For the Good of Humanity: Ludwik Rajchman, Medical Statesman 9789633865675

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For the Good ofHumanity

For the Good ofHumanity Ludwik Rajchman Medical Statesman

Marta A. Balinska Translated by Rebecca Howell and revised by the author

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:CEUPRESS

Central European University Press Budapest

Originally published as Une vie pour l'humanitaire © 1995 Éditions La Découverte English edition published in 1998 by Central European University Press Okt6ber 6. utca 12 H-1051 Budapest Hungary Distributed by Plymbridge Distributors Ltd., Estover Road, Plymouth PL6 7PZ, United Kingdom Distributed in the United States by Comell University Press Services, 750 Cascadilla Street, Ithaca, New York 14851-0250, USA

All rights reserved. No part ofthis publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the permission ofthe publisher ISBN 963-9116-17-3 cloth ISBN 978-963-386-567-5 ebook Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A CIP catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress

Printed in Hungary by Akaprint, Budapest

Contents

vii

Preface Acknowledgements

x

Prologue

xi

Introduction

xv

I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII.

1 15 29 41 63 81 103

IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV.

The Awakening ofa Sense ofResponsibility (1881-1900) The Dream ofa Social-Cultural Revolution (1900-1906) Towards Independence Fighting Epidemics (1918-1922) The Health Organization: The Spirit ofInvention A "Bold Game": Missions to China (1929-1934) Towards Catastrophe: The Thirties From Geneva to Nanking: The Common Cause of the Democratic World (1939) Delegate of Sikorski (1939-1940) An "Undertaking Strewn with Adventures": The SoongRajchman Lobby (1940-1944) A Melancholy World The Watershed (1944-1946) An Emergency Fund for Children (1947-1965) A Pole on International Assignment

125 141 157 169 185 201 235

Notes

249

Index

287

PREFACE

vii

Preface

This book might be considered a family portrait. Marta Balm.ska never knew her great-grandfather, Ludwik Rajchman, since she was born the year he died. In fact, she knew him only through family memories, especially those she heard as a child from Dr. Rajchman's wife and in family conversations thus discovering the incessant presence of an absent person. Much later, she decided to assimilate this family memory-which is only an apparent paradox, Paul Ricoeur has clearly shown the importance of choice in memory-just as she, who calls herself an American in the introduction, had to assimilate France and Poland. The result of all this is a rigorous piece of work, based on research in all accessible archives (except for those in Russia and China, which would probably provide answers to several unanswered questions), as well as the testimony of Rajchman's colleagues and close associates. The book is a model of critical research in the still controversial field of recent history. But it is also a fascinating story, in which the life of a "committed" doctor-Jew, Polish patriot, citizen of the world-emerges in the vortex of the wars and revolutions which shook the first half of the twentieth century. The little I knew about Ludwik Rajchman before reading this book was limited to his role as founder of two important institutions: one, Polish, the National Institute of Hygiene, created in 1918; and the other, international, UNICEF, created in 1946. It would have been difficult to imagine that behind this professional success there had been an "undertaking strewn with adven­ tures" and a constant flight from too easy a life, on the one hand, and a passion for international solidarity on the other. Three fields emerge in this exceptional biography: Rajchman's commitment to humanitarian action, his activity in international organizations and his profound attachment to Poland. His approach to humanitarian action was well ahead of its time. In the general euphoria following the First World War, he shared Herbert Hoover's

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FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

hope that humanity would be reborn. Organizing relief for a starving and disease-ridden Europe went beyond the structures of the nation-state and called on human solidarity. In setting up the League ofNations Health Section as well as the National Institute of Hygiene in Warsaw, Rajchman's experience as a medical doctor, acquired at the Pasteur Institute in Paris and the Royal Institute of Public Health in London, led him to signal the dangers of the century's major illnesses: dysentery, typhus, Spanish flu, syphilis and tuberculosis. But he also initiated programs ofpreventive medicine and public health. His background in Polish socialist circles, influenced by the concepts of Edward Abramowski's "moral revolution," and the philosophy of the civil society formed in this milieu, determined the intellectual bases for his action. Rajchman understood the necessity of political means for combatting poverty and illness, and of founding institutions which, while providing aid, can promote self-help among those in need. His idea of self-help was paramount in the conception of the League of Nations Health Section and would be adopted by the World Health Organization (from which it was possible to exclude Rajchman, but not his ideas) as well as by UNICEF. The inescapable bitterness before the powerlessness of the League of Nations could not discourage Rajchman from his crusade for international organizations. On the contrary, he was convinced that the world would become ever smaller and. he placed great emphasis on training personnel capable of understanding and using the interdependence of nations for the welfare of humanity. On his trips to numerous countries, first for the League of Nations between the two world wars and then for UNRRA and UNICEF after the Second World War, he faced not only national rivalries for political assistance, but also the major political events of the century: the clashes between dictatorship and the thirst for freedom; tension between the role of the state and individual liberties; the dearth of planning for the future; and corruption in political life. He and his friend Jean Monnet not only shared an experience in international organizations, but also placed their hopes in European and global cooperation. They recognized, furthermore, the intimate link between pragmatic action and deep idealistic commitment. China and Poland were always at the center ofLudwik Rajchman's activi­ ties and it was indeed in these two countries that his humanitarian efforts took on the greatest political coloration. In China, he was close to Chiang Kai­ shek's family (especially to the "Generalissimo's" brother-in-law, T.V. Soong) and hence detested by the Communists. In international organizations, he always represented Poland, either officially or unofficially. Even though he had difficulties with the "colonels' regime" in the thirties, the govemment-in­ exile during the Second World War and the Communist authorities in the

PREFACE

ix

fifties, he managed to work with all of them. Poland benefitted enormously from Rajchman's action in various international organisms, which can explain the more or less obvious benevolence with which these govemments regarded him. But how is it possible to understand the logic of his own engagement in these contradictory contexts? Coming from a Jewish family, thorougly assimilated and rooted in Polish culture, Ludwik Rajchman would on several occasions be accused of representing only "cosmopolitan Jewish-Freemasonery." We know little about his psychological reaction to this hostility, but there is no doubt that for this remarkable international public servant and world citizen, Poland remained his country. Advocating, like all his friends, the integration and interdepen­ dence of Europe and the world, in 1944 he was already reflecting on ways of protecting national sovereignty within a "global system" (in a letter to one of his friends and protectors, August Zaleski, ambassador and foreign minister before the war and one of the most eminent representatives of the Polish political emigration after the war). He participated enthusiastically and even frenetically in Poland's postwar reconstruction. But he seemed to have no illusions concerning Soviet domination or any doubts as to who was responsible for the crime of Katyn; he would have preferred to see in Poland a few national Communists à la Tito rather than those handpicked by Moscow. And yet, all the while living with his family outside of Poland, he never assumed emigré status, even though, strictly speaking, he had acquired it years before. His devotion to Poland, his belief that he could be of greater help to his fellow countrymen through his international functions, certainly influenced his decision. But there is in his political conduct and his attitude towards communism a large measure of the "fellow traveler" syndrome. He remained dedicated to European liberal values, which he associated with the Polish intelligentsia's social sensitivity, but he shared with all his generation the great dis­ appointments of the twentieth century. Did he also share its immense ideological illusions? From this book emerges rather a man paradoxically joining idealism with pragmatism, a stranger to ideological passions, avoiding politicking politics and advocating a certain superiority of humanitarianism capable of restoring a meaning to political commitment. The lesson of this life, with its certainties and enigmas, sheds a thought-provoking light on the century that is just ending. Bronislaw Geremek

X

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

Acknowledgements

I should like to thank all those who by their oral and written accounts helped me to reconstruct the life ofLudwik Rajchman: Mieczyslaw Bibrowski, John Charnow, Lidia Ciolkosz, Jean-Claude Comert, Alfred Davidson, Charles Egger, Laurette Feng, Richard Heyward, Hanna Kolodziejska-Wertheim, Irena Lepalczyk, Gertrud Lutz, Sten Madsen, Robert Nathan, Jozef Parnas, Lord Perth, Michael Sacks, Christopher Seton-Watson, Maria E. Weintraub; and posthumously: Michel Debré, François Fontaine, Stanislaw Gajewski, Boguslaw Koizusznik, Alfred Max, Joseph Needham, René Pleven, Edward Raczynski, Pierre Royer, William Youngman. I am grateful also to the archivists, historians and others who provided me with documents and advice: Charles Cockburn, Marta Gromulska (Institute of Hygiene, Warsaw), Marilla Guptil (UN Archives), Adiratha Keefe (UNICEF Archives), Anka Muhlstein-Begley, Krzysztof Pomian, Dale Reed (Hoover Institution), Henri Rieben (Jean Monnet Foundation for Europe), Thomas Rosenbaum (Rockefeller Foundation Archives), Martin Sandberg, Paul Stauffer. The generous support of the Wellcome Trust in London allowed me to complete my research. Special thanks are due to the Thorvald Madsen Foundation not only for my fruitful research in Copenhagen, but also for the reproduction of the photographs in the French edition, and most especially to UNICEF who made the English translation ofthis book possible. Finally, I wish to express my deep gratitude to Eric Roussel and Herman Stein whose encouragement and help throughout my writing of this book were invaluable. I am endebted to the Archives ofthe National Institute ofHygiene (Warsaw), the Archives of the Hoover Institution, the Archives of the United Nations, the Library ofthe United Nations, the Archives ofthe League ofNations (Geneva), and to Hanna Kolodzieska-Wertheim, Sten Madsen, Marianne Monnet and Maria Weintraub for photographs illustrating this book. A last word of thanks goes to the translator, Rebecca Howell to whom I am grateful for more reasons than one.

PROLOGUE

xi

Prologue

I remember that summer day-one ofthose endless summers ofchildhood­ when, running in from the garden, I stumbled against my great-grandmother who was standing in the dimly lit hall of her large country house in France. "Marthe!" she exclaimed, as if she had something very important to tell me. Tuen bending down to pull up her Chinese trousers from her ankles, she pinched her calf and announced, "J'ai la peau bourgeoise, mais l'esprit communiste!" ("I have bourgeois skin, but a communist spirit!"). If that scene engraved itself in my memory, it is surely because when I described it afterwards to the grown-ups, I provoked peals oflaughter. Later on, my father would have me repeat the anecdote to his friends. My great-grandmother Rajchman, a Polish socialist from the time of the Russian Empire, had certainly grown more radical with age. But in spite of her theories and prînciples (such as subscribîng to the French Communîst newspaper, l'Humanité, much to her children's embarrassment), she was never loath to take tea at the Pâty, the exquisite seventeenth-century château belonging to the other "nonpeasant" family in the village, the H., even though they had hoisted the Royalist flag during the French Revolution! At least, that is what my great-grandmother claimed, just as if she had been there. I had no reason to doubt her, especially as the political terms she used were obscure to me. Sorne years after her death, I attended a Sunday Mass celebrated in the tiny village (a rare occurrence). Several generations of the H. family were present, and, as I was leaving, one of their number accosted me and exclaimed, "You, here?". It was then that I understood that my great-grandmother's assertions conceming the "Royalist H. family" had surely had their counterpart across the valley in the form of an equally dubious story about the "Polish Communists" . . . I have no memory of the day when, at the age of four, I arrived for the first time at my great-grandmother's house at Chenu, in the department of Sarthe, midway between Le Mans and Tours. For the next eight years I was going to spend many vacations there. Chenu, with its picturesque apple and pear orchards

xii

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

and quaint railway bridge spanning the valley, was a central part of my childhood landscape, of which "Grand-mère" (this is what I called my great­ grandmother, bom in 1885) was a central figure. In her house, "La Fosse Beauregard," she had created, deep in the French countryside, an atmosphere which seemed to me unique, slightly magical. In time, I understood just how much I absorbed, unconsciously, an acute impression ofPoland and its complex history through this very setting. "A-a-ah, la petite Marthe!" was the way she greeted me every time I arrived to spend school vacations. It is no exaggeration to say that I counted this woman, eighty years my senior, among my best friends. First ofall, because she treated me like a grown-up. When I was about ten, not a day went by without her urging me to tackle a voluminous biography ofNapoleon, which she herself had just finished reading. A Napoleonic cult developed among nineteenth­ century Poles, who had believed that the French emperor would free them from the Russian yoke. She would leafleisurely through the different chapters of the book, explaining, pointing out maps and illustrations, drawing my attention to the prestigious publisher and assuring me that I would be completely fascinated. She would have made an excellent bookvendor! But although I may have lugged the volume to my room, I certainly never opened it. . . In the kitchen, too, where she taught my sister and me to make Polish pierogi (gnocchi) and apple sauce, she always showed total confidence in me. The only forbidden fruits were solitary walks in the woods (because ofthe poisonous snakes) and bicycle rides on the public road (because of the French who like to drink and eat well before taking the wheel). Through Grand-mère, I had the sense of touching a bygone age and I drank in her every word albeit without grasping their full meaning. "I remember that winter's day in Warsaw," she liked to tell me. "I had wamed Lulu (her husband, Ludwik Rajchman), 'Don't go to that meeting! They will certainly follow your footprints in the snow!' But he paid no attention to me and later on, in the night, they woke me up with a loud banging on the door and I, too, was taken offto prison." Without being able to guess that she was alluding to a meeting of the Socialist Party after the thwarted revolution of 1905, or that "they" were the tsarist police, I spontaneously grasped that my great-grandparents had been Polish patriots, arrested by the Russians. I also tacitly concluded that there must have been certain advantages in having a "peau bourgeoise," since the young couple had been freed thanks to a considerable sum of money paid by their parents to the Russian authorities. You had to beware of the Russians, even if you could admire them: "I read two pages ofRussian every day," Grand-mère informed me, "so as not to forget

PROLOGUE

xiii

it. But even though I had a German govemess, I can't remember more than two sentences in German." Because, as I quickly leamed, you had also to beware of the Germans: it was they who had forced the family to flee Europe for the United States and they who had bumed Warsaw, a legendary city in my imagination, thanks to Canaletto's paintings. I had so thoroughly memorized all the details of his "Castle Square" that when I visited the Polish capital for the first time at the age of twenty-one, I recognized all the buildings and immediately spotted my great-grandfather's birthplace. Had not Grand-mère time and again pointed it out to me in the reproduction of this painting which covered an entire wall in the dining room? As for Grand-mère, she was bom in Wloclawek. My impressions of this town were limited to the watercolors that hung on the staircase walls. There was also the family portrait, that is, the photograph, of Grand-mère with her brothers and sisters, surrounding their stem govemess and appearing-as was the fashion at that time-pale and listless. This is the way I pictured them looking when their uncle, a former Siberian deportee (no doubt following the 1863 Uprising), came to play cards with their father. He was, she said, a marvelous storyteller­ imperceptibly mixing truth and fiction. But what provoked the greatest gales of laughter from the children-and what they persistently refused to believe, although their uncle swore to it-was that at night, in Siberia, he had been chained to his wheelbarrow to keep him from running away. I always wanted to cry at the thought that Grand-mère had never believed the story until the day when, past her eightieth birthday, while browsing at the Princeton University Library, she fell on a photograph of a Polish prisoner attached to his wheelbarrow. From this I concluded that I had to retain very precisely every detail Grand-mère told me and to believe it. . . It was across the room from the large reproduction of Warsaw that Grand­ mère and I played "Russian Bank" (for ten centimes and with a deck of cards depicting Polish landscapes), the same game played by her uncle, the Sybirak­ the term used to designate the numerous Pales sent to that land of doom for political reasons. In the seventies, however, Grand-mère was predicting a great future for Siberia because of its natural resources, and advised me to keep that important fact in mind. At Easter, she insisted that my sister and I look at the televised Mass being celebrated in Rome-and this was be/ore the election of John Paul II. Nevertheless, she was often heard to say that she would never allow a priest to cross her threshold. As a child, I did not detect any great contradiction in all this. What I especially liked was being called from the garden to listen to a recording of Chopin, played by Rubinstein naturally: only Poles could interpret Chopin and sense his true essence. For my eighth birthday, I went with my family to

xiv

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

hear the great pianist in person, at a concert he was giving in Lausanne. Afterwards, backstage, my father introduced my sister and me as the great-great­ granddaughters of Aleksander Rajchman. Thus I realized that my distant ancestor, Director ofthe Warsaw Philharmonia, had launched the child prodigy Artur Rubinstein. And what did I know about Aleksander's son, Ludwik, who died the year of my birth? Very little, except that he had been the founder of UNICEF and hence, had wanted to help children and the disadvantaged. Forever feeling somewhat guilty as a "privileged" American, I had once wanted to contribute to the UNICEF cause by selling greeting cards I had made myself. I managed to collect a hundred francs, completely unaware ofthe illegality ofmy activity. At Chenu, I loved to go and draw in my great-grandfather's former study, which remained untouched for a long time after his death. I labored assiduously, but in vain, to extract ink from his array of dried-out pens, and to decipher the scribbling on his desk pads. The room was filled with Chinese objets d'art, among which was a magnificent dragon exposing his teeth, over which I liked to run my fingers. I had associated my great-grandfather with names that were said to be "renowned," such as Chiang Kai-shek and Jean Monnet, and I was amazed that these names were not familiar to my classmates. One day, I went to have tea with one ofmy great-grandfather's oldest friends, Robert Debré, at his beautiful property in the Touraine. He seemed to me even older than Grand-mère and had difficulty understanding the few words my shyness made even less audible. After my great-grandmother's death, when my grandmother was putting the bouse in order, she suggested that I choose one object for myself. Anything at all, but only one. Without hesitating, I asked for the portrait of my great­ grandfather's sister, Helena Rajchman. This painting, inspired by the impressionist movement and depicting a young girl holding a straw hat and a bouquet of flowers, had always fascinated me. I could stand before it for hours (or so it seemed), asking myselfwhat she was like and strangely convinced that one day I would find out. All these experiences grew hazy in my memory over the years, especially after my great-grandmother's death in 1979. When I was fourteen, I worked as a volunteer in a nursing home for the elderly in Princeton, longing to be drawn doser to her somehow through other old people. It was there that I practiced my first lessons in Polish with a lady of Polish origin, poignantly regretting that I had never been able to speak that language with Grand-mère. (We always spoke in French.) Was it because ofhet that I was so eager to learn it? Was it also her . allusions to "Lulu," full oflove and admiration, that made me want to discover this man who had remained a mystery for me?

INTRODUCTION

XV

Introduction

To the Memory of My Great-Grandmother, Maria Bojanczyk Rajchman

How many people who write their UNICEF greeting cards every year have ever heard the name of the founder of what is undoubtedly the world's best­ known international organization? While Woodrow Wilson is associated with the creation ofthe League ofNations, and the Swiss, Henri Dunant, with that of the Red Cross, it has generally been ignored that a Polish doctor called Ludwik Rajchman was the first person to advocate protection ofchildren on a world-wide scale. In spite of Rajchman's strong ties with France, where he spent the last fifteen years ofhis life, his name is virtually unknown there as well. The only people likely to have heard about him are admirers, respectively, of the notoriously anti-Semitic writer Céline, the eminent pediatrician Robert Debré or the "father of Europe," Jean Monnet. Céline referred to him as one of his three "masters," Debré credited him with "the greatest work of preventive medicine ever destined for humanity as a whole," and Monnet saw in him a rare "sense ofthe universal" . 1 How can this ignorance be explained? The reasons are many and complex, linked with Rajchman' s own discretion and the Cold War which marked the end of his life. The bipolar climate that took hold at the end of the Second World War made· a man who had served both Nationalist China and Communist Poland hardly acceptable. For as long as he lived, Rajchman could not be shielded from the political contradictions ofhis activities and he had to suffer the consequences. As the twentieth century draws to an end, however, his fundamentally international vision ofthe world, his insistence on collaboration among countries in all domains and the duty ofthe international community to intervene in humanitarian crises have regain:ed their topicality. Rajchman undoubtedly ranks as one ofthe century's greatest humanitarian figures. He believed profoundly in the necessity of creating institutions, national as well as international, to promote health-the world's greatest

xvi

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

need-and to establish a tradition of social action that could be passed on to future generations. In this respect he was at the origin not only ofUNICEF in New York and the National Institute of Hygiene in Warsaw, but ofthe World Health Organization in Geneva. It would be a mistake, however, to reduce Rajchman's life to his humanitarian activity. His career is an extraordinary example of the role networks of persona! relations play, not only in scientific history, but cultural and political history as well. He was able to fit into all these networks, going far beyond the responsibility conferred on him by his official functions. Born into a Jewish family belonging to the Warsaw bourgeoisie, Rajchman studied medicine, joined the Polish Socialist Party, did research at both the Pasteur Institute in Paris and the Royal Institute of Public Health in London, created the National Institute of Hygiene in Warsaw, set up the Health Organization of the League of Nations, led the American lobby for aid to China during the Second World War, represented Poland at UNRRA (United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration, the largest relief program ever undertaken), and ended up by creating UNICEF. On this path, there strides an amazing figure who left a lasting impression on all who met him. He frequented extremely diverse, sometimes even opposing, circles. An intimate friend ofJean Monnet and the family ofChiang Kai-shek, he often entertained the future writer Céline as well as Stalin's envoy, Karl Radek. His daughter, known as "the Bolshevik" at her secondary school, was a close friend of De Gaulle's future prime minister, Michel Debré . . . His excellent connections in almost all the Western capitals gave him an authority in international affairs much respected by their foreign ministries. Like all strong personalities, Rajchman elicited either warm friendship or intense dislike, but even his "enemies" were forced to admire his energy and creativity. lnvariably, it is the forceful expression of his eyes, the rare intelli­ gence of his arguments that are pointed out. He also had a way of inspiring others, spurring them to act. Rajchman represents, moreover, an entire generation of Poles born at the end of the nineteenth century, fervent patriots, progressive and deeply com­ mitted to social reforms. But his vision reflects the leanîng of all the Leftist European intelligentsia spanning the formative years from 1918 to 1956. A nice paradox would have the inherently international UNICEF retain its Sino-Polish character, so particular to Rajchman, until 1995: the first director, Maurice Pate, considered Poland his second homeland; the second, Henry Labouisse, was the husband ofEve Curie; the third, James Grant, was the son of a colleague of Rajchman and, as a child growing up in China, had been inspired by his father's Polish friend. Received by John Paul II in 1982, Grant

INTRODUCTION

xvii

immediately pointed out their "common Polish origins," directly alluding to Rajchman. 2 Polish citizen of the world-according to his own description-, Rajchman's devotion to the international cause in no way diminished his identification with Poland. Finally, Rajchman's life sets itself apart through his total indifference to recognition or fame, and his willingness to risk failure. He dedicated himself his "eyes wide open"-to use his own words-to more than one "undertaking strewn with adventures," because he did not want a life that was "too easy" and boring. 3

THE A WAKENING OF A SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY

1

Chapter I

The Awakening of a Sense of Responsibility ( 1 8 8 1-1 900)

"The years of our youth were difficult, grave and sad, awakening in us a sense of responsibility." Helena Radlinska Z dziej6w pracy spolecznej i oswiatowej.

Helena Rajchman's first memory went back to 1881, the year her brother Ludwik was bom. Aged two years and a half, she was sitting comfortably beside her father on his bed, when he suddenly leapt to his feet causing her to tumble off the other end. The reason for this unfortunate incident was that having just opened his newspaper and leamed of the assassination of Tsar Alexander II by a Pole, he feared violent repressions throughout the empire. And for good reason. The birth of his first son coincided with the enthroning of Alexander III, one of the tsars who was to behave most despotically towards the Poles. 1 In 1881, Poland as such did not exist. The country had been wiped off the European map, carved up by stages among the Austro-Hungarian, Prussian and Russian Empires. Even the very name of Poland survived solely in the minds of Poles who lived henceforth in Austro-Hungarian Galicia, Eastern Prussia and the Congress Kingdom. The Kingdom, as it was commonly called, spread over three-quarters of the former Polish territory and was designated by its Russian colonizers as "Land of the Vistula." The different names given to the annexed regions did indeed reflect a certain political reality. The name of Galicia was the only one corre­ sponding to a part of the former Poland, and-of the three occupying powers, it was the Austro-Hungarians who granted the greatest autonomy to the two and a half million Poles under their domination. The Germans, on the other hand, sought, without much success, to "absorb" the three million Poles living in Eastern Prussia by a policy of Germanization. The Russians controlled their eight million Poles quite simply by ruling over them with an iron hand. 2 Nobody, other than the Poles themselves, believed in the possibility of reconstituting a sovereign Polish state, and in nineteenth century diplomatie circles there were countless jokes about the etemal "Polish question." The Romanov domination, not to mention that of the Hapsburg and Hohenzollern,

2

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

seemed so immutable that the "Polish question" appeared almost pathetic. Undoubtedly the bloody uprisings of November 1830 and January 1863 had aroused Westemers' sympathy, but who would have dared provoke Great Russia's anger by helping the resistants? However, the Polish national feeling never waned, with the result that by the end of the century there was hardly a Polish family without at least one rebel member exiled in Siberia . . . 3 Ludwik Rajchman's parents, Aleksander and Melania, were twenty-six and twenty-four years old respectively when he was born on November 1, 1881, · in Warsaw. Ludwik's grandfather, AdolfRajchman, was already dead. He had been a wholesale dealer in coal and had married twice, fathering six sons and six daughters. His second wife, R6za Bruner, Ludwik's grandmother, im­ pressed young Ludwik by her strictness when he visited her on her feast day, on Jerusalem Avenue (one ofthe main streets in Warsaw). Aleksander Rajchman was apparently the only son to follow a literary career-his brothers were businessmen and engineers. The sisters' marriages indicate that the family was well regarded, but Aleksander' s union with Ludwik Hirszfeld's daughter was unquestionably a social advancement for the young man. Ludwik Hirszfeld was a banker, a patron of the arts, and was reputed to have financed the 1863 Uprising. Thus, his daughter Melania had been brought up in an affluent and highly cultured family with a long tradition of patriotism. The Hirszfolds were considered "enlightened" and were proud of their kinship with the Berlin Hirschfelds. One of Melania's brothers, Stanislaw, joined his father's bank and during the eighteen-eighties, and set up an Institute ofMinerai Waters in the Saxony Gardens. Warsaw residents concemed about their health went there to test the merits ofthe various aqua and profit from the social exchanges possible in this very fashionable meeting place, all the rarer for being in a capital under Russian domination. Another brother, Boleslaw, made himself known soon after entering secondary school for conspiring against the Russians and developed into one of the Kingdom's outstanding "social activists". The Rajchmans, like the Hirszfelds, were assimilated. The different spellings of the name (Raichman, Raychman, Reichman, Reychman) reflect the German, Polish and Russian influences that could prevail on Jewish families. They had corne to Poland from Germany, probably in the seven­ teenth century, but possibly even earlier. Ludwik's great-grandfather, Samson Rajchman, had left his native town of Przedborze, in the vicinity of Radom, and settled in Warsaw in 1 75 0. 4 The Hirszfelds had no doubt followed a similar itinerary. The typically Polish names of Melania's brothers, Stanislaw and Boleslaw, reveal, in any case, a strong identification with Polish culture. The point at which the two

THE AWAKENING OF A SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY

3

families lost the Hebrew and/or Yiddish languages is not known. The Hirsz­ feld's assimilation seems to have been made by Catholic baptism. 5 It was probably the same for the Rajchmans, even though during the Enlightenment integration into Polish society could occur simply by abandoning Jewish practices customs and languages. 6 Nevertheless, formal, avowed agnosticism was rare: only certain eminent intellectuals could allow themselves the "luxury" of being openly freethinkers. Most people submitted to religious practices, whether Jewish, Catholic, Protestant or Orthodox. In the nineteenth century, Warsaw's Jewish population, estimated at 32% in 1897, was the largest in Europe. 7 Within this group was a large number of prominent families (to which the Hirszfelds belonged) who were "Polonized," secular, and often educated in Germany. They were leaders in business as well as social and charitable organizations and political-insurrectional activities. This "radical" emancipation, often anticlerical, touched not only Jews but also certain Catholics from the szlachta (minor nobility), eager to liberate themselves from the constraints of a society they considered too rigid. It was not by chance that in the sixteenth century Poland came to be known as the "heretics' paradise," with its Arians, Calvinists and Hussites. . . Warsaw's population almost doubled between 1870 and 1890, going from 250,000 to 435,000 inhabitants. 8 This increase was a result of an industrial expansion that attracted peasants and unskilled labor from the provinces, as well as of the political expulsion of the Jews from Russia proper towards the Polish Hinterland. This population, called Litwaks (from Lithuanian, since so many of them came from this country and spoke no Polish) posed a certain threat to the local Jews when jobs became scarce. Unemployment was a problem for all social classes, including the intelligentsia who, if they did not corne from families in business, often chose careers in engineering. An engineer could find work more easily, especially if he were willing to "emigrate" to Russia, which was the case with two of Rajchman's uncles (who would find themselves stranded there during the Bolshevik Revolution). In their native land, Poles were excluded from any jobs directly or indirectly connected with the State, which in the Russian Empire, included a wide range of sectors. The Warsaw intelligentsia has even been called a "proletarian" intelligentsia in that they lived very modestly. 9 Historians and writers considerd themselves lucky to be bank or railway employees, or else to make ends meet by giving private lessons. The state educational system offered few possibilities because of the Russianization policy. Polish history, literature and language had been banned from the curricula of secondary schools and universities. Polish was treated merely as one of many "dialects" studied in Slavic linguistics.

4

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

In the demonstrations preceding the 1863 Uprising, Jewish and Polish intellectuals had joined forces against the tsarist regime. This was one of the reasons that the University of W arsaw was such a threat to the Russian authorities, who even outlawed performances of theatrical works advocating Polish-Jewish solidarity, considering them harmful to the Russian cause. 1 ° After the University had been thoroughly russianized in 1869, young Poles were reluctant to attend courses and even preferred to continue their studies at the University of Saint Petersburg, a properly foreign place, rather than to "expatriate" themselves in their own country. Starting with this period ( 18631869) especially, Polish students could be found in all the major European universities : Heidelberg, Munich, Dorpat, Zurich (the first to accept women students), Paris . . . In the context of this tacit boycott, Aleksander Rajchman decided to study literature at the University of Lw6w in Galicia, the Austro­ Hungarian sector, and the most liberal in Poland. Afterwards, he spent some time in Munich taking courses in aesthetics at the School of Fine Arts, before retuming to Warsaw and embarking on a poorly paid career in joumalism combined with writing short stories for the Warsaw Courier (Kurjer Warszawski). In 1878 he married Melania, then twenty years old. She, too, began to write, in particular on feminist issues, contributing regularly to the prestigious monthly Krytyka, hers being the column entitled "Feminine Matters." The young couple lived a life ofrelative ease, being able to count on the help ofMelania's banker father. Besides, Aleksander was never lacking in either ideas or initiative. It was he who opened the first Polish advertising agency, "Rajchman and Frendler," and in 1882 he joined the editorial board of the bi-weekly Musical and Theatrical Echo. Shortly afterwards, he was made editor-in-chief, and slightly modified the publication's name to read Musical, Theatrical and Artistic Echo. The Rajchmans lived on Senatorska Street, across from the Bemadins' Church, and a few steps from the Royal Castle, that is, in the very heart of Warsaw. Melania's father encouraged the young couple's artistic interests and covered the expenses of the weekly receptions. Every Sunday at five o'clock, they served black coffee to the artistic world connected with the Echo. Warsaw salons played a very significant role in a capital deprived ofthe usual social infrastructures: "There was perhaps no other city in Europe," recalled one contemporary writer, "in which social life flourished so exuberantly [ . . . ] . Since political life could not develop normally, through institutions and a free press, it took the path of least resistance and developed in private homes and salons, which while ostensibly literary, had a strong political character. All that could not be said in public or written in newspapers and on which the chief censor, Jankulio, kept a watchful eye, was discussed in depth and at

THE AWAKENING OF A SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY

5

length [ . . . ] at the various "Sundays," "Fridays," "Thursdays," and and "Black Coffees." 1 1 The "Black Coffees" on Senatorska Street were said to be "the most lively and interesting social gatherings in Warsaw: "The atmosphere was friendly and open and the excellent hostess was especially pleasant and welcoming," an opera singer recalled. On entering the Rajchman apartment, "one had the impression of stepping into another age; there was a large salon, completely empty except for a grand piano and small chairs set up against the walls. It was there that real concerts were held." "Every Sunday, a crowd of enthusiastic people came to profit from the Rajchman's hospitality. All the musical, literary and artistic world gathered there. It was the only place where, in a convivial atmosphere, one heard and saw everything connected with the most interesting topics of the day. Attending this "Black Coffee" was a 'must' for every young talent or foreigner who wished to corne into contact with the Polish world of music, literature and publishing." 1 2 This agreeable life came to an abrupt end in 1 896 when Melania' s banker brother went bankrupt, losing all the family fortune through "negligence" (according to the Rajchmans). 1 3 The family quarre! was considerable. Aleksander was forced to sell the stocks in his advertising agency. "The receptions continued," Ludwik recalled sixty years later, "but my parents' life became extremely difficult [ . . . ] . The main source of our income came from the Echo, two-thirds of which was edited by my mother. My father became a music and literary critic, but our financial situation remained very precarious. We lived very modestly. I remember that I wore my clothes until they were thread-bare and that my father had to borrow money from bearded Jews to purchase his wardrobe". 1 4 Aleksander soon succeeded in taking things in band by opening a nonofficial theatrical agency ("nonofficial" quite simply because there was no "official" means within the Russian system), and by organizing public concerts. He then had the idea of providing Warsaw with a concert hall large enough for a permanent philharmonie orchestra. Severa} Warsaw aristocrats and industrialists eagerly supported bis project, and in 1 898, a special committee called "A. Rajchman and the Association for the Warsaw Philhar­ monie Hall" was formed. It was made up of prominent members of both the Catholic and Jewish communities, including Prince Stefan Lubomirski and Count Maurycy Zamoyski, both descendents of eminent families who had distinguished themselves on many occasions in Polish history (Zamoyski would serve as ambassador to France from 1 9 1 9 to 1 924), as well as the Baron Leopold Kronenberg, financier and composer, who was president of

6

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

the Bank of Commerce in Warsaw. Without delay, it was decided that the artistic director of the Philharmonia (as it was called) would be the composer and orchestra conductor Emil Mlynarski (Artur Rubinsteins's future father-in­ law), while Rajchman was to be its administrative director. But there remained the task of collecting enough money to construct such an ambitious edifice because the Russian government, ofcourse, would be ofno help. Aleksander put all his heart and energy into this vast undertaking, even going from door to door to solicit support from ordinary Warsaw citizens. He had no difficulty convincing them: it was a matter of erecting a national and cultural monument, of creating a major symphony orchestra in Warsaw, in spite of the hostility of the tsarist administration and the numerous constraints that it imposed on almost every sphere of social and professional life. The Philharmonia was realized in a remarkably short time, hardly three years after Rajchman had proposed its creation. lts opening on November 5, 1901 stirred up great emotion and patriotic fervor. Paderewski played Chopin, Mlynarski and Rajchman were greeted with rapturous applause, the ovations were never­ ending . . . The acoustics of the Philharmonia were so excellent that they were compared with those at La Scala. 1 5 Soon the Rajchman's "Black Coffees" were being frequented by the greatest artistic celebrities of the day: Edvard Grieg, Vincent d'Indy, Richard Strauss, the violinist Fritz Kreisler, the Italian singer Battistini and even Isadora Duncan, who covered an entire page of the visitors' book with her imposing signature. The subscription concerts were held twice weekly and Rajchman endeavored to present two "stars" every Friday. The Philharmonia thus launched a number of future soloists, among whom were the child prodigies Artur Rubinstein and Mieczyslaw Horszowski, who would always remember their "impressario," Aleksander Rajchman. 1 6 The quality of the guest orchestras and musicians entailed considerable expense. During the first years, financial support from the Association's members sufficed to cover it. But soon, Rajchman was forced to take long­ term loans and was unable to pay the interest on them. A mere four years after the glorious inauguration, faulty financial administration and the complete absence of government subsidies, led to a deficit. In the meantime, Mlynarski had left the Philharmonia to direct the Opera, leaving Rajchman entirely responsible for the musical program. Seeking to save his undertaking, the harassed director decided to try and attract the greatest numbers possible while raising ticket prices. He was quickly reproached for having "commer­ cialized" the repertoire, for favoring the "sensational," that is, foreign com­ posers who were in vogue, over young Polish artists. Above all, many could not forgive him for having sent the Philharmonia Orchestra to the Berlin

THE A WAKENING OF A SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY

7

Festival in 1 903, when the Prussians were carrying out what was already termed an "extermination policy" in regard to the the Poles. 1 7 The press bemoaned the fact that the concert-going public was "unashamedly snobbish" and sought only "to keep up with fashion." 1 8 When a letter of protest was signed by thirty well-known musicians in 1 908, Rajchman was forced to resign. There were those who defended him, however, including the prominent novelist, Boleslaw Prus, but his critics were far more numerous. However, by the time Rajchman died seven years later, there had been a certain softening of attitudes: "This beautiful edifice (the Philharmonia) is the eloquent monument to the effort and services rendered by Rajchman," wrote one newspaper. "Warsaw, as well as all of Poland, will be forever grateful to him [ . . . ] . He has inscribed his name in our city' s history by a lasting work, constructed by the strong determination of one man." 1 9 And yet, when the Philharmonia marked thirty-five years of performances in 1 936, as well as when it was raised from ruins in 1 95 5 , no one mentioned the name of its creator . . . 20 Aleksander and Melania Rajchman, as the preceding pages have shown, were endowed with extraordinary energy and frequented the intellectual and artistic elite of both Poland and Europe. Their children-Helena, born in 1 879, Ludwik, born in 1 88 1 and Aleksander Michal, born in 1 890-were thus accustomed from their earliest years to observing enterprising spirits and to dealing with celebrities. Ludwik received a large legacy of creativity and perseverance from his parents. He would also benefit throughout his life from a great facility in his persona! and professional relationships, at all levels of society. " [ . . . ] The family setting provided numerous and marvelous stimulations for artistic development," his sister wrote at the end of her life. "In the cultural life of Warsaw [ . . . ], given the dearth of public institutions, social relationships played an enormous role [ . . . ] . I was hardly more than a child before I was introduced to persons who elicited my admiration and wonder. Sienkiewicz, Orzeszkowa, Konopnicka, Plug and Falenski accepted a cup of tea or coffee from my hands and rewarded me with a few words [ . . . ] . 2 1 At a very young age, I accompanied my parents to other ' salons,' to receptions where the elite of the intellectual world gathered and forged public opinion [ . . . ] . "22 "My father," as Rajchman, in turn, recalled, "was incredibly dynamic, and possessed enormous initiative. He was gallant, handsome and spoke fluent French, German and Russian [ . . . ] . But," he continued, "1 was generally afraid of him, and did not share his political views. He was a conservative, advocating an understanding with Russia [ . . . ] . My mother was exceptionally

8

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

intelligent, extremely cultured and well-educated. She knew the European languages, but not Russian. She was charming, subtle [ . . . ] and unbelievably hardworking."23 Although Rajchman admired the vigor and initiative of his father who, among other things, had directed a school of drama, organized the first air shows in Poland and Russia and drawn up plans for Warsaw's first amuse­ ment park (he died before they could be realized), he was much closer to his mother and his separation from her at the end of secondary school was painful. At that time, Melania had already distinguished herselfin the feminist movement. She was a small-boned woman with a fragile air and a gentle yet penetrating expression in her eyes. She had a talent for forging links between people, for engaging them in conversation and creating a relaxed and open atmosphere wherever she was. An admirer ofEliza Orzeszkowa (a writer who defended women, Jews and "the little people"), she organized in her honor the first "women's congress" in Poland, bringing together Polish women from all over the world, including Siberia. Melania was known for her extreme modesty and always used a pen name. Her contemporaries knew her as "Orka," which in Polish means plow, the figurative sense of which signifies an arduous intellectual effort. She was keenly interested in pedagogical questions and in 1907 began to set up an institute which she dreamt would become the first pedagogical academy in a future free Poland. She also published a series of brochures dealing with feminist causes, while commencing a study of pediatric nursing and conducting an educational survey among Poland's youth, using polling techniques. Helena and Ludwik, who were to become pioneers in education and public health, undoubtedly felt closer to their mother, with her concem for social equality, than they did to their father. "Nobody could detect in her the perspicacious joumalist inspired by the innumerable ideas of a militant socialist," a friend later recalled. "She was always the shadow ofherself, and hid behind her pseudonyms."24 "My attitude towards my parents' world was certainly influenced by their own position regarding their children's future," Helena admitted. "Both my father and mother were very cultured and knowledgeable, but like so many intellectuals of their generation, they had no degrees, no specialization. My father was a marvelous organizer, but lacked technical education. They eamed their living by writing, which they loved and for which they were especially talented. But they wanted their children to have real professions. I do not think that they worried too much because none of us decided to pursue music or literature. 25 Nevertheless," she continued, "the years of our youth were difficult, grave and sad, awakening in us a sense ofresponsibility. We lived in

THE AWAKENING OF A SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY

9

a period of conflict between generations. Those who were rearing us had matured in the shadow of defeat and most of them had been shaped by positivism. My uncle (Boleslaw), a romantic in action, was among the exceptions [ . . . ] . "As we grew up, we moved further and further from the publishing world and receptions of our parents. For a while, it was the omnipotent Bellamy, or more precisely, his utopia, The Year 2000, which dominated our lives. 26 We were enchanted by a social system in which each persan had a share ofsociety's income, was obliged to serve it through labor and would profit from marvelous new structures and total freedom (except for the services to be rendered). Even my little brother [Aleksander], playing in his corner, invented an imaginary world, the land ofthe Badziudzo and Babebo, based on the utopian model that we were incessantly discussing. This, after all, was the end of the nineteenth century when all the world was trying to take stock of the objectives obtained and fabricating illusory visions of the future. How deep were my hopes and expectations on that unforgettable New Year's Eve when, through the open window, I heard the bells ring in the new century."2 7 The ideological gap between children and parents was not limited to the Rajchman family, but was spread throughout the Polish intelligentsia. The younger generations were revolting against the positivist philosophy, "organic work" (the watchword of the Polish positivists after the defeated 1863 Uprising, aimed at strengthening the country's economy as a means of resistance) and what they considered to be their elders' submission to Russian authority. They wanted a sovereign Poland with justice for all and were inspired by the romantic aspirations of their grandparents. But at the turn of the century, it had become social romanticism as Helena herself would later describe it. The change ofmentality was reflected in literature. Boleslaw Prus took note of this rebellion of the young in Children (Dzieci) . 28 Stefan Zeromski described the secondary school pupils' struggle against the Russian educational system in Labors of Sisyphus (Syzyfowe prace), and won young readers' hearts with the characters of Joasia and Doctor Judym, heroes of his novel The Homeless (Ludzie bezdomni), who were symbols of social sacri­ fice. 29 For it must be understood that while following the ideals oftheir ancestors, veterans of the 1830 Uprising, the "new" romantic generation was dreaming not only of an independent and reconstituted Poland, but of a land of social justice, in which the factor linking persans of diverse social origins, ethnie groups and religions would be a common Polish culture. Thus, universal education became the favorite theme ofthe younger generation.

10

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

Be fore weaving their dreams of utopias and new social orders, Helena and Ludwik had lived in an unusually protected milieu, beginning their forma! education at home with a French govemess who taught them French and German. But when they were old enough to attend grammar school, they could no longer escape the surrounding reality: once a child left the family circle, he clashed-superficially at least-with a Russian world. In elemen­ tary school, as at the gimnazium (secondary school), courses were taught in Russian (Polish was not only considered a foreign language, but was banned). The currency was Russian, street names were written in Russian and letters could be addressed in all European languages except Polish and Yiddish. . . 3 0 On Saxony Square there stood an enormous Russian Orthodox Church, erected after the Polish defeat of 1830, supposedly testifying to the "etemal domination of Russia." The tsarist govemor of Warsaw had congratulated himself, confident that within fifteen years Polish children would be speaking only Russian to their parents. 3 1 One of Rajchman's classmates, Wladyslaw Komilowicz, dared one day to ask his professor, a Russian, if since it was forbidden to speak Polish (even during recreation), one could at least think in this language? This impertinence resulted in his being permanently expelled from the gimnazium and prevented from enrolling in another school, a widespread punishment which was known as being given the "wolf s ticket."32 Teaching methods in these gimnaziums were draconian. Promotion to the next class depended on written tests in all major subjects and, every two years, students were given an oral examination covering all they had been taught during that period. Repeating the year was a common occurrence: one Warsaw pupil remembered that in his third year (of secondary school) there were thirty-five in the class, but by the time he reached the sixth year, there were only twelve, among whom only two had advanced without interruption. 33 Since the number of gimnaziums in Warsaw was insufficient for receiving all the candidates, acceptance was determined by competitive exams. Once accepted, students were subjected to excessively severe discipline, accompanied by often cruel punishments. Most of the teachers were Russian and, in Rajchman's time, all instruction was given in this language. It is not surprising that on completing secondary school, Rajchman wrote better Russian than Polish. Moreover, if he struggled to leam by heart entire passages from Homer (Greek being his weakest subject), it was because the professor was "exceptionally intelligent" and, more significantly, "Polish". 34 At the gimnazium, Russian history was taught from the well-known textbook by Ilovajskij. The 191 0 edition still entitled the chapter dealing with

THE AW AKENING OF A SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY

11

the Polish partitions as "The Return of Russia's Western Provinces," and pointed out that the first partition was a means for Catherine II to protect the dissident Orthodox persecuted by the Polish Catholic clergy . . . 35 For young Poles, who had inherited a hundred years of foreign domination, the ban on speaking their own language and the systematic falsification of their history, was a profound humiliation. (This explains how some of them could accuse Joseph Conrad of being a "traitor" for having adopted English as his language.) It would seem that every Polish schoolboy participated in some form of sabotage or subterfuge regarding the Russian educational system. Rajchman liked to tell that when Nicolas II came to their gimnazium, the students were supposed to sing a hymn of praise to the "Tsar of all Russias," but beforehand, he and his friends had agreed to "open their mouths without making a sound. "3 6 This kind of protest was bound to remain very limited. On the other hand, a great deal more effort went into organizing clandestine groups, whether their goal was to read censored literature (which included, at the peak of Russianization, most of the Polish classics, the mere possession of which was forbidden), discuss politics or set up projects to help the needy. Girls benefitted from a "gentler" education, inasmuch as they were ex­ cluded from the Russian gimnazium. They attended private schools with faculties composed of Poles, including persons who in other circumstances would have been university professors. They were given, albeit "illegally," courses in Polish history and language, while always keeping a Russian textbook within reach in case the inspector appeared. When he did, the professor quizzed the student who was best in Russian, often designated for the purpose beforehand. Helena's school was a veritable hive of clandestine activities. The headmistress was Miss Czamocka who had studied pedagogy in Cracow and, in 1 875, opened a nonofficial boarding school on her estate near Sluck. Assisted by her sister, she taught girls whose parents could not afford the more expensive Warsaw establishments. The undertaking was so successful that the Russian authorities grew suspicious of the remarkable number of young "cousins" these maiden ladies had living with them. Also, the teaching of Polish and catechism in the region became a bit too obvious . . . So, the Czarnocka sisters moved to Warsaw where they could apparently more easily dissimulate their illegal activism, including an entirely covert two-year course in pedagogy, within the six-year program of "official" secondary studies. 37 To give an idea of the atmosphere that reigned in their school, Helena told how, when she was twelve, she had asked her teacher if it was true that "the next uprising cannot be prepared because the Muscovites would bury mines under the city and completely destroy it?" Her teacher reassured her on this

12

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

point and encouraged her to start preparing the insurrection "without a second thought."3 8 It was to her professors, in fact, more than to her parents, that the young Helena looked for the aspirations to which she herself tended. "The influences at home," she later remarked, "could not compete with those exer­ cised by school and ideologies."39 "We were looking for means to realize our dreams," she recalled. "My brother Ludwik [ . . . ] and I took part in secret pedagogical activities, especially within the Association ofUrban and Rural Education (Towarzystwo Miejskiej i Wiejskiej Oswiaty). 4 0 The Association which Ludwik Rajchman helped set up at the age of fourteen, published educational brochures destined for workers and peasants, which were distributed by students during school vacations. Helena and her brother had most likely been inspired by their mother's brother, Boleslaw Hirszfeld, who with another uncle (by marriage), Tomasz Ruskiewicz, devoted himself to all sorts of illegal activities, especially educational ones. Hirszfeld was also an ardent defender of political prisoners and with Ruskiewicz exercised a strong influence on the patriotic-socialist younger generation. 4 1 "I was initiated into social work b y Uncle Bos," Helena wrote, "the closest and dearest of educators. It was under his influence that I engaged in various covert projects, that I gave lessons to newsvendors and children in the classroom of the Warsaw Charitable Society ( Warszawskie Towarzystwo Dobroczynnosci). 42 As they grew older, the young Rajchmans' interests began to diversify­ slipping from the "socio-educational" area towards the strictly political. At seventeen, Ludwik joined the Union of Young Socialists (Zwiqzek Mlodych Socjalistow). His job was to "peddle" illegal publications. "At the time," he reminisced, "our philosophy was based on the struggle against tsarism. Our ideas concerning socialism were still rather vague. We were not members of the party. We were involved in educational efforts, but the amount of illegal literature concealed in our desks was constantly growing. We maintained good relations with a priest who helped us hide the bibula [slang for illegal publications]. AU ofus believed that tsarism could be abolished only with the Russian revolutionaries' support. Through these conspiratorial circles and our first political activities, we linked up with other gimnaziums. "43 Ludwik and Helena met regularly with their friends "Kocio" (Konstanty) Brande!, "Wacio" (Wladyslaw) Wr6blewski, "Kot" (Konstanty) Krzecz­ kowski and the brothers Kolodziejski and Kornilowicz (who would also become well-known figures), at the Patelnia Café on Ujazdowskie Avenue. 44

THE AWAKENING OF A SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY

13

The Patelina was a very popular pastry shop with an outside terrace, where regular customers came to take sun baths and watch Warsaw's fashionable Warsaw society stroll by. 45 Helena was the only girl in the group. "In the beginning, among the boys, my main role seemed to be supplying omelets and innumerable slices of bread," she wrote. "Later, when I became H. Orsza (her pen name ), I was granted the respect due to my greater age. When we met, which was almost every day, we built up visions of the socio-educational world. We had endless discussions focusing on, among other things, dissatis­ faction as a mainspring of action. We were searching for new models."46 "I matured a great deal during the last three years of secondary school," Rajchman recognized. "It was then that I began to be interested in public affairs and contemporary literature. I learned to take on responsibility. At the gimnazium, l organized the meetings of the ''young socialists." I came into direct contact with Stanislaw Michalski and contributed to his Textbook for Autodidacts." 47 Coming into contact and working with Michalski on his Textbook was a marking event in Helena's and Ludwik' s lives. Still another outstanding social militant, he was active in the educational movement, even though he had been trained (probably because of the times) as a mechanical engineer. The Textbookfor Autodidacts, which he edited, appeared from 1 898 to 1 9 1 3 and enj oyed a legendary fame. The 2,500 copies of the first volume, priced very inexpensively at 50 kopeks for 400 pages, sold out in two months. In the second edition of 700 pages, the number of copies was doubled, and it disappeared just as quickly. The Textbook consisted of a series of books designed for self-education in all standard subjects, including "Mathematics and Natural Sciences," "Social Sciences and Philosophy," "Linguistics and History," "Popularization of Science and Self-education," etc., written by the greatest Polish scholars and scientists of the time. 48 Towards the end of 1 890, Warsaw experienced a certain resurgence of optimism. The imminent turn of the century seemed to portend change. Nicolas II, more conciliatory towards the Poles, had succeeded Tsar Alexander III. The hundredth anniversary of the birth of the great national poet, Adam Mickiewicz, was approaching and the Poles decided to erect a monument in his honor. It was an idea that Henryk Sienkiewicz (future Nobel laureate in literature) had nurtured since 1 882, but under Alexander' s reign, officials had withheld their consent. This time they ceded, thus reflecting a vague beginning of liberalization. Like the Philharmonia some years before, this project too was enormously successful. After only two months, the necessary funds had been collected from a hundred thousand donors. On December 24, 1 899, the day of the unveiling and the poet's birthday, the

14

FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

Russians regretted their decision and began to fear vast, uncontrolled patriotic demonstrations. The army surrounded the crowd of onlookers and the cere­ mony took place in a funereal silence. Because of the restrictions imposed, private receptions had to replace public celebrations and a whole series of them was organized, the first one being held at the Rajchmans' on Christmas Day. 49 To coïncide with this national (and political) occasion, Helena wrote a brief, inexpensive biography of the poet, masking her identity behind the pseudonym H. Orsza. Thus her first book was actually a "slender anti-Russian volume," as her brother described it, "which sold like hot cakes and launched her career." 50 The publication ofthis biography (ofwhich 100,000 copies disappeared in a few days without any publicity at all) was considered a social and patriotic act, even the publisher sought no profit. 5 1 At the time (1889), Helena was attending clandestine courses in pedagogy at the Czarnocka School. The University of Warsaw, . entirely Russianized, was in any case closed to women and her parents did not want her to go abroad, probably because of her fragile health. 52 Their attitude is not clear, however, because within the intelligentsia it was common practice for young women to pursue their studies in foreign universities, as had Maria Sl