3.2.1 “This peaceful humanist with a benevolent smile.”

—Adam Skinder, student. Our school, 2017, based on Mój Villard de Lans, 1978.
Zygmunt Lubicz-Zaleski (1882 – 1967) was an early advocate of the restoration of his homeland, which was then divided between three empires, and this led to his imprisonment. He continued his studies in Berlin, Munich and then Paris, where he settled in 1910. Because of his commitment to the Polish cause and his reputation as an intellectual, in 1924 the new Polish state appointed him delegate in France for the Minister of Religious Affairs and Public Education.
Lubicz-Zaleski was a poet, writer and accomplished pianist. He lectured at the Institute of Slavic Studies and at the Sorbonne. He was in Poland when it was invaded. He embarked on a long and challenging journey to France. He was commissioned by the Polish government in exile to found what was to become the Polish high school in Villard, of which he was the first headmaster. He taught Polish literature there. He was arrested in 1943 and deported to Buchenwald, from which he returned after the Liberation. He remained in France, once again representing Poland and tirelessly contributing to its influence and to Franco-Polish friendship. He died in 1967 and is buried in the Polish necropolis in Montmorency cemetery. Cyprian Norwid lies not far from his grave.
- Adam Skinder, student- Our school, 2017, based on Mój Villard de Lans, 1978
It is impossible to fully describe the personality of Lubicz-Zaleski, this peaceful humanist with a benevolent smile. Looking a little lost in everyday life, he would often be seen walking from our hotel to the Post Office, limping slightly, after teaching a series of lessons. But he radiated charisma to those around him. He would have a direct and cordial conversation with every new arrival, exhorting them to honour their compatriots and to fulfil their duties as students. From this interview, each of us came away with a new view of the world, free of the feeling of failure and the temptation to be discouraged, which had been replaced by a feeling of hope and confidence in the future, including the immediate future.
When he wasn ‘t forced to be absent by his many obligations, Zaleski always made sure he was present at meals. Rarely, too rarely, after dinner, when there was no one left in the refectory, he would sit down at the piano and, completely absorbed in Chopin ‘s music, or even, perhaps, in his own compositions, he would play – or rather, give a concert. And we would listen, without him seeing us, sitting on the windowsills, fascinated by the sounds that mixed sadness and joy, misfortune and hope, love and faith, but most of all, nostalgia.
This “beauty frozen in time” – as he liked to define music – was something grandiose for us, exiles far from our homes. As soon as he heard the slightest noise or movement, he would get up, close the piano and hasten away.


