Rediscovering Paderewski

Editorial by Maja Trochimczyk


Sixty years after the death of Paderewski, the position of this “modern immortal” in the annals of music history is by no means secure.[1] If we took our cues from The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, our conclusion would be inevitable: Paderewski was a minor composer who offered a negligible contribution to the art of composing and a remarkable, if controversial, contribution to the art of piano performance.[2] If, instead, we believed his students, friends, and biographers in Poland, Paderewski would appear to be an extraordinary individual whose mastery earned him a unique place in music history.[3] In the first option, the Polish musician changes into his own caricature. Too often he is seen merely as a “music-making-machine”—as portrayed, for instance, in the caricature of 1893, issued on the occasion of Chicago’s World Fair (see Fig. 1 below).[4] In this image, entitled, “A Peaceful Solution,” a young virtuoso with a wild mane of hair uses his multiple arms to reach each of the keyboards that surround him to play all the pianos simultaneously—thus ending the wars for sponsorship that pitted Steinway against Weber and others. The comment underscores Paderewski’s business acumen and pianistic bravado; yet he is diminished to the level of a circus curiosity, not a true artist.

Paderewski attempted to enter the realm of serious composition primarily through writing large scale works, including the Piano Concerto in A minor Op. 17 (1882-1889), the opera Manru (1893-1901), and the Symphony in B minor “Polonia” (1903-1909).[5] Critical responses may have influenced his decision to stop composing entirely; this choice was partly motivated by what he deemed a political and moral necessity at the outbreak of World War I. At that time Paderewski chose “action” (on behalf of restoring a fully independent Poland) over “production” (of musical artifacts) as a primary means of expressing his values. In 1917 he composed his last work: a patriotic anthem for the Polish Army in America, Hej, Orle Biały!.”[6] While his large-scale compositions failed to remain in the world repertoire, they recently have begun to enjoy a renaissance in his home country. Scholarly interest began to grow after the establishment of the Paderewski Center at the Jagiellonian University in Kraków in 1974. After the change of government in 1989 and the return of Paderewski’s body to Poland in 1992 (he was buried at the St. John the Baptist Cathedral in Warsaw) a spate of popular biographies and research projects appeared. English-language texts continue to be few and far between: according to the RILM database, there have been 172 articles mentioning Paderewski (“keyword”), including 28 texts in English and 83 in Polish. After narrowing the search to publications dealing exclusively with Paderewski (“subject”), I found 130 texts about him, including 21 in English and 77 in Polish. That is not an extensive bibliography, compared with 1371 entries about Richard Strauss, 632 entries about Max Reger, 267 entries about Edward Elgar, or 260 entries about Sergey Rakhmaninov.

In order to increase the range of Paderewski literature in English, the first issue of the 2001 volume of the Polish Music Journal presented a selection of reprints, including Polish and American poetry about Paderewski, Paderewski’s essay on tempo rubato, and speeches at the 1928 dinner celebrating the composer’s role in the restoration of Poland’s independence.[7] These source readings present the adulation of Paderewski by an array of his admirers, they also offer a glimpse of his talent as an orator and writer.

Articles included in the current issue of the Polish Music Journal, devoted to “the unknown Paderewski,” deal with those aspects of his creativity that have attracted considerably less attention among western scholars than his career as a pianist. The first text, by Małgorzata Perkowska, the director of the Paderewski Center at Jagiellonian University, presents her discovery of numerous Paderewski manuscripts in Polish collections and abroad. This text was originally published in 1988 in the Polish Musicological Quarterly, Muzyka (33 no. 3); in its original edition it was accompanied with a detailed catalog of Paderewski’s manuscripts prepared by Dr. Perkowska and Włodzimierz Pigła, the director of the Music Collection at the National Library in Warsaw. For the current issue of the Polish Music Journal Dr. Perkowska provided a list of Paderewski’s compositions, and another one of his writings and speeches, as well as a bibliography. Her listings of Paderewski’s articles, speeches, and the bibliography required additional documentation of English-language publications unknown in Poland; in addition, I added data about publishers, habitually omitted in Polish scholarly texts.

In 1991 the Paderewski Center at Jagiellonian University organized a conference celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of Paderewski’s death. Proceedings of that conference (published at the Jagiellonian University, by Musica Iagellonica, and edited by two co-founders of that press), included three articles selected for reprinting in the Polish Music Journal: Andrzej Piber’s study of the American reception of Manru, Aleksandra Konieczna’s overview of stylistic and dramatic traits of this opera, and Małgorzata Woźna-Stankiewicz’s discussion of Paderewski’s songs Op. 22, to texts by Catulle Mendés in the context of French song-writing of the same period.[8] These three texts have been selected to portray aspects of Paderewski’s music that have been all but ignored in English-language musicology. Simultaneously, the articles increase the number of Polish scholars whose work has been presented in the Journal beyond the faculty of the Institute of Musicology at the University of Warsaw and scholars from the Institute of Fine Arts at the Polish Academy of Sciences in Warsaw. Perkowska, Konieczna, and Woźna-Stankiewicz are associated with Jagiellonian University and represent the Kraków school of Polish musicology. Piber was in charge of the Paderewski Archives of the Archiwum Akt Nowych [Archive of New Documents] in Warsaw; this position enabled him to publish studies based on his in-depth knowledge of the documents, including a monograph on Paderewski’s road to fame (Droga do sławy, published in 1982), ending with the composition of Manru (1901). Piber’s expertise will be sorely missed; he died before the publication of his article in English.

There are two sets of source readings in this issue of the Journal: by Paderewski and about him. The motivation for selecting particular texts originated in my wish to present the composer’s musical and political views (in Source Readings 1: “Selected Writings and Speeches by Paderewski”), and a sample of texts documenting the reception of his music and personality in Poland and abroad (in Source Readings 2: “Articles about Paderewski”). Only one of Paderewski’s own texts reproduced here deals with music: his 1910 speech about Chopin, translated into English by Laurence Alma-Tadema and originally published in 1911. The remainder of the articles shift the subject matter to the domain of politics—his primary arena since the beginning of World War I. In these texts, Paderewski is seen as a tireless promoter of the “Polish cause” and a gifted orator; his talents and appeal to the public may be noticed only indirectly, through the frequent applause that interrupted his speech to the National Security League (the applause was noted in the speech’s transcript; similarly to the applause at his speech of 1928, published in the previous issue of the Journal).

Three texts about Paderewski come from the U.S.: an early analysis of Manru by Egbert Swayne, published in January 1902 as a preview of the opera before its February premiere; a selection of Henry E. Krehbiel’s analytical program notes for Paderewski’s concerts (see below), and a personal testimonial by Nellie Cameron Bates, a “country girl” who attended an unspecified Paderewski concert, probably at the end of 1913; her essay was published in the February 1914 issue of the Musician. Articles translated from Polish come from a later period; they were issued in 1935 in Życie muzyczne i teatralne [Musical and theatrical life], a periodical published in Poznań by Wieńczysław Brzostowski. [9] Their authors include politicians and social activists (Franciszek Fronczak, Cyryl Ratajski) and musicians (Antonina Adamowska, Zygmunt Dygat, Wiktor Łabuński); there are also Polish émigrés and Poles living in the country. Some of the articles deal with serious issues, other texts present anecdotal material about Paderewski as a person, as a teacher, and as a charismatic musician who impressed everyone in close personal contact.

Since two articles in this Journal discuss the history of Manru (by Piber and Konieczna)—an opera premiered exactly 100 years ago—and since that opera remains unknown, due to the absence of recent performances, recordings, and published scores, the Journal presents the full text of the opera’s libretto by Alfred Nossig in an English translation by Henry E. Krehbiel.[10] Krehbiel’s name is well-known in music circles: this influential music critic was one of the chief advocates of modern music in turn-of-the-century America, supporting the cause of Richard Wagner. His choice as the translator of the libretto for the American premiere of the opera at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York was logical considering his long-standing association with Paderewski. The link between the two men is illustrated by selected “analytical notes” about Paderewski’s compositions written by Krehbiel for programs distributed at the pianist’s recitals. Selected notes about Paderewski’s Piano Concerto in A minor, the Piano Sonata, and miscellaneous smaller pieces date from 1895 to 1907. Interestingly, the notes for two larger works were accompanied by numerous music examples; their presence suggests that the “analytical notes” were addressed to a musically-literate public.


There is another reason for the emphasis on Manru in the current issue of the Journal: the year 2001 marks the centennial of the opera’s completion and premiere in Dresden. James Parakilas studied its libretto in the context of “racial encounters” in a 1994 article; Lidia Kozubek dedicated a popular book in Polish to this subject.[11] Yet, much work remains to be done on this forgotten document of Polish musical culture. The studies of Piber and Konieczna will stimulate further research by raising questions that need new answers.

Due to his location in Poland and immersion in Polish culture, Piber’s study of the American reception of Paderewski’s Manru misses one, crucial point: the premiere was scheduled for Valentine’s Day, 14 February 1902, the popular holiday of lovers and romantic love. Perhaps the lack of lasting success for this opera was due to this miscalculation of the management? Due to its location on the calendar, Manru seemed to have been poised as a “date opera”—a touching tale of tragic love appealing to the romantic sentiments of the public. The source of the main conflict in its plot, though, and the source of the personal tragedy of Manru and Ulana, is not love, but ethnic belonging and intolerance. According to the opera’s librettist, Alfred Nossig, ethnic, national, or racial roots are stronger than any personal choice, affection or emotion. Such a conclusion is hardly one to enjoy on the night of lovers; some critical responses to the opera express this tone of disappointment.

While somewhat misconstruing sources of American critiques of Manru, Piber was able to point out another problem with the opera’s reception. His study of Paderewski’s career until 1902 presents detailed arguments to support his thesis that the critical response to Paderewski’s music after the Dresden premiere of Manru in May 1901 was politically motivated.[12] The Polish pianist was welcomed enthusiastically by Poles living in Germany, who tended to transform his concerts into quasi-patriotic manifestations; this national zeal was not greeted warmly by German nationalists. After Paderewski’s recital in Poznań on 12 December 1901, for instance, the Posen Tageblatt published a report implying that Paderewski himself was involved in anti-German and pro-Polish propaganda during his recital; this report was later repeated in Cologne, creating a hostile environment for the premiere of Manru in this city in January 1902. There is no doubt that Paderewski supported the Polish cause in Germany (and no reason for Germans to be happy about it). He gave a portion of his income from the Poznań recital to the special fund for children from the schools of Września who went on strike to protect their right to speak Polish. The composer then decided to support the Polish Bank Ziemski [Agricultural Bank] in Poznań by purchasing stock for 50,000 German marks. The reaction was immediate and overwhelming: performances of Manru were boycotted on all German stages. Simultaneously, hostile action was taken against the performer of the main role in the opera, Aleksander Bandrowski, who was sued by the Opera House from Frankfurt am Main for breaching his contract by performing in the Lwów premiere of Manru in 1901. These political reactions to musical matters and, in general, the German policy of forceful germanization of Poles living under German rule strongly influenced Paderewski’s subsequent choice of political affinities, his anti-German and pro-Russian stance in matters of Polish independence that later brought him close to Roman Dmowski, the pro-Russian, anti-Semitic leader of the National Democratic movement, and far away from the pro-German anti-Russian Józef Piłsudski.[13] It remains to be investigated to what extent the critical attitude towards Paderewski in Germany, an attitude rooted in politics, was transferred beyond the ocean and harmed the reception of Manru in the U.S.

Another problematic issue in the history of Manru is associated with the person of Alfred Nossig, Paderewski’s librettist. Paderewski and Nossig met in 1889 in Vienna. Nossig came from the Jewish community in Lwów; he studied law and economics in Lwów, philosophy in Zurich, and medicine in Vienna. He was active as a sculptor, journalist, politician involved in the Zionist cause, and a popular playwright writing in German.[14] After discussing the project and rejecting the first proposal of an opera entitled Manolo, Paderewski accepted Nossig’s choice of a libretto based on Józef Kraszewski’s novel Chata za wsią [A hut beyond the village] first published in 1854-1855. Kraszewski (1812-1887) was a prolific writer following the principles of Balzac-style realism; his portrayals of folk culture were devoid of idealization a la Henryk Sienkiewicz. Kraszewski’s representations of shockingly cruel peasants serve as a social critique of Polish communities and a warning about the dangers of ignorance. Paderewski’s attitude towards this subject may be gleaned from his decision to focus on ethnic intolerance and from his choice to collaborate on his first opera with a little-known Jewish librettist.

Nossig is an obscure figure in music history; Manru was his only finished libretto. The majority of his writings dealt not with art, but with social and political issues of Polish Jewry; in 1887 he proposed the creation of a Jewish state in Palestine and advocated Jewish emigration as the only option guaranteeing the survival of Jewish culture. In the 1920s he became a spokesperson for another far-reaching, prophetic idea: the federation of European states; representatives of twenty-six countries participated in a 1926 conference in Geneva devoted to this cause. Nossig’s main claim to fame, or rather, notoriety, stems from his later activites as a misguided Jewish patriot, a Zionist whose interest in Jewish emigration to Palestine led him to collaborate with the Gestapo in the 1940s, and an infamous death by execution by the Jewish Fighter Organization in Warsaw in 1943. Nossig’s name may be found today at the site of the Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles. According to Bret Werb, staff musicologist at the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., a Holocaust survivor, Jonas Turkow described a few encounters with Nossig, calling him “the tragically famous Prof. Dr. Nossig” and an “old renegade.” Barbara Engelking and Jacek Leonciak document his activities in the ghetto.[15] A question arises whether the libretto of Manru addresses issues and beliefs which preoccupied Nossig in his subsequent books and other publications, and which motivated him on his path to infamy.

Finally, much research remains to be done on the musical context of Manru. Aleksandra Konieczna traces the links between this opera and its predecessors in the music of Wagner, Verdi, Bizet, and Moniuszko. Further exploration could bring answers to questions about Manru’s relationship to contemporaneous works on similar subjects, such as Aleko by Sergey Rakhmaninov (1873-1943) composed in 1892 to a libretto by V. Nemirovich-Danchenko, based on Pushkin’s The Gypsies. The temporal proximity of both operatic projects indicates the possibility of their relationship, if only in the choice of the subject matter. Nossig wrote the libretto in 1893, in the year of Aleko‘s premiere; Paderewski started composing the opera at that time and completed the first two acts by the end of 1893. The opera was finished in 1901 and premiered in time to inspire a different, much greater operatic composer, Richard Strauss.

When Paderewski’s Manru was in its initial series of stagings in Germany, Austria, and Russia (the latter two on Polish land) in 1901 and 1902, Strauss was just beginning his great operatic experiment with expressionist drama. Salome in one act, with a libretto by the composer based on the tragedy by Oscar Wilde, was completed in 1905, Elektra in 1908, and the monumental and bizarre Die Frau ohne Schatten in 1919. According to Paderewski biographers, Strauss was so taken with Manru that he wanted to revive it in 1903 in Berlin.[16] However, Paderewski’s name rarely appears in scholarly studies of Strauss’s music and is never mentioned in the context of Strauss’s most advanced and experimental dramatic works. The similarity between Manru and Salome includes the use of an eclectic range of musical means, from stylized folklore and modal melodies, to advanced and dissonant harmony saturated with chromaticism and sequences of tonally-ambiguous parallel chords. Both composers use brief conventional strophic passages amidst continuous arioso singing; both precede the action of the opera with an orchestral Vorspiel that leads into the following scene. More importantly, the similarity extends to the domain of dramatic symbols and signification. In her article, Konieczna discusses the extended dream sequence in Act III of Manru, where the protagonist addresses the moon—who is guilty of leading Manru back to Gypsy life. A sinister, evil moon features prominently on the pages of turn-of-the-century vocal works, especially in Strauss’s Salome op. 54 (1905), but also in Arnold Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire (1911). Therefore, it is possible that Paderewski’s “moon scene” in Manruand other traits of the Polish opera may have influenced the conception and scoring of Salome— universally regarded as a masterpiece of expressionist music theater, with a fixed place in the international operatic repertoire.[17]


What if Paderewski had continued to compose operas instead of switching to patriotic symphonies and songs? What if there had been no World War I? What if Poland, when Paderewski’s international career began, had already been an independent and strong country? Would he still have been so inclined to sacrifice his musical achievements for the sake of serving the cause of Poland’s sovereignity? The game of “what-if” is futile enough. Yet, Paderewski’s public image has been colored by his politics to a greater extent than by his music; both areas of his activities are forever intertwined. His pleas to save “Poland’s starving millions” by donating to the Polish Victim Relief Fund appeared in his concert programs and in music journals, such as Musical America (in October 1915, the text is reprinted here). During World War I, some of his admirers envisioned him a Polish king. In 1917 the Musical Courier published the following “Portrait of Paderewski” from the Von Ende Bulletin issued by the Von Ende School of Music:[18]

Hair of flaming sun!
Eyes of the mystic sea!
Archangel of our muse!
IGNACE Paderewski.

King of glorious Poland!
God made him fit to be
A nation’s wish (fate willing)

If Paderewski were to be Poland’s king, the country would have been a strange kingdom: his ideal for the independent state was the utopian vision of the United States of Poland, modeled on the United States of America and giving autonomy to all ethnic groups found within the historical borders of the great Polish-Lithuanian kingdom—Poles, Ukrainians, Belorussians, Jews, and Germans. Sadly, the plans for the resurrected Poland at the Versaille Peace Conference were set along narrower, “ethnic-state” lines. Paderewski’s broad vision of a free and truly sovereign multi-cultural country was never realized.

Interestingly, the anonymous author of the little vision of Paderewski as king cited above signed her name as a female “Halka”—the heroine of Moniuszko’s national opera. It is among female audiences that Paderewski’s reception was the most enthusiastic (their admiration for the pianist may also be gleaned from a 1914 report by a “country girl”—reprinted in the Journal). But the pianist consciously appealed to his female audience both in music and in politics. Many of Paderewski’s appeals for financial assistance to Poles stricken by the war were addressed to the compassionate side of his listeners, to their feelings of pity, especially for the suffering women. The gender dynamics is clear in his appeals from 1915 (a sample of four of these is included in the Journal). For instance, a program of his recital for the Polish Victims’ Relief Fund held at the Symphony Hall in Boston on 10 October 1915 included the following inscription:

The Daughters of Poland
Walk in Sorrow, Mourning for their Children,
their Husbands, their Lovers.
has fallen upon the Land of their Home.
Let your heart Feel their Grief.
Let your Pity sustain them.

Paderewski’s appeals mentioned workers, peasants, Jewish shopkeepers—representatives of the whole populace of the Polish countryside. His texts were short and delivered with a great passion, moving his listeners to tears. Paderewski’s patriotic speeches were variations on the same theme; they were repeated until the desired effect was achieved. The selection of music for these patriotic lecture-recitals – mostly, or exclusively by Chopin—also contributed to the overall sombre, dramatic and poignant effect. In Boston, the Piano Sonata in B-flat minor, Op. 35, with its famous funeral march, was framed by a Ballade and a Nocturne. The program ended with two musical signs of Polishness: a nostalgic Mazurka and a heroic Polonaise (in A-flat major Op. 53). During Paderewski’s American tours before the war his recitals typically included a variety of sentimental works, such as the Chanson d’Amour by Zygmunt Stojowski, a piece that he played over 60 times. These recitals frequently ended with a display of virtuosity in a Hungarian Rhapsody by Liszt, followed by an array of encores. The change of the programs to Chopin recitals during World War I reveals to what extent Paderewski subjugated all aspects of his musical life to his overriding preoccupation with Poland during the years of the war.


The founder and director of the Polish Music Center, Wanda Wilk, had the honor of witnessing Paderewski’s performances in person before World War II (she attended his recital in Detroit in 1938) and developed a life-long fascination with the composer. While refraining from such unbridled adoration as that of the “country girl,” in her often reprinted popular essay about Paderewski, Wilk called the great composer a “famous virtuoso, consummate patriot, model humanitarian, and tireless artist and activist.”[19] Her unfailing belief in Paderewski’s greatness and importance in the history of Polish music provided general inspiration for this issue of the Journal.

This publication benefitted more tangibly from Wilk’s efforts as a translator of three essays. She was joined in that capacity by a Polish-American writer and our frequent contributor, Maria Piłatowicz. Dr. Linda Schubert proof-read and copy-edited the manuscripts, among other tasks, collating two bibliographies into one. Students Zak Ozmo and Michał Sobus provided editorial assistance by typing in English texts.

I owe the debt of gratitude to all my collaborators, including Joseph A. Herter of Warsaw, who took time to correct some of my mistakes. In Poland, Prof. Wojciech Marchwica of Jagiellonian University, one of the editors of the 1991 volume of Paderewski studies, provided invaluable assistance by securing permission to reprint articles in translation, and by adding items to the documentation section. Dr. Perkowska’s contribution of four texts for this volume deserves sincere thanks; her role in reviving the field of Paderewski studies remains invaluable. Source material about Paderewski came from the collections of the New York Public Library, Performing Arts Division, and the USC Polish Music Center. Paderewski programs, books, and miscellaneous materials have been donated to the PMC by Wanda Wilk, Annette Strakacz-Appleton, Frank Harasick, Walter Ossowski, Wojciech Marchwica, and Małgorzata Perkowska. In his political crusades and charitable activities, Paderewski sought and received a generous support from his fellow Poles. Thanks to the continuing generosity of Poles and Polish-Americans, the PMC collection now includes many rare items. Some of them have been used in this publication.


[1]. See Charles Phillips. Paderewski: The Story of a Modern Immortal (New York: Da Capo, 1978. Original edition, New York: The Macmillan Co., 1933).[Back]

[2]. Jim Samson, Entry on “Paderewski,” The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians (online, London: Mcmillan, 2000).[Back]

[3]. See books and articles by Aniela Strakacz, Andrzej Piber, Marian Drozdowski, Władysław Kędra, Wiktor and Feliks Łabuński, Henryk Opieński, Małgorzata Perkowska, and many others listed in the Bibliography in this Journal. [Back]

[4]. “A Peaceful Solution: At the Next World’s Fair Paderewski Will Play on All the Pianos at Once,” caricature on the cover of World Fair Puck, published in Chicago, 15 May 1893. New York Public Library, Performing Arts Division, Research Collection, Paderewski scrapbooks. Used by permission. [Back]

[5]. For details about Paderewski compositions see his list of works prepared by Małgorzata Perkowska, in this Journal. [Back]

[6]. The anthem is preserved in the Polish Museum in Chicago; its text and English translation have been published in this Journal, vol. 4 no. 1. The distinction between free people of action and people dedicated to production (homo faber) is borrowed from Hannah Arendt’s The Human Condition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958). [Back]

[7]. See the table of contents of the Polish Music Journal vol. 4 no. 1: [Back]

[8]. See Warsztat kompozytorski, wykonawstwo i koncepcje polityczne Ignacego Jana Paderewskiego [Composers workshop: Performance and political conceptions of Ignacy Jan Paderewski]. Conference proceedings from Uniwersytet Jagiellonski, Katedra Historii i Teorii Muzyki, 1991. Edited by Andrzej Sitarz and Wojciech Marchwica (Kraków: Musica Iagellonica, 1991). [Back]

[9]. Wieńczysław, Brzostowski, ed., “Ignacy Jan Paderewski,” special issue of Życie muzyczne i teatralne vol. 2 no. 5/6 (May- June 1935), published in Poznań. [Back]

[10]. Manru (1893-1901), lyrical drama in 3 acts to a libretto by Alfred Nossig, based on Józef Ignacy Kraszewski’s novel, Chata za wsią [A hut beyond the village], published in 1901 by Bote and Bock in Berlin; vocal score by Schirmer in New York with German libretto, English translation by Henry E. Krehbiel. This edition provides the basis for the publication of the libretto and its translation in this Journal. [Back]

[11]. See James Parakilas, “The Soldier and the Exotic: Operatic Variations on a Theme of Racial Encounter, Part II,” The Opera Quarterly 10, no. 3 (spring 1994): 43-69. Lidia Kozubek, Opera Manru Ignacego Jana Paderewskiego (Katowice: 1993).[Back]

[12]. See Andrzej Piber, op. cit., 465-470. [Back]

[13]. Despite accusations to the contrary appearing in the U.S., Paderewski did not share Dmowski’s anti-Semitism and broke this political affiliation upon realizing the full scope of Dmowski’s beliefs and actions. See Adam Zamoyski, Paderewski (New York: Atheneum, 1982), 143-44. For further discussions of Paderewski’s political role in Poland see Marian Marek Drozdowski, Ignacy Jan Paderewski, zarys biografii politycznej [I. J. P. An Outline of a political biography] (Warszawa: 1979; 3rd ed. 1986); Mieczysław. B. Biskupski, “Paderewski, Polish Politics, and the Battle of Warsaw, 1920,” Slavic Review (1993): 503-513; and Mieczysław. B. Biskupski, “Paderewski as Leader of American Polonia, 1914-1918,” Polish American Studies 43 no. 1 (1986). [Back]

[14]. Nossig published a monograph on Paderewski (I.J. Paderewski; Leipzig: H. Seemann Nachfolger, 1901) and numerous books on Zionism and politics, as well as many plays. Political texts: Jüdische statistik, (Vienna: C. Konegen, 1887); Ueber die bestimmende Ursache des Philosophirens; Versuch einer praktischen Kritik der Lehre Spinozas (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1895); Kolonizacya żydowska w Palestynie (Lwów: “Kadimah,” 1904); Nowe drogi w syonizmie (Lwów: “Moriah,” 1905); Die neue Turkei und ihre Führer (Halle: O. Hendel, 1916); Zionismus und Judenheit: Krisis und Lösung (with Davis Ertracht; Berlin and New York: Interterritorialer Verlag “Renaissance,” 1922); Polen und Juden die polnisch-jüdische Verständigung zur Regelung der Judenfrage in Polen (Wien: Interterritorialer Verlag “Renaissance,” 1921). Plays: Die Hochstapler: Schauspiel in 3 Aufzügen (Leipzig: Hermann Seemann Nachfolger, 1902); Abarbanel: das Drama eines Volkes (Berlin: H. Steinitz, 1906); Die Legionäre: Drama in drei Akten (Berlin: Kühling & Güttner, 1900, 1937); Don Juan als moralist; lustspiel in einem aufzug (Berlin: Concordia, 1910s). [Back]

[15]. See Jonas Turkow, azoy iz es geven: khurbn varshe [So it was: the destruction of Warsaw] (Buenos Aires, 1948). Also see Barbara Engelking and Jacek Leociak, Getto warszawskie: Przewodnik po nieistniejącym mieście [The Warsaw Ghetto: A guide through a non-existent city] (Warsaw: Wydawnictwo IFiS, 2001), 229-231. I thank Dr. Werb for these bibliographical references. [Back]

[16]. According to Adam Zamojski, Paderewski (New York: Atheneum, 1982), 131; Zamojski cites Adolf Chybiński, W Czasach Straussa i Tetmajera [In the times of Strauss and Tetmajer] (Kraków: PWM, 1959), 44. [Back]

[17]. There were other, documented cases of Strauss’s borrowing from works of lesser-known composers. According to Matthew Gurewitsch, Strauss used elements from Vittorio Gnecchi’s opera Cassandra while composingElektra; he had received a piano-vocal score of Gnecchi before starting to work on the opera. See Music: Plagiarism, Telepathy or Forgetfulness? in the New York Times, 2001. Reference provided by Dr. Werb. [Back]

[18]. Press clipping from the Musical Courier dated 22 February 1917, found in the Research Collection, Performing Arts Division, New York Public Library. [Back]

[19]. Wanda Wilk, “Ignacy Jan Paderewski,” web site, Polish Composers at PMC; ../composer/paderewski.html. [Back]