Between the Memory of the Customary and the Code of Law: Crimes, Penalties and Social Identities in Pre-Modern Moldavia (17th Century – First Half of the 18th Century)

Catalina Chelcu

Based on the analysis of four Romanian bishopric pleas, the article examines the connection between the reform movements of the 1790s and 1830s. The subject of the analysis is the political and intellectual-historical background of the 1791 Supplex Libellus Valachorum and the pleas of 1834, 1838 and 1842, with particular focus on how the authors of the pleas formulated their concepts of the future and the relationship between the pleas and concepts of natural law. If one examines the pleas side by side, the key concept in each of them, with the exception of the plea of 1838, was repositioning (reponere, repositione, repunere), but the meaning of this concept changed significantly over time. In the case of the Supplex Libellus Valachorum, the argumentation based on social contracts and the customary law definition of feudal rights was replaced with a positive legal argumentation built on actual acts of laws. On the other hand, in the plea of 1838 the concept of handling nations as living beings is unmistakably recognizable, together with the idea of their rise through civilization and culture. This change of paradigms caused a change in the aims of the pleas as well. Eventually, their main aim was not merely to secure rights, but to establish auspicious circumstances for the development of a nation conceived of as a living being. The goal became to prepare for cultural development and establish the conditions necessary for culture to flourish. Thus, although at first glance the argumentations of the documents seem to have a lot in common, in fact one can clearly discern how the community-related concepts of Transylvanian Romanian Romanticism started to gain ground, while at the same time the tropes appearing in the Supplex Libellus Valachorum started to undergo a transformation.

The post-Renaissance copies of Aristotle’s Poetics were mostly made for scholarly use. The copyists such as Anton Salvini, a Florentine polymath, librarian and professor of Greek, drew on MSS as well as on printed editions in an attempt to establish the text they could use for translation or academic teaching. Still uncertain remains the rationale of the latest known manuscipts — from the Vatopedi monastery on Mt. Athos (ca. mid 18th cent.) and from Bucharest (of the early 19th cent.). Several similarities these copies display suppose common provenance. The Greek diaspora in Bucharest blossomed around 1800 and Romania is linked to Vatopedi by a long tradition of orthodox learning. The MSS in question provide an overall impression of a schoolwork. The Athoan is of supreme quality while the Romanian often resembles an abstract. The first MS was probably written soon after the foundation of the Athonite Academy near Vatopedi. Aristotle’s Poetics is hardly suitable for monastic learning, but Eugenius Bulgaris who was the headmaster of Athonias from 1753 to 1758 introduced ancient texts into its curriculum: from one of his letters we conjecture that Plato and Aristotle were studied there. It is thus reasonable to suppose that the cod. Vatopedius was made in the Athonias for learning purposes. By 1800 the Academy was in decline but they still taught disciplines and read texts introduced by Bulgaris. So, the Bucarestensis could have been written in the same place. Judging by the composition of the codex its maker was nurturing interest in ancient and modern Greek literature.

T RANSYLVANIAN REVIEW Vol. XIX, Supplement No. 5: 2, 2010 Recent Studies on Past and Present II. Power, Belief and Identity OVIDIU Edited by CRISTEA • GEORGE LAZÃR • ANDI MIHALACHE • ALEXANDRU SIMON ROMANIAN ACADEMY Chairman: Academician Ionel Haiduc CENTER FOR TRANSYLVANIAN STUDIES Director: Academician Ioan-Aurel Pop Publication indexed and abstracted in the Thomson Reuters Social Sciences Citation Index®, in Social Scisearch® and in the Journal Citation Reports/Social Sciences Edition, and included in EBSCO’s and ELSEVIER’s products. Recent Studies on Past and Present Editor ALEXANDRU SIMON On the cover: STUDIUM GENERALE (15 CENTURY) TH Transylvanian Review continues the tradition of Revue de Transylvanie, founded by Silviu Dragomir, which was published in Cluj and then in Sibiu between 1934 and 1944. Transylvanian Review is published 4 times a year by the Center for Transylvanian Studies and the Romanian Academy. EDITORIAL BOARD CESARE ALZATI, Ph.D. Facoltà di Scienze della Formazione, Istituto di Storia Moderna e Contemporanea, Università Cattolica, Milan, Italy HORST FASSEL, Ph.D. Institut für donauschwäbische Geschichte und Landeskunde, Tübingen, Germany KONRAD GÜNDISCH, Ph.D. Bundesinstitut für Kultur und Geschichte der Deutschen im östlichen Europa, Oldenburg, Germany HARALD HEPPNER, Ph.D. Institut für Geschichte, Graz, Austria PAUL E. MICHELSON, Ph.D. Huntington University, Indiana, USA ALEXANDRU ZUB, Ph.D. Chairman of the History Section of the Romanian Academy, Director of the A. D. Xenopol Institute of History, Iaºi, Romania EDITORIAL STAFF Ioan-Aurel Pop Nicolae Bocºan Vasile Sãlãjan Alexandru Simon Rudolf Gräf Virgil Leon Ioan Bolovan Raveca Divricean Nicolae Sucalã-Cuc Translated by Bogdan Aldea—English Liana Lãpãdatu—French Desktop Publishing Edith Fogarasi Cosmina Varga Printed in Romania by COLOR PRINT 66, 22 Decembrie 1989 St., Zalãu 450031, Romania Tel. (0040)260-660598; (0040)260-661752 Correspondence, manuscripts and books should be sent to: Transylvanian Review, Centrul de Studii Transilvane (Center for Transylvanian Studies) 12–14 Mihail Kogãlniceanu St., 400084 Cluj-Napoca, Romania cst@acad-cluj.ro www.centruldestudiitransilvane.ro Contents • Editors’ Note 5 • I. Defining Borders – Defining Societies 7 I.1. The Written, the Painted and the Imagined Some Considerations regarding Historia Ducum Venetorum ªerban Marin 9 Il Lexicon Marsilianum e la lexicografia rumena nel seicento Levente Nagy 29 Historical Tradition, Legend and Towns in the Moldavian Chronicles Laurenþiu Rãdvan 41 I.2. Church, Law, State and Profit Histoire du développement de la législation canonique et civile ayant pour objet les biens temporels de l’Église Liviu-Marius Harosa Confessional Identity – National Identity. The Elites of the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church and the Catholic Autonomy from Hungary during the Dualist Period (1867-1918) Ion Cârja Aspects modernisateurs dans les discours politiques de Elemér Gyárfás András Máté 67 89 105 Contribution of Romanian and European Legal Elte to the Definition of the Unjust Enrichment Concept Ciprian Paun 115 • II. Roads to Modernity – Returns to the Past 141 II.1. Modern Forms of Medieval Legacies Between the Memory of the Customary and the Code of Law: Crimes, Penalties and Social Identities in Pre-Modern Moldavia (17th Century – First Half of the 18th Century) Cãtãlina-Elena Chelcu Reinventing Middle Age: the inauguration of the statue of Stephen the Great (Iaºi, 1883) Liviu Brãtescu 143 157 The Cult of Brãtianus Between the Two World Wars in Romania: Actors, Characters, Means and Forms of Expression Ovidiu Buruianã 173 II.2. The Birth of a Society Le rôle social de la promenade à Bucarest et à Iassy (première moitié du XIXe siècle) Dan Dumitru Iacob Nobility and Power in Moldavia at the Beginning of the 19th Century Cristian Ploscaru 195 209 Fils egaré ou traître incurable ? La figure du contrerévolutionnaire dans l’imaginaire politique roumain du 1848 Nicolae Mihai 227 • III. The West in the East – The East in the West 251 III.1. Oriental Fears and Aims Ideological and Practical Means of Survival in Front of the Ottoman Empire in the Late 1400s Alexandru Simon Geopolitics and strategies in the Black Sea region (1939-1947) Mioara Anton Shaping the Image of the Enemy in the Political Cartoons During the Cold War Paul Nistor 253 273 285 III.2. Drang nach Osten and Survival in the East Tekendorf – von einer sächsischen Gemeinde zu einer Glaubensund Nationalitätengemeinschaft Mihai Draganovici Deutsche Schulen in Rumänien während des Ersten Weltkrieges Carmen Patricia Reneti 301 313 The Repatriation of the Germans from Latvia and Romania at the Beginning of World War II: Some Comparative Aspects Bogdan-Alexandru Schipor 333 • List of Authors 343 EDITORS’ NOTE R ECENT STUDIES on Past and Present is a collection of studies, largely conference proceedings, of mainly young scholars. By its name, it has no other ambition than to offer new (in terms of methods, sources and date first of all) approaches to matters of the past (going as far back as the beginnings of the Human race) and of the present (as recent as the last year). It uses neither great words, nor selfproclaimed modesty. The collection at hand employs, to the best of the possibilities of its contributors and editors, concepts and topics that are allowed to enjoy their primary simplicity before dwelling in learned complexity; hence also the shortness of this note. The benevolent, or not, reader can find subjects and writings of interest and of relevance. The reader, likewise well-disposed or not, might discover interpretations and perspectives that fail to coincide with its own views. Both attitudes are welcome as they should be part of scientific evolution and scientific civility, two factors of any normal scholarly community even at Europe’s borders. Nonetheless, scientific life was never that simple, in the heart of Europe as well. This is a discovery made by more than one generation. In this respect too, the collection is fortunate enough to have benefited from the experience of accomplished scholars and from the ghosts of the past. These scientific exchanges, like the collection, revolve around a few key words, simple and common by their uses: tradition and invention, power and belief, profit and identity, time and thought, community and individuality. Often these are words made to bore rather than to entertain. Yet, in this case too, the answer resides solely with the author and the reader. ALEXANDRU SIMON 6 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) P ower and belief are delicate matters, namely because they have proved to be highly profitable (i.e. rewarding), but also highly painful (i.e. frustrating), therefore elevating a more than just apparent contradiction between the genetic purity and common-good defended and promoted through power and belief, and the results that have frequently sidelined these so-called initial features. Under such circumstances, almost unavoidably, the abovementioned contradiction also became a major part of identity, collective or just personal, as well as, on one hand, subject to staunch reform projects (or desires) and, on the other, to determined defenses. Yet it would be mistaken to focus on moralizing contradictions rather than on the literally fascinating way in which the elements of the contradictions have cohabitated, have coexisted and often have refrained themselves from generating contradictions in their own time. It could well be that harmony, as an ideal (in order to avoid the frequently employed concept of unity in diversity), was frequently more present in practice when its means remained unquestioned. However, this is not the aim of the present collection of studies that questions, sometimes contradicts, and tries to explain how differences arose and survived from trading practices to political theories. The differences in conception, aim and topic between each contribution serve also as an attempt to recreate under scholarly circumstances the contradictions and coexistences of past and present. OVIDIU CRISTEA, GHEORGHE LAZÃR, ANDI MIHALACHE, ALEXANDRU SIMON I. DEFINING BORDERS – DEFINING SOCIETIES I . 1 . T H E W R I T T E N , T H E PA I N T E D AND THE IMAGINED Some Considerations regarding Historia Ducum Venetorum (13th Century) ª ERBAN M ARIN Manuscripts I noticed that this chronicle was preserved in only one manuscript1, in full harmony with the other great Venetian works in the 13th century, that is the one written by Martino da Canal and the one attributed to Marco2. It is about a manuscript dated even in the very same century3, that is the codex H V 44 at the Library of the Patriarchal Seminary in Venice, pages 35-454, which also contains one of the editions of Chronicle Altinate5. The manuscript belonged once to Marino Sanudo the Young6, and then was the one that Henry Simonsfeld relied upon when editing Historia Ducum in “Monumenta Germaniae Historica”7. Luigi Andrea Berto adds another manuscript, dated much later in the 19th century, which stands at Museo Correr, codex Cicogna no 2180, pages 29r-40r. It is about a faithful copy on the 13th century manuscript, due to Sante della Valentina, chaplain of the archifraternity of San Rocco8. Pages 36a-36b were inserted in it, and they report just a small part of the chronicle, which would be published by E. A. Cicogna9. These pages were written by Angelo Zon, who offered the explanation that he had copied it from a 17th century codex at Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, excerpted from a book of Giovanni Cornaro, who on his turn transcribed it from a “historia latina” of Antonio Marsilio, the latter being dogal chancellor at the mid of the 16th century10. This latter excerpt refers to Sebastiano Ziani’s dogeship and seems to represent a part of the lost section of the 13th century codex, along with some additional data dealing with the pace in Venice in 117711. Speaking about the original manuscript, one should note a lacuna, so that the story stops when narrating the presence of Pope Alexander III in Rome’s neighborhood on his way to the Peace Congress in Venice and comes to an end with the following words “quidam gontinus archiepiscopus”12. The following page T WAS Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project 10 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) deals with a part of the results gained on the occasion of the first siege of Constantinople in 120313. In his edition, L. A. Berto makes a comparison between the two codices regarding the event in 117714 and fills in the lacuna of the 13th century manuscript with the text delivered by the 19th century manuscript for the remaining period of S. Ziani’s dogeship. Editions F IRST TIME when a passage of Historia Ducum was published is due to E. A. Cicogna15 and refers only to those pages inserted in the manuscript of the 19th century from Correr Museum, codex Cicogna 2180, pages 29r16 40r . The modern scholars have neglected this partial version and relied for a long time on the complete edition accomplished by H. Simonsfeld. It is about an edition published in “Monumenta Germaniae Historica”17, relying upon the only manuscript taken by then into consideration, meaning the one from the Patriarchal Seminary in Venice, codex H V 44. The edition was republished in 192518, and an anastatic reprint was delivered by A. Hiersemann19. The problem generated by the lacuna for the period between 1178 and 1203 did not avoid also H. Simonsfeld, so that the scholar resorted to complete it by the chronicle that later would be called Venetiarum Historia from the 14th century, named by the editor as “ex chronico quod vocant Iustiniani” from the codex Lat. X 36a at Biblioteca Marciana20. The reason invoked by Simonsfeld was that the two chronicles were to have the same manner of narration. The proceeding has rightfully been regarded that “lascia alquanto perplessi”21, although D. Nicol considers it as being available22. It is true that the work attributed to Pietro Giustinian is alike in some points with Historia Ducum, but it does not represent an ad litteram taking over anywhere. Therefore, the new edition recently delivered by Luigi Andrea Berto23 regards as being “più corretto non operare in questo modo e lasciare la lacuna”24. Berto’s interventions, such as the division of the chronicle in sections different than those in Simonsfeld’s edition, under the circumstances that the manuscript does not offer any subdivision25, and the small change of the title given by Simonsfeld from Veneticorum to Venetorum26, are well argued by the editor and seem conceivable. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 11 Dating A result of the fact that the chronicle suddenly comes to an end when referring to the death of Doge Pietro Ziani in 1229, it has been considered that its dating should be established immediately after that year27, in other words during Giacomo Tiepolo’s dogeship28, although D. Nicol and Ed. Muir, establish in a certain moment year 1229 when this chronicle was written29, with the additional note: “al tempo del successore di Dandolo, Pietro Ziani”30. Ch. Brand and Louise Buenger Robbert settle it around 122931, while G. SaintGuillain to 1230 or a little later32. On his turn, W. Heyd spoke about our work as “une chronique écrite une cinquantaine d’années après ces événements”33; being about the event in 1171, when the Venetian merchants were captured in Constantinople, one could conclude that the scholar had year 1221 in mind, but his note could very well have a general and not precise feature. The same case is for Patricia Fortini Brown’s proposal, when she notes that our chronicle had been written in the lifetime of those that participated to the pace in Venice of 117734. A larger proposal is given by A. Carile, who speaks about the first half of the 13th century35, or by F. Makk (the beginning of the 13th century)36 and R. L. Wolff (much later after 1204)37. R. Cessi also advanced the unlikely version of a dating subsequent to Andrea Dandolo’s Brevis38, and this option was rightfully regarded that “non abbia fondamento”39 or that “non sembrano in realtà giustificati”40 and also rejected by L. A. Berto41, as more as the same Roberto Cessi42 had agreed on another occasion with the attributing of the manuscript in the 13th century. One should also note the additional mention of G. Cracco, according to whom the author, writing therefore during the following Doge, that is Giacomo Tiepolo (1229-1249), does not mention this doge anywhere, not even in the prologue43. It is a question mark that still remains unclear. However, this note does not clarify the dating respect. Practically, there is the unique certitude that it could be about a work written before Pietro Ziani only if we would admit that the part referring to the period previous to Sebastiano Ziani be a completely different work than the succinct details about the end of the Fourth Crusade and P. Ziani’s dogeship. Without proofs and confronted with the only manuscript of that period that we have at our disposal, we are not able to launch in such hypotheses. Therefore, we join the still reserved opinion expressed by the last editor, L. A. Berto, when he notes that “per quanto concerne la data di composizione dell’opera, non c’è alcun elemento che ci possa indicare con sicurezza quando fu scritta”44. Indeed, the work does not offer any element able to point out that it was destined to come to an end in that manner and in that moment45. SA 12 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) One should not neglect that the part of the chronicle inserted after the lacuna in the dogeship of Pietro Ziani does not provide that richness of details that had characterized it while referring to the events previous to Sebastiano Ziani. Practically, sometimes one could have the feeling that it is about a simple addition put down from a stroke of the pen and only episodically. The chronicler does not mention Rainieri Dandolo’s military actions in Morea and Crete46. The Venetian commanders in the other actions in Eastern Mediterranean are not also mentioned47. At the same time, the ceremonies in Treviso that led to the conflict with the Paduans in the period of the same P. Ziani is treated only succinctly, although the chronicler could very well resort – as Andrea Dandolo would do later – to the extremely detailed work written in the same 13th century by Rolandino da Padova48. As a contemporary of all these events, the author of Historia Ducum could be acquainted with the events or even have the possibility the find them through the agency of other characters, eventually eye witnesses. Half expressed, Berto’s conclusion is about the doubt that our chronicler be contemporary with Pietro Ziani. Therefore, we ask ourselves, how could be that he was so detailed in narrating the previous events? Where could we place this author? Going even further, we bring into discussion the fact that neither Martino da Canal was contemporary to the Venetian maritime campaigns when he mentioned the galley’s commanders and also the fact that Andrea Dandolo wrote at more than one century after the episode of the confrontation against Padua and spared no detail about it. Confronted with this strange fact, we could only refer to the chronicler’s state of mind, who, in a first moment, was in an impressive writing progress. Thereafter, exactly when dealing with the events contemporary to him, either the sickness or another personal reason made him to note only episodically and by chance. Certainly, we do not contest the placing of the author in the times of Giacomo Tiepolo’s dogeship. However, the argument advanced by L. A. Berto – that is, the lack of critics against the commoner forces put into connection to this doge’s period that witnesses to the commoners’ power49 - should not be overestimated, since it originates in premises assumed by modern scholars. As for the dating, we would rather take into consideration the note expressed by G. Arnaldi and L. Capo, according to whom Historia Ducum, when dealing with Doge Domenico Michiel’s campaign in the Holy Land in 1122-1123, uses the expression of “nefanda gens Saracenorum, que tempore illo civitatem Tyri et Ascalonis adhuc possidebat”50, which indicates that it ignores the conquest of the two cities by the ‘infidels’ in 1292 and respectively in 1247. Therefore, the dating of the chronicle should be established previous to this latter date51, therefore also in G. Tiepolo’s times. Nevertheless, there is nothing to impede us to still speak about two phases of work. First it is an optimistic stage, written right in the period of P. Ziani, POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 13 which intended to become a panegyric for this doge and which was not accomplished because of the doge’s death. In doge’s absence, the chronicler continued during the following doge to put down various facts, but in a more summarized style. Perhaps this hypothesis could be an explanation for the lacuna in the chronicle, since the differences in approach and quantitative information are separated exactly by this lacuna. Paternity T of the scholars that have dealt with Historia Ducum is unanimous in considering it as anonymous, a fact clearly expressed by some of them52. At the same time, the chronicler has been awarded with the honorific title of “il primo autore dell’epoca comunale”53 and the work has been appreciated as being written by “un uomo di indubbia intelligenza e con una non comune capacità di sintetizzare e ordinare gli avvenimenti secondo la logica scelta”54. Certainly, having no sure data about the author, one could speculate endlessly, by taking some political options out of the chronicle itself. We refer here first and foremost to his invoked approach to the dogal milieu, consequent to the magnifying of the dogal position along the entire chronicle, the chronicler being regarded as spokesman of the political group in power55. A few decades ago, Giorgio Cracco proposed Gesta Veneticorum per duces as title for our chronicle56. Certainly, in absence of any sign in this sens of the manuscript at disposal, any proposal of such a kind could be available. But Cracco builds afterwards an entire theory about the magnifying of the dogal regime, which he sees as basis for the entire text57. Starting from the rhetorical question “ma perché tanto entusiasmo per la Venezia ducale?”, Giorgio Cracco begins his demonstration: “È noto che questa fu una realtà dei secoli X-XI, mentre l’epoca successive, quell ache il cronista abbraccia con la sua narrazione, conobbe un’altra Venezia, quella comunale, in cui il crescente peso politico di nuove forze, quelle dei giudici e dei Sapienti, riuscì a circoscrivere gradualmente ma inesorabilmente l’onnipotenza del duca”58. After he describes the institutional stages of this process – the establishment of the Consilium Sapientum in 1143, the foundation of the Great Council, the doge’s duty to swear the dogal promising as act for his acceptance of the dogal function, the power’s enlargement and assignment among various structures according to the constitutional law in 1207 – the modern scholar concludes that “agli inizi del secolo XIII il doge non era più un principe assoluto, ma un magistrate del comune”59. As for the chronicler, he says that “i casi sono due: o il cronista è un solitario laudator temporis acti, un uomo sorpassato dagli avvenimenti, privo di aggancio vitale con la realtà del suo tempo, e allora la sua Historia è poco rappresentativa, e scade quasi a documento privato; oppure è un uomo di battaglia, che HE OPINION 14 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) lotta, con possibilità di successo, per affermare una sua concezione politica; e allora la Historia è prova importante di una rinascita della Venezia ducale” and that “la figura di Pietro Ziani, che è al centro della Historia, può sciogliere questa alternativa”60. In the same note is Dorit Raines’ consideration, by concluding as a final judgment that Historia Ducum, “redatta nell’età comunale, riflette lo spirito e le ansie del ceto delle grandi famiglie che, al tempo del doge Pietro Ziani e soprattutto deopo la sua scomparsa, si sentivano assediate dai popolari e minacciate nei loro diritti”61. On his turn, L. A. Berto specifies that, “per quanto concerne l’elogio rivolto ai dogi, si deve rilevare che in molti casi le opere storiche medievali narrano solamente le imprese dei governanti e che nel XIII secolo il doge, nonostante non avesse più il potere paragonabile a quello dei suoi predecessori dei secoli IX-XI, non può essere certo assimilato allo status dei magistrati che governavano le città dell’Italia settentrionale; la loro esaltazione assume perciò un significato diverso da quello che invece avrebbe in un’ipotetica opera di un centro urbano della vicina terraferma nella quale fossero elogiati solamente i propri governanti”62. Beside this punctual analysis of L. A. Berto, we cannot refrain from asking ourselves: on which basis Giorgio Cracco or Dorit Raines decide a sudden cession of the Dogal era and a same sudden beginning of the communal one? We do not contest that an analyze of the context is necessary, that the features of the Italian 13th century – with its tendency to explain everything with political tools – and of the urban historiography should be taken into account63, but to establish terminologies and concepts typical for the modern point of view to the medieval texts seems a forced undertaking once again. Indeed, Cracco has his own thesis to be sustained, namely the one referring to Andrea Dandolo, in whom he regards a ‘revolter’ against his own times, and the considerations regarding Historia Ducum could very well prepare the ground for this demonstration. But the argument that the narrative structure relying upon the doges would represent the basis of this ‘revolt’ makes us think about the fact that this structural type would persist along the all subsequent Venetian chronicles, a fact that leads us to the question: were indeed all the Venetian chronicles a kind of ‘revolters’? Thus, we are close to the partial verdict offered by L. A. Berto, who considers that “si tratta di una tesi senza dubbio suggestive e molto articolata, ma ha la caratteristica di basarsi su basi molto deboli”64. We are also along Berto when he regards that the only certain data in Cracco’s thesis is the magnifying of the doges, while “tutte le alter supposizioni sono state fatte solamente sulla base dello studio dei problemi di quell’epoca, spiegazioni ammissibili per quell periodo storico, ma non necessariamente applicabili all’Historia ducum Venetorum”65. Going even further, Berto considers that Historia Ducum’s clue is not actually the magnifying of the doges’ facts, but that the eulogizing of Venice itself and of all the Venetians is not generally absent. A good example is right in the prologue, where the anonymous chronicler emphasizes that God has always offered POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 15 honors, wealth and glory to the Venetians66. At the same time, the will to emphasize the harmony existing in Venice is also noted67. But the same Berto ends by insisting upon the commendations of each doge68 and, even more than this, upon the fact that Piero Ziani is the one who gathers all the best features69. This last fact led G. Cracco to regard the chronicler as “il portavoce” of this particular doge70, with the result that “mai in precedenza un doge era stato esaltato in termini così ampi e quasi universali”71. More than this, L. A. Berto seems to take refuge beyond G. Cracco’s considerations when he says that “il suo [Historia Ducum’s author, emphasis mine] interesse solamente per i dogi e l’assenza di riferimenti all’emergere della Venezia comunale rivelerebbe ciò ed evidenzierebbe che lottava per affermare la sua concezione politica [...]”72, thus proposing a sudden separation by the passage from ‘Dogal Venice’ to ‘communal Venice’. As we mentioned above, Berto also refers to this direction when he makes an attempt to demonstrate that, due to the lack of several events dealing with this doge, the chronicler would intend to do not allow other characters to overshadow Pietro Ziani. Thus, from this point of view, Berto returns, not to a significant extent, to previous opinions of Cracco, who noticed, because of this absence of any referral to Doge Giacomo Tiepolo, that the chronicler seems to suggest that, “come se con la morte di questi [Ziani’s, emphasis mine] fosse tramontata, completa, la grandezza della patria”73. It was also raised the question whether it is about an ecclesiastic character as Historia Ducum’s chronicler74. Continuing to rely upon the text itself, Berto rejects in a first instance this assertion, for the reason that the chronicle does not mention supernatural phenomena and the quotations from the Holy Scriptures are also absent75. However, he later adopts a more malleable solution, saying that “tale assenza si verifica […], anche nell’Istoria Veneticorum di Giovanni Fiacono, il quale [...], era il cappellano del doge Pietro II Orseolo”76. Anyhow, it is certitude that the presence of Divinity is neither more consistent nor more reduced than in the other Venetian chronicles. On the other side, the chronicle that claims itself from Patriarch Giovanni Tiepolo77 does not provide a greater abundance of supernatural elements or divine interventions. That is why we have serious reserves in attributing a certain Venetian chronicle to a clergyman or to a layman. It is as more as a clear distinction between these two categories could not be done as long as the high patriarchal and bishopric positions also belonged to members of the Venetian patricians. Therefore, the examples that Berto continues to provide in order to demonstrate the presence of the divine element – God’s and St Mark’s grace for the Venetian military victories, God’s will intervening in the anti-Paduan war in 1215, Pietro Ziani’s religiosity)78, although useful, could not direct to this conclusion. As a matter of fact, the only testimony for the chronicler’s intention is the prologue, in which he wishes to narrate the events occurred under the doges’ com- 16 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) mandment and their facts: “honestum duximus et ratione dignum, ut ex pluribusque retro ab annis multis sub ducibus Venecie et per duces, Deo propicio, facta fuisse noscuntur.”79. Title A S FOR the title, in the absence of a precise sign in the manuscript, H. Simonsfeld proposed the name of Historia Ducum Veneticorum in his edition. It is the title that has been imposed, being taken as such by all those scholars that have studied the chronicle, including by G. Cracco, despite his proposal for Gesta Veneticorum per duces80. Recently, the new editor L. A. Berto advances a small change, transforming Veneticorum in Venetorum, with a reasonable explanation, that is that the Venetians in this work are constantly named as Veneti, and not as Venetici81. Sources L. A. BERTO emphasizes that, according to the prologue, Historia Ducum’s chronicler wished to narrate the events taken over from the annals, the account of some maiores, along with the facts occurred in his times82. However, the conclusion is that “non si conoscono quali fonti erano a disposizione del cronista e quindi non si può fare alcuna analisi su come operò su di esse”83. Nevertheless, various connections were attempted. R. Cessi and F. Bennato, the editors of the chronicle attributed to Piero Giustinian84, had advanced the hypothesis of a dependence of Historia Ducum on Andrea Dandolo’s Brevis85, at least partly; but this dependence, which supposes a new discussion about the dating, proved to be groundless86. It has been also noticed the fact that the terminal point of the doges’ catalogue from the first writing of Origo chronicle is the dogeship of Vitale I Michiel (1086-1102), the doge previous to Ordelaffo Falier (11021118) – meaning the doge where Historia Ducum starts its narrative –, a detail that has led to the supposition that our test represented nothing more than an addition to Origo87. However, this direction was rather underestimated, although in a certain moment L. A. Berto, more reserved in ultimate conclusions, underlines that the referring to the dogeship of O. Falier as starting point would be determined by the sources that the anonymous chronicler had at his disposal88. As for the connection with the Altinate chronicle, A. Carile underlines some similarities and differences when dealing with some events during the Fourth Crusade89, but he does not take a fact into account, although he mentions it in a certain moment90: that is that the dogeship of Enrico Dandolo (1192-1204) was not POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 17 preserved, so that the Italian scholar relies for these details upon Venetiarum Historia, inserted in H. Simonsfeld’s edition, and not exactly upon Historia Ducum. It has been noted that the pattern of presenting the events by relying upon dogeships had been imposed by Giovanni Diacono91. However, even when leaving aside the doubts about this method followed by Historia Ducum’s chronicler92, this could not demonstrate any influence of Diacono’s chronicle. In a certain moment, Gina Fasoli spoke about the existence of a Venetian chronicle dealing with the Fourth Crusade and that Historia Ducum’s author would take into consideration, along with Andrea Dandolo93. Plausible, the hypothesis is still to general and leads us nowhere, as more as the first part of this event is absent in our chronicle. Moreover, we ask ourselves whether that passage of Historia Ducum, now lost, would be used by the following Venetian chronicles. On the contrary, R. Cessi spoke about a possible connection with Annales Venetici breves, noticing some reminiscences of this latter upon Historia Ducum, when dealing with the Dalmatian campaign in 111594. On his turn, A. Carile proposes in a certain moment a comparison with the chronicler written by Boncompagno de Signa95, with regard to the siege of Ancona by Emperor Frederic I Barbarossa96, while R. L. Wolff notices the fact that the expressions used by our chronicle are exactly those in the Byzantine documents when referring to the events in the 12th century97. Relying strictly upon the text, we would notice the author’s intention to refer to documents. It is about the list of those that participated to the Peace Congress in 1177 in Venice98 and, as a non-accomplished promising, the text of the pact concluded between Venetians and non-Venetians under the walls of Constantinople: “tale pactum inter se fecerunt, quale scriptum invenies inferius”99. These two examples convinced G. Arnaldi and L. Capo to consider that the practice of using the documents be outlined just since Historia Ducum100, but this detail does not resolve at all the matter raised by the chronicler himself when he speaks in his prologue about referring strictly to the annals, and not to the documents. Influences I T WAS mentioned when dealing with the text of Historia Ducum that “viene usato dalle generazioni successive come base per alter compilazioni”101, but without any additional detail. G. Arnaldi and L. Capo conclude that Alberto Limentani, in his edition of the chronicle of Martino da Canal, does not count Historia Ducum among the sources for Martino102. Nevertheless, Canal’s editor still notes on another occasion that “alcuni altri pochi elementi [from Martino da Canal, emphasis mine] sembrano rica- 18 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) vati dalla Historia Ducum Veneticorum”103, and when editing Martino he even offers in the introduction some short comparative passage between the two chronicles, referring to the doges Ordelaffo Falier (1102-1118), Domenico Michiel (1118-1129), Domenico Morosini (1148-1156) and Vitale II Michiel (1561172)104, not discerned by Arnaldi and Capo. Limentani’s conclusion converges to the underlining of some method differences between these chronicles105. It has been more noticed about the influence that our chronicle would have upon Andrea Dandolo’s two chronicles, written a century later106. As a matter of facts, this influence should be focused upon only one point, that is the taking over almost ad litteram of a passage from the prologue of Historia Ducum to chronicler-doge’s short chronicle (Brevis), first noticed by E. Pastorello107 and then by other scholars108. The more simple version in Brevis, meaning the cancellation of the expression of “quedam narrantibus ...”, that had had a sense in Historia Ducum, is due to the fact it could not find its place in Andrea Dandolo’s short chronicle109. The subsequent comparisons between these two works, offered by G. Arnaldi, let to conclude that they follow different paths and the moving off of Brevis from Historia Ducum becomes obvious. For instance, Brevis expels the dogeship of Vitale II Michiel only 16 rows, while Historia Ducum extends this dogeship to exactly five pages110. It is therefore for certain that Andrea Dandolo, when beginning to work on Brevis, had our chronicle in front of him, although he would renounce quickly to it. This dependence relationship makes A. Carile to invoke Historia Ducum’s influence also upon the entire A family of chronicles111. The scholar also notices how the words in the prologue of Historia Ducum would pass in the following anonymous chronicles, both those written in Latin and in vulgar Venetian after the 14th century112 and offers a textual comparative analysis between Historia Ducum, Brevis and the supposed “anonimo del 1350”113. It was also the proceeding adopted by H. Simonsfeld when completing the lacuna in Historia Ducum by the text of another chronicle114 to prove the editor’s conviction about the similarities between the two works and therefore the dependence of what we call nowadays as Venetiarum Historia on Historia Ducum. Roberto Cessi offered a punctual analysis when, by underlining that this influence would be among the most notable115, he presented an impressive list of the similarities between the two chronicles116, but finally concluding that “comunque la parte maggiore della narrazione [from Venetiarum Historia, emphasis mine] è desunta dalla cronaca estesa del Dandolo”117. To the same extent, L. A. Berto notices many passages as being similar between these two works and concludes that Historia Ducum would be a source for the chronicle attributed to Piero Giustinian, although the latter does never follow ad litteram the text of the former and in some cases resorts to other sources118. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 19 The considerations regarding the structure on dogeship of the narrative in the Dandolian texts and in our chronicle should not be regarded as direct influences119, since it is about general respects and especially because this structure represented a quasi-general feature of all the Venetian chronicles, with the notable exception of Lorenzo de’ Monaci’s chronicle120. As for us, we placed Historia Ducum in category 1 of chronicles, along with the chronicles M 2571 and M 2581 from Biblioteca Marciana121, when referring to the episodes of the arrival of the crusader ambassadors in Venice122 and of the election of Marquis of Montferrat as commander of the crusade123. Certainly, it represented an error from our side, since, relying upon Simonsfeld’s edition, the text did not belong to our chronicle (passage now lost), but was nothing more than an excerpt from Venetiarum Historia124. *** T HE PRESENT paper has in intention to clarify some more or less controversial respects with regard to a particular Venetian chronicle, that is the anonymous Historia Ducum Venetorum. Far of having the pretension to offer a definite answer to all these respects, we are aware that the solutions we present here could on their turn be new questions with regard to this writing. That is why we make an attempt to offer as more as possible various opinions expressed in time by scholars that have more or less tangentially dealt with Venetiarum Historia. In addition, we express here our own viewpoints concerning the subsequent respects: manuscripts, editions, dating, (supposed) paternity, title, and its possible sources and influences. Notes 1. Gina Fasoli, La Cronique des Veniciens di Martino da Canal”, “Studi medievali”, third series, 2 (1961), 1, p. 42-74 (49); Girolamo Arnaldi and Lidia Capo, I cronisti di Venezia e della Marca Trevigiana dalle origini alla fine del secolo XIII, în Storia della cultura veneta. Dalle origini al Trecento, Vicenza, 1976, p. 387-423 [hereafter, Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I] (394 note 24 and 408 note 102); Luigi Andrea Berto, in Testi storici veneziani (XI-XII secolo). Historia ducum Veneticorum. Annales Venetici breves. Domenico Tino, Relatione de electione Dominici Silvi Venetorum ducis, Padua, 2000 [1999], p. ix, x; Guillaume Saint-Guillain, Les conquerants de l’Archipel. L’empire latin de Constantinople, Venise et les premiers seigneurs des Cyclades, 20 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. in Quarta crociata. Venezia-Bisanzio-Impero latino (edited by Gherardo Ortalli, Giorgio Ravegnani, Peter Schreiner), I, Venice, 2006, p. 125-237 (130). Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 394 note 24; G. Saint-Guillain, op. cit., p. 130. Dorit Raines, Alle origini dell’archivio politico del patriziato: la cronaca «di consultazione» veneziana nei secoli XIV-XV”, “Archivio Veneto”, fifth series, 150 (1998), p. 5-57 (11 note 22). Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 408 note 102; L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xxv. Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 408 note 102. D. Raines, op. cit., p. 11 note 22. Ibidem. L. A. Berto, op. cit., p. xxv. For Sante della Valentina (1748-1826), about whom Emmanuele Antonio Cicogna, Saggio di bibliografia veneziana, Venice, 1847, p. 507 appreciates that had been one of the Venetian distinguished priests, see Necrologia di don Sante della Valentina cappellano della Scuola di S. Rocco, scritta dall’ab. D. Pietro Bettio bibliotecario della Marciana, Venice, 1826. E. A. Cicogna, Delle iscrizioni veneziane, I, II, IV-VI, Bologna, 1982 [anastatic reprint of Venice, 1824, 1827, 1834, 1842, 1853], IV, p. 588-593, apud L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xxv. A[ngelo] Zon, Memorie intorno alla venuta di papa Alessandro III, in E. A. Cicogna, Delle iscrizioni veneziane, IV, p. 588, apud L. A. Berto, loc.cit., p. xxx note 119. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xxv. Ibidem; see also Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 396. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xxv. Ibidem, p. xxvi. E. A. Cicogna, Delle iscrizioni veneziane, IV, p. 588-593. L. A. Berto, op. cit., p. xxv. Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores, XIV, p. 72-97. G. Saint-Guillain, Les conquerants de l’Archipel, p. 130 note 12. Stuttgart-New York, 1963 apud Giorgio Cracco, Un “altro mondo”. Venezia nel medioevo. Dal secolo XI al secolo XIV, Turin, 1986, p. 14 note 2. For this chronicle, see Venetiarum Historia vulgo Petro Iustiniano Iustiniani filio adiudicata (edited by Roberto Cessi and Fanny Bennato), Venice, 1964; see also Antonio Carile, Note di cronachistica veneziana: Piero Giustinian e Nicolò Trevisan, “Studi Veneziani”, 9 (1967), p. 103-125 (110-118); idem, La cronachistica veneziana (secoli XIII-XVI) di fronte alla spartizione della Romania nel 1204, Florence, 1969, p. 38-43; idem, Aspetti della cronachistica veneziana nei secoli XIII e XIV, in La storiografia veneziana fino al secolo XVI. Aspetti e problemi (edited by Agostino Pertusi), Florence, 1970 [hereafter, La storiografia veneziana] , p. 75-126 (passim); Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti II, p. 297-307; ªerban V. Marin, Some Considerations regarding the Anonymous Venetiarum Historia (14th Century), “Historical Yearbook” 7 (2010), p. 177-194. Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 396 note 35. Donald M. Nicol, La quarta Crociata (translated by Patrizia Colombani), in Storia di Venezia. Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima, II: L’età del comune (edited by Giorgio Cracco and Gherardo Ortalli), Rome, 1995, p. 155-181 (178). POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 21 23. Testi storici veneziani (XI-XII secolo). Historia ducum Veneticorum. Annales Venetici breves. Domenico Tino, Relatione de electione Dominici Silvi Venetorum ducis, Padua, 2000 [1999], p. 2-83. 24. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xxvi. 25. Ibidem. 26. Ibidem, p. xxvii. This change, previously used also by G. Fasoli, La Cronique des Veniciens, p. 49, 56 note 45, has been taken over by the most recent scholars, like for instance G. Saint-Guillain, op. cit., passim. 27. Ugo Balzani, Le cronache italiane nel medio evo, Milan, 1900 [1884], p. 280 (although the scholar spoke about Sebastiano, and not Pietro Ziani); Giorgio Cracco, Società e Stato nel medioevo veneziano (secoli XII-XIV), Florence, 1967, p. 91; Idem, Il pensiero storico di fronte al problemi del comune veneziano, in La storiografia veneziana, p. 4574 (46); cf. Antonio Carile, Aspetti della cronachistica veneziana, p. 77; Girolamo Arnaldi, Andrea Dandolo doge-cronista, in La storiografia veneziana, p. 127-268 (139 note 2); A. Carile, Federico Barbarossa, i Veneziani e l’assedio di Ancona del 1173. Contributo alla storia politica e sociale della città nel secolo XII, “Studi Veneziani”, 16 (1974), p. 3-31 (5 note 11); Eric Cochrane, Historians and Historiography in the Italian Renaissance, Chicago-London, 1981, p. 62; G. Cracco, Dandolo, Enrico, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 32, Rome, 1986, p. 450-458 (454) (although the scholar proposes the unverified hypothesis that the author had also met Doge Enrico Dandolo); Gherardo Ortalli, I cronisti e la determinazione di Venezia città”, in Storia di Venezia, II, p. 761782 (765); G. Cracco, L’età del comune, in Storia di Venezia, II, p. 1-30 (13, “verso il 1230”); D. Raines, Alle origini dell’archivio politico, p. 11. 28. Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, Immagini di un mito (translated by Matteo Sanfilippo), in Storia di Venezia. Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima, IV: Il Rinascimento. Politica e cultura (edited by Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci), Rome, 1996, p. 579-601 (582); cf. Idem, Venise: une invention de la ville (XIIIe-XVe siècle), no place, 1997, p. 244. 29. D. Nicol, La quarta crociata, p. 178; Edward Muir, Idee, riti, simboli del potere (translated by Cesare Borghi), in Storia di Venezia, II, p. 739-760 (752). 30. D. Nicol, op. cit., p. 178. 31. Charles M. Brand, Byzantium confronts the West 1180-1204, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1968, p. 290; Louise Buenger Robbert, Venetian Participation in the Crusade of Damietta, “Studi Veneziani”, new series, 30 (1995), p. 15-33 (17). 32. G. Saint-Guillain, Les conquerants de l’Archipel, p. 130; the scholar notices then that our chronicle’s dating is under debate, but it seems beyond any doubt that the text is from the 13th century, ibidem, p. 130 note 13. 33. W[ilhelm] Heyd, Histoire du commerce du Levant au moyen-âge (French edition by Furcy Raynaud), I, Amsterdam, 1983 [anastatic reprint of Leipzig, 1885-1886], p. 215. 34. P[atricia] Fortini Brown, Venice and Antiquity. The Venetian Sense of the Past [= http://www.yale.edu/yup/ chapters/067003chap.htm]. 35. Antonio Carile, review of Ch. Brand, Byzantium, in “Studi Veneziani”, 11 (1969), p. 637-664 (645, 646 note 42); Idem, La marineria bizantina in Adriatico nei sec- 22 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. oli VI-XII, in Convegno di Studi “Adriatico mare dei molte genti incontro di civiltà”, Ravenna 25-26 febbraio-Cesenatico, 4-5 marzo 1995-Casa Matha 26 febbraio 1995, p. 1-47 [= http://www.dismec.unibo.it/master/immagini/Marineria%20bizantina.pdf] (41); see also Bruno Rosada, I secoli della letteratura veneta, December 2002 [= http://www.provincia.venezia.ot/istruzione/ pubblicazioni/lett_veneta.pdf], p. 10; see also Filippo de Vivo, Historical Justification of Venetian Power in Adriatic, “Journal of the History of Ideas”, 64 (2003), 2, p. 159-176 (162), who also speaks about “the early thirteenth-century Historia Ducum Veneticorum”. Ferenc Makk, The Árpáds and the Comneni: Political Relations Between Hungary and Byzantium in the 12th Century, Budapest, 1989, p. 104. Robert Lee Wolff, Romania: the Latin Empire of Constantinople, “Speculum”, 23 (1948) [reprinted in Idem, Studies in the Latin Empire of Constantinople, London, 1976: II], p. 1-34 (9). Roberto Cessi, Prefazione, in Venetiarum Historia vulgo Pietro Iustiniani filio adiudicata (edited by Roberto Cessi and Fanny Bennato), Venice, 1964, p. xxxv-xxxvi note 21. G. Arnaldi, Andrea Dandolo, p. 139 note 2. Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 408 note 102. L. A. Berto, in Testi, p. xi. R. Cessi, Prefazione, in Origo Civitatem Italie seu Veneticorum (Chronicon Altinate et Chronicon Gradense) (edited by Roberto Cessi), Rome, 1933, p. xi note 1. G. Cracco, Il pensiero storico, p. 50. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. x. Ibidem. Ibidem, p. x-xi; see Berto’s argument, according to which this absence should be connected to the author’s wish to do not tell facts to glorify anyone else but Doge Pietro Ziani; however, the editor ignores the detail that in the end R. Dandolo’s maritime action ended unluckily, so that it could only harm the captain’s personality. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xi; even here one could add the detail that this attitude was not unique for P. Ziani’s dogeship, but it marks the whole text. Rolandino, Cronica in factis et circa facta Marchie Trivixane (edited by Antonio Bonardi), Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, new series, VIII, 1, Città di Castello 1905, I, p. 13, apud L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xi. Rolandino (Rolandinus) da Padova, Rolandino di Balaiardo (1200-1262 or 1276) on his real name, was the author of a chronicle written around 1260, which represented a passionate defence of the Paduan communal liberties against the Ghibelline Ezzelino (Eccelino) da Romano. See Rolandini Patavini Cronica in factis et circa facta marche Trivixiane (aa. 1200 cc.-1262) (edited by Antonio Bonardi), in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, VIII, part I, Città di Castello, 1905. A recent bilingual edition (Latin-Italian) in Rolandino da Padova, Vita e morte di Ezzelino da Romano (Cronaca) (edited by Flavio Forese), Milan, 2004. For the chronicler, see also G. Arnaldi, Studi sui cronisti della Marca trevigiano nell’età di Ezzelino da Romano, Rome, 1963; Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 411 ff.; Gina Fasoli, Un cronista e un tiranno: Rolandino da Padova e Ezzelino da Romano, “Rendiconti dell’Accademia delle Scienze dell’Istituto di Bologna”, 72 (1983-84), p. 25-48; Gianfelice Peron, Rolandino da Padova e la tradizione letteraria del castello d’amore, in Il castello d’amore. Treviso e la POWER, BELIEF 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. AND IDENTITY • 23 civiltà cortese (edited by Luigina Bortolato), Treviso, 1986, p. 189-237; Luca Morlino, Una nuova edizione di Rolandino da Padova e una nuova interpretazione dell’affresco di Bassano, “Cultura Neolatina”, 65 (2005), p. 363-370. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xi-xii. Ed. Simonsfeld, p. 73; ed. Berto, p. 4. Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 408 note 102. U. Balzani, Le cronache italiane, p. 279; G. Fasoli, Nascita di un mito, in Studi storici in onore di Gioacchino Volpe per il suo 80o compleanno, I, Florence, 1958, p. 447479 (465); R. Cessi, Venezia ducale, II, 1: Commune Venetiarum, Venice, 1965, p. 208; G. Cracco, Il pensiero storico, p. 46; Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 395, 396; G. Cracco, Un altro mondo, p. 69; Frederic C. Lane, review of A. Carile, La cronachistica veneziana and of La Storiografia veneziana, in “Speculum” 47 (1972), 2, p. 292298 (293); G. Ortalli, I cronisti e la determinazione, p. 765; L. Buenger Robbert, Venetian Participation, p. 17; G. Cracco, L’età del comune, p. 13; L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. x. Due to an error, Zvjezdan Strika, Zadar-novo nadbiskupsko i metropoljsko sjedište Dalmacije u kontekstu politièkih prilika 12. stoljeæa, “ Croatica Christiana Periodica”, 52 (2004), p. 1-45 (6 note 20, 31 notes 118-120) connects this chronicle with the name of Andrea Dandolo, while Corrado Argani, Condottieri, capitani, tribuni, 1931, p. 10 attributes it even to Enrico Dandolo! G. Cracco, Il pensiero storico, p. 46. Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 409; see also Ibidem, p. 409 note 107. See especially G. Cracco, op. cit., p. 46-50, but also Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 396; D. Raines, Alle origini dell’archivio politico, p. 11, 12; G. Ortalli, I cronistie la determinazione, p. 765; B. Rosada, I secoli della letteratura, p. 10. G. Cracco, op. cit., p. 46. Ibidem, p. 47-49; see also E. Crouzet-Pavan, Venise: une invention, p. 244. G. Cracco, op. cit., p. 47. Ibidem. G. Cracco, op. cit., p. 47-48; see also Idem, L’età del comune, p. 13, 14; Ed. Muir, Idee, riti, simboli, p. 752. D. Raines, Alle origini dell’archivio politico, p. 12. L. A. Berto, in Testi, p. xii. Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 409. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xii. Ibidem, p. xii; to a certain extent, the same considerations in L. Capo, Rassegna di studi sulla cronachistica veneziana, “Bullettino dell’Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo”, 86 (1976-1977), p. 387-431 (403 note 1). Ed. Berto, p. 1; see also L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xii. Ibidem, p. xiii-xiv. Ibidem, p. xiii, xv. An additional note in Stefano Gasparri, Dagli Orseolo al comune, in Storia di Venezia, I: Origini – Età ducale (edited by Lellia Cracco Ruggini, Massimiliano Pavan, Giorgio Cracco and Gherardo Ortalli), Rome, 1992, p. 791826 (816) for Doge Pietro Polani, who “è presentato dall’Historia Ducum [...] sotto una luce non solo favorevole, ma pacifica: un duca uomo di pace, dopo due duchi guerrieri”. 24 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 69. Ed. Berto, p. 41-44; see also L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xiii, xvi; in the same sense, see also G. Cracco, L’età del comune, p. 13 (with examples). 70. G. Cracco, Un altro mondo, p. 69; in the same sens, see F. Lane, loc. cit., p. 293-294 (the expression of “the anonymous associate of Pietro Ziani”). 71. G. Cracco, op. cit., p. 70. 72. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xi. 73. G. Cracco, Il pensiero storico, p. 50. 74. Ibidem, p. 48. 75. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. x. 76. Ibidem. 77. See Giovanni Tiepolo Patriarca di Venezia, Cronaca Veneta ad esso attribuita dall’anno 421 al 1524, Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, manuscript It. VII. 129 [= 8323], 17th century. 78. Ed. Berto, p. 43; see also L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. x. 79. Ed. Simonsfeld, p. 72; see also D. Raines, Alle origini dell’archivio politico, p. 11. 80. G. Cracco, op. cit., p. 46. 81. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. xxvii. R. L. Wolff, Romania, p. 9 manifested preference for Venetorum. 82. Ed. Berto, p. 1; see also L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. x. 83. Ibidem, p. xv. 84. For this chronicle, see above, note 20. 85. For the chronicles of Doge Andrea Dandolo, see Andreae Danduli, Chronica brevis, in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, 12, part I (edited by Ester Pastorello), Bologna, 1938, p. 351-373 and Andreae Danduli Duci Veneticorum Chronica per extensium descripta aa. 46-1280 d. C., in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, 12 (edited by Ester Pastorello), Bologna, 1923, p. 5-327; see also Enrico Simonsfeld, Andrea Dandolo e le sue opere storiche (translated by Benedetto Morossi), “Archivio Veneto”, 14 (1877), part I, p. 49-149; Antonio Carile, La cronachistica veneziana, passim; Girolamo Arnaldi, Andrea Dandolo; Idem and Lidia Capo, I cronisti di Venezia e della Marca Trevigiana, în Storia della cultura veneta, 2: Il Trecento, Vicenza, 1976, p. 272-307 [hereafter, Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti II] (especially 287-289); Franco Gaeta, Storiografia, coscienza nazionale e politica culturale nella Venezia del Rinascimento, in Storia della cultura Veneta dal primo quattrocento al Concilio di Trento, 3/I, Vicenza, 1980, p. 1-91 (11-16); Giorgio Ravegnani, Dandolo, Andrea, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 32, Rome, 1986, p. 432-440; Claudio Finzi, “Scritti storici-politici”, in Storia di Venezia. Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima, III: La formazione dello Stato patrizio (edited by Girolamo Arnaldi, Giorgio Cracco, Alberto Tenenti), Rome, 1997, p. 825-864 (854-857). 86. G. Arnaldi, Andrea Dandolo, p. 139; Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 408 note 102. 87. Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 397. For Altinate Chronicle (or Origo) and its manuscripts, see Anon., La cronaca veneta detta Altinate di autore anonimo in latino (edited by Antonio Rossi), “Archivio Storico Italiano”, 8 (1845), p. 20-22, 41-61, 81-103, 116-129, 152-184, 192-198, 204-216, 220-228; Anon., Cronichon Venetum vulgo Altinate quod prius editum an. MDCCCXLV iuxta codicem Patriarch. Veneti Seminarii denuo prodit ex ms. codice Reg. Bibliothecae Dresdensis (edited by L[uigi] POWER, BELIEF 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. AND IDENTITY • 25 Polidori), “Archivio Storico Italiano”, V (1847), appendix, p. 12-128; Anon., Chronicon Venetum quod vulgo dicunt Altinate (edited by H. Simonsfeld), in Monumenta Germaniae Historiae, Scriptores, XIV, Hannover, 1883, p. 5-69; Origo Civitatem Italie seu Veneticorum (Chronicon Altinate et Chronicon Gradense) (edited by R. Cessi), Rome, 1933; see also H[einrich] Simonsfeld, Venetianische Studien, I: Das Chronicon Altinate, Munich, 1878; Enrico Simonsfeld, La Cronaca Altinate (translated by C. S. Rosada), “Archivio Veneto”, IX, tom XVIII, part II (1879), p. 235-273; X, tom XIX, part I (1880), p. 54-71; XI, tom XXI, part II (1881), p. 167-202; Idem, Appendice agli studi sulla Cronaca Altinate, “Archivio Veneto”, XII, tom XXIV, part I (1882), p. 111-131; Idem, Sulle scoperte del Dott. Roberto Galli nella Cronaca Altinate. Risposta del Dott. Enrico Simonsfeld, “Archivio Veneto”, XXXV (1888), p. 117-134; Enrico Besta, I trucchi della cosidetta cronaca altinate, “Atti del Reale Istituto Veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti”, LXXIV, (1914-15), 2, p. 1275-1330; Roberto Cessi, Studi sopra la composizione del cosidetto «Chronicon Altinate», “Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano e Archivio Muratoriano”, 49 (1933), p. 1-116; Lorenzo Minio-Paluello, Il «Chronicon Altinate» e Giacomo Veneto, in Miscellanea in onore di Roberto Cessi, I, Rome, 1958, p. 153-169; Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 393-395; Bruno Rosada, Storia di una cronaca. Un secolo di studi sul Chronicon Altinate, “Quaderni Veneti”, 7 (1988), p. 155-180. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. ix. A. Carile, La cronachistica veneziana (secoli XIII-XVI) di fronte alla spartizione della Romania nel 1204, Florence, 1969, p. 176, 185. Ibidem, p. 176 nota 4. L. A. Berto, loc. cit., p. ix. For this/these chronicle(s), see Chronicon venetum omnium quæ circumferuntur vetustissimum et Johanni … (edited by Girolamo Francesco Zanetti), Venice, 1765; Iohannis Diaconi chronicon Venetum usque ad a. 1008 (edited Hans Georg Pertz), in Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores, VII, Hannover, 1846, p. 4-38; Giovanni Diacono, in Cronache veneziane antichissime (edited by Giovanni Monticolo), I, Rome, 1890, p. 59-171; Cronaca veneziana di Giovanni diacono (edited by Mario De Biasi), I-II, 1986, 1988; Giovanni Diacono, Historia Veneticorum (edited by Luigi Andrea Berto), Bologna, 1999; see also Giambattista Monticolo, Intorno agli studi fatti sulla Cronaca del Diacono Giovanni, “Archivio Veneto”, tom XV (1878), part I, p. 1-45; XVII (1879), p. 35-73; Idem, La cronaca del diacono Giovanni e la storia politica di Venezia sino al 1009, “Archivio Veneto”, 25 (1883), p. 1-22; Idem, I manoscritti e le fonti della cronaca del diacono Giovanni, “Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico italiano”, 8 (1889), p. 37-328; Enrico Besta, Sulla composizione della cronaca veneziana attribuita al diacono Giovanni, “Atti del Reale Istituto Veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti”, LXXIII (1913-14), 2, p. 775-802; ArnaldiCapo, I cronisti I, p. 391-393; Bruno Rosada, Il Chronicon Venetum di Giovanni diacono, “Ateneo Veneto”, CLXXVII [= XXVIII, new series], 1990, p. 79-94; Luigi Andrea Berto, Diacono, Giovanni, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 56, Rome, 2001, p. 8-10; Idem, Il vocabolario politico e sociale della “Istoria Veneticorum” di Giovanni Diacono, Padua, 2001; Idem, La guerra e la violenza nella Istoria Veneticorum di Giovanni Diacono, “Studi Veneziani”, new series, XLII (2001), p. 15-41. Doubts expressed by Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti II, p. 291. 26 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 93. G. Fasoli, La Cronique des Veniciens, p. 57. 94. R. Cessi, Venezia ducale, p. 203 note 3. For this chronicle, see Anon., Annales Venetici breves (edited by H. Simonsfeld), în Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores, XIV, Hannover, 1883, p. 69-72; Anon., Annales Venetici breves, in Testi Storici Veneziani (XI-XIII secolo) (edited by Luigi Andrea Berto), Padua, 2000 [1999]; see also ArnaldiCapo, I cronisti I, p. 394. 95. For Boncompagno de Signa’s work, see Boncompagni Liber de obsidione Ancone (A. 1173) (edited by Giulio C. Zimolo), Bologna, 1937; Boncompagno da Signa, L’assedio di Ancona. Liber de obsidione Anconae (edited by Paolo Garbini), Rome, 1999 [Padua, 1996]; another edition delivered by Steven M. Wright, in http://dobc.unipv.it/scrineum/wight/obsid.htm, 1998; see also J. K. Hyde, Society and Politics in Medieval Italy, London, 1973, 87-89; Il pensiero e l’opera di Boncompagno da Signa (edited by Massimo Baldini), Signa, 2002. 96. A. Carile, La marineria bizantina, p. 30. 97. R. L. Wolff, Romania, p. 9 note 35. 98. Ed. Simonsfeld, p. 84-89; ed. Berto, p. 55-67. 99. Ed. Simonsfeld, p. 94 (actually, it is about the completion operated by the editor from the chronicle attributed to Pietro Giustinian). 100. Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 396. 101. D. Raines, Alle origini dell’archivio politico, p. 12. 102. Arnaldi-Capo, I cronisti I, p. 395 note 34. For this chronicle, see maistre Martin da Canal, La Cronique des Veniciens (edited by Filippo-Luigi Polidori, translated by Conte Giovanni Galvani), “Archivio Storico Italiano”, 8 (1845), p. 268-707; Martino da Canal, Les estoires de Venise. Cronaca veneziana in lingua francese dalle origini al 1275 (edited by Alberto Limentani), Florence, 1972; Martin da Canal, Les Estoires de Venise (translated by Laura K. Morreale), Padua, 2009; see also Paulette Catel, Studi sulla lingua della “Cronique des Veniciens”, “Rendiconti dell’Istituto Lombardo di Scienze, Lettere e Arti, Classe di Lettere”, 71 (1938-1939), p. 305348 and 73 (1940), p. 39-63; Gina Fasoli, La Cronique des Veniciens; Agostino Pertusi, Maistre Martino de Canal interprete cortese delle crociate e dell’ambiente veneziano del secolo XIII, in Storia della civiltà veneziana (edited by Vittore Branca), I: Dalle origini al secolo di Marco Polo, Florence, 1979, p. 279-295 [first edition, in Venezia dalla prima crociata alla presa di Costantinopoli del 1204, Florence, 1965, p. 105-135]; Alberto Limentani, “Martino” e “Marino” nell’onomastica veneziana (a proposito del cronista Martino da Canal), “Rivista di Cultura Classica e Medioevale”, 7 (1965) [= Studi in onore di Alfredo Schiaffini], p. 614-627; Idem, Cinque note su Martino da Canal, “Atti dell’Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti”, 124 (1965-66), p. 261-285; Idem, Martino da Canal e l’Oriente Mediterraneo, in Venezia e il Levante fino al secolo XV (edited by Agostino Pertusi), I: Storia-Diritto-Economia, Florence, 1973, p. 229-252; Idem, Canal, Martino, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 17, Rome, 1974, p. 659-662; Idem, Martin da Canal e «Les estoires de Venise», in Storia della cultura veneta. Dalle origini al Trecento, Vicenza, 1976, p. 590-601; Gherardo Ortalli, I cronisti e la determinazione di Venezia città”, in Storia di Venezia. Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima, II: L’età del comune (edited by Giorgio Cracco and Gherardo Ortalli), Rome, 1995, p. 761-782 (761-762); ªerban V. Marin, POWER, BELIEF 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. AND IDENTITY • 27 A Chanson de Geste in the 13th Century Venice: the Chronicle Written by Martino da Canal, “Medieval and Early Modern Studies for Central and Eastern Europe” 2 (2010), p. 63-113 [in print]. A. Limentani, Martin da Canal e «Les estoires de Venise», p. 595. Idem, in Martino da Canal, Les estoires de Venise, p. ccliv. Ibidem, p. cclv. Generally, see Ester Pastorello, Introduzione, in Andreae Danduli Duci Veneticorum Chronica per extensium descripta, p. lxii; see also Ch. Brand, Byzantium, p. 290; Benjamin Z. Kedar, Merchants in Crisis. Genoese and Venetian Men of Affairs and the Fourteenth-Century Depression, New Haven-London, 1976, p. 76. For Andrea Dandolo’s chronicles, see above, note 85. Apud G. Arnaldi, Andrea Dandolo, p. 139. G. Cracco, Società e Stato, p. 402 note 1; A. Carile, Aspetti della cronachistica, p. 88-89; G. Arnaldi, Andrea Dandolo, p. 139. G. Arnaldi, Andrea Dandolo, p. 139. Ibidem, p. 143 nota 3. A. Carile, La cronachistica veneziana, p. 30. Idem, La coscienza civica di Venezia nella sua prima storiografia, în La coscienza cittadina nei comuni italiani del Duecento, Todi, 1972 (11-14 ottobre 1970: Convegni del Centro di Studi sulla spiritualità medievale, XI), p. 97-136 (118). Idem, Aspetti della cronachistica, p. 88-89. See supra. R. Cessi, Prefazione, in Venetiarum Historia, p. 190. Ibidem, p. 203 note 3. Ibidem, p. xl. L. A. Berto, in Testi, p. xxvi. As D. Raines, Alle origini dell’archivio politico, p. 15 (reference to Extensa), 25 (reference to Brevis), 50 would suggest. For Lorenzo de’ Monaci and his chronicle, see Laurentii de Monacis Cretae Cancellari Chronica de rebus venetis Ab U. C. ad Annum MCCCLIV, sive ad conjurationem ducis Faledro (edited by Flaminio Corner), Venice, 1758; see also Giovanni Degli Agostini, Lorenzo de Monaci, in idem, Notizie Istorico-Critiche intorno la Vita e le Opere degli Scrittori Viniziani (introduction by Ugo Stefanutti), I-II, [Bologna], 1975 [reprinted of edition in Venice, 1752-1754], p. 363-371; Agostino Pertusi, Le fonti greche del «De gestis, moribus et nobilitate civitatis venetiarum» di Lorenzo de Monacis cancelliere di Creta (1388-1428), “Italia Medioevale e Umanistica”, 8 (1965), p. 161211; Mario Poppi, Ricerche sulla vita e cultura del notaio e cronista veneziano Lorenzo de Monacis, cancelliere cretese (ca. 1351-1428), “Studi Veneziani”, 9 (1967), p. 153-186; A. Pertusi, Gli inizi della storiografia umanistica nel quattrocento, in La storiografia veneziana, p. 269-332 (277-287); Fr. Gaeta, Storiografia, coscienza nazionale, p. 16-25; G[iorgio] Ravegnani, De Monacis, Lorenzo, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 38, Rome, 1990, p. 660-662; ªerban V. Marin, A Venetian Chronicler in Crete. The Case of Lorenzo de’ Monaci and His Possible Byzantine Influences, in L’Italia e la frontiera orientale dell’Europa. 1204-1669 / Italy and Europe’s Eastern Border. 1204-1660. Convegno internazione di studi, Roma, 25-27 novembre 2010 (edit- 28 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 121. 122. 123. 124. ed by Iulian M. Damian, Dan Ioan Mureºan and Alexandru Simon), Rome, 2011 [forthcoming]. For these two chronicles, see Anon., Cronaca di Venezia fino al 1457, Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, manuscript It. VII. 2571 [= 12463], codex from 16th century, respectively Anon., Cronaca di Venezia fino al 1570, Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, manuscript It. VII. 2581 [= 12473], codex written around 1570; see also C[arlo] Castellani, I manoscritti Veneti contenuti nella collezione Phillipps in Cheltenham (contea di Glocester), “Archivio Veneto”, 37 (1889), p. 199-248 (219 and 228); ª. Marin, Venetian and non-Venetian Crusaders in the Fourth Crusade, According to the Venetian Chronicles’ Tradition, “Annuario. Istituto Romeno di cultura e ricerca umanistica di Venezia”, 4 (2002), p. 111-171 (159 notes kk and ll). Ibidem, p. 123. Ibidem, p. 143. See supra. Abstract Some Considerations regarding Historia Ducum Venetorum (13th Century) The present paper has in intention to clarify some more or less controver-sial respects with regard to a particular Venetian chronicle: the anonymous Historia Ducum Venetorum. Far of having the pretension to offer a definite answer to all these respects, we are aware that the solutions we present here could on their turn be new questions with regard to this writing. That is why we make an attempt to offer as more as possible various opinions expressed in time by scholars that have more or less tan-gentially dealt with Venetiarum Historia. In addition, we express here our own view-points concerning the subsequent respects: manuscripts, editions, dating, (supposed) paternity, title, and its possible sources and influences Keywords Venice, Venetian chronicles, Historia Ducum Venetorum, compilation Il Lexicon Marsilianum e la lexicografia rumena nel seicento L EVENTE N AGY I SÁNDOR Kovács richiama l’attenzione1 sul seguente brano dell’autobiografia di Miklós Bethlen: VÁN Una volta egli [Pál Keresztúri, il professore di Bethlen] decise che noi studiassimo delle lingue straniere: il Rumeno, lo Slovacco o il Polacco, il Turco, il Tedesco, il Francese, ma non tutte allo stesso tempo, ma una ad una. Una volta ci fece descrivere mille o duemila parole in Rumeno partendo dal loro significato in Latino. Imparai e ripetei seicento o più parole al giorno. Dopo di chè lasciò tempo solo per la prassi di conversazione, così in due o tre settimane cominciai a comprendere e anche a parlare in tre o quattro lingue, senza che egli le parlasse. Perciò tutti si meravigliavano della sua capacità nell’insegnamento. E vero che quella volta non imparai bene queste lingue, e non le parlo perfettamente fino ad oggi, anzi ne ho già dimenticate alcune, ma per me questo fu seminis thesaurus per il futuro, e per egli grande fama ed ammirazione, perchè in seguito io fondai su questa base, anche se la materia o almeno la forma era diversa, quod ad philosophiam et docendi ac discendi formam, che diventerà più chiaro in seguito.2 La domanda sembra ovvia: che fine avrà fatto questo vocabolario di mille o duemila parole? È scomparso definitivamente, oppure ci possono essere dei dati in base ai quali si può identificare questo vocabolario o si può dimostrare il suo influsso su altri vocabolari frammentari – e da noi conosciuti – dell’epoca? La risposta arriva da Bethlen stesso: “Mi sono pentito tante volte del fatto che, mentre ero in Germania, le mie scritture dell’infanzia andarono persi a Kolozsvár.”3 Con quest’affermazione la questione potrebbe esser risolta se non fosse stato ritrovato, nel Fondo Marsili di Bologna, un vocabolario Latino-RumenoUngherese di 2496 vocaboli, il quale fu pubblicato da Carlo Tavigliani nel 1930. Può quindi essere questo frammento di vocabolario – chiamato dai ricer- 30 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) catori Lexicon Marsilianum – essere identico a quegli appunti scolastici di Miklós Bethlen, oppure, che rapporto può esserci tra le due opere?4 Nel seicento sono scritti tre dizionari rumeno-latini o latino-rumeni: il dizionario latino-rumeno di Teodor Corbea, un glossario rumeno-latino redatto d’un anonimo, e il Lexicon Marsilianum. Questi dizionari sono rimasti in manoscritto, e vengono editati solamente alla fine del novocento e all’inizio del secolo ventesimo.5 László Gáldi ha dimostrato che la fonte principale di Corbea era la seconda edizione (1611) del dizionario latino-ungherese di Albert Molnár Szenci infatti egli non ha fatto altro che ha tradutto il testo di Szenci. Corbea ha scritto il suo vocabulario con l’aiuto materiale del episcopo di rito greco di Buzãu, Mitrofan negli anni 1691-1697, essendo in questo periodo lo segretario di Constantin Brâncoveanu voivoda della Valachia. Corbea era stato responsabile per la corrispondenza voivodale in lingua ungherse (pisariu ungurescu). Prendendo in considerazione che Marsili si recò negli anni 1691-1692 in Bucarest, come segretario del ambasciatore inglese, chi trattò per la pace a Constantinopol fra gli due imperi, non possiamo escludere la possibilità, che sianno incontrarsi.6 Le parole latine di Lexicon Marsilianum si trovanno tutti anche nel dizionario di Corbea. Ne risulta che anche il compilatore del Lexicon Marsilianum ha utilizato come fonte il dizionario di Szenci. Nel Lexicon Marsilianum alcune parole latine non sono tradutte in rumeno, ma nel dizionario del Corbea queste parole latine ne hanno tutte la corrispondente in rumena. Se l’autore del Lexicon Marsilianum avrebbe utilizato il dizionario di Corbea per tradurre le parole latine e ungherese in rumeno, allora queste parole rumene non mancarebbero nel Lexicon Marsilianum. Lexicon Marsilianum Latino Rumeno Rivus [fiume] – Ros [rugiada] – Rupes [rocca] – Sacrifico [sacrifico] – Dizionario di Corbea ungherese Patakk Harmat Kószikla aldozok Pîrîu, vale roao Stîncã, prãpastie de piiatr ã jîrtvãscu Alcune traduzioni rumeni sono differenti nel Lexicon Marsilianum e nel dizionario di Corbea: Lexicon Marsilianum Latino Rumeno Abscondo [nascondo] Me pitul Bellum [guerra] Oste Leo [leone] Oroslan [magiarismo] Musaeum [museo] Iskola [scuola] Revoco [revoco] Tzam napoi Dizionario di Corbea Rumeno Ascunz, tãinuiesc Rãzboiu Leu Casa de înv ãþat [casa di educazione, nel Szenci: tanulóház ] Îndãrãt chiemu POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 31 Naturalmente nel dizionario di Corbea e nel Lexicon Marsilianum ci sono anche traduzioni identiche principalmente parmi i magiarismi, ma nondimeno io considero che l’autore, compilatore del Lexicon Marsilianum non ha utilizato il dizionario di Corbea. L’autore dell’altro dizionario rumeno-latino è sconosciuto. Hasdeu ha denominato Anonymus Lugojiensis, Creþu Anonymus Caransebesiensis, perche secondo loro era originario della città Lugoj o Caransebeº. Poi secondo N. Drãganu l’autore del dizionario non è altro che Mihai Halici, il collego di scuola di Ferenc Pápai Páriz.7 Gli argomenti di Drãganu erano ricevuti con riserve parmi gli studiosi ungheresi e rumeni. Più tardo László Musnai ha formulato l’idea che l’autore del dizionario era il padre di Halici. Musnai s’aveva basato sul fatto che secondo un inventario di famiglia Halici fatto nel 31. ottobre 1674. era nel possesso di Halici un dizionario autografo del suo padre: Vocabularium paterna manu scripta.8 Purtroppo i manoscritti che erano nella biblioteca di Halici non sono scoperti fino ad oggi. Perciò non possiamo affrontare il dizionario che era nel posesso di Halici col manoscritto del Anonymus Caransebesiensis che oggi si trova nella Biblioteca Universitaria di Budapest. Questa comparazione non era fatto che più tardo dal Ferenc Király, chi ha trovato che le grafie delle questi due manoscritti s’assomogliano molto. Ma secondo me questi due testi erano scritti da due mani differenti. Nondimeno posso accettare che la prima varianta del dizionario era fatto dal Halici-padre, poi questo testo era copiato d’un autore anonimo. Secondo me nella Biblioteca Universitaria di Budapest oggi si trova questa copia trascritta del dizionario.9 Habbiamo visto che Miklós Bethlen era affidato dal Pál Keresztúri di descrivere mille o duemila parole in rumeno, e le loro traduzioni in latino. Un libro di Keresztúri (Csecsemø keresztény/Il bebe cristiano) era nel possesso di Halicipadre, chi nei ultimi fogli del libro ha copiato in caratteri latini con ortografia ungherese una strofa dello primo salmo di Szenci tradutto d’un anonimo in rumeno. Ne risulta che l’attività di Keresztúri non era sconoscita dai intellettuali rumeni di Lugoj-Caransebeº (la famiglia di Halici era originario di Caransebeº). La redazione d’un glossario rumeno-latino sarebbe l’idea dei politici-letterati chi vorebbero la riforma dei rumeni. Non possiamo escludere che Keresztúri era stato affidato dal episcopo István Katona Geleji di comporre un dizionario simile, e Keresztúri (chi secondo la relazione di Bethlen non parlava il rumeno) ha approfittato d’aiuto d’un intellettuale rumeno di Lugoj o Caransebeº (questo intellettuale rumeno era forse proprio il Mihai Halici-padre). Quando e dove ha potuto Luigi Ferdinando Marsili procurarsi il Lexicon Marsilianum? Marsili si recò per la prima volta in Transilvania nel 1690, quella volta gli fu affidato il compito di difendere i valichi transilvani e quest’incarico gli diede così l’opportunità di percorrere Székelyföld (Siculia). Si recò a visitare 32 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) le più importanti città transilvane come Braºov (Brassó), Cluj (Kolozsvár), Sibiu (Szeben), Alba Iulia (Gyulafehérvár) e Gherla (Szamosújvár). Di tutti questi eventi si trova un riassunto dettagliato nel resconto che scrisse in quel periodo intitolato Relazione militare della Transilvania.10 Durante questa campagna allo stesso modo si procurò: le deposizioni delle spie catturate di Thököly, il manifesto scritto da Thököly il 15 dicembre 1690 a Târgoviºte e poi mandato in Transilvania, l’alfabeto della scrittura runica dei Siculi e un calendario scritto con questi caratteri, pubblicati anche questi prima volta da Tagliavini.11 Nel 28 ottobre 1691 Marsili tornò un’altra volta a Sibiu, come testimonia la lettera inviata da questa città a Constantin Brâncoveanu che era il Voivoda della Valachia. Ma all’inizio dello stesso inverno fu richiamato a Vienna. Secondo l’opinione di László Vékony i documenti e gli oggetti raccolti fino a quel momento furono spediti da Marsili a Bologna a suo fratello. Non ne abbiamo notizia se fra questi si trovasse già anche il Lexicon Marsilianum.12 Dopo il 1692 Marsili in Transilvania non fece più ritorno fino a che non fu stipulata la pace di Carlowitz. Allora reintrò come capo della commissione imperiale della rettifica delle frontiere. Sono rimaste numerose lettere scritte negli anni 1700-1701 dal Gubernium come pure dalla nobiltà del comitato Hunyad (Hunedoara) a proposito della rettifica dei confini. Il 30 settembre 1700 Marsili partecipò alla riunione degli inviati di Temesvár (timiºoara) e della Transilvania dove ebbe l’occasione di conoscere anche personalmente István Naláczy e suo figlio Lajos. I capi ufficiali della delegazione negozianta con Marsili furono István Naláczy e János Sárosi. Oltre che con loro, Marsili ebbe un rapporto di amicizia e corrispondenza anche con István Apor, Sámuel Keresztesi, Mihály Mikes, György Bánffy, Péter Macskási, Mátyás Szacsali e, aspetto di grande rilievo, anche con Miklós Bethlen.13 Stando alle recenti ricerche svolte da József Jankovics si può affermare con certezza, come viene anche confermato dall’Autobiografia di Bethlen, che, oltre alla comunicazione ufficiale di prassi mantennero anche una corrispondenza privata.14 É molto probabile che anche Bethlen abbia potuto aiutarlo a raccogliere quei dati così importanti e difficilmente accessibili che erano stati trascritti anche nelle sue relazioni. Così per esempio, con l’aiuto del Gubernium Transilvano riuscì a procurasi dall’archivio di Apafi le lettere scritte dal gran visir sullo stato di Caransebeº al tempo di Ákos Barcsai. Per noi è di fondamentale importanza il riferimento di Marsili – che a quel tempo stava cercando i corvina presumibilmente finiti a Braºov – a una conversione avuta con uno di casa Betlem molto erudito: Essendo io in Transilvania uno di casa Betlem molto erudito, e che avea intrapreso di scrivere la storia dei principi di Transilvania, dopo che la Porta s’era fatta tributaria a sè così bella, fertile e ricca e ben situata provincia sino al vivente POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 33 allora principe Michele Abaffi, mi disse che una gran parte della libreria di Buda era stata trasportata nella sua patria, quando Solimano con la nota arte si rese signore di Buda, da dove levò gli ungari di qualunque ordine, relegandoli in Transilvania, nella qual congiuntura trasportarono anche moltissimi libri e stampati, e manoscritti.15 Dopo i saggi di Áron Szilady e Csaba Csapodi anche io ho scritto nel mio saggio pubblicato in rivista “Magyar Nyelv”, che questo Bethlen molto erudito era Miklós Bethlen.16 Ma adesso devo corettare questa opinione divenuto un luogo comune nella letteratura di specialità ungherese, malgrado che già nel 1976 Zsigmond Jakó abbia formulato l’ipotesi che questo Bethlen e Elek Bethlen.17 Nel testo marsiliano sopracitato è chiaro che questo Bethlen abbia l’intenzione di scrivere la storia della Transilvania dal anno 1541 fino al regno di Apafi primo. Sappiamo che nella famiglia Bethlen, due membri di famiglia hanno scritto la storia di Transilvania: János Bethlen e Farkas Bethlen. Ma qundo arrivò Marsili in Transilvania ambedue sono già morti. Ma era vivente il fratello di Farkas Bethlen, Elek Bethlen (morto nel 1696) chi fondò nel 1684 una tipografia a Keresd, e comminciò a pubblicare il testo rimasto nel manoscritto, del suo fratello Farkas. Elek non era un semplice edittore perche egli anche ha trascritto il testo del suo fratello. La storia della Transilvania da cui parlava il Bethlen molto erudito a Marsili, era l’opera di Farkas Bethlen, perche Miklós Bethlen fuori d’alcune opere pubblicistiche non ha scritto che la sua autobiografia. Accettando dunque l’ipotesi che il Lexicon Marsilianum sia nato all’interno di quel circolo di intelettuali del quale fu membro anche Miklós Bethlen e Mihai Halici durante i suoi anni di studio, allora non si può che dedurne che Marsili prese questo glossario da Miklós Bethlen negli anni 1700-1701. Si possono addurre due argomentazioni per demolire questa ipotesi: la prima è che (come ha dimostrato già Tagliavini) l’autore del vocabolario non era nè ungherese nè rumeno ma di madrelingua tedesca.18 (In seguito tornerremo più dettagliatamente su questo argomento, ora vorrei solo accennare al fatto che a mio parere in questo caso sarebbe più esatto parlare di un copista piuttosto che di un autore.) La seconda ragione è che secondo László Gáldi è palese una correlazione tra il Lexicon Marsilianum e la parte tedesca del dizionario di Albert Szenci Molnár pubblicato nel 1708 a Norimberga. Si è riscontrato infatti che alcune delle definizioni ungheresi del Lexicon Marsilianum avevano un’interpretazione accetabile solo tenendo conto della fonte tedesca come per esempio la parola harpax (resina collosa) che nel Lexicon Marsilianum assume il significato ungherese e rumeno: pansinye-pook (ragno). Secondo Gáldi – nell’edizione di Tagliavini questo fenomeno rimase senza commento – l’esempio sopramnezionato è uno degli errori più interessanti del Lexicon Marsilianum che è stato spiegato in 34 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) base al vocabolario del 1708 di Szenci dove l’harpax era equivalente di Spinnwistel. L’autore-copista – dice Gáldi – fraintendendo l’espressione tedesca, tradusse la prima parte come Spinne (ragno).19 Un altro caso interessante: nel Lexicon Marsilianum manca la traduzione rumena della parola latina rumen e quella ungherese sarebbe gége (laringe). In tutte le tre edizioni del vocabolario di Szenci, pubblicate prima del 1708, la spiegazione ungherese della parola rumen era la seguente: “Kérø gyomor, kibøl az barom az fûvet visszarágja;item kérø rágás” (Il rumine dei buoi), mentre nell’edizione del 1708 si trovava la seguente traduzione tedesca: “Die Wonne, der Magen, das Gürgelein am Hals. Item: der Ort wo die Wiederkäung geschicht.” Secondo Gáldi la mancanza del significato rumeno della parola nel Lexicon Marsilianum potrebbe indicare che l’ignoto autore conoscesse di più l’ungherese che il rumeno.20 Accettando quest’ipotesi si persenta un problema: perchè l’autore aveva preso la parola gége da un dizionario tedesco? Secondo la nostra opinione sembra molto più probabile che l’autore non conoscesse bene nè l’ungherese nè il rumeno e per questo avesse avuto bisogno del vocabolario tedesco. Questo congettura rafforza la nostra ipotesi secondo la quale fosse tedesco il copista e non l’autore. Ad avallare ulteriormente questa ipotesi vi sono le particolaritá fonetiche delle parole (lo scambio delle consonanti sonore e sorde per esempio: t in luogo di d: kretincza-credinþã; rotytore-roditoare; e al contrario d invece t bodicz-botez; pladesc-plãtesc), nonchè il fatto che nella quarta colonna di Lexicon Marsilianum rimasta fino ad allora vuota, fosse stata occupata dalla parte tedesca.21 Gáldi e Tagliavini iniziarono le loro ricerche partendo dal presupposto che si trattasse di un manoscritto originale e non di una copia. Di questo non riuscirono ad averne conferma in alcun modo. Prendendo in considerazione l’abitudine del Marsili di collezionare gli scritti, sembra molto più probabile che il Lexicon Marsilianum potesse essere stato trascritto a sua richiesta, e che il possessore del manoscritto originale – a nostro parere – non abbia spedito il suo esemplare originale a Marsili, ma solo una copia, poichè si ritiene che altrimenti ne sarebbe rimasta traccia. Al tempo stesso dobbiamo prendere in considerazione le affermazioni di Gáldi secondo le quali una delle principali fonti del Lexicon Marsilianum sia stato il vocabolario Szenci edito nell’anno 1708. Se questo è vero il Lexicon Marsilianum potrebbe essere stato stilato tra il 1708 e 1712, poichè stando all’inventario fatto nel 1712, in questo anno era già di proprietá del Marsili.22 Come mai il dizionario era giunto a Bologna solo dopo il 1708 mentre Marsili dopo il 1702 non tornò più nè in Ungheria nè in Transilvania? Nel mio saggio soprammenzionato anche io ho scritto che, come punto di congiunzione si presenta la figura di Miklós Bethlen, chi trascorse il periodo dal luiglio del 1708 fino alla sua morte a Vienna. Secondo l’Autobiografia di Marsili nel 1710-1711 egli ritornò nella capitale imperiale perchè allora la corte viennese l’avrebbe voluto mandare in Russia POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 35 per la guerra scoppiata tra Pietro il Grande e i turchi. Ma questa volta Marsili rifiuto’di assumere questa missione diplomatica quindi giunse solo fino a Vienna da dove se ne ritornò.23 Allora nel questo saggio ho presentato una possibile storia del Lexicon Marsilianum in modo seguente: la forma a noi rimasta non sia l’opera di un autore ma che il suddetto vocabolario sia il prodotto di un processo creativo svoltosi nel tempo. Il glossario nella sua forma originale sarebbe stato scritto negli anni 1650 sotto la direzione di Pál Keresztúri e con la collaborazione dei suoi studenti in parte rumeni, (Halici) dei dintorni di Caransebeº-Lugoj, in parte ungheresei tra i quali si trovava anche Miklós Bethlen. Anche se il testo originale fosse andato distrutto insieme agli appunti scolastici di Miklós Bethlen, alcune redazioni sarebbero sopravissute nelle mani di alcuni aristocratici ungheresi e sassoni transilvani che avrebbero potuto utilizzarlo nella comunicazione quotidiana con i loro contadini rumeni. Miklós Bethlen avrebbe potuto procurarsi, su richiesta di Marsili, una redazione di questo genere, che sarebbe stata copiata a Vienna, dopo il 1708, da uno ‘scriptor’ tedesco, il quale avrebbe in parte rielaborato questo glossario basandosi sul vocabolario di Szenci edito nel 1708. A noi nel fondo Marsili è rimasta la redazione di questo testo rifatto. Esaminando quindi il manoscritto originale24 possiamo trovare conferma dell’ipotesi sopramenzionata. Oltre a poter corregere alcuni errori di Tagliavini,25 risultò evidente ciò che precedemente era sfuggito all’attenzione degli studiosi che per primi si occuparono del manoscritto: l’osservazione che il testo del vocabolaraio fu scritto da diverse calligrafie. La prima colonna venne fu scritta da una mano e qui la forma delle parole è la piú corretta: solo una variante trascurabile: presenta fidicen (violista) invece di fidicem.26 Inoltre, la parte in Ungherese è la più unitaria e, salvo alcune parole mancanti, è quella che si ritiene essere la più completa. Nella parte Rumena – la quale invece è maggiormente lacunosa – si trovano al contrario, anche parti scritte da più mani, e si nota inoltre che in questa parte una stessa mano ha inserito a posteriori alcune parole con inchiostri diversi e si suppone in tempi diversi.27 A nostro parere il dato piú rilevante in tutto ciò è che uno dei gruppi di parole,28 che secondo Gáldi senza alcun dubbio fu completato secondo il vocabolario di Szenci dell’anno 1708, è tuttavia il risultato di un’interpolazione posteriore. Dunque si ritiene che il compilatore-copista prima abbia scritto la colonna latina del vocabolario in modo da poter trovare più facilmente un modello per questa parte. In seguito abbia redatto la parte ungherese – valendosi per la traduzione di alcune parole del vocabolario di Szenci dell’anno 1708 – e infine quella rumena riguardo alla quale aveva ottenuto però esigue informazioni. Si suppone che per compilare quest’ultima parte si sia servito di quel frammento di vocabolario Latino-Ungherese-Rumeno che Marsili avrebbe preso in Transilvania oppure a Vienna. 36 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Adesso devo corettare la mia ipotesa. E sicuro che dopo 1704 Marsili era stato escluso dall’armata imperiale per la capitulazione di Breisach, e lei non tornò più nè in Vienna, nè sul territorio della Monarchia Absburgica.29 E perciò non era possibile ne un rincontro con Miklós Bethlen a Vienna dopo 1708. Altrimenti è difficile d’imaginare un rincontro tra Marsili e Bethlen chi era incarcerato. Allora io penso che il Lexicon Marsilianum si era procurato da Marsili durante la rettificazione delle frontiere fra Transilvania, Valachia e il Banato di Temesvar negli anni 1700-1701. L’identificazionea precisa della persona da cui era procurato il dizinario, secondo me, è impossibile, perche la varianta attuale del testo non sia l’opera di un autore ma sia il prodotto di un processo creativo svoltosi nel tempo. I compilatori hanno utilizzato il dizionario di Szenci e di Corbea, e il glossario di Bethlen e di Halici padre. E sicuro che lo scrittore era un tedesco. Prendendo in considerazione questo fatto, io credo che il compilatore e lo scrittore del Lexicon Marsilianum era Johann Christoph Müller, il cartografo di Marsili, chi ha disegnato le piante fatte da Marsili durante i lavori della commissione della rettifica delle frontiere.30 Müller era originario da Norimberga, e dopo che la commissione ha terminato il lavoro, tornò nella sua città natale, dove continuò a lavorare per Marsili, facendo l’illustrazioni per Danubius Pannonico-Mysicus. Müller non ha lasciato neanche le cose ungherese: nel 1706 i ceti ungheresi l’hanno incaricato di fare la carta geografica del regno ungaro. Müller terminò questo lavoro nel 1709. Ho già detto che anche il dizionario Latino-Ungherese-Tedesco di Szenci era pubblicato nel 1708 a Norimberg. Allora per Müller non era difficile di procurarsi il dizionario trilingue di Szenci, e di completare il glossario composto nel 1700-1701. Notes 1. Szöveggyðjtemény a régi magyar irdolamból 1., a cura di Iván Sándor Kovács, Osiris, Budapest 1998, p. 505. 2. Miklós Bethlen, Élete leírása magától, in Kemény János és Bethlen Miklós mðve, a cura di Éva V. Windisch, Szépirodalmi Kiadó, Budapest 1980, p. 541. Miklós Bethlen (1642-1716) era uno dei più importanti personaggi letterati e politici del suo tempo. Ha fatto i suoi studi in Francia, Olanda e Inghliterra. Dopo il suo ritorno nella Transilvania fu eletto il cancelliere della Transilvania. Nel 1704 fu arrestato da Rabutin, il governatore plenipontenziaro dell Transilvania. Nel carcere Bethlen scrisse la sua autobiografia. 3. BETHLEN, op. cit., p. 532. 4. Il „Lexicon Marsilianum”. Dizionario latino-rumeno-ungherese del sec. XVII, a cura di Carlo Tagliavini, Cultura Naþionalã, Bucureºti 1930 (in seguito LexMars). 5. Grigore CREÞU, Anonymus Caransebesiensis, Tinerimea Românã, I, Bucureºti 1898, pp. 320-380; Teodor CORBEA, Dictiones latinae cum valachica interpretatione, a POWER, BELIEF 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. AND IDENTITY • 37 cura di Alin-Mihai Gherman, Clusium, Cluj-Napoca 2001; Francisc Király, Dictionarium valachico-latinum. Anonymus Caransebesiensis Mihai Halici-tatãl, a cura di Alexandru Metea, Maria Király, First, Timiºoara 2003. Sul soggiorno di Marsili a Bucarest vedi: Relazione dell’autore a Sacra Maestà Cesarea dello stato della Corte Ottomana, della sua milizia, dei trattati fattisi insino a quel tempo intorno alla pace del [16]91, del’intenzione della Transilvania, dell’inclinazione della Wallachia, e del portamento del Tekly ed Aisler, Biblioteca Universitaria di Bologna (in seguito BUB), ms. Marsili, nr. 55, fol. 228-248; Relazione a Sacra Maestà Caesarea di tutto il successo al Marsili nel primo viaggio che fece a Constantinopoli, per i negoziati della pace del 1961, BUB, ms. Marsili, nr. 55, fol. 139-156; Autobiografia di Luigi Ferdinando Marsili, a cura di Emilio Lovarini, Zanichelli, Bologna 1930, p. 120-134. Creþu, Anonymus Caransebesiensis, pp. 322-324; Bogdan-Petriceicu Hasdeu, Anonymus Lugosiensis, revista pentru istorie, «archeologie ºi filologie», VI (1891), pp. 1-48; Nicolae Drãganu, Mihail Halici. Contribuþie la istoria culturalã româneascã din sec. al XVII-lea, «Dacoromania», IV (1924-1926), pp. 76-169. László Musnai, Új adatok Halici Mihály életéhez és hagyatékához, «Nyelv- és Irodalomtudományi Közlemények», nr. 1-2 (1960), pp. 69-83. Sulla biblioteca di Halici vide: Maria Ursuþiu, Din nou despre biblioteca Halici (1674), «Biblioteca ºi cercetare», XII (1988), pp. 268-289; Erdélyi könyvesházak 1563-1757, III, a cura di István Monok, Noémi Németh, András Varga, Scriptum Szeged, 1994, pp. 194-216 (Adattár a XVI-XVIII. századi szellemi mozgalmaink történetéhez 16/3). Sulla famiglia Halici vide: Doru Radosav, Culturã ºi umanism în Banat, secolul XVII, Ed. de Vest, Timiºoara, 2003, pp. 145-235. Király, Dictionarium, pp. 23-34. Il manoscritto del dizionario vide: Budapesti Egyetemi Könyvtár ms. H 3. L’opinione di Király e stato accettato anche da Doru Radosav: Radosav, Culturã ºi umanism, p. 231. Relazione militare della Transilvania, BUB FM, ms. 54, fol. 619-639. Carlo Tagliavini, Luigi Ferdinando Marsigli e la scrittura runica dei Siculi di Transylvania, «Bollettino tratto da Il Commune di Bologna», 1930. Vide ancora la monografia di Klára Sándor, A bolognai rovásemlék, Magyar Õstörténeti Könyvtár, Szeged 1991 (Magyar Õstörténeti Könyvtár 1.). László Vékony, Egy olasz polihisztor a Kárpát-medencében, Újvidék, 1984, p. 17. La lettera di Marsili a Brâncoveanu vide: Eudoxiu Hurmuzaki, Documnete privitoare la istoria românilor, vol. V/1, Bucureºti, 1886, p. 394. Sulla attività di Marsili nella commossione imperilae della rettifica delle frontiere vide: Relazioni dei confini della Croazia e della Transilvania a sua Maestà Cesarea 1-2 (16991701), a cura di Raffaella GHERARDI, Mucchi, Modena 1986. József Jankovics, Bethlen Miklós két levele Luigi Ferdinando Marsilihez, in R. Várkonyi Ágnes emlékkönyv, a cura di Péter Tusor, Balassi Kiadó, Budapest 1998, pp. 427432. Scritti inediti di Luigi Ferdinando Marsili, raccolti e pubblicati nel il centenario della morte, a cura del Comitato Marsiliano, Bologna 1930, p. 180. Áron Szilády, Jelentés bolognai útjáról, Akadémiai Értesítø, Budapest, 1868, pp. 128-142; Csaba Csapodi, Mikor pusztult el Mátyás király könyvtára, «Magyar Könyvszemle», 4 (1961), pp. 399-419; Levente Nagy, Confluenþe lexicografice româno- 38 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. maghiare din secolul al XVII-lea («Lexiconul Marsilian» ºi contele Miklós Bethlen), «Dacoromania», 3 (2002), pp. 43-62. Zsigmond Jakó, Írás, könyv, értelmiség. Tanulmányok Erdély történelméhez, Kriterion, Bucarest, 1976, p. 336. LexMars, p. 184. Vedi ancora: Zsuzsa Rozsnyói, Szótárkísérletek a XVII. Századból. Luigi Ferdinando Marsigli bolognai szótára és szójegyzék-töredékei, in Olasz nyelvi tanulmányok, a cura di Luigi Tassoni, Ágota Fóris, Iskolakultúra, Pécs 2000, pp. 179191. László Gáldi, A Lexicon Marsilianum egyik forrása, «Magyar Nyelv», 1931, pp. 43-44. Ibid., p. 45. LexMars, p. 184. LexMars, p. 180. Autobiografia, p. 237. BUB, ms. Marsili, nr. 116. Tagliavini legge la traduzione ungherese della parola comunitas-in pre uczunye come községh (villaggio) invece di közössegh che sarebbe communità. Un errore ancora più grave e’ che legge esurio-flomansesk con fizetzem (che in ungherese non ha nessun senso) ma il vocabolo ungherese è tutto regolare: meghehezem (divento affamato). Expaveo-me spar in Ungherese nella lettura di Tagliavini è eedes (che di nuovo è senza senso), secondo il testo però sarebbe ijedek (prendo paura). Il significato ungherese della parola glaber-plesugh nella lettura di Tagliavini è kappász (privo di senso) mentre in realtà si tratta di koppátz (calvo). Nel caso dell’indecens-iletlen (Indecente) la parola rumena venne letta da Tagliavini come nye kuvina invece di nye kuvniat. Un altro errore di minor rilievo è il seguente: nonogenarius-de nosecs an in Ungherese nella lettura di Tagliavini: kilenczven esztendø (cioè novanta anni) mentre in realtà sarebbe kilenczven esztendøs (ha novanta anni). Vedi BUB, ms. Marsili, nr. 116, 7v, 15v, 16r, 22r, 26v, 37v. LexMars, 205; BUB, ms. Marsili, nr. 116, 17r. Vedi: 7v, 9r, 10v, 11v, 17r, 2v, 23v, 28r-28v, 29v, 30r, 31r-31v, 32v, 33r-33v, 34r, 35r35v, 46r, 47r. Forum boarium – Piacz de boi – Ökör Vásár (mercato dei buoi) Forum piscarium – Piacz de Pest – Hal Piacz (mercato di pesce) Forum Olitarium – Piacz Vergye – Zöld Piacz (mercato verde) Forum Suarium – Piacz de Porcs – Dezno Vásár (mercato dei porchi) Forum Vinarium – Piacz de Vin – Bor Vásár. (mercato d vino) Vedi BUB, ms. Marsili, nr. 116, 20v; LexMars, p. 108; Gáldi, Lexicon Marsilianum, p. 45. Renzo Reggiani, La riabilitazione militare = Memorie intorno a Luigi Ferdinando Marsili, Nicola Zanichelli, Bologna 1930, pp. 57-90. Sulla vita e attività di Müller vide: Antal András DEÁK – Miljenko LAPAINE – Ivka KLJAJIÆ, Johann Christoph Müller (1673-1721), «Cartography and Geoinformation», 3 (2004), pp. 68-80. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 39 Abstract The Lexicon Marsilianum and Romanian Lexicography in the 17th Century The study propounds and supports with arguments a new hypothesis concerning the paternity and the dating of the Lexicon Marsilianum, a trilingual (Latin-Romanian-Hungarian) vocabulary of nearly 2,500 words, discovered in the Marsili Collection in Bologna and published in 1930 by Carlo Tagliavini. We are dealing with one of the three Romanian-Latin or Latin-Romanian dictionaries of the 17th century (alongside the dictionary of Teodor Corbea and the anonymous glossary of the Anonymus Caransebesiensis, ascribed to Mihai Halici the Elder) which all remained in manuscript form and were printed a few centuries later. The hypothesis in question claims that the lexicon is the copy of an original glossary compiled sometime in the 1650s under the supervision of Pál Keresztúri and with the contribution of his Romanian (Mihai Halici) and Hungarian (Miklós Bethlen) students, and completed by an anonymous compiler—identified as being Johann Christoph Müller, cartographer to Luigi Ferdinando Marsili; the latter two were members of the imperial commission reviewing the borders of Transylvania, Wallachia, and Banat, in 1700–1701— with elements taken from the trilingual (Latin-Hungarian-German) dictionary of Albert Molnár Szenci, published in 1708. Keywords lexicography, dictionaries, Luigi Ferdinando Marsili, Johann Christoph Müler Historical Tradition, Legend and Towns in the Moldavian Chronicles L AURENÞIU R ÃDVAN H OW THE emergence and evolution of medieval towns are reflected in chronicles has not sparked too much interest in the research field so far. Given the treatment that this information has received in chronicles, their authors did not seem to take a direct interest in how towns formed, how they were organized, their vibrant urban life, and not even their inhabitants. This appearance can be deceiving, however, since a closer look reveals that ancient texts are ripe with references to urban settlements. D the vastness of this subject, we will undertake to examine the way it was perceived in late medieval literature in Moldavia, focusing on the 17th-18th centuries. We will stop on chronicles in this period, since they contain the most substantial amount of information. Our point of reference will be the ‘classics’: Grigore Ureche, Miron Costin, and Ion Neculce, with their known works. We did not include Dimitrie Cantemir here, since he distinctly bridges the chronicler spirit, of noting the events of the time, specific to the medieval world, and the encyclopaedic spirit, closer to modern thought. The latter foregoes the changes that historical literature and other fields undergo starting with the latter half of the 18th century and the next. Our research will seek to identify the most relevant testimonies of chroniclers on towns, as well as historical and literary insights into them. T UE TO HE FIRST chronicler we will study will be Grigore Ureche. We do not intend to engage here in the large controversy on the paternity of the chronicle he is credited with, a controversy which has yet to be settled. Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project 42 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Recently, N.A. Ursu has reopened the file on Letopiseþul Þãrii Moldovei, and has come up with several arguments which attribute the work to Simion Dascãlul, so far considered only an interpolator; the interpolations of Misail Cãlugãrul were also challenged. Regardless of whether the work was written by Simion or Ureche, we may say for sure that Ureche’s contributions make up a large part of the chronicle which reached us today1. Our research sets to create a historical study of the chronicle text, to look at the validity of its claims on towns, rather than to attribute its information to one chronicler or the other. The work that Ureche is usually credited with parts ways with the tradition of court chronicles in the previous century, in that it belongs to a layman, and not to a clergyman, and it promotes a literary and political vision distinct from that of Ureche’s forerunners2. Letopiseþul is not dedicated to anyone in particular, but originates in the author’s wish to leave for times to come his own version on the past history of Moldavia, thereby revealing a keen sense of history on the part of the chronicler3. Moreover, it is the first Moldavian chronicle to be preserved in Romanian and the first where an author ponders over the Latin roots of Romanians. Here are the first statements on history as a ‘cultural asset’, which must not be lost. Recording and passing on traditions and noteworthy past events was meant to elevate a nation in the eyes of its neighbours: […] chroniclers […] are keepers of time and harbourers and contemplators of great deeds, so they would not remain trivial, and their neighbours to say that they were indolent or ignorant or not steeped in history4. History could also be a reason for national pride. Ever since the chronicle attributed to Ureche, we will notice that chroniclers begin to expand their historical horizon, which leads us to separate 17th-18th century chronicles from the earlier ones, which were more limited in scope and language. A true breakthrough, the chronicle attributed to Ureche also includes some thoughts on Moldavian towns. Since it looks at the country’s history from its early stages and up to late 16th century, part of these explorations are also focused on early urban life, that the author, as well as his interpolators, especially Simion Dascãlul, subordinate to the descãlecat (which has the meaning of foundation). More notably, the latter is the first to approach the emergence of a town: And it is also thus that the târg at Baia was said to be founded (descãlecat) by some Saxons, who were potters; it also thus that Suceava was said to be founded by Hungarian furriers, called suci in their language, and Suceava is called furriery in their language. [Other towns are ascribed to the Genovese]: Also in this country were there strongholds that the Genovese built in times past: the stronghold at Suceava and the stronghold at Hotin and Cetatea Albã and POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 43 the stronghold of Chilia and Cetatea Neamþului and Cetatea Nouã at Roman, where the earth caved underneath and the stronghold fell to pieces5. The foundation of towns is a recurring topic in the chronicle. Axinte Uricariul ties the emergence of Roman to the ruler by that same name: And he [Roman I] built the târg of Roman after his name, as he testifies in his document, which is in the Pobrata monastery6. Misail Cãlugãrul (or Simion Dascãlul, according to N.A. Ursu7) makes one of the most interesting claims, linking the emergence of towns to voivod Iuga, whose reign was very brief: [Iuga] had founded (descãlecat) towns throughout the country, in good places, and built for them ocoale around [...]8. Misail is also credited with the testimony on the emergence of Iaºi: Voivode ªtefan had founded Iaºii and to praise the Lord began building the church of martyr Necolai9, while Panaitescu attributes to Ureche (Axinte Uricariul according to Velciu10) the note on the foundation of another town, Hârlãu: it was in 6995 [1487] that voivode ªtefan had founded (a descãlecat) Hârlãul, wherein he built the stone church and the princely enclosures, with their walls, which still stand today11. Instead, the town of Suceava is mentioned when the Metropolitan Church is founded and the relics of St John the New are brought in: And in the year 6923 [1415] they had brought in with great expense the relics of Saint John the New from Cetatea Albã, from the heathens, and set them in town, in Suceava, at the Metropolitan Church [...] to keep and uphold his seat12. Where other towns are concerned, the chronicle mentions them in relation to events, mostly negative, such as invasions or forays by the Mongols, Poles, Wallachians or Turks. For instance, the towns of Cernãuþi and Botoºani only feature several times in such moments13. In this case, the source is easily identifiable: the Old Slavonian chronicles in the 15th-16th centuries, events being quoted without any further additions14. A ahead for historical accuracy, but also for where literature and style are concerned is made by Miron Costin, believed to be the most learned of Moldavian chroniclers15. He focuses on an age that was closer to his day, and he was also involved in many of the events depicted. Costin’s historical comments provide more insight than those of his predecessor, who was too busy with the military and political side of history, without leaving room for opinions that would show any in-depth perception of it. Miron Costin is also superior to Ureche in his status as the first historian to write a history of Romanians, his works (including De neamul moldovenilor, Cronica polonã and Poema polonã) pro-ving that the author had a historical scope that extended beyond the local history of Moldavia16. Some of his works are historical, but also diplomatic in their intent, the chronicler wishing to promote his country by its culture in front of neighbouring powers17. It was not rare that his texts give consideration to the Romanians in other Romanian territories18. The chronicle attribMAJOR STEP 44 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) uted to Ureche had as well taken a step forward over its precursors, by indicating an understanding of the Latin origin of Romanians (our origins are in Rome), even though the author still had dif-ficulties explaining it: our language draws on many others, and our tongue is still mixed with that of our neighbours19. Instead, Miron Costin proves to have a much deeper knowledge of our Roman origin, which is expressed in absolute terms: So no one is to doubt that [Romanians] have their roots in Rome20. Miron Costin is also among the first to promote an unbiased and critical practice in writing history, lashing against the so-called basne, the fabrications of Simion Dascãlul on the origin of the Moldavians21. Miron Costin was familiar with towns, both in Moldavia, and in neighbouring lands, especially in Poland, where he lived 20 years22. He travelled for military of diplomatic purposes all around the Eastern and Central parts of Europe, from Walachia to Neuhäusel (nowadays in Slovakia) or Istanbul23. His works, especially De neamul moldovenilor or Poema polonã, mention on several occasions various towns, but he prefers to stop over strongholds, possibly due to a sense of nostalgia for past times, when Moldavia was as well a country with powerful fortresses24. Among others, Costin relays some interesting details to us. In the Focºani-Odo-beºti area, the ruins of Milcovia were still visible in his time (the rubble [...] on the Milcov, north of Focºeni), which Dimitrie Cantemir also refers to (he places them not far from the Mera monastery). By relying on Ureche, they both mistake if for another stronghold, Crãciuna25, which was in fact on the Siret river26. There was also a stronghold near Soroca, and Costin ascribes its durability to voivode Petru (probably Petru Rareº)27. The chronicler does not forget to draft several town lists, which he organizes across districts28, and also inserts several legends where towns are mentioned. They also include the one on the emergence of Moldavia. A noteworthy detail is that, when describing the battles fought by the Hungarians and the Mongols (Cumans, actually) in king Ladislas’ time, Miron Costin cites a theory on the origin of the name of Siret, which is also mentioned by Simion Dascãlul (and integrates it in the text on the origin of Moldavians, compounded by the much railed-against legend of the robbers who colonized Maramureº)29. However, unlike the one considered to be Ureche’s interpolator, who wrote immediately before Costin, the latter added another detail, namely that the battle with the Mongols took place where the town of Roman was later erected: the Mongols were attacked in Siret, and the battle was waged in Roman [...]. And, although the town of Roman did not stand there yet, it was built in memory of the place where victory was gained30. Miron Costin was convinced that the town of Roman owes its emergence to Roman I: under his reign [Roman] was the town of Roman built, bearing his name31. Further on, in the same work, which describes the actions of Dragoº, Miron Costin credits him with bringing Saxon craftsmen in Wallachia, who were transferred by him near the mountains, and wrote about towns that were mostly founded by Saxons, and it was them, along with the Hungarians, that also created POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 45 the vineyards. Suceava is given the same interpretation as the one by Simion Dascãlul, who believed that town owed its emergence to some furriers coming from Hungary32. Manuscript C of Poema polonã also provides the only considerations by Costin on the organization of towns: in towns, the voiti are called ºoltuzi, and they have the pârgari in their service, whose name is Hungarian33. W RITTEN IN a style closer to personal memories, Ion Neculce’s chro-nicle continues that of Miron Costin, taking the history of Moldavia up to the first rulers called Phanariotes. Neculce proved to have a remarkable sense of continuity, which led him to take over from where Costin stop-ped, who also continued Ureche’s chronicle. This understanding of his-tory writing shows that these scholar-boyars felt they were engaged in a common effort, and not an individual one, the writing of their country’s history, which they tried to relate to the history of the world at large. Ne-culce compensates his lack of education in Polish schools possessed by his forerunners by the experience he had gathered in a true cursus honorum of local offices, but also by the years spent in Walachia (where his uncle was stolnic Constantin Cantacuzino), as well as in Russia and Poland. All this allowed him to expand his political scope and to better understand the place Moldavia had in the area. Also, this experience reinforced his belief that Russia was the only one that could rid the coun-try of Ottoman rule34. Since we wrote only late, in the 18th century, and since he succeeded other chroniclers who had dealt with early Moldavia, Neculce focused less on this topic and much less on the emergence of towns. His only note on this matter can be found in O samã de cuvinte, where Neculce records the information which ascribes the foundation (descãlecat) of the town of Siret” to Dragoº, who had supposedly established here his seat, and built a zamcã, an earthen stronghold, and therein princely hou-ses and stone church, the church of the Holy Trinity. Dragoº’s consort was allegedly Saxon and had possibly founded the Catholic church in town35. It was also in his compilation of stories that Neculce passes on an anecdote, late and probably genuine36, regarding prince Gheorghe ªtefan. It was said that, when crossing with troops from Transylvania into Moldavia, he had commanded the ºoltuz in Roman to pay a winebarrel to a herdsman37. The towns are otherwise mentioned in the same context as with the other chroniclers, as places where rulers have their seats or where various events occur, mostly unfortunate: battles, natural disas-ters, epidemics or boyars being beheaded, with even one of the chroni-clers sharing this fate: Miron Costin38. W ask ourselves: how much historical ground do the chroniclers’ writings have? How much of what they have written is just legend, and how much historical tradition, be it popular or scholarly, relayed for generations and generations? What was the source of their inforE SHOULD 46 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) mation? Even the chroniclers confess to having sought inspiration in several places. On the one hand, they relied on external sources, useful to create a background for many of the events involving medieval Moldavia. Most are works written in the Polish or Hungarian lands, which the chroniclers were more familiar with, as they had been educated outside the coun-try, especially in the Polish environment. The main sources of chronicles also include the so-called letopiseþ unguresc (Hungarian Chronicle), chronicles in Walachia, the chronicle of Joachim Bielski, that of Martin Kromer, the Cosmography of Gerard Mercator, the Sarmatiae Europae descriptio of Alexander Guagnini (translated into Polish by Martin Paszkowski), the chronicle of Poland by Paul Piasecki, that on the history of Transylvania by L. Toppeltin, and others39. For the internal history, they could rely on court chronicles40, as well as on newer ones. Simion Dascãlul, Miron Costin and Neculce suggest that a certain Eustratie logofãtul had already written a chronicle (called Letopiseþul moldovenesc), in Romanian or Slavonic, but it did not reach modern times41. Historical tradition, transmitted orally, was a major source for chroniclers when other sources were not too helpful. The preface of the chronicle attributed to Ureche confirms this: the first writers did not find any written word […], but rather wrote from stories they heard one from the other. In the ad-dition that Simion Dascãlul is credited with, he claims that he wished to complement Ureche’s work and took some of his sources from: [...] documents in our language42, meaning the internal texts he had access to. Neculce, in O samã de cuvinte, refers us directly to the source of his historical accounts: A collection of words heard from man to man, from men old and ancient, which are not written in the chronicle, but were written here […]43. The same Neculce mentions that not all the stories (especially the ones called basne) must be frowned upon as unsubstantiated fabrications, when referring to certain accounts, such as those referring to the Poles who ploughed Dumbrava Roºie or to the origin of Movilã family name: this is why I do not believe it to be a fabrication44. For more recent events, chroniclers used the testimonies of the time, adopted from contemporaries; they were personal witnesses to some45. Those involved in elucidating the sources used by chroniclers were not too concerned with identifying or settling the authenticity of information on towns, and mainly focused on political matters. A recurring topic in the chronicles mentioned is the descãlecat or the foundation of towns and the contribution of foreigners, both Saxon and Hungarian. Miron Costin took the most decisive stance in this matter, along with Ureche, who mentions several towns, such as Baia and Suceava. This topic comes to complement ideas expressed on the emergence of Moldavia, which features, by putting together information relayed by foreign chronicles and those in local tradition, as a new country, which appeared in a deserted, and then populated place46. Archaeological research revealed that areas east of the Carpathians were indeed faced with a significant population POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 47 decrease during Mongol domination. This all changed from mid 14th century on, when this land came under Hungarian influence, and then became a distinct principality47. The deserted land of Moldavia must however be approached as those terra deserta in Transylvania or even Poland, mentioned as well in the context of colonisations and already thoroughly discussed. Beyond the Carpathians, the Saxons answered the call of the Hungarian kings and settled in areas around the future towns of Sibiu, Orãºtie, Sebeº, Sighiºoara, Mediaº, Braºov and Bistriþa. The southern parts of Transylvania are indicated as deserta in royal documents, and this was also why they had been granted to the newcomers. Romanian historiography challenged the notion of an unpopulated territory in southern Transylvania, especially since this was an area densely inhabited by Romanians, confirmed by findings and narrative sources. Various arguments as to the meaning of terra deserta were brought48, so we will not repeat what has already been said, but will present another argument that supports the existence of a Romanian population here. The argument comes from one of the neighbours, Poland. It was here, in the borderlands of Greater Poland (in Naklo, Wiele? and in the Lubusz diocese), that colonists were granted lands called deserta by documents. Piotr Górecki’s research has shown that by deserted land one did not refer to unpopulated land, but to one with poor crops and no in-come for the Church (for men of the Church, income meant tithes)49. Transylvania was inhabited by Romanians, who were Orthodox and paid no tithes to the Catholic Church, so it is easy to understand why the area mentioned above was granted to colonists who, along with the benefits they brought for the king, were also Catholic. The royal authority relied on colonists since the land inhabited by the schismatic was considered desertum, lacking any Western religious or even economic organization. Even though in the frontierland, left unpopulated to defend the kingdom’s borders (the system of indagines, gyep?), we may admit that the population had been evacuated, it is hard to believe this happened in a very wide area50. If we cross into Moldavia, we will notice that we are dealing with a territory inhabited by an Orthodox population, which is suggested by sources both before the descãlecat, and after it. Some-where south or east of the mountains (in the east, more likely), after the bishopric of Cumania was established (1227), 13th century documents mention the valahi, who have their own pseudoepiscopis, and who had Grecorum ritum51. The same Orthodox in the Moldavian area, this time after Moldavia was founded and had emerged as a principality, would strive via their leaders to officially create religious establishments in their own country, a process which was set in motion under Petru I52. This is why Dragoº and his men, representatives of the Catholic king of Hungary, in whose name they came to seize this land, met a non-Catholic population here. The recreation of the ancient Catholic bishopric of Cumania, this time called the bishopric of Milcovia (1347)53, clearly reveals that this land needed to be organized on political, demographical, 48 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) but also on urban grounds. What had previously existed here, a world at the edges of Europe, under the sway of Mongol heathens, did not meet Western stan-dards, which was much better organized in those times. Back to the foundation of towns, which is an integral part of the foundation process for the entire country (descãlecatul), we may say that it captures the state of affairs in early Moldavia. Other sources have already told us what the chroniclers confirmed as well, that Baia, Siret or Suceava are among the first urban settlements in the country. As for Baia, Simion Dascãlul indicates that he found his inspiration in a form of the so-called Letopiseþ unguresc, which did not endure to this day54. The role of Saxons in the foundation of Baia is supported by recent research55. Baia is one of the few medieval Moldavian towns where ample archaeological research was undertaken, which was not only aimed at churches of times past, but also ancient dwellings and their inventory. Unfortunately, their scope fell short of the entire surface of the old town. An analysis of the discovered dwellings led researchers to claim that we might argue for a systematic topographic outline of inhabited space. The parcellation of land is rigorous and resembles the Transylvanian one. Archaeologists had a hard time pinpointing a date when this parcellation occurred (before or after the German colonists moved in)56. What we know for a fact is that settlers took up residence here after an older pre-urban settlement was set on fire, after this territory came into the hands of the troops dispatched by the Hungarian king in mid 14th century (Dragoº?)57. It was in Poland and Hungary as well that settlers had a new land to set themselves up, while the locator, the one bringing them here, was charged with measuring and distributing the land58. In Baia, it is possible he had received land previously used by the locals and devastated after the conquest. Since the locals were not accustomed to a rigorous parcellation, the newcomers were the ones that reshaped the plots. The fact that they did apply the new layout is suggested by another detail specific to town outlines in the rest of Europe: the existence of a central marketplace59. On its sides, dwellings are more frequent than on secondary streets, indicating that the new inhabitants sought to make the most of what little space they had, since the trading venue was most proficient here60. Baia is different than other towns in the Romanian-in-habited area, where traditional local markets were open and did not follow any specific outline. Along with the marketplace, there were traces of stone-paved roads and houses with tiled stoves, only specific at that time to princely residences or towns in Central Europe or Transylvania61. Research confirms that settlers began arriving in Baia in mid 14th century, before the Principality of Moldavia finished emerging. The Hungarian king encouraged their settling east of the Carpathians for political reasons, to reinforce control over this area. We can rightfully credit him with granting the first privilege for the community here. Political reasons were compounded by economic issues. Settlers could harness the resources of the place and direct POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 49 them towards markets in Transylvania. A proof to a shift in economic focus is provided by the ceasing of trade exchanges with southern areas62. The newcomers also had special legal rights. The leader of the community could preside over very severe cases and pass capital punishments, a rare occurrence in Moldavian towns63. It was from this period that the town seal was kept, which was marked by the symbol of a decapitated stag, whose head is looking onward and is bearing Christ on a cross between the horns, St Hubert’s symbol. The legend is Latin: SIGILLUM CAPITALIS CIVITATIS MOLDAVIE TERR(A)E MOLDA-VIENSIS (The Seal of the capital city Moldavia in the Moldavian Country)64. Chroniclers seem relatively determined in their belief that Roman was built by the ruler with the same name. Some historians accept that a link existed between Roman I and this town, others deny it, but no one could express a coherent statement on how Roman could influence the town’s emergence. Under the name of Roman’s târg, the settlement is also noted by the Kiev list65. Despite Roman’s short reign, between 1391 and 1394, the years 1387 and 1396, when the list of Kiev was drafted, allow us to connect the list and the growth of Roman’s târg66. It was assumed that Roman, as Petru I’s brother, resided in the stronghold he built here prior to his reign67. Ever since 1386, dominus Roman issued a document concerning some Polish merchants robbed in Moldavia68. The two brothers were probably on good terms, since Roman is mentioned in the document whereby Wladyslaw Jagiello, king of Poland, asks Petru for a loan totalling 4000 silver roubles (1388). The king vows to return the loan and pledges the town of Halych and its land as a guarantee for Roman and his [Petru’s] children69. Roman is noted before the children, since he was already considered a follower to the throne, as he was also ruling as associate. He was preferred as a successor to the throne, at the expense of Petru’s two sons70. There have been attempts to connect the town of Roman with another Roman character, who had supposedly lived before Petru I71. This another Roman is not mentioned anywhere. Romanian historical tradition noted one single Roman for this age, the prince from 1391-1394. The adoption of the ruler’s name involves foundation or relocation on new grounds. A similar case exists in Poland, that of the town of Kazimierz, founded by king Casimir III in 133572. In many cases where no text documents the principles which underlie a town’s creation, we must seek other signs in the outline of that settlement. A few Romanian researchers (Eugenia Greceanu and Emil Ioan Emandi among them) have shown that, to a certain extent, town outlines in Moldavia and Wallachia follow principles encountered in settlements created by German colonists throughout Europe73. Their theories were disregarded. The town outline for Roman has no less than three parallel streets stemming from the main marketplace which separated the settlement and the stronghold74. The road entering town from south-west also stopped in the marketplace and the area that these streets delimited is set apart 50 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) by a very dense parcellation75. The parallel outline of streets and the existence of a regular marketplace in the centre contradict the wide-spread assumption of Romanian historians, who believe that most towns grew spontaneously by themselves. Towns without a deliberate outline grew over time, without any specific order, along the roads that entered the settlement and converged into one central point, where both the marketplace and the seat of local authority existed (the ruler’s residence). Instead, parallel streets developed as part of a planned evolution, since this type of development only partly relied on the course of older roads. These streets followed a straight line, indicating that they did not evolve by themselves, but following a precise indication of the plots that bordered them. The type of urban evolution based on two or more parallel streets, connected by a marketplace at the end can also be found in other Moldavian towns (Suceava, Iaºi), in Walachia (Câmpulung, Piteºti) or Transylvania (Sibiu, Cluj, Braºov, Bistriþa)76. The town seal provides further arguments. It has a Latin legend, an obvious indication that it was created by and for a group of Catholic settlers: + S(IGILLUM) CIVIUM DE FORO ROMANI + (+ The seal of townspeople in the târg of Roman +)77. The legend reveals that when the community was granted the right to self-representation by such an item, the settlement had not completely graduated to town status. We have already shown that Neculce tied the emergence of the town of Siret to Dragoº. This story is not present in any of the previous chronicles, neither that of Ureche, nor that of Miron Costin. Neculce did not rely on Nicolae Costin’s Letopiseþ either, even though he was his contemporary and was familiar with this chronicle. He only mentions the building of the Volovãþ church by Dragoº, without mentioning other details78. It follows that this story was the result of his creative work, drawing on oral accounts that circulated in the Siret area79. Another oral account, recorded in modern times, considered Sas, son of Dragoº, to be the one who had erected the residence and the church80. In this case, recent researches do not fully back up the information in the chronicle, but do not completely invalidate its claims. What is certain is that Catholic colonists played a major part here as well, as they were responsible for urbanizing the settlement. We do not know whether Dragoº brought the settlers or not, but when Laþcu ruled, they were here, since this ruler had negotiated the creation of a bishopric in Siret in 1371. For the Catholics, but also for the Dominican monks arriving here, Margaret, mother to Petru I, built the church of St John the Baptist. The church’s location, in the middle of the marketplace, shows the important role German settlers had in creating the town, its significance in the community being proven by St John’s presence on the seal81. This is one of the few central marketplaces in Moldavia where a church stands in its middle. Only Suceava is another instance of this, with the Armenian church of St Mary. In other towns, the church or the churches only bordered the marketplace. The German’s vast pres- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 51 ence in Siret is proven by the town’s mention in documents as an influential Catholic centre82, but also by the grey ceramic that is associated with them83. The settlers occupied the central area of the settlement, where research indicated high habitation density. The dense dwellings, their line of work and the items uncovered led archae-ologists to claim that in the latter half of the 14th century the settlement had the features of an urban centre84. In Suceava, archaeological excavations indicate a substantial growth of the inhabited space for the end of the 14th century, which is apparently owed to the arrival of a group of foreigners. On a timeline, their arrival coincides with this town becoming a capital for the country under Petru I, who also built two strongholds near the town. We can easily identify the place where the Armenian community dwelled, in the north-west quarter of the town. Since they were mostly merchants, the Armenians had the marketplace as their landmark. However, we cannot accurately locate where Saxons and Hungarians settled, since no Catholic church of the time has survived to this day. The fine grey ceramic, which is attributed to Germans, was found all over town, and in the neighbouring stronghold of ªcheia as well85. Previous researchers believed their presence here can only be related to the construction work on the ruler’s palace and two nearby strongholds, but an expansion in the scope of items uncovered shows we are dealing with simple tradesmen and artisans86. A approach to the Catholic community in Suceava only becomes more intricate if we were to admit they built a Catholic church near the palace of the prince. A short distance from it, the church, relatively large, does give rise to certain dilemmas. The ruler would not have allowed any such construction to be built without setting up or allowing Catholics to settle in there, since the church catered to their spiritual needs and not to the Catholic entourage of the ruler, as it was claimed87. The palace also had within it (in the garden), its own Catholic church, whose inception stage is not however known88. To further complicate things, it was recently asserted that the church discovered near the palace actually housed an Orthodox monastery, dated 139589. The identity of this building is still disputed, since it had a pair of towers by its facade, towers which are not a feature in Orthodox buildings. This church, whether Catholic or not, vanished at the beginning of the 15th century. Further north, a new Catholic church emerged90. Modern outlines confirm the existence of a central, trapezium-shaped marketplace in Suceava, which was later broken down into two sub-markets. Urbanistic research by Emil Ioan Emandi showed that the initial outline and surface for this marketplace were of around 20 hectares, while the town had around 100 hectares in the Middle Ages91. The marketplace also relied on the Saxons and Hungarians settling in at the end of the 14th century, on the north-east side, and of the Armenians, on the north-west. The relatively regulated features of the area, as well as the two parallel streets that developed at its end indicate a certain par- 52 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) cellation of the land. Later outlines confirm a high density in plots, which were rectangular in shape. As with other towns, the narrow side of the plot, facing the street, had the houses aligned contiguously92. This judicious land use is backed up by archaeological research, which located the cellars beneath the medieval houses93. To conclude, in Suceava, the grounds for this town’s emergence involved two separate groups, the Catholics (Saxons/ Hungarians) and the Armenians, who could only settle in the mar-ketplace and near the ruler’s palace with his consent and support. All this supports the significant role played by foreign settlers in urbanizing Suceava. The interpretation regarding the Hungarian name of Suceava is encountered both in Miron Costin’s work, and in that of Simion Dascãlul, and even though the former was aware of the latter’s contributions94, it may stem in an explanatory legend that circulated at the time, without being actually invented by one of the chroniclers. The so-called Transylvanian origin of Simion Dascãlul95 was supposedly the cause of this information, even though linguistic research on the Simion’s language in the chronicle does not support this theory96. In Hungarian, szðcs indeed meant furrier and since a sizeable Catholic community, with its own church, had lived in Suceava up to mid-16th century, the legend probably connected it with previous historical facts. It was still on the subject of Suceava that Grigore Ureche mentions the building of the St Demetrius church by Stephen the Great in the târg, to celebrate the victory in Codrul Cosminului (where he had called for St Demetrius’ help)97. Even though archaeologists claimed this place of wor-ship actually belonged to Peter Rareº98, part of the historians also take into consideration the theory of this church being first built by Stephen99. T HE ENVIRONMENT of former colonists arriving into Moldavia also ties in with other traditions, that chroniclers combined with accounts extracted from foreign chronicles. The legend of the Roman robbers, combined with the battles against the Mongols waged by St Ladislas, inserted by Simion Dascãlul, were supposedly based on the same Hungarian chronicle mentioned above. Petre P. Panaitescu supports the theory that it existed100, while I.C. Chiþimia, Dumitru Velciu and others believe Simion Dascãlul had never laid eyes on any such work101. Along with possible sources in the Polish environment (for the story of the robbers), we cannot rule out a possible influence from a version of the Moldavian Russian Chronicle102, that Simion may have had access to103. As for St Ladislas’ battles against the Mongols, he may have added information from other sour-ces in the Catholic Hungarian environment of Moldavia104. Towns here had, until mid-16th century, major Hungarian communities (especially in the Lower Country), where St Ladislas was also worshipped, a widespread practice in the Hungarian environment. A significant detail is that the seal from POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 53 the modern period of the Catholic community in Bârlad allegedly had the image of St Ladislas kneeling and looking at Virgin Mary, seated on a cloud105. We are not aware of how old this seal was, but it is the presence of St Ladislas that gives rise to a dilemma. We would have considered this seal to be of recent date if Marco Bandini, when mentio-ning the earthen stronghold near Bârlad, would not have recorded another local account, which included Ladislas: […] two stadia away from the market town, there lay the ruins of a Mongol fortress, on the shore of the Bârlad [river], where the Mongols had defended when king Ladislas pursued the Scythians victoriously around 1236. This is one of the two occurrences when St Ladislas is mentioned in Bandini’s Codex106. Coincidentally, Simion Dascãlul’s fabrications, those connecting the colonization of Maramureº by Roman robbers and the battles against the Mongols to the same Ladislas were recorded at the same time as Bandini travels through Moldavia107. St Ladislas’ worship had reached full flight in the 14th century, and he was worshipped because he had battled the heathen, in a time when new battles were waged, this time with other pagans, the Mongols; from Hungary, through settlers, this cult reached Moldavia108. It was no accident that I.C. Chiþimia saw this legend, as well as that of Iaþco the beekeeper, as grounded in popular tradition109. Previously, Petre P. Panaitescu, following Onciul’s line110, accepted a pos-sible scholarly origin from Hungary, without taking into account the fact that Hungarians crossing into Moldavia could have perpetuated the legend as part of the cult of St Ladislas, writing into it information which had to do with their own tradition and which regarded Hungarian campaigns against the Mongols in mid-14th century. Even though it was placed against an inappropriate historical background and was adopted inadequately by chroniclers, this information can be a starting point towards the emergence of Hungarian communities in Moldavia, an emergence which is also related to the emergence of towns. Other details in chronicles regarding towns are probably founded on real fact, even though time left its traces, and some further additions distanced them from the original corpus of information. The extensive work undertaken by Stephen the Great in Iaºi was misinterpreted later on by chroniclers, who attributed to him the foundation (descãlecat) of the târg, even though the town had already existed for a century111. If this information were not be a fabrication, as those ascribed to Simion Dascãlul or Misail Cãlugãrul, it could lead to a possible confirmation by Stephen of the old town privilege, as he had done in Vaslui and Bârlad112. The statement which credits voivode Iuga with the foundation of towns, villages, and ocoale must have also had its grounds. The author of the interpolation adopted the account which claimed that one of the first Moldavian rulers had played an important part in the development of the country at 54 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) one point. Since this ruler could not have been Iuga, who only ruled for approximately one year, it was another ruler who had partly been the drive behind this process. Two rulers fit this profile: Peter I (chronicles do not provide too much information on him) and Alexander the Good. They both had longer reigns, and both were tactful in their internal and external policies; in their time, the country began to push forward and to develop. The fact that, when it describes Alexander the Good’s reign, Misail Cãlugãrul provides a lot of information on the administrative and clerical organization of the country could hint at Alexandru. On the other hand, Peter I is the one who erected several strongholds, and also contributed greatly in the development of Suceava and Siret113. The presence of the Genovese in chronicles as the founders of strongholds can be explained by the significant part they played in the 14th-15th centuries in some of Moldavia’s oldest towns, Cetatea Albã and Chilia. After 1261, the Mongols allowed the Genovese to set up in their lands in Crimea (at Caffa and Sugdaia), then in Cetatea Albã. In the latter, the Genovese are first mentioned in 1290114. Cetatea Albã develops from mid 14th century on and the modification of the main path in the “Mongol route,” which already crossed Moldavia in c. 1380, contributed to the town’s emergence. After a final Mongol episode115, Cetatea Albã enters the dominion of Moldavian princes (c. 1377-1378) 116 which were mainly interested in owning the fortress, but also the customs point, which brought significant income117. On the mouth of the Danube, Kilia was at an even greater advantage, thanks to the same Genovese merchants. A settlement with probable Byzantine origins existed here at least since the 13th century, and was mentioned in the 1241 invasion118. Recent research claims that two settlements existed by the Danube, at Kilia: a Byzantine stronghold, called Licostomo, on an island where the Kilia branch flowed into the sea, and another, Kilia, further within, on the waterway. The precise location of the two is still debated119. Kilia owes its ascent to the decline of its rival town, Vicina, whose commerce was dealt a heavy blow after the Genovese-Byzantine war of 1351-1352. Afterwards, the Byzantines lost their foothold on the Lower Danube, and Kilia entered Genovese control120. Notary Antonio di Ponzò’s 1360-1361 records show the town to have had a very active trade, with a wealthy and highly mobile Genovese colony121. In one single century, Kilia went through various reigns: Wallachia, Moldavia, and Hungary122. From 1465 until 1484, the town, and the stronghold itself, rebuilt on the other bank of the Danube by ªtefan the Great (1479) belonged to Moldavia123. As was the case of Cetatea Albã, it is assumed that the townspeople of Kilia enjoyed autonomy. Essentially, these harbours by the sea emerged on Byzantine foundations, with Genovese contributions and in a climate ensured by Mongol domination. The impact that these towns had on other Moldavian urban centres was mostly economic, and it affected trade before anything else. The rulers had political and military interests here, namely special strategic POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 55 positions and bringing supplementary income in the treasury. The two towns were not long under Moldavian rule. Moldavian rulers held Cetatea Albã for around one hundred years, while Kilia was in this situation for only three decades. The Genovese were then a major factor in urbanizing towns by the Danube and Dniester deltas, as well as in erecting fortresses here. Even so, chroniclers overstated the importance of these sailing merchants, since they had a minor role within the country, with economic, rather than military contributions. We must not, however, rule out completely the contribution of Italian builders in the construction of the fortresses at Hotin, Suceava or Neamþ, without it being documented by sources. The construction type falls into a pattern used at that time in Poland124, and architects have identified some wall fragments which would support the theory that specialists from the Polish-Baltic areas participated in the works125. Whereas relatively frequent mention is made to towns in chronicles, especially to large urban centres, where the main events unfolded, the townspeople do not enjoy the same popularity. With the exception of several anecdotic accounts (Neculce), the townspeople seem to weigh little in the affairs of Medieval Moldavian society. Other categories, such as the peasants, do not receive better treatment126. Even though the chronicles were limited in their perception of social aspects, the townspeo-ple were indeed secondary in social, demographic or economic matters. They were few in number, and, even if some are wealthy and influential127, their power was no match to that of the boyars. The inconsistent policies of the rulers, as well as the destructions they suffered (pillaging, fires, earthquakes) prevented towns from reaching the prominence that similar settlements in Western Europe had. The attitude that chroniclers had towards towns was influenced by their origin and background. They were all boyars, and some, like Ureche, was a descendant of the old boyars of Moldavia. Based on documents preserved, those conducting research on his family, especially ªtefan S. Gorovei and Dumitru Velciu, state that the oldest certain traces revealing the age of the Ureche male line reach Stephen the Great. Boyars named Ureche are also present in Alexander the Good’s council, but they could not be directly associated with the future Ureche family. Instead, a connection appeared on the female line, so the roots of the family could even reach the first rulers of the country128. We cannot rule out that some of the information adopted in the chronicle (initially by Ureche and then by Simion Dascãlul), which cannot be explained by written sources, had their source in the oral accounts kept, in the scholar’s family, or in other boyar families129. Their members displayed an awareness of their belonging to a special category of people, the elite of the country, so we may consider them as true ‘repositories’ of historical information. This is why accounts preserved orally (but also in writing, indirectly, via property documents) in old boyar 56 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) families could play a major role in transmitting historically-significant information over time. M confirmed a large part of the chroniclers’ statements, and even those of the interpolators, and this reinforces the historical value of the information on the emergence of Moldavia and of its towns. Some of these statements are certainly not derived from written sources used by chroniclers, but from local historical tradition. We should also reconsider the role of interpolators, since not all their interferences with the text compromised the original chronicles, and not all introduced false information. Some even came to complement the chronicle, even though they did not match the style and the clarity of the original. Of course, we can criticize the chronicles and their authors for the inaccuracy of their information, especially when it comes to the early days of the country. However, in our desire to make up for the lack of solid historical sources, we would be asking too much of them. Their authors did not intend to provide us with a historical source, but with their own view on the history of their country, a view which could only be biased130. The fact that they turned into a historical source has to do with a later approach, when historical research matured and, using the chronicles, proposed several historical theories regarding events of the past. Chroniclers were the historians of their time, and, despite their serious limitations, must be judged as such. ODERN RESEARCH Notes 1. N.A. Ursu, ‘Letopiseþul Þãrii Moldovei pânã la Aron Vodã. Opera lui Simion Dascãlul’ [The Chronicle of the Land of Moldavia up to Voivode Aron: The Work of Simion Dascãlul] (I-II), AIIAI, XXVI (1989), pp. 363-379; [AIIX] XVII (1990), pp. 73-101 (namely the conclusions: pp. 94-101). 2. Ureche seems to have had Eustratie logofãtul (chancellor) as his forerunner, whose work was, however, lost (Letopiseþul Þãrii Moldovei [The Chronicle of the Land of Moldavia] edited by P.P. Panaitescu (Bucharest, 1958), pp. 24-25, 39-40). Even though the existence of Eustratie was also challenged, the fact he is referenced so often by various chroniclers leads us to believe that the person and his work were real. 3. Dumitru Velciu, Grigore Ureche (Bucharest, 1979), pp. 190-191. 4. Ureche, Letopiseþul, p. 73 (see Panaitescu’s considerations at p. 29). 5. Ibid., p. 71. 6. Ibid., p. 73. POWER, BELIEF 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. AND IDENTITY • 57 Ursu, ‘Letopiseþul Þãrii Moldovei’ (II), pp. 95-96. Ureche, Letopiseþul, p. 75. Ibid., p. 103. Velciu, Grigore Ureche, p. 270. Ureche, Letopiseþul, p. 108. Ibid., p. 78. Ibid., pp. 116-117, 136, 140, 152. Cronicile slavo-române din sec. XV-XVI publicate de Ioan Bogdan [The Slavic-Romanian Chronicles from the 15th-16th Centuries published by Ioan Bogdan], edited by P. P. Panaitescu (Bucharest, 1959), pp. 11-12, 20-21, 78, 91. Nicolae Cartojan, Istoria literaturii române vechi [The History of the Old Romanian Literature,] editors Rodica Rotaru, Andrei Rusu (Bucharest, 1996), p. 286. Miron Costin, De neamul Moldovenilor [On the <Origins of the> Moldavians], in Idem, Opere [Works], edited P. P. Panaitescu (Bucharest, 1958) p. 241. This edition also includes Letopiseþul Þãrii Moldovei [The Chronicle of Moldavia], Cronica polonã [The Polish Chroncle], Poema polonã [The Polish <Epic> Poem]. According to Dan Zamfirescu (Contribuþii la istoria literaturii române vechi [Contributions to the History of the Old Romanian Literature] (Bucharest, 1981), p. 117), Miron Costin, by his Cronica polonã, opens the way to the diplomacy of culture, conducted by the means of journals which would inform foreigners on the country, the land, the history of the Romanians. Costin, Letopiseþul, pp. 47-50; Idem, Cronica, pp. 202-209, 215, 217. Ureche, Letopiseþul, p. 67. Costin, Poema, p. 220. Costin, De neamul Moldovenilor, pp. 242-243, 247, 260. Neculce (Opere. Letopiseþul Þãrii Moldovei ºi O samã de cuvinte [Works. The Chronicle of the Land of Moldavia and A Sum of Words], edited by Gabriel ªtrempel (Bucharest, 1982), p. 158) also takes a similar stance in the preface to his chronicle. He studied in Bar, Podolia (Costin, Opere, pp. 7-9). D. Velciu, Miron Costin. Interpretãri ºi comentarii [Miron Costin: Interpretations and Comments] (Bucharest, 1973), pp. 58, 119-122. Costin, Cronica, pp. 205-206; Idem, Poema, pp. 222-223; Idem, De neamul moldovenilor, pp. 265-266. Dimitrie Cantemir, Descrierea stãrii de odinioarã ºi de astãzi a Moldovei [The Description of the Ancient and of the Present State of Moldavia], II, edited by Dan Sluºanschi, Valentina Eºanu, Andrei Eºanu (Bucharest, 2007), p. 156; Costin, De neamul Moldovenilor, p. 266; I. Bogdan, Documentele lui ªtefan cel Mare [The Documents of Stephen the Great], II (Bucharest, 1913), no. 139, p. 311. For the location of Crãciuna, see Constantin Cihodaru, ‘Cu privire la localizarea unor evenimente din istoria Moldovei: Hindãu, Direptate, Crãciuna ºi Roºcani‘ [On the Location of certain Events in the History of Moldavia: Hindãu, Direptate, Crãciuna and Roºcani], AIIAI, XXIX (1982), pp. 629-631. Costin, Cronica, p. 205. 58 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. Costin, Cronica, pp. 216-217; Idem, Poema (version C), pp. 390-391. Ureche, Letopiseþul, pp. 68-69. Costin, Poema, p. 228. Ibid., p. 235. Ibid., pp. 232-233; see also Adolf Armbruster, Dacoromano-Saxonica. Cronicari români despre saºi. Români în cronica sãseascã [Romanian Chroniclers on the Saxons. The Romanian in Saxon Chronicles] (Bucharest, 1980), p. 162. Costin, Poema (version C), p. 391. I. Neculce, Letopisetul Þãrii Moldovei ºi O samã de cuvinte The Chronicle of the Land of Moldavia and A Sum of Words], edited by Iorgu. Iordan (Bucharest, 1956), pp. 12-13; D. Velciu, Ion Neculce (Bucharest, 1968), pp. 159-160. This account is not included in the above-quoted edition Iordan. It was found in mss. 254, f. 177 and included in edition ªtrempel, pp. 161-162. Constantin C. Giurescu, ‘Valoarea istoricã a tradiþiilor consemnate de Ion Neculce‘ [The Historical Value of the Traditions recorded by Ion Neculce], in Studii de folclor ºi literaturã [Studies in Folklore and Literature], edited by H.H. Stahl et al. (Bucharest, 1967), p. 471. Neculce, Opere, p. 183. Miron Costin was killed at Roman in 1691, by order of Constantin Cantemir (Velciu, Miron Costin, pp. 117-119). P.P. Panaitescu, Influenþa polonã în opera ºi personalitatea cronicarilor Grigore Ureche ºi Miron Costin [The Polish Influences on the Work and Characters of the Chroniclers Grigore Neculce and Miron Costin] (Bucharest, 1925), pp. 20-37, 83-106; Ureche, Letopiseþul, pp. 36-47; Costin, Opere, pp. 30-31; Velciu, Grigore Ureche, pp. 271-305. Published in Cronicile slavo-române. Ureche, Letopiseþul, pp. 24-25, 39-40; Panaitescu, Influenþa polonã, pp. 53-57. References in chronicles: Costin, Poema, p. 220; Idem, De neamul moldovenilor, pp. 242-243, 260-261; Neculce, Opere, pp. 157-158. Velciu (Grigore Ureche, pp. 237-242) disputes the existence of this chronicle too. Ureche, Letopiseþul, pp. 64-65. Neculce, Opere, p. 161. Ibid., p. 158. Costin, Letopiseþul, p. 166; Velciu, Grigore Ureche, pp. 305-307. Ureche, Letopiseþul, pp. 66-71; Costin, Poema, pp. 229-233. See also Cronicile slavoromâne, p. 156, 160. Nicolae Zaharia, Mircea Petrescu-Dîmboviþa, Emanoil Zaharia, Aºezãri din Moldova de la paleolitic pânã în secolul al XVIII-lea [Settlements in Moldavia from the Paleolithic to the 18th Century] (Bucharest, 1970), pp. 141-143, 148. ªtefan Pascu, Voievodatul Transilvaniei [The Voivodate of Transylvania], I (Cluj, 19722), pp. 126-128; Thomas Nägler, Aºezarea saºilor în Transilvania [The Settlement of the Saxons in Transylvania] (Bucharest, 1981), pp. 149-154. Piotr Górecki, Economy, Society, and Lordship in Medieval Poland, 1100-1250 (New York-London, 1992), pp. 273-275. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 59 50. Pál Engel, The Realm of St Stephen. A History of Medieval Hungary, 895-1526 (London, 2001), pp. 73-74; Nägler, Aºezarea saºilor, p. 143; 51. Eudoxiu de Hurmuzaki, Documente privitoare la istoria românilor [Documents regarding the History of the Romanians], I-1, edited by Nicolae Densuºianu (Bucharest, 1887), no. 83, p. 108 (Hurmuzaki); Documenta Romaniae Historica, D, Relaþii între Þãrile Române [Relations between the Romanian Countries], I, edited by ªt. Pascu et al. (Bucharest, 1977), no. 9, p. 20 (DRH, D). 52. ªtefan S. Gorovei, Întemeierea Moldovei. Probleme controversate [The Foundation of Moldavia. Controversial Problems] (Iaºi, 1997), pp. 174-196. 53. DRH, D, I, no. 34, p. 63. The issue of reactivating the former bishopric of Cumania was debated ever since 1332 (ibid., no. 22, p. 45). 54. Cronici slavo-române, pp. 156, 160; Ureche, Letopiseþul, pp. 46, 71. 55. Details in L. Rãdvan, At Europe’s Borders: Medieval Towns in the Romanian Principalities (Leiden, 2010), pp. 458-465. 56. Eugenia Neamþu, Vasile Neamþu, Stela Cheptea, Oraºul medieval Baia în secolele XIV-XVII [The Medieval Town Baia in the 14th-17th Centuries], II (Iaºi, 1984), pp. 40-42, 46-47. 57. Ibid., I (Iaºi, 1980), p. 22; II, p. 16. 58. Heinz Quirin, ‘The Colonial Town as Seen in the Documents of East German Settlement‘, in The Comparative History of Urban Origins in Non-Roman Europe: Ireland, Wales, Denmark, Germany, Poland and Russia from the Ninth to the Thirteenth Century, II (=BAR, International Series, CCLV), edited by H.B. Clarke, Anngret Simms (Oxford, 1985), pp. 509-510. 59. AIR, I (1865), 2, no. 290, p. 21 60. V. Neamþu, Istoria oraºului medieval Baia (Civitas Moldaviensis) [The History of the Medieval Town Baia] (Iaºi, 1997), pp. 118-119, 153-154; Oraºul medieval Baia, I, p. 156; II, p. 42; 61. Oraºul medieval Baia, I, pp. 36-37; 128-139; II, pp. 45-46. 62. Ibid., I, pp. 101-102; II, p. 245. 63. Teodor Bãlan, Documente bucovinene [Documents from the Bukovina], II (Cernãuþi, 1934), no. 87, pp. 163-164. 64. Al. Lapedatu, ‘Antichitãþile de la Baia’ [Antiquities from Baia], BCMI, II (1909), p. 64; Emil Vîrtosu, ‘Din sigilografia Moldovei ºi Þãrii Româneºti’ [From the Sigillography of Moldavia and Walachia], in Documente privind istoria României, Introducere [Documents regarding the History of Romania. Introduction], II (Bucharest, 1956), pp. 461-465; ªt.S. Gorovei, ‘Am pus pecetea oraºului’ [We put the Seal of the City], MI, XII (1978), 2, p. 36. 65. Novgorodskaia pervaia letopisi starºego i mladºego izvodov, edited by A.N. Nasonov, M.N. Tihomirov (Moscow, 1950), p. 475. 66. Alexandru Andronic, ‘Oraºe moldoveneºti în secolul al XIV-lea în lumina celor mai vechi izvoare ruseºti’ [The Moldavian Towns in the 14th Century in the Light of the Oldest Russian Sources], RSL, XI (1965), pp. 205-210; Tezaurul toponimic al României. Moldova [Romania’s Toponimic Thesaurus], I-4, edited Dragoº Moldovanu (Iaºi, 2005), pp. XXXIII-XXXV (‘Toponimia Moldovei în cartografia europeanã 60 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. veche (cca. 1395-1789)’ [Moldavia’s Toponomy in the Old European Cartography (c. 1395-1789)]). Constantin Rezachevici, Cronologia criticã a domnilor din Þara Româneascã ºi Moldova. a. 1324-1881 [The Critic Chronology of the Rulers of Walachia and Moldavia (a. 1324-1881)], I (Bucharest, 2001), pp. 456-457. P.P. Panaitescu, Mircea cel Bãtrân [Mircea the Old], edited by Gheorghe Lazãr (Bucharest, 2000), pp. 284-285; ªt.S. Gorovei, Muºatinii [The Muºat Family] (Bucharest, 1976), p. 31. Mihai Costãchescu, Documentele moldoveneºti înainte de ªtefan cel Mare [Moldavian Documents prior to Stephen the Great], II (Iaºi, 1932), no. 164, p. 605. ªt.S. Gorovei, Dragoº ºi Bogdan, întemeietorii Moldovei [Dragoº and Bogdan, the Founders of Moldavia] (Bucharest, 1973), pp 154-156; Matei Cazacu, ‘Lucius Apronianus = Roman Ier, prince de Moldavie? À propos de l’expedition polonaise de 1359 en Moldavie et de son écho en Pologne au XVe siècle’, BBRF, VIII (1980-1981), pp. 257-272. ªt.S. Gorovei, ‘Istoria în palimpsest: Moldova dinainte de Moldova’ [Hidden History: Moldavia before Moldavia], RI, NS, VI (1995), 1-2, p. 172; Idem, Întemeierea Moldovei, pp. 43-44. Paul W. Knoll, ‘The Urban Development of Medieval Poland, with Particular Reference to Kraków‘, in Urban Society of Eastern Europe, edited by Bariša Krekic (Berkeley, 1987), p. 104. Eugenia Greceanu, ‘La structure urbaine médiévale de la ville de Roman‘, RRH, XV (1976), 1, pp. 39-56; Eadem, Ansamblul urban medieval Piteºti [The Medieval Complex Piteºti] (Bucharest, 1982); Emil Ioan Emandi, Habitatul urban ºi cultura spaþiului. Studiu de geografie istoricã. Suceava în secolele XIV-XX [Urban Habitat and the Culture of Space: Study of Historical Geography. Suceava in the 14th-20th Centuries] (Iaºi, 1996), pp. 263-268, 294-301; Teodor Octavian Gheorghiu, ‘Suceava medievalã – genezã ºi evoluþie pânã în prima parte a secolului al XVI-lea. Elemente morfo-structurale’ [Medieval Suceava: Genesis and Evolution until the Middle of the 16th Century: Morpho-Structural Elements], HU, XII (2004), 1-2, pp. 8182. Cãlãtori strãini despre Þãrile Române [Foreign Travellers on the Romanian Countries], II, edited by Maria Holban et. al (Bucharest, 1970), p. 139. Greceanu, ‘La structure urbaine‘, pp. 41-53. Paul Niedermaier, ‘Dezvoltarea urbanisticã ºi arhitectonicã a unor oraºe transilvãnene din sec. al XII-lea pânã în sec. al XVI-lea’ [The Urban and Architectural Development of Certain Transylvanian Towns. 12th-16th Centuries], in Studii de istorie a naþionalitãþii germane ºi a înfrãþirii ei cu naþiunea românã [Studies on the History of the German Nationality and on her Fraternisation with the Romanian Nationality], I, edited by Lajos Bányai (Bucharest, 1976), pp. 143-144. Vîrtosu, ‘Din sigilografia‘, pp. 475-476. Nicolae Costin, Letopiseþul Þãrii Moldovei [The Chronicle of the Land of Moldavia] edited by Constantin A. Stoide, Ioan Lãzãrescu (Iaºi, 1976), pp. 74-75. Giurescu, ‘Valoarea istoricã‘, p. 443, 476; Velciu, Ion Neculce, pp. 162-163, 167-169. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 61 80. Simeon Reli, Oraºul Siret în vremuri de demult [The City of Siret in Ancient Times] (Cernãuþi, 1927), pp. 20-23, 94. 81. DRH, A, Moldova [Moldavia], I, edited by C. Cihodaru et al (Bucharest, 1975), no. 1, p. 1; Vîrtosu, ‘Din sigilografia‘, pp. 476-477. 82. Hurmuzaki, I-2, edited by N. Densuºianu (Bucharest, 1890), no. 131, p. 168. 83. Mircea D. Matei, ‘Câteva consideraþii pe marginea începuturilor oraºului Siret, în lumina celor mai recente descoperiri arheologice’ [Some Considerations on the Beginnings of the City of Suceava in the Light of the Most Recent Archaeological Discoveries], RM, XVII (1986), 2, pp. 21-23. 84. Ibid., pp. 20-25. 85. Paraschiva-Victoria Batariuc, ‘Din nou despre ceramica cenuºie de la Suceava’ [Again on the Dark Ceramics from Suceava], AM, XXV (2002), pp. 220-232. 86. Gheorghe Diaconu, Nicolae Constantinescu, Cetatea ªcheia. Monografie arheologicã [The Fortress of ªcheia. Archaeological Monograph] (Bucharest, 1960), pp. 7282; M.D. Matei, Contribuþii arheologice la istoria oraºului Suceava [Archaeological Contributions to the History of the City of Suceava] (Bucharest, 1963), pp. 4857, 131-151; Batariuc, ‘Din nou despre ceramica‘, p. 232. 87. M.D. Matei, Civilizaþie urbanã medievalã româneascã. Contribuþii (Suceava pânã la mijlocul secolului al XVI-lea) [Romanian Medieval Urban Civilization: Contributions. Suceava until the Middle of the 18th Century] (Bucharest, 1989), pp. 59-60. 88. Cãlãtori strãini, V, edited by M. Holban et. al (Bucharest, 1973), pp. 25, 182. 89. Hurmuzaki, XIV-1, edited by Nicolae Iorga (Bucharest, 1915), no. 41, p. 18; Petre ª. Nãsturel, ‘D’un document byzantin de 1395 et de quelques monastères roumains’, TM, VIII (1981), pp. 345-351. 90. Cãlãtori strãini, V, pp. 181-182. Gh. Diaconu, ‘Contribuþii la cunoaºterea culturii medievale de la Suceava în veacurile XV-XVI’ [Contributions to the Study of the Medieval Culture in Suceava. 15th-16th Centuries], MCA, 6 (1959), pp. 913-923. 91. Emandi, Habitatul urban, pp. 299-300. 92. Atlas istoric al oraºelor din România/ Städtegeschichteatlas Rumäniens, A, Moldova/ Moldau, fasc. 1, Suceava, edited by M.D. Matei (Bucharest, 2005), maps V-VII; Emandi, Habitatul urban, pp. 263-268. 93. Gh. Diaconu, ‘Observaþii cu privire la urmele vechiului târg al Sucevei în vremea marilor asedii otomane ºi polone din veacul al XV-lea’ [Observations on the Traces of the Old Market of Suceava during the Great Ottoman and Polish Sieges of the 15th Century], SMIM, I (1956), pp. 267-274; M.D. Matei, E.I. Emandi, Cetatea de scaun ºi curtea domneascã din Suceava [The Residence Fortress and the Princely Court of Suceava] (Bucharest, 1988), pp. 158-162. 94. Costin, De neamul moldovenilor, p. 242-243. 95. Cartojan, Istoria literaturii române vechi, p. 253. 96. Velciu, Grigore Ureche, pp. 199-203. 97. Ureche, Letopiseþul, p. 103, 115. 98. M.D. Matei, Alexandru Rãdulescu, Al. Artimon, ‘Bisericile de piatrã de la Sf. Dumitru din Suceava’ [The Stone Churches from St. Demetrius in Suceava], SCIV, XX (1969), 4, pp. 547-548; Matei, Civilizaþie urbanã medievalã româneascã, pp. 154-156. 62 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 99. P.-V. Batariuc, ‘Biserici dispãrute la Suceava’ [Lost Churches from Suceava], HU, XV (2007), pp. 181-183. 100. Ureche, Letopiseþul, pp. 46-47. 101. Ioan C. Chiþimia, Probleme de bazã ale literaturii române vechi [Fundamental Problems of the Old Romanian Literature] (Bucharest, 1972), pp. 253-260; Velciu, Grigore Ureche, pp. 226-237. 102. Cronicile slavo-române, pp. 154-160. 103. Gheorghe I. Brãtianu, Tradiþia istoricã despre întemeierea statelor româneºti [The Historic Tradition on the Foundation of the Romanian States], edited by Valeriu Râpeanu (Bucharest, 1980), pp. 155-156; Panaitescu, Influenþa polonã, pp. 35-37; Brãtianu (Tradiþia istoricã, p. 166) sees in this king Laslãu (“craiul Laslãu) a synthesis of several historical figures: St. Ladislas, king of Hungary, voivode Ladislas of Transylvania and Ladislas IV the Cuman, king of Hungary. 104. See also Cartojan, Istoria literaturii române vechi, pp. 252-253. 105. Iosif Gabor, Dicþionarul comunitãþilor catolice din Moldova [The Dictionary of the Catholic Communities in Moldavia] (Bacãu, 1996), p. 44. 106. Marco Bandini, Codex. Vizitarea generalã a tuturor bisericilor catolice de rit roman din Provincia Moldova, 1646-1648 [Codex. The General Visitation of All Roman Rite Catholic Churches in the Province of Moldavia. 1646-1648], edited by Traian Diaconescu (Iaºi, 2006), pp. 104-106. Bandini also relates that pieces of St Ladislaus’s relics were embedded on a cross in the Catholic church of Hârlãu (Ibid., p. 232). 107. Ureche, Letopiseþul, pp. 68-69. 108. Details in Gábor Klaniczay, Holy Rulers and Blessed Princesses: Dynastic Cults in Medieval Central Europe (Cambridge, 2002), pp. 173-194, 361. 109. Chiþimia, Probleme de bazã, pp. 257-260. 110. Dimitrie Onciul, Originile principatelor române [The Origins of the Romanian Principalities] (Bucharest, 1899), pp. 96-99; Panaitescu, Influenþa polonã, p. 36, note 1; see Klaniczay, Holy Rulers, p. 189, and the legend of St Ladislas’ divine intervention in favour of the Hungarians and the Szeklers who fought with the Mongols around 1345. 111. Ureche, Letopiseþul, p. 103. 112. DRH, A, III, edited by Leon ªimanschi et al. (Bucharest, 1984), no. 96, p. 188; no. 151, p. 279. 113. Rãdvan, At Europe’s Borders, p. 531, 536. 114. Gh. I. Brãtianu, Recherches sur Vicina et Cetatea Albã (Bucharest, 1935), p. 102; no. 40, p. 176; Virgil Ciocîltan, Mongolii ºi Marea Neagrã în secolele XIII-XIV. Contribuþia Cinghizanizilor la transformarea bazinului pontic în placã turnantã a comerþului euro-asiatic [The Mongols and the Black Sea in the13th-14th Centuries: The Contribution of Genghis Khan’s Heirs to the Transformation of the Pontic Basin into the Turntable of Euro-Asiatic Trade] (Bucharest, 1998), pp. 22-31, 129-144. 115. Gh.I. Brãtianu, ‘Demetrius Princeps Tartatorum (Ca. 1360-1380)‘, RER, IX-X (1965), pp. 42-46. 116. Gorovei, Întemeierea Moldovei, pp. 200-210. See also Victor Spinei, Moldova în secolele XI-XIV (Chiºinãu, 19942), pp. 382-385; ªerban Papacostea, Geneza statu- POWER, BELIEF 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. AND IDENTITY • 63 lui în evul mediu românesc. Studii critice [The Genesis of the Sate in the Romanian Middle Ages. Critic Studies] (Bucharest, 19992), p. 118 Documentele moldoveneºti, II, no. 176, p. 630. Aurel Decei, ‘L’invasion des tatars de 1241/1242 dans nos régions selon la Djami ot-Tevarikh de Fäzl ol-Lah Räsid od-Din’, RRH, XII (1973), 1, pp. 120-121. Octavian Iliescu, ‘Localizarea vechiului Licostomo’ [The Location of the Ancient Licostomo], Studii, XXV (1972), 3, pp. 452-453. ª. Papacostea, ‘De Vicina à Kilia. Byzantins et Génois aux bouches du Danube au XIVe siècle’, RESEE, XVI (1978), 1, pp. 69-78. Published by Geo Pistarino in Notai Genovesi in Oltremare: atti rogati a Chilia da Antonio di Ponzò (1360-1361) (Genoa, 1971). C.C. Giurescu, Târguri sau oraºe ºi cetãþi moldovene din secolul al X-lea pânã la mijlocul secolului al XVI-lea [Towns or Cities and Fortresses. 10th Century-Mid 16th Century] (Bucharest, 19972), p. 221; P.P. Panaitescu, ‘Legãturile moldo-polone în secolul XV ºi problema Chiliei’ [Moldavian-Polish Relation in the 15th Century and the Problem of Chilia], RSL, III (1958), pp. 98-102; Idem, Mircea cel Bãtrân, pp. 361-362; ªtefan Andreescu, Din istoria Mãrii Negre (genovezi, români ºi tãtari în spaþiul pontic în secolele XIV-XVII) [From the History of the Black-Sea: Genovese, Romanians and Tartars in the Pontic Space in the 14th-17th Centuries] (Bucharest, 2001), pp. 39-42, 46-48. Cronicile slavo-române, p. 34. Adrian Andrei Rusu, Castelarea carpaticã. Fortificaþii ºi cetãþi din Transilvania ºi teritoriile învecinate (sec. XIII-XVI) [Fortresses and Castles from Transylvania and the Neighboring Territories. 13th-16th Centuries] (Cluj-Napoca, 2005), pp. 469472. Mariana ªlapac, Cetãþi medievale din Moldova (mijlocul secolului al XIV-lea-mijlocul secolului al XVI-lea [Medieval Fortresses from Moldavia. Mid 1300s-Mid 1500s] (Chiºinãu, 2004), p. 112, 114-118. Velciu, Grigore Ureche, p. 332. N. Iorga, Relaþiile economice ale þãrilor noastre cu Lembergul [The Economic Relations of our Countries with Lvov], I (Bucharest, 1900), pp. 30-31; Radu Manolescu, ‘Cu privire la problema patriciatului în oraºele Þãrii Româneºti ºi Moldovei (sec. XV-prima jumãtate a sec. XVI)’ [On the Problem of the Patricians in the Cities of Walachia and Moldavia (15th Century-First Half of 16th Century)], Cumidava, IV (1970), pp. 93-95; Matei, Civilizaþie urbanã medievalã româneascã, pp. 9497. See also ªt.S. Gorovei, ‘Cu privire la patriciatul orãºenesc în Moldova medievalã. Câteva observaþii preliminare’ [On the Urban Patricians in Medieval Moldavia: Some Preliminary Observations], AIIAI, XXV1 (1988), pp. 253-265). Details in Velciu, Grigore Ureche, pp. 7-29. Chiþimia, Probleme de bazã, pp. 322-325. See also discussion on Costin in Velciu’s, Miron Costin, pp. 148-150. 64 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Abbrevations AIIAI = Anuarul Institutului de Istorie ºi Arheologie A.D. Xenopol [Yearbook of the A.D. Xenopol Institute of History and Archaeology] (Iaºi) AM = Arheologia Medievalã [Medieval Archaeology] (Reºiþa) BAR = British Archaeological Reports BBRF = Buletinul Bibliotecii Româneºti din Freiburg [Bulletin of Romanian Library in Freiburg<-in-Breisgau>] BCMI = Buletinul Comisiunii Monumentelor Istorice [Bulletin of the Commission for Historical Monuments] (Bucharest) HU = Historia Urbana (Bucharest-Sibiu) MCA = Materiale ºi Cercetãri Arheologice [Archaeological Materials and Researches] (Bucharest) MI = Magazin Istorica [Historical Magazine] (Bucharest) RER = Revue des Études Roumaines (Paris) RESEE = Revue des Études Sud-Est Européennes (Bucharest) RI = Revista Istoricã [Historical Review] (Bucharest) RM = Revista Muzeelor [Museums’ Review] (Bucharest) RRH = Revue Roumaine d’Histoire (Bucharest) RSL = Romanoslavica (Bucharest) SCIV = Studii ºi Cercetãri de Istorie Veche [Studies and Researches in Ancient History] (Bucharest) SMIM = Studii ºi Materiale de Istorie Medie [Studies and Materials in Medieval History] (Bucharest) TM = Travaux et Mémoires (Paris) Abstract Historical Tradition, Legend and Towns in the Moldavian Chronicles How the emergence and evolution of medieval towns are reflected in chronicles has not sparked too much interest in the research field so far. Given the treatment that this information has received in chronicles, their authors did not seem to take a direct interest in how towns formed, how they were organized, their vibrant urban life, and not even their inhabitants. This appearance can be deceiving, however, since a closer look reveals that ancient texts are ripe with references to urban settlements. Keywords Moldavia, chronicles, urban settlements, historiography, tradition I . 2 . C H U RC H , S TAT E A N D P R O F I T Histoire du développement de la législation canonique et civile ayant pour objet les biens temporels de l’Église L IVIU -M ARIUS H AROSA 1. Considérations liminaires L E DROIT canonique englobe aussi, dans un certain sens, le droit de l’histoire et de l’évolution des institutions juridiques, spécialités qui sont au présent réclamées par d’autres champs juridiques. Au cours de cet exposé, nous allons faire incursion plus d’une fois dans l’histoire des dites institutions, ce qui fait que cette partie-là ne soit pas forcément très vaste, vu que l’on offre plusieurs explications historiques au cadre de l’analyse des divers aspects concernant les biens temporels de l’Église. 2. La première communauté L E CHRISTIANISME est né en Judée, région dominée par les Romains et immergée dans un Orient hellénisé. Ses premières années, dédiées à la prédication de l’Évangile, ne rentrent pas nécessairement dans le champ du 1 droit . L’époque a bien vu la naissance des normes de vie2, l’organisation des communautés de prière, pourtant l’on ne peut parler de droit proprement dit, ni d’institutions ou d’organes administratifs de gouvernement. Cette période d’émergence serait essentielle à l’avenir pour l’établissement de la doctrine de l’Église concernant les biens temporels. Néanmoins, dans ces premiers temps, les relations de fraternité du petit monde chrétien ne faisaient pas recours au droit, mais à l’autorité des Saints Apôtres. Étude financée par le Projet UE, FSE, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) 68 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Les Saints Apôtres ont enseigné à chaque chrétien de faire la preuve de son amour de l’autrui par la renonciation à soi-même et à ses propriétés, dans l’intérêt de la communauté et de l’Église entière3. Ceux qui étaient frères dans la croyance ne sauraient refuser la solution des litiges en collectif et la renonciation aux richesses dans le but de parachever la renonciation à soi-même4. La communauté primitive considérait qu’il fallait éliminer la source principale d’inégalité entre les hommes5, à savoir la propriété privée, ce qui a conduit, dans l’Église de Jérusalem, à la pratique appelée koinonia (exprimer la propriété en commun6) en tant que « forme supérieure de renonciation à soi-même, témoignage de la victoire sur le pire ennemi de l’amour et du salut »7. 3. Les personnes juridiques à l’intérieur de l’Église L réunions des fidèles chrétiens, plus particulièrement la célébration de la Très-Sainte Eucharistie, se sont probablement organisées dans les habitations privées, discrètement ou en secret, ce qui leur a permis d’échapper au contrôle de la loi romaine8. Au fur et à mesure que le nombre des chrétiens croissait, ils sentirent le besoin de détenir leurs propres lieux de culte9. La question que posent les historiens du droit canonique concerne le titre sous lequel ces communautés chrétiennes primitives de l’Empire Romain jouissaient de biens immobiliers. Avant de pouvoir répondre à cette question, il est nécessaire de synthétiser le statut juridique des dites communautés. Il n’est pas question d’équivaloir les communautés chrétiennes primitives à des simples juxtapositions de personnes. Les liens entre les fidèles qu’assurait leur foi commune ou encore ceux plus visibles, créés par la participation à la vie du culte, établissaient les prémices d’une organisation cohérente. Dans un légendaire extrait de son œuvre Apologétique, Tertullien décrit cette communauté par le terme corpus10, mais ses explications sont équivoques. « Nous sommes un corps créé par la communauté de foi, la discipline unitaire, les liens de l’espoir »11, écrivait l’apologète, tout en se contentant de citer les éléments des liens (les facteurs d’unification). Ce qui Tertullien ne précise pas est la nature juridique de ce « corpus », si c’est un groupement de facto ou bien une société de jure. Il vaut bien se souvenir à ce point que, selon la définition de Gaius, le terme corpus pouvait contenir une valeur juridique12. Pour démontrer aux païens ce que signifiait « corpus christianorum », Tertullien cite les réunions de prière collective, le fait que le groupe était dirigé par « les vieux qui ont fait la preuve de leurs qualités », la caisse commune dans laquelle on puisait pour soutenir les pauvres13. Toutefois, il ne faut pas oublier que l’apologète était juriste, donc tenu de connaître la signification du terme « corpus » qu’il utilisait14. Est-ce que l’auteur ES PREMIÈRES POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 69 voulait inclure les communautés chrétiennes dans la société romaine et n’avait pas trouvé un terme plus adéquat pour les décrire et à l’aide duquel démontrer qu’elles appartenaient à l’univers du droit romain ?15 En supposant que toutes les communautés chrétiennes étaient des « corpus », leur capacité de détenir un patrimoine n’aurait quand même pas suffit pour être dotées de personnalité juridique. On sait bien16 que les seuls corpus dotés de personnalité juridique étaient ceux autorisés par l’Empereur ou le Sénat, ayant caractère de groupements « licites ». Le reste étaient « illicites », parfois même interdits ou du moins clandestins, toujours susceptibles de se faire supprimer17. C’est bien à cette situation que s’attaque Tertullien18 lorsqu’il admet : « L’on dit que cette coalition (contio) des chrétiens est illicite ». Pour réfuter les accusations, il rajoute : « ... parce que les chrétiens ne font rien de mal. Tout au contraire, ils se montrent charitables et bienfaisants vers l’autrui »19. Par conséquent, bien que les communautés chrétiennes ne fussent pas « condamnables » par la loi pénale impériale, il est évident qu’elles n’avaient pas l’autorisation nécessaire pour devenir des groupements « licites », reconnus par la loi et dotés de la capacité d’acquérir des biens, de jouir de droits et d’assumer des obligations. Les fidèles d’une religion interdite ou bannie ne pouvaient pas obtenir de tels privilèges !20 Il paraît donc que, jusqu’à la reconnaissance officielle du christianisme par l’empereur Constantin, les communautés de chrétiens ne furent que groupements de facto, tolérés ou persécutés selon les variations de la politique impériale et surtout selon la situation locale21. Le pouvoir impérial et les gouverneurs des provinces ne pouvaient pas les ignorer, d’autant plus qu’ils connaissaient leurs lieux de culte et leurs cimetières. Leur existence fut souvent tolérée, parfois même protégée22, et leurs propriétés furent saisies23 pendant une période ou restituées pendant une autre, tel que mentionnent les textes de l’époque. De toute façon, pendant le IIIème siècle apr. J.-C., les communautés chrétiennes disposaient d’un patrimoine immobilier important qu’elles employaient pour la célébration du culte ou dans des buts de charité24. Dès l’adoption du christianisme comme religion officielle par Constantin, les groupements chrétiens ont été reconnus ; c’est toujours à cette époque-là que naquit le concept de fondation en tant que patrimoine d’affectation doté de personnalité juridique25. A partir de ce moment-là, l’Église bénéficie d’une importance centrale dans l’Empire et les associations religieuses se voient amplifier la capacité juridique ; elles peuvent recevoir des legs, prérogative qui avait longtemps été refusée aux personnes juridiques, excepté l’État. Pendant l’empereur Théodose II26 (408-450 apr. J.-C.), le Codex Theodosianus consacre, à côté des groupements de personnes, les œuvres « piae causae » reliées à l’Église, grâce à leur caractère : elles étaient d’œuvres charitables, tout en restant autonomes et distinctes par rapport à l’Église.27 70 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Le concept allait s’appliquer à l’Église, la personnalité de laquelle se dégage de la communauté des fidèles et qui devient propriétaire de tous les biens affectés aux besoins du culte28. Ultérieurement, la même règle allait s’étendre à d’autres organismes subordonnés à l’Église, tels les lieux de culte, les hôpitaux, les asiles, les orphelinats et aussi à d’autres situations, notamment à celles où le testateur, sans créer aucun établissement matériel, affecte tout simplement un revenu annuel à un but pieux ou charitable, ce qui constitue en fait une fondation au sens restreint du mot.29 4. Les moyens d’acquisition du patrimoine religieux I. AVANT LA paix de Constantin, l’Église pouvait, dans un premier temps, élire tout à fait librement, dans le cadre des lois de l’époque, les modalités d’acquisition et de gestion de son patrimoine30. Après le début des persécutions31, les chrétiens se virent interdire la religion et commencèrent à cacher leur existence corporative. Pendant cette période-là, les moyens par lesquels la communauté chrétienne procurait les biens nécessaires au culte furent le don et la collecte32. Les fidèles étaient toujours prêts à faire de dons et les collectes s’organisaient seulement si lesdits dons ne couvraient pas les besoins. L’évêque célébrait la Très-Sainte Eucharistie avec du pain, du vin, de l’encens et de l’huile apportés par les fidèles. Exceptionnellement, il était permis (en vertu du 3ème canon apostolique) d’apporter à l’Église des épis de blé et du raisin pendant la récolte33. Le surplus (ce qui restait après la messe) revenait à l’Église, en tant que réserve qui allait être ultérieurement répartie par les diacres aux malades et aux pauvres qui n’avaient pas été capables de se rendre à l’Église. Dans les époques suivantes, l’on introduit les collectes régulières (destinées à secourir les orphelins, les veuves, les pauvres, les malades, les prisonniers et les étrangers34) et les quêtes extraordinaires35. II. APRÈS L’ÉDIT de Milan, l’Église a appliqué les lois de l’État et ses propres lois pour se procurer les biens temporels nécessaires à ses activités religieuses et charitables36. Les principaux moyens employés étaient le don, l’acquisition, le legs testamentaire et l’héritage ab intestat. á) Les dons et les acquisitions. Dans cette période-là, le don (donatio, δωρεά), était un moyen de procurer et d’agrandir le patrimoine religieux beaucoup plus important que tout autre moyen inter vivos de s’approprier des biens temporels tel le contrat d’achat-vente (emptio, άγορασία)37. Qu’il s’agisse d’une forme POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 71 physique et directe (don manuel) ou de la forme classique du contrat formel ou de la donation de la part des empereurs, les dons en faveur de l’Église ont joui de certains privilèges: Dig. XXIV, I, 23; I, 12, 1-3; Nomocanon II, I, Sint at. I, Cod Just. I, 2, 23.38 Une partie des donations se faisaient toujours vers le clergé, mais l’édit de l’empereur Valentinien de 370 y a mis fin, en interdisant au clergé de recevoir des biens par donation ou testament de la part des veuves et des vierges39 ; à partir de ce moment-là, les prêtres ont été considérés simples administrateurs des biens de l’Église, qui était, en revanche, le seul donataire légal40. â) Le testament. La plus importante modalité d’acquisition de biens pour l’Église par des actes pour cause de mort fut l’héritage testamentaire (ex testamento, έν της διαθήκες)41. Selon les règles du droit romain, la succession testamentaire prévalait sur la succession légale (ab intestat). Le testament devait régler intégralement la dévolution de l’hérédité du de cujus, étant frappé de nullité s’il n’instituait aucun héritier. L’héritier testamentaire devenait continuateur de la personnalité du défunt, étant chargé de payer ses dettes et ses legs en faveur des tiers42. L’Église a toujours recommandé les actes charitables à ses fidèles. Aux yeux de l’Église primitive et médiévale, un des moyens par lesquels le fidèle pouvait obtenir le salut et se sauver l’âme était le legs, par le biais duquel il laissait une partie de ses biens à l’Église pour des œuvres pieuses ; l’on trouve de telles recommandations chez Salvian, auteur chrétien du Vème siècle apr. J.-C., dans son écrit De gubernatione Dei (Le royaume de Dieu) Libri IV, adversus avaritiam43. Selon la pratique de l’époque, les conciles occidentaux des siècles V-VIII excommuniaient les successeurs qui ne rendaient à l’Église les dons pour cause de mort faits par les défunts en faveur de l’Église ou des œuvres charitables. Comme les Allemands ne connaissaient pas cette institution, le testament romain est disparu à partir des siècles VII et VIII, restant en vigueur seulement dans quelques régions du sud de la France. Néanmoins, le destin du droit étant enraciné dans la vie humaine en général, l’institution périmée s’est vu trouver des remplacements telle la donation post obitum ; par cet acte, le donateur transmettait une partie ou tous ses biens soit directement au donataire, soit à un intermédiaire qui s’obligeait à retransmettre la donation. La donation était irrévocable, mais l’intermédiaire gardait le droit d’usage du bien pendant toute sa vie (l’on pourrait dire qu’il s’agissait d’une donation avec réserve d’usufruit). Après la mort de l’intermédiaire, la donation était remise à la personne désignée44. Selon le droit romain, l’intermédiaire était fiduciaire, mais ce terme a été transcris mal par les copistes, devenant « fidéicommissaire » ; sous l’influence du terme 72 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) utilisé pour l’offrande, il a été aussi nommé eleemonsynarius. Généralement, la donation se faisait le jour des funérailles du testateur et l’intermédiaire devait retourner à l’Église, où, devant le cercueil, il témoignait d’avoir rempli sa responsabilité45. Toutefois, certaines législations de l’époque regardaient l’intermédiaire comme un mandataire du défunt. Un tel mandat post mortem serait une monstruosité du point de vue du droit romain, mais il était une nécessité à cette époque-là. Les vieux documents affirment que le mort prêtait son corps et ses mains – désormais inertes – à son mandataire, qui devait agir tel qu’exigé par le défunt ; celui-ci pouvait donc prêter sa personnalité au mandataire dans le but de transmettre le bien légué. Quelques actes de l’époque parlent du défunt qui fait la donation par la voix de son mandataire ; le défunt s’exprimait, racontait sa mort et déclarait qu’il se servait du mandataire pour accomplir la donation46. Une autre modalité de transmettre un bien pour mortis causa était la destinatio, par laquelle un malade, sentant qu’il approche la fin de ses jours, faisait savoir à sa famille ou à ses amis sa volonté de faire des dons pieuses. Cet acte n’était doté de valeur juridique que si les héritiers le transformaient en don47. Dans le droit byzantin, la législation gréco-romaine a donné aussi à l’Église le droit de succession sur les biens des laïcs qui étaient morts sans laisser de testament. Habituellement, les héritiers s’acquittaient de l’obligation morale de donner à l’Église une partie des biens du défunt. Cette pratique est devenue loi au IXème siècle apr. J.-C., lorsqu’il fut décidé qu’un tiers des propriétés des prisonniers morts serait laissé à l’Église, pour le salut de leurs âmes au cas où l’État était leur successeur48. L’empereur Constantin Porphyrogénète a étendu cette loi à tous ceux qui mouraient sans laisser de testament ou d’enfants légitimes49, et Andronic Paléologue le Vieux a modifié la norme au XIVème siècle, établissant la dévolution des biens du de cujus ainsi : un tiers en faveur de l’époux survivant, un tiers pour les parents et un tiers à l’Église. Une autre modalité d’acquérir des biens pour l’Église étaient les testaments pour des buts pieux. L’objet des divers testaments mentionnés par les sources du droit canonique était soit l’entretien d’une église pour le salut des âmes, soit les actes charitables (donner abri aux étrangers, aux pauvres, aux malades, aux orphelins et aux enfants abandonnés, etc.). Ces actes jouissaient de privilèges extraordinaires concédés par les Empereurs byzantins tels : l’exemption d’un testament pieux de la quarta Falcidia50; l’acquittement du testament pendant les six mois après son ouverture, le calcul des intérêts et des profits portés par le testament à partir du jour de la mort du testateur ; au cas d’un procès, l’acquittement du double de la valeur du testament51 si celui-ci n’était pas reconnu par les héritiers ; le droit de l’évêque d’agir en exécuteur testamentaire si le testateur n’en avait pas désigné d’autre52. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 73 Le XIIème siècle voit renaître la connaissance du droit romain et la définition de Modestinus (Digeste, XXVIII, I, l.1) réapparaît : „Testamentum est volutatis nostrae justa sententia de eo quod quis post mortem suam fieri velit”. Le droit enseigne de nouveau que la volonté du défunt produit des effets juridiques par elle-même, sans qu’il soit nécessaire que le don soit transmis au bénéficiaire par tradition (traditio)53. Le Pape Alexandre III54, un homme juste, décida qu’il ne fallait pas respecter à la lettre toutes les dispositions du droit romain, dont le formalisme alourdissait le circuit juridique55. La décision de simplifier les normes régissant le testament a eu pour cause le décalage législatif qui marquait l’Europe Occidentale : on utilisait le testament romain en Italie, au sud de la France, aux cours séculières, tandis que le testament canonique était reconnu comme le seul apte à produire des effets juridiques par tous les juges canoniques et dans tous les pays coutumiers56. Chacune des deux formes de testament pouvait jouer un rôle civile et un rôle canonique. Le testateur pouvait inclure dans un testament canonique des legs destinés à ses parents ou amis, à côté des dons pieux. De même, un testament rédigé conformément au droit romain pouvait inclure plusieurs dons en faveur des institutions religieuses. Formellement, les deux types de testament commençaient par invoquer la Sainte Trinité, le Père, le Fils et le Saint Esprit, au nom desquels le testateur exprimait ses derniers vœux pour sauver son âme57. Les formules romaines étant considérées trop compliquées, elles ne s’employaient que rarement. De toute façon, aucune forme particulière n’était obligatoire ; l’aspect vraiment important était l’approbation du testament. Dans les instructions qu’il adressa en 1167-1169 aux juges canoniques de Velletri58, le Pape Alexandre III leur interdit d’imposer comme condition formelle que le testament se fît en présence de sept ou cinq témoins, tel qu’exigé par le droit romain, en limitant le nombre de témoins nécessaires à deux ou trois. Son argument provenait de la Sainte Écriture, Matthieu, XVIII, 16, in ore duorum vel trium testium stat omne verbum59. Dans une autre décrétale (probablement pendant les années 1171-1172), le pape désavoua une coutume qui autorisait la rescision d’un testament par manque de souscription de cinq ou sept témoins, décidant qu’il suffisait de conclure le testament devant un prêtre et deux ou trois témoins pour qu’il fût valable60. Lesdits textes furent complétés par une décision du Pape Grégoire IX, qui reconnaissait la validité d’un testament nudis verbis. Même si le droit canonique admettait un test verbal en présence de deux ou trois témoins, il était convenu, pour des raisons de sûreté, que cet expression des derniers vœux fût enregistrée à l’écrit61. Le plus souvent, s’il était présent, le prêtre rédigeait un document où il inscrivait les déclarations du moribond, puis il appliquait son sceau ou celui du notaire, du seigneur ou d’un prélat ou bien 74 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) le sceau propre du testateur, si celui-ci appartenait à la noblesse62. Ultérieurement, il s’institua une procédure de protection des derniers vœux du défunt contre toute contestation (probatio ou publicatio). Après la mort du testateur, les témoins étaient questionnés par un juge de l’Église, leurs dépositions étant inscrites dans un procèsverbal63. En 1279, le canon du Concile de Tours stipulait que, dans 10 jours du décès du testateur, un des successeurs ou le prêtre devait se présenter devant l’évêque ou l’archevêque ou bien devant un magistrat exerçant la juridiction épiscopale et devait présenter le testament en vue de son approbation par le juge canonique, au cas où le testament avait été écrit. Au cas contraire, la volonté du testateur certifiée par le serment des témoins était inscrite par le juge dans une forme publique64. On peut constater que le testament pieux était un acte pro remedio animae qui, par son caractère, ne nécessitait pas la désignation d’un héritier, condition essentielle dans le droit romain, sous sanction de nullité du testament. Dans l’absence d’un héritier, l’accomplissement des obligations testamentaires revenait aux successeurs légaux65. Le corpus principal du testament était constitué par les dispositions visant le salut de l’âme. Par les clauses suivantes, le testateur réparait les préjudices produits par sa faute et disposait l’acquittement de ses dettes. L’ordre d’acquittement des legs était le suivant : le règlement des dettes et des dommages, la remise des dons pieux à l’Église et, finalement, les successeurs66. Pour ce qui est de la succession des membres du clergé, plusieurs textes précisaient que les évêques et les prêtres étaient libres de disposer de leur biens, sous condition de respecter le patrimoine de l’Église67. Les biens acquis avant l’ordination, par succession ou bien intuitu personae pouvaient faire l’objet d’un testament ordinaire68. En revanche, les membres du clergé ne pouvait pas disposer des biens mobiliers acquis par l’exercice de leurs fonctions ; il leur était permis seulement de faire de petites donations aux pauvres ou à leurs serviteurs. Par contre, il était rigoureusement interdit aux moines de laisser le moindre don ou legs, comme conséquence de leur vou de pauvreté69. ã) La pauvreté du clergé. Si les membres du clergé pouvaient détenir des biens personnels, quelle était la distinction réelle par rapport à res ecclesiasticae?70 Dans son décret, l’empereur Gratien mit en évidence un dilemme inévitable : l’on exigeait que le prêtre ne détînt des biens à lui, qu’il ne prît pour soi rien des biens de l’Église, qui appartenaient à toute la communauté religieuse. Mais si les biens ecclésiaux appartenaient à toute la communauté, le prêtre n’avait-il pas droit à une partie de ceux-là, même s’il avait renoncé à ses biens personnels ?71 Le texte de la glose par laquelle on interdisait aux membres du clergé de détenir des biens est difficile à commenter72, surtout que le problème avait été posé dans un contexte processuel (des religieux revendiquant des biens de tiers POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 75 et de l’Église), où l’on se demandait sur la légitimité d’une telle action envers l’Église. La réponse donnée ultérieurement fut négative, d’autant plus qu’elle se fondait sur les canons du Synode de Carthage de 397, qui – sous l’influence de Saint Augustin – traitait de « criminels » les prêtres ou les moines qui, après être entrés dans l’ordre religieux pauvres, étaient devenus des propriétaires fonciers73. Par conséquent, il était interdit aux membres du clergé de détenir des propriétés, la soumission des prêtres au droit commun, où ils étaient sujets de in patria potestate, étant pratiquement supprimée en 472 apr. J.-C.74 Néanmoins, les canons apostoliques 38, 39 et 40 reconnaissaient le droit de l’évêque de prélever sur les biens de la diocèse si ses biens ne lui étaient pas suffisants comme gagne-pain. L’évêque avait le droit de désigner un héritier pour ses biens personnels ou acquis75. Selon l’article C.XII des Décrétales76, les biens ecclésiaux ne sont pas la propriété du clergé qui les gère, ils lui sont seulement confiés ; il n’y a pas de contradiction ici : le prêtre dispose de ces biens en tant que mandataire ou – plus correctement dit – en tant que fidéicommissaire qui joue un rôle de dominus par rapport aux biens légués à lui pour les retransmettre à ses successeurs77. 5. La gestion des biens de l’Église A de l’Église primitive, l’évêque recevait tous les revenus et les redistribuait ultérieurement aux autres. A partir du IIIème siècle apr. J.-C., des normes furent rédigées pour instruire les évêques comment gérer le patrimoine de l’Église attentivement et honorablement78. Il était stipulé dans les canons des synodes œcuméniques et locaux que ni les évêques, ni les prêtres ou les diacres n’avait le droit de prélever sur les revenus de l’Église plus que la quantité nécessaire pour la vie79. Les revenus excédentaires (ce qui restait après avoir assuré le fonctionnement de l’Église et du culte et l’entretien du clergé) étaient destinés aux pauvres ; la gestion des biens et le degré d’utilisation des revenus tenaient à la sagesse de l’évêque, qui disposait aussi des conseils de quelques économistes80. Au début, « les revenus de l’épitrachile » ne furent pas permis par l’Église, tout paiement des services ecclésiaux étant considéré une simonie (can.29 ap; Nov. 19 Just) ; toutefois, lorsque les donations commencèrent à être insuffisantes par rapport aux besoins ecclésiaux, l’État byzantin a concédé plusieurs facilités à l’Église, à côté du casuel, que l’Église d’aujourd’hui considère tout à fait licite81. Les lois des empereurs gréco-romains, les décisions des synodes médiévaux et les actes papaux interdisaient de conclure tout contrat qui pût affecter le patrimoine de l’Église et qui s’éloignât des buts de celle-ci82. U SEIN 76 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 6. L’aliénation des biens ecclésiaux L des biens temporels de l’Église a imposé la consécration du principe de l’inaliénabilité. Les canons de l’Église83 contiennent des dispositions élaborées dans le but de conserver la destination des biens ecclésiaux et d’empêcher leur aliénation84. Le canon apostolique 38 interdit à l’évêque de se les approprier ou d’en vendre, ni même pour aider les pauvres de sa famille85. Le canon 15 du synode d’Ancyre établit le droit de l’Église de revendiquer les biens aliénés par les prêtres86, alors que le canon 24 d’Antioche stipule la conservation assidue des biens de l’Église pour l’Église87, particulièrement de ceux aliénés pendant les vacances du siège épiscopal. De même, le canon 24 du IVème synode œcuménique décide que les biens des monastères, une fois reçus et consacrés, resteront toujours la propriété du monastère88. Les interdictions les plus tranchantes se trouvent dans les canons 2689 et 3390 du Synode local de Carthage et dans le canon 12 du VIIème synode œcuménique91, qui stipule que les évêques ne peuvent pas aliéner les biens ecclésiaux en faveur des autorités publiques ou de tout autre tierce personne, sous sanction de nullité ; même si le bien ecclésial produit des pertes, il ne peut être vendu qu’au clergé ou aux agriculteurs92. Les lois byzantines ont établi elles aussi l’inaliénabilité du patrimoine ecclésial. La première mesure à cet effet a été prise en 470 par les empereurs Léon et Anthémius, qui ont interdit au Patriarcat de Constantinople tout aliénation des biens93 (Cod. Just. I, 2, 14). L’empereur Anastase (491-518) a étendu l’interdiction à toutes les églises et les institutions pieuses de Constantinople (Cod.Just. I,2, 17)94, alors que Justinien a complété la mesure établie par ses prédécesseurs avec une série de novelles (Nov. 46, 67, 12) qui généralisaient l’interdiction d’aliéner les biens temporels à toutes les églises de l’empire. Cette mesure avait pour raison la pauvreté dans laquelle se retrouvaient beaucoup d’églises qui avaient vendu leurs biens. Il était donc interdit par principe de vendre, d’offrir en don ou de constituer de charges réelles sur les biens ecclésiaux immobiliers (bâtiments, terrains agricoles, jardins), quel que fût leur état (can. 12 Sin. VII Ec; Nov. 7, I, 3, 2), tandis que sur les biens mobiliers: vases, vêtements, livres sacrés. Par voie d’exception, il était stipulé que les biens ecclésiaux pouvaient être aliénés uniquement pour poursuivre les buts essentiels de l’Église95. Les situations d’inaliénabilité étaient signalées dans les législations canoniques et laïques de l’époque. Ainsi, il était permis de vendre certains biens dans des situations telles les suivantes : pour procurer des vases sacrés indispensables à la célébration du culte (Cod.Just, I, 2, 17); pour acquitter les dettes de l’Église et ses impôts (Nov. 46, I; Cod.Just. I, 2,21; Nov. 120, VI, 7, 10); pour construire de nouveaux immeubles ou pour réparer et entretenir ceux existants et endommagés (Cod.Just. E BUT POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 77 I, 2,7; Nov. 120, VI, 2); pour éviter les pertes qu’aurait souffert l’Église si elle gardait les immeubles qui ne rapportaient pas de revenus, mais engendraient des coûts d’entretien ; pour les immeubles difficile ou impossible à gérer à cause des distances96; pour payer la rançon nécessaire à la délivrance des captifs – dans ce but, il était même permis de vendre des objets sacrés (Cod.Just. I,2,21; Instit. II, 1,8; Nov. 65, préface; Nov. 7, VIII; Nov. 120, IX, ºi X)97; pour aider les pauvres et les églises qui se confrontaient à des graves pénuries (Nov. 65, I, 5) ; pour porter assistance à l’État, si celui-ci se trouvait en grave difficulté98. Pour les situations où il était permis de vendre les biens ecclésiaux, autrement inaliénables, il y avait un ordre préférentiel de vente : on commençait par les biens les moins nécessaires et on plaçait les biens mobiliers avant les immobiliers (Nov. 120, VI, 2; Nomocanon, titre II, II; Sint At. I, p.109)99 ; dans la mesure du possible, on cherchait que l’acheteur fût une autre institution ecclésiale (Basilic. V, 2, 12). Il était interdit d’aliéner les biens ecclésiaux à des économistes ou administrateurs d’institutions religieuses, à leurs parents et alliés ou à des dirigeants politiques100. Toute aliénation devait respecter les conditions préalables suivantes : l’évêque étudiait de manière détaillée la situation pour se satisfaire du fait que l’Église ne serait pas défavorisée, il déclarait sous serment que l’Église n’allait souffrir aucune perte par la suite (Nov. 120, VI, 7) ; l’évêque devait aussi donner son consentement pour les biens des églises de son éparchie ; il fallait aussi obtenir l’avis du synode pour l’aliénation par l’évêque des biens appartenant à son éparchie101, ces dernières conditions étant ad validitatem. Toute autre aliénation des biens ecclésiaux qui ne pouvait être justifiée par la cause juste ou qui ne se retrouvait parmi les situations présentées ci-dessus était considérée absolument nulle102. 7. D Rome antique, le droit de la période républicaine reconnaissait de divers groupements ou corporations sans individualité juridique propre, mentionnés par la Loi des Douze Tables103. Il y avait de nombreux collèges (corporae) de prêtres, à caractère funéraire ou d’artistes qui n’avaient pas encore reçu la personnalité juridique. « Dans le droit classique, le seul sujet des droits et des obligations était l’homme libre. Le Digeste reprends la règle formulée par Hermogène: omne ius hominium causa constitutum est. »104 Dans un premier temps (après une longue évolution graduelle), la personnalité juridique put être concédée uniquement à l’État, qui disposait d’un Trésor public (aerarium), d’organes (les magistrats) et même d’esclaves. Ultérieurement, ANS LA 78 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) la personnalité de l’État a été étendue et reconnue aussi pour d’autres groupements de droit public, apparus grâce au développement de l’Empire Romain, notamment à l’apparition des villes, des municipalités, des colonies.105 « Il paraît que les juristes romains ne se posassent pas de problèmes théoriques concernant la reconnaissance de la personnalité de l’État, le considérant, dès sa naissance, apte de détenir des biens, des créances et des débits et capable d’entreprendre, par l’intermédiaire de ses magistrats, tous les actes de la vie juridique, même ceux qu’il était difficile de permettre aux personnes juridiques (l’acceptation d’une succession, par exemple), sans être tenu de respecter les formes qui géraient l’existence juridique d’autres personnes physiques et morales »106. Pour ce qui est des associations romaines, il paraît qu’elles pussent se constituer librement, sans nécessiter d’autorisation de l’État. La seule condition qu’elles devaient remplir était d’avoir un statut.107 En 54 av. J.-C., pendant le consulat de Cicéron et les agitations de Catilina, un sénatus-consulte a supprimé toutes les petites associations populaires, déjà nombreuses et considérées des possibles foyers d’émeute. A peine rétablies dans quelques années, elles furent de nouveau supprimées par César, pour que, finalement, leur régime juridique fût réglementé par la lex Iulia de colegiis donnée par Octave Auguste.108 La loi d’Auguste a créé un régime qui allait subsister jusqu’à la période moderne du droit ; aucune société ou association ne pouvait se constituer sans l’autorisation du Sénat109. Par contre, une fois cette autorisation concédée, si l’association était licite, elle recevait la personnalité juridique110. La personnalité civile ne faisait pas l’objet d’une concession directe de pouvoir, elle n’était pas une faveur que l’État pouvait choisir de concéder ou non. Aucun collège ne pouvait se constituer hors la loi, mais, si cette condition était remplie, tout collège était doté de capacité juridique (il jouissait de droits, il pouvait recevoir des créances et s’assumer des obligations, sans que ses droits se confondissent avec ceux de ses membres). Certainement, les juristes romains ne regardaient pas la personnalité juridique comme réalité en soi, mais plutôt comme émanation, prolongation de l’État111. Gaïus112 précisa que l’institution des collèges prenait comme exemple de constitution l’État (« ad exemplum reispublicae ») : tout comme l’État, un collège possédait des biens communs, une caisse commune et il était géré par un syndic. Par conséquent, la personnalité juridique n’est pas une imitation anthropomorphique, mais une prolongation de la personnalité de l’État113. A partir de ce moment, un autre concept est né, à savoir celui d’universitas (appelé plus souvent corpora), duquel allait se développer la personnalité juridique, surtout pendant la période impériale et l’Empire tardif. Universitas était l’expression d’une conception organique unitaire qui voyait dans le groupement collectif une émanation des membres réunis dans cette collectivité114, pour englober aussi, ultérieurement, l’idée d’unité patrimoniale. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 79 L’universitas apparaît donc pendant l’époque romaine sous la forme d’un sujet de droit à personnalité distincte des personnes qui la constituent115. Le même illustre auteur considère qu’« universitas est tout groupe organisé et unifié, considéré unité patrimoniale du point de vue du droit et administré dans l’intérêt de la collectivité »116. Selon Saleilles, « la théorie romaine de la personne juridique est une construction peu cohérente d’un point de vue abstrait, mais capable de fournir toutes les solutions exigées par les nécessités pratiques. »117 Pour ce qui est des fondations ou des universitates bonorum du droit canonique classique, on les retrouve jusqu’à la période impériale tardive seulement sous forme de libéralités concédées aux collèges ou aux municipalités dans un but déterminé, sans qu’elles fussent considérées des personnes juridiques distinctes, sujettes à droits et obligations.118 Au Moyen Âge, avec le développement soutenu des institutions ecclésiales et du droit canonique119, au fur et à mesure que la propriété de l’Église se construisait, les glossateurs redécouvrent le concept d’universitas. Les glossateurs médiévaux font la distinction entre universitas personarum (groupes de personnes) et univesitas rerum (groupes de biens), divisant ces derniers en universalités de droit et universalités de fait.120 Les canonistes ont dégagé dans l’existence de ces universitas une caractéristique commune qui ne dépendait pas de leur contenu, créant un nouveau concept qui exprimait l’idée d’ensemble et l’appliquant aux multiples hypothèses particulières du droit romain (héritages, troupeaux, etc.). La dissociation de l’ensemble par rapport au contenu a été qualifiée de manière plus avancée dans les universalités de biens de droit par la notion de subrogation réelle.121 De plus, l’apparition et le développement en Allemagne des communautés agraires Genossenschaft, terme qui désignait un groupement de personnes liées par des rapports de confraternité et de solidarité, ont contribué – par la forme spéciale d’indivision de ces associations, « la propriété en main commune », Miteigentum zur gesamten Hand122, à la découverte moderne des théories sur la personnalité juridique. Sous l’influence toujours plus forte du nominalisme dans la scolastique, grâce à la pensée de Saint Thomas d’Aquin (sa philosophie reconnaissait à la volonté le pouvoir de représenter le réel par de signes extérieurs), les canonistes, surtout Bartole, ont été les premiers à créer la notion de persona ficta (personne fictive) pour désigner certaines universitates (notamment les monastères, les fondations charitables, etc.)123 Ce fut ainsi que naquit la notion de personne morale, qui n’a pas eu de succès dans la pratique de l’ancien droit français et, après être ignorée par le Code Civile napoléonien, a été analysée correctement seulement au XIXème siècle, dans le droit positif.124 Il est important de souligner que, pendant la naissance 80 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) du concept de personne juridique, il s’appliquait à tous les corpus, désignant non seulement la corporation proprement dite, mais aussi la fondation (qui avait originairement été traitée comme institution juridique distincte, mais qui fut ultérieurement comprise dans la conception romaine de corporatio ou universitas).125 Il faut aussi préciser que, dans le droit français, à cause de l’importance toujours plus grande que gagnaient les associations et les corporations religieuses, qui avaient le droit d’acquérir des biens et de détenir un patrimoine, l’État a essayé de les soumettre à son autorité, de les réglementer et d’empêcher l’augmentation démesurée de leur richesse126, car elles « ouvrent toujours la main pour acquérir, mais la ferment pour ne pas aliéner ».127 C’est ainsi que, pendant la Révolution française, la doctrine juridique a vu triompher le principe selon lequel les corporations étaient soumises à l’autorité de l’État, leur existence étant liée à l’autorisation concédée par le pouvoir laïque. Il faut tout de même remarquer que, à l’instar du droit romain antique, cet acte ne concédait pas de personnalité juridique, se limitant à rendre l’existence du groupement licite128. Dans le droit roumain ancien, la notion de personne morale ne fut pas théorisée, mais dans la vie réelle il y avait de « personnes juridiques », comme l’on dirait aujourd’hui129. Bien que les textes de loi écrits, fondés sur les principes du droit romain reçus par le biais des nomocanons byzantins [particulièrement « l’Hexabible » de Constantin Harménopoulos130, « Cartea Româneascã de Învãþãturã de la Pravilele Împãrãteºti – Pravila lui Vasile Lupu » (1646) et « Îndreptarea Legii cu Dumnezeu. Pravila Mare sau Pravila lui Matei Basarab » (1652)], ne consacrèrent pas les personnes morales, elles ont été reconnues par la coutume, de sorte que ces « entités juridiques » étaient créées par la simple volonté des fondateurs, qu’il s’agît de monastères ou d’églises (faisant objet du droit d’édification), d’écoles, d’hôpitaux ou de corporations d’artisans131. La personnalité juridique existait dès le moment de la fondation, l’autorisation du voïvode ayant un simple rôle de confirmation et de publication du droit de propriété.132 Notes 1. Voir: J. Gaudemet, Storia del Diritto Canonico. Ecclesia et Civitas, Ed. San Paolo, Milan, 1998, traduction du français, p.17. 2. Fr.Terré, Introduction générale au droit, 5e éd., Dalloz, Paris, 2000, p.10-11; Voir aussi pour les détails A.Sabeta, Ritorno del sacro e nuovo bisognio de esperienza religiosa : un fenomeno contemporaneo tra segno di speranza e ambiguità dans Collana di Pastorale Universitaria, Per un nuovo umanesimo in Europa – atti del simposio euro- POWER, BELIEF 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. AND IDENTITY • 81 peo « Università e Chiesa », a cura di L.Leuzzi e G.P.Milano, Vicariato di Roma, Pastorale Universitaria, ed. Cantagalli, Vatican, 2005, pp.14-21. I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, Drept Bisericesc, vol. I, édition imprimée sous la bénédiction de Sa Très Haute Sainteté dr. Laurenþiu Streza, Archevêque de Sibiu et Métropolite de Transylvanie, Sibiu, 2006, p.199. V.de Paolis, I beni temporali della Chiesa, Edizioni Dehoniane Bologna, seconda ed, 2001, p.246-248 ; I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, op. cit., p.199. Il s’agit ici des hommes libres, car à l’époque l’Église ne se prononçait pas ouvertement contre l’esclavage, V. J.Gaudemet, op. cit., p.26 ; F.Ciardi, Koinonia. Itinerario teologico-spirituale della comunità religiosa, ed. Citta Nuova, Roma, 1990. p.48. Pour des développements concernant koinonia, voir : L.-M.Harosa, Bunurile temporale ale Bisericii, tezã, nr.35, Excurs ; F.Ciardi, op. cit., p.41-56 ; Y.Congar, Les biens temporels de l’Eglise d’après sa tradition théologique et canonique, dans Eglise et pauvreté, (Unam Sanctam 57), 1965, p.247 et suiv. I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, op. cit., p.200. V. J. Gaudemet, op. cit., p.124 et suiv. La confusion entre chrétiens et juifs, qui permettaient aux premiers de jouir des droits des derniers pour constituer des « associations autorisées » a été trop brève pour offrir une solution. Pour des développements, voir G.Longo, Comunità cristiane primitive e „res religiosae”, dans BIDR 18-19 /1956, p. 45-89. Tertullien, Apologetica, apud. I.G. Savin, Apologetica, (Collection : « Luminãtorii Lumii »), Ed. Anastasia, Bucarest, 2000; 39,1: „Noi suntem un corp unit prin aceeaºi credinþã...”, Tertullien, op. cit., 39,1. « Ceux qui ont reçu l’autorisation de former un corpus peuvent détenir des biens communs, [de l’argent gardé dans une] caisse commune, un syndic agissant pour leur compte, dans leur intérêt commun ». Gaius, „Comentarii la Edictul provincial”, L.III, de Digeste 3,4,1,1 apud. de P.Fr. Girard, Textes de droit roman publiés et annotés, Librairie Nouvelle de Droit et Jurisprudence, Paris, 1923, p.443. Par exemple, au milieu du IIème siècle apr. J.-C., Marcion a offert en don la somme de 100.000 sesterces à une église de Rome (voir Tertullien, De praesc.heret. 30) apud. J. Gaudemet, op. cit., p. 125. Idem, p.125. Ibidem. V. infra, nr.7. Ibid. Tertullien, Apologetica, 39,20. Ibidem. J. Gaudemet, op. cit., p. 126, nota 52. Certains historiens du droit romain (De Rossi, Mommsen, Loening, Allard etc., apud. J. Gaudemet) ont pensé qu’ils pouvaient écarter cette difficulté en supposant que la majorité des communautés chrétiennes étaient du fait assimilées aux associations populaires, les collegia tenuiorum et, tout comme celles-là, jouissaient de reconnaissance légale. (Pour des détails sur ces 82 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. associations, voir Fr.de Robertis Causa funeris, Causa religionis. Le communità cristiane tra normativa statale e messagio evangelico, SDHI, nr. 52/1988, p. 239-249.) Cette hypothèse, qui n’était fondée sur aucune preuve textuelle, a été rejetée par R.Saleilles, De la personnalité juridique, Histoire et théories, 2e ed. Paris, Librairie Arthur Rousseau, 1922. p. 62-69. Dans le même sens, Fr. de Robertis, Causa funeris, Causa religionis. Le communità cristiane tra normativa statale e messagio evangelico, dans SDHI, nr. 52/1988, p. 24,1, qui montre que les chrétiens ne furent pas admis dans les collegia tenuiorum. Pour les persécutions contre les chrétiens, voir J. Gaudemet, op. cit. p. 26-35. Dans Historia Augusta (Vita Alexandri, 49) il y a mention sur une décision attribuée à Sévère Alexandre, qui a restitué aux chrétiens un temple (espace public) qu’ils se disputaient avec une corporation des propriétaires de tavernes. „Si non e vero...” V. J. Gaudemet, op. cit., p.126. Ou, du moins, la clôture ou l’interdiction d’utiliser les cimetières, conformément aux édits de Valérien de 257 apr. J.-C. (abrogés par son fils Gallien) ou de Dioclétien de 303 apr. J.-C. J.Gaudemet, op. cit.,p. 126, note 56. Ibidem. Pour des détails concernant le développement des communautés chrétiennes à l’époque de l’Empire Romain et leur persécution, voir I.N. Floca, op. cit., p. 172-176. V. Wolfgang Schuller, Der Kaisers aus Rome, C.H. Beck´sche Verlagsbuchhandlung (Oscar Beck), München, 1997, p.450-457. V.: H, L et J. Mazeaud, Fr. Chabas, Leçons de droit civil, tome I vol 2, Les personnes, 8e ed.par Fl. Laroche-Gisserot, Montchrestien, Paris 1997, op. cit., p.320. H. Capitant, Introduction a l´étude du droit civil, 4e ed. A. Pedone, Paris, 1923, p. 199. Comme expression de la jurisprudence canonique actuelle et de l’interprétation officielle de CIC 1983, le canon 204 alin. 2, „Haec Ecclesia, in hoc mundo ut societas constituta et ordinata, subsistit in Ecclesia catholica, a succesore Petri et episcopis in eius communione guvernata” (Cette Église, constituée et ordonnée dans ce monde comme société, subsiste dans l’Église Catholique, gouvernée par le successeur Saint Pierre et par les évêques en communion avec lui.) V. Congregatio Pro Doctrina Fidei, Literrae Communionis notio, Ad Catholicae Ecclesiae Episcopos de aliquibus aspectibus Ecclesiae prout est communio, 28 mai 1992, dans AAS 85 (1993) p. 838850. Aussi, La Constitution Apostolique Dogmatique Lumen Gentium, 21 nov. 1964, AAS 57 (1965) p. 8, 9, 14, 22, 38. V.: H. Capitant, op. cit., p. 199; F.K.von Savigny, Histoire du Droit Romain au Moyen Age, Ed. Chez Charles Hingray, Paris, 1839, vol.I et II, dans vol.II, p. 39. Pour les discussions sur la fondation canonique non autonome, regardée comme acte juridique distinct de la personne juridique-fondation, V. L-M.Harosa, Aspecte privind reglementarea fundaþiilor pioase în codurile de drept canonic (codex juris canonici ºi codex canonum ecclesiarum orientalium) ale bisericii catolice dans Culegere de studii In honorem C. Bîrsan, L. Pop, ed. Rosetti, Bucarest, 2006, no.131 et suiv. V., pour des détails; I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, op. cit., p.202-203 ; J.Gaudemet, op. cit., p.20-26. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 83 31. V., pour des détails: J.Gaudemet, op. cit., p.26-35. E.Dumea, op. cit., p. 37-44, qui montre que le plus ancien exemple de persécution organisée par l’autorité romaine date de l’année 64, lorsque Néron (54-68) a incendié Rome. Pour connaître les préliminaires de cet incident, il est nécessaire de lire le texte de Tacite des Annales (Tacite, Annales, XV, 44), qui affirme que l’empereur même se fit coupable de l’incendie de 16 juillet qui a détruit plusieurs quartiers de la cité. Pour s’en disculper, Néron, selon le témoignage de Suétone (Suétone, De Vita Caesarum, Claudius, XXIX, 1), « a condamné les chrétiens à la torture, [car ils étaient] une peuplade qui avait embrassé une superstition nouvelle et coupable ». Tacite (Annales, XV, 44) est plus franc : « Pour faire disparaître les murmures concernant la destruction de Rome, Néron a accusé certains individus ignobles à cause de leurs infamies. Ils sont appelés chrétiens par le peuple et ce nom provient de Chrestos, qui, sous Tibère, avait été condamné au supplice par le Procurateur Ponce Pilate. Réprimée pour quelque temps, l’ignoble superstition s’étendait de nouveau, non seulement en Judée, le berceau de ce fléau, mais aussi à Rome, où pénètre de tous côtés tout ce qui peut être de plus atroce et infâme. D’abord, l’on arrêta ceux qui professaient leur foi... puis une grande population (ingens multitudo), sous l’accusation non pas tellement d’avoir mis feu à la ville, mais surtout à cause de leur haine envers le genre humain (odium humani generis)... ». Cette dernière expression traduit le terme grec misanthropia. Une communauté qui menait une vie différente (à savoir chrétienne) paraissait suspecte. Et le passage de la différence d’habitudes vers les habitudes inhumaines était très rapide, d’autant plus que la civilisation gréco-romaine était considérée le modèle suprême de philanthropia (umanisme). Ibidem. Les persécutions ont continué, plus rares ou plus fréquentes, sous Domitien, Trajan, Hadrien, Septime Sévère, Dèce, Valérien, Gallien et Dioclétien. 32. I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, op. cit., p.202 ; V. de Paolis, op. cit., p.61-62 ; J.Gaudemet, op. cit., p. 124-128. 33. I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, ibidem. 34. Ibidem. St. Justin, Apol. I, 67 ; 35. Tertullien, Apologetica, 39, 20 ; Actes 11, 27-30. 36. N.Milaº, Dreptul Bisericesc Oriental, traduction selon la deuxième édition allemande par D.I.Cornilescu et S.V.Radu, révisée par I.Mihãlcescu, Tip. Gutenberg, Bucarest, 1915, p.428 ; J.Gaudemet, op. cit., p.128-132 ; V. de Paolis, op. cit., p.61 ; I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, op. cit., p.203 et suiv. 37. N.Milaº, op. cit., p.431. 38. Idem, p.203. 39. Ibidem. 40. V. V. de Paolis, op. cit., p.62. 41, V.: N.Milaº, op. cit., p. 428; J.Gaudemet, op. cit., p. 572-573. 42. V.: A.Dumas, dans R.Naz, C. De Clerq, C. Lefebvre, F. Claeys Bouuaert, E.Jombart, A.Dumas, A.Molien - Traité de Droit Canonique. Tome 7, Prescription, La propriété ecclesiastique, Succesions, 2 ed. Ed.Letouzey et Ané, Paris, 1965, p.1900. 43. V.: A. Dumas, dans R.Naz et alii, op. cit., p. 1199-1200. 84 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. Ibidem. Ibid. Idem, p.1191. Ibidem. La novelle de l’empereur Léon le Philosophe dans Zahariae, Jus greco-romanorum III, 128, apud. N. Milaº, op. cit., p. 429. La novelle de Constantin Porphyrogénète dans Zahariae, op. cit., III, 276, apud. N. Milaº, ibidem. Novelle 131, canon 12, Basilic. V, 3,13. En vertu de la Lex Falcidia et du droit romain tardif (Digeste XXXV, 2,1), un testament était valable uniquement au cas où les héritiers légaux reçoivent un quart du total des biens ; si le testateur a laissé d’autres dispositions, l’héritier a le droit de déduire de chaque testament ce qui est nécessaire pour atteindre le quart (quarta Falcidia). V. N. Milaº, op. cit., p. 430. Instit. Justin. VI, 6 § 19; NoV. 131, can. 11 (Basilic. V, 3,12). V. A. Dumas, op. cit., p.1191-1192. V. Administration Pontificale de la Basilique Patriarcale Saint-Paul, Les papes. Vingt siècles d’histoire, Librairie Editrice Vaticane, Vatican, 2004, p.81. Les collections de décrétales De testamentis et ultimis voluntatibus (Les décrétales de Grégoire IX, livre III, tit.XXVI, Le Sexte, livre III, tit.XI, Les clémentines: livre III, tit.VI). V. A.Dumas, op. cit., p.1192. Idem. (Col.Jaffe-Watenbach, cat.11480) apud. A.Dumas, ibidem. Ibidem. Ibidem. Idem, p.1193. V. J.Gaudemet, op. cit., p. 562. V.: A.Dumas, op. cit., p.1193-1194; J.Gaudemet, op. cit., p.562. V. A.Dumas, op. cit., p.1194. Idem, p.1195. Ibidem. Decr.Gratian, causa XII, q.V.c.1,c 2, c.4, c.5; Les décrétales de Grégoire IX, livre III, tit.XXVI, c.1, c.7, c.9. V. A.Dumas, op. cit.,p. 1195. Ibid. V. C. Twagirayezu – L’activité patrimoniale illicite pour les clercs selon le Code De Droit Canonique (c.286). Evolution historico-juridique et nouvelles perspectives - Tezã - Pontificia Universita’ Lateranense, Institutum Utrumque Juris, Roma 1992, p.13. V. C.Twagirayezu, op. cit., p.13-14. „Si ergo res ecclesiae non quasi propriae, sed quasi communes habendae sunt, cum de communi nullius dicat, hoc meum est, nec de rebus ecclesiae, hec mea est, potest aliquis dicere, ne videatur non imitari caritatem illorum, in qua nulli aliquid erat proprium, sed erant illis communis omnia. His ita respondetur: Sicut perfectione caritatis manente secun- POWER, BELIEF 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. AND IDENTITY • 85 dum discretionem ecclesiasticarum facultatum distributio fit dum aliis possessiones huius ecclesiae ad dispensandum commitunntur, ex quibus, licet res ecclesiae omnibus debeant esse communes, primum tamen sibi et suae ecclesiae deseruientibus necessaria subministret… nec tunc rebus ecclesiae ut propriis, sed ut communibus utilitatibus deseruiturus…” apud. C.Twagirayezu, op. cit.,p. 14. Saint Augustin prêchait contre les mercenaires qui dans l’Église cherchaient non pas Dieu, mais une modalité d’éviter les difficultés du monde et d’y échapper. V. C.Twagirayezu, op. cit., p.15-16. V. J.Gaudemet, op. cit., p.174. V. C.Twagirayezu, op. cit., p.17. Idem,.p. 18. C.XII,1,3, ad possidebat… Ergo aliquis potest possidere rem, cuius non potest habere proprietatem, sicut serus dicitur possidere. V. I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, op. cit., p.209. V. I.N.Floca, Canoanele Bisericii Ortodoxe, lucr.cit., passim. Sf.Augustin, De oficiis, II, c.21, apud. I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, op. cit., p.210. V.: V.ªesan, op. cit., p.249-250 ; N.Milaº, op. cit., p.433-435. V.: I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, op. cit., p.210 ; N.Milaº, op. cit., p.437-438. V. N.Milaº, ibidem. Le canon 38 apostolique; le canon 24 du IVème synode œcuménique; le canon 15 d’Ancyre ; le canon 24 d’Antioche; les canons 26 et 33 de Carthage; le canon 2 de Cyrille d’Alexandrie. V. I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, op. cit., p.210. V. I.N.Floca, Canoanele...ouvr. cit., p.28. Idem, p.179: « Quant aux biens de l’Église vendus par des membres du clergé autres que les évêques, que l’Église en réclame la restitution. Il revient à l’évêque de décider de récupérer le prix ou non, car très souvent le revenu apporté par les biens vendus dépasse le prix .» Idem, p.202 : « Il vaut bien garder les biens de l’Église pour l’Église, avec toute assiduité, en bonne conscience et avec foi de Dieu le tout-voyant et le juge. Ces biens doivent être gérés par le jugement et mis sous la charge de l’évêque, auquel l’on a confié le peuple entier et les âmes de ceux qui se rassemblent dans l’Église. Les prêtres et les diacres entourant l’évêque doivent être informés quels biens appartiennent à l’Église, de sorte que rien ne soit caché et que, s’il arrive que l’évêque rende l’âme, les biens de l’Église ne soient pas perdus ou absents et les biens personnels de l’évêque ne soient pas confondus avec ceux de l’Église... » Idem, p.86. Idem, p. 237 ; Le canon stipule que seul le synode puisse décider sur l’aliénation des biens ecclésiaux. Idem, p.240 : « Il fut décidé aussi qu’un religieux ne vende aucun bien de l’Église dans laquelle il a été ordonné sans en prévenir l’évêque et que les évêques ne vendent des terrains de l’Église sans en prévenir le synode ou les autres membres du clergé... » Idem, p. 162. Pour des développements sur ce canon, V. N.Milaº, op. cit., p.438. 86 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. V. I.N.Floca, S.Joantã, op. cit., p.211. Idem, p.211. Ibidem. Ibidem. Ibid. Ibid. Idem, p.212. Ibidem. Ibid. V. N.Milaº, op. cit., p.438. V.: Coord.Y.Eminescu, Subiectele colective de drept în România, Ed.Academiei R.S.R., Bucarest, p.7, H, L et J. Mazeaud, Fr. Chabas, Mazeaud H et L., Mazeaud, J., Fr.Chabas - Leçons de Droit Civil. Les personnes. La personnalité. Les incapables. par Fl. Laroche-Gisserot, Tome 1, vol.II, 8 ed., Montchrestien, Paris, 1997 p. 313, 320.; H. Capitant, Introduction a l’étude du Droit Civil, 4 ed, Ed. A.Pedone, 1923, p. 196; E. Lupan, D.A. Popescu, A. Marga, Drept Civil. Persoana juridicã, Ed.Lumina Lex, Bucarest, 1994, p. 8. Y. Eminescu, op. cit., idem, avec les auteurs cités dans les notes 1 et 2. H., L., et J. Mazeaud, Fr. Chabas, op. cit. p. 320; H. Capitant, op. cit. p. 196197; R. Saleilles, De la personnalité juridique, Histoire et théories, 2e, ed. Paris, Librairie Arthur Rousseau, 1922, p. 25. P.Fr. Girard, Manuel de Droit Roman, 6e ed., p.241, apud. H.Capitant , op. cit. p. 196, note 2. Pour les mêmes conclusions, M.D. Bocºan, Observaþii privind conceptul de persoanã juridicã, Juridica, 3/2001, feuillet 125, ainsi que les auteurs cités par le même auteur à la note 4. V. et: A. Lefebvre-Teillard, De quelques fondement canoniques du droit des personnes et de la famille dans le droit civil français dans L´Eglise et le droit, Aix-En-Provence, IDHC, 1998 p. 80, F. Ferrara, Teoria delle persone giuridiche, UTET ed. Milan-Turin, 1923, p.100, M. Vauthier, op. cit. p.43. V.: H. Capitant, op. cit. p. 197, Y. Eminescu, op. cit. p.8, H.,L., J. Mazeaud, Fr. Chabas, op. cit. p. 320, N. Ferrara, ibidem. R. Saleilles, op. cit. p. 57 R. Saleilles, Ibidem. V.: H.L. et J. Mazeaud, Fr. Chabas, op. cit., ibidem., H. Capitant, op. cit., p.197198. Il est facile de retrouver ici l’adage par lequel les juristes de l’ancien droit français considéraient la personnalité une émanation du pouvoir; « L´on ne se peut assembler pour faire corps de communauté sans congé et lettres du Roy », Loysel, apud. H., L., J. Mazeaud, Fr. Chabas, op. cit. p.321. V.: H. Capitant, op. cit. p.198, M. Vauthier, op. cit. p. 44 et suiv. Pour l’opinion contraire selon laquelle les associations licites auraient besoin d’une autorisation spéciale pour obtenir la personnalité, V. M. Vauthier, op. cit. p. 290. V. F.K. von Savigny, op. cit., vol.I, p. 274 et suiv. D.3,4,1, cité par P.Fr. Girard, Textes de droit roman. Publiés et annotés p.443., F.K von Savigny, op. cit. p. 275. H.J. et L. Mazeaud, Fr. Chabas, op. cit., p. 320, R. Saleilles, op. cit. p. 80. R. Saleilles, op. cit. p.77. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 87 115. Idem, p. 78., F.K. von Savigny, op. cit. p. 276. 116. Ibidem. Selon la formule d’Ulpian, si quid universitati debetur, singulis non debetur, nec quod debet universitatis singuli debent, citée par Y. Eminescu, op. cit., p. 9. 117. Ibidem, p. 114-115. 118. Idem, p. 150, H. Capitant, op. cit. p. 198, H.L.J. Mazeaud, Fr. Chabas, op. cit. p. 320, Y. Eminescu, op. cit. p. 9-10. 119. Pour le développement du droit byzantin orthodoxe, V. I.N. Floca, op. cit., p. 901106, et pour le catholique, G. Le Bras, C. Lefèvre, J.Rambaud, L’âge classique..., p. 103-127, J.Gaudemet, op. cit., p. 13-15. 120. V.: A. Lefevbre-Teillard, op. cit., p.66, Fr. Zenati, Mise en perspective et perspectives de la théorie du patrimoine, RTDCiv 2/2003, p. 668, ainsi que les auteurs cités à la note 5. 121. Fr. Zenati, op. cit., idem. 122. V.: M. Vauthier, op. cit., p .91; Y. Eminescu, op. cit., p. 11; R. Saleilles, op. cit., p. 224-225. L’auteur offre quelques explications très intéressantes sur l’indivision en main commune (zum gesammte Hand) pendant le Moyen Âge. Ce genre de propriété commune était différente de la simple copropriété, par ce que l’indivisaire ne pouvait pas disposer de sa partie sans le consentement des autres et n’avait qu’un droit éventuel dans le partage des biens indivis. Cette forme de propriété indivise en main commune se situait au milieu de la distance entre l’indivision ordinaire d’une part et le patrimoine commun dû à la personnalité juridique d’autre part. L’institution a survécu uniquement dans le droit allemand et celui suisse, étant disparue du droit français. 123. V.: A. Lefebvre-Teillard, op. cit., p. 67 et suiv., M. Michoud, La théorie de la personnalité morale. Son application au droit français, par L.Trotabas, Tome 1 et 2, L.G.D.J., 2 ed, Paris, 1924 p. 302-303, R. Saleilles, op. cit., idem, Fr. Zenati, op. cit., p. 671. 124. Fr. Zenati, idem. 125. Y. Eminescu, op. cit., p. 11. 126. H. Capitant, op. cit., p.200-201. Par l’édit de 16 novembre 1629, el était interdit d’édifier de monastère dans le Royaume de France sans la permission expresse du roi. Par l’édit de 7 juin 1659, aucune communauté religieuse, séminaire ou confrérie ne pouvait se constituer sans que l’on reconnût son utilité évidente et sans l’agrément du roi ; un autre édit encore, celui de 1749, a introduit la règle selon laquelle les communautés ne pouvaient recevoir aucun legs, ni à titre gratuit, ni onéreux, sans que le don se fît pour une cause juste et nécessaire (en plus, avant de faire le don, l’acte devait recevoir l’autorisation royale). De même, les communautés étaient considérées incapables d’acquérir par libéralité testamentaire des biens immobiliers. (H.Capitant, ibidem.) V., et aussi: R.Saleilles, op. cit., p.240; G.Le Bras, C.Lefèvre, J.Rambaud, ouvr.cit., p. 131 et suiv.; M.Vauthier, op. cit., p.220; H., L., et J.Mazeaud, Fr.Chabas, op. cit., p.321-322. 127. Selon la formule célèbre de Pothier, apud. H.Capitant, op. cit., idem, note 2. 128. H.Capitant, op. cit., p.202. 129. Pour le développement du sujet, voir M.D.Bocºan, op. cit., p. 125 avec les auteurs cités, ainsi que la remarquable monographie du même auteur, Testamentul. Evoluþia 88 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) succesiunii testamentare în dreptul roman, Ed.Lumina Lex, Bucarest, 2000, p.129131. 130. Le nom Hexabible (collection de six livres) désigne un abrégé de tous les codes byzantins, ouvrage dans lequel l’auteur, Constantin Harménopoulos, a repris en 1345 les divisions de la matière des Basilicales (collection monumentale de lois romaines-byzantines, divisée en 60 livres et compilée sur ordre des empereurs Basile Ier le Macédonien et de son fils Léon VIème le Philosophe en 910-911, période où elle a été aussi publiée, devenant le code officiel et le plus compréhensif de l’Empire Byzantin). Ce code a été appliqué de manière officielle dans les Principautés roumaines jusqu’à l’apparition du Code Civile et il a encore survécu longtemps après ce moment. En même temps, il a servi de Code Officiel de l’État grec jusqu’à la seconde moitié du XXème siècle. Pour des détails, voir: I.N.Floca op. cit., p.104; L. Stan op. cit., p.24 et suiv.; M.Bîrlãdeanu, Obiceiul juridic în pravilele româneºti tipãrite, dans Studii Teologice, nr.1-2/1962, p.45 et suiv. 131. V. M.D. Bocºan, op. cit., idem. 132. Ibidem. Abstract An Historical Outline of the Development of Canon and Civil Law Legislation regarding the Temporal Estates of the Church Starting with its inception in Judea, in a province of the Roman Empire, integrated into a Hellenic Orient, Christendom needed specific tools to foster its institutional structuring in view of reaching its social development in the early Middle Ages, especially in terms of temporal goods. Therefore, this study addresses the development of the Church and Canon law by profiling its specific norms related to the property issue. During the early stage, brotherly relationships that characterized the small Christian world did not have recourse to a structured law system, instead they relied on the authority of the Holy Apostles. A key role was played by the formation of legal entities deriving from the Church, consisting however, until the Constantinian peace, of actual groups, tolerated or hunted according to the whims of imperial policy and especially according to local circumstances. Anyway, in the 3rd century A.D. Christian communities owned a significant number of real estate properties employed for religious or charitable purposes. Starting however with the adoption of Christianity as state religion by Constantine, Christian associations were recognized and religious associations extended their legal capacity; they may receive bequests, a privilege that had been denied for a long time to legal entities, except the State. Under the emperor Theodosius II the Codex Theodosianus includes, besides groups of people, charitable acts „piae causae”, connected to the Church, because they pursued the same charitable purpose, remaining however distinct from the Church in terms of autonomy and distinct personality. After the Edict of Milan, the Church used State law and, subsequently, its own rules to acquire temporal goods necessary for the conduct of its religious and charitable activity. The main means used were donations, purchases, testamentary and “ab intestat” successions. Keywords Canon law, historic, community, legal entities, donation and pious causes, testaments. Confessional Identity – National Identity. The Elites of the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church and the Catholic Autonomy from Hungary during the Period of Dualism (1867-1918) I ON C ÂRJA R OMANIAN HISTORIOGRAPHY has not yet convincingly and explicitly developed a research direction on the history of the elites, or, in any case, it has neither raised investigations in this domain to the conceptual and methodological level of western historiographies, nor has it systematically exhausted the research field and problematics that might be subsumed under this name. At the same time, it is undeniable that there have, indeed, been meritorious attempts in this direction, in the older or more recent historiography,1 just like it is also true that a series of distinct historical research domains concerning the Transylvanian and, in general, Romanian realities of the eighteenth-twentieth centuries may contribute, through the results accomplished so far, to defining the history of the elites. Thus, somewhat more visible domains of Romanian historiography, such as the history of the political and national emancipation movement of the Romanians from the Austrian, and later on, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the history of education and culture, and ecclesiastical history, comprise a series of reconstitutions that are perfectly subsumable to the history of the elites or that may be recuperated from that particular perspective. In our older or more recent historiography, the usage of the term “elite”/”elites” has been rather inconsistent and erratic, having only been more assertively deployed in the historiographic productions of the past couple of decades. The denomination of the elite categories in the Romanian society has prevalently been made through the following expressions: “intellectuals,” “leaders,” “headmen,” “intelligentsia,” which have been primarily used in research concerning the political and national emancipation history of the eigh- Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project. 90 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) teenth-twentieth centuries. What also deserves mention is the fact that the Romanian historiography of the period between 1948 and 1989 did not foster the usage of such expressions as historiographic concepts of reference, given the official ideologising vision the regime had imposed, according to which it was not the (“exploitative”) “elites” but the “large popular masses” that had had a decisive and determining contribution to the evolution of history; hence, the role of the latter ought to be emphasised in historical writing.2 Highly diversified theoretical approaches to the concept of “elite” have been produced in international literature, from various angles and perspectives (historical, sociological, anthropological, literary, etc.); however, it is not the intention of this study to overview them in the limited space here.3 What we wish to highlight are the most important coordinates of this concept that render it operational also insofar as the two Romanian confessions in Transylvania are concerned, during the period we are focusing on here, namely the latter half of the nineteenth century. An elite would therefore represent a restricted number of persons in possession of resources and decisional power, placed at the top of the social pyramid and generally situated above the average of the society (community) they represent on a cultural level. The content of this social category is obviously historically determined and dependent upon the specific peculiarities of each and every people. As regards the Romanians, who had become, by the end of the seventeenth century, component parts of the Habsburg Empire, with a historical experience that had relegated them to the position of “tolerated” or “marginal” subjects in accordance with the medieval legislation in Transylvania, the reforms carried out by the Austrian State led, in the long term, to national emancipation and created favourable conditions for the formation of an intellectual elite. It suffices to mention the union of a part of the Romanians from Transylvania with the Church of Rome, as a result of the religious policies promoted by the Habsburgs in Transylvania, which provided these Romanians with the opportunity to have access to studies in Rome and in education institutions from Central Europe, and the consequent creation of an elite tier, of prevalently ecclesiastical extraction, for a long period of time.4 In this specific historical context in which the Romanians from Transylvania found themselves at the beginning of modern times, we may also encounter the factors that fostered the emergence and determined the structure of the Romanian elite tier. Thus, taking into account the lack of the urban bourgeoisie or of numerically significant lay intellectuals prior to the nineteenth century, as well as the important part played by both the parochial clergy in the life of local communities and the bishops at the level of the entire Romanian nation (see, in this sense, the petitionarism initiated by the Greek-Catholic Bishop Inocenþiu Micu Klein, followed by the Supplex Movement of 1792), it must be admitted that the ecclesi- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 91 astical elites would play the role of Romanian national elites until late into the second half of the nineteenth century.5 The ecclesiastical elites represented an important benchmark for the Romanians who were included within the political, state structures of the Habsburgs also because of the contribution made by the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church to the cultural development of the nation, both through the schools it opened in Blaj, initially, in mid-eighteenth century and through the possibility to connect itself to the higher education institutions from Central Europe and Italy. Thus, along these rather general lines, we should also add the fact that the Romanian ecclesiastical elites’ assumption of an important position on the national level was also due to the major role confession played in defining the national identity of the Romanians within the Habsburg Empire (The Dual Monarchy after 1867). Despite the general European process of the secularisation of values and of society, which would visibly, though belatedly, affect the Romanian society too, confession continued to represent, up until WWI, a factor of ethnicnational identification and delineation for the Romanians from the Danubian Monarchy. This ensured that the clergy would continue to be a reference point for the community, both at the local and at the national levels, even after the 1848 revolution, when the impact of the secular elite upon the Romanians’ political and cultural life was becoming more and more evident. The nineteenth century was, in all probability, one of the most interesting periods for the history of the Romanian elites in the Austrian/Austro-Hungarian Empire. First of all, because this was the period when a numerically significant group of intellectuals emerged within the Romanian nation, when, in other words, as Cornel Sigmirean’s research has relevantly shown, a secular elite became more and more visible both in the life of the Romanian nation and outside it. Romanians increasingly penetrated the higher education networks of central and western Europe, exhibiting an interest in a wide range of studies and professions: besides theology, they also took up studying law, economics and technology.6 Consequently, at the level of the Romanian elite tier, the progressively greater number of lawyers, journalists, or practitioners of the liberal professions gradually diminished the monopoly that the clergy had exerted up to that point in the Romanian national life. The result of the emergence and increasingly visible affirmation of lay intellectuals in the life of the Romanian nation was the reversal of power relations in favour of the secular elites. This was, of course, a gradual process, but the revolution of 1848-1849 was a landmark in the history of the nineteenth century, which emphasised, at all levels, the existence of a numerically substantial layer of lay intellectuals, who were politically active and who were extremely willing to take charge of the power mechanisms in the national political sphere – a most sensitive area, where the evolution of the relations between the ecclesiastical and the secular components of the Romanian elite tier was most accurately recorded. 92 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) The second half of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth evinced all the more potently a tendency that could already be detected in the events related to the 1848 revolution: lay intellectuals became more and more vocal as leaders of the general Romanian emancipation movement, especially as concerns political action. One may speak of a competition for power at the level of the Romanian political action within the Austrian/ Austro-Hungarian Empire, which, in the latter half of the nineteenth century was settled through the poignant affirmation of the lay intellectuals and through the ever more obvious exclusion of the Episcopate from the decisional level of the Romanian community in the Empire. This also occurred against the more general background of the modernisation process, which entailed, amongst others, the “professionalisation” of the elites in the Romanian political movement, through the establishment of party structures in 1869 and 1881.7 This diminution of the scope of the church elite in the political life of the Romanian nation did not mean at all that it had become a negligible force; it only meant a reversal of the roles in favour of the lay intellectuals. As mentioned above, given the role of an identity mark that confession continued to play for the Romanians until the end of dualism, the clergy maintained its impact upon the life of the Romanian community, both at a central (the episcopate, the prelates) and at a local level (the parochial clergy). While at the overall level of the Romanian nation within the Habsburg Empire, modernisation enabled the emergence of lay intellectuals, multiplying and diversifying the content and substance of the elite tier, a similar modernisation process also redounded to the ecclesiastical elite from the two Romanian Churches: in the latter half of the nineteenth century, these underwent a massive process of institutional organisation. The establishment, in 1853 and 1864, of the two Metropolitan Sees represented for the Romanians a concurrently ecclesiastical and national objective, whose materialisation marked the beginning of both a period of internal organisation on the constitutional level and ecclesiastical discipline, educationally and culturally. In fact, in 1853 the Greek-Catholic Church secured its elevation to the rank of a Metropolitan See, its removal from dependence upon the Roman-Catholic Archepiscopate of Esztergom and its full canonical autonomy, as well as the setting up of two new bishoprics, at Gherla and Lugoj. The complex period of organisation on multiple levels, constitutional and disciplinary in particular, that followed witnessed the three provincial synods, held in 1872, 1882 and 1900.8 Equally, for the Romanians’ Orthodox Church, hierarchical separation from the Serbs and its elevation in 1864 to the status of a Metropolitan See, under the conditions of full ecclesiastical autonomy, brought about, especially at the level of constitutional organisation, substantial reforms, which were enacted in the well-known Organic Statute issued by Metropolitan Andrei ªaguna.9 This period of institutional renewal and or unprecedented reforms POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 93 meant, for both Romanian churches, a stricter delineation of their modes of institutional functioning, and a clearer assignation of tasks and responsibilities to the ecclesiastical personnel from the central and the local levels; in other words, we witness a more precise definition of the responsibilities (and, ultimately, of the career coordinates) of the ecclesiastical elite, both Orthodox and Greek-Catholic. The reorganisation of the education structures under the patronage of the two Churches and broader access to the universities from central and western Europe led both to a qualitative increase in the ecclesiastical elites’ level of intellectual training and, as mentioned before, to the creation of a widening layer of Romanian secular intellectuals. It is also true, however, that despite all cultural and educational progress, the Romanian ecclesiastical elites maintained their poly-stratified diversity as regards intellectual training until much later. Thus, for instance, at the local, parochial level of the Romanian communities, there was still clerical personnel with rather scant training, whose duration did not exceed several months; such was the case of the so-called “moralist” priests from the Greek-Catholic Church.10 These were the most important characteristics of the Romanian elites, both secular and ecclesiastical, at around the time the dualist partnership between Pest and Vienna was inaugurated in 1867. The onset of the new regime coincided with the launching of a somewhat unprecedented political-ecclesiastical project insofar as Catholicism in central Europe was concerned: “Catholic Autonomy,” an idea with a rather polemical trajectory throughout the entire period of the Austro-Hungarian dualism. The political and church elites, and, in particular, the Catholic Episcopate from Hungary, were responsible for the initiation and achievement of this project in Hungary’s public life; responses on the Romanian side were also assumed and elaborated on by the elites of the Greek-Catholic Church, including its bishops, prelates, members of the teaching staff from the schools from Blaj, Beiuº, Gherla, etc. that were under the patronage of the Church, and other members of the clergy. The history of the relations between the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church and the Catholic Autonomy from Hungary is, therefore, considerably, a history of the positions adopted by the elites of Romanian GreekCatholicism towards a project of ecclesiastical policy that was perceived as a threat to its own ecclesiastical identity. Less studied so far in the historiography from Romania,11 the problem of the relations between the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church and the Hungarian Catholic Autonomy represents a prolific theme that may highlight the interface between the ecclesiastical and the national dimensions of the Romanian-Hungarian relations from the latter half of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth. Launched in the period of the 1848 revolution, the political-ecclesiastical project of the Hungarian “Catholic Autonomy” was explicitly proposed through the letter addressed in 1867 by baron Jozsef Eötvös to the Archbishop Primate János Simor,12 witnessed the first attempts of systematic and 94 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) coherent elaboration in the beginning years of dualism, and saw its last “launching” to the forefront of public and political life in Hungary towards the end of the Dual Monarchy. Catholic Autonomy was conceived as a structure meant to manage and administer the church funds and foundations, religious education and its institutions, to ensure the democratisation of the decisional factor in the Hungarian Catholic Church, by co-opting lay people besides the clerics in decision making, to have a role in the appointment of bishops, and to achieve thus a sort of amiable separation between the Church and State, with its ever more offensive policies levelled at the ecclesiastical institution. Catholic Autonomy was therefore a dominant topic in the political-ecclesiastical debates across Transleithania, for instance, between 1868-1871 or 1897-1902, but there were also years of setbacks, when it its importance and acuity subsided. According to the perspective envisaged by those who had conceived it, Catholic Autonomy was to comprise both the Latin and the eastern rites of the Catholic Church from Hungary. This was perceived by the Romanian Greek-Catholics as an infringement of, if not a downright attack against the full autonomy and canonical independence of their own Church; these had been guaranteed from the moment of their entering in dogmatic union with the Church of Rome and recognised, thereafter, through a series of decrees issued by the Holy See and through civil legislation. Even though the attitude of the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church was not entirely unitary and unequivocal, it constantly aimed to disavow the projected Catholic Autonomy from Hungary, developing, as a counter reply, a defensive discourse targeted at the necessity to maintain and assert its own ecclesiastical autonomy. The first years of the dualist regime, more exactly, the period 1868-1871 saw the attempt to implement Catholic Autonomy in Hungary. The Episcopate elaborated an autonomy project, which was then sent even to the Emperor-King, without managing to satisfy any of the parties involved. After several other debates, the Hungarian national congress met in October 1870 to discuss the autonomy problem; a further session of the same congress took place in the following year, 1871. Regulations entitled The Organisation of the Autonomy of the Latin Rite and Greek Rite Catholic Church from Hungary were drafted and submitted thereafter to the Emperor for approval, in accordance with established procedures. Denominated in the epoch with the term regulations, this document was a veritable constitution of Catholic Autonomy and presents one of the most interesting formulas of organising Church-State relations in the second half of the nineteenth century; it also attests the insertion of a democratic spirit in the elaboration of ecclesiastical policies by the Hungarian Catholic Church. The fundamental principle of autonomy organisation was the cooperation between the clergy and the laity on all matters concerning the assignation of functions and responsibilities, public instruction and education, the administration of church properties, schools, foun- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 95 dations, funds, etc. The sphere of rights and competences pertaining to autonomy extended therefore, according to the regulations cited above, “to all the affairs of the Catholic Church that bear on temporal things and matters.” The right of the king’s supreme patronage would remain intact, with the mention that the emperor king would represent certain interests of the Catholic Church from Hungary at the Holy See in cooperation with autonomy’s mandated bodies. All the movables and immovables, the foundations administered by men of the Church, the religious and study funds, as well as other Catholic funds were to be declared the property of the Hungarian Catholic Church. The state-administered religious funds would be handed over to the bodies of autonomy so that the latter might administer them. The bodies of autonomy would represent the Church in all the matters concerning goods, education and instruction that interfered with the state’s sphere of activity. Eventually, autonomy was rejected, as a consequence of the Holy See’s opposition and the laity’s excessive influence.13 At the congresses and meetings on Autonomy from the period 1869-1871, the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church generally had an inconsistent behaviour, in the sense that the bishops from the so-called “Hungarian” dioceses participated in the congresses summoned by the Archbishop Primate of Hungary, while in the Metropolitan Diocese of Blaj the reservations expressed by Metropolitan Ioan Vancea were reinforced by the attitude of the laity and of the lay elite from the national movement. The debates on participation in the Congresses of Catholic Autonomy from Hungary revealed aspects of the complex identity of the Romanian Church: the dioceses from the Western Parts proved to be willing, in principle, to become integrated in the body of “Catholic Autonomy” from Hungary, whereas the Archdiocese of Blaj, which was closer to the national trend in the Church, went, in the attitudes it expressed, from calculated reservations to overt opposition. The conduct adopted by the Romanian Greek-Catholic hierarchy towards the “first wave” of the congresses occasioned by the question of Catholic Autonomy (18691871) was largely maintained unchanged. What was important, above all, was the bishop’s political-ecclesiastical position; however, the Metropolitan Diocese was essentially the one that promoted, more strongly than any other, a discourse aimed at maintaining and asserting its own autonomy, from the period 1869-1871 to WWI, as a counterpoint to the projected Catholic Autonomy from Hungary. The problem of “Catholic Autonomy” remained unsolved for a long time, and debates on it subsided, becoming of secondary importance in the religious and political life from Hungary. It nonetheless registered a powerful comeback at the beginning of the 1890s. A conference took place in Budapest on 11 December 1890, another on 18 February 1891, rallying the participation of 100 Catholic personalities, who raised again the autonomy problem. A great Catholic gathering also too place in Budapest on 20 February 1891. Confronted with renewed initiatives of organising Autonomy, the members of the Provincial Synod held 96 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) on 16 April 1893 to elect Ioan Vancea’s successor to the Metropolitan See adopted a “manifesto” against Hungarian Catholic Autonomy and against any attempt to impose limits upon the autonomy of the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church.14 The launching of preparations for the congress on autonomy, through the letter of 29 May 1897, which decided on the organisation of elections for the preparatory congress on Catholic Autonomy in Hungary, triggered a second series of systematic debates; throughout the duration of these, the translation into practice of the project for Hungarian Catholic Autonomy was attempted. The episcopal elite of the Romanian Church reacted just like it had done at the beginning of the dualist period. The Romanian Greek-Catholic Episcopate, represented, at that time, by Mihail Pavel (Oradea), Ioan Szabó (Gherla) and Demetriu Radu (Lugoj), met, on 23 June 1897, in a conference in Blaj, which had been convoked by Metropolitan Mihályi. Important personalities of the Greek-Catholic Church also attended the conference: Ioan Micu Moldovan, Augustin Bunea, Vasile Hossu and Victor Szmigelski, representing the Archdiocese, Corneliu Bulcu from Oradea, Vasile Pordea from Gherla and Ioan Boroº from the Bishopric of Lugoj. The conference decided that bishops should not conscribe voters in the Metropolitan Province, as the Cardinal Primate’s invitation had requested, should not authorise the election of deputies and should not participate themselves in the congress. It was also decided that the Metropolitan should send two memorials to the primates of Hungary and the Emperor, in which they should voice out the protest of the entire Episcopate against the inclusion of the Romanian Church in the structures of autonomy envisaged for the Church of Latin rite. At the end of the nineteenth century, the tripartite memorial addressed to the Primate, on 23 June 1897, was, together with one addressed to the Emperor, the first document of protest elaborated by the episcopal elite of the Greek-Catholic Church against the project of organising Catholic Autonomy in Hungary. It incentivised the conference meeting of the Episcopate in Blaj on the grounds of the public feeling that had been generated amongst the Romanians by the Archbishop Primate’s invitation to conscribe the electors from the dioceses. The premise on which the expository structure of the memorial was based and which was important for its overall argumentation was that the agitation and concern aroused amongst in Romanians by the re-launching of the congress on autonomy were likely to jeopardize both the foundations of Catholicism and, most of all, the solidity of the Romanians’ union with the Church of Rome. As had been the case each and every time in the Greek-Catholic petitionary movement on the theme of autonomy, this memorial also presented the entire historical and judicial argumentation on which the canonical independence of the Transylvanian GreekCatholic Church was founded, with all the familiar references to the conditions of the union with Rome, the acts attesting the establishment of the Greek-Catholic Province of Alba Iulia and Fãgãraº and of its suffragan bishoprics, the benchmarks POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 97 of state legislation that acknowledged its full autonomy and the decisions of the provincial synods. Reminiscent of the efforts undertaken by Metropolitan Vancea for convoking the congress on the autonomy of the Greek-Catholic Church, the memorial reinforced this desideratum, asserting that only thus could the Romanian priests and believers be persuaded of the fact that the Metropolitan Province was totally independent of the Church of Latin rite. The fundamental desiderata of the memorial were adherence to the autonomy of the GreekCatholic Church and the convocation of a congress for organising the latter.15 The period 1897-1902, during which there was a second series of congresses and debates for the elaboration of the Catholic Autonomy statute, was as important and challenging for the elites of the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church as the years that would follow until the outbreak of WWI, when the project for Hungarian Catholic Autonomy was superseded by the force of other events. All these years had witnessed unprecedented political dynamism at the level of the Episcopate, as well as amongst other members of the superior clergy; the Romanian party developed a defensive, intensely polemical position as regards the general project of organising the Catholic Autonomy in Hungary. The last decade of the nineteenth century was also one of utmost political dynamism and activism for the Romanians in Austro-Hungary, in the sense that it was the decade when the Memorandum was submitted to the Emperor (1892), followed by the trial from Cluj (1894) and the conviction of the movement leaders. Only three years after the trial of the Memorandum signers, another strenuous period started for the Romanians, at an ecclesiastical level, this time, given the re-launching of Catholic Autonomy. Beginning in 1897, the elites of the Greek-Catholic Church organised conferences, elaborated and sent memorials to the Archbishop Primate of Hungary, to the Apostolic Nunciature in Vienna and to Rome, participated in the general congresses on Catholic Autonomy, and initiated press campaigns for promoting their own visions and perspectives, ultimately for promoting their own church and national autonomy. The Romanian actions undertaken during this period amounted to a vast sequence of events that we do not wish to insist upon here, since we have made an extensive presentation of it elsewhere.16 We shall briefly overview the most important moments of the Romanian elites’ actions on the autonomy issue from the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth. Thus, shortly after the conference of the Episcopate on 23 June, a mixed conference, gathering numerous participants, was held in Cluj; its final document expressed its solidarity with the position espoused by the bishops and was also sent to the Holy See. In approximately the same period, Lugoj hosted another conference, with mixed clerical and lay audiences, which also adopted similar resolutions.17 The conferences of the Catholic Episcopate from Hungary held in the autumn of 1897 provided Metropolitan Victor Mihalyi with further opportunities to assert 98 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) the Romanian position. The memorial drafted by the Romanian bishops at the 23 June conference was presented by Mihalyi at the conference from 27 September, then at the episcopal conference from 7 November, as well as in the letter he sent to the Archbishop Primate Vaszary on 14 December 1897. On the matter of Catholic Autonomy, a veritable “petitionary movement” of the Romanian Greek-Catholic elites gained shape throughout these years, expressing the desideratum of their own ecclesiastical autonomy. Thus, having secured the consent of his suffragan bishops, Metropolitan Mihalyi sent another letter on 4 May 1889, when the autonomy project had been finalised by the sub-commission comprising 9 members from the 27-member commission of the congress.18 Like Mihail Pavel, the GreekCatholic Bishop of Oradea, Mihalyi also intervened at the conference of the Hungarian Catholic Episcopate from 15 September 1899 in order to present the position of the Romanian Episcopate on the autonomy project that had been finalised by the 27-member commission of the congress on Catholic Autonomy. This autonomy project sharpened debates on the Romanian-Hungarian ecclesiastical relations, triggering, both in the press and in the correspondence with the pontifical authorities, an ample support campaign for the autonomy of the Romanian Church. From amongst the materials that came out in the press, what deserves mention is an article that is significant for this debate: Augustin Bunea’s “Autonomia ºi comisiunea de 27,” which was published in the Unirea issue of 5 August 1899.19 The series of the Greek-Catholic protests against the project of Latin Catholic Autonomy continued with one of the most important moments in the Romanian autonomy-related factology, namely the Archdiocesan Synod held in Blaj on 22 November 1899. Anticipating and preparing, at the same time, the jubilar Provincial Synod of the following year, 1900, this first synodal reunion convoked at the archdiocesan level by Mihalyi, after his taking over the Metropolitan See, paid homage through its first decree to the act of union with Rome, while its third decree solemnly protested against the project of Hungarian Catholic Autonomy. The first point of this decree summed up all the judicial references that upheld the autonomy of the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church, and its second point expressed the hope that the Emperor would not allow the body of autonomy to disregard the rights of the Romanian ecclesiastical province.20 The synod also elaborated a protest against the forced integration of the Romanian Church in the Hungarian Catholic Autonomy, on the basis of a report drafted beforehand by Augustin Bunea. This was one of the most elaborate and the amplest petitionary documents of the Greek-Catholic Church at the end of the nineteenth century on the topic of its position on the Catholic Autonomy in Hungary.21 This protest memorial was sent to the Archbishop Primate, to the Viennese Nunciature and to the Ministry of the Cults and Public Instruction; besides other remarkable previously drafted documents, it would represent, POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 99 throughout the following period, one of the fundamental programmatic documents attesting the Romanian outlook on autonomy. It was sent by Mihalyi in an annex appended to his letter addressed to Nuncio Taliani on 26 January 1900.22 It was with great delay, only in the meeting of 10 March 1902, that the Archbishop Primate submitted this act, together with the memorial from 23 June 1897, to the attention of the congress, which treated the matter of the autonomy of the Romanian Church in an evasive and expeditious manner.23 The final years of the first world conflagration were coeval with the re-launching of the debates on the topic of organising the structures of Catholic Autonomy in Hungary and with the intensification of the interventions, contacts and correspondence between the factors involved, the culminating point being reached on 21 December 1917, when the Minister of the Cults from Budapest, Albert Apponyi, presented a bill regarding Catholic Autonomy to the Deputy Chamber of the Hungarian Parliament. The year 1917 was rich in initiatives and reactions regarding the issue of autonomy, including those belonging to the Romanian Greek-Catholic Episcopate, which also continued during the following year. The dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy was to postpone sine die the denouement: the actual and effective organisation of the structures of Catholic Autonomy, which had consistently been planned and resumed throughout the previous half century.24 The Romanian discourse on the theme of the Catholic Autonomy from Hungary and of its possible repercussions on the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church was extremely widely disseminated from its inception, during the first years of dualism, until towards the end of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy. The first more visible aspect of the Romanian discourse on autonomy is its dynamic and polemical dimension. This is because the “autonomy of our own Church” – a formula resumed like a leit-motif in the Greek-Catholic interventions – was consistently built in opposition with the ideology of the Catholic Autonomy from Hungary. This identity (the Romanian identity) always defined itself in relation to the “other,” to a confessional otherness (the Hungarian Catholicism of Latin rite). Here is the source of the entire debate around the Hungarian Catholic Autonomy; ultimately, the Romanian Greek-Catholic discourse on the theme of Autonomy was simultaneously a discourse that promoted its own confessional and national identity. We should like to emphasise that the Romanian discourse on autonomy, which was concurrently a discourse reacting against the Hungarian project and asserting its own autonomy, was, in its entirety, the result of the activity of the Romanian Greek-Catholic elites and, above all, of the bishops’ vision. Why did the elites of the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church refuse integration within the envisaged body of “Catholic Autonomy” from Hungary? At the level of ecclesiastical jurisdiction, this would have led immediately to the transfer of 100 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) certain important decisional competences onto the Autonomy Committee, which had been projected at the scale of the entire Hungary, and this would have entailed undesired repercussions for the policies deployed by the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church insofar as confessional education was concerned. Romanians feared that their integration within the “Autonomy” of their coreligionaries of Latin rite would mean their becoming exposed to Magyarisation through the Church. First of all, their absorption within the Hungarian “Catholic Autonomy” would have meant for the Romanians the diminution, if not the complete loss, of their own autonomy. This was the logic whereby, in broad lines, the Romanian discourse on Catholic Autonomy was built. The arguments invoked in favour of supporting their own ecclesiastical autonomy included the most diverse elements ranging from the Ecclesiam Christi papal bull issued by Pius IX to Leo XIII’s Preclarae gratulationes, from the resolutions of the provincial synods to the four Florentine points of the Union with Rome, or from other pontifical documents that had consecrated or reinforced the autonomy of the province of Alba Iulia and Fãgãraº to certain laws passed in dualist Hungary that had “enacted” it (officially recognised it).25 The major idea of the discourse promoted by the Romanian Greek-Catholic elites on the issue of the Hungarian “Catholic Autonomy” was that the interests of the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church demanded altogether different developments than integration within the autonomous status projected by the Latin Catholics from Hungary. From amongst the arguments invoked in favour of maintaining their own autonomy intact and consolidating it, the Greek-Catholic Romanians claimed that their Church had a special missionary role in the area: that of making all the Romanians in Transylvania become united with Rome, of extending the religious Union to the level of the entire Romanian nation; moreover, after the fulfilment of that desideratum, having entered into communion with the Apostolic See, the Romanian space would serve as an “operation basis” for bringing the entire European South-East and the Near Orient into Union with Rome. The sine qua non condition for the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church being able to serve such superior “Catholic” interests was that it should maintain its own autonomy intact. The Romanian Greek-Catholic discourse that opposed the advancement of the Hungarian Catholic Autonomy by positing the idea of its own autonomy also had a national significance, which was at least as important as the ones mentioned so far. The logic was that to the extent that it was and it would continue to be a fully autonomous Church, it would also be a “national,” Romanian Church. Hence, the planned autonomous organisation of the Catholic Church from Hungary was more than a mere attack against the autonomous character of the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church; it actually also undermined its national Romanian character. For the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church, the provo- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 101 cation occasioned by the Hungarian Catholic Autonomy meant an opportunity, after all, to consolidate the outlines of its own identity. The invitations the attend the preparatory conferences, as well as its projected integration within the structures of the general Catholic Autonomy, determined the reaction of the Greek-Catholic elites and of the intellectual laity, which elaborated one of the amplest and most complex discourses on their own ecclesiastical autonomy and identity in the entire historical existence of this Church. The Romanians elaborated a veritable ideology of, rather than a mere discourse on, autonomy, which was the correspondent in the ecclesiastical sphere of the political-national ideology of the emancipation movement. The stage of the constitutional organisation reforms that were launched by the Greek-Catholic Church after the founding of the Metropolitan Province coincided, therefore, after dualism, with the context of the difficult relations with the Latin Church from Hungary. Under such circumstances, the Romanian side developed a complex argumentation, based on historical, judicial and ecclesial elements, meant to support and assert its own identity. The “impossible” dialogue between the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church and the Catholic Autonomy from Hungary was unquestionably also due to the fact that both the Latin and the Greek-Catholic autonomy projects corresponded to different national paradigms; this was the nineteenth century, a period when the “national” dimension represented, for the political culture and the collective mentality from Central and South Eastern Europe, a value of higher symbolical force and prestige than that of confessional identity.26 Both the Hungarian project of Catholic Autonomy and the Romanian “counter-project” underwent a historical evolution that benefited from the support of both the ecclesiastical and the political elites of the two nations. Our study has aimed to highlight several aspects regarding the model of ecclesiastical organisation that Catholic Autonomy intended to enforce in Hungary; it would have been impossible to exhaust such extensive and intricate problematics within such a restricted space. What we have emphasised is that the Catholic ecclesiastical elites from Hungary – both the Hungarian Roman-Catholic and the Romanian Greek-Catholic elites – concurrently promoted two, mutually competitive projects of autonomy, the Romanian project representing a response and a reaction to the Hungarian one. Given the manner whereby they disavowed the general project of autonomy, advocating, instead, the necessity of asserting their own ecclesiastical autonomy, the Romanian bishops realised the importance of the national dimension that the project of Catholic Autonomy from Hungary ultimately entailed. Translated in english by CARMEN BORBÉLY 102 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Notes 1. Lucian, Nastasã, Generaþie ºi schimbare în istoriografia românã (sfârºitul secolului XIX ºi începutul secolului XX), Cluj-Napoca, Cluj University Press, 1999; Idem, Intelectualii ºi promovarea socialã (pentru o morfologie a câmpului universitar): sec. XIX-XX, Cluj-Napoca, Limes, 2004; Idem, Itinerarii spre lumea savantã. Tineri din spaþiul românesc la studii în strãinãtate (1864-1944), Cluj-Napoca, Limes, 2006; Idem, „Suveranii” universitãþilor româneºti: mecanisme de selecþie ºi promovare a elitei intelectuale, vol. I. Profesorii Facultãþilor de Filosofie ºi Litere (1864-1948), Cluj-Napoca, Limes, 2007; Idem, Intimitatea amfiteatrelor. Ipostaze din viaþa privatã a universitarilor „literari” (1864-1948), Cluj-Napoca, Limes, 2010. 2. See analyses of Romanian historiography undertaken during the communist period in: Vlad Georgescu, Politicã ºi istorie. Cazul comuniºtilor români 1944-1977, Bucharest, Humanitas, 1991; Florin Müller, Politicã ºi istoriografie în România 1948-1964, Cluj-Napoca, Nereamia Napocae, 2003; Gabriel Moisa, Istoria Transilvaniei în istoriografia românescã: 1965-1989, Cluj-Napoca, Cluj University Press, 2003. 3. Guy Chaussinand-Nogaret (ed.), Une histoire des élites 1700-1848: recueil de textes, Paris, La Haye, 1970; Ezra N. Suleiman, Henri Mendras (ed.), Le recrutement des élites en Europe, Paris, Édition de la Découverte, 1995; Natalie Petiteau, Élites et mobilité: la noblesse d’Empire au XIX-e siècle, 1808-1914, Paris, Boutique d’historie éd., 1997; Charle Christophe, Les élites de le République: 1880-1900, Paris, Fayard, 2006. 4. On the effects of the reformist policies of the Habsburgs in Transylvania, see: Mathis Bernath, Habsburgii ºi începuturile formãrii naþiunii române, Cluj-Napoca, Dacia, 1994. Referring to the union with Rome and its effects on the Romanians, see: Ovidiu, Ghitta, Naºterea unei biserici: biserica greco-catolicã din Sãtmar în primul ei secol de existenþã (1667-1781), Cluj-Napoca, Cluj University Press, 2001; Greta Monica Miron, Biserica greco-catolicã din Transilvania. Cler ºi enoriaºi (1697-1782), Cluj-Napoca, Cluj University Press, 2002. 5. David Prodan, Supplex Libellus Valachorum: din istoria formãrii naþiunii române, Bucharest, Enciclopedica Publishing, 1998. 6. Cornel Sigmirean, Istoria formãrii intelectualitãþii româneºti din Transilvania ºi Banat în epoca modernã, Cluj-Napoca, Cluj University Press, 2000. 7. For information on the setting up of parties in the national movement of the Romanians from Austro-Hungary, see Liviu Maior, Memorandul-filosofia politico-istoricã a petiþionalismului românesc, Bucharest, Romanian Cultural Foundation, 1992, pp. 65-122; Teodor Pavel, Partidul Naþional Român ºi acþiunea memorandistã, Cluj-Napoca, DacoPress, 1994, pp. 26-30 sq. 8. See: Ioan Micu Moldovan, Acte sinodali ale basericei române de Alba Julia ºi Fãgãrasiu, tom I-II, Blaj, S. Filtisch (W. Kraft) Printing House, 1869-1872; Decretele Conciliului prim ºi al doilea ale Provinciei bisericeºti greco-catolice de Alba Iulia ºi Fãgãraº, Blaj, 1927; Conciliul provincial al Treilea al Provinciei Bisericeºti Greco-Catolice Alba Iulia ºi Fãgãraº, Blaj, 1906. 9. Statutul organic al Bisericei Greco-Orientale Române din Ungaria ºi Transilvania. Suplement, second edition official and authentical, Sibiu, Archdiocesan Printing House, 1900; see also: Johann Schneider, Ecleziologia organicã a mitropolitului Andrei ªaguna POWER, BELIEF 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. AND IDENTITY • 103 ºi fundamentele ei biblice, canonice ºi moderne, translated into Romanian by deacon Ioan Icã Jr., Sibiu, Deisis, 2008. Simion Retegan, “Clerul rural românesc din Transilvania la mijlocul secolului al XIXlea: modalitãþi de instituire,” in Anuarul Institutului de Istorie Cluj-Napoca, XXXI, 1992, pp. 103-120. From the Romanian bibliography on this subject, see the following (selective) titles: Mircea Pãcurariu, Politica statului ungar faþã de biserica româneascã din Transilvania în perioada dualismului (1867-1918), Sibiu, Biblical and Missionary Institute of the Romanian Orthodox Church, 1986, pp. 101-106; Nicolae Bocºan, “Imaginea bisericii romano-catolice la românii greco-catolici (Congresul autonomiei bisericii catolice din Ungaria),” in Studia Universitatis Babeº-Bolyai. Historia, 41, 1996, no. 1-2, pp. 49-68; Nicolae Bocºan, Ion Cârja, “Il metropolita Victor Mihályi de Apºa e i rapporti tra la Chiesa Greco-Cattolica romena di Transilvania e l’”Autonomia Cattolica” ungherese,” in vol. Ion Cârja (ed.), I Romeni e la Santa Sede. Miscellanea di studi di storia ecclesiastica, Bucarest-Roma, Scriptorium, 2004, pp. 162-188; Ion Cârja, “Il vescovato greco-catolico romeno e l’autonomia cattolica d’Ungheria alla fine del XIX secolo. Contributi documentari,” in Ephemeris Dacoromana. Annuario dell’Accademia di Romania, serie nuova, XII, 2004, fascicolo II, pp. 95-119; Ion Cârja, Bisericã ºi societate în Transilvania în perioada pãstoririi mitropolitului Ioan Vancea (1869-1892), Cluj-Napoca, Cluj University Press, 2007, pp. 171-222. Gabriel Adriányi, Lo stato ungherese ed il Vaticano (1848-1918), in Pál Cséfalvay, Maria Antonietta de Angelis (eds.), Mille anni di cristianesimo in Ungheria, Budapest, Hungarian Bishops’ Conference, 2 001, p. 114. The text of these regulations in Archivio Segreto Vaticano, Arch. Nunz. Vienna, Card. Vanutelli. Vol. XXIV, busta no. 579 (Posizioni speciali. Cose di Ungheria), ff. 261 r-268 v; see also: M. Pãcurariu, op. cit., pp. 101-102; G. Adriányi, op. cit.; I. Cârja, Bisericã ºi societate în Transilvania în perioada pãstoririi mitropolitului Ioan Vancea, pp. 173-182. M. Pãcurariu, op. cit., pp. 102-103; see the text of the manifest in Augustin Bunea, Discursuri. Autonomia bisericeascã. Diverse, Blaj, Archdiocesan Seminary Publishing, 1903, pp. 420-423. A. Bunea, op. cit., pp. 426-435; see also I. Cârja, Bisericã ºi societate în Transilvania în perioada pãstoririi mitropolitului Ioan Vancea, pp. 212-213. I. Cârja, Bisericã ºi societate în Transilvania în perioada pãstoririi mitropolitului Ioan Vancea, pp. 211-218. A. Bunea, op. cit., pp. 435-438, 443. Ibidem. p. 439. Unirea, IX, 1899, no. 31, 5 August, pp. 249-250. Charles de Clerq, Histoire des conciles d’après les documents originaux, volume XI. Conciles des orientaux catholiques, deuxième partie de 1850 a 1949, Paris, 1952, p. 855. The text of the memorial in A. Bunea, op. cit., pp. 447-454. The letter and the memorial of the Archdiocesan Synod in Nicolae Bocºan, Ion Cârja, “Il metropolita Victor Mihályi de Apºa e i rapporti tra la Chiesa Greco-Cattolica Romena di Transilvania e l’‘Autonomia Cattolica’ ungherese,” in vol. Ion Cârja (ed.), I Romeni e la Santa Sede..., pp. 162-188. 104 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 23. A. Bunea, op. cit., pp. 455-460. 24. Ion Cârja, “Episcopatul român unit ºi autonomia catolicã maghiarã la sfârºitul Primului Rãzboi Mondial,” in Nicolae Edroiu (ed.), Studii istorice privind relaþiile românomaghiare, Cluj-Napoca, Mega, 2010, pp. 254-262. 25. N. Bocºan, I. Cârja, “Il metropolita Victor Mihályi de Apºa e i rapporti tra la Chiesa Greco-Cattolica Romena di Transilvania e l’‘Autonomia Cattolica’ ungherese,” in vol. Ion Cârja (ed.), I Romeni e la Santa Sede..., pp. 162-188. 26. For a more ample treatment of this aspect, see Simon Peterman, “Eglises, sentiment national et nationalisme,” in , II, 1993, no. 2, pp. 3-10. Abstract Confessional Identity – National Identity. The Elites of the Romanian Greek-Catholic Church and the Catholic Autonomy from Hungary during the Period of Dualism (1867-1918) Romanian historiography has not yet convincingly and explicitly developed a research direction on the history of the elites, or, in any case, it has neither raised investigations in this domain to the conceptual and methodological level of western historiographies, nor has it systematically exhausted the research field and problematics that might be subsumed under this name. At the same time, it is undeniable that there have, indeed, been meritorious attempts in this direction, in the older or more recent historiography, just like it is also true that a series of distinct historical research domains concerning the Transylvanian and, in general, Romanian realities of the eighteenthtwentieth centuries may contribute, through the results accomplished so far, to defining the history of the elites. Thus, somewhat more visible domains of Romanian historiography, such as the history of the political and national emancipation movement of the Romanians from the Austrian, and later on, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the history of education and culture, and ecclesiastical history, comprise a series of reconstitutions that are perfectly subsumable to the history of the elites or that may be recuperated from that particular perspective. In our older or more recent historiography, the usage of the term “elite”/”elites” has been rather inconsistent and erratic, having only been more assertively deployed in the historiographic productions of the past couple of decades. Keywords Elite, Romanian Greek-Catholic Church, Dualism, Austria-Hungary Aspects modernisateurs dans les discours politiques de Elemér Gyárfás A NDRÁS M ÁTÉ E LEMÉR GYÁRFÁS fut l’une des personnalités politiques de l’entre-deux-guerres qui a marqué de manière décisive la vie politique, économique et ecclésiastique de la minorité hongroise de Transylvanie. Ce politicien, juriste et spécialiste de l’économie témoigne, autant par son oeuvre que par ses discours prononcés dans le Parlement, d’une conception historique, économique et politique supérieure. Bénéficiant d’une culture politique formée dans le cadre de la monarchie constitutionnelle1, Gyárfás pensait que l’implication dans des questions publiques et administratives n’était pas une affaire strictement politique, puisque « les partis continueraient à naître et disparaître, les gouvernements à changer, alors que l’administration, qui garantissait le fonctionnement de la vie publique, resterait fonctionnelle ».2 Président du Conseil local et de l’Association hongroise de Târnãveni, ensuite membre du Conseil présidentiel du Parti National Hongrois, Gyárfás devint en 1926 sénateur du département de Harghita dans le Parlement de la Roumanie. A partir de 1931, il remplit aussi la fonction de président laïc de l’Évêché romaincatholique, chargé de la gestion économique du système scolaire. Les relations que Elemér Gyárfás a entretenues avec l’Église et l’élite de la monarchie dualiste ont marqué sa conception du fonctionnement de la vie économique. Adepte du capitalisme fondé sur le commerce libre, la production et la libre circulation des marchandises, Gyárfás resta tributaire aux mécanismes économiques du XIXe siècle. Il souligne souvent dans ses écrits l’efficacité des unités économiques individuelles en dépit de la volonté de l’État de s’impliquer dans leur activité. L’économiste hongroise se montre également intéressé par le coopératisme, notamment en ce qui concerne l’appui à la petite industrie. L’organisation économique devait, à son avis, entraîner la responsabilité individuelle et des initiatives économiques fermes. Étant donné son expérience en tant que président de la section économique et du syndicat bancaire transyl- 106 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) vain, qui a patronné toutes les institutions monétaires hongroises de Transylvanie, il était convaincu que l’implication de l’État et l’exacerbation des points de vue nationaux ne pouvaient que nuire à la vie économique, renforcer la bureaucratie et ouvrir la voie aux abus et aux illégalités.3 Dans l’entre-deux-guerres, l’économie de la Roumanie n’a pas constitué un entier unitaire et indépendant, sa nature segmentée créant de gros problèmes au nouvel État. D’une part, les autorités de Bucarest durent intégrer dans l’État des territoires différents du point de vue de leur développement, de l’autre, l’État intervint par des subsides et des taxes, provoquant une croissance économique dans des secteurs qui n’étaient pas en concordance avec la demande des marchés européens.4 Après la Grande Union, la problématique de la modernisation de la Roumanie fut intensément discutée dans les milieux des politiciens, économistes, historiens, écrivains, des intellectuels en général, qu’ils fussent on non enrégimentés.5 La lutte politique destinée à imposer certaines directions et moyens dans le processus de modernisation, fondée sur des ouvrages et des études théoriques, prouve que ces idées existaient dès la première moitié du XIXe siècle, étant valorisées et enrichies dans le nouveau contexte historique. La préoccupation pour l’implication de l’État dans la vie économique et la définition du rapport entre la société roumaine et le monde européen ont été les deux grandes constantes de ces débats, avec une intensité différente d’une gouvernance à l’autre.6 Gyárfás a identifié deux conceptions économico-politiques en ce qui concerne la reconstruction et l’évolution du nouvel État. Le milieu le plus influent de la bourgeoisie roumaine, principalement les groupements créés autour de la Banque Nationale de la Roumanie et de la Banque Roumaine, voulait gagner les positions du capital étranger en sa faveur, en fonction de ses intérêts financiers. Ces institutions bancaires avaient derrière elles les libéraux, dont le rôle avait été décisif dans la formation de la Grande Roumanie. Les libéraux pensaient que cette politique économique devait stimuler la croissance de l’économie nationale à travers l’industrialisation et les taxes de douane perfectionnistes. L’épigraphe « par nous-mêmes » avait en vue, selon Gyárfás, d’éliminer la concurrence et obtenir la majorité des concessions de l’État, afin de remplacer, dans certaines sociétés, le capital étranger par celui autochtone. Le capital étranger devait, d’autre part, couvrir le manque de capital, afin de maintenir la prépondérance du capital autochtone dans différentes compagnies. Gyárfás appréciait cette caractéristique de l’économie roumaine. La question qu’il posait était si ce rôle secondaire envisagé par les libéraux était accepté également par les investisseurs du capital étranger.7 Le courant opposé avait pour épigraphe « les portes ouvertes ». Cette stratégie politico-économique fut adoptée par une partie de la bourgeoise groupée autour des intérêts du capital français, Marmorosch Blank et Co. et la Banque POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 107 roumaine de crédit. Elle était intéressée par des investissements massifs de capital étranger, en vue de revigorer la vie économique du pays, qui manquait généralement de capital. Si sur le plan économique ce courant était embrassé par ceux qui s’occupaient de l’agriculture ou appartenaient à des compagnies issues d’investissements étrangers, sur le plan politique il était assumé par le Parti National de Transylvanie, le Parti Conservateur et le Parti Paysan. L’alternance au pouvoir du Parti Libéral et du Parti Paysan convainquit cependant les Hongrois de Transylvanie que les deux directions politiques attribuaient le même rôle à l’État national et que leur politique économique était mise sous l’impératif de la nationalisation.8 A l’avis de Gyárfás, du moment où les décisions étaient prises par les libéraux, en vertu du clientélisme du système bancaire et de l’administration, les représentants des Hongrois devaient élaborer une stratégie de défense dans la même direction. Ses arguments étaient fondés sur le fait qu’après la guerre, les libéraux avaient commencé à acquérir des positions économiques importantes dans les nouveaux territoires. La nationalisation y a principalement visé les sociétés étrangères, autrichiennes et hongroises en particulier. Etant donné la prépondérance du capital étranger, la valeur nominale des actions fut diminuée, les associations des actionnaires furent obligées d’établir leurs sièges en Roumanie et la moitié des membres de leur conseil d’administration devaient être roumaine. Par la nouvelle loi des mines émise en 1925, les libéraux avaient en vue d’éliminer le droit de possession des étrangères sur les ressources naturelles autochtones. Conformément à cette loi, la concession des mines ne concernait que les compagnies roumaines. Les éventuelles participations des actionnaires avec du capital étranger ne pouvaient pas dépasser 40%. Le processus de centralisation fut démarré dans plusieurs domaines de l’économie (mines et autres sources d’énergie), continué par une expansion monétaire, l’État entrant en possession de certaines banques et compagnies.9 Les lois qui réglementaient les importations entrèrent en vigueur dès 1919. Les autorités réussirent, jusqu’en 1924, à éliminer les produits étrangers qui concurrençaient les produits autochtones. A partir de 1924, les taxes de douane sur la valeur ajoutée atteignirent 30%, en faveur des produits autochtones, pour parvenir à 40% en 1927. L’intolérance de la politique économique roumaine détermina Elemér Gyárfás à critiquer les approches des économistes et des politiciens roumains en la matière. Les mesures qu’ils avaient prises étaient à ses yeux autant d’actes de négation du système moderne des valeurs européens. Dans la Transylvanie et le Banat, affirmait-il, il y avait la tendance d’homogénéiser à la fois la vie économique, l’administration, la justice et la vie politique. La période de transition devait être abrégée, or ce fait était, aux yeux de Gyárfás, susceptible de détruire les résul- 108 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) tats positifs d’une évolution économique solide. L’approche correcte de la modernisation, l’intégration dans les structures économiques développées détermineront les bases économiques déjà existantes et fonctionnelles à poursuivre leur évolution, s’adaptant à celles qui venaient d’être créées, préservant le système de valeurs et ayant une influence bénéfique sur la société.10 Elémer Gyárfás a admiré l’esprit d’initiative des élites économiques roumaines ainsi que la capacité d’adaptation dont elles avaient fait preuve à plusieurs reprises. Il n’hésita toutefois pas à signaler que, dans le cas où elles souhaitaient une modernisation profonde des structures existantes, l’homogénéité totale du Vieux Royaume devenait irréalisable dans les nouveaux territoires, qui se trouvaient dans des étapes différentes de développement. Il a soutenu que les démarches qui voulaient accélérer le processus naturel de l’évolution économique auraient des réactions négatives, générant isolationnisme et protectionnisme en économie. Au lieu d’une évolution commune de la vie économique, les énergies devaient se consommer dans des rivalités entre les acteurs économiques régionaux.11 La politique de nationalisation en soi a un effet négatif sur la production, elle bloque l’évolution normale de l’industrie et engendre un haut degré de méfiance à l’égard de l’étranger. Les compagnies industrielles fondées et entretenues par le capital étranger rapportent un revenu considérable à l’État, alors que celui-ci dispose, à son tour, d’une administration adéquate, d’une politique de charges et taxes de douanes destinée à limiter leur rôle. Dans le cas où ces industries devraient subir des contrôles absolus, le capital étranger ne sera pas capable d’une production et une adaptation propre. Le capital intérieur, d’origine étrangère (celui des industriels hongrois, juifs) perdra du terrain, puisqu’il ne pourra pas produire dans une sphère où il ne courra que des risques et ne jouira de nulle influence. Comme le Ministère de l’Industrie et des Affaires avait établi qu’au moins 50% du capital industriel et la moitié de la direction devait être roumaine, les associations d’actionnaires furent soumises à des contrôles rigoureux. Les arguments de Gyárfás étaient que ces compagnies minoritaires avaient toujours effectué un travail constructif et que leur composition devait être gardée telle qu’elle était.12 Les réformes agraires mises en oeuvre entre 1918 et 1921 furent différentes d’une province à l’autre, reflétant la spécificité de leurs conditions économiques et sociales. La réforme agraire de 1921 ne fut pas fondée sur une norme juridique unitaire pour toutes les provinces, mais sur des lois conçues et appliquées de manière différente, tant en ce qui concerne les objectifs que les détails. En Transylvanie, par exemple, la réforme a connu une forme beaucoup plus radicale que dans le Vieux Royaume, en raison de la structure pluriethnique de cette province et des rapports de propriété spécifiques. Bien que, théoriquement, la loi agraire eût bien établi les modalités des expropriations et des mises en POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 109 possession, pratiquement la loi fut appliquée de manière discrétionnaire, donnant lieu à un grand nombre d’abus. Elemér Gyárfás a présenté dans le Sénat les premières conclusions sur la réforme agraire de 1921 qui, à son avis, a dépassé de beaucoup les objectifs sociaux proposés. L’économiste hongrois considérait que la réforme agraire restait indépendante des règles de la politique économique, n’ayant que des buts national-politiques. Il critiqua les mesures du gouvernement, soutenant que les facilités accordées par le projet de conversion13 avaient vêtu la forme de privilèges visibles, octroyés à quelques-uns, refusés à d’autres.14 La même situation était signalée dans la question liée à l’annulation des dettes agricoles, qui ne visait que les agriculteurs endettés à l’État. Cette loi aurait, à l’avis de Gyárfás, concerné aussi les industriels, les commerçants et même les intellectuels, qui se heurtaient à des problèmes similaires.15 La réforme agraire a causé de grands désordres dans les activités des institutions monétaires. Avant la mise en oeuvre de la réforme agraire, la branche essentielle des affaires des institutions monétaires était le crédit agraire. La situation d’insécurité créée par les lois agraires éloigna les propriétaires agricoles des investissements, alors que les institutions monétaires commencèrent à refuser d’accorder des crédits, étant donné que l’appartenance des propriétés, restée sans solution, ne signifiait pas une garantie en ce sens. En ce qui concerne le projet de loi sur les dettes agricoles, Gyárfás considérait que cette opération financière était inéquitable, devant être supportée par seulement une partie de la population. Il s’agit du milieu des déposants, des personnes qui avaient confiance dans les institutions de crédit, étant persuadés que certains contrats bilatéraux ne pouvaient pas changer de manière unilatérale. Ce processus ne respectait pas les réalités économiques et juridiques de Transylvanie, ruinant l’organisation de crédit et le système des livres fonciers.16 Une autre question concernait les forêts. Elemér Gyárfás a démontré que les forêts de l’État constituaient une bonne partie des richesses naturelles, mais que les revenus forestiers n’arrondissaient pas trop le budget du pays.17 Par ses discours parlementaires, Gyárfás a accéléré l’exploitation des forêts principalement par l’État, mettant fin à l’exploitation réalisée par les propriétaires, qui vendaient les forêts. Il soutenait que l’État devait prendre totalement en charge cette question, alors que l’usinage du bois, le transport et la commercialisation restaient à la charge des compagnies privées.18 Gyárfás signalait aussi les risques courus par la déforestation, notamment les inondations, qui menaçaient surtout les zones basses du pays.19 Étant donné l’évolution de la vie publique et ses nouvelles charges, Gyárfás proposa une réforme agraire qui permît à l’État de définir ses objectifs, ses institutions et les coûts fondamentaux. Ceux qui ne représentaient pas d’intérêts primordiaux auraient dû être confiés à des organismes indépendants ou même à 110 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) la sphère privée. Gyárfás soutenait que le rôle de l’État et son implication en économie devaient être bien précisés, pour éviter sa transformation en un État socialiste.20 A l’avis de l’économiste hongrois, les biens de l’État n’étaient pas bien gérés, les nécessité budgétaires devaient être couvertes non seulement par les revenus obtenus des taxes et des impôts payés par les contribuables, mais principalement par les biens de l’État et des régies autonomes.21 La question du gaz méthane et sa gestion correcte a créé de grandes tensions dans le Sénat. Gyárfás plaida en faveur du monopole d’État sur le gaz, évitant un intermédiaire qui s’occupe de sa gestion. L’État ne respectait pas les normes légales, élevant le prix du gaz sous différents prétextes fiscaux. Gyárfás rappela que, conformément à un article des Lois des Mines, le prix du gaz méthane ne pouvait pas être supérieur à celui du combustible le moins cher.22 La réforme agraire de 1921, la politique des taxes de douane et les polémiques entre les partis politiques ont eu des conséquences néfastes sur l’évolution de la production, alors que la Grande Crise mondiale de 1929-1933 a poussé les producteurs agricoles au bord du précipice. Cette situation dramatique était, aux yeux de Gyárfás due aux prix extrêmement bas des céréales et de tous les produits agricoles.23 La seule issue pour l’agriculture était d’encourager les exportations et protéger l’usinage des produits agricoles.24 En ce qui concerne les institutions bancaires et les systèmes de crédit des Hongrois de Transylvanie, Gyárfás remarquait que les intérêts financiers roumains mettaient en danger leur évolution. Ceux qui détenaient le capital dans les institutions bancaires provenaient surtout des milieux hongrois, qui, à leur tour, opéraient avec des partenaires hongrois. En tant que président du Syndicat bancaire transylvain, Gyárfás saisit les tendances d’affirmation des banques centrales de Bucarest au détriment de celles transylvaines. L’économiste hongrois pensait que les instituions monétaires hongroises avaient perpétué certaines pratiques et méthodes de l’ancien empire, qui auraient pu organiser la vie économique en Transylvanie, ces instituions étant marquées par le processus de modernisation et les changements social-politiques radicaux mis en place au niveau local. Le pouvoir absolutiste autrichien avait imposé en Transylvanie un système de taxes développé, une justice impartiale, une administration pédante, des finances et des gendarmes, des livres fonciers, des lois de crédit modernes, des lois dans l’industrie minière et les forêts, il avait réorganisé la poste, le réseau routier, le télégraphe, les chemins de fer.25 Gyárfás était d’avis que les réglementations dans la politique d’impôts et de taxes de douane ainsi que dans la circulation monétaire n’étaient pas conçues à long terme. Pendant la guerre et même après, la Roumanie a connu, à côté d’autres pays, une inflation galopante. La Banque Nationale n’a pas émis de nouvelles billets de banque pour couvrir le déficit budgétaire, alors qu’en 1925 l’État et POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 111 la Banque Nationale convinrent à ce que le premier s’engage à retirer du marché pendant les 15 ans à venir une quantité de billets de banque équivalente à ses dettes auprès de la Banque Nationale. L’émission de billets de banque se rapportait au fonds d’or. La revalorisation de la monnaie était, aux yeux de Gyárfás, irréalisable. Il recommandait l’achat de devises fortes et l’émission de billets de banque, puisque l’émission avec couverture commerciale parfaite ne risquait pas de dévaloriser la monnaie, par contre, elle contribuerait au bien-être de la population par l’amélioration des conditions de production. Le manque catastrophique d’argent en Roumanie était, à son avis, le résultat d’un manque de disponibilités monétaires qui pussent couvrir les besoins économiques. La Banque Nationale aurait dû assurer les crédits nécessaires aux activités économiques bien précisées, soit-il par une nouvelle émission de billets de banque.26 Gyárfás soutenait que la politique douanière, la politique fiscale et toute la politique économique des gouvernements qui se sont succédés pendant les 10 dernières années ont représenté un véritable crime contre l’agriculture. Les taxes d’exportation ont été supprimées, mais une nouvelle taxe fut introduite, sur l’agriculture. Les taxes communales ne furent pas supprimées, continuant à peser lourd sur les communes. La solution serait, à son avis, de retrouver et occuper les marchés perdus suite à la politique douanière inefficace, fondée sur des taxes d’exportation.27 Une réévaluation critique de la réforme agraire s’avérait, dans ce contexte, absolument nécessaire. Ceux qui avaient reçu des terres devaient les payer, alors que les terres restées incultes devaient être rendues à leurs propriétaires. Le droit de propriété sur la terre devait, à son avis, être garanti.28 Dans ses discours prononcés dans le Sénat, Gyárfás attirait l’attention sur l’apparition de nouveaux impôts et taxes, qui non seulement empêchaient la production profitable, mais mettaient en danger l’industrie autochtone, qui ne pouvait plus faire face à la concurrence étrangère.29 Les taxes et les impôts ne respectaient pas le principe de l’égalité, certaines régions30 devant supporter des charges publiques excessives.31 Toutes ces interventions sont la preuve que Gyárfás Elemér a été un fin observateur des phénomènes économiques, qui a pris position dans la plupart des questions économiques d’intérêt public ou ayant des implications majeures sur les acteurs économiques hongrois. Par ses écrits, il a essayé de résoudre les tensions causées par la réforme agraire et d’offrir des solutions à la complexité des affaires industrielles, militant également contre l’insécurité de la politique de crédit et le manque de capital. Ses analyses économiques ont marqué la littérature économique de la Transylvanie du temps. 112 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Notes 1. Elemér Gyárfás est né en 1884 à Bârza (dans la région de Târnava Micã). Après avoir fait le gymnase à Sibiu, il suivit des cours de droit, économie et sciences politiques à l’Université de Cluj, devenant plus tard licencié en droit à Budapest et Paris (à la Sorbonne). Il revint en 1909 en Transylvanie, où il travailla comme avocat dans le comitat de Târnava Micã. 2. Csucsuja István, Gyárfás Elemér korának gazdaságáról [Sur la vie économique de l’époque de Gyárfás Elemér], in: Az erdélyi magyar gazdasági gondolkodás múltjából [ De l’histoire de la pensée économique hongroise de Transylvanie], vol.II., Societé des Economistes Hongrois de Roumanie, Cluj-Napoca 2004, p. 126. 3. Ibidem, p. 129. 4. Voir Mary Ellen Fisher, “Politics, Nationalism and Development in Romania”, in: Gerasimos Augustinos (ed.), Diverse Path to Modernity in Southeastern Europe: Essays in National Development, Greenwood Press 1991, p.135-146, p. 144; Keith Hitchins, România 1866-1947, Humanitas, Bucarest 1996, p. 385. 5. Gheorghe Iacob, “Modernizarea României, Rolul elitei politice “, in: Xenopoliana, VI, 1998, 1-2, p. 189-199. 6. I. Saizu, “Modele de modernizare în România interbelicã”, in: Xenopoliana , VI, 1998, 1-2, p. 108-113. 7. Gyárfás Elemér, Románia hitelszervezetei és az erdélyi magyar pénzintézetek [ Les organisations de crédit de Roumanie et les institutions monétaires hongroises de Transylvanie], Lugoj 1924, p.9. 8. Independenþa economicã, 1920., no. 20., oct-déc., in: Istoria românilor , vol.VII., “România întregitã” 1918-1940, Bucarest 2003, p. 44. 9. Csucsuja István, op. cit., p. 133. 10. Gyárfás Elemér, op. cit., p. 37. 11. Ibidem, p. 41. 12. Le discours de Gyárfás Elemér dans le Sénat, le 2 décembre 1926, contre l’ordonnance visant le contrôle accentué des sociétés par actions minoritaires, in : Magyar Kisebbség [La Minorité hongroise], pp. 110-111. 13. La conversion visait le changement des conditions d’un emprunt, dans ce cas la transformations des petits crédits à court échéance et intérêt élevé en des crédits à long terme et intérêt bas. 14. Monitorul Oficial, Débats du Sénat , 25. IV. 1932, no. 52, p. 1802. Le 5 avril Gyárfás participe aux discussions sur le projet de loi relative aux dettes agricoles. 15. Le discours de Gyárfás dans le Sénat, le 5 avril 1932, sur la Loi pour l’annulation des dettes agricoles, in : Magyar Kisebbség [La Minorité hongroise], pp. 305-306. 16. Monitorul Oficial, Débats du Sénat, 25. IV. 1932 , p. 1802. 17. Monitorul Oficial, Débats du Sénat, 13, IV,1930, no. 17, p. 465. 18. Magyar Kisebbség [La Minorité hongroise], pp. 219-220. 19. Monitorul Oficial, p. 465. 20. Magyar Kisebbség [La Minorité hongroise], p. 233. POWER, BELIEF 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. AND IDENTITY • 113 Ibidem, p. 235. Monitorul Oficial, Débats du Sénat, 12, I,1932, no. 21, p. 415. Monitorul Oficial , Débats du Sénat, 19, VII,1930, no. 23, p. 720. Monitorul Oficial, Débats du Sénat, 19, VII,1930, no. 23, p. 720. Gyárfás Elemér, op.cit. p. 89. Monitorul Oficial, Débats du Sénat, 8,VIII, 1928, no. 1, p. 11. Monitorul Oficial, Débats du Sénat, 11, III, 1931, no. 39, p. 1058. Ibidem, p. 1058. Monitorul Oficial, Débats du Sénat, 25, IV, 1929, no. 23, p. 790. Dans certaines localités de Târnava Micã, telles Bãlãuºeri, Chendu Mic, Chendu, le taux des impôts était de 99%-100%, par rapport à d’autres localités du même district où ce taux était de 4%-5%, bien que la situation économique de la population fût similaire. 31. [La Minorité hongroise], p. 736. Abstract Contribution of Romanian and European Legal Elte to the Definition of the Unjust Enrichment Concept C IPRIAN P ÃUN Introduction U is known in the European law systems under names that not only suggest the non – unitary “juridical translation” but also a different interpretation, this being the reason for pursuing a comparative method in our research we will later on return to. Whether it’s „Ungerechtfertigte Bereicherung”, „Unjustified Enrichment”, „Corrective justice”, „Restitution”, „Enrichissment ROMANIAN AND EUROPEAN sans cause”, „Indebito arrichemento”, „Arrichimento senza causa”, „Enriquecimento ilicito”, or „unjustified enrichment”, „enrichment based on unjust basis” or „unjust enrichment”; the historical evolution of unjust enrichment and particularly the lack of certain specific regulations in the European Civil Codes emerged into challenges faced by doctrine and jurisprudence, within the Romanian space, This paper took notice on the fact that in the British law system, common law, the regulation stresses on the jurisprudential tradition and the juridical precedent, with different construal from the one on the continent, based on “German systematization”, “the Italian norm”, the French creativity, innovation and controversy1. The latter has generated the great theories in debate in the European legal space, taken over and commented on in numerous states, and among them Romania. The paper broadly presents the influence of the French pattern on Romanian jurisprudence and doctrine2. Still, from the very beginning, we have to specify, that if we talk – and we do – about the beginning of a practical and theoretical construction specific to the Romanian space, during the interwar period, our speNJUST ENRICHMENT Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project 116 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) cialists equally became familiar and incorporated sources and regulations pertaining to German law and concerning the employment of the concept unjust enrichment.3 Both doctrinaire systems, and especially the French one, strongly influenced the Romanian doctrine and jurisprudence. These influences were also possible on both sides due to the fact that they are completely distinct as they claim the philosophical – theoretical bases of sanctioning unjust enrichment from the Greek philosopher’s work, Aristotle – The Nicomachean Ethics. „[...] So the just is the proportional one, and on the other hand the unjust represents what goes against proportionality. As the one who commits injustice, acquires too much of the good, and the one who suffers injustice receives too little of the same. This is therefore one kind of the just. The remaining kind is the amending one that applies to contracts, to voluntary and involuntary ones4(...). So if the law speaks generally but in concreto, we have to deal with the case that is not comprised in the general provision, then being deemed that the legislator neglected this case, and generally speaking committed an error, the right thing is done when what was neglected is therefore amended, as the legislator himself, had he had the case before him would have done and had he known the case he would have decided the righteous things according to law. That is why the equitable is even a better right than some certain right, but not better than the absolute right, but than the one that due to not knowing any distinction, is deficient. And this is the nature of the equitable: it is a correction of law, when law is deficient due to its general constitution.5” 1. The Condictiones T HE CONCEPT of “unjust enrichment” became clear during the late “Roman Republic” period, and it was established by the legal advisors Sabinus, Celsus, Ulpian, Pomponius and Marcian. Nevertheless its origins may be identified in the works of the Ancient Greek philosophers, especially in Aristotle’s The Nicomachean Ethics. According to Aristotle, legal art is comprised in the justice, commutative concept. Specific justice is divided into two alternatives, considering the pursued objective and circumstance: it either seeks geometrical equality in the distribution of goods, and we then talk about justice, distributive, or it aims to correct the arithmetical order and / or balance, disrupted by commutations, and in this case we are dealing with justice, commutative6 (Aristotle, τό εν τοις σουναλλάγµασι διορθωτικόν). On one side of the contemporary doctrine’s interpretation, unjust enrichment claims this second significance of Aristotle’s theories.7 Aristotle POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 117 supports the idea that “enrichment at the expense of another is forbidden because there must be balance between commutations. In all wilful operations resulting in unjustified proceeds for one party, these proceeds must be in exchange indemnified for by an equal proportional value with the one the impoverished party was deprived of. The same must be done should there exist an involuntary commutation. The prior situation must be amended in order not to exist unjust proceeds for any of the involved parties.8”. In the two hypotheses, the voluntary and involuntary commutation, as well as the resettlement of the disrupted balance belongs to the judge who used as an instrument at that time the justice, commutative in its various forms.9 One part of the doctrine claims that Aristotle’s theory of justice influenced the institution of legal systems for ancient people. It is our opinion on the other hand that the need for justice, equity and law is a common feature to every social and rational form of organization, and thus legal structures that ban enrichment at the expense of “the weaker” may be traced within every ancient people’s mentality. In archaic Roman law, the concept of unjust enrichment used to be employed in a procedure called per sacramentum that comprised, among others provisions the one according to which „a person can claim unlawful enrichment”. This procedure involved two types of actions, based on litigation features: legis actio sacramento in rem and legis actio sacramento in personam10. By the end of the Roman Republic, some Roman legal advisors put into theory the principle of unjust enrichment, granting it at the same time an extended application. Pomponius thinks that: Iure naturae aequum est neminem cum alterius detrimento et iniuria fieri locupletiorem (According to natural law, it is not equitable that a person gets rich at the expense of another person and by unjust manner)11. Unjust enrichment was sanctioned with “repetition” actions by which restitution of the value the defendant had been enriched by was claimed. These procedures, called condictiones, were established by two laws: lex Silia and lex Calpurnia. According to the formulae condictio certae creditae, pecuniae and condictio certae rei, the magistrate allowed restitution of amounts of money on one hand, and on the other of various valued and determined assets. A third one was added to these two during the same late Republic period: condictio incerti. It concerns the hypothesise where an unjustified transfer of the real right, other than property, could have resulted into unjust benefit, for the one it was performed for12. Later on, the Christian scholar, Saint Augustine of Canterbury (339-430) professed that “a sin may only be forgiven once what was unjustly taken is returned”, assertion considered by certain authors as the moral norm with special influences on the evolution of unjust enrichment13, as well as a first class source for the clerical jurists in the Middle Ages. 118 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) All the actions (condictiones) born form unjust enrichment were classified, and named by a legal term on the occasion of the Roman law encoding procedures made by Justinian,: condictiones sine causa, that comprises: condictio indebiti, condictio causa data causa non secuta, condictio ob turpem causam, condictio ob injustam causam and condictio sine causa with strict meaning. Condictio indebiti (the action of undue payment) represents the contemporary basis for the undue payment. Condictio causa data causa non secuta (action for a non – accomplished future cause) was granted to enrichment cases resulted from a service provisioned for a future lawful cause that would fail to be accomplished. Condictio ob turpem causa (action for disgraceful cause) was granted when service was made in order to determine the accipiens to do a deed or forbearance bearing immoral character. Codictio ob injustam causam (action for unjust cause) intervened when the enriched person, obtained profit from the poor against the law, for instance in case of a loan the request would surpass the admissible figure. Condictio sine causa in restricted meaning (action of unjustified service) was an action for granting limited meaning, applicable to the restitution of services without legal base or for a cause that ceased to exist.14 This last action decisively influenced German doctrine and led to the development of the theory of prestation - fundamental concept of legal conditions for the performance of the action concerning unjust enrichment15. 2. Actio de in rem verso – the Roman Version T ROMAN action o in rem verso will be broadly described in the chapter dedicated to general aspects. Jure naturae aequum est, used to say the Roman legal advisors to support the existence of the principle they proclaimed. Pursuant to them it was said that the principle: “no person is allowed to get rich at the expense of another person”, is a principle of perpetual equity. In fact, considered under its extended meaning, this principle is the expression of the duty that compels us cuique suum tribuere and regulates the morals legislator needs to provide in order to maintain proper social relationships. In Justinian’s legislation (482-565), ban of unjust enrichment used to be the general rule having its roots in Roman ancient times.16 The rule was passed on by texts in Digeste, precisely under the last title, de diversis regulis iuris antiqui. These texts emphasize a statement derived from the writings of the classic jurist Pomponius (IInd century) that claims, that according to nature’s law, no person should get rich at the expense of another person or by wronging another person.17 D.50.17.206. Pomponius libro nono ex variis lectionibus. Iure naturae aequum est neminem cum alterius detrimento et iniuria fieri locupletiorem. HE POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 119 3. Ethical and Legal Aspects Concerning Equity and Unjust Enrichment During the Middle Ages A the Middle Ages doctrines not all advantages are rightfully earned in life. Some proceeds are “unnatural” or they are “the result of breaching natural order”. The unjust enrichment is banned by the Commandment “You shall not steal”: furtum non facies18, a rule extensively interpreted as to include more than stealing or unjust use of the property of another. This Holy Book Commandment comprises an absolutely compelling rule of ius divinum, that cannot be argued with by any human law. Divine law requires that the advantage obtained by breaching natural order be cancelled and natural order be reinstated, said several Middle Ages clerical jurists. A special situation arises when enrichment took place, at another person’s expense, and the legitimate question is whether the latter should be indemnified for his loss. Gratian’s decree states for the above mentioned situation, in causa XIV, the distinction between the cases where enrichment is obtained solely by ex turpi causa or it comes from theft, robbery or interest. In the first case enrichment must be cancelled by various compensations that include alms gift to the poor or gift offerings to church. In case of theft or robbery, when the impoverished person is not at fault, expense of the income resulted from enrichment is banned to charity, and solely the duty to make amends with the victim subsists. Forgiveness of sins solely happens when natural law is reinstated and the stolen goods returned. This is why the concept of restitution is related to the mystery of forgiveness and redemption. Saint Augustine had already preached that sins could not be forgiven until restitution of what was stolen had been achieved.19 This assertion may be found in the medieval compilations of Canon Law.20 In cases where enrichment is unjust and must be cancelled by restitution to the damaged party, the Middle Ages clerical jurists grouped under the name “Decretists” created a similar complaint in order to require such a commutation named the Canon Law doctrine of restitution. Generally described, it was broadly accepted at the time21. Laic jurists, interpreting at their turn the sources of Roman law also supported the necessity of such an action; yet, they criticized at the same time the approach of different cases where restitution was claimed. The laic had a dogmatic approach derived from Roman law. For instance, reimbursement to the creditor of lent money was stated in the Roman law of liabilities and it was deemed that in such cases the Canon failed to apply. The Clerics nevertheless, had a starting point in the theory according to which any earning obtained from a loan would pass as unjust enrichment. CCORDING TO 120 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) The distinct points of view origin in Roman law – a dogma for the laic, which did not admit a general indemnification for the unjust enrichment unless there were specific cases, where the impoverished person had the right to call upon actions that would have insured the loss reimbursement. Ius commune22 secures restitution by different condictiones23, actio negotiorum, actio redhibitoria, actio de in rem verso, the rule on a correct price (iustum pretium), law rules related to rei, crimes and special privileges, as well as in integrum restitutio. The specified Roman indemnities are applicable solely if certain conditions are met. Condictio indebiti was insured when negotium (transaction, trading, legal cooperation) took place between parties.; actio negotium gestorum became valid when the plaintiff acted with the intent of indebting the main debtor to himself; actio de in rem verso was incurred when the enrichment was achieved through a son or a slave, as mediators; a warranty (right to retention) may be performed as long as the land is still not deserted. There will always be deficiencies as a result restrictive use of Roman actions system. Thus, the ban of unjust enrichment is expressed in general terms, and, a duly general valid compensation that deserves to cover all possibilities and fulfil all the requirements of the restitution principle in Canon law lacks from the Roman sources. The clerical jurists considered that beyond any doubt, ius divinum had to prevail even where Roman sources did not rule on the protection of the impoverished person or even denied such protection. When the Roman law approach fails to satisfyingly settle the case, the Canon law is of service to the judge (officium iudicis) as a last resort to impose divine law. (It is still not useful and law serving to constantly adopt such emergency measures, that involve “loss of credibility” for Roman law, as most of the doctrine thinks nowadays). Some medieval authors supported the possibility of establishing a general obligation, claimed by divine law, solely based on Roman texts, building up a more general liability for the unjust enrichment within the Roman system itself and basing this perspective on arguments derived solely from Corpus iuris civilis24. According to this theory, the aforementioned Roman indemnities are not viewed as independent. The fact that positive law warrants compensations in these specific cases may be explained by reference to the general ban of enrichment, as basic rule of natural law. This is an opinion supported up to the 40’s of the XXth century, by a series of important authors who contributed to the theory of unjust enrichment.25 Jurists, such as Bulgarus de Bulgarinis (d. 1166), Johanes Bassianus (d. 1197), Azo Porcius (cca. 1150-1220) and Accursius (cca. 1182-1263), who are part of the so called “Main” trend continued to observe very closely the Corpus Juris text. They aimed not to alter the Roman internal and logical consistency of Justinian legislation, accepting in the case of unjust enrichment a general obligation of making restitutions. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 121 Another opposition group Martinus Gosia (cca. 1120-1160) and other jurists belonged to, accepted the general enrichment ban in a more generous way and offered the possibility to call upon the action whenever it would contradict the primary meaning of the sources. They went as far as to sacrifice their significance and the internal consistency of compilation for the actions related to social relationships and the enforcement of divine law. Through interpretation, they were trying to build up a general restitution obligation within the entire Roman law system26. The dispute between glossers was also taken over by legal contemporary debate. We talk about a theory initiated in the Spanish legal space and supported by the Dutch and German doctrine that argues that the unjust enrichment is actually an internal principle of the civil codes that claims itself from equity.27 The issue of business management under the situation of explicit ban of the managed party was raised since Roman times. The text C.2.18.24 comprises an enactment by Justinian concerning business administration against the express volition of the managed party. There was even an argument between classic jurists concerning this structure. Justinian agrees with Salvius Iulianus’ opinion (sec. alII lea) according to which anyone who interferes in someone else’s business after such interference had been deemed unwanted, loses the right to any kind of indemnification. In this case the managed party’s will is clear. There were several notices to this provision. The will of the managed party may result from an implicit statement. Certain authors claimed that, for instance, a mandate to purchase a certain object that would not exceed a pre – established amount, implied the fact that the managed party did not want his agent to be the one managing his affairs by purchasing to a greater price than the set – up one. Nevertheless, in both cases, ban of explicit and implicit management may still be present, should it prove useful (utiliter) to the managed party. In this case, the managing party or the agent is the one impoverished and the question is whether or not he / she enjoys available action to recover expenses against the enriched managed party. Provision C.2.18.24 suggests this issue be rejected once and for all: There will be no action against the managed party. Nonetheless, this is not an incontestable fact to glossers, some even claiming that not business management shall be applied, but the general institution of unjust enrichment. The debate about the issue was catalogued as dissensiones dominorum, and in the XXth century French doctrine it was put in theory under the name “theory of imperfect business management28” In parallel with the glossers’ interpretation and conceptualization works of Roman texts, unjust enrichment became famous in the European space by comprising the principle in the time’s legal displays. Jaques d’Ableiges drafted in 1389 (not certified date), a “legal book” from older writings dedicated to his four grandchildren. It is a collection of Paris courts resolutions. The author develops condictio indebiti through a test case where a per- 122 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) son made undue payment and concludes that “the restitution of the amount is not based solely on legal arguments, but also on moral ones, from good – faith principles29”. At that time, undue payment was viewed as specific application, included in the unjust enrichment definition area. Later on, towards the end of the XIVth century, Jean Boutillier, a judge from nearby Tournai, published the work Somme rural, and he aimed to put forth to the ones with no academic training the law principles. In book I, headline XXVIII, Boutillier deals with condictio indebiti ºi condictio sine causa and clearly sets out the following rule: Locupletari non debet quis ex alterius iactura. Cette regle dict que nul ne se doit enrichir du domage d’autruy30. Hugo Grotius (1583-1645) is thought as having a final influence of the “unjust enrichment” institution in German law. He wrote two fundamental papers: one on natural law, De iure belli ac pacis, and the other on Roman – Dutch law, Inleidinge tot de Hollandsche rechtsgeleerdheid (Introduction to Dutch Jurisprudence). Inleidinge is divided into three parts, and the author analyses people’s rights, real rights and liabilities’ rights. The contents generally correspond to Justinian’s order of Institutions, but we draw attention on the fact that distribution of subjects dealt with in books II and III – real rights and liabilities – are based on a hierarchy of subjective rights. Grotius uses the term [recht van] toebehoren (translated as “the ownership right”) for what the subjective right is in modern legal terminology. He differentiates two main categories of recht van toebehoren: beheering (jus in rem) and inschuld (jus in personam sive creditum), in modern terminology, the real right and the debt (claim) right. The definition of the second – “an ownership right a person has upon another person in order to obtain from him / her a certain thing or deed” – is repeated at the beginning of the IIIrd book entitled Van inschuld (On Personal Right). The first section of this book, ‘On liabilities in general, their origin and type’ must be taken into account for our purpose. What is interesting is the Grotius does not constantly use the same terminology: at a given time he uses for the active part of the liability the term creditor, inschuld, and also creditum, and somewhere else he uses one of the words for the liability’s passive part; what would seem most appropriate would be schuld or uitschuld (debitum) – contrasting with inschuld – yet he more often uses verbintenisse, that would translate as obligatio. In fact, he specifies that the second term is a word for schuld (liability) in restrictive sense; both words are related to inschuld (personal right or debt right) and they cannot exist without it. In Inleidinge 3,1,9, he deals with what we name the liabilities’ sources. „Natural law, in itself, emphasizes two sources of personal right, namely the promise and inequality”. We won’t deal here with the promise (he uses the Dutch word for the Latin promissio). The concept of promise used by Grotius originates in Thomas POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 123 Aquinas and his exegetes, but, he relates it to Roman law categories, building a rather blurry system of “promises” „Inequality” is another concept taken over from Thomas Aquinas and the ones who formed the School of Natural Law. Inleidinge 3,1,14 provides a first subdivision of inequality as a source of liabilities. „Concerning inequality, not every type of inequality is debated upon, as people cannot be equally rich, the debate goes to the inequality through which some take advantage of others or would like to do so should something be secured; or caused by another person31”. The category – „that is caused by another person” – does not directly concern our thesis. In Inleidinge 3,1,16, it is divided into “caused by the will of the affected person” and “caused against the will”. The latter leads to the liability emerged from the fault of the other in the largest possible sense. What mostly interests us is “the inequality some take advantage of or would like to do so, should there be something to secure”. According to Inleidinge 3,1,15, this „compels the person who obtained proceeds to make indemnifications, with no relation to the way he came to hold the proceeds, and this is not solely related to the in specie things, but also to the in genere things (...)”. There are two examples concerning the obligation to indemnify, yet only one is marked in the contemporary edition of Inleidinge, namely „if someone is fed with the food of another”. This example was probably taken from one of the theological sources Grotius used, as it may also be found in Cajetan’s comment (Thomas de Vio Cajetanus, a Dominican Italian,) on Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae. The second example of this liability, specified in Inleidinge 3,1,15 was added by Grotius – some 20 years later in a marginal note of his own work copy: „This principle reveals that an owner, even in ill faith, could incur expenses and improvements in exchange for the property”. He could have been inspired by one of Martinius’ opinions specified in the gloss Actionem in D.3,5,5,5. In De iure belli ac pacis, Grotius refers to this text of the (Digeste) with the implication that the action allowed to someone who does not care for my business at my advantage, but at his own advantage, is not an actio negotiorum gestorum, but an enrichment action based on natural laws. The two examples of the principles concretized in Inleidinge 3,1,15 go way beyond the solutions provided in the texts Corpus iuris civilis. This weighs heavily on the interpretation of the special section (3,30) where Grotius sets out the principle. The named section is entitled Van verbintenisse mit baet-trecking. In the specialty literature, it is translated as „Out of the Obligation for Enrichment”, still, we would rather translate it as „Out of the Obligation for Derived Profit”, in order to emphasize the direct link with Inleidinge 3,1,15 („the profiteer person” is liable of „paying indemnifications”). 124 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) In Inleidinge 3,30, Grotius created his own terminology. The first paragraph shows the principle 3,1,15 in the following manner: „Liability of derived profit is raised when, without legal basis, somebody makes or could make profit from another person’s property32”. Following some general observations on the character of this duty, Grotius provides us with four examples, mostly taken from the Roman condictiones; at the end of the section (3,30,18) he deals with the fourth as it follows: „The fourth case means the repetition of something that in any way, besides gift, payment or promise became the property of a person outside any legal cause; for instance, someone thought to have received money from a third person and in fact it was my money that was paid. We are not dealing here with a loan agreement, consequently error is ruled out; equally it is reasonable that a person who took advantage of my property should offer indemnifications.33”. In Prolegomena from De jure belli ac pacis, at § 8, Grotius notes the first out of the four principles of natural law „alieni abstinentia, et ºi quid alieni habeamus aut lucri inde fecerimus restitutio”. The principle is extended in the second book of the Treatise. In order to understand the systematic order in the Treatise, we shall first make reference to the well known part where it is asserted that „the origins of wars are as numerous as the origins of law suits (actiones forenses), and when legal agreements fail, wars take their place”. Subsequently enlisting different actions, he underlines that they consisted: „either of yet to be committed felonies, or of already committed felonies”. The last type of action supports restitution (ut reparetur) or punishment (ut puniatur). Restitution refers either to what used to be ours, giving birth to vindicationes or to certain condcitiones or to what is owed to us sive ex pactione, sive ex maleficio, sive ex lege. It is obvious that the author had in mind the first principle where he refered to “the restitution that generates vindicationes and certain condictiones”. This subject is elaborated in chapter 10 of the second book, entitled De obligatione quae ex dominio oritur. Terminology seems confusing to a modern civil law specialist, who does not find it easy to deal with vindicatio as founded on a liability resulted from dominium. Grotius on the other hand, uses the concepts of Scholastics, that did not employ the Roman distinction between actiones in rem and actiones in personam. The fact that in chapter 10 he is under the influence of Scholastic authors, also comes out from the subdivision performed on a obligatio ex dominio that may determine either e rebus extantibus (out of the still existing things) or e rebus non extantibus (out of the things no longer in existence). This subdivision seems to be inspired from Cajetan’s work. We did not aim at extending the explanation of the restitution of “the still existing things34”. We would like to draw attention on the restitution obligation concept that in this case is based on the natural law doctrine according to POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 125 which there initially existed joint property, the private property being established by an explicit or silent agreement between men. That is why liability “compels all people, as a universal agreement” (tamquam ex contractuuniversali). The main interest to our theme is Grotius’ assertion on the restitution “of things no longer in existence”. The debate starts in 2,10,2,1 with the following statement: De rebus non extantibus hoc humano generi placuit, ut ºi tu ex re mea factus es locupletior, me rem non habente, in tantum tenearis, in quantum es factu locupletior. This rule of natural law is equal to the one in Inleidinge 3,1,15. It is the same here; it is founded on inequality that in Inleidinge is one of the main sources of liabilities, resulted either from promise, or from inequality. Quia quatenus ex meo lucratus es, plus habes, cum ego minus habeam introducta autem sunt dominia ad servandam aequalitatem in eo scilicet, ut quisque suum haberet. Grotius notes the situations of interest for the issue in question, namely: 1. Ulpian’s statement concerning funeral expenditures made against the heir’s will (D.11,7,14,13): money may be claimed by actio funeraria because “a righteous judge should not follow actio negotiorum gestorum and should look for an equitable settlement among more liberal tendencies, considering that nature grants this type of liberty35. 2. An assertion of the same jurist related to the position of a person who managed my affairs, but not in my own interest, but in his / her own interest (D.3,5,5,5): according to Grotius, probably following the opinion of the glosser Martinus, he makes use of an action, but not for his own expenses, but for my enrichment. 3We talk about the rule stating that owners of goods thrown overboard to ease the ship should recover some of their values from the ones whose property was saved from being thrown out. (D. 14,2,1). The chapter on obligatio ex dominio ends with the debate on the 10 “queries”. (At first sight is seems that the text leans on Nufer’s interpretation on restitution without surpassing by much the Spanish Scholastics). The importance of Hugo Grotius’ theories to the Dutch legal world is noticed in the definition of unjust enrichment within legislation and courts’ jurisprudence. A resolution of the Dutch Supreme Court, in the XVIIIth century specifies36: „Person X wished to purchase a house in Hague. X made a deal with the owner, Y, in order to pay up the house’s value in a two month time period. In the meantime, X hired a worker, Z, to wallpaper his house. After a month X became bankrupt and unable to pay the price for the house, consequently Y was reinstated as owner. Z sued Y claiming payment for his work. The Court ruled that the works made by Z were useful and necessary, consequently Y had to pay for them based on the unjust enrichment principle.” 126 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 4. Definition of Unjust Enrichment in Comparative Modern Law I. German Law German law, the period between the XVIth and the XVIIIth century is called Usus modernus pandectarum37”. It is characterized by the taking over of Roman law principles and adapting them to the modern society evolution. Detailed analysis of Roman law by certified authors such as Leyser, Berger, Böhmer, Höpfner in the XVIIIth century resulted into the development of the theory of the good faith enriched person protection, who must not suffer the negative consequences of an action in restitution. Following lively debates of the XIXth century and criticism on the two Projects and Reports put forward by German experts, the general norm of § 812 BGB represents the impressive proof of their endeavour to obtain concentration and accuracy of ideas: „Any person who, by service provided by another person or by any other means, obtains an advantage outside legal cause, at another person’s expense, is obliged to restitution towards that person. This liability equally exists when legal cause subsequently disappears, or when the outcome pursued through the conveyance of a service as it is accomplished from the contents of the legal instrument, fails to be accomplished.” The core extraction effort is remarkable in Siebenhaar’s project for the Saxon Civil Code with 52 paragraphs. (Nowadays German law solely comprises 11). Two focus tendencies may be drawn out: on the one hand the classical conditions of service are brought together in one paragraph, except condictio ob turpem vel iniustam causam (§ 817 S. 1 BGB) that became almost unimportant pursuant to felonies’ reform (condictio indebiti, condictio sine causa specialis, § 812 Abs. 1 S. 1 Alt. 1 BGB, condictio ob causam finitam, § 812 Abs. 1 S. 2 Alt. 1 BGB, and condictio causa data causa non secuta, § 812 Abs. 1 S. 2 Alt. 2 BGB). On the other hand, we have the regulations of lack of service and those of service condition in § 812 BGB. Johow placed in his pre – project the conditions of use and intervention as application of unjust enrichment, even if they were concentrated in the chapter dedicated to real rights. In § 812 Abs. 1 S. 1 BGB the tendency of the Civil Code that von Wyss had anticipated in his comments on the Swiss law of liabilities is pointed out. The first book and general theory of liabilities are legislative constructions similar to Swiss law where the definition of institutions is concerned. The right to unjust enrichment, in German law, has as doctrine asserts, a general part, namely § 812 Abs. 1 S. 1 BGB and § 818 BGB. The starting point of these regula- I N PRE-MODERN POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 127 tions supposes that everything that was acquired at the expense of another person and to his / her damage and without legal foundation must be restored. The part on legal consequences of actio de in rem verso fences down the enrichment claim presented in § 818 Abs. 3 BGB. The preparatory works for the drawing up of the paragraphs in BGB were influenced by B. Windscheid who managed to find the solution of encoding the principle, by cumulating Pmponius’ principle and the practical applications taken over from the German universe legal tradition. The report between § 812 Abs. 1 and § 814 BGB was to become a second reason for debate to the following generations of jurists. § 812 Abs. 1 S. 1 Alt. 1 BGB turned into the unitary contradiction for all service cases. The Norm unifies the fundamental case of service condiction, condictio indebiti, with other service cases that up to that moment were defined on condictio sine causa specialis, for instance the condiction to contract purpose divergence. The division of § 812 Abs. 1 S. 1 Alt. 1 BGB into condictio indebiti and condictio sine causa din dare ob causam, 1070 made no longer sense, as the legislator had already expressly dissolved by § 814 BGB the old condictio indebiti and had introduced a new over group, the sero6vice condiction38. In the “prestation (service)” analysis, the doctrine failed to express a clear point of view because the analysis of the error to condictio indebiti came first. Von Savigny had included in his Pandectar lecture the error in causa and had stressed on the purpose set up, but most of the doctrine in the second half of the XIXth century did not follow him. This continence was felt in legislative rulings. If the norm: “The one who by wrongful service or in any other way […]” had been drawn up up in § 812 Abs. 1 S. 1 BGB, the state of fact would have been more accurately expressed. The Commission resolved differently under the urge of the majority doctrine, thus opening the door to speculations concerning the “righteous” positioning of purpose set up. The text § 812 Abs. 1 S. 1 BGB is, in accordance with the evolutionary – historical interpretation, accessible both to the unit theory and to that of division. The first may construe in its favour both the legislator’s endeavour to reach a legal text simplification, and the fact that, unlike the Hessa and Bavaria projects, and unlike the proposal of the Reich’s Office of Justice and the Swiss liabilities’ right, besides the general provision, there is no additional norm distinctly provisioned for condictio indebiti. The followers of the division theory may at their turn argue that there is a background of common law, especially Windscheid’s theory and the reservations to Pomponius’ theory of equity. Civil Code’s drawing up history viewed through prior codifications, as through theory, is much too complex to be obviously used in favour of one conception or the other. Despite its ambivalent and broad drafting on January 1, 1900 § 812 128 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Abs. 1 BGB was not a completely blank paper where opinions could be wilfully expressed. The norm is rather more similar to a form printed in majuscules with pandectic traditions mixed with legislative innovations, leaving enough liberty in the blank spaces to develop law further on. The Civil Code’s parents gathered into a norm B. Windscheid‘s spirit, they got inspired by Swiss law as well, by very old cases of unjust enrichment at the expense of the other and by Savigny’s legal writings. Nevertheless, they did not establish the way to fuse different ways of enrichment, the solutions being left in charge of science and of the new century’s practice. Considering that a monumental work had been accomplished through the Civil Code, they suggested there was nothing more to be added to the words: „The claim derived from unjust enrichment in the detriment of another person hides a great idea, impossible to be put to practice to good end, as the idea of justice should have been more clearly expressed than it was possible within the incomplete social and economic reality. Nonetheless, - or maybe due to the above fact – the idea of justice is good and great39”. II. French Law E OWE to Jean Domat and Robert-Joseph Pothier the interpretation that validated the modern formula of unjust enrichment in French law. Jean Domat (1625-1696) used to be a royal attorney – at – law in his town, Clermont-Ferrand. He dedicated a complex work to civil law, published posthumously. This work opened new methodological horizons. The practitioner Domat started from the assumption that Roman law bore special importance to French law, but it was very little known in detail.40 That is why he aimed to achieve a presentation of Roman law in French and at the same time a planning of the same in its natural order41. Domat is an authentic researcher who synthesises unjust enrichment in an abstract form starting from the bases of Roman law. „Celui qui se trouve avoir la chose d’un autre sans quelque juste cause, oú á qui une chose était donne pour une chose qui cesse, ou sous une condition qui n’arrive point, n’ayant plus de cause pour le retenir doit la restituer. Ainsi, celui qui avoit reçu une dot pour marriage qui ne s’accomplit point, oú est annulé doit render ce qui n’était donne qu’à ce titre. Ainsi, à plus forte raison, ceux qui ont reçu de l’argent, ou autre chose, pour une cause injuste, sont tenus de le rendre42”. (The one who finds himself in the situation of possessing another person’s good without just cause or the one who was given a good for a cause that ceased to have purpose, and not having any reason for its retention, must restore it. The same goes for the one who received a marriage gift, should the marriage fail to have happened or should it have been cancelled, he must restore W POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 129 solely what he was given by this title. Furthermore, the ones who received money or other things for unjust cause must restore that money or things.) With these assertions, J. Domat explains the utility of cause in conventions. Narrowing the application field to extra- contractual relationships, he establishes the restitutions that come out from the “annihilation” of contract due to absence of cause on the nullity mechanisms themselves. As it was specified by an eminent Romanian jurist43 „cause was the usurper of condictiones”. Integrating the cause into the contract’s constitutive elements, the Roman condictiones disappeared as sanction of the restitution of values provided for the execution of annulled conventions, their area being cut out to simple extra contractual situations44. Robert-Joseph Pothier (1699-1772) set the bases of French civil law. He was a judge, and since 1749 a law teacher at the University of Orléans. In his work, Pandactae Justinianae in novum ordinem digesta,(1748), he re divided Corpus Juri,s following new didactics and methodology thus fundamentally contributing to the development of modern European civil law. Due to the special influence on the codifiers of French civil law, Pothier is also referred to as „the anonymous editor of the Civil Code45”. In the great French legal advisor’s work, the unjust enrichment is dealt with in direct relationship with actio utile negotiorum gestorum and with actio condictio indebiti. As natural equity is the basis for the two actions, he updates Pomponius’ formula Iure naturae aequum est neminem cum alterius detrimento et injuria fieri locupletiorem. This systematization represented the favourite source for the legislators of modern European states46. Pothier’s legal vision on unjust enrichment and business administration dominated the French doctrine and jurisprudence between 1809 and 1890. In their great majority, jurists supported his thesis by even developing a theory of imperfect business administration, that based on the principle of unjust enrichment became incidental every time the conditions for invoking business administration were not met47. In this dynamic process of modernizing accumulations of the XIXth century the resolution Boudier contre Patureau influenced at its turn the development and redefinition of the role played by “unjust enrichment” in the French system of liabilities and not only that48. During a time when imperfect business administration seemed to impose itself in jurisprudence, the Cassation Court stated the following: „Taking under consideration that actio de in rem verso comes out from the principle of equity that bans a person from becoming enriched in the detriment of another person, its exercise does not submit to any condition; it is enough for the plaintiff to claim and prove existence of an advantage gained for the other party by personal act or sacrifice49”. This is how an important way was opened to validating unjust enrichment as the distinct source of obligations. The sole legal condition to promote action 130 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) was „the existence of an advantage gained for the person against which action was claimed, through personal deed or sacrifice50”. In fact, a person by the name of Patureau let a piece of land to a peasant, named Garnier – Godard in March 5th 1886. The contract was terminated on December 22nd 1888 because the lessee owed the owner the amount of Fr 15 000 as letting fee and use of equipment. The harvest was transferred to Patureau in exchange for one part of the debt and the pending amount was of FF 5,376. Subsequently the Boudier family, father and son, traders of fertilizers, presented Patureau with a 324 Fr bill, for the fertilizer delivered to Garnier – Godard prior to termination. He refused to pay it. The courts ruled in favour of the Boudier family considering that “since the plaintiff proved that the fertilizer had been delivered on the date pointed out in the sentence and it had been used to fertilize the defendant’s land that resulted in the crop the plaintiff enjoyed, he became a case of unjust enrichment51”. Labbé, in a comment to the test case, drew up the following observations: “if the courts asserted that when the fertilizer was delivered to the farmer peasant and used to improve the land quality, the holder of the land was obliged to pay up, the principle of the relativity of legal instruments had been thereby ignored as included in the quote res inter alios acta aliis neque noces neque prodest.” The fertilizer sale and purchase agreement created a right to the seller and a debt to the lessee peasant. Whether the fertilizer was used or not bears no relevance to the case. But the fact it had been used and the land fertility was increased also increased the land value resulting in proceeds to the owner with no expenses on his side. A new obligation was created, in favour of the fertilizer provider and against the owner. The object of this obligation was not an amount fixed in advance, that was to be established, lower or higher compared to the price of the agreement. There are two debts analysed within the test case, that of the lessee and that of the owner. Once one of the debts paid, the other disappears. The test case’s commenter enlists the arguments for which unjust enrichment cannot be assimilated with business management and especially stresses upon the lack of intention to manage. The Boudier’s attorney claimed that the action de in rem verso represented a penalty for failure to comply with the rule of equity, according to which nobody should become rich at the expense of another person at any time the patrimony of one person is increased without just cause in another person’s detriment. In conclusion, the French Cassation admitted the action on equity grounds. But it left to doctrine and jurisprudence the role to establish admissibility concerning conditions of action de in rem verso. The subsidiary character of the action de in rem verso was also validated by a French resolution from the jurisprudence point of view. Thus, in the case Ville de Bagnères- de-Bigorre contre Briauhant, the Court of Cassation stated on March POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 131 2nd 1915 that: “The action de in rem verso must not be admitted except for the case when one person’s patrimony is enriched without legal basis to the detriment of another person who does not benefit of any other action born from the contract, quasi – contract, felony or quasi - felony52” We traced a hint favourable to the distinction between institutions in an important resolution from 1919 that admits the selfless intent as a necessary element of genuine business management53 and states the role it plays in the differentiation reported to unjust enrichment. Even though pursuant to this resolution the perspective became clearer, the confusion between the two mechanisms persisted in the European legal space54. III. Romanian Law ROMANIAN Civil Code did not expressly validate provisions concerning the unjust enrichment. Still, some of them applied the principle and set out the restitution obligation whenever increase of a person’s patrimony in detriment of another person’s patrimony was acknowledged. One may see such applications in articles 484, 493, 494, 997, 1618, 1691, 1522, 766, 1164 of the Civil Code and equally in articles 33 and 99 of Law no. 18/1991 concerning the Land Fund. The reformation of the Civil Code was attempted several times, and there were express validation formulae of a general principle suggested for unjust enrichment. In the first version of the Carol the IInd Civil Code, unjust enrichment was expressly provisioned as a principle in article 1200 under the following enunciation: „The person who, without a just cause became rich to the detriment of another person, is held responsible, within the limits of his enrichment, to reimburse the wronged party with an amount equal to that which the person was deprived of. The claim cannot be admitted should the one filing it enjoy the right to another action in order to acquire what he was deprived of 55”. Carol the IInd Civil Code’s editors explained the reason for introducing the expression “what he was impoverished by”. “This necessarily involves the idea that that the impoverishment came as a result of the enriched person’s deed, fact that narrows down the area of the regulation enforcement compared to the actual status of jurisprudence. The action of in rem verso is ruled out when the value the impoverished person was deprived of entered into the patrimony of the enriched person through a third party – the indirect enrichment. On the other hand repetition is ruled out as well, should enrichment be the result of a natural deed and not of a human deed.”56 Recently, due to the new Romanian Civil Code’s project, in debate in the Romanian Parliament, its promoters constituted, by article 1093, the following enunciation concerning unjust enrichment: „ (1) The person who, without a just cause became rich to the detriment of another person, is held responsi- T HE 132 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) ble, within the limits of his enrichment, to reimburse the wronged party with an amount equal to that which the person was deprived of. (2) The claim cannot be admitted should the one filing it enjoy the right to another action in order to acquire what he was deprived of”. From the point of view of the legal conditions for restitution action, article 1094 provisions a limitative list of the grounds justifying enrichment: „Enrichment is justly founded when it comes as a result of: a valid obligation execution; failure to exercise the right the one who got deprived had against the enriched person; a deed fulfilled by impoverished person in his own and sole interest, at his own risk, by case, with constant liberal intent57”. Art. 1094 put forward an innovative regulation for the European space, as it is the result of doctrine and jurisprudence synthesis of the last 100 Romanian years. Once Romanian law took over the principle, the conditions of action performance were announced within the doctrine: existence of value transfer, lack of cause, the rightful link between parties. Further on, the author unified the three conditions into two: the actual damage of one party should correspond to the actual enrichment of the other, for this enrichment to be deemed unjust, meaning to lack cause58. Since the beginning of the XXth century, Romanian doctrine aimed to assimilate the French interpretations of the period. The Romanian legal practice debut in the field is initiated by the 1902 resolution59, even though it had been ignored by the Interwar period doctrine due to the fact it applied, in an out of date manner, the unjust enrichment principle. “An inconstant business manager”, lacking good faith won the trial against the owner for expenditures’ reimbursement, as it was thought that “there was enough satisfying report that generated obligations for the owner, applying by analogy the principle of unjust profit”60”. The Court applied to the test case the French jurisprudence interpretations concerning abnormal business management that were prior to the case Boudier versus Patureau. (We shall extensively analyse this issue in subchapter 3.3.1). Unjust enrichment, was for the first time analysed by the Supreme Court in 1922, from structural and systematic perspective, on the occasion of settling the litigation in the “”war damages test case61”. Actually, during the war (1917 ) Russian Armies cut and picked up from the forest owned by Mrs. Alice N. Nanu a certain quantity of wood, using part of it for reinforcement of defence positions in case of enemy attack: the Romanian state subsequently used these works. The owner made a claim of damage – interests against the Romanian state, for the inflicted damage. The Court ruled against the action and stated that the issue referred to war damages that had to be settled in compliance with a decree law of 1919. The Court of Appeal62 differently construed the case, POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 133 ruling the issue referred plainly to damage – interests and not to war damages. Nevertheless, The Court of Cassation, used the then contemporary French jurisprudence arguments, specifying that „Law constantly states that the restitution obligation generated by unjust enrichment as well as the action de in rem verso for the valuing of that obligation derive from an irrefutable equity and natural law principle that although not formally regulated can pass as legal grounds for an action in court without being submitted to special rules and restrictions related to the issue of quasi – contracts, felonies or quasi - felonies63” We notice that the principle of action subsidiary was not specified and examined within the case. One of the main aspects that Romanian judicial practice reveals up to contemporary times is that according to which law courts constantly promote compliance with legal conditions, in the meaning provided by doctrine.64 IV. Other European Law Systems RTICLE 2041 of the Italian Civil Code of 1942 stipulates that: “The person who, without a just cause (in the original giusta causa) became rich to the detriment of another person, is held responsible, within the limits of his enrichment, to reimburse the wronged party with an amount equal to that which the person was deprived of”. Art 2042 specifies that: “the enrichment action cannot be received when the impoverished person can use of alternative ways to recover the deprived amount.65”. The judicial terms for taking legal actions in restitution are: the lack of a just cause, and the lack of an alternative action for recovering the deprived amount. The text of article 2041 generated lively discussions in Italian doctrine because it uses the phrase “recovery of deprived amount”. This implies a larger area of action, even though in article 2041 it is clearly stated that “the enriched is responsible within the limits of his enrichment.66” In Swiss civil law, in the Swiss obligations Code, § 62 stipulates: „The person who became rich to someone else’s detriment without just cause, is responsible for restitution.67”. The new Dutch civil code of 1992 regulates in article 204 enrichment without just cause. „1. The person who became rich unjustly, to someone else’s detriment must, inasmuch as it is acceptable, repair the prejudice brought to the wronged party so as to lead to the latter’s enrichment. 2. A diminution of enrichment cannot be taken into account if the diminution comes from a series of events unattributable to the enriched. 3. A diminution of enrichment during the time when the enriched couldn’t consider the restitution obligation is not attributable to the enriched. When examining the diminution of enrichment, the amounts which the enriched wouldn’t have been spent had he not become rich, will be taken into account.68”. A 134 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) It is interesting to analyze the perspective of good faith in the context of awareness or lack of awareness regarding enrichment without just cause. Conclusions I N SYSTEMS of law, as well as in the area of current knowledge, it is the Greek and Roman civilizations that offer the ethical and moral fundamentals, as well as the legislative and institutional framework for modernity. It was easy to start with Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics where the author laid the basis of the principles of democracy, the philosophical and ethical systems, which were later confirmed and enriched by European historical evolution. Justice is at the core of this system, which features two main characteristics: distributive and commutative, the latter concerning relationships between people based on fundamental respect for each other’s rights. Ulpian69 went further: Iustitia est constans et perpetua voluntas ius suum cuique tribuendi, thus formulating more than a definition, and enhancing the possibility that a person can own, enjoy, ask for, and receive what is rightfully his or hers. Among others, speaking broadly, he argues that the people’s status quo should be protected, thus linking it to one of the basic principles of natural law: (I.) UT ne quis alterum laedat, utque (II.) ºi quod damnum alteri dederit, id reparet70. This is considered to be the moral ground of felony law. The above text is clear, and does not leave room for interpretation. That is, judicial thinking never tolerated the enrichment of one person to the detriment of another: Nam hoc natura aequum est neminem cum alterius detrimento fieri locupletiorem71. Felony law as well as the laws regarding unjust enrichment are two options meant to implement the suum cuique tribuere precept. The first refers to the loss brought forth by the plaintiff (regardless of the gain of the accused); the second to the gain of the accused (regardless of the simultaneous loss of the plaintiff). At ideal parameters, the legal system provides the remedy for unjust enrichment when one person gains a profit that rightfully belongs to another. This ideal, however theoretically desirable, is difficult to implement in judicial practice as the terms „unjust”, „on unjust grounds”, or „without just cause” are relative, and cannot determine in what circumstances a person can keep a certain profit. The semantic option used in Romanian law for the terms „unjust enrichment” is broader than the terms „without just cause.” (A „cause” is more open to interpretation, and thus can generate confusion). „On unjust grounds” doesn’t give enough information about the plaintiff. That is why our thesis analysis, as well as the published studies, made us choose the terms „to someone else’s detriment” or „at someone else’s expense”, which are frequently used in German Law. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 135 Going further, we encountered repeatedly in the studied literature the incorrect notion that enrichment is connected to a loss. The corrections we want to implement concern the way in which the „unjust” or „unjust cause” enrichment took place that is either through a transfer, or an alternative method72. The German system leads the way in this area also, including in comparison with other legal systems. The subdivision with the concept of transfer in the middle is not arbitrary. An obligation, to use Justinian’s words is a vinculum iuris, quo necessitate adstringimur alicuius solvendae rei. The necessity to enterprise a certain activity will be achieved using the effect of the law or through a contract. According to Roman law, transfer was possible in order to obtain an exchange action or effect (ob rem), to fulfil a contractual obligation (obligandi causa), or could be given as a gift (donandi causa). Roman legislators put together a system to remedy enrichment (the condictiones), which complemented the contractual system. Except in cases of condictio ex causa furtiva, one party tried to recover that which it lost to another. Donandi and obligandi causa transfers did not need the use of specific remedies, unlike datio ob rem. This was the area where condictiones causa data causa non secuta ºi ob turpem vel iniustam causam was applied. Condictio indebiti was the most important form of action based on unjust enrichment, as it would cover the paradigmatic situation of indebitum solutum. Same as in antiquity, people today still transfer goods, money, and services. Much more frequently, these transfers are made solvendi causa – to fulfil an obligation. For this purpose, modern judicial systems switched the ex nudo pacto non oritur actio principle, and developed beyond the sphere of the fragmented contractual system of Roman law. They also expanded the applicability of condictio indebiti, giving it as main purpose the fulfilment of contract law, and applying it in situations in which a transfer does not reach its destined purpose (the fulfilment of obligations by the person who makes the transfer to the one to which it is made). The keeping of the profit by the receiver is not justified if the one who makes the transfer was not obligated to do so, that is if the transfer was made „without just grounds” or „without just cause”. The reference to the notion of transfer has three advantages: firstly, it synchronizes the right of the contract with the right of the unjust enrichment. Secondly, it determines to whom the restitution should be made. Thirdly, it provides a relatively simple test to determine whether enrichment is „without just cause73”. Reference to the „legal grounds” makes another feature of complaining about modern unjust enrichment through transfer. It is irrelevant whether the transfer had legal grounds or not, as the contract on which it was made may have not existed; may have been void for a variety of reasons; may have had another objective; or may have been related to another creditor. All these situations 136 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) will be determined by the contract’s right. (Restitution right is not concerned with these issues). For the writing of a new system regarding unjust enrichment in Romanian law, items already part of contemporary law systems should be taken into account. Thus, indirect enrichment, and enrichment by means of expenditure savings cannot be any longer ignored by Romanian jurisprudence and doctrine. At the same time, a useful tool for evaluating enrichment is that of „obtained advantage”. This covers material enrichment, as well as non-pecuniary enrichment. Identifying the impoverished party in three-way relationships or complex judicial situations can be easily achieved by means of answering the question „on whose expense was the enrichment made?” The judicial instruments proposed in this paper are meant to replace the classical system for evaluating enrichment. The classical traditional method does not provide the real picture of the obligation rapport through the interposing of third parties between enriched and impoverished. Notes 1. See J.W. Neyers’, Unjust Enrichment: An introduction, in J.W. Neyers, M. McInnes, S. Pitel, Understanding Unjust Enrichment, Hart Publishing, 2004, p. 5 and subsequent and P. Birks, Foundations of Unjust Enrichment, Victoria University Press, 2002, p. 82. 2. See I, resolution no. 1344 of December 12, 1922, Romanian jurisprudence, year X, no. 1-2, 1922, p. 227-228. 3. See C.C. Stoicesco, De l’enrichissment sans cause, Paris, Librarie Marescqainé, 1904, doctoral thesis presented at the Law Faculty of Paris, C.N. Toneanu, Unjust Enrichment, in Law no. 5, 14, 16/1905; D. Gerotas thesis, La theorie de l’enrichissement sans cause dans le code civil allemand, Paris, 1925, and others. Between 1899 and1947, 80 doctoral thesis were written in France dealing with themes in the field „unjust enrichment” 4. Aristotle, The Nicomachean Ethics, Translation by T. Brãileanu, Ed. Antet XX Press, Bucureºti, 2001, p. 101. 5. Idem, p. 115. 6. See theory support by D. Leite de Campos, Les presupposes externes de l’action de in rem verso, Thèse, Paris II, 1978, p. 369, 378 ºi 382. 7. Ch.P. Filios is one of the most important supporters within French doctrine, L’enrichissement sans cause en droit privé français. Analyse interne et vues comparatives, Ed. Ant.N. Sakkoulas/Bruylant, Atena/Bruxelles, 1999, p. 127-128.Most of the American doctrine in the filed of unjust enrichment theory deems the commutative justice as the historical basis for unjust enrichment. 8. Artistotle, cited works, p. 106-107. The Romanian translation uses the term „commutative justice”. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 137 9. See Ch.P. Filios, cited works, p. 13 and following; B. Küpisch, Ungerechtfertigte Bereicherung: geschichtiliche Entwicklungen, Ed. Gulde-Druck, Tübingen, 1994, p. 1-4. 10. A.P. Leyval, De la notion d’enrichissement injuste en droit romain classique (Une application du Bonum et Aequum), Doctoral thesis, Baconnier Frères, Alger, 1935, p. 135; Apud Ch.P. Filios, cited works., p. 15. 11. Digeste (50.17.20), C. Hamangiu, I. Rosetti-Bãlãnescu, Al. Bãicoianu, Tratat de drept civil român, (new edition), Ed. All Beck, Bucureºti, 1998, p. 479; Vl. Hanga, Drept privat roman, Ed. Didacticã ºi Pedagogicã, Bucureºti, 1977, p. 409. 12. Ch.P. Filios, cited works., p. 17; B. Küpisch, cited works., p. 7. 13. J. Hallebeeck, Developments in Medieval Roman Law, vol. Eltjo J.H. Schrage, Unjust Enrichment: The comparative legal history of the law of restitution, Drucker und Humbold Verlag, Berlin, 1995, p. 59. 14. D. Gherasim, cited works., p. 44-45; Vl. Hanga, cited works., p. 410. 15. H.G. Koppensteiner, E.A. Krammer, Ungerechtfertigte Bereicherung, Ed. Walter de Gruyter & Co., Berlin-New York, 1988, p. 19-24. 16. See H. Coing, Zur Lehre von der ungerechtfertigten Bereicherung bei Accursius, ZSS Rom. Abt. 80 (1963), p. 398-399; R. Feenstra, Die ungerechtfertigte Bereicherung in dogmengeschichtlicher Sicht, Ankara Universitesi Hukuk Facultesi Dergisi 29 (1972), p. 289-305; J.J. Hallebeek/E.J.H. Schrage, Ongerechtvaardigde verrijking, Grapen iut de geschiedenis van de algemene verrijkingsactie van het NBW, Amsterdam 1989, p. 27-55; D.H. van Zyl, Die saakwaarnemingsaksie as verrykingsaksie in die Suid-Afrikaanse reg, Leyden, 1970, p. 34-50. 17. A similar enunciation could be found in other Corpus iuris texts. In D.12.6.4., the rule is classified as equitable, according to nature. In D.2.15.8.22. it is described as equitable. See also, D.14.3.17.4. ºi D.23.3.6.2. and D.23.3.16. The dictum was adopted as regula locupletari in De regulis iuris of Liber Sextus (1298). 18. Exodus 20:15 Apud B. Küpisch, cited works., p. 34. 19. Epistle 153 ad maced. 20 (Migne, PL 33, par. 662)., Apud B. Küpisch, p. 34-35. 20. Cf. C.14 q.6 c.1; VI de regulis iuris, regula peccatum; K.Weinzierl, Ruckgabepflicht nach kanonischem Recht. Rechtshistorische, rechtsdogmatischem Darstellung, Freiburg, 1932, p. 34. 21. Propoziþiile lui Peter Lombard (d. 1164): Lib. IV dist. 15 cap. 7 nr. 9; Toma d’Acquino, Summa Theologiae, II-II, q. 62, Apud K. Weinzierl, Die Restitutionslehre der Fruhscholastik, Munchen 1936. 22. Roman law, as it is expressed in different parts of Justinian’s legislation, Corpus iuris civilis, may be viewed as the final outcome of long and continuous developments during Ancient times. This study’s purpose restricts to simplex interpretatio. The text itself, as we have known it from Roman Ancient Times, is the starting point for XIIth century Bologna medieval legal studies to present. Jurists assign no special value to the text’s historical genesis, although it contains older materials that suggest elements of previous regulations and illustrate the historical genesis of Justinian law. They do not interpret it as a historical source, but – at least outside constitutional and criminal law – as a solid code of the law in force. 23. As are condictio indebiti (C. 4.5; D. 12.6), condictio causa data causa non secuta (C. 4.6; D. 12.4) ºi condictio ob turpem vel iniustam causam (C. 4.7 and 9; D. 12.5). 138 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 24. See „salvarea credibilitãþii dreptului roman” („to the rescue of Roman law credibility”): G. Dolezalek, Teologii morali, doctrina restituirii ºi jurisdificarea ei în secolul al XVIlea ºi al XVII-lea în: Acta Juridica, 1992, p. 105. 25. H.J. Wieling, Bereicherungsrecht, Springerverlag, 2006, p. 25. 26. J. Hallebeek, cited works., cited phrases 27. Idem, The Concept of Unjust Enrichment in Late Scholasticism, 1996, p. 43. 28. J. Halebeek, cited works, p. 60. 29. See W. Lang, Der Allgemeine Bereicherungsanspruch im französischen Recht vor und nach dem Code Civil, Doctoral Thesis, Johann Wolfgang Goethe University, Frankfurt am Main, 1975, p. 38 and Ch.P. Filios, cited works., p. 41. 30. W. Lang, cited works., p. 39; B. Küpisch, cited works., p. 33. 31. R. Feenstra, cited works., p. 211-215. 32. Idem, p. 216. 33. Idem, p. 217. 34. This explanation is found in Djhap 2,10,1,2 (ed. a V-a, p. 319-321); strating with E rebus exantibus obligatio haec nascitur, qua tenetur is qui rem nostram habet in potestate, efficere quantum in se est, ut in nostram potestatem veniat. 35. For the Latin text, see, J. Hallebeek, A catalonian custom and a forbiden negotiorum gestorum, Journal of Legal History 12, 1991, p. 117-131, and E.J.H. Schrage, De opgedrongen verrijking: over de actio funeraria de actio negotiorum gestorum en de kosten van de begrafenis, Acta juridica, 1992 (Essays in honour of Wauter de Vos). 36. Note 303 of C. van Bijnerkershoek, W. Pauw, Observationes tumultuariae, Apud E.J.H. Schrage, cited works, p. 228 (Observationes tumultuariae groups Dutch Supreme Court jurisprudence, Hooge Raad in the XVIIIth century). 37. B. Küpisch, Ungerechtfertigte Bereicherung, Usus modernus pandectarum in Deutschland unter Berücksichtigung des preußischen Allgemeinen Landsrechts (ALR) und des österreichischen Allgemeinen bürgerlichen Gesetzbuchs (ABGB), în E.J.H. Schrage, cited works, p. 238 and following. 38. D. König, Ungerechtfertigte Bereicherung. Tatbestände und Ordnungsprobleme in rechtsvergleichender Sicht, Heidelberg, Winter, 1985, p. 20. 39. W. Lang, cited works, p. 16. 40. H. Capitant, De la cause des obligations, 2 ème éd., Paris, 1924, p. 164, Apud W. Lang, cited works, p. 48. 41. The formula was „Les loix civiles dans leur ordre naturel”. 42. See Oeuvres completes. Les lois civiles, nouvelle edition par J. Rémy, T.I. Gobelet, Paris, 1835, p. 466, Apud Ch.P. Filios, cited works, p. 42. 43. M. Moºoiu, De l’enrichissement injuste. Étude de droit compare. Doctoral thesis. Paris, LJAM, Paris, 1932, p. 7 and following 44. Ch.P. Filios, cited works p. 42, W. Lang, cited works, p. 47. 45. See also H. Mitteis, Deutsche Rechtsgeschichte, edition revised by H. Lieberich, C.H. Beck Verlag, München, 1981, p. 207 and the following, for Pothier’s influence on European civil law 46. H. Schlosser, Grundzüge der Neuen Privatrechtsgeschichte, ed. a 7-a, C.H. Beck, Verlag, München, 1993, p. 60 and the following POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 139 47. M. Merlin, Recueil alphabetique des questions de droit, 4eme éd., t.II, Garnery, Paris, 1825, Apud. Ch.P. Filios, cited works, p. 48. 48. See the cause in H. Capitant, Les grands arrest de la jurisprudence civile, 10-eme edition, edition revisée de F. Terré ºi Y. Lequette, Ed. Dalloz, Paris, 1994, p. 631 and following 49. Ibidem. 50. At the time of principle synthesizing in the Romanian doctrine, it was thought that the three conditions for action performance were: existence of value transfer, lack of cause, rightful link unifying the parties, and they further on became two: actual damage had to correspond to the actual enrichment of the other party in order for this enrichment to be deemed unjust, meaning to lack cause. 51. H. Capitant, cited works, p. 631-632. 52. Case Ville de Bagnères- de-Bigorre was reproduced by H. Capitant, cited works, p. 638. 53. Ch.P. Filios, cited works, p. 86-91. 54. Idem, p. 88. 55. Ministry of Justice, Codul civil Carol al II-lea, Official Edition, Imprimeria Centralã, Bucureºti, 1940. (Subsequently the text in art. 1200 became art. 1072). 56. Idem, p. 799. 57. Parlamentul României, Proiectul Noului Cod civil Român: www.just.ro/bin/proiecte_de _lege/proiecte/codul_civil.html 58. C.N. Toneanu, op. cit., p. 38. 59. A se vedea subcapitolul 1.3. 60. Trib. Vlaºca, sentinþa din 22 noiembrie 1902, în Curierul Judiciar, 1903, p. 30. 61. A se vedea Cas. I, deciziunea nr. 1344 din 12 decembrie 1922, în Jurisprudenþa Românã, anul X, 1923, nr. 1-2, p. 227-228. 62. „(...) Still, because the wood extracted from the forest was used by Russian Armies for reinforcements and country defence and then passed on to Romanian Armies, and the state unjustly enriched itself to the detriment of the plaintiff, it is liable in compliance with article 998 of the Civil Code, because liability from unjust enrichment to the detriment of another person is nothing else than a liability in an illicit case ”. C. Ap. Iaºi, section I, 31, April 6th, 1922 in C. Hamangiu, Codul civil Adnotat, Ed. Librãriei Universala, Alcalay &Co, 1927, p. 493. 63. Ibidem. 64. See V. Ursa, Aspecte ale evoluþiei practicii judiciare privitoare la îmbogãþirea fãrã temei legitim, in Studia Universitatis Babeº-Bolyai. Iurisprudentia nr. 1/1977, p. 55-62. 65. F. Galagano, Diritto Privato, decimal edizione, Casa Editrice Dott Antonio, Milan, 1999, p. 393 and the following.; E.J.H. Schrage, cited works., p. 271. 66. F. Galegano, cited works., p. 394. 67. E.J.H. Schrage, cited works., p. 272 and D. Gherasim, cited works., p. 64. (The latter identified wrongly the paragraph quoted at § 62.) 68. E.J.H. Schrage, cited works., p. 272. 69. D 1, 1, 10 pr; see also Inst I, 1, pr; regarding Ulpian’ definition see W. Waldstein, Zu Ulpians Definition der Gerechtigkeit (D 1, 1, 10 pr), C.H. Beck in Festschrift für Werner Flume München, vol. 1, 1978, p. 213. 140 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 70. R. Zimmermann, The law of Obligations. Roman Foundations of the Civilian Tradition, in Restitution Law Review, 1992, p. 1032, E. Picker, Vertragliche und deliktische Schadenschaftung în Juristenzeitung, 1987, p. 1041 and the following. 71. Ch. Wollschläger, Das stoische Bereicherungsverbot in der römischen Rechtswissenschaft’, in Römisches Recht in der europäischen Tradition, Symposion für Franz Wieacker, 1985, p.. 41 and the following. 72. Enrichment „through an alternative method” here refers to the enrichment which was „not achieved through transfer”. For a detailed analysis of problems and situations discussed here see infra 10-14. 73. The enrichment of a third party is more difficult to analyze. In that case, German specialists believe that Leistung cannot be mechanically applied to find the right solution in each case. On the other hand, the Leistung concept constitutes the hub around which certain case categories (Fallgruppen) were constituted in German law. The implicit evaluations were explained by Claus-Wilhelm Canaris in his famous article Bereicherungsausgleich im Dreipersonenverhaltnis in vol Ch. Beck, cited works., p. 799. Abstract The Contribution of Romanian and European Legal Elite to the Definition of the Unjust Enrichment Concept Unjust enrichment is known in the European law systems under names that not only suggest the non – unitary “juridical translation” but also a different inter-pretation, this being the reason for pursuing a comparative method in our research. The judicial instruments proposed in this paper are meant to replace the classical system for evaluating enrichment. The classical traditional method does not provide the real picture of the obligation rapport through the interposing of third parties be-tween enriched and impoverished. Keywords legal elites, unjust enrichment, law systems, legal grounds, EU I I . R OA D S T O M O D E R N I T Y – R E T U R N S T O T H E PA S T II.1 MODERN FORMS O F M E D I E VA L L E G A C I E S Between the Memory of the Customary and the Code of Law Crimes, Penalties and Social Identities in Pre-Modern Moldavia (17th Century – First Half of the 18th Century) Components of the Project and the Current Stage of the Research C ÃTÃLINA -E LENA C HELCU 1. Argument B subject of our research and the periodical classification we propose are tightly related to Moldavia’s politico-juridical relationships with the Ottoman Empire, which have direct implications in the domestic political structure and financial organization, in the criminal code practices. In the 17th century, the subordination to the Ottoman Empire increased. Afterward, the Phanariote regime introduced in 1714 implied the administration of the two countries like quasi-provinces of the Empire, with the help of Princes of Greek origin, directly appointed by the Sultan, with no consultation of the indigenous political class. These foreign Princes’ particular situation led to a political conduct that was their specific one, thus unavoidably determining a significant modification of the Romanian traditional world structures. In our investigation, this will be underlined by analysing the documents that mention criminal penalties that attest the execution of punishments, out of which the most frequent one was the redemption of the offence by paying a sum of money. We must say that the number of such papers is a limited one among the written documents, most of them being acts issued in the aftermath of civil trials and making no distinction between civil and criminal issues as far as the procedure is concerned. These situations are to be explained by the absence of the written motivation OTH THE Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project 144 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) for the court order in jurisdictional procedure. Such procedure, consisting in the quoting, in the order, the juridical norm that the judges were referring to when making the decision, became compulsory after Constantin Mavrocordat’s request. This is one further reason to establish temporary limits to cover the 17th century and the first half of the 18th one1. Our project therefore makes a classification of the social identities, as they appear in the context of the confrontation between the memory of the customary norms and the discovery of the written/read juridical texts. Briefly, this is a symbolic dispute between power and authority. The customary was the authority of ancientness and of the uninterrupted practice of customs, somehow anonymised by the passage of time. The code of law became a gesture of the power, emerged from the desire of the one endowed with the necessary means of coercion to impose a unification/bureaucratization of the law practices. 2. Stage of the research O regarding the social implications of the criminal law practices, based upon the two law sources existing in the Romanian medieval and pre-modern period – that is, the customary and the Byzantine code of law – has the privilege of benefiting by solid investigations made in the are of: the origin of criminal law and procedure in the medieval and pre-modern period; the definition and content of the notions of criminal offence and penalty; the limits of private law and of the collective criminal responsibility2. At the same time, the contribution of linguistics, historical sociology and ethnology is not to be ignored in such an approach3. The historians’ perspective on the phenomenon of penalty in the medieval and pre-modern period is little visible in this field literature. As it is known, a form of resistance of the Romanian historiography facing the necessity to comply with the communist ideology – that stressed the materialist interpretations in the detriment of the empirical research – was erudition, which found in the political and cultural history of the 18th century a wide range of possibilities. These preoccupations were accompanied by the publication of the critical editions of documents, chronicles and codes of laws. Given the context, the issues related to the criminal law did not find a place among the historians’ preoccupations, as this was a prohibited theme, to be approached only by the judicial history specialists. We only have a few starts, substantiated in several papers referring to the main fines in 15th-18th century Moldavia, to cases of capital punishment in the 16th century, to medieval justice in general4. The latest approach concerning the topic we are interested in, from both a strictly juridical and a historical perspective, was that of Valentin Al. Georgescu UR PROJECT POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 145 and P. Strihan, Judecata domneascã în Þara Româneascã ºi Moldova 1611-1831 [‘Princely Judgment in Walachia and Moldavia, 1611-1831’], Part I. Organizarea judecãtoreascã [‘Judicial Organization’], vol. I (1611-1740), Bucureºti, 1979 and Part II, Procedura de judecatã [‘Law Procedure’] (1611-1831), Bucureºti, 1982. After 1989, the cultural and intellectual opening towards the fertile approaches of history in the occidental cultural area, which came with new directions of research, did not entail, in the case of Moldavia, a shift in the angle of analysis of the criminal phenomenon. Better represented from this standpoint (delinquency and/or criminality) is the Walachian historiography5 and the Transylvanian one6. 3. Types of sources and working hypotheses O UR RESEARCH’S objective is the description and analysis of the criminal law practices (offences and penalties) present in the 17th century Romanian society. For a better organization, we will not elude the premises of the 16th century and we will stop towards the middle of the Phanariote century. The higher limit will be the years 1741-1742, when Constantin Mavrocordat, prince for the second time in Moldavia, issued an unusual juridical document, functioning as fundamental law: Condica de porunci, corespondenþe, judecãþi ºi cheltuieli a lui Constantin Mavrocordat ca domn al Moldovei, (17411742) [‘The Book of decrees, correspondences, judgments and expenses of Constantin Mavrocordat as Prince of Moldavia’], after it had been decreed in Walachia as well in 1740, by the same Prince. The document was accompanied by a series of charters, decrees and assembly decisions – decisions of several councils assembled – that go up until 1749, as part of what was wanted to represent a reform of the Romanian law system. We are in a period when the economic, political and ideological influences of Western Europe were sensibly diluted, on the background of a rise of the Ottoman domination in this part of the continent. Besides these general features, the temporal limits of our investigations are also justified by the way in which two sources of formal law are applied, that is the customary, called in documents “the law” or the “country’s law” and the written law codes, coming from the Byzantium by means of Slavonic translations; these are the famous “pravile” or nomocanons. These latter included both elements of ecclesiastic law and elements of civil and criminal law. Furthermore, special attention must be paid to the context in which the code of laws in Romanian appears, elaborated under Vasile Lupu. The strongly penal character forces us to a self-contained research project. The issue represents, firs of all, a pretext to examine the social situation of the epoch, during which the 146 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) attitude of the lawgiver – as enforcer of the juridical norms existing in the State – towards the different denominational, social or ethnical categories represents the means by which our investigations might lead to satisfactory results. As mentioned above, in the period we analyse, the court order did not need to be motivated by the invocation of the law system on the basis of which the decision was made. Generally, until the middle of the 17th century, references are made to the “divine law”, “God’s law” and less to the law code (the codified, canonical one, the “Church pravila”, and the imperial one, the “imperial pravila”). Starting with the first half of the 18th century, the references to the “imperial pravila” and to the “holy pravila” grow more numerous. We intend to establish to what extent this phenomenon can be spotted in the criminal law practices, more precisely in the orders given by courts. 4. Methodology I NVENTORYING, EXAMINING and classifying the orders enforced by courts on the individuals accused of criminal offences, we will approach, more easily, the objectives of the project. This departure will prepare the path for the illustration of the existing hierarchies in the social structure of those times, of the differences between the groups forming the society. The topic implies the approaching of the anthropological method applicable in the dynamic area of social interactions. We should state that we approach penalty on the grounds of a modern definition. We will follow to what extent the denominational, social or ethnic differences, the differences between the older and the recent inhabitants of Moldavia, represented grounds for a different treatment in criminal matters. In both the content of Vasile Lupu’s Pravila, and that of the other documentary and narrative sources we can see signs of a different juridical treatment of the defendant, according to his belonging to one group or another. That is why we intend to confront the text of the code of laws with that of the documents of criminal nature, to establish to what extent the written law was applicable. We mention that the opinions of those who dwelt upon this subject are different. They declared themselves either against the use of the Pravila stipulations in the juridical procedures, or in favour of a limited applicability, based upon the fact that fragments of law were found in the penalty decisions referring to certain offences. We believe our approach is necessary for the clarification of this issue, a necessary and compulsory condition being to make an attentive reading of both the published and the unpublished documents, written in Slavonic or in Romanian with Cyrillic alphabet, from different archives. Another objective of the project is the way in which the criminal fine levied by the Prince or his tax farmers becomes POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 147 both a modality to punish and a source of incomes. Continuing this idea, we intend to motivate the levying, by some monasteries, of the quantum of punishment for murder (duºegubina), usually meant to the princely court7. 5. Phases of the project 5.1 Looking for hierarchies E ARE here in a period that precedes modernity, a period when the principle of equality to law had not yet been stated, justice being made according to the position that the defendants held in society. When we talk about categories of population and the manner in which criminal law justice was enforced in their case, we should, first of all, identify the criteria according to which certain groups forming the social structure are places in hierarchies and separated from each other. In our opinion, the denominational, social and ethnic criteria are determinant for the definition of the structure of a population, and their listing in this order corresponds to the importance they have in the groups’ hierarchy we have mentioned. Consequently, we intend to establish the way in which hierarchies are constructed in Moldavia in the proposed period, examining the time sources. By their subjectivity or objectivity, they create the general image of the society where they live: manuscript juridical writings8 and published ones9, chancellery documents10, literary chronicles11, encomiastic literature12, popular books13, notes on manuscripts and books from the epoch14. W 5.2. Denominational, social, ethnic. A Law for everybody? OR THE area we have in view, justice was, first of all, a Christian and an Orthodox one, and it mainly addressed the ones who shared this denomination. Moreover, in Romanian language, in both the documents and written works of the 17th century we will see that the “law” designated, invariably, the religious affiliation. Starting from this criterion, in the investigated period we meet, near an Orthodox Christian majority, two other Christian minorities, the Catholic and the Armenian one. Here too, in the same period, near the Christians we find the Muslims and the Jews. Then, the most significant ethnic minority, if we take into consideration the number and the influence they had in the Romanian society of that time, are the Greeks. At a closer look, we will discover that behind this group that we might be tempted to call an ethnic one, we find not only the Greeks, but also the people speaking Greek and coming from the Balkans and settled down in Moldavia, who could have been Albanians or Aromanians. In an hierarchical society, ordered according to the mentioned criteria, we try, following the sources, to establish how much the denominational, social and ethnic belonging of he individuals weighed in the F 148 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) judgment of the incriminated facts. The sources we will work upon are: chancellery documents published in the two national collections of sources15, in private collections16, as well as unpublished documents, lying at the State Archives of Iaºi17, the National Archives of Bucharest18 and the Library of the Romanian Academy19, Carte româneascã de învãþãturã [Romanian Book of Teachings], Iaºi, 1646, the way the phenomenon of criminality was regarded by the foreign travellers20, the Greek chronicles21, the religious painting of the 16th century22, where one can find different aspects of the social life, transposed in the gravures of published books of the following century (the gravure of Carte româneascã de învãþãturã [Romanian Book of Teachings], 1643, for instance)23. 5.3. Justice and taxation: between the headsman, the prison and the Treasury th HE OTTOMAN Empire in Moldavia, installed in the middle of the 16 century, also influenced the quantum of the domestic taxes, following the obligations to the Porte. We think about the multiplication of the tax obligations in Moldavia, especially in the 17th century, and reaching their climax in the 18th century24. Then, we refer to conversion of the old taxes into monetary royalties and, last but not least, to the elimination of fiscal immunities starting with the second half of the 16th century, which were returned to later, under different forms. In this context, changes occur in the punishment execution as well, by tolerating the redemption of punishments with money. Even the most serious ones, like robbery, could be redeemed or even pardoned by the Prince, a supreme judge of the country, under certain conditions. Generally, the corporal punishments and imprisonment eventually took more and more often the pecuniary form of execution. Consequently, our objective is, on the one hand, the analysis of the way in which this practice becomes a component of the general plan of collection of the cash that the princely court needed, to meet the Ottoman requests, and, on the other hand, the way it was applied at the level of the social structures, inside the majority Orthodox group and inside the minority groups, from an ethnic and denominational perspective. Moreover, we will focus on the law regulations regarding the fiscal offences that the 17th century princes and especially the princes of the next century try to fight (like, for instance, eluding the payment of the duºegubina). A particular problem are the fiscal immunities acquired by some of the Moldavian monasteries. Among these privileges, there is the levying, by these monasteries, of the fines (“gloabe”) for serious offences (“big deed”) like murder. By right, the investigation of the offences was the responsibility of the Prince, who was also levying the fine, established according to the gravity of the crime. Consequently, we insist upon this aspect pertaining to the relation between two institutions, the Principality and the Church, in the period we have in view, from the perspective of some juridical and fiscal privileges that the monasteries were entitled to25. T POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 149 6. Relevance of the project T was preserving the memory of litigious situations, as well as the inventory of the decisions to those situations. The written codes of laws were codifying part of those long run experiences, the political circumstance conserving or “forgetting”, according to the interests, a series of stipulations and immemorial customs. From our point of view, the social identities of the moment did not come out from the written provisions, but from the distances that always appeared between the letter of the law and its enforcement. These social identities emerge from the otherwise inherent conflict between an extremely complex reality and the articles of law that did not manage to comprehend it in some brief phrases. The competition between the customary and the law leads to the modification of the way in which the idea of guilt was regarded, many of the gestures that once seemed to be self-explanatory becoming, over night, offences. This is the so-called “process of civilization”, which Norbert Elias or Louis Marin talked about, each in his own style. Thus, some laws that seemed to serve, apparently, the individual’s interest, were actually establishing a tacit control, of a different nature. In our case, the modernizing effort originated in an increase of the central power as well, but not like in the case of France; this was an increase emerged from the despair to comply with the Ottomans’ bigger and bigger requests. The simplification of taxes under the Phanariotes was therefore updating the competition between the Prince and the land owner. Here starts, in our opinion, the long history of the sharecropper’s transformation into the tax-payer citizen. HE CUSTOMARY Notes 1. For the content, meaning and consequences of Constantin Mavrocordat’s reform, see Valentin Al. Georgescu’s pertinent analysis, Reforma judecãtoreascã a lui Constantin Mavrocordat ºi urmãrile ei [Constantin Mavrocordat’s legal reform and its consequences], in Judecata domneascã în þara Româneascã ºi Moldova 1611-1831 [Princely Trials in Walachia and Moldavia], vol. II (1740-1831) in Part I. Organizarea judecãtoreascã [Legal Organization], Bucureºti, 1981, p. 5-16, with bibliographical references. 2. It is important to mention the fact that most of the studies on penality in the Romanian Principalities come from the legal sciences area: S. G. Longinescu, Istoria dreptului românesc din vremile cele mai vechi ºi pânã azi [History of Romanian Law from Ancient Times to Today], Bucureºti, 1908; idem, Pravila lui Vasile Lupu ºi Prosper Farinaccius, romanistul Italian [The Code of Law of Vasile Lupu and Prosper Farinaccius, the Italian Romanist], Bucureºti, 1909; idem, Fragmente din istoria dreptului penal roman [Fragments from the History of the Romanian Criminal Law], „Curierul judiciar” [“The Legal 150 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Express”], no. 41, 28 November 1946; no. 1, 1 January 1927; no. 5, 6 February 1927; no. 10, 13 March 1927; no. 15, 17 April 1927; no. 30, 18 September 1927; C. V. Obedeanu, Originile dreptului penal roman în dreptul nescris [Origins of the Romanian Criminal Law in the Customary Law], in „Revista penalã” [“Criminal Magazine”], yr.V, nos. 1-3, 1926, pp. 64-71; ªtefan Berechet, Judecata la români pânã în sec. XVIII [Romanians’ Trials until the 18th Cnetury], Chiºinãu, 1926; idem, Schiþã de istorie a legilor vechi româneºti [Sketch of Old Romanian Law History], Chiºinãu, 1928; I. Tanoviceanu, Tratat de drept ºi procedurã penalã [Treaty of Criminal Law and Procedure], 2nd ed., Bucureºti, 1928 I. C. Filitti and D. I. Suchianu, Contribuþii la istoria dreptului penal roman [Contributions in the History of the Romanian Criminal Law], Bucureºti, 1927; idem, Contribuþii la istoria justiþiei penale [Contributions in the History of Criminal Law], Bucureºti, 1928; I. C. Filitti, Despre vechiul drept penal roman [About the Old Romanian Criminal Law], Bucureºti, 1928; idem, Vechiul drept penal roman (schiþã). Întregiri privitoare la vechea organizare judecãtoreascã [The Old Romanian Criminal Law (A Sketch). Further Information Regarding the Old Legal Organization], Bucureºti, 1934 (excerpt); Petre Ionescu-Muscel, Istoria dretului penal roman. Spre o nouã justiþie penalã. Studiu comparat. Istorie – Filosofie – Drept [History of the Romanian Criminal Law. Towards a New Criminal Justice. Compared Study. History – Philosophy – Law], Bucureºti, 1931 (excerpt); Ion Peretz, Precis de istoria dreptului român [Handbook of Romanian Law History], Bucureºti, 1931; Ioan D. Condurachi, Trãsãturile caracteristice ale vechiului drept penal românesc [Characteristic Features of the Old Romanian Criminal Law], Bucureºti, 1934; P. P. Panaitescu, Obºtea þãrãneascã în Þara Româneascã ºi Moldova. Orânduirea feudalã [Peasant Community in Walachia and Moldavia. The Feudal System], Bucureºti, 1964, chap. Statutul juridic al obºtii [“Juridical status of the community”], pp. 200-234; Andrei Rãdulescu, Pagini din istoria dreptului românesc [Pages of Romanian Law History], comments, notes and introduction by Irina RãdulescuValasoglu (ed.), Bucureºti, 1970; George Fotino, Pagini din istoria dreptului românesc [Pages of Romanian Law History], an anthology, introduction, notes and bibliography by Gheorghe Cronþ and Stanca Fotino, Bucureºti, 1972; Al. Constantinescu, Jurãmântul judiciar în vechiul drept bisericesc [Legal Oath in the Old Church Law], in “Biserica ortodoxã românã” [“The Romanian Orthodox Church”], yr. XCII, nos. 9-10, 1974, pp. 1261-1265; Valentin Al. Georgescu, Bizanþul ºi instituþiile româneºti pânã la mijlocul secolului al XVIII-lea [Byzantium and Romanian Institutions until mid-18th Century], Bucureºti, 1980; Istoria dreptului românesc [The history of Romanian Law], vol. I, Vladimir Hanga (ed.), Bucureºti, 1980; Valentin Al. Georgescu and P. Strihan, Judecata domneascã în Þara Româneascã ºi Moldova 1611-1831 [Princely Judgement in Walachia and Moldavia 1611-1831], Part I. Organizarea judecãtoreascã [Legal Organization], vol. I (1611-1740), Bucureºti, 1979 and vol. II (1740-1831), Bucureºti, 1981; Part II. Procedura de judecatã (1611-1831) [Trial Procedure], Bucureºti, 1982; Radu Constantinescu, Vechiul drept românesc scris. Repertoriul izvoarelor 13401640 [The Old Romanian Written Law. Catalogue of Sources], Bucureºti, 1984; Vladimir Hanga, Les institutions du droit coutumier roumain [Institutions of Romanian Customary Law], Bucureºti, 1988; Ovid Sachelarie and Nicolae Stoicescu (eds.), Instituþii feudale din Þãrile Române [Feudal Institutions in Romanian Principalities], Bucureºti, 1988; Ioan N. Floca, Din istoria dreptului românesc [Pages of Romanian Law History], I. Dreptul POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 151 nescris [Unwritten Law], II. Carte româneascã de învãþãturã de la pravilele împãrãteºti ºi de la alte gudeþe, Iaºi, 1646 [Romanian Book of Teachings from the Princely Codes of Law and from Other Trials, Iasi, 1646], Sibiu, 1993; Emil Cernea, Emil Molcuþ, Istoria statului ºi dreptului românesc [The History of Romanian State and Law], revised and updated edition, Bucureºti, Editura Universul Juridic, 2004. 3. B. P. Hasdeu, ªugubeþ ºi ºugubinã. Un rest din influenþa juridicã a slavilor asupra limbii române [ªugubeþ and ªugubinã. A rest of Legal Influence of the Slaves on the Romanian Language], in “Columna lui Traian” [“Trajan’s Column”], yr. III, no. 1, 1882, pp. 612-619; Henri H. Stahl, Contribuþii la studiul satelor devãlmaºe româneºti [Contributions in Studying Romanian Joint Property Villages], vol. I, Bucureºti, 1958, vol. II, Bucureºti, 1959, vol. III, 1965; idem Ethnologie de l’Europe du Sud-Est. Une anthologie [South-Eastern Europe Ethnology. An Anthology], Paris, 1974; Romulus Vulcãnescu, Etnologie juridicã [Legal Ethnology], Bucureºti, 1970. 4. Gh. Ungureanu, Pedepsele în Moldova la sfârºitul secolului al XVIII-lea ºi începutul secolului al XIX-lea [Punishments in Late 18th Century and Early 19th Century Moldavia], Iaºi, 1931 (excerpt); A. Cazacu, Justiþia feudalã [Feudal Justice], in Viaþa feudalã în Þara Româneascã ºi Moldova (sec. XIV-XVII) [Feudal Life in Walachia and Moldavia (15th – 17th Centuries)], Bucureºti, Editura ºtiinþificã, 1957, pp. 465-499; N. Grigoraº, Principalele amenzi din Moldova în timpul orânduirii feudale (secolele al XV-lea – al XVIIIlea) [The Main Fines in Moldavia Under the Feudal System (15th – 18th Centuries)], in “Anuarul Institutului de Istorie ºi Arheologie «A.D.Xenopol»” [“The Annual of the ‘A.D. Xenopol’ Institute of History and Archaeology”] – Iaºi, 1969, 6, pp. 159-176. 5. „Ceea ce Dumnezeu a unit, omul sã nu despartã. Studiu asupra divorþului în Þara Româneascã îm perioada 1780-1850 [“What God has joined together, let no man put asunder”. A Study on Divorce in Walachia in the Period 1780-1850], in “Revista istoricã” [“Historical Magazine”], nos. 11-12, 1992, p. 1143-1155; Ligia Livadã-Cadeschi, De la milã la filantropie. Instituþii de asistare a sãracilor din þara Româneascã ºi Moldova în secolul al XVIII-leai [From Mercy to Philanthropy. Institutions of Poverty Assistance in 18th Century Walachia and Moldavia], Bucureºti, Editura Nemira, 2001; Ligia Livadã-Cadeschi, Laurenþiu Vlad, Departamentul de cremenalion [The Criminal Department], Bucureºti, Editura Nemira, 2002; Cristina Codarcea, Société et pouvoir en Valachie (1601-1654). Entre la coutume et la loi [Society and Power in Walachia (1601-1654). Between Custom and Law], Bucureºti, Editura Enciclopedicã, 2002; Constanþa Ghiþulescu, În ºalvari ºi cu iºlic. Bisericã, sexualitate, cãsãtorie ºi divorþ în Þara Româneascã a secolului al XVIII-lea [Sharovary and Ishlik. Church, Sexuality, Marriage and Divorce in 18th Century Walachia], Bucureºti, Editura Humanitas, 2004; idem, Focul amorului. Despre dragoste ºi sexualitate în societatea româneascã (17501830) [The Fire of Love. About Love and Sexuality in the Romanian Society (1750-1830)], Bucureºti, Editura Humanitas, 2006; Dan Horia Mazilu, O istorie a blestemului [A History of Curse], Iaºi, Editura Polirom, 2001; idem, Lege ºi fãrãdelege în lumea româneascã veche [Legal and Illegal in the Old Romanian World], Iaºi, Editura Polirom, 2006; Violeta Barbu, „Furtiºagul” din visteria þãrii: de la justiþia sumarã la proces (Þara Româneascã, secolul al XVII-lea) (I) [The “Pilferage” from the Country’s Treasury: From Summary Justice to Trial (17th Century Walachia)], in “Revista istoricã” [“Historical Magazine”], t. XV, nos. 3–4, 2004, pp. 83–100 (I); t. XVI, nos. 1–2, 2005, pp. 152 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 143–152 (II); Oana Rizescu, Avant l’«État-juge»: Pratique juridique et construction politique en Valachie au XVIIº siècle [Before the “Judge-State”: Legal Practice and Political Construction in 17th Century Walachia], Bucureºti, Editura Notarom, 2008. Toader Nicoarã, Transilvania la începuturile timpurilor moderne (1680-1800). Societatea ruralã ºi mentalitãþile collective [Transylvania in Early Modern Times (1680-1800). Rural Society and Collective Mentalities], Cluj-Napoca, Editura Dacia, 2001. Very useful to our approach proved to be the methodological perspectives proposed by H. Levy-Bruhl, Aspects sociologiques du droit [Sociological Aspects of Law], Paris, 1955; Geoff Eley, A Crooked line. From Cultural History to the History of Society, The University of Michigan Press, 2005; Carmelo Trasselli, Maurice Aymard, Monique Aymard, Du fait divers à l’histoire sociale. Criminalité et moralité en Sicile au début de l’époque moderne [From the News Items to the Social History. Criminality and Morality in Sicily at the Beginning of the Modern Period], in: “Annales. Économies, Sociétés, Civilisations” [“Annals. Economies, Societies, Civilisations”], yr. 28, N. 1, 1973. pp. 226-246; Thierry Godefroy, Bernard Laffargue, Crise économique et criminalité. Criminologie de la misère ou misère de la criminologie? [Economical Crisis and Criminality. Criminology of Destitution or Destitution of Criminology?], in: Déviance et société. [Deviance and Society] 1984 - Vol. 8 - N°1. pp. 73-100; Arlette Farge, Le goût de l’archive [The Taste of the Archives], 1989; eadem, Dire et mal dire. L’opinion publique au XVIIIe siècle [Mouthing and Badmouthing. Public Opinion in the 18th Century], 1992; eadem, Des lieux pour l’histoire [Places for History], Éditions du Seuil, 1997; eadem, Le bracelet de parchemin. L’écrit sur soi au XVIIIe siècle [The Parchment Bracelet. Writing on oneself in the 18th Century], Paris, 2003; Carlo Ginzburg, Brânza ºi viermii. Universul unui morar din secolul al XVI-lea [The Cheese and the Worms. The Cosmos of a 16th Century Miller], Rom. transl. by Claudia Dumitriu, Bucureºti, Editura Nemira, 1996; Robert Darnton, Marele masacru al pisicii ºi alte episoade din istoria culturalã a Franþei [The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History], Rom. transl. by Raluca Ciocoiu, Iaºi, Editura Polirom, 2000; Natalie Zemon Davis, Ficþiunea în documentele de arhivã. Istorisirile din cererile de graþiere ºi povestitorii lor în Franþa secolului al XVI-lea [Fiction in the Archives. Pardon Tales and Their Tellers in 16th Century France], Rom. transl. by Diana Cotrãu, Bucureºti, Editura Nemira, 2003; all contributions in the volume L’enquête judiciaire en Europe au XIXe siècle. Acteurs, Imaginaires, Pratiques [Criminal Investigation in 19th Century Europe. Actors Imaginaries, Practices], Paris, 2007. Eustratie Logofãtul, Pravila aleasã, 1632 (manuscris) [The Rare Code of Law, 1632 (manuscript)]. ªapte taine [Seven Secrets], Iaºi, 1644 (see Moses Gaster, Crestomaþie Românã. Texte tipãrite ºi manuscrise secolele XVI–XIX dialectale ºi populare cu o introducere, gramaticã ºi un glosar româno-francez [Romanian Chrestomathy. Printed Texts and Manuscripts in the Dialectal and Popular 16th – 19th Centuries, vol. I, Leipzig, 1891, p. 114-117); Carte româneascã de învãþãturã [Romanian Book of Teachings], critical ed., Andrei Rãdulescu (ed.), Bucureºti, 1961. See in the following. Ureche, Grigore, Letopiseþul Þãrâi Moldovei [Chronicle of the Country of Moldavia], introduction, index and glossary by P. P. Panaitescu (ed.), Bucureºti, 1955; Miron Costin, Opere [Works], introduction, notes, comments, variants, index and glossary by P. P. POWER, BELIEF 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. AND IDENTITY • 153 Panaitescu (ed.), Bucureºti, 1958; Ion Neculce, Opere. Letopiseþul Þãrii Moldovei ºi O samã de Cuvinte [Works. The Chronicle of the Country of Moldavia and Some Teachings], critical edition and introduction by Gabriel ªtrempel, Bucureºti, Editura Minerva, 1982; Dimitrie Cantemir, Descrierea Moldovei [Moldavia’s Description], translation according to the original in Latin by Gh. Guþu. Introduction by Maria Holban. Historical comment by N. Stoicescu. Cartographic study by Vintilã Mihãilescu. Index by Ioana Constantinescu. With an introductory note by D. M. Pippidi, Bucureºti, 1973. Homage verses from Metropolitan Varlaam’s Homiliary, Iaºi, 1643; Cuvântul duhovnicesc [Homily] uttered by metropolitan Petru Movilã in 1645 (see P. P. Panaitescu, Petru Movilã. Studii [Studies], afterword, notes and comments by ªtefan S. Gorovei and Maria Magdalena Székely (eds.), Bucureºti, Editura Enciclopedicã, 1996, pp. 89-96). N. Cartojan, Cãrþile populare în literatura româneascã [Popular Books in Romanian Literature], vols. I-II, Alexandru Chiriacescu (ed.), introduction by Dan Zamfirescu, afterword by Mihai Moraru, Bucureºti, Editura Enciclopedicã Românã, 1974 (Alexandria, Floarea darurilor, Sindipa [Alexandria, The Flower of Gifts, Sindipa). The investigation of the selected material will be done by using the method of linguistic archaeology, proposed by Lucien Fèbvre in Civilisation, le mot, l’idée (Première Semaine Internationale de synthèse) [Civilisation, the Word, the Idea (First International Week of Synthesis)], Paris, Renaissance du livre, 1930, as well as by Michel Foucault, Cuvintele ºi lucrurile. O arheologie a ºtiinþelor umane [The Order of Things], Rom. transl. by Bogdan Ghiu and Mircea Vasilescu, Bucureºti, Editura Univers, 1996, and idem, A supraveghea ºi a pedepsi. Naºterea închisorii [Discipline and Punish. The Birth of the Prison], Rom. transl. and notes by Bogdan Ghiu, Bucureºti, Editura Humanitas, 1997. Documente privind istoria României [Documents on Romania’s History], A, Moldova, Veacul XVI [16th century], vol. I (1501-1550); vol. II (1551-1570); vol. III (15711590); vol. IV (1591-1600), Bucureºti, 1951; Veacul XVII [17th century], vol. I (1601-1605); II (1606-1610); vol. III (1611-1615); vol. IV (1616-1620); vol. V (1621-1625), Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 1952–1957; Documenta Romaniae Historica, A., Moldova, vol. XVIII (1623–1625), edited by I. Caproºu and Valentin Constantinov, Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 2006; vol. XIX (1626-1628), edited by Haralambie Chircã, Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 1969; vol. XXI (1632-1633), edited by C. Cihodaru, I. Caproºu and L. ªimanschi, Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 1971; vol. XXII (1634), edited by C. Cihodaru, I. Caproºu and L. ªimanschi, Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 1974; vol. XXIII (1635-1636), edited by L. ªimanschi, Nistor Ciocan, Georgeta Ignat and Dumitru Agache, Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 1996; vol. XXIV (1637-1638), edited by C. Cihodaru and I. Caproºu, Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 1998; vol. XXV (1639-1640), edited by Nistor Ciocan, Dumitru Agache, Georgeta Ignat and Marius Chelcu, Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 2003; vol. XXVI (1641–1642), edited by Ioan Caproºu, Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 2003; vol. XXVII (1643–1644), edited by Petronel Zahariuc, Cãtãlina Chelcu, Marius Chelcu, Silviu Vãcaru, Nistor Ciocan and Dumitru Ciurea, Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 2005; vol. XXVIII (1645–1646), edited by Petronel Zahariuc, Marius Chelcu, Silviu Vacaru and Cãtãlina Chelcu, Bucureºti, Editura Academiei, 2006. Eudoxiu de Hurmuzaki, Documente privitoare la istoria românilor [Documents on the Romanians’ History]; vol. I, supplement 1, Bucureºti, 1886 (edited by Gr. G. Tocilescu 154 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 17. 18. 19. 20. and A. I. Odobescu); IV/1, Bucureºti, 1880 (edited by I. Slavici); IV/2, Bucureºti, 1884 (edited by I. Slavici); V/1, Bucureºti, 1885 (edited by I. Slavici); V/2, Bucureºti, 1886 (edited by I. Slavici); VIII, Bucureºti, 1894 (edited by I. Slavici); IX/1, Bucureºti, 1897 (edited by I. Slavici); X, Bucureºti, 1897 (edited by N. Iorga); XI, Bucureºti, 1900 (edited by N. Iorga); XII, Bucureºti, 1904 (edited by N. Iorga); supplement II, vol. 3, Bucureºti, 1900 (edited by Ioan Bogdan and Ioan Skupiewski); XIV/1, Bucureºti, 1915 (edited by N. Iorga); XV/2, Bucureºti, 1913 (edited by N. Iorga); N. Iorga, Anciens documents de droit roumain, avec une preface contenant l’histoire du droit coutumier roumain [Old Documents of Romanian Law, with a Preface Including the History of the Romanian Customary Law], I-II, Paris-Bucarest, 1903; idem, Studii ºi documente cu privire la istoria românilor [Studies and Documents Regarding the Romanians’ History], I–XXV, Bucureºti, 1902–1913; Mihai Costãchescu, Ioan Bogdan, Gh. Ghibãnescu, Surete ºi izvoade [Copies and Manuscripts], I–XXV, Iaºi, 1906–1933; idem, Ispisoace ºi zapise (documente slavo-române) publicate de … [Old Slavic-Romanian Documents and ActsPublished by …] I1-2 – VI1-2, 12 vol. 1906-1933; Iacov Antonovici, Documente bârlãdene [Documents from Barlad], I–V, Bârlad-Huºi, 1911–1926; Teodor Balan, Documente bucovinene [Documents from Bukovina], I–IV, Cernãuþi, 1933–1937; VII, Iaºi, 2005; VIII-IX, Iaºi, 2006; Constantin Solomon, C. A. Stoide, Documente tecucene[Documents from Tecuci], vol. I–II, Bârlad, 1938–1939; Aurel V. Sava, Documente privitoare la târgul ºi þinutul Lãpuºnei [Documents Regarding the Town and the Land of Lãpuºna], Bucureºti, <1937>; idem, Documente privitoare la târgul ºi þinutul Orheiului [Documents Regarding the Town and the Land of Orhei], Bucureºti, 1944; Ioan Caproºu and Petronel Zahariuc, Documente privitoare la istoria oraºului Iaºi [Documents Regarding the History of the City of Iasi], I, Acte interne (1408-1660) [Internal Acts], Iaºi, 1999; Ioan Caproºu, Documente privitoare la istoria oraºului Iaºi [Documents Regarding the History of the City of Iasi], II, Acte interne (1661–1690) [Internal Acts], Iaºi, 2000; III, Acte interne (1691–1725) [Internal Acts], Iaºi, 2000; IV, Acte interne (1726–1740) [Internal Acts], Iaºi, 2001; V, Acte interne (1741-1755) [Internal Acts], Iaºi, 2001; VI, Acte interne (1756-1770) [Internal Acts], Iaºi, 2004; Florin Marinescu, Roumanika eggrafa tou Agiou oruz. Arheio Ieraz moniz Eiropotamou, Tomoz protoz, A?ina. (Marinescu, Florin, Documente româneºti de la Sfântul Munte. Arhiva Sfintei Mãnãstiri Xeropotamu [Romanian Documents from Mount Athos. Archives of the Holy Xeropotamou Monastery], Tom. I, Athens, 1997; idem, Roumanika eggrafa tou Agiou oruz. Ar?eio Ieraz moniz Prwtatou, A?ina?(Marinescu, Florin, Documente româneºti de la Sfîntul Munte. Arhiva Sfintei Mãnãstiri Protatu [Romanian Documents from Mount Athos. The Archives of the Holy Protatou Monastery], Athens, 2001. The archive collections Documente, Vistieria Moldovei ºi Spiridonie [Documents, Moldavia’s Treasury and Spiridonie]. The archive collection Documente istorice [Historical Documents]. The collection Manuscrise [Manuscripts]. Cãlãtori strãini despre Þãrile Române [Foreign Travellers about the Romanian Principalities], II, Maria Holban, M. M. Alexandrescu-Dersca Bulgaru and Paul Cernovodeanu (eds.), Bucureºti, 1970; III, Maria Holban, M. M. Alexandrescu-Dersca Bulgaru and Paul Cernovodeanu (eds.), Bucureºti, 1971; IV, Maria Holban, M. M. Alexandrescu-Dersca Bulgaru and Paul Cernovodeanu (eds.), Bucureºti, 1972; V, Maria Holban, M. M. POWER, BELIEF 21. 22. 23. 24. AND IDENTITY • 155 Alexandrescu-Dersca Bulgaru and Paul Cernovodeanu (eds.), Bucureºti, 1973; VI, M. M. Alexandrescu-Dersca Bulgaru and Mustafa Ali Mehmet (eds.), Bucureºti, 1976; VII, Maria Holban, M. M. Alexandrescu-Dersca Bulgaru and Paul Cernovodeanu (eds.), Bucureºti, 1980; VIII, Maria Holban, M. M. Alexandrescu-Dersca Bulgaru and Paul Cernovodeanu (eds.), Bucureºti, 1983; Elisabetta Borromeo, Voyageurs occidentaux dans l’Empire ottoman (1600-1644) [Western Travellers in the Ottoman Empire], volumes I-II, Maisonneuve & Larose, Paris, 2007; Marco Bandini, Codex. Vizitarea generalã a tuturor Bisericilor Catolice de rit roman din Provincia Moldova 1646–1648 [Codex. General Visit of All Roman-Catholic Churches in the Province of Moldavia], bilingual ed., introduction, established Latin text, translation and glossary by Traian Diaconescu, Iaºi, 2006. Cronicul lui Chesarie Daponte de la 1648-1704 [Chesarie Daponte’s Chronicle from 16481704], in Constantin Erbiceanu, Cronicarii greci care au scris despre români în epoca fanariotã [Greek Chroniclers who Wrote about Romanians in the Phanariotes’ Period], Bucureºti, Editura Cronicar, 2003, p. 5-63; Catalogul istoric a omenilor însemnaþi din seculul XVIII, dintre carii marea majoritate au trãit în þãrile Române Valahia ºi Moldova [The Historical catalogue of the18th century important people, most of whom lived in the Romanian Principalities of Walachia and Moldavia] by Chesarie Daponte, in vol. cit., p. 88-227; Cronicul lui Neculai Chiparissa [Neculai Chiparissa’s Chronicle], in vol. cit., p. 65-86. I. D. ªtefãnescu, Iconografia artei bizantine ºi a picturii feudale româneºti [Iconography of the Byzantine Art and of the Romanian Feudal Painting], Bucureºti, Editura Meridiane, 1973; Ion Solcanu, Artã ºi societate româneascã: sec. XIV-XVIII [Romanian Art and Society. 14th – 18th Centuries], Bucureºti, Editura Enciclopedicã, 2002. Very useful were the methodological orientations of: François Billacois, Pour une enquête sur la criminalité dans la France d’ancien regime [For an Investigation of Criminality in the Old Regime France], In: “Annales. Économies, Sociétés, Civilisations” [“Annals. Economies. Societies. Civilisations”], yr. 22, N. 2, 1967, pp. 340-349. Peter Burke, Istorie ºi teorie socialã [Social History and Theory], transl. by Cosana Nicolae, Bucureºti, Humanitas, 1999; Alexandru Florin Platon, Societate ºi mentalitãþi în Europa medievalã. O introducere în antropologia istoricã [Society and Mentalities in Medieval Europe. An Introduction in Historical Anthropology], Iaºi, Editura Universitãþii “Al. I. Cuza”, 2000 and idem, Imagologie, identitate ºi alteritate: repere istoriografice [Imagology, Identity and Alterity: Historiographic Landmarks], in vol. Etnie ºi confesiune în Moldova medievalã [Ethnical and Denominational Belonging in Medieval Moldavia], edited by Ion Toderaºcu, Iaºi, Editura Universitãþii “Alexandru Ioan Cuza”, 2006, pp. 13-25. Alexandru Constantinescu, Dãrile în Þara Româneascã ºi Moldova (sec. XIV-XV) [Taxes in Walachia and Moldavia (14th – 15th Centuries)], in “Studii ºi articole de istorie” [“History Studies and Papers”], 1975, 23, pp. 110-118; N. Stoicescu, Regimul fiscal al preoþilor din Þara Româneascã ºi Moldova pânã la Regulamentul organic (sec. XVXIX) [Tax Regime of Priests in Walachia and Moldavia until the Organic Ruling (15th – 19th Century)], in BOR, 1971, 23, nos. 5-6, pp. 370-381; Matei D. Vlad, Le regime fiscal et administratif dans les villages de colonisation de Valachie et de Moldavie au XVIII siecle [Tax and Administrative Regime in the Villages of Colonisation of Walachia and Moldavia in the 18th Century], in “Revue Roumaine d’Histoire” [“Romaina Magazine of History”], 1971, 10, no. 6, 1013-1026; I. Caproºu, O istorie a Moldovei 156 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) prin relaþiile de credit (pânã la mijlocul secolului al XVIII-lea) [A History of Moldavia from the Perspective of the Credit Relations (until the mid-18th Century)], Iaºi, 1989. 25. ªtefan Berechet, Dreptul vechilor noºtri ierarhi la judecarea mirenilor [The Right of Our Old Hierarchs to the Laics’ Judgement], Bucureºti, 1938; Gheorghe Cronþ, Clericii în serviciul justiþiei [Clergymen in the Service of Justice], Bucureºti, 1938; idem, Justiþia bisericeascã din Moldova ºi Þara Româneascã în secolele XIV-XVIII [Church Justice in the 14th – 18th Centuries Moldavia and Walachia], in “Mitropolia Moldovei ºi Sucevei” [Moldavia and Suceava’s Metropolitan Church], 1975, 51, nos. 3-4, pp. 258-274; 1976, 52, nos. 5-6, pp. 338-359 Abstract Between the Memory of the Customary and the Code of Law. Crimes, Penalties and Social Identities in Pre-Modern Moldavia (17th Century – First Half of the 18th Century). Components of the Project and the Current Stage of the Research Our research’s objective is the description and analysis of the criminal law practices (offences and penalties) present in the 17th century – First Half of the 18th century Romanian society. We are here in a period that precedes modernity, a period when the principle of equality to law had not yet been stated, justice being made according to the position that the defendants held in society. When we talk about categories of population and the manner in which criminal law justice was enforced in their case, we should, first of all, identify the criteria according to which certain groups forming the social structure are places in hierarchies and separated from each other. In our opinion, the denominational, social and ethnic criteria are determinant for the definition of the structure of a population, and their listing in this order corresponds to the importance they have in the groups’ hierarchy we have mentioned. Consequently, we intend to establish the way in which hierarchies are constructed in Moldavia in the proposed period, examining the time sources. The historians’ perspective on the phenomenon of penalty in the medieval and pre-modern period is little visible in this field literature. As it is known, a form of resistance of the Romanian historiography facing the necessity to comply with the communist ideology – that stressed the materialist interpretations in the detriment of the empirical research – was erudition, which found in the political and cultural history of the 18th century a wide range of possibilities. These preoccupations were accompanied by the publication of the critical editions of documents, chronicles and codes of laws. Given the context, the issues related to the criminal law did not find a place among the historians’ preoccupations, as this was a prohibited theme, to be approached only by the judicial history specialists. We only have a few starts, substantiated in several papers referring to the main fines in 15th-18th century Moldavia, to cases of capital punishment in the 16th century, to medieval justice in general. After 1989, the cultural and intellectual opening towards the fertile approaches of history in the occidental cultural area, which came with new directions of research, did not entail, in the case of Moldavia, a shift in the angle of analysis of the criminal phenomenon. Better represented from this standpoint (delinquency and/or criminality) is the Walachian historiography and the Transylvanian one. Keywords offences, penalties, social identities, customary norms, code of law Reinventing Middle Age: the inauguration of the statue of Stephen the Great (Iaºi, 1883) L IVIU B RÃTESCU T HE YEAR 1883 can be considered as a model for several reasons that we are going to explain in the current article. The alliance treaty signed with the Central Powers, the start of the coagulation of the united opposition, which led eventually to the downfall of the I.C Bratianu government but also the international incident occurred by the unveiling in Iasi of the statue of Stephen the Great, these examples emphasis the authenticity of the first statement. We intend to analyze in the following rows the way in which a power, at the beginning of a long political and mediated siege, will succeed to organize the inauguration of a statue, long awaited due to its symbolic background of the character that it represents. To understand how was possible that an event preconceived as a moment of solidarity transformed into a reason for new disputes on the power-opposition front, we considered necessary a short glimpse on the internal political atmosphere of the months that preceded the event. Knowing that the state has in general the tendency to fabric celebrations and to utilize certain symbols to justify its existence, the unveiling of the statue of Stephen the Great can be considered as an example for the way in which a society participates in public events, political in nature because it has a certain degree of reoccurrence, and the authorities are always present. The mobilization from this year leads us to think at the fact that the government representatives in the region, but also the ones from the center, believed that for a large segment of the population, the primary reason for the celebration was turning into an uninteresting one mainly because of the growing dispute between the liberals and the conservative party (to this group latter on will join a fraction from the National Liberal Party). There is also at the same time an attempt coming from those who had the power, as through the organization of these manifestations to build a Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project 158 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) new legitimacy to the electorate and to attract the sympathy indirectly of the historical personage, like Stephen the Great. Appeared as a result of a proposition formulated by a former student of Gh. Asachi of the Royal Academy, during an graduation exam, in the form of triumph arc marking the celebration of Stephen1 victories, the statue of the Moldavian ruler knew in time an interesting evolution. The intention to mark in a grand way the importance of Stephen the Great rule in Moldavia occurred in 1956. An opponent of the Union and a supporter of the political movement, who had as its objective the preservation of the Moldavian identity, Theodor Bals considered prolific the reiteration of Stephen the Great’s memory in those times. Furthermore the Moldavian political leader believed that the former ruler deserved a public recognition for its battles fought for the survival of Moldavia’s autonomy2. Even if for Bals, Stephen has constructed alone an edifice through his actions and deeds, the erection of a monument meant to glorify them, was seen as a debt of honor for all of the Moldavian descendents, obliged to preserve his memory3. The figure of Stephen the Great was stirring up new disputes in the years 1870-1871. The reoccurrence of the idea of a statue in the honor of the former Moldavian ruler was a delicate problem brought again in the public’s attention. The most important aspect was the fact that the building of the monument, thought as a symbolic urn, which had to reunite all the areas occupied by Romanians, involved a considerable financial effort that needed a national public agreement4. A new phase was starting with the year 1875, when the problem of a proper organization of such an event was put into question. In the situation in which the suzerain never hesitated to make references at Stephen’s place in the “national heroes” gallery (in 1878 was also the 12th anniversary of the rule of Stephen5 since its inception) it was becoming surprising the lack of a consistent financial support from the liberals, now in power, and also the appeal of national public economic gathering. Postponed because of the war, the commission’s activity, which requested to the townhouse of Iasi on the 19 September 1877 a placement space for the statue, was again reformulated in the spring of 1879, through a letter signed by Iacob Negruzzi, Stamatopulos and Nicu Gane. Gradually, the implication of the authorities was more and more serious, and from these the activities of the Municipal Committee of Iasi, the ministry of public affairs but also the Academy or the University. The first task of the newly formed commission, in the summer of 1882, was to find a place in which the statue had to be placed because the city hall of Iasi announced that the monument was already finished6. A coordinated effort like the type that the liberal government had in mind and publically stated was the rebirth of the memory of Stephen the Great. To what extent was the mobilization was directed as a contribution to the growth of POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 159 the popularity of the liberal government and also the inclusion of the idea that although contested, the liberals had the sympathy of the population confirmed by the overall activities planned for the days of 4, 5, and 6 June 1883. For two weeks Iasi was symbolically, the capital of Romania at least if we have in mind the names and the number of personalities that were supposed to attend the event. The presence of the local authorities at the inauguration of the statue will have different bearings. First of all continuing a practice of the previous years, in which the University’s teachers from Iasi (considered probably today as image vectors) were called to different religious ceremony’s organized for the anniversary of the suzerains, the representatives in the region of the government send on the 5th of June, personal invitations to the didactic personal from all the faculties to participate at the unveiling of the statue of Stephen. Despite the fact that the invitations come repeatedly not only from the prefect’s office and form the mayor’s office, the rector being an intermediary of the official messages, the teachers were reclusive or even indifferent. Even so, the mayor asks for a list with all the teachers that were attending the commemoration, in order to give them tickets7. Despite all the reported difficulties, the academic sphere from Iasi designates some representatives in order to give speeches, in which the accent was supposed to emphasis the place and the role of Stephen in the history of the country. There were even stronger pressures on the people working in administrative area and in the justice department: first they had to confirm the participation at the inauguration and then to acquire tickets to the “play” that was set for the 5th of June. Furthermore they were required to specify if they are married or single, and if the response was positive an extra ticket for the spouse was suggested. Among those who insisted on the acquisition of tickets was not only the mayor8 or the prefect9 but also the president of the Iasi’s High Court deeply involved in the mobilization of the locals10. Mindful at all the aspects concerning the event the opposition’s newspapers were stressing out the contrast between the grand unveiling of the statue of Stephen and very difficult economic state of the country. Newspapers like “the Social Pact” were pointing out the possibility that the liberal objective was to be undermined by the comparison involuntary between the dire economic situation of the country and the memorable past of “the greatest Rumanian that ever lived in Moldavia.” It becomes clear that the “hero which Europe called Christianity’s shield” was invoked to define new political dimensions. With ease the journalists close to the conservative party move the image from the heroic Moldavia of Stefan to the liberal government responsible for the loss of the south Bessarabia and the acceptance of the 7th article of the Constitution, the ransoming of the iron road and for all the problems related to the ascension of Austria in the Danube area. All of them were presented as evidence of the liberal incapacity to run the country 160 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) and their lack of patriotism11. In opposition’s newspaper strategy were presented discourses from the former co-workers of I.C Bratianu. The new adversary of the government, Dimitrie Bratianu, was quoted in “Pact Social” from 4th June 1883, for the comparison between the political and economic situation of the country during Stephen and the numerous contemporary difficulties to whom Romania had to answer. Beyond the techniques used by the political adversaries to win the sympathy of the electorate, the opposition was right at least in some points and one of them the implication of the central authorities in the planning of an event that could have been as well handled by the local administration. In the conditions that the problem with the allocation of certain founds was very delicate, mainly caused by the low financial support from the government and the interference of Bucharest was irritating. The method in which this problem could have been resolved was that of a national collect12 backed in a truth and by founds approved by the government13 and the House of Deputies14 but also by the local authorities. Newspapers fond of the executive weren’t treating such subjects, covering the event with a strong propaganda in the form of many articles dedicated to Stephen and also presenting the program of the event. First approved by the government and then in its final form by Carol, this was a general description on what was supposed to happen at Iasi from 4 to 6th of June. Duplicated in hundreds of copies in order to be sent all of the country15, the scenario was spread on the streets of Iasi and published in the newspapers close to the liberals, where they appeared as publicity bought by the authorities thanks to the direct intervention of the prefect16. Arrived in Iasi, as planned with two days before the event, Carol brings with him an impressive number of politicians and officers of the Rumanian army17. These men in front with the mayor receive him according to protocol at the platform of railway station in Iasi. Incriminated by the opposition the presence of children18 from middle, general, commercial, technical school was a key component in the management of the moment. This being the first visit of Carol I as king, the town’s elite, the magistrates, the teachers19 and the merchants, accompanied by lawyers and civil and military personal present their greetings to the head of state at the Royal Palace20. In the second day, 4th of June, was kept not only the triumphal welcoming of the delegates from the country but also a historical conference held in the hall of the University by Al. Vizanti, while Nicolae Ionescu was appointed to talk in front of the statue, since the 22 of September 188221. For a festive moment as was wished for the invocation of Stephen’s memory it surprised the presence of the local police22, justified only by the large number of people that were supposed to attend and also by the diversity of the audience composed by stu- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 161 dents and representatives from other regions. Wanting to provide a atmosphere of popular celebration, in the evening are organized in the public garden, in city hall, but also in other places many concerts performed by the military fanfare23. “The big day” started in a traditional fashion due to the prospects of a religious society with a service held at the Metropolitan church. Also natural was the participation of the local civil authorities at religious manifestations. The prefect tried in the past to organize various actions in which local teachers and the other citizens to show their appreciation to the dynasty. Almost not a single event in the life of the royal family was ignored “14 march, 8 April (Carol birthday), 24th April (day of the queen), 10 may were occasions in which the teachers assisted at special religious ceremonies24. Not knowing how many teachers were attending to these events we can’t jump to any conclusions. We only know that the rector of the University sent in their name letters of congratulations in such occasions25. The action from 10th of may was in a way announcing the one from the 5th of June. Carefully planned, the scene in front of the statue was also o reason for dispute simply by its placement because representatives of the Parliaments, of the High Court of Cassation and of Accounts, of the regional councils as well of the army, Academy or University from Bucharest and Iasi was considered a sign of value from the sovereign for one or the other. Without entering into much detail a brief description we believe to welcomed. In front of the statue was a royal tent, with canopy of red velvet and with blue atlas curtains. Under the tent, the throne of Stephen, found at Vanatori, gave Carol the possibility to have a bigger picture of what was happening in front of his eyes. At the right of the tent, in front of the tent was the tribune of the speakers. Around the monument there were strides a little lifted above the ground: first for the ladies, then for the courts and tribunals, the academic circle, the students of the University, for the communal and regional representatives, and the stride of the local council of Iasi. In the back of the royal tent was placed the stride of the Parliament, and in front, in the back of the statue the one of the High Court of Cassation. The local personalities had reserved seats, between these strides and in the right and left of the statue, in front of the palace there were erected two large tribunes for the public26. Meant to glorify the deeds of the great Lord, the sculpture rise in front of the administrative palace, the former royal court of Moldavia, near the Sf. Neculai Domnesc church, build by Stephen the Great. The same generous press presents us Iasi as a city filled with enthusiasm at the prospect of meeting the suzerain. “In Iasi a real rain of buckets of flowers and other decorations flowing at every window and balcony in the royal chariot. In the evening the town was illuminated”; “we salute the first visit of Carol as king of Romania, in the old capital of Moldavia” and as not to forget the Moldavians 162 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) contribution to the Union, directly it was remember to Carol the fact that Iasi was “the cradle of the Union and of the great national ideas27”. Stipulated in the official program the interventions were uttered, in order, by the king, Nicu Gane (the delegate of the statue’s commission), Leon Negruzzi (mayor of the town), C.A Rosetti (Parliament), D.A Sturdza (Academy), Nicolae Ionescu (Iasi University) and B.P Hasdeu (the teacher’s delegate from Oltenia). Their common points were the glorifications of Carol and Stephen and the emphasis of the historical realizations from both their times28. After the military parade, the discourses that were held honor also the importance of the action. The first one to address the crowd had to be obviously the suzerain. We could also notice with this occasion at the Romanian monarch its full admiration for Stephen, but also remembering the deeds of Mihai Viteazul. Another constant in Carol’s interventions was the mentioning with every chance the army’s contribution at the accomplishments of the former officials not only in festive moments. Full aware since its first days as suzerain about the Moldavian’s concerns about the possibility of continuing the Cuza administrative model, the king tries through all of its actions and words to convince the locals that their town has for him an equal symbolic value the same as Bucharest. The enforcement of the phrase “Iasi the second capital of the country” in the Romanian public discourse is due to Carol and the invocation of the natives from Iasi contributions to the Union to serve its purpose to a tighter bond with the host town29. Speaking in the name of the Committee that had as a burden the erection of the statue, Nicolae Gane considered important to remind the vast number of victories obtained by Stephen and also his great number churches built in Moldavia. As for the other speaker, it appears at Gane a parallel between the Moldavian Lord which contributed in his opinion in the creation of the Romanian state and King Carol who succeeded in winning the independence that put the keystone of the same state30. It was now reiterated a common practice the correspondence between Carol and Stephen or of the starting mission of Stephen and carried out by the fresh king31. Many local politicians reminded with every chance they got their contribution to the Union, Leon Negruzzi spoke in the name of the town, didn’t lose the opportunity to make a remark in that direction. Showing with subtlety his discontent to the fact that Iasi was not the capital of the kingdom, he expressed his hope that at least symbolic the town was the “cradle of union of Romanians in feelings, heart and fact.” An important man of the moment, C.A Rosetti, was met at the railway station with much enthusiasm32, came to Iasi, in his quality as president of the House of Deputies. Thanks to its dignity, his speech in which he remarked the resonance of Stephen’s name and Carol’s for the Romanian people, indifferent of the territory in which they lived, could have launch controversies or protests especial- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 163 ly coming from Austria. The euphoric moment was created by the allusions that there were Romanians territories outside the borders from that moment of the kingdom was received without any special attention33. The volcanic pasoptist could not forget in such a glorifying occasion of the past, the Latin origin of the Romanians and their mission granted by Europe at the north of the Danube. Without trying to stress a conclusion on these discourses we can observe a common note is the symbolic affiliation between Stephen and Carol, but also the fact that in many cases of them, the attention is focused more on the suzerain34. “The academic corpus from Oltenia sent me here to show the intimate bond between Oltenia and Stephen… in 1457, after the death of Bogdan, Stephen ran in Muntenia, he was Moldavian on his father side and oltean by his motherthe performance of King Carol started to complete the one of the great Stephen”. After the end of the speeches, it began the march of the schools and the deposition of flower garlands in the sound of military music. And then it followed the representatives of the regions and communal with their flags, civic guards and other military regiments. We can say that from this moment there were two spectacles. One organized for the citizens of the town and the other for the high ranking guests. The first acknowledged that their city was well illuminated, music played in the public gardens and in Copou, where it was installed an electric sun, the fireworks could be seen from the plateau across the round from Copou. Eager to be in the center of the population, Carol went the second day after the big manifestation on the plateau above mentioned where he delivered presents for target shootings and where he received the army parade35. For the same public on the night of the 7th of June, the dramatic society from Iasi participates also on the celebrations that were taking place by organizing a big show during which there were read many poems dedicated to Stephen the Great36. The festivities continued on the night of 5th of June, in a restricted circle, we could say, if we take into account the fact that there were many representatives local and from the territory. The meeting toke place in the hall of the National Theater where gave the opportunity to different political leaders to give new speeches even more fiery. The one that opened the meetings was also the king. His toast, shorter than some expected, tried to stabilize first the importance of the whole manifestation through the fact that it represented a new modality to emphasis the national solidarity. Making abstraction to the unwillingness of the opposition to participate, the presence of different social classes from all the corners of the country was seen as a success for Carol and the mentioning of the phrase “my second capital” was well received by an audience of 400 persons by some statistics37. In the unexplained and unjustified absence of I.C Bratianu the one appointed to represent the government was Gh. Chitu, the minister of Internal Affairs. 164 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Different in his approach but also in that of Nicolae Voinov, the vice-president of the Chamber of Deputies was the fact that beside the transformation of Stephen in a saint “father of independence and of the Romanian greatness” the one glorified more and more was Carol I and less Stephen the Great. We find with little effort, enough elements that will entitle us to say that they contribute with or without their wish, to the beginning of the personality cult of the king Carol. “… The whole Romania understood your highness knowledge and through the elite and its leaders responded with enthusiasm to your suzerains appeal. Proud and happy of seeing the whereabouts of its beloved king, bringing homage of gratitude and admiration, to its biggest hero, to its most beloved Lord in times of glory and national independence38.” Beyond any other connotations of such interventions, the most popular moment was the speech of Petre Gradisteanu, on which we will insist on the right moment, as well concerning its content and of its consequences. From the picture of the festivities, it was present also the poems read in certain occasions and widely published in newspapers close to the central power: “At the statue of Stephen”, “The reel of Stephen”, “Singing at the statue of Stephen” (anthem written by Vasile Alecsandri) are some of them. Surprisingly is for us not the pathetic-emotional character of these poems but the fact that despite the existence of this festive moment, some of the authors try through their descriptive methods of the adversaries of Stephen in such a way that the former lord yet again prevails as the winner. “When the hoards of the semilune, the Hungarian haughty,/ lesi, Tatars and other gents across the country pillaged/, hurrying form Suceava and in its uncanny wrath,/ stormed over their gatherings and beating them they dissipated”. Some of them represent actually the discontent towards the contemporary politics considered as simple echoes of the interest coming from foreign powers. Along time ago, it is underlined, in a categorical manner that in the period when “Stephen ruled – the Romanians didn’t bowed their heads to foreigners to venetics.”39 Some themes are reflections of the political speeches, and many of them the ones where is mentioned the well known and invoked contribution of Stephen in the protection of Christianity of the Western world were not forgotten40. Related in this perspective is the poem “At the statue of Stephen” signed by Ar. Densusianu41. The upheaval to superlative of the current events and their transformation in national epopees were made not because of the political game but also to give the population the sensation that something important was happening and that “something” was the success of the current power. The growing number of natural celebrations is used by the political leaders in order to provide more opportunities to stand out and interpret more popular roles. The satisfaction in participating to such a celebration was not the feeling dominating all the locals. The unsatisfied ones by what was happening in their POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 165 town originated obviously from the opposition. The reasons were many and they passed from the lack of confidence in those who were in power, to the capacity of the government representatives to keep the legacy from the former lord42 to the excessive implication of the central authorities in an action considered local. The high presence of law enforcement officers at the inauguration of the statue but also the rumors that tried to discredit the opposition43 created the impression that solemnity didn’t serve the stability of I.C Bratianu44 power. Trying to compose a reaction to these accusations, the newspaper “The Liberal” from Iasi showed at 10th of June that all who didn’t want to participate showed its anger on the symbol of Stephen the Great, even they foreseen a negative response of the public opinion to them45. Concerned with details, I.C Bratianu government didn’t consider that after the unveiling of the statue the action was over. Declaring that the purpose of the event was the development of the national feeling and the memory of Stephen, the executive from Bucharest disposed the realization of an impressive number of paintings with the image of Stephen and the whole ceremonial inauguration, which were supposed to be sent through city halls at schools from every regions of the country. In some cases the city halls request the government or from Iasi paintings like the ones described46. The number of paintings sent by the Internal minister Chitu distributed at grade I schools was of 483, with the specific note to be used also in other national celebrations47. Even if many of the accusations coming from the conservative party was respecting the normal tone of the anger towards the central power, an evidence of the hardship in which Iasi was in during this period comes from I.C Bratianu. At the end of the activities organized in Iasi, he thanks for its involvement the prefect of Iasi, Dimitrie Pruncu, to whom sends the sum of 5.000 lei, destined accordingly to King Carol disposition to be handed out to the poor48. The discussions between the townhouse and the prefect’s office from Iasi treated the allocation of different expensive generated by the organization of the event, also being evidence of the existent economic difficulties at that time49. If the event in question had a certain historical attention, this was not only due to the fact that it was about the inauguration of a statue of the greatest Lord of Moldavia but mainly because of the intervention on the night of the 5th of June of Senator Petre Gradisteanu. On some of the particularities of his speech held in the hall of the National Theater from Iasi we shall refer on the next rows. In the already specified atmosphere the discourse of the senator was to become, in short time, a new subject of the power-opposition battle. While those close to PNL tried to diminish his references to Romanian territories in the composition of other states, the adversaries of the government insisted on the international complications that were about to occur as a result of the words of Gradisteanu. Member of PNL since the coalition from Mazar Pasa, he proved to be during his entire political career, a 166 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) temperamental leader which as other political leaders went from political groups to others and so on50. He held a speech at a banquet organized by the town hall of Iasi, in National Theater’s hall, in front of 420 quests from around the country, which provoked many controversies. The words of the liberal senator, pronounced in a assembly outside the program, carried out a lot a weight and because of its important position in the Romanian Senate, a little time ago. In the specified note of also the other interventions, Gradisteanu noted on the beginning of its speech, a real laudation to the suzerain. The liberal Parliament seem to consider grand that in the “glorious city of Stephen” came citizens from all the corners of the country and the explanation came from the powerful bond between the Romanians and its monarch51. The distinction from its ante speakers, Petre Gradisteanu reminds in its related notification on the great absences from Iasi, the queen and the prime minister, which symbolically dedicated a glass of wine. What caused the dissatisfaction of the Austrian diplomats and provide political weapons to the opposition was the suggestive reference to Banat, Bucovina, and Transylvania or to Bessarabia. His statement toke a serious political weight when he at the end addressed the king and tried to shake his hand in front of such a large audience. From that moment there were many interpretations and denying certain facts. Meanwhile the liberal senator tried through a letter addressed to “Romania libera” to clarify the text which appeared in many newspapers52, the government insisting on its presence at the banquet as an unofficial member of the state, fact enforced by not publishing the statement in “Monitorul official”. But the deed could not be undone the text was published in “L’Independence Roumaine” where the author specified also the names of the three provinces adding also Bessarabia53. The first effect of this unpleasant situation was the expulsion of the owner of the newspaper Emile Gali. Through Gradisteanu speech the celebration from Iasi caught the eye of the foreign press. Mindful at the events taking place in Romania, the western newspapers describe with many details the political atmosphere from the country and the speeches that are held at the inauguration of Stephen statue and also the relations between Carol and the Romanian political class54. The frequent remembering of the former battles won by Stephen against Hungary, Poland and the Turks wasn’t left unnoticed indifferent to whom it belonged55. Without renouncing the defense of its interests the Romanian government searched for new methods of showing their future allies on the lack of connection between its foreign political intentions and some individual political actions like the ones of the liberal senator mentioned above. This direction was enforced by not publishing in the “Official Monitor” of the intervention of the senator and after pressures from the Austrian government through an official denial published on the 19th in the Monitor56. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 167 We can say without reaching any conclusions that what happened in 1883 at Iasi doesn’t represent an isolated case, but it respects a certain pattern. The events from year that we mentioned in the rows above can be understood if we take into consideration some aspects. First of all the Romanian society found in a full process of modernization which had in permanence the tendency to look in the past. If those who had the power invoked mythical characters like Stephen, to obtain a circumstance victory, the other’s invocation on the same hero or the sake of an antitheses with the contemporary political leaders. As a component of the political strategy, the reference to a golden past was frequently used in different ways. If the national-liberals (as the followers of Bratianu were called) remind the glorious times of Stephen to show their bearings in the political field and for their actions, the opposition was preoccupied by invoking the same period to show the decadence of the contemporary époque of whom the liberals were responsible. The year 1883 came after two important actions in which the liberals participated as the political governmental group (the winning of the independence and the proclamation of the kingdom) and that was their primary cards in their political battles. The unexpressed dissatisfaction of the conservative party was determined by the fact that they weren’t invited to participate in the decision making process concerning the ceremony of Stephen’s statue inauguration. The opposition knew very well that in the context of a strong contestation, the group that had the power made all the rules of the game in such a manner that all the material profits and of image belonged to them, accomplishing thus a new legitimacy57. Strongly attacked beginning with 1883, even by former liberal co-workers as D. Bratianu, liberals around I.C Bratianu sensed that the maintenance at power can be made only by organizing and winning elections. To obtain credibility it was needed a diversification of the forms and legitimacy mechanisms58. Beside the speeches they were asked notable accomplishments just like those from 1866, 1877 or 1881. The inauguration of the statue, long waited by the natives from Iasi and not only, was an effective occasion to use in their own advantage an ancient symbol in a new ceremonial frame. For the liberals but also for Carol the inauguration of the statue was the perfect method to express their leader status. This was made by evoking a common hero important to a group (Moldavians) and even for an entire society, stirring sentiments of cohesion and popular support for those organizing the event. The measure in which this strategy gave the results preconceived by the liberals had to be seen in the next years. If we take into consideration the rapid growth of contestations to believe that the “plan” didn’t work. We could not finish without making a few considerations on the other political factor involved in the action unfolded at Iasi, in 5th of June 1883, Carol I. The same as the governmental staff, he knew that in a society in which the information circulation was not quite as good through the intermediation of 168 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) the press, the safety feeling of the population could have been enhanced in the conditions of putting into place some grand historic and political symbols as Stephen the Great59. The monarch knew from the beginning of its mandate that in order to be followed by the people, he needed to have direct link with them, to create at least the impression that they could obtain what they wanted. Furthermore placing himself as a continuity of Stephen, not only his, he had the possibility to generate strong emotional reactions in the population60, which the presses made us understand that happened. Carol I had to face now its political opponents that didn’t believe in the liberal capacity to efficiently run the country, but with leaders that he understood to represent perfectly the external political image of Romania. To block the flow of accusations brought to I.C Bratianu, the monarch could not lose the opportunity to present himself as a good leader capable of handling any economic difficulties, thanks to a well placed strategy. In the conditions related to the control of Austria of the Danube river, Carol’s speech in the hall of the National Theater, where he evoked the personality of Stephen and its battles, contributing thus to a identification with him, and also assuming a commitment for the future. Beyond the objectives of every actor involved, the inaugurations from 5th of June 1883 lead us to think to a type-situation, in which the political power uses a moment to build a common memory61. Through Stephen’s statue, erected in a delicate moment, tradition could demonstrate its constructive force and the revived past appeared as a mixture which we found nostalgia, frustration and satisfaction62. Notes 1. Nicolae Grigoraº, Statuia lui Stefan cel Mare de la Iasi, in „Cercetari istorice“, 1972, new series (III), p. 282. 2. Ibidem, p. 283. 3. Ibidem. 4. Virgiliu Z. Teodorescu, Simboluri de for public dedicate cinstirii lui ªtefan cel Mare, în „Revista arhivelor“, iulie, august, septembrie, nr. 3, 1993, p. 282. 5. Carol I, Cuvântãri ºi scrisori, tom II, p. 210; apud Vasile Docea, Carol I ºi monarhia constituþionalã. Interpretãri istorice, Timiºoara, Editura Presa Universitarã Românã, 2001, p. 118. 6. Nicolae Grigoraº, op. cit., p. 290. 7. Arhivele Naþionale Iaºi (ANI), fond „Rectorat“, 1883, 22 mai, fila 21, 24 mai, fila 22, 25 mai, fila 23.Idem, fila 25. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 169 8. ANI, fond „Prefecturã“, dosar nr. 96, 1883, 30 mai, fila 6. 9. He sent more letters with this porpoise towards the President of the Court of Appeal, to the general prosecutor and to the first prosecutor in ANI, idem, 30 mai, file 5. 10. Idem, fila 42. 11. Pactul social, 4th of June 1883, p. 1. 12. The sum of 135.000 lei, the cost of the statue, obtained through a national collection. At 20 may 1883, Municipal Committee of Iaºi announced the day of 5th June for the grand unveiling of the statue of Stephen the Great as part of a national ceremony (Nicolae Grigoraº, op. cit., p. 301). 13. At 3th June the Municipal Council approved unanimously a fond of 27.038 lei for expenses of the inauguration. But because it was decided the national character of the ceremony, the Municipal Council asked the minister of Interne to request to the Deputies Assembly for the approval of a special found and to give back to the City Hall the sum (the government approves only the sum of ll10.000 lei, the same sum was at the disposal of the City Hall of Iasi). See ibidem, p. 302. 14. ANI, fond „Prefectura“, dosar nr. 96, 1883, 28 aprilie, fila 8. 15. The internal minister talks about 600 copies (Idem, 1 June, file 33). 16. The prefect asks the functionaries under him to send to the editor chief of the “Liberal” the ad (page1) with the program of the manifestation. Also him claims to be informed about the cost of putting into place his dispositions. in idem, file 10. 17. „Românul“, 3 June, 1883, p. 491. 18. In circular of the government it is recommended the participation of all the pupils from schools (ANI, fond „Prefectura“, dosar 96, 1883, 8 may, files 19, 20). 19. On the 2 of June 1883, the rector asks the teachers of the University from Iasi to go with him to salute the head of state. See ANI, fond „Rectorat“, dosar 483, 18821883, files 3, 4. 20. Idem, file 1. 21. The minister of Cults and Public Instructions asked the rector, a long time before, to see will participate at the ceremony, and to appoint those who were to held speeches at the inauguration of the statue, and also at the University (Idem, 28 mai, fila 26). Despite the organized effort made by the rector, his colleagues don’t respond to his appeal proposed on the 4th of June only in a small amount the papers being signed only by 20 of 42 teachers (Idem, 4 June, file 30). 22. The government asked the prefect of Iasi to assure the presence of four police sergeants’ at the conference that was supposed to be held at the University. (Idem, file 32). 23. Idem, 2 June, file 2. 24. Idem, 12 March, file 11, 6 April, file 12, 22 April, file 15. 25. Idem, 24 April, file 16. 26. „Curierul“, 5 June, 1883, year XI, nr. 62, p. 2; ANI, fond „Rectorat“, dosar 483, 1882-1883, 5 June, fila 4. 27. „Curierul“, 5 iunie 1883, anul XI, nr. 62, p. 1. 28. Ibidem. 29. „Curierul“, 9 June, 1883, p. 2. 170 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 30. N. A. Bogdan, Regele Carol I ºi a doua sa capitalã, f.l. f.a., p. 287. 31. „It cannot be but for us the Rumanians a more beautiful day like this, in which we can see our past interconnecting with the future and which lifts up our faith that under the rule of His Majesty the king of Romania will go on further and further on the path of prosperity that is now opened“, in Ibidem. 32. „Curierul“, 9 June, 1883, p. 2. 33. N. A. Bogdan, op. cit., p. 290-291. 34. „Curierul“, 12 June, 1883, year XI, nr. 65, p. 2. 35. N. A. Bogdan, op. cit., p. 309. 36. „Curierul“, year XI, nr. 61, 4 June, 1883, p. 2. 37. Idem, year XI, nr. 63, 9 June, 1883, p. 2. 38. The toast of N. Voinov, vice-president of the Chamber of Deputies, „people and king toke their vows, sacred vow that today all of the sacrifices made for country and only for country, the glory obtained on the battlefield of Bulgaria under the leadership of his Majesty made us to look straight at the statue of Stephen the Great and see the glorious past“ (Ibidem). 39. „Curierul“, 5 June, 1883, p. 2. 40. An example in this direction is „Ode at the statue of Stephen the Great“, by Vasile Alecsandri, in „Curierul“, 9 June, 1883, year XI, nr. 63, p. 1. 41. „But your pure heart (Moldova) of burning longings \ A long time ago was stolen by a young beautiful lad\ and a lad with eyes to search the sun \ But not in his grandness but in his shinny face („Curierul“, 5 June, 1883, year XI, nr. 62 , p. 2). 42. „Pactul social“, 8 June, 1883, p. 2. 43. Idem, 5 June, 1883, p. 4. 44. Idem, 8 June, 1883, p. 2 45. Nicolae Bogdan, op. cit., p. 311. 46. ANI, fond „Prefectura“, dosar nr. 96, 1883, 23 iulie, fila 54.. The prefect of the region of Prahova announces his counterpart from Iasi of the receiving of the painting with the scene of Stephen’s statue (Ibidem, 5 august, file 58). 47. Ibidem, file 39. 48. “Curierul“, year XI, nr. 65, 12 June, 1883, p. 2. 49. Idem, 9 June, p. 3. 50. Petre Grãdiºteanu was one of the most active members of the liberal group in the period of 1877-1890, participating at the forming of the coalition of Mazar Paºa, present in numerous political arrangements of the time (Apostol Stan, Putere politica ºi democraþie în România 1859-1918, Bucureºti, Editura Albatros, 1995, p. 165). 51. „Curierul“, 9 June, 1883, p. 3. 52. „Sire, many are missing from this table and who wanted to be here, they love you sire and so do all of us, for they see in Your Majesty not the king of Romania but the king of the Romanians. And with their help your Majesty will conquer, the precious stones that miss form the crown of Stephen the Great“, in C. Bacalbaºa, Bucureºtii de altãdatã, vol. I, Bucureºti, Editura Eminescu, 1987, vol. I, p. 162. 53. This testimonial appears in the same newspaper from the correspondent who described the event, in the number of 28th of June of the magazine („Curierul“, nr. 1730, p. 1). POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 171 54. The German gazette „Nordeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung“ publishes, at 27th of June, a description of the action from Iasi. The Germans foresaw in the action from 5th of June a manifestation of adulation to the suzerain and to the dynasty („Românul“, 22 June, 1883, p. 553). 55. Ibidem. 56. These words, in part exaggerated, in other incorrectly reproduced, were pronounced by surprise by a person that didn’t have a official role at the ceremony. The government could only disagree in a dynamic way and the official path this kind of manifestations and tendencies from wherever they might come“ („Monitorul Oficial“, 19 June, 1883, p. 1247). 57. C. Sãlãvãstru, Discursul puterii, Iaºi, Institutul European, 1999, p. 39. 58. Ibidem, p. 43. 59. Murray Edelman, Politica ºi utilizarea simbolurilor, Iaºi, Polirom, 1999, p. 43. 60. Ibidem, p. 75. 61. Ibidem, p. 184. 62. Ibidem, p. 186. Abstract Reinventing the Middle Age: the Inauguration of the Statue of Stephen the Great (Iaºi 1883) The year 1883 can be considered as a model for several reasons that we are going to explain in the current article. The alliance treaty signed with the Central Powers, the start of the coagulation of the united opposition, which led eventually to the downfall of the I.C Bratianu government but also the international incident occurred by the unveiling in Iasi of the statue of Stephen the Great, these examples emphasis the authenticity of the first statement. We intend to analyze in the following rows the way in which a power, at the beginning of a long political and mediated siege, will succeed to organize the inauguration of a statue, long awaited due to its symbolic background of the character that it represents. To understand how was possible that an event preconceived as a moment of solidarity transformed into a reason for new disputes on the power-opposition front, we considered necessary a short glimpse on the internal political atmosphere of the months that preceded the event. Beyond the objectives of every actor involved, the inaugurations from 5th of June 1883 lead us to think to a type-situation, in which the political power uses a moment to build a common memory. Through Stephen’s statue, erected in a delicate moment, tradition could demonstrate its constructive force and the revived past appeared as a mixture which we found nostalgia, frustration and satisfaction. Keywords inauguration, statue, controversies, ceremony, collective memory The Cult of Brãtianus Between the Two World Wars in Romania Actors, characters, means and forms of expression O VIDIU B URUIANÃ „The cult of the great, defunct people is an expression of periods lacking great personalities” (C. Banu)1. 1. Death of an all-powerful political leader and the funeral „discourses”2 I NOVEMBER 1927, the swift death of Ion I. Brãtianu, leader of National Liberal Party and head of government, brought about a new „era” in the Romanian political evolution, as suggested by Nicolae Iorga3. This perception was not at all isolated in the period, many other political leaders of the time, detractors, neutral observers or adulators of the great deceasead leader noting that the „revolution” that defined that moment, including the raw connotation of the term, the pararellism with a natural, cosmical phenomenon prevailing sometimes over the political or social change of perception4. Most of the political actors soon realized that everything was going to change after the demise of the „invincible man”, as Ionel Brãtianu appeared to his contemporaries5. The sense of breach was emphasized not only by the unexpected death but also because it appeared in a period when the liberal power over the state appeared to be everlasting. N 1.1. The opposition’s discourse and the mythical status bestowed upon Ion I. C. Brãtianu. In the dramatic context of the death of their adversary, the attitudes exhibited by the opposition politicians were constrained within the minimal Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project 174 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) politeness, with terms used such as „misfortune for the country”, „terrible blow for Romania”. Absorbed by the new situation and breaking with the recent past, no prominent opposition leader joined the funeral procession6. The death of Ionel Brãtianu offered a necessary simplification of the political scene, at least in their vision. The dissapereance of an indubitable figure of authority7 cleared the future of the power. One step towards conferring a mythical status to the defunct leader is to be noted in the representations of the opposition, another one is easily visible in the liberal discourse of the time. An avalache of depreciatory elements followed (“The Vizier”, “Wallachian Sultan”, „The Master”, “Ioan vodã the Terrible”, “the feared uncrowned ruler of the country, obssesed with a pagan will to rule”, „representing a „godly dynasty”8), but the heroic character, even in its negative version, exceeded the man. In the contrasting space of interaction between the real character with the political imaginary of the opposition, the way in which the power is configurated and the personality of Ion I. C. Brãtianu acquired gigantic proportions, explaining both the weakness of the opposition as well as the weakness of those in power. 1.2. The liberal approach to “canonization”. Another space of reflection on Ion I. C. Brãtianu’s posterity, is underlined by the liberal discourse. „The official country is roaring and break its hands”, observed Gala Galaction9. The term „official country” is not only a figure of speech. Despite the worries, despite the homages to a „grandly political work”10, a feeling of restraint was unanimous in the society towards the death of a politician unapproachable to the others because of his public actions and whose political gestures often triggered popular discontent (holding Romania’s neutrality for two years during the First World War, the authoritarian style of ruling Romania, the lack of a real dialogue or for charismatic gestures towards the masses). The pain inflicted by his death in different strata of the society was merely rational and not sentimental. Respected, but never loved, seems to be the conclusion drawn by I. G. Duca11. In contrast with the public indifference, the liberal’s solidarity was exemplary. The most coherent discoursive form of presenting the personality of the defunct leader, along with the liberal media, was a special („festive”) issue of the circle of liberal studies, Democraþia, dedicated entirely to the emblematic figure of Ionel Brãtianu12. The Center’s message was then distributed to a multitude of liberal publications, as a form of diffusion in different social and intellectual strata13. For the liberals who were deeply affected by his death, the statuary figure of Ionel Brãtianu collected a huge amount of superlatives: „the greatest and the best Romanian”, „the foremost citizen of the reunited state”, „a giant of our public life”, „the most beloved son of the country”, „the brilliant political man and the greatest patriot”, „the personification of Romania’s political genius”, „our POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 175 Wise and Great Ruler”, etc. His life began to illustrate a period of grace: “everything that was good and firm on our soil was made during his time”14, and his death came to symbolize an essential loss of the whole nation. Despite a multitude of opinions, the symbolical relations around his figure can be detected on two main levels. Firstly, the one that identifies Brãtianu with national interests, Romania being „shaken from its foundation”, as a liberal journalist from Iaºi wrote in the tension of the moment, taking into account that the „hope of the nation relied in his energy, abilities, in his unquestioned authority both in the country as well as abroad”15. The second, broader, discoursive scale, implied the superposition of the former leader with the image of the party, the conjunction of these two representations being implicit. From a broader perspective, without any regard to contingency or his contemporaries perception and judged from the historical point of view, Ionel Brãtianu’s carefully constructed image by the liberals engulfed numerous symbollical institutions for the Romanians mental colective, especially the monarchy. The „great kings and the great advisers”, a tetrarchy including Carol the First and Ion C. Brãtianu, together with Ferdinand and Ionel Brãtianu, were a substitute for modern Romania, the analogy representing also an exclusion device of the others from this historical effort. „The Maker of yesterday’s Romania” (Ion C. Brãtianu) was approached to the founding hero of „today’s Romania”. Another subtle change was operated regarding the relation of the symbol of power in the Romanian history (reign), initially on the defensive of the european civilization, Ion I. C. Brãtianu being seen as „a dam of national resistance, the strong point of Europe’s safety”16. Subsequently, in the light of later Legion’s texts, Ionel Brãtianu was represented as Ioan Brãtianu (my note, O.B), „the one that can do whatever he wants: the one who could lead you either to death or to victory”17. Ioan is much more than a simple mutation / linguistical error, respectively the funeral discourse that offers a different vision on the symbolic position held in the Romanian society by the great defunct leader. The providential man represents a religious reading of Ion I. C. Brãtianu’s personality, as a figure of voivode adapted to the modern times. The symbolic construct of Ionel Brãtianu was an expression of a secular religiosity, with its own system of sacred words and gestures, in which the individual finds its identity and simultaneously, through ritual, was participating to the power. This was an unprecedented measure, experienced in the Romanian public space by the liberals in November 1927, because of its scope and multitude of the forms of expression (periodical publicists and rumors, conferences, ritualic manifestations, commemorative foundations, such as Aºezãmintele culturale Ion C. Brãtianu, respectively Ion I. C. Brãtianu, Biblioteca Ion I. C. Brãtianu, recording of memorable words of Ionel Brãtianu on gramophone discs, filming and 176 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) presentations of the funeral in the news), and was the result of a competition of the discourses and images that centers on the great defunct, in which the detractors and apologists took part, the stake being political and cultural in the same time. In the same time, it underlines the sources of power inside the party, as well as the political culture of the Romanian liberals. An „icon of the whole nation”, the former leader underlined the positioning towards the past, viewed as a primordial source of the liberal legitimacy in the present and revelation for the future generations. 2. Methodological options. Sources for the present approach D way in which the liberals reacted to their leader’s demise and the political and cultural significance attributed to this event is what I’m interested in as a structure of analyzing the reality from beyond the discourse. The use of words is never innocent and engages, in this case, at least, a long discussion on the dominant policies of the Romanian liberals. Based on the analysis of the official literature of the party (mainly the newspaper Viitorul and the theoretical magazine of the liberal studies circles, Democraþia), and the memoirs of the main public actors of the time, such as Nicolae Iorga, Constantin Argetoianu, Pamfil ªeicaru, Stelian Popescu, Gala Galaction, etc. or on archive documents from Central National Historical Archives, this text proposes an approach on the forms of expression that have as central focus Ion I. C. Brãtianu, but also a discussion of the multiple means used or the stakes that the liberal discourse holds in the period connected with the Brãtianus cult; it is not an anthropological study, in the sense that I will not referr to the rite, rituals and discourses that maintain the „litany” of the evocation; I will signal, from a political sociological point of view, the mechanisms of Brãtianus cult, its actors, its major themes and try to understand their positioning within the liberal decisions and convictions18. The assertion that the existence of a personality cult around the liberal leader must be fitted into the general tendency of the time – the leader was a proper answer to the democratical anarchy after 1918. A vocation for adulation is a reality with european characteristics, although the names are not equivalent with the position – the cult surrounding Istvan Bethlen and Miklos Horthy in Hungary, Thomas Masaryk in Czechoslovakia, kings Alexander of Yugoslavia or Boris of Bulgaria. D. Gusti set the stage, under the patronage of Social Romanian Institute, for the fundamental debate, between the two world wars, on the evolution of the political ideas, published afterwards as The doctrines of political parties, stating that ESCRIBING THE POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 177 there is an unstoppable need of the individual to be ruled, „to fanatically believe in someone”. The comfortableness of human spirit, the fear of responsability, inertia, the „volunteer servitude, meekly submission” explain, in Gusti’s opinion, the privilege of the leaders to be surrounded by „the atmosphere of an enthusiastic quasiamorous submission”, to become the „object of a lyrical pathos”19. The legionar cult of the Captain, the royal one made official during the reign of Carol II or the myth of the Commander from the totalitarian regimes, of Ion Antonescu and later Nicolae Ceauºescu, have embodied, in the Romanian space, the theories of providential men, rulers and social saviors. 3. Brãtianus cult. Forms and strategies of legitimacy 3.1. Ionel Brãtianu’s cult. Beyond the funeral aspect, connected to the dissapearence of the leader that refounded the National Liberal Party, there is a dimmension of the discourse that presents a certain continuity caused by the central place already held by Ionel Brãtianu’s image in the liberal propaganda. The official actions after 1918, regarding the power aspirations and promoting the inextricable bond between the historical national development and that of the National Liberal Party, were doubled by the obvious role held by Ion I. C. Brãtianu in the process of bringing to life the United Romania. Eventually the two dimensions melted into one – the image of the leader, symbol of the party and country. President of the Chamber in 1927-1928, the liberal leader N. N. Sãveanu stated that „Brãtianu is still an overwhelming personality, his name linked to so many important events lived by our country, that, without waiting the judgement of history, we have to recognize, even from now on, the enormous services brought by him for the country”20. Ion I. C. Brãtianu’s cult was also appropiated by the liberals from the new areas of the Reunited Romania as an image to guarantee their legitimacy and social recognition. The image of the providential man, „the greatest man of the state”, „the genius of the nation that was always on the look-out for the new nation, the soul ruler of the country”, obvius from the party press or the brochures or even from the songs (light poems) dedicated to him21 took, sometimes, religious and popular aspects. Through a commomn process to all heroes, the leader stepped down from the dais and became a common, ordinary man, the „brother” of simple people: he would pay his train ticket like any other person, wore a peasant bag woven by his beloved mother; he was a hard-working man at Florica, getting up at 4, making friendly small talk with his servants, attending the cattle he knew by name, feeding the birds..., then, at his working desk preparing 178 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) the plans for his country’s happiness. Transylvania had always been close to his heart – the small church of Horia from Albac that was moved to Florica playing a central role in this symbollic construct22. Ionel Brãtianu’s excellency myth was carefully constructed even when he was still alive; the myth was made official from political reasons when he died, because of a turbulent period in which political legitimacy was difficult to obtain since the party was in opposition and also as a result of the awareness towards his role in the structuring of the party as an organization, as a way to exist in the public space. In the following years two main discourses were structurally promoted when vis-a-vis the image of Ionel Brãtianu, to emphasize its symbollic value for the country. a. a more central one, illustrated by the actions made by the party leaders and his family and in the actions promoted by the Aºezãmintele Ion I. C. Brãtianu, the focal role in this evocation opus being played by I. G. Duca. As the liberal or pro-liberal press (especially Universul) and the magazine for liberal studies proposed special issues to commemorate his memory with its different facets (his activity during the war, at the Peace Conferences, his visits in Transylvania, etc.) in November every year after his death conferences, studies23, brochures24, were published along with memorial services; it was a clever orchestrated party program aimed at underlining the role he held in the liberal public imaginary but also in development of liberal identity and solidarity25; it is a clear indication that this form of apologetical approach was practiced not only towards the exterior, towards the masses, but also towards the interior, in order to define a liberal self image. A social group is brought together by a common denominator, by a certain number of values and affinities, by a certain social experience, by an identity criterion. According to David Kertzer, ritual is invaluable in obtaining political solidarity, even in the absence of a consensus; it is an important medium of influencing ideas that people have about political events, political strategies, political systems and political leaders; through ritual, people have an idea about what they consider an adequate political institution, about what the ideal qualities a political leader should possess, etc. Understanding the political medium is mediated by symbolls and the ritual, as strong form of symbollic representation, it is an important mean in constructing a political reality26. Honouring the memory of the former leader is attached to a logical power play inside the party. The commemorative conference held by I.G. Duca about Ionel Brãtianu, in January 1931, at the opening of „Ion I. C. Brãtianu” Library, within Brãtianu Foundation, reflected the personal experience of one who was a close collaborator of the Brãtianius (Ion I. C. Brãtianu and Vintilã Brãtianu), suggesting a feeling of continuity and legitimacy of the power27. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 179 b. there was another way of honouring him, a private cult that was publically shared by the party’s members. For the local party members, the memory of Ionel Brãtianu represented, among other things, a competition for recognition, which led, in time, to a kind of fetish aorund his name and made impossible any attempt of objectivity28. A volume paying homage to the memory of Ionel Brãtianu never materialized, despite several attempts made after his death; also, no projects for erecting a statue (unlike the case of his father, with monuments in many cities of the Old Kingdom) that could visually share the greatness of the political leader are known29. Nonetheless, the broad canvas of publications, articles, manifestations about mutliplied the figure of the great leader in different parts of Romania and the diverse political and cultural attitudes suggested a sacred presence. Finally, through secular ritual Ion I. C. Brãtianu as a”founder of the country” was omnipresent. The existence of a cult of Ionel Brãtianu can be seen as justified if one takes into account the greatness of the above mentioned leader, the liberal party itself and the context of political life after the First World War and also the personalization of political elements. Through augmentation of the liberal metonymical discourse, after Ionel Brãtianu’s death, I would like to propose some questions regarding the reality beyond the language, on what the people say „within” the discourse. Some obviuos responses offered by the discourses after 1927 point to the conclusion that there was, inside the liberal party, a weak sense of legitimacy towards the use of power. The image of the defunct leader only offered strong cohesion elements along with a sense of political precariousness. After Ion I. C. Brãtianu’s death, National Liberal Party lost, as Pamfil ªeicaru states, „that interior safety that gave it the courage to not paiy attention to the public opinion”30. Ionel Brãtianu’s unexpected death led to a loss of power inside the party: this is the crucial thing that the liberals understood after November 1927 and made them rally around the legitimacy „giver” that was their leader. This is another element that explains the evolution and growing of the cult – a contorted relation between the memory of the leader and the nostalgia for the lost power. If in the aftermath of the death, the halo effect was present (the great presence of the defunct in everybody’s memory), in the following years, oppositon years (the thirties), the memory tramsformed into a different power practice. The liberals were the „memory guardians”, reacting strongly to any kind of lesser appreciation of his role in building the Great Romania and they opposed fiercely to discuss any historical approach towards the leader which was not seen as sacred31. After June 1930 Restauration, the cult of Ionel Brãtianu became more a way to reconfigure liberal solidarity and meeting place for the party – it acted as an instrument to measure the unity and the popularity of the liberal party, decreased in the first part of the fourth decade. The situation changed since 180 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) the end of 1933, when there was an affluence of new members, called maliciously by general Radu Rosetti, a close friend of the family, „hunters of situation and seats”32. Remembering Ionel Brãtianu remained, beyond the fascination towards one of the greatest political figures in Romanian era, a way of keeping a clear identity in the context of Carol II monarchy. 3.2. Brãtianu’s family cult. Brãtianism as political system. Ion Petrovici, Minister of Public Affairs, delegate of the Averescu government to the centennial of Ion C. Brãtianu’s birthday, celebrated with pomp by the liberals at the twenty first of May 1921, recounts the event in his Memories in terms of operette buffe. All local liberal delegations had send delegations made out of 3-4 members, with food packages from home for the luncheon that was to follow in the Florica park. He arrived with the ministerial train and he was greeted by Vintilã Brãtianu and by Brãtianus nephew, the poet Ion Pillat; the dignitary was informed „almost in whisper”, as he remembered that he was to have dinner with Ionel Brãtianu. As he was baffled, Ion Pillat explained the „mysterious” phrase. The celebration was to be multicentrical, as well as the banquet after the memorial service itself, the three distinct tables suggested the integration everyone attending, holding specific difference. The first table took place, with everyone’s food, on the grass from the mansion’s park, as a popular festivity open for everyone, the second one, consisting of a cold buffet, took place on the terrace of the house from Florica, with leaders of the party attending, the hosts being Vintilã ºi Dinu Brãtianu; finally, in the last cercle, the private dinner (The Holy of the Holliest), presided by Ionel and his wife, where high-ranking guests were greeted (bishops, government representative, delegates from the liberal part), from the liberal leaders only Mihail Pherekide, a close collaborator of Ion C. Brãtianu from the small Romania was present33. Beyond the author’s irony, the different levels of commemoration and the differentiations presented by Ion Petrovici indicates the ritual around the big family, that had in center the tutelary figures of modern Romania - Ion C. Brãtianu and his son Ion I. C. Brãtianu, the first as a kind of pontiff for the cult. The scene evokes the institutional-organizational character of Brãtianu’s family cult in general, and of the sacred place in the liberal symbollical geography - Florica; it is an unprecedented situation in the secular political Romanian space and the cult was carefully kept alive by the liberals through a ritualised and symbollic repetition of manifestations (at the liberal studies centers, through the commemorative manifestations, memorial services, manifestations on the occasion of various historical anniversaries, erecting statues as an imagological hallmarks of the new political symbology, etc.), memoirs, press, cultural foundations, etc.34 The memory of Brãtianus is described differently, the rememberings or laudatio for Vintilã or Dinu Brãtianu, as well as the feminine figures of the family (reminded POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 181 only in relation with the family cult) Pia Brãtianu or Eliza Brãtianu35, being placed, somehow normal, on a lesser position from the power perspective. A mighty personality in the Romanian history, he ushered in a new society and he refounded the liberal party, he was viewed almost as godlike by his collaborators and considered invincible by adversaries, Ion I. C. Brãtianu plays a pivotal role in this construct because he organized the cult of his father (see the moment 1921), as a token of devotion towards his father - educator, stern and fair - but in the same time he also absorbed the memory of his contemporaires, especially that of his brother, who benefited in a limited proportion from this cult. Aºezãmintele Ion I. C. Brãtianu collected and published the speeches and discourses of Vintilã Brãtianu, and Vieaþa ºi opera lui Vintilã I. C. Brãtianu vãzute de prietenii ºi colaboratorii sãi, at the „Independenþa” Printery in 1936, under the patronage of the cultural Aºezãmânt Ion C. Brãtianu. The historian Gheorghe Brãtianu, belonging to the third political generation of the family, „builds himself” through constant report to the paternal and deified figure of Ionel Brãtianu, publishing documents and private letters as a form of social recognition36. Ionel Brãtianu was the one who imposed, through his actions and attitudes, the image of the political aristocracy. „The fear that a mistake from his part could harm or diminish the brightness of his father’s name and glory, or that he could compromise the results of the family opus in founding the modern Romania, followed him constantly, throughout his life”, as a „guide in all his actions” said I.G. Duca”37. This charismatic model of ruling, considered by Max Weber for instance, to be very unstable as a pattern of legitimacy, functioned well between the two world wars, the president of the party being able to embody the founding father’s legacy38. The election, in January 1934, of Constantin I. C. Brãtianu as president of the party is hard to explain, if we take into account his indifference towards public life and his political skills – it is easy to explain it as a continuation of a sacred series. Dinu Brãtianu was depicted as „the fifth in this family blessed by God” that took over the party39. The presence of the members of the family at the head of the party was seen as a major characteristic for the liberals and established the reality of the cult. The intricate role played by the family was fully assumed by the liberal collective mind; Alexandru Lapedatu professed his deep devotion towards this family to N. Iorga, his infinite admiration; therefore, a strong feeling of support towards Dinu Brãtianu was felt, despite his obvious lack of political skills – it was just another facet of this symbollical and political anthropology40. The Brãtianus remained in the core of liberalism, even after 1945, when being a liberal was not a favourable option. In the speech by Gheorghe Tãtãrescu in front of the General Convention of the National Liberal Party, held in the First of July 1945, before being elected as the leader of the party (known in history as National Liberal Party Gheorghe Tãtãrescu), he admitted his desire to emulate the continuity: Ion Brãtianu the 182 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) First, Ion Brãtianu the Second41. His deep devotion towards the family was obvious even in his physiognomy, as was ironically pointed out by an anti-liberal magazine – the beard – as a facial accesory – being only one element left from the old Ion Brãtianu and passed on along with the party to Ionel Brãtianu42. Together with the great family, being in the same time an integral part of it, the liberal pantheon included other liberal personalities, like D. A Sturdza or I. G. Duca. Their own image authority in the period between the two world wars was limited; they preferred to place themselves, especially in I.G. Duca’s case, within the family’s intimacy, at least from the point of view of their collaboration with the great men that they met and implicitly from the point of view of the legitimacy in their relation with the party and society. Their memory, although tends to be emancipated from the great shadow, (the case of I.G. Duca’s own cult), it is almost impossible to dissociate from the Brãtianus. The celebration of the centenary of D. A Sturdza, held in February 1933, took place in the Ion I. C. Brãtianu Library, and with this occasion, the celebrated liberal politician that lived in two centuries, (XIX-XX) was presented by a report to the family. „Chosen” by Ion C. Brãtianu as his successor at the head of the party, he enjoyed Ionel Brãtianu’s appreciation, who offered a banquet in his honour in a very tense political context, etc.43. A memory cult seen as an object of regaining the legitimacy was also the relation with Spiru Haret44, Alexandru (Alecu) Constantinescu-Porcu, rather through its legendary facet, of his sayings and memorable actions (more in an anecdotic sense), Eugeniu Carada and, especially, G. G. Mârzescu, the former leader from Iaºi. The cult of Ionel Brãtianu’s collaborator from the critical phase of the war and subsequently, from the time of strengthening the Great Romania was perpetuated rather by the local organization of the party; it was also, initially, a form of recognition of George Brãtianu, the son who carried, in a symbollic way the impossible task of being his collaborator; eventually, the positive image of Gh. Mârzescu was only a manoevre to limit the same son’s possibilities of action, because of his close relations with Carol II. The real regret at the great politician’s death was succedeed by an avalanche of events (the annual pilgrimage of the central and local leaders at the grave, the statue erected in Iaºi by the French sculptor Ernest Dubois, which was presented with great pomp on the 27-th of September 1936, etc.) ment to transform G. G. Mârzescu in a symbol of party’s capabilities. The liberals were deeply connected to the messianism of a family that acted, as I.G. Duca stated on his relation with Ionel Brãtianu, sub speciae eternitatis45, and eventually they began to regard Brãtianus memory as a kind of fetish, an element of power and public conduct. This was rather exceptional, even for a peripheric society, and it was signaled as such by adversaries. The conservative politician Nicolae Filipescu accused them, even in 1894, noting that „they POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 183 acted like members of a religious cult: they have the ritual, the discipline, the ceremonial of their religion. They have a cult of the dead, pilgrimages to the ancestors tombs, the adoration of saints”46. The canonization of the dead ones and the fact that they seemed to act in a sectarian spirit was constantly criticized by the opposition representatives even after the war; their image of liberals was that of a party interested to build an organization similar to a clan and favoring similar political lines and professions. The exagerated celebration of liberal leaders memory and the glorification of the legitimated past translated, for many observers, the annulment of reason, the limitation of human thinking in the face of the adored object; in the public sphere, the liberal fetishism was considered, as a liberal disident pointed out, as a mirror of their uncertainty, a policy of ignoring the changes and challenges; he concluded that the head of the party was „Brãtianu name”, inherited from father to son, a fact that brougth about a catastrophy, because it obliterated the citizenship ideals; in a party made out of mamelukes, the servants kneel in front of the name Brãtianu47. 3.3. Romanian liberal’s sacred geography. Florica. At a different level of memory, the cult of the leaders continues in the appreciation of their sacred place, Florica, which became a symbollical space for their pilgrimages. Florica is a multitude of layers of traditons and symbols connected to the Romanian liberals. The place where Ion C. Brãtianu reflected, a place of recovering the revolutionary spirit of the liberalism, where in dire periods C. A. Rosetti was to be found, the place of childhood for Brãtianu brothers; the metaphor of the united nation, illustrated by the bringing of Horia’s church from Albac and also the necropolis of the founders of modern Romania - Ion C. Brãtianu, Ionel and Vintilã Brãtianu. Evoking Ionel Brãtianu’s memory at every step from a temporal perspective, Florica was a pilgrimage destination for liberals and not only48. Florica was transformed into a privileged sanctuary of memory, a symbol of power and a space of pilgrimage. The isolation to Florica was first a political tactic of the father, even if it was opposed by its contemporaries. Mihail Kogãlniceanu remarked that while „the Moldavian politicians left their homes in Iaºi to the owls to come to Bucharest, the prime minister goes to Florica to work on his vineyard”49. Ionel Brãtianu’s retreats to Florica, before taking any important decisions for the country, were almost a ritual. After his death, liberal leaders went often to the family’s crypt as a gesture of continuity. The crypt from Florica became „sacred” for liberals, as Mircea Djuvara said, here „sleeping their final sleep, in three tombs under the same vault, three figures that will stay forever in the Romanian’s nation memory”, that of Ion Brãtianu, „the one who laid the foundation”, his son „who, with sacrifice of blood, erected the proud and eternal monument of the State of al Romanians” and that of Pia 184 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Brãtianu, „the wife of the first and mother of the second, who offered her support and the warmth of her heroic heart, as a great example of what a woman’s heart should be”50. Although he never wanted a national funeral, Vintilã Brãtianu had one. More so, even if he would have liked to be buried at Mihãeºti (out of a brotherly and filial sentiment?) the family took him to Florica51. Vintilã Brãtianu viewed politics only as personal, purely human involvment, but after death he belonged to the party’s memory and this memory could be used in a symbollical way, through concetrating the symbols in a sacred space. The image of center for the liberals and for Romania was perpetuated also by the contemporaries - I. G. Duca presents us Tache Protopopescu, before going to have a complicated operation abroad, first stopping at the tomb of Ion C. Brãtianu52. Grigore Trancu-Iaºi talking about Ionel Brãtianu’s funeral, said that he went „for the first time at the Mecca of the liberals”53. Florica was the foundation where Ionel Brãtianu could be known in his intimacy, as Stelian Popescu remarked54. Even for a skilled politician like Constantin Argetoianu, the journey to the „Mecca of the liberals” (as he names it and it seemed to be known like that in the political imaginary of the time), was a significant moment55. The journalist A. P. Samson remembered that the invitation to participate at the commemoration of Ionel Brãtianu’s death at Florica must be considered as a supreme favour56. A visit to Florica remained an unforgettable memory, as it happened in the fall of 1926, with the former rector of University of Iaºi, dr. N. Leon. He was there, together with Alexandru Alimãniºteanu’s family (Virgil Alimãniºteanu was his son-in-law), dr. Leon was fascinated by Ionel Brãtianu and he was impressed by Ion C. Brãtianu’s bedroom, that reminded him of Goethe’s residence in Weimar; this was the place where the objects belonging to the great defunct man were kept, exactly in the same order they were arranged during his life, untouched by time, like a real epiphany. The conclusion drawn by the professor was that if he had the chance to meet Ionel Brãtianu twenty years earlier, he would have become the most ardent liberal and one of his most devoted soldiers57; this testimony clearly shows the power of persuasion possesed by the sacred space. Florica had also a different role – to absolve the „guilts”; after the war Ionel Brãtianu was ready to forgive the pro-German attitude of the writer D. D. Pãtrãºcanu and he wanted to bring him back into the party, as he prooved to be a good elector at Bacãu, filing petitions to different ministeries (including one to support Aurel Vlaicu). Vintilã Brãtianu was against this move on publical morality grounds, to which Ionel Brãtianu replied that D. D. Pãtrãºcanu had been a gust at Florica58. In the symbollical construction of space, the role played by the poet Ion Pillat was certainly important, as he was the great poet of Florica. Pillat confers it with the privileged space of childhood – the end of the inter-war years: country side, so closely connected to the Brãtianus clan, it gathered, symbollically the POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 185 typical Romanian features: the landscape woven with the legend and history of the country. As a political and personal conclusion he states that Florica was a „real school for soul and character” for the Romanian nation59. In his evocation of the people - Ion and Pia Brãtianu, Ionel etc., and the atmosphere, he feels that every aspect of the space was saturated with the cult of history and family. In his volume Up on Argeº the poet is not guided by the „embrace of the past, but rather of a family”, as Tudor Vianu pointed out in a volume called Literary portraits and studies (1938)60. Conclusions R respecting the past are normal forms of building an identity. In the case of Romanian liberals, the discussion on the Romanian modernity achievements and the positive underline of the founding figures of the new society represented, firstly, an element of power, and secondly, an aspect of their political culture; the „non-liberal” tendency towards adulation exemplified by the cult of personality, in which Ion C. Brãtianu and his son, Ionel Brãtianu, were transformed, out of political legitimation reasons, in symbols at the central and local level. Max Weber stated that the charismatic leader and the charismatic domination is a modern form of power and legitimacy, with roots in the past61. The difficulties of political ascension in a rural society that only mimed democracy led liberals to hail the figure of their leader as the savior of the nation; to the figure of the elected ruler they opposed the figure of the charismatic and messianic hero, that embodied, through its own genius „the real aspirations of the people”; the myth of the providential political man, who imposes his will to the society is associated, as Jean-Jacques Wunenburger observes, with the triumph of democratic ideals62. According to the same author, the ideal democratical government of the people only based on juridical laws is more an ideal for reflection and less a clear model; democracy implies the re-invention of the sacred, embodied by the People, Country, but more often by idolizing the leader63. Liberals were prisoners of the unprecedented cult of Ionel Brãtianu – it was a mean to legitimate and build solidarity and also a relic of paternalist political culture, a premodern feature on the verge of new social realities. EMEMBERING AND 186 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Notes 1. C. Banu, Grãdina lui Glaucon sau Manualul bunului politician, edited and introductory study by Valeriu Râpeanu, Bucureºti, PRO publishing house, 1998, p. 116. 2. See my article, “Partidul Naþional Liberal la sfârºitul anului 1927”, in Istorie ºi conºþiinþã. Supplement of the Analele ªtiinþifice ale Universitãþii Al. I. Cuza din Iaºi (new series), tome XLVI-XLVII, 2000-2001, p. 330-343. 3. N. Iorga, România contemporanã de la 1904 la 1930. Supt trei regi. Istorie a unei lupte pentru un ideal moral ºi naþional, edited, notes and comments by Valeriu Râpeanu and Sanda Râpeanu, Bucharest, Pro publishing house, 1999, p. 358; Grigore TrancuIaºi, member, between the two world wars, of the party led by General Averescu (People’s Party), who was a liberal before the war, noted in his Memoirs on the 24th of November 1927: „He’s dead! Just a few words and yet how many changes will follow for the country. (…) I anticipate great changes (…) A chapter of the contemporary history is closed. A new chapter begins. (Grigore Trancu-Iaºi, Memorii politice (1921-1938), edited by Fabian Anton, Bucharest, Curtea Veche publishing house, 2001, p. 37-39). 4. “A thunderbolt fell unexpectedly upon our country, drawing blood from people’s heart”, wrote the liberal newspaper from Iaºi Miºcarea in its Friday, the 25-th of November 1927 edition (year XXI, no. 267) under the title “The death of the most celebrated son of Great Romania”; also, Stelian Popescu, minister of Justice at the time, in the liberal government, noted in Universul, from the 26-th of November 1927 (year XLV, no. 276) that “the news is terrible. The mind stands still; the mind of a nation is draped in black… The lightning of this death chokes, because Ion Brãtianu was the bearer of the torches… And a huge rock fell, stopping the hopes and the thoughts of advance…” 5. „Trei oameni: Generalul Averescu – Take Ionescu – Ion I. C. Brãtianu”, in Ideea Europeanã, year I, no. 22, Sunday, the 16-th of November 1919, p. 1. 6. Anastasie Iordache, Ion I. C. Brãtianu, Bucharest, Albatros publishing house, 1994, p. 547. 7. Nae Ionescu, who considered Ionel Brãtianu a „tyrant”, „the man who never knew how to listen to the events”, wrote that his “unquestionable prestige”, his “faith was unfair: so much love for his country and so much devotion to the national affairs should have been rewarded much more. For he was a great man, even if he enflicted a lot of damage” (Un erou de tragedie,in Nae Ionescu, Roza vânturilor. 1926-1933, collected by Mircea Eliade, Kishinev, Hyperion publishing house, 1993, p. 248). 8. Nicolae Iorga, with his allegorical and metaphorical manner of speech, was the main agent in this reversed canonization. Many of his phrases had a profound impact on Romanian historiography, obstructing the interpretation. Also V. Madgearu contributed to this image of the all-powerful liberal leader – he transmitted the news about the death on the telephone to M. Manoilescu saying that “the ruler of the country, our ruler is dead” (Mihail Manoilescu, Memorii, vol. I, edited, notes and index by Valeriu Dinu, Bucharest, Enciclopedicã publishing house, 1993, p. 162) or even Mihail Manoilescu, for whom “nothing could be more staggering for the POWER, BELIEF 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. AND IDENTITY • 187 Romanian public opinion than the news of the death of the one who was for 13 years the absolute ruler of Romania…” (Ibidem). Gala Galaction, Jurnal, vol. III, second edition, complete text, edited and notes by Teodor Vârgolici, Albatros, publishing house, Bucharest, 1999, p. 207. I. G. Duca, Amintiri politice, vol. III, München, Jon Dumitru-Verlag, 1982, p. 228-229. Ibidem, p. 230. Democraþia – festive number, year XV, no. 12, December 1927. See, for example, the special issue dedicated to the event by Parlamentul (year I, nr. 5, Wednesday, 30-th of November 1927) or the party local newspapers. „Doliul Þãrii pentru Ion I. C. Brãtianu”, in Viitorul, an XX, nr. 5933, joi 1 decembrie 1927. „He was the legitimate figure for our internal advance and consolidation”, concluded the professor E. Diaconescu („I. I. C. Brãtianu”, in Miºcarea, year XXI, no. 268, Saturday, the 26-th of November 1927. „ªedinþa funerarã dela clubul liberal”, speech by Prof. N. ªerban, in Miºcarea, year XXI, no. 270, Tuesday, the 29-th of November 1927. Petre I. Ghiaþã assigns this tendency to a “church prince”, without naming him (Petre I. Ghiaþã, Oameni ºi fapte, Ideia, Bucharest, f.a., p. 23-27). Most probably is the Bishop of Râmnic Nou Severi, Vartolomeiu (“În faþa morþii. Cuvinte pentru Marele Rãposat. O viaþã de pildã veºnicã”, in Viitorul, year XX, no. 5933, Thursday, First of December 1927). I am more inclined towards studies like the ones of Graeme Gill, on the dimension of personality cult in the Soviet Union, from “The Soviet Leader Cult: Reflections on the Structure of Leadership in the Soviet Union”, in British Journal of Political Science 10(2), 1980, 167-186 or Robert C. Tucker, cu Political Culture and Leadership in Soviet Russia, From Lenin To Gorbachev, 1988 than I am towards those analyzing the great historical personalities from image and iconographical perspective, or from the point of view of the political ritual, such as Jean Tulard, Le Mythe de Napoléon, 1971, or Napoléon ou le mythe du saveur, 1987, Didier Musiedlak, Mussolini, 2005, Ian Kershaw, The Hitler Myth: Image and Reality in the Third Reich, 1987, or Andi Mihalache, cu Mãnuºi albe, mãnuºi negre. Cultul eroilor în vremea dinastiei de Hohenzollern, 2007 in Romanian space. Dimitrie Gusti, Partidul politic. Sociologia unui sistem al partidelor politice, în Doctrinele partidelor politice, Bucharest, Garamond publishing house, [f.a.], p. 28-31. N. N. Sãveanu, Cuvântãri. Rostite ca preºedinte al Adunãrii Deputaþilor. 1927-1928, Bucharest, „Cartea Româneascã”, 1928, p. 5). Here is a folklore sample, from the electoral campaign for the July 1927 elections, “belonging” to the priest Ion Opincã, Cântecul lui Ion Brãtianu (from Glasul Ardealului, year I, no. 26, Sunday, tenth of July 1927, p. 2), suggesting through versification (?), but also through the pseudonym of the author, the connection between the liberal leader and the rural world: Green leave of marjoram / Long live Ion Brãtian !…/ The only Brãtian / Who has pity of peasants!….// 188 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. At the government the load is heavy / Brãtianu’s my only hope…// If you want to flourish / Our Romanian country / Stick with steady faith / To Ion Brãtianu the Great. “Pentru pomenirea marelui Ion I. C. Brãtianu”, in Glasul Ardealului, year III, no. 48, Sunday, First of December 1929, p. 3; “Doi ani de la moartea lui Ion I. C. Brãtianu”, in Glasul Ardealului, year III, no. 46, Sunday, the 17-th of November 1929, p. 1. V. Negreanu and A. Drãgulinescu (anthology), Ion I. C. Brãtianu, Cuvintele unui mare român. Fragmente din discursuri. 1914-1927, preface by Horia Furtunã, Editura Ramuri, Craiova, f.a. [1928-1929]; I. G. Duca Portrete ºi amintiri, Bucharest, 1932; Alexandru I. Teodorescu, Ion C. Brãtianu ºi fiii sãi Ionel ºi Vintilã. Douã conferinþe, Aºezãmântul Cultural Ion C. Brãtianu, XV, Bucharest, Imprimeriile Independenþa, 1938; Petre Gheaþã, Ionel Brãtianu, Cluj, 1946 etc. Mircea Djuvara, Ion I.C. Brãtianu, Bucharest, Imprimeriile Independenþa, 1928; on the relation with Ionel Brãtianu, the great historian Nicolae Bãnescu offered a remarkable objectivity, writing a brochure of 196 p., Ion I. C. Brãtianu. 18641927, published at Craiova in 1931 (Ramuri publishing house), without any critical spirit. One year after his death, in the context of a difficult opposition, the image of Ion I. C. Brãtianu was projected in Bucovina as the greatest Romanian and head of state of the time; if, at Bucharest, at the memorial service at the Amzei Church only the members of the family and the leaders of the national-liberal organizations were to participate, elsewhere each chief of liberal organization from cities or villages was invited to hold a memorial service at the church, followed by a meeting at the party’s houses in Glasul Bucovinei, year XI, no. 2816, Wednesday, the twenty first of November 1928, p. 1. Those services were held, at least in the bigger cities in the provinces (“Parastas pentru Ion I. C. Brãtianu în Cernãuþi”, in Glasul Bucovinei, year XI, no. 2817, Friday, the 23-rd of November 1928, p. 1; “Comemorarea morþii lui Ion I. C. Brãtianu în þarã”, in Glasul Bucovinei, year XI, no. 2820, Tuesday, the 27-th of November 1928, p. 1). David Kertzer, Ritual, politicã ºi putere, translated by Sultana Avram and Teodor Fleºeriu, foreword by Radu Florescu, Bucharest, Univers publishing house, 2002, p. 91. As Murray Edelman, the myths and metaphors allow people to live in a world where the causes are simple and clear and the solutions are obvious. Instead of an empirical, complicated world, people tend to prefer a few archetypal myths, among which the ones of the redeeming and all-powerful hero have major impact (Murray Edelman, Politica ºi utilizarea simbolurilor, translated by Ruxandra Nichita, Iaºi, Editura Polirom, 1999, p. 174-176). “ªedinþa comemorativã dela Biblioteca Ion I. C. Brãtianu”, in Viitorul year XXIII, no. 6878, Friday, the 9-th of January 1931, p. 1. I will present, without a fixed hierarchy, some of these manifestations in order to offer examples. Nicolae Filittis, the owner of the Rãduleºti estate, organized a cultural celebration at Fierbinþi (Ilfov county), to open, in the presence of Constantin I. C. Brãtianu, I. G. Duca, dr. C. Angelescu, C. Dimitriu, I. I. Niculescu-Dorobanþu, a cultural foundation „Ion I. C. Brãtianu” (in „Viitorul”, year XXII, no.6690, Thursday, POWER, BELIEF 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. AND IDENTITY • 189 the 29-th of May 1930). Jean Th. Florescu, who eventually left the liberal party as he thought it was a rigid structure, contributed to the myth, presenting an image of Ionel Brãtianu during the war – he was like a Sphinx, solemn, but also like a father of the country (Ion Th. Florescu, Gânduri de altãdatã, Bucureºti, „Tiparniþa”Institutul de Arte Grafice, 1940, p. 148). A liberal from Brãila, Berman Margulies uses terms such as “great founder of Romanian nation”, “figure illuminated by a bright halo”, his memory was like a “sacred monument”, “a titanic life” (Berman Margulies, Ionel I. C. Brãtianu. Cuvinte de amintire, Brãila, 1934, p. 9-13). The exception is the statue made by the Croatian sculptor Ivan Mestrovici in 1937, inaugurated on November 24th in Commemoration of Ion I. C. Brãtianu death, near his home in Amzei Square in Bucharest (see Biblioteca Naþionalã, Special Collections, Fond Brãtianu, ds. 1-2 / 1937-1938). Pamfil ªeicaru, Istoria partidelor naþional, þãrãnist ºi naþional þãrãnist, second edition, Bucharest Editura Victor Frunzã, 2000, p. 231. William Martin, director of newspaper „Journal de Genève”, wrote a book called Les Hommes d’ État pendant la guerre, in which a chapter is dedicated to Ionel Brãtianu; the words in which Romania’s presence in the war is asserted are not very flattering to the political man or to the Romanian people (Romanian’s actions have been only a lamentable adventure of an amorphous nation, Bessarabia was a “tip”, etc.); the main protest came from the widow of the former liberal leader Elisa Brãtianu, who published in „L’ Independance Roumanie” a letter of protest (Elise J. Brãtiano, Lettre ouverte à M. William Martin. Publiée dans „L’Indépendance Roumaine” du 22 Septembrie 1929 (Les hommes d’Etat pendant la Guerre)); see other reactive actions such as Gheorghe I. Brãtianu, “Cine a fãcut România Mare”, in Miºcarea, year XXIII, no. 145, 29-th of June 1929, p. 1; Cine a fãcut România Mare ? , in „Universul”, year XLVII, no.136 and 141, 17 and 23-rd of June 1929, p. 1-2 and 6 (with presentation of the response of the article published by Asociaþia „Cultul Patriei” on the tenth anniversary of the Great Unification from the magazine Cele trei Criºuri, no. 5-6, May-June a.c., written by Sever Bocu, following the protest of general federation of the veterans from the Cultural League from Craiova, the Union of Reserve Officers from Dolj). Also the liberals from province defended the memory of the great liberal, talking about a condamnatio memoriae supposedly practiced by the national-peasant party regime towards the memory of the liberal leader, for example, the renaming of several names of streets that bore his name in some Transylvanian cities, the removal of his portrait from the Câmpulung City Hall, etc. (“Lupta contra portretului lui Ion I. C. Brãtianu”, in Glasul Bucovinei, year XIII, nr.3346, Tuesday, the 14-th of October 1930, p. 3). ANIC, Fond Rosetti, ds. 94 / 1932-1934, Jurnal (9 mai 1932 – 31 decembrie 1934), f. 98. Ion Petrovici, De-a lungul unei vieþi. Amintiri, Bucharest, Editura pentru literaturã, 1966, p. 302-306. I. G. Duca, Ion C. Brãtianu. Din ciclul de conferinþe „Fondatorii României moderne” – 12 Mai 1932 –, Bucharest, „Cartea Româneascã”, 1932. speech at the Free University; Idem, Amintiri. Conferinþã þinutã la Cercul Analelor Române, first edition, Bucharest, 190 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. „Cultura Naþionalã” publishing house, 1933. See the commemorative volume at the anniversary of 50 years from Ion C. Brãtianu’s death, published at the cultural Aºezãmânt that bore his name, La moartea lui Ion C. Brãtianu. Articole din presã, telegrame, scrisori, Bucharest, „Cartea Româneascã”, 1941, preface by Gheorghe I. Brãtianu. the volume represents the reliving of the hero’s death, the echoes produced in the Romanian and foreign press at the time and is viewed from the ceremonial perspective, from the perspective of the delegates present at the funeral, the telegrams received from around the world, the speeches, the apologetic articles, the foreign comments, the fragments from journals, etc. It is a fascinating work, in my opinion, in the modern Romanian history as a memoirs example; especially the study of Sabina Cantacuzino, Din viaþa familiei I. C. Brãtianu, vol. I-II, collected, edited, introductory study and notes by dr. Elisabeta Simon, Albatros publishing house, Bucharest, 1993 and 1996, and the discussion that generated. See Severa Sihleanu, Note ºi desminþiri asupra „Amintirilor” D-nei Sabina Cantacuzino, Bucharest, Tiparul „Cartea Româneascã”, 1938. the image of Elizei Brãtianu, intelligent woman and admirable wife, was a perfect addenda to Ionel Brãtianu’s cult, at least at the level of the liberal or pro-liberal press, which presented her actions to preserve his memory (the gift she made by offering a part of the house situated on Lascãr Catargiu street, no. 5, for building a great library consisting of 5800 volumes, within Aºezãmintele Ion I. C. Brãtianu) (“O însemnatã danie a d-nei Eliza Brãtianu”, in Universul, year XLVII, no. 85, Sunday, the 14-th of April 1929, p. 7); “O mare româncã: Doamna Elisa I. Brãtianu”, in Universul, year XLVII, no. 88, Thursday, the 18-th of April 1929, p. 1). Especially regarding the memoirs of Sabinei Cantacuzino, Pia Brãtianu is evoked by the liberal press from the perspective of her sons education. See “Ion I. C. Brãtianu ºi maica sa”, in Miºcarea, year XXIII, no. 266, Tuesday, the 26-th of November 1929, p. 1 (the letter send by Ionel Brãtianu to his son George, announcing his mother’s death, Pia Brãtianu) etc. “Dupã doi ani”,in Miºcarea, year XXIII, no. 265, Sunday, the 24-th of November 1929, p. 1; “În zile grele. Între douã revoluþii”, in Miºcarea, year XXIII, no. 266, Tuesady, the 26-th of November 1929, p. 1 (cu poetul Alexandru Vlahuþã povestind despre Ionel Brãtianu), etc. I. G. Duca, Portrete ºi amintiri, fifth edition, Bucharest, Humanitas publishing house, 1990, p. 55. Max Weber, Politica, o vocaþie ºi o profesie, translation from German by Ida Alexandrescu, Bucharest, Anima publishing house, 1992, p. 9. “Noul ºef al partidului liberal”, in Parlamentul românesc, year V, no. 131, 18-th of January 1934, p. 4-6. N. Iorga, Memorii, vol. VI, Încercarea guvernãrii peste partide (1930-1932), Bucharest, 1939, p. 397 (note from May 1932). Gheorghe Tãtãrescu, Discursuri – Program, Expozeuri, Cuvântãri, Bucharest, f.l., f.a. [1946], p. 15. And held by liberal leaders like Cipãianu, Mrazec, Nistor, Sassu etc. (Cronica Politicã ºi Parlamentarã, year II, no. 51, Friday, the 9-th of May 1930, p. 8-9). POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 191 43. “In memoria lui D. A. Sturdza – cu prilejul centenarului de la naºterea sa – Cuvântãri rostite în Biblioteca Ion I. C. Brãtianu (25-th of February 1933)”, in Democraþia, year XXI, no. 2, February 1933, p. 5-31. 44. Spiru Haret was the object of a different cult, that of the liberal politician that was also a scholar, close to the peasants, willing to enlighten them. A whole edition of Democraþia was dedicated to him (Democraþia, year XX, no. 12, December 1932). 45. I. G. Duca, op. cit., p. 42. 46. Nicolae Filipescu, Discursuri politice, vol. I, 1888-1901, Bucharest, Minerva publishing house, 1912, p. 98, apud Vistian Goia, Destine parlamentare. De la Mihail Kogãlniceanu la Nicolae Titulescu, Cluj-Napoca, Dacia publishing house, 2004, p. 172. 47. “Fetiºism liberal”, in Liberalul, Buzãu (director C. Iarca), year XXXVII, no 2, 20th of January 1929. 48. Sterie Diamandi, Galeria oamenilor politici, Bucharest, Gesa publishing house, 1991 (reproduces the edition from 1935), p. 97. even the historians can’t deny these representations, Anastasie Iordache beginning his work on Brãtianus with an introductory chapter entitled Cu umbrele strãbunilor pe plaiuri de legendã (Anastasie Iordache, Dumitru Brãtianu: diplomatul, doctrinarul liberal ºi omul politic, Bucharest, 2004). 49. Apud Vistian Goia, op. cit., p. 171-172. 50. Mircea Djuvara, “Ion I. C. Brãtianu”, in Democraþia, year XXV, no. 1-2, JanuaryFebruary 1937, p. 5 (the issue was dedicated to Ionel Brãtianu’s memory, who died 10 years before). 51. N. Iorga, Memorii, vol. VI, p. 38. 52. I. G. Duca, op. cit., p. 28. 53. Grigore Trancu-Iaºi, op. cit., p. 38. 54. Stelian Popescu Amintiri, edited, preface and notes by Ioan Opriº, Albatros publishing house, Bucharest, 2000, p. 235. 55. Constantin Argetoianu, Memorii. Pentru cei de mâine. Amintiri din vremea celor de ieri, vol. VIII, part VII (1926-1930), edition and index by Stelian Neagoe, Bucharest, Machiavelli publishing house, 1997, p. 94-95. 56. A. P. Samson, Memoriile unui gazetar (1927-1937), Bucharest, Cartea Româneascã publishing house, 1979, p. 255. 57. Prof. dr. N. Leon, Note ºi Amintiri, Bucharest, „Cartea Româneascã publishing house”, 1933, p. 238-240. 58. Petre Pandrea, Memoriile mandarinului valah, bio-bibliographical marks by Andrei Pandrea, Bucharest, Albatros publishing house, 2001, p. 80. 59. Ion Pillat, Florica. Viea ºi casa Brãtienilor. Douã conferinþe de Ion Pillat, Bucharesti, „Informaþia Zilei”, 1944 (Cultural Aºezãmânt Ion C. Brãtianu); Idem, “Mãrturisiri”, out of Revista Fundaþiilor Regale, no. 2, 1942. 60. Apud Z. Ornea, Tradiþionalism ºi modernitate în deceniul al treilea, Eminescu publishing house, Bucharest, 1980, p. 576. Poezia Odaia bunicului, written in 1929, considered a lyrical achievement of the local symbolism, describes, in an elegiac tone, the atmosphere of Florica: „Nothing’s moved and I do recognize the room / O’ grandpa’ which alive I never knew. / His bed is kept even today / His clock still beats its tick-tack.//…. A door has 192 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) squeaked… a footstep… and I’m waiting confused / For grandpa’ to enter, back from his trip only to the vineyard” (Ibidem, p. 577). See the poem “Toamna la Florica” (Ibidem, p. 580-581). 61. Max Weber, op. cit. 62. Jean-Jacques Wunenburger, Omul politic între mit ºi raþiune. O analizãlu Abstract The Cult of Brãtianus Between the Two World Wars in Romania Actors, characters, means and forms of expression Based on the analysis of the official literature of the party and the memoirs of the main public actors of the time or on archive documents from Central National Historical Archives, this text proposes an approach on the forms of expression that have as central focus Ion I. C. Brãtianu, but also a discussion of the multiple means used or the stakes that the liberal discourse holds in the period connected with the Brãtianus cult; it is not an anthropological study, in the sense that I will not referr to the rite, rituals and discourses that maintain the „litany” of the evocation; I will signal, from a political sociological point of view, the mechanisms of Brãtianus cult, its actors, its major themes and try to understand their positioning within the liberal decisions and convictions. Keywords cult of leader, political ritual, propaganda discourse, cultural representations. I I . 2 . T H E B I RT H O F A S O C I E T Y Le rôle social de la promenade à Bucarest et à Iassy (la première moitié du XIXe siècle) D AN D UMITRU I ACOB À L’EXCEPTION DES salons modernes – espaces se trouvant entre la sphère publique et celle privée –, les plus importants lieux publics fréquentés par les élites roumaines durant la première moitié du XIXe siècle étaient les promenades. De nombreux témoignages de l’époque confirment le fait que dans ces lieux publics était concentrée, en grande partie, la vie sociale des élites de Iassy et de Bucarest, capitales des deux principautés roumaines.1 C’est pour cette raison que nous allons mettre en évidence quelques aspects sociaux propres à la promenade. Jusqu’à l’apparition des promenades et des jardins publics aménagés, des lieux à vocation récréative, c’étaient des espaces verts, privés ou publics, se trouvant à l’intérieur ou aux alentours des villes : forêts, prés, lacs, vignes, vergers et les jardins non aménagés.2 Très fréquentés par toutes les couches sociales, depuis la fin du XVIIIe siècle déjà, la plupart de ces espaces ont été transformés au fur et à mesure en promenades, jardins publics ou jardins-restaurants, ces derniers devenant très populaires pendant la deuxième moitié du XIXe siècle. Les promenades aménagées sont apparues suite au programme de systématisation et de modernisation urbaine légiféré par le Règlement Organique. En 1832, sur l’ordre du général Kiseleff, l’ingénieur de l’état Vladimir Blaremberg conçoit l’allée sur la Colline de Mitropolie, à Bucarest (Fig. 1). Par comparaison avec les promenades de grandes capitales européennes, celle-ci était modeste et consistait dans un boulevard de terre tassée, bordé d’une clôture et de châtaigniers plantés, et doté de réverbères et de bancs. Pour conserver ces aménagements dispendieux et pour encadrer le comportement du public, les autorités ont établi un horaire, mais qui n’a pas été respecté. Celles-ci ont pourtant réussi à entretenir ce « boulevard », considéré la principale promenade de la Étude financée par le Projet UE, FSE, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013). 196 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) ville pour plus d’une décennie et demie, jusqu’à ce que le public soit attiré davantage par la Chaussée Kiseleff et par le Jardin Ciºmigiu.3 Mais la plus importante promenade aménagée à Bucarest, toujours à partir de 1832, était celle qui menait de la rue Mogoºoaia à Bãneasa, car cette zone bénéficiait déjà de quelques aménagements plus anciens, à savoir le dernier quart du XVIIIe siècle. La promenade a été officiellement nommée « La Chaussée de Kiselef » (en l’honneur du général Pavel Kiseleff), mais le terme courant était « La Chaussée ». Conçue initialement avec cinq voies – une pour voitures, deux pour piétons et deux pour cavaliers – mais finalisée avec trois, La Chaussée Kiseleff n’aura un aspect moderne qu’après 1843, lors de l’aménagement du jardin Herãstrau d’un coté et de l’autre de la chaussée, sous la direction ferme de l’architecte paysagiste Carl Friederich Wilhelm Meyer. La préférence du public pour La Chaussée Kiseleff, de plus, sa modernisation continue durant presque plus d’un quart de siècle, a rendu à cette promenade un prestige qui pouvait contenter même les goûts des plus prétentieux visiteurs étrangers. La description de Richard Kunisch en 1857 le confirme : « Le premier jour après mon arrivée, je me suis rendu à La Chaussée. [...] En effet, elle n’a qu’un quart de mille et aucune destination, sauf de servir aux boyards de corso. Par conséquent, elle est absolument indispensable et toute la vie sociale est concentrée dans les salons et sur cette Chaussée; l’hiver, s’ajoute le théâtre. [...] On va à la Chaussée en toute saison, c’est pour cela qu’on a beaucoup entrepris pour en faire un lieu de promenade agréable. En continuation de la rue Mogoºoaia, elle est la rue principale qui traverse toute la ville et sur laquelle se trouvent de nombreux palais et établissements publics, et elle a trois parties. La première, c’est un chemin carrossable large, situé entre deux chemins à double bordure d’arbres, qui est long de quelques centaines de pas et utilisé seulement pour des voitures. Elle finit dans une grande place ronde entourée par des arbres et du gazon, au milieu de laquelle jaillit l’eau d’une forte fontaine artésienne. Ensuite, de deux côtés de la deuxième partie de la Chaussée, s’étendent des parcs. La deuxième partie ressemble à la première, elle est toutefois plus soignée, surtout les allées larges, bordées d’arbres, longeant le chemin carrossable, qui sont toujours en bon état. Sa prolongation ne sert qu’au passage de la Chaussée Kiseleff aux chemins ordinaires de la Valachie; les promenades n’arrivent pas jusqu’à cette troisième partie ».4 À Iassy, la plus importante promenade se trouvait sur la colline Copou, son prestige provenant moins des aménagements urbanistiques, presque inexistants, ou du paysage, mais plutôt du spectacle crée par la société y réunie pour la promenade quotidienne. Comme à Bucarest, l’importance sociale de cet espace a attiré l’attention des contemporains, étant mentionnée aussi bien dans les récits de voyage que dans la littérature roumaine de l’époque. Parmi les des- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 197 criptions indigènes, les plus détaillées et significatives par leur rapport aux implications sociales appartiennent à Mihail Kogãlniceanu et à Alecu Russo.5 À partir d’une réalité urbaine et sociale évidente en Europe au XIXe siècle, qu’il connaissait personnellement, Kogãlniceanu déclara qu’aucune des caractéristiques d’une vraie promenade ne se retrouve à Copou. En effet, il n’y avait ni belvédère, ni allées bordées d’arbres, ni monuments ou statues, ni animaux sauvages, ni carrosses étincelants, ni belles femmes élégantes qu’il avait vues dans les jardins publics à Paris, Madrid, Vienne et Berlin. En revanche, la promenade de Copou compensait, semblerait–il, par le paysage naturel, si apprécié par Alecu Russo, mais ironisée par Kogãlniceanu : « Le poète a très bien compris la beauté de la promenade de Iassy. En fait, imagine le dos large comme une plaine d’une colline déserte, ce dos où pâturent les bisons des boyards, les vaches des juifs, les chevaux des employés de la Police et les ânes des pauvres, encadré d’un coté par la vallée de Cârlig et de l’autre par la vallée Pãcurari, ayant en arrière, comme frontière, la barrière de Copou et les poteaux rares du jardin public et tout devant la forêt en tant que corps d’armée et, comme des ailes, les vignes de monsieur Regensburg ou d’autres récemment plantées – voilà Copou, voilà la promenade favorite de nos concitoyens, à savoir un lieu plat, vert le printemps, jaune l’été, noir de boue l’automne et une peu plus propre en hiver, à savoir blanc, sans arbre, ni chaussée, si mauvaise qu’elle soit, ayant comme seule variété les tas d’ordures jetées chaque jour des chariots des boyards ».6 D’autres mentions sur Copou prouvent que l’image respective n’était pas loin de la réalité.7 En 1849, l’année où Kogãlniceanu place sa description, sauf les travaux du jardin Copou, la zone n’avait pas été urbanisée, quoique les projets ne manquent pas, faits confirmés par l’auteur cité8 et par des documents de l’époque9. Les travaux allaient être réalisés les années suivantes, mais les résultats ont été loin d’être similaires à ceux de Herãstrau.10 Le prestige de Copou n’émanait pas de son paysage – peu importe si c’était charmant ou déprimant –, mais du spectacle crée par la société y réunie pour la promenade quotidienne. Pour l’identification des acteurs sociaux, des intentions et des motivations qui déterminaient la présence dans ce lieu, et pour le déroulement du rituel en soi nous ferons appel de nouveau à Kogãlniceanu, qui, dans un ample fragment, nous décrit le tableau détaillé de ceux qui fréquentaient Copou : « À cette belle promenade [...] la haute aristocratie de la Moldavie, boyards indigènes anciens ou nouveaux, nos braves officiers, nos dames les plus élégantes, des employés des institutions administratives, de la justice ou de l’église, les religieuses en congé, les jeunes élèves de l’Académie, autant qu’il y en ait encore, la fine fleur de la jeunesse la plus courageuse restée jeune après vingt ans, les maîtresses du chancelier A., du juge V., du chambellan S. et de l’écuyer D., une classe de dames incontournable dans une ville civilisée, classe qui, grâce à la liberté importée, s’agrandit de plus en plus, une partie venant de 198 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Paris, une autre de Colomeea – toutes ces couches de notre société multi stratifiée ont l’habitude de sortir vers quatre ou cinq heures en longue file de carrosses de Vienne, la mode de 1849, de calèches de l’époque d’Ipsilant, de charrettes lipovanes, des cabrioles de Rãdãuþi; tous passent sur le chemin principal, en tourbillons de poussière jusqu’à la barrière de la ville, tout en jetant un coup d’oeil à l’obélisque du jardin public, ils sortent à Copou. Alors, certains descendent de leurs voitures marchant sur l’herbe pâturée et les os des chevaux morts de la poste; d’autres préfèrent rester dans leur carrosse, jambes croisées, laissant d’autres bêtes bouger pour eux ».11 Tous ceux qui faisaient partie de la haute société ou qui aspiraient à ce statut étaient présents sur la promenade, car c’était l’espace urbain avec la plus grande force de polarisation publique des élites de la première moitié du XIXe siècle. C’est pour cela que la sortie en carrosse, sur les allées de promenade, était devenue un rituel quotidien presque obligatoire pour les gens aisés, d’où le trop grand nombre d’équipages présents dans cet espace. Selon les renseignements de Timotei Cipariu et de George Bariþiu, vers 1836, il n’y avait pas de cour seigneuriale sans un équipage au moins : « à Bucarest, tous les riches, d’autant plus s’ils sont mariés, doivent posséder une voiture, un équipage, le reste de la population faisant appel à des carrosses publics dont le nombre atteint au moins 120 ».12 Ce fait est confirmé vers le milieu du siècle par le médecin allemand Wilhelm Derblich qui précisait qu’à Bucarest chaque famille aisée avait son propre équipage et les grands boyards, les officiers supérieurs et une partie de médecins en avaient deux.13 De plus, il existe assez de témoignages qui nous indiquent qu’en fait le nombre d’équipages et de carrosses, grands ou petits, détenu par les boyards aurait pu être plus important, puisque cela dépendait des ressources matérielles et de l’orgueil des propriétaires, moins de leurs nécessités. Gheorghe Sion, par exemple, étonné par la fortune et le luxe étalé par le chancelier Constantin Sturdza, son protecteur, n’oublie pas de mentionner le nombre de chevaux et des voitures de la cour seigneuriale : « tous de la maison, le boyard, sa femme, ses enfants avaient chacun son équipage de gala, de promenade ou de tous les jours. Dans son écurie se trouvaient plus de vingt chevaux. Dans ses hangars, plus de quinze carrosses. En fait, la cour princière ne montrait pas le luxe, la largesse et la magnificence qu’on voyait dans la maison du chancelier C. Sturza. Seule la maison de Roznovanu pouvait rivaliser avec celle-là. »14 Bref, un grand boyard pouvait avoir un grand nombre de carrosses, en nous ne prenons pas en compte les voitures de voyage, de promenade ou celles utilitaires, se trouvant sur leurs terres.15 On pourrait dire qu’il s’agit, dans ce cas, de quelques exceptions, car, selon le mémorialiste même, les boyards mentionnés étaient deux des plus riches en Moldavie. De tels exemples existaient à Bucarest aussi, où vers 1836 Cipariu et Bariþiu observaient « parfois trois calèches rem- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 199 plies de dames sortir des cours de l’aristocratie bucarestoise. »16 Tout en gardant les proportions, nous identifions de telles voitures même dans les cours des boyards moins importants, en réalité des commerçants, greffiers de la cour princière, métayers ou petits fonctionnaires qui ne pouvaient pas se passer de ces attributs symboliques des rangs récemment occupés. »17 Sans avoir la garantie de l’exactitude, les chiffres relatifs au nombre de carrosses existants à Iassy ou à Bucarest au milieu du XIXe siècle nous aident à mieux tracer l’ampleur de cette pratique quotidienne. Vers 1833, le nombre d’équipages qui sortaient pour la promenade à Bucarest, le temps de grandes fêtes surtout, était estimé à plus de 800.18 Dix ans plus tard, le consul prussien Johann Ferdinand Neigebaur, généralement bine informé sur les réalités roumaines, avançait des chiffres incroyables : 12.000 carrosses, 40.000 chevaux de luxe et environ 100 fiacres à Bucarest, et 1.300 équipages, 500 fiacres à un cheval et plus de 12.000 chevaux à Iassy.19 Une statistique plus proche de la réalité est donnée par Jean A. Vaillant, mentionnant qu’à Bucarest, en 1844, il y avait 1.775 carrosses (dont toutes n’étaient pas luxueuses), 70 fiacres, 7.502 carrioles et 18.930 chevaux.20 Bref, en faisant abstraction de la précision des informations, de nombreux témoignages soulignent une évidence claire : vers le milieu du XIXe siècle, mais les décennies précédentes aussi, à Iassy et à Bucarest surtout, il existait un nombre impressionnant d’équipages appartenant aussi bien à l’aristocratie qu’à des propriétaires provenant d’autres couches sociales et qui disposaient de ressources matérielles suffisantes pour l’acquisition de ces attelages. Sans doute ces voitures – d’habitude les meilleures et les plus nouvelles – servaient-elles à la promenade quotidienne. Pour une grande partie de la société, la promenade était l’événement le plus important de la journée, attendu impatiemment et préparé longuement, d’après les sources de l’époque : « Les indigènes, les femmes surtout, ont un faible pour cette promenade si bien qu’aucune urgence ne peut leur faire accepter d’y renoncer; ne pas prendre part à la promenade, cela leur engendrait un immense chagrin. Toutes les dames, celles de la couche moyenne spécialement, attendent fiévreusement leur chère promenade pour laquelle elles s’habillaient comme pour le bal. »21 L’impatience est certainement le résultat de l’anticipation des satisfactions ressenties lors de la promenade, comme nous allons le voir, et du fait que ceux qui désiraient sortir se promener devaient se conformer à un certain emploi du temps quotidien, fixé par des convenances sociales, mais dépendant aussi d’autres exigences administratives (au préalable, il fallait arroser les allées de promenade l’été ou les déneiger l’hiver). Chaque jour, la promenade avait lieu dans un endroit prédéterminé, après la sieste jusqu’à la tombée de la nuit et les seules variables intervenant dans la configuration des horaires étaient les cycles climatiques.22 Certains espaces amé- 200 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) nagés, comme le jardin royal de Socola, à Iassy, ou l’Allée de Mitropolie, à Bucarest, avait un horaire officiel. Le temps de la promenade réveillait la ville de sa torpeur. Les centaines de carrosses sortant des cours des boyards dans les rues, provoquant des accidents et des embouteillages, produisant l’impression d’un exode. Pour les citadins ordinaires, tout comme pour les classes aisées, le train formé de ces voitures constituait un vrai spectacle qu’on ne pouvait pas rater. »23 Les étrangers qui voyaient pour la première fois ces « processions » publiques étaient fascinés et intrigués par le nombre impressionnant d’équipages privés défilant dans les rues des villes. Voulant se faire très tôt une idée générale sur la haute société du pays, ils plaçaient la visite de la promenade parmi leurs intérêts prioritaires. Par exemple, le prince russe Anatole Demidov et sa suite, se trouvant à Bucarest en 1837 : « comme de vrais étrangers curieux », ils se rendent à La Chaussée pour passer en revue « les classes aisées de cette capitale, qui étaient sorties pour leur promenade habituelle dans leurs équipages de tous les jours ».24 L’allée de promenade n’excellait pas à l’époque par ses aménagements ou son entretien, mais ce qui étonnait le plus, en outre le nombre, le luxe et la diversité des équipages, c’étaient les contrastes de civilisation mis en évidence par les vêtements et les manières de ceux qui occupaient ces carrosses : femmes, jeunes hommes habillés selon la dernière mode occidentale, à côté des vieux à barbes vénérables, vêtus d’accoutrements orientaux, des cochers en vêtements russes ou turcs, accompagnés par des Albanais armés en tenues luxueuses. Moins prétentieux que le noble russe, mais ayant bien sûr moins voyagé dans le monde, Timotei Cipariu et George Bariþiu avaient été beaucoup plus impressionnés que celui-là devant les promenades de la ville, qu’ils avaient parcourues une année plus tôt, en août 1836. De tout cela, l’Allée Mitropolie, Herãstrãu et Bãneasa ont attiré toute leur attention, autant par le spectacle de la société que par les perspectives larges sur la ville. Cipariu déclarait sur la promenade Herãstrãu : « Ce n’est pas facile de décrire la scène là-bas; le nombre de calèches, la beauté et la toilette des femmes étaient exemplaires, jamais je n’ai vu une telle grandeur ».25 Comme d’autres observateurs étrangers, ils sont émus devant la parade de la société, spectaculaire par l’ampleur de la participation à un rituel quotidien, par l’exhibition d’une parure luxueuse et variée, par le tempérament des manifestations. Leur attention ne se résumait qu’à cet aspect. Esprits sensibles, éduqués, les deux voyageurs trouvent des satisfactions esthétiques dans l’aménagement de ces promenades, comme celle de Mitropolie, « où une allée bordée de deux rangs de tilleuls mène sur la colline », de Herãstrãu, « avec un café, des chaises, une clôture et une belle perspective », ou de Bãneasa (en fait, la « Chaussée ») avec « son allée à quatre rangs d’arbres de deux côtés, une splendeur grâce à laquelle Bucarest POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 201 allait devancer de nombreuses villes de l’Europe. »26 De plus, à la différence de beaucoup d’autochtones sortant se promener, ils étaient à même d’apprécier les perspectives sur la ville à partir des promenades situées sur les sommets des collines : « qu’on regarde de Bãneasa ou d’en haut de l’allée Mitropolie, on peut dire de Bucarest a une perspective et une situation tellement belles et romantiques que mes yeux n’en ont jamais eu assez », affirmait Cipariu. À son tour, en visite sur la Colline Mitropolie, Bariþiu tiens à souligner : « je n’en ai pas eu assez de passer mon temps dans ces lieux. On voit de là presque toute la ville dans toute sa beauté, avec tout ce qui l’entoure [...] ».27 Peu habitués au modèle de villes roumaines extra carpatiques, étendues, irrégulières, pleines de contrastes, mais charmantes, les deux voyageurs transylvains exprimaient sincèrement leur admiration pour ce type de paysage urbain et pour le spectacle social citadin. Le rythme de la promenade était très lent en partie à cause de l’affluence des carrosses, mais de la nécessité de regarder la société aussi ou de faire de la conversation d’un carrosse à l’autre. Le paysage autour ou les monuments longeant la promenade n’attiraient pas toujours l’attention du public, car celuici était plus préoccupé par le défilement de la société qui se déroulait dans cet espace. Les points centraux des promenades, vers lesquels se dirigeait la procession de carrosses, étaient les ronds qui délimitaient soit un bout des tronçons de promenade, par exemple le grand rond de la Chaussée Kiseleff, à Bucarest, soit la fin de la promenade, comme celle de Copou, à Iassy. Les carrosses tournaient autour de ces ronds ou allaient en haut ou en bas tout au long de la promenade, respectant d’habitude un seul sens. En sens inverse circulaient soit les jeunes « coureurs », les terribles de l’époque, qui voulaient se mettre en évidence, soit les étrangers curieux, par exemple le patriote transylvain Ioan Oros-Rusu, à Iassy en 1849. Pendant qu’il se promenait en compagnie de son ami, Nicu Hurmuzaki, de Cleopatra Russo et de la soeur d’Alecu Russo, qui était à cheval, de la mère de celle-ci et de leur hôte, Elena Sturdza, fille d’Eudoxiu Hurmuzaki, le jeune transylvain découvre le rituel de la promenade et a société qui se promène, qu’il a lui-même d.crite dans ses mémoires : « Sur la colline, sur le côté droit de la promenade, bordée d’arbres, d’allées et de bancs pour s’asseoir, il y avait une fanfare militaire russe qui jouait, et autour de laquelle tournaient en cercle large environ 100 carrosses de plus beaux et luxueux, pleins de boyards et de dames, de plus, il y avait aussi un groupe de jeunes cavaliers [...]. Quand nous sommes arrivés au pied de la colline appelée [Copou], le groupe de jeunes cavaliers voyant Cléopatra se sont envolés vers nous comme si’ils avaient voulu chasser un ennemi puissant. Cléopatra en tête, ils retournaient aussi vite autour de la fanfare militaire russe, là où nous sommes arrivés dans nos carrosses par la suite et avons pris la file et commencé à tourner, au son de la musique, plus précisément nous cir- 202 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) culions tout autour de la fanfare. Le bord du cercle où circulaient les carrosses était si large que nous ne pouvions pas bien voir les dames, alors que c’était la meilleure occasion pour admirer la beauté des dames et des messieurs de Iassy. J’ai proposé donc à Nicu Hurmuzaki : comme nous sommes étrangers, nous pourrions sortir de la file et aller dans le sens inverse [...]. Quelque temps plus tard, quelques carrosses sont sortis de la file pour rentrer et nous avons fait la même chose [...].28 Tout comme Bariþiu et Cipariu, ses compatriotes qui avaient visité Bucarest une décennie avant, il semble que Ioan Oros-Rusu aussi ait été ému devant le spectacle de la société qui se promenait et le lendemain il y est allé tout seul pour avoir plus de liberté de mouvement. Après plusieurs tours de promenade ou de rond en carrosse, les quelquesuns se promenaient à pied, « privilège jamais vu à Bucarest », affirme Richard Kunisch en 1857, puisqu’au milieu du XIXe siècle dans la haute société, la marche était « défendue » en raison des convenances sociales sur le comportement en public. Seule « La Chaussée » était le lieu « où il est accepté d’aller à pied » si bien que « personne ne manque cette occasion dans une ville où il est impoli de parcourir à pied la plus courte distance. L’interdiction concerne surtout les femmes à cause du mauvais état des routes », continue Kunisch, rappelant la principale raison pour laquelle la marche à pied était évitée par tous ceux qui possédaient un moyen de transport.29 Il reste à préciser qu’à l’époque la partie de la Chaussée Kiseleff tout près du jardin Herãstrau, flanquée d’allées spéciales pour la promenade pédestre, était aménagée et entretenue depuis longtemps. Contrairement à la « Chaussée » de Bucarest, la promenade de Copou n’offrait pas encore de bonnes conditions pour la circulation pédestre. De plus, le public qui fréquentait la promenade était plus conservateur et distingué, seule une minorité appréciait la marche à pied. La plupart préféraient « promener son ennui » en carrosse, tout en affichant des attitudes nonchalantes ou étudiées, fumant, faisant de la conversation, écoutant la musique, regardant et se laissant regarder. Pour des raisons de commodité, la majorité se contentait de rester dans le carrosse. La promenade était une scène – la référence au théâtre se dégage des sources de l’époque – où chacun avait le rôle d’acteur et de spectateur à la fois.30 La lecture, même partielle, du scénario ou de la chorégraphie de ce spectacle pourrait mieux préciser les fonctions de représentation et de socialisation détenues par la promenade. Lorsque des centaines de carrosses défilent autour d’un repère quelconque, c’est l’occasion d’observer tout le monde.31 « C’est le moment où nous faisons notre analyse », précisait Mihail Kogãlniceanu dans sa description, quand il nous initiait au contexte des manifestations et des interactions structurant la sociabilité de la promenade : « Monsieur A. regarde madame V. ; le brave officier S., gloire de la milice et terreur des civils, court en driska de Ivanuska après POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 203 la voiture de monsieur G.; mademoiselle E. s’aperçoit que son équipage n’est pas aussi beau que le carrosse de madame F. [...]. La promenade et les observations continuent jusqu’à la tombée de la nuit, jusqu’à ce que le canon [...] de la caserne militaire fasse boum, boum. »32 Nous y décelons quelques directions qui devraient être explorées. Tout d’abord, la promenade était un lieu de représentation publique, d’étalage du statut social, de la fortune surtout, tout en offrant une large perspective visuelle permettant à la société de se passer en revue. Tout était mesuré, pesé, jugé dès toilettes, bijoux et équipages aux attitudes, gestes et paroles. Le premier élément rendu évident, c’était l’équipage, en fait, la mesure, par valeur et qualité, du prestige social du propriétaire (Fig. 2 et 3). Une concurrence redoutable entre les boyards qui se vantaient de leurs équipages engendrait toute sorte d’excentricités; par exemple, l’équipage anglais d’Anica Lãþescu, fille de l’hetman Toader Balº, était la risée de ses contemporains. Devenue « anglomane » sous l’influence d’une gouvernante anglaise de sa soeur, elle avait adopté le « style anglais » pour l’organisation de la maison. Les mêmes règles s’appliquaient sur l’aménagement des écuries et de son personnel : les carrosses, les harnais, les livrées, tout portait l’empreinte anglaise. La dame a obligé même ses cochers tziganes à adopter le jargon de leurs pairs anglais. De surcroît, raconte Radu Rosetti, « madame Anica était très fière d’entendre ses cochers criant en anglais ». Il n’en est pas moins vrai que la satisfaction de la dame était interrompue par des accès de colère quand les gitans délaissaient l’anglais pour leur langue maternelle. Elle les apostrophait : « Parle anglais, corneille! ».33 Une autre extravagance concernant les équipages et qu’au milieu du XIXe siècle seulement les grands boyards se permettent était le soldat Albanais, apparition en même temps exotique et source de prestige pour son maître. C’était une « espèce » en voie de disparition possédant un rôle symbolique, mais très important. Par conséquent, ces soldats n’acceptaient pas de travailler pour n’importe qui. Leur réputation de combattants braves et la fidélité envers leur maître, le costume riche et pittoresque, excessivement garni avec de l’or, selon Kunisch34, de nombreuses armes chères qu’ils portaient à la ceinture, la tenue fière, l’ait martial, tout cela attirait l’attention des passants et imposait le respect, ce qui faisait grandir le prestige de se son maître. Par conséquent, à une époque où la dynamique sociale était de plus en plus accentuée, ils représentaient, en dehors d’autres marques de statut, moins évidentes ou connues, un « blason » de la noblesse de sang, très visible dans l’espace public. Autour de l’équipage s’est donc constituée, sur un court laps de temps et par émulation de la vanité des boyards, une entière imagerie de la représentation publique de la hiérarchie sociale. La provenance, le type, le coloris, les parures les la carrosse, les symboles héraldiques, réels ou fantaisistes, mettaient en évi- 204 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) dence certaines prétentions sociales, appuyées aussi par le nombre, la race, la provenance, la couleur de chevaux attelés au carrosse. D’autres éléments du message social ressortaient de l’ethnie et des habits du cocher, du nombre des domestiques en arrière du carrosse aussi, quand il y en avait. Dans la recette du succès mondain se trouvait un autre élément du statut : les habits. C’était un indicateur du bon goût, de la richesse et, implicitement, de la situation sociale. Où est-ce qu’on pouvait étaler les plus récents et spectaculaires vêtements, sinon dans l’espace public? « Copou est aussi l’arène où nos dames, petites et grandes, jeunes et vieilles, belles ou laides, rivalisent de splendeur des toilettes »35, soulignait Alecu Russo, en indiquant une autre fonction de la promenade, celle de podium public pour les défilés de mode quotidiens. On y présentait beaucoup de pièces vestimentaires et d’accessoires les plus neufs, nouvellement arrivés de l’étranger, pour lesquels on dépensait des sommes énormes. Les femmes portaient des toilettes de bal étincelantes et des bijoux qui frappaient par leur nombre et valeur. Les hommes se pavanaient autant, en costumes chers et élégants ou en uniformes militaires de gala. Tout était ostensiblement affiché, malgré la poussière des routes et la surprise des étrangers qui n’avaient pas l’habitude de voir de tels vêtements dans la rue. Les contacts interhumains facilités par la promenade ne se limitent pas au niveau visuel; cela implique aussi la communication verbale, ce qui sous-tend une dimension sociale supplémentaire : la socialisation. Sur la promenade, on faisait connaissance, on établissait et entretenait des relations de société. Quoique la majorité des promeneurs se soient connus, il ne manquait pas les occasions d’apprendre des nouvelles ou de rencontrer les gens nouveaux. Tous ceux qui revenaient après une absence, les provinciaux ou les étrangers réussissaient d’habitude à polariser l’attention. Étant donné la curiosité et l’hospitalité des boyards indigènes, le fait que la promenade soit un espace plus tolérant que les salons, les étrangers se faisaient remarquer davantage et accepter plus vite par la haute société. La promenade constituait aussi un des espaces préférés par les jeunes qui, après l’adolescence, faisaient leur entrée dans la société. Comme observait Alecu Russo, « [...] Copou est le théâtre où le jeune débute, sentimental, flemmard dans une calèche, l’éternelle cigarette entre les lèvres, la main molle sur la canne élégante, montrant aux occupants des autres carrosses son premier pantalon, fait chez monsieur Ortigier, couturier de Paris, le chapeau viennois du magasin Mecouli et co. ou des frères Bogus, les soi-disant chapeaux de Paris, sur commande ».36 Tout comme les salons ou le théâtre, la promenade offrait aux jeunes adultes une place où ils savouraient leurs premiers moments d’indépendance envers leurs parents, ils exerçaient leurs habiletés sociales et se faisaient une réputation mondaine. En plus, la promenade leur favorisait les rencontres amoureuses et les jeux érotiques. Copou, par exemple, était considéré propice POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 205 pour les rencontres sentimentales grâce à l’affluence de ces amoureux, mais il y a eu des événements qui ont alimenté souvent les conversations et la causerie dans la haute société. Par exemple, il arrivé qu’une jeune Française de la classe moyenne, surnommée Rose Pompon, ait conquiert le coeur d’un fils de boyard, Iancu Ghica, fils du prince Grigore Al. Ghica. Comme dans un autre cas, celui de Grigore Sturdza, le jeune prince a épousé la belle Française, contre le gré de ses parents.37 Même si la fin n’a pas été heureuse, l’épisode romantique – un parmi d’autres mentionnés par les sources documentaires – démontre que la promenade est en égale mesure un espace de perméabilité sociale et un lieu de choix pour les rencontres galantes, un lieu où l’amour faisait fi des différences sociales, ethniques ou des moeurs de l’époque, puisqu’à part les amours innocentes, on constate l’existence des relations extraconjugales. Sur le fond d’un laxisme des moeurs, que les uns critiquaient verbalement et d’autres encourageaient par un libertinage excessif, la promenade constituait un milieu propice pour la multiplication des liaisons sentimentales, même pour les gens mariés. Alors, sortir en promenade avec sa maîtresse était une pratique courante, même chez les membres de la famille princière, car la discrétion n’était pas une qualité de la société indigène. La promenade était un espace de divertissement : on écoutait de la musique militaire, dans l’allée ou aux alentours, on faisait des courses en carrosse ou en traîneau (Fig. 4) – même en canots, s’il y avait un lac – , des courses hippiques organisées ou des cavalcades, des concours de tir, etc. * C OMME ÉLÉMENT d’architecture urbaine, la promenade aménagée est appa- rue tard dans l’espace roumain, après 1830, suite au programme de modernisation urbaine initié par les Règlements Organiques. De ce point de vue, la modernisation des promenades est un long processus. Vu son aspect social, sous la forme d’un agrément traditionnel – la sortie en carrosse à la périphérie de la ville ou dans les espaces nonaménagés –, la promenade a été vite appréciée par le public, étant la scène – la ressemblance avec le théâtre vient des sources de l’époque – d’un spectacle quotidien, sur laquelle chacun était acteur et spectateur à la fois. Les équipages, les toilettes, l’éducation, le prestige social y étalé aboutissaient au succès mondain. Les relations amoureuses y commençaient ou mouraient. On y socialisait. Bref, la vie publique s’y consommait de façon intense. Nous considérons que la promenade, ayant répondu à de multiples exigences sociales, que nous venons de tracer, a été l’espace urbain le plus attrayant pour les élites de la première moitié du XIXe siècle. D’autres recherches sur ce sujet et le décodage des implications sociales dues à la fréquentation de la pro- 206 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) menade pourraient amener des conclusions intéressantes sur la genèse de l’esprit public et sur la formation d’une conduite publique moderne dans la société roumaine. Traduit du roumain par MANUELA TIPURIÞÃ Notes 1. Richard Kunisch, Bucureºti ºi Stambul. Schiþe din Ungaria, România ºi Turcia, Bucarest, 2000, p. 82-89 et 120-123. 2. Voir le chapitre sur les jardins de Bucarest dans l’ouvrage de George Potra, Din Bucureºtii de ieri, I, Bucarest, 1990, p. 304-322. 3. Ibid, p. 348-362. 4. Kunisch, p. 82-83. 5. Mihail Kogãlniceanu, Tainele inimei. Scrieri literare ºi istorice, Bucarest, 1987, p. 64-68; Alecu Russo, Iassy et ses habitants en 1840, dans Alecu Russo, Scrieri, Bucarest, 1908, p. 251-252. 6. Kogãlniceanu, p. 65-66. 7. Russo, p. 251-252; Victor Papacostea, Un observator prusian în Þãrile Române acum un veac, Bucarest, 1942, p. 91. 8. « On dit que le Département des Travaux Publics aurait la mauvaise idée d’aménager sur la colline de Copou une promenade à l’instar des Champs Élysée et du Prater ». Kogãlniceanu, p. 66. 9. Documente privitoare la istoria economicã a României. Oraºe ºi târguri (1776–1861), Moldova, Séria A, II, Bucarest, 1960, doc. 238, p. 362-363. 10. Manolachi Drãghici, Istoria Moldovei pe timp de 500 de ani pânã în zilele noastre, 2, Iassy, 1857, Constantin Mihãescu-Gruiu, ed., Bucarest, 1999, p. 337. 11. Kogãlniceanu, p. 66-67. 12. Vasile Netea, « Timotei Cipariu ºi George Bariþiu cãlãtori prin Þara Româneascã în 1836. Note pe marginea unui text inedit », Studii. Revistã de istorie (Bucarest), 1958, XI, 1, p. 130. 13. George Potra, Bucureºtii la mijlocul secolului XIX. Impresiile germanului W. Derblich, Bucarest, 1941, p. 3. 14. G. Sion, Suvenire contimpurane, Bucarest, 2000, p. 331. 15. Par exemple, vers 1838-1841, Alecu Sturdza avait sur son domaine de Miclãuºeni, dans la région de Roman, où il résidait en fait la plupart du temps, une diligence à cinq chevaux, une vieille charrette, un droska couvert, un vieux droska découvert, un vieux droska sans bâche. De plus, « il tenait deux cochers. Dans ses écuries, il y avait deux coureurs noirs de harnais, deux trotteurs de harnais, deux trotteurs d’équitation et 11 coursiers ». Costin Meriºca, « Organizarea moºiei Miclãuºeni ºi a vieþii de la conac în deceniile 4 ºi 5 ale secolului trecut », Revista de Istorie Socialã (Iassy), 1997-1998, II-III, p. 82. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 207 16. Netea, p. 130. 17. Selon des permis de construction délivrés à Bucarest, l’écuyer tranchant Gheorghe Neculescu, de la Rue Caliþii, possédait une écurie pour 6 chevaux et un hangar pour 3 carrosses. Les mêmes chiffres sont mentionnés en 1839 dans le cas de l’échanson Matache Piersiceanu, Rue Mogoºoaia. Un certain Vasilichi Constantin, dans rue Beilicului, avait en 1846 une écurie pour 6 chevaux et un hangar pour deux carrosses, plus une chambre pour les cochers. Florian Georgescu, « Regimul construcþiilor în Bucureºti în deceniile IV–V din secolul al XIX-lea », Bucureºti. Materiale de istorie ºi muzeografie, 1967, 5, p. 48-49. 18. «Pagini inedite despre Bucureºtii anului 1833», Revista Arhivelor (Bucarest), 1969, 1, p. 274. 19. Papacostea, p. 73 et 95. 20. Jean A. Vaillant, La Roumanie..., III, Paris, 1844, p. 96. 21. Pagini inedite despre Bucureºtii..., p. 274. 22. Kunisch, p. 82-83; Ulysse de Marsillac, Guide du voyageur à Bucarest, Bucarest, [1876], p. 56. 23. Pagini inedite despre Bucureºtii..., p. 274. 24. Gh. Bezviconi, Cãlãtori ruºi în Moldova ºi Muntenia, Bucarest, 1947, p. 314. 25. Netea, p. 121. 26. Ibid., p. 129. 27. Ibid. 28. Ion Ranca, «Capitala Moldovei la 1849 în viziunea unui memorialist paºoptist ardelean», Revista Arhivelor, 1977, 3, p. 307-308. 29. Kunisch, p. 83. 30. L’ambiance de spectacle est évidente, comme le notent les observateurs étrangers : « Il existe toujours un peu de décoration ; le luxe est d’autant plus remarqué qu’on ne s’y attend pas. La simplicité est rare ; chaque chose produit son effet, tout comme dans les tableaux maniéristes et le regard du passant n’y découvre rien, car il perçoit l’ensemble en tant que scène théâtrale ». Aurélie Ghika, La Valachie moderne, Paris, 1850, p. 57-58. 31. « La Chaussée offrait le spectacle d’un grand salon et pour l’observateur un champ riche ». Kunisch, p. 83. 32. Kogãlniceanu, p. 66-67. 33. Radu Rosetti, Amintiri. I. Ceam auzit de la alþii, Iassy, 1921, p. 166. 34. Kunisch, p. 78-79. Une image similaire est décrite, vers 1876, par Ulysse de Marsillac : « L’agent politique de la France a encore comme porte-drapeau un vieux soldat albanais qui, les jours de fête, porte un costume de velours rouge richement garni avec de l’or : assis sur la voiture, il étale un magnifique arsenal d’armes en or et argent à sa ceinture ». De Marsillac, p. 33. 35. Russo, p. 252. 36. Ibid. 37. Vasile Panopol, Pe uliþele Iaºului, Bucarest, 2000, p. 139. 208 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Abstract The Social Role of the Promenade in Bucharest and Iasi (the First Half of the 19th Century) In the first half of the 19th century the most important public spaces in Iasi and Bucharest – the capitals of Moldavia and Wallachia principalities –, were promenades because, excepting fashionable salons, the elite social life was concentrated there. The finest and the most frequented promenades were Kiseleff Avenue, in Bucharest, and Copou Avenue, in Iaºi. The promenade has been the public scene for a complex social show, where everyone was actor and spectator in the same time. The promenade stimulated social interaction and it contributed to a public display of social identity. Because it responds to multiple social demands, we believe that the promenade was the urban area having the most attraction power of the Romanian elites in the first half of the 19th century. Keywords public space, promenade, social identity, Romanian elites Nobility and Power in Moldavia at the Beginning of the 19th Century C RISTIAN P LOSCARU I N THE traditional Romanian society, the lineage, origin and longevity of the family were of great importance, conferring the “right” and “primacy” for nobility, higher social acceptance and chances for an easier and faster integration within the “nobility class” and, in time, even within the country’s “noblesse.” For those who were named boyars, “the origin of their family” was very important as concerns the community’s perception regarding the social status of the new boyar and his family, legitimizing the ascension of those originating from “old Moldavians, mazili”1, meaning from ruined boyars2 or from “old mazili and captains, free, land-owning peasants (rãzeºi),” meaning old families, belonging to an autochthonous lineage, even though they did not have boyars among their ancestors3. In exchange, the new boyars “who rose from the mass to lose their origin” or who came from “strangers,” “foreigners by lineage and by place,” were included among the “upstarts” and the “arrivistes” by most of the boyars by lineage, regardless of the rank they managed to acquire4. The “low-class” descent did not include many of the land-owning peasants who were the noblest of the peasants, but at the same time the least noble of the boyars”5. Free peasants’ “nobility,” who claimed the existence of noble ancestors, often with attested genealogic documents, elaborated to protect their lands and to reduce the taxes6, and sometimes only with the support of oral, local traditions7, gave the land-owning peasant the chance to take advantage of life circumstances in order to “rise to nobility,” provided that he were the individual owner of a “chosen part” of the land, of “immobile fortune” and the “protégée” (“the man”) of a boyar within the Divan. Iordache Murguleþ, although a boyar, he was proud to “have a good time in the peasant style,” reproaching to his sister-in-law Aniþa Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project. 210 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) that she and her husband Constantin Murguleþ got used to “nobility leisure and could not give it up”8. The only ones who did not serve a “master,” still a boyar, when they did not work within the Principality’s administration (officials changed every year, and many boyars were “left outside” for one year or more), were the boyars within the regional and departmental administration, belonging to families who had continuous great “princely services,” sometimes even in the Divan, and whose lineage and “nobility status” seniority inherited from the parents did not allow them to take the service and the protection of a “master,” a boyar like them9. The number of families whose members did regular services for a “master” was rather great in each Principality, meaning several dozens, some of which included, according to the formal criterion of the high office, within the “first class,” and others, the majority, incorporated in “the second class,” temporarily or on a longterm basis, as the boyars didn’t have access anymore to the functions within the Divan, from vel ban and vel agã (Moldavia), and vel clucer and vel paharnic (Walachia) upwards. Often, these families, “the great families” within the social elite were generically called “the privileged class,” excluding the low or newer boyars, the mazili and the privilegheþi, exactly because the members of the “privileged class” did not have another “master” besides the prince, doing only “princely services,” regardless of them belonging to the “first class” or to the “second class.” While talking about the abuses committed in the administration of the Principalities while he was a child, during the reign of Grigore IV Ghica, Nicolae Creþulescu talked about “the self will and arbitrariness of lower and higher authorities” within the departments (ispravnici, sameºi, zapci, zlotaºi, etc.), but “likewise in the case of the privileged class”, meaning the families within the social elite, and the “nobility” by lineage within the departments10. On the basis of this difference, observable in the daily attitude of the boyars towards one another, V.F. Malinovski, the Russian consul at Iaºi, made a distinction between the “local boyars” (in other words, “boyars by lineage”) and “other ranks or functions,” introducing within the last category those who had local functions (not “the Greeks”), but who were not acknowledged as true “nobles” by the nobility orders”11. In Bessarabia, Filip F. Wiegel made the same clear differentiation between only “seven or eight families – Sturdza, Balº, Rosetti, Donici, Krupenski, Paladi, Catargi and Râºcanu, “who “descend from Moldavian boyars” and “the rest of around 80 so-called noble families,” who “were the servants [in fact, clerks – o.n.] of boyars”12. Among the eight families abovementioned, Sturdza, Balº, Roset, Paladi and Catargiu had belonged to the “first class” Moldavian boyars, but the members of the Donici, Crupenschi and Râºcanu families were constantly included in the “second class” category13, and only seldom a boyar within the family managed to have his way into the “first class”14. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 211 Nevertheless, Wiegel identified a veritable social rupture between the three families of “genuine” boyars and the rest of the boyars in Bessarabia acknowledged by the Russian in the new province, the latter descending from “boyars’ clerks,” from “delegates, entrepreneurs and [...] administrators” of the lands belonging to genuinely “noble” and society-acknowledged nobility lineage Moldavian boyars15. For example, younger or older boyars within the Cuza, Vârnav, Miclescu, Greceanu, Crupenschi, Donici, Cananãu, Baºotã, Buhuº families (Moldavia), almost completely excluded from the functions within the Divan towards the beginning of the 19th century, given the history and the tradition of high “princely services” of their “parents” and their “ancestors,” were not allowed to trespass their inherited social condition, becoming “clerks” for the boyars within the Divan. The social status and condition of these boyar families within the regional administration (þinutaºe) were generally considered by the social history papers as rather close to the new boyars and to the low boyars (boiernaºi), to the mazili and the lineages, forming together the so-called “secondary boyarship” of the Principalities. Nevertheless, the low boyars, the mazili and the lineages, together with the privilegheþi, traditionally performed services of “clerks” also on the lands of these “boyars by lineage” of within the regional administration, not only for the boyars within the Divan, belonging to the social elite16. The boyarship within the regional administration who only had “princely services” had a clearly higher social status and condition than the newer and the low boyarship, even though, in numerous cases, the high office criterion said “otherwise,” the nobility ranks of certain boyars within the second category having similar or even higher ranks in some cases. In 1803, Vasile Hermeziu, Ioniþã Gane and Constantin Adam, descending from low boyars from the region of Suceava, advanced and became while Iordache Cananãu, Iordache Balº and Ioniþã Vârnav were only pitar, collector of duties on spirits (cãminar), and steward (stolnic)17, respectively, very close or inferior ranks to the abovementioned ones, the social status difference being dictated by the family lineage, ensuring to the last a higher position, of genuine “nobility,” despite the rather low rank, explicable because they were young. This situation, specific to the internal hierarchy of the boyarship, according to the social tradition reference points, was still alive in the memory of Alecu Cantacuzino, descendant of the Moldavian Deleni, who recalled that “the sons of those families of patricians [the great families – o.n.] when they had to start the public service school,” while they were young, their “rank was taken for that of their clients,” meaning of the boyars within “lower” families, but older, and with a publicly-acknowledged inferior status18. In these circumstances, incorporating the two categories – noble families by lineage, within the regional administration, on one hand, and newer, as well as low 212 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) boyars, on the other – within the structure of a relatively unitary, so-called “secondary boyarship,” by taking into account only the high office criterion, does not respect at all the particularities of the social order and organization of the Romanian Principalities, and the characteristics of the hierarchical conception specific to the autochthonous boyarship. While disrespecting the formal criterion of the high office, social reality turned out to be far more complex, reordering the boyars within the “first class” and those within “the second class” into another social and order of power. But, even more importantly, according to other criteria, such as family tradition, including the continuity of “great princely services,” the acknowledged longevity of the “lineage” also played a crucial role. Between the families of the „boyarship by lineage, within the regional administration” and those of the social elite, the preoccupation for the lineage, for the longevity of the families and the continuity of high functions generated a true legitimacy competition, of “justifying,” placing the criterion of longevity and that of the origin, the “nobility,” above the formal and often contested, but institutionalized criterion of the high office. Within these disputes, more and more visible starting with 1790, accentuated after the changes introduced by the Russians in Bessarabia offered a model in this matter, the boyarship by lineage, within the regional administration, tries to assert its legitimacy of noble origin in comparison with the boyars by birth of the social elite, contesting the longevity and higher “nobility” of the families within the autochthonous social elite, providing papers and written proofs of “nobility” from the ruling Divan, on the basis of certain “noble lineages” and ancient “documents” belonging to the family. Far from being “a brood of new riches,” as many of the low boyars, this boyarship by lineage, within the regional administration, by combining members within the two first steps of “nobility,” proud of its longevity, was, on one side, hostile to the “new riches” boyarship, recently risen to “nobility,” and, on the other hand, it contested the monopole of the “country’s pillars” over the “nobility” and the power within the State19. These families had cultivated, starting with the last years of the 18th century, the image of great boyarship by lineage, noble by birth, as the “country’s pillars.” The increasing number of solicitations regarding this kind of “documents” and “written proofs,” claimed by various boyars within this category from the ruling Divan is the result of these preoccupations, but also of the Russian influence, who had suggested them an efficient method of getting a document-attested “nobility” comparable to that of “great families.” The authorities of the Empire had asked for the validation papers concerning the nobility from most of the Moldavian and Walachia boyars in Russia immediately after the Peace of Iaºi (1792), and, at least in Moldavia, there was an increase in the number of princely documents and books on the subject. Following the example of the boyars who POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 213 had “emigrated” to Russia, the noble families by lineage, within the regional administration, started to see these documents and written papers as means to fight the attempts of the social elite to self-nominate as unique “nobility” of the country, with the right of nobility, given the continuity of the “great lineages” in the functions of the Divan. Costandin Tãutu, “the son of Toader Tãutu,” belonging to a family of great lineage, much envied at the time20, but deposed and having only low services, “barely known among the low boyars”21, got in 1793 from Prince Mihail Suþu an “exemption paper,” on the basis of old “princely books and proofs,” confirming that his “lineage goes back to Ioan Tãutu, who was High Chancellor, being related to great boyars and distinguished families”22. He elaborated that “old genealogical tree” that Ioan Murariu discovered at the State Archives in Botoºani, without being able to date it. That “lineage,” with around 100 persons, ends with Costandin, the son of Toader Tãutu and had among the ascendants relatives of “great boyars and distinguished families”: Boul, Moþoc, Paladi, Cantacuzino, Sturdza, and Turculeþ23. In 1815, the Racoviþã boyars, with only low functions at the time, got a document attesting that “their lineage [...] is of Moldavian boyars by birth [...] proven to be great patriots”24, and Alecu Calimach (autochthonous) received a diploma acknowledging him “all the privileges of the nobility”25. In a Triodion offered by Constantin Vârnav to the church of Bârzeºti there was a note regarding the family of Vârnav, “originating in Moldavia, two hundred years ago”26. Toma and Sãndulache Stamatin claimed to be descendants of the great family of the Movileºti27, Iordache Drãghici of the Walachia family Drãghici, related to the Cantacuzinos28, and the Sioneºti “fabricated” a glorious, but fantasist genealogy29. This practice, which became a habit, did not disappear during the regulatory period. In 1833, Dimitrie Duca received an “authenticating notice,” not from the State, but from various boyars, attesting that he is the son of the deceased ban Pavãl Duca, and nephew of Gheorghe Duca, nobleman from Bessarabia30. As far as they are concerned, “the great noble families” by birth attempted at also assimilating a “nobility” that was not accessible to other families, claiming princely ascendances, Romanian or foreign, and the ongoing continuity in “making sacrifices” and in “services” of the land, mostly concerning the high functions of the Divan belonging to “our fathers and forefathers.” The claims of the social elite within both Principalities had a relative historical basis and, maybe even more importantly, they are acknowledged in this way by the traditional Romanian society of the beginning of the 19th century31. Besides the continuity, the “siraua” of great families, “related to the princes at involved in the ruling process,” as distinctive element of “nobility,” we also had the idea that the nobility of these ruling lineages would be validated by the “sacrifices” of their ancestors32. 214 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) On the other hand, the great noble families by birth insisted upon being differentiated from the boyarship by lineage outside the social elite, appealing to those reference points of the autochthonous traditions and administration practices meant to certify their superior “nobility” and to confer a historical “justification” of their claimed monopole over the great functions within the Divan, using their influence at the court and their power over the ruling prince. As regards them having almost all great functions within the Divan, it is true that “we are maybe one of the sole [of the few – o.n.] countries in Europe, where from father to son (e.g, at Balºi, at Bãleni, etc.) there have been he same functions for over seven generations (vel magistrate, vel chancellor, etc.)”33, but, in comparison to the first half of the 18th century, only at the end of it and at the beginning of the 19th century did the great autochthonous „noble families” by birth (Bãlºeºtii, Roseteºtii, Sturdzeºtii, Cantacuzinii, Ghiculeºtii, Pãlãdeºtii and Catargii in Moldavia, Brâncovenii, Bãlãcenii, Bãlenii, Goleºtii, Ghiculeºtii, Filipeºtii, Vãcãreºtii and Creþuleºtii in Walachia) manage to impose a true “oligarchic” monopole over the high functions within the Divan (ban, chancellor, High Steward, treasurer, hetman and aga), repeatedly and significantly called “services of the land”34. While enumerating the “great families,” Ion Tanoviceanu righteously asserted that “in order to play a [political – o.n.] role in Moldavia at the end of the previous century [the 18th – o.n.] and at the beginning of this century one had to be a Rosetti, Balº, Cantacuzino, Sturdza, Ghica, Paladi or Catargi,” forming the veritable social elite of the country, regarding of the services provided at a certain point35. In these conditions, marked by the erosion of the social distinction ensured by their ranks, the “great autochthonous families” tried to acquire a legitimacy based upon the representations of the tradition regarding its “oligarchic” political primacy and the outstanding power in the State and the society. The difference from the previous period was that, since the reforms of Constantin Mavrocordat and the practices related to the process of becoming a boyar, instituted by the Fanariot princes, one could not have the title of boyar without a princely decree, even though he was a landowner and that the “community” acknowledged his inherited “nobility. There was an exception for the sons of the great noble families whose lineage was highly renown, and they had continuity regarding the functions within the Divan, with the honorific title of chancellor or chamberlain even since they were very young, “from their birth,” without a confirmatory decree from the chancellery of the prince. In a study which started the discussion on this social history and genealogy matter, Alexandru Perietzianu-Buzãu came to the conclusion that „the so-called low chancellor [s.a.] was [...] was given at birth to all the sons of low chamberlains, meaning to all the nephews of a boyar, without a confirmation from the chancellery of the POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 215 prince”36. We can easily see that, in order to get this honorific title, the son of a boyar had to be at least the third generation of boyars in his family – a minimal condition confirmed by the society in the light of a tradition to be integrated in the “boyarship by lineage”37. Interested in introducing a clear distinction between the autochthonous social elite and the rest of the boyarship by lineage, the top noble families by birth of both Principalities have looked for other titles for their sons before they turned 18, with higher symbolical meaning, according to the tradition of each Romanian Principality. Starting with the end of the 18th century, several very young Moldavians within the Balº and Sturdza families appear with the title of vel spatharus, vel magistrate or vel treasurer. Without many direct testimony of them having received these great ranks “by birth,” the “cocoons” are mentioned with that function, before they turn 18, “at that time [...] 25 years old,” and the minors could not get such functions in reality38. Alecu Balº is attested as vel treasurer in 179239, while he was in fact far too young to have such a function40, that his father, “the old treasurer [my italics] Iordache Balº, great and strong boyar”41 “left him as inheritance,” as title, for all his life. The youngest, Iancu Balº received the title of vel spatharus, before having the first function of halè, vel comis in 1812, inferior function to that of spatharus42, but, once he moved to Besssarabia, Iancu Balº gave up on his youth title, preferring the more famous one of chamberlain of tsar Alexander I43. Iordache Bãlºucã, the son of vel chancellor Constantin Balº Ciuntu had the title of vel treasurer in 1801, when he was only 25 and before becoming vel spatharus in 1812, inferior function to that of vel treasurer, but effective this time44. Costache Sturdza, the son of the dreaded and peevish treasurer Sãndulache Sturdza had the title of vel spatharus when he wasn’t even 20, in 1809 and before receiving any hale function45, and Alexandru Sturdza, the son of vel chancellor Mihail Sturdza, the head of the Sturdzeºti “folk music band” around 1800, had all his life the title of treasurer, even long before he had ever occupied this function, during the Turko-Russian war (1828-1829)46. In Walachia the titles given to the sons of boyars by birth were far more diverse, as the old functions of vel paharnic, vel clucer, vel stolnic have remained within the Divan, keeping their symbolical value, unlike the Moldavian case Before the introduction of this trend, the future great ban Constantin Nãsturel was during his early youth “chamberlain, as any boyar’s son”47, but his son, Radu Nãsturel Herescu, “the hunched” (1750-1874) received another title “at birth,” that of vel paharnic48, unlike the “deposed” descendants of another son of the abovementioned ban. ªerban Nãsturel’s children, who changed their names in the monastery into Macarie, Stoica and Ion Nãsturel have continued to wear “by birth” the title of “low chamberlain,” “low chancellor,” respectively. 216 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Conserving the fortune of the orphan “cocoons” within the “great families” started to preoccupy more and more the Walachian nobles by birth, while the passion for luxury and the “plague” of playing cards had cancelled the “inheritance” rights of some of the boyars within the social elite. “In order to prevent the disappearance of noble houses” out of “children’s fault [...] as they are old and still spenders, as some of the great noble houses have perished,” the Divan of Ion Caragea elaborated a “report to the prince” on August 15, 1814, requesting the prohibition for boyars’ sons “without tutors” of their parents’ fortune, “even if they are married,” “to borrow [...] or to make business” with the merchants within the country, without “permission” from the “superior clergy and with their signatures”49. In a report of the following year “the superior clergy by birth” for the “sumptuousness of the crews [of the boyars’ carriages – o.n.] to be limited according to each class, rank and position” (my italics) of the boyars, who give in to luxury according to the fortune, without taking into full account the tradition and the boyars’ “good manners”50. These social differentiation practices applied by the boyarship of the Walachian social elite triggered the reaction of “some young boyars [...] unhappy [...] about giving certain titles to boyars’ sons and insisted for these functions to be abrogated or for them to have the same functions” (my italics)51. As it can be easily seen, we were talking here about ranks, not about effective functions, and about eliminating the practice of giving these titles only to certain boyars’ sons, within the families of the social elite, and not about eliminating the respective functions. The regulatory legislation was to enforce this social differentiation practice, based upon the political power of the boyars by birth. In February 1835, The project was established the ranks according to the functions proposed to the Moldavian Administrative Assembly suffered an “alteration,” after the idea of chamberlain Costin Catargiu, who asked for „young sons of the great boyars who will win through their learning and will get diplomas [...] to be received [directly – o.n.] into the sixth class [of ranks – o.n.],” meaning that of cupbearer, steward, and delegate, while the sons of low boyars had to get into each “class” at one time, the first being the ninth class, that of ºãtrari and jitniceri52. Until the years of the autochthonous ruling, the complicated social and political practices of preserving the best social position possible, of differentiating from other “nobility” categories have strictly followed the horizon of “family structures,” and the sources do not offer the idea or even the thought of a “class identity,” belonging to social „macro-groups,” as the historiographic understanding of the “great boyarship” and the “secondary boyarship.” Such a division into social “classes” was not familiar at the time for the traditional social system, and the “rise” to nobility of “lower” families did not imply the “equality” of privileges and prestige, was not the expression of an “equality spirit,” but it meant POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 217 exactly the opposite, a differentiation, climbing the social “hierarchy,” the essential stake being the prestige, the acknowledgment, which, “inherited” by the children, integrated the whole family into a social and “power” universe. If in the Romanian society at the turn of the century we can sport a social “community of interests” which could be transposed or, why not, balanced against at the political level, the sourced indicate two such “groups” or “identities” – the “great families” of each Principality, the „noble families by lineage” within the regional administration departments), who had an “internal political struggle” in order to consolidate their prestige and their “power” in the society and in the State, but who, in fact, constituted up to twenty families in each Principality, the rest of the boyarship playing a secondary role, given their positions of subordinates of the higher boyars, their “masters,” to whom they swore “faith” and “obedience” in exchange for „their “protection” and “enrichment.” Until the years of the organic regulations, the political confrontation took place within the great boyarship by lineage, opposing those that the sources call “the country’s pillars” (their families) to certain “rebels” from the great families within the regional administration, who, almost with no exceptions, had among their grandparents or ancestors people with great functions within the Divan, and they received a serious hit in their interests after the constitution (around 1800) of what the testimonies call “the magnates’ system” or that of “the great families.” Fro the perspective of the social origin of the “National Party,” the conclusion directs the investigation towards studying the solidarities and the social links (including the family), and towards the subsequent political loyalties, with reference to these families, re-evaluating the role of a “bourgeoisie” or of a “peasantry boyarship,” considered as one of the most important, inside of each an “egalitarian spirit” seems to have been promoted, as social fundament of constituting the National Party. During the regulatory period, the great noble families by birth opposed the tradition of the “nobility system” of the previous period, with its social prestige symbols (the beard, the mantle, the canes, the height of the hat – calpac, kissing the hand and the margins of the hat – iºlic, etc.), to the administrative hierarchy of the ranks imposed by the organic ruling, which laughed at these old “good habits.” Worried of the great number of new boyars among the “employee” in the administration and the justice, “new people” without noble origins or nobles by lineage, the great boyars claimed the inclusion within the “noble class” of certain clerks that they had previously despised and called “upstarts.” A testimony signed by metropolitan Veniamin Costache and by some great boyars by birth reads that the magistrates, the border clerks “since the old days” in “our Moldavian territory,” had belonged to the “nobility system” and that “they were entitled to wear beards in order to be recognised, and that they should also be allowed to wear canes, in order to take part in the Divan in matters of 218 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) the borders [my italics],” being mostly “known as boyars’ sons”53. The signers (chancellor Dimitrie Sturdza, chancellor Constantin Cantacuzino [Paºcanu], Costache Conachi – chancellor and knight, Alexandru Ghica – chancellor and knight, Neculai Canta – chancellor and knight, Costachi Balº – chancellor and knight, treasurer Iordache Ghica, treasurer Alecu Sturdza, magistrate Iordache Balº [Bãlºucã], magistrate Vasile Beldiman, chamberlain Manolachi Radul, chamberlain Vasile Veisa and chamberlain Dimitrie Bran), most of them boyars by birth of leading families, intentionally “forgot” that these clerks had never been integrated into the “nobility system,” had never worn a “beard,” or “canes” and that they participated at the Divan Assembly as “witnesses” to the trials, and not as “rightful” members. Despised and lowered for such a long time, seen as “clerks” and “unimportant” low boyars, “upstarts,” these magistrates could now be compared against as low, but “genuine nobility,” to the new regulatory administrative “systems.” The same aspects of “distinction” and “great longevity” made the noble families by birth to “discover” the passion of the genealogical research, “the love” for blazons and other aristocratic symbols, which had previously only accidentally caught their attention, for particular cases and for thigh political stakes54. While elaborating the Cantacuzino genealogy during the time he was in Russia, ban Mihai Cantacuzino was influenced by the interest for genealogy of the Russian nobility during the reign of Catherine II55, often using himself the term “ghenealoghii,” rarely used in the Principalities at that time, comparative with the “siraua” or the “lineage” of the great families56. Certain terms borrowed from the Russian vocabulary, such as “ohavnice relatives,” by which Mihai Cantacuzino meant autochthonous, but which really meant of noble descent, “by blood,” unveils this aspect57. This model contrasted with the “example” of the Oriental Turkish-Fanariot elite, characterized by rapid ascensions and falls, by the instability of the structures and by the fragility of its hierarchies, by the failure in setting certain specific behavioural values and norms, for a “noble” identity and for social prestige, by differentiating it from other categories, but which clearly imitated the “habits” and “moods” of the ruling houses, the Grand Vizier, the Grand Dragoman or the Fanariot prince58. The right “by blood,” through which the family tradition of the great noble houses were combined within the historical tradition of the State, become more important in the aristocratic perception of the time, within the French, German or Russian space, in comparison to other state criteria, conferring to the noble of the court, with or without a function within the administration, a special status and the supremacy within the social-political order of the Ancient Regime59. The blood descent was not that much related anymore to conserving the territorial patrimony or the knightly mindset, as now the essential aspects POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 219 were family genealogies, titles, blazons, “aristocratic” manners and other “etiquette” elements, in order to determine the identity of the great Occidental nobility who claimed their noble longevity60. On the other side, the Austrian and Russian pressure upon the Ottoman Empire made the Balkan noble elites to have their hopes high again regarding the “liberation” from the Ottoman domination. Besides the religious connotations, related to old Byzantine “orders of the crusades”61, these elites have strongly reiterated their Byzantine political inheritance and they tried to maintain for themselves a status comparable to that of the European nobles regarding the nobility. The memory and descent from “Greek lineages, from ancient families during the Constantinople Emperors”62 combined with studying the genealogies of the Balkan Medieval princely families, resulting in heraldic compositions, with blazons, “real or imaginary, of the princes of Bosnia, Serbia, and Bulgaria. Greek or Macedonian merchants, new riches, settled in the Habsburg States, and struggled to obtain noble diplomas and blazons decorated with Byzantine elements”63. Given these external influences, the few genealogies of the great autochthonous families elaborated in the first half of the 19th century in the Principalities, taking over – more or less accurately – elements of the European genealogic model, without getting too far from the local tradition of noble lineages64, explicitly reflect the desire to differentiate themselves from the rest of the autochthonous or “foreign” noble families who got to high ranks, but who could not claim the same illustrious and ancient origins. In these genealogical “tables” and “armorials,” the documents referring to buying, exchanging or inheriting lands constitutes now attested evidence, as lineages don’t prove anymore “the proof of being autochthonous,” the right to have or the primacy over “the services for the country,” but they are meant to attest, taking into account the family continuity, longevity and noble origin of the respective family. One of the first such attempts was an “armorial” of the Moldavian family Balº, comprising 16 persons within four generations, forefathers of the children of Grand Treasurer Iordache Balº – Alecu, Ioan (Iancu) and Ecaterina65. Elaborated and edited by Iordache Mãlinescu in 1842, the lineage of the Costache family was “the author’s worship of the great metropolitan Veniamin Costachi and a flattery” of the “pretentious agã Gheorghe Costachi” and of “Mihail Boldur Costachi, general and hetman [...] of Moldavia”66. These armorials and genealogical tables represented, among others, a symbolical resistance form of the “great families” towards the so-called “people without character” promoted by the princes and, later, towards the administrative hierarchy imposed to the great autochthonous boyarship by the organic ruling, who had severely “mixed,” according to the criterion of the rank, “the genuine nobility” with the “upstarts,” “employees” of the States chosen from “low class” families. In exchange, the lineages elaborated by the 220 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) boyarship within the regional administration had still in view validating “the impropriating right” for that “family” and attesting certain land rights67. Notes 1. Translator’s note: the mazili were low boyars or low boyars’ descendants, with no public frunctions. 2. For example, Ghergheleºtii, “ancient Moldavians, mazili from the region of Dorohoi” (Costandin Sion, Arhondologia Moldovei. Amintiri ºi note contimporane. Boierii moldoveni, Text ales ºi stabilit, glosar ºi indice de Rodica Rotaru, Prefaþã de Mircea Anghelescu, Postfaþã, note ºi comentarii de ªtefan S. Gorovei, Bucharest, Minerva, 1973, p. 55) or the Caracaº family, “ancient Moldavians, mazili from the region of Vaslui” (ibidem, p. 121). A certain ªtefãnache Gherghel was a mazil and had an “immobile fortune” at Cãlineºti (the region of Suceava) around 1803 (Uricariul cuprinzãtoriu de hrisoave, anaforale ºi alte acte ale Moldovei din suta XIV-a pânã la a XIX-a, VII, Iassi, 1886, p. 242; Condica liuzilor), later rose as boyar, tax gatherer, “for Prince Calimah” (Scarlat Callimachi) (Costandin Sion, op. cit., p. 56). 3. The Codreni, according to Costandin Sion, originated in “ancient mazili and captains, land-owning peasants from Boþeºti, the region of Fãlciu” (ibidem, p. 103). 4. Ibidem, pp. 48-49. 5. Valentin Al. Georgescu, Preemþiunea în istoria dreptului român. Drepturi de protimisis în Þara Româneascã ºi Moldavia, Bucharest, 1965, p. 34. 6. George-Felix Taºcã, Paharnicul Panã de la Galaþi ºi descendenþa sa pânã azi, in “Arhiva Genealogicã”, V (X), 1998, no. 3-4, p. 109. The pertinent observations of Ion T. Sion regarding the historical value of the land-owning peasants’ lineages elaborated during the 18th century and the first half of the 19th century, ca, as well as any family lineage, fluctuant according to the documentary evidence (Ion T. Sion, Consideraþii cu privire la spiþele de neam rãzeºeºti, in “Arhiva Genealogicã”, V (X), 1998, no. 3-4, pp. 119-120, 124), compulsory for any genealogical study, cannot be fully compared for this study, as the authenticity of the lineages through which a person supported at a certain point his nobility claims does not influence the utility of the source for a research having as purpose the ascensions to nobility, not the historical solidity of the evidence shown to get it. Also, we are interested in the society’s perception regarding the authenticity of these nobility ascensions and not their historical validity per se. In other words, the historical truthfulness of Iordache Drãghici’s claims of originating from the Walachian Cantacuzins is far less important this research than whether this lineage was seen as true or false by the contemporaries. 7. Ion T. Sion identified similar oral traditions in the case of two villages (Umbrãreºti, the region of Tecuci, and Suraia, the region of Putna) “far away from each other”, but which had the same manner of talking about their origin (ibidem, p. 125). 8. Acte botoºãnene ºi dorohoiene, in “Revista istoricã”, X, 1924, no. 4-6, p. 199 (July 20, 1820, Iordache Murguleþ to his sister-in-law Anica). The fact that Iordache POWER, BELIEF 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. AND IDENTITY • 221 and Constantin were brothers results from Act de întãrire al lui Ioniþã Sandu Sturdza (Gh. Ghibãnescu, Documente, in “Ion Neculce”, I, 1921, fascicule 1, pp. 94-95). We do not include here the various services of a boyar towards another boyar, also called “services”, but having another status, related to the particular and family relationships among the boyars. When a boyar gave to another boyar an “empowerment” to sell his land or when he asked another boyar to set the borders of a “parcel”, he did not ask for a “service” in the sense of a command from the “master” to the “servant”, but he solicited a service from him. Even though, in order to get the service, he did sometimes appeal to his superior rank, he “asked” the another boyar for his “service”, he did not command him, and called him “brother”, “nephew” or “cousin”, even if they were not related. That is why borders were set of princely order, and the “empowerment”, if the land was sold, was financially rewarded, like a mediation service, a favor. It was the same with the “service” of recuperating a debt from a third party, on the basis of a document handed over to the intermediary, who, in case the matter got to the courthouse, represented the creditor boyar as “bailiff”, without implying that he was the “servant” or that the boyar was the “master”. Also, in trials for lands, the boyars constituting a party in the trial sent their “bailiffs” to represent them, but not always among the land’s administrators, also called “bailiffs”, but sometimes among the boyars who were good at legislation or hose who had “taken over” the land. In “the great trial of Vrancea”, Iordache Roset Roznovanu chose as “bailiff” for the trial of 1814 the oldest of his father-in-law’s sons – of his first wife (Constantin Balº Ciuntu), meaning Iordache Balº Bãlºucã, who of course, did not do a “service” for a “master”, but a favour according to family and power interests (Uricariul, II, Iassi, 1852, p. 1; December1814, Hrisovul Domnului Scarlat A. Calimah pentru procesul dintre vistiernicul Iordache Roset cu rãzeºii vrânceni). Nicolae Kretzulescu, Amintiri istorice, Bucureºti, Editura ziarului „Universul”, 1940, p. 24. Documente privitoare la Istoria României, colecþia Eudoxiu de Hurmuzaki, serie nouã, IV, Rapoarte diplomatice ruse (1797-1806), sub îngrijirea acad. Andrei Oþetea, Bucureºti, 974, p. 416 (Iaºi, July 28, 1802, V. F. Malinovski to V. P. Kociubei). Filip F. Wiegel, Observaþii asupra stãrii actuale a Basarabiei, apud ªtefan Ciobanu, Cultura româneascã in Basarabia sub stãpânirea rusã, Chiºinãu, 1923, p. 19. Vezi Costandin Sion, op. cit., pp. 66, 101, 227 and Gh. Bezviconi, Familia Krupenski, in “Din Trecutul Nostru”¸ VII, 1939, pp. 5-54. In 1727, Darie Donici was country vel vornic in the Divan of Grigore II Ghica (Ion Neculce, op. cit., p. 364). Costache Crupenschi, the father of Iordache Crupenschi (spatharus in 1810), had been vel vornic (Gh. Bezviconi, op. cit., p. 7). Filip F. Wiegel, op. cit., p. 19. About Theodor Vârnav, landowner at Petia (Suceava), Dimitrie Ghiþescu said that “he was a man with no culture, with a fatuity of great family, empty on the inside” (my italics), claiming to be “a great noble”, in comparison to low boyars and mazili (A. D. Xenopol, Din amintirile unui boier mancientovean din jumãtatea întâi a veacului XIX. Dimitrie Ghiþescu 1814-1889, in “Analele Academiei Române. Memoriile Secþiunii Istorice”, second series, XXXII, Bucharest, 1910, p. 1008). Uricariul, VII, pp. 241-254 (Condica liuzilor). 222 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 18. Epistolã adresatã lui Edgar Quinet, în 1856, de A. Cantacuzin, în „Convorbiri literare”, XVIII, Iaºi, 1885-1886, p. 444. 19. In fact, not been integrated within the “secondary boyarship”, or within the “great families” of the social elite, it provided the authors and supporters of the political idea called “constitutional”, din of the period preceding the Organic Regulation. It believed to have its origins in the “Movileºti, Dabijãºti [...] Racoviþãºti, Tomºãºti [...] and Costineºti, Efstrãteºti, Stroiceºti, the descendants of magistrate Boul, magistrate Buzum, Moþoteºti, the descendants of chancellor Dubãu, chancellor Ghenghi, magistrate Urechi, Necorãþãºti, the descendants of hetman Balica and hundreds others”, who had also been part of the “loyal and submitted family”, entitled to the great functions of the country’s Divan (Ionicã Tãutu, Scrieri socialpolitice, foreword, introductory study, notes by Emil Vârtosu, Bucharest, 1974, p. 112; March 2, 1824, Copie de pe o scrisoare ce au trimiis un boieriu din Moldavia cãtrã dumnealui logofãtul Grigoraºi Sturdza, la Cernãuþi). In 1819, when a couple of boyars from the “great families” of Walachia claimed a monopole of the functions within the Divan, arguing that only they have “the genuine noble lineage” and “the true nobility”, “other very important boyars did not agree with this clamed origin”, stating that “us, those who call ourselves as having noble origins, if our lineage were researched, wouldn’t we be put to shame in front of lower boyars, within the second and the third class?”, “holding in their hands attesting papers and other documents, proving that they come from great princes and boyars, meaning bani, magistrates, chancellors, spatharuses and others [...] Buzeºtii, Cãpleºtii, Calofereºtii, Prisicenii, Stãneºtii, Popeºtii ands others” (Zilot Românul (ªtefan Fãnuþã), Opere complete, foreword, introductory study, notes by Marcel-Dumitru Ciucã, Bucureºti, 1996, p. 115). 20. Costandin Sion, op. cit., pp. 274-275. They said of the Tãuteºti that they would have been related to the family of prince Dragoº”, who dismounted (ibidem, p. 274). 21. Ibidem, p. 275. In this case, too, Costandin Sion proves to be remarkably accurate, as shown by the document of Mihail Suþu since 1793, acknowledging to Costandin Tãutu the right “to be included within the lineage [my italics]”, as his father, Toader Tãutu, both deposed from the rank of boyar to that of “boyar servants”, with no rank or document to attest their nobility (Uricariul, VII, p. 56; December 3, 1793, Carte de scutealã de la Mihail Const. Suþul Voevod). 22. Uricariul, VII, p. 55. 23. Ioan Murariu, Un vechi arbore genealogic al familiei Tãutu, in “Arhiva Genealogicã”, I (VI), 1994, no. 1-2, pp. 161-162. 24. Gh. Ghibãnescu, Surete ºi izvoade, VIII, Documente racoviþeºti, Iaºi, 1914, p. 214. 25. Nicolae Iorga, Documente privitoare la familia Callimachi, II, Bucharest, 1903, p. XXVI, n. 2. 26. Gh. Ghibãnescu, Cuzeºtii (monografie istoricã), Bucharest, 1912, p. 105. 27. Costandin Sion, op. cit., pp. 160-161. 28. Ibidem, p. 69. 29. ªtefan S. Gorovei, Postfaþã, in Costandin Sion, op. cit., p. 329. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 223 30. They signed as chamberlain Iordache Jurje, chamberlain Ioan Jora, spatharus Ion Codreanu, agã Iordachi Manu, spatharus Alecu Sturdza, agã Gheorghe Bogdan, a certain spatharus Iamandi, aga I. Iamandi and a ban Miclescu (Iacov Antonovici, Documente bârlãdene, IV, Acte de la mulþi ºoltuzi ºi dregãtori ai Bãrladului, Bârlad, 1924, p. 308; May 8, 1833). 31. Neagu Djuvara, Les Grands Boiars ont-ils constituié dans les principautés roumaines une véritable oligarchie institutionnelle et héréditaire?, în „Südost-Forschungen”, XLVI Band, München, 1987, pp. 34-41. 32. Paul Cernovodeanu, Clanuri, famili, autoritãþi, puteri (Þara Româneascã, secolele XVXVII), in “Arhiva genealogicã”, I(VI), 1994, no. 1-2, p. 86. “The sacrifices” of he great boyars referred to dangerous tasks, that the “country” expected them to accomplish, facing “the danger” in order to protect the other “inhabitants”, “poor” and powerless. In 1801, confronted with the danger of becoming “the enemy of the Russians” and menaced with the “invasion of the Russian troops” in Vidin, pasha Pazvantoglu asked the Russian delegate at Vidin, a certain Constantin, the mediation of the Walachian Divan and “especially that of ban Ghica [ban Dimitrie Ghica – n.n.]” in his conflict with Prince Alexandru Moruzi (Documente privitoare la Istoria României, Colecþia Eudoxiu de Hurmuzaki, serie nouã, IV, pp. 308-309; Bucharest, January 14, 1801, Declaraþiile curierului rus, Constantin, cu privire la conversaþia sa cu Pasvantoglu ºi la ameninþãrile lui Kara Mustafa). Seeing how much tha pasha trusted the Walachian ban, the Divan asked him, “in the name of the country”, to “sacrifice himself” (my italics), going to Pazvantoglu’s house, hoping that his involvement would put a stop to the “games” of the soldiers of Pazvantoglu in Oltenia and in the Danube plain, and the old boyar was really risking his life (ibidem, IV, p. 309). 33. Alexandru Perietzianu-Buzãu, Genealogiile þãrãneºti, in “Arhiva Genealogicã”, V (X), 1998, no. 1-2, p. 235. 34. Neagu Djuva, op. cit., pp. 41-43. In his study, historian Neagu Djuvara insisted upon a phenomenon of conserving the “power” observed in case of ten “great families” in each Principality, investigating the presence of the members of various autochthonous families in the Divan, during 1771-1821. The conclusions generally coincide with the results of this investigation, but I do not agree with the opinion of the great historian regarding the fact that the “oligarchic character” of the “great families” is foremost proven by their presence in the Divan, as there are situations when the presence of only four of five families in the Divan (Balº, Ghica, Roset and Sturdza in Moldavia, Ghica, Vãcãrescu, Brâncoveanu and Filipescu in Walachia) indicates a “balance of power” between these families, but there are also numerous situations when we have the presence of seven or right families and “the power” was actually more “concentrated”, many of the officials within the Divan with the ranks of magistrate or with lower ranks being the sons-in-law or nephews of the two Grand Chancellors, having other names (in Moldavia), cumulating “the power” at the level of only two “great families”. 35. I. Tanoviceanu, Traducãtorul din 1803 al Menechmilor: Vornicul Alexandru Beldiman, în „Arhiva. Organul Societãþii ªtiinþifice ºi Literare din Iaºi”, IX, 1898, nr. 3-4, p. 173. 224 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 36. Alexandru Perietzianu-Buzãu, Postelnici ºi logofeþi prin drept de naºtere?, in “Arhiva Genealogicã”, I (VI), 1994, no. 3-4, p. 166. 37. In Walachia, Stoica Nãsturel, grandson of ban Constantin Nãsturel (who died in 1765), belonging to a great family, is registered in a document of 1814 as chamberlain, even though his age could not allow him to have this function, thus possessing it “since birth”, and his son, Ion Nãsturel, appears as chancellor, still “since birth” (Petre ª. Nãsturel, Postelnic din naºtere, postelnic “din faºã”, in “Arhiva Genealogicã”, V (X), 1998, no. 3-4, p. 23). 38. Neagu M. Djuvara, Familii de aromâni in România, in “Arhiva Genealogicã”, V (X), 1998, no. 1-2, p. 21. 39. Mihai Dimitrie Sturdza, Familiile boiereºti din Moldova ºi Þara Româneascã. Enciclopedie istoricã, genealogicã ºi biograficã: Abaza-Bogdan, Bucureºti, 2004, p. 254. 40. His father, Iordache Balº had married princess Maria Mavrocordat, the mother of Alecu Balº, in 1763, but he became a widower, as she died in 1770 (ibidem, p. 254). Probably, Alecu Balº was around 25 in 1792. 41. Radu Rosetii, Amintiri, I, Ce-am auzit de la alþii, ediþie îngrijitã ºi prefaþã de Mircea Anghelescu, Bucureºti, 1996, p. 37. 42. Mihai Dimitrie Sturdza, Marele comis ºi ºamberlan Iancu Balº, in idem, op. cit., p. 280; Gh. Bezviconi, op. cit., p. 15. 43. Filip F. Wiegel, op. cit., in Gh. Bezviconi, Familia Krupenski, pp. 28-29. 44. Mihai Dimitrie Sturdza, op. cit., p. 256. 45. Gh. Ghibãnescu, Spiþa familiei “Costachi” (dupã acte ºi documente), in “Ion Neculce”, IV, fasc. 4, 1924, p. 226 (Iaºi, 25 mai 1809; Act de vânzare între C. Conachi ºi ªerban Costache Negel, pentru casele lui C. Conachi din Iaºi). 46. Gh. Ungureanu, Familia Sion. Studiu ºi documente, Iaºi, 1936, p. 21. 47. Petre ª. Nãsturel, op. cit., p. 24. 48. P. V. Nãsturel, Originea boierilor Nãstureli. Studiu istorico-genealogic, in “Revista pentru istorie, archeologie ºi filologie”, X, Bucharest, Carol Göbl Institute, 1909, p. 9. 49. V. A. Urechia, Epitropia evgheniþilor, in “Literaturã ºi artã românã”, I, 1896, p. 376. 50. Ibidem, p. 382 (February 13, 1815, Anaforaua boierilor epitropi ai evgheniþilor). 51. Documente privitoare Istoria României, Colecþia Eudoxiu de Hurmuzaki, serie nouã, IV, pp. 352-353 (Bucharest, January 28, 1802, Notã informativã despre evenimentele din Bucureºti ºi din sudul Dunãrii). 52. Analele Parlamentare ale României, V2, Bucharest, 1895, pp. 624-630 (Proiectul pentru potrivirea rangurilor pe posturi), p. 631 (February 6, 1835, Îndreptãrile fãcute de cãtre Adunare in proiectul înaintãrilor). 53. Documente, in “Ion Neculce”, V, 1925, fascicule 5, p. 218 (November 19, 1841, Numirea ºi cinstea Vornicilor de Poartã). 54. See Ion Ghica, O paginã din istorie, in idem, Opere, I, Edited by Ion Roman, Bucharest, 1957, pp. 337-342. 55. Lee A. Farrow, Between Clan and Crown. The Struggle to Define Noble Property in Imperial Russia, University of Delaware Press, 2004, pp. 96-116. 56. See Pre slãvita viþã a pre luminatului ºi pre înãlþatului domn Io Nicolae Alexandru voievod, elaborated in 1727 by Nicolae Roset, made boyar by the Austrians, in “Trompeta Carpaþilor”, IV, 1866, pp. 423-425. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 225 57. Genealogia Cantacuzinilor de banul Mihai Cantacuzino, publicatã ºi adnotatã de N. Iorga, Bucureºti, 1902, p. 414. 58. N. Iorga, Prefaþã, in Idem, Documente privitoare la familia Callimachi, I, pp. I-CCXV; Virgil Cândea, Raþiunea dominantã. Contribuþii la istoria umanismului românesc, ClujNapoca, 1979, pp. 21-29. 59. See the brief, but very suggestive considerations of Neagu Djuvara in the study Genealogie, istorie ºi psihanalizã, in “Arhiva Genealogicã”, I (VI), 1994, nr. 1-2, p. 141, stating that “in the 18th century, [...] when France dominated Europe demographically and culturally, the political staff is recruited [...] almost exclusively among an administrative nobility”, that of certain noble families at the North of Loire. 60. See Robert Muchembled, Societatea rafinatã. Politicã ºi politeþe in Franþa, din secolul al XVI-lea pânã in secolul al XX-lea, translated by Ilie Dan, Chiºinãu, 2004. 61. I. C. Filitti, Ordinul Constantinian al Sf. Gheorghe, in idem, Arhiva Gheorghe Grigore Cantacuzino, Bucharest, 1919, pp. XXXIV-XXXVI. 62. Genealogia Cantacuzinilor, p. 413. 63. Mihai Dimitrie Sturduza, Familia Balº istoria unei genealogii, in idem, op. cit., p. 258. 64. Paul Cernovodeanu concluded that in the Romanian Principalities the first genealogical documents “did not concern, except in a very low degree, the analytical method of the descendants’ tables” (Importanþa tabelelor de ascendenþi pentru genealogie ºi istorie, “Arhiva Genealogicã”, I (VI), 1994, nr. 1-2, p. 155). 65. The armorial was called Însemnare arãtãtoare de 16 neamuri ale boierilorAlexandru ºi Ioan Baluº ºi a surorii sale Ecaterina Toranu di pi tatã ºi di pi mamã. See Maria Dogaru, Un armorial românesc din 1813. Spiþa de neam a familiei Balº dotatã cu steme, Bucharest, 1981, pp. 75-98. Sever Zotta assumed that the armorial was necessary for those boyars to get the title of Austrian chamberlain for Alecu Balº, starting from is structure upon 16 “neighbourhoods”, also found in the Habsburg Empire (See in ArhGen, II, 1913, no. 4-6, pp. 98-99). Taking into account the fact that Alecu Balº did not get the title, but that his brother Ioan Balº, who lived in Bessarabia, got the title of chamberlain of the tsar before 1818 (Gh. Bezviconi, Boierimea Moldovei dintre Prut ºi Nistru, Bucharest, 2004, p. 15), we find more accurate the theory that the armorial was elaborated to recognise this title to Ioan Balº. 66. Gh. Ghibãnescu, Roºieºtii ºi apa Idriciului, p. 18. 67. In 1819, the Moldavian Divan enforced a lineage of the cavalry commander from Botosani Iordache ªendrea, whose family “should start with the year 1287, from hetman ªãndre to the cavalry commander, comprising 22 plates” (Alexandru PerietzianuBuzãu, Vidomostie de boierii Moldovei aflaþi in þarã la 1829, in ArhGen, II (VII), 1995, no. 1-2, p. 159, n.1), elaborated “for the territorial claims of the ªendreºti,” reiterating “older claims and tradition” for their family (Maria Magdalena Székely, ªtefan S. Gorovei, Nepoþii lui ªtefan cel Mare, in “Arhiva Genealogicã”, V (X), 1998, no. 1-2, p. 112). 226 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Abstract Nobility and Power in Moldavia at the Beginning of the 19th Century In a book entitled Language and symbolic power, Pierre Bourdieu defined the relationship between identity, language and representation the fact that identity is the subject of mental representations, as acts of perception and appreciation, knowledge and recognition of people, expressed through a language that reflect their interests and assumptions. Understanding ethnic and social identities in this manner, an interdisciplinary research must relate to the representation as part of historical reality, not as a deformation reality, furthermore, to examine the confrontation between representations, as mental images conveyed by various social actors, trying thereby to justify a position of power in society and state. In this conceptual horizon our paper is placed, which aims to examine in the context how social and political actors from the Romanian Principalities elite built their legitimacy of competing in the competition for power by appealing to a language full of representations of identity, in the fight for the political power and the social prestige. Keywords identity, power, representations, social prestige Fils egaré ou traître incurable ? La figure du contrerévolutionnaire dans l’imaginaire politique roumain du 1848 N ICOLAE M IHAI Au lieu d’introduction A LLONGÉ SUR son lit de mort, le célèbre philosophe et homme politique Edmund Burke avait demandé à être enterré dans l’anonymat, loin de sa famille. Une telle curieuse demande peut être expliquée seulement en étroite liaison avec sa peur à l’égard des révolutionnaires françaises. Son attitude n’était pas la réaction exagérée d’un individu qui, apparemment, n’aurait pas été en pleine possession de ses facultés mentales. Plutôt, on peut voir en elle la confirmation finale, à la limite, de son adversité face à la Révolution Française. En outre, Burke pouvait se justifier aussi par les nombreux signes récents de l’implication de Paris dans une série d’actions antibritannique1. Si les contrerévolutionnaires classiques partageaient, à des doses différentes, les mêmes craintes sur le danger révolutionnaire, les révolutionnaires eux-mêmes avaient des motifs pour combattre leurs adversaires. Malheureusement, la relation entre la révolution et la contrerévolution continue à rester l’otage d’un clavage stérile ce qui nous empêche de comprendre que, en fait, les deux phénomènes ont également participé à un pareil processus culturel et politique parce que toute révolution produit et perpétue ses propres opposants. Le contrerévolutionnaire est ainsi, un acteur inévitable de l’imaginaire collective, présent au niveau de la rhétorique, mais aussi au niveau de la pratique politique de l’Europe des années 1789-18482. Il prenait naissance dans un contexte historique très complexe, ou l’intérêt pour le politique et l’accès à l’espace publique augmente dans lequel chaque côté participait à l’autodéfinition de l’autre3. Une analyse du discours révolutionnaire quarante-huitard de la principauté de la Valachie, nous montre le fleurissement d’une vraie sémantique autour de ce que les spécialistes n’ont pas hésité de nommer « une généalogie de l’enne- Étude financée par le Projet UE, FSE, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013). 228 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) mi »4. Qu’on parle de « Constitution », Patrie, patriotisme, propriété, Garde Nationale, Assemblé constituante, on identifie presque toujours la présence d’une ombre qui menace le bonheur de la communauté nationale. Il est, croyonsnous, l’un des facteurs qui différencient le mieux les mouvements révolutionnaires roumains de 1821 et 1848. Si à 1821, Tudor Vladimirescu avait manifesté, lui aussi, un intérêt particulier à l’égard la définition du vrai patriote et de l’encouragement de la violence contre les ennemis du « peuple opprimé », cependant, dans le mouvement qu’il a mené, on ne trouve pas la tension donnée par le mythe de la conspiration, par la présence nocturne et insidieuse des « ennemis de la patrie » qui marque l’imaginaire révolutionnaire presque trois décennies plus tard. Les textes produits lors des trois mois du régime révolutionnaire en 1848 (appels, articles de presse, des circulaires officielles, rapports administratifs) sont caractérisés par un thème récurrent: l’ennemi n’est pas seulement en dehors de la ville, mais aussi à l’intérieur de celle-ci. La figure la plus populaire est celle du contrerévolutionnaire. Pathogène dangereux, il affecte l’ (imm) unité de l’organisme national et lui compromet toute possibilité de récupération. Une telle maladie politique conduit à des solutions spécifiques, liées aux sensibilités et mentalités de l’époque. Une lecture des documents de l’époque confirme qu’on n’a pas affaire à une position idéologique clairement établie5, une situation pareille pour d’autres cas européens. De ce point de vue, être contrerévolutionnaire n’est qu’« une affaire de moment », selon les mots de Ron Halévi6. Mais le terme peut recevoir une signification spéciale, parce qu’il serve à une désignation polémique et dévient, inévitablement, « une arme politique dans le jeu du pouvoir révolutionnaire »7. La perspective que nous avons choisi, pourrait sembler biaisée et séquentielle, parce que le terme « contrerévolution » lui-même est une sorte de Ianus bifrons. Autrement dit, le chercheur se trouvera vite placé autant devant un discours hostile à la Révolution, qu’à l’un de la Révolution sur ceux qui lui sont opposés ou qui sont soupçonnés d’agir ainsi8. Analysant la variante plus consistante du point de vue documentaire, c’est à dire celle de la Contrerévolution vue par la perspective révolutionnaire – motivés aussi par l’absence de certains indices consistants de la coté contrerévolutionnaire9 – notre intention a été celle de surprendre les principales représentations liées à une figure également politique et émotionnelle. Comme dans des autres cas (le cas du Directorat, par exemple), le terme « contrerévolutionnaire » est moins visible. On préfère celui de « réactionnaire ». Comme Jean Starobinski a déjà remarqué, une lecture de la dynamique révolutionnaire à travers le prisme du couple action / réaction, peut se prouver extrêmement utile10. Il y a un dialogue imaginaire avec cet ennemi, traité quand comme un fils égaré, quand comme un traître incurable. Entre les deux hypostases majores se sont intercalés d’autres images, en prouvant la polyvalen- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 229 ce de cette altérité, inévitable dans toute dynamique révolutionnaire11. Ces représentations du contrerévolutionnaire connaissent des variations de ton, des expressions plus nuancées d’appartenance, le plus souvent des intellectuels qui ont signé les articles de presse aussi, jusqu’aux descriptions plus plastiques, mais brefs, qui proviennent du territoire. On pense aux rapports des fonctionnaires de l’administration locale ou des commissaires révolutionnaires. Ensuite, nous assistons à la naissance d’un discours qui va de l’utopie de la fraternité et de l’harmonie sociale à la violence radicalement proclamée. Nous retrouvons dans le premier cas une rencontre non conflictuel entre un modèle politique moderne et une vision traditionnelle chrétienne ; ou, plutôt, on pourrait parler d’une valorisation au profit personnel par l’utopie révolutionnaire de sa veine chrétienne, dans une société où la Bible peut être un argument révolutionnaire plus crédible que Rousseau. Mais elle est aussi la source la plus souvent invoquée pour la réconciliation, le pardon, même l’excuse de ceux qui n’ont pas commet intentionnellement « le péché politique ». Le désir d’harmoniser les aspérités est en permanence contredit par la tentation de démarquer les camps. On se trouve donc face à une frontière très fluide, que les contrerévolutionnaires savent accentuer davantage, conformément à certaines représentations véhiculées par le discours révolutionnaire. L’image du patriote hypocrite – un oxymoron dans la même logique révolutionnaire – revient fréquemment, et en attire l’attention dans quelques situations bien précisées. Un exemple, en ce sens, saurait l’échec du coup contrerévolutionnaire de 19 juin 1848, lorsqu’on affirmait que « la taille du cocarde est souvent proportionnelle à la petitesse des sentiments »12. Trois hypostases de la culpabilité : l’Errant, le Conspirateur, le Trompeur L A LECTURE des documents de l’époque nous met invariablement devant une question : comment sont perçus ces contrerévolutionnaires ? Tout d’abord, nous avons affaire à une localisation claire. Les instructions des commissaires de propagande de Juillet 1848 parlent des « ennemis de l’intérieur » qui essaient d’influencer les paysans contre la révolution13. Donc, ces adversaires sont à l’intérieur de la ville, sont les « réactionnaires de l’intérieur », comme on disait dans le contexte de la pénétration des troupes de Soliman Pacha dans la principauté. « Ennemis du bien général et de leur bonheur »14, ils persévèrent encore dans leurs erreurs. Ainsi semblent- ils être surpris par les écrits officiels même. Une lecture d’un document de l’époque, une circulaire de l’administrateur de Dolj 230 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) vers ses sous-administrateurs, datée 18 Julie 1848, nous permet d’identifier les images suivantes : « des esprits égarés, qui pour des espoirs pleinement vaines et sans aucun fondement, osent répandre des mots pour étourdir les têtes des paysans et pour les insuffler de la méfiance envers les saints droits que la glorieuse constitution promesse à tous…, des gens qui trouble le silence publique et des ennemis de la patrie…, des voix maudissants à l’adresse du bonheur du pays », qui « ne devrait jamais respirer pour ne pas infecter l’air pur de la liberté, que le paysan initié dans les droits de la constitution respire…, des gens perdus dans l’opinion publique ». Les mesures sévères engagées contre eux, sont nécessaires pour que « les méchants tremblent devant les droits que la constitution garanti à tous15. Leur pouvoir persuasif semble plus grand en province. Le gouvernement révolutionnaire est, d’ailleurs, conscient de fait qu’il y avait des départements « plus hantés par les réactionnaires ». Ceux qui répandent des rumeurs parmi les paysans que « maintenant il y a zavera16 et vous ne devez travailler rien ... sont des trompeurs qui vous désirent le mal »17. L’envoie des commissaires révolutionnaires est justifié justement par la présence « de gens qui répandent toutes sortes de mots pour effrayer le monde et qui interprètent mal les intentions du gouvernement en voulant déclencher une réaction »18. En faisant référence à la mission de N. Golescu, un roumain Transylvain écrivait à Gheorghe Bariþ, le 31 Juillet 1848, en confirmant la présence des désinformations : « Je sais que là les Turcs nous tueront toutes les jours, parce que je sais combien des mensonges bouillent les réactionnaires »19. Les réactionnaires sont « les gens le plus loin de Dieu », c’est-à-dire « les fils du péché de ce district »20. En agissant contre « le bonheur commune », ils souffrent d’une myopie politique évidente. Ils sont ceux « aveuglés par le péché », qui « ne veulent pas être des chrétiens et des Roumains, ne veulent pas que la loi du pays soit la raison et la fraternité et se forcent à troubler votre bonheur qui à partir de maintenant prendra des racines la terre sainte de la Roumanie libre »21. Leur boussole est erronément orientée, vers le nord (c’est à dire la Russie), ce qui les met dans une dérive continue. On rencontre quelques images récurrentes dans le discours politique. L’une cultive la dimension récupératrice de ces « frères réactionnaires », selon la définition de Vasile Boerescu dans un appel dont l’effet reste plutôt rhétorique que pratique22. Le fils égaré de la patrie peut à tout moment être apporté sur la bonne voie, et quelques succès remportés semblent en entretenir les espoirs. Une parte des adversaires « se sont retournés de la voie de l’errance et ont accepté la Constitution, en réalisant qu’ils ont été trompés dans leurs opinions et disant qu’ils n’ont pas lu le calendrier de la Constitution auparavant »23. Mais il s’agit d’une véritable réconciliation ? Dans une nouvelle proclamation, lancée le 11 Juillet 1848, le gouvernement révolutionnaire valaque tente d’apaiser tout le monde, y compris ceux qui ont inspiré des coups contrerévolutionnaires. Il s’agit des POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 231 grands propriétaires qui, dans des autres documents, surtout dans la presse, sont taxés le plus sévèrement possible : « Ne soyez pas égaré, mes frères, selon les intrigues de ceux qui veulent le mal pour la patrie ; ne vous faites pas vous-même des organes aveugles de la dégradation des libertés que nous acquissions »24. L’image du fils égaré de la Patrie implique la possibilité de sa récupération. Dans la logique du discours révolutionnaire, s’il existe des coupables, ils ne sont pas tant nombreux qu’on a cru : « la source des toutes intrigues a été les intrigues de 5, 6 gens aveuglé de l’ambition et d’un intérêt malhonnête, qui, lors d’un minute, ont trompé les autres aussi parce qu’ils avaient interprété mauvais la sainte proclamation »25. En misant sur le prestige dont l’Eglise Orthodoxe dispose, les auteurs d’autres textes soulignent en plus la force de la sanction, par le biais d’un rituel traditionnel, de la rupture définitive entre l’Ancien Régime et la Révolution. En ce cas, l’errance est synonyme à l’anachronisme, et tout possibilité de revenir à un régime disparu devient impossible : « Et il y a encore des gens, des gens qui s’appellent eux-mêmes des Roumains, des gens qui diffament notre Constitution, qui désirent secrètement revenir a l’ancien état de choses, même contre l’anathème prononcé par la tête de l’Eglise »26. La restauration de l’Ancien Régime était présenté comme improbable, même si elle aurait été soutenu par les troupes russes, sur l’arrivée imminente desquels insistait la propagande contrerévolutionnaire : « Non, non ! – Le Règlement ne peut plus être le canon des Roumains. Les Turcs sont nos amis et les Russes ne peuvent plus venir sur la terre roumaine »27. Dans un tel contexte, l’attachement même à l’égard l’ancien régime du Règlement Organique est traité ironiquement, comme une absence de connexion au présent et comme un refuge inutile au passé : « L’histoire crie, les faites crient, nous tous crions, mais ils ne veulent pas croire que le Règlement est mort. Eh bien, pourquoi, messieurs, vous étés saisis par la surprise, quand vous le savez bien qu’il était, par sa nature, assez fragile et impuissant ? »28. L’auteur ne demande autre chose que le retour de ces fils égarés au milieu du corps national : « Nos bras sont toujours ouverts. Nos cœurs ne connaissent plus de la haine, soient oubliés toutes les dernières, venez à nous donner le baiser fraternel ! » 29. Les mêmes « roumains égarés », appartenant à la noblesse, étaient aussi la cible des autres articles, publiés dans les gazettes révolutionnaires, comme « Pruncul Român » ou « Popolul Suveran »30, avec la différence que leur ton était légèrement diminué par rapport à celui des textes signés par César Bolliac : « Nos mesdames chantent et sautent de bonheur. Très gaie, une d’entre elles, nous disait hier, que maintenant les choses se sont arrangées le meilleur que possible. Les Turcs vient le cimeterre à la main et nous tuent ; les Russes vient eux aussi le Règlement à la main pour nous écorcher, les boyards vient eux aussi avec le caïmacan, la noblesse, le vol, l’esclavage pour nous enterrer, et puis bonne paix »31. 232 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) En synthétisant de cette façon « les paroles qui passent de rue en rue, de maison en maison, d’homme en homme »32, l’auteur accusait l’élite des boyards conservateurs de cécité politique. Et l’explication était simple : « le Roumain qui a respiré deux moins l’air de la liberté pourra-t-il vivre encore dans l’étouffement du Règlement et de la noblesse ? » Par conséquence, une telle élite étaient conseillée d’orienter l’aiguille de sa boussole politique vers l’Europe civilisée, et non pas vers le nord barbare, allusion évidente à la Russie : « Écoutez-nous, vous, ceux qui voulez être des souverains, dans la crainte de Dieu nous vous disons que ceux qui gouvernent aujourd’hui le pays, donnent avec toute la grâce le gouvernement de la main, si vous voudrez renoncer à Satan et faire tourner le bateau à l’Ouest et non pas vers le nord comme jusqu’à présent »33. L’errance est donc d’ordre politico-géographique, mais expliquée en clef religieux. Des documents de l’époque ne manquent pas ni les références aux « complotes infernales des ennemis de la Constitution »34. Le sujet a retenu l’attention de certains spécialistes35, comme par exemple François Furet, qui a parlé entre les premiers sur l’obsession de la conspiration comme principe organisateur de la rhétorique française36. Par suite, il n’est pas exagéré d’affirmer que le secret et le complot semblent être des marques par excellence de la contrerévolution de service. Lorsque le discours révolutionnaire tire l’attention sur ceux qui conspirent contre la liberté du peuple, il ne fait qu’accentuer l’écart entre la lumière qui caractérise les actions du nouveau régime, et les ténèbres dans lesquels se déplacent les actions de la Contrerévolution. Il y a aussi la perspective sur laquelle est construite l’étude bien connue de Jean Starobinski37. Comme dans la France révolutionnaire, il commencera à circuler une représentation courante sur la contrerévolution, ayant comme arme privilégiée le complot – mais la représentation va bientôt devenir « l’une des obsessions du discours révolutionnaire ». Pour l’élite révolutionnaire il n’existe qu’une position claire et transparente face à ce sujet. Dans le nouveau cadre politique les citoyens ne pouvaient plus avoir des secrètes entre eux. Les discours publics, les articles de la presse, l’envoie des pétitions ou des délégations, le choix des représentants pour l’Assemblée Constituante participent à la construction d’un pouvoir visible, constitutionnel, qui refusait officiellement le secret ou ses pratiques38. Prenons l’exemple du discours prononcé par l’abbé Fauchet en août 1789, devant l’église Sainte-Marguerite. Le vicaire de Saint Roche dénonce en termes sévères les « aristocrates cachés », « ces ténébreux artisans des malheurs publiques » qui attendent en ombre leur moment de retour. Du cadavre renversé de l’aristocratie, « des milliers des serpents venineux se propagent, se cachent dans le sein des nos villes, infestent de loin nos terrains rurales, font entendre leur sifflement sourde, jettent de toutes les coins la poison de la haine et le feu de la querelle39. La description du contrerévolutionnaire faisant appel aux attributs rep- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 233 tiliens, et implicitement, à la maintenance d’une distance mentale face aux opposants : « les réactionnaires ici se cachent dans le trou du serpent », note un témoin40. Lorsque G. I. Vernescu signe un article en „Pruncul Român”, numéro 12, de 10 Julie 1848, sur le court épisode de la caïmacanie de 29 Juin, il le fait avec un double sens : il met en évidence le danger contrerévolutionnaire, pour lequel il utilise les mêmes métaphores, inspirées par le bestiaire tératologique, mais il souligne aussi l’attitude positive de la population de la capitale, motivée, paradoxalement, par « les complots monstrueux des démons incarnés, dont le bande rampante s’appelle aristocratie41. C’est l’époque des Caïmans. Il a eu une durée de 24 heures ; mais, pour dire la vérité, en voulant nous faire du mal, il nous a fait quatre grands biens : Le peuple, goûtant la liberté, avait oublié la tyrannie ; 24 heures de despotisme lui a apporté toute l’énergie, lui a rappelé tout le courage et l’a fait montrer toute sa puissance. Les commerçants, indifférentes jusqu’à ce moment se sont fortement unis avec le peuple. Les espions, les traîtres, ceux « iasme câncesânde » (!), se sont démasqués, ont pris leur lieu et ne peuvent plus abuser des Roumains. Le gouvernement a appris une grande leçon : il apprend maintenant, qu’à tout prix, il doit avoir confiance en peuple ; qu’il doit tenir ses promissions, ne pas donner aux sinécures, et, au milieu des romains, il doit imposer de manière forte et protégé, sur les lâches et flasher les idées venimeux, conspiratives de la liberté »42. On trouve un premier comte des activités contrerévolutionnaires dans un article de „Pruncul român” de 22 Juin 1848. L’échec du premier coup contrerévolutionnaire est interprété comme un fait providentiel, mais aussi comme une preuve de la vitalité de la nation roumaine. Comment pouvait être catalogué un tel acte par la presse révolutionnaire ? « Une trahison infernale s’était mis au point contre la liberté, contre la justice et la fraternité ». Ses auteurs ne sont que « des pires ennemis de la patrie, qui cultivent la rivalité et la discorde », mais qui évidement, ne peuvent cueillir que « la haine et l’outrage de la nation ». Le coup contrerévolutionnaire de 29 Juin 1848 est présenté en „Gazeta de Transilvania” comme moment théâtral, de tombé des masques et de révélation de l’image de traître du contrerévolutionnaire : « La vente de la patrie a été découverte dans toute son vide impur »43.La trahison ne peut avoir que un visage répulsif, son corporalité étant marqué par le péché. A ce type de « traîtres, trompeurs du serment », on refuse le droit de porter la cocarde tricolore. Le contrerévolutionnaire est, donc, un traître, et dans certaines représentations véhiculées, il est même un parjure. La dernière image comporte une discussion spéciale, surtout lorsqu’on parle de la situation des militaires dans le cas desquels les solidarités spécifiques sont structurées autour des formes symboliques comme le serment. Les colonels Odobescu et Solomon pourraient être accusés de double parjure. D’une part, leur action de 19 Juin 1848 peut 234 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) être expliquée par la loyauté face au souverain « démissionné » et, implicitement, face à l’Ancien Régime régulier. D’autre part, ils ont déposé le serment face au régime révolutionnaire, essayant en même temps le renverser. En leur charge ont été donc, déposés deux engagements rompus. En insistant sur sa qualité de parjure, le gouvernement révolutionnaire pouvait les présenter publiquement comme des traîtres. Ainsi, en leur rappelant le serment déposé à Câmpia Filaretului, les leaders révolutionnaires demandaient aux soldats de l’armée ( milice terrière), qui étaient à Bucarest, de ne pas obéir du ex officier : « aujourd’hui votre chef Solomon vous a trompé et – en dépit du serment qu’il a fait aussi – vous a ordonné de lutter contre le gouvernement et vos frères. Le gouvernement avec sa sainteté le métropolite vous jurent au nom de Dieu que vous être fidèles à votre serment, c’est-à-dire de défendre, le pays, la liberté et le gouvernement, et de non pas chagriner vos frères pour un traître comme Solomon, que le gouvernement a destitué »44. L’entré des turcs était justifiée « parce que les ennemi de la patrie et de notre Constitution ont fait des faux apparences devant la Sublime Porte »45 ou « parce que les ennemis de notre bonheur dans l’agonie de la mort ont crié encore une fois et arrivant chez la Sublime Porte, leur crie l’a fait supposer que ce Gouvernement ne représente pas le peuple Roumain »46. Les actions des contrerévolutionnaires peuvent, donc, être efficaces – même si elles semblent être les dernières – par le recours au bien connu arsenal, dont la désinformation et la manipulation font partie. La Reconnaissance les mises qui ont apparu autour du discours contrerévolutionnaire déterminait des ripostes à la mesure, les journalistes-patriotes essayant combattre les peurs traditionnelles, la rumeur et le découragement. Ils sont allés même jusqu’à la initiation des mesures de type jacobine, mais qui tenaient de la rhétorique explosive du moment : « Frères ! Ne comprenez-vous pas d’où ces intrigues vient ; n’entendez- vous pas ce que disent les étrangères, les ennemis de la Roumanie ? Soit de la trouble, poussons-nous les choses jusqu’à ce que nous forcions le gouvernement à prendre des mesures sévères. Alors le commerce va effrayer, tous les gens auront peur, le gouvernement sera paralysé, l’anarchie sortira de toutes les maisons et du sein de ce chaos ils seront forcés à nous appeler à nous, les étrangers pour sauver le pays. Roumain ! Si nous laisserons ces pares circuler, si chacun n’est pas le policier de sa ville, si nous ne poussons pas jusqu’à la dernière goutte de sang toute tentative de réagir, si nous laissons l’intrigue ait l’air de prophète, personne ne pourra pas prédire ce qu’il adviendra de nous »47. Depuis le 7 Juillet 1848, par la proclamation du gouvernement il avait devenu claire un changement de position d’une attitude pardonnant à l’une plus sévère, par l’adoption des « plus sévères mesures pour punir sans exception, toute mensonge, toute intrigue, toute essai de tuer les libertés »48. Comme un résultat directe de l’adoption de cette politique, « tous ceux qui se prouve- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 235 ront des intrigants ou des organes des intrigues, seront immédiatement arrêtés, et, après le jugement, ils perdront toutes les droites de citoyen, parce qu’ils seuls ont conspiré contre eux ». Du point de vue de la mythologie politique, on peut dire à propos d’un tel discours qu’il pendule entre le mythe de la conspiration et ce de l’unité. Si le premier met, inévitablement, en lumière la rupture du corps national, l’autre oppose l’image radieuse d’un corps national unitaire et harmonieux. C’est aussi la raison pour lequel les discours des premiers jours insistent sur l’unité, en tirant l’attention, répétitivement, sur le danger représenté par « la discorde, la désunion et les accouplements »49. Dans le décret no. 72 du gouvernement provisoire, de Juin 1848, on parle de l’arrestation du gouvernement de 19 Juin comme ayant « le triste résultat de voir pour la première fois, un frère armé contre son frère »50. Le suces d’un jour de la Contrerévolution a été un temps « quand toutes les esprits infernales de l’aristocratie coururent à la vengeance »51. On assiste à une confrontation mythologisé où, évidement, « les anciens tyrans, leurs satellites, l’organe étranger, les criminels de trahison, l’armé trompée ont soudain murmuré et ont tombé à genoux, en demandant pardon devant le torrent d’un peuple qui venait avec la colère de Dieu ». Si Satan, « le grand ennemi de l’humanité envia cette bonheur et apporta le jour de 19 », le pardon ne peut être donné que « comme des mains libérales du Tout-Puissant »52. Curieusement, le texte met l’accent sur une perspective religieuse où, conformément à une vision chrétienne, Dieu et Satan sont impliqués les deux dans les événements révolutionnaire et contrerévolutionnaires. En outre, toutes ces représentations sont sous le signe de l’opposition entre les « fils de la vérité » et les « fils du péché »53, entre une « minorité mouffette » et une majorité radieuse. Par exemple, le triomphe de la révolution à Craiova et le départ des contrerévolutionnaires (200 familles de boyards et commerçants qui se sont retirés de la ville) ont coïncidé à un changement bienvenu, vu par la prisme de certaines couples d’images antagoniques, du type liberté/intrigue, lumière/nuit : « toutes ont pris une nouvelle face, la cause de la liberté a triomphé et les ombres de l’intrigue se sont répandus pour faire lieu a une belle lumière d’unification, fraternisation, liberté et patriotisme »54. Ceux qui se sacrifient pour la cause de la Révolution, qui renoncent aux esclaves tziganes ou à une parti de leurs revenus d’officiers ou professeurs, s’opposent aux ceux qui conspirent en secret pour la restauration de l’Ancien Régime, qui se donnent aux « complots sataniques »55 ; s’opposent, aussi, aux soldats qui tirent contre leurs propres citoyens et aux officiers qui donnent de tels ordres. Mais on ne trouve pas une articulation consistante pour la position contrerévolutionnaire qui, soit est minimalisée (« les ennemis de notre Constitution font une minorité très petite et très faible »56), soit prend des dimensions apocalyptiques, pour mettre en évidence 236 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) meilleur, par contraste, la force de la Révolution ou du nouveau acteur social, le Peuple. Le discours sur la contrerévolution est, également, un sur la légitimité et met encore une fois en évidence le fait que « le langage devient une expression de la puissance et la puissance est exprimée par le droit de parler pour le peuple »57. Par conséquent, les militants s’auto présentent comme l’incarnation exclusive des principes révolutionnaires valides. D’autre part, leurs opposants sont ceux attachés au complot, à la négation, au chaos. Ils sont ceux qui se donnent à « des intrigues nombreuses, variées et tracées d’une main longue et forte »58, « les révolutionnaires égarés »59, « les intrigants, qui veulent le mal à la patrie », « les conspirateurs et les ravisseurs des libertés », « les fils de l’esclavage et de ténèbres ». Le bréviaire des actions contrerévolutionnaires B UCAREST, LE 27 Juin, 1848. A l’occasion de la cérémonie révolutionnaire déroulée à Bucarest, sur Câmpia Libertãþii (Câmpul lui Filaret (le Champ de Filaret)), Andrei Vangheli et le chanteur Ioan Dãnescu osent crier contre la Constitution. « Alors le peuple a voulu prendre ces deux gens de la partie réactionnaire et a voulu les punir immédiatement. Si C. Balcescu ne les avait pas sauvés de la juste colère du peuple, en les fermant là, dans une cave, et puis les envoyant à la police, il aurait pu produire une scène sanglante »60. Il est étonnant le fait que le téméraire geste publique contrerévolutionnaire était venu non pas de la part de certains boyards, mais de la part des gens d’une condition sociale plus basse, qui avaient probablement, leur propre vision sur le nouvel état de choses. Quant à la qualité de membres de la « parti réactionnaire », elle était donnée ad-hoc, l’efficacité politique de certains gens avec une position sociale réduite dans l’hiérarchie de l’époque étant, évidement, nul. Mais, qui sont les véritables membres de « la parti réactionnaire » ? Certainement, un Ioan Ghica, le gendre d’Alexandru Ghica, qui osait menacer à Cadesti, le comté Buzau, le représentant du gouvernement dans le territoire, le commissaire révolutionnaire Vasilache Caloianu : « venant à moi, il a commencé à adresser des paroles injurieuses, qu’il est venu le temps des rois mages, que les pauvres se levèrent pour monter le pays et autres. Lorsque je lui ai dit que je suis envoyé par le Gouvernement, il m’a répondu quel Gouvernement, ce Gouvernement résistera jusqu’au surlendemain, et que nous remplirons les mines, en ajoutant que : Rappelez-vous ! Je t’ai consigné et je sais qui tu es »61. La position contrerévolutionnaire est fondée donc, sur la dispute autour de l’idée de légitimation de la puissance, sur la contestation de la représentativité du nouveau régime. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 237 On a affaire à des personnes qui ont détenu ou qui détient encore une position prestigieuse dans la société. C’est le cas de Nicolae Chintescu, le procureur adjoint du district Romanaþi, qui, « avec la plus grande colère despotique », a attaqué le commissaire révolutionnaire Constantin Manega. Dans son rapport vers le Ministère de l’Intérieur, il le décrit comme suite : « cette personne, pleine d’aristocratie et despotisme, plusieurs fois a bavardé et bavarde sans cesse contre les nouvelles Constitutions »62. En dépit des efforts « de l’apporter a la conscience de l’avenir heureux qui nous attend », les actions du commissaire et de l’administrateur ont échoué « parce que il ne peut pas se réconcilier et ne peut pas contrôler sa colère despotique », son action étant faite « non pas pour défendre sa fonction, mais seulement pour montrer sa colère venimeuse qu’il porte en soi contre ceux qui veulent et protègent les nouvelles institutions bienfaiteurs au pays »63. La description confirme le fait qu’autour de la contrerévolution s’était contourné un imaginaire négatif et irrationnel, extrait de la zone du pathologique, qui dépassait l’espace des explications valides (la peur de ne pas perdre la position détenue dans le cadre de l’appareille administrative local). Le 6 Août 1848, les administrateurs révolutionnaires prennent conscience du texte d’une circulaire envoyé par le ministre de ressort, Nicolae Golescu, qui les demandait parmi les autres, « de soucier à couper les réactions tant dans les villages que dans la ville, et celui qui intrique et qui ne cesse pas après tu l’as attentionné de ne plus intriguer, tu le gronde en publique et puis, l’incarcère »64. C’est un changement de ton face aux hésitations et l’inefficience manifesté jusqu’à ce moment-là. Les coups contrerévolutionnaires de 19 et 20 Juin 1848 avaient montré la fragilité de la puissance révolutionnaire, même dans la capitale, sa mangue d’efficience dans le combat des comploteurs. Les images négatives prédominent et la correspondance avec les intellectuels roumains de Transylvanie, comme on trouve dans la correspondance entre George Barit et A. Treboniu Laurian : « savez-vous que les réactionnaires se préparent d’une contrerévolution diabolique à Bucarest par un certain Schina (ou comment il s’appelle), à Craiova, par Haralambie, à Câmpulung par un certain Roset »65. Les ramifications de la Contrerévolution semblent être plus grandes car « les aristocrates » étaient signalés à Brasov aussi qu’ils font « toutes sortes de complots »66. Donc, l’espace urbain semble être le champ favori de la présence de contrerévolutionnaires. Le fait que certaines villes, comme par exemple, Craiova et Câmpulung, devient une sorte de variantes roumaines du Coblence de pendant la Révolution française, doit être regardé avec l’attention de rigueur. C.D. Aricescu, témoin des événements, explique ce paradoxal succès de la Contrerévolution dans l’espace urbain : « Le Câmpulung, et d’autres capitales des districts, était devenu un nid de réactionnaires, qui répandent la peur et la terreur parmi les crédules 238 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) et le découragement parmi les craintifs »67. Le retrait des grands propriétaires de la capitale à la province créait les prémisses de telles situations. Bien qu’ils soient bien placés dans la capitale68, par leur déplacement de la périphérie vers le centre du pouvoir, les leaders révolutionnaires avaient perdu le contrôle sur « la province ». Ainsi, si la révolution débutait en Olténie à Izlaz, il existerait des informations que la région à travers l’Olt était loin d’être intégralement contrôlée par la puissance révolutionnaire. Alexandru G. Golescu était conscient de la situation lorsqu’il demandait sur les mesures pris en ce sens : « Mon frère, Radu, avez-vous envoyé contre les révolutionnaires ? Vous savez bien que la petite Valachie sera la forteresse des Roumains, cherchez-vous, donc, à la nettoyer des réactionnaires ; concentrez beaucoup de jeunes et de la puissance militaire à Craiova. Lancez-vous un appel aux propriétaires, en les invitant à revenir de l’errant dans laquelle ils ont été apportés par les perfides réactionnaires »69. Craiova pourtant, semble détenir le rôle de Bastille de la réaction. A peine le 20 Juliet 1848, le général Gheorghe Magheru pouvait affirmer au sujet de Craiova, que « l’ivraie, donc, a été choisie de blé, et connaissant les conspirateurs leur petit nombre par rapport au peuple rebellé ce jour-là, on les a insufflé la peur, leurs clubs se sont gaspillé, et certains d’entre eux ont fuit, de crainte à ne pas tomber dans la colère du peuple »70. Cependant, y compris la nomination d’un nouvel administrateur dans la personne du Transylvanien Florian Aaron, l’un des agents révolutionnaires le plus énergique et efficace, est incapable de produire les résultats escomptés, surtout dans le contexte de la prolifération des nouvelles relatives à l’entrée des troupes turques dans la principauté. Vasile Maiorescu reconnaît franchement que « Aaron, avec toutes ses compétences, ne peut pas détruire les clubs des réactionnaires de Craiova »71. En outre, « les Transylvaniens » attirent l’attention de la contrerévolution, encouragée à la fin d’août, par la possibilité de restaurer les règlements de l’Ancien Régime. Comment on interprète autrement le concerne du même intellectuel Transylvanien, avouée à son frère, l’apprécié professeur Ioan Maiorescu, que « les réactionnaires » suivront avec acharnement l’expulsion des « Transylvaniens » de la principauté et même leur assassinassions ? En d’autres termes, « ils n’ont autre conversation plus intéressante que celle sur les Transylvaniens, comment les donner aux Russes, comment les dénoncer et comment les dépouiller »72. Les articles de la presse révolutionnaires attirent aussi l’attention sur les manœuvres faites par les contrerévolutionnaires : « on sait que les uns d’entre les boyards, après ont suscrit un acte par lequel ils appellent, sans honte, les russes dans le pays, aurait dit à son excellence Soliman Pacha, le peuple de Bucarest aurait fait une liste où ils ont noté les uns d’entre eux comme dignes d’être tués. Calomnie et honte ! »73. Mais, les rumeurs répandues pouvaient être un instrument dangereux, elles remodelant l’imaginaire traditionnel de l’altérité. Elles menaçaient, POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 239 donc, d’inverser les polarités culturelles qui avaient soutenu jusqu’à ce momentlà, dans la propagande révolutionnaire, l’image positive du Turc et celle négative du Russe : « une sorte de propagande qui aurait fait dans le peuple des infâmes créatures, en essayant le faire croire que les Turcs ont vendu le pays aux Russes et que ces sont les premiers qui seront venus dans les Principautés pour confirmer aux ces derniers ce qu’on attendait là ; ce et d’autres inventions ridicules dans les yeux des connaisseurs, mais qui pour des certains esprits sont dangereux, car elles peuvent introduire dans le peuple la haine pour les Turcs. Ces propagandistes sont des agents secrets des certains gens qui détestent les nouvelles réformes ; ils sont plus coupables que leurs maîtres, car les premiers travaillent et luttent pour un principe, et plusieurs par la conviction, tandis que les derniers travaillent seulement pour ceux qui les payent pour cette faite honteux. Il y a aussi des autres personnes qui, au lieu de embrasser chaleureusement la cause de la patrie, ils ouvrent les portes aux passions ; on connaisse aussi des autres qui n’ont eu pour leur malheureuse patrie aucun sourire, aucune larme, et, au lieu de travailler à la répudiation du pays, se sont retirés, s’appelant eux-mêmes progressistes sages ; se retirent, disent-ils, d’une partie, où ils attendent de sang-froid que les étrangers décidèrent si on doit être libres ou esclaves »74. Leur présence insidieuse était signalée dans de nombreuses institutions. En „Pruncul Român”, apparaissait, le 31 Août 1848, un article où on attirait l’attention du Ministère de la Justice et du ce du Cultes sur le danger de garder les hommes de l’Ancien Régime régulière : il croit aussi qu’un Ministre de la révolution peut se servir sans détresse des ceux gens qui la veille criait « vive le Règlement ! » et ce jour-là il crie « vive la Constitution ! » ; s’il croit que les gens du Règlement doivent être dans son Ministère et les fils de la révolution soient encore dans les rues »75. De même, l’élection des députes pourrait être compromise par l’envoie de certaines « images aristocratiques, images qui de la création du Règlement déchue et jusqu’à la révolution de Juin ont tant ruiné le paysan qu’aujourd’hui on doit être très attentif pour connaitre s’il est une bête sauvage ou un homme »76. En outre, Cezar Bolliac avait publié un article en « Poporul Suveran » du 6 Août 1848, par lequel il attirait l’attention sur les significations de l’établissement un assemblé représentatif national : « si, par contre, nous nous paressons, l’intrigue et la réaction influenceront les élections, la voix du peuple se noiera, son intérêt ne sera plus écouté, les païens triompheront et notre avenir sera la misère et les luttes sanglantes, sera une suite des révolutions et contrerévolutions »77. Une manœuvre des contrerévolutionnaires est le retard de la circulation des nouvelles. Ayant encore des gens fidèles à l’Ancien Régime, ils peuvent se servir d’eux de manière efficace, comme le ministre de l’intérieure montre dans un rapport de C. A. Rosetti vers le directeur des postes le 16 Août 1848 : « les 240 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) capitaines des postes de Focºani et Cucu, étaient les hommes de monsieur Ioan Manu, se trouvent toujours dans des accordes secrètes avec nos ennemis et les plus rapides des nos lettres les retardent et aux nos ennemis facilitent des voies sans retard ». Evidement, « des tels gens sont dangereux pour nous »78, concluait le leader révolutionnaire, en demandant la prise des mesures appropriées. Quitter la capitale ou d’autres centres urbains et la retraite dans la province, chez les différentes propriétés détenues, font difficile la poursuite et la surveillance adéquate des ceux connus comme des contrerévolutionnaires. Etant notifiée par le chef de la garde nationale de Cerneti sur l’existence de certaines manœuvres contrerévolutionnaires (« certaines préparations d’entreprises réactionnelles, ayant quelques gens payés aux grands salaries »79), l’administration de Mehedinþi décidait l’arrêt à domicile de Ioan Gãrdãreanu et Ioan Stretco, leur mis sous « la surveillance de la police », la vérification de tous les logements détenus pour dépister l’armement (« toute la poussière et des armes qu’ils auront »80), l’identification des possibles collaborateurs et leur isolation81. Parmi les conspirateurs locaux était signalé « Dumitru Paþa, le locataire de la propriété Oraviþa de ce district, en soupçonnant, après l’apparition de quatre habitants du village Rânþu, qu’il se prépare d’entreprendre des tracés réactionnaires ». Le sous-administrateur était invité à se déplacer à la propriété Bãileºti, tenue par le respectif « réactionnaire » en baile, pour vérifier l’information comme qu’il avait engagé des gens « vers ce fin, ou sous le nom de pandoures, quelle armature se trouve chez soi, combien de poussière et quelles d’autres objets il détient, pour cette usage »82. Selon une adresse envoyée au Ministère de l’Intérieur, le 8 Août 1848, la liste des contrerévolutionnaires identifiés comptait en plus Dincã Stolojanu, Stanciu Stolojanu, Enache Scãfeº du district Gorj, Ioniþã Butoi, Dimitrie Protopopescu, le prêtre Gheorghe Mãrãcine, qui « on connaisse comme des conspirateurs contre les libérateurs de la nation et de la cause sacre d’aujourd’hui », par le répand parmi les habitants, des « faux expressions » et en commettant certaines violences « de battre le praetor Ioan et Petru Lulea, qui habitait là ». Tous étaient mis sous surveillance, tandis que le prêtre était donné dans la custodie d’archiprêtre local, pour « suivre ce que les dogmes de l’église le conseillera, car il n’était pas digne de maintenir les dettes de la religion et la foi à sa nation »83. Parmi eux, célèbres dans l’époque semble d’être les frères Dincã et Stanciu Stolojanu. « Deux conspirateurs de la liberté », selon la présentation faite par le commissaire C. Padeanu « qui pendant le méchant caïmacan ont démontré des sentiments diaboliques…, ces conspirateurs marchent d’un comté à l’autre avec toute sorte de mensonges, en dénigrant la Constitution sur laquelle la nation a juré »84. Une présentation similaire les fait l’administrateur du départmeent Gorj, le 21 Août 1848, en demandant leur capture et arrêt, « parce que les ci-dessus nommés, dans leurs promenades d’un lieu à l’autre répandent toute sorte de paroles effrayantes POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 241 aux habitants, en troublant le calme de tous et qui seraient soit dans la ville de Craiova soit chez la propriété du premier qu’il a dans ce district ». La réponse reçue était quelque peu décourageante. Bien que les mesures appropriés ait été adoptés, « son caché dans les bois, l’aide que les autres réactionnaires plus secrets lui donnent et sa relocalisation continue d’un district à l’autre, ont fait inutile jusqu’à ce moment, tout le zèle »85. En dépit de l’échange alerte des informations fait pour le capturer et l’envoyer à Bucarest, la mobilité de Stanciu Stolojanu, posait les fonctionnaires révolutionnaires des deux comtés devant des difficultés supplémentaires86 : « parce que le ci-dessus mentionné est l’un d’entre les révolutionnaires informés dans la ville de Craiova et dont le nombre a été détruit après mon arrivé dans la ville citée »87, comme écrivait sur lui même Gheorghe Magheru. Tout aussi difficile d’être attrapé, était Iorgu Bibescu, le ex sous administrateurs d’Ocolu de Dolj, enlevé à « des raisons bénis », qui « a disparu »88 or « ont caché »89. Il a été finalement identifié qu’il « marche quand à Craiova, quand au village Brãdeºti » de ce comté, où il y a son frère et un oncle, Grigore Bradescu90. Le dernier se jouisse d’une popularité négative au milieu des citoyens, qui l’aurait refusé « pour efforcer entre eux des tels idées pervertîtes de son espoir »91. Etant probablement encouragé par les rumeurs concernant l’entrée des troupes ottomanes dans le Principauté, Iorgu Bibescu « a commencé à enrôler des gens sous des nomes d’esclaves, et même en les invitant et les demandant s’ils sont habitués à des armes »92, étant aussi en liaison avec « son oncle, Grigore Brãdescu de Brãdeºti ». Le rapport de l’administrateur de Gorj, de 12 Septembre 1848 ne mentionne pas le terme de contrerévolutionnaire, mais il ne parle que d’une action qui « donne le suspect », de la possibilité d’entreprendre une « sorte d’inquiétude parmi les habitants ». En l’échange, la réponse de son collègue de Dolj, mieux informé, semble plus clair, en utilisant sans équivoque les termes « mouvement réactionnaire » et « mauvais penseurs »93 lorsqu’il renvoie aux actions de Iorgu Bibescu et de ses acolytes. Ces cas montrent que, malgré les problèmes, le gouvernement révolutionnaire savait qui était derrière des actions contrerévolutionnaires, et en cas de « récidivistes », l’adoption des mesures sévères devenait bientôt accessible. Ainsi, Gheorghe Magheru décidait, le 21 Juliet 1848, sur Nae Fratoºtiþeanu et Teodor Zãrãfescu de Craiova : « pour cesser enfin les esprits des complotes fréquentes de tels égarés de la voie du bien et du bonheur commune, vous êtes invité monsieur l’Administrateur, à arrêter immédiatement les sous nommés et à les envoyer en bonne garde à Bucarest »94. Des autres « comploteurs réactionnaires contre la sainte cause » comme Constantin Sãvoiu et Constantin Vulpescu étaient, aussi, arrêtés95. Mais il y avait aussi des exemples positifs. Plus heureux que ses collègues de l’administration révolutionnaire, I. Livaditu, le commissaire révolutionnaire de Romanaþi, décrit son activité de la plache d’Olt d’en haut dans son 242 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) rapport daté le 31 Juillet 1848. Parmi ses actions, il mentionne qu’il a réussi de réconcilier « partout les esprits obstinés et contrerévolutionnaires »96. Le changement de l’administrateur de Dolj, Filiºanu et la vacance de la puissance locale jusqu’à l’arrivé du nouveau administrateur, Florian Aaron, était signalée comme accompagnée aussi par des actions négatives, le 3 Août 1848 : « un petit nombre de réactionnaires marchent à comploter contre l’inscrit pour demander dans la fonction d’Administrateur monsieur ªtefan Gãnescu, c’est-à-dire, un homme qui n’a aucune popularité, ni des inclinaisons vers la Constitution »97, plutôt que l’administration et la Police permettait « les mauvais complots de ceux qui veulent le mal de la patrie »98. La présence d’une minorité contrerévolutionnaire semble à être un lieu commun du discours révolutionnaire. Et pourtant, certains commissaires semblent à indiquer autre chose. Par le rapport no. 63 de 28 Juillet 1848, l’hiérodiacre Veniamin et D. Duþulescu, des commissaires extraordinaires, montrent qu’à leur arrivé dans le comté Giurgiu, ils ont identifié « un complot de 300-400 individus, dont le but était justement ce de donner une supplication à Pacha ». Parmi eux se trouvaient tous les fonctionnaires de l’Etat dont la démission a été exigée immédiatement. Il s’agit des personnes bien connus comme « le président de la Municipalité », ce qui, « même au jour de l’arrivée de la délégation de Bucarest, exhortait le peuple à ne pas écouter les invitations de signer la pétition qui a été envoyé au Sultan. Puis, vient le policier qui tolère tous les ennemis à calomnier publiquement tant la Constitution que tous les actes du gouvernement. Il y a encore d’autres, même parmi les fonctionnaires, et entre les particulaires il y a tous les Bulgares, les Serbes et les Grecs quittés »99. La présence de membres d’autres groupes ethniques parmi les actions qualifiées comme contrerévolutionnaires était une réalité dans des autres régions aussi. Dans certaines villes, comme Brãila, par exemple, l’existence des fortes communautés ethniques sudbalkaniques pourrait être un obstacle sérieux, étant donné que leur membres se prouvaient peu favorables à la révolution100. A Brãila, les contrerévolutionnaires sont les « sujets grecs ». Le commissaire révolutionnaire était la cible de leur attaque, comme le montre le rapport de l’administration locale de 20 Juillet 1848. Le secrétaire du consulat grec, A. Mihalopol, était accusé qu’à la tête d’un group formé des sujets grecs, il a attaqué le peuple deuxième fois, « aux coups de bâtons », en confisquant et en déchirant le tricolore101. Une telle attitude de défi a irrité les habitants de la ville, ayant besoin de tous les efforts d’une commission mixte, roumain-grec, pour l’aplanissement finale du conflit. Bien que personne ne puisse pas parler d’une véritable « topographie de l’adversité » contre la révolution, il est intéressant de noter que les leaders révolutionnaires font la distinction entre ceux qui sont « illusionnés » et les « promoteurs » des actions. Tout en parlant d’une minorité ou d’un petit nombre d’entre POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 243 eux, on constate presque toujours leur efficacité. Comment on peut autrement expliquer la disparition de 6.000 décrets envois en province – se demande Al. Golescu102 – la non-vulgarisation des mesures du gouvernement, la désinformation et l’éveillé des agriculteurs ou des propriétaires, l’incapacité des autorités locales qui n’ont pas réussi à appliquer les décrets du pouvoir révolutionnaire ? On contournait une « minorité » agaçante, que le général Gheorghe Magheru se décidait de supprimer radicalement : « Les mouvements réactionnaires ourdit ici, dans la ville de Craiova par un petit nombre de gens, qui ne donnent pas du prix au bien commun et qui à l’occasion d’y mon passage, dans la mission que je suis chargé, et que Vous connaissez aussi, j’espère qu’ils ont cessé et qu’ils seront effacés des cœurs des mal penseurs. Je trouve avec regret qu’après mon départ, monsieur Nae Fratotoºtiþeanul et Teodor Zãrãfescu, ont commencé de nouveau, avec toute sorte de paroles qui pourraient troublé la compréhension des citoyens dont ils sont compris avec de jouissance et qui regarde la bonheur commune »103. On tente d’appliquer l’étiquette de « contrerévolutionnaire » pour ce qui au départ était un « réflexe de refus ». Cependant, la résistance populaire à la révolution est traitée différemment, sans trouver aucunes significations politiques ou idéologiques qui fonctionnent au niveau des élites politiquement engagées. Les paysans qui, avec le prêtre local ont refusé la mise de la bannière tricolore sur la tour de l’église locale ne peuvent pas être comparés à un Iorgu Bibescu ou Nae Fratoºtiþeanu. Etant des grands propriétaires, ils avaient de bonnes raisons de rejeter le nouveau régime révolutionnaire, qui mettait en péril leur légitimité et la position sociale. Contrairement à 1821, en 1848 les militaires pourraient être utilisés comme une force contrerévolutionnaire. L’exemple du complot du 19 Juin 1848 est pertinent. Même si les troupes régulières ne sont pas à l’abri de la réussite révolutionnaire, leur degré de réceptivité au mouvement révolutionnaire était significativement plus faible que dans d’autres parties de l’Europe. Ainsi, dans le Grand-duché de Baden, en raison de cette ouverture face à la révolution et ses idées, l’armée a été presque entièrement reconstruite, tous ses agents actifs et retraités étant contraints de venir devant un tribunal en Octobre 1848. Le fait que chaque le septième agent a été condamné disent beaucoup sur les dimensions du phénomène104. Face à la réalité roumaine décevante, Alexandru G. Golescu ne voyait qu’une solution, l’un radicale. Et les premiers visés étaient les soldats de la garnison de la capitale : « Prend attention de ne plus laisser les soldats en contact avec les réactionnaires. Fermez-les vous dans la caserne et les révolutionnez par des cassettes et du prosélytisme oral, par des cadets et des émissaires obscures infiltrés entre eux »105. La confrontation avec les actions des contrerévolutionnaires était l’une incommode, le gouvernement révolutionnaire se trouvait, ainsi, dans une impasse 244 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) évidente. D’une parte, encourager les gestes des paysans qui s’appropriaient les propriétés, les bois et les récoltes signifiait la confirmation du discours contrerévolutionnaire, qui insistait sur l’immanence de l’anarchie et, implicitement, l’immanence de la manque de l’autorité de la nouvel pouvoir. Et la mise était énorme, surtout sur le plan international, dans le contexte de l’attention manifesté par les turcs et par les russes pour l’espace roumain. D’autre parte, revenir sur les idées initiales, dans un évident projet de compromis politique et social, présupposait à renoncer aux principes programmatiques et trahir les expectations sociales : ce qui pourrait conduit à perdre le support populaire vital pour un régime jeune, qui ne se jouisse pas de la confiance des élites administrative-militaires, ayant peur sur la perte du statu gagné dans la période régulière. Par conséquent, même si on fait appel aux mesures fortes, elles doivent être appliquées « doucement ». Ainsi, environ 30 soldats étaient exigés au colonel Golescu le 19 Juliet 1848 « pour la bonne organisation dans les jours d’élection des députés pour l’établissement du projet de la propriété et pour mettre fin aux inconvenances qui pourraient intercéder après les conspirations planifiés en avance par les réactionnaires du comté Buzau… mais à condition qu’il ne fasse pas du feu sur le peuple »106. Un mal nécessaire A CETTE HYDRE à plusieurs têtes ne peut s’oppose qu’un corps homogène, efficient tant dans la mise en œuvre de ses décisions, que dans la représentation de tous citoyens-patriotes. A l’opinion des certains optimistes, l’Assemblée Constituante pourrait être cet instrument privilégié : « seulement par l’appel du peuple entier d’employer sa souveraineté on pourra noyer les esprits perfides des ennemis du Roumaine, aussi que les conspirations scélérates des intrigants non-surveillés, qui se flattent encore à l’idée qu’on peut ravir la liberté des mains d’un peuple éveillé »107. Il faut dire cependant que le mythe de la contrerévolution a été utilisé avec du succès par les leaders révolutionnaires du 1848, comme une hausse permanente du patriotisme local, de la formation de la solidarité nationale autour du pouvoir révolutionnaire. Son importance pour l’imaginaire publique n’est guerre négligeable108. Mais l’exemple des complots du 19 et respectivement 29 Juin reste relevant pour la fragilité de la pouvoir révolutionnaire de 1848. Le contrerévolutionnaire est, donc, ce désigné à un triple niveau, le niveau de l’action, de la mémoire récente de l’événement et de son histoire. Or, les documents analysés nous offrent seulement le premier niveau, ce qui définisse « à chaud » le portait du contrerévolutionnaire ou du réactionnaire de service. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 245 Nous avons essayé d’identifier ces représentations du contrerévolutionnaire, de mesurer ses moments de tension par rapport aux événements qui aurait pu favoriser la naissance d’un tel discours (les complots de 19 et 29 Juin, l’entrée des troupes turcs et russes dans la principauté). Si on peut être d’accord à Furet sur les mises réels du ce « délire sur la pouvoir », on le pourra toutefois, mis en relation avec la fragilité de la pouvoir révolutionnaire ? L’ampleur du ce discours ne nous montre pas qu’en réalité, le contrôle du pouvoir doit être légitimé et protégé en permanence ? Les images ambivalentes ou antagoniques qui son véhiculées sont tant des positions identitaires, en démontrant encore une fois que la naissance de l’ennemi est, avant tout, un problème d’imaginaire. Notes 1. Pour une discussion en détail sur ce sujet, voir Larry E. Tise, The American Counterrevolution: a Retreat from Liberty, 1783-1800, Stackpole Books, 1998, p. 297-300. Pour discuter la position de Burke, on envoie à son ouvrage classique Reflections sur la contrerévolution française 1816, édition roumaine, Bucarest, Nemira, 2000. Loin d’être anti-français, Burke se déclarait le partisan d’une France où « règne un esprit de liberté rationnelle », en rejetant le chaos crée par la révolution. 2. Jean-Clément Martin, La Contre-Révolution en Europe XVIIIe-XIXe siècles. Réalités politiques et sociales, résonances culturelles et idéologiques, Rennes, Presse Universitaires de Rennes, 2001. 3. Si on connait meilleure, en général, les aspects liés à l’action répressive des gouvernants ou aux positions de certains intellectuels célèbres, il existe, toutefois, moins d’études sur le sujet de la contrerévolution populaire. Pour le cas italien, voir, Alan J. Reinerman, The Failure of Popular Counter-Revolution in Risorgimento Italy: The Case of the Centurions, 1831-1847, en „The Historical Journal”, Vol. 34, No. 1 (Mar., 1991), p. 21-41. Une présentation de dernières contributions à Karine Rance, La Contre-Révolution à l’œuvre en Europe, în Jean-Clément Martin, La Révolution à l’œuvre. Perspectives actuelles dans l’histoire de la Révolution française, Rennes, Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2005, p. 181-192. 4. Jean-Clément Martin, La Révolution française: généalogie de l’ennemi, en „Raisons politiques”, no. 5, février 2002, p. 69-79. 5. Il y a plusieurs niveaux de l’être contrerévolutionnaire. 6. Ron Halevi, La Contre-Révolution, en « Histoire, économie et société », Année 1991, Volume 10, Numéro 1, p. 30. 7. Ibidem. 8. Ibidem. 9. Et en tout cas, nous ne pouvons pas parler de l’existence des idéologues de la taille de Joseph de Maistre, Louis de Bonald, Edmund Burke ou François de 246 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. Chateaubriand, pour donner quelques exemples. Voir l’anthologie faite par Cristopher Olaf Blum, Critics of the Enlightenment: Readings in the French Counter-Revolutionary Tradition, Wilmington, Delaware, ISI Books, 2004. Jean Starobinski, Action et Réaction. Vie et aventure d’un couple, Paris, Seul, 1999. François Furet, Penser la Révolution française, Gallimard, 1978, p. 93. Anul 1848 în Principatele Române, II, Bucarest, 1902, p. 323 (encore Anul 1848). Anul 1848, III, p. 108. Ibidem, p :88. Ileana Petrescu, Documente privind revoluþia de la 1848 în Oltenia, Craiova, Maison d’édition de l’Académie Roumaine, 1969, p. 51. « conspiration», mot d’origine grecque dont les contemporains roumains faitent l’usage à 1848 pour se rapporter à la mémoire des mouvements révolutionnaire grecque et valaque de 1821 dans les Principautés de la Valachie et Moldavie. Anul 1848, III, p. 17 (Proclamaþiunea guvernului cãtre sãteni, 21 juin 1848). Anul 1848, II, p. 56. Anul 1848, III, p. 93. Ibidem, p. 126. Anul 1848, III, p. 221, publication officielle du Ministère de l’Intérieur vers les habitants de comtés et de villages de 4 Août 1848. Anul 1848, IV, p. 18-21. Anul 1848, III, p. 35. Anul 1848, II, p. 412. Ibidem, p. 528. Anul 1848, III, p. 267 Ibidem, p. 259. Article de « Pruncul român » no. 34, 31 Août 1848, en Anul 1848, IV, p. 1. Article dans „Pruncul român” no. 39, 11 septembre 1848, en Satire ºi pamflete 18001848, Bucarest, Maison d’édition pour la littérature, 1968, p. 267. « Pruncul Român », no. 34, 31 Julie 1848, no. 39, 11 Septembre 1848. L’attitude des femmes des boyards sera le sujet de deux épigrammes délicieux, signés par D. Bolintineanu et publiés en „Poporul Suveran”, I (1848), no. 6 de 12 Julie, no. 1 de 19 Juin. Article en „Pruncul român” no. 33, 28 Aout1848, en Satire ºi pamflete…, p. 258. Ibidem, p. 260. Anul 1848, III, p. 35 Timothy Tackett, Conspiracy Obsession in a Time of Revolution: French Elites and the Origins of the Terror, 1789-1792, en „The American Historical Review”, Vol. 105, No. 3 (Jun., 2000), p. 691-713. François Furet, op. cit., p. 97. Jean Starobinski, 1789, les Emblèmes de la raison, Paris, Flammarion, 1979, édition roumaine, Bucarest, Meridiane, 1990. Pierre Serna, Piste de recherches. Du secret de la monarchie à la république des secrets, en Bernard Gainot, Pierre Serna (sous la direction de), Histoire de la Révolution et de la l’Empire. Secret et République, 1795-1840, Clermont-Ferrand, Presses Universitaires de Clermont-Ferrand, 2004, p. 21. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 247 39. Apud Ron Halevi, op. cit., p. 30 40. Anul 1848, III, p. 11 (le lettre de Christian Tell vers Gheorghe Magheru, 28 Juillet 1848). 41. Anul 1848, II, p. 392. 42. Ibidem, p. 394. 43. Ibidem, p. 309. 44. Anul 1848, III, p. 70-71. 45. Anul 1848, II, p. 652. 46. Ibidem, p. 689. 47. Ibidem, p. 264. 48. Ibidem, p. 334. 49. Ibidem, p. 9. Sont reproduits des fragmentes des discours tenus par les officialités du comté Râmnicu-Sãrat, à l’occasion de l’anniversaire de la victoire de la révolution dans la capitale du principauté (ibidem, p. 5, 8). 50. Ibidem,p.16. 51. Anul 1848, III, p. 298. 52. Anul 1848, II, p. 434. 53. Ibidem, p. 311. Jurãmântul (Le serment), l’article signé par A. Zane en „Poporul Suveran”, no. 4, 5 Juillet 1848. 54. Anul 1848, III, p. 35. 55. Anul 1848, II, p. 322. 56. Ibidem, note de „Poporul Suveran”, no. 10, 21 Juin 1848. 57. Lynn Hunt, Politics, Culture and Class in the French Revolution, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1984, p. 23. 58. Anul 1848, II, p. 410. 59. Ibidem, p. 332. 60. Anul 1848, III, p. 96. 61. Ibidem, p. 97. 62. Ibidem, p. 232. 63. Ibidem. 64. Ibidem, p. 252. 65. Anul 1848, II, p. 647 (la lettre d’A. Treboniu Laurian vers A. G. Golescu de 20 Juliet 1848). 66. La lettre de l’archimandrite Gheorghe Poenaru vers N. Balcescu, le 27 Juin 1848, en Anul 1848, II, p. 148. 67. C. D. Aricescu, Memoriile mele, Bucarest, Profil publishing, 2002, p. 93. 68. Notre affirmation doit être comprise dans la lumière des actions contrerévolutionnaires de 19 et 29 Juin 1848. 69. Anul 1848, II, p. 620. 70. Ibidem, p. 645. 71. Anul 1848, IV, p. 11. 72. Ibidem, p. 10. 73. Article de « Poporul Suveran », no. 22, le 27 Août 1848, en Satire si pamflete…, p. 225. 74. Anul 1848, III, p. 256 248 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 75. Anul 1848, V, 15 76. Anul 1848, III, p. 230 (le rapport no. 3 des commissaires révolutionnaires de Gorj, 4 Août 1848). 77. Ibidem, p. 265. 78. Ibidem, p. 146. 79. Ibidem, p. 25. 80. Ibidem, p. 25. 81. Anul 1848, IV, p. 25 82. La Direction départementale des Archives Nationaux, Craiova, fond Prefectura judeþului Dolj, d. 41/1848, f. 338 (en continuation DDANC). 83. Anul 1848, III, p. 284. 84. Ibidem, p. 263. 85. Ileana Petrescu, Documente, p. 92; DDANC, fond Prefectura judeþului Dolj, d. 41/1848, f. 290. 86. DDANC, fond Prefectura judeþului Dolj, d. 41/1848, f. 290. 87. Anul 1848, II, p. 696. 88. DDANC, fond Prefectura judeþului Dolj, d. 41/1848, f. 312. 89. Ibidem, f. 325. 90. Ibidem. L’Enquête de sous administrateur montre qu’il était parti au village Bibeºtisud Dolj (ibidem, f. 343). 91. Ibidem, f. 318. 92. Ileana Petrescu, Documente, p. 118. 93. Ibidem. 94. Anul 1848, II, p. 666, 675. 95. Ibidem, p. 667. 96. Anul 1848, III, p. 88. 97. Ibidem, p. 200. 98. Ibidem. 99. Ibidem, p. 4. 100. La lettre de Dimitrie Golescu, l’administrateur du comté Brãila, vers A. G. Golescu, le 27 Juin 1949, en Anul 1848, II, p. 147. 101. Anul 1848, III, p. 637. 102. Anul 1848, II, p. 619. 103. DDANC, fond Prefectura judeþului Dolj, dos. 17/1848, f. 192. 104. Dieter Langewiesche, The Role of the Military in the European Revolutions of 1848, in Dieter Dowe (ed.), Europe in 1848: Revolution and Reform, Berghan Books, 2001, p. 700. 105. Anul 1848, II, p. 620. 106. Documente privind revoluþia de la 1848 în Þãrile Române. Þara Româneascã, Bucarest, Maison d’édition de l’Académie Roumaine, 1983, p. 97. 107. Anul 1848, II, p. 703. 108. Simona Nicoarã, Mitologiile revoluþiei paºoptiste, Cluj-Napoca, Presse Universitarie de Cluj, 1999, p. 78 sq. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 249 Abstract Errant Son or Incurable Traitor? The Figure of the Counterrevolutionary in the Romanian Political Imaginary of 1848 The revolutionaries of 1848 have attracted far more attention than the counterrevolutionaries, in the Danubian Principalities as well. The present study focuses on the latter, particularly, interesting aspect and its defining intriguing figures and images. The analysis begins with the events of 1821 and the fears triggered by them, fears that played an important part in the acts and attitudes of 1848, which created a complex multi-level image of the counterrevolutionary that, almost paradoxically, documents allow us to only partially comprehend. Keywords 1848, revolution, imaginary, counterrevolutionary, Danubian Principalities III. THE WEST IN THE EAST – THE EAST IN THE WEST I I I . 1 . O R I E N TA L F E A R S A N D A I M S Ideological and Practical Means of Survival in Front of the Ottoman Empire in the Late 1400s A LEXANDRU S IMON I N THE summer of 1476, Mehmed II had attacked Moldavia. Neither he nor his opponents accomplished their goals. Still, it was his army and not the crusaders who was hastly retreating. In early September, Venice’s envoy in Moldavia, Emmanuele Gerardo thought that Moldavia had outlived rather well (i.e. cheap) the clash with the Porte. This was relative. Plagues, destructions, famine and death had struck her population too. Most damage had been inflicted by Basarab III Laiotã’s Walachians, who had accompanied Mehmed II on his campaign. Stephen III had lost most of his loyal supporters in the battle of Valea Albã in late July. Prior to it, he had been abandoned by approximately a third of his ost. The regional anti-Ottoman picture brightened after the successful Hungarian-Moldavian intervention in Walachia in October-November. Yet, by early 1477, the Ottoman reaction had turned those victories into history. Mehmed II eliminated the military positions won throughout 1476, by Hungary and Moldavia, along the Lower Danube, the Morava and the Sava. This placed Stephen, in particular, in a delicate position. His foreign and domestic support was virtually ruined. He depended, more than before, on the financial and political support of the powers which had attracted him into the conflict, Venice had been instrumental in this respect. The republic was thus the main target for Stephen’s pressures. They were probably greater than in 1475-1476, when he had vigorously demanded his financial and monarchical rights from Rome and Venice (nonetheless, after the clashes of 1476, the next major Ottoman-Moldavian confrontation only came in July 1484, when Stephen III lost his vital southern harbors1). In early May 1477, John Tzamplakon, Stephen’s uncle (barba) arrived in Venice. His speech delivered in front of the senate was well received by the senators, who Study financed through CNCSIS-UEFISCSU, PN II-RU, TE 356/2010 Research Grant 254 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) then rushed off to find out the latest news on the difficult Venetian-Ottoman negotiations. John was maybe the most appropriate person to gain Venice’s attention. Previously a captain in the republic’s service, he was a close relative of Mary of Mangop (i.e. Theodoro, in the Crimean Peninsula), Stephen’s wife, and apparently of cardinal Bessarion, Venice’s late Greek crusader spearhead. Moreover, Venice as well was in a difficult position. Although, no major Venetian-Ottoman fighting took place at the time, the war costed her in general 70% of her usually 1.000.000 ducats yearly budget. John had been sent to obtain her support, whether all by herself or together with Rome. Stephen wanted money for his war efforts and for an anti-Ottoman comeback. Tzamplakon stressed out Stephen’s Christian blood and financial investments. He reinfor-ced Stephen’s crusader credibility and ‘eligibility’ for subsidies. If aid did not come to him, Stephen, like John Hunyadi’s son, Matthias Corvinus, like Venice (obviously Tzampakon did not say this straight forward), was to find an arrangement, against his will and belief, with Mehmed (in other words, Stephen was to finalize the talks initiated in early 1477, after Vlad III of Walachia’s death). Hence, during her own negotiations, Venice would have been deprived of at least one of her major cards: Stephen and the threat posed by him. Recently, in November 1476, Venice had shown how much Stephen III meant to her, by intervening in Rome and avoiding his deposition as Christendom’s athlete. Sixtus IV had given in to Venice’s exhortations and Stephen had thus retained his title. Hence, he was able to push for more from the republic just a few months after had come close to losing his title2. I. Crusader Rhetoric and Crusader Alternatives between the Balkans and the Crimea T HE SCENARIO brought forth by Tzamplakon (Christian money or Ottoman peace) was neither original, nor did it become obsolete. Hunyadi, Skanderbeg or Corvinus had made use of it. Prior to the start of his Bohemian crusade in 1468, Matthias had been the most successful of all. In relation to the Christian powers, Stephen used the menaces in every decade of his remaining rule (1479-1481, 1489-1490 or 1499-1503). Responses were not always positive. Still, such menaces were a major chapter of the ‘late crusader rules of engagement’. Venice tried everything to protect her colonial possessions, especially Scutari, again under Ottoman threat. Christian and Muslims alike were usually just pawns in her game. She had sacrificed Skanderbeg during Mehmed’s final Albanian campaign (1467). There can be little doubt that Stephen was well aware of Skanderbeg’s fate. He had to act and provide an alternative, to POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 255 the East and to the West, to his potential abandonment by Venice and/ or Rome, after the events of 1476. Elegantly, his envoy had made clear what Venice risked if Stephen was abandoned and left her with only one solution. She had to support him, with money which he could use for various actions. He preferred a campaign in Crimea, as his southern harbors (at the Dniestr and Danube mounds) were the keys to the Christian recovery of the Crimea Peninsula (in Tzamplakon’s words: se questi castelli [i.e. Chilia and Cetatea Albã] se conserverano, i Turchi porano perder e Caffa et Chieronesso). The campaign was cost-effective. It required only 10.000 men. Venice was not too found of this perspective. Such an action would have required the consent of king Casimir IV Jagiello of Poland as well as Tartar support3. Casimir’s envoy in Venice Filippo Buonaccorsi, labored against the crusade, whereas the Tartars were still divided between Ahmed and Mengli Ghiray, loyal to Mehmed. 10.000 men could have hardly been moved towards the Crimea, even through the Pericop (the Isthmus of Perekop), without the Ottomans noticing. This had worked only for the 300 men elite troop sent in late 1475 by Stephen in aid to Theodoro. It could have seemed easier to stage an action in the Balkans. Stephen had constantly avoided such southern plans (usually created by Venice), due to the potential domestic (Moldavia’s crossing by the Tartars, as his and hers auxiliaries however) and foreign (the breaches and overlaps in authority and in monarchical claims) problems a Balkan campaign could have caused. Only Hunyadi had (once) successfully crossed the Danube against the Turks (in 1443) for more than just raids. Stephen’s attitude was different in respect strictly to the titles involved by these proposals, such as the one included in the project presented in front of Sixtus IV and of the Sacred College by the Venetian diplomat Paolo Morosini in spring 1475. […] Exercitus igitur hoc ordine conficiendus/ bellumque quatripartito inferrendum opera precium arbitrantur, quo celerrime maxima/ Europae parte pellendum hostem non dubitant. Polonous namque Serenissimus Rex facile ex-/ pertioribus bello Polonis ac Boemis viginti-quinque millium conflabit exercitum,/ sumptoque simul Stephano Servie sive Mundavie Vayvoda cum quinque millibus,/ transacto Danubio per Bulgariam per hostem invadant. Ungarie vero Serenissimus Rex/ cum vigintiquinque millibus ex suis militia aptioribus et experist per Serviam/ et iuxta Bossinam partier aggrediantur hostem […][Almost naturally, due to a certain Roman and Venetian tendency to disregard the local territorial links between the various parts ‘and pawns’ of their anti-Ottoman plans (the two powers focused on their ‘superior coordination), no mention was made of the Transylvanian territorial link between Stephen III of Moldavia and king Matthias Corvinus of Hungary. This link, constituted by the trou- 256 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) blesome royal Hungarian province of Transylvania, was to cause them many problems during the anti-Ottoman combats of the following year(s) and that had previously forced several crusader plans to fail, in the 1460s in particular. Even Stephen III’s great anti-Ottoman of Vaslui in January 1475 would have been impossible without a short-term Transylvanian compromise between all parties involved (a compromise that however might have also affected Venetian and Roman crusader planning, with severe consequences during the combats of July and August 1476)]. Drafted under the influence of the victory of Vaslui, the project involved a full scale attack on Mehmed II mounted by Stephen, voivode of Serbia and Moldavia (with 5.000 men), Casimir and Matthias Corvinus (each with 25.000). In comparison to other contemporary assessments the figures were highly realistic (e.g. the 70.000 men strong joint forces of Moldavia and Walachia included in Matthias Corvinus’ giant army of over 120.000, according to report sent from Buda to Florence in the same year 1475). Rome and Venice had to support the land offensive by sea and in the West. The anti-Ottoman campaign was to end on the Bosporus4. In 1477, the context did not favor such audacious plans. In 1476, Stephen and Matthias had failed to close the ‘Moldavian trap’ on Mehmed, whereas their subsequent Walachian success had been merely temporarily. Obstacles in the south were less susceptible to be bridged by money and diplomacy than in the east. Besides, the distance between Suceava and Ottoman Crimea was basically equal to that between Stephen’s capital city and Ottoman Bulgaria. The Crimean campaign did therefore not appear so far-fetched. Its success would have also meant the fulfillment of an old Venetian dream: hegemony in the Black Sea. Nothing was done however. In November 1477, when Scutari was again besieged, Stephen took out the Ottoman positions in Walachia (as in 1473-1474). Earlier, throughout the year, he had done little or nothing against the Turk. Until 1481 and the outburst of the peculiar Genoese crusader enthusiasm, Stephen’s Crimean plan seemingly vanished completely from the picture (the plan then resurfaced during the Ottoman-Venetian war of 1499-1503, when Stephen made a similar ‘offer’). In May 1477, the odds had seemed in favor of the plan. Its costs (up to 80.000 ducats, including Stephen’s share) were not high. The campaign, preparations included (if they had not already been made in order to fortify Stephen’s Venetian stand), was to last up to 5-6 months at most, for the element of surprise to remain effective. Still, someone had to block the Turk while Stephen was in the East. Tzamplakon doubted that Matthias was to continue fighting the sultan. Venice was the sole option. She had to attract the Turk to Albania, returning Stephen’s Walachian services. But he could not pres- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 257 ent all facts in front of a senate, where the Turk had his sources. He had said more than enough. It is likely that some words were meant for the sultan’s ears5. Venice needed an anti-Ottoman success, at least (like in 1474-1475), in view of a more advantageous peace, but did not feel very capable of facing the Turk alone. Mehmed prepared for a new Albanian campaign. He was not to strike again in weakened Moldavia. Venice could not rely on Matthias. Their Italian (due to his father-in law Ferdinand of Aragon) and Adriatic (due to the conflicts over the lands of the Frankopan counts) disputes had intensified. The price for his aid had also gone up in respect to the 15.000 ducats paid to him by Venice in 1474. If Stephen left to the east, Venice was basically exposed to the Turk. Luring him into Albania, keeping him there, while the Crimea was (re)taken, was an unattractive perspective. Even if this made Stephen’s plan look unsustainable, he had achieved something else. Venice was fully aware of the fact that she needed Moldavia. Stephen III’s ‘absence’ from the Danube front, whether because he was in the Crimea or because he had an Ottoman truce that there was no one in Europa or Asia (Usun Hassan’s promises failed to impress) to relieve Ottoman pressure off her. After Tzamplakon’s speech, she immediately started pressuring the papacy. As usual, for Venetian politics namely, Rome too had to financially support her athlete. However, though the senate understood and reacted to his message, Venice seemingly tried to avoid completely giving in to Stephen’s demands. This best explains why Stephen waited until November 1477, before entering Walachia, in the decisive hour of the new Ottoman campaign in Albania. He had waited to see how Venice’s and Istanbul’s stands towards him evolved6. II. The Pillars of Crusading and the ‘Anti-Ottoman Incomes’ of the Moldavian Athlete S his Moldavian fortresses (namely Suceava, Chilia and Cetatea Albã), using all resources still available to him. Since 1474, the princely chancery had virtually ceased to issue charters. He could counterbalance the domestic situation only through foreign affairs. Peace and war seemed equally useful to him. Venice knew his limited choices. News of them reached Milan. The republic too had informed the duchy, still her ally. The astute Leonardo Botta, Milan’s man in Venice, did not have to collect all the pieces of information in secret. He had witnessed the ‘invention’ of Moldavian antiOttoman successes for Venice’s benefit (in spring 1474). In March 1477, he witnessed Stephen III’s public discontent with Venice’s policy. Botta quickly noted down Stephen’s threats and charges and rapidly informed Milan. TEPHEN REFORTIFIED 258 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Preterea dicta Signoria ha de presenti recevuto littere de Valachia per le quali secondo ho dal/ medesimo loco e advisata ch’el Valacho Steffano Vayvoda fe grana asay/ de questo Dominio, con dire che da esso non ha potuto havere subsidio, ne adiumento/ alcuno nelle fatiche sue, como con li era stato promesso. Et che per tuto mazo non sera/ facta provisione al facto suo, esso pigliara partito col Turco, della quale/ nova dicta Signoria ha preso qualche assomno, parendolli che quando el prenominato/ Valacho se acordasse col Turco, esso Turco potria sicuramente voltare li periferi soy/ in Albania et deinde in Dalmatia. Et per ho dicta Signoria ha spaciato cavallari et scripto/ littere al dicto Steffano Vayvoda molto amorevole et plene de offerte asay (13th of March 1477; the rest of the report consisted, in the beginning, of a presentation of Florence’s unwillingness to consent to the prolongation of her agreement with Milan, after the recent death of Gian Galeazzo Sforza, and, in the end, by Venice’s efforts to secure the defense of Albanian Kroja, by means of ‘general <paid> levy’ that had virtually been met with enthusiasm in her lands, as well as her interests in Cyprus). Venice was accused of anti-Ottoman misconduct. She had pushed Stephen into the war and left him with no means of resisting Mehmed II. Without her money he could not continue to fight. She quickly realized the peril and wrote Stephen a letter full of love and promises. Four days later, she instructed her representatives in Rome to ask for at least 10.000 ducats for Stephen. The stage was set for Tzamplakon’s speech. The latter made no direct reference to Stephen’s previous threats (or, for that matter, to Venice’s diplomatic aid of November 1476). In a polite and even emphatic at times manner, he only capitalized on them. Tzamplakon presented Stephen’s propositions. Botta apparently did not even make the effort to record Tzamplakon’s speech. Things were clear for him and his Sforza masters since March. In return, three days after the speech, Botta was to record what appeared to be of great(er) value7. Earlier Venice had implored Matthias not to give up the hope of receiving (financial) aid and of defeating the sultan. Virtually on his knees, the republic’s envoy had urged him to leave personally on campaign in early August 1476 for it was not yet too late. Matthias was in fact pushing his credit limit, already increased by Venice’s despair that the sultan would win, to the very limit. Once the money came from the Italian Peninsula, he would gather his whole army and attack Mehmed II. In reality, all the troops the king could use against the Turk on campaign had already been sent to Moldavia. The rest could not be moved to the east or did not respond to his orders. Matthias’ crusader armor however did not break. He eventually got the crusader subsidies too. Afterwards, virtually nothing more came to him. The ‘silting up’ of the Hungarian crusader money POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 259 channel may have - the money Matthias actually received certainly did - raised Stephen’s hopes of obtaining more subsidies. As far as his talks with Venice or Rome have been preserved, he did not say in fact that he had not received his cut in troops (more likely) or in florins from Matthias (his suzerain). He wanted his own standing and functional line of crusader financement. He needed incomes not only for his military safety, but also for his talks with Mehmed. The sultan’s demands had been high in 1475-1476. By 1477 Stephen ‘owed’ him at least 12.000 ducats in overdue tribute. If he could renounce his claims on Chilia, he most likely would not give in also in that matter. He too had expenses and there had been no recent major victory to cover, from outside his yearly budget, the costs of his Moldavian campaign(s)8. Given his Venetian ‘negotiations’ and the lack of anti-Ottoman actions on his behalf, Stephen seems to have reached a sort of truce with Mehmed. The possibility is substantiated by the (continual) talks between Buda and the Porte (January 1477-April 1478). The talks did not lead to a lasting Hungarian-Ottoman truce, nor did they prevent border fights. Nonetheless, until late 1479, Matthias did not embark on any major anti-Ottoman initiative. The outbreak of his war with Frederick III, predictable since 1476, when the emperor had done his best to sabotage the king’s anti-Ottoman war preparations, re-directed his interests and main army cores. Stephen was virtually left alone. At least, in order to buy time until his forces were restored and his protectors decided to aid him, he had to engage in talks with the Porte, though a truce was a problematic issue, partially due to one peculiar matter, of private nature too, which was very difficult to settle. It was to this matter and not to Tzamplakon’s speech that Botta devoted his skills. The boys ‘sheltered’ in Moldavia recaptured Mediterranean attention. In July 1475, after the fall of Caffa, these puti should have reached Istanbul as Mehmed’s personal assets. The captain of the Genoese ship charged with their transport decided otherwise. The guards were killed and the ship changed course to Moldavia. Stephen became its master. This was a personal offense for Mehmed. Apparently, he reacted violently against all Christians, namely Latins, in or around Istanbul. Viewed as traitors and Stephen III’s associates, they were arrested and remained imprisoned until autumn 1477. Their release, most likely determined by commercial necessities, could have been also linked to Moldavian- and/ or to Venetian-Ottoman talks9. The magnitude of Mehmed’s reaction is questionable. Botta too doubted that the persecution had reached those heights. Mehmed was known as tolerant towards Christians, Latins or Greeks, living under his authority and most importantly serving him. Nevertheless, the matter is eloquent for the tensions which marked his north-eastern policy even after the conquest of Caffa. Unwilling to negotiate what was rightfully his, Mehmed certainly had problems to conceal his anger. 260 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) This rendered Moldavian-Ottoman negotiations more difficult (late 1475-spring 1476). Alongside the release of the Ottoman prisoners of Vaslui or the cession the Lycostomo castle, the return of the Genoese boys from Caffa was one of the seemingly non-negotiable Turkish conditions. Mehmed also played on the fact that probably Alexander, Stephen’s first born legitimate son (from his marriage with the Casimir IV’s niece, Evdochia Olenski ‘of Kyiv’), was the sultan’s hostage (the boy, born in 1464, had been sent to Istanbul in 1471 or 1472, on the eve of Stephen’s marriage with Mary of Mangop). Yet, after he learned that Mehmed II had killed, apparently in an outburst of rage, Alexander of Theodoro, Stephen’s brother-in-law, the Moldavian ruler executed all Ottoman prisoners. Negotiations broke off. According to the news that reached Istanbul and Genoese Pera, Stephen of Moldavia had even stated that he did not need the Ottoman prisoners’ (ransom) money, but their bodies. [Milanese copy of parts of a letter sent from Pera on the 22nd of May 1476] Da novo qui e stato lo ambassatore de Valachi per fare la pace, et dicto amassatore ha dimandato in la pace/ lo Signoro de lo Todoro [Alexander of Theodoro] che era parente del Vlacho et altri si-gnori de Gotia [Gothia; the old Greek (Byzantine)-Latin denomination for the Crimean Peninsula and in particular for those parts of the peninsula under Byzantine influence], di co <il Turcho> li ha facto morire tuti e ha/ da intendere allo ambassatore de Valachi dicti esse in prexone et fexe fentizamente andare lo ambassador/ de Vlachi alle prexoni di fora ad parlare con altre persone che erano, che erano in prexone digando che erano essi./ Lo ambassatore de Vlachi intendando non erano quelli che cerchava, mostro de esso niente et firmorno la paxe, con darge lo carazo, et <il Turcho> diseva dovere dare tutti quelli Turchi che erano prexoni/ in Valachia con lo figliolo de Isach Bassa, et molti altri nominati, et cosi se ne andorno con la pace/ facta, et cusi ando in compagna dello ambassatore de Vlachi un ambas-satore de questo/ Signore <Turcho> per li prexoni. Et quando <il ambassatore di Vlachi> fo in Vlachia davante al loro Signore [Stephen III of Moldavia], si fece infire tuti li Turchi che/ erano in prexon, et il loro ambassatore si messi tuti da una banda quelli che voleva, et/ messi da banda. Lo Vlacho li disse «tu voy tutti questi <?>». Li disse de si. Alhora lo Valacho fi/ parexe tutti quelli che lo Turco domandava, et se li fexe tuti tagliare et impalare, et mando ad/ dire a questo Signore [Mehmed II] che non li voleva piu dare caraxo, et cosi visto questo Si-gnore tal novo/ se movesi da Adrianopole et da sopra lo Vlacho. Qui se arma da vele 100 et 150/ fuste et paramdarie. Se dice lo Valacho esse cavalli 40m. Dio li presti victoria.[This is probably one of the most vivid ‘groundfloor’ accounts, even though it cannot be accepted with-out caution, of the events of 1476. It should be added that this account was copied on the POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 261 same sheet and one the same side with the report sent from Chios, three days later, on May 23. The latter concerned the demands of Mehmed II, Stephen III’s hostage son and the Mehmed’s Caffese goods which seem to have been left out of the picture during the final negotiations, probably because Mehmed II had to settle for less. We therefore turn to the second part of the report from Chios, after the line mentioning Stephen’s refusal of the sultan’s terms]. Anzi <Steffano vaynoda> risposto allo ambassatore <del Signore Turco> non li volever dare simile cose per alcuno modo, et in quella fexe alcidere tuti li prexoni Turchi che haveva. La quale cosa/ intesa el dicto Signore Turco lasso el camino de Ungaria, et prese la via verso Vlachia, et a di/ 13 del presente [May] cavalacho de Adrianopoli. Et ha facto ad Galipoli fuste 60 in circha, le quelli le mettono in ordine, con alcune parandarie et con artiglarie, el altri instrumenti bellichi per/ lo lugo de Mocastro [Monacastro/ Maurocastro/ Akkerman/ Cetatea Albã] et Licostomo [Chilia], le quali se partira fra brevi giorni. Et e opinione che/ li dicti Vlachi siano ben in ordine, et habia el subsidio de Ungari [i.e. from Matthias Corvinus], poi che <Steffano vaynoda> ha tolto la/ impresa et la audacia de fare contra questo Signore Turco. Dio summa potentia li presti victoria victoria/ la quale tanto desideremo. Jo resto con qualche assanno delli dicti Vlachi attexa la grande/ preparatione che fa cosuy contra li dicti. Ampoi dio tuto po, el quale se digne de esse/ lo adiutere sempre [But, in July 1476, Deus non lo vult]. Earlier however, Stephen III of Moldavia had made a handsome profit with sultan Mehmed’s Caffese goods, still vivid on the regional level in 1477 and duly recorded by Leonardo Botta. Item, per molte altre littere de persone privar de Levante, se intende el dicto Turco [Mehmed II] essere/ molto indigonato et incrudelito verso Genuesi et la casone de tale indignatione afferiscono/ essere perche una nave genuese, chiamata la Nigrona, piu di sono caricho in Caffa/ robe de Turchi de valuta circha ducentomilla ducati et alcuni puti che erano/ mandati al dicto Turcho. Et post alle vele per venire ad Constantinopoli mutato/ consilio, parue al patrone d’essa che le richeze et il tempo li fusse molto comodo ad/ fare uno bono quadagona. Et cosi presi et morti tuti li Turchi erano sopra dicta/ nave. Se adrizo alla volta del Danubio et ando con tute queste faculta ad trovare il/ Vayvoda Stef-fano, et con esso divise la roba a suo modo. Per la quale violenta/ animosita scriveno el Turco indignato havere facto incarcerare tuti li Genuesi/ erano in Pera, in Metelino [Mytilene/ Lesbos] et nelli altri lochi circumstanti, et toltolli tute le loro/ faculta, et havere deliberato vedre il firie di Syo [Chios]. Che se queste cosa fusseno della / natura se scri-vero veramente Genuesi seriano in una mis- 262 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) erissima exterminatione./ Et etiam sono alcune altre litere che dicono esso Turcho eodem modo haver facto/ incarcerare tuti li Franchi [the Latins], videlicet tuti li Cristiani, erano in Pera et in quelli lochi/ circumstanti. Tamen queste ultime novelle non se hanno de lochi ben auctenti (11th of May 1477; the rest of the report consisted, in the beginning, of the news of the allegedly imminent, according to the Venetian Sea Captaincy, Ottoman attack on Genoese Chios and, in the end, of the Venetian republic’s expedient maritime war preparations against the menacing Ottoman power). Stephen III of Moldavia had seized sultan Mehmed II’s personal Caffese ‘booty’ (from men to jewelry) on the ship, worth 200.000 ducats according to Leonardo Botta. Naturally, the ‘market value’ of the ‘goods’ was smaller under those circumstances, maybe with even up to 50% (although Leonardo Botta apparently referred precisely to the ‘goods’’ market value)10. III. How to Create, to Provide and to Control Crusaders in Christendom’s Eastern Seas 2 00.000 ducats exceeded (by some 25%) the estimated value of Stephen’s largest budget, prior to his ‘crusader involvement’. The booty was also almost five times bigger than the, so far, estimated amount of subsidies received (especially in 1473-1474, 1478-1479) directly by him, not through Matthias, from Rome and Venice during his long anti-Ottoman war (1473-1486). 200.000 du-cats stood for approximately a fourth of Matthias’ yearly income, for about a fifth of the revenues of Milan, Naples and Venice. The sum also stood for the (estimated) total amount of official and unofficial Venetian subsidies received by Matthias for anti-Ottoman warfare (1460-1476) and for some 65% of the money received up to 1477 by the king from Rome. 200.000 ducats were two-three times the money Casimir IV collected in a year. 200.000 ducats represented also about 70% of the yearly papal budget in the 1470s. The sum re-corded by Botta, based on several eastern reports, stood for two thirds of the costs (300.000 ducats according to Chalkokondylas) of Mehmed’s campaigns against Belgrade (1456), Walachia (1462) and probably Moldavia (1476). The sum was far greater than the 2.000 ducats that the ‘impoverished’ Stephen said - in one of his blackmail letters to Casimir IV (1480-1481) - that Mehmed II had demanded of him, as compensation for the boys, and ‘asked’ Casimir to pay him that money, as a debt of honor, for Moldavia’s role as Poland’s shield. Obviously, the value of all boys largely exceeded 2.000 ducats. Mehmed’s male preferences, which had made Radu III of Walachia (the brother of Vlad III Dracula) POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 263 famous, and his anger upon the news of the ship’s fate, support the idea (also, following Botta’s tone, the some of 200.000 ducats might not have included the value of the Genoese boys)11. According to the report sent by Baldassar of Piscia, papal legate for Bohemia, Hungary and Poland (who had encountered some of the boys while in Wroclaw), to Sixtus IV (September 1476), 127 boys had been on board that ship. Upon reaching Chilia, at the Danube Mounds, these boys, mostly Genoese, were certain that Stephen would set them free. They were chained and dealt with as slaves, contrary to the Christian rules of slave trade. In his defense, Stephen III could always argue that Genoese had often taken or traded Moldavians as slaves. He, like most Moldavian rulers, had several conflicts with the Genoese. Apparently he humiliated them whenever he had the chance. Especially Caffa responded in the same way. Furthermore, after Vaslui, Caffa had rejected Stephen’s proposed anti-Ottoman alliance in the (vain) hope that her refusal could assure the city’s survival. In this political respect too, the boys were just goods and pawns. The fortunate ones reached Italia in 1476, ransomed by their families. The entire affair was a political gamble as well. Sixtus IV was a Genoese proud of his origin. After the ‘Genoese incident of mid 1475, Stephen received subsidies from the Italian Peninsula, only some three years later, according to information available until know. In return, Sixtus IV had no trouble, nor did he have real alternatives, in naming Stephen III athlete of the Christian faith (he was recorded as athlete in a papal bulla from January 1476). Sixtus IV kept asking for support for the Black Sea Walachians, who together with the Hungarians fought the Ottomans and should not be left alone (it is therefore quite possible that the fall of Caffa and not the victory of Vaslui made Stephen an athlete, regardless of his dealings with the Genoese prisoners). The pope’s calls were directed to areas and states, such as the Duchy of Burgundy, from where no real aid had come over the last decade12. In 1477, nobody in Venice or in the Genoese communities in the Levant apparently knew that some of the boys from Caffa had escaped during Mehmed II’s Moldavian campaign. Sixtus IV had already been informed of this by Baldassar of Piscia. Probably, few of those who had fled from Suceava had survived. Only five of them came to Wroclaw, under Matthias’ rule at the time, to the papal legate. Others may have remained under Casimir IV’s protection. Stephen alluded to them when writing to Casimir some five years after the event. Except for Stephen, who needed them for his talks in Istanbul, Krakow or Genoa, and the boys themselves, few actually cared about what had happened to them. They were not in Pagan, but in Christian (crusader) hands. This made the matter very delicate. In any case, Stephen eventually managed the situation rather well, profiting also from the fact that the ‘incident’ was perceived as quite normal, due also to the regional context. After the liberation of Otranto, great hopes of recovering 264 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Caffa arose in Genoa. Some Genoese, namely from the diaspora, even had a very positive image of Stephen under the circumstances (1481-1482). It was not only a matter of necessity. A real tradition developed in Genoa that Stephen had treated the boys fair and well. Even Baldassar of Piscia’s tone had been more than neutral. Jan D³ugosz, Casimir’s secretary, one of Stephen III’s greatest supporters, had no troubles in, partially, yet openly, presenting the ‘incident’, just after having nominated Stephen as the monarch who deserved to be the leader of the (alternative) continental crusade (the largely ‘conciliarist’ alternative to the Roman and Hunyadi styled crusading of the last decades)13. These pragmatic approaches may have had also a negative impact on Stephen, leaving aside what could be interpreted as papal reluctance towards him in the autumn of 1475 (or as papal mistrust and even anger in the fall of 1476). After Caffa’s fall, Venice and Rome kept praising him. Stephen became their athlete. Judging from his reactions namely, no subsidy was sent (straight) to him. All funds went directly to Matthias. Officially neither the republic, nor the papacy said a word against his Genoese business or hindered it. They could not afford to lose him. In return, they did not send him (extra) money. Even if not all goods were sold, or pawned at their real value, even if only a few boys (some could have valued 1.000 ducats) were ransomed, he may have raised some 100.000 ducats, more than Matthias (whose military costs were greater than those of Stephen), received with great delay and scandal from Rome and Ve-nice in late August 1476. The consequences over the time of this possible down-side are difficult to estimate. In the 1470s, long before 1492 (when Venice sent him 80.000 ducats to represent her interests once again in the East), the downside seems to have predominantly temporarily. Likewise, it is doubtful that, in case the ‘incident’ had not occurred, he would have received 100.000 ducats in view of the imminent Ottoman attack. Rome’s and Venice’s treasury chests were increasingly empty and Stephen was not the key-crusader figure, in spite of Venice’s efforts. By tradition and authority (three quarters of the anti-Ottoman land front were under his direct control), this was Matthias. Prior to the treaty of Iaºi (by which Stephen officially became Matthias’ vassal), a month after Caffa’s fall, he was perceived and accepted, depending on the context by Stephen also (he controlled at best 15% of that front), as Stephen’s suzerain. Venice too, growingly hostile towards Matthias, had to accept the facts. Furthermore however, like Rome, she had to look for alternatives, not only to Matthias, but also to Stephen, after the events of July 1476-May 1477. After the Greek rite Christian Stephen and the Muslim Usun Hassan, the alternatives were nonetheless even ‘stranger’. In November 1477 (when Stephen eventually entered Walachia against the Ottoman), Botta sent from Venice another astonishing report (though not so astonishing for his contemporaries). POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 265 [...] Che al presente de ordinatione della Santita del Papa et del Gran/ Magistro di Rodi [Pierre d’Aubusson] debbeno venire qui a Vinetia a fare capitulo tuti li/ Cavalleri del Templo perche voriano che li prosperosi andasseno a habitare/ qualche anni a Rodi et li intabili li desseno subsidio pecuniario [...] (14th of November 1477; one of the several passages in Botta’s reports from that autumn referring to the Templars). Yet the Templar Knights did not become Christendom’s anti-Ottoman spearheads. This was ‘an office’ that still had to be held by the monarchs at the frontiers of the Ottoman Empire14. Notes 1. Archivio di Stato di Milano, Milan (ASM), Archivio Ducale Sforzesco (A.D.S.), Potenze Estere, Roma, cart. 79, fasc. 5, nn (14th of September 1475); cart. 81, fasc. 2, nn (17th of May 1476); Actae et epistolae relationum Transylvaniae Hungariaeque cum Moldavia et Valachia (=Fontes Rerum Transylvanicarum, IV, VI), edited by Endre VERESS, I, 1468-1540 (Budapest, 1914), nos. 19-22, pp. 22-25; [Domenico MALIPIERO], Annali veneti dall’anno 1457 al 1500 del Senatore Domenico Malipiero ordinati e abbreviati dal senatore Francesco Longo (=Archivio Storico Italiano, VII, 1), editor Agostino SAGREDO (Florence, 1843), pp. 99-100 (Malipiero); Gugliermo Berchet, La repubblica di Venezia e la Persia (Turin, 1865), p. 99; [Giovanni Maria ANGIOLELLO] Donado DA LEZZE, Historia Turchesca, edited by I[oan]. URSU (Bucharest, 1910), pp. 88-90; Antonio BONFINI, Rerum Ungaricarum decades, edited by József FÓGEL, László JUHÁSZ, Béla IVÁNYI, IV (Leipzig, 1941 [Budapest, 1944]), pp. 61-62 (Bonfini); Cronica moldo-germanã [The MoldavianGerman Chronicle], in Cronicile slavo-române din secolele XV-XVI publicate de Ioan Bogdan [The Slavic-Romanian Chronicles of the 15th-16th Centuries published by Ioan Bogdan], edited by P.P. PANAITESCU (Bucharest, 1959), pp. 31-34, Naghi PIENARU, ‘Un document otoman necunoscut din 1476’ [An unknown Ottoman Document of 1476], Revistã Istoricã (Bucharest) New Series, XIII (2002), 1-2, pp. 229-241. For an overview: A. SIMON, ‘The Costs and Benefits of Anti-Ottoman Warfare: Documents on the Case of Moldavia. 1475-1477’, Revue Roumaine d’Histoire (Bucharest), XLVIII (2009), 1-2, pp. 37-53; Idem, ‘The Contested Sultan: The Backgrounds of Bayezid II’s Moldavian Campaign of 1484’, Eurasian Studies: Journal for Balkan, Eastern Mediterranean, Anatolian, Middle Eastern, Iranian and Central Asian Studies (Rome), VII (2009), pp. 17-50 2. Archivio di Stato di Venezia, Venice (ASVe), Senato Secreti (S.S.), Deliberazioni, reg. 28, c. 13r-v (8th of May 1477; Tzamplakon’s speech, edited, for instance, in Nicolae IORGA, Veneþia în Marea Neagrã. III. Originea legãturilor cu ªtefan cel Mare ºi mediul politic al dezvoltãrii lor [Venice <’s Involvement> in the Black Sea <Area>], in Idem, 266 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Studii asupra evului mediu românesc [Studies on the Romanian Middle Ages], edited by ªerban PAPACOSTEA (Bucharest 1984), no. 47, pp. 289-291(Veneþia);); Stefano MAGNO, Annali veneti e del mondo [1443-1478] (Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna, Codices, Cod. 6215-6217), III, Ad annum 1477, ff. 671r-674v (and Ad annum 1478, ff. 692r-693r); C[onstantin]. SATHAS, Documents inédits relatifs à l’histoire de la Grèce au Moyen Âge, V (Paris ,1884), p. 211; Codex Diplomaticus Partium Regno Hungariae Adnexarum. Magyarország Melléktartományainak Oklevéltára (=Monumenta Hungariae Historica, I, 31, 33, 36, 40), II, A Magyarország és Szerbia közti összeköttetések oklevéltára. 1198-1526 [Documents regarding the Relations at the Meeting-Point between Hungary and Serbia. 1198-1526], edited by Lajos THALLÓCZY and Antal ALDÁSY (Budapest, 1907), no. 369, pp. 267-268; Eudoxiu DE HURMUZAKI, Documente privitoare la istoria românilor [Documents regarding the History of the Romanians], XV-1 Acte ºi scrisori din arhivele oraºelor ardelene Bistriþa, Braºov ºi Sibiiu, 1358-1600 [Documents and Letters from the Archives of the Transylvanian Cities of Bistriþa, Braºov, Sibiu, edited by N. IORGA (Bucharest, 1911), nos. 171-176, pp. 76-79; Malipiero, pp. 111-112. N. IORGA, ‘L’oncle d’Étienne le Grand’, Bulletin de la Séction Historique de l’Académie Roumaine (Bucharest), V-VIII (19161920), pp. 79-81; Dan Ioan MUREªAN, ‘La place de Girolamo Lando, patrician vénetien et titulaire du Patriarcat de Constantinople (1474-1497), dans la politique orientale del’Église de Rome’, Annuario del Istituto Romeno di Cultura e Ricerca Umanistica (Venice), VIII (2006), pp. 153-258 (here pp. 182-184). De Medio’s instructions are in ASVe, S.S., Deliberazioni, reg. 27, cc. 109r-111r. At the end of the instructions (which included, among others, the Republic’s position on the Hungarian problem from the crusader point of view and the level of Matthias’ relations – whose heralds had just left – with the Habsburgs and the Jagiellons, Venice’s affairs in Italy, with an emphasis on the promotion and the defence of the Venetian Girolamo Lando, the <Latin> Patriarch in Constantinople), the major emergencies of the moment, the Turks and Bohemia (which were closely linked with each other through Matthias Corvinus and the crusade), were resumed:. Volunt commissionem Nostram in omnibus excepto quod in fine novi capituli dicere volunt sic: verus ut Summo/ Pontifici notissimum esse arbitremur incepit sicut ex inclusis exemplis litterarum oratoris nostri inspicere/ poteritis inter Imperatoriam Maiestatem et Serenissimum Dominum Regem Hungariae pullulare discensio non negligenda/ intervenientibus rebus regni Boemie et aliis causis, que, si processerunt non tollere omnes indutias/ et pacificationem factam cum Rege Polonie non poterunt; et consequenter avertere Regis Hungariae/ cogitarum ab impresia Christiana et reddire omnem [sic!], studium Summi Pontificis omnemque laborem et impensam/ penitus inutilem, super qua materia alias etiam processori tuo scripsisse meminimus. Et propterea tu nostro/ nomine memora, hortare et persuade Sanctitati predicte suam interponere digentur operam et auctoritatem per illas vias/ et media, que fuerint efficaciora, ne discordie ille procedant ulteriu, sed omnia inter eos pacentur; et/ attendatur ex omni latere ad propugnationem rei Christiane, ne hosti auso iam Italiam attendere, sicut nosti/ ex frequentibus invasionibus et dirreptionibus, tanta prestetur occasio intrepide adoriendi quandocunque/ voluerit potentiam Christianam et illa subacta aliam et item aliam invadendi absumendique tandem/ omnes, sed illi potius potenter occuratur presteturque POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 267 que deliberata presidia et regi Hungarie et Valaco et/ ceteris indigentibus prout ex motu et invasione inimici magis necessarium fore intelligetur/ pro communi omnium liberatione et salute. Hec nobis videtur supra ceteras importantissima maxima dignissimaque/ ceterarum consilio et prospicentia Beatitudinis antedicte (f. 111r). Hungary and Moldavia had to receive help, otherwise a disaster was imminent. No perfidy could be accepted any longer. Italy’s businesses had to be put in order. Rome had to solve, once and for all, Matthias’ conflicts in the north. Stephen did not have to be dismissed as champion of Christian faith. His country had not suffered such great losses. He had to receive further evidence of the pope’s confidence. The relationship between the Moldavian lord and the papacy had to be reinforced and renewed (much to the loss of the former’s enemies) through the publication of the crusade and the Roman jubilee. For Paul II’s attempted deposition of Skanderbeg as Christendom’s athlete and its broader context: [Odorico RINALDO], Annales ecclesiastici ab anno MCXCVIII ubi desinit Cardinalis Baronibus auctore Odorico Raynaldo accedunt, XIX, Ab anno 1459 usque ad annum 1492 (Cologne, 1694), Ad annum 1466, no. 2, p. 178 [late 1466; Iacopo AMMANNATI PICCOLOMINI, Lettere (1444-1479), edited by Paolo CHERUBINI, II, Pontificato di Paolo II, Roma, 1997, no. 208, pp. 875-876 (in particular); Bernard DOUMERC, Venice and Protection of its Colonial Domain in the Balkans: A Late Crusade (1463-1503)?, Études Balkaniques (Sofia), XLIV (2007), 3, pp. 115132. Athlete was more than just a title. Further researches are much needed in this respect. 3. ASM, A.D.S., Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 354, fasc. 2, nn (18th of February 1468); ASVe, S.S., Deliberazioni, reg. 28, c. 13v (8th of May 1477); ª. PAPACOSTEA, ‘La guerre ajournée: les rélations polono-moldaves en 1478. Refléxions en marge d’un text de Filippo Buonaccorsi-Callimachus’, Revue Roumane d’Histoire, XI (1972), 1, pp. 3-21; Oliver Jens SCHMITT, ‘Actes inédits concernant Venise, ses possesions albanaises et Skanderbeg (1464-1468)’, Turcica. Revue d’études turques: peuples, langues, culture, états, XXXI (1999), pp. 247-312; Jan W³adislaw WOŒ, Politica e religione nella Polonia tardo medioevale (Trento, 2000), pp. 48-50; N. PIENARU, ‘Proiectul scitic. Relaþiile lui ªtefan cel Mare cu Hoarda Mare’ [The Scythian Project. Stephen the Great’s Relations with the Great Horde], Revista Istoricã, New Series, XIV (2003), 5-6, pp. 121-135; Idem, ‘Un document’, pp. 229-241. For further information on the context, see Iulian-Mihai DAMIAN, ‘La Depositeria della Crociata (1463-1490) e i sussidi dei pontifici romani a Mattia Corvino’, and A. SIMON, ‘The Hungarian Means of the Relations between the Habsburgs and Moldavia at the End of the 15th Century’, Annuario del Istituto Romeno di Cultura e Ricerca Umanistica, VIII (2006), pp. 135-152 and pp. 259-296; Idem, ‘The Arms of the Cross: Stephen the Great’s and Matthias Corvinus’ Christian Policies’, in Between Worlds, I, Stephen the Great, Matthias Corvinus and their Time (=Mélanges d’Histoire Générale, Nouvelle Série, I, 1), edited by László KOSZTA, Ovidiu MUREªAN, A. SIMON (ClujNapoca, 2007 [2008]), pp. 45-86 (here pp. 48-50). 4. ASM, A.D.S., Potenze Estere, Illiria, Polonia, Russia, Slavonia, cart. 640, fasc. 2, nn [April-May 1475; misedited, under 1462, by Jovan RADONIĆ in Đurađ Kastriot Skenderbeg i Arbanija XV veku (istoriska iratha) [George Castriot Skanderbeg and Albania 268 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) in the 15th Century (Historical Sources)] (=Spomenik, XCV) (Belgrade, 1942), no. 226, p. 128; re-edited in A. SIMON, Cristian LUCA, ‘Documentary Perspectives on Matthias Corvinus and Stephen the Great’, Transylvanian Review (Cluj-Napoca), XVII (2008), 3, pp. 85-113, here pp. 101-103); Veneþia, no. 34, p. 276; no. 38, p. 279; no. 42, p. 282; Malipiero, pp. 111-112; GEO PISTARINO, ‘La caduta di Caffa, diaspora in Oriente’, in Idem, Genovesi d’Oriente (Genoa, 1988), pp. 477-518 (here pp. 514-518); A. SIMON, ªtefan cel Mare ºi Matia Corvin. O coexistenþã medievalã [Stephen the Great and Matthias Corvinus: A Medieval Coexistence] (Cluj-Napoca, 2006 [2007]), pp. 102-103, 360-361, 445-446; For the earlier eastern plans of Venice: Enrico CORNET, Le guerre dei Veneti nell’Asia, 1470-1474. Documenti cavati dall’Archivio ai Frari in Venezia (Vienna, 1856), no. 43, p. 44; no. 85, p. 106; no. 90, p. 112; [Jacopo AMMANNATI PICCOLOMINI], Diarium Concistoriale dell cardinale Ammanati atribuito dal Muratori a Giacomo Gherardi da Volterra, in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores (Bologna-Città del Castello), Nova Series, XXIII, 1904, 3, pp. 141-144. 5. ASM, A.D.S., Potenze Estere, Turchia-Levante, cart. 647, fasc. 3, nn (16th of January 1474); Ungheria, cart. 649, fasc. 2, nn (15th of February 1474); SIMON, ‘The Arms of the Cross’, pp. 55-56 (Venetian-Genoese hostility naturally surpassed the rather strong adversity which had developed between Moldavian and Genoese Pontic political structures and figures throughout the last century). For military costs and wages, as well as for prices in the Italian Peninsula and East-Central Europe: Fernand BRAUDEL, Frank C. SPOONER, ‘Prices in Europe from 1450 to 1750’, in The Cambridge Economic History of Europe, general editor Michael M. POSTAN, IV, The Economy of Expanding Europe in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, edited by E.E. RICH and C.H. WILSON (Cambridge, 1967), pp. 394-398; Gy. RÁZSÓ, ‘Military Reforms in the Fifteenth Century’, in A Millennium of Hungarian Military History, edited by László VESZPRÉMY, B.K. KIRÁLY (New-York, 2002), pp. 70, 76; Donald E. PITCHER, An Historical Geography of the Ottoman Empire (Leiden, 1972) pp. 92-97, 138-139. 6. I libri commemoriali della Republica di Venezia. Regesti [edited by Ricardo PREDELLI], V, [Registri XIV-XVII] (Venice, 1901), no. XVI-65, 73, pp. 213, 215; Iván NAGY, Albert B. NYÁRY, Magyar diplomacziai emlékek. Mátyás király korából 1458-1490 [Souvenirs of the Hungarian Diplomacy: The Age of King Matthias. 1458-1490] (= Monumenta Hungariae Historica, IV, 1-4), II [1466-1480] (Budapest, 1876), no. 245, p. 355 (MDE); Veneþia, no. 42, p. 282; [Jan D£UGOSZ], Jan Dlugosii Senioris Canonici Cracoviensis Opera omnia, editor Alexander pRZEZDZIECKI, XIV, Historiae Polonicae libri XII [II] (Krakow 1887), pp. 651, 665; Malipiero, pp. 41, 43; Fabio CUSIN, Il confine orientale d’Italia nella politica europea del XIV e XV secolo, II (Milan, 1937), pp. 151-153; Gy. RÁZSÓ, ‘Una strana alleanza. Alcuni pensieri sulla storia militare e politica dell’alleanza contro i turchi (1440-1464)’, in Venezia e Ungheria nel Rinascimento, edited by Vittore BRANCA (Florence, 1973), pp. 95-101. J[oseph]. E. WOODS, The Aqquyunlu. Clan, Confederation, Empire (Minneapolis-Chicago 1976), pp. 127-137; Kenneth M, SETTON, The Papacy and the Levant (1204-1571), II, The Fifteenth Century (=Memoirs of the American Philosophical Society, CXVII) (Philadelphia, 1978), pp. 314-322. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 269 7. ASM, A.D.S., Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 364, fasc. 3, nn (13th of March 1477); ASVe, S.S., Deliberazioni, reg. 28, c. 1r (17th-18th of March, 10th, 19th of April 1477; part of the data was edited, for instance, in Hurmuzaki, VIII, 1376-1650 [edited by Ioan Slavici?] (Bucharest, 1894), no. 21, pp. 16-18; nos. 24-25, pp. 21-22), E. BASSO, ‘De Boucicaut à Francesco Sforza. Persistance et changements dans a politique orientale des seigneurs ètrangeres de Gênes au XVe siècle’, in Le partage du monde. Echanges et colonization dans la Mediterranée médiévale, edited by Michel BALARD and Alain DUCELLIER (Paris 1998), pp. 63-77; Marco PISTORESI, ‘Venezia-Milano-Firenze 1475. La visita in Laguna di Sforza Maria Sforza e le manovre della diplomazia internazionale: aspetti politici e ritualità pubblica’, Studi Veneziani (Venice), New Series, XLVI (2003), pp. 31-69 (here pp. 44-49). At the time, another Moldavian-Venetian problem was the ‘Venetian’ (Latin) Patriarchate of Constantinople (see here Hurmuzaki, VIII, no. 18, p. 14; MUREªAN, ‘La place de Girolamo Lando’, pp. 188-190).The full (late crusader) impact of the latter (and major) issue still eludes us in fact. 8. L. THALLÓCZY, Frammenti relativi alla storia dei paesi situati all’Adria (offprint Archaeografo Triestino, 3rd series, VII, 1) (Trieste, 1913), pp. 34-36 (Frammenti); Bonfini, IV, pp. 91-92. See in comparison Edgár ARTNER, Magyarország mit a Nyugati Keresztény muvelodés védobástyája: a Vatikánai Levéltárnak azo okiratai, melyek oseinknek a Keletrol Europát fenyegeto veszedelmek ellen kifejet erofeszitéseire vonatkoznak (cca. 1214-1606) [Hungary as Propugnaculum of Western Christianity: Documents from the Vatican Secret Archives. 1214-1606)], edited by Szovág KORNÉL (Budapest, 2004 [compiled in the 1930s]), especially nos. 100-103, pp.110-120 (1475-1478) (Magyarország); Mihail GUBOGLU, ‘Le tribut payé par les Principautés Roumains à la Porte jusqu’au début du XVIe siècle d’après les sources turques’, Revue des Études Islamiques (Paris) XXXVII (1969), 1, pp. 41-80 (here pp. 68-72). It is also interesting to note (given Venice’s own Ottoman peace talks) that the money the republic usually requested from Rome for Stephen III in 1477 and 1478 (10.000 ducats) came very close to the minimal sum owed by the Moldavian ruler in tribute to the Ottoman sultan. 9. József TELEKI, Hunyadiak kora Magyarországon [The Age of the Hunyadis in Hungary], V (Pest 1847), p. 54; MKL, I, nos. 259-260, pp. 381-383; no. 281, p. 419; Frammenti, pp. 39-41; Gy. RÁZSÓ, Die Feldzüge Königs Mathias Corvinus in Niederösterreich 1477-1490 (Vienna 1973), pp. 5-7; ª.PAPACOSTEA, ‘Caffa et la Moldavie face à l’expansion ottomane (1453-1484)’, in Atti del Colloquio Genovesi nel Mar Nero durante i secoli XIII e XIV, edited by ªtefan PASCU (Bucharest, 1977), pp. 150-152; O.J. SCHMITT, Das venezianische Albanien (1402-1479) (Munich, 2001), pp. 604-612; Sándor PAPP, ‘Stephen the Great, Matthias Corvinus and the Ottoman Empire’, in Between Worlds, I, pp. 107-122. For the Crimean context (1474-1476), see also Matei CAZACU, Keram KÉVOKIAN, ‘La chute de Caffa (1475) à la lumière de nouveaux documents”, in Cahiers du Monde Russe et Soviétique (Paris), XVII, p. 495-538, PISTARINO, ‘La caduta di Caffa’, pp. 481, 488-489. 10. ASM, A.D.S., Potenze estere, Ungheria, cart. 650, fasc. 3, nn (20th, 23rd of May 1476); Venezia, cart. 364, fasc. 5, nn (11th of May 1477). Franz BABINGER, Mehmed der 270 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Eroberer unde seine Zeit. Weltenstürmer einer Zeitenwende (Munich, 19592), pp. 382-388; A. SIMON, ‘Quello ch’e apresso el Turcho. About A Son of Stephen the Great’, Annuario del Istituto Romeno di Cultura e Ricerca Umanistica, VI-VII (2004-2005), pp. 141-169. For the Pontic and Italian background: Idem, Anti-Ottoman Warfare and Crusader Propaganda in 1474: New Evidences from the Archives of Milan’, Revue Roumaine d’Histoire, XLVI (2007), 1-4, pp. 25-39. For the boys and their relatives: ªtefan ANDREESCU, ‘Autour de la dernière phase des rapports entre la Moldavie et Gênes’, Revue Roumaine d’Histoire, XXI (1982), 2, pp. 257-282. The ‘business focused’ captain probably got his share of the ‘booty’. On the other hand, given Stephen’s conduct towards the Genoese, relieved that they were in Christian hands, we cannot rule out the possibility that the captain too was put into chains by the ruler. 11. Biblioteca Nazionale Maricana (Venice), Codices, Cod. Lat. 178 (=3625), cc. 41r-42v (16th of September 1476; the best edition of the report belongs to Kryzstof BACZKOWSKI, ‘Nieznane listy Baltazara z Piscii do papie¿a Sykstusa IV z lat 14761478 ze zbiorów weneckich’ [Baldassar of Piscia’s Reports to Pope Sixtus IV from the Venetian Archives. 1476-1478], Prace Historyczne [Historical Studies] (Krakow), LXXXIX (1989), Appendix, no. 1, pp. 242-248); I. BOGDAN, Documentele lui ªtefan cel Mare [The Documents of Stephen the Great], II [1493-1503, 1458-1503] (Bucharest, 1913), no. 193, p. 366; Laonic CHALCOCONDIl, Expuneri istorice [Historic Demonstrations], edited by Vasile GRECU (Bucharest, 1958), p. 285; Leben und Taten der türkischen Kaiser. Die anonyme vulgärgriechische Chronik Codex Barberinianus Graecus (Anonymus Zoras) (=Osmanische Geschichtsschreiber, VI), edited by Richard F. KREUTEL (Graz-Vienna-Cologne, 1971), pp. 145-146; Erik GÜGEDI, ‘Mátyás király jövedelme 1475-ben’ [King Matthias Budget of 1475], Századok [Centuries] (Budapest) CXVI (1982), 3, pp. 484-506; ªevket PAMUK, ‘Money in the Ottoman Empire, 1326-1914’, in An Economic and Social History of the Ottoman Empire, 1300-1914, [I], edited by Halil INALCIK (Cambridge, 19941), pp. 951956; SETTON, The Papacy and the Levant, II, pp. 320-327 (with further data). For the papal crusader funds in the 1470s, see Benjamin Weber’s PhD thesis, Lutter contre les Turcs. Les formes nouvelles de la croisade pontificale au XVe siècle, Toulouse, 2009 (mss), especially pp. 296-297, 376-377, fig. 8-9. 12. Archivio Segreto Vaticano, Vatican City, Miscellanea Armadi., II-30, f. 44 (49)r (February 25, 1476; edited in Magyarország, no. 101, pp. 111-112), 83 (88v) (August 12, 1475); II-53, ff. 88 (94)v-97 (102)r (February 15, 1476) II-56, f. 201 (211)r (August 30, 1475); Reg. Vat. 578, ff. 92r-93r (13th of January 1476; the bulla was misedited, under 1477, as already noticed by Oskar HALECKI, From Florence to Brest. 1439-1596 (Rome 1958), p. 104, note 14, in Augustinus Theiner, Vetera monumenta historica Hungarica sacram illustrantia II, Ab Innocentio PP. VI. usque ad Clementem PP. VII. 1352-1526 (Rome 1859), no. 636, pp. 453-454); Codice, I, no. 120, pp. 307-309; no. 151, pp. 364-368; no. 377, p. 815; II-2, no. 658, p. 338; no. 1087, pp. 103-104 ; no. 1102, pp. 114-116; no. 1104, p. 122; no. 1117, p. 195; Acte ºi fragmente, III, pp. 50-51, 88-89; ªt. ANDREESCU, ‘Un nou act genovez cu privire la ªtefan cel Mare [A New Genoese Document regarding Stephen the Great], POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 271 Studii ºi Materiale de Istorie Medie [Studies and Materials in Medieval History] (Bucharest-Brãila), XXII (2004), pp. 133-136. The efforts of the families to ransom the boys are documented. Yet, it could be of interest that Botta does not mention in his ‘synthesis’ the return of (part of) the boys to the peninsula, ransomed or not.; and see in particular 13. E.g. Archivio di Stato di Genova, Genoa, Archivio Segreto, Diversorum [reg.] 742, c. 4v; Litterarum: Officium Monete, [reg.] 1804, cc. 44r-45v; Materie Politiche. Scritti in lingua orientale ed africana, 2737 D, nn [Documenti Greco-Bizantini], [dos. G] (13th of September 1480, 2nd of February, 31st of December 1481); ASM, A.D.S., Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 364, fasc. 5 (May 11); Biblioteca Museo Correr (Venice), Manoscritti, Provenienze diverse, 594, ff. 39r-v, 41r (3rd, 18th of July 1481); BNM, Cod. Lat. X-178 (=3625), c. 41v; Documente ªtefan, II, no. 193, p. 366 (see the ‘version’ in Theodor HOLBAN, ‘Noi documente româneºti din ar-hivele polone ºi franceze’ [New Romanian Documents from Polish and French Archives] (I), Anuarul Institutului deIstorie ºi Arheologie A.D. Xenopol, XV (1978), no. 2, p. 467); Giacomo GRASSO, ‘Documenti riguardanti la costituzione di una lega contro il Turco nel 1481’, Giornale linguistico di scienze, lettere ed arti (Genoa), VI (1879), no. 113, pp. 483-484; no. 119, pp. 487-488; D³ugosz, pp. 630-631, 639-644; ANDREESCU, ‘Dernière phase’, pp. 277-279. 14. Viaceslav MAKUSEV, Monumenta Historica Slavorum Meridionalum vicinorum-que populorum e tabularis et bibliothecis italicis derompta, I-2, Genua, Mantua, Mediolanum, Panormus et Taurinum (Belgrade, 1882), no. 15, p. 137 (1492); Veneþia, no. 47, p. 290; no. 51, p. 203; Gy. RÁZSÓ, ‘The Mercernary Army of King Matthias Corvinus’, in From Hunyadi to Rákóczi. War and Society in Late Medieval and Early Modern Hungary, edited by János M. BAK and B.K. KIRÁLY (New-York, 1982), pp. 130-138; András KUBINYI, ‘König Matthias und die ungarischen Bischöfe’, in Idem, Matthias Corvinus. Die Regierung eines Königreichs in Ostmitteleuropa (Herne, 1999), pp. 137-161 (here p. 159, note 88); A. SIMON, ‘Antonio Bonfini’s Valachorum regulus: Matthias Corvinus, Transylvania and Stephen the Great’, in Between Worlds, I, pp. 207-226 (here pp. 219-224); Idem, ªtefan cel Mare ºi Matia Corvin, pp. 114-118. The otherwise balanced ‘German propaganda work’ of Stephen, destined for German environment of his Habsburg allies (Cronica moldo-germanã, p. 34), offered in the early 1500s an idylical picture of the matter, indicating that the problem posed by his conduct had not disappeared in Christian areas other than Italia. The question of how many of Stephen’s business partners were Christians also remains open. For the last quoted report: ASM, A.D.S., Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 365, 1477, fasc. 11, Novembre, nn; 14th of November 1477. There could be more to the ‘Templar story’ in this eastern respect too. According to one of the first modern Romanian Scholars, Gheorghe Asachi (1788-1869), Stephen III’s plan was to recover Caffa with his troops on land and with maritime support from Portugese knights (‘Valea Albã’ [The White Valley], in Idem, Cântecul cignului [The Song of the Cygne], edited by Elena CHIRIAC (Khishinev, 1998), pp. 280-320, here p. 302). On one hand, the Portugese Knights (i.e. the Order of Christ) were basically the sole legitimate form of independent survival of the Knights Templar after their 272 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) trial (most ‘repented’ Templar were reinserted as Knights Hospitaller) and also proved rather active on crusader soils. On the other hand, archival (re)discoveries have confirmed the information extracted and developed from the now lost Moldavian princely archive in the late 1700s and early 1800s (for instance, see in comparison to the abovementioned Venetian crusader project of spring 1475 presented by Morosini in Rome the data edited by M. CAZACU, ‘Un voyageur dans les pays roumains et son Histoire de la Moldavie : Leyon Pierce Balthasar von Campenhausen (17461808)’, in Naþional ºi universal în istoria Românilor. Studi oferite Profesorului ªerban Papacostea cu ocazia împlinirii a 70 de ani [National and Universal in the History of the Romanians: Festschrift ªerban Papacostea], edited by Ovidiu CRISTEA and Gheorghe LAZÃR (Bucharest, 1997), pp. 402-417). Abstract Ideological and Practical Means of Survival in Front of the Ottoman Empire in the Late 1400s In the summer of 1476, Mehmed II had attacked Moldavia. Neither he nor his opponents accomplished their goals. Still, it was his army and not the crusaders who was hastly retreating. Yet the Christian coalition had suffered several political (do-mestic) and military losses. The regional anti-Ottoman picture brightened after the suc-cessful Hungarian-Moldavian intervention in Walachia in October-November. Yet, by early 1477, the Ottoman reaction had turned those victories into history. Mehmed II eliminated the military positions won throughout the year 1476, by Hungary and Molda-via, along the Lower Danube, the Morava and the Sava. By early 1477, the need for Western subsidies was therefore once more particularly great at Christendom’s border. Keywords Crusading, ideology, Ottoman Empire, Moldavia, Hungary Geopolitics and strategies in the Black Sea region 1939-1947 M IOARA A NTON “T of the sea is a problem of reason“1 asserted Gheorghe Brãtianu, in 1943, at the end of the lecture course held at the Faculty of Philosophy and Letters, entitled The Black Sea Question. The beginning of the twentieth century made the Straits, the Black Sea and the Danube essential issues on the diplomatic agenda of the Great Powers, be they part of that space or not2. Borrowing the expression of H. A. Gibbons – „for so long as there is water in the Black Sea and wheat on the steppes of Russia there will always the issue of the Straits“3 – Gheorghe Brãtianu considered, that the future of the Black Sea depended on the way in which the Great Powers, but also the coastal states, succeeded, in the light of postwar agreements, to harmonise their interests4. In the historian’s view, the Black Sea space placed Romania, from the perspective of geopolitical developments and power relations, in an essential position for the dynamics of universal history. The outbreak of the Second World War returned the Black Sea space to the attention of the Great Powers. The signature of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact considerably altered the fragile balance in Central-Eastern Europe. Competition for supremacy in the Black Sea region was opened, the Great Powers beginning a complicated diplomatic game with at stake not only the drawing of spheres of influence in the Balkans, but also in the Near East. Motivated by specific interests, Great Britain, Germany and Soviet Russia threw themselves into a race to obtain control of the Black Sea and of the Bosphorus Straits. The loss of Bessarabia reopened the dossier of the assertion of Soviet interests in the Danube and the Black Sea5, a fact underlined by Molotov in Berlin, in November 1940. The mandate of the Soviet Ministry of Foreign Affairs includHE PROBLEM Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project. 274 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) ed three issues of particular importance to the Soviet foreign policy agenda: the Black Sea, the Straits and Bulgaria. On the other hand, the German Foreign Minister, von Ribbentrop, stressed from the outset of discussions with Molotov, on 12 November 1940, that in the eventuality of the ending of the war the Axis powers needed to formulate a common policy towards Turkey, which meant the modification of the Straits regime and the abolition of the International Commission of the Danube: „[...] The Reich Foreign Minister further declared that in this connection he understood completely Russia’s dissatisfaction with the Straits Convention of Montreux. Germany was more dissatisfied, for she had not been included in it at all. Personally he (The Reich Foreign Minister) was of the opinion that the Montreux Convention like the Danube Commissions must be scrapped and replaced by something new. [...] It was clear that Soviet Russia could not be satisfied with the present situation. Germany found the idea acceptable that in the Black Sea, Soviet Russia and the adjacent countries should enjoy certain privileges over other countries of the world”6. Molotov did not greet the German proposals with enthusiasm. He indicated that there had to be clarified the issues concerning the german military presence in Finland, the Balkans, and especially the functioning of the Tripartite Pact. At the same time, the Soviet side was interested in finding out to what extent Germany would respect the interests of the USSR in Romania, Bulgaria, and Turkey. If these aspects were clarified, Ribbentrop was to discuss personally with Stalin the details concerning the modification of power relations in the Black Sea region7. Hitler stressed that there existed in Europe regions where the interests of the three powers (Soviet Russia, Germany and Italy) intersected. What united them was the common desire to have free access to the sea: for Germany the essential thing was the North Sea, Italy wished to pass beyond Gibraltar, while Russia would clear a passage towards the ocean8. But in the view of the Soviet Foreign Minister full control of the Black Sea region could be ensured, on the one hand, by the modification of the Straits regime, and on the other, by the deployment of Soviet military forces on the Bulgarian coast: „Molotov added that Russia wanted to obtain a guarantee against an attack on the Black Sea via the Straits not only on paper but ’in reality’ and believed that she could reach an agreement with Turkey in regard thereto. In this connection he came back again to the question of the Russian guarantee to Bulgaria and repeated that the internal regime of the country would remain unaffected, whereas on the other hand Russia was prepared to guarantee Bulgaria an outlet to the Aegean Sea”9. Both the German foreign minister and Hitler asserted during these meetings that German interests concerned more the issue of the Danube than that of the Black Sea, which had a secondary strategic importance for the Reich. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 275 The German presence in the Balkans was motivated only by war aims, Germany being uninterested in extending her influence in this space. Once war with Great Britain had ended, Germany would have no more reason to maintain military forces in the Balkans: „The Führer replied that he could not under any circumstances take a position before he had talked with the Duce, since Germany was interested in the matter only secondarily. As a great Danubian power she was interested only in the Danube River, but not in the passage into the Black Sea. For if she were perchance looking for sources of friction with Russia, she would not need the Straits for that”10. In Molotov’s opinion all the issues concerning the status of the Soviet Union on the Black Sea had to be effectively guaranteed by all the Axis powers: „For the Soviet Union, as the most important Black Sea Power, it was a matter of obtaining effective guarantees of her security. In the course of her history, Russia had often been attacked by way of the Straits. Consequently paper agreements would not suffice for the Soviet Union; rather, she would have to insist on effective guarantees for her security”11. The German plans foresaw a new sharing out of spheres of influence not only in Europe, but also in Africa and Asia, the Soviet Union being invited to ally herself with the Axis states. In one of the secret protocols accompanying the draft treaty it was underlined that „Germany, Italy and Soviet Union will work in common toward the replacement of the Montreux Straits Convention now in force by another convention. By this convention Soviet Union would be granted the right of unrestricted passage of its navy trough the Straits at any time, whereas all other Powers except the other Black Sea countries, but including Germany and Italy, would in principle renounce the right of passage to the Straits for their naval vessels. The passage of commercial vessels trough the Straits would, of course, have to remain free in principle”12. The German proposals were much too vague, Moscow indicating in its response of 25 November 1940 the conditions under which the Soviet Union would ally herself with the Tripartite Pact: the withdrawal of German troops from Finland, the safeguard of Soviet interests in the Straits through the signature of a pact of mutual aid with Bulgaria and the establishment of naval and land military bases which would protect the Bulgarian coast and offer the possiblity of rapid intervention in the Bosphorus and Dardanelles; the recognition of the south of the Batum and Baku regions, and especially that of the Persian Gulf, as belonging to the sphere of interests of the Soviet Union; the guarantee that Japan gave up its claims on the Sakhalin islands13. However, Soviet demands entered into conflict with German plans for South Eastern Europe, the Reich being directly interested, from the perspective of military operations, in preventing Soviet Russia from taking control of the Black Sea basin. The meeting in Berlin raised numerous question marks in the diplomatic circles of the time. In Moscow, Grigore Gafencu tried to decrypt 276 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) the meaning of the Soviet-German negotiations. In telegrams sent to Bucharest the Romanian minister made out what was behind the show put on by Moscow and Berlin: „Russia has thus had the opportunity to remind us again of the direction in which her interests stretch. There have been talks about the Straits. The German would like to talk more. But the Russians have abstained from making any declarations. In line with the habits of Soviet politicians, Russia has defined only the zone of interests in which she is always ready to profit from, but has not wanted to tie herself to anything so long as the war has not yet ended”14. The failure of the negotiations in Berlin represented a turning point not only for the development of Soviet-German relations, but also for the acceleration of the plans of the Great Powers for this space15. Even if, from a historical perspective, one can speak of a constant in Russian/Soviet policy concerning the Black Sea region and especially the Straits, what becomes clear for the period of the Secomd World War is the fact that the strategies of Moscow were directly influenced by the development of military operations. The German aggression of June 1941 obliged Soviet Russia to give priority to the problems raised by the unfolding military operations on its territory. Soviet interest manifested itself explicitly in the course of 1942-1943, as they emphasised in the tripartite negotiations the strategic and military importance the Black Sea region and Straits had for the USSR. Turkey became a key element for Allied strategies, especially for the British and Soviet ones. The efforts of British diplomacy concentrated during this period to improving Soviet-Turkish relations and eliminating the suspicions of the government in Ankara about the foreseable directions of Soviet policy in the Black Sea. But according to British reports, in 1942, Stalin displayed no interest in the modification of the Straits regime16. In an attempt to win the goodwill of the government in Ankara, the British foreign minister, Anthony Eden, put to the War Cabinet, on 5 April 1942, a draft treaty accompanied by a joint declaration by both governments, British and Soviet, in which were laid out the conditions which both parties undertook to respect: „1. That the British and Soviet Governemnts had no agressive intentions or claims regarding the Straits; 2. that they remain faithful to the Montreux Convention which regulated the regime of the Straits; 3. that both Governments were prepared to observe scrupulously the territorial integrity of the Turkish Republic; 4. that both Governments were prepared to send Turkey every help and assistance in the event of her being attacked by an European Power“17. Continued neutrality and resistance to the pressures coming from Berlin then Moscow, put Turkey in an extremely difficult position. The course of military operations increased the vulnerability of the government in Ankara. The financial agreement signed with Germany, in the summer of 1942, under which Turkey received 100 million German marks for the acquisition of military POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 277 equipment, increased the concerns of the Foreign Office. According to Anthony Eden, „if the Germans fulfill their promises to supply this equipment within six months they will be supplying Turkey in a sixth of the time with three times as much equipment as we have done. Present circumstances make it impossible for us to outbid this German offer ourselves and there seems little we can do“18. The change of strategy in foreign policy bore the title of ‘active neutrality’, signalling that Turkey was trying to protect her interests regardless of the means used. The fears of the Ankara government for its own security were accentuated from the moment the USA entered the war. In the view of the Ankara government, American aid helped to reinforce Soviet power in the Balkan region. The full assertion of Moscow’s interests was only a question of time, which obliged the Turkish government to find rapid solutions. The rumours that both Great Britain and the Soviet Union were negotiating for a separate peace with Germany increased the anxiety of Turkish official circles. The British success in Africa (October 1942) and especially the Soviet one at Stalingrad (November 1942February 1943) led to an increase in Soviet-British pressure on Turkey to enter the war. The top-level Turkish-British meeting of Adana (30-31 January 1943) was a failure for Churchill, who did not succeeed in convincing the Turkish officials to join the Allies. The promise from the British prime minister that both Great Britain and the United States would guarantee the territorial integrity of Turkey did not convince the Turkish officials. Fear of Russia urged caution. Besides, this was also the conclusion reached by Sir A. Cadogan in February 1943: „Their real preoccupation is, of course, Russia“19. Entering the war would have exposed Turkey to a peril which could come from two directions: a German air attack or a Soviet intervention. Besides, Soviet pressures were to become manifest very early. At the Conferene of Foreign Ministers in Moscow (October 1943), Molotov insisted upon common action by the three alllies to ‘suggest convincingly’ to Turkey that she enter the war. Molotov declared that it was the right of the allies to request that Turkey immediately enter the war and the duty of the government in Ankara to submit unconditionally to them. According to the report sent by the American ambassador in Moscow, Averel Harimann, to President Roosevelt „the Russian have the primitive view that they have suffered and bled to destroy Hitler and see no reason why the Turcs should not do the same if it came help shorten the war. They honestly believe that entry of Turkey will force the Germans to move a considerable number of divisions from the Eastern front. In posing this demand they are entirely indifferent to any moral or actual obligation to assist the Turcs in fighting the Germans“20. The Conference of Foreign Ministers in Moscow represented a real test for British diplomacy. The aims of Soviet foreign policy were becoming ever more indecipherable. Churchill was led to recommend that „the first step is to find out 278 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) what we and the Russians want and what will help both of us most“21. Stalin also expressed reservations about Turkey’s immediate entry into the war, considering useless the efforts of the allies. In conversation with Eden, Stalin stressed that „Turkey’s entry would not be necessary next year and that arms which we and United States were supplying would have been wasted. If Turkey wanted to be at the conference table to stake her claims, she must earn her place.[...] Stalin added that, as soon as Turkey moved, the Balkan situation would become difficult for Hitler“22. At the end of the conference of representatives of the three allies, they agreed to request Turkey’s entry into the war by the end of 1943. The intentions of the allies met the firm opposition of the government in Ankara, which gave as reasons the lack of military equipment, as well as the absence of a trained army capable of meeting a German attack. On the other hand, Turkey insisted upon guarantees of security, which might shelter her from an eventual Soviet military intervention: „Numan [Menemencioðlu] was particularly concerned with regard to the possibility of Russian penetration into the Balkans. He talked a great lenght on this point and said Turkey would desire to have assurances Soviets did not contemplate acquiring territory [or] bassis in Balkans or establishing its domination over that region“23. Soviet-British insistence was met with scepticism by the American administration. For the USA Turkey’s entry into the war would have put into danger military operations in western Europe. Roosevelt consider that bringing Turkey into the war could only happen by diplomatic means and with important promises (guarantees for territorial security and the delivery of military equipment). If up until 1942-1943, Turkey’s entry into the war was essential to disturbing the southern flank of the German front, at the Teheran conference, Stalin made no more pressure in this direction. The plans of the Soviet leader aimed to block British initiatives, especially those concerning a possible landing in the Balkans. Although Turkey’s entry into the war might have opened the way to the Balkans, Stalin insisted that the allied landing in northern France was much more important. The Soviet leader’s sudden loss of interest has two explanations: on the one hand, the possible secret peace negotiations with the Germand that could have obtained the promise of control upon the Dardanelles, on the other hand, and more probably, the elimination of the American and British presence in the Balkans: „On December 22 [1943] the Chief of the Imperial General Staff reported to the War Cabinet that Stalin had shown little interest in the Balkan situation or in the opening of the Straits. He said that the Russians did not seem grasp the military advantages to be gained in that part of the world, though their apparent lack of interest might have sprung from other motives“24. The military successes of the allies in the spring-summer of 1944, but especially th presence of the Red Army in the Balkans, did not make Turkey’s entry POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 279 into the war opportune. The relations with Germany were broken in 2 August 1944, when it was obvious that the balance of the war was tipping against the Reich, while the Soviet offensive in the south-east made the government in Ankara revise its foreign policy. According to an assessment by the Foreign Office, at the beginning of 1944, the Straits represented an important zone of security as much for Britain as for Russia and any unilateral act could have critical consequences for bilateral relations. Grigore Gafencu realised that as soon as she had reached the mouth of the Danube, Soviet Russia was opening an important breach in order to dominate the Balkans and the Straits. Besides, it was what the former ambassador to London, Ivan Maisky, had recommended, who proposed in a memorandum to Molotov, in January 1944, the increase in Soviet influence in the Balkans through the signing a pact of mutual aid with Romania, Bulgaria and Yugoslavia and the undermining of the position of Turkey on the Straits. From the strategic point of view, it was important that the Soviet Union maintained influence in Iran through the renewal of the treaty with Great Britain (and eventually the inclusion of the Soviet Union) so long as lines of communication could be kept with the Gulf zone. Ivan Maisky’s programme was more ambitious than what Stalin and Molotov wanted in November 1940, and went far beyond the traditional frontiers of influence of the Soviet Union25. The discussions in Moscow, in October 1944, had, besides, to deal with the differences over the issue of the Straits. In Stalin’s opinion, changing the Montreux Convention was both just and moral. The presence of Soviet troops on the Bulgarian territory facilitated access to the Straits. But if Churchill was in agreement with the idea of the presence of Russian ships in the Mediterranean, he did not commit himself to the sealing of an agreement concerning the Straits regime26: „Stalin said if Great Britain was interested in the Mediterranean, Russia was equally interested in the Black Sea“27. The change in the course of the war influenced Soviet plans for taking control of the Black Sea and extending influence in the Mediterranean28. The dispute over the Straits subsequently attracted the attention of the USA, whose interest in the Black Sea zone was marginal until then. From the perspective of the State Department, the USA did not have special interests in this space, while the status quo could be maintained if the Soviet Union respected Montreux Convention. The State Department’s assessments proved to be mistaken. At the Yalta Conference, of February 1945, Stalin apparently expressed his discontent with the administration of the Straits and the control exerted by Turkey over them29: „Stalin gave notice of his intention to raise the question of revision of Convention. He said that is intolerable for Russia to have to beg the Turks to let her ships go through the Straits. The regime of the Straits should be similar 280 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) to that of the Suez Canal. [...] It was impossible to put up with a situation in which ‘a small state like Turkey could keep a hand on the throat of a large country like Russia’“30. Consequently in March 1945, the Soviet Union denounced the neutrality treaty signed with Turkey in 1925, for the reason that the new geopolitical conditions demanded new instruments for regulating the Straits regime. A few months later, in June 1945, the Soviets brought to the knowledge of the government in Ankara their demands for the settlement of the situation in the Black Sea zone: territorial concessions in the Caucasus (the provinces of Kars, Ardahan and Atvin), the common defence of the Straits and the revision of the Montreux Convention31. As a consequence Soviet pressure on the government in Ankara intensified, being advanced as much as territorial claims as of modification of the administration of the Straits32. Soviet demands provoked a diplomatic storm. Control of the Straits meant not only cutting British lines of communication, but also ensured Soviet dominance in the Middle East, through the creation of a security zone for the Caucasus oil field: „[...] if Russian persisted in their demands for bases in the Dardanelles we should try to get the question reffered to the World Organisation and not leave it to be setteled bilaterally between Russia and Turkey“33. Soviet pressures caused a revision and reorientation of American policy concerning the issue of the Straits. Numerous analyses and documents by the State Department considered that the Soviet Union was far too weak to start a new war, that it was not particularly interested in territorial acquisitions, her demands targetting only the Straits regime. The American ambassador to Ankara, Steinhardt, considered that its modification served the long term interests of the Soviet Union, which had remained unchanged since 1939-1940. The immediate aim was reducing British influence in the Black Sea region, and for five reasons: „1. Joint free access to and egress from the Black Sea to the Soviet vessels of every type in times of war as well as in time of peace while denying the same to not-Black Sea Powers in times of war or threatened conflict; 2. Automatically constitute Turkey an Ally of the Soviet Union in any future war involving the Soviets; 3. Oblige Turkey to sustain the first impact of any contemplated attack on the Soviet Black Sea Ports; 4. Eliminate the Great Britain from any direct voice in the control and administration of the Straits; 5. Enhance Soviet and dismish British prestige throughout the Balkans and the Middle East“34. The Potsdam Conference was the moment when the American side defined a strategy for the Black Sea space. President Truman announced that the USA assumed responsibility for maintaining a regime of free navigation on the Straits. Truman stated in his memoirs the motives for the USA intervening in the settlement of Soviet-British disagreements concerning the Straits: „I said the attitude of the American government was that the Montreux Convention should POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 281 be revised. I thought, however, that the Straits should be a free waterway open to the whole world and that they should be guaranteed by all of us....“35. The question of the Straits was to be brought up again in London, in September 1945, at the conference of Foreign Ministers. Molotov, following the instructions received from Stalin, made the proposal that the Soviet Union could have naval bases in Libya, which gave the Soviet fleet access to the Mediterranean36. On the other hand, Turkey needed the safeguard that she would not lose territory, while her independence would not be affected by the modification of the Montreux Convention. The status of the Straits, the reconciliation of allied interests in Iran and the future of colonial possessions were discussed in London, but the solutions outlined were far from satisfying the participants. Turky and Iran were opening the series of confrontations which were to mark relations between the Great powers throughout the Cold War. Tensions between the Allies grew in the course of 1946. Signals received by the Kremlin warned that the Anglo-Americans were prepared to oppose Soviet initiatives, by war if necessary37. The Black Sea found itself the object of a conflict whose causes were to be found in the reopening of competition for control of the region. The end of the war brought an important change in the balance of forces in the Black Sea space. The United States replaced Great Britain in the Black Sea region and the Straits. The launch of the Truman Plan (March 1947), but especially its military component, placed the USA in the coordinates of the peripheral security strategy. The outbreak of the Cold War and Turkey’s adherence to the Marshall Plan left the Straits out of Soviet control and announced the beginning of new stages in the shaping of centres of power and domination in the Black Sea region. Disputes over the control of the Black Sea have therefore represented a dominant note in the economy of the Second World War. At stake in the power games was the partial or total domination of the Black Sea basin, which would ensure one or the other Great Powers control of trade routes and access to Europe and Central Asia. The beginning of the Cold War meant the control of the USSR over two thirds of the shores of the Black Sea. Moscow’s attention was directed especially at Turkey, the only state in the zone which did not enter her sphere of influence. Soviet pressures on Turkey created much activity on the diplomatic level. The result was Turkey shifting from the status of neutrality to that of an ally of the United States and her transformation into an enemy of the Soviet Union. The issue of Turkey was constantly on the Soviet diplomatic agenda, whilst pressure upon the government in Ankara, even if it lessened after Stalin’s death, continued throughout the period of the Cold War. 282 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Notes 1. Gheorghe Brãtianu, Chestiunea Mãrii Negre. Curs. 1942-1943, (Bucharest, 1943), 752. 2. Two major themes remained in the attention of specialists: the regime of the Danube and of the Straits, this being analysed from different perspectives, of international law, the balance of power and politico-military developments. The imposition of the Communist regime entailed the abandonment of these directions of research. Preoccupations with Balck Sea studies were limited to antiquity, Byzantine rule and the Ottoman legacy. At the beginning of the 1970s research relating to the Balkans, the Danube and the Black Sea was reinvigorated. There were in this context a series of books authored by Iulian Cârþânã, Ilie Seftiuc, România ºi problema Strâmtorilor, (1974), Constantin Buºe, Comerþul exterior prin Galaþi sub regimul de port franc (1837-1883), (1976), Gheorghe Cazan, ªerban Rãdulescu-Zoner, România ºi Tripla Alianþã (1979) et al. After 1990, interest in the Black Sea has grown, with studies reconnecting with the traditional preoccupations of pre-war Romanian historiography. A first initiative in this direction was the publication of the results of Romanian researchers, but also of those from abroad in the shape of an international periodical entitled „Il Mar Nero“. 3. Gh. Brãtianu, 680. 4. In the historian’s view, the issue of petrol – an extremely pressing one at the beginning of the 21st century – was to become a determining factor for the shaping of political strategies and the configuration of power plays in the Black Sea space. Present developments can not be fully understood if we do not know the permanent features of the Black Sea space, but especially the nature of the confrontations which took shape during the Second World War. 5. Relaþiile româno-sovietice. Documente. vol. II, 1935-1941, (Bucharest, 2003), 265; Grigore Gafencu, Preliminarii la rãzboiul din Rãsãrit, (Bucharest, 1996), 64-68. 6. Nazi-Soviet Relations. 1939-1941. Documents from the Archives of the German Foreign Office, eds. Raymond James Sontag, James Stuart Beddie (1948), 222-223; see also Ian Kershaw, Hitler, (London, 2008), 585-586. 7. Nazi-Soviet Relations. 1939-1941..., 224. 8. Ibid., 229. 9. Ibid., 246. 10. Ibid. The issue of the Danube was addressed at a special conference held in Vienna, on 12 eptember 1940, but to which the Soviet Union was not invited. Moscow expressed its surprise and communicated via the Foreign Minister that the issue of the Danube was linked to ‘Russian vital interests’. But as was also observed in Bucharest, the theory of vital interests would only find support to the extent in which Moscow proposed the extension of its power over the Straits, using its domination of the Danubei: „The Danube is seen by the Kremlin as an ideal way of penetrating the heart of Europe, to achieve the encirclement of the Straits, be in the South through Bulgaria and Yugoslavia, or in the Baltic, through Czechoslovakia, Germany and Denmark”. Arhivele Ministerului Afacerilor Externe (AMAE), Fond 71, România, POWER, BELIEF 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. AND IDENTITY • 283 vol. 514, fila 539; Andreas Hilgruber, Hitler, regele Carol al II-lea ºi mareºalul Antonescu. Relaþiile româno-germane (1938-1944) (Bucharest, 1994), 140-143. Nazi-Soviet Relations. 1939-1941..., 252. Ibid., 257-258. Ibid., 258-259. For the German plans for war against the Soviet Union, see also Ian Kershaw, Fateful Choices. Ten Decisions that Changed the World. 1940-1941 (London, 2008), 77, 83. Grigore Gafencu, Misiune la Moscova. 1940-1941 (Bucharest, 1995), 110. The Foreign Office an the Kremlin. British Documents on Anglo-Soviet Relations, 19411945, ed. Graham Ross (London, 1984), 8. L. Woodward, British Foreign Policy in the Second World War, vol. IV (London, 1975), 81. Ibid., 85. At the same time, the proposals to the Turkish government signified a definition of Soviet-British joint aims, but also a recognition of the Soviet territorial acquisitions of 1939-1940: „The Foreign Office would suggest to the Soviet Government at the outset of the negotiations a declaration to the following effect: 1. that the motives of the two Governments in deciding to conclude the treaty was the better to pursue their common objects of defeating Germany; 2. the British Governments would recognise the right of the Soviet Government to their 1941 frontiers in Finland, the Baltic States and Roumania as they existed before the German invasion (the frontier between Poland and the Soviet Union being reserved for future negotiation). We consider that it was a much in our interests as in those of the Soviet Governemnts that the Soviet Union should thus recover her strategic position in order to ensure that Germany was not again in a position to violate the peace of Europe“. Apud Selim Deringil, Turkish Foreign Policy during the Second World War: an ‚active neutrality’ (Cambridge, 2004), 136; see also British relations with Turkey from January 1942 to June 1943..., 90. Ibid., 118. November 4. The Ambasador in the Soviet Union to the President. Summary of Soviet attitudes on international cooperations Turkey, Sweden, the „Second Front“, Germany, the French Committee, Soviet Frontiers, Poland and Iran, in Foreign Relations of the United States. Diplomatic Papers. The Conferences at the Cairo and Tehran, 1943, (FRUS) (Washington, 1961), 153 http://digital.library.wisc.edu/1711.dl/FRUS. FRUS1943 CairoTehran L. Woodward, vol. VI, 143. Ibid., 144. November 10. The Chargé (Kelley) to the President, the Secretary of State, and the Under Secretary of State. Report on the Eden-Menemencioðlu talks regarding Turkish air basis and the possible entry of Turkey into the war, in Ibid., 175. In the Autumn of 1943, was created in the State Department the working group The Interdivisional Country on Turkey which in a first analysis entitled The Regime of the Turkish Straits indicated four solutions for settling the settlement of its status: maintaining the stipulations of the Convention of Montreux, internationalisation, the entry under Soviet control or the sharing of control between all states on the Black Sea. On close analysis it has been iobserved that the three solutions were unacceptiable for both 284 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. Turkey and the Soviet Union. See also Emanuel Plopeanu, Politica Statelor Unite faþã de Turcia între anii 1943 ºi 1952. De la neimplicare la alianþã (Iaºi, 2009), 62. L. Woodward, vol. VI, 166. Vladimir O. Pechatnov, The Big Three after World War II: New Documents of Soviet Thinking about Post War Relations with The United States and Great Britain, in „Cold War International History Project Working Papers Series”, May 1995, S.M. Plokhy, Yalta. The Price of Peace, Viking Penguin Group (New York, 2010), 146147. Russian demands at the Moscow and Yalta Conference for the revision of Montreux Convention; British attitude to the Russian demands..., in British Foreign Policy in the Second World War..., vol. VI, 202. Vladimir O. Pechatnov, „The Allies are Pressing on you to break your will...”. Foreign Police Correspondence between Stalin and Molotov and other Politburo Members, September 1945-November 1946, in „Cold War International History Project Working Papers Series”, 26, (1999): 3. S.M. Plokhy, 281; L. Woodward, vol. VI, 201-210. Ibid., 204. Eduard Mark, The War Scare of 1946 and its Consequences, „Diplomatic History“, vol. 1, 3 (1997): 388; L. Woodward, vol. VI, 206-210. Eduard Mark, The War Scare of 1946 ..., 388, 383. Russian demands on Turkey..., 209. Ankara, March 26, 1945. The Ambassador in Turkey (Steinhardt) to the Secretary of State, in FRUS, 1945, vol. VIII, 1227. Harry S. Truman, Memoirs. Years of Decisions, (New York), (1955), 415. Vladimir O. Pechatnov, „The Allies are Pressing on you to break your willThe War Scare of 1946... Abstract Geopolitics and strategies in the Black Sea region. 1939-1947 During the Second World Wat the Black Sea has represented a key region for the formation of centres of power at the global level and decisively influenced the relations between the Great Powers. The Black Sea thus emerges as one of the first regions where the contradictions between the Great Powers fully manifested themselves, which moreover demonstrates its importance as a geopolitical and geostrategic space. The aim of this paper is to identify the lines of force which have marked the development of the Black Sea region in the period of the Second World War, following not only the nature of the interests (military, political, strategic and economic), which have motivated the Great Powers, but also those of the countries on its coast-line (maintaining the territorial status quo and ensuring security). Keywords Second World War, the Great Powers, the Black Sea region, the Montreux Convention, Turkey Shaping the Image of the Enemy in the Political Cartoons During the Cold War PAUL N ISTOR W communication revolution of the 20th century, some “unconventional” historical sources were added to the “classical” ones. Therefore, the historians began to reckon the political cartoons as trustworthy historical sources. They contain numerous clues regarding the political struggles of those times, strategies, beliefs, misjudgements and, thus, they make a sensitive refining of the second half of the last century. The political cartoons not only illustrate the news and they are not only used to complete ideas and texts previously disseminated, but they can be graphic editorials and, by this nature, they interpret a given fact, make value judgments and shape our opinions1. Most of the time, these cartoons tell the readers what to think and how to assimilate a political analysis: amused, empathetic, angry, afraid and so on. As close relatives of jokes they create different moods. Hence, they emphasize a political discourse and synthesises it into a metonymical image, easy to understand. Since cartoons transpose abstract ideas into concrete situations they may be considered encyclopaedias of popular culture. Because a wide audience must understand them, the cartoonists use allusions, suggestions and stereotypes, claiming the right to distort, to reduce a character or phenomenon to an essential characteristic. Moreover, people have always used pictures in everyday communication because the information is more accurately understood when it is visualized. The data transmitted in this manner increase the receiver’s possibilities to observe and understand the messages2. Thomas Kemnitz studied more closely this idea and argued that: „The cartoons have much to offer the historian concerned with public opinion and popular attitudes. Not only can cartoons provide insight into the depth of emotion surrounding attitudes, but also into the assumptions and illusions on which opinions are formed”3. ITH THE Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project 286 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Researchers have failed to clearly demonstrate if there is a precise relation of determination between images and political strategies. However, it is obvious that the political cartoons have a significant influence. In the case of international relations, humorous graphic enables us to understand the ways in which the image of one country is reflected in the imagery of another country4. Even though cartoons do not have a clearly defined role in shaping political attitudes, most of the time they reflect spontaneous interpretations, common places, simplified or even brutal perceptions. One thing is certain: cartoons transcend the political and linguistic boundaries, taking advantage of two hypostasis of the social laughter: amusing and, at the same time, offensive. The humorous cartoons use both irrationalism and surrealism. They address to a heterogeneous audience, using common symbols, easily to be understood by various groups. The political cartoons often employ entertaining ideas that are, however, produced for an adult audience. Paradoxically, they claim to be revealing the truth by the very fact that they are mocking the reality5. Often it is said that graphics may play the role of a buffoon and, with its help, one is able to say serious things, and also to suffer the consequences for this. The cartoon presents imbalanced facets: either it exaggerates one of the real features of the character by identifying the individual with that feature, either it assigns a weakness that originates not from the subject’s way of being but from the way he is perceived by the others. The Cold War highlighted the relation between the political message and the devices of visual humour. The Soviet cartoons from the beginning of the postwar period seemed to be special entities, meant to maintain a permanent aversion against the West. In their case, there wasn’t a humorous purpose as in the Western case, and they weren’t necessarily focused on major events. They served as additional tools of persuasion, confirming the communist ideas previously promoted through other means6. Cartoons accompanied the newspaper texts in the Eastern Europe, in order to enhance the verbal messages. Furthermore, cartoons conduct the aggressiveness of the masses, building national psychoses7. There is another special feature of the communist graphics. Even though the political and social cartoons were separated species, with different elements8, the communists have found a way to merge them into one. Therefore, the international criticism was doubled by the social one, the Occident was presented as a political and financial aggressor, responsible for the poor economic conditions in the Eastern Europe. The Romanian cartoons of the ‘50s faithfully copied the Soviet ones, adopting styles and themes very popular in the USSR9. In their turn, the Soviet cartoons were a part of a cultural identity that was gradually built. Jokes, pranks and the political satires offer a very rich source of study and understanding of the Soviet culture. More specifically, they provide information about the represen- POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 287 tations the Soviets had about themselves and the outside world10. In this regard, we observe that the official ideology of the East enabled the construction of new identities through predominantly negative impulses, which made the enemy look and act like a demon and supported the superiority of communism. The dominant theme of all the Soviet-style cartoons that criticized the Western opponent was the anti-Americanism. America played different roles: ruler of Europe, war instigator, aggressor, moneylender, a cunning partner and a bloody executioner. Even though America was the main target not all its symbols were used in those cartoons11, and the attention was diverted only to certain pictorial elements. Of all the logos which represented the United States through history: Pocahontas, Columbia, Yankee Doodle, Brother Jonathan and Uncle Sam, the Soviets chosen and obstinately used the latter one12. Thus, the Soviet propaganda, especially through “Krokodil” magazine, took Uncle Sam and transformed him from an altruistic patriot into a loyal representative of capitalism: a cunning man and a fortune hunter. In the inter-war period, the anti-Americanism was widely spread in the communist countries and capitalist third world countries where it was fashionable to complain of Washington’s world domination. However, compared with other anti-Americanisms, the Soviet one was particularly virulent. For example, in Latin America, the anti-Americanism didn’t mean opposition against American culture and values but to large corporations, political and military power of the United States13. In the Soviet case, the irrational anti-Americanism was based on the obsessive distortion of several lifestyle particularities from across the Atlantic. Finally, the hatred against America personified the Russian nationalism and a way to reject modernization and capitalism14. Even in Romania, the political cartoon became one of the major tools of communist propaganda, inserted in almost all the newspapers and important magazines. During the ‘50s it copied the Soviet themes, efficiently promoting the Romanian Workers’ Party (P.M.R.) doctrine through a coarse messages and simplistic humorous graphics. The importance of political cartoons for the propaganda in behalf of the new post-war Romanian regime was proven when, from those newspapers who mocked the West, images were extracted and used in albums and travelling exhibitions. Starting with the year 1950, the Romanian Society for Friendship with the Soviet Union and the Standing Committee on Defence of Peace in the Romanian People’s Republic began to publish several albums of this kind. Their headlines indicate the propagandistic role they played during that time: „Cartoon: Weapon of peace”, „For a lasting peace”, „Against war instigators” and „War instigators” 15. The graphic was signed by Soviet and Romanian cartoonists. Many Romanian cartoonists began to work in the inter-war period, but starting with the year 1947 they became actors in the propaganda campaigns of the new government. Cartoonists such as: Ion Doru, Nell Cobar, 288 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) N. Jurãscu, Rik Auerbach, Eugen Taru, Cik Damandian, Aurel Jiquidi became, to some extent, famous through their cartoons16. Usually, the cartoonists are social critics targeting internal politics. In times of international crisis, internal criticism is stopped and the graphic artists participate at the military efforts by mocking the enemies and by illustrating the superiority of one nation over another17. Although journalists and cartoonists have always had the mission to motivate the societies involved in conflicts their traditional mission radically changed once with the Cold War. Thus, the war was consumed in ideological confrontations rather than in armed conflicts. Along with other visual productions, Romanian satirical drawing became important in the ‘50s. In a paper written in 1959, academician G. Oprea considered the cartoon to be “more able than other types of graphics to provide a moral portrait of an epoch, revealing for contemporaneity and posterity its most essential features” 18. Compared with what was happening in the West, data about the Romanian cartoonists, their training, work conditions, education and political affiliation are lacking. This information would’ve helped us achieve a more concise analysis. In general, the Romanian cartoonist is anonymous and faithful to the Party, he is an official voice without claims of independence. We don’t know if these cartoonists knew that they were manipulating the public opinion, or if they considered themselves artists with a safe working place. Anyway, they had to show inventiveness, to transform private opinions into public feelings, to condense their artistic message into one graphic “sentence”. For our analysis of the political cartoons from the beginning of the Cold War we’ve selected images from “Scânteia” newspaper, during the ‘50s. From the start we would like to highlight a very important detail: Romanians and Romania never appear in the satirical cartoons, neither explicitly, nor as symbols, personifications or allegories. Instead, we encounter all sorts of representations of other nations (British, American, Greek, Russian, Chinese), of their countries, of Europe, Asia and America. This is a proof of the implicit recognition of the fact that the Romanian People’s Republic didn’t count on international relations, and the only decider in the foreign politics of the East during the ’50 was the USSR. At first sight, we see the recurrence of some themes based on visual persuasion in the political cartoons from “Scânteia”19. In the case of the Romanian humorous graphics, signs, figures, characters and stereotypes taken from a special imagistic vocabulary are used, with almost guaranteed effects.Different elements with various origins are employed: human figures, maps, weapons, flags, political symbols (swastika, hammer and sickle), financial symbols (dollar, bank and banker). They seem heterogeneous and disproportionate but together they form a condense super-symbol that the perceptual memory retains as a complete entity of high impact20. This assemble is maintained by the redundancy of POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 289 the employed motifs. Therefore, we encounter many repetitions such as: U.S.A. as dominator, U.S.A. as aggressor, Western Europe the aggressor of the communist Eastern Europe, Washington: the protector of the European Allies, Balkan countries with close relations with the West: mercenaries, the Eastern countries: innocent victims. Subsequently, the accents presented in the drawings reappear: peace and war theme, the theme of capitalist greed, the theme of the Western perfidy contrasted by the purity of the communist East. Not in the least, the Romanian cartoons were trying to impose some wide spread stereotypes: the Western democracy was a fake; the West was incessantly preparing for war; the leaders of the capitalist countries were either bloodthirsty criminals or shrewd moneylenders who hired mercenaries as executioners; U.S. brutally manipulated its European satellites; there was a permanent global conspiracy against the communism, plotted by the Western political powers (graphically represented by the political leaders), the religious power (the Papacy) and the financial powers (bank, banker). Most of the time, several words (2-3 sentences) followed the cartoons. They added messages that could not be expressed through images, and, in general, the small texts were constructed in a satirical or black humour way. The words were forcing the receiver to understand the message in a certain political code, and the depreciation of those who opposed the communism was required. Thus, the character that represented America was pulling out the hair of an English man while meditating “He loves me, he loves me not?”21. Uncle Sam was asking Tito to hold free elections but, while handing him an axe, he added: “And, not to have any surprises, I’ve chosen the method for you” 22. For Tito other moral epigrams were created: “Through crimes, misdeeds and terror/ Their friendship was bound/ Three hook cross brothers/Wealthy peasant, Tito, bourgeoisie..”23. There were also cases of cartoons that weren’t accompanied by text, which gave the impression that the reader must put his own words under the picture as a reward for a correct understanding of the political message. When creating the enemy’s image, the Romanians of the ‘50s didn’t use transparent allusions, but defined as expressive as possible what the enemy was or wasn’t. The use of these contrasts allowed the Easterners to retreat behind the idea of “us and others.” The communists wanted to distinguish from the faces of the “others”, features that contained exclusively negative traits. They employed classical clichés used in portraying the opponent24: enemy-killer, enemy- torturer, enemy-death, enemy-killer of women and children, enemy who starts the war by himself25. The alterity had to be completely and violently displayed. There was no slightly sympathy for the enemy, and the opponent’s image had to respect a very precise antithesis between the Good from the East and the Bad from the West. 290 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) The Romanian cartoons, were mainly trying to demystify all the opponent’s strengths, emphasizing his vices and his dark features through ruthless attacks against the Western values. These values were minimized, distorted, disclosed and accused of hypocrisy and shabbiness. Thus, the Liberty Statue was replaced by the image of a Ku-Klux-Klan member who instead of having a lightning torch he was armed with a bat, symbol of repression26. The Western democracy was protected by a wolf with a swastika on its sleeve, also armed with a bat on which it was written “Made in USA”.27 The Voice of America, a symbol of the free world, was presented as a network of angry spiders28, while the Western politicians worshiped various types of bombs29. After destroying the Western values, it followed the parade of human symbols representing the free world. The image of the opponent countries was simplified and associated with the negative reputation of some political and military leaders. The West was symbolized by the prime-ministers of England and France, presented in ridiculous situations, by spies and soldiers marked with the Dollar sign, by “American generals armed with guns”, by the Wall Street bankers sitting on bags full of money and smoking cigars, by the cunning Uncle Sam with warlike attitude, by the presidents of the U.S. who were considered to be the instigators of the new world war30. Next to them sited the Pope who was giving a sarcastic blessing to all the aggressive plots of the West31. Tito receives an even harsher treatment as the Eastern ally of the U.S.A. He lost his human traits and he is often presented as a snake, frog, rat and other repulsive creatures that suggested the idea of betrayal and cunningness32. The classifications proposed by Ruxandra Cesereanu regarding the typologies of violent languages that facilitate the degrading of the opponent matches with the insults transmitted by these images. Thus, all the records regarding the aggressiveness of the Romanian imagery (subhuman, illegal, human “bestiary”, sanitary, funeral) are present to the smallest detail in “Scânteia’s” cartoons33. We consider that propaganda through cartoons tried to introduce ethnic and professional stereotypes in order to distort the image of the opponent in the Romanian collective mentality. This tactic was already used for almost two centuries in the West34 and it was meant to provide a feeling of superiority to those who created standards and set social etiquettes. Thus, Americans were placed in certain professional schemes that denoted dominance (the banker, the businessman, the military), while their allies set on lower ranks, of servitude (barbers, small merchants and peasants). The communist propagandists knew that during the war it was important to demonize the opponent. Therefore, it wasn’t enough to mock the opponent, but it had to use images to arouse hate. The aversion triggered through propaganda during the previous world wars was greatly appreciated35. For this reason, the Westerner had to be found guilty of atrocious horrors: killing of POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 291 children, starving of people, sending rockets on which they previously painted the doves of peace36. In addition, these images had other roles; their use was a way to create internal unity and solidarity between the communist countries. Then, while strongly suggesting how ferocious their opponents were, the Communist leaders were posing as unselfish defenders of their own people. Finally, there was a deliberate cultivation of cultural violence against the “others”; hereby, the Easterners were educated to believe that the only way to relate to the Westerners was through aversion. Without any doubt, such a tactic justified, on the inside, the communist instauration, but, at the same time, it was used to accustom the common citizens with the idea that the political and military violence against enemies was absolutely normal, and it fall within the concept of selfdefense37. While focusing on making serious accusations against the West, the communist propaganda also launched several ideas meant to be tacitly accepted by the public. The Evil must be judged and, more extremely, the Evil must be eliminated38. This entire violent imagery built on cartoons clearly justified the plans of a total and exterminator war that Moscow desired to enforce against its opponents. Perhaps, it wasn’t that difficult to demonize the West of the ‘50s, especially since the communist ideologists were often addressing to uneducated and poor people who had no idea about what America or the Western Europe was. Former inter-war elites, diminished in numbers, were the only ones who could see the lies of the propaganda launched by Dej regime. In these circumstances, we may assume that the anti-Americanism was fostered by the ignorance, in which the common man was held; disbelief and fear existed as long as class hatred, the lack of information and major ideological differences between East and West existed39. The Eastern enemies received a similar treatment. By far, America was a dominator with an iron hand over its own allies. In these cartoons, those who represented France, England, Germany and Greece had smaller sizes than Americans, more sorrowful, pushed from behind by their guardians, paid with ridiculous amounts of money for sordid services, forced - almost against their will - to fight against the East40. In some images, the British lion appeared scrawny and humble; in other images, the American wolf was guarding the democracy (an innocent sheep) in England41. The visual structures in which the representative of America appears with a whip in his hand, taming either a British lion or the leaders of France, Yugoslavia and Italia are quite frequent42. Many of the themes used by the Soviet-style cartoons are taken from the Western media. Even the Western newspapers, during the inter-war period, noticed that America was ready to subdue some parts of Europe and to become hegemonic in the Euro-Atlantic area43. The inferiority of the European allies to Washington 292 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) was suggested in various ways. The United States were always represented by Uncle Sam or the president of U.S.A. (both in positions of power and self-confidence), while Western Europe was symbolized by helpless people, with obvious physical problems (the British and French prime-minister were sitting on their knees or walking on a wire to welcome the American diplomats) or by a woman, always inferior to men, without the ambition of emancipation44. Thus, the Eastern doctrinaires intended to make a clear distinction between the primary and the secondary enemy. For this reason, the Western European countries were sometimes spared, indicating the possibility of negotiations and arrangements with these secondary opponents. However, depending on the daily events, these European allies of Washington could’ve expanded their sizes and became threatening. There were several occasions in which the British, French and the Yugoslavs were portrayed as leading killers and torturers. Another fully exploited theme in these cartoons was the war theme. Peacewar opposition fitted the antithesis of East-West. The first camp strived for the “good” of mankind, while the Western one wrathfully called for bloodshed. More “signs” taken from the military inventory were placed near the images of the Westerners. They were carrying guns, driving tanks, dressed in uniforms and boots, offering gifts in the shape of a bomb45. This entire arsenal induced the idea that war was a natural part of the capitalist lifestyle. The war is accompanied by Nazi symbols and the image of death. Thus, Westerners seemed to have adopted the German style helmets and armlets with swastika. They were equipped with smoking guns, making their way through corpses, skulls and suffering victims46. The Korean War enabled the full exploitation of this register that, due to the horrors of the last world conflagration, triggered the predictable sensitivity of the Eastern part of Europe. However, the war also establishes hierarchies: the Westerners were defeated and the communists won. The image of General Mac Arthur, the American commander in the Far East, was obsessively used to “demonstrate” these battles of wills47. Mac Arthur was presented only in shameful circumstances, such as fleeing from the communist armies, falling in traps or trembling with fear when thinking at his opponents. Instead, the communists were adjudging the winner position. North Korean army tongs threatened the U.S., Turkish and French nations, and a muscular hand poked the North Korean flag in the body of an American who was claiming to represent the Security Council48. Contemporary times have confirmed that the weapon-cartoon is not that innocent. The Danish newspaper, Morgenavisen Jyllands Posten, which published 12 caricatures of the Prophet Mohammed, launched, without knowing, not a graphical satire but a declaration of war. Similarly, the Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh, was murdered by a Moroccan citizen in 2004 on charges that he tainted the image POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 293 of a civilization. The 21st century finished what had begun in the 20th century: the declaration of war can be done thorough increasingly various means49. The Soviets had instinctively activated phobias. Because Russia had been attacked by Napoleon and Hitler, sister countries were told that they must be constantly on guard, alerted to new invasions from the West. Paradoxically, while rivals were accused of possible aggressions or violence, the Easterners didn’t reduce their own violent culture. As in the case of other civilizations, here also a set of aggressive images was perpetuated and the communist officials considered that they were entitled to threaten even in the name of defending the peace50. At last, only one party had to have a monopoly on morality, the enemy was incapable of defending himself in front of history whatsoever. In order to highlight the inferiority of the Westerners, their representatives were illustrated through images that symbolized animals and birds. In this ranking, a significant place was occupied by those creatures that produce disgust: spiders, snakes, frogs, owls. Invariably, these animals were illustrated as producing some evil actions, a deliberately, insidious and aggressive evil directed against ordinary people and against the communist countries. Often Tito appeared in the skin of these various animals, followed by the U.S. Secretary of State, Acheson, who was depicted as a fox drooling near the lands of China, and Emperor Hirohito who turned into a rat spreading the plague51. The animal figures that symbolized the enemies of the East were angry, frown, sly, designed to trigger an immediate revulsion. In order not to be misinterpreted, they wore on their bodies or on their clothing accessories the brands of the West: British and American flags, Dollar symbol -$, swastika, or clothing fashionable in the Western Europe52. If in the past years, other “brands of identity”53 that took over some of the physical descriptions of those insulted (Hitler’s moustache, the nose of De Gaulle) were very popular, in our case, more fashionable were those images that ridicule some supposedly “national” symbols. These brands desired to establish a negative reputation not only for a single president but for the entire Western nations. The theme of greed is omnipresent. The symbols of the Western banks: dollar, pound sterling and Wall Street are secondary elements, but smartly placed in all the cartoons. They produce the impression that everything is for sale and that the possibility of betrayal and bribery is somehow imminent. The Americans were buying their allies for a few pennies, secretly slipped inside their stretched palms, placing financial traps to the Balkan and European leaders, grabbing in the Marshall Plan and Dollar chain the petty Westerners54. Even President Truman, in a prayer, had a halo over his head in the form of a shinny Dollar55; Tito was speaking into a microphone shaped after the dollar sign-$ at “Voice of America” 56 . Western characters were wearing their checks in their portfolios and their hats, skill hats and clothing were printed with the same symbol of the dollar, thus 294 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) creating the image of Americans as international moneylenders. In consequence, capitalism was set against the wall, devalued, criticized, reduced to cunning combinations involving counterfeited payments. A brutal image pointed out the opinion of the “democratic-people’s” camp about the capitalist finances: the pound sterling and the dollar appeared, not incidentally, in the company of death57. If peace didn’t stimulate development of cartoons on topics of international politics, periods of war, hot or cold, were forcing the cartoonists to join the campaigns against foreign enemies58. In these circumstances, satirical drawings fall in the long list of propaganda tools. Either misrepresentations or faithful portraits of reality, the ideological graphic has its significant role in the formation of stereotypes and the arousing of the hostility of the masses. It is not only an instrument of persuasion, like many others, but has access to emotions, feelings and misbelieves of the public opinion. To achieve their purposes, the Communists have turned to different forms of comic that provide interesting nuances, from grotesque and extravagant to mirth-provoking or solemn gravity. Humour, as a form of comic, has complex social functions and may help implement different opinions in the audience’s minds. It facilitates communication and corrective experiments, taking advantage of emotional states and of its therapeutic effects to shape peoples’ beliefs and attitudes59. As in group psychotherapy, through the instrumentalisation of the graphic satire, a human cohesion and the transfer of feelings, pseudo-values and attitudes from the manipulators to those who were manipulated could’ve been achieved. Although it frequently used a more entertaining function of comic, political cartoons during the Cold War also kept falling in excess, obsessively referring to the ideas of truth and morality. Mocking the evil with its own guns, in the declared ambition to exorcise him, the Romanian ideologue trivialized morality and became himself imbued by evil60. The ideologist-artist transposed into images the daily politics, thus offering a new way of interpreting the present times. He is a sort of visionary, showing what people cannot see, gives advices, suggests solutions and anticipates the future61. Even the recurrence of sets of political cartoons over the years proves the force owned by the one who has the political power. He prescribes the key of deciphering the actuality. Humorous graphics roused the feeling of a mutual political cause to those undecided or to those who were already convinced. Although we are unable to quantify the effects of visual propaganda, perhaps it released themes that led to a certain solidarity of the Easterners. Cartoons could’ve created myths, set stereotypes and, ultimately, made people feel as a part of the Good. From this position, they were told that they were all an important element in the global struggle for the eradication of the Western evil. Presenting an opponent as being exclusively evil, this type of propaganda not only stirred up the fear of Westerners but, at the same time, legitimized the aggressive discourse and POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 295 the obstructionist actions of Moscow and its allies. By making the masses more hostile against the enemy, communism was intended to launch a total war in which the visual forms of fighting had an important role. They “exposed” the intrigues and the attacks from Washington, thus justifying the state of emergency and the general mobilization of material and human resources. Overall, we may assert that the use of Soviet-style political cartoons didn’t fit into a local- ethnic type of humour, as it was theorized by linguists and writers from the Haºdeu and Draghicescu to Ovid Densusianu and George Cãlinescu62. It was rather an artificial solution imposed by the political context, following exclusively special effects, which were not found in other Romanian historical periods. Having in mind the social theories of laughter, we may affirm that satirical images of the ‘50s had to produce, exclusively, the laughter of rejection, which developed the individual’s awareness of belonging to a particular group, excluding those who lived by different social rules63. Humour, comic and laughter, like many other human manifestations, have been taken captive by ideology and, through distortion, they were forced to produce lasting propaganda effects. Notes 1. Christina Michelmore, Old pictures in New Frames. Images of Islam and Muslims in Post World War II American Political Cartoons, în Journal of American and comparative cultures, January, 1, 2000, p. 37. 2. David R. Spencer, Visions of Violence. A cartoon study of America and War, în American Journalism, 21, Spring 2004, p. 47-48. 3. Ibidem, p. 48. 4. Allen McLaurin, America through British eyes. Dominance and subordonation în British political cartoons of the 1940’, în Journalism Studies, vol. 8, no. 5, 2007, p. 694. 5. Ibidem, p. 695. 6. Yeshayahu Nir, U.S. Involvement in the Middle East Conflict in Soviet Caricatures, în Journalism Quarterly, 54, 4, Winter 1977, p. 702. 7. Victor Alba, The Mexican Revolution and the Cartoon, în Comparative Studies in Society and History, IX, January 1967, p. 121. 8. Lawrence H. Streicher, On a Theory of Political Caricature, în Comparative Studies in Society and History, vol. 9, no. 4, 1967, p. 432. 9. Virgiliu Þârãu, Caricaturã ºi politicã externã. România anilor 1950-1951, în România ºi relaþiile internaþionale în secolul XX, Editura Clusium, Cluj-Napoca, 2000, p. 220-221. 10. Andrei Kozovoi, La guerre froide dans la histoires droles sovietiques, http://www.cairn.info/ revue-cahiers-du-monde-russe-2007-1-p-137.htm 296 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 11. Yeshayahu Nir, art. cit, p. 699. 12. Alton Ketchum, The search for Uncle Sam, în History Today, aprilie 1990, p. 26. 13. David Ryan, Americanisation and anti-Americanism at the periphery. Nicaragua and the Sandinistas, în European Journal of American Culture, volume 23, no.2, 2004, p. 111. 14. Paul Hollander, Anti Americanism: Critiques at home and abroad (1965-1990), New York, Oxford University Press, 1992, p. 7. 15. Virgiliu Þîrãu, art. cit., p. 220. 16. Ibidem. 17. Eberhard Demm, Propaganda and Caricature in the First World War, în Journal of Contemporary History, vol. 28, no.1, January 1993, p. 166. 18. Artele plastice în România dupã 23 august 1944, sub îngrijirea Acad. G. Oprescu, Editura Academiei R.P.R., Bucureºti, 1954, p. 122. 19. Yeshayahu Nir, art. cit., p. 699. 20. Abraham A. Moles, La communication et les Mass-Media, Ed. Marabout Universite, CEPL, Paris, 1973, p. 713. 21. Scânteia, 5 ianuarie 1950. 22. Scânteia, 14 martie 1950. 23. Scânteia, 1martie 1950. 24. Sam Keen, Faces of the Enemy: Reflection of the Hostile Imagination, Harper&Row, New York, 2004, p. 50-60. 25. Scânteia, 8 martie, 26 martie, 3 septembrie, 16 septembrie, 6 octombrie 1950. 26. Scânteia, 18 martie 1950. 27. Scânteia, 21 iulie 1950. 28. Scânteia, 15 mai 1950. 29. Scânteia, 18 iunie 1950. 30. Scânteia, 5 ianuarie, 14 martie, 4 iunie, 21 iunie, 3 iulie, 12 iulie, 3 septembrie, 9 septembrie 1950. 31. Scânteia, 10 iunie, 3 iulie 1950. 32. Scânteia, 12 februarie, 14 februarie, 4 iunie 1950. 33. Ruxandra Cesereanu, Imaginarul violent al românilor, Humanitas, Bucureºti, 2005, p. 9-11. 34. Jennifer K. Hardy, The caricature of the Irish in British and US comic art, în America: History&Life, 1992, vol. 54, Issue 2. 35. Eberhard Demm, art.cit., p. 185. 36. Scânteia, 26 martie, 18 mai,18 iunie, 6 octombrie 1950. 37. Rune Ottosen, Enemy images and the journalistic process, în „Journal of Peace Research”, vol. 32, no.1, feb. 1995, p. 98. 38. Mark Poindexter, ABC’s The Path to 9/11, Terror-Management Theory and the American Monomyth, în “Film & History”, July, 1, 2008, p. 57. 39. David Ryan, art. cit., p. 112. 40. Scânteia, 5 ianuarie, 11 februarie, 25 februarie 1950. 41. Scânteia, 6 februarie, 4 iulie 1950. POWER, BELIEF 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. AND IDENTITY • 297 Scânteia, 7 iunie, 21 iunie 1950. Allen McLaurin, art. cit., p. 694-699. Scânteia, 5 ianuarie, 6 februarie, 11 februarie, 21 iunie 1950. Scânteia, 8 martie, 18 iunie, 3 iulie, 3 septembrie, 9 septembrie 1950. Scânteia, 12 iulie, 9 septembrie, 16 septembrie 1950. Scânteia, 12 iulie, 3 septembrie, 9 septembrie 1950. Scânteia, 16 iulie 1950. Madi Lussier, Caricaturi de rãzboi, în Observator cultural, nr. 483, 16 iulie 2009. David R. Spencer, art. cit., p. 59-60. Scânteia, 30 ianuarie, 8 februarie, 12 februarie, 14 februarie 1950. Scânteia, 5 ianuarie, 25 februarie, 14 martie, 28 martie, 16 septembrie 1950. Lawrence H. Streicher, art. cit., p. 436. Scânteia, 6 februarie, 25 februarie, 1 martie, 4 iunie 1950. Scânteia, 9 septembrie 1950. Scânteia, 4 iunie 1950. Scânteia, 8 martie 1950. Lawrence H. Streicher, art. cit., p. 429. Umorul. Cea mai ieftinã terapie, Editura Eurobit, Timiºoara, 2008, p. 40-43. Jean-Mark Defays, Comicul, Institutul European, Iaºi, 2000, p. 13. Mark Poindexter, art. cit., p. 61. Alexandru Lazãr, Comicul ºi umorul, Editura Panfilius, Iaºi, 2003, p. 47. Claudiu T. Arieºan, Hermeneutica umorului simpatetic, Editura Amarcord, Timiºoara, 1999, p. 23. Abstract Shaping the Image of the Enemy in the Political Cartoons During the Cold War The historians began to reckon the political cartoons as trustworthy historical sources. They contain numerous clues regarding the political struggles of those times, strategies, beliefs, misjudgements and, thus, they make a sensitive refining of the second half of the last century. The Romanian cartoons of the ‘50s faithfully copied the Soviet ones, adopting styles and themes very popular in the USSR. They provide information about the representations the communists had about themselves and the outside world. In this regard, we observe that the official ideology of the East enabled the construction of new identities through predominantly negative impulses, which made the enemy look and act like a demon and supported the superiority of communism. Even in Romania, the political cartoon became one of the major tools of communist propaganda, inserted in almost all the newspapers and important magazines. During the ‘50s it copied the Soviet themes, efficiently promoting the Romanian Workers’ Party (P.M.R.) doctrine through a coarse messages and simplistic humorous graphics. Keywords Cold War, Communist Romania, political cartoons, ideologic graphic art, enemy. 298 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 1. Caricatures 1.1. The pope and the apostolic nonces as spies of the West 1.2. The Voice of America as main instrument of imperialist propaganda 1.3. The Western Allies support Germany’s rearmament. 1.4. The Western chiefs of states and governments are accused of preparing a nuclear war. 2. Caricatures 2.1. The East promotes the image of totalitarian and fascist America where liberty was replaced by the terror of the Ku-Klux-Klan 2.2. The president of the US, Harry Truman, and General Mac Arthur would be promoting America’s interests through financial and military means. 2.3. Tito accepts to be ‘tamed’ by the Americans in exchange for financial profits. 2.4. The representatives of the West are accused of aiming to resurrect Nazi Germany. I I I . 2 . D RA N G N A C H O S T E N A N D S U RV I VA L I N T H E E A S T Tekendorf – von einer sächsischen Gemeinde zu einer Glaubensund Nationalitätengemeinschaft M IHAI D RAGANOVICI 1. Von der Ansiedlung und Anfangsgeschichte der Siebenbürger Sachsen bis zur Reformation D IE ANSIEDLUNG der Siebenbürger Sachsen war Teil der deutschen Ostkolonisation, als das Erzbistum Magdeburg Zentrum der Neubesiedlung war, und fand zwischen dem 10. und 14. Jahrhundert statt. In dieser Zeitspanne wurden große Landstücke in Ost- und Südosteuropa, im baltischen, polnischen, böhmischen, slowakischen und ungarischen Herrschaftsgebiet besiedelt. Die neuen Siedler, die von verschiedenen deutschen Stämmen abstammten, bildeten in ihrer neuen Heimat eine neue Gemeinschaft mit eigener Mundart und lokalen Eigenheiten. Aus der Zeit der Ansiedlung wurde jedoch keine Urkunde überliefert, die Aufschluss über die Herkunft dieser Siedlergruppe geben könnte. Die Forscher haben deshalb versucht, indirekte Beweismittel heranzuziehen, wie z.B. Name, Mundart, Sitten, Bräuche u.ä. Da das Nachforschen der Namen ohne nennenswerte Ergebnisse blieb, wurde die Mundart näher betrachtet, mit dem Ergebnis, dass die siebenbürgisch sächsische Mundart Gemeinsamkeiten mit dem in Luxemburg gesprochenen Dialekt hatte. Deshalb bezeichneten die Forscher der „Nösner Germanistenschule“, Gustav Kisch und Richard Huss, Luxemburg, d.h. die moselfränkische Sprachlandschaft, als Urheimat der Sachsen.1 Spätere Sprachforschungen ergaben jedoch, dass die Abstammung nicht allein auf dieses Gebiet begrenzt werden kann, da gerade in Nordsiebenbürgen, wo sich ein Baierdorf befindet, ein bayrischer Einfluss bemerkbar ist.2 Heute steht fest, dass sich die Mundarten seit der Einwanderung im 12. Jh. wesentlich geändert haben, während das Siebenbürgisch-Sächsische und das Luxemburgische Reliktmundarten sind, die dem Einfluss des Deutschen weniger ausgesetzt waren, und ihre ursprünglichen Merkmale beibehalten haben. Dadurch haben sie auch viel Gemeinsames. 302 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Da aber die damalige gemeinsame Mundart viel verbreiteter war, muss (hauptsächlich) das gesamte Gebiet des ehemaligen Kölner Erzbistums, mit dem Bistum Lüttich (in Flandern), und das Bistum Trier als mögliche Urheimat angesehen werden. Der Ursprung der Bezeichnung „Sachsen“ ist auf einen sprachlichen Irrtum zurückzuführen, denn die Bezeichnung steht in keinem Zusammenhang mit den heutigen Sachsen in Deutschland. Im Mittelalter wurden die Siedler in der lateinischen Kanzleisprache der ungarischen Könige allgemein als Saxones bezeichnet3 (auch Hospites Theotonici genannt - lateinisch: deutsche Gäste). Vermutlich wurde der Begriff Sachsen von den ungarischen Chronisten am Hof des ungarischen Königs zuerst für diese Siedler verwendet. Um die neuen Siedler von den deutschen Sachsen namentlich zu unterscheiden wurden sie Siebenbürger Sachsen genannt. Die ersten „deutschen Gäste“ wurden in der Hermannstädter Provinz angesiedelt4. Von den sieben Stühlen der Hermannstädter Provinz stammt auch die deutsche Bezeichnung „Siebenbürgen“ für Transilvanien, die ursprünglich nur diese Gegend bezeichnete. Der Grund für ihre Ansiedlung war der Schutz der Grenzen vor den Mongolen und Tataren und die wirtschaftliche Erschließung des Landes. Der ungarische König Geysa II (1141 - 1161) war derjenige, der sie nach Siebenbürgen gerufen hat. Durch den „Goldenen Freibrief“ oder Andreanum im Jahre 1224 erhielten die „deutschen Gastsiedler“ vom ungarischen König Andreas II. besondere Rechte, die ihnen einen außergewöhnlichen Status verliehen. In dieser ersten Reichsverleihung ist das weitestgehende Siedlerrecht enthalten, das den westlichen Siedlern in Osteuropa verliehen wurde. Dieser Brief war für die Sachsen für viele Jahrhunderte ihr Grundgesetz auf königlichem Boden. Außer der freien Nutzung von Gewässern und Wäldern sowie der Zollfreiheit und der freien Märkten für deutsche Händler, erhielten sie auch freie Richterund Pfarrerwahl, eine eigene Gerichtsbarkeit und andere Privilegien. Ein weiteres Vorrecht, das ausschlaggebend bei ihrer Ansiedlung war, ist die Tatsache, dass sie weder dem Adel noch der Kirche untertänig, also freie Bürger, waren. Dafür mussten sie dem König Kriegsdienst leisten und einen Jahreszins entrichten. Die Selbstständigkeit und Selbstverwaltung der Siebenbürger Sachsen wurden 1486 durch die Gründung der „Sächsischen Nationsuniversität“ gestärkt, die als oberstes Verwaltungs- und Rechtsgremium galt. Die Unabhängigkeit, vor allem politisch, gewann im 16. Jh. durch den Übertritt der Siebenbürger Sachsen zum lutherischen Glauben an Bedeutung. Die neugegründete Kirche erhielt sogleich ihre Unabhängigkeit. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 303 2. Die Ansiedlung der Siebenbürger Sachsen in Nordsiebenbürgen N ACH ABSCHLUSS der deutschen Kolonisation im 14. Jh. gab es drei geschlossene Siedlungegebiete: • das sogenannte Altland in Südsiebenbürgen • das Burzenland in Ostsiebenbürgen • das Nösnerland und das Reener Ländchen in Nordsiebenbürgen Was die erste Besiedlung des Nösnerlandes und des Reener Ländchens anbelangt, wurde keine urkundliche Auskunft überliefert. Es wird aber angenommen, dass sie hauptsächlich im 12. und 13. Jh. erfolgt ist.5 Nach Beendigung der Kolonisierung gab es im nordsiebenbürgischen Raum etwa 1000 Familien, die Ortschaften mit nicht mehr als 10-20 Höfen gründeten. Durch spätere Zuzüge und Bevölkerungswachstum dehnte sich der Siedlungsraum aus und es entstanden neue Dörfer. Ab dem 12. Jh. wurden auch Bergleute nach Nordsiebenbürgen gerufen, um den Bergbau zu fördern. Um die Lage der Sachsen in Nordsiebenbürgen besser verstehen zu können, muss die politisch-administrative Lage dieser Region näher beschrieben werden. Auf diesem vom ungarischen König eroberten Gebiet gab es zwei Arten von Verwaltungseinheiten: einerseits den Königsboden, der direkt der Krone unterstand, und andererseits die Komitate. Die privilegierten Sachsen lebten auf Königsboden als freie Bauern und Städter. Für sie galt das Siedlerrecht für „Gäste“. Die Sachsen mit den Szeklern und dem Adel gehörten zu den privilegierten Ständen oder „Nationen“, deren Vertreter den Landtag bildeten. Auf königlichem Boden befand sich der Nösnergau. Eine andere Art von Verwaltungseinheit waren die Komitate. Hier handelte es sich um Land, das vom König erobert, aber an verdienstvolle Adelsgeschlechter verschenkt wurde. Auf Komitatsboden bestanden grundherrschaftliche Verhältnisse mit Feudalgütern und Hörigendörfern. Sachsen und Szekler bildeten eigene Verwaltungsverbände. Die Ortschaften im Reener Ländchen befanden sich auf Komitatsboden. Am Anfang der Kolonisationszeit gab es in Nordsiebenbürgen nur lose Verbindungen zwischen den Ortschaften. Es gab keine Gebietskörperschaft, die ihre Interessen vertrat, schützte und verwaltete. Auch der Andreanische Freibrief schloss bis ins 14. Jh. den Nösnergau nicht mit ein und ein anderer Freibrief, der ihren Rechtsstatus festlegte, ist ebenfalls nicht bekannt.6 Der Nösnergau war zum Teil auf sich selbst gestellt. 304 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Erst im Laufe der Zeit wurden den Sachsen im Nösnergau offiziell(e) Rechte eingeräumt: 1334 gewährte Königin Elisabeth den Bürgern im bistritzer Raum freie Gerichtsbarkeit durch einen Freibrief. Ein paar Jahre später, 1366, wurde ein wichtiger Schritt in der Entwicklung der Verfassung und in der Verwaltung durch den Freibrief Königs Ludwig der Große getan. Dadurch erlangten auch die Sachsen in Nordsiebenbürgen dieselben Vorrechte wie die in Südsiebenbürgen lebenden Sachsen seit dem Andreanischen Freibrief. 3. Entstehung und Entwicklung der Tekendorfer Gemeinde bis zum 2. Weltkrieg S ersten Urkunden zeugen davon, dass sich Tekendorf auf Komitatsboden befand. Anfang des 13. Jh. gehörten die Gebiete Reens/Reghin und Tekendorfs/Teaca zu den königlichen Schenkungen. Damals verloren die deutschen Siedler dieser Gegend jedoch noch nicht ihre Freiheiten. Dies begann erst nach dem großen Tatareneinfall 1241/1242 und endete im 15. Jh. Die erste urkundliche Zitierung von Tekendorf ist im Jahre 1228 festzustellen.7 In diesem Jahr verleiht König Andreeas II dem Oberschatzmeister Dionysius die Besitzung Szeplak/Goreni und Gyeke/Geaca. Die Grenzen dieses Besitztums werden durch die Beschreibung der Nachbarschaften festgehalten. So wird der westliche Nachbar, ein „comes Coquinus“, als Besitzer des Gebietes um Tekendorf, Großeidau/Viile Tecii und Ludwigsdorf/Logic beschrieben. Von den ungarischen Händlern wird überliefert, dass im Jahre 1286 Johannes von Kökényes auch „Johannes von Tekendorf“ von seinem Vater diesen Besitz erbt. Die erste schriftliche Urkunde, die Tekendorf namentlich erwähnt, ist auf das Jahr 1318 datiert, als dem ungarischen König Karl Robert eine Schenkung bekannt gemacht wird, mit deren Durchführung der Pleban8 Eberhard aus Theke/Tekendorf beauftragt wurde.9 Bis zum 16. Jh. muss Tekendorf eine wichtigere Rolle im Vergleich zu seiner späteren Entwicklung gespielt haben, sogar wichtiger als SächsischRegen/Reen/Reghin, da die Gemeinde die höchsten Abgaben an die Kurie hatte. Der Pleban von Tekendorf, Vizearchidiakon von Ozd, war 1403 der erste Tekenedorfer Schulmeister während der Reener Schulmeister erstmals 1460 erwähnt wurde. So studierte der erste Tekendorfer 1448 in Wien, während aus Reen erst 1517 jemand an einer deutschen Universität studierte. Zudem wurden bis ins 16 Jh. fünf Gewerbe in Tekendorf verzeichnet, während es in Reen nur vier gab.10 Die eindrucksvolle evangelisch-lutherische Kirche in Tekendorf zeugt von der florierenden wirtschaftlichen Lage dieser Zeit. Sie erweiterte eine Basilika CHON DIE POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 305 des späten 13. Jh. und weist sowohl romanische als auch gotische aber auch spätere Barocke Züge auf. Heute ist die Tekendorfer evangelische Kirche als historisches Denkmal eingestuft. Dank seiner günstigeren Verkehrslage hat SächsischRegen Tekendorf im Laufe der Zeit jedoch überholt. Was die Bevölkerung anbelangt, gibt es kein statistisches Material. Erst seit dem 18. Jh. stehen erste Volkszählungen zur Verfügung. Man weiß sicher, dass die Bevölkerung in Nordsiebenbürgen große Schwankungen aufgrund der kriegerischen Auseinandersetzungen, Hungersnöte und Seuchen erlitten hat. Auch Tekendorf war zuweilen stark entvölkert: 1602 wurde Nordsiebenbürgen durch den kaiserlichen General Basta verwüstet und im selben Jahr wütete auch die Pest. Von den etwa 200 Hauswirten (1000 Seelen), die früher in Tekendorf lebten, gibt ein Dokument aus dem Jahre 1610 nur 33 Hauswirte an, das heißt ungefähr 160 Personen (33 multipliziert mit 5).11 Ein paar Jahre später, 1661, brannte Ali Pasha Tekendorf nieder und Anfang des 18. Jh. brachten die Rákoczischen Wirren (1701-1711) wieder Krieg und Pest ins Land. Was die geistig-religiöse Situation in Tekendorf angeht, gehörten die Tekendorfer ursprünglich der römisch-katholischen Kirche an. Um das Jahr 1500 gab es in Siebenbürgen zahlreiche Mitglieder des im Dienst der Kranken stehenden päpstlichen Hospitaliterordens, zu denen auch die Tekendorfer Bevölkerung zählte. Die Reformation wurde zu einem Meilenstein in der geistigen Geschichte Siebenbürgens im Allgemeinen, und in der Geschichte der Siebenbürger Sachsen im Besonderen. Die Türken, die zu dieser Zeit noch etwas den Ton angaben, mischten sich nicht in Glaubensfragen ein, so dass die Prinzipien der Reformation ohne größere Schwierigkeiten durchgesetzt werden konnten. Die ungarischen Grundherren waren ebenfalls Anhänger der neuen Lehre, folglich folglich gab es auch keine Schwierigkeiten hinsichtlich der Glaubensfrage. Unter diesen Umständen wurde 1547 die neue Kirchenordnung des Reformators Johannes Honterus von der Sächsischen Nationsuniversität für die Deutschen in Siebenbürgen angenommen. Tekendorf nahm nach der Reformation eine Sonderstellung ein. Die Ortschaft löste sich vom Ozder Archidiakonat ab und bildete das Tekendorfer und Schogener (ªieu) Kapitel12, das seit der Synode von Mediasch 1564 der reformierten Superintendentur unterstanden. Deren Bischof vollzog auch die Ordination der deutschen Pfarrer, obwohl diese Lutheraner waren. Sie unterstanden nur in Glaubensfragen dem sächsisch-evangelischen Bischof, sonst, kirchenrechtlich dem ungarisch-reformierten Superintendenten. Diese Sonderstellung war möglich, da die Ungarn am Anfang auch dem Lutherischen Glauben nahe standen; zu Calvin bekannten sie sich erst später. Und auch Luther distanzierte sich später von Calvin. Veränderungen in der Bevölkerungsstruktur zogen auch eine Änderung der Glaubengemeinschaft nach sich. So waren die Sachsen in Tekendorf bis Anfang 306 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) des 18. Jh. unter sich und erst nach den Rákoczischen Wirren kamen die ersten Ungarn nach Tekendorf (etwa 17). Im selben Jahrhundert gründeten sie die Reformierte Kirche in Tekendorf und im Jahre 1771 begann die Katholische Kirche die sogenannte Gegenreformation. Die Sachsen mussten sich also doppelt wehren, und das nicht unbedingt aus religiösen, sondern vielmehr aus wirtschaftlichen Gründen. Sowohl die Reformierten als auch die Katholiken forderten: • Plätze für ihre Kirchen, • die kanonische Portion, die Parochialgründe, • ihren Anteil an der geistlichen Zehntquarte.13 Die Sachsen wollten ursprünglich ihre Einwilligung zur Errichtung der ungarisch-reformierten Kirche nicht geben, aber angesichts der geschichtlichen Lage und Entwicklung mussten sie, nicht ohne Widerstand, dem Bau der Kirche zustimmen. Die Ungarn und ihre Kirche mussten aber zusammen an einem Ort sein, auf der Ungarngasse. Die erste ungarisch-reformierte Kirche entstand somit im Jahre 1770. Seit der Reformation gab es keinen katholischen Bischof in Siebenbürgen mehr. Nach der Beendigung der Rákoczischen Wirren, 1711, begannen die Habsburger die Gegenreformation. 1716 wird Karlsburg/Alba Iulia wieder zum katholischen Bischofssitz und seitdem begannen auch die Katholisierungsversuche durch die Jesuiten. 1771 wurde der Jesuitenpater Matthias Schmidt als Missionar nach Tekendorf gesandt. Die ersten Katholiken in Tekendorf waren sächsische Konvertiten. Im Jahre 1772 wurde in einem Miethaus die katholische Kirche eingeweiht. Die große katholische Kirche, die auch heute noch steht, wurde zwischen 1876-1880 errichtet. 1750 waren noch keine Rumänen in Tekendorf ansässig, aber sie arbeiteten für die Sachsen als Hirten, Knechte oder Tagelöhner. Sie konnten von der Gemeinde keinen Grund erwerben und durften nur in Mietshäusern wohnen. Die Rumänen gehörten der griechisch-katholischen oder griechisch-unierten Kirche an. Im Jahre 1860 wurde ein Glockenstuhl aufgestellt und in einem Mietshaus fanden auch Gottesdienste statt. Die heutige orthodoxe Kirche war ursprünglich die Kirche der griechisch-katholischen Gemeinde und wurde auf dem Marktplatz gegenüber dem Gemeindeamt zwischen 1927-1932 errichtet. Mitte des 19. Jh. erschienen zum ersten Mal Rumänen bei einer Volkszählung. Ende des 19. Jh. gab es auch eine jüdische Gemeinde in Tekendorf, die ihren Gottesdienst in einem Beetshaus abhielten. Sie hatten aber keinen eigenen Rabbiner. Nach inoffiziellen Zahlen gab es im Jahre 1880 ungefähr 58 Juden in Tekendorf.14 Die Entwicklung der Bevölkerung nach Nationalität und Konfession wird übersichtlicher, gemäß den Volkszählungen von 1850 und 1941.15 POWER, BELIEF Nach Nationalität Gesamt Sachsen Ungarn Rumänen Zigeuner Juden • 307 Andere 1675 1220 239 73 137 - 6 2935 733 1062 946 183 10 1 Nach Konfession MoGesamt Evang. Reform. R. Kath. Gr. Kath. saisch 1675 1218 180 211 66 Reform. R. Kath. Gr. Kath. MoGesamt Evang. +Orth. saisch 2935 762 704 409 973 79 AND IDENTITY Andere Volksaufnahme 28.Dez.1850 16 Ungarische Volkszählung 1941 17 Volksaufnahme 28.Dez.1850 Andere Ungarische Volkszählung 1941 8 Wie man an den oben angegebenen Daten bemerken kann, hat sich die Zusammensetzung der Tekendorfer Bevölkerung stark geändert: während die deutschsprachige Bevölkerung fast auf die Hälfte geschrumpft ist, ist die ungarische und rumänische Bevölkerung etwa auf das Fünffache bzw. Dreizehnfache gestiegen. Ebenfalls bemerkenswert ist die Erscheinung der Griechisch-Orthodoxen Religion, die aber nicht von der Griechisch-Katholischen getrennt gezählt wird. Fünf Nationen und sieben Konfessionen haben gemeinsam in Frieden in Tekendorf gelebt und haben durch ihre Bräuche und Sitten, durch ihre Gewohnheiten und Kultur zur Entwicklung der Gemeinde beigetragen. 4. Die Fortsetzung des gemeinschaftlichen Lebens bis heute N ENDE des Zweiten Weltkrieges änderte sich das Gesicht Tekendorfs im großen Maße. Entweder wanderten die Sachsen nach West- bzw. Ostdeutschland oder nach Österreich aus, oder die Verbliebenen wurden in die Sowjetunion deportiert. In den fünfziger Jahren setzte eine weitere Auswanderungswelle nach Amerika, vor allem nach Kanada ein, wodurch die Bevölkerung noch stärker schrumpfte. In der Zeit des Kommunismus hielt die Auswanderung der deutschen Bevölkerung aus Tekendorf an. Während 1963 die Tekendorfer Kirchengemeinde noch 300 Mitglieder zählte, waren es im Jahre 1979 nur noch 152 (Personen). Am 1.1.1984 lebten in Tekendorf noch 139 Sachsen, während (nach der Wende) 1992 nur noch 49 Deutsche geblieben gezählt wurden.18 Obwohl nach der Wende im Dezember 1989 auch noch die wenigen Sachsen, die noch in Tekendorf geblieben waren, teilweise ausgewandert sind, haben die ACH 308 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Verbliebenen versucht, das Gemeindeleben weiter zu führen. So zum Beispiel setzte sich der erste deutsche Bürgermeister seit vielen Jahren, Prof. Eckehardt Zaig, in seiner 14-jährigen Amtszeit für das Wohl der ganzen Gemeinde ein. Durch seine persönlichen Beziehungen zu Österreich oder Deutschland gelang es ihm Investitionen nach Tekendorf zu bringen und dadurch ein neues und modernes Gemeindekrankenhaus mit Hilfe des Roten Kreuzes aus dem Burgenland zu errichten und es anschließend mit Spenden seitens der Evangelischen Stadtmission Chemnitz auszustatten. Zudem erhielt die Gemeinde vom Roten Kreuz Burgenland während all dieser Jahre zahlreiche Hilfsgüter, die den Einwohnern durch die grauen Zeiten der Nachwendezeit halfen. Erwähnenswert ist auch die mit der österreichischen Gemeinde Purbach abgeschlossene Partnerschaft, die Tekendorf in seiner post-revolutionären Entwicklung auf allen Ebenen begleitete. In dieser Zeit entwickelte sich ebenfalls die Infrastruktur, indem Straßen modernisiert sowie Wasser und Gas in die Gemeinde eingeführt wurden. Dank der großzügigen Spenden aber auch der Investitionen des rumänischen Staates wurde aus der ehemaligen sächsischen Schule ein gut ausgestattetes Kinderheim, wo Kinder aus ärmlichen Verhältnissen ein richtiges, warmes Zuhause erhalten. Vor kurzem wurde auch das Lyzeum gründlich saniert und thermisch rehabilitiert, es wurde mit dem Bau eines neuen Schulensembles begonnen und ein altes Arbeiterheim wurde zu einem komfortablen Heim für Schüler aus anderen Gemeinden umgebaut. Die kleine deutsche Minderheit, die noch im Heimatort geblieben ist, versuchte, auch mit Hilfe des Demokratischen Forums der Deutschen in Bistritz, sich zu behaupten, unter anderem durch die Organisation des jährlichen „Wiesenfestes“, eine Veranstaltung, die schon zur Tradition gehört, und Gäste aus ganz Rumänien und dem Ausland versammelt. Das Dach des Kirchenturms der evangelischen Kirche wurde dank einer Spende eines nach Kanada ausgewanderten Reener gänzlich erneuert, so dass jetzt auf weitere Fonds gehofft wird, um die gesamte Kirche, die zu den Kulturdenkmälern zählt, sanieren zu können. Während die ethnische Zusammensetzung fast gleich geblieben ist (weniger die jüdische Gemeinde, die verschwunden ist), aber mit teilweise großen Unterschieden, was die Anzahl anbelangt (die Anzahl der Deutschen, die auf 29 geschrumpft ist), ist die Gemeinschaft der Konfessionen gewachsen: die Adventisten und Baptisten mit eigenen Kirchenbauten und die Pfingstler mit eigenem Gebetshaus. Das hat dem geistigen Leben der Gemeinde einen Aufschwung verliehen und Tekendorf den Beinahmen „Das Dorf mit sieben Kirchen“ mitgebracht. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 309 Die letzten Daten bezüglich der Zusammensetzung der Tekendorfer Bevölkerung nach Nationalitäten und Konfessionen haben wir vom hiesigen Bürgermeisteramt erhalten: Kultus Gr.Orthodox Gr.Katholisch Röm.Katholisch Reformiert Evang. Lutherisch Adventisten Baptisten Pfingstler Unitarier Andere Konfessionen Gesamt Gesamt 1387 56 42 325 27 99 16 22 2 3 1979 Rumänisch 1225 56 5 63 3 1352 Ungarisch 4 39 320 33 3 2 3 404 Deutsch 27 2 29 Rroma 158 3 1 10 22 194 5. Mit der Hoffnung auf bessere Zeiten … D IE GEMEINDE Tekendorf/Teaca, eine typisch siebenbürgische Ortschaft, wurde von den Sachsen gegründet, erreichte durch diese ihren wirtschaftlichen und sozialen Höhepunkt um dann, aufgrund der historischen Gegebenheiten, einer entgegengesetzten Entwicklung stand zu halten. Es gelang ihr aber die schweren Zeiten zu überstehen und sich wieder zu erheben um mit Hoffnung in die Zukunft zu blicken. Auch wenn die neu Zugezogenen, seien es die Ungarn, Rumänen, Katholiken oder Reformierten, nicht immer mit offenen Armen empfangen wurden, so stellte sich heraus, dass die Gemeinde nur zusammen eine Zukunft haben kann. Heute ist Tekendorf als das „Dorf mit sieben Kirchen“ bekannt, und eben das macht den Reiz dieses malerischen Ortes aus. Die Nationalitäten, ethnische oder religiöse, die heute dort leben, trugen in der Vergangenheit und tragen weiterhin zum Wohlstand dieser Gemeinde bei. Die Gewohnheiten und Eigenheiten jeder einzelnen Gemeinschaft bilden zusammen ein einmaliges Ganzes, ihre jeweilige eigene Geschichte bildet die Geschichte des Ortes und legt somit die Weichen für eine gute Zukunft. Das Beispiel Tekendorfs beweist: Einheit ist gut, eine Einheit in Vielfalt ist jedoch besser. 310 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Notes 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. vgl. Wagner, 1990, S.24f vgl. Kroner, 2009, S.20f Gabanyi, a.a.O. Von den sieben Stühlen der Hermannstädter Provinz stammt auch die deutsche Bezeichnung „Siebenbürgen“ für Transsilvanien, die ursprünglich nur diese Gegend bezeichnete. Kroner, 2009, S.17f Kroner, 2009, S.24 Schließleder-Fronius, 1989, S.17 Der Pleban oder auch Leutpriester war ein Geistlicher, der eine Stelle mit pfarrlichen Rechten besetzte. Er war ein Weltgeistlicher und unterstand dem Bischof. Seit dem 13. Jh. wurde die Bezeichnung Pleban im süddeutschen Sprachraum als Heteronym von Priester verwendet. http://www.bistritza.ro/Localitati-Bistrita-Nasaud/Teaca-Bistrita-Nasaud.html (Zugriff am 26.10.2009) Schließleder-Fronius, 1989, S.126 ebenda, S.127 Das Kapitel bezeichnet in der religiösen Annahme eine Körperschaft der Geistlichen, die zu einer Dom- oder Stiftskirche gehören ebenda, S. 217 ebenda nach Schließleder-Fronius, 1989, S.141f Die Daten beziehen sich auf die Gemeinde Tekendorf/Teaca mit zwei weiteren benachbarten Dörfern, Großeidau/Viile Tecii und Pintak/Pintic Es ist nicht klar, ob sich die Daten dieser Volkszählung auf die Ortschaft Tekendorf oder auf die sämtlich Gemeinde beziehen, aber wir gehen davon aus, dass es um die ganze Gemeinde geht. Kroner, 2009, S.358 Bibliographie Gabanyi, Anneli Ute (o.J.) – Geschichte der Deutschen in Rumänien, URL: http://www.siebenbuerger.de/portal/land-und-leute/siebenbuerger-sachsen/#a1 (Zugriff am 15.10.2009) Gündisch, Karin (2001) – Autonomie ºi stãri de regionalitate în Ardealul medieval, in: „Transilvania ºi saºii ardeleni în istoriografie/Din publicaþiile Asociaþiei de Studii Transilvane Heidelberg, Ed. Hora, Sibiu Kroner, Michael (2009)– Geschichte der Nordsiebenbürger Sachsen, Haus der Heimat, Nürnberg POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 311 Möckel, Andreas (2001) – Istoriografie ºi conºtiinþã istoricã la saºii transilvãneni, in: „Transilvania ºi saºii ardeleni în istoriografie/Din publicaþiile Asociaþiei de Studii Transilvane Heidelberg, Ed. Hora, Sibiu Nägler Thomas (1999)–Die Rumänen und die Siebenbürger Sachsen vom 12. Jh. bis 1848, hora Vlg., Hermannstadt und AKSL Heidelberg Saramandu, Nicolae / Nevaci, Manuela (2009) – Multilingvism ºi limbi minoritare în România, Qual Media, Cluj Napoca Schließleder-Fronius, Ilse (1989) – Tekendorf in Nordsiebenbürgen. Ortmonographie, Salzburg Wagner, Ernst (1990) – Geschichte der Siebenbürger Sachsen, Wort und Welt Vlg., Thaur bei Innsbruck Rezumat The Village Teaca (Tekendorf) from Saxon Commune to Confessional and National Community The Village Teaca (Tekendorf) in the Land of Nãsãud (Þara Nãsãudului/ Nösnerland) was one of the most important Saxon settlements in north-eastern Transylvania. The village evolved from a strong Saxon community into a multi-national and multi-confessional community, a reflection of its tumultuous past. The present paper attempts to explore this diversity and its genesis. Keywords Teaca (Tekendorf), Land of Nãsãud (Þara Nãsãudului/Nösnerland), Transylvania, Transylvanian Saxonx, multi-confessional and multi-national communities Deutsche Schulen in Rumänien während des Ersten Weltkrieges C ARMEN PATRICIA R ENETI N EBEN DEN mosaischen und den ungarischen Schulen stellen die deutschen Schulen im Alten Reich eine der wichtigsten Schulgattungen dar. Kurz vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg, „lebten im Alten Reich zirka 50.000 Deutsche aus Deutschland, Österreich und Siebenbürgen, davon 30.000 in Bukarest. In der Hauptstadt war ein großer Teil der Industrie und des Handels in ihren Händen“1. Es ist keine Gemeinschaft mit einer repräsentativen Zahl, aber sie spielt eine bedeutende Rolle im Wirtschafts-, Kultur- und Ausbildungsplan. Die Autorin hat sich für eine Analyse der deutschen Schulen etschieden, nachdem sie das Buch von Onisifor Ghibu, Die deutschen Schulen in Rumänien – eine nationale Gefahr gelesen hat, ein Buch, das 1916 von dem Verlag „Librãria Þcoalelor” (Buchhandlung der Schulen) veröffentlicht wurde. Mit einem Auftrag vom Kultus- und Unterrichtministerium hat Ghibu in April, Mai und Juni 1915 eine Studienreise zu den Schulen in Rumänien unternommen. Die Überschrift hat meine Aufmerksamkeit erregt: da ich aus Siebenbürgen komme, begriff ich die Anwesenheit der Deutschen als diskret. Nachdem ich das Buch gelesen hatte, habe ich verstanden, dass es sehr gut war, eine deutsche Schule zu besuchen, aber der Autor wollte nicht erkennen dass die deutschen Schulen mehr Vorteile baten als die rumänischen. Und wie kann die deutsche Schulphilosophie nicht wichtig sein, wenn sie so viele verschiedene Nationalitäten beeinflusst hat? Warum hätte uns die Multikulturalität stören sollen? Zum Beispiel war die katholische Schule aus Sulina, die Onisifor Ghibu am 22. April 1915 besucht hat, eine Schule mit Unterricht auf Italienisch, aber „als Geist ist diese Schule rein österreichisch-deutsch. Der Schuldirektor war ein gebürtiger Ungar. Die Schüler sind Griechen und Slawonier aus Dalmatien. Die Schule wird von der Donaukommission und von der österreichischen Regierung unterstützt“2. Ein Thema über die Schulen der verschiedenen ethnischen Gruppen in Rumänien ist interessant für jede Epoche, da es bisher wenig Forschungen gibt, die Archive aber sehr viele ungebundene und ungelesene Dossiers haben. 314 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Regelungen für die deutschen Schulen D Unterrichtswesen im ersten Teil des XX. Jahrhunderts steht unter dem Einfluss des großen Pädagogen Spiru Haret. Er machte die ersten Schritte für die Regelung der Lage des Staats- und Privatschulwesens. 1904 schlägt er einen Entwurf für das private Unterrichtswesen vor. Mit strikten Regelungen für die deutschen Schulen, die als Privatschulen zu betrachten waren. Niemand konnte Direktor einer Privatschule werden, ohne in Rumänien mindestens drei Jahre unterrichtet zu haben. Ottokar Schlawe, Präsident der Evangelischen Gemeinschaft, lehnte die Idee strickt ab: „Es ist uns bekannt, dass die Rolle des Direktors im deutschen Schulwesen sich von der Rolle des Direktors in Rumänien unterscheidet. Der rumänische Direktor ist nur ein Beamter, aber der deutsche Direktor ist ein Lehrer mit ausgeweiteten Befugnissen, ein Meister der Schüler und der Lehrer“3. Einige rumänische Politiker – germanophile wie Alexandru Marghiloman und Petre Carp oder Antantophile wie Take Ionescu – haben den Entwurf natürlich als verfassungswidrig verworfen. Sie begründeten ihr Vorgehen damit, dass ein solches Gesetz das Wirken der deutschen Schulen in Gefahr bringen würde. Das bedeutete nicht, dass die deutschen Schulen nach eigenen Regelungen wirken konnten, sondern mindestens die für die rumänischen Schulen gültigen juristischen Bestimmungen erfüllen mussten. Eine wichtige Bestimmung war die für ‘die Primar-, Sekundär- und Berufsschulen mit eigenem Kurrikulum’. Folgende Richtlinien waren wichtig: In den Sekundärschulen mit eigenem Kurrikulum sind zwei Stunden Rumänisch wöchentlich für jede Klasse verbindlich und für die vierte Klasse je zwei Stunden Geographie und Geschichte; die Fächer, die in der Rumänischen Sprache unterrichtet werden, werden mit roter Tinte unterstrichen; der Stundenplan wird im Ministerium in drei Exemplaren eingereicht und jede Stundenplanänderung muss vom Ministerium abgesegnet werden; in den Pausen, gehen die Kinder in den Schulhof und die Klassen werden währenddessen gelüftet. Die Lehrer sollen aufpassen dass die Schüler, während der Pause, rennen und spielen, und sich nicht nur unterhalten oder spazieren gehen“. 4 Die Einstellung eines ausländischen Lehrers wurde durch die Menge an Formulare für die im Ministerium anzulegende Akte sehr erschwert: – Befähigungszeugnis, das die Qualität des Lehrers in seinem Herkunftsland nachwies; – Moralitätsschein, der von der örtlichen Behörde ausgestellt wurde und der mehr formell war, da die Behörde nicht persönlich jeden Lehrer kennen konnte; – eine Bescheinigung, dass der Lehrer mindestens zwei Jahre in dem betreffenden Ort gelebt hatte; AS RUMÄNISCHE POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 315 – ein Nachweis seiner Kenntnisse der rumänischen Sprache. Da die Post recht unzuverlässig arbeitete, erreichten diese Unterlagen erst nach langer Zeit Rumänien. Die Beglaubigung war auch ein schwieriges Verfahren. Die letzten beiden Bedingungen „waren ganz unmöglich beizubringen, wenn es sich um eine arme und weit verstreute Gemeinde handelt“5. In Bukarest waren weniger Probleme zu erwarten, da die Mehrheit der Deutschen sesshaft oder eingebürgert war. Sehr oft regelte das Ministerium unklare Lagen durch Ultimaten. So etwa im Fall der Lehrerin Manière Angèle von der Mädchenschule der Evangelischen Gemeinde, „die innerhalb eines Monats einen Beweis ihrer Ausbildung vorlegen musste. Dann wurde das Gesuch mündlich und schriftlich wiederholt. Frau Manière fühlte sich beleidigt und hat ihre Entlassung eingereicht“6. Ihre Absicht kann als radikal betrachtet werden, da „Frau Manière von allen Standpunkten eine ausgezeichnete Lehrerin ist und ihr Ersatz in der Mitte des Schuljahrs ernsthafte Auswirkungen auf den Lehrplan mit sich bringt“7. Deswegen ist das Ministerium gezwungen, einen Kompromiss zu machen und bewilligt das Wirken von Frau Manière bis Ende des Schuljahres. Im Sommer 1914 wurde die Einstellung männlicher Lehrer sehr problematisch. „Absatz 31 des Gesetzes über das elementare und normal-elementare Unterrichtswesen sieht voio0oooooor, dass in den staatliche Knabenschulen männliche Lehrer wirken; für die ersten zwei Klassen können auch weibliche Lehrer eingesetzt werden“8. Die Schulen sehen sich gezwungen, „provisorisch die männlichen Lehrer durch weibliche für die I.-IV. Klasse der Knabenschulen zu ersetzen“9. Die Verhältnisse der deutschen Schulen zu den Schulinspektoraten E Inspektorat ist eine öffentliche Institution, welche die Schulangelegenheiten regelt. Ein rumänischer Inspektor ist der Beauftragte für Schulangelegenheiten: Er musste die Lage der Schulen zur Kenntnis nehmen und sein Bericht an das Ministerium weiterleiten, in der Hoffnung eventuelle Regelnverstöße zu vermeiden. Im Dezember 1913 gestattete Erzbischof Netzhammer in einer Begegnung mit dem Unterrichtsminister Dissescu keine Inspektion am Katholischen Seminar, weil „unser Seminar weder Mittelschule noch Privatschule ist, sondern eine Kultschule. Das Ministerium hat bezüglich des mohammedanischen Seminars in Medgidia mit den Türken ein Reglement vereinbart. So etwas soll das Ministerium auch mit uns vereinbaren, dann wird die Inspektion reibungslos erfolgen können!“10 IN RUMÄNISCHES 316 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Wie wir sehen, fehlen noch strikte Regelungen für die Inspektionen. Nur einige Namen der Inspektoren sind uns bekannt. Eine Bestimmung des Unterrichtsministeriums von 29. Januar 1914 verteilt die Verantwortung der Schulinspektoren für die privat-elementaren Schulen und für die konfessionellen Asyle auf Bezirke und Kreise: – „Schulinspektor S. Spulbereanu ist für den ersten Kreis verantwortlich: Kreise Arges, Dolj, Gorj, Mehedinti, Muscel, Olt, Ramnicu Valcea, Romanati, Teleorman – Schulinspektor G. Costescu ist für den zweiten Kreis verantwortlich: Kreise Braila, Buzau, Constanta, Dambovita, Ialomita, Prahova, Ramnicu-Sarat, Vlasca – Schulinspektor I. Pralea ist für den dritten Kreis verantwortlich: Kreise Bacau, Covur, Falciu, Putna, Tecuci, Tulcea, Tutova, Vaslui – Schulinspektor N. Ionescu ist für den vierten Kreis verantwortlich: Kreise Botosani, Dorohoi, Iasi, Neamt, Roman, Suceava – Schulinspektor G. Simionescu ist für den fünften Kreis verantwortlich: Elementarschulen und Kindergärten in Bukarest Ella Negruzzi und Ana Manoil sind für die privaten Mädchenschulen in der Provinz beauftragt, die Erste für den Sekundärkurs und die Zweite für den Primärkurs. Iuga G. ist für die privaten und Staatshandelsschulen und für die privaten Schulen mit den Unterrichtssprachen Ungarisch und Deutsch verantwortlich“11. Natürlich werden wir viele Änderungen zu diesen Inspektoren erleben. Aber eine unrechte Behandlung der Inspektoren ist nicht anzunehmen, da ein Inspektor auch die Schließung einer Schule empfehlen konnte. Deswegen ist folgender Zwischenfall an einer deutschen Schule in Bukarest überraschend. Wie der Inspektor Eliodor Constantinescu berichtet, hatte er sich am 6. / 19. Oktober 1914 eine Inspektion des Knabeninternats der evangelischen Gemeinde in der Straße Lutherana 10 vorgenommen und „[…]wurde von dem Direktor, einem gewissen Herrn Tominski, unanständig empfangen. Als ich nach dem Direktor fragte, wurde ich zu einem Saal geführt, wo ein Herr, der Herr Direktor, am Lehrerpult sitzt und Nachhilfestunden gibt. Es war gegen 4 ½ Uhr nachmittags. Hier führen die beiden ein Gespräch auf Rumänisch, wobei der Direktor die Sprache gut beherrscht: – Was suchst du hier? – Ich suche den Internatsdirektor. Ich bin Schulinspektor und ich bin gekommen, um das Internat zu besuchen. – Weißt du nicht, dass du kein Recht hast, in den Saal für die Nachhilfestunden einzutreten? Verlassen Sie die Schule und, wenn Sie mit mir sprechen möchten, dann warten Sie bis 18.00 Uhr, wenn ich fertig mit dem Privatunterricht bin.“ POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 317 Weil der Inspektor nicht bis 18.00 Uhr warten kann, gibt ihm Herr Tominski weitere Erklärungen: ‘Ich bin von Ihrer Inspektion überrascht, denn kein Inspektor hat sich bis jetzt getraut, in den Saal für Nachhilfestunden einzutreten. ‘ Als Inspektor Constantinescu um das Eintragebuch für die Inspektionen bittet, verlangte Herr Tominski seinen Ausweis. Weil Constantinescu keinen Inspektor-Ausweis hat, muss er die Schule verlassen, ‘nicht ohne Herzschmerzen’, während Herr Tominski mit dem Rücken am Fenster steht. Die Schlussfolgerung des Inspektors ist bitter: ‘Wir sind ein freies und unabhängiges Land, wir nehmen alle (Menschen) bei uns an; wir lassen sie Schulen eröffnen und Kirchen erbauen, sie aber respektieren im Gegenzug keine Gesetze und Regelungen eines sehr liberalen Landes, wo Ausländer hinkommen, um zu leben und um sich zu bereichern. Obwohl wir als so liberal betrachtet werden, gibt es Anständigkeitsgrenzen, deren Überschreitung wir nicht dulden müssen’.“12 Der Präsident der evangelischen Gemeinde Otto Schlawe bietet wenig plausible Erklärungen zu diesem Zwischenfall. „Der Inspektor Constantinescu hat sich nicht zu erkennen gegeben. Die Gouvernante Maria Liebenau, die den Inspektor empfangen hat, antwortete, dass der Direktor niemand empfangen kann, da er mit den Nachhilfestunden beschäftigt ist. Der Inspektor hat darauf beharrt, und die Haushilfe hat den Diener Ioan Dungalã gerufen, um den Direktor von dem unvorhergesehenen Besuch in Kenntnis zu setzen. Dann hat Constantinescu gesagt: ‘Ich bin Inspektor, und ich kann selbst meinen Weg finden’ und stieg die Treppen hinauf. Der Diener hat nicht gehört, was der Inspektor zu sagen hatte, und hat ihn dem Direktor vorgestellt ‘als ein Herr der mit Ihnen sprechen will. ‘ Aber der Direktor war mit den Nachhilfestunden beschäftigt und hat gesagt: ‘Leiten sie den Herrn ins Lehrerzimmer’. Als der Direktor erfuhr, dass Herr Constantinescu ein Schulinspektor ist, hat er mit den Nachhilfestunden aufgehört. Der Inspektor hat die Erlaubnis des Herrn Tominski und den Bauplan verlangt. Dann hat er um das Eintragebuch für die Inspektionen gebeten. Auf diese Frage wollte Herr Tominski seinen Ausweis sehen: ‘Ich kenne Sie nicht. Ich bitte um Ihren Ausweis.’ Der Inspektor ist gegangen und hat vorher nach dem Namen des Direktors gefragt.“13 Der Zwischenfall ist so umgestaltet, dass der Direktor Tominski keine Schuld trägt, und Schlawes Absicht ist lobend. „Meiner Meinung nach – sagt Schlawe – ist die Ursache des Zwischenfalls ein doppeltes Missverständnis: – ein Missverständnis des Schulinspektors, der glaubte, der Direktor müsse wissen, dass er vor sich einen Inspektor hat, während der Zweite glaubte, es stünde der Vater eines Schülers vor ihm, – ein Missverständnis des Direktors, der sich von den Worten des Inspektors beleidigt und brüskiert fühlte. Der nicht gerechtfertigte Eindruck des Direktors 318 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) war, dass der Inspektor wenig Sympathie für die Deutschen hat und versucht, sie zu demütigen. Im Hinblick auf das Gesuch des Direktors um den Ausweis des Inspektors habe ich ihm erklärt, dass wir einen solchen Ausweis gewöhnlich nicht verlangen.“14 Schlawe erlaubt sich, dem Ministerium einen Gedanken einzugeben: „Mit der großen Zahl und dem häufigen Wechsel der Inspektoren wäre es zu empfehlen, dass uns ihre Namen und Befugnisse bekannt gegeben werden, da die Veröffentlichungen des Amtsblatts uns nicht immer erreichen.“15 Die Vorteile des Besuches der deutschen Schulen D IE ENTSCHEIDUNG, eine deutsche Schule zu besuchen, schloss mindestens drei Erwägungen ein: – das Profil der deutschen Schulen, die Handels- und Wirtschaftsbereichen nahe kamen; – die Möglichkeit, eine sehr nützliche Sprache, die deutsche Sprache nämlich, zu erlernen; – das Abschlussdiplom, das sich „europäischer Anerkennung“ erfreute. 1898 unterstrich Emil Fischer im Rahmen eines Vortrages in der Liedertafel die Notwendigkeit unterstrichen, Bürgerschulen und Volksschulen zu gründen, da gemäß den Statistiken die Deutschen im Wirtschafts- und Handelsbereich tätig waren und die Schulen an dieses Profil angepasst sein sollten.16 Aber diejenigen, die nicht die Chance hatten, eine Hochschule zu besuchen, konnten schon im Elementar- und Sekundärkurs die deutsche Sprache einigermaßen erlernen. Die deutsche Sprache war damals wie heute eine nützliche Sprache, um einen Arbeitsplatz zu finden. „Jedes Jahr kommen viele Deutsche in unser Land, die deutsche Waren verkaufen und Produkte unseres reichen Landes einkaufen. Andere Deutsche leben bei uns, haben Gewerbe und Fabriken und geben Arbeitsplätze und Gewinnmöglichkeiten. Deswegen gehen sehr viele Rumänen nach Deutschland, lernen dort und bringen nützliche Kenntnisse mit in unser Land.“17 Deutsch wird von vielen in Rumänien benutzt. Ein evangelischer Priester stellte fest: „Hier, im Orient und besonders in Rumänien, hat die deutsche Sprache eine so überwiegende Rolle erreicht, dass man vergisst, dass man nicht auf deutschem Boden lebt. Die deutsche Sprache hört man in Rumänien auffallend oft. Man fühlt sich wie in der Hauptstadt eines deutschen Landes.“18 Und Iorga erweitert die Idee um einen ängstlichen Ton: „Bukarest germanisiert sich“19. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 319 Der Besuch einer deutschen Schule zieht große Vorteile nach sich: „Im letzten Jahrzehnte sind folgende Berechtigungen erworben worden. Für die Absolventen der Oberrealschule die vollständige Annerkennung der Reifezeugnisse mit allen daran geknüpften Berechtigungen in Deutschland, Österreich-Ungarn und Rumänien; für die Absolventen der Höheren Handelsschule die Berechtigung zum einjährig-freiwilligen Dienste und die Zulassung zu den Handelshochschulen in den gleichen Ländern. Die Abgangsprüfung der Höheren wird in diesem Jahre zum ersten Male eine Art Annerkennung seitens des preußischen Unterrichtsministeriums erfahren“. 20 Am Anfang meiner Analyse ist es verlockend, die deutschen Schulen einheitlich zu betrachten, doch schnell wird klar dass die deutschen katholischen Schulen sich von den evangelischen Schulen unterscheiden. Der Geheimrat von Welser „glaubt den spezifischen Unterschied darin zu finden, dass die evangelischen Schulen deutschnational seien, während die unsrigen einen österreichischen und konfessionellen Charakter besitzen“21. Der Erzbischof Netzhammer nuanciert die Erklärung, dass „[…]die Bukarester evangelischen Schulen in erster Linie siebenbürgisch-sächsisch sind und dass sie deshalb von der österreichischen Regierung eine jährliche Unterstützung von 16.000 Kronen beziehen. Als Hauptzweck unserer Schulen machte ich namhaft, die Kinder gut im Deutschen zu unterrichten, um sie durch Erhaltung in Sprache und Nationalität auch dem katholischen Glauben zu erhalten“22. Das Schulcurriculum. Ablauf der Lektionen. Didaktische Methoden M EHRERE INSPEKTIONEN sprechen über den Ablauf der Unterrichtsstunden An der Handelsschule für Knaben der evangelischen Gemeinschaft macht der Inspektor Floru folgende Beurteilungen: „Ich habe dem englischen Unterricht des Lehrers Bernhard in der dritten Klasse beigewohnt. Es wurde ein Abschnitt über den französischen-englischen Wettstreit aus dem Deutschen ins Englische übersetzt. Die Unterrichtsstunde war mit vielen grammatikalischen Übungen gefüllt. Mit vielen Ähnlichkeiten zu der deutschen, französischen und rumänischen Sprache, besonders von den Schülern. Dann habe ich in der rumänischen Korrespondenz-Klasse von Frau Buzescu hospitiert. Die Schüler haben auf Fragen geantwortet: Wie macht man ein Gesuch für eine Kontoeröffnung und wie erklärt man den Bankrottzustand. Die Antwort war gut überlegt.“23 Es existieren auch Fächer, die man als ungewöhnlich betrachten kann, zum Beispiel die militärische Ausbildung in der ersten Klasse, für die der Inspektor 320 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Iuga „die Teilung der Klasse in zwei Serien, jede mit einer Stunde militärischer Ausbildung pro Woche“24 empfiehlt. Die Fächer waren sehr praktisch, so wie wir dem industriellen Kurs der Mädchenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde vorschlugen. Die 33 Stunden Unterricht umfassen unter anderem die Fächer: I. Handarbeit: Wäsche flicken, weiße Stickerei, Kreuzstich und französische Stickerei II. Das Nähen mit der Maschine 1. Wäscherei: verschiedene Modelle, Damenwäscherei, Kinderwäscherei, Männerwäscherei, Bettwäsche, flicken mit der Nähmaschine 2. Röcke, Damenkonfektion, Kostüme, Blusen, Kinderkonfektionen, Kinderröcke, Knabenkleider, Modernisierung und Reparatur der Röcke III. Theorie und Zeichnen des Schnittmusters (6 Stunden pro Woche): Maß nehmen, Zeichnen des Schnittmusters und Vorbereitung des Konfektionierungsstoffs IV. Schmücken der Sommer- und Winterhüte25. Es gibt auch Inspektoren die mit der Qualität der Stunden unzufrieden sind. Etwa im Fall der Inspektorin Virginie Stan, welche eine ansehnliche Lehranstalt, das englisch-deutsche protestantische Institut kritisiert: „Ich habe im Geschichtsunterricht in der VI. Klasse hospitiert. Die Schülerinnen waren wenig diszipliniert und aufmerksam. Viele haben gar nicht oder kaum auf meine Fragen geantwortet. Einige Schülerinnen verstanden nicht, was sie sagen wollten oder was ihre Kolleginnen sagten. Einige Schülerinnen wussten nicht, wie sie den von ihnen auswendig gelernten Text übersetzen mussten. Vier Schülerinnen, die kurz vor Weihnachten immatrikuliert wurden, waren sehr schwach vorbereitet und konnten auf keine Frage antworten. Natürlich habe ich auch sehr gute Schülerinnen gefunden, die sehr gut Deutsch beherrschen.“26 Die Qualität der Lehrer D GESELLSCHAFT des 20. Jahrhunderts hatte genaue Erwartungen im Hinblick auf die Rolle des Lehrers. Der Direktor der evangelischen Handelsschule, Herr Bernhard, veröffentlicht im Bukarester Gemeindeblatt eine Serie von Artikeln „Ideale der modernen Schule“, in denen wir wichtige Ideen über die Lehrer dieses Zeitabschnitts erfassen können – Ideen, die auch heute gelten: „Aber besonders muss der Lehrer in der Disziplin Freiheit haben. Schlagen, Schimpfnamen und ähnliche Mittel der alten Schulen müssen wir freilich auf das Allerstrengste verwerfen; übrigens lassen Gesetz und Obrigkeit ohnehin nur ein geringes Maß von Erziehungsgewalt bestehen; wenn dann noch die Eltern IE POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 321 kommen und meinen, das Kindchen werde im groben Tone angesprochen oder ähnliches, so weiß man wirklich nicht mehr, sind wir noch in unserem festgefügten alten Europa, oder schon im gepriesenen Amerika, wo der Lehrer überhaupt machtlos ist – wo aber auch die allgemeine Volksbildung danach ist? Oft wird gar zu viel erzogen. Kein Schritt ist möglich ohne elterliche Kritik. Macht das Kind eine Bemerkung, gleich ist die Moral hinterher… Nicht mit solcher Verpäppelung und nicht mit solcher Tyrannei wird es gelingen, den Charakter des Kindes auch nur in einem einzigen Grundzug zu verändern. Was mit Krallen geboren wurde, lässt sich eben nicht plötzlich in ein sanftes Haustier verwandeln. Am schlimmsten wird die kindliche Freiheit geknechtet, wenn die Eltern ihre Nachkommenschaft durchhaus auf den ersten Plätzen der Klasse sehen wollen, sei es aus persönlicher Eitelkeit, sei es im Gefühle der trügerischen Freude, den Sohn schon in der Kindheit an einem führenden Posten zu sehen. Wie viel jugendliche freie Beschäftigung, freie Zeit, freie Entwicklung wird damit gestohlen! Und dabei ist es nicht verbürgt, dass der Klassenerste auch mal auf seinem Platze im Leben die erste Geige spielen wird“.27 Im Laufe der Inspektionen können wir echte Beschreibungen der Lehrer finden, da der Direktor einer Schule oder der Präsident der deutschen Gemeinde die Qualität seines Lehrkörpers auszeichnen wollte. Zu Direktor Tominski, der sich in den Zwischenfall mit dem Inspektor Constantinescu begeben hat, gab Herr Schlawe folgende Bewertung ab: „Seit sechs Jahren ist er im Dienst der Gemeinde, und seit dem 1. September 1909 leitet er das Knabeninternat. Herr Tominski ist eine gebildete Person mit feinen Umgangsformen und von einer übertriebenen Höflichkeit. Er stand immer in guten Beziehungen zu den Schulinspektoren. Herr Tominski beherrscht die rumänische Sprache genügend, dass er sich ausdrücken kann“28. Von dem berühmten Lehrer Ioan Slavici hat die zeitgenössische Presse der Zeit keinen guten Eindruck. Seine literarische und didaktische Begabung spielte keine Rolle gegenüber der Anklage, dass er germanophil sei. Slavici ist gegen Russland, glaubt aber nicht an die Vereinigung Siebenbürgens mit dem Alten Reich. „Nach dem Krieg werden die Rumänen die gleichen Rechte erhalten, in einem ungarischen polyglotten Staat, in dem alle Völker gleich sein werden“29. Die Pro-Entente-Presse jener Zeit erklärte, dass Slavici seine Germanophilie durch die Tatsache verraten habe, dass die Annährung an die deutsche Gemeinde mehrere materielle Vorteile mitgebracht habe. Ironisch stellte die Zeitung Acþiunea (Die Aktion) auf folgende Weise das Porträt von Slavici dar: „Gestern hatte ich kaum zu essen/ Und zahlte immer mit Verzug/ Heute esse ich nur Wienerschnitzel / Und trinke gute Weintraube/ Damals hatte ich keinen Mantel / Wirklich, hatte nichts zum Anziehen/ Heute trage ich elegante Kleider / Wie die Kellner, bin ich immer im Frack.“30 322 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Betrachtung der deutschen Schulen D VORTEILE eines Besuchs an einer deutschen Schule sind unbezweifelbar. Einige kräftige Stimmen der Zeit, wie Nicolae Iorga, suchten eine Erklärung zu dem Zerbrechen der Fenster der evangelischen Schule: „Man hat die Fenster der evangelischen Schule zerbrochen und hat übel getan. Wenn die Stundenten es gemacht hatten, dann ist es schlimmer. Jede Schule ist eine Kirche. Aber es kommt in Frage: „Warum haben sich Menschen gefunden, die sich ermutigt gefühlt haben, diese Fenster zu zerbrechen? Weil die deutschen Schulen zu Bukarest eine Festung sind, eine exklusive und fanatische Festung, in der die Lehrer Befehlshaber und Instrukteure sind. In den letzten zwanzig Jahren habe ich sie entstehen sehen. Und es hat mir Leid getan, weil die rumänischen Kinder das nationale Ausbildungssystem verlassen haben. Aber es tat mir auch Leid für etwas anderes: Für die Sympathie und Bewunderung, welche die deutsche Kultur nicht den heutigen Generälen verdankt, sondern der deutschen Zivilisation meiner ehemaligen Professoren, der Zivilisation, deren kräftiger und schöner Sprache, in der ich Werke geschrieben habe auf die ich sehr stolz bin“31. Aber der Arzt Sion versüßt den Ton: „Ich gebe meinem Kind Erziehung in der Schule, wo die Fester zerbrochen wurden. Ich beobachte persönlich seine moralische und intellektuelle Entwicklung. Es ist mir bekannt und ich kann Ihnen versichern, dass die Anklage einer exklusiven und fanatischen Festung unbegründet ist. In jedem Fall ist diese Festung nicht gegen die moralischen, kulturellen und nationalen Ziele dieses Landes gerichtet. Eine Festung, die methodische Arbeit und Gewohnheiten von seelischer, geistlicher und körperlicher Reinheit verkörpert, ja, das ist sie! Glauben Sie, dass ich nicht bemerkt hätte, wenn etwas an der Erziehung meines Kindes nicht in Ordnung wäre? Nein, lieber Herr Iorga. Dieses Geschäft mit dem Zerbrechen der Fenster an Schulen oder irgendwo anders ist eine üble und demütigende Tat. Und wenn die Studenten so etwas gemacht haben, dann ist unsere Zukunft kompromittiert“32. IE Schuluniform D ER PRÄSIDENT der Ephorie der evangelischen Gemeinde, Ottokar Schlawe, verdeutlicht dem Ministerium, dass „alle Schüler unserer Anstalten gezwungen sind, Hauben nach folgenden Modellen zu tragen: – schwarze Hauben für die Schüler der Elementarschule – grüne und rote Hauben für die Schüler der Oberrealschule – blaue Hauben für die Schüler der Handelsschule. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 323 Auf diese Weise sind unsere Schüler einfacher zu erkennen. Auf der anderen Seite bestrafen wir die Schüler, die ohne Haube zu Schule kommen oder sie nicht in der Stadt tragen“33. Die Inspektorin Ana Manoil ermahnt die Direktion des Kindergartens und der Elementarschule, dass die Mädchen „eine passende Schürze34“ tragen müssen. Gesundheitszustand der Schüler. Die Hygiene. D SCHARLACHFIEBER, der Typhus, die Cholera oder die Diphtherie sind gewöhnliche Krankheiten der Epoche. Und die Hygiene ist nicht immer der Schwerpunkt für die Schulen. Im Februar 1914 stellt der Arzt Pãtraºcu an der Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde fest: „Hier gibt es eigine Fälle von Scharlachfieber, wie Theodor Lichtendorff, von der vierten Realklasse, und andere Fälle von Masern, die betreffenden Klassen wurden desinfiziert. Andere Fälle gibt es nicht mehr. Die Direktion zeigt jede Krankheit an, die mehr als drei Tage dauert, so dass wir zeitnah jede ansteckende Krankheit entdecken können. Das Schulgebäude ist in gutem Zustand und die Schüler sind sauber35“. Im April 1914 erreicht das Scharlachfieber das Englisch-Deutsche Protestantische Institut, wo derselbe Arzt Patrascu feststellt: „Margareta Meier von der sechsten Klasse ist von Scharlachfieber befallen. Ihre Schwester kommt nicht mehr in die Schule, und die Direktion wird sie nur mit der Genehmigung durch eine ärztliche Bescheinigung wieder empfangen36“. Aber das Institut findet eine gute Erklärung dafür: „Die Schülerin Meier ist Externe und hat sich während der Osterferien angesteckt“37. Im Oktober 1914 treten am Englisch-Deutschen Protestantischen Institut wieder Fälle von Scharlachfieber auf: „Die Schülerin Charlotte Hersekovitsch (Externe) von der vierten Klasse ist von Scharlachfieber befallen. Die Schülerinnen derselben Klasse wurden untersucht, es wurde jedoch nichts Beunruhigendes entdeckt. Die betreffende Klasse wird dezinfiziert. Die Schülerin Lidia Gutman kommt nicht mehr in der Schule, da ihre Schwester von Scharlachfieber befallen ist“38. Weil der Gesundheitszustand der Schüler wichtig ist, versuchen die Inspektoren, die Hygiene in den Schulen unter strenge Beobachtung zu setzen. Anlässlich des Besuchs der Mädchenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde Anfang des Schuljahres 1915/1916, war die Inspektorin Negruzzi ganz zufrieden: „Ich habe die Schule besucht und die Reparaturen überprüft. Ich habe festgestellt, dass AS 324 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) die Wände der Klassen, der Schlafzimmer und der Korridore frisch gestrichen wurden. Überall ist es sehr sauber“39. Die strenge Inspektorin Virginie Stan ist unzufrieden mit den Hygienebedingungen des Protestantischen Instituts: „Ich bemerke den Komfort und die Hygiene, außer der Waschschüssel für die kleine Toilette (für das Füßewaschen). In einigen Zimmern und Schlafzimmern habe ich die Luft stickig gefunden: Die Fenster wurden sofort geöffnet. Ich habe darum gebeten, dass die Fenster auch zwischen den Unterrichtsstunden geöffnet werden, besonders in den Klassen, wo zwei Stunden für dasselbe Fach stattfinden (zum Beispiel Französisch in der achten Klasse). Die Wäsche des Personals und der Schülerinnen sind sauber, die Lappen sind gewaschen. Ich habe ein Heft gefunden, wo das Baden, die Kirchenbesuche und die Spaziergänge der Schülerinnen verzeichnet war40“. Die Qualität des Essens D IE INSPEKTORIN Virginie Stan erzählt: „Ich habe die Suppe gekostet, sie war fettarm (mager) und salzig, und der Braten mit Kartoffeln war sehr lecker und von guter Qualität“41. An der Mädchenschule ist „das Essen gut und genügend“ 42, versichert uns die Inspektorin Ella Negruzzi. Eine Beschreibung des Menus bekommen wir für das Protestantische Institut von Ella Negruzzi: „Linsesuppe, Kartoffeln mit Wurst und Reiskuchen mit Brot“43 oder von Virginie Stan: „es war noch Reiskuchen und Rübensalat mit wenig Zwiebel.44 Die Periode des „kurzen Krieges“ (August-November 1916) M IT DEM Kriegseintritt Rumäniens gegen Deutschland und seine Verbündenten hat die deutsche Gemeinde am meisten zu leiden. Noch nicht einmal der einflussreiche Erzbischof Netzhammer hatte eine Ahnung von dem Kriegseintrittsplan Rumäniens. Für ihn ist der 27. August 1916 “ein schrecklicher Tag von Aufregungen! Vormittags kommt in aller Eile die Frau Oberin Candida und meldet, daß ihr Herr Marghiloman einen Herrn mit der Nachricht geschickt habe, sie solle jetzt Maßregeln treffen, um nicht ganz vom Kriege überrascht zu werden. Wir sind ratlos, was man zu tun hat, da man mit allem an das Land Rumänien gebunden ist“.45 Die evangelische Gemeinde ist stark betroffen: „Das Gemeindejahr 1916-1917 wird in der Geschichte der Gemeinde fortleben wie die Jahre 1788-1790, Jahre POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 325 des Krieges und des Elends […]. Der in Bukarest anwesende Pfarrer wurde vom Altar weg ins Gefängnis geführt, Lehrer, Beamte und Mitglieder ins Gefangenlager verschleppt und die Gemeinde wurde […] zur Erwerbsgenossenschaft erklärt. Ein von der rumänischen Regierung eingesetzter Sequester wurde mit der Verwaltung der Gemeinde und ihres Vermögens beauftragt. Predigt und Unterricht hörten gezwungenermaßen auf“46. Als der Krieg anfing, „wurden alle Hoffnungen der Gemeinde, die Schulen in gewohnter Weise am 1. September eröffnen zu können, vernichtet […]. Der Präsident Professor Schlawe, der Direktor der Schulanstalten Dr. Tzschaschel, der Pfarrer Lic. Bennewitz und die meisten Lehrer und Lehrerinnen befanden sich in Deutschland. Pfarrer Honigberger wurde am Sonntagabend (14./27. August) mitten in einer Trauung in der Kirche durch zwei rumänische Polizeibeamte weggeführt und mit vielen anderen Deutschen zusammen im Fort Domnesti bei Bukarest interniert. Das gleiche Schicksal traf […] die Oberlehrer Modesohn und Slavici […] die Elementarlehrer Höchsmann, Binder, Roth, Bloos, Heidelberg, Gasser, Wackernell […]. Auch Oberlehrer Dr. Richter, der die Ferien auf dem Gut seiner Schwiegereltern bei Jassy zubrachte, wurde verhaftet […]. Der Direktor der Höheren Handelsschule, Dr. Bernhard wurde, da der amerikanische Gesandte den Schutz des deutschen Eigentums amtlich übernahm, durch den deutschen Gesandten der amerikanischen Gesandtschaft zugeteilt und leitete die Maßnahmen in allen Unterstützungsangelegenheiten und Interessenvertretungen für die Deutschen. Er konnte vornehmlich den internierten Gemeindemitgliedern mancherlei Erleichterung verschaffen[…]. Die Zahl der Gemeindemitglieder sank infolge der Internierung wesentlich: Etwa 70% der Stimmberechtigten sind durch die rumänische Behörde in die Internierungslager überführt worden“47. Die katholischen Schulen treten auch unter Sequester und ab 16. September 1916 werden sie von dem Abgeordneten Stefan Ioan, Professor der lateinischen und französischen Sprache am Lyzeum Matei Basarab, verwaltet. Der Grund: „Die erzbischöflichen Schulen sind ‚deutsch-katholische’ Schulen, und als solche müssen sie gesetzlich unter Sequester gestellt werden48“ Der Erzbischof Netzhammer protestiert streng: „Meine Schulen sind bis zum heutigen Tage von uns und auch vom Unterrichtsministerium nie anders bezeichnet worden als erzbischöfliche Knabenschulen […]. Die Schulen haben gar kein fremdes Kapital und werden nur durch die Schulgelder unterhalten. Richtig ist, dass Österreich seit mehr als fünfzig Jahren diese Schulen subventioniert, das heißt uns durch eine Jahressubvention einen Teil der Schulgelder für ihre armen Untertanenkinder begleicht, welche sonst ohne Unterricht blieben. Seit drei Jahren tut Deutschland dasselbe. Die Summen wurden stets bedingungslos gegeben, das heißt, es wurden keine Gegenforderungen etwa nationaler Art gestellt. Österreich hat über unsere Schulen nie ein Aufsichtsrecht verlangt noch ausgeübt; man feierte nie österreichische Nationalfeste in unseren Schulen und nie wurden österreichi- 326 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) sche Fahnen an ihnen ausgehängt. Wir haben auch nie durch eine fremde Gesandtschaft beim Unterrichtsministerium zugunsten der erzbischöflichen Knabenschulen intervenieren lassen“49. Auf die Anklage, dass der Prälat Kuczka jahrelang Propaganda für die ungarischen Schulen gemacht hat, antwortet der Erzbischof Netzhammer: „Ganz gewiss war Kuczka sehr tätig, und zwar in allen Stellungen, die er je bekleidet hat. Generalvikar war er nur einige Jahre unter meinem Vorgänger, niemals aber unter mir. Das viele Geld verwaltete er für den Ladislausverein, der ihm mit vollstem Recht unbedingtes Vertrauen schenkte; er war der Verwalter der ungarischen Schulen, welche gerade Ihre Liberale Partei nicht in den Händen des Erzbischofs von Bukarest ließ, sondern sie lieber in jenen des kulturellen ungarischen Vereins von Budapest sehen wollte. Gewiss machte Kuczka viel Propaganda, um nämlich möglichst alle katholischen ungarischen Kinder in die katholischen ungarischen Schulen hereinzubringen, wo sie wenigstens einen guten Religionsunterricht genossen“50. E ist kein Wunder, dass die ungarischen Schulen nur von ungarischen Kinder besucht wurden: „War es nicht das rumänische Unterrichtsministerium, welches verordnete, dass nur ungarische Kinder mit richtig ungarischem Pass diese Schulen besuchen dürfen?“51, erinnert Erzbischof Netzhammer. Der Erzbischof Netzhammer betrachtet die katholischen Schulen auf eine und dieselbe Art und Weise: für ihn ist es wichtig der Eid zu Rome, der ihn als treuer Verwalter aller Katholiken einsetzt. Das Besatzungsregime M Einzug der verbündeten Truppen in Bukarest unter dem Kommando des Generalfeldmarschalls von Mackensen beginnen die regelmäßigen Gemeindegottesdienste. „Besonders wichtig musste es jetzt erscheinen, die evangelischen Schulen baldigst zu eröffnen. Sie hatten durch Internierung eine Reihe bewährter Lehrer und Angestellter verloren und waren durch Requisitionen und Diebstähle stark geschädigt worden […]. Der 16. April 1917 wurde als Eröffnungstag in Ansicht genommen. Ferner sind an der Oberrealschule und Höheren Handelsschule noch tätig: Die Oberlehrer Dr. Südhof, Nothumb, Realschullehrer Gasser, der ebenfalls aus der Internierung befreit ist, Turnlehrer Richter, Zeichenlehrer Schmidt, der Lehrer für Rumänisch Drãgoiescu, an der Elementarschule noch Lehrer Geltsch, früher Rektor der deutschen Schulen in Azuga. Für die Mädchenschule, deren Leitung Fräulein Schrenk übernahm, traten folgende Damen wieder in den Dienst der Gemeinde: Frau Bantaº, Frau Georgescu, IT DEM POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 327 Frl. Gaspar, Frl. Wegener; neu hinzu kamen Frau Göttsche, Frl. Eyff, Frl. Irkowskx, Frl, Fritz, Frl. Wolff“52. Für Mai 1917 können wir folgende Statistik53 präsentieren: Schulanstalt Oberrealschule Höhere Handelsschule Knabenelementarschule Mädchenschule Kleinkinderschule Nummer der Schüler 473 90 416 347 76 Die katholischen Schulen eröffnen auch. Der Regierungsrat Kun wundert sich, dass „wir in unserem Schulunterstützungsgesuch außerordentlich bescheiden waren und nur eine Kleinigkeit vom Reiche verlangen. Ich (Erzbischof Netzhammer) sagte ihm gerade heraus, dass wir nicht mehr als diese ‘Kleinigkeit’ wünschen und dass wir eher vorziehen würden, auf jede Unterstützung vom Reiche zu verzichten, als unsere bisherige Freiheit einzubüßen. Der Herr Regierungsrat musste auch hören und wissen, dass unsere sogenannten deutschen Schulen in Rumänien in erster Linie katholische Schulen sein müssen, und dass wir uns trotz Deutschtum das Internationale der katholischen Kirche sichern wollen“54. Erzbischof Netzhammer wird zu einem engen Freund des Feldmarschalls Mackensen: „Wir begegnen uns in der Neigung für Geschichte, Länder- und Völkerkunde und das Kartenwesen. Die Verschiedenheit der Bekenntnisse störte uns nicht. Der Verkehr mit dem klugen und wissenden Mann war mir sehr willkommen. Er hatte durch seine Reisen in Rumänien Land und Leute kennengelernt. Über den Parteien stehend, hatte er ein unbefangenes Urteil über Rumäniens öffentliche Persönlichkeiten und Zustände, das für mich umso wertvoller war, als er sich nicht aufdringlich äußerte“55. Diese Freundschaft bleibt auch nach dem Krieg, als Mackensen gesteht: „Ich stehe mit ihm (mit dem Erzbischof Netzhammer) noch in brieflichem Verkehr und habe ihn sogar jüngst besucht und mit ihm ein frohes Wiedersehen gefeiert. Bald nach dem Weltkriege musste der wertvolle treue deutsche Mann und langjährige Freund des verstorbenen Königs Karol seine Bukarester Stelle französischen Einflüssen räumen. Nach längerem Aufenthalt in Rom nahm er seinen Ruhesitz auf dem zum Kloster Einsiedeln gehörigen Inselchen Werd im Bodensee bei Eschenz gegenüber Stein. Dort lebt er für seine wissenschaftlichen Neigungen und die Erfüllung vielseitiger geistlicher Aufgaben. Inmitten derselben überraschte ich ihn am 14.06. und fand ein herzliches Willkommen in alter Freundschaft. Auch meine Begleitung hatte Freude am Besuch“56. Mackensen beschreibt auch seine ersten Eindrücke von Rumänien, Bukarest und seiner Bevölkerung: „Die Stadt würde nicht an den Krieg erinnern, wenn es nicht meine Soldaten aus vier Ländern bewiesen […]. Charakteristisch für 328 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Bukarest sind auch die vielen, meist sehr kleinen Kirchen. Ihre Zahl steht im umgekehrten Verhältnis zur Religiosität der leichtfertigen Bewohner. Ein wirklich monumentaler Kirchenbau fehlt der Stadt, ebenso wie jede alte Architektur. Alles ist hier modern und daher nicht besonders anziehend. Die Bukarester sind eine leichtfertige, oberflächliche Gesellschaft“ 57. Und einige Zeit später zeichnet Mackensen auf: „Rumänien ist das Land der Kontraste: Hütten und Paläste wechseln in den Städten. Üppigster Reichtum und niedrigste Armut wohnen nebeneinander. Raffinierte Eleganz und unglaubliche Zerlumptheit gehen nebeneinander her: Mit allen Toilettenkünsten geschminkte und frisierte Damen und Herren und seit Wochen nicht mit Waschwasser in Berührung gekommene Zigeuner“. 58 Im Laufe der Jahre 1917 und 1918 wird Bukarest zu einer echten deutschen Stadt, wo die deutsche Kultur intensiv gefördert wird. Am 3. Juni 1917 eröffnete die Militärverwaltung im Athenäum eine Ausstellung deutscher Kunstwerke. „War es doch von vornherein ausgeschlossen, an den umständlichen Transport von Gemälden aus Deutschland zu denken. Das Einzige, was ohne wesentliche Schwierigkeiten bezogen werden kann, waren graphische Blätter. Und so entschloss man sich zu einer Ausstellung deutscher Kriegsgraphik […] und fügte ihr eine Übersicht der besten deutschen Gemälde an, die sich in dem reichen öffentlichen und privaten Kunstbesitz Bukarests gefunden hatten“59. Die Zeitschrift Rumänien in Wort und Bild beschreibt mit vielen Einzelheiten die graphische Abteilung, die Gemäldeausstellung und die Abteilung der neuen Meister. „Die graphische Abteilung enthält etwa 150 der besten Blätter […]. Wir nennen nur die eindrucksvollen Radierungen von Erich Gruner und die phantasiereichen Cyklen von Erich Erler und Alexander Schneider, die prächtigen Blätter des jüngst verstorbenen Otto Greiner und Max Klingers, die prächtigen Satiren Olaf Leonhard Gulbransson und die von liebenswürdigstem Humor erfüllten Blätter von Karl Arnold, dem Zeichner der Liller Kriegszeitung“60. Die Nachrichten der deutschen Literatur über Rumänien berichten sehr seltsam über die Lage der Deutschen in Rumänien. Nur über die deutsche Besatzung haben wir Berichte. Das Leben der Gemeinde entwickelt sich weiter in einer Atmosphäre der Diskretion. Der Besuch Kaiser Wilhelm II. ist auch diskret. Wir hätten erwartet, dass er sich für die Lage der Deutschen interessiert, obwohl die Beziehungen zum König abgebrochen waren. Aber er wollte „die Schlachtfelder in Siebenbürgen und Rumänien aufsuchen. Sein Besuch wollte jedem Einzelnen, der hier gefochten hat, ein Zeichen des Dankes sein, das der Oberste Kriegsherr des deutschen Heeres ihm gab. Zugleich wollte der Kaiser die deutschen Truppen, die heute in Rumänien und in der Bukowina stehen, in ihren Stellungen besuchen und durch eigene Anschauung kennenlernen, was fleißige Köpfe und Hände bisher geleistet haben, um die reichen Hilfsquellen des POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 329 besetzten Landes zur wirtschaftlichen Stärkung und Entlastung der Heimat heranzuziehen“61. Die Zeitspanne des Krieges zeichnet sich durch ein massives Interesse der Besatzungsmacht am Reichtum des Landes aus. Aber die deutsche Gemeinde spielt keine hauptsächliche Rolle in diesem Prozess. Sie lebt weiter nach den Regeln der Diskretion und der Äquidistanz. Notes 1. Hans Petri, Deutsch-evangelisch im Königreich Rumänien. Reiseeindrücke von Professor D. Rendtorff in Lepizig, in Kalender für Gustav Adolf Vereine, Verlag von A. Strauch, Leipzig, 1912, S. 3-4 2. Onisifor Ghibu, ªcoalele germane din România – o primejdie naþionalã, Editura „Librãria ªcoalelor” C. Sfetea, Bucureºti, 1916, S. 86 3. Onisifor Ghibu, ªcoalele germane din România – o primejdie naþionalã, Editura „Librãria ªcoalelor” C. Sfetea, Bucureºti, 1916, S. 122-123 4. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1877/ 1915. Deutsche Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, Blätter 50-51 5. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 2741/ 1915. Elementarschule in der deutschen Sprache für Ausländer Atmagea, Blatt 2 6. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1874/ 1914. Deutsche Mädchenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 20. März 1914, Blatt 49 7. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1874/ 1914. Deutsche Mädchenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 20. März 1914, Blatt 49 8. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1834/ 1914. Deutsche Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 6/19. August 1914, Blatt 96 9. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1834/ 1914. Deutsche Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 6/19. August 1914, Blatt 96 10. Raymund Netzhammer, Bischof in Rumänien: im Spannungsfeld zwischen Staat und Vatican, Band I, Verlag Südostdeutsches Kulturwerk, 1995, S. 633-634, Montag, 22 Dezember 1913 11. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1589/ 1914. Entscheidungen, 29. Januar 1914, Blatt 1 12. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1834/ 1914. Deutsche Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 6/19. Oktober 1914, Blätter 104-105 13. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1834/ 1914. Deutsche Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 16. October 1914, Blatt 110 14. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1834/ 1914. Deutsche Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, Blatt 112, umseitig 15. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1834/ 1914. Deutsche Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, Blatt 113 330 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 16. Dr. Emil Fischer, „Die größte deutsche Auslandschule in Bukarest”, in Kronstädter Zeitung, 76. Jahgang, No. 100, den 1. Mai 1912, S. 1 (ins Archiv der evangelischen Pfarrei zu Bukarest, Best. Sigatur 977, Im Katalog: Seite 160, lfd. Nr. 1185, ohne nummerierte Seiten) 17. Onisifor Ghibu, ªcoalele germane din România – o primejdie naþionalã, Editura „Librãria ªcoalelor” C. Sfetea, Bucureºti, 1916, S. 97-98 18. Onisifor Ghibu, ªcoalele germane din România – o primejdie naþionalã, Editura „Librãria ªcoalelor” C. Sfetea, Bucureºti, 1916, S. 54-55 19. Dr. Marcel Bibiri-Sturia, Germani în România, eri - azi –mâine • comerþ, industrie, finanþa, colonia germanã, regele, propaganda corupþia, spionajul, Stabiliment de Arte Grafice „Energiea”, Bucureºti, 1916, S. 135 20. Bukarester Gemeindeblatt, X. Jahrgang, No. 21, Sonntag, 25./ 7. Juni 1914. Ein Rückblick auf zehnjährige Arbeit, S. 89-91 21. Raymund Netzhammer, Bischof in Rumänien: im Spannungsfeld zwischen Staat und Vatican, Erster Band, Verlag Südostdeutsches Kulturwerk, 1995, Montag, 7. Mai 1917, S. 973-974 22. Raymund Netzhammer, Bischof in Rumänien: im Spannungsfeld zwischen Staat und Vatican, Erster Band, Verlag Südostdeutsches Kulturwerk, 1995, Montag, 7. Mai 1917, S. 973-974, 23. D.A.N.I.C., Arhivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1835/ 1914. Deutsche Handelsknabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 8. Februar 1914, Blatt 11 24. D.A.N.I.C., Archifsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1877/ 1914. Englisch-Deutsch Protestantisches Institut zu Bukarest, 31. Januar 1914, Blatt 17 25. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1835/ 1914. Deutsche Handelsknabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 27. Februar 1914, Blatt 12 26. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1877/ 1914. Englisch-Deutsch Protestantisches Institut zu Bukarest, 25. Februar 1914, Blatt 27 27. Bukarester Gemeindeblatt, No. 3, X. Jahrgang, 19./1. Februar 1914. „Ideale der modernen Schule“, S. 9-11 28. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1834/ 1914. Deutsche Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, Blätter 110-111 29. Lucian Boia, Germanofilii. Elita intelectualã româneascã în anii Primului Rãzboi Mondial, Editura Humanitas, Bucureºti, 2009, S. 308 30. Acþiunea, Jahrgang XIII., Nr. 3397, Samstag, 11. Oktober 1914. „Eu sunt Slavici”, S. 1. Der original Text lautet: „Eri mâncam rãbdãri prãjite / ªi plãteam la Moº Aºteaptã / Azi îi trag cu Wienerschitzel / ªi cu razachie coaptã. Altãdatã n-aveam hainã / Zãu cã n-aveam ce sã-mbrac / Astãzi, elegant, eu umblu / Tot cu chenerii, în frac. 31. Neamul Românesc, Jahrgang X, No. 38, Montag, 20. September 1915, S. 2 32. Neamul Românesc, Jahrgang X, No. 38, Montag, 20. September 1915, S. 2 33. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1834/ 1914. Deutsche Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 6. März 1914, Blatt 47 34. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1874/ 1914. Deutsche Mädchenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 15. September 1914, Blatt 85, und 15. Oktober 1914, Blatt 88 und 22. Dezember 1913, S. 480 POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 331 35. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1834/ 1914. Deutsche Knabenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 21. Februar 1914, Blatt 45 umseitig 36. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1877/ 1914. Englisch-Deutsch Protestantisches Institut zu Bukarest, 14. April 1914, Blatt 37 37. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1877/ 1914. Englisch-Deutsch Protestantisches Institut zu Bukarest, 14. April 1914, Blatt 37 38. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1877/ 1914. Englisch-Deutsch Protestantisches Institut zu Bukarest, 13. Oktober 1914, Blatt 83 39. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1874/ 1914. Deutsche Mädchenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 26. August 1914, Blatt 83 40. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1877/ 1914. Englisch-Deutsch Protestantisches Institut zu Bukarest, 25. Februar 1914, Blatt 26 41. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1874/ 1914. Deutsche Mädchenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, Blatt 37, umsteig 42. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1874/ 1914. Deutsche Mädchenschule der evangelischen Gemeinde zu Bukarest, 16. September 1914, Blatt 84 43. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1877/ 1914. Englisch-Deutsch Protestantisches Institut zu Bukarest, 17. Januar 1914, Blatt 4 44. D.A.N.I.C., Archivsfond M.C.I.P., Mappe 1877 / 1914. Englisch-Deutsch Protestantisches Institut zu Bukarest, 25. Februar 1914, Blatt 26 45. Raymund Netzhammer, Bischof in Rumänien: im Spannungsfeld zwischen Staat und Vatican, Erster Band, Verlag Südostdeutsches Kulturwerk, 1995, Sonntag, 27. August 1916, S. 843 46. Archiv der Evangelischen Kirchengemeinde A.B., Bericht und Jahresversammlung über die evangelische Kirsche und Schule in Bukarest an die Gemeinde-Versammlung vom Sonntag, den 20. Mai 1917, Best. Nr. 663, S. 6-18 47. Archiv der Evangelischen Kirchengemeinde A.B., Bericht und Jahresversammlung über die evangelische Kirsche und Schule in Bukarest an die Gemeinde-Versammlung vom Sonntag, den 20. Mai 1917, Best. Nr. 663, S. 6-18 48. Raymund Netzhammer, Bischof in Rumänien: im Spannungsfeld zwischen Staat und Vatican, Erster Band, Verlag Südostdeutsches Kulturwerk, 1995, Freitag, 29. September 1916, S. 872-877 49. Raymund Netzhammer, Bischof in Rumänien: im Spannungsfeld zwischen Staat und Vatican, Erster Band, Verlag Südostdeutsches Kulturwerk, 1995, Freitag, 29 September 1916, S. 872-977 50. Raymund Netzhammer, Bischof in Rumänien: im Spannungsfeld zwischen Staat und Vatican, Erster Band, Verlag Südostdeutsches Kulturwerk, 1995, Freitag, 29 September 1916, S. 872-977 51. Raymund Netzhammer, Bischof in Rumänien: im Spannungsfeld zwischen Staat und Vatican, Erster Band, Verlag Südostdeutsches Kulturwerk, 1995, Freitag, 29 September 1916, S. 872-977 52. Archiv der Evangelischen Kirchengemeinde A.B., Bericht und Jahresversammlung über die evangelische Kirsche und Schule in Bukarest an die Gemeinde-Versammlung vom Sonntag, den 20. Mai 1917, Best. Nr. 663, S. 6-18 332 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) 53. Archiv der Evangelischen Kirchengemeinde A.B., Bericht und Jahresversammlung über die evangelische Kirsche und Schule in Bukarest an die Gemeinde-Versammlung vom Sonntag, den 20. Mai 1917, Best. Nr. 663, S. 6-18 54. Raymund Netzhammer, Bischof in Rumänien: im Spannungsfeld zwischen Staat und Vatican, Erster Band, Verlag Südostdeutsches Kulturwerk, 1995, Freitag, 29 September 1916, S. 872-877 55. Wolfgang Foerster, Mackensen. Briefe und Aufzeichnungen des Generalfeldmarschalls aus Krieg und Frieden, Bibliographisches Institut, Leipzig, 1938, S. 332 56. Wolfgang Foerster, Mackensen. Briefe und Aufzeichnungen des Generalfeldmarschalls aus Krieg und Frieden, Bibliographisches Institut, Leipzig, 1938, S. 332 57. Wolfgang Foerster, Mackensen. Briefe und Aufzeichnungen des Generalfeldmarschalls aus Krieg und Frieden, Bibliographisches Institut, Leipzig, 1938, S. 323 58. Wolfgang Foerster, Mackensen. Briefe und Aufzeichnungen des Generalfeldmarschalls aus Krieg und Frieden, Bibliographisches Institut, Leipzig, 1938, S. 323-324 59. Rumänien in Wort und Bild, Jahrgang 1917, Bukarest, 9. Juni 1917. „Die Ausstellung deutscher Kunstwerke in Bukarest“, Heft 5, S. 13-15 60. Rumänien in Wort und Bild, Jahrgang 1917, Bukarest, 9. Juni 1917. „Die Ausstellung deutscher Kunstwerke in Bukarest“, Heft 5, S. 13-15 61. BukaresterTagblatt, XXXVIII. Jahrgang, No. 265, Dienstag, 25. September 1917. „Kaiser Wilhelms Frontbesuch in Rumänien“, S. 1 Abkürzungen D.A.N.I.C. = Direcþia Arhivelor Naþionale Istorice Centrale / Direktion der Zentralen Historischen Nationalen Archive M.C.I.P. = Ministerul Culturii ºi Instrucþiunii Publice / Kultur- und Bildungsministerium Abstract German Schools in Romania during World War I Prior to the outbreak of World War I, approximately 50.000 Germans lived in the Old Kingdom (i.e. Moldavia and Walachia), 30.000 of them in Bucharest, where they controlled large sectors of the trading industry, in spite of their rather reduced figures. Their schools were, alongside those of the Hungarian and Jewish communities, some of the most important educational institutions in Romania. The study that attempts to explore the various aspects of everyday life under the changed circumstances of World War I was triggered by the reading of Onisifor Ghibu’s book on the German schools in Romania. Keywords Education, school system, Germans, Romania (Old Kingdom), World War I The Repatriation of the Germans from Latvia and Romania at the Beginning of World War II Some Comparative Aspects B OGDAN -A LEXANDRU S CHIPOR T HE DIFFICULTIES and the ultimate failure of the tripartite negotiations between the Soviet Union, France and Britain in the summer of 1939 made a SovietGerman agreement even more likely. Since early August, the contacts between Berlin and Moscow had become increasingly close. Unlike the British and the French, the Germans were ready to take into account Kremlin’s “vital interests” in Eastern Europe and the Baltic area.1 Therefore, the Soviets decided to accept the German proposals and to send back, politely, the Anglo-French mission that was to negotiate and possibly conclude a Tripartite Treaty.2 The Soviets, however, interpreted in their own way the German offer, and Stalin stated in the meeting of the Politburo of CP (b.) of U.S.S.R. on August 19, 1939 that Germany had accepted Moscow’s full freedom of action in the Baltic countries, the restitution (sic!) of Bessarabia and the assignment to the Soviets of Romania, Bulgaria and Hungary, as a zone of influence. According to the Kremlin leader, the only question that remained open was that of Yugoslavia.3 The actual demarcation of spheres of influence would be made upon conclusion of the Secret Additional Protocol to the German-Soviet non-aggression pact on August 23, 1939. Thus, the Germans recognized Moscow’s interests in Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Poland – beyond the line of the rivers Narva, Vistula, San – and Bessarabia. At least for now, Lithuania belonged to the German sphere of interest, but Lithuania’s rights over the Vilna region were recognized.4 The military defeat of Poland and its disappearance as a political entity required the conclusion of a new agreement between Germany and the Soviet Union. The Study financed through EU, ESF, POSDRU, 89/1.5./S/61104 (2010-2013) Project 334 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) border between the two great powers was thus defined by the Treaty concluded on September 28, 1939, following a second visit of Ribbentrop to Moscow.5 This was the situation the Soviets took advantage of to get Lithuania in return for the Warsaw and Lublin regions, which were ceded to Germany.6 It seems that this time Stalin was satisfied with the new territorial gains, declaring to Khrushchev that the Soviet Union had de facto right over the Baltic countries and Finland.7 The Soviets had already begun to apply a new political line in the three Baltic States. Under these circumstances, the Estonian Foreign Minister Karl Selter was invited to Moscow on September 24, 1939, to sign a commercial treaty. Instead of such a document, the Soviets demanded the approval for military bases – army, naval and air – of the Red Army and the Red Fleet on the territory of Estonia and the conclusion of a Mutual Assistance Pact.8 Estonia accepted Moscow’s requests by signing on September 28 the respective Mutual Assistance Pact, supplemented by a Secret Protocol. Upon the conclusion of this document, the Soviets seemed to have overcome a psychological threshold in their policy towards their western neighbours.9 The Estonian example speaks for itself. The Soviet Union was prepared to threaten and use force to impose its “protection” and “support.” The mutual assistance pacts concluded later with Latvia, on October 5, 1939 and with Lithuania on October, 10 were obtained without resorting to force.10 These treaties contained broadly similar provisions with the document signed by Estonia and they provided, as clear as possible, that the sovereignty of the three Baltic States would not be impaired, and their political and economic systems would not undergo changes.11 One can ask why Moscow chose this, apparently subtle, way to project its influence abroad. First of all, perhaps, to show the advantage – in terms of security, but not only – that could be gained by the states that accepted the Soviet “assistance.” Thus, the possibility was created that such a “model” would attract others, such as Finland, Bulgaria or Romania.12 In fact, just two days after the conclusion of the mutual assistance pact between the Soviet Union and Lithuania, on October 12, 1939, the Bulgarian Minister at Berlin informed the German Foreign Ministry about the proposal already made by Molotov to the Bulgarian authorities to conclude a mutual assistance pact, a proposition initially rejected by Sofia, then conditioned by the presentation of more concrete proposals by the Soviet party.13 In the West, the public opinion condemned in categorical terms the fact that the Germans conceded the Baltic area to the Soviets, qualifying it as a “historical and moral disaster,”14 perhaps even more serious considering that Hitler himself had emphasized in Mein Kampf that the Baltic area represented a space in which the Reich’s influence had to prevail.15 Under these circumstances, the mutual assistance pacts concluded by the Soviets were considered to be no more than the POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 335 means of imposing a protectorate that could end the independence of three Baltic States.16 Moreover, at least in the French press, there were speculations regarding a possible annexation of the three Baltic States by the Soviet Union.17 Basically this meant that the Red Army troops were right in front of Eastern Prussia, dominating an area where the prevalent German influence was to be replaced by the Soviet influence. Further proof that things were as such is The Agreement on the Transfer of Latvian citizens of German Origin in Germany, concluded on October 30, 1939 between Germany and Latvia and through which 49,885 Latvian citizens of German origin were “repatriated” to Germany.18 The German authorities wanted this transfer to be made as a single operation, the agreement itself, supplemented by an Additional Protocol, regulating the situation of the movable and immovable property that emigrants left behind and, as much as possible, the damage that the departure of the citizens of German origin would produce to the Latvian economy.19 According to the first article of the agreement, the Latvian government undertook to rescind the Latvian citizenship of the Latvian citizens of German origin who, voluntarily, would declare their willingness to renounce Latvian citizenship and to leave their residences in Latvia. They were to be welcomed in Germany and receive German citizenship immediately after the rescindment of the Latvian one. The rescindment of citizenship could be requested by any person of German origin who was at least 16 years old. Spouses were to decide individually whether or not they opted to renounce the Latvian citizenship, while for minors under 16 years old the decision was to be taken by their parents or guardians. The Latvian authorities undertook not to hinder in any way and, moreover, to expedite the entire administrative process, the request to renounce one’s citizenship being exempted in this respect from stamp and chancery taxes. Moreover, the Latvian party undertook to release from service, upon request, the persons of German origin who served in the army or were civil, municipal or ecclesiastical servants.20 Once they received the documents attesting to the rescindment of citizenship, either from the Latvian Interior Ministry or the diplomatic and consular representations – if such persons were outside Latvia – the Latvian immigrants had to leave by December 15, 1939, the expenses incurred being borne by the German state. From this obligation were exempted only those considered as essential for the proper functioning of enterprises, businesses, or key institutions. At the same time, the Latvian authorities would create an ad hoc committee with the task of regulating the legal issues related to the Latvian properties of those who opted for emigration. The German party, in turn, created a stock company called Umsieldungs-Treuhand-Aktiengesellshaft, with the acronym UTAG, 336 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) subject to the Latvian legislation on joint-stock companies, except for derogations listed in the Additional Protocol to the Agreement, relating to the movable property which could not be imported or exported.21 The immovable properties of the emigrants were to be taken up by the Latvian State, after a thorough inventory, but their management was entrusted exclusively to UTAG. They were to be assessed according to criteria mutually agreed upon by the two parties and liquidated until December 31, 1941. If the Latvian court and UTAG did not reach a common point view on the value of some goods, the agreement would be made at the level of the two governments.22 The plants or businesses of the immigrants were also to be inventoried. From among these, those that were important for the smooth development of the German-Latvian trade relations were to be subjected to a separate bilateral agreement, while the management of the remaining businesses would be assigned solely to the Latvian authorities. However, the possibility of private agreements was not excluded. Moreover, if the Latvian party decided upon the liquidation of a company, the implementation of the decision was made in accordance with Latvian law, but fell within the competence of the company owner or UTAG. The liquidation of the Latvian associations, companies or profitable real estate that belonged to German parishes were also to be carried out according to the Latvian legislation.23 A German-Latvian Joint Commission would handle the financial assets of the emigrants, contracted in Latvia. Those that had to be extinguished before the liquidation of UTAG were to be paid or warranted for a period not exceeding 10 years, and the cash and assets were to be paid into a special account created by the Bank of Latvia, while the debts of the Latvian side had to be paid in the form of additional exports of goods to the Reich.24 The Latvian citizens of German descent who opted for repatriation were transferred to the region Posen, now Poznan, but the problems related to the property and assets that they have left behind were made difficult by the fact that in June 1940 the Soviet Union annexed the small Baltic state. The German authorities still tried to regulate this situation based on the good relations Berlin still had with Moscow, and this became the subject of a bilateral agreement, concluded on January 10, 1941. But the cooling of the German-Soviet relations and the outbreak of the war between two great powers annulled any possibility of a fair resolution. As for the situation of the Germans in Romania, this was regulated a year later, in 1940. As I have pointed out above, it is possible that the Soviets had wanted to apply the model of mutual assistance treaties, as a first step towards the annexation in the case of Romania as well, but the Finnish interlude provided Bucharest with a respite. POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 337 The Peace Treaty signed by Finland on March 12, 1940 represented for the Soviet Union “the accomplishment of the task to secure its safety on the Baltic Sea,” as stated by Molotov on March 29, 1940, in a speech before the Supreme Soviet. On the same occasion, the Soviet diplomat stated that, as for the relations with Romania, although there was a non-aggression pact between the two states, and the seizure (sic!) of Bessarabia was never recognized by Moscow, there was no question of taking this region by force or worsening the relations with Bucharest.25 However, mid-June 1940, Moscow presented their ultimatum to the Baltic States: to Lithuania on June 14, to Estonia and Latvia on June 16. This was followed by the annexation itself, and then, on June 26, 1940, the ultimatum to Romania. The authorities in Bucharest accepted, as it is well known, the Soviet terms, ceding Bessarabia, Northern Bukovina and Hertza area, the last two territories not being included in the provisions of the Secret Additional Protocol of August 1939. On this occasion, Molotov was to declare that, on the contrary, the mutual assistance pacts concluded by the Soviet Union and the Baltic states in the autumn of the previous year “had not produced the desired results,” but, nevertheless, the Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian citizens, as well as those of Bessarabia and Northern Bukovina became Soviet citizens “with great joy.”26 Molotov also believed that the bilateral relations with Romania could now return to normal.27 The German authorities, who had given their consent, in the previous year, to the annexation of Bessarabia by the Soviets, requested Moscow on this occasion to address the issue of the approximately 100,000 ethnic Germans who lived in the region between Prut and Dnester. But Berlin was intrigued by the fact that the Soviet ultimatum to Romania also referred to Bukovina and Hertza area, territories where there also lived many citizens of German origin.28 Their situation could be dealt directly with the Soviets, but the Reich leaders were also taking into account the repatriation of the Germans in Romania. As in the case of Latvia, this was the object of a bilateral Romanian-German agreement, published in the “Monitorul Oficial” of October 30, 1940. According to this document, that made direct reference to ethnic Germans from southern Bukovina and Dobrudja, any person of German origin from the abovementioned territories was entitled to seek repatriation. Once they received and registered the repatriation ticket, the applicant entered the care of the German state and was subject to the obligations under the Repatriation Convention. His property, movable and immovable, that remained in the country was transferred to the Romanian state, which paid compensation in accordance with market prices. The outstanding debt of the repatriate to the Romanian state, generated by the abandonment of his or her wealth was resigned to the German government, 338 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) which also undertook to pay compensation. Finally, each repatriate was entitled to take, duty free, 50 kg of luggage, his or her spouse another 30 kg, and furthermore, each family could also take another 500 kg of large baggage.29 For comparison, the Soviets allowed the ethnic Germans from areas it controlled and who had requested repatriation to take up to 50 kg large baggage, 30 kg hand luggage and 2.000 lei of all their belongings. Together with the respective citizens, there were also expatriated to Germany parish registers, documents of some German associations, societies and unions, as well as those of the administrative authorities in the villages that were completely repatriated. To manage the entire relocation process, a German Repatriation Bureau was founded in Bucharest, its German acronym being D.A.S., whose employees had the status of diplomatic officials. In its turn, the Romanian party created within the Ministry of National Economy a Sub-secretariat of State for Colonization and Evacuated Population, which operated a General Commissariat for the Repatriation of the German Population. Its activity was to be supported by the local commissioners, the village mayors and the leaders of the legionary garrisons in the area.30 As can be seen, the Romanian authorities did not impose restrictions on the citizens of German origin that opted for repatriation. Although they were losing a significant workforce and they took on a substantial financial effort by absorbing into the public debt the value of the repatriates’ property, the Romanian authorities have adopted this attitude because they could use the assets and the inventory of agricultural land left behind by ethnic Germans to house and eventually to compensate, at least partly, the refugees from Bessarabia, northern Bukovina, and subsequently, those from north-western Transylvania, territories lost by the Romanian state in the fatidic year 1940. Because they lacked the necessary financial strength to purchase the real estate of the German repatriates and, on the other hand, because of the rich supply generated by this exodus, many properties were in the end assessed under the market price. Under these conditions, it is obvious that this was not due to the Romanian authorities’ malice, and the German party understood and agreed with the reasons on which this fact was based.31 Unlike the case of Latvia, there were many Germans repatriated from Romania who later decided to return to their birthplace. Their situation was handled by the Sub-secretary of State for Romanization, Colonization and Inventory. In 1940 and 1941, the representatives of this institution have identified in concentration camps in Germany approximately 5000 people who decided to return to Romania. They were brought by train up to Vienna and then they were transported into the country on the Danube River. Afterwards, until 1943, 8 217 persons were found in this situation, among them being many who came from the territories annexed by the Soviets in 1940.32 POWER, BELIEF AND IDENTITY • 339 In retrospect, the political decision to repatriate the ethnic Germans either from Latvia or from Romania, irrespective of the administrative or legal measures that accompanied and facilitated it, created, on both sides, deep human and social distortions whose consequences can still be felt today. At the same time, however, the repatriations from Latvia and Romania represented an accurate indicator of the fate and the particular situation of these countries. The Germans in Latvia, for example, were generally happy with the possibility of immigrating to Germany, the measures taken jointly by the two governments encouraging and facilitating this process. Moreover, the repatriation of the Germans from Latvia was made in a political context in which the Soviet threat was not perceived as an immediate one, not even by the German authorities. As noted, there were bilateral provisions indicating terms of up to 10 years for the settlement of the situation. Under these circumstances, it is likely that the meaning given by Germans to ‘spheres of influence’ did not include the annexation itself, but other forms of domination. The Germans in Latvia could choose the repatriation in a political climate that did not anticipate Moscow’s aggression. In fact, in 1932 Latvia had concluded a non-aggression treaty with the Soviet Union and in October 1939 one of mutual assistance. The Latvian State also concluded a non-aggression treaty with Germany in the summer of 1939. Thus, there was nothing disturbing – in fact it was normal – about the fact that Germany concluded a non-aggression treaty with the Soviet Union in August 1939. Berlin, on the other hand, knew that the tiny Baltic state entered the Soviet sphere of interest. The Soviet-Latvian Mutual Assistance Treaty confirmed Moscow’s decision to implement to the letter the Secret Additional Protocol of August 23, 1939, so the decision to repatriate the ethnic Germans from Latvia did nothing but confirm the decisions made by Molotov and Ribbentrop. Beyond such a confirmation, otherwise inevitable, the repatriation of the Germans from southern Bukovina and Dobrudja, in 1940, was also determined by other reasons. The Germans were taken aback by the fact that the Soviets claimed and subsequently annexed the northern part of Bukovina and Hertza area. The negotiations regarding the repatriation of the Germans from Romania began almost immediately, and when they were completed in the autumn of 1940, the ethnic Germans from southern Bukovina, and not only, had enough reasons to opt for leaving for Germany. Romania had lost vast territories in a very short time, the waves of refugees and, with them, the news that came especially from the territories occupied by Soviets, were increasingly disturbing, so leaving for Germany was for many the option of a safer life for them and their families. The fact that many of these people returned later was determined not only by homesickness, but also by the fact that the Romanian domestic situation stayed somewhat stable and peaceful until 1943-44. 340 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) However, it remains certain that the repatriation of Germans from Eastern Europe in 1939 and 1940, beyond any similarities or differences, nuances or consequences, was only one element in the redefinition of the spheres of influence, a barometer of the Soviet-German relations and aggression. Notes 1. Nazi-Soviet Relations, 1939-1941. Documents from the Archives of the German Foreign Office, (hereinafter, Nazi-Soviet Relations, 1939-1941) Edited by Raymond James Sontag and James Stuart Beddie, Washington, Department of State, 1948, Department of State Publication 3023, p. 33. 2. The State University of Moldova, World History Department, Polonezii în anii celui deal doilea rãzboi mondial. Culegere de documente [The Poles During World War II. Collection of Documents], Editor, Introduction, Notes and Commentaries – prof. univ. Anatol Petrencu, Dr. Hab. of Historical Sciences, Chiºinãu, Cartdidact, 2004, p. 24. 3. Ibidem. 4. Nazi-Soviet Relations, 1939-1941, p. 78. 5. Emilian I. Bold, Rãzboiul de iarnã sovieto-finlandez (30 noiembrie 1939-12 martie 1940), [The Russo-Finnish Winter War (November 30, 1939-March 12, 1940)], Iaºi, Universitas XXI, 2001, p. 59. 6. Nazi-Soviet Relations, 1939-1941, p. 107. 7. Cf. Emilian I. Bold, op. cit., p. 60. 8. Ibidem. 9. Saulius Su iedelis, The Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact and the Baltic States: An Introduction and Interpretations, in „Lituanus”, Lithuanian Quarterly Journal of Arts and Sciences, Volume 35, No. 1, Spring 1989, < http://www.lituanus.org/1989/89_1_02.htm> 10. Ibidem. 11. Edgar Anderson, The Pact of Mutual Assistance between the U.S.S.R. and the Baltic States, in Baltic History, Editors Arvids Ziedonis Jr., William L. Winter, Mardi Valgemäe, Association for the Advancement of Baltic Studies, Inc., Columbus, Ohio, The Ohio State University, 1974, p. 242. 12. Ibidem, p. 246. 13. Nazi-Soviet Relations, 1939-1941, p. 124. 14. Renè Pinon, Chronique de la Quinzaine, dans „Revue des deux mondes”, CIXe année, [1939], Tom 54, Livraison du 15 octobre, p. 733. 15. Cf. ibidem, Livraison du 1er novembre, p. 132. 16. Ibidem, Livraison du 15 octobre, p. 733. 17. Gabriel-Louis Jaray, Les États de la Baltique et l’accord germano-russe(sic!), dans „Revue des deux mondes”, CIXe année, [1939], Tom 54, Livraison du 1er novembre, p. 32. 18. Later, an agreement on the same subject was concluded by Germans with the occupying Soviet forces, on January10, 1940. See the bilingual facsimile Likumu un POWER, BELIEF 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. AND IDENTITY • 341 Ministru kabineta noteikumu krajums on November 8, 1939 in Janis Dagis, Prezidents Karlis Ulmanis III., Riga, Ed. Latvijas Universitate, 1990, p. 529. A similar procedure was also recorded in the case of Romania, but the situation of our country, at the time, was different from that of Latvia in the autumn of 1939. Accord sur le transfert des citoyens lettons d’origine allemande en Allemagne du 30 octobre 1939, <http://www.letton.ch/lvrapatr.htm.> Ibidem. Ibidem, Chapter VI of the Agreement. Ibidem, Chapter IX of the Agreement Ibidem, Chapter XIII of the Agreement. Ibidem, Chapter XVIII of the Agreement. V. M. Molotov, The Foreign Policy of the Government, A Report by the Chairman of the Soviet of People’s Commissars and People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs ‹Soviet of the Supreme session VI meeting› on March 29, 1940, State Publishing House of Political Literature, 1940, <http//www.pp.clinet.fi/~pkr01/history/molotov.html> Cf. Alexander Werth, Russia at War, 1941-1945, s.l., Discus Books, Published by Avon, 1970, p. 111. Ibidem. Nazi-Soviet Relations, 1939-1941, p. 155; see also p. 158. Franz Wiszniowski, Radautz. Cel mai german oraº din Þara Fagilor [Radautz. The Most German Town in Beech Country], editor Franz Wiszniowski, Excerpts in free translation by prof. Ilie Viºan, p. 257-258. ªtefan Purici, Strãmutarea germanilor sud-bucovineni ºi impactul asupra societãþii româneºti(III) [The Relocation of the Germans of Southern Bukovina and its Impact on the Romanian Society(III)], in “Crai Nou”, year XII, 2990, Tuesday, June 12, 2001, p. 3. Idem, Strãmutarea germanilor sud-bucovineni ºi impactul asupra societãþii româneºti(IV) [The Relocation of the Germans of Southern Bukovina and its Impact on the Romanian Society(IV)]Ibidem 342 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) Abstract The Repatriation of the Germans from Latvia and Romania at the Beginning of World War II. Some Comparative Aspects Beyond aspects strictly related to political or territorial issues, the Soviet-German non-aggression pact signed on August 23rd, 1939 generated important demographic mutations in Eastern Europe, hard to foresee prior to the outbreak of the war. After the delineation of the spheres of influence and the new possessions of Germany and Soviet Union, Berlin tried to determine the German ethnics in Eastern Europe, including from territories obtained by the Soviet Union, to choose to return to Germany, considered the true homeland. This decision was the basis for an ample program for the repatriation of the German ethnics, first from the Baltic States and than from other countries, including Romania. In the Romanian case, the German authorities, who had agreed in august 1939 to the annexation of Bessarabia to the Soviet Union, asked Moscow on this occasion to solve the problem of the almost 100.000 German ethnics who lived in the region between Prut and Dnester. Berlin was intrigued by the fact that the Soviet ultimatum addressed to Romania in June 1940 referred equally to Bukovina and the Hertza area, territories on which also lived many people of German origin. Their issue could be solved directly with the Soviets, but the Reich’s leaders also took into account the repatriation of the Germans from Romania. But, obviously, we never lose sight of the fact that the repatriation of the Germans from Bukovina, Bessarabia or Dobrudja represented only a part of a much larger process which cannot be fully understood if we do not compare it, for example, to similar phenomena in the Baltic countries. The repatriation of the German ethnics from Latvia can emphasize both similarities and distinctions which, together, can form a more accurate image on an uprooted ethnic group seeking a new identity in the old homeland, animated by promises, hopes and dreams of a better life. However, it remains certain that the repatriation of Germans from Eastern Europe in 1939 and 1940, beyond any similarities or differences, nuances or consequences, was only one element in the redefinition of the spheres of influence, a barometer of the Soviet-German relations and aggression. Keywords repatriation, Germans, aggression, mutual assistance pacts, spheres of influence, Baltic States L I S T O F AU T H O R S MIOARA ANTON, Ph.D. LIVIU-MARIUS HAROSA, Ph.D. Romanian Academy, Nicolae Iorga Institute of History Bucharest 1 Aviatorilor Blvd., Bucharest 011851, Romania e-mail: mioaraanton@yahoo.com Babeº-Bolyai University, Faculty of Law, Romanian Academy, George Bariþiu Institute of History 1 Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania e-mail: marius.harosa@yahoo.com LIVIU BRÃTESCU, Ph.D. DAN DUMITRU IACOB, Ph.D. Romanian Academy, A.D. Xenopol Institute of History, Iaºi 15 Lascãr Catargi St., Iaºi 700107, Romania e-mail: liviubrat@yahoo.com OVIDIU BURUIANÃ, Ph.D. Alexandru Ioan Cuza University, Faculty of History, Romanian Academy, A.D. Xenopol Institute of History 11 Carol St., Iaºi 700506, Romania e-mail: ovidiub@uaic.ro ION CÂRJA, Ph.D. Romanian Academy, A.D. Xenopol Institute of History, Romanian Academy, Institute for SocioHumanistic Research, Sibiu 15 Lascãr Catargi St., Iaºi 700107, Romania e-mail: danyakob@yahoo.com GHEORGHE L AZÃR, Ph.D. Romanian Academy, Nicolae Iorga Institute of History Bucharest 1 Aviatorilor Blvd., Bucharest 011851, Romania e-mail: georgelaz2005@yahoo.fr ªERBAN MARIN, Ph.D. Babeº-Bolyai University, Faculty of History and Philosophy, Romanian Academy, Center for Transylvanian Studies 1 Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania e-mail: ioncarja@yahoo.it Romanian National Archives, Romanian Academy, Nicolae Iorga Institute of History Bucharest 1 Aviatorilor Blvd., Bucharest 011851, Romania e-mail: serbmarin@yahoo.com CÃTÃLINA-ELENA CHELCU, Ph.D. Babeº-Bolyai University, Faculty of Economics 58-60 Teodor Mihali St., Cluj-Napoca 400591, Romania e-mail: andriska2@yahoo.com Romanian Academy, A.D. Xenopol Institute of History, Iaºi 15 Lascãr Catargi St., Iaºi 700107, Romania e-mail: catachelcu@yahoo.com OVIDIU CRISTEA, Ph.D. ANDRÁS MÁTÉ, Ph.D. NICOLAE MIHAI, Ph.D. Romanian Academy, Nicolae Iorga Institute of History Bucharest 1 Aviatorilor Blvd., Bucharest 011851, Romania e-mail: cristeao@gmail.com Romanian Academy, A.D. Xenopol Institute of History, Iaºi, Romanian Academy, Institute for Socio-Humanistic Research, Craiova 15 Lascãr Catargi St., Iaºi 700107, Romania e-mail: nicom48@gmail.com MIHAI DRAGANOVICI, Ph.D. ANDI MIHALACHE, Ph.D. Technical University of Civil Engineering Bucharest, Department of Foreign Languages and Communication 124 Lacul Tei Blvd., Bucharest 020396, Romania e-mail: mihaidraganovici@yahoo.de Romanian Academy, A.D. Xenopol Institute of History, Iaºi 15 Lascãr Catargi St., Iaºi 700107, Romania e-mail: andiadx@yahoo.com 344 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XIX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 5:2 (2010) LEVENTE NAGY, Ph.D. Eötvös Loránd University, Romanistic Institute 4 Múzeum St., Budapest 1088, Hungary e-mail: nagy.levente@btk.elte.hu PAUL NISTOR, Ph.D. Alexandru-Ioan Cuza University, Romanian Academy, A.D. Xenopol Institute of History 11 Carol St., Iaºi 700506, Romania e-mail: paulnistor3@yahoo.com CIPRIAN PÃUN, Ph.D. Babeº-Bolyai University, Faculty of Economics, Romanian Academy, George Bariþiu Institute of History 58-60 Teodor Mihali St., Cluj-Napoca 400591, Romania e-mail: acpaun@googlemail.com CRISTIAN PLOSCARU , Ph.D. Alexandru-Ioan Cuza University, Romanian Academy, A.D. Xenopol Institute of History 11 Carol St., Iaºi 700506, Romania e-mail: cploscaru@yahoo.com L AURENÞIU RÃDVAN, Ph.D. Alexandru-Ioan Cuza University, Romanian Academy, A.D. Xenopol Institute of History 11 Carol St., Iaºi 700506, Romania e-mail: laur_radvan@yahoo.com CARMEN PATRICIA RENETI, Ph.D. Goethe-Institut, Bucharest 8-10 Tudor Arghezi St., Bucharest 020945, Romania e-mail: carmen_patriciana@yahoo.com BOGDAN-ALEXANDRU SCHIPOR, Ph.D. Romanian Academy, A.D. Xenopol Institute of History, Iaºi 15 Lascãr Catargi St., Iaºi 700107, Romania e-mail: bogdan_schipor@yahoo.it ALEXANDRU SIMON, Ph.D. Romanian Academy, Center for Transylvanian Studies, Cluj-Napoca 12–14 Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania e-mail: alexandrusimon2003@yahoo.com

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