoler 1841–43).
The singer movement developed simultaneously, resulting in the establishment
in 1923 of the Sorbian Singing Groups Association (Zwjazk serbskich
spěwnych towarstwow). Amateur choral movement, much later in comparison

200 Teresa Nowak and Tomasz Nowak
Figure 9.3 Kocor’s patriotic song for male choir – today’s Sorbian Anthem (Kocor
1886: 13)
to the remaining part of Germany, over the years established its position of a
social circle responsible for awakening and reinforcing the Lusatian national
tradition, becoming a trademark of Sorbian culture. Today it would be hard
to find a larger Lusatian community in Germany that does not have its choir.

The Work of Sorbian Composers and the Issue of Their National Identity 201
A researcher of contemporary Lusatian musical culture cannot overlook
the fact of the ubiquity of secular songbooks, the tradition of which stems
from the collection published by Korla Awgust Fiedler in 1878. Every few
years there is another version of the songbook published in Lusatia, and at
its core are the songs of Kocor and his followers, supplemented by Smoler’s
transcriptions folk songs, and then by popular songs in subsequent editions.
It would be difficult to imagine a house of nationally-conscious Sorbs where
at least one version of this songbook would not be kept and used. Also in
families that do not speak Sorbian anymore, but are aware of their heritage,
the songbook and Sorbian singing practice constitute are important to upholding
the tradition. No family occasion or social meeting can be complete
without this, and the knowledge of the songbook’s content is universal. One
interesting phenomenon is the identification of the Fiedler songbooks’ repertoire,
including the songs composed by Korla Awgust Kocor, with both national
and. . . folk culture.
Here one should pause to think about the reception of the aforementioned
composers’ works outside the Sorbian community. It seems that the rooting
of Lusatian culture in the lower social classes, with limited economic power,
together with the perception of Sorbs by the representatives of the dominant
German musical culture, as well as the fact that most of the repertoire is in the
Upper Sorbian language, did not support the development of talent or the
promotion of Lusatian music. For example, it was only after 7 years of work
on his rural post (he was 27 by then) that the highly talented Korla Awgust
Kocor managed to obtain the authorities’ permission for a mere half-year
leave for “further advancement in knowledge in one of the conservatories”
(Tydźenska Nowina 1849). However, due to difficulties in finding a substitute,
and also probably due to many obligations related to the organization of the
singing fest, even such modest plans for improving his composer skills came
to nothing (Kościów 2005: 29–30). On the other hand, his devotion to vocal
compositions in his native language and his unwillingness to translate the
lyrics into German resulted in a situation when, outside the almost 200,000

202 Teresa Nowak and Tomasz Nowak
strong Sorbian community, his vocal works did not achieve any wider success.
13
Krawc, almost 40 years younger, followed a slightly different path: after
graduating from Dresden Conservatory, despite his adherence to national
ideals, he also tried his skills in composing symphonic and chamber works,
which gained him an increasing popularity and even some reputable functions
in the musical community of Dresden. Nevertheless, he also sometimes
met with negative reactions to his national identity, which is well illustrated
in a critical essay that was published in 1899 in Dresden:
Krawc is nothing more than a translation of the name Schneider [Ger. tailor] into Sorbian,
which makes it more probably a provocative attempt than a needless pseudonym
for Mr. Schneider. If manifesting his roots is so important to him, it would be more
proper for him to move out to where he came from. There he will find more acceptance
for his peculiarities, but not in Dresden (Die Deutsche Wacht... 1899; Brankačk 1999: 74).
Such problems, experienced by Kocor and Krawc, were also familiar to
other composers mentioned above, which partly explains the low popularity
of their compositions, as well as the fact that they are constantly being left
out in even the most comprehensive German lexicography.
Finally, one should ask the question about the relations between the national
identity and musical works of contemporary Sorbian composers. It
is quite important to notice that such a small community has yielded quite
a number of composers, most notably Jan Bulank (b. 1931), Detlef Kobjela
(b. 1944), Jurij Mětšk (b. 1954), Jan Paul Nagel (1934–1997), or Jan Rawp (b.
1928). It seems that a side effect of the intensive activities aimed at developing
national awareness has been the discovery and development of many talents,
stemming, among others, from the mass choral movement. The composers
in question usually have among their works at least one vocal-instrumental
piece inspired by Sorbian folk music. It cannot, however, be said that it is
an important streak in their work – the bulk of their compositions usually
does not divert too far from the mainstream of European musical trends.
Still, the nurturing of their Lusatian identity, which currently takes place in
13 Even more so that his German songs come mainly from his youth. Still, one should note that some of
his works were published outside Bautzen – in Leipzig and London – during his lifetime (Mětšk
1971: 32).

The Work of Sorbian Composers and the Issue of Their National Identity 203
totally different and very complicated conditions, brings about unexpected
advantages – vivid interest from the Sorbian radio, press, scores of amateur
musicians and the single national professional ensemble. It should also be remembered
that despite the continuous decline in funds for cultural development
from the Saxon and Brandenburg authorities, the Lusatians still obtain
means allowing them to promote their national culture. It seems, however,
that for an average Lusatian the simple awareness of the Sorbian nationality
of the composer whose works are being performed is much more important
than the program, or the musical content of his works. This is a significant
difference in comparison to the activities and reception of Lusatian
composers in the 19th century, when the national awareness was awakened
and expressed in the music.
Works cited
Brankačk A. (1999). Žiwjenje je dźěło – wotpočink je mrěće. Stawizna Bjarnata Krawca
[Life is Work -Rest is Death. The History of Bjarnat Krawc] (Budyšin: Ludowe
nakładnistwo Domowina).
Crügera J. (1630). Synopsis musica continens rationem constituendi & componendi melos
harmonicum..., Berlin (1654).
Crügera J. (1647). Praxis pietatis melica. Das ist: Vbung der Gottseligkeit in Christlichen
und Trostreichen Gesängen... , Berlin (1647, 1653, 1656, 1657, 1660, 1661, 1662
etc.).
Cygański M.; Leszczyński R. (2002). Zarys dziejów narodowościowych Łużyczan. Tom
I do 1919 roku [An Outline National History of Lusatians] (Opole: Silesian
Institute).
Cyž J. (1984). “Smoler, Jan Arnošt”. In: Šołta, J.; Kunze, P.; Šen, F. (eds.). Nowy biografiski
słownik k stawiznam a kulturje Serbow [New Biographical Dictionary
of Sorb Art and Culture] (Budyšin: Ludowe nakładnistwo Domowina), pp.
511–513.
Die Deutsche Wacht. 14th February 1899.
Fiedler K. A. (1878). Towaŕšny Spěwnik za serbski lud [The Friendly Songbook for
Sorbian People] (Budyšin: Maćica Serbska).
Fiedler K. A. (1897). “Narodny spěw”. Serbske Nowiny Vol. 56/No. 42, 16th October,
pp. 475–476.
Hajnec L. (1984). “Zejler, Handrij”. In: Šołta, J.; Kunze, P.; Šen, F. (eds.). Nowy biografiski
słownik k stawiznam a kulturje Serbow [New Biographical Dictionary

204 Teresa Nowak and Tomasz Nowak
of Sorb Art and Culture] (Budyšin: Ludowe nakładnistwo Domowina), pp.
643.
Haupt L.; Smoler J. A. (1996). Pěsnički hornich a delnich Łužiskich Serbow. Volkslieder
der Sorben in der Ober- und Niederlausitz [Traditional Songs of Upper and
Lower Sorbians] (Budyšin: Ludowe nakładnistwo Domowina) (3rd edition).
Kocor K.A. (1886). Štyrihłósne mužske chory [Male Choirs for Four Voices] (Budyšin:
Z nakładom Maćicy Serbskeje).
Kościów Z. (2005). Korla Awgust Kocor. Zarys biografii [A Brief Biography] (Opole:
Polish-Lusatian Association “Pro Lusatia”).
Marciniak S. (1992). “Ekologiczne uwarunkowania zjawisk życia społecznego i
kulturalnego Łużyczan w powojennym czterdziestoleciu na tle historycznym”
[Ecological Conditioning of Lusatian Social and Cultural Life in the
First Four Postwar Decades Against a Historical Background.] Zeszyty Łużyckie
No. 3, pp. 10–24.
Mětšk F. (1971). K. A. Kocorowe zawostajenstwo w Serbskim kulturnym archiwje [The
Heritage of K.A. Kocor in the Sorbian Cultural Archive] (Budyšin: Dom za
serbske ludowe wuměłstwo w Budyšinje).
Mětškowa L. (1984). “Lubjenski, Handrij”. In: Šołta, J.; Kunze, P.; Šen, F. (eds.).
Nowy biografiski słownik k stawiznam a kulturje Serbow [New Biographical Dictionary
of Sorb Art and Culture] (Budyšin: Ludowe nakładnistwo Domowina),
pp. 355.
Moller A. (1574). Ein Ewigwerender Kirchen Calendar... Auch ein Wendisches Gesangbuch,
darinnen auff die Hobe Fest, die Introitus, Kyrie und praefationes... begriffen...
Auch der kleine Catechismus... Wendisch vertieret... (Budissin: bey M.
Wolrab).
Pohle M.A. (1706). Dissertationem medicam de curatione morborum per carmina et cantus
musicos..., Wittenberg.
Raupp J. (1975). “Die Jugend- und Seminarjahre K.A. Kocors”. Lětopis Instituta za
serbski ludospyt, series C, pp. 80–96.
Rawp J. (1958). Ze Serbow hudźby [About Sorbian Music] (Berlin: Volk und Wissen).
Rawp J (1978). Serbska hudźba [Sorbian Music] (Budyšin: Ludowe nakładnistwo
Domowina).
Reblink K. (2003). “Zu den Wechselbeziehungen Oratorium – Oper bei Korla Awgust
Kocor und Georg Friedrich Händel. Das Verhältnis beider Komponisten
zu den Werkgattungen”. In: Scholze. D. (ed.).Im Wettstreit der Werte.
[Spisy Serbskeho instituta 33] (Budyšin: Serbski Institut, pp. 327–330).
Schadäus A. (1611, 1612, 1613). Promptuarii musici, sacras harmonias sive motetas V.
VI. VII. & VIII vocum... Collectore Abrahamo Schadaeo senfftebergensi..., Argentinae
[Strasburg].
Šołta M. (ed.) (2009). Towaršny spěwnik [The Friendly Songbook] (Budyšin: Ludowe
Nakładnistwo Domowina).
Tydźenska Nowina 1849. 9th June.

Contributors
Beata Bolesławska-Lewandowska is a graduate of the University of Warsaw’s
Institute of Musicology (Honours Degree, 1998) and of Cardiff University
(Ph.D., 2010). She has published numerous works on issues concerning Polish
contemporary music. She regularly collaborates with the Warsaw Autumn
Festival and contributes to “Ruch Muzyczny” biweekly. In 2001, the publishing
house PWM issued her monographic volume “Panufnik.” She is a member
of the Polish Composers’ Union’s Board of the Division of Musicologists, and,
as of May 2011, a member of the Union’s Managing Board. In 2007, she was
honoured by the Minister Culture and National Heritage for her contribution
to Polish culture with the distinction “Zasłużony dla kultury polskiej.” She is
currently employed at TVP Kultura.
Jolanta Guzy-Pasiak is a musicologist in the Musicology Department at the
Institute of Art of the Polish Academy of Sciences. She is a graduate of the University
of Warsaw’s Institute of Musicology. She completed her Ph.D. at the Institute
of Art of the Polish Academy of Sciences (2008). Fellow of the Kosciuszko
Foundation in New York and the Robert Anderson Research Trust in London.
Co-editor of the online journal “De Musica – Muzykalia”. Lecturer at Collegium
Civitas in Warsaw. Author of the articles on Polish émigré composers and Polish
music abroad.
Zofia Helman is a professor-emeritus at the Institute of Musicology Institute,
University of Warsaw. Her research interests focus on the history of 19th- and
20th-century music, with particular focus on the works of Frederic Chopin, Karol

206 Contributors
Szymanowski and Roman Palester, as well as issues of compositional technique
and analysis of musical works in relation to the aesthetic thought of the period.
She is the author of “Neoklasycyzm w muzyce polskiej XX wieku” [Neoclassicism
in Polish 20th-Century Music] (Cracow 1985), “Roman Palester. Twórca i
dzieło” [The Artist and the Work] (Cracow 1999), and over one hundred research
articles in collective volumes and in Polish and foreign journals. She was editor
of the collection “Pieśń w twórczości Karola Szymanowskiego i jemu współczesnych”
[The Songs of Karol Szymanowski and his Contemporaries] (Cracow 2001,
English edition 2002). She edited six volumes of Karol Szymanowski’s Works
(Polish version: PWM, English-German version: PWM, Universal Edition and
Max Eschig). She is currently working on a source critical edition of Chopin’s
correspondence (together with H. Wróblewska-Straus and Z. Skowron). She is
a member of a number of Polish and foreign research associations, and a member
of the editorial team of “Encyklopedia Muzyczna PWM” [Music Encyclopedia].
Danuta Jasińska is a professor at the Department of Musicology at the Adam
Mickiewicz University in Poznań. She obtained her habilitation in 1997 with
the publication “Styl brillant a muzyka Chopina” [The Stile Brilliante and the
Music of Chopin] (Poznań 1995). In the years 1999–2005, she was head of the
Department of Musicology at the Adam Mickiewicz University. The main areas
of her academic interests and work cover the history of music and the history
of Polish music, particularly of the 19th and 20th centuries, and the analysis
and interpretation of musical works and their contexts. She has published
articles on vocal and instrumental music, virtuosity, the music of Chopin and
its tradition, as well as stylistic idioms, including the poetics of neoclassicism.
She has also been co-editor of “Contexts of Musicology” (Poznań 1997), “Henryk
Wieniawski. Composer and Virtuoso in the Musical Culture of the 19th and
20th Centuries” (Poznań 2001),“Henryk Wieniawski and the 19th Century Violin
Schools”(Poznań 2008), “Interdisciplinary Studies in Musicology” Nos. 7
and 9 (Poznań 2008, 2011), and “Henryk Wieniawski and the Bravura Tradition”(Poznań
2011.
Violetta Kostka was trained as musicologist at the University of Poznań and
received her Ph.D. from the Institute of Art of the Polish Academy of Sciences
in Warsaw. She has won scientific scholarships from the Polish Library in Paris,
the University of Cambridge and the State Committee of Scientific Research in

Contributors 207
Poland. As assistant professor, she currently teaches music history at the Moniuszko
Academy of Music in Gdańsk. A member of the Polish Composers’ Union.
She has published a book entitled “Tadeusz Zygfryd Kassern. Indywidualne odmiany
stylów muzycznych XX wieku” [Idioms of the 20th-century Musical Dialects]
and more than 50 articles, mainly on the music of Polish composers of 19th
and 20th centuries and musical life in eighteenth-century Gdańsk. She has taken
part in many conferences at home and abroad (London, Canterbury, Leipzig,
Greifswald and Frankfurt/O.)
Teresa Nowak completed her studies in Ethnomusicology, Pedagogy of Music
and Polish Studies at the Otto-Friedrich-University in Bamberg in 2008. Since
2009 she is working in the Polish Music Edition PWM in Warsaw. She is preparing
the doctoral dissertation about the role of women in the Polish traditional music.
Her research interests include Sorbian music identity, Sorbian music history
and Sorbian dances. She has published articles: “Źródła audiowizualne w badaniach
kultury tanecznej Łużyczan” [Audiovisual sources in the research of the
Sorbian dance culture] (“Studia Choreologica” vol XI), “Muzyka i jej funkcje w
balijskiej obrzędowości pogrzebowej” [The music and its function in Balinese funeral
rituals; Nurt SVD 2010; together with Tomasz Nowak] and “Rola i funkcja
kobiet w tradycyjnych tańcach na terenie Polski” [Role and function of women in
traditional dances in the Polish region] (“Studia Choreologica” vol XII).
Tomasz Nowak studied musicology at the University of Warsaw (1993–1997)
where he continued his doctoral studies (1997–2002). Studied also theory of
dance at the Fryderyk Chopin Academy of Music, Warsaw (2003–2005). Assistant
Professor at the Musicology Institute of Warsaw University. Fieldwork
in Central and Eastern Europe (Poland, Lithuania, Belorussia, Ukraine, Germany)
and Indonesia (Bali). He was published one book: “Tradycje muzyczne
społeczności polskiej na Wileńszczyźnie. Opinie i zachowania” [Musical Traditions
of Polish Society in Vilnius Region. Opinions and behavior] (Warsaw 2005)
and 30 articles mainly on: musical traditions of polish minorities alongside the
eastern borders, changes of musical traditions in Polish Tatra mountains, contemporary
musical cultur of Balinesians and Upper Lusatians, historical sources
for the Polish folk music and dance.
Elżbieta Szczurko is a music theorist. She graduated from the Faculty of Composition
and Music Theory at the Feliks Nowowiejski Academy of Music in Bydgoszcz
and completed her doctoral studies at the Institute of Musicology, War-

208 Contributors
saw University. She obtained her Ph.D. from the Academy of Music in Cracow
in 2007. She now works as an assistant professor at the Academy of Music in
Bydgoszcz, where she has held the position of the Deputy Dean of the Faculty
of Composition, Music Theory and Sound Engineering since September 2008.
Her academic interests focus on 20th and 21st-century Polish music as well as
issues concerning the musical life of the Pomerania and Cuiavia region. Among
her publications are her latest monograph “Twórczość Antoniego Szałowskiego
w kontekście muzyki XX wieku,” [The Work of Antoni Szałowski in the Context
of 20th-Century Music] (Bydgoszcz 2008) and numerous articles on musicology
and music theory.
Violetta Wejs-Milewska is a historian and an antropologist of literature. Assistant
Professor at the Theory and Antropology of Literature Department of
the University of Białystok. Her interests cover the 20th-century literature in
terms of cultural anthropology and psycho-social problems in a situation of alienation.
Her publications include books: “Wykorzenieni i wygnani. O twórczości
Czesława Straszewicza.” [Uprooted and Exiled. The work of Cz. Straszewicz],
(Cracow 2003), “Radio Wolna Europa na emigracyjnych szlakach pisarzy. Gustaw
Herling-Grudziński, Tadeusz Nowakowski, Roman Palester, Czesław Straszewicz,
Tymon Terlecki,” [Radio Free Europe on Emigration Routes of Writers],
(Cracow 2007). She is also a co-editor (with E. Rogalewska) of “Paryż–Londyn–
Monachium–Nowy Jork. Emigracja powrześniowa na mapie kultury nie tylko
polskiej,” [Paris–London–Munich–New York. Post-september Emigration on the
Map of Not Only Polish Culture] (Białystok 2009).
Marlena Wieczorek is a musicologist and music manager who shares her life between
Poland, Los Angeles and Brussels. Wieczorek graduated from Adam Mickiewicz
University and wrote a Ph.D. thesis about Roman Maciejewski. She was
the Head of Collection and Access Section at the Sound and Audiovisual Department
in the National Library of Poland in Warsaw. Wieczorek is also an
author of many different articles and two books (among others: “Roman Maciejewski.
Kompozytor pokolenia zgubionego,” [Composer of the lost generation]
Poznań 2008). She is the founder and chief editor of the Internet music magazine
MEAKULTURA (Music Education Artists Culture), which will have it’s
first release in late November. She is also a consultant who participates in special
music projects and marketing, especially in the US.