On 3 May, Poland celebrates the Constitution of 1791: the first constitution in European history, and second only to the Constitution of the United States of America, in force since 1789. The Polish Constitution was introduced during the Great Sejm of 1788-1792, and aimed to profoundly reform the political system of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. For example, it combined a constitutional monarchy with a division of executive, legislative and judicial powers (the trias politica), while also introducing political equality between the nobility and townspeople (serfs were not granted personal freedom, but placed under the protection of the government). Also, it banned the nobility’s right of liberum veto, which had led to corruption and the weakening of the Polish-Lithuanian state. King Stanisław August Poniatowski was one of the reforms’ main advocates.

Support for the new Polish Constitution also came from the Netherlands: two citizens of Amsterdam, called Gülcher and Mulder, sent a golden medal to the Polish king via the Warsaw-based banker Piotr Blank. Gülcher and Mulder were bankers as well, who lent significant amounts of money to the Polish court. They had a commercial interest in praising the king, therefore, but they may also have been driven by ideology: Gülcher was a patriot, who believed in the new ideals of liberty, equality and fraternity. A Polish newspaper from 2 August 1791 includes a transcript of a letter by Gülcher and Mulder to Poniatowski, which begins as follows: “Most illustrious king! Seized by admiration, together with the whole of Europe, for the revolution which Your Majesty and the Polish Sejm have accomplished, as fortuitous as it is beneficent, we have sought to find a way through which to immortalize this great event.”

Their solution was to employ the services of the famed medalist Johan Georg Holtzey, mint master in Amsterdam and Utrecht. One side of the medal shows a portrait of Poniatowski wearing a wreath of oak leaves: a symbol of civic merit. The Latin text not only addresses him as the King of Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuania, but also as Patriae Parens: Father of the Fatherland. The other side of the medal features the royal coat of arms and various symbols of freedom, justice and religious tolerance. The inscription reads Terrore Libera: Free of Fear. No doubt, Poniatowski was glad to receive this idolizing Dutch token of solidarity.

Sadly, the reforms were short-lived: conservative Polish nobles conspired to have the Constitution abolished and sought the help of Empress Catherine of Russia, who quickly invaded the Commonwealth in order to maintain control over her western neighbor, which she saw as her protectorate. In 1793, the Constitution was annulled and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was partitioned for the second time.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 53.

The Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam currently hosts an exhibition about the famed painter Frans Hals, a contemporary of Rembrandt, who was born in Antwerp but mostly worked in Haarlem. He is known especially for his portraits of groups and individuals, as well as for his recognisable technique. Several of his works were once part of Polish collections. The last king of Poland, for example, Stanisław August Poniatowski, owned portraits by Frans Hals. Poniatowski was an adamant art lover and collector: according to a catalogue from 1795, he owned nearly 2.500 paintings. This number included 184 Dutch and 143 Flemish works, mostly from the seventeenth century. The king owned pieces by famous artists like Rubens, Rembrandt and Van Dyck, some of which were very expensive at the time. He also had at least two portraits by Hals (or his studio), one of which shows an unknown man. This work later passed to his mistress (and possibly wife) Elżbieta Grabowska née Szydłowska. Another portrait by Hals (or his studio), showing an unknown woman, was in the possession of the king’s nephew and national Polish hero, Prince Józef Antoni Poniatowski.

The exhibition in the Rijksmuseum includes approximately fifty paintings from international collections. It is open until 9 June.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 52.

On 17 March, the yearly Wierszowisko festival took place in Wijchen, the Netherlands: almost 140 children from Polish schools across the Netherlands performed on stage, giving fabulous renditions of Polish poems. In this manner, the festival helps to keep the Polish language – and Polish poetry in particular – alive in the Netherlands. I was happy to be one of the judges, just as last year. I was greatly impressed by the enthusiasm, the theatrical talents and the language proficiency shown by all the young contestants.

The roots of this literary Polish presence go back hundreds of years: Polish texts were published in the Netherlands as early as the seventeenth century! Interestingly, moreover, most of them were poems, written by Polish students and printed in Franeker, in Frisia. As far as we know, the first two were published in 1642, and several more followed in the rest of the seventeenth century. These poems were written for specific occasions, for example to celebrate someone’s promotion, applaud a new book, or express grief over someone’s passing. The addressees of these poems apparently knew (some) Polish. Franeker at that time had a university, which was frequently visited by (Calvinist) Polish students. The university’s popularity was boosted by two Polish professors: Jan Makowski (Joannes Maccovius) and Mikołaj Arnold (Nicolaus Arnoldus). Arnold himself was the author of two published Polish poems, but he also became proficient in Dutch.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 51.

Migration between Poland and the Netherlands is currently flourishing, but it is not purely a modern phenomenon. In fact, examples reach back as far as the Middle Ages! An interesting, though relatively obscure case of Dutchmen settling in Poland dates from the late fifteenth century. The Municipal Council of Chełmno, a Hanseatic town in the north of Poland, at that time wished to establish a school for higher education. To that end, they invited a group of teachers from the Brethren of the Common Life, who came from Zwolle and arrived in Chełmno in 1473. The Brethren of the Common Life formed a Roman Catholic religious community, that was founded in the fourteenth century by the preacher and educator Geert Grote. The Brethren adhered to the so-called Modern Devotion, a simple and pious lifestyle in service of Christ.

The school in Chełmno became a successful and respected centre of education, which included a large library. Polish scholars have argued that the Brothers also devoted themselves to book production: it is likely that they brought along all necessary equipment from Zwolle, including a printing press. If this was indeed the case, the settlers were among the earliest book printers in Poland! Meanwhile, the Municipal Council of Chełmno looked after the needs of the Brothers, granting them several buildings in the city and even some villages, which generated income. Unfortunately, due to financial and other problems, the Brothers eventually returned to the Low Countries and the school closed its doors in 1539. Because the Brothers left such a sizeable imprint on Chełmno and its surroundings, however, their activities form an important episode in the history of Dutch-Polish relations. Indeed, some scholars contend that the school was attended by one very famous pupil: Mikołaj Kopernik (Nicolaus Copernicus).

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 50.

Twenty years ago, as Poland prepared to join the EU in 2004, a selection of Polish graphic art was on view at the Stadsbouwhuis in Leiden. The exhibition was organized by Stichting Witryna, which aims to give a stage to Polish art in the Netherlands, particularly modern graphic art. In late 2003, visitors could admire a range of prints by several artists from Toruń, which is a sister city of Leiden. Four artists employed at the Nicolaus Copernicus University of Toruń – Józef Słobosz, Jan Baczyński, Piotr Gojowy and Marek Basiula – brought along mezzotints, woodcuts and other prints. In addition, Dutch-Polish sculptor Aleksandra Zielińska, who studied at the Academy of Fine Arts in Wrocław, contributed with multiple artistic 3D-installations.

With the exhibition, Stichting Witryna strengthened the cultural ties between Leiden and Toruń, but also between the Netherlands and Poland, when the EU stood to welcome Poland as one of its newest members.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 49.

On this day in 1686, people in Amsterdam gathered to praise King Jan III Sobieski of Poland. In the city’s Athenaeum Illustre, the forerunner of the University of Amsterdam, the Dutch professor of ancient rhetoric Petrus Francius delivered a public reading of a poem he had written in Sobieski’s honour. The cause for this event was the Siege of Buda, which took place in the summer of 1686. The armies of the so-called Holy League at that time reclaimed the city of Buda, ending almost 150 years of Ottoman rule. Francius subsequently wrote four elaborate poems about the Holy League’s wars against the Ottomans, which he published and recited in the Athenaeum Illustre and the New Church of Amsterdam. Sobieski played no part in the Siege of Buda, but he had made a name for himself as a grand Christian champion, especially after his actions at the Battle of Vienna in 1683.

The poem by Francius is an overwhelming appraisal covering nineteen pages, which pulls out all the stops. The Polish king’s bravura and success on the battlefield is sensationally described and contrasted with the supposed shame and infamy of his enemies. Moreover, Francius compared Sobieski with mythological figures like Mars and Hercules, but also with historical rulers such as Charlemagne and Gustav II Adolph of Sweden. In addition, the Dutchman extolled Sobieski’s sons, Jakub and Aleksander. This part of the eulogy aligns with Sobieski’s contemporary propaganda, which after 1683 pushed his (failed) agenda of establishing a royal dynasty. The published version of the poem shows that Francius used various sources, including the words of a Polish diplomat who resided in Holland.

Most of the people in the Athenaeum Illustre that day must have been educated: the poem was written in Latin. One of them was Joan Pluimer, the director of the Amsterdam Schouwburg, who responded to Francius’s performance with a Dutch poem of his own. According to Pluimer, the entire audience stood in amazement:

Who would not stammer, stray, faced with the virtue of a god [Sobieski],
Besides only Francius? He portrays the war hero [Sobieski];
The high school [Athenaeum Illustre] then seems a bulwark in the field;
His eyes shoot lightning, while he thunders with words.
Learned and unlearned, all stand amazed,
And see nature and art in the highest form.

Furthermore, letters by and to Francius reveal that he sent his poem to other people who appreciated his work, both in the Dutch Republic and abroad. The composition may even have reached Poland: in early 1687, the aforementioned Polish diplomat sent an unspecified panegyric of Sobieski from Holland to Gdańsk. The Polish king was an avid book collector. Perhaps he read Francius’s poem himself?

The case of Francius is the most telling literary example of the fame Sobieski enjoyed in the Northern Netherlands: ever since his royal election in 1674, numerous Dutch artists, artisans and authors had celebrated Sobieski through prints, poems, pamphlets, theatre plays and other means. I briefly wrote about some of these instances here and here, and I have dedicated this article to the Dutch reception of Sobieski prior to his victory at Vienna. My PhD thesis offers even more elaborate information, and also discusses Dutch reactions to Sobieski after 1683, including the poems by Petrus Francius and Joan Pluimer.

*I originally wrote (a different version of) this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 48.

Every Pole has learned about the ‘Potop’ or ‘Deluge’: the Swedish invasion of Poland, part of the Second Northern War, which started in 1655. What is less well known, however, is that the Dutch Republic played a part in that war as well. On 10 July 1656, the States-General and the representatives of Gdańsk and Poland signed a concept treaty in The Hague, which stipulated that the Dutch (together with the Danes) would come to the city’s aid in case it were attacked. The States furthermore considered offering Gdańsk financial and military assistance in the form of loans and soldiers. In turn, the Dutch demanded the same freedom of commerce as merchants from Gdańsk itself. The city’s authorities still needed to ratify the treaty, however.

In late July, a large Dutch fleet was sent to the Baltic in order to lend support to Gdańsk and put pressure on the Swedes. Meanwhile, a Dutch diplomatic delegation tried to include Gdańsk in an agreement with Sweden, which would force the town to adopt a neutral position in the conflict. As this would violate the city’s fealty to Poland, however, its officials did not approve. Moreover, they refused to ratify the concept treaty signed on 10 July. The Dutch ambassadors subsequently left Gdańsk in early October, together with the bulk of the fleet. As a final token of support, several hundred Dutch soldiers were temporarily stationed in Gdańsk. A local author thanked the Dutch with a Latin poem, expressing the hope for future cooperation.

In 1658, a Dutch fleet defeated the Swedes during the Battle of the Sound. The success prompted numerous celebratory reactions from Dutch writers and artists, who applauded the Dutch victory and deplored the sorry state of Poland, which had been ravaged by Swedish armies. One year later, in November 1659, the Poles and Dutch together with Danish and Prussian troops defeated the Swedes at the Battle of Nyborg, in Denmark. The Dutch naval force was commanded by admiral Michiel de Ruyter, while the Polish armies were led by general Stefan Czarniecki. Several poets pictured the Dutch and Poles as close allies, including the famed Joost van den Vondel, who wrote: “See how the eagles and proud lions strike their talons and claws in the heart of the Swedes.”

In 1660, the death of king Karl X Gustav of Sweden hastened the end of the Second Northern War.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 46.

You may have heard of the Palmwood wreck: a shipwreck from the middle of the seventeenth century, found near the Dutch island of Texel. What is less well known, is that the wreck has an exciting link with Poland! In 2014, local enthusiasts began to dive up objects from the wreck, which proved full of seventeenth-century treasures. The most eye-catching example is a silk dress, which survived in remarkably good condition. The cargo also included a kaftan, book covers, jewellery, and many other precious objects. However, the wreck itself has not been recovered, and much of its cargo still lies buried in the seabed near Texel.

Researchers have carefully studied the objects which have been found so far, trying to piece together the history of the ship: where did it come from, where was it going, who did the objects belong to? One interesting theory pertains to Poland. At least one of the book covers recovered from the wreck came from the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth: it carries the arms of the Ostrogski family. In the sixteenth century, the Ostrogski’s were a powerful and influential noble family, which owned large estates in Ukraine (the male line ended in 1620). The book in question must have come from their library.

Dutch journalists travelled to Warsaw, where they spoke with Polish historians about the Ostrogski’s and early modern Polish fashion: could the dress and kaftan belong to a family from the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, perhaps to descendants of the Ostrogski family? Their answer: it’s possible, since similar eastern-style kaftans were popular with noblemen, while noblewomen preferred western-style dresses. However, since there is no hard proof to support this theory, it is merely conjecture. Still, the book cover carrying the arms of the Ostrogski’s is exciting in itself, since it shows that books from their collection travelled across seventeenth-century Europe, and also reached the Northern Netherlands. Now, the book cover is part of one of the most fascinating maritime treasures ever discovered.

A recent documentary series about the wreck is nominated for the prestigious Nipkowschijf award. Dutch journalists also recorded a podcast about their investigations. See this link for the episode about the Ostrogski’s and Polish fashion.

The image shows the book cover with the arms of the Ostrogski family. The photograph was made by historian dr. Janet Dickinson, who published this article on the various book covers found in the wreck.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 45.

390 years ago, in May 1633, the Polish ambassador Jan Zawadzki visited the Northern Netherlands. In the name of King Władysław IV Waza, who had recently been elected to rule the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, Zawadzki addressed the Dutch States-General. He sought to convince the Dutch to side with Poland against Sweden, which he accused of threatening Dutch-Polish trade relations. In addition, he argued that an alliance between Poland and the United Provinces would bolster their ‘ancient friendship and trade relations’. His Latin speech was even published in Dutch translation. Unfortunately for the Polish diplomat, however, the States-General were displeased with the titles Zawadzki gave to them, and they answered only in general terms.

Nevertheless, the Polish account of Zawadzki’s mission, possibly written by a secretary, suggests that the ambassador was fascinated by the Dutch Republic, especially Amsterdam. The text states:

‘The beautiful buildings of this city, the canals that cut through it, the streets lined with linden trees, the forests of ship masts, the rich merchant storehouses, the ubiquitous traffic, activity and work, and their reward: abundant wealth, pleasantly enraptured our spirits and bid us to say with a sigh: if only we could see all this back home!’

The account also mentions several popular tourist attractions in Amsterdam, such as homes for the elderly, the trade exchange and the headquarters of the East India Company (VOC), where foreigners could marvel at exotic goods and spices. As such, the account mirrors many other seventeenth-century texts about Amsterdam, written in prose and poetry by local and foreign authors alike, who thus created a canonical image of the city.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 44.