As we banked in bright sunlight, against a vast expanse of shadowy green earth, and continued our descent down into the heart of Europe, my thoughts were on the troubled history of the people that we had come to visit; and I could not help but compare their situation to that of the island nation from which we had come. A nation that hasn't been invaded since 1066.
From the outset I felt uncomfortable about the idea of a holiday in Poland; a holiday that would include visits to Auschwitz and Auschwitz-Birkenau. And I found myself wondering about fate; why it was that this devoutly Catholic country, has, forever, to bear the scars of perhaps the most debased episode in human history. But in the end, the desire to confront the truth about what it is to be truly human, and my wish to stand in those places where hapless millions went to their deaths, was more powerful than any intellectual rationale.
Well, having been to Poland I can tell you that we had a marvellous time; a statement that takes nothing away from the horror of the death camps, or from those who cried at Auschwitz and Auschwitz-Birkenau, because they had a personal history, about which, we had no right to enquire. But, like the rest of us, and despite their sadness, they were revived. And that too, is another important aspect of what it is to be truly human.
By our usual standards it was a short break, three nights in Warsaw and seven in Krakow. And it was unusual for another reason also. In the post Communist era, (in Europe that is,) it was our first venture into "Eastern Europe," to a country that for most of our adult lives was obscured by what Winston Churchill called: "the iron curtain." So our knowledge of Poland was decidedly contemporary and limited.
By way of catch up I began with a comparison of maps. A contemporary map, where Poland occupies a vast area in central Europe. And an 18th century map, on which Poland has all but ceased to exist. On this map we can see that it has been squeezed by its neighbours: Russia, Austria and Prussia, (Germany.) A simple reminder, if you like, that since its inception in 960, the history of Poland has been a struggle, not just for identity, but survival. And with the passage of time, a significant part of that identity came to be Jewish. By the late 16th century Poland had the largest concentration of Jews anywhere in the world. 150,000 are believed to have been living there; a figure that had grown to 3 million by the outbreak of war in 1939. (1)
Today to the east, Poland shares its borders with Kalingrad, (a part of the federation of Russia,) with Lithuania, Belarus and the Ukraine; and to the south with Slovakia. To the west it borders the Czech Republic and Germany, while along the coast, (and in the context of international waters,) it shares a frontier with Denmark. But in the mid nineteenth century, things were very different.
In this earlier map of Europe, 1812, we can see that Poland-Lithuania has been reduced to a rump; to the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, and with Prussia occupying the entire northern frontier along the Baltic Sea; while to the south, large areas of Poland have been absorbed into the Austrian Empire that had advanced both north and east.
Warsaw
Today Warsaw is much like any city, a vista of cramped high-rise offices and somewhat more dowdy apartment blocks. But it was here, in this unlikely spot, that I began to understand the true significance of the cliched expression: "the weight of history." From the moment that we stood before the huge grim monument to the victims of the Warsaw ghetto, to the time that we flew out of Krakow, the weight of history was everywhere. And as we travelled, we better understood the extent to which both the political and religious dimensions of Polish life are inextricably linked.
Another great leader that has passed into history: "Jana Pawla II;"
Our hotel stood where the Warsaw ghetto used to be, and close bye was a simple blue and red plague, a street sign, one of many now in Poland that read: "Jana Pawla II;" a poignant reminder, in an otherwise grey and impersonal place, not only that the ghetto with its hundreds of thousands of inhabitants has gone, but so too has yet another of Poland's dynamic leaders.
The Warsaw Ghetto
The ghetto was an area in the Naledki district of Warsaw, in which, in 1940, four hundred and fifty thousand Jews were forced to live. And it was from here, in July and August 1942, that three hundred thousand of them were transported to Treblinka to be gassed. In turn these transportation's became the catalyst for the idea of armed resistance against the Nazis, and the founding within the ghetto of the Jewish Fighting Organization. In the end, and as they knew it would, this resistance was crushed; and as Himmler had ordered, the ghetto was liquidated.
Warsaw: East side view of the Ghetto Monument
In Warsaw, this whole tragic episode is commemorated along what is known as "The Path of Remembrance," constructed as it is, where the ghetto used to be. Among the many grim reminders of the past, is, the: "Monument to the Ghetto Heroes." Erected in 1948, it is built with labradonite, the stone that the Nazis had intended to use for victory monuments, in the countries they had conquered.
Close bye is the "Unschlagplatz Monument." In white marble, it represents the cattle trucks in which three hundred thousand Jews were transported, not "East," as they were lead to believe, but sixty miles north to Treblinka to be gassed. Among the many thousands of names inscribed on this monument, is that of Janusz Korczak a medical doctor whose name is inextricably linked to that of Adam Czerniakow.
On 22nd July 1942, what had been feared, happened. An edict was issued by the Nazis that required the immediate rounding up of Jews for transportation to "The East." The order was to be published throughout the ghetto by the Judenrat, or Jewish council, and enforced by the Jewish police. They were to provide 6,000 Jews each day for transportation.
As head of the Judenrat, it fell to Adam Czerniakow to ensure that these orders were carried out; and he was left in no doubt of the consequences should he refuse. His wife would be shot. Not withstanding this threat, Adam Czerniakow pleaded with the Nazis for the ghetto orphans to be spared, and added to the list of those who were exempt. The following evening he was called to his office, where two SS officer were waiting. They had come to tell him that his request had been refused. Having declined to sanction the transportation notices, by signing then, Adam Czerniakow first wrote a note to his wife and then another to other members of the Judenrat, before ending his life with a cyanide capsule." He wrote:
"I can no longer bear all this. My act will prove to everyone what is the right thing to do." (2)
Some two weeks later, on August 6th, the early morning routine at Dr Korczak's orphanage was shattered by the arrival of SS officers shouting instructions for all Jews to come out. It was the moment that everyone had feared.But notwithstanding the abruptness of the order, Dr Korczak had the presence of mind to negotiate a fifteen minute delay. Time enough to allow the children to gather up their personal belongings. Then, with one child on his arm and another by the hand and accompanied by his assistant, Stefania Wilczynska and other staff, who had decided, come what may, to stay with the children, Dr Korczak led the procession of 192 orphans on the two mile walk to Unschlagplatz and transportation.
Reflecting on these events, it seemed to me that no tourist, however well disposed to the suffering of others, could possibly know what it was like to have lived in the ghetto, any more than they could know the suffering of the inmates of Auschwitz and Auschwitz-Birkenau. But we can listen to the voices of those who were there and who left us their testimony. One such voice was that of Mosha Wroblewski:
"There was no natural evolution of life in the thirties that lead into ghetto life. They were two separate worlds, pre-ghetto and ghetto. Just a total sudden break. You can't shove half a million people on top of each other into a small walled-off area without adequate food, housing or heat and expect them to live normal lives. In the beginning you might have felt normal but after a while you were no longer sane. The ghetto was a mad world, and we behaved madly." (3)
And perhaps something of what was being alluded to, is reflected in this account of children at play:
"A young boy still alive or perhaps dead already, is lying across the sidewalk. Three boys are playing horses and drivers there, their reins have become entangled. They are trying every which way to disentangle them. In their impatience they stumble over the boy lying on the ground. Finally one of them says: "Let's move on, he's getting in the way!" They gallop a few steps away and continue to struggle with the reins." (4)
The wooden footbridge spanning Chlodna Street
Originally the ghetto was surrounded by a 10ft (3m) high wall, on top of which, was 3ft (1m) of barbed wire. But when in 1941 the ghetto was reduced in size, (though the number of Jews forced to live there was increasing,) further walls were built. In particular, along either side of Chlodna Street, a main thoroughfare running through the ghetto. This kept the thoroughfare open for the Nazis while depriving the Jews of its use. But a wooden footbridge placed astride these walls, allowed people to pass from one part of the ghetto to the other. For the Jews, who comprised 30 per cent of the population of Warsaw, and who now had to live in 2.4 per cent of the area of the city, this was yet another stage in a relentless process of humiliation. And thus confined, and as these figures show, they were systematically starved.
Under a system of rationing the daily calorific allowance for Germans was 2,613. For Poles it was 600-800. For Jews, it was 253. Within a year, 100,000 Jews had died from starvation and disease; and within a year, many more who were desperate and starving, would volunteer to be transported to "the East" in return for the Nazi offer of bread and marmalade. (5)
In such appalling circumstances, and despite the fact that eighty percent of what was smuggled into the ghetto was food, voluntary relief from outside the ghetto was essential. At its peak, one hundred emergency kitchens were providing one meal of soup each day; and soup was currency. "CENTROS" provided a bowl of soup each day for those who helped with their work of running schools, as well as providing food, clothing and shelter for orphans.
Another important aspect of self-help within the ghetto was the House Committee. Established in each apartment block, their members, carrying buckets, went from apartment to apartment in search of food and clothing for general distribution. But despite their best efforts and the naming and shaming of those who could afford to give, but refused, some 5,000 people each month continued to die, mainly from starvation. (6)
In truth, it was a desperate struggle for survival that was fought on several fronts. By musicians, who as part of an eighty strong orchestra, tried to keep a semblance of cultural life alive within the ghetto. To that end, they gave concerts of works by famous German composers. By comparison, and of necessity clandestinely, meetings were held for the promotion of Yiddish culture. And renowned among those who worked in secret, was the historian Emanuel Ringelblum. With the help of others he documented life within the ghetto, a record that they buried in metal boxes and milk-churns, and which, after the war was recovered from beneath the rubble.
When the order came on the morning of 22nd July 1942 for the transportation's to begin, the notice as posted around the ghetto was bleak:
"All Jews will be settled in the East, regardless of age and sex, with the exception of Jews working for German institutions or companies, Jews working for the Judenrat, Jewish hospital staff, members of the Jewish Order Service, wives and children of above mentioned persons. Each person which is settled will be allowed taking along 15 kg luggage and all valuable, gold, jewellery, money etc. Provision for three days is necessary. The resettlement will start on 22 July 11 o' clock. The Judenrat is responsible for delivery 6,000 persons daily until 4 pm. Assembly point is the Jewish hospital at Stawki St. On 22 July 1942 the Jewish hospital at Stawli St has to be emptied so that the building can be used for the people being resettled. Each Jew who is leaving the ghetto during the resettlement action will be shot. Each Jew who is acting against the resettlement will be shot. Each Jew who does not belong to the above mentioned persons and will be discovered in Warsaw after the resettlement action will be shot. The first contingents put together by the Judenrat, refugees assembly institution's, prisons and old people's homes. If these orders will not be carried out, a corresponding number of hostages will be shot." (7)
Though this translation, (taken from the Internet) is slightly disjointed, the message is clear. Through the Judenrat and without warning, Jews were required to find other Jews for transportation to the East. And the chief instrument in this rounding up of Jews was the two thousand strong Jewish police force, (the Judischer Ordnungsdienst.) For many, these men were seen as collaborators, and certainly their methods in finding Jews for transportation were brutal. But death stalked each tier in the process. If a member of the Judenrat failed to cooperate, they would be shot and their families transported. A like fate awaited the Jewish police, who, hoped against hope, that they and their families would somehow survive. So in that sense there were no exceptions. Though Jew was set against Jew, everyone in the ghetto was a victim.
The Old Town Of Warsaw
From the Path of Remembrance we made our way to what is popularly known as "the Old Town of Warsaw," a place that the Poles take pride in describing as: "the newest Old Town anywhere." Today it is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and though in going there we had moved decidedly from the past to present day Poland, it was inevitable, that everything about this remarkable reconstruction, would remind us of yet another tragic episode in the history of Poland; the almost total destruction of the city of Warsaw by the Nazis.
We arrived early, before the street cafes were open, or the central cobbled square had stirred, which had the advantage of allowing us both time and space. Time to reflect, and the space in which to take pictures. But first we went to a corner of the old square, to the history museum, to see a short, but very grainy, war-time film on the destruction of Warsaw.
This near total destruction of Warsaw, was Hitler's express response to what has become known as "The Warsaw Rebellion" (an uprising in the summer of 1944 against the Nazi occupation of Poland.) As a consequence, 84 per cent of the city was destroyed, while the advancing Russians, (supposed allies of the Poles,) watched from the opposite bank of the Vistula. And the scale of the destruction, besides being Hitler's express wish, was something else; a final act of contempt for the Poles whom the Nazis despised. Without help from the Russians the rebellion was destined to fail, the 40,000 Polish fighters being no match for the 140,000 regular German soldiers. In this battle that lasted 63 days, some 180,000 people died. And it is against this backdrop that the legend surrounding the founding of Warsaw has a special poignancy. (8)
Memorial: Escaping from the Ghetto Through the Sewers
Legend has it that the city takes its name from the lovers Wars and Sawa, and, that the existence of the city is the fulfilment of prophecy. This belief is captured in the centre of the market square, in the mythological figure of a mermaid. As sculpted, she is both beautiful and strong and a warrior. With shield, and brandishing a sword above her head, she is said to represent the prophecy made to Mazovian fishermen, that an indestructible town would arise in this place.
That sense of the indestructible is everywhere present in the Old Town. In the rebuilt cobbled squares and narrow stone fronted streets. And in the buildings on which are displayed sculpting and other more subtle reminders of the past. But for me, the most poignant reminders of the past, were the Zygmunt Column and the academic church of St Ann; both of which, the Nazis failed to destroy. And as we sat and watched the old wartime footage, there seemed something prophetic about the Zygmunt Column, a languid shadow, unyielding, amid the chaos of collapsing buildings and mushrooming clouds of dust. And when I first looked at the column, not knowing what it represented, it seemed that the distant figure, caped and holding a large cross, had to be that of a noted Polish saint. Not so. The figure is that of Zygmunt III Vassa, who as king of Poland-Lithuania, in 1596, transferred the capitol of Poland from Krakow in the south, to the more central town of Warsaw. And this saintly pose of Zygmunt is a powerful reminder of the overlap in the political and religious life of the people of Poland.
So while Jenny went off in search of shop windows and Polish fabrics, I photographed the reconstructed Barbican; a fortress like gateway that in 1548 was built to defend the northern approaches to the Old Town. And I was at pains to capture through its arched entrance, the church beyond, form where each year pilgrims set out on foot and walk to the shrine of the Black Madonna at the Jasna Gora Monastery. And I searched and found, both within and without the walls, views that spoke of the distant past, of the original fortified town.
later we made our way around the deep narrow streets, past St. John's Cathedral, (built originally in the 14th century,) until we emerged into bright sunlight in front of the Royal Palace. Now a museum, and funded by public subscriptions, it was rebuilt in the 1970's. And in a quirky way the past was present in a square that wasn't a square, but a triangle. A close in which the cathedral cannons used to live. Today, the centrepiece, at ground level, is a cathedral bell cast in 1646 by Daniel Tym, who, two years previously had cast the statue of King Zygmunt. But there were also more subtle reminders of the past that you had to look for.
In Market Square we found a mythical reptile, that in times past was the sign of the banker. While next door, and carved into the masonry were the initials "S. B." a reminder that in the seventeenth century this was the home of Stanislaw Barycska, a former Mayor of the Old Town. And further along we found "Fukier House." Today it is one of the most prestigious restaurants in Warsaw. But in the fifteenth century, it was the home of the noted German bankers Fugger, from whom Fukier are the Polish descendants. And just as the past social and political life is remembered on the buildings, so too is the religious life of its former inhabitants. In a niche on a corner of a building now occupied by the Polish Academy of Science, there is a statue of St Anna, holding in her arms the Virgin Mary and Child Jesus. While above the parapet at Fulkiewica House, is a statue of the Virgin Mary flanked by Saints Elizabeth and Stanislaus.
In our own time, and before leaving Warsaw, we paid a second visit to this remarkable Old Town, having, between times, visited Winalo Palace; the seventeenth century home of Jan II Sobieski, and Zelazowa Wola, the birthplace of Frederick (Fryderyk) Chopin. And apart from their intrinsic worth, these visits were important in helping us to keep the Nazi occupation of Poland in perspective.
It was Saturday when we returned to the Old Town, and we shouldn't have been as surprised as we were, to find that every church had at least one wedding in progress. So frequently we had to pick our way through groups of wedding-guests waiting patiently for the bride and groom to appear. And what was striking because it was unusual, were the men, each with their bouquet of flowers. It seems that in Poland, flowers are presented by the men to the newly married couple together with gifts of money.
In Castle Square with its mix of street cafes, street theatre and strolling musicians, and parents meandering with their children, the atmosphere was truly festive, light years away from the oppressive Nazi past. And knowing that it was improbable that we would ever return, we savoured these special moments, moments that were subtle expressions of the triumph of life over death, of everything that the Nazi's had sought to destroy.
At Wilano Palace we were looking back to Poland's more distant past, and in particular, to the era of Jan III Sobieski. As king of Poland, his reign, (1674-1696) was a high point in Polish history. But even allowing for the fact that this palace was plundered by the Nazis, when so many of the uniquely Polish treasures were carried off, for me, there was something of the surreal about this visit. This was especially so, in the extensive portrait gallery. There (and as a non Pole,) I found it impossible to relate to this genealogy in art, or to have any sense that what we were seeing was a part of us, in the way that it was some years previously in Florence, when our guide introduced us to the world of the Medici's. Somehow this was different, a darker less vibrant world, a genealogy in art that lacked that vital spark, and which left me with the feeling that this was a history that was decidedly past.
In his portraits Jan III Sobieski has the gravitas of a leader. He is stern, reflective and strong. He is described by one biographer as, "a man of parts, theologian, philosopher, mathematician" and a linguist, a man fluent in Latin, Polish, French, Italian, German, Turkish and Tartar." Be that as it may, what he is remembered for, are his victories in battle, and especially against the Turks, when, in 1686 and against the odds, he broke the Turkish siege of Vienna, thereby ending the Turkish (Muslim) advance into Christian Europe. But this long kingship, with its many triumphs, belies a turbulent past, and a no less perilous future.
In the late eighteenth century large areas of Poland were divided between its principal neighbours and rivals, Russia, Prussia and Austria; after which, for 123 years, Poland effectively ceased to exist as a nation state. And ironically, what proved to be its undoing were its democratic structures.
When in 1569 Poland and Lithuania combined as a nations state, (Poland-Lithuania,) it was governed by an elective monarchy. And a parliament, the Sejm, that sought to rule by consensus; but both were destined to fail. Not only did the monarch not have to be Polish, (their first elective king was French,) but the fact that the King could be foreign, meant that it was often outside interests rather than the interests of Poland-Lithuania, that prevailed. And foreign powers, or vested interests within Poland-Lithuania, could render the Sejm ineffective by the simple expedient of the veto, or "Liberium Sejm." Simply by raising an objection, legislation could be thwarted, and not infrequently justified, in language chillingly reminiscent of today. The veto was being exercised: "to defend Polish interests." (9)
Zelazowa Wola and Frederick (Fryderyk) Chopin
Among my music collection I have this: "Chopin's piano concerto's No's 1 and 2", and nothing else. So in no sense can I claim to be knowledgeable about his music. But that did not stop me appreciating our visit to his birthplace at Zelazowa Wola; or to the sixteenth century church of St Roch at Brochow, where, in 1810 he was baptised. This beautiful fortress-like church, some 50 km west of Warsaw still stands in an idyllic rural setting, moderately developed but peaceful, and with landscapes that look very much as they might have done in Chopin's day. Here, in the summer months, as at Zelazowa Wola, the music of Chopin is celebrated with a piano recital in the church after Sunday Mass. It is a beautiful and unhurried place, but it was not always so, as explained in the faltering English below.
"The history of the church at Brochow is reaching the Middle Ages. In 1113 in the place where the present church is built, there was a small wooden church. In the middle of the sixteenth century the ruins of the wooden church have been dismantled and the construction of a new church made of bricks was started. The construction was completed about 1550. During World War I the church of Brochow was destroyed by the action of German artillery. Rebuilt in 1929, the interior of the church has been totally destroyed in 1939, during World War II by Nazi bombers.
Immediately after the end of the war, due to a tremendous effort of the parishioners and substantial financial aid of the Ministry of Culture and Arts, this precious monument was rebuilt in 1948, according to the old austere shape.
he total structure of the church is in the Monrovian Gothic style with a Normand portal Renaissance interior." (10)
The Chopin Family Home, When He Was Born
Here too as in the Old Town of Warsaw, what we were celebrating was the triumph of life and creative genius over death and destruction. And nowhere is this idea more jealously guarded than at Chopin's birthplace at Zelazowa Wola. Set in seven hectors of garden, the house, that was once an annex to the manor house, today, is a national treasure, a monument to his life and work. The gardens are there to be enjoyed as places of rest and relaxation, while in the summer months, Chopin piano recitals are given in the small music room or in the patio area. And it was from this region that Chopin drew inspiration from the folk-tunes of his day, incorporating many of them into his music. And interesting also, in the context of the complex history of Poland, is the fact that he was Anglo-French.
Though he left Poland in 1831 never to return, Chopin, who died in Paris in 1849, asked that his heart be taken back to Poland.
Jasna Gora and the Shrine to the Black Madonna
It was on the Sunday morning early, that we left Warsaw for Krakow: "the cultural capitol of Poland;" or if you prefer, because of its many churches, "the second Rome." And if proof were needed that things are changing and the tentacles of the global economy spreading East, then I can confirm that a wide eyed companion spotted a branch of TESCO's deep in the suburbs as we sped away from Warsaw.
Though the Nazis had intended to destroy it, the beautiful Medieval city of Krakow survived. In the first instance, because the Mayor of Krakow surrendered to the Nazis rather than see the city destroyed, and because the Polish underground, aided by advancing Russian forces, managed to disable the elaborate Nazi plan to dynamite the city. But before we would become immersed in this aspect of Polish life, we had a scheduled stop at Czestochowa, so that we might visit Poland's most important religious shrine, that of the Black Madonna, at the Jasna Gora Monastery.
Before arriving at the monastery of Jasna Gora, I had no idea as to what the setting might be. So, having left the coach to make our way there, it came as something of a quirky surprise to find that the atmosphere was akin to heading towards the old Wembley Stadium, for the Charity Shield. There were hundreds of us single-mindedly making our way through the traffic, in what were narrow suburban city streets. And as we stood within the bailey of the monastery, waiting for our priest guide to appear, I was reminded of the Gospel market-place description of the Temple at Jerusalem, with it's money-changers and stall-holders. Here too there were crowds milling around and commerce. To the left of the entrance there was a dais, from behind which, priests were dipping wand-like brushes into "holy water," before "blessing" with the sign of the cross, the "pious objects" that pilgrims had bought and were bringing forward to be blessed. For a Catholic this is par for the course, but for the non believer or the unsuspecting, the sight of these long robed priests with their wands, would, at the least, be a curious spectacle. But in the case of one of our party, they were decidedly irritating. Looking at them she said: "I can't believe in this day and age, that anyone could believe in such rubbish." After which, she went on to tell her companion, that having lived in Rome for four years, she had "seen it all." Unable to avoid the conversation, I too became irritated, but not with the wand-waving priests. Joining in, but firstly defending her right to have a point of view and to express it, I told her that this was "neither the time nor the place." With some emphasis she insisted that it was "the time and the place." Again, and though still careful to defend her right to have a view and express it, I reminded her that this visit to the Jasna Gora Monastery was important to some people, myself included, which was why it was "neither the time nor the place." At that, and with no obvious support from her companion, she kept silent. So there we were, the pair of us, perhaps like the people in the Temple at Jerusalem, squabbling in this holy place.
Now what distinguishes this Marian shrine from those at Lourdes or Fatima, is, "the weight of history." There is a belief, (and I put it no stronger than that,) that this portrait of the Black Madonna with the infant Jesus, is a copy of a painting by St Luke, that was done on a piece of wood from the table on which the "holy family" ate. What is displayed at Jasna Gora, is a Medieval Byzantine replica, and what in particular is associated with it, is the defeat of the Swedish invasion of Poland in the 17th century. Having besieged the monastery, the Swedish army, inexplicably, withdrew, only to be driven from Poland. At the time of the siege, the Black Madonna is said to have wept.
When our priest guide finally appeared, he was not without experience of the world from which we had come, having recently spent two years working as a priest in Wolverhampton. And as we made our way around the monastic corridors, the 20th century was well represented. Above the stairwell was a modern stained glass window depicting Pope John Paul II, while hanging in the corridor beyond, was a striking and contemporary representation of the "Stations of the Cross." At the 14th station: "Jesus is laid in the tomb," Christ is being buried at Auschwitz.
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© Cormac McCloskey
Note: This blog, "Poland and "the weight of history"" was first published on Windows Live Spaces, by me, on 18th November 2006
ll the colour photographs used in this blog, with the exception of the portrait of King Jan III Sobieski, and the Black Madonna, were taken by me. The black and white pictures were taken from various websites devoted to recording, for posterity, the events of the Warsaw Ghetto
(1) AUSCHWITZ
The Nazis & The "Final Solution"
by Laurence Rees
BBC Publications 2005
(2) Adam Ckerniakow: Jewish Virtual Library
(3) Janusz Korczak: Biography
(4) Janusz Korczak: Biography
(5) Wilkipedia
(6) House Committees
(7) Apologies I can't link this quote from the Internet, to its source. My fault.
(8) Poland: Insight Guides APA Publications P52
(9) "About" Library of Congress Country Studies
Poland : Historical Setting
(10) Transcribed from a notice in the Church of St Roch
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