European studies blog

310 posts categorized "History"

06 June 2025

Gnomes and Gardens

One of Germany’s great contributions to garden history, the Hortus Eystettensis, a magnificent 17th-century catalogue of the Bishop of Eichstätt’s garden, is on display in our current exhibition Unearthed: the Power of Gardening, in a splendid hand-coloured edition. Unfortunately, there was no room in the exhibition for another of Germany’s great contributions to garden history: the garden gnome (or garden dwarf, ‘Gartenzwerg’, as they are known in Germany). So I thought I would give the humble gnome a brief moment in the British Library sun.

For something often sneered at as ‘common’, the garden gnome has some surprisingly aristocratic forebears. In the 17th century noble families in German-speaking Europe began to decorate the gardens of their palaces with sculptures of caricatured dwarfs, based on the engravings of Jacques Callot; some of the most famous are in the Mirabell Palace Gardens in Salzburg. Both Callot’s engravings and the sculptures they inspired probably took inspiration from the ‘court dwarfs’ employed in European royal households as fools and curiosities in the 16th and 17th centuries.

Colour photograph of a scuplted dwarf holding a ball in one hand

One of the dwarf sculptures in the  Mirabell Palace Gardens, Salzburg (photo: Susan Reed)

It was probably this sort of sculpture that Goethe was thinking of when he mentioned garden gnomes in his epic poem Hermann und Dorothea. In one section of the poem, a local apothecary laments the fact that his garden with its rustic wooden fences, grottos, gilded furnishings, and ‘stone beggars and colourful dwarfs’ has gone out of fashion, replaced in popularity by ‘tasteful’ smooth lawns and white benches. This suggests that by the late 18th century dwarf sculptures had become as much a bourgeois as an aristocratic trend and that, like garden gnomes today, they were increasingly seen as a sign of old-fashioned (and indeed bad) taste.

It’s not quite certain whether there’s a direct link between these baroque dwarfs and the red-capped gnomes we’re more familiar with today, but it’s certainly believable that the idea of comical miniature garden figures was inspired by the earlier fashion. The garden gnomes that started to be mass produced in Germany in the mid-19th century also had roots in northern European folklore, recalling the legendary creatures – sometimes benevolent, sometimes malign – that worked in the mines or as household spirits. The Romantic movement’s ‘rediscovery’ of folk and fairy tales no doubt influenced the desire to decorate houses and gardens with such folkloric figures.

Woodcut illustration of two gnomes, one working in a mine, the other sweeping the floor of a stable

Gnomes from Scandiavian folklore working in a mine and a stable, from Olaus Magnus, Historia de gentibus septentrionalibus ... (Rome, 1555)  432.k.18.

It was the aristocracy again that played a part in bringing the gnome to Britain. Dwarfs were among the wooden carvings made in Switzerland and the Black Forest region which were popular as souvenirs with British travellers in the 18th and early 19th centuries, and when stone and plaster figures began to be made, they too were brought home. In 1847 the Victorian Baronet Sir Charles Isham built a rock garden in the grounds of his home which he populated with gnomes acquired from Nuremberg, and other wealthy landowners created similar displays. However, as if to prove that there is always a backlash to the popularity of gnomes, Isham’s daughters allegedly destroyed his collection after his death by shooting at them with air rifles.

Page from a catalogue with coloured illustrations of 9 garden gnomes in different poses

Pages from a catalogue of gnomes and other figures offered for sale in the 19th century by the firm of Ludwig Möller in Erfurt (image from Wikimedia Commons)

Gnomes achieved wide popularity both in Germany and abroad in the later 19th century and a whole gnome-making industry grew up, especially in the Thuringian town of Gräfenroda. German gnome manufacturers, some of which survive to this day, issued catalogues of gnomes in all sorts of poses and carrying various tools and other accoutrements. Initially many held mining tools, reflecting the folkloric association with mines, but as the association with gardens developed these were often replaced by wheelbarrows, rakes and the like. After the First World War there was a slight dip in the popularity of gnomes among Germany’s wartime enemies, but this did not last, and gnomes were given a further boost after 1937 by Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

However, gnomes did slide down the social scale again, coming to be seen as examples of kitschy bad taste. With a few exceptions, they have famously been banned from the Chelsea Flower Show for most of its existence, and they are an easy literary symbol for small-minded suburbia. Ingeborg Wendt’s novel Die Gartenzwerge (Hamburg, [1960]; F10/0768), for example, is a story of small-town politics in which the hapless and compromised protagonist is a garden gnome manufacturer. Similarly, the stories in Jacques-Étienne Bovard’s collection Nains de Jardin (Yvonand, 1996; YA.1997.a.14873) satirise the complacency of bourgeois Swiss life, and the book’s blurb suggests that ‘the garden gnome is in each of us who carry it as a permanent attraction to all forms of mediocrity.’

Colour photographs of a bearded garden gnome with a red cap and blue breeches

A garden gnome in Brazil, from Orlando Azevedo, Jardim de anões (Curituba, 1992) YD.2023.a.386 

Nonetheless, gnomes are still going strong, and since the late 20th century have increasingly been available in novel forms such as ‘rude’ gnomes (mooning, flashing etc.) and gnomes caricaturing politicians and other public figures. There’s even some cultural love for gnomes as evidenced by the museums, websites and festivals dedicated to them. Portuguese photographer Orlando Azevedo was so delighted to find them in gardens in southern Brazil, originally brought by Polish and German immigrants, that he made a project of photographing them. The gnomes get a chance to strike back in Norman Collins’s curious novel Little Nelson which depicts a Britain terrorised by a garden gnome revolt. And gnomes were awarded their own Google doodle in 2018.

Title-page of 'Little Nelson' with a cartoon of a pointy-hatted garden gnome with one arm and an eye-patch, clutching the 'L' of the book's title.

Title page of Norman Collins, Little Nelson: a Tale for Adults and other Children (London, 1981; X.950/18826)

Finally, there’s the concept of the ‘travelling gnome’, where people take garden gnomes on their holidays and photograph them next to famous sights. This was popularised by the 2001 French film Amélie where the main character steals her father’s garden gnome and gets a flight attendant friend to take such pictures of it which she then sends to her father to encourage him to travel himself. Perhaps we’ll even see some travelling gnomes popping up at the British Library while Unearthed is still running!

Susan Reed, Lead Curator Germanic Collections

References/further reading:

Baslilus Belser, Hortus Eystettensis, sive diligens et accurata omnium plantarum, florum, stirpium, ex variis orbis terræ partibus, singulari studio collectarum, quæ in celeberrimis viridariis arcem episcopalem ibidem cingentibus, hoc tempore conspiciuntur, delineatio et ad vivum repræsentatio ([Altdorf], 1613) 10.Tab.29.

Dieter Pesch, Zwerge, Hofzwerge, Gartenzwerge. Eine Genealogie des Gartenzwerges. Ausstellung im Niederrheinischen Freilichtmuseum, Grefrath, 2. September-28. Oktober 1973 (Grefrath-Dorenburg, 1973) X.0419/31.(1.)

Günther Bauer, Barocke Zwergenkarikaturen von Callot bis Chodowiecki (Salzburg, 1991) YA.1995.b.10647

Günther Bauer, Salzburger Barockzwerge: das barocke Zwergentheater des Fischer von Erlach im Mirabellgarten zu Salzburg (Salzburg, 1989) YA.1993.a.24163

Twigs Way, Garden Gnomes: a History (Oxford, 2009) YK.2011.a.18247

Martin Cornwall, The Complete Book of the Gnome (Basingstoke, 1987) LB.31.b.14936

Dieter Hanitzsch/Rolf Cyriax, Der wunderbare Gartenzwerg: eine notwendige Kulturgeschichte mit Bildern (Munich, 1981) L.42/1758

29 May 2025

Italian Connections Unearthed

Earlier in May we opened the exhibition Unearthed, The Power of Gardening at the British Library. The exhibition, of which I am a co-curator, explores and celebrates the social and political history of gardening in British history and how gardening can be a force for change. It has been a great opportunity to showcase some of the British Library’s botanical and horticultural treasures, and curating it made me think of Italian collection items that could well dialogue with some of the exhibits.

Trees

Planting trees is one of the most sustainable things that we can do for the environment, as they play a crucial role in maintaining a healthy ecosystem. The exhibition shows The Crafte of Graffynge and Plantynge of Trees, one of the earliest publications about planting and propagating trees, printed during the reign of King Henry VIII.

Title page of The Crafte of Graffynge and Plantynge of Trees with a woodcut of two men working in an orchard

Title page of The Crafte of Graffynge and Plantynge of Trees (London, 1518. C.122.bb.42.)

I would have shown it next to L’architettura degli Alberi, a botanical drawing masterwork written and illustrated by landscape architects Cesare Leonardi and Franca Stagi over 20 years. It features 212 tree species hand drawn with and without foliage and with tables of seasonal colour variation. It has been defined ‘a Bible for tree lovers’ and is an essential tool for planning gardens and integrating trees in the urban landscape.

Pages from 'L’architettura degli Alberi' showing a tree with and without its foliage

Pages from L’architettura degli Alberi (Milan, 2018) Awaiting shelfmark

The Garden City

Unearthed, The Power of Gardening looks at the pioneering ideas of Ebenezer Howard, who put forward the idea of garden cities in this 1898 book To-morrow: a Peaceful Path to Real Reform. Howard wanted to create new planned communities across Britain that established a ‘joyous union of town and country’ and his ideas have influenced urban planning ever since.

Plan of an ideal garden city with a central ring of housing surrounded by green spaces for different uses

Plan of an ideal garden city from Ebenezer Howard, To-morrow: a Peaceful Path to Real Reform (London, 1898) 08275.i.25.

One of the most recent developments on the concept of garden city is Fitopolis, la città vivente, a book by neurobiologist Stefano Mancuso, that envisions a future where cities are transformed into ‘living cities’ integrated with nature. Mancuso proposes a radical shift from current urban models, emphasizing the importance of incorporating plants and nature into urban spaces.

Cover of 'Fitopolis' with an illustration of a tree with a city nestled among its branches

Fitopolis, la città vivente (Bari, 2024) Awaiting shelfmark

The Botanical Garden

The botanical gardens at Kew and Calcutta, as well as those of Mary Somerset, are described in a section titled Gardening and the global exchange, as places to display plant knowledge and the British Empire’s botanical advancements from the 18th century onwards. The map below shows how Kew Gardens originated as gardens of separate royal residences in Richmond and Kew, which merged at the time when it was produced, under the rule of King George III. The gardens continued developing to host the ‘largest and most diverse botanical and mycological collections in the world’.

18th-century coloured map of Richmond and Kew gardens

The Royal Gardens of Richmond and Kew (1771) Maps.K.Top.41.16.k.2.TAB.

This made me think of the oldest surviving botanical garden in the world, in Padua. The first Orto dei Semplici (the garden of ‘simples’, where the simples are the principles derived from medicinal plants) was built in 1545 by the Venetian Republic, to grow medicinal and exotic plants, and to teach students at the University of Padua how to use them.

The 1591 book which describes L’Horto de i Semplici di Padoua comes from Sir Hans Sloane’s personal library. It illustrates the garden’s unique design, still unchanged nowadays, and lists all the plants included. The original design consists of a central circumference, symbolizing the world, surrounded by a ring of water. A square is inscribed in the circumference, divided into four units by orthogonal paths, oriented according to the main cardinal directions. This shape is a representation of the universe adopted since ancient times and recalls the scheme of the ideal city of the Renaissance.

Plan of a botanical garden with four square ornamental beds surrounded by a ring of water

L’Horto de i Semplici di Padoua, oue si vede primieramente la forma di tutta la pianta con le sue misure (Venice, 1591) 972.b.3.(1.)

These two examples show how the concept of ‘botanical garden’ can be interpreted in different ways. I hope this blog makes you want to visit the exhibition and think of how old and new foreign language books can tell many more stories around the theme of gardening.

Valentina Mirabella, Curator, Romance Collections

Unearthed, The Power of Gardening is at the British Library until 10 August 2025.

15 May 2025

Seminar on Textual Bibliography for Modern Foreign Languages

The annual Seminar on Textual Bibliography for Modern Foreign Languages will take place on Monday 9 June 2025 in the Foyle Room at the British Library in London.  The programme is as follows:

11.00 Registration and coffee

11.30 Alyssa Steiner (London): Caught in the middle? Block books at the British Library

12.25 Lunch (own arrangements)

1.30 Jack Nunn (Oxford): Anthology making in an age of discovery: French maritime poetry in the print shop

2.15 Simone Lonati (Chichester): Public representation and interpretation of ‘monsters’. From the Monstrorum Historia to the dissemination of news during the English Civil War

3.00 Tea

3.30 John Goldfinch (London): Dr Rhodes, Dr Sloane and Dr Dee: a trail of catalogues and provenance

4.15 Yvonne Lewis (London): Languages for travel: John and Ralph Bankes in the 1640s and beyond

The seminar will end at 5.00 pm.

Attendance is free and all are welcome but please register in advance by contacting Barry Taylor ([email protected]) and Susan Reed ([email protected]) if you wish to attend. 

 

Vignette of a printing press, books, paper and ink on a green background

Vignettte from Cornelio Desimoni, Nuovi studi sull’Atlante Luxoro (Genoa, 1869) 10003.w.4.

08 May 2025

Terror, triumph and resistance: Women in the Yugoslav Partisans, 1941-1945

8 May 2025 marks 80 years since the surrender of Nazi Germany to the Allied Forces and the celebration of victory in Europe. Jubilant crowds thronged the streets of cities across the continent, but the guns did not fall silent until 25 May, when the Partisans triumphed at the now forgotten Battle of Odžak. This last European battle of the Second World War took place in Yugoslavia, where victory over fascism came at a terrible cost: the country lost over ten percent of its population, and the material damage was on an equally vast scale. For Britain, VE Day was the culmination of a storied resistance to the Nazi juggernaut – its ‘finest hour’ – which saw the island as a beacon of freedom as the swastika cast its long shadow across occupied Europe. Yet four years earlier, while London burned in the Blitz, resistance was brewing in a remote southeastern corner of the continent, which would turn the tide of the war and persist until that final hard-won victory on 25 May.

Black and white photograph of a young partisan woman wearing a military cap
A partisan girl from Kozara mountain, winter 1943. Illustration from Jelena Batinić, Women and Yugoslav partisans...(Cambridge, 2015) YC.2015.a.8652

The Axis powers (Nazi Germany, followed by Italy, Hungary and Bulgaria) invaded the Kingdom of Yugoslavia beginning in April 1941 and the country was plunged into crisis as rival factions took shape. In July 1941 Yugoslav Communist party leader Josip Broz ‘Tito’ called on Yugoslavians to unite irrespective of their ethnic and religious differences and mount a national war of liberation against the invaders, appealing to their historic tradition of opposing foreign occupation. Thus was born the Yugoslav Partisan movement, which grew from an irregular guerilla operation to become the most significant and successful anti-fascist resistance movement in wartime Europe.

Map showing the partition of Yugoslavia in 1941

The partition of Yugoslavia, 1941. Illustration from Jozo Tomasevich, War and Revolution in Yugoslavia...(Stanford, 2001) m02/11817

The success of the Partisans, who fought in desperate conditions and won victories against overwhelming odds, could not have been secured without the mass participation of women, one of the most remarkable phenomena of the Second World War. It is estimated that nearly two million women participated in the Partisan movement, including about 100,000 in combat roles, of whom 70 percent were under 20. 25,000 of these female soldiers were killed, and tens of thousands were wounded. Away from the front, women were active as underground fighters in occupied cities, as medical personnel and army suppliers, as political activists and as members of the national liberation committees. There are few, if any, instances in recent history where women were so deeply involved both politically and militarily in defeating an occupying enemy and establishing a new state.

Black and whit photograph of a young partisan woman in uniform carrying a rifle and a grenade

A partizanka on the move. Illustration from Barbara Jancar-Webster, Women & Revolution in Yugoslavia...(Denver, 1990) 90/14790

The British Library contains key works exploring this astonishing yet undeservedly neglected aspect of the war. Jelena Batinić’s pioneering 2015 study, Women and Yugoslav partisans : a history of World War II resistance (Cambridge, 2015; YC.2015.a.8652) investigates female Partisan participation through the lens of gender, South Slavic culture, and its intersection with war. Batinić draws on primary sources and on the slim body of partizanka scholarship, including the first English-language study on the subject, Barbara Jancar-Webster’s Women & revolution in Yugoslavia, 1941-1945 and the 2011 Serbian-language study Partizanke kao građanke : društvena emancipacija partizanki u Srbiji, 1945-1953 (‘Female partisans as citizens: social emancipation of partisan women in Serbia, 1945-1953’) by Ivana Pantelić (Belgrade, 2011; YF.2012.a.25362). The British Library holds other key Yugoslav-era sources on the subject, including Dušanka Kovačević’s Women of Yugoslavia in the National Liberation War (Belgrade, 1977; X.529/35030) and Žene Srbije u NOB (‘Women of Serbia in the National Liberation War’) (Belgrade, 1975; LB.31.b.20477).

Black and white photograph of a woman addressing a crowd
Meeting of the Antifascist Front of Women, Dalmatia, 1943. Illustration from Dušanka Kovačević, Women of Yugoslavia in the National Liberation War

Batinić begins by surveying Yugoslavia in 1941, a patriarchal peasant society with the highest rates of female illiteracy and maternal mortality in Europe, and explores how young peasant women, who formed the bulk of partizankas, were recast as central actors in that most quintessentially masculine of activities, military combat. Following Tito’s landmark decision in February 1942 to admit women as frontline combatants – the first army of its day to officially do so - Partisan leaders recruited women through an unlikely combination of communist ideology about female emancipation and the rich tradition of freedom-fighting lore from South Slavic epic poetry, itself a product of local resistance to centuries of Ottoman occupation. This way, argued Batinić, Partisan leaders sanctioned women’s role as warriors and presented themselves as bearers of the ‘great heroic tradition of the Yugoslav peoples’. This tradition was by no means exclusively male – Macedonia, Serbia and Montenegro had a long history of women participating in liberation struggles. Then there was the blunt reality that for many women, taking up arms and going ‘into the woods’ was, for all its hardships, preferable to living in terror in the occupied towns, because it offered the possibility of autonomy and of self-defense.

Black and white photograph of a brigade of women partisans sitting on a hillside
Fourth Montenegrin Proletarian Brigade, Bosnia, 1942. Illustration from Jelena Batinić, Women and Yugoslav partisans

Women’s dramatic entry into the political and military fray of Yugoslav society led to the formation in June 1942 of the Yugoslav Antifascist Front of Women (AFW), one of the largest and most active women’s mass movements in the region. The AFW undertook activities crucial to the war effort: supplying Partisan units on the move, providing care for orphans, and coordinating operations between the liberated and occupied territories. From 1944, partizankas were gradually withdrawn from the front line and transferred to political or administrative functions, although women remained active in most units until the final liberation.

Magazine cover with a drawing of two female soldiers on either side of a male soldier
Cover page, 1st edition of ‘The Vojvodina Woman at War’. Issued by the Vojvodina Antifascist Front of Women, January 1944. The slogan reads ‘death to fascism, freedom to the people!’. Illustration from Bosa Cvetić, Žene Srbije u Narodnooslobodilačkoj borbi (Belgrade, 1975) LB.31.b.20477

Partisan life was physically and mentally gruelling, testing the very limits of human endurance. A partizanka and doctor, Saša Božović, recalled typhus victims rolling in the snow to relieve their high fevers, before hauling supplies to their comrades up icy mountain paths. Detachments would come upon villages which had been burned to the ground, sometimes with the families locked inside the houses, and find themselves caring for children who emerged from the smouldering ruins. Wounded soldiers had to be rescued from the battlefield under enemy fire, children were murdered in front of their parents. Yet survivors above all recalled the sense of camaraderie, conviction and solidarity which pulled them through the horror.

Black and white photograph of soldiers travelling in the snow
A partisan column in the snow, Macedonia. Illustration from Dušanka Kovačević, Women of Yugoslavia in the National Liberation War

Black and white photograph of a thatched wooden hut

A makeshift partisan hospital in a peasant hut, Serbia. Illustration from Bosa Cvetić, Žene Srbije u Narodnooslobodilačkoj borbi

Pregnancy and motherhood were also part of the female Partisan experience, often in heart-rending circumstances. Saša Božović’s march through the mountains of Herzegovina in the winter of 1941 claimed the life of her three-month old daughter, who died of exposure and starvation. Partizanka Đina Vrbica was ordered to kill her own baby, after giving birth on the battlefield, as the infant’s crying was making an ambush impossible. The order was later withdrawn as the female officer charged with the task was too distraught to comply; this left Vrbica to struggle through the wilderness with a rifle in one arm and an infant in the other. She finally left the baby in the care of a local family but was killed in battle when she returned in search of her. Many partizanka casualties were reported to be pregnant when they were killed, despite a ban on Partisan marriages and penalties imposed for sexual relations among the rank and file.

Black and white photograph of a group of women with baskets of herbs
Kosovar women bringing medical herbs for a hospital. Illustration from Dušanka Kovačević, Women of Yugoslavia in the National Liberation War

Blacks and white photograph of children sitting at wooden benches and being served food

A children’s care centre in liberated Croatia, 1942. Illustration from Dušanka Kovačević, Women of Yugoslavia in the National Liberation War

For most of the war, Hitler and his collaborators refused to recognise the Partisans as legitimate belligerents, and their troops acted accordingly, shooting hostages and treating combatants, prisoners and civilians alike with brutality. Partizankas were not spared the atrocities inflicted on their male counterparts and suffered additional indignities, including sexual violence. 17-year-old Lepa Radić, who was hanged by the Nazis in 1943, and many other young women who were tortured and executed became celebrated martyrs and icons of partizanka fortitude and defiance, with many achieving the status of National Hero. They were dragged to death behind vehicles, thrown into disused wells, stretched on the rack, and worse. Survivors later recalled the virtually unprintable details of the tortures they withstood at the hands of their captors. Žene Srbije u NOB, a haunting Yugoslav-era compendium about women in the war, features short biographies and portraits of fresh-faced smiling teenagers, their hair set in victory rolls, with details of their war activities, and if known, their fate. The same girls sometimes appear a page later, as corpses hanging from lampposts, or with features mutilated beyond recognition.

Black and white photograph of a young partisan woman with a military cap and a medal

Milka Travar, company commander and machine gunner of the First Proletarian Brigade. Illustration from Dušanka Kovačević, Women of Yugoslavia in the National Liberation War (Belgrade, 1977) X.529/35030

The partizanka story has a personal resonance. My grandmother, Savka Korov (1926-2004), fled her occupied home village in northern Serbia as a 16-year-old and followed her elder brother into the Partisan ranks in 1942, enlisting in the Second Proletarian Brigade and changing her name to Slavica to conceal her identity and prevent reprisals against her family. She endured bitter winters in the rugged mountains of Herzegovina, surviving bouts of typhus and frostbite, and saw active combat at the Battle of Sutjeska (May-June 1943), one of the region’s deadliest battles, where over 15 percent of troops were female. Sutjeska was a crucial moment for the Partisans, whose success in thwarting better-equipped Axis forces with over six times as many troops and losing nearly one third of their own troops, turned the tide of the war in Yugoslavia and won them unconditional support from Churchill and the Western Allies. It marked the last major Axis offensive against the Partisans and saw British Special Operations Executive (SOE) soldiers parachuted into Montenegro at the height of hostilities at Churchill’s behest to make official contact with Tito. The only trace of this carnage in my grandmother’s later years was a scar on her forehead where a bullet had whistled past, separating her from death by mere millimetres. Like her, many had endured the same hardships; unlike her, not all had the fortune to witness the defeat of fascism and to rebuild their lives. She christened her firstborn son after the war Slobodan, meaning ‘free’, symbolic of the collective sense of hard-won liberation which defined her generation.

Black and white photograph of a woman carrying a large Yugoslav flag
Women’s meeting in Montenegro, with the Yugoslav flag. Illustration from Dušanka Kovačević, Women of Yugoslavia in the National Liberation War

Batinić goes on to explore the changing fortunes of the partizanka in the (ex)-Yugoslav collective memory – from her iconic status in the early post-war era to virtual oblivion and trivialisation from the 1990s onwards. The demise of socialism and the collapse of Yugoslavia condemned many of its founding icons, including the partizanka, to the proverbial scrap-bin of history, victims of the collective identity crisis which plagued post-Yugoslav society. In the West, as an historical figure, she is obscure and unacknowledged. Yet the partizanka deserves a different and better fate. Irrespective of her ideology, religion or ethnicity, the resilience, sacrifice and extraordinary contribution of a lost generation of young women, many of whom paid the ultimate price to halt the fascist juggernaut, deserves recognition, celebration and most of all, respect.

Black and white photograph of a group of partisan women

Partizankas and organisers of the AFW in Macedonia. Illustration from Dušanka Kovačević, Women of Yugoslavia in the National Liberation War

Savka Andic, Acquisitions South

Further reading:

Vladimir Dedijer, The war diaries of Vladimir Dedijer. (Ann Arbor, 1990). YC.1991.b.425

Ben Shepherd, Terror in the Balkans: German armies and partisan warfare. (Cambridge, Mass, 2012). YC.2012.a.9950

Lydia Sklevicky, Konji, žene, ratovi. (Zagreb, 1996). AFŽ Arhiv, https://afzarhiv.org/items/show/720.

Heather Williams, Parachutes, patriots and partisans: the Special Operations Executive and Yugoslavia 1941-1945. (London, 2002). m04/17827

05 May 2025

Remembering Sacrifice, Celebrating Freedom

4 May – Dutch National Remembrance Day

On a small plot in the northern part of Mill Hill Cemetery  around 60 people are gathered around the 254 graves of Dutch serviceman and women of the Dutch Armed Forces, the Dutch Merchant Navy, Dutch pilots who served in the RAF, and civilians who were killed during the Second World War in the UK. It is the evening of 4 May 2025, National Remembrance Day in the Netherlands. Leading the ceremony are an officer of the Dutch Army, the Dutch Ambassador and the Minister of the Dutch Church. This year the ceremony will mark the 80th anniversary of the end of the Second World War. 80 years since VE Day is the theme this year.

Programme of the 2025 Dutch Remembrance Day event

80 jaar vrijheid: Nationale Herdenking 4 mei 2025 19.00 uur lokale tijd. (London, 2025). Awaiting shelfmark.

The Dutch remember and celebrate on two consecutive days, because remembrance and liberation are inextricably linked.

Men in dark suits and military uniforms standing in front of a memorial

 National Remembrance Day 4 May 2025 at Mill Hill Cemetery.

The oldest person present was one of three last survivors of the women’s concentration camp Ravensbrück: Selma van de Perre-Velleman.

A woman in a wheelchair carrying a wreath to lay in a graveyard

Selma van de Perre lays a wreath at the Dutch Field of Honour, Mill Hill Cemetery. Photo by Luke McKernan.

After the war Selma moved to London to join her two brothers David and Louis who too had survived the war. There she worked as a journalist and teacher and became active in the commemorations of Ravensbrück by visiting the camp with schoolchildren. She attends the Remembrance ceremonies at Mill Hill every year. In 2020 her memoir My Name Is Selma (2020) was published, both in Dutch and in English. The title refers to the fact she had to keep her real name secret and live under other names.

Cover of 'Mijn Naam is Selma' with a  photograph of Selma van de Perre standing in a clump of ferns

Selma van de Perre, Mijn Naam is Selma (Amsterdam, 2020) YF.2022.a.3688.

Cover of 'My Name is Selma' with a photograph of Selma van de Perre in old age

Selma van de Perre, My Name is Selma, translated by Alice Tetley-Paul and Anna Asbury. (London, , 2020).  ELD.DS.548100

Younger generations are taking over from the older ones. As every year, pupils from the Dutch Regenboogschool in London wrote poems for Remembrance Day, and two of these were read out by the pupils themselves. The poems are also printed in the programme booklet.

5 May VE Day / Liberation Day

For the Dutch the 5th of May is not so much a Victory Day as a Liberation Day. The Netherlands had been occupied by Nazi Germany for five years and had suffered oppression, hardship, hunger, fear and death and had seen 75% of its Jewish citizens taken away to be be killed in concentration camps. The Dutch Indies has been occupied by the Japanese from 1941 until August 1945, where many suffered equally badly. So, when the German troops in the Netherlands, northwestern Germany and Denmark capitulated on 4 May to Field Marshal Montgomery, coming into force on 8 AM on 5 May, people were ecstatic. They came out into the streets, dressed in the national colours and orange and put up flags everywhere.

However, it was not until 8 May that Allied forces were given the green light by the High Command to proceed towards the big cities such as The Hague.

Photograph of two soldiers on an armoured vehicle being greeted by a crowd of civilians

Canadian troops enter The Hague, surrounded by an almost delirious crowd, from J.G. Raadgever, Van Dollen Dinsdag tot de Bevrijding. (Amsterdam, 1945) X.700/2686

For three days people were held in limbo. They were not entirely certain whether the Germans had really capitulated, which was seized on by the latter to issue a notice that ‘rumours’ about a capitulation were false. Their police force also arrested journalists and newspaper editors who had emerged from years of clandestinely printing newspapers and were now issuing liberation editions of their papers. This dampened celebrations considerably.

Even after 5 May people were killed. During festivities on Dam Square on 7 May German soldiers who had retreated to the Groote Club at Dam Square, got into a fight with Dutch Internal Forces and started firing at the crowds. More than 30 people were killed. Exact details of what happened never became fully clear. 

In Van Dollen Dinsdag tot de Bevrijding, (‘From Crazy Tuesday to the Liberation’) by J.G. Raatgever Jr. the author remembers how he shed tears watching the formations of Dutch fascists lining the streets like an ‘unmovable block of black reaction’, in May 1940 and how he again had tears in his eyes as he watched Canadian soldiers driving through the street as liberators in May 1945.

For the 80th anniversary of the end of the war in the Netherlands there is a packed programme of festivities throughout the country, with events on a national level organised by the Nationaal Comite 4 en 5 mei. [https://www.4en5mei.nl/ ] (There is an English language version).

Last night the ‘Bevrijdingsvuur’ (Liberation Fire) was lit in Wageningen, the city where the capitulation for The Netherlands was signed. From there the flame is taken to 14 places across the country to start the festivities. I remember the 5th of May 1970 when my father was part of a team of athletes who took the flame in a running relay from Nijmegen to Deventer, a distance of 60 Km.

Photograph of a runner carrying a torch across a bridge

Albert Kingma running with the Freedom Torch.

This year the traditional 4 and 5 May lectures are read by journalist and broadcaster Philip Freriks and by the Prime Minister of Poland, Donald Tusk. The lectures are published together in one volume, demonstrating that remembrance and liberation are inextricably linked. They are also available online

Marja Kingma, Curator Germanic Collections, Dutch Languages

 

27 February 2025

From the Track to the Page: the Legacy of Zdeněk Koubek and Lída Merlínová.

One of the many reasons books are so alluring and continue to enchant us with their magic is that, while immersing ourselves in fantastical fictional worlds, we can still see aspects of ourselves in the characters – whether we identify with them, reject them, or simply observe their journeys. Unfortunately, while queer representation has become more common in contemporary literature and popular culture, this was not always the case.

Ludmila Skokanová, later known under her literary pseudonym Lída Merlínová – a female Merlin – grew up in Czechoslovakia at a time when LGBTQ+ voices were scarce in literature. As she entered adulthood and realized that her dreams and desires did not conform to widely accepted norms, she had little literary representation to turn to. The years of the First Czechoslovak Republic (1918–1938) saw the emergence of the so-called ‘Czech New Woman’ – a generation of women who gained voting rights, access to education, and the right to divorce. However, despite these progressive steps, Czechoslovak law still criminalized homosexual acts. Against this backdrop, Merlínová, a journalist, singer and dancer who was part of the queer scene, wrote Vyhnanci lásky (‘Exiles of Love’; Prague, 1929), the first Czech novel to explore same-sex love. She preferred the term ‘invert’ over ‘lesbian’, reflecting the language and perceptions of the time.

Cover of 'Zdenin světový rekord' with a photograph of Zdenek Koubek in running vest and shorts

Cover of Lída Merlínová, Zdenin světový rekord: sportovní román (Prague, 1935) [Awaiting cataloguing] 

Merlínová was a prolific author, although not all of her works focused on queer themes. Unfortunately, very few copies of her books remain available today, as many were lost or destroyed due to censorship during the communist era. However, we recently acquired a rare copy of Zdenin světový rekord: sportovní román (‘Zdena's World Record: A Sports Novel’, the first and only edition of a fictionalized biography of Zdeněk Koubek. Koubek, originally known as Zdena Koubková, won two gold medals at the 1934 Women’s World Games in the 800-meter sprint before announcing in 1935 that he would be living as a man.

Facsimile of a note signed 'Zdenka Koubková'

Page from Zdenin světový rekord: sportovní román with a facsimile of a note signed ‘Zdenka Koubková’

Interestingly, Merlínová’s book was published just before Koubek’s public announcement. The book includes a facsimile of an approving note signed Zdenka Koubková, still in the Czech grammatical form indicating female gender. In this note, Koubek endorsed Merlínová’s retelling of his story, recognizing its appeal to both professional athletes and the general public. Shortly after the book’s release, Koubek’s announcement made global headlines, sparking discussions in major publications such as TIME and the New York Times. Contemporary sports magazines debated the science behind gender transitions, and Koubek became a symbol of shifting gender perceptions and the growing recognition of gender fluidity.

Following his transition, Koubek retired from women’s sports and pursued various ventures, including Broadway performances and media appearances, although he never competed in men’s track events. His story remains a powerful reflection of the evolving conversations around gender identity and sports.

Meanwhile, Lída Merlínová outlived her supportive husband, Cyril Pecháček, and spent the rest of her life in Prague with her female partner, Kvĕta Lukáčovská. In 1962, same-sex acts were decriminalized in Czechoslovakia, a country that, at the time, encompassed both Czechia and Slovakia. After the peaceful dissolution of Czechoslovakia in 1993, Czechia and Slovakia became independent nations. On January 1, 2025, Czechia passed a bill legalizing same-sex partnerships – granting them rights equal to marriage in all but name. However, Slovakia has yet to adopt similar legislation.

As we celebrate LGBT+ History Month 2025, it is worth looking back and reflecting on the journey of those who paved the way for social change – those who defied norms and showed us the beauty of a diverse world through the lives they led. While we work on making Zdenin světový rekord available to readers, you may want to explore other books in our collection that celebrate the richness of queer culture. 

Olga Topol, Curator Slavonic and East European Collectoions

Further reading:

Melissa Feinberg, Elusive equality: gender, citizenship, and the limits of democracy in Czechoslovakia, 1918-1950 (Pittsburgh, 2006) YC.2013.a.6652

Karla Huebner, ‘Girl, Trampka, or Žába? The Czechoslovak New Woman’, in E. Otto, & V. Rocco (Eds.), The New Woman International: Representations in Photography and Film from the 1870s through the 1960s, pp. 231–251 (Ann Arbor, Mich, 2011) YC.2011.a.7758

Vera Sokolova, Queer Encounters with Communist Power: Non-Heterosexual Lives and the State in Czechoslovakia, 1948-1989 (Prague, 2021) YD.2023.a.153

Mark Cornwall, ‘Exiles of love?: uncovering lesbian voices in interwar Czechoslovakia’, in Journal of Lesbian Studies, 2024 

And check out some of out other blogs on LGBT+ topics:

https://blogs.bl.uk/european/2021/06/i-libertini-same-sex-desire-in-italian-baroque-literature.html

https://blogs.bl.uk/european/2023/02/all-the-strength-i-muster-to-live-queer-voices-from-poland.html

https://blogs.bl.uk/european/2022/02/love-like-any-other-maria-d%C4%85browska-and-anna-kowalska.html

https://blogs.bl.uk/european/2020/04/slovenian-gay-poetry-in-translation-tracing-the-unspoken-by-milan-%C5%A1elj.html

 

21 February 2025

Queen Tamar – the ‘King of Kings’

Our current exhibition ‘Medieval Women: In Their Own Words’ tells stories of Medieval women and their role and influence in personal, spiritual, and social life. A number of women rulers are featured, but one that is not shown is Queen Tamar of Georgia, whose story we tell here.

Queen Tamar’s reign (1178-1213) was both the apex and the final stage of the Golden Era of the Christian Kingdom of Georgia. The lustre of this reign was so brilliant and incomparable to all that preceded it in Georgian history that her court historian allowed himself to border on blasphemy in his hyperbolic praise of her: “We view Tamar as the fourth besides the Holy Trinity”. Not only were her contemporary panegyrists, historians and poets inspired by her beauty and wise governance, but she also became a part of the national folklore, a source of inspiration for thousands of legends, tales and poems for centuries to come.

Fresco painting of Queen Tamar wearing a jewelled crown

A fragment of the early 13th-century fresco of Queen Tamar from Betania (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

Tamar’s father, King Giorgi III, due to dynastic struggles, proclaimed her King during his lifetime. It was unprecedented in Georgia for a woman to be officially anointed King and hold the title of ‘King of Kings’, although some coins minted during her reign also acclaimed her as ‘Queen of Queens’. Such a bold innovation had everything to do with the development of philosophical studies in 12th-century Georgia. In the Gelati Monastery and Academy, texts by Plato, Aristotle and Neoplatonists were translated and taught. Plato demonstrates that women can be politicians and rulers alongside men. As Tamar’s contemporary, the philosopher-poet Shota Rustaveli, wrote: “A lion’s cub is of the same dignity, no matter whether it is male or female”, thus announcing the new political era in which royal women could be considered as rulers. However, not only women of royal descent but also other women of the nobility could enjoy this novel active political role.. When at the start of Tamar’s reign a faction of noblemen and merchants created attempted to limit monarchic absolutism and create a legislative body –a ‘tent – separate from the executive body, the King, Tamar, appointed two noblewomen, Kravai Jakheli and Khvashak Tsokali, to negotiate peace with the mutinous noblemen. Her choice was fully justified as Kravai and Kvashak effectively managed to quell the unrest.

Mural painting of Queen Tamar and her father wearing matching dark robes with a pattern of squares
Tamar and her father Georgi III. The earliest surviving portrait of Tamar from the church of the Dormition at Vardzia, c. 1184–1186 (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

The first years of Tamar’s rule were beset by struggles with the higher nobility that strove to subordinate her to their will. Because of this, Tamar was forced into an undesirable marriage to a Russian, Prince George Bogolubski. The marriage proved a failure, and George later attempted to usurp the throne, for which he was exiled from the Kingdom for good.

Tamar’s second marriage to Prince David Soslan was more successful: he was of the same lineage of the Bagrationi family as Tamar herself. The Bagrationi dynasty traced its origin back to the Biblical kings David and Solomon, a tradition that safeguarded the dynasty’s claim to rule exclusively over the Kingdom of Georgia. David Soslan proved to be an effective general who led Tamar’s army to a series of important victories over powerful Muslim neighbours. Two of those victories are of particular significance. The first was the battle of Shamkor of 1195, in which David Soslan outsmarted the enemy troops under Nusrat al-Din Abu Bakr, the atabeg of Arran, and routed his realm, establishing Shirvanshah Akhsitan there as a ruler and ally of the Georgians. The second was at the battle of Basiani in 1203 against the Seljuk Turks of the Rum Sultanate led by Sultan Suleiman II. These two great victories raised the power and prestige of the Georgian Kingdom to that of a regional superpower. Moreover, since Constantinople had been under Latin rule since the great sack of 1204, Tamar became the most powerful Orthodox ruler in Eastern Christendom, for which reason her panegyrists even dared to call Tbilisi the ‘New Rome’, while Tamar herself was acclaimed as ‘Augusta’, i.e. the Roman Empress. The Kingdom of Georgia at its height during Tamar’s reign extended from the Black Sea to the Caspian Sea, held a few neighboring principalities on vassalage terms, and led Christian missions to the mountainous Caucasian north. Many pagan Caucasian tribes were converted to Christianity and remained so until Islam replaced the Christian faith in the region a few centuries later.

Painting of a kneeling man presenting a scroll to a woman seated on a throne

Shota Rustaveli presents his poem to Queen Tamar, a painting by the Hungarian artist Mihaly Zichi (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

Tamar’s reign was marked by major political and cultural developments. She chose to appoint officials to high posts on the basis not of noble descent, but of personal merit, according to the advice ascribed to Shota Rustaveli: “Noble descent costs a thousand, but a good character – ten thousand; if a man is not good as a man, his noble descent avails for nothing”. In the Gelati Academy philosophical studies thrived. In fact, Tamar’s panegyrist and poet, Ioane Shavteli, punningly relates the name Gelat[i] to Hellada, Greece, stating that Tamar’s Kingdom is a true heir to the great heritage of Hellenic philosophy. The broad and audacious vision of the Gelatian scholars presented Greek philosophy as a tool to better understand the Bible, as well as a valuable spiritual and intellectual endeavour in itself. Rustaveli goes even further and in his immortal poem ‘The Knight in the Panther’s Skin’, dedicated to King Tamar, as he calls her, creates a universal, eclectic world of knowledge in which Biblical wisdom and the Christian theology are creatively associated with Greek philosophy, Persian literature, Sufi mysticism and the latest scientific developments of the epoch. Scholars justly coined the term “Georgian Renaissance” for the period of Tamar’s reign, and the contemporary culture of the Kingdom of Georgia also thrived in the fields of architecture, painting, mosaic art and metalwork, examples of which are amply represented in Georgian churches and museums.

Manuscript in Georgian with a picture of a man with a halo and long blue robes holding a long scroll
Basil the Treasurer, court historian of Queen Tamar, image from the manuscript ‘Life of the King of Kings – Tamar’, Or. 17154

Tamar was a deeply religious woman. She abhorred violence and forbade both torture and capital punishment in her realm. In a sincere display of humility, she would sew and knit priestly garments with her own hands and give them to humble priests. Her piety is evidenced in the many churches built all over Georgia on the most inaccessible hilltops to establish ceaseless prayer for her Kingdom and people. Before the decisive battle of Basiani, Tamar walked barefoot from Tbilisi to the monastery of Vardzia in a sacrificial feat of procession and prayers for the salvation of the Kingdom. There is a surviving hymn dedicated by Tamar to the Khakhuli icon of the Holy Virgin Mary in which we glimpse both her devotion and theological education:

From your virgin blood, o Bride, you became a mysterious matter of the heavenly Providence, having become the begetter of the Son of God, who also was born your Son, for the salvation of the world! Embellish, exalt and glorify me, Tamar, who, like you, also a descendant of David, for I have dared to embellish Your Icon that depicts You and Your Son, protect me together with my son.

The Orthodox Church of Georgia canonized Tamar soon after her death. There are two feast days celebrating her memory, one on May 14, the anniversary of her death, and another in the second week after Easter, celebrating Tamar on account of her piety alongside the women who came to the tomb of the resurrected Jesus.

A golden cross jewel set with rubies, emeralds and pearls

Golden cross of Queen Tamar, composed of rubies, emeralds and large pearls (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

Tamar’s reign symbolizes for Georgians the height of their political and cultural success and grandeur. In the subsequent history of Georgia, with its hardships and calamities, Tamar’s memory has shone as an unfading star, providing Georgians with hope for a better future. Georgians believe that she continues to protect the country assigned to her, and will continue to do so until the end of time.

Levan Gigineishvili, Professor at Tbilisi State University

References and further reading

https://blogs.bl.uk/european/2021/11/two-new-fine-editions-of-georgias-national-poet.html

https://blogs.bl.uk/european/2023/06/georgian-manuscripts-in-the-british-library.htm

Shota Rustaveli, The Man in the Panther’s skin: a Romantic Epic … a close rendering from the Georgian attempted by Marjory Scott Wardrop. (London,1912) 14003.bb.16.

Shota Rustaveli, Vepʻxis tqaosani = The knight in the Panther’s skin. In Georgian, German, English, Russian and French. (Tbilisi, 2016) LF.37.b.367.

Shota Rustaveli, The knight in the Panther’s skin: Selected Aphorisms. Translated from Georgian by Lyn Coffin. (Tbilisi, 2017) YD.2017.a.2390

David Shemoqmedeli, The knight in the Panther’s skin: a masterpiece in world literature. New York, 2017 (YC.2018.b.1050)

Ioane Savteli, Abdul-Mesiani. Tbilisi, 1915 (YF.2019.a.3365)

David Marshall Lang, Lives and Legends of the Georgian Saints. (New York, 1976) W.P.5206/15

John Oliver Wardrop, The Kingdom of Georgia: Travel in a Land of Women, Wine and Song. (London, 1888) 2356.c.14

William Edward David Allen, A history of the Georgian People: From the Beginning down to the Russian Conquest in the Nineteenth Century. (London, 1932) X.802/1941.

Donald Rayfield, Edge of Empires: A History of Georgia. (London, 2012) YC.2013.a.14021

11 February 2025

Medieval Women at the Press

One of the exhibits in our current exhibition Medieval Women: in their own Words is the first European printed book ascribed to a female printer. The printer in question is Estellina Conat, who worked with her husband Abraham printing Hebrew books in Mantua in the 1470s. The book is an edition of a 14th-century poem by Jedaiah ben Abraham Bedersi entitled Behinat ha-‘Olam (‘The Contemplation of the World’). It was printed around 1476 and in the colophon, Estellina states: “I, Estellina, the wife of my worthy husband Abraham Conat, printed this book”. (In fact she says she “wrote” the book since the Hebrew language had not yet settled on a word for the relatively new technology of printing.) She adds that she was assisted by Jacob Levi, a young man from Tarrascon in Provence.

A page of a Hebrew text with a colophon naming Estellina Conat as printer.

Final page of Behinat ha-‘Olam (Mantua, ca 1476) C.50.a.5. (ISTC ij00218520) The colophon at the foot of the page names Estellina Conat as its printer

No other book from the Conat press survives with Estellina’s name in the colophon, and she has often been overlooked as the first woman printer in Europe, perhaps because she printed in Hebrew rather than in classical Latin or Greek or the contemporary European vernaculars more familiar to western scholars of early printing. Many sources still give the name of Anna Rügerin as the first woman printer instead.

Anna is named in the colophons of two books printed in Augsburg in 1484 (around 8 years after Estellina’s work!). She was part of a family of printers: her widowed mother had married the printer Johann Bämler, and Anna’s brother Johann Schönsperger, perhaps encouraged by Bämler, set up a press with Anna’s husband Thomas. After Thomas died, Anna appears to have taken over from him and printed in her own name editions of the historic German law book, the Sachsenspiegel and of a handbook for writers of legal and official documents entitled Formulare und deutsch rhetorica (Augsburg, 1484; IB.6605; ISTC if00245500).

Colophon of a 1484 edition of the Sachsenspeigel in gothic type naming Anna Rügerin as its printer

Colophon naming Anna Rügerin as the printer of an edition of the Sachsenspiegel (Augsburg, 1484) IB.6602 (ISTC 00024000). Image from Wikimedia Commons, from a copy in the Bavarian State Library.

Another woman printer emerged in the 1490s in Stockholm. Anna Fabri, like Anna Rügerin, took over the work of printing on the death of her husband, a common pattern for female printers in the early centuries of the industry. In 1496 she put her name to the colophon of a Breviary for the diocese of Uppsala. Here she explicitly states that she completed the work begun by her husband. As in the case of Estellina Conat, no other book survives bearing her name.

Page from the Breviarium Upsalense with a colophon printed in red naming Anna Fabri as one of the printers

Final Page of  Breviarium Upsalense (Stockholm, 1496; ISTC ib01187000), naming Anna Fabri in the colophon. Image from a copy in the Bibliothèque Sainte-Geneviève, Paris. The British Library holds a single leaf inserted in a copy of G.F. Klemming, Sveriges äldre liturgiska literatur (Stockholm, 1879) C.18.c.13.

We don’t know exactly what role Estellina and the two Annas played in the production of the books that bear their names, but it’s certainly possible that it was more than merely overseeing the work and that they were involved in the physical processes of the print shop. We know that nuns of the Florentine convent of San Jacopo in Ripoli worked as typesetters in the printing house associated with the church and its Dominican community, and a Bridgettine abbey at Vadstena in Sweden printed a Book of Hours in 1495, although their press apparently burned down soon after and was not restarted. The current BL exhibition also features woodcut prints made and coloured by another Bridgettine community at Mariënwater in the Netherlands. All this work carried on the long tradition of medieval nuns working as scribes, artists and illuminators (also richly evidenced in the exhibition), bringing it into the new age of printing.

Illuminated music manuscript with a large decorative initial and a hunting scene in the bottom margin

A leaf from a music book for use in the Latin Mass, illuminated by nuns of the Poor Clares convent in Cologne in the late 14th or early 15th century. Add MS 35069

The 18th-century scholar of early Hebrew printing, Giovanni Bernardo De Rossi, criticised Estellina Conat’s edition of the Beh.inat ha-‘Olam as unevenly printed, and scornfully suggested that it might be “the effort of a woman attempting something beyond her powers.” But as Estellina and her sister-printers show, printing was indeed within the power of women and they played a part in it from the early decades of the industry. Thanks to ongoing research, and publicity such as the Medieval Women exhibition, these woman printers and their work are ever more visible today.

Susan Reed, Lead Curator Germanic Collections

References/Further reading

Adri K. Offenberg, ‘The Chronology of Hebrew Printing at Mantua in the Fifteenth Century: A Re-examination’ The Library, 6th series, 16 (1994) pp. 298-315. RAR 010

Hanna Gentili, ‘Estellina Conat, Early Hebrew Printer’, in Medieval Women: Voices & Visions, edited by Eleanor Jackson and Julian Harrison (London, 2024) [Not yet catalogued]

Sheila Edmunds, ‘Anna Rügerin Revealed’, Journal of the Early Book Society for the Study of Manuscripts and Printing History 2 (1999) pp. 179-181. 2708.h.850

Anabel Thomas, ‘Dominican Marginalia: the Late Fifteenth-Century Printing Press of San Jacopo di Ripoli in Florence’, in At the Margins: Minority Groups in Premodern Italy, edited by Stephen J. Milner (Minneapolis, 2005), pp. 192-216. YC.2005.a.12149

27 January 2025

A Balm on so many Wounds: Etty Hillesum’s Diaries 1941-1943


Black and white photograph of Etty Hillesum

Etty Hillesum in 1939 (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

This year to mark Holocaust Memorial Day we have been looking at diaries and other autobiographical documents. As my colleague Olga Topol writes in her blog post, “The diaries of these individuals are not merely archival records; they are powerful reminders of the human capacity for resilience and creativity in the face of adversity.”

One remarkable example of that resilience are the diaries written by Etty Hillesum in Amsterdam. She acknowledges the horrors of the Second World War and the Holocaust, but manages to rise above them and does not let the horror dominate her writings. She records the growing evidence of “the interrupted life” around her. She writes it all down, starting on 9 March 1941 and ending on 10 October 1942 with the wish “One should like to be a balm on many wounds.”

She writes very openly about love, sexuality, about her struggle to find God, to root out hatred, including hate towards Germans. More than anything else she wants to serve others. She gets a job at the Jewish Council helping Jewish citizens navigate the laws imposed on them by the German authorities. When the deportations of Jews to the Westerbork transit camp started, she volunteered to accompany them.

Black and white photograpgh of Dutch Jews carrying cases and bundles

Jewish citizens of Amsterdam obey the order they received in the post to come to the Olympiaplein in Amsterdam South to be transported to Westerbork. Image from an edition of Het Verstoorde Leven: Dagboek van Etty Hillesum, 1941-1943 (Bussum, 1983) Blog post author's own copy

Jewish people were told they were going to work in Germany, so many went. Those who didn’t were either taken from their homes or had to go in hiding. Many people did not have the means to hide, and Etty felt she could not abandon them, so she voluntarily went to Westerbork, out of solidarity.

Black and while aerial photograph of Westerbork Transit camp

Aerial photo of Westerbork Transit Camp, Drenthe, Netherlands taken in March 1945 (Image from Wikimedia Commons)

At Westerbork she worked as a social worker, which allowed her to travel many times between the camp and Amsterdam. She had ample opportunity to go into hiding to save herself, but she refused to do so. Inevitably, on 7 September 1943, Etty and her family, who had arrived in Westerbork a while earlier, were put on a transport to Auschwitz. One of Etty’s friends who saw her off writes in a letter to friends that Etty was “her normal cheerful self, having a word of encouragement and kindness for all she met”. Etty wrote a postcard to another friend and threw it out of the train. It was found by farmers and posted. It says that “they had left the camp singing”. As soon as they arrived in Auschwitz on 10 September, her parents were sent to the gas chambers. On 30 November the Red Cross reported Etty’s death. Her brother Mischa died on 31 March 1944, and her other brother Jaap died on his way back to the Netherlands after having been liberated from Bergen-Belsen.

Before Etty went to Westerbork she gave her diaries to her friend Maria Tuinzing, who passed them on to a writer, Klaas Smelik. He and his daughter Johanna, who transcribed the diaries, started looking for a publisher for them in 1947. No-one wanted to publish them; they were considered “too philosophical”.

It was only in 1981 that the diaries were published in Dutch as Het verstoorde leven (An Interrupted Life). Since then, interest in and research into Etty Hillesum and her work have only grown. There are conferences, books and two museums; one in her birth town of Middelburg which opened in 2020 and one in Deventer. Translations of the diaries into French, Italian, English, German, Danish and Finnish followed.

Photograph of a stack of notebooks containing Etty Hillesum's diaries, with one opened to show her handwriting

Etty Hillesum’s diaries with a page of her handwriting. Reproduced in Judith Koelemeijer, Etty Hillesum: het verhaal van haar leven (Amsterdam, 2022) YF.2023.a.27.

Why not let the diaries speak for themselves?

The sky is full of birds, the purple lupins stand up so regally and peacefully, two little old women have sat down on the box for a chat, the sun is shining on my face — and right before our eyes, mass murder. The whole thing is simply beyond comprehension. (8 June 1943)

And if there were only one good German, then he would be worthy of protection against the whole barbaric gang and because of that one good German one should not pour one’s hatred onto a whole people. (15 March 1941)

And if God does not help me to go on, then I shall have to help God. — The surface of the earth is gradually turning into one great prison camp, and soon there will be nobody left outside. … I don’t fool myself about the real state of affairs, and I’ve even dropped the pretence that I’m out to help others. I shall merely try to help God as best I can, and if I succeed in doing that, then I shall be of use to others as well. But I mustn't have heroic illusions about that either. (11 June 1942)

Despite everything, life is full of beauty and meaning.

Marja Kingma, Curator Germanic Language Collections, specialist Dutch.

References/further reading:

Etty Hillesum, Het verstoorde leven: Dagboek van Etty Hillesum, 1941-1943, 18e druik (Amsterdam, 1986) YA.1988.a.1992 (English Translation by Arnold J. Pomerans, An Interrupted Life: the Diaries and Letters of Etty Hillesum 1941-43 (London, 1999) YC.2004.a.8709.

Etty Hillesum, Drie brieven van den kunstschilder Johannes Baptiste van der Pluym (1843-1912): met twee reproducties, uitgegeven en van een toelichting voorzien door A.C.G. Botterman-v.d. Pluym. (Apeldoorn, 1917 [i.e. Haarlem, 1943]) Cup.406.b.78. (Letters written to David Koning from Westerbork in 1943 and published clandestinely the same year.)

Philippe Noble, ‘De dagboeken en brieven van Etty Hillesum in Franse vertaling: Het dubbele filter’ In: Filter: tijdschrift over vertalen, Vol. 9, nr 3 (2002) pp. 37-48. YF.2007.a.229

Oord, Gerrit van, ‘Het dagboek van Etty Hillesum in Italië’ (Nijmegen, 2002) In: Filter: tijdschrift over vertalen, Vol. 9, nr 3 (2002) pp. 49-56.

Veel mooie woorden: Etty Hillesum en haar boekje Levenskunst,edited by Ria van den Brandt and Peter Nissen (Hilversum, 2017) YF.2018.a.20211.

Spirituality in the Writings of Etty Hillesum: Proceedings of the Etty Hillesum Conference at Ghent University, November 2008, edited by Klaas A.D. Smelik et al. (Leiden, 2010). Supplements to The Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy, vol. 11. YD.2012.a.877.

Klaas A.D. Smelik, Reading Etty Hillesum in Context: Writings, Life, and Influences of a Visionary author (Amsterdam, 2018) YD.2018.a.3834

The Lasting Significance of Etty Hillesum’s Writings: Proceedings of the Third International Etty Hillesum Conference at Middelburg, September 2018, edited by Klaas A.D. Smelik (Amsterdam, 2019) YD.2021.a.1416. Also available online free of charge.

Etty: de nagelaten geschriften van Etty Hillesum, 1941-1943, edited by Klaas A.D. Smelik, Gideon Lodders, Rob Tempelaars. 2nd ed. (Amsterdam, 1987) YA.1989.a.8106.

24 January 2025

Beyond Traditional Monuments: Commemorating the Lost Jewish Community of Kaunas

For centuries Lithuania was an important spiritual and cultural centre of Jewish life. The biggest Jewish communities were in Vilnius (‘Jerusalem of the North’) and Kaunas, the second biggest city in Lithuania. Before the Nazi invasion in June 1941, around 240,000 Jews lived in Lithuania; only several thousand – around 5% – survived the Holocaust.

In the interwar period Kaunas, a temporary capital of Lithuania, had a flourishing, vibrant and dynamic Jewish community. At one point a third of the inhabitants of Kaunas – 33,000 people – were Jewish. The city had around 40 synagogues and prayer houses, including the Slobodka yeshiva, one of the largest and best known yeshivas in Europe.

Painting of the Old Synagogue in Kaunas

Gerardas Bagdonavičius, The Old Synagogue in the Old Town, 1930. Reproduced in Aliza Cohen-Mushlin, Synagogues in Lithuania: a catalogue (Vilnius, 2010). YD.2011.b.2062

The Jewish educational network consisted of numerous Yiddish and Hebrew schools. There was a flourishing artistic and music scene. The city had a Yiddish and a Hebrew theatre, several daily Jewish newspapers, sports clubs and youth organisations. Jewish political organisations were thriving. Social welfare organisations and charitable societies took care of those less fortunate; the Kaunas Jewish Hospital cared for both Jewish and non-Jewish patients. In 1920 the Central Jewish bank was established in Kaunas, leading a network of 85 Jewish banks.

Black and white photograph of a pillar covered in posters advertising cultural events in Lithuanian and Yiddish

Posters advertising cultural events in Lithuanian and Yiddish, image from Hidden history of the Kovno Ghetto, general editor Dennis B. Klein (Boston, 1997). LB.31.c.9499

Black and white photograph of a football match

Football match in the Kaunas Maccabi Stadium between the Kovas Club of Šančiai and the Maccabi Sports Club, April 25, 1926, image from Žydųgyvenimas Kaune iki holokausto (Vilnius, 2021). YF.2023.a.2399

Black and white photograph of the Jewish Central Bank in Kaunas

Central Jewish Bank. Image from Wikimedia Commons

During the Nazi occupation the Kaunas Jewish community was almost completely destroyed. How to commemorate those who perished in such tragic circumstances?

The 11th Kaunas Biennial, which took place in 2017, explored the theme of monuments. What is a monument? Is our understanding of monuments changing? Is there a need for different kinds of commemoration? During the biennial the participating artists created, among others, a number of site-specific performances and installations referencing Kaunas’ Jewish past.

The artist Jenny Kagan, whose parents survived the Kaunas Ghetto, in her installation Murmuration, using a video projection and LED lighting, evoked the memory of the lost Jewish community. A brightly lit up building of a former Hasidic synagogue (the lights followed the rhythm of street lighting) on closer inspection turned out to be empty and derelict. The emptiness of the building is reminiscent of an empty sky from which starlings, known for their murmurations, quickly disappear, their numbers drastically declining.

Colour photograph of an old synagogue at night, lit from within

Murmuration, from Yra ir nėra = There and not there: (im)possibility of a monument (Kaunas, 2018) [awaiting shelfmark]

Colour photograph of a derelict synagogue door with one panel open at the bottom

Paulina Pukytė curated several performances and installations for the 11th Kaunas Biennial. One of them was At Noon in Democrats’ Square. Every day at noon, from 15 October to 30 November 2017, in the Vilijampolė district of Kaunas, a singer stood facing the empty space which once was Demokratų Square. The singer sang two songs in Yiddish: Yankele and My Yiddishe Mame. The performance lasted 7 minutes.

Colour photograph of a woman singing in a city square

At Noon in Democrats’ Square, from Yra ir nėra

Vilijampolė, also known as Slobodka, on the right bank of the Neris River, was the site of the Kaunas Ghetto where thousands of Jews perished during the Holocaust. On 29 October, 1941, the day of the so called ‘Great Action’, around 27,000 Jews were forced to assemble on Demokratų Square. Men, women and children stood there for hours while a selection took place. Those deemed strong enough to work were temporarily saved; the rest, 9,200 of them, were executed the next day in Fort IX, part of the city‘s fortifications turned into a temporary prison.

At Noon at Democrats Square was a commemoration of those who perished as a result of the ‘Great Action’.

Paulina Pukytė, the chief curator of the 11th Kaunas Biennial, is an interdisciplinary artist, writer, curator and critic, and lecturer at the Vilnius Academy of Arts. She will talk about the (im)possibility of monuments at the Holocaust Memorial Day event, held at the British Library on 27th of January.

Ela Kucharska-Beard, Curator Slavonic and East European Collections

References and further reading:

Paulina Pukytė, Kas yra = Something is (Vilnius, 2021) [awaiting shelfmark] 

 Arūnas Bubnys, Kaunas ghetto 1941-1944 (Vilnius, 2014). YD.2016.a.992 

 Martin Winstone, The Holocaust Sites of Europe : an Historical Guide (London, 2015). YC.2016.a.6368 

 Nick Sayers, The Jews of Lithuania: a Journey Through the Long Twentieth Century (London, 2024)

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