European studies blog: Popular culture

06 March 2025

Lidwina van Schiedam: Patron Saint of Ice Skaters and Chronic Illness

Our exhibition Medieval Women, in their own words, closed last weekend after a highly successful run (you can still find information about the topic and view some exhibition highlights here. Something that is also drawing to a close is the 2024-25 ice skating season.

What do these two things have in common? Well, one of the many ‘Spotlights’ in the exhibition was dedicated to Lidwina van Schiedam, patron saint of ice skaters and chronic pain. That too, is a peculiar combination, to say the least. Let me explain.

Lidwina (or Liduina, or Lidewy) van Schiedam is the most famous Dutch saint. Born in Schiedam in 1380, she lived there all her remarkable life until her death in 1433. When her father wanted to marry her off at the tender age of twelve, both Lidwina and her mother resisted. Lidwina even prayed to God to send her an illness that would make her unattractive to suitors. Whether you believe in divine intervention or not, her wish came true. In the winter of 1395, she was out ice skating with friends when she fell and broke a rib.

Lidwina falls on the ice, from Johannes Brugman,Vita Sanctae Lidwinae (1498). IA.48805 (as displayed in the Medieval Women exhibition)

The fracture resulted in an abscess which did not heal and she became increasingly ill. Eventually she became completely bedridden because of her pain. The pain also prevented her from eating and sleeping. She tolerated very little food, and legend has it that she survived on the Host alone. In modern literature this is sometimes referred to as ‘holy anorexia’. Initially, she resented her illness and pains but over time she came to accept them. She used her illness to develop her spiritualism and became a mystic and a healer. She reported having visions and out of body experiences. Following an investigation into her ‘eucharistic vision’, involving Christ taking the form of a host with five wounds hovering above her knees, the Bishop of Utrecht ruled in favour of Lidwina’s account and the veneration of Lidwina increased. She became known outside the bishopric of Utrecht and people flocked to Schiedam to see her for themselves and to seek healing.

The suffering Lidwina’s vision of Christ, from Johannes Brugman, Vita Sanctae Lidwinae

Lidwina died in Holy Week in 1433. A year later the Schiedam council built a chapel over her grave. In addition, attempts were made to canonise her, but the lengthy process was stalled by the Reformation, during which her chapel and grave were destroyed. Some of her relics were saved and after some travels they are now resting in the Liduina Basilica in Schiedam.

In the 15th century four lives of Lidwina were written. The oldest dates from 1434-1436, by Hugo van Rugge, a canon from the St.-Elisabeth monastery in Brielle. Around 1448 Thomas à Kempis wrote his Vita Lidewigis virginis using Rugge’s work. In 1470 the only title written in Middle Dutch appeared. Long believed to have been written by Jan Gerlachsz, a relative of Lidwina, it is now thought not to be by him, although no alternative author has been suggested.

The Institute for Dutch History’s Digitale Vrouwen Nederland database has an entry for Lidwina which mentions a document issued by the City Council of Schiedam on 21 July 1421. By that time Lidwina had been ill for 23 years and the Council had kept a record of her health in great detail. For instance, it lists what she drank in a week: one pint of wine, diluted with water, with sugar and some cinnamon. The original document is lost, but the text was copied by Johannes Brugman in his Vita Sanctae Lidwinae, from 1498 and so it survived. Brugman was a Dutch Franciscan travelling preacher, famous for his rhetorical skills. The phrase ‘To talk like Brugman’ has become an idiom in the Dutch language.

Johannes Brugman preaching, etching by Barent de Bakker, after a drawing by Hermanus Petrus Schouten (1782). Image from Wikimedia Commons.

In the 19th and 20th centuries interest in Lidwina grew. The works by Thomas à Kempis and Johannes Brugman were newly translated with commentary. In 1994 Ludo Jongen and Cees Schotel re-issued a translation and photographic reprint of the Middle-Dutch Vita prior, entitled Het Leven van Liedewij, de maagd van Schiedam.

Cover of Ludo Jongen and Cees Schotel, Het Leven van Liedewij, de maagd van Schiedam (Hilversum, 1994). ZA.9.a.5895(2)

In 2014 Uitgeverij Verloren published a volume containing two separate works: Een bovenaardse vrouw: zes eeuwen verering van Liduina van Schiedam (‘A supernal woman: six centuries of reverence of Liduina van Schiedam’) by Charles Caspers, and a new translation of Thomas a Kempis’ Vita, entitled Het leven van de maagd Liduina (‘The life of the virgin Liduina’).

Charles Caspers, Een bovenaardse vrouw: Zes eeuwen verering van Liduina van Schiedam. (Hilversum, 2014) YF.2015.a.25455.

Koen Goudriaan linked Lidwina to the Brethren of the Common Life, starting from the new insight that the oldest surviving Vita was not written by Brugman, but by Hugo Rugge, who was connected to the Brethern and that places Lidwina in that tradition. (ZA.9.a.10168)

And what about skating? That is nearly at an end. The last major competition in the 2024-25 season will be World Championship Distances in Hamar, Norway, from 13-16 March. Dutch skaters are at the top of the boards, having honed their skills for at least two centuries, looking from the painting of a women’s speed skating race in 1809.

Skating Race for Women on the city canal of Leeuwarden, 21 January 1809, by Nicolaas Bauer. Image from the website of the Rijksmuseum.

Jaap Eden was the first official world champion and over the last twenty years the Dutch have dominated the skating scene. I wonder whether Lidwina is lending a hand.

Hand-coloured photograph of Jaap Eden. Image from Wikimedia Commons

Marja Kingma, Curator Germanic Collections

References/Further reading:

Johannes Brugman, Vita alme virginis Lidwine, ed. A. de Meijer (Groningen 1963) Ac.936.k/3.

‘Vita prior’ ed. Daniël Papebrochius in: Acta sanctorum Aprilis II (Antwerp, 1675) pp. 270-302

Thomas à Kempis, Vita Lidiwigis virginis, ed. Michael Johannes Pohl. Opera omnia vol. 6 (Freiburg, 1905) pp. 315-453. 3706.aa.6.

Thomas à Kempis, Het leven van de heilige maagd Liduina, translated by Rijcklof Hofman (Hilversum, 2014) YF.2015.a.25455.

Koen Goudriaan, ‘Het Leven van Liduina en de moderne devotie’, in: Jaarboek voor Middeleeuwse Geschiedenis (2003) 6, pp. 161-236. ZA.9.a.10168.

Ludo Jongen and Cees Schotel, Leven van Liedewij, een Middelnederlandse vertaling van de Vita prior, waarschijnlijk eerst rond 1470 vervaardigd (Hilversum 1994) ZA.9.a.5895(2). Also available online.

Ludo Jongen, ‘Uit het oog, uit het hart? Over twee heilige maagden: Lutgard en Lidewij’, in: Gouden legenden: Heiligenlevens en heiligenverering in de Nederlanden, ed. Anneke B. Mulder-Bakker and Marijke Carasso-Kok (Hilversum 1997), pp. 127-137. YA.1998.a.6022

Ludo Jongen, Heiligenlevens in Nederland en Vlaanderen (Amsterdam, 1998), pp. 46-53.

J.B.W.M. Möller, Sint Liduina van Schiedam: in de mystiek en in haar tijd (The Hague, 1948) 4823.h.6.

‘Afschrift, gedateerd 1451, van de Schiedamse oorkonde van 21 juli 1421 met een vidimus van Jan van Beieren’, in: H. van Oerle, ‘Tleven van Liedwy die maghet van Scyedam’, Ons geestelijk erf 54 (1980) 3, pp. 241-266. P.101/476

Digitaal Vrouwenlexicon van Nederland (Huygens Instituut, Amsterdam)

Posted by European Studies at 10:00 AM in Germanic , Medieval history , Netherlands , Popular culture , Printed books , Women's histories | Permalink

19 February 2025

For the Love of Books: European Collections at the British Library Doctoral Open Days

On February 14, European Collections featured at Doctoral Open Day themed ‘Global Languages, Cultures and Societies’. Marja Kingma, Curator of Germanic Collections, delivered a presentation introducing PhD students from across the UK and beyond to navigating the collections and identifying resources to support their research. In the afternoon, our curators hosted a show-and-tell session, offering the students a glimpse into the Library's unmatched holdings from continental Europe. The selections ranged from a quirky bottle-shaped Czech book to a Russian glossy LGBT magazine and a modern illuminated manuscript from Georgia. Spoiler alert – love-themed curatorial picks proved crowd pleasers. For those who could not make it, here is a taster of what you might have missed.

Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator of Slavonic and East European Collections, Olga Topol and Hanna Dettlaff-Kuznicka, Curators of Slavonic and East European Collections, turned the spotlight on minority languages and cultures, giving voice to the Evenks, Sakha, Kashubians, Silesians, and the Gagauz people of Ukraine. It was a revelation to many of the students to learn that Eastern Europe was both linguistically and culturally diverse, with a plethora of languages, ethnicities, and religious traditions across the region.

V. A. Dʹiachenko, N. V. Ermolova, Evenki i iakuty iuga Dalʹnego Vostoka, XVII-XX vv. (St. Petersburg, 1994) YA.1997.a.2298.

Marcin Melon, Kōmisorz Hanusik: we tajnyj sużbie ślonskij nacyje (Kotōrz Mały, 2015) YF.2017.a.20547. An interesting example of a crime comedy written in the Silesian ethnolect.

Milan Grba, Lead Curator of South-East European Collections, highlighted a groundbreaking work by Vuk Stefanović Karadžić, Srpski rječnik (‘Serbian Dictionary’), which proved very popular among researchers with an interest in linguistics.

Vuk Stefanović Karadžić, Srpski rječnik (Vienna, 1818) 12976.r.6.

It was the first book printed in Karadžić’s reformed 30-character Cyrillic alphabet, following the phonetic principle of "write as you speak." The dictionary contained over 26,000 words and was trilingual, with Serbian, German, and Latin entries. It standardised Serbian orthography but also preserved the nation’s oral tradition. The dictionary’s encyclopaedic entries encompassed folklore, history, and ethnography, making it a pivotal text in both linguistic reform and cultural preservation.

Anna Chelidze, Curator of Georgian Collections, showed the students a contemporary illuminated manuscript created in 2018 by the Georgian calligrapher Giorgi Sisauri. The Art Palace of Georgia commissioned the work especially for the British Library to enrich our Georgian collections. The poem Kebai da Didebai Kartulisa Enisa ('Praise and Exaltation of the Georgian Language') was written in the 10th century by John Zosimus, a Georgian Christian monk and religious writer. It is renowned for its profound reverence for the Georgian language, employing numerological symbolism and biblical allusions to underscore its sacredness.

(Giorgi Sisauri), John Zosimus, Kebai da Didebai Kartulisa Enisa, (2018) Or. 17158

Sophie Defrance, Valentina Mirabella and Barry Taylor, Curators of Romance Language Collections, treated the students to some ... romance.

Sophie Defrance took a tongue-in-cheek approach to the theme by suggesting another way to look at (some) love letters with Le rire des épistoliers.

Cover of Charrier-Vozel, Marianne, Le rire des épistoliers: XVIe-XVIIIe siècle (Rennes, 2021) YF.2022.a.9956

The volume gathers the proceedings of a 2017 conference at the University of Brest on the expression, manners, and importance of laughing and laughter in 16th- and 17th-century correspondence, with examples from Diderot’s letters to his lover Sophie Volland, or from the exchanges between Benjamin Constant and his confidante Julie Talma.

Valentina Mirabella decided to revisit the Boris Pasternak’s timeless love story ‘Doctor Zhivago’. Turns out, the history of the novel’s publication in Italy was nearly as turbulent as the story itself! It was first published in Italian translation as Il dottor Živago in 1957 by Giangiacomo Feltrinelli. Although an active communist, Feltrinelli smuggled the manuscript out of the USSR and resisted pressure against its publication. The demand for Il dottor Živago was so great that Feltrinelli was able to license translation rights into 18 different languages well in advance of the novel's publication. The Communist Party of Italy expelled the publisher from its ranks in retaliation for his role in the release of the book they felt was critical of communism.

Cover of the 34th (in the space of just two years!) edition of Il dottor Živago by Boris Pasternak translated from Russian by Pietro Zveteremich (Milano : Feltrinelli, 1959) W16/9272

Barry Taylor drew attention to the epistolary relationship and an electric bond between the Spanish author Elena Fortún (1886-1952) and the Argentine professor Inés Field (1897-1994) with the book Sabes quién soy: cartas a Inés Field (‘You know who I am: letters to Inés Field’).

Elena Fortún, Sabes quién soy: cartas a Inés Field (Seville, 2020) YF.2021.a.15259

Fortún was the author of the popular Celia books, which followed the heroine from a seven-year-old in well-to-do Madrid to a schoolteacher in Latin America. The books give a child’s-eye-view of the world. They were censored by Franco and the author was exiled, but the books have been re-published by Renacimiento of Seville in the 2000s. Fortún’s novel Oculto sendero (‘The hidden path’) published in 2016 is seen as a lesbian Bildungsroman.

Fortún met Inés Field in Buenos Aires. Now that both women are dead, critics feel free to read the correspondence through the prism of the Bildungsroman.

Ildi Wolner, Curator of East and South-East European Collections, explored the representations of love in art with Agnes’s Hay Sex : 40 rajz = 40 drawings.

Agnes Hay, Sex: 40 rajz = 40 drawings ([Budapest, 1979]) YA.1997.a.2586

Ágnes Háy is a Hungarian graphic artist and animation filmmaker, who has lived in London since 1985. Her unique experimental style of drawing uses simple lines and symbols to convey complex meanings and associations, and this booklet is no exception. Considered rather bold in Communist Hungary at the end of the 1970s, this series of sketches explores the diverse intricacies of gender relations, without the need for a single word of explanation.

Page from Sex : 40 rajz = 40 drawings [Budapest, 1979] YA.1997.a.2586

Susan Reed, Curator of Germanic Collections, shared a fascinating collection of essays examining aspects of the love letter as a social and cultural phenomenon from the 18th century to the present day.

Cover of Der Liebesbrief: Schriftkultur und Medienwechsel vom 18. Jahrhundert bis zur Gegenwart, herausgegeben von Renate Stauf, Annette Simonis, Jörg Paulus (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008) YF.2010.a.14652

The authors scrutinised letters from historical and literary figures including Otto von Bismark, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Rainer Maria Rilke. The book ends with a consideration of how online messaging forms might transform the way we write love letters.

Ela Kucharska-Beard, Curator of Baltic Collections, displayed a mysterious metal box containing a booklet in English and Lithuanian, some photographs, posters and letters.

Vilma Samulionytė, Liebe Oma, Guten Tag, or The Pact of Silence (Vilnius, 2018) RF.2019.a.120

Liebe Oma, Guten Tag, or The Pact of Silence is a moving tribute from the Lithuanian photographer Vilma Samulionyė to her grandmother, a Lithuanian German Elė Finkytė Šnipaitienė. When Vilma’s grandmother took her own life in her 70s, Vilma and her sister Jūrate decided to delve into the family history. Their research resulted in a documentary film, an exhibition, and an artists’ book. Along the way the sisters face taboos, one of them being a chain of suicides in the family.

The journey into the family’s German history and their post-war life in Lithuania left them with some unsettling questions. Who was Kazimieras and was he the reason why Ella Fink left her family behind? Throughout the story letters and photographs create a link between the family in the West and in the East, between the living and the dead. 

We hope you have enjoyed this virtual show-and-tell of highlights in our European collections. We look forward to welcoming you to the next Doctoral Open Days in 2026!

Posted by European Studies at 10:00 AM in Austria , Belarus , Belgium , Bosnia and Hercegovina , Bulgaria , Croatia , Czech Republic , Endangered languages , Estonia , France , Georgia , Germanic , Germany , Hungary , International , Italy , Latvia , LGBTQ+ , Literature , Lithuania , Manuscripts , Moldova , Montenegro , Netherlands , Poland , Popular culture , Portugal , Printed books , Rare books , Romance languages , Romania , Russia , Serbia , Slavonic , Slovakia , Slovenia , Spain , Translation , Ukraine , Visual arts | Permalink

02 January 2025

New Year, Old Years: a Look Back

Usually around the start of a new year we look back over our previous year’s blogging before turning our faces to the future. This time we’re actually looking back over 2023 as well as 2024 because BL blogging activity was suspended for a while following the cyber-attack on the Library in October 2023, so we couldn’t do a review of that year at the time. And to break up the prose, we include some wintery scenes from the BL’ s Flickr stream.

Reindeer from Sophus Tromholt, Under Nordlysets Straaler. Skildringer fra Lappernes Land (Copenhagen, 1885) 10280.eee.13.

Both years saw our usual excitement over the annual European Writers’ Festival held in May. In 2023 we featured an interview with Greek Cypriot writer Anthony Anaxagorou, winner of the 2024 RSL Ondaatje Prize, while in 2024 we published a series of posts, beginning with this one, profiling some of the authors featured in the festival. As usual, literature featured in many other posts. We celebrated the award of the 2023 Nobel Prize in Literature to Norway’s Jon Fosse and mourned the death in 2024 of Albanian author Ismail Kadare. We were proud to learn that our Curator of Italian, Valentina Mirabella, was one of the judges of the 2024 Premio Strega, a major Italian literary prize, and she wrote about her experience for us.

A theme that ran through both years was the work of the Endangered Archives Project to preserve cultural heritage from Eastern and Southeastern Europe. Our coverage included posts on the indigenous peoples of Siberia, minority communities in Bulgaria, an important Serbian family archive, and material relating to the Ukrainian writer Taras Shevchenko, who was also the subject of a small display in our Treasures Gallery.

Polar scene from Die zweite Deutsche Nordpolarfahrt in den Jahren 1869 und 1870, unter Führung des Kapitän Karl Koldewey, edited by Alexander Georg Mosle und Georg Albrecht (Leipzig, 1873-4) 10460.ff.11.

Events in the library are a regular source of inspiration for our blog posts. In 2023 we highlighted events commemorating two colleagues who died in recent years: a symposium on Italian Futurism was dedicated to the memory of Chris Michaelides, former curator of Italian and Modern Greek, who did much to build our collection of Futurist books. The Graham Nattrass Lecture, in memory of the former Head of Germanic Collections is an annual event, and in 2023 marked the 80th anniversary of the arrest and execution of members of the German resistance group ‘Die Weisse Rose’. A conference on European political refugees in Britain generated posts on the same topic, including one on how the then British Museum Library became ‘a lifeline of books’ for Polish refugees from Soviet and Nazi occupation. On a lighter note, we celebrated the BL’s annual Food Season in May 2024 with a post introducing a selection of cookbooks from around the continent.

In summer 2024 we went a bit sports mad with both the European Football Championships and the Summer Olympics taking place. We highlighted the world-beating football tactics of the Hungarian ‘Golden Team’ in the early 1950s and the ‘Miracle of Bern’ that saw them unexpectedly beaten by West Germany in 1954’s World Cup, as well as exploring why the Dutch fans show symptoms of ‘orange fever’ at international matches. Our Olympic posts included explorations of the political side of the supposedly apolitical games in Czechoslovakia and the two German states during the Cold War, and a look at the Baltic States’ love for (and proud record in) basketball.

The northern lights, from Emmanuel Liais, L’Espace céleste et la nature tropicale, description physique de l’univers (Paris, 1866) 10003.d.10.

But not all our blog posts are driven by events and unifying themes. As ever, we continued to write about items from our vast and varied collections, from Georgian manuscripts to contemporary Queer writing in Poland, via a Russian Braille edition of The Hobbit, French caricatures from the Franco-Prussian War, and pamphlets from the Cypriot independence campaign. We also explored stories of the Slovenian Enlightenment and the first Professor of Spanish in Britain, and discovered the hidden but crucial role played by women in underground publishing under the Polish Communist regime.

As we head into 2025 we would like to wish all our readers and contributors a very happy new year. We look forward to bringing you another year of stories and discoveries from the Library’s European Collections.

Susan Reed and Hanna Dettlaff-Kuznicka, European Studies Blog Editors

Ice-skating, from A.J. van der Aa, Ons Vaderland en zijne Bewoners (Amsterdam,1855-57) 10270.f.5

Posted by European Studies at 12:31 PM in Cyprus , Czech Republic , European Literature Night , France , Georgia , Germanic , Germany , History , Hungary , Italy , Latvia , Literature , Lithuania , Netherlands , Norway , Poland , Popular culture , Romance languages , Russia , Serbia , Slavonic , Slovenia , Spain , Ukraine | Permalink

24 December 2024

Devil in the details: Nikolai Gogol's ‘Christmas Eve’

With Christmas fast approaching, I thought I would share one of my favourite seasonal reads, Noch’ pered Rozhdestvom (‘Christmas Eve’, also known as ‘The Night Before Christmas’, 1832) by Nikolai Gogol'. This whimsical and uproarious folk tale comes from a collection of eight short stories written in Russian and collected in two volumes, Vechera na khutore bliz Dikan’ki (‘Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka’, 1831-1832), which catapulted the author to fame almost overnight. If you like the sound of a winter story featuring flying dumplings and a witch hiding her suitors in rubble sacks, then read on, you are in for a treat. This delightfully eccentric and cliché-free narrative is certain to put you in a festive mood.

Cover of Vechory na khutori bilia Dykanʹky by Nikolai Gogol' (Kyiv, 2008) YF.2009.b.2030

Opening pages of Noch’ pered Rozhdestvom by Nikolai Gogol' (Kyiv, 2008) YF.2009.b.2030

However, you may wonder how the author of Mertvye Dushi (‘Dead Souls’, 1842) came to write such a lighthearted and, dare I say it, frivolous piece. To answer that question, we need to travel back to December 1828 when a young aspiring writer hailing from the small Cossack town of Sorochyntsi arrives in the metropolitan St. Petersburg to seek his fortune. Unable to secure a decent paying job in the civil service, Nikolai soon becomes disillusioned with life in the capital and the workings of the Russian bureaucracy. The disappointment with St. Petersburg coincides with his newfound appreciation of the homeland he left behind and the craze for all things “Little Russian” sweeping the capital’s literary scene at the time. Gogol' is quick to capitalize on this trend and eager to bring the beauty of Ukraine to the Russian reading public. Yet for all the enthusiasm with which the liberal circles received Gogol’s work, the nation reflected in Vechera was not Russia but Ukraine. Far from smoothing over this difference, the author deliberately accentuated it.

There is undoubtedly more to the joyous and seemingly carefree tone of Vechera than first meets the eye. The Ukrainian-Russian glossaries appended to each volume clearly underline Ukrainian linguistic separateness and cultural uniqueness, creating a boundary between the Ukrainian and imperial cultures. The narrator, Rudy Pan'ko, regularly engages in intense self-descriptions, offering equivalents for what his Russian audience may find unfamiliar. This is evident in Noch’ pered Rozhdestvom when he attempts to explain the tradition of house-to-house caroling: ‘‘Among us it is the custom to sing under the window on Christmas Eve carols that are called kolyadki. The mistress or master or whoever is left in the house always drops into the singer’s bag some sausage or bread or a copper or whatever he has plenty of (...) They often sing about the birth of Christ, and at the end wish good health to the master, the mistress, the children and all the household’’, or when he elucidates on the meaning of the word ‘German’: ‘‘By ‘German’, we mean any foreigner, be it a French, Austro-Hungarian, or Swedish subject - no matter, we will still call them ‘Germans’.’’ (English translations by Constance Garnett, ‘Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka’ (London, 1926), 12266.g.2. and Anna Summers, ‘The night before Christmas’, (New York, 2014), YKL.2016.a.6326; emphasis mine). Pan'ko clearly wants his Russian readers to be mindful of the divisions between the two worlds.

Glossary listing popular Ukrainian terms and their Russian equivalents

The great success of Gogol's work also owed much to its Romantic handling of folklore and the perfect balance of the familiar and exotic in depicting Ukraine. As a number of scholars have pointed out, Noch’ pered Rozhdestvom contains many staples of the traditional Ukrainian nativity play, vertep. It opens with the devil swimming through the starry sky and burning his hands on the moon he had just stolen. As the story is set on the night before Christmas, the evil spirit is allowed to roam freely around the Ukrainian village of Dykanka and torment its denizens before he must return to hell on Christmas Day. He unleashes a blizzard hoping to thwart the village blacksmith's advances on the beautiful Oksana as he resents him for producing a painting depicting the devil's defeat. However, Vakula is determined to win the village belle over, even if it means battling Satan himself. Amid carol singing, holiday gluttony (think kutia, varenyky, palianytsia, varenukha) and drunken revelry, he manages to trick the devil into flying him to St. Petersburg, where he hopes to get a pair of empress’s heels for Oksana, who has promised to marry him on this condition. Without giving too much away, Vakula finally makes it to St. Petersburg and is immediately overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the city. He seeks refuge in the company of Zaporozhian Cossacks, who reluctantly take him along for their audience with the empress...

Too busy to read this Christmas? Gogol’s Ukrainian folk tales have been adapted into numerous films and operas. The most renowned adaptations of Noch’ pered Rozhdestvom include the eponymous 1961 film directed by Alexsander Rou and the 1913 silent movie by Władysław Starewicz. The 1951 Russian animated feature film directed by Valentina and Zinaida Brumberg is also available in the public domain.

Official poster for the 1961 Noch’ pered Rozhdestvom film by Alexander Rou (Image from Wikipedia)

Gogol's Noch’ pered Rozhdestvom celebrates Ukraine and its rich heritage. It is fun and edifying but also mischievously subversive. Will the pious Cossack Vakula manage to win the affection of the most beautiful girl in town? Or will the devil reign supreme on this holy night? A perfect tale for the holiday season, this wonderfully bizarre work will leave you with a sense of warmth and quiet wonder long after the last page is turned. Z Rizdvom! Merry Christmas!

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

References:

Edyta M. Bojanowska, Nikolai Gogol : between Ukrainian and Russian nationalism (Cambridge, 2007) YC.2007.a.11089

Christopher Putney, Russian devils and diabolic conditionality in Nikolai Gogol's Evenings on a farm near Dikanka (New York, 1999) 5761.407700

Posted by European Studies at 8:08 PM in Literature , Popular culture , Russia , Slavonic , Ukraine | Permalink

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).

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

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)

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’.

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.

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.

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

Posted by European Studies at 11:48 AM in Literature , Poland , Popular culture , Visual arts | Permalink

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.

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”.

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.

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.

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

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 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.

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

Posted by European Studies at 10:28 AM in Latvia , Lithuania , Popular culture | Permalink

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.

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.

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.

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 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

Posted by European Studies at 10:03 AM in Germany , History , Politics , Popular culture | Permalink

30 July 2024

Defiance on the World Stage: Czechoslovak Protests and the Olympic Games

In November 1959, Frank Vadasz, a former citizen of pre-war Czechoslovakia, wrote to Josef Josten, a renowned Czech journalist in exile in London. In his letter, conceived a few months ahead of the Winter Olympic Games in Squaw Valley (now Palisades Tahoe), California, Vadasz asked Josten to lobby the US Postmaster General, Arthur Summerfield, to make a certain stamp official postage for the Olympic Games. Vadasz had heard that in March 1960, the US would issue two stamps depicting Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk, a pre-war statesman and father of Czechoslovak independence, as a champion of liberty. He wanted the stamp to be printed earlier to coincide with the Games and make it the only stamp available in the Olympic Village. He argued: “It would be great propaganda by the US Post Office and a slap in the face to the Czechoslovak communist regime if all the participants of the games had to write letters home with a Masaryk stamp (and the Olympic symbol). The Czechoslovak post would not be able to return such letters!” Unfortunately, Vadasz’s plan did not work, and the stamps were issued in March as planned. However, there were other, more successful, Czechoslovak attempts to use the Olympics as a platform for protest before and after Vadasz’s plot.

A letter from Frank Vadasz to Josef Josten, Josten Collection of Second World War Government in Exile material formed by Josef Josten (1913-1985), donated to the British Library Philatelic Collections in 1986.

Marie Provazníková, coach of the Czechoslovak women’s gymnastics team at the 1948 Summer Olympics in London, where her team won the gold medal, decided to defect to protest the lack of freedom following the 1948 coup d’état by the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia. An activist in the Sokol Movement and a believer in democracy, she was a supporter of former president Edvard Beneš. Provazníková joined a group of six Czechoslovakian and two Hungarian Olympic team members who refused to return to their homelands. After settling in the USA, she continued to work actively for Sokol, promoting its ideals and writing about its history and principles.

Miroslav Tyrš and Jindřich Fügner, co-founder of Sokol. Illustration from Josef Kučera, Dějiny tělocvičné jednoty Sokol v Londýně : o předběžným pojednáním o minulých spolcích londýnských (Prague, 1912), RB.23.b.8302

The 1968 Summer Olympics in Mexico City witnessed another story of resilience and quiet protest by Provazníková’s compatriot, Věra Čáslavská. The Czech gymnast became a symbol of defiance against Soviet oppression. Following the Soviet-led invasion of Czechoslovakia, Čáslavská faced many challenges. Her training facilities were seized, forcing her to improvise her regimen in the forests of the Hrubý Jeseník mountains: she lifted potato sacks for weights and balanced on logs as beams, trying to maintain her peak condition.

Cover of Vratislav Blažek, Věra Čáslavska. (Prague, 1968), X.441/1143

An outspoken critic of Communism, during Prague Spring, Věra signed the ‘Two Thousand Words’ manifesto protesting the Warsaw Pact troops’ invasion of Czechoslovakia. This act of defiance forced her into hiding in a remote mountain hut at Vřesová studánka, only securing her passage to the Olympics at the last moment. Despite everything, Čáslavská dominated the 1968 Olympics, winning medals in all six events.

Čáslavská's achievements were particularly poignant because of the political turmoil in Czechoslovakia. During the medal ceremonies, she protested the occupation with a symbolic gesture while standing on the podium alongside a Soviet competitor: she turned her head away and looked down while the USSR’s anthem was playing, showing her defiance against Soviet politics. Věra’s was not the only act of defiance in Mexico, with Tommie Smith and John Carlos’s black power salute from the podium being one of the most iconic images engraved in history.

Cover of Harry Blustein, Games of discontent: protests, boycotts, and politics at the 1968 Mexico Olympics (Montreal; Kingston; London; Chicago 2021), YC.2022.a.5826.

After the Velvet Revolution, Čáslavská became an advisor to President Václav Havel and the chairwoman of the Czechoslovak and later the Czech Olympic Committee, further solidifying her legacy as both a sports icon and a symbol of resistance.

The Olympic Games have long been a stage for athletes to promote democratic values and protest oppressive regimes. Although officially Rule 50 of the Olympic Charter states that “no kind of demonstration or political, religious or racial propaganda is permitted in any Olympic sites, venues or other areas,” the Games highlight the power of sports as a platform for advocating democracy and human rights. In Beijing in 2022, just before Russia’s full-scale invasion, Vladyslav Heraskevych flashed a blue-and-yellow sign reading “No War in Ukraine” after competing in a skeleton race for his country. Although the Games are apolitical in principle, the Olympic spirit goes beyond competition and includes a commitment to global justice and freedom.

Olga Topol, Curator Slavonic and East European Collections, with thanks to Richard Morel, Curator Philatelic Collections

How the Polish nobility and a "little Russian [? – Belarusian!] girl" shaped Belarusian sports

As we know, Russian and Belarusian athletes will not take part in the opening ceremony of the 2024 Olympics in Paris. The International Olympic Committee has banned athletes from both countries following Russia's invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Nevertheless, some sportsmen from Russia and Belarus have been allowed to compete as AINs (Individual Neutral Athletes). Unfortunately, totalitarian regimes weaponise sports and international competitions to promote their own narrative of superiority and success. At the end of the blog, I will offer several titles that might be of interest to those readers who would like to learn more about the research in sports, politics and society in Belarus and beyond. Before that, however, I would like to relive the best moments associated with sports in Belarus and find out more about the individuals linked to the Belarusian land who made lasting contributions to the Olympic movement.

The first person I would like to mention was not a sportsman but an engineer - Zygmunt Mineyko (Greek: Ζigkmοynt Μineiko). A Polish-Lithuanian nobleman, born as a Russian Imperial subject in the territory of present-day Belarus, he lived and worked in France and the Ottoman Empire and then settled in Greece. Mineyko was imprisoned and sent to Siberia for fighting for Polish independence in the 1863 January Uprising. He later wrote a book about these years, From the Taiga to the Acropolis.

Zygmunt Mineyko, Z tajgi pod Akropol: Wspomnienia z lat 1848-1866. (Warsaw, 1971) X.808/7446.

Mineyko was born in the region of Hrodna, which later became one of the major centres of Belarusian sports. After moving to Greece, he served as a chief engineer for the country's Public Work Ministry and took part in constructing the Olympic facilities for the first modern Olympic Games in 1896. He was one of the engineers responsible for restoring and refurbishing the Panathenaic Stadium, which hosted the Games that year.

Panathenaic Stadium. (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

In 1888, three years before Mineyko settled in Athens, another man destined to leave a mark on the history of the Olympic Games was born in Hrodna. Karol Rómmel (Russian: Karl Rummel, German: Karol von Rummel) was the son of the Russian Imperial Army general Karol Aleksander Rummel. He followed in his father's footsteps and joined the ranks of the Russian Army. Karol studied in Odesa and Saint Petersburg and soon became interested in equestrian sports. He took part in the 1912 Olympic Games in Stockholm as a member of the Russian team.

Report on the Olympic Games published in the magazine Russkii sport. 1912, No 28 (8 July). P. 7. Digital copy of the Russian State Historical Public Library

The above report mentions the results but does not tell the dramatic story behind Rómmel’s Olympic performance. Almost at the end of the track, his horse Ziablik caught a beam and fell, crushing his rider. Despite the serious injuries, the sportsman managed to get back into the saddle and finish the race.

The section on Riding Competitions from The Olympic Games of Stockholm 1912 Official Report. (Stockholm, 1913) 7904.e.2. Available online via the Digital Olympic Official Reports Collection.

After the Russian Revolution, the athlete changed his surname from Rummel to the more Polish-sounding Rómmel and joined the Polish Army in its fight against Bolshevik Russia. The next Olympic Games he participated in were held in Paris (1924) and Amsterdam (1928), where he, together with Józef Piotr Trenkwald and Michał Antoniewicz, claimed the bronze for Poland in team competitions.

Photograph of K. Rómmel from The Olympic Games of Amsterdam 1928 Official Report accessible at
Digital Olympic Official Reports Collection

The first Olympic medal for Belarusians — as part of the USSR team — was silver, awarded in 1956 to hammer thrower Mikhail Krivonosov (1929-1994). In 1976, Elena Novikova-Belova (b. 1947) became the first female fencer to win four Olympic gold medals. Although born in Khabarovsk Krai in the Russian Soviet Socialist Republic, she spent much of her career in Belarus and became the Honoured Trainer of Belarus in 1994. A native of Minsk, Sviatlana Bahinskaia (b. 1973, lives in the USA) is one of the few world-class gymnasts who competed in three Olympic Games. She was a member of three Olympic teams: USSR (1992, Seoul), The Unified Team of former Soviet republics (1992, Barcelona) and Belarus (1996, Atlanta). The first gold Olympic medal for independent Belarus was won in rowing by Katsiaryna Khadatovich-Karsten (b. 1972, lives in Germany). She is a two-time Olympic and six-time World Champion in the single scull.

But of course, the legend of Soviet Belarusian sports was Olga Korbut, born in Hrodna in 1955. Although her professional career in sports lasted only for eight years, as she retired from gymnastic competition at the age of 22, Korbut’s influence and legacy have been profound. The hero of Soviet and Belarusian sports is now a US national. She left Minsk in 1991 and has lived in the USA for almost as long as in the Soviet Union. Although much research has already been done on the Korbut phenomenon, she remains the focus of academic projects. As Timur Mukhamatulin concluded in his article on women’s gymnastics and the Cold War, “Korbut’s image was so influential for American sports followers that, in 1994, long after she had retired, and in the wake of the Soviet Union’s collapse, Sports Illustrated included Korbut in its list of forty athletes who had altered sports over the course of the magazine’s forty years of existence. An article honouring Korbut declared that ‘this little Russian girl’ put a ‘different, human face on her Communist country.’”

Olga Korbut at the 1972 Olympics on an Azerbaijani stamp (Image from Wikipedia)

Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator, East European Collections

EURO 2024: The Dutch Legion takes over Hamburg

The UEFA European Championships 2024 are underway. The men’s football teams of 24 countries are battling it out for the trophy on various pitches in Germany.

I personally wished there was a trophy for most imaginative football fans. The ‘Dutch Legion’, the nickname for the Dutch Football fans, would have a good chance of winning it. Belying the reputation of the Dutch people for being level-headed, down-to-earth, and with an ‘act-normal-that’s-crazy-enough’ mentality, the Dutch Legion go full ‘Orange Fever’ (a term that seems to have disappeared) by dressing up in crazy costumes in bright orange, with even crazier accessories, usually some sort of head gear, all in orange, with sometimes a smidgen of red, white and blue. They come in their tens of thousands, especially now that the tournament is held so close to the Netherlands. as anyone who watched them marched through Hamburg before their first match against Poland on 16 June will be able to testify. It was their 50th march, so a special event in any case. The English language online newspaper NL Times posted some videos.

Dutch football fans demonstrating their devotion to the colour orange (Photograph from Pinterest)

Why the colour orange? The Dutch flag is red, white and blue, so what’s the ‘Oranje’ doing there? The orange refers to the Dutch Royal family, whose name is Van Oranje-Nassau.

The Nassaus are an old aristocratic family from Germany. The foundations of the family go back to 1403, but it was in 1544 that Rene van Chalon, ruler over the princedom of Orange in France and son of Early Henry III and Claudia of Chalon dies and leaves all his possessions to his nephew William of Orange (1533-1584). William became the founding father of the Oranje-Nassau dynasty. I wonder what William would have made of the Dutch Legion.

William of Orange, from Levinus Ferdinand de Beaufort, Het Leven van Willem de I., Prins van Oranje ... (Leiden, 1732) 1199.f.6-8.

I wrote a blog post about the phenomenon of Dutch fandom four years ago. Meanwhile Ronald Koeman’s Orange Team have reached the next stage, so the Dutch Legion will be out in full force for the next week at least. You can’t miss them. Meanwhile, as you wait for their next match, you can browse through some suggested reading on Dutch (and Belgian) football and footballers from our collections below.

Marja Kingma, Curator Germanic Collections

European studies blog

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EURO 2024: The Dutch Legion takes over Hamburg

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