12 September 2014
A nurse, a poet and a girl – women’s diaries of the Great War
In Russian cultural memory the First World War does not occupy the same place as in the cultural memories of other peoples who fought this war. One of the reasons, of course, is that it was overshadowed by the events of the Russian Revolution. For the Russians, the Great War did not come to an end, as it did for the other nations, on 11 November 1918. Therefore, it was not properly reflected upon either in Soviet or in émigré Russian literature. Russian authors and poets had a very short time window to respond to the war, which they certainly did, but it proved almost impossible to reflect on it thereafter. As diaries and memoirs often manifest themselves as intermediaries between document and fiction, it was interesting to see what was written and published in Russian in these autobiographical genres. Not surprisingly, as with literature, there is no abundance of diaries or memoirs solely devoted to the time of the war and where wartime events, emotions and thoughts are at the core of the work. In any case, there are fewer diaries and memoirs left from the time of the First World War in Russian than, for example, those describing the Russo-Japanese war of 1904-1905.
The three examples which I shall present here are all created by women.
We do not know anything about Lidiia Zakharova, who in 1915 published a book Dnevnik sestry miloserdiia: Na peredovykh pozitsiiakh (‘Diary of a wartime nurse: on the front line’; X.700/19594). The book was published in the series Biblioteka Velikoi Voiny (‘The Great War library’) and of course was meant to be part of wartime propaganda.
An advertisement at the at the end of Lidiia Zakharova’s Dnevnik sestry miloserdiia, for other publications in the series.
When you read it, it is very difficult to believe that the diary was indeed written in field hospitals and trenches, although some scenes are very vivid and disturbing. However, the book is full of clichés, like the overwhelmingly forgiving attitude shown by Russian soldiers towards German prisoners, the good humour and modesty displayed by war heroes, or kind treatment of a Jew and a Polish girl which allowed them to demonstrate their profound gratitude to the Russians. In her narrative, Lidiia Zakharova also mentioned that she had somehow copied samples of soldiers’ letters which are quoted in the book as proofs of the heroism, courage, humanity and simplicity of their authors. Artificially sweet and lacking any individual character, they are reminiscent of a book of patriotic poetry created by Zinaida Gippius, a poet well established on the Russian literary scene by 1914 (photo below from Wikimedia Commons).
The book Kak my voinam pisali i chto oni nam otvechali: kniga-podarok (‘How we were writing to warriors and what they were replying: a book-present’; Moscow, 1915), which is very rare and unfortunately not held at the British Library, consists of poems written in the form of letters from three ordinary Russian women to soldiers. The letter-poems and the replies were written in stylized folk-poetic language, but as one of the contemporary researchers puts it, “the soldiers clearly did not have the language of their own to express their feelings and thoughts, and the overall result was … stereotypical and banal … (Ben Hellman, Poets of Hope and Despair. The Russian Symbolists in War and Revolution (1914-1918); Helsinki, 1995, YA.2002.a.8054,p. 148).
However, Zinaida Gippius’s own diary, published in Belgrade in 1929 under the title Siniaia kniga (1914-1917) (‘The Blue Book (1914-1917’); 09455.ee.31), is a very interesting story of a poet and intellectual who undertook the task of documenting the times. In the preface to the 1929 edition Gippius wrote: “’Memoirs’ can give the image of the time. But only a diary gives it in its continuity”.
This correlates with the words of Gippius’s contemporary Virginia Woolf: “So they [memoirs] say: ‘This is what happened’; but they do not say what the person was like to whom it happened. And the events mean very little unless we know first to whom they happened” (Virginia Woolf. Moments of Being: Autobiographical Writing. New edition edited by Jeanne Schulkind. (London, 2003; YC.2003.a.4621), p. 79).
And the person “whom events happened to” is very vividly portrayed in the diaries of another woman – Ekaterina Nikolaevna Razumovskaia (née Sain-Vitgenshtein or in the German version: Katherina Sayn-Wittgenstein) (1895-1983), one of six children born into the old noble family of Prince Nikolai Sain-Vitgenshtein.
She was 19 when the war began and 23 when the family left Russia for good. Until 1973 the diaries were completely forgotten and kept among other old papers in sealed boxes. Only after Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn had appealed to Russians abroad to send him their documents, memoirs and diaries to facilitate his work on the novel Avgust 1914 (August 1914) did Ekaterina Razumovskaia remember about her diaries. They were published first in German and then in Russian (1986) shortly after her death. Her diary is not only a document of wartime life (in many ways her ‘experience’ was common to thousands of people and her ‘analysis’ of the events was entirely based on newspapers and the opinions of her family members), but it is also a coming-of-age narrative with the major events of the 20th century in the background. And because of that, a hundred years later we still can feel her fear and anxiety when reading: “What is the year 1915 preparing for us? How much sorrow, how much joy? Never before has the burning question about the future arisen so acutely as on this first night of the New Year. Never before have we felt such a sharp fear in front of the black abyss of unknown. I’m peeking into this abyss and my head is spinning and darkness arises in front of my eyes. Everything is in Lord’s hands, come what may!” (, p. 41).
Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Eastern European Curator (Russian Studies)
01 September 2014
Is Bazarov human after all?
Having recently seen a revival of Brian Friel’s dramatic adaptation of Fathers and Sons “after the novel by Turgenev”, I am struck how central Bazarov is to this novel even though in this version he hardly says anything when he first appears. Instead of hearing his Nihilistic philosophy set out reinforced by all the strength of his personality, we hear Bazarov’s beliefs and aspirations described in the words of his disciple Arkady Kirsanov with brief interjections of confirmation of correctness from Bazarov.
Turgenev in 1838 from A.G. Ostrovsky, Turgenev v zapisiakh sovremennikov (Leningrad, 1929) X.958/4290.
It is fascinating to think Turgenev found the inspiration for the strength of Bazarov’s personality when on a visit to the tempestuous Blackgang Chine on the Isle of Wight (This inspiration is explored in Tom Stoppard’s play Salvage (The Coast of Utopia - Part III, p.84-87) in which Turgenev appears; you can read the relevant excerpt here.) But do we see this force expressed when he confronts his most fearsome ideological adversary, the anglophile Pavel Kirsanov? On the contrary he is quite submissive and refuses to express any interest in the duel in which he is invited to take part.
Ironically, where Bazarov does express a good deal of emotion and passion is in his declaration of love for the wealthy widow Anna Odintsova, a love of the romantic kind which he has earlier dismissed as a myth. Perhaps this, then, is the whole point of the novel – to show the impossibility of a totally nihilistic personality (at least with his background – better attempts at this type of character were made by Dostoevsky). Bazarov inherits the ordered approach to life of his doctor father with his commitment (though using outdated methods) to improving society embodied in his continual use of Latin quotations, but he also has the passion of his mother (which in her case is directed towards religion, which Bazarov despises).
What is also brilliantly realised in this dramatization and in Lyndsey Turner’s production at the Donmar Warehouse is the lasting effect that Bazarov has on others, notably in the final scene after his death where Arkady has an emotional outburst reminding the chattering classes who have almost returned to their trivial preoccupations what a great loss has occurred to them and Russia in the death of Bazarov – the force of his personality is very much present in that last scene even though he isn’t.
The British Library holds a copy of the first edition of the original Russian text of Fathers and Sons (Отцы и Дети) published in Moscow in 1862 (12590.h.25). The title page of this copy is reproduced above. The first English translation of the novel by Eugene Schuyler was published in 1867 (12590.bb.21). Among the notable subsequent English translations held by the British Library is that of Constance Garnett. Translated as Fathers and Children (the literal meaning of the title), this was included in the Novels of Turgenev (London, 1894-99; 012590.e.50.)
Peter Hellyer, Curator Russian Studies
References
Brian Friel, Fathers and sons: after the novel by Ivan Turgenev (London, 1987). YC.1987.a.9790
Patrick Waddington, Turgenev and England (London, 1980) X.950/2479
20 August 2014
The Drama of Marinetti by Mikhail Karasik
The British Library has recently acquired the rare Russian artist’s book Drama Marinetti v odinnadt︠s︡ati kartinakh (‘The Drama of Marinetti in eleven pictures’) by Mikhail Karasik (St. Petersburg, 2008; shelfmark HS.74/2177).
Russian title page as a post card (Sheet 0). Reproduced with kind permission of Mikhail Karasik.
The book is one of a limited edition of 15 signed copies and consists of 12 sheets in the form of large postcards. On one side of each appears a lithographic illustration made with reworked old photographs. On the reverse side appears the offset text of the drama composed from contemporary newspaper and literary sources. The text inside the book is printed in Russian; an English version is designed as a newspaper – The Drama of Marinetti, special issue – and inserted into the book. For a full description see Mikhail Karasik: catalogue raisonné 1987-2010 (Nijmegen, 2010), p.157.
Marinetti is met (Sheet 4)
Bearing the sub-title “The Story of How the Leader of World Futurism Flopped in Russia”, it graphically evaluates Marinetti’s legendary visit to Russia in 1914. Highlighting the differences between Italian Futurism which as Karasik suggests “promoted urbanism, the cult of technology and machines, the destruction of tradition and old culture”, and Russian Futurism which “focused on folk culture, and the Russian icon”, it will complement the British Library’s outstanding collection of Italian and Russian Futurist books.
At the Barber's (Sheet 3)
One particularly interesting feature of the book’s graphics is the way in which works of Russian Futurists are referenced in the collaged lithographs. For example sheet no 3 At the Barber’s clearly refers to Larionov’s painting The Officer’s Barber (1910) with the heads of the officer and barber being replaced by those of Marinetti and Larionov; and later in sheet no 5 Marinetti and Venus, Marinetti appears in his car with a figure of Venus familiar from Larionov’s painting of Venus from 1910.
Marinetti and Venus (Sheet 5)
There are several heated debates in the Drama of Marinetti about the nature of Futurist poetry. The Italian approach embodied in Marinetti’s idea of “Words in Freedom” is contrasted with the Russian idea of Zaum’ (transrational or trans-sense language). Whereas Marinetti in scene 7 sees them as essentially the same, Benedikt Livshits sees the Italian approach as maximizing chaos “so as to minimize the intermediary role played by reason” and tries to explain the experiments of Russian Futurists, in particular Khlebnikov.
The Studio of Kulbin (Sheet 8)
Marinetti finally, in an aside in the same scene, concludes that “Russian Futurism has little in common with Western Futurism” though he does admit that “when it comes to Futurist music then Russia has to be recognized as taking the lead”. He continues: “In 1910 Kulbin was the first to proclaim the principle of free ‘music of noises’ and now we Italians are merely following in his footsteps”. In recognition of this remark sheet no. 9 Soundnoises (see picture below) is based on a photograph of the Italian Futurist composer Russolo and some of his sound and noise machines or Intonarumori out of which emerge the heads of Kulbin, Khlebnikov, Kruchenykh and Marinetti. Kulbin’s theories on Free music, Colour music (synaesthesia) etc are set out in Studio of the Impressionists [Studiya Impressionistov, 1910], the cover of which is used as a backround for the superimposed heads of Russian Futurists in sheet no. 8 The Studio of Kulbin (see picture above). For a description of Kulbin’s theories on music see my article on Studiya Impressionistov in The Oxford Critical and Cultural History of Modernist Magazines, Vol. III, Part II, pp.1260-4. (Oxford, 2013; YC.2013.b.1128)
Soundnoises (Sheet 9)
Karasik’s book will be an invaluable addition to an already large number of his works held by the British Library. A list of works written and illustrated by him as well as works of others published by him are included in Hellyer, Peter, A catalogue of Russian Avant-Garde Books 1912-1934 and 1969-2003 (London, 2006; YC.2006.b.2068 ). More recent items can be found on the webpage for Russian Avant-Garde Artists’ Books 1969-2010 in the British Library.
Peter Hellyer, Curator Russian Studies
11 August 2014
Albinia Lucy Wherry and Russian “knights” on war-time postcards
Among other material in the Wherry Collection, donated to the British Library in 1962, I came across three Russian postcards.
Albinia Lucy Wherry (1857-1929) worked at the Women’s Emergency Canteen in Paris during the First World War and was awarded a badge of service for her efforts. The Canteen opened in April 1915 underneath the Gare du Nord, one of the main railway stations for Allied troops on their way to or from the front, as well as other military destinations. Albinia worked at the Canteen from 1915-1918, and it is believed she put together and displayed a collection of postcards whilst working there. The postcards form part of the collection of material which she later donated to the British Library. A selection of humorous postcards and items relating to the Women’s Emergency Canteen in Paris are now on display in our current exhibition in the Folio Society Gallery Enduring war: grief, grit and humour, and the majority of the Wherry Collection postcards are currently on exhibition in Case 1 of the Philatelic Exhibition on the Upper Ground Floor in the St Pancras building (the three Russian postcards can be found in slide 21).
The images are of a very distinctive artistic style close to the tradition of Russian icons. In the early 20th century some artists adopted it for illustrating children’s books, fairy tales, popular literature, calendars and presentation albums and theatre programmes.
Les Solennités du saint couronnement. Ouvrage publié avec l'autorisation de Sa Majesté l'Empereur par le Ministère de la Maison Impériale sous la direction de M. V. S. Krivenko, avec la collaboration de MM. N. Opritz, E. Barsow. (St Petersburg, 1899) LR.25.c.20
One of the best-known artists who worked in such a style is, of course, Ivan Bilibin. His pictures were often used in postcards, like this one (HS.74/2027, vol. 7):
However, these images (reproduced below) are related to the First World War and bear the initials“BZ”.
“BZ” appears to be a Russian artist, Boris Zvorykin (1872-1942?). He was born in Moscow into merchant family and studied for a year or so at the Moscow School of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture. By the beginning of the First World War he had become a successful illustrator, designer of postcards, theatre programmes and celebratory dinner menus, who was greatly in demand, working with various Russian publishers including the famous Sytin.
In 1919 Zvorykin worked for the Moscow magazine Krasnoarmeets (‘The Red Guard’) (the British Library holds a jubilee issue of this journal published in 1921 to celebrate its third anniversary – shelfmark 8820.f.41). His most famous work of that period is a poster Boi krasnogo rytsaria s temnoi siloi (‘The Red Knight fighting with the Dark Force’; Cup.645.a.6.).
However, in 1921 Zvorykin emigrated to Paris where he also worked as a book designer, illustrator and later as an icon painter for Orthodox churches abroad. It was in France that he illustrated Pushkin’s books, including Boris Godunov. A copy of this edition is also held by the British Library.
A.S. Pushkin, Boris Godounov (Paris, 19??); RB.23.b.5893.
Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead East European Curator (Russian)
20 May 2014
You plowed my blooming orchards, you did!
On 18 May this year Crimean Tatars worldwide commemorated a sad anniversary in their history: 70 years since their deportation from their homeland Crimea in May 1944. The planned commemorations in Crimea itself did not go as planned by the Crimean Tatars: all mass gatherings were banned in the annexed Crimea until June 6 2014.
“In a single night, approximately 191,000 had the dehumanizing experience of being taken from their homes, stripped of their possessions, and exiled from their homeland”, writes Greta Lynn Uehling in her thoroughly-researched book Beyond memory: the Crimean Tatars’ deportation and return. The Deportation, which claimed the lives of at least 30% of the entire Crimean Tatar population, started on the early morning of 18 May by Stalin’s secret police, the NKVD. The Tatars were given about 30 minutes to pack. The whole operation of the deportation ordered by Stalin lasted three days. By 20 May at 16.00 it was finished (cattle cars were loaded and sent to places of deportation). A telegram was duly sent to Lavrentiy Beria by I. Serov, the Deputy National Commissar of Internal Affairs of USSR, and A. Kobulov, National Commissar of Internal Affairs of the Uzbek SSR, about the end of the special operation. The texts of telegrams and other documents related to the Deportation are available to our readers in the Russian original in the book Stalinskii genotsid i etnotsid krymskotatarskogo naroda (Stalinist genocide and ethnocide of Crimean Tatar people).
Painting by the Crimean Tatar artist Rustem Eminov
For decades the Crimean Tatars were resettled in Central Asia and Siberia and prohibited from returning to their homeland. The Exile – called in Crimean Tatar “Sürgün” - left a profound wound in the soul of the nation and gave birth to many poems. The famous Crimean Tatar poet Fazil Eskender expressed this anger against the Soviet authorities in his poem Mayis 18 de (On May 18):
You dragged my innocent childhood years,
On the tip of your bayonets!
On May 18 without fear of God,
You plowed my blooming orchards, you did!
Monument to the Deported Crimean Tatars in Sudak ( image from Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 3.0)
The British Library’s excellent Maps Collection holds many ancient maps showing the Crimean Peninsula (under the title Tartaria or Tartaria Minor) as well as memoirs of travellers to the Crimean Khanate before and after it became a part of the Russian empire.
Tabula Geographica qua pars Russiae. Pontus Euxinus ... et Tartaria Minor ... exhibentur. 1720. Maps.K.top.112.97
The secret documents about the Deportation and memoirs of deported people were published in Ukraine in last decades and are part of our collections. The British Library Oral History collections hold two Russian-language interviews with deported Crimean Tatars made in the 1990s (C515/06). In 2008 British writer Lily Hyde published the first English-language novel about the return of a Crimean Tatar family to Crimea entitled Dream Land (London, 2008; YK.2009.a.30188). The book has been recently translated into Crimean Tatar and Ukrainian, adding to the growing literature about the Crimean Tatars and the forced deportations in the 20th century (picture below by Rimma Lough).
This year the Crimean Tatars could not mark the 70th anniversary of the Deportation in Crimea itself in an appropriate way. The commemorative meeting took place not in the main square in Simferopol, as in previous decades, but on the outskirts of Simferopol near a mosque, with helicopters flying low above the heads of thousands of mourners. Yet Crimean Tatars will continue to remember and honour their dead. As the Crimean Tatar poet Cemil Kermencikli wrote in his poem Tatarim (I am a Tatar): “I will insist on justice for a thousand years”.
Olga Kerziouk, Curator Ukrainian Studies
References/further reading:
Stalinskii genotsid i etnotsid krymskotatarskogo naroda. Dokumenty, fakty, kommentarii. (Simferopol, 2008). YF.2009.a.34028
Lily Hyde, Dream Land (London, 2008) YK.2009.a.30188
Deportatsiia krymskikh tatar 18 maia 1944 goda. Kak eto bylo. (Simferopol, 2004). YF.2006.a.17643
Greta Lynn Uehling, Beyond memory: the Crimean Tatars’ Deportation and Return (Basingstoke, 2004) YC.2006.a.8885
Krymski studii. Spetsialnyi vypusk "Krymskie tatary v "Khronike tekushchikh sobytii". 2000, issue 5-6. ZA.9.b.2491
Neal Ascherson, Black Sea: the Birthplace of Civilization and Barbarism (London, 1995) YC.1995.b.54
Alan Fisher, The Crimean Tatars (Stanford, 1978) X:800/28210
02 May 2014
Ivan the Terrible, primers, ballet and the joys of curatorship
Printing in the Old Church Slavonic language using Cyrillic and Glagolitic scripts started in the late 15th century, about 50 years after moveable type was introduced to Europe by Johannes Gutenberg. The first Cyrillic printing office was established in Kraków by Schweipolt Fiol (fl. 1479-1525/6) of Neustadt. Four liturgical works originated from Fiol’s press. An Octoechos (a liturgical book that contains a repertoire of hymns ordered in eight parts according to the eight tones) and a Horologion (Book of Hours) were printed in 1491.
Cyrillic printing in Muscovite Russia started only in the mid-16th century on the initiative of Tsar Ivan the Terrible and Metropolitan Makarius. From the start printing and publishing in Russia was linked closely to political agendas. In 1547 Ivan proclaimed himself Tsar, having previously borne the title of Grand Duke. The new title symbolised the divine origin of secular power, established a direct link between Russian rulers and Emperors of the recently fallen Byzantium, and was supposed to put Russia much higher in the European hierarchy of states. The change of title was supported by a number of internal reforms, including a revised code of laws (1550) and a church code (Stoglav - The Book of One Hundred Chapters) produced by a Church council called the Council of One Hundred Chapters held in 1551.
Developments in state and Church politics instigated printing. It is believed that the first Russian press (now referred to as ‘Anonymous’) operated in Moscow in 1553-1565. Although early Russian imprints lack date and place of publication, other primary sources contain information about the press and its employees. It is probable that Ivan Fedorov, who bears the title of the ‘father of Russian printing’, because he produced the first dated imprint, also worked there. Between five and 28 copies of each of the seven titles attributed to this press are known. Five different typefaces were used, but all are reminiscent of the semi-uncial handwriting originating from Moscow scriptoria. Ornaments and initials were produced from woodcuts.
The first dated book printed in Moscow in 1564 was the Apostol (Liturgical Acts and Epistles), now known in 66 copies held in libraries and archives around the world.
The Liturgical Acts and Epistles, or ‘Apostol’ (Moscow, 1564) C.104.k.11
Although the book was printed at the ‘Anonymous’ press , the names of the printers are known – Ivan Fedorov and Petr Timofeev Mstislavets. The British Library acquired a copy of the Apostol at auction in November 1975 from the sale of the collection of the famous Russian impresario and founder of the Ballets Russes Sergei Diaghilev.
Sergei Diaghilev, impresario and book collector. (Picture from Wikimedia Commons)
Diaghilev developed a passion for rare books towards the end of his life and between 1926 and 1929 amassed an extremely valuable collection of print rarities and autographs. As he hoped to use his collections and the archives of the Ballet Russes as a foundation for a Russian cultural centre, the French government took care of all these valuable materials. However, to show respect for Diaghilev's memory the French Ministry of Education offered his collections and archives to his close friend and younger colleague, the dancer and choreographer Serge Lifar, who bought it from the French state. Over the years Lifar carried on adding to the library, and it became known as the Diaghilev-Lifar collection. However, in the 1970s, Lifar, then in his 70s and on a small pension, could not cope with financial pressure and sold the library and the Ballet Russes archives.
Some of the books from the Diaghilev collection, however, ended up in the possession of his secretary Boris Kokhno who sold them individually. That is how the first dated book printed in Ukraine, the so called Lviv Bukvar’ (Primer) of 1574, found its way to the special collections of Harvard University Library in 1953. Apparently it was sold for only $2,000, as the seller did not fully understand the importance of this copy, which was printed by the same Ivan Fedorov, who left Muscovy for the Duchy of Lithuania where printing was privately sponsored, and subsequently moved to Lviv, where in 1572 he opened the first press on Ukrainian soil. Once the Primer became known to the academic community it became a real sensation and remained the only known copy in the world until in 1982 when Dr Christine Thomas, then Head of the British Library’s Russian and Ukrainian collections, acquired the second known copy.
Ivan Fedorov’s Primer (Lviv, 1574). C.104.dd.11.(1).
On 9 May we will celebrate the 450th anniversary of Ivan Fedorov’s edition of the Apostol and the 440th anniversary of his publication of the Primer with a conference, Revisiting Ivan Fedorov’s Legacy in Early Modern Europe. If you would like to learn more about early printing in Eastern Europe, please join us; the conference is free, but booking is essential.
Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator Russian Studies
References
Cyrillic books printed before 1701 in British and Irish collections: a union catalogue / compiled by Ralph Cleminson et al. (London, 2001) 2708.h.903
The Diaghilev-Lifar Library. [Sale catalogue, Sotheby Parke Bernet] (Monaco, 1975)
Nemirovskii, E. Slavianskie izdaniia kirillovskogo (tserkovnoslavianskogo) shrifta, 1491-2000 : inventarʹ sokhranivshikhsia ekzempliarov i ukazatelʹ literatury ( Moscow, 2009- ) ZF.9.b.1317
Christine Thomas. ‘Two East Slavonic Primers: Lvov, 1574 and Moscow, 1637’ in: British Library Journal, 1984. Pp.32-47
21 April 2014
‘Church, not Chocolate’: Easter eggs in Eastern Europe
The British are not, it must be said, especially inventive when it comes to Easter egg traditions. Possibly the most ancient of these is the Lancashire custom of ‘pace-egging’ (‘pace’ deriving from the Latin Pascha, not an allusion to the speed with which the decorated eggs roll down the hill in Avenham Park, Preston, where crowds still gather on Easter Sunday to watch the ritual). The Wordsworth Museum in Grasmere houses a collection of elaborately decorated eggs which the poet (or more probably Mary and Dorothy Wordsworth and Sara Hutchinson) prepared for young John, Dora and William junior. Originally these eggs were wrapped in onion-skins and boiled to give the shell a rich golden marbled colour which, sadly, would have been ruined when they were rolled to see whose would go furthest without cracking. Now, unfortunately, this tradition, like that of the ‘pace-eggers’ with their disguises and blackened faces, performing a mumming play in return for eggs or funds to purchase them, has largely died out, though those eager to hear the original ‘pace-egg’ song can do so through various versions in the British Library’s sound archives.
Elsewhere in Europe, though, things are very different. The sumptuous creations of Carl Fabergé for the Russian Imperial court are famous, but in confecting these masterpieces in jewels, pearls and fine enamelling he was continuing a much older tradition found not only in Russia but in Ukraine and throughout Central Europe. Nor were eggs the only items decorated at Easter; in Northern Europe, as in Bohemia, birch or pussy-willow boughs were gathered and festooned with ribbons and feathers for use in playful switching rituals which originated in much older fertility rites and Christian penitential practices, a tradition still observed on ‘Whipping Monday’ in the Czech Republic, where the boys who run from house to house with their pomlázky are rewarded with Easter eggs from the girls (who take revenge by dousing them with water the following day).
Over the years the methods used to decorate these eggs have become increasingly complex and sophisticated. Those wishing to experiment for themselves can consult Marie Brahová’s České kraslice (‘Czech Easter eggs’; Prague, 1993: BL shelfmark YA.2002.a.1656), which gives illustrated instructions on how to achieve striking effects with batik, beads and relief as well as the more familiar techniques of painting, etching patterns with a nail on a fine coat of wax or paint, or even the use of humble mud or clay, readily available in even the poorest village. As well as flowers and abstract patterns, favourite motifs included pictures of Christ and the saints, or views of local scenes, as in the splendid collection of the Moravské museum in Brno, described in Eva Večerková’s Kraslice (Brno, 1989; X.0410.137).
In Ukraine the decorated eggs, painted with equally intricate designs, are carried in baskets to church to be blessed by the priest, together with the traditional kulich, a rich fruited bread which, like the eggs, represents the return to feasting after the strictures of the Lenten fast, when Orthodox believers abstain not only from meat and sweet things but from dairy produce of any kind. Here the eggs are covered with detailed geometrical motifs echoing those of the red and black cross-stitched embroideries on the cloths with which the baskets are draped, as well as with stylized images of birds, fish and animals (right) reflecting the pre-Christian animistic beliefs of the ancient Slavonic peoples as well as the rural way of life. Colourful photographs of these may be seen in O. H. Solomchenko’s Pysanky Ukraïns’kyckh Karpat (‘Pisankas of the Ukrainian Carpathians’, Uzhgorod, 2002; YA.2003.b.1092).
Easter, a season of rejoicing and reconciliation, is also a time to remember the traditions which unite the peoples of East and West, however we may celebrate, and to admire the wealth of invention which brings such beauty within the reach of the poorest peasant. Like Hans Christian Andersen’s Emperor of China with his artificial nightingale, the Tsars with their elaborate Fabergé eggs were no richer than the humblest of their subjects who were proud to possess examples of such fine workmanship created with the resources of Nature itself.
Susan Halstead Curator, Czech and Slovak Studies
Ukrainian decorated eggs
27 January 2014
One Family’s Story in Bobruisk during the Second World War
The population of Belarus suffered terribly during the Second World War, but the biggest losses occurred among the country’s Jewish communities. Even now, nearly 70 years after the war, there are still no official statistics for the numbers of dead – only estimates. We can only imagine how terrible it was for civilians to survive, and how hard it was to recover and to rebuild their lives after the war.
January 27 is Holocaust Memorial Day in the United Kingdom to remember all innocent victims. I decided to tell the story of my good friend Lily Samuel-Podrobinok and of her parents’ families, who were evacuated by train to the Ural Region and escaped the Holocaust.
The family of Lily’s father Meir Podrobinok (born 1934) comes from the city of Bobriusk. Meir’s mother Leah, a housewife, and his father Zalman, a milkman, were both born there. Lily’s mother Nina Leokumovich (born 1942) and her family come from Zhlobin in Gomel Region and later relocated to live and work in Bobruisk. Nina’s father Abram became very famous for his excellent work as a vet, and her mother Ronia was a hospital nurse.
Bobruisk (or Babruisk) is a city in the Mogilev Region situated on the river Berezina. Established in mediaeval times, it is first mentioned in a document of 1387. Anna Vygodskaia described Bobruisk as “a sleepy provincial town, whose inhabitants sealed themselves off from the rest of the world”, until in the 1870s the railway connected Bobruisk to Minsk, Vilno, Gomel and Libava (Latvia). Being in close proximity to Russia and Poland, Bobruisk quickly established itself as a trading centre.
The first mention of the Jewish community in historical documents was in 1508. Just a few families were living there, but by 1766 the community had grown to 395. The biggest rise in population was in the 19th century: by 1897 the total population of the city was 28,764, of whom 71% (20,438) were Jewish. Bobruisk came to be called “the city of 40 synagogues” – there is only one left today.
Postcard showing synagogues of Bobruisk. From Vladimir Likhodedov, Sinagogi = Synagogues (Minsk, 2007.) YF.2009.b.2407
By 1917 there were 42 synagogues, a Jewish school and hospital, cinemas, a drama club and a Jewish library, one of the four largest of its kind in the Russian Empire. Bobruisk was also a centre of book publishing in Yiddish, Hebrew and Russian; the best-known publisher, Iakov Gunzburg (Yaaḳov Ginzburg), was active until 1928. There were a number of Jewish newspapers (Bobruiskii listok, Bobruskie otkliki and Bobruiskii ezhenedelnik) and Zionist and other political organizations. The most famous was BUND, which also published political literature.
Germany attacked the Soviet Union on 22 June 1941; Minsk, the capital of Belarusian Soviet Socialist Republic, was occupied on 26 June, but the Mogilev Region and Bobruisk were defended by Red Army soldiers and military cadets until the town was taken by German soldiers on 28 July. There was only a short time for the residents to make one very important life-changing decision: to leave their home town or to stay.
Zalman Podrobinok, photo taken after the war [by kind permission of Lily Samuel-Podrobinok]
Lily’s grandfather Zalman had joined the Red Army infantry. In 1943 or 1944 he was injured and spent some time in hospital; he was reunited with his family through the Red Cross. The rest of Lily’s family on both sides decided to leave Bobruisk. With the Germans bombing and German paratroopers already in the city, there was total chaos and confusion among the population. The family walked 60 km to Rogachev (Rahachow) and then on to Propoisk (today known as Slavgorod), where they safely boarded an open-carriage train to Russia.
At one point the family almost became separated. Somebody saw the young children walking and offered the family a lift to the railway station; the mother helped the children in, but there was no more room, so the car left without her. The children decided they didn’t want to travel alone, so got out and ran back to find their mother. Luckily the family were reunited, and a train took them to Cheliabinsk.
With the outbreak of war the small Russian town of Cheliabinsk had suddenly grown into a big industrial centre with lots of workers, factories and plants evacuated there. Zalman Podrobinok worked at the military plant and Abram Leokumovich worked as a vet, helping to look after the horses used by the Red Army.
The occupation of Belarus lasted four long years. During Operation Bagration Belarus was liberated on 4 July 1944; Bobruisk had been liberated in June 1944 by the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Belarusian fronts and 1st Baltic front.
Under Nazi occupation there were 260 internal camps in Belarus and 296 Jewish ghettos, of which 36 were in the Mogilev Region. 209 cities and towns were destroyed and 627 villages burned to the ground; 158 were never repopulated. The village of Khatyn is a symbol and memorial of all the burned villages in Belarus.
In October 1941 prisoner of war camps were set up in Bobruisk and a Jewish ghetto nine kilometres away in the village of Kamenka, where more than 25,000 people were imprisoned, not only from Bobruisk, but later in 1942 prisoners were relocated from the Warsaw Ghetto. Altogether, by the end of the German occupation more than 40,000 prisoners of war and 40,000 civilians had been killed in the Bobruisk area.
There are 572 Jewish Holocaust memorials and monuments in Belarus, and 72 memorials thanks to generous donations from World Jewish Relief (WJR) and the Simon Mark Lazarus Foundation, UK.
Lily’s family returned to Bobruisk in 1946, although some families decided to stay in Russia; some members of Lily’s own family stayed in Cheliabinsk. Coming home again was hard, and it took a long time to settle back into normal life. Zalman and Leah Podrobinok’s home had been destroyed by heavy bombing, so they took out a mortgage to rebuild their house.
Abram and Ronia Leokumovich also came to Bobruisk in 1946 and, because there was a shortage of vets, Abram was offered his job back together with very comfortable office accommodation.
Efim, Nina and Abram Leokumovich in a photo taken after the war in Bobruisk [by kind permission of Lily Samuel-Podrobinok]
Both families rebuilt their lives and gave all their children a higher education. In 1990 they decided to emigrate to Israel, but continue to visit Bobruisk as often as possible.
The Jewish community in Bobruisk was revived when a young rabbi from Israel came with his family and restored the synagogue. Today a Jewish community of around 4,000 remains, and the future looks promising!
I would like to thank Lily and her family for their help!
Rimma Lough, Belarusian, Russian and Ukrainian Cataloguer
References:
Anna Vygodskaia, The story of a life: Memoirs of a young Jewish woman in the Russian Empire (DeKalb, 2012) YC.2012.a.9563
Bobruĭskaia gorodskaia evreĭskaia obshchina : 500 let (Bobruisk, 2008) LF.31.a.2961.
Pamiats’: Babruĭsk (‘Minsk, 1995) YA.2003.a.9447.
Pamiatsʹ Belarusʹ (Minsk, 1995) YA.2001.a.2761.
Ales Adamovich, Khatyn; translated by Glenys Kozlov [et al.] (London, 2012) H.2013/.8994.
Khatyn’ = Khatyn = Chatyn (Minsk, 2005) YF.2006.a.5117.
24 January 2014
The life and travels of a Tsar - and of a manuscript
When my predecessor retired as curator of the British Library’s Russian collections I took on responsibility for some rare materials which she had not finished working on. One of these was a manuscript in Russian created in the 18th century. It is in in a very good condition with a fair leather binding and the title ‘The Life of Peter the Great’ is embossed on the spine. The manuscript was created, according to the scribe’s note, as a presentation copy “on the 27th [June] in the year 1765” to celebrate “the victory given by God to glorious Tsar of Russia Peter the Great over Swedish King Charles XII in the Poltava Battle in 1709”. In this note the scribe calls himself “Fedor, son of Ivan Amisimov of the town of Kungur” (located in the Ural mountains in the Perm region).
On verso of the last leaf there is a previous owner’s note written in the 19th century: “Monday, 4 November 93. My dear brother Sania, I’m sending you this book as a token of my memory. I’m writing to you, forever beloved brother, maybe this is the last time I’m writing to you. Goodbye, my dear, not much left (?) of your money, write back. Your sister Aleksandra Kutalova, 13 October 1893”.
Aleksandra Kutalova’s inscription
On the Internet I found photographs of several members of the Kutalov family taken in a Kungur photo studio in the first half of the 20th century. One, taken in 1927, portrays two brothers, Boris and Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Kutalov. They are most certainly the sons of Aleksandr Vasil’evich Kutalov (1869 or 1870–1918)], the “dear brother Sania”, who was presented with this manuscript. Information which I found on an Internet forum for the history of Kungur confirmed my guess, as a local historian mentioned that he had seen birth records for a girl called Aleksandra born to the Kutalov family in 1874. These findings suggest that until the end of the 19th century the manuscript was still held in Kungur or nearby.
The manuscript contains the ‘Account of travel to Europe’ commencing with the words: “The trip started in Moscow.” In the late 18th century this was thought to be written by Peter the Great himself and was better known as ‘The Travel Accounts of the Grand Person’. This text was first published in St Petersburg in 1788 under the full title Zapisnaia knizhka liubopytnykh zamiechanīĭ velikoĭ osoby, stranstvovavsheĭ pod imenem dvorianina rossīĭskаgo posol’stva v 1697 i 1698 godu (‘The notebook of curious accounts of the Grand Person who travelled incognito under the name of a Russian nobleman with the Russian Embassy in 1697 and 1698’), held at British Library shelfmark 1427.c.9.(1.).
However, the greater part of the manuscript is taken up by the text ‘The Life of Peter the Great’. This is a Russian version of the biography Vita di Pietro il Grande, Imperator della Russia; estratta de varie Memorie publicate in Francia e in Olanda (Venice, 1736; British Library 1487.a.32.), a compilation from several sources, initially written by an Italian author, Antonio Catiforo, and published in eight editions between 1736 and 1806. The text was translated into Russian by Stepan Ivanovich Pisarev (1709-1775) who served in various state offices. Parallel to his career as a civil servant, Pisarev was interested in literary translation, and many of his translations were published in numerous editions. He translated the Vita di Pietro il Grande in 1743 at the request of Empress Elizaveta Petrovna.
The text of ‘The Life of Peter the Great’ is preceded by a nice portrait (above) painted on paper by a local amateur artist. This was copied from a well-known lithograph that reproduced the portrait apparently made by Louis Caravaque in 1716 (see D. Rovinskii. Podrobnyi slovar’ russkikh gravirovannykh portretov, St Petersburg, 1886-1889. Vol. 3, 1566-1568, No. 122; [reprint edition (2008) at YF.2008.b.2602]).
Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator Russian Studies
04 November 2013
Classroom curiosities
Cultural history and history of education is a relatively new research trend, so it was not obvious to the previous generations of librarians and curators that future scholars would want to examine textbooks. This type of material is difficult to collect and preserve. Although produced in large quantities and numerous editions, textbooks, like newspapers and ephemera, are not meant to survive. Older foreign textbooks and practical guides for teaching and learning represent an especially precious category of items. What was meant to be cheaply-produced learning material now becomes invaluable for the simple reason that very few copies survive. One of the most treasured works in our collections is Ivan Fedorov's Azbuka (C.104.dd.11(1)), printed in Lviv in 1574, the first printed and dated East Slavonic primer. This is an extremely rare item - there is only one other recorded copy in the world, at Harvard University Library.
Fedorov's Azbuka
A Slavonic Grammar by Meletii Smotritsky was first printed in 1618-1619 and reprinted several times in the 17th century. Smotritsky made an attempt to codify the contemporary Church Slavonic language as used in the Belarusian, Russian and Ukrainian lands. The book had a significant impact on the development of these languages. In 1648 the grammar was reworked to reflect the norms of the language as used in Moscow at that time. We have two copies of the 1648 edition ( 71.d.16 and C.125.d.14).
The latter copy comes from the collection of Sir Hans Sloane (1660-1753) and bears notes in Latin, which suggests that the book was used for learning purposes. Interestingly, all notes are made on the page where the principles of Russian syntax are explained, which probably suggests that the learner was quite advanced. Before belonging to a foreign owner, this copy was in possession of a priest – one Andrei Petrovich Peresvetov.
Sloane's copy of Smotritsky's grammar (C.125.d.14) showing the Latin notes
The first Russian textbook on mathematics by Leonty Magnitsky was published in 1703, also in the Church Slavonic language (8531.f.16). It is both an encyclopedia of mathematics which explains its rationale and provides numerous tables, measures and rules, and a textbook with lots of practical 'problems', such as how many bricks are needed to build a wall of certain measurements (see the illustration below), or what one’s debt would be if one wanted a loan at a certain percentage. The book was published in 2,400 copies and used in schools till the 1750s.
There are more examples of learning and teaching materials from the 19th century in such subjects as languages, history, the Orthodox religion, rhetoric, poetry, literature and law. One of the more curious titles is the book by Ivan Zander Nachatki russkogo iazyka dlia nemetskogo iunoshestva [The foundations of the Russia language for German youths], published in Riga in 1869 [shelfmark 12976.h.18.], which included Russian proverbs with parallel translations. It is very likely that the book was acquired by pure chance, but maybe some British Museum readers used German as a language of instruction while learning Russian, as there were no similar books in English.
Slavonic studies fully emerged in Britain in the 20th century (on the history of learning and studying Russian, see James Muckle. The Russian language in Britain: a historical survey of learners and teachers (Ilkestone, 2008; YK.2009.a.30298 and m09/.13908 ) and, of course, learning material in English started to be produced in Britain. In the British Library, we have a nice pocket-size booklet called Russkii Uchenik= The Russian Pupil (Manchester, 1919; 12975.a.34). Its author claims that the size is part of his method: “For one thing, you get tired of handling your text-book too often, you find you cannot always carry it about to look at it at odd moments. What is the remedy then? A little, well-printed booklet that you could carry about in your pocket like a letter where words and grammar are arranged in a manner which does not tax your brains in the least but nevertheless enables you to assimilate knowledge in an exceedingly interesting, novel, and attractive manner”. Sounds like an advert of a learning app, doesn’t it?
Early lessons from Russkii Uchenik= The Russian Pupil
The British Library also holds some Soviet schoolbooks, which might be an interesting resource for historians of the Soviet system of education. And, of course, one can find plenty of curiosities, such as Uchebnik avtoliubitelia [A textbook for the amateur driver and car owner] (Moscow, 1952; 08774.b.3), Uchebnik dlia mladshego veterinarnogo fel’dshera [A textbook for the junior veterinary practitioner] (Moscow-Leningrad, 1950) and various learning materials for propagandists of atheism, ship’s carpenters, textbooks on logic for secondary schools, and various other subjects. In the atmosphere of Cold War it is not surprising that the British Museum acquired such books as Uchebnik voennoi gigieny [A textbook on military hygiene] (Moscow, 1962; 7327.e.45) or Uchebnik angliiskogo iazyka dlia vysshikh voenno-uchebnykh zavedenii [English for Military Highschools] (Moscow, 1957; W.P.12521)
At the beginning of perestroika the decision was taken to collect samples of textbooks that would represent the changes in the system of education and in society, so it is not unexpected that one of examples of school literature of the 21st century is Bukvarʹ shkolʹnika : Putevoditelʹ nachala poznaniia veshchei bozhestvennykh i chelovecheskikh [The Pupil’s primer: the guidebook for learning about things divine and human] (Moscow, 2004; YF.2006.b.558).
Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead East European Curator (Russian)
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