For Zbigniew Herbert, Lviv was more than just a lost childhood paradise – it was an ever-vibrant inner landscape of memory that profoundly influenced his poetic sensibility and imagination.

Zbigniew Herbert was born on 29 October 1924 in Lviv, into a family with multicultural roots and strong patriotic traditions. Its 150-year history was recounted by Rafał Żebrowski in the book *Zbigniew Herbert: The Stone on Which I Was Born*, tracing the family’s history from the arrival of Franciscus Herbert in Lviv in the early 19th century. These themes were also explored by Andrzej Franaszek in his monograph *Herbert: A Biography*. The poet’s time in Lviv has also been the subject of interest for other researchers studying his biography and work.

“I simply grew up in it” – family and childhood

Speaking about his ancestors in one of his interviews, Herbert said:

My family may well have come from England, but via Austria […] they ended up in Poland, specifically in that part of Poland which was then called Galicia. My great-grandfather, who didn’t speak a word of Polish, was an English teacher. His grandson – my father – was a legionnaire and a patriot, as if we’d been living here since the days of Rzepicha and Piast.

The poet’s father, Bolesław Herbert, was a lawyer; he served as director of the Małopolska Merchants’ Bank and, from 1938, also as director of the Lviv branch of the Poznań-based ‘Vesta’ Insurance Group. He was also a Legionnaire – he took part in the Polish–Bolshevik War and in the battles for Lviv, for which he was awarded the Independence Medal and the ‘Orlęta’ badge. Żebrowski sheds an interesting light on his character. He challenges earlier interpretations that portrayed Bolesław as a stern and unfeeling father. He portrays him as a charismatic, responsible and sociable person who established an intellectual bond with his children at an early age and served as their guide to the world of literature. In a conversation with Marek Oramus, published in 1994, Zbigniew Herbert recalled: “Dad used to tell me the *Odyssey* when I was three years old. I didn’t have to look up in a dictionary who Polyphemus was – it was clear to me; I simply grew up with it.”

The poet’s mother, Maria, née Kaniak (1900–1980), came from the Lviv intelligentsia, presumably of Polish-German descent. She graduated from a teacher-training college and worked briefly at the National Reconstruction Office, which dealt with the aftermath of the First World War. After her marriage, she devoted herself to bringing up her children and running the household, fostering an atmosphere of patriotism and attachment to tradition within the family.

Herbert’s childhood was spent in the multicultural, vibrant city of Lviv, which was a melting pot of diverse traditions and religions – Polish, Ukrainian, Jewish and Armenian. The city was characterised by fervent religious devotion and a unique intellectual atmosphere. It was in interwar Lviv that Herbert developed his sense of aesthetics, his love of literature and patriotism, as well as his openness to cultural diversity. In his poems, he often returned to these experiences, creating universal depictions of human fate, history and culture, firmly rooted in his memories of Lviv.

The landscape of the poet’s youth

The Herbert family moved house several times. The Herbert family’s earliest address was 55 Łyczakowska Street; later, they lived at 18 Tarnowskiego Street, 10 Piekarska Street and 5 Obozowa Street. Each of these Lviv addresses formed part of the landscape of the poet’s youth, which reappeared in his work. The view from the window described in ‘Still Life with a Bit’ is just such a memory:

My fundamental experience as a painter was [...] the view from the window of the tenement house [...] onto a wall, which was at its most beautiful as the sun set. [...] It was here that a certain sense of the world’s inexpressibility began to take hold of me. I knew that this wall was at its most beautiful for only a few minutes – in the sunlight. Usually unremarkable and greyish, in the sunlight it took on the colour of hot ochre. One could let one’s gaze wander [...], discovering what lies at the heart of painting: a sensitivity to half-tones. A crack here, a touch of green there, a green patch that isn’t really there, but which ought to be.

Herbert loved long walks around Lviv; they often took him to the High Castle – a picturesque hill linked to the city’s history and foundation. He attempted to recreate the topography of his youth in his later poetry; however – as Rafał Żebrowski has shown – the route depicted in the poem ‘My City’:

I dreamt that I was walking
from my parents’ house to school
I know, after all, which way I’m going

on the left, Paszanda’s shop
the third secondary school, bookshops
you can even see through the window
old Bodek’s head

does not correspond to the actual route to school, but rather becomes an imaginary map on which the Bodeks’ bookshop on Batorego Street or Paszanda’s shop on Kochanowskiego Street – where the young Herbert worked during the occupation – appear. In any case, Herbert himself referred to this interplay between memory, idealisation and reality – in the aforementioned conversation with Marek Oramus, he said:

No, I resist going back, because I will no longer find what I once, long ago, loved. Besides, the idealising power of memory is at work. The tenement block where I lived is probably not as beautiful as it is in my memories. […] I try not to harbour feelings for my city, for I would stir up new nostalgia – and there is already an abundance of such nostalgia.

Another of Herbert’s favourite places in Lviv was the family’s suburban summer retreat in the Brzuchowice Forest, where the poet’s father had built a house to allow the family to relax during the summer. It is this place that Andrzej Franaszek recalls:

The moments spent in Brzuchowice, where ‘oh, that air – you could eat it by the spoonful’, also served as the backdrop for the short story ‘The Beginning of a Novel’, published by Herbert in 1951. Dedicated to his parents, the prose piece begins with an image that has just spoken to us from an archival photograph: “I am sitting on the stone steps leading up to the house, to our white house nestled in the forest.” It is likely, too, that the area around Stryjski Park provided the backdrop for their daily walks after they moved to a larger flat.

In 1939, the family spent their last pre-war summer in Jastarnia on the Hel Peninsula, visiting Warsaw, amongst other places, on their return journey.

The ‘Nature Boy’, or Herbert at school

Between 1931 and 1937, Herbert attended the St Anthony’s Public Boys’ School No. 2, situated at 2 Głowińskiego Street. A poem recalling this period is ‘Mr Cogito. A Calligraphy Lesson’, from which the following excerpt is taken:

Only once in his life
did Mr Cogito manage
to reach the heights of mastery

in the first year
of St Anthony’s Primary School

seventy years ago
in Lviv

calligraphy competition
Mr Cogito breaks the record

he wrote the letter ‘b’
most beautifully.

In 1937, he began his education at the 8th King Casimir the Great State Grammar School, which was converted into a secondary school by the Soviet authorities during the war and closed following the German invasion (Herbert completed his education at clandestine study groups in 1944). Andrzej Franaszek, following the poet’s description, paints a picture of this school:

It stood on a hill. It was a white, three-storey building with large windows and a red, sloping roof. If it stood out for anything, it was its austere simplicity. The façade was unadorned; only at the top was there a bas-relief depicting an eagle. Beneath the bas-relief, there seemed to be space for an inscription. The most fitting would have been a Latin maxim such as ‘Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas’ [‘Happy is he who has been able to understand the causes of things’] or, if anyone had asked our opinion—though no one did—Juvenal’s admonition addressed to those who educate the young: ‘Maxima debetur puero reverentia’ [The greatest respect is due to a child]. One entered through a heavy gate. There were stairs, and at the top of the stairs stood a mighty statue of our school’s patron. The chalk-pale king had his left boot protruding, and this seemingly insignificant detail became the tangible reason behind a pupil’s custom that was at odds with the solemnity of the educational institution. Against the dignified whiteness of the patron’s figure, that left boot was disturbingly black and polished from countless touches, which were meant to protect us from evil spells, poor marks known as ‘baniaki’, and the terrible wrath of our tutors. Strict prohibitions were of no avail; we indulged in these magical practices with a dark, peasant-like stubbornness. A cult of reason reigned in secondary school, but, as is well known, nothing fosters the growth of the occult more than official rationalism.

At secondary school, Herbert met his Latin teacher, Grzegorz Jasilkowski. As Józef Maria Ruszar observes, it is to his tragic and not entirely explained death in September 1939 that the poet alludes when he writes: ‘where to seek his grave: in the land of the Goths or the Huns?’. Jasilkowski is not the only figure from Lviv mentioned in the works of the author of *Pan Cogito*. In the poem *The Nature Teacher*, Herbert commemorates Dr Fortunat Stroński, of whose death he writes:

in the second year of the war
they killed the nature teacher
those thugs from history

In the poem ‘Song’, the poet refers to the murder of his schoolmate, Zbigniew ‘Bynia’ Kuźmiak, by the NKVD.

As Żebrowski’s research shows, Herbert largely idealises his school years in his works, portraying teachers in a more positive light than would be suggested by the accounts of other pupils and historical sources.

The Lice-Feeder

The Second World War was a particularly difficult time for the Herbert family. Following the Soviet occupation of Lviv, the poet’s father was interrogated by the NKVD, but fortunately returned home; contrary to some reports, he was not arrested. Shortly afterwards, having completed his work as the liquidator of the bank he had managed, he took a job as a corpse porter in the university mortuary.

Meanwhile, between 1943 and 1944, Zbigniew Herbert earned extra money at the Lviv Institute for Research into Typhus and Viruses under Professor Weigl as a lice feeder — the feeding was carried out using special cages containing lice, attached to the lower leg. This job enabled him to avoid being forcibly deported to Germany for labour. During the war, he also worked as a sales assistant: first at the aforementioned Paszenda bookshop, and later at the firm ‘S. Skomorowski Eisenwaren’, which specialised in metal goods.

Herbert, as he himself recalled in a conversation with Marek Oramus, tried from the outset to play an active role in the underground: ‘[…] I founded a political party, which was quickly uncovered. It was called the White Eagle.’ He had also spoken of his involvement in this organisation in several earlier interviews, even mentioning his arrest by the NKVD. The actual existence of this organisation, however – and in particular Zbigniew Herbert’s involvement in it – raises serious doubts and prompts the question of whether this was not, above all, part of the autobiographical legend he was crafting. Undoubtedly, however, the satirical poem written by the poet, or – according to another version – the campaign he initiated of sitting with one’s back to portraits of the leaders of the revolution, caused him serious trouble, which, fortunately, was eventually resolved. The only punishment was a transfer to another school – Secondary School No. 28 at 17 Św. Jacka Street, formerly the Ursuline Sisters’ Private Girls’ Grammar School.

After passing his A-levels in January 1944, Herbert began studying Polish literature at the underground Jan Kazimierz University, though his studies there lasted only two months. During this time, he made his first attempts at poetry. In 1942, he was reportedly due to complete a Home Army cadet course in Lviv, which prepared young people for armed operations in support of Polish independence. However, the accuracy of this information has been questioned in turn by Joanna Siedlecka, Tadeusz Żebrowski and Andrzej Franaszek. Due to a leg injury sustained in a skiing accident, the poet was immobilised during this period, which makes his participation in such training highly unlikely and suggests that this account should be viewed as an element of self-mythologising rather than a reliable testimony.

The year 1943 brought another dramatic event in the Herbert family – the poet himself described it as follows:

When I was sixteen, my little brother fell seriously ill. At the time, I had written two poems, one of which – a long poem modelled on *The Drunken Ship* – I considered a masterpiece. I knew that to save my brother, I would have to sacrifice what was most precious to me. I burnt the poems and swore that I would never write again. The little one died in my arms; I remember: he had a high fever and I was telling him a fairy tale which he liked. He died, so I could now become a mediocre poet.

Research by Andrzej Franaszka indicates that the poet was nearly 19 years old at the time, and the painting itself – whilst undoubtedly reflecting the poet’s dramatic experiences – need not be faithful to historical reality in every detail.

Lviv is everywhere

The Herbert family left Lviv in 1944, as the front line was closing in on the city. For the young Zbigniew, not yet twenty, who had spent his entire life there, including the difficult years of occupation, the loss of his beloved city was particularly painful. His later work reveals a constant longing for his homeland.

One manifestation of this deep nostalgia was Herbert’s wish to be buried in the Lychakiv Cemetery. Ultimately, his coffin was covered with earth taken from the grave of General Wacław Iwaszkiewicz, which symbolically fulfilled this wish.

Although the poet never returned to Lviv, his poetry and prose are deeply imbued with the city – it is often present without being explicitly named. ‘Lviv is everywhere,’ he wrote, realising that his Lviv now existed only in memory and the imagination.

Lviv between the verses

In poems such as ‘My City’, ‘Mr Cogito on Returning to His Hometown’ and ‘In the City’, Herbert expresses his longing for Lviv, treating it as a metaphor for his own identity. He uses archetypal images (stone, water, bread) to emphasise his emotional bond with this place, which becomes a symbol of a lost paradise, and of the peace and stability of childhood. At the same time, he writes of Lviv as a ‘borderland city to which I shall not return’, describing it as a semi-mythical space, an inaccessible place – ‘absent from any map’.

The poet, however, avoids direct references. As Adam Zagajewski noted in *Zeszyty Literackie*:

I realised that Herbert, like the people in my parents’ circle, belonged to a type of person I knew so well—those disinherited from Lviv, deeply wounded by the loss of that extraordinary city. [...] He was, however, an exceedingly discreet exile: he never named Lviv in his poems; he spoke of the city as though there were something too painful in its name; as if all other cities – and he had known so many – needed names, whilst this one alone managed perfectly well without one.

In the poem ‘My City’, Lviv is not mentioned explicitly, yet Herbert depicts a city of memory, the image of which fades with the passing of the years.

The ocean lays upon the seabed
a star of salt
the air distils
glittering stones
a faltering memory creates
a map of the city

Lviv becomes a symbol of an idealised place to which a return is impossible, with gates closed forever:

every night
I stand barefoot
before the slammed-shut gate
of my city

In this light, Lviv appears as a place lost forever, yet one that refuses to be forgotten. The city returns in the poet’s dreams, and attempts to reconstruct its topography turn into a nightmare. The city’s slammed-shut gate symbolises the irreversibility of exile and the impossibility of return.

However, should anyone harbour any doubts that the subject of this poem is the poet’s hometown, Andrzej Franaszek dispels them, pointing out that a draft of this poem from the 1950s bore the unambiguous title ‘Lviv’ and was accompanied by the dedication: ‘to my city, where I shall not die’.

The name Lwów appears explicitly in only two works: ‘Mr Cogito. A Lesson in Calligraphy’ and ‘The High Castle’. The latter is one of Herbert’s final poems, dedicated to Leszek Elektorowicz, a native of Lwów. It takes the form of a return to one’s roots – it describes a symbolic climb up a hill, which can be interpreted as a childhood memory and, at the same time, a metaphor for the poet’s life. In it, Herbert reflects on death and transience, with the High Castle symbolising the beginning of his life’s journey.

In his later works, Lviv is interwoven with the theme of travel or an Odyssean journey. The poet emphasises that this is not a physical return – it is an inner, symbolic journey taking place in the realm of memory and imagination.

Lviv was the city that shaped Zbigniew Herbert’s identity. Although he spent most of his life away from it, it remained in his memories and influenced his work right up to the end. In his poems, the poet constantly explored the relationship between a person and their place of origin, making Lviv a universal symbol of a lost homeland and a personal Eden. Through numerous references in his poetry, Herbert constantly returned to the city of his childhood, which, though inaccessible, remained the foundation of his poetic vision of the world.

Addresses in Lviv directly associated with Zbigniew Herbert

55 Łyczakowska Street, flat no. 5

1924–1933
The birthplace of Zbigniew Herbert and his family’s first home in Lviv. In 2002, a commemorative plaque dedicated to the poet was unveiled here. The inscription on the plaque is in Ukrainian and Polish:

ЗБІГНЄВ ГЕРБЕРТ / POET / LIVED IN THIS HOUSE / IN THE YEARS 1924–1933 / ZBIGNIEW HERBERT / POET / LIVED IN THIS HOUSE / IN THE YEARS 1924–1933 //.

18 Tarnowskiego Street

1933–1937
Another residence of the Herbert family in Lviv.

10 Piekarska Street

Another residence of the Herbert family in Lviv.

5 Obozowa Street

1937–1944
Another place of residence for the Herbert family in Lviv.

King Casimir the Great State Grammar School

1938–1941
The school the poet attended from 1938. After the outbreak of war, the Soviets converted it into Secondary School No. 14, and in 1941 it was closed by the Germans.

Secondary School No. 28 (formerly the Ursuline Sisters’ Private Girls’ Junior High School)

1941–1942
Herbert was transferred to this school following the events at his previous school.

The Herberts’ suburban summer residence in the Brzuchowice Forest

before 1939
A house built by the poet’s father in Brzuchowice, near Lviv, which served as the family’s summer retreat.

St Anthony’s Church

1924 (the poet’s christening)
The site of Zbigniew Herbert’s christening. There is a plaque commemorating the poet, installed in 2002, bearing the inscription:

IN THIS CHURCH / 26 DEC 1924 / ZBIGNIEW HERBERT / 1924–1998 / POLISH POET / WAS BAPTISED // ... an ocean of fleeting memory / washes away and shatters images / in the end, a stone will remain / upon which I was born // every night / I stand barefoot / before the slammed-shut gate / of my city //.

At the bottom is the date the plaque was installed – 2002 – and the names of the sponsors: ROPWiM and FPP na Wsch.

Kazimierz Paszanda’s hardware shop at 1 Kochanowskiego Street

circa 1942–1944 (the years Herbert worked there)
The shop where the future poet worked as a shop assistant during the German occupation; mentioned in the poem ‘My City’.

The Lviv Institute for Research into Typhus and Viruses, headed by Professor Rudolf Weigl

circa 1942–1944
The place where Herbert worked during the Second World War as a lice feeder.

Other places mentioned in the poet’s work:

Stefan Batory Street – appears in Herbert’s memoirs, particularly in connection with Bodek’s bookshop. In fact, the Bodeks ran several independent outlets in Lviv. This most likely refers to the best-known of them, Dr Maksymilian Bodek – a Lviv antiquarian, bookseller and publisher. He established his antiquarian bookshop in December 1918, and later also opened a bookshop on Batorego Street. He was a shareholder in the ‘Vita’ publishing house, which specialised in educational materials, and also ran the main warehouse for its publications in the 1930s. He also published books through the bookshop. Next door was the bookshop run by his cousin, Zygmunt. It is worth noting that Maksymilian Bodek died in 1933, when Herbert was nine years old.

The High Castle – a hill in Lviv on which a castle built by Casimir the Great once stood. Herbert, who often went for walks in this area, recalls this place in his poem ‘The High Castle’.

Lychakiv Cemetery – the burial place of Herbert’s ancestors; it was also here that the poet wished to be buried.