Back in the 16^th-century Netherlands, the high and mighty often used waterproof stoneware jugs, which were practical and fancy signs of wealth. A few years ago, during the construction of a parking garage in Delft, an example was found which has a fascinating link to Poland: it is decorated with the portrait of King Stephen Báthory, who ruled the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth from 1576 to 1586, as well as with several coats of arms, including those of Royal (Polish) Prussia and the city of Gdańsk. Moreover, it is dated 1586 and carries the maker’s initials: JEM, which points to Jan Emens Mennicken. Mennicken was a prolific potter from the Duchy of Limburg, in modern-day Belgium. His stoneware jugs were of the highest quality, and can be found in multiple museums.

Since the jug was apparently made for the Polish market, it is unclear how it ended up in Delft. Perhaps it was bought by a Dutch merchant in Gdańsk? Another intriguing explanation has to do with diplomacy. In 1586, the year of the jug’s production, Báthory sent an ambassador to the Netherlands. This Krzysztof Głoskowski was meant to persuade the Dutch to stop their revolt against the Spanish Habsburgs. He delivered a Latin speech before the States-General, which at that time assembled in… Delft! The exchange of gifts was an important part of diplomatic practice. It is possible, though uncertain, that Mennicken was commissioned by the Polish court and/or the city of Gdańsk to produce the jug, after which Głoskowski may have offered it to the States-General as a token of friendship, a reminder of the importance of Gdańsk as a trading partner of the Dutch and a symbol of Báthory’s authority.

A 3D reconstruction of the jug can be viewed here.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 42.

In late January 1737, a large part of Poland was hit by a flood and subsequent famine. A severe storm broke dykes along the Vistula and Nogat rivers, and the water covered vast tracts of land between Gdańsk and Toruń. Cities and villages were destroyed, people and cattle perished, and farmlands were made unusable. The Dutch historian Jan Wagenaar described the terrible calamity which had befallen the Poles. He tried to arouse sympathy and stimulate his Dutch readers to donate money for the victims, many of whom were left homeless and died of hunger or disease. In some parts of the country, the water receded only after the Summer.

The following year, Wagenaar published an account of the help sent from the Dutch Republic to Poland. After pleas from Poland, merchants from Holland with commercial ties to Gdańsk and other Polish towns had initiated a relief campaign. According to Wagenaar, they collected around 15.000 Dutch guilders: a considerable sum for that time. The money was transferred to Gdańsk and then distributed by ministers of diverse denominations: Catholics, Calvinists, Mennonites and Lutherans. Wagenaar claimed that the Dutch relief campaign saved thousands of lives, and described how Polish farmers from various towns were given bread, beans and all kinds of cereal, for which they were extremely grateful: “Many did not know that there was a place called Holland and were astounded to receive help from a land of which they had never even heard before. Others called it a miracle of divine providence that they now obtained grain from a land towards which they used to send their own abundant produce.” This final comment is a reference to the grain traditionally exported from Poland, which was vital to the economy of Holland since medieval times.

The Dutch relief campaign of 1737 was a novelty, because it bridged different religious groups: previous campaigns were organised only for members of the same denomination. People in the Dutch Republic felt solidarity with the Poles and voluntarily supported the victims, no matter their religious beliefs. They thought that God would reward their generosity, and possibly hoped that Poland’s swift recovery would benefit the grain trade.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 41. It is based on a forthcoming academic article by historian Adriaan Duiveman.

Recently, I wrote about Dutch-Polish sporting history, specifically regarding the Summer Olympics of 1928 in Amsterdam. Another fascinating anecdote from that event concerns poetry and art. Back then, the Olympics also included cultural contests. Medals were awarded for artistic works inspired by sport, in several categories: architecture, literature, music, visual arts and sculpture. The gold medal in the category of literature was won by the Polish author Kazimierz Wierzyński, who had written a series of fifteen poems entitled Laur olimpijski (the Olympic Laurel). The poems discuss several sporting disciplines, such as the 100 meters sprint and discus throwing, but also applaud specific contestants. One of the poems describes a race by female athletes. Furthermore, the Polish artist Władysław Skoczylas won a bronze medal in the category of drawing.

The picture shows the front and back of the gold medal as awarded during the 1928 Olympics. Wierzyński won a similar medal.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 40.

Poland and the Netherlands share a rich history in sports. Right now, for instance, the two countries together host the Volleyball World Championship for women. An interesting older Dutch-Polish connection relating to women’s sports dates from 1928, when Amsterdam hosted the Summer Olympics. It was the first time women were allowed to participate in athletic and gymnastic events at the Olympic competition. The world champion in the field of discus throwing, the Polish Halina Konopacka, won the gold medal in that discipline, smashing both her personal and the world records. In addition, it was the first Olympic gold medal ever won on behalf of Poland. Konopacka was considered a beautiful athlete, which earned her the nickname “Miss Olympia”.

The picture shows a colorized photograph of Konopacka in action during the 1928 Olympics.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 39.

On this day in 1869, the city of Groningen witnessed a wondrous spectacle: the re-enactment of the entrance of King Jan III Sobieski of Poland into Vienna, in September 1683. At 7 pm, a masquerade of over seventy lavishly clad Dutch students began its passage through the city center, both on foot and on horseback. Such student masquerades were a common phenomenon in the nineteenth-century Netherlands, and they often portrayed specific historical events. An accompanying booklet enthusiastically relates Sobieski’s victory over the Turks at the Battle of Vienna, on 12 September 1683, and it also lists the masquerade’s participants, the roles they played, and the route they took through Groningen. Moreover, the booklet contains a small print based on a larger, colored illustration by the local artist Otto Eerelman. It depicts the masquerade as a long string of men in historical costumes of Polish and Austrian or German soldiers and clergymen, many wielding sabers, war hammers, lances, and flags. At the center of the print stands the masquerade’s main figure: Sobieski. Naturally, the print gives a fictional impression of the event, but one can imagine the excitement the masquerade must have caused in Groningen, which for one evening in 1869 played the role of Vienna welcoming Jan III Sobieski in 1683.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 38.

On 12 September 1683, King Jan III Sobieski of Poland achieved a decisive victory at the Battle of Vienna. In July that year, Turkish forces had laid siege to the imperial city as part of a campaign designed to strengthen the Ottoman Empire’s influence in Europe. Emperor Leopold I allied himself with Sobieski, who rode to Vienna’s aid and took command of the city’s relief. After the final battle took place, the Turks were routed and forced to retreat, eventually losing their foothold in Hungary and Transylvania.

As news of the battle travelled across Europe, authors and artists in many countries sought to congratulate Sobieski, celebrating his victory as a grand Christian achievement. Perhaps surprisingly, this also happened in the Northern Netherlands: Calvinism was the state’s so-called public religion, but that did not stop the Dutch from eulogizing the Catholic Sobieski. In fact, numerous poets praised the Polish sovereign as an acclaimed general and saviour of Christendom, and the Dutch Republic even became an international hub for the production and proliferation of prints in honour of Sobieski. The example shown here was printed by Pieter Schenk, an originally German artist who spent much of his life in Amsterdam. The poem beneath was written by the little-known author Jan Norel, who compared Sobieski’s “brave deeds of war” with those of Alcides, another name for the mythical Greek hero Herakles/Hercules.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 37.

At this moment, the city of Gdańsk is busy hosting its annual Carillon Festival. An interesting example of the cultural relations between the Netherlands and Poland concerns the carillons in Gdańsk. In 1561, a carillon consisting of 14 bells was installed in the new tower of the Main Town Hall. The bells had been cast the previous year in ’s-Hertogenbosch, Brabant, by the bell-founder Johannes Moor. Together, they made up the oldest carillon outside the Low Countries. Each bell was adorned with the coat of arms of Gdańsk, Prussia and Poland, and carried a Latin sentence: “Time covers the whole world and everything under heaven passes in its spaces. Johannes Moor from ’s-Hertogenbosch made me in the year 1560.” Every hour, the carillon played two alternating melodies, which were changed weekly according to the liturgical calendar. Furthermore, a second carillon from the Northern Netherlands was installed in St. Catherine’s Church during the eighteenth century. It was cast by Johann Nicolaus Derck in Hoorn, Holland.

Sadly, most bells from the original carillons have been destroyed, respectively during World War II and by a fire in 1905. Only a few original bells survive. However, new carillons were installed both in the Town Hall and in St. Catherine’s Church. Once again, they were made by bell-founders from Brabant: the Royal Eijsbouts Bell Foundry in Asten, not far from ’s-Hertogenbosch. This year, the Carillon Festival features several Dutch performers: Paul Maassen, Richard de Waardt and Boudewijn Zwart.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 36.

Twenty-five years ago, in July 1997, Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands visited Poland. It was the first official state visit to the Rzeczpospolita by Dutch royalty. Together with her husband, Prince Claus, Queen Beatrix spent three days in Poland, journeying to Warsaw, Wrocław, and Gdańsk. In Poland’s capital, the royal pair was welcomed at the Presidential Palace by president Aleksander Kwaśniewski. That day, the Queen admired Warsaw’s city centre and the Royal Castle, and she paid her respects at three war memorials: the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the Warsaw Uprising Monument, and the Monument to the Ghetto Heroes. Wrocław also provided several interesting sights, including the Town Hall, the university, and the Racławice Panorama: a monumental cycloramic painting showing the Battle of Racławice, one of the first battles of the Polish Kościuszko Uprising against Russia in 1794. In Gdańsk, finally, Queen Beatrix and Prince Claus made a tour of the old city, visited a number of museums, and met with the former Polish president Lech Wałęsa. Apparently, the Queen felt right at home in Gdańsk, as she knew much about the city’s close historic ties with the Netherlands.

Seventeen years later, in June 2014, Beatrix’s son King Willem-Alexander and his wife, Queen Máxima, made Poland the destination of their first state visit as the new Dutch royal couple.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 35.

In the 1650s, a play set in Poland won the hearts of Dutch audiences: Sigismundus, Prinçe van Poolen (Sigismundus, Prince of Poland), also known as ’t Leven is een droom (Life is a dream). The piece is a translation of La vida es sueño from 1635, by the famed Spanish playwright Pedro Calderón de la Barca. The Dutch version premiered in Amsterdam in 1654. Sigismundus attracted large crowds until well into the eighteenth century and was also performed by travelling theatre companies, both in Holland and abroad. All in all, Sigismundus became one of the best-loved plays of the early modern United Provinces. But what is it about, and why was it so popular?

The plot can be summarized as follows. The Polish king Basilius keeps his son Sigismundus locked in a tower, as he believes in a prophecy which states that his son will bring the country to ruin. One day, Sigismundus is set free and claims his father’s throne, but his behaviour is so beastly that he is once again imprisoned. He is released by Polish rebels, however, who prefer him to his rival, a Muscovite prince. Bloodshed follows, but when Sigismundus realizes the cruelty of his actions, he offers his father his services. Impressed, Basilius surrenders the crown to Sigismundus.

Spanish drama was vastly popular in Dutch theatres at the time. One of the reasons why Sigismundus in particular took off, however, may lie in the fact that during the 1650s, Poland was making headlines. Ever since 1648, the Polish gentry had been at war with the Cossacks, who were joined by Russian forces in 1654. That same year, Sigismundus made its premiere in Amsterdam. The play tells a fictional tale, but the fact that parts of its plot – such as the Muscovite threat – showed similarities with the time’s events, undoubtedly aided its popularity.

The image shows the frontispiece of the 1647 translation from Brussels. The play is still performed today. For example, the Dutch theatre company Toneelschuur staged an adaptation in 2017.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 34.

Many Dutchmen and -women strongly support the Ukrainians in their fight against Russian aggression. A comparable situation occurred over two hundred years ago, in 1794, when the young Dutch poet David Jacob van Lennep spoke out in support of the Poles, who fought for freedom and independence. The Polish general Tadeusz Kościuszko at that time led an armed uprising to defend his country’s territorial integrity and autonomy, a year after the Second Partition of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth by the Russian Empire and the Kingdom of Prussia. The image shows Kościuszko’s Proclamation, a painting by Franciszek Smuglewicz depicting a speech Kościuszko gave in Cracow in March 1794, which is considered the beginning of the uprising.

Van Lennep responded to the uprising with two long poems. One celebrates an important Polish victory in September 1794, when the Siege of Warsaw by Russian and Prussian forces was lifted. The other composition carries the title “Lyre Song to the Poles”, and is dated May 1794. Van Lennep rejoices in the Polish uprising and slanders the Russian and Prussian oppressors. He enthusiastically describes how the Poles defend their freedom, which is threatened by the “tigress of the north” – Catherine II of Russia, known as the Great – and the “treacherous” Prussians, who lay waste to Polish lands and murder and enslave the population. “Legitimizing violence with the appearance of justice / Strengthens tyrants’ crowns, / And accusing innocent people of terrible deeds / Solidifies the foundations of their thrones,” Van Lennep wrote – words which would be just as appropriate today.

Furthermore, Van Lennep compares the Polish uprising with the Dutch fight against Spain during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. He heralds “the crowds of Polish heroes” as the bringers of freedom for all oppressed peoples and foreshadows that the aggressors will flee, thus “trampling Russia’s honor in the dust”. Lastly, Van Lennep expresses the certainty that Poland will once again prosper, and he asks God for universal peace and freedom.

Kościuszko’s uprising sadly did not end well for the Poles, who were eventually defeated by Russian and Prussian forces. The following year, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was conclusively partitioned out of existence by Russia, Prussia, and Habsburg Austria. Van Lennep, meanwhile, went on to become professor of Latin and Greek in Amsterdam, as well as a respected poet. Years later, he wrote that he never regretted supporting the Poles, who had been “treated with terrible injustice, which filled me with indignation”.

Just as Van Lennep did in 1794, we must continue to speak out against Russian aggression.

*I originally wrote this post for the social media outlets of the Dutch Embassy in Poland. This was post no. 33.