European studies blog

Exploring Europe at the British Library

6 posts from August 2024

29 August 2024

Empire and French Caricature from 1870-1871 (Part 2)

The British Library’s collection of 1870-71 caricatures from the Franco-Prussian War and Paris Commune (shelfmark 14001.g.41, Cup.648.b.2, Cup.648.b.8) offer insight not only into their contemporary conflicts, but the political and cultural worlds which had formed the outlooks of their artists.

The theme of Empire reappears several times in the collection. Building on earlier royal invasions of Algeria, between 1852-70 Napoleon III’s Second Empire launched several campaigns of imperial expansion across the globe, including in China, Southeast Asia, Lebanon, Mexico, and continued interventions in North Africa.

Though designed in part to boost French prestige on an international level, often the campaigns were deeply unpopular at home. This was particularly acute in cases where French forces combatted republican foes, such as the repeated interventions on the Italian peninsula and in Mexico, where Napoleon III’s attempts to put Austrian archduke Maximilian on the throne were eventually thwarted by Benito Juarez’s [https://www.britannica.com/biography/Benito-Juarez] republican army. Yet thanks to strict censorship laws, those wishing to be critical of these campaigns – particularly of Mexico – could make only vague allusions for fear of arrest or fines.

When these systems of censorship fell away with the Empire in September 1870, the floodgates opened, exemplified by the remarks of Jules Ferry – who would go on to decree several of the Third Republic’s own colonial efforts less than a decade later - in his description of the French people as ‘sickened by the overseas adventures of the Second Empire’.

Caricaturists likewise centralised the Second Empire’s imperial follies in their criticism of the fallen regime. An excellent example of this is A. Belloguet’s twelve-print series Pilori-Phrénologie, each of which rather resemble the artwork of Giuseppe Arcimboldo. Belloguet applies popular interest in phrenology – the pseudo-science which reasoned that one could detect personality traits from skull shape – to twelve leading figures of 1870-1, including Prussian minister Otto von Bismarck, future French president Adolphe Thiers and Pope Pius IX, all found in the Library’s third volume.

Caricature of Napoleon III of France composed of different people and objects and dripping with blood

A. Belloguet, Pilori-Phrénologie (1), Napoleon III, (Paris, 1870) Volume 3 14001.g.41].

The first of the set takes on fallen French Emperor Napoleon III, which is actually an update of an earlier print circulated in Belgium towards the end of the Second Empire. Belloguet details the Emperor’s visage with a series of ad hominem attacks and details of his eclectic political life, including mentions of his two unsuccessful attempted coups in Strasbourg (1836) and Boulogne (1840) and his surrender at Sedan in 1870.

Belloguet also highlights Napoleon III’s collar with four moments of repression. In addition to that of Paris in the aftermath of his coup in 1851, the collar lists ‘Mexico’, ‘Rome’, and ‘Aspromonte’. Each of the three were part of the Second Empire’s later expansionary aims – particularly offensive given that French opponents were republican, and in the case of the Italian campaigns in Rome and Aspromonte, French troops fought radical hero Giuseppe Garibaldi. As if to emphasise this, the bloody rag which drips from where Napoleon III’s mouth should be reads ‘Mentana’ – a conflict in November 1867 where Garibaldi was injured by French forces defending Rome on behalf of the Pope.

Though many caricatures directly attacked political personages or ideologies, several sets were dedicated to examining and gently mocking the disrupted rhythm of life in Paris under the siege. For instance, artists routinely produced images depicting the food crisis, making light of the fact that Parisians had turned to horsemeat to survive, and that some were even put into the position of eating cats, dogs, and even rats. Such social commentary also could include references to the Second Empire’s imperial campaigns.

An exemplar of such social caricature is found in the Library’s second volume, in a set entitled Paris Assiégé (Besieged Paris) by Jules Renard - signing his images as under a pseudonym the reverse of his surname, ‘Draner’. The twentieth of the set depicts novel positions taken up by Parisians in the boulevards in order to avoid the falling Prussian shells during their bombardment of the city, which had intensified in January 1871 after German forces had reached Paris in September.

Cartoon of a group of people crouching down to avoid bombs passing overhead. In the foreground a man in a blue tunic and red trousers holds a selection of broadsheets

Jules Renard (Draner), Paris Assiége (20) Les Effets du Bombardement (The Effects of Bombardment), (Paris, 1870) Volume 2 14001.g.41.

The figure in the foreground – subtly dressed in the colours of the French tricolore – claims that the Parisians kneeling were neither men nor women, but instead Ambassadors of Siam. Perhaps a rather obscure reference at first glance, but like the caricatures discussed in the previous blog of this series, Renard takes a cue from high art as inspiration for this print.

Painting of a group of Siamese ambassadors kneeeling before Emperor Napoleon III and his wife who are seated on thrones

Jean-Léon Gérôme, Réception des ambassadeurs siamois par l’Empereur Napoléon III au palais de Fontainebleu, 27 juin 1861 (Reception of Siamese Ambassadors by Emperor Napoleon III at Fontainebleu Palace, 27 June 1861). (Picture from Wikimedia Commons)

Renard references a painting presented at Paris’s 1865 Salon, Réception des ambassadeurs siamois par l’Empereur Napoléon III au palais de Fontainebleu, 27 juin 1861 by Jean-Léon Gérôme. In it, rows of ambassadors from the Kingdom of Siam (modern-day Thailand) kneel before the French imperial couple, presenting them with a letter from their king Mongkut (Rama IV). The two states had long since established relations: almost two centuries before this meeting, the court of Louis XIV had received visits from the Kingdom of Siam.

In 1856 Siam and France had signed a commercial treaty which granted France a foothold in Southeast Asia – which simultaneously reduced Siamese influence on its neighbouring areas. Fifteen years later, upon hearing the news of Napoleon III’s forced abdication in September, the rulers of Siam expressed their ‘exaggerated sympathies’ for the fallen Emperor.

These exaggerated sympathies were shared by the vast majority of French caricaturists operating in 1870-71. Yet despite their antipathy towards the regime’s foreign exploits, it was not long before France once again pursued foreign glory, their colonial policies now led by who had once been at the forefront of the criticism of such policies. If the ire of caricaturists towards foreign expansion was ever-present during 1870-71, it certainly waned from any long-lasting political programme in the years thereafter.

Anthony Chapman-Joy, CDP Student at the British Library and Royal Holloway

References/further reading

Morna Daniels, ‘Caricatures from the Franco-Prussian War of 1870 and the Paris Commune’, Electronic British Library Journal, (2005), pp. 1-19

Quentin Deluermoz, D’ici et d’ailleurs: histoires globales de la France contemporaine (XVIIIe-XXe siècle) (Paris, 2021) YF.2022.a.12094

Bertrand Tillier, La Commune de Paris: Révolution sans images? (Paris, 2004), YF.2004.a.14526

David Todd, A Velvet Empire: French Informal Imperialism in the Nineteenth Century (Princeton, 2021) YC.2022.a.7337

24 August 2024

A short selection of new Ukrainian books to mark the Independence Day

On this day, Ukraine celebrates the 33rd anniversary of its independence. On August 24, 1991, the Act of Declaration of Independence of Ukraine was adopted by the Supreme Soviet of the Ukrainian SSR. Following international recognition and the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Ukraine became de facto a sovereign state in December of that year.

Today, on the 914th day of the full-scale Russian invasion, Ukraine is still bravely defending its independence and existence. Against all odds, publishing in the country is getting stronger. Only in 2023, 270 new publishers appeared on the Ukrainian book market, and book production increased by 73% in 2023 compared to 2022. According to the Ukrainian Book Chamber, as many as 6,951 monographs and brochures were published in the first half of 2024. In this blog, I would like to mark Ukrainian Independence Day by featuring a small selection of books that we received in the latest consignment from our vendor in Ukraine.

One of the most striking titles we have acquired is a posthumous edition of Viktoriia Amelina’s poetry Svidchennia (‘Testimony’) (Lviv: "Vydavnytstvo Staroho Leva", 2024). In April 2023, Viktoriia visited the British Library and took part in a panel discussion on the role of writers during times of war. Some readers of this blog might remember her passionate and emotional presentation. Viktoriia Amelina died on July 1, 2023, as a result of injuries received in a Russian missile attack on Kramatorsk. You can watch a recording of the event in her memory organised by the Ukrainian Institute in London and the British Library here.

Cover of ‘Svidchennia’ with an image of a bloodstained woman reaching towards the sky

Cover of Svidchennia by Viktoriia Amelina

In her short interview with the Ukrainian online media Chytomo.com, the head editor of the publishing house Vydavnytstvo Staroho Leva Sofiia Cheliak commented on their decision to choose illustrations to complement Viktoriia’s poetry: “we wanted [the illustrations to convey] sacredness, for me it was the only possible option for the illustration, so that it sounded in unison with the poetry. Looking at the layout, we realized how much it was the right decision <...> This book is what my broken heart looks like."

One of the poems in this book is titled A word in the dictionary (Future), and it reads:

Future – is what we ask
each other about in silence:
Do you see it?
Can you see it?
Here she asks and explains:
because I don’t see it, I don’t.
She squints.
Recently – she says, –
I’ve started seeing a little bit of
“tomorrow”, and beyond that – nothing.
And all the way to the end of her darkness we are walking through the sunny
Obolon: two women
and a dog.
(Translation: Katya Rogatchevskaia)

In 2021, Viktoriia organised the first literary festival in the small town of New York in the Donetsk region. She suggested the theme “De-occupation of the Future” for the following one, but it appears to be even more relevant for the post-war times. Apparently, today the town is under Russian occupation. We strongly believe that the festival will soon return to Ukrainian New York, where people will rebuild their future and remember Viktoriia's life and legacy.

Another book that stood out to me is Pisnia vidkrytoho shliakhu (‘Song of the Open Road’) by Artem Chekh (Chernivtsi, 2024). At the beginning of the full-scale Russian invasion, the author, who took part in the war in Donbas in 2015-16, joined the Ukrainian army. The new book was presented at the International Literary Festival Meridian Czernowitz held in Chernivtsi.

Cover of ‘Pisnia vidkrytoho shliakhu’ with a silhouette of a horse and rider on an orange background

Cover of Pisnia vidkrytoho shliakhu by Artem Chekh

As literary critics tell us in their reviews, the book is about a war, but not about the current war, as readers might expect. The action takes place in the 19th century, and the main character is a former serf from the Russian Empire who is trying to escape from his master. His adventures take him through Europe, Great Britain and eventually to America, where he finds himself just before the start of the Civil War. Critics agree that the symbolic meaning of the novel is a long, difficult, bloody, but open road to freedom and identity.

Among research publications, I would like to single out a new fundamental chronological overview of Ukrainian visual arts by two prominent Ukrainian art historians, Paola Utevs’ka and Dmytro Horbachov, Budynok iz levamy: Narysy istorii ukrains'koho vizual'noho mystetstva XI–XX stolit' (‘The House with Lions: Essays on the History of Ukrainian Visual Arts, 11th -20th centuries’) (Kyiv: Vydavnytstvo "Dukh i Litera", 2024).

Cover of ‘Budynok iz levamy’ with three images of the facade of a building on a blue background

Cover of Budynok iz levamy: Narysy istorii ukrains'koho vizual'noho mystetstva XI–XX stolit' by Paola Utevs’ka and Dmytro Horbachov

The monograph focuses on the formation of the main artistic movements and techniques and touches on all visual arts, from architecture to book illustrations and graphic design. It is also important that the authors analyse primarily artworks located in Ukraine, among them works by Taras Shevchenko, Petro Levchenko, Mykola Pymonenko, Oleksandra Ekster, Oleksandr Bohomazov, Anatol Petrytskyi, Oleksandr Arkhipenko, and Kazimir Malevich. This book is especially timely now as the world is making the acquaintance of Ukrainian art from a new perspective, for example, through the current exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts ‘In the Eye of the Storm’.

In this blog, I have highlighted just three titles out of over 300 received in the last five months. The books are being processed, and we are working hard to make them available to our readers as soon as possible.

Shelves with piles of Ukrainian books labelled 'For processing'

Ukrainian books awaiting processing by our cataloguing team

Meanwhile, I would like to draw your attention to a recent publication by Vernon Press. In June 2024, they released a volume edited by Lada Kolomiyets and titled Living the Independence Dream: Ukraine and Ukrainians in Contemporary Socio-Political Context. We will make sure to add this important contribution to our collections.

Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator East European Collections

19 August 2024

Religious Metaphors in French Caricature from 1870-71 (Part 1)

The British Library’s collection of Franco-Prussian War and Paris Commune caricatures (shelfmarks 14001.g.41, Cup.648.b.2, Cup.648.b.8) exemplifies how artists from a variety of diverse national, political and cultural backgrounds engaged with l’année terrible.

Broadly speaking, 1870-71 prints can be split into two formats. Single-sheet images produced by small teams of editors and artists were sold on the street, pasted onto buildings and displayed in shop windows. On the other hand, pre-existing publishing houses – including those which produced weekly satirical journals, like Le Charivari (1832-1937), designed sets with print collectors in mind. This latter form was adorned with title pages, and arguably maintained a higher artistic sophistication. Artists did not limit themselves to just one category: for instance, Faustin Betbeder (1848-1914), who claimed that his first single-sheet image sold more than 50,000 copies, also created multiple sets during 1870-71, several of which can be found in the BL’s collections.

Both formats touched on the same topics. For example, references to Christianity shaped both single sheets and co-ordinated sets. Their use most frequently relied on the ironic comparison of biblical figures or parables with their contemporary parallels. The BL’s fifth volume (14001.g.41) holds a set of three images which each parody three scenes from the Bible immortalised in famous works of art. The first, drawn by F. Mathis, is a spoof of Leonardo’s Last Supper mural.

Coloured broadsheet caricature headed 'La Nouvelle Cène' depicting French politicians as the figures in Leonardo's ;Last Supper'

F. Mathis, La Nouvelle Cène (The New Last Supper), (Paris, 1871) Volume 5 14001.g.41.

It is an almost stroke-for-stroke reproduction, but for the substitution of Jesus and John with figures wearing a Phrygian-cap and an allegory of Paris, respectively. Further, Jesus’s apostles are replaced by figures of the twelve members of the ephemeral and unpopular Government of National Defence, which led France following the fall of the Second Empire in September 1870 until a new government was formed by Adolphe Thiers (the bespectacled figure on the far left of Mathis’s print, ominously peeping through the door) in February 1871.

The gesticulating guests at Leonardo’s Last Supper respond to Jesus’s proclamation that one of his disciples will soon betray him. Conversely, La Nouvelle Cène (‘The New Last Supper’) insinuates that all of the members of this flimsy government will betray France – if they had not already. Paris suffered under a winter of Prussian siege, before the government capitulated in late January. To make matters worse, their humiliation was ratified by the signing of a peace treaty which included the secession of the provinces of Alsace and Lorraine, a significant war indemnity, and a Prussian military march through Paris – augmenting an already biblical sense of betrayal. This theme was central to the set’s second print, in which Jules Favre plays the familiar role of Judas Iscariot, again drawn by Mathis.

The final print from the set, this time drawn by Charles Vernier (1813-92), is a little more complex. Though still a send-up of a famous Italian painting of a biblical scene – Paolo Veronese’s The Wedding Feast at Cana , hung in the Louvre – Vernier mixes the story of Jesus’s first miracle, the turning of water into wine, with the narrative of a popular French song Le Baptême du p’tit ébéniste (‘The Baptism of the li’l ebonist’).

Painting of the wedding at Cana, with a crowd of colourfully-dressed figures in a renaissance-style architectural setting

Paolo Veronese, Nozze di Cana (The Wedding Feast at Cana), (Venice, 1563), (Picture from Wikimedia Commons)

The scene is transformed from a wedding to a baptism, that of the latest French Republic (the Third, which lasted until 1940), with a couplet from the song in the image’s caption noting how France is like ‘a bouquet of flowers’ – in other words, that is made up of many colourful – and contradictory – parts.

Jesus is replaced by Thiers holding the baby Republic aloft, while monarchs of Europe, including Süleyman the Magnificent and Mary I of England from Verones’s painting are exchanged for representatives of various contemporary French political currents. These include the deposed Emperor Napoleon III, several of the aforementioned National Government of Defence, and even a pétroleuse – that mythical figure in anti-Communard discourse who had apparently delighted in setting Paris alight in the final days of May 1871.

Coloured broadsheet caricature parodying Veronese's painting of the wedding at Cana, replacing the figures in the original with French politicians

 Noces de Cana, (Paris, 1871) Volume 5 14001.g.41.

Single sheet images designed for public consumption and debate were not below making biting allusions to religious iconography to mock political figures during 1870-1. The most popular trope, inevitably, was drawing any of the members of the National Government of Defence as Judas.

Other prints were more erudite. An obvious example from the BL’s second volume at 14001.g.41 is A. Baudet-Bauderval’s Une fuite en Egypte en passant par la Prusse (‘A flight to Egypt via Prussia’), the seventh print of Grognet’s 87-strong Actualités (‘Current Events’). The set was printed unevenly from the outbreak of the war to the final days of the Commune – sometimes publishing as many as ten images in a single day – and comprised several artists, meaning the sets had little ideological or topical coherency.   

Coloured caricature of the French Imperial family depicted as the holy family fleeing into Egypt

A. Baudet-Bauderval, Une Fuite en Egypte en passant par la Prusse (A Flight to Egypt via Prussia), (Paris, 1870) Volume 2 14001.g.41.

Following his surrender at the Battle of Sedan in early September 1870, Napoleon III was taken prisoner at Wilhelmshöhe Castle in Kassel. Shortly after news of his capitulation reached Paris, the Empress Eugénie and their son Louis fled the city. In Baudet-Bauderval’s sketch, the imperial family replicate the flight of Christianity’s holy family to Egypt – another popular artistic motif, perhaps most famously rendered by Giotto at the Cappella degli Scrovegni in Padua.

Despite its hasty construction – and its design to invite public consumption over private collection – Une fuite en Egypte includes a subtle yet ingenious attack. The Emperor and his son wear two large yellow hats which resemble sombreros, the wide-brimmed hat typically associated with Mexico. This addition not only lampoons the halos which crown the imperial family in Giotto’s Flight to Egypt, but also imbricates a mockery of the Emperor’s disastrous campaign to install a French-friendly monarchy in Mexico, a failure itself famously memorialised by Édouard Manet’s Execution of Maximilian.

In the aftermath of the War and the Commune, partisans of the Church claimed that the disasters of 1870-71 were the inevitable result of the anti-clericalism which coursed through some strands of French radicalism and the materialistic opulence of the Second Empire. Yet religious metaphors, iconography and scenes, particularly those preserved in art, could just as easily be employed by satirical artists to mock the powerful throughout 1870-71.

Anthony Chapman-Joy, CDP Student at the British Library and Royal Holloway

Further reading:

Hollis Clayson, Paris in Despair: Art and Everyday Life Under Siege (London, 2002), YC.2002.a.15995

Morna Daniels, ‘Caricatures from the Franco-Prussian War of 1870 and the Paris Commune’, Electronic British Library Journal, (2005), pp. 1-19

John Milner, Art, War and Revolution in France, 1870-1871 (London, 2000), LB.31.b.19108

Bertrand Tillier, La Commune de Paris: Révolution sans images? (Paris, 2004), YF.2004.a.14526

09 August 2024

The Marriage of Sport and Art: Poland at the Forgotten Olympic Art Competitions (1912-1948)

Unlikely as it sounds, until the middle of the 20th century, amateur writers, painters, musicians, sculptors and architects battled for the coveted Olympic gold. The art competitions, consisting of five cultural disciplines and nicknamed the ‘Pentathlon of the Muses’, were the pet project of the French aristocrat and founder of the modern Olympics, Pierre de Coubertin. Baron de Coubertin saw the athletic pursuit in classical terms and sought to restore the Olympics to their former glory by reuniting “a long-divorced couple - muscle and mind”. His idea, drawing on ancient Games, came to fruition at the 1912 Olympics in Stockholm, where none other than de Coubertin took top honours in the literature event for his poem ‘Ode au Sport’ (‘Ode to Sport’). In the ensuing years, the popularity and prestige of the competitions gradually declined and by the 1952 Olympics, the practice of awarding medals for sport-inspired art was finally abandoned. Today, the winning Olympic artworks have been largely forgotten, and the artists relegated to the shadows. In this blog, I would like to revisit the creative output of Polish laureates of the Olympic art competitions, particularly writers, who have etched their names in the annals of the bygone tournaments.

The rebirth of independent Poland in 1918 triggered a surge of interest in physical activity among the Poles, evidenced by over 200 sports periodicals published until the beginning of the Second World War. At long last, Poland made its first appearance at the Olympic Games in 1924. The expectations were high as Olympic success was widely seen as a measure of national prowess and progress. Between 1924 and 1948, Polish artists bagged three gold, two silver and three bronze medals, finishing seventh (out of 23 entries) in the medal table. Zbigniew Turski was awarded gold in the music category for his Symfonia Olimpijska (‘Olympic Symphony’, 1948). In painting competitions, Janina Konarska won a silver medal for her woodcut Narciarze (‘Skiers’, 1932), while Stanisław Ostoja-Chrostowski and Władysław Skoczylas earned bronze for Dyplom Yacht Klubu (‘Yachting Club Certificate’, 1936) and Łucznik (‘Archer’, part of the winning series Plakaty (‘Posters’, 1928), respectively. In sculpture, Józef Klukowski received the highest prize for Wieńczenie Zawodnika (‘Sport Sculpture’, 1932) and four years later a silver medal for the relief Piłkarze (‘Football’, 1936). Finally, in the field of literature, Kazimierz Wierzyński was decorated with gold for his slim volume of poetry Laur Olimpijski (‘The Olympic Laurel’, 1928), and Jan Parandowski clinched the bronze for the novel Dysk Olimpijski (‘The Olympic Discus’, 1936).

Photograph of Janina Konarska and her colour woodcut showing several skiers on a snow-covered hill with trees casting shadows

Janina Konarska and her woodcut work ‘Skiers’ (Image from V&A. Photograph of the artist from Wikipedia)

Photograph of Władysław Skoczylas and his woodcut of a crouching archer with a quiver of arrows at his feet

Władysław Skoczylas and his woodcut ‘Archer’, from Tadeusz Cieślewski, Władysław Skoczylas. Inicjator i twórca współczesnego drzeworytu w Polsce (Warszawa, 1934) 7863.ppp.46. (Photograph of the artist from Wikimedia Commons)

Black and white photograph of a sculpture showing a sportsman being crowned with a wreath, and black and white photograph of the artist Józef Klukowski standing next to his work

Józef Klukowski and his work ‘Sport Sculpture’ (Images from Culture.pl)

Since his sterling performance at the 1928 Olympics, the athletic and well-versed in sports matters author of Laur Olimpijski has been dubbed ‘the best poet among sportsmen and the best sportsman amongst poets’.

Cover of 'Laur Olympiiski' with the title in a decorative border, and black and white photograph of Kazimierz Wierzyński
Kazimierz Wierzyński and his volume of poetry Laur Olimpijski (Warsaw, [1930]) X950/3682. (English translation: Selected Poems, (New York, 1959) 11437.l.22. (Photograph of the author from Wikimedia Commons)

Born in 1894 in Drohobych, Wierzyński studied in Cracow, Vienna and Lviv before settling down in Warsaw and taking up the prestigious post of editor-in-chief of Przegląd Sportowy (Warsaw, 1946-1958) MFM.MF1210P). His Olympic cycle, published in 1927 and translated into seven languages by 1930, is among the few noteworthy literary pieces ever presented at the Olympic art competitions. It comprises 15 individual poems, each portraying athletes in action and applauding sport for its aspirations to transcend human frailties. In paying homage to hurdles and runners, Wierzyński honours the Greek ideal of the athlete, as in the beautiful poem Nurmi:

My pace, a dancer’s thread -
my steps beat like a heart;
clock-tower of breath, I hover
in air, tall and apart.

Pages from 'Laur Olimpijski' with stylised vignettes of the sports described in the poems

Poems ‘Defilada Poetów’ (‘Parade of the Athletes’) and ‘Skok o Tyczce’ (‘The Pole Vault’) from: Laur Olimpijski (Warszawa, [1930]) X950/3682.

The poet glorifies the virtues of ancient Greece but at the same time creates a new mythology aided by the pantheon of heroes belonging to the era of the modern Olympics, among them the glorious goalkeeper Ricardo Zamora, the winged pole-vaulter Charles Hoff, and the omnipotent sprinters Charlie Paddock and Arthur Porritt. A keynote theme of the collection is man’s potential for heroism and his ability to transfigure life and achieve divinity through athletic excellence.

Wierzyński’s peer, Jan Parandowski, was born in 1895 in Lviv. He was educated at a classical gymnasium and received a solid foundation in Greek and Latin cultures. The First World War interrupted his studies in the philosophy department at Lviv University, and he received his degree in classical philology and archaeology only in 1923. Already in 1924, over a decade before the launch of the 1936 Berlin Olympics, Parandowski’s interest in antiquity resulted in the publication of ‘Mythology’ (Mitologia. Wierzenia i podania Greków i Rzymian (Warsaw, 1962) 04422.f.19.), a canonical read for all subsequent generations of Poles, at least up to the turn of the twenty-first century.

Dysk Olimpijski (‘The Olympic Discus’, 1933), the writer’s only novel translated into English, is another brilliant example of Parandowski’s lifelong passion for classical antiquity. The author saw sport as an activity of utmost importance for the ancient Greeks, reaffirmed by the fact that many poets and philosophers, including Plato and Euripides, were keen athletes. The novel takes us back in time to Hellas and the 76th Olympiad when the Greeks engaged in joyous celebrations of their victory over the Persians.

Cover of 'Dysk Olimpijski' with an image of a laurel branch, and black and white photograoh of Jan Parandowski smoking a pipe

Jan Parandowski and his Dysk Olimpijski (Jerozolima, 1944) YF.2013.a.12040. (English translation: The Olympic Discus: a Story of Ancient Greece, (New York, 1964) 76/18461 (Photograph of the author from Wikimedia Commons)

The reader of Dysk Olimpijski becomes a spectator, the past and traditions of the Olympic Games unfolding before his eyes. Parandowski indulges in detailed descriptions and provides thorough depictions of the stadium, the sports equipment, and athletic contests. He picks one instance in Greek history, but by putting it in a historical context, he places it against a broader canvas of Greek life. His narrative is taut, but with the greatest economy of means, he manages to conjure up images reminiscent of intricate paintings on ancient Grecian vases.

By the early 1950s the art competitions had run their course, and de Coubertin’s union of flesh and spirit did not stand the test of time. The ‘Pentathlon of the Muses’ saw thousands of dubious entries, saccharine poems, ugly statues and failed paintings, the vast majority of which have slipped into oblivion. Nevertheless, the tournaments also attracted the talent of the likes of Wierzyński, Parandowski and Skoczylas, whose works remain, and for good reason, well-established in the Polish national consciousness.

Hanna Dettlaff-Kuznicka, Interim Curator of Slavonic and East European Collections

References/further reading:

Ireneusz Bittner, Adam Bryk, O sporcie i kulturze fizycznej, poezji i medycynie czyli o etosie ciała ludzkiego (Lodz, 2003) YF.2007.a.4610

Introduction by George Harjan. In: Parandowski Jan, The Olympic Discus: a Story of Ancient Greece (New York, 1964) 76/18461

Tadeusz Cieślewski, Władysław Skoczylas, inicjator i twórca w spółczesnego drzeworytu w Polsce (Warsaw, 1934) 7863.ppp.46

Barry Keane, Skamander: the Poets and their Poetry 1918-1929 (Warsaw, 2004) YD.2005.a.3982

Bernhard Kramer, Richard Stanton, ‘The Olympic Laurel of Kazimierz Wierzyński’, in Journal of Olympic History, vol. 23, no 2 (2015), pp. 50-56. 

Richard Stanton, The Forgotten Olympic Art Competitions: The Story of the Olympic Art Competitions of the 20th Century (Victoria, 2000) m02/36119

Nicolaos Yalouris (ed.), The eternal Olympics: Art and History of Sport (US, 1979) f81/0940

Architects’ games. What do you want, a medal?, Architectural Review, 11 July 2024

Why did the Olympics ditch their amateur-athlete requirement?, The Economist, 20 July 2021

05 August 2024

Basketball: two small Baltic countries punching above their weight

Fans of basketball in Lithuania and Latvia will be glued to their screens during the 2024 Summer Olympics as both countries’ men’s teams qualified for the basketball 3x3 competitions. The two nations faced each other on the first day of the games and both have now reached the semi-finals and could potentially face each other again in the final. Basketball is very popular in both countries, in Lithuania bordering on obsession; it’s even called Lithuania’s second religion. But how did it all start, and why did a 1939 basketball match divide the two nations?

In both countries basketball arrived in the 1920s, just after Latvia and Lithuania had gained independence. In an uncertain political landscape, the new sport was a unifying factor and an opportunity to present the nations as strong and athletic. In Latvia, basketball was popularised by representatives of the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA), who came to the country from the U.S. to organise training for sports instructors. It quickly gained popularity. As early as 1924, Latvia took part in its first European national team game, beating Estonia. When the International Basketball Federation (FIBA) was created in 1932, Latvia was one of eight countries signing the founding act. In the interwar period, the country had one of the strongest teams in Europe. Significantly, the men’s team under coach Valdemārs Baumanis won the first European basketball championships, EuroBasket 1935, defeating Hungary, Switzerland and Spain.

Black and white photograph of Latvia's national basketball team at EuroBasket 1935 wearing dark singlets and white shorts

Latvian national basketball team, EuroBasket 1935. (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

Their victory was immortalised in Latvian filmmaker Aigars Grauba’s 2012 film Dream Team 1935, based on events which took place during the tournament – “an amazing true story of impossible odds, improbable heroes, and an incredible moment in history”.

Book cover with colour film stills of a man in a hat and coat and a group of basketball players celebrating

Poster for Dream Team 1935 on cover of Sapņu komanda: laika stāsti (Rīga, 2013) YF.2017.b.89

Lithuanians played their first international game in 1925. Unsurprisingly, they lost to Latvia, which had the benefit of international coaching. A lack of a suitable sports arena didn’t help, and further defeats followed. Decisive action was needed. The authorities reached out to Lithuanians living abroad. A group of American-Lithuanian athletes came to the World Lithuanian Congress in 1934, demonstrated their basketball skills and suggested intensive and regular training. Two of the players stayed after the congress and coached the national team. The coaching was very successful. Lithuania became a member of FIBA in 1936 and took part in EuroBasket 1937, beating Latvia for the first time and winning the championships. Their team owned their victory in large part to Pranas Lubinas, a Lithuanian-American coach and basketball player who, with his U.S. team, had won gold in the first Olympic basketball tournament in 1936.

Book cover with a black and white photograph of a basketball player scoring a goal

Lithuanian basketball team, 1938. In the centre, Pranas Lubinas, ‘the grandfather of Lithuanian basketball’. Cover of Europos auksas Lietuvai, 1936-1939: iliustruota krepšinio kronika (Vilnius, 2007) YF.2015.a.5157.

When it was announced that Lithuania would host the 1939 European Basketball Championships, the Lithuanian government made a huge effort to make sure that the event was a success. The first and the second European Basketball Championships were held in adapted buildings which were not suitable for basketball matches; for the 1939 EuroBasket, a new sports arena was built in Kaunas in record time, no expense spared. It was based on a design by Anatolijus Rozenbliumas. The impressive structure, with 3,500 seats and the capacity of 11,000 people, cost a huge sum of 400,000 litas. It was the first sports arena in Europe designed specifically for basketball.

Black and white photograph of Kaunas sports arena, a white building with a curved central roof and low flat-roofed wings

Kaunas sports hall, from Kaunas: an Architectural Guide (Vilnius, 2017) YD.2018.a.4721

Black and white photograph of teams in dark tracksuits lining up behind their flags at the EuroBasket 1939 opening ceremony

EuroBasket 1939 opening ceremony. (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

The games were opened by the Lithuanian president Antanas Smetona, patron of the event. During the eight days of competition, high-scoring matches attracted huge crowds to Kaunas and the newly-opened sports hall. The sporting tournament was not without controversy. Although some of the teams taking part in the third Euro-Basket had emigrants returning from abroad, the Lithuanian team had several players born in the USA. This was met with protests from other participating countries. There was also confusion about the rules on the height of the players. At the time, the official rule was that players were divided into two groups: up to and above 1.90 metres tall, although the rule was never put into practice. There were two players taking part who were over 1.90 metres: Lithuania’s Pranas Lubinas and Estonia’s Ralf Viksten. Just before the competition, the Technical Committee of FIBA decided to allow players of all heights to take part. Understandably, the decision was very unpopular with other teams.

Poster with an illustration of two basketball players jumping up towards a net

Poster advertising the 1939 European Basketball Championships in Kaunas. ‘When basketball gained the status of a second religion’, from Imagining Lithuania: 100 years, 100 visions: 1918-2018 (Vilnius, 2018) [awaiting shelfmark]

The first day saw the most important match of the competition. Lithuania was playing against Latvia. The match was tense and very even, with both teams taking turns to score. The first half was won by Latvia with the score 17:15. The match, dramatic to the end, was won by Lithuanians by one point (37:36), thanks to the efforts of Pranas Lubinas, who scored in the last few seconds. As Lithuania became the 1939 FIBA EuroBasket champions, winning by just one point, Latvia protested, unhappy about Lubinas’ height and the fact that he was born in the USA.

Black and white photograph of Pranas Lubinas holding a bouquet of flowers

Pranas Lubinas at the EuroBasket 1939 (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

The relations between the two countries deteriorated to such an extent that Latvia refused to take part in sporting events with Lithuania. The Baltic Cup football tournament, planned for later that year, was cancelled. However, clouds were gathering on the political horizon. Months later, the Second World War broke out, and the sporting disagreement paled into insignificance. But the match hasn’t been forgotten; it still elicits strong emotions in basketball fans in both countries.

Winning gold in two European championships by the men’s national team and silver by the women’s team in 1938 sparked national celebrations in Lithuania. It was the beginning of Lithuania’s love affair with basketball. The Lithuanian poet Justinas Marcinkevičius summed it up well: “As if in return for our undying love, basketball has earned the greatest renown and glory in Lithuanian sports arenas, satisfying our national ambitions, and our joy and pride”.

What more would one want from a sport?

Good luck to all the teams taking part in the competitions!

Ela Kucharska-Beard, Curator Slavonic and East European Collections

References and further reading:

Ilze Zveja, Aigars Grauba, Andrejs Ēķis, Sapņu komanda: laika stāsti (Rīga, 2013). YF.2017.b.89

Guntis Keisels, Latvijas basketbola vestūre (Rīga, 1998). YA.2000.b.1152

Guntis Keisels, Latvijas sporta lepnums 100: personības, notikumi, procesi (Rīga, 2018). LF.31.b.15331

Norbertas Černiauskas, ‘When basketball gained the status of a second religion’, in Imagining Lithuania : 100 years, 100 visions: 1918-2018 (Vilnius, 2018) [awaiting shelfmark]

Almantas Bružas, Julija Reklaitė, Kaunas: an architectural guide (Vilnius, 2017). YD.2018.a.4721

Arūnas Brazauskas, Lithuania: a success story: politics, economy, culture, information society, sports, tourism (Vilnius, 2006). YD.2009.b.1533

Stanislovas Stonkus, Sportas tarpukario Lietuvoje (Kaunas, 2007). YF.2012.a.1580

Feliksas Paškevičius, Europos auksas Lietuvai, 1936-1939: iliustruota krepšinio kronika (Vilnius, 2007). YF.2015.a.5157

The godfathers of Lithuanian basketball - FIBA EuroBasket 2022 Qualifiers - FIBA.basketball

02 August 2024

Divided by Politics – ‘United’ by Sport? The German Unified Olympic Team

In 1936 Germany hosted what would be the last Olympic Games before the Second World War, an event that became infamous as a showcase for Nazi Germany. At the first Games after the war (1948) Germans were banned from participating, but in 1950 the International Olympic Committee (IOC) formally recognised a new German National Olympic Committee, paving the way for German participation in the 1952 Games.

However, there was one major problem: by 1950 there were officially two German states, the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) in the West and the German Democratic Republic (GDR) in the East. The FRG had founded the Olympic Committee and claimed that it represented the whole of Germany, in keeping with its policy of not recognising the GDR as a legitimate state. The GDR quickly set up their own National Olympic Committee and also sought recognition from the IOC, but this was refused. Instead, the IOC suggested that the two states should form a single committee and compete as a single team, but NOC members on both sides, under political pressure from their governments, refused, and only West Germany took part in the 1952 Games. (Although the Saarland, later to become part of the FRG but in 1952 a French Protectorate, also competed for the only time as a separate entity.)

The IOC, and in particular its new Chairman, Avery Brundage, felt that the situation in 1952 went against the ‘Olympic spirit’ of international and apolitical camaraderie in sport. In the years leading up to the 1956 Games they sought a solution. In 1954 the East German NOC was given provisional recognition on the understanding that the two German states would still compete as a single team. This time both sides accepted the compromise, and in 1956 what later became known as the ‘Unified German Team’ took part as ‘Germany’ in both the summer and winter Olympics.

Black and white phoptograph of members of the East and West German Olympic committees standing behind a table with a small Olympic pennant

Members of the East and West German Olympic Committees during negotiations over the 1956 Games. From Grit Hartmann, Brigitte Berendonk, Goldkinder: die DDR im Spiegel ihres Spitzensports (Leipzig, 1997) YA.2000.a.19519

This may have solved one problem, but it threw up several others, including that of which flag and anthem the team would use. The flag issue was not initially too hard to solve since in 1956 both countries used the same black red and gold tricolour as their national flag, but by 1960 the GDR had superimposed its national emblem of a hammer and compass in a garland of corn onto its flag. After some wrangling, it was agreed that from then on the team would compete under a German tricolour with the Olympic rings displayed in white in the central red panel. Meanwhile, the Ode to Joy from Beethoven’s 9th Symphony was chosen as the anthem for the team. Team members were selected in qualification competitions held in both Germanies, and it was agreed that the state with the highest number of qualifying athletes would provide the team’s ‘Chef de Mission’ and flag-bearer.

A black, red and gold German tricolour with the Olympic rings in white on the red panel

The flag of the German Unified Team, used at the 1960, 1964 and 1968 Olympic Games (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

When the Unified Team first appeared at the 1956 Olympics, Brundage triumphantly declared that in uniting the two German states in this way, the IOC had “succeeded where the politicians could not”. He would continue to express similar sentiments throughout the lifetime of the Unified Team, but the reality for German politicians, athletes and fans was somewhat different. Politicians in both East and West Germany tried to use participation in the Games to promote their own ends. For the FRG this was primarily to boost its the claim to be the only legitimate German state; conversely, for the GDR it was to gain recognition on the international stage. On the personal level too, the Unified Team was far from united. The athletes from East and West generally lived and trained separately in the Olympic villages and had little personal contact. Sports fans, used to watching the two Germanies compete as rivals in other situations, probably felt a closer allegiance to their own athletes than to those of the other state or to any concept of a united Germany.

Black and white photograph of the Unified German Team, wearing white uniforms and standing between the Finnish and British teams

The German Unified Team at the 1960 Summer Olympics in Tokyo (Bundesarchiv, Bild 183-C1012-0001-026 / Kohls, Ulrich / CC-BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons)

This separation grew more marked over the years as the political situation between the two states deteriorated. Uta Andrea Bailer, writing about the Unified Team, describes its history as “also the history of the continued drifting apart of the two German states.” By 1964 this had come to a head following the building of the Berlin Wall three years earlier. In a dissertation on the team, Eike Birck quotes West German Olympic skier Rita Czech-Blasel: “Who came up with this crazy idea? A ‘unified German team’! The Communists put up a wall, finally chopped Germany in half, and we athletes were supposed to act as if it was all sweetness and light ...” Also in 1964, for the first time the GDR had more qualifiers for the Games, giving them the coveted post of Chef de Mission, something seen in the FRG as a serious humiliation.

Cover of 'Das NOK der DDR' with photographs of a Unified German Team and an East German team

Cover of Matthias Fink, Das NOK der DDR - zwischen Olympia und Politik: die olympische Bewegung der DDR im Spannungsfeld der deutsch-deutschen Geschichte 1945-1973 (Göttingen, 2012) YF.2015.a.21269

In the following years, the IOC bowed to the inevitable. In 1965 the East German NOC was given full recognition, and in 1968 a separate East German team competed, although they were still required to use the flag and anthem of the Unified Team. By 1972 the separation was complete and both the FRG (the host of that year’s summer games) and the GDR competed as separate countries under their own flags. It was around this time that the GDR began the state-sanctioned doping programme that brought spectacular Olympic success throughout the 1970s and 80s but had devastating effects on the lives and health of East German athletes.

In 1992 a single German team once more appeared at the Olympics, but this time it was representing a newly politically unified Germany. Despite Brundage’s hopes of sport achieving what politics could not, it was in the end politics that brought German Olympians truly together again.

Susan Reed, Lead Curator Germanic Collections

References/further reading

Uta A. Balbier, Kalter Krieg auf der Aschenbahn: der deutsch-deutsche Sport, 1950-1972: eine politische Geschichte (Paderborn, 2007) YF.2007.a.31226. Also available online at https://digi20.digitale-sammlungen.de/de/fs1/object/display/bsb00052124_00044.html

Uta A. Balbier, ‘“Flaggen, Hymnen und Medaillen”. Die gesamtdeutsche Olympiamannschaft und die kulturelle Dimension der Deutschlandpolitik.’ In: Susanne Muhle, Hedwig Richter und Juliane Schütterle (ed.), Die DDR im Blick: ein zeithistorisches Lesebuch. (Berlin, 2008), pp. 201-209. YF.2010.a.1880. Also available online at https://www.bundesstiftung-aufarbeitung.de/sites/default/files/uploads/files/2021-06/balbier_flaggen_hymnen_und_medaillen_ddr_im_blick.pdf

Christian Becker, Edelfrid Buggel, Wolfgang Buss, Der Sport in der SBZ und frühen DDR: Genese, Strukturen, Bedingungen (Schorndorf, 2001) YA.2003.a.25310

Eike Birck, Die gesamtdeutschen Olympiamannschaften – eine Paradoxie der Sportgeschichte (Doctoral dissertation, University of Bielefeld, 2013) https://pub.uni-bielefeld.de/download/2638227/2638228/Dissertation_Eike_Birck.pdf

Horst Geyer, Olympische Spiele 1896-1996: ein deutsches Politikum (Münster, 1996) YA.1999.a.12770

Juliana Lenz, Zwischen Politik, Protokoll und Pragmatismus: die deutsche Olympiageschichte von 1952 bis 1972 (Berlin, 2011) YF.2013.a.15633 (Original dissertation available online at https://rosdok.uni-rostock.de/resolve/id/rosdok_disshab_0000002138)

David Maraniss, Rome 1960: the Olympics that changed the world (New York, 2008) m08/.26791