Textus Testis. Documentary Value and Literary Dimension of the Historical Text, edited by Sorin Șipoș, Dan Octavian Cepraga, Ioan-Aurel Pop; Romanian Academy, Center for Transylvanian Studies, Cluj (= &quot;Transylvanian Review&quot; vol. XX, supplement no.3, 2011).

Alvise Andreose; Dan Octavian Cepraga; Gabriel Moisa; Stefan Damian

One of the very few collaborative and comparative book projects focusing on nation-building and identity issues in Hungary and Romania, aiming at historical reconciliation and based on mutual understanding.

The study seeks to highlight the main characteristics of the organization of the military construction sites in 16th-century Transylvania related to the recruitment of labour force (military engineers and architects, skilled craftsmen and day workers). The author provides new data concerning the activity of the Italian architects: Domenico da Bologna, Alessandro da Urbino, Sigismondo and Felice da Pisa and Simone Genga. The second part of the study describes the process of the recruitment of craftsmen and unskilled labourers as well as the working conditions on the princely building sites mostly through the example of the fortress from Oradea. Finally the author tries to identify the factors that caused the fallback of the principality in terms of fortifications in the 16th century. Among these the lack of money, the outdated organization of the construction sites and the permanent lack of man-power in the rarely populated state of Transylvania were probably the most important.

T RANSYLVANIAN REVIEW Vol. XX, Supplement No. 3, 2011 Textus Testis Documentary Value and Literary Dimension of the Historical Text SORIN ªIPOª • DAN Edited by OCTAVIAN CEPRAGA • IOAN-AUREL POP 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. Editorial secretariat Senior lecturer GABRIEL MOISA PHD Lecturer DANA PANTEA PHD MIHAELA CIOCA On the cover: Theater “Queen Mary” Oradea, during the interwar period (postal card from the private collection of CONSTANTIN DEMETER) 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 Ioan Bolovan Raveca Divricean Maria Ghitta Rudolf Gräf Virgil Leon Daniela Mârza Vasile Sãlãjan Alexandru Simon Nicolae Sucalã-Cuc Translated by Bogdan Aldea—English Liana Lãpãdatu—French Desktop Publishing Edith Fogarasi Cosmina Varga 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 • History and Political Imagery 7 La Santa Sede, Venezia e la Valacchia nella crociata antiottomana di fine Quattrocento Ioan-Aurel Pop 9 Historiography and Archaeology: Information Collected from Anonymus’ Gesta Hungarorum on the Duchy of Menumorut and on the Archaeological Research at Biharea Florin Sfrengeu The Mediaeval History of Banat as Reflected in Monographs Compiled During the First Half of the Twentieth Century Tiberiu Ciobanu Forme e funzioni dell’autodiegesi nella Relatio di Odorico da Pordenone Alvise Andreose 23 35 63 The Image of England and the English in Ion Codru Drãguºanu’s Transylvanian Pilgrim Dana Pantea 85 The Diplomat Martinho de Brederode and the Romanian-Portuguese Cultural Relations Alina Stoica 97 The Security, Silviu Dragomir and the Notes in His Surveillance File (1957-1962) Sorin ªipoº 109 Text and Subtext in Communist Romania: “Thematic Framework for County Museums of History” (1985) Gabriel Moisa 135 Le PCR et le culte de Nicolae Ceauºescu – un cas de substitution Alina Pavelescu 149 National Memoryand European Integration Ioan Horga, George Angliþoiu 163 • Literature and Memory 175 Holograph Notes on Church Books – the Power of Information on Rural World Sensitivity Barbu ªtefãnescu 177 Parish registers of civil status in Transylvania in the second half of the nineteenth century. Documentary signification Mircea Brie 187 Edipo in Transilvania: tracce del folklore romeno nel Novecento italiano Dan Octavian Cepraga 209 L’epopea tragica dei Sassoni di Transilvania nei romanzi di Dieter Schlesak Lorenzo Renzi 227 Frammenti di un carteggio inedito: Alexandru Marcu – Giandomenico Serra ªtefan Damian 237 Marian Papahagi e la romanistica: la tesi di laurea con Aurelio Roncaglia Alvaro Barbieri 247 Carcere, letteratura, verità Zeno L. Verlato • List of Authors 259 283 EDITORS’ NOTE T HE PRESENT volume is the result of scientific meetings and discussions organized by both Italian and Romanian historians and philologists at University of Padua and University of Oradea since November 2009. The main idea of the first discussions which also lies at the basis of this miscellany of studies was to make interpretative methods and strategies belonging to such different disciplines as historiography and philology, take part in dialogue and confront each other especially when analyzing the text of the historical document in its many aspects and dimensions. We have already witnessed a previous meeting of history with philology in the field of positivist historiography, a new trend which has come along with text criticism, the development of auxiliary sciences and the relationship between philology and history. Currently, the historiography promoted by the Annals School broadens the scope of the historical documents and suggests new interpretations. Even if it gives up the classical form of collaboration between history and philology, the written text maintains its importance. In spite of their over millennial common ideological premises, methods and goals, philology and history live mostly separate in the current university systems hardly ever having the opportunity to meet and confront their perspectives on research. We have always considered this separation of philology and history to be harmful and dangerous to both disciplines as, lately they have been increasingly menaced by skeptical and disaggregated tendencies which may often reduce philology to a dead formalism, sufficient to itself and historiography to a simple narrative rhetoric. Returning to our volume, we can notice persistence upon the notion of document. What does the source for research mean for historians and philologists today? In this case we have a diversity of types of sources: chronicles, his- 6 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) tories, travel journals, official documents, memoires, correspondence, notes on books, parish registers. Regarding the next level we can notice the way of questioning the historical document. From this point of view, we think the volume brings about an original approach in interpreting the political discourse, history as ideology, in analyzing certain concepts and terms specific to certain epochs, in dealing with the philological approach in dating a text. Among other things, this volume sought to bring a modest response to these trends. Within its speech, the historiographic and philological discourses meet first and foremost on the common ground of idiographic vocation by placing the individual and irreducible reality of the Text and Document in the centre of the respective interpretative approaches. The proposed studies and analysis fit into a vast interpretative and diachronic framework which extends from the European Middle Ages and long term phenomena of folk cultures up to the intellectual and political history of post communist period. At the same time the methodological and scientific perspectives which intersect in this volume come from different geographical and cultural spaces, which, more and more, after the fall of communism and the reopening of the old communication lines between Western and Eastern Europe, feel the need to reunite and recognize each other. This oscillation of themes, texts and methods between Italy and Romania, between East and West has produced interesting and unexpected results, outlining not only a common space for dialogue but also a possible intellectual map of Europe. The great Italian Romanic philologist Aurelio Roncaglia rightly said, “the main requirement of philology and text criticism is essentially a moral requirement before being a scientific one: the will to rebuild and the duty to conscientiously comply with the substance and form of the text document in its historical objectivity”. We may say that the same moral requirement lies at the basis of any research that aims to gain historical knowledge, which tries to find through uncertainties and approximations a kernel, even though partial and provisional, of historical truth. SORIN ªIPOª, DAN OCTAVIAN CEPRAGA, IOAN-AUREL POP H I S T O RY A N D P O L I T I C A L I M A G E RY La Santa Sede, Venezia e la Valacchia nella crociata antiottomana di fine Quattrocento I OAN -A UREL P OP N ELLA SECONDA metà del XV secolo, e soprattutto dopo la caduta di Costantinopoli sotto il dominio ottomano, la crociata generale, guidata dalla Santa Sede, divenne un’istituzione permanente. Durante il papato di Pio II (Enea Silvio Piccolomini, papa tra 1458 e 1464) fu riorganizzata la Depositeria della Santa Crociata, una cassa speciale, che centralizzava la gestione di tutte le entrate e le uscite concernenti la crociata generale contro gli ottomani1. Il pontefice aveva preso la decisione di diventare un modello per i principi cristiani indecisi a brandire le armi contro i “nemici della Santa Croce”, già in possesso di una gran parte del Levante (del sud-est europeo). Per finanziare la crociata in Oriente, le entrate principali provenivano della decima pontificalis (pari alla decima parte dei redditi del clero), a cui si aggiungeva la ventesima dei redditi degli ebrei, la trentesima su quei dei laici, delle “donazioni volontarie, gli importanti proventi del monopolio sull’allume scoperto a Tolfa ecc. All’inizio, la Depositeria fu diretta da una commissione permanente dei cardinali preposti alla crociata, commissione ristretta a Bessarione, d’Estouteville e Carvajal2. Il primo, all’origine greco ortodosso (sopra-nominato “l’ultimo bizantino”), era il vero ispiratore della Crociata per la liberazione di Costantinopoli e della Chiesa d’Oriente, oppressa dagli ottomani. Gli alleati occidentali più importanti della Santa Sede, in questa impresa di combattere l’offensiva islamica in Europa, erano Venezia, Milano, Firenze, Ferrara, la Francia, la Borgogona, l’Aragone (la Spagna), l’Impero romano-germanico ecc., ma anche i monarchi dell’Europa Centrale. I principali beneficiari dei fondi erano i principi cristiani di “prima linea”, vale à dire quelli i cui stati erano situati direttamente ai confini con il dominio ottomano e che sopportavano per i primi gli attacchi militari turchi. Dopo il Concilio di FerraraFirenze (1438-1439) e la sua decisione di unione delle due chiese e – come si è detto – grazie all’importante ruolo del cardinale bizantino Bessarione, teoricamente anche i principi ortodossi e le loro chiese greco-orientali potevano usu- 10 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) fruire dell’aiuto dell’Occidente. Il pericolo ottomano era così grande, che si trattava, in alcuni momenti, anche con diversi capi e forze non-cristiane, per creare potenti alleanze e correlare le azioni contro l’Impero del sultano. Dopo la presa di Costantinopoli – il simbolo della Cristianità orientale – il sultano Maometto II aveva due grandi piani strategici: primo di avanzare verso l’Europa Centrale tramite la valle del Medio Danubio, sottomettendo la Valacchia, l’Ungheria ecc.; il secondo, di trasformare il Mar Nero (chiamato anche Mare Maggiore) in un “lago turco”, usandolo per i suoi esclusivi intersessi militari ed economici. Per raggiungere questo secondo scopo, le forze ottomane minacciavano il principato di Moldavia (La Piccola Vallachia), l’Ungheria, le colonie genovesi, il Regno polacco ecc. Il nuovo padrone di Costantinopoli, il giovane sultano menzionato, era deciso ad acquistare per se anche l’intera eredità territoriale lasciatale dai suoi “processori” bizantini, imperatori o basilei3. In questo senso, già prima di 10 settembre 1453, esso indirizzò un ultimatum al principe di Moldavia, chiedendogli di accettare la sovranità ottomana. L’atto fu stipulato solo nel 1456, quando il principe moldavo, in seguito alla decisione dell’assemblea degli stati del Paese, accettava di pagare un tributo e di ristabilire la pace, riprendendo il commercio con l’Impero ottomano. Questo atto era anche il risultato della principale direzione di politica estera moldava – la sua alleanza con la Polonia, regno propenso ad accettare un modus vivendi con gli ottomani. La Polonia, da un lato, non si considerava un reame direttamente minacciato dai turchi, e avendo un conflitto storico con i Cavalieri Teutonici, sentiva spesso l’ostilità della Santa Sede e dell’Impero romano-germanico, dell’altro lato. Il principe (voivoda) Stefano IV (detto poi il Grande, in romeno Stefan cel Mare), salito sul trono di Moldavia, nel 1457, con l’aiuto del principe della (Grande) Valacchia, non aveva nessun motivo di non seguire la linea politica estera del suo vicino e sovrano cristiano, il re di Polonia. Un altro motivo della sua condotta erano le tesi relazioni con l’Ungheria e con il suo re, Mattia Corvino, invasore, senza successo, della Moldavia, nel dicembre 1467. Questo fu l’ultimo tentativo del Regno Ungherese di imporre, con mezzi militari, la sua dominazione diretta in Moldavia. Già da molto tempo, l’Ungheria aveva promosso una politica estera antiottomana, essendo direttamente minacciata dai turchi. La necessità di controllare le Bocche del Danubio, di poter usare dal punto di vista commerciale e doganale la gran via che collegava il Mar Nero con l’Europa Centrale, gli attacchi dei tartari e del nuovo principe di Valacchia (protetto del Gran Turco) sono stati alcuni motivi che hanno determinato il principe Stefano di cambiare la sua politica estera. La pressione ottomana era troppo forte per non determinare il voivoda romeno di cercare un appoggio nell’ambito delle potenze cristiane desiderose di impedire con mezzi militari l’avanzo ottomano verso l’Europa Centro-Orientale. Stefano il Grande non poteva affrontare da solo il colos- HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 11 so turco, avendo bisogno di una larga alleanza, capace di respingere la dominazione ottomana in Europa e Levante. Grandi motivi di combattere i turchi avevano molte potenze: la Santa Sede, l’Ungheria, la Repubblica lagunare, altri stati italiani, il khan della Caramania, Uzun Khassan e. a. Il primo evidente atto d’insubordinazione di Stefano è stato il suo rifiuto di pagare il tributo annuo, seguito dalla spedizione nella Grande Valacchia, nel 1473, contro il principe Radu il Bello, l’alleato fedele del sultano. Tutte queste offese non potevano rimanere senza risposta, tenendo conto del fatto che il confine danubiano dell’Impero era in gran pericolo (l’Ungheria decideva di rientrare nella lotta e di richiedere i suoi diritti di vassallaggio sulla Valacchia). Il sultano – il conquistatore di Costantinopoli – interruppe, alla fine di 1474, l’assedio della fortezza di Scutari (importante posizione e possessione veneziana in Albania) e inizia una grande spedizione militare al nord del Danubio, per togliere la Moldavia della lega (alleanza) dei suoi nemici. Il voivoda Stefano aveva motivi di rimanere sempre vigile. Anche il re ungherese era, alla fine dell’anno 1474 e all’inizio dell’anno 1475, dello stesso parere: Illustrissimo Signore mio, Questa Signoria mando hogi uno suo secretario da mi, el quale me/ disse che, per participare tute le occurentie de quella con la V<ostra> Celsitudine, voleva che io/ intendesse alcune littere novamente receute dal suo oratore de Ungaria, et etiam dalla/ comunita de Ragusi. Et hiis dictis, esso secretario me monstro una littera del predicto/ loro oratore de Ungaria, datum in Buda, adi X del passato, per la quale sua M<aesta> scrive/ ad questo dominio, como la praticha ch’el Turco teneva con quello Re de Ungaria è/ molto rimessa. Eet ch’el prelibato Re persevera nel suo cristianissimo proposito. Et che/ tuta via el prosequiva con lo exercito per andare alla obsidione de Sabacio, loco del/ Turco importante et munitissimo. Item scrive ch’el prelibato Re è de parere ch’el Valacho Steffano Vayvoda non se debea/ venire con sua Maesta perche, avendo novamente el Tartaro facto liga col Turco, il quale/ Tartaro è finitimo de essi Valachi, el prenominato Steffano Vayvoda non vora dilongarsi/ tanto del Paese suo. Ulterius, el prenominato Ambassatore manda alla prefata Signoria la copia de una littera/ che scrive uno certo amico de Vienna al proposito Posoniense, lo exemplo della/ quale ho transcripto. Et acio la V<ostra> Signoria intenda seriosius la continentia de eese,/ glie lo mando qui alligato, et similiter li mando la copia della littera che Ragusei/ hanno scripto ad questo dominio. Preterea, per quanto sento, questa brigata sta nel secreto loro, con grande paura de/ questo Turco ad tempo novo. Et tuta via scriveno fanti per mandare ad Scutari,/ et nelli altri lochi de Albania, et della Morea. De quello sentiro alla giornata,/ ne advisaro per mie littere la V<ostra> Sublimita, alla quale humilmente me racomando. Datum Venetijs, die Veneris, VIIII Februarii MCCCCLXXquinto. 12 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Illustrissimae Dominationis, Dominationis Vestrae Servus Leonardus Botta4. Come si vede, l’oratore veneziano in Ungheria scriveva ai suoi padroni il giorno 10 gennaio 1475, che il re Mattia, “perseverante nel suo Cristianissimo proposito”, aveva deciso di andare alla “obsidione” della fortezza di Sabac (oggi in Serbia)5, ma senza il voivoda valaccho, minacciato proprio nel suo Paese dai Turchi e soprattutto dai Tartari, gli alleati dei Turchi e i vicini dei Valacchi6. Il re ha avuto ragione di non pretendere la partecipazione del principe romeno, perché la lettera dell’Ungheria era scritta proprio lo stesso giorno in cui aveva luogo la battaglia di Vaslui (10 gennaio 1475), dopo l’invasione della Piccola Valacchia da parte di un immenso esercito ottomano. Il comandante dell’esercito ottomano era “il bassa di Romania”, Süleyman, il quale guidava una gran massa di soldati (tra 30 000 e 120 000 uomini). L’esercito moldavo contava circa 40 000 soldati e un piccolo corpo di secleri (siculi) venuti in aiuto dalla Transilvania. La battaglia principale ebbe luogo in una valle paludosa, il 10 gennaio 1475, e marcò una grande vittoria per i valacchi del voivoda Stefano. Nel 25 gennaio – due settimane dopo il grande successo – il principe romeno scriveva con orgoglio ai capi cristiani: “… E gli abbiamo vinti i turchi e messi sotto i nostri piedi, e gli abbiamo passati tutti sotto la lama della nostra spada, per la quale cosa sia lodato Iddio”7. Anche i sovrani europei, le corti occidentali, Venezia8, il Papa erano tutti interessati di questa impresa. Tramite i loro ambasciatori ed oratori, questi capi politici e militari erano in grado di sapere presto i dettagli necessari. In questo senso, in 31 Gennaio, da Buda, si annunciava già la gran vittoria, i nomi dei partecipanti e dei prigionieri, il numero degli eserciti che si erano confrontati ecc.: Exemplum Jesus MCCCCLXXIIII, adi ultimo Zenaro, in Buda. De novo altro ch’el figliolo del Turcho, el Bassa della Romania, et Alybei sono tuti in prexone, in/ mano del Valacho se chiama Steffano Vayvoda. Sono stati rotti con persone CXX m<illia> Turchi, et con/ Staffano Vayvoda sono stati Valachi circha XL m<illia> et Ungari de Terra Silvana et de Seculi circha/ XXV m<illia>, tanto che, secondo se dice, non ne sono fugiti de Turchi circha III m<illia>, tuti gli altri sono stati tayati/ a pezi. Et questo habiamo certamente. Compater vester Leonardus ad Dominationem Thomasinam condam Leonardi Desiderij9. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 13 Nello stesso giorno, era informato anche l’ambito imperiale. I dati sono quasi gli stessi, provenienti dalla stessa fonte. Come si vede, la vittoria dei Valacchi era considerata una grande vittoria dei Cristiani10: Copia unius capituli litterarum scriptarum ex Buda/ ad Romanum Rossetum, die ultimo Ianuarij 147411 Item sapiati che li Turchi sono stati tuti in Vlachia da Stephano vayvoda et da Hungari/ sono stati Turchi CXX m<illia>, zioe centovintimillia, lequal 120 m<illia> persone de Turchi/ tuti sono stati tagliati a pezi, non sono fugiti Turchi circa 3000 et lo fiolo del/ Turcho, et el Bassa de Romania, et Alybey sono in presone. Siche Christiani hano havuto una grande victoria. Et cussi pregamo Dio sia per l’avenire.12 Poco tempo più tardi, alla fine di febbraio, si sapeva quasi la stessa cosa, però stavolta a Venezia, da dove l’inviato del duca di Milano scriveva al suo padrone. La novella non aveva una confermazione certa, cioè scritta (anche se i mercanti tedeschi in Laguna l’hanno portata per i loro propri canali d’informazione), ma gli ufficiali veneziani la credevano13: Illustrissime Signore mio, Con quelle bone parole et modo che la vostra Sublimita me ha scripto, ho pregato questa/ Signoria… Preterea hogi è venuta qua novella como essendo uno figliolo del Turcho intrato nella/ Vlachia, con circha centovintimillia persone, essi Vlachi col favore de Ungari hanno rotto/ el dicto figliolo del Turcho, et preso luy et doi altri grandi Capitanei, et tagliato/ a peze piu de centomillia persone. Et benche questa novella non venga per littere scripte,/ da persone molto digne, tamen la prefata Signoria in tuto non la discrede, perche ultra uno/ capitulo de una littera venuta de Buda, del quale me ne hanno dato la copia/ qui alligata, dicta novella etiam se renfrescha per la via del Fontegho delli Todeschi. Se/ aspectara el zoppo, et poi de tuto con piu certeza advisaro la V<ostra> Sublimita, alla quale/ humilmente me racomando. Datum Venetijs, die Lune, XX Februarii 1474. Illustrissimae Dominationis, Dominationis Vestrae Servus Leonardus Botta14. Lo stesso oratore milanese confermava “la rotta” dei turchi in Valacchia, questa volta tramite una novella venuta da Ragusa, il 22 febbraio 1475: 14 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Illustrissimo Signore mio, Per le mie precedente littere, scripsi et mandai alla V<ostra> Sublimita copia delle/ novelle che questa Signoria haveva de verso Valachia, de una rotta se diceva che essi Valachi havevano/ dato alli Turchi. Dovi questa matina, la prefata Signoria me ha dato copia de un’altra littera/ havuta da Ragusi, continente le medesime novelle, sed alquanto mancho gagliarde. La/ quale copia, per impositione de essa Signoria, mando qui alligata alla V<ostra> Celsitudine, a cio la intenda/ ogni loro adviso, alla quale humilmente me racomando. Datum Venetijs, die Mercurij, XXII/ Februarii MCCCCLXXIIIIo. Illustrissimae Dominationis, Dominationis Vestrae Servus Leonardus Botta15. La stessa cosa fu confermata anche via Napoli: Illustrissimo Signore mio, Per le littere de XXII del presente [...]. Preterea la prelibata Signoria me ha dato copia de un altro capitulo de littera nuovamente receuta sopra/ la rotta che li Turchi hanno havuta in Valachia, et me hanno dato etiam la copia de uno capitulo/ receuto da Napoli, che scrive el Conte Brochardo al Ducha de Calabria, delli apparati metuendi/ del Turcho. Siche per impositione della prefata Signoria mando esse copie alla V<ostra> Sublimita ad questa/ alligate, alla quale humilmente me racomando. Datum Venetijs, die Veneris, XXIIII Februarii/ MCCCCLXXIIIIo. Illustrissimae Dominationis, Dominationis Vestrae Servus Leonardus Botta16. Il 26 febbraio, lo stesso inviato, Leonardo Botta, dava la novella riguardante la sconfitta dei turchi in Valacchia per certa, perché arrivata per diversi canali. Illustrissimo Signore mio, Per tre mude de mie littere, V<ostra> Sublimita havera inteso li advisi se hanno/ qua della rotta se dice che li Valachi hanno dato alli Turchi. Dinovo questa Signoria me ha facto/ copia de una littera venuta da Ragusa, dirretiva ad Messer Zacharia Barbaro, che la debia/ mandare alla V<ostra> Celsitudine. Et cosi gliella mando qui alligata, et adviso quella che essendo dicta/ novella molto constante, et sentendossi da diversi lochi, como se fa, la prefata Signoria le tene/ per certa, de quello intendaro piu ultra, ne advisaro la vostra Illustrissima S<ignoria>, alla quale humilmente/ me racomando. Datum Venetijs, die Dominicho, XXVI Februarii MoCCCCoLXXIIIIo. Illustrssimae Dominationis, Dominationis Vestrae Servus Leonardus Botta17. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 15 Di solito si parla della rotta che “i Valacchi” hanno dato ai Turchi, ma si vede che anche l’aiuto del re Mattia è stato importante. Dopo la gran vittoria, il voivoda Stefano entra in una febbrile attività diplomatica per elargire e fortificare l’alleanza antiottomana e per dare al suo Paese la possibilità di resistere il nuovo assalto del Turco. Grazie al suo nuovo statuto dovuto alla vittoria di Vaslui, Stefano il Grande invia direttamente le sue ambascerie a Venezia, Roma, nel khanato di Crimea, a Caffa ecc. Il principe ottiene importanti promesse dal khan Mengli Ghirai (collegato con le potenze cristiane), dalle città di Caffa e di Mangopo, da Uzun Khassan. Nel luglio e agosto del 1475, fu stipulato un trattato tra Stefano e Mattia, dove si prevedeva l’obbligo dei due capi di cooperare nella lotta antiottomana. La minaccia era molto grave, soprattutto dopo la presa da parte della flotta turca, la più grande mai vista nel Mar Nero (estate 1475), delle città di Caffa e Mangopo.18 Questa nuova situazione strategica offriva al sultano la speranza di mettere fine alla resistenza del “Vallacho”, per poter riprendere la lotta contro Venezia. I capi dell’Occidente cristiano erano coscienti di questo gran pericolo, e portavano delle trattative per poter trovare una soluzione: Rome XXII Martij 1476 Illustrissimo etc., Heri sera al tardo recevite lettere dalla Vostra Excellentia, de XV presentis,/ continente della approbatione che quella fà del essere bene el mandare/ el Veschovo et non lo Legato. Vene l’adviso in tempo, perche pocho/ inanti era prevenuto19 una lettera della Signoria de Venetia al suo/ Ambassatore, pur de XV, mandata con piu prestezza che non/ sogliono venire l’altre loro lettere. Contineva IIIIo parte, che me/ la mostro dicto Ambassatore. La prima che quanto per el loro/ scrivere de questa di, de instando per legato N<ostro> S<ignor> non gli havesse satis/facto, el dovesse iterum atque iterum una con Noy, oratori de/ la Liga, fare instantia che omnino mitteretur, alegando molte/ rasone. La secunda, che isto interim che li denari ado/mandati in presto sopra le Xme fusseno conducti ad Venetia,/ ch’el se pensasse de modo distribuendo, et che se despendesseno/ dove20 fusse piu necessario, recordando inter cetera/ che de questo Ducha Stefano Velaticho, che est antemurale de/ Hungaria, temuto dal Turco, se havesse recordo in istis/ pecunijs. Tertio, et questa notay molto, che del modo rasonato/ del secundo subsidio, per supplemento delli CCC m<illia> duchati computati,/ questi C m<illia> delle Xme et XXme el confortasse la soa Beatitudine/ ad mettere in effecto la practicha. Et che loro ne haveano/ communichato con socijs suis per intendere el loro parere/ circa cio, et che quamvis non havessino havuto resposta, inde/ veduto in quanto discrimine è per essere la religione Christi/ana, et perche fanno stima del sapientissimo parere de/ N<ostro> S<ignor> etiam che havessino desyderato che soa Sanctita fusse/ stata quella che havesse prima taxato se per dare/ bono exempio ad l’altri. Pur non gli è parso 16 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) aspectare,/ ne differire piu, si per fare el loro debito, si per indure l’altri/ con lo bono exempio, et che ex nunc declaravano che non obstante/ che loro spendano uno pozzo d’oro ogni anno, et piu loro soli che/ non se rasona de tutta la impositione da farli in Italia ad/ tutti li potentati de CCCC m<illia> duchati, si se taxavano cinquanta/ millia ducati l’anno, repplicando questo semper che poy se spendessino// dove piu fusse bisogno. Et confortando la soa Sanctita prefata ad fare/ de si tale taxa che sia degna de bono et vero Pontifice./ Quarto, significhavano le novelle de Hungaria del havuta de/ quella Rocha de Sabazh, et mandavano certe copie de lettere/ havute da Ragusey pur de cio. Or vedute che io hebbi dicte lettere si effichace, dubitando ch’el Papa/ non se lassasse flectere al Legato attento la instantia grande/ et l’oblatione delli L m<illia> duchati, non possendo io senza umbrare/ el Venetiano parlare al Papa, feci con lo mezo del Conte/ Hieronymo intendere la continentia della lettera de V<ostra> Sublimita, che/ comenda et approba l’andata del Veschovo de Rhieti con li/ dinari, et feceli imprimere ad questo et ad altri propositi, quello mi/ parve perche soa Beatitudine non fusse trovata scoperta. Et feceli/ gustare che era ad dire che se havesse bono respecto alla/ distributione del dinaro, si de queste delle Xme et XXme et/ che vogliono siando dati ad loro modo, et ad chi. Et item/ perche sonno cosi liberati del taxarse et ad che fine satis/fece benissime meo loco et secrete el Conte Hieronymo,/ andassimo poy alli pedi de N<ostro> S<ignor> tutti tre convochati da esso/ et21 quello del Ducha de Ferrara, chiamato pur per/ ordinatione de quella Signoria naminative in quella lettera. Fu assay/ dicto et lecto per Ambassatore. Perseverò tamen n<ostro> S<ignor> in/ el proposito de mandare el Veschovo, et disse aperte/ che non mutaria sententia. Represe soa B<eatitudine> quella parte/ del distribuire utilmente el dinaro, et mostro non gli piacere/ che tanto gli fusse recordato. Et disse che qui erano li oratori del dicto Velancho. Et sua Beatitudine gli havea ado/mandato come erano in bona convenientia col Re de Hun/garia, et che haveano resposto come loro erano in bonissima/ conventione, et che siando cosi mandaria la soa Betitudine li denarj/ al dicto Re, come principale et piu degno, che poy ne/ fesse quella parte gli paresse al dicto Ducha Velancho, rep/plico el Venetiano, et pur se persevero in hoc.// XXII Martii 1476. Questa tale commissione delli Venetianj che se siano facti inanti/ sine socijs ad taxarse L m<illia> ducati, et ad instare qui che l’altri/ se taxino, doverà da una parte non essere secundo la voluntà del Rè Ferrando, dicendo loro che se habbino ad destribuire dove/ sia piu el bisogno, che pare non vogliano dire al Hungaro, ma/ si medesimi, come io sò certo che vogliono dire. Da l’altra parte,/ forsi piacerà ad soa Maiesta, extimando che da questo possa nascere/ sdegno et qualche rugine in la nostra Liga, imaginando che ad/ Vostra Excellentia et ad Fiorenza dispiazza questa practicha de con/tributione. Et de questa secunda me ne pare HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 17 essere certo. Et/ però starò alla vista de suoy progressi perche bisogna andarci/ suso circonspecti che non ci cogliessino ad quello balzzo de rompercj/ fin che non se vede che exito potrà havere la generale./ Attendemo da V<ostra> Excellentia, alla quale me recommando etc.22 Si sottintende che l’Occidente ha già preso conoscenza del fatto che il principe valacco era “l’antemurale dell’Ungheria” e che aveva bisogno di aiuto (soldi). La discussione si portava à proposito della menzionata “depositeria” della Crociata, ma senza gran successo. Il papa voleva sapere anche se istae pecuniae arrivano dove sono più necessarie, vale à dire nelle mani di quelli che combattono direttamente con i Turchi, tra i quali “Stefano Velancho”23. Si sapeva che il voivoda valacco aveva inviato una sua ambasceria a Roma e che gli oratori hanno confermato la buona collaborazione col re Mattia. Purtroppo, alcuni rumori esistevano ancora, perché si parlava molto del modo nel quale i soldi arrivati in Ungheria erano spesi per il bene di tutta la Cristianità. L’argomento non era invocato solo in collegamento con l’Ungheria, ma anche con Venezia: 1476, ultima Martii, Rome24 Illustrissimo P<atre> et Excellentissimo unico S<igno>r mio, Scripsi ad questi alla Excellentia v<ostra> la preposta et oblatione/ del Venetiano delli L25 m<illia> duchati et quello che la Sanctita del Papa, et anchora/ li Cardinali ne sentivano, la quale opinione è venuta alle orechie d’esso Am/bassatore et dalla bocha propria della soa Beatitudine. La quale heri matina, havendo/ havuto una lettera dal veschovo Gabriele26, che sta appresso el Re de Hungaria,/ del tenore che vostra Celsitudine vederà per l’inclusa copia communichandola/ sua Sanctita con li Cardinali et con noy altri Ambassatori. Dicendo dicto Am/bassatore: “Beatissimo patre, queste sono bone novelle, volsi mò tanto piu ani/mosamente mandare ad exequutione questa impositione del secundo sub/sidio, et darne da per tutto ad questo inimico della fede de Christo”. À che/ soa Sanctita gli respose: “El se dice che voy, Venetiani, fate questa oblazione,/ et solicitate che la impositione se fazza perche la volete spendere poi,/ et questi et de l’altri in armata de mare”. Esso repplicò et disse: “Chi dice/ questo ad vostra Sanctita è nemico suo et de Christo”. Et adomandò pri/vata audientia per doppo disinare, et cosi andassemo. Le sue parole/ formale sonno queste: “Sancto patre, quello che vostra Sanctita me ha dicto, ho/ etiam inteso ch’el se ne mormora per tutta questa Corte, et dalli inimici/ nostri. Io vi prometto et farovj uno instrumento per parte della/ mia Signoria, vigore del mio Mandato, che ella è contenta de lassarli/ spendere come vostra Beatitudine ordinarà”, et qui parlò molto largo, reppli/cando pur 18 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) che la facesse taxare ò taxasse l’altri col loro bono/ exempio. Repplicò n<ostro> S<ignor> che questa loro taxa gli pareva pocha, res/pecto alle loro grande intrate, et che li altri andariano respective/ et comparative dredo à loro. Et subgionse soa Sanctita: “El ne è dicto/ che voy dicite che senza le Xme27 che sonno nostre possiamo pagare/ una con li Cardinali LXX m<illia> duchati, et non havemo CC m<illia> ducati/ de intrata, et havemo piu de spesa che questi CC m<illia>, come se pò mo/strare à pena, et caramale. Tamen noy ne taxaremo non à questa/ summa, ne appresso, ma in modo ch’el serrà giudichato ce toliamo/ el pane della boccha”. Et aggiunse questo de piu: “Havemo pensato/ secundo la nostra28 taxa, andando cosi squadrando quello che respective/ se potria pagare per l’altri, che potressimo arivare tutti con li/ L m<illia> vostri à circa 180 m<illia> duchati, senza le Xme et XXme”29. Respose el/ dicto Ambassatore: “Beatissimo patre, questi L m<illia> duchati la mia Signoria/ se li taxa perche la taxa arrivj alli CCC m<illia> ducati senza dicte decime,/ come fu rasonato per vostra Sanctita al principio, et sopra questa propositione/ è stata facta questa si grande taxa a Noy, che diminuendola, la/ mia Signoria non se seria taxata cosi in grosso”. Et disse che non era// tempo da diminuire, ma da accrescere piu tosto. El Papa disse:/ “Ben vederemo et pensaremo et aspectaremo che responderà el Rè,/ che anchora non ha resposto, et quello responderà el Ducha et Fio/rentini”, adomandandone ad tutti duy se avevamo scripto, impo/nendoci el repplichare et pregare io la v<ostra> Excellentia et el Fiorentino/ li suoy Signori che respondessino presto. Dappoy partiti, el Papa per/ el Conte Hieronymo me fece dire che io pregassi la Celsitudine vostra/ che omnino respondesse de suo parere et volere circa questo. Accio che la cosa se potesse ressolvere ad qualche partito, perche questo/ Venetiano va mugiando, et dolendossi per tutto questa Corte ch’el/ Papa et li Cardinali non vengono voluntiera ad questa cosa, et che/ hanno havuto à male questa oblatione per essere sforzati et neces/sitati ad dovere mettere la mano alla borsa, et che dispiace ad/ n<ostro> S<ignor> sia dicto. Imo sua Beatitudine in vero voria pur se facesse qualche/ cosa, ma voria se drizzasse al Hungaro et ad quello voivoda/ Velaticho, et per mare non se voria sapere nulla, et attachasse/ ad questo de dire queste victorie del Hungaro incitaranno el Turco/ ad volgerse ad luy. Et serra necessarijssimo aiutarlo, et/ piu in grosso che l’altri non estimano, et el Venetiano nol dice,/ ma non so s’el volesse, pur non si scopre perche la impositione/ se fazza et taxassi zaschuno. Questo è quanto è facto fino in/ questo di circa queste cose. El Venetiano pur ad ogni hora dice/ l’è grande facto che’l Signore Ducha non responde ad queste cose,/ ne qui, ne ad Venetia, et io gli dico el se ne debba bene/ intendere con la vostra Illustrissima Signoria. Racomandomi ala Celsitudine v<ostra>. Rome, ultima Martij 1476. Servulus Sa. Episcopus Parmensis30 HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 19 Si possono distinguere delle dissensioni tra la Santa Sede e Venezia, concernendo i contributi per la Crociata e di nuovo la preoccupazione di vedere i soldi arrivati anche “ad quello vaivoda Velaticho”. La Serenissima di discolpa – come si può notare – di tutte le accuse e sottolinea il suo atteggiamento sincero per la causa della lotta contro i Turchi. Nell’estate dell’anno 1476, malgrado tutti i suoi sforzi, il voivoda Stefano era rimasto da solo per affrontare gli invasori Turchi ed i Tartari. Il piccolo esercito romeno (di circa 10 000 uomini), dopo aver fermato miracolosamente l’attacco dei Tartari, ha subito il 26 luglio 1476 una dura sconfitta di fronte all’esercito turco (di 90 000 – 150 000 soldati, aiutato da circa 10 000 persone del voivoda vassallo della Valacchia), guidato dal sultano conquistatore di Costantinopoli. Ma, dopo questa vittoria, tutte le città moldave hanno ben resistito agli assedi turchi, e Stefano, con l’aiuto di un suo nuovo esercito (di circa 16 000 uomini) e delle truppe inviate dalla Transilvania, e stato capace di determinare, alla fine di agosto 1476, il ritiro dell’esercito invasore. La Piccola Valacchia (la Moldavia) aveva allora resistito alla più grande minaccia di tutta la sua esistenza. Il Principe Stefano inviava altre sue ambascerie, e anche a Venezia, per convincere l’Occidente che il suo Paese era un antemurale della Cristianità, la vera “chiave” dell’Ungheria e della Polonia. Egli stesso aggiungeva che se questa “Porta della Cristianità” – il suo Paese – non era aiutata a resistere, l’intero continente si trovava in un enorme pericolo. Il re d’Ungheria informava, il 18 settembre 1476, la Signoria di Venezia del modo in cui aveva aiutato recentemente, tramite un suo “capitano” (il voivoda della Transilvania), il principe valacco contro il Turco: Illustrissimo Signore mio, Novamente el Re de Ungaria ha facto per lo ambasatore/ de questa Signoria scrivere qua como sua Maesta ha mandato per la via de la/ Transilvania grande quantita de gienti in favore del Valacho. Et circha/ questa parte manda alla prefata Signoria alcune copie de littere, quali pare che domino/ capitaneo del dicto Re scriva ad sua Maesta como esso capitaneo è gionto/ alle confine della Valachia et ha posto in fuga uno chiamato Sanbecho,/ capitaneo del Turcho. Et scrive molte altre cose per le quale vole inferire/ che forze et nome del dicto Re de Ungaria sia molto temudo dalli/ Turchi. Ache la Signoria prefata non crede sia vera alcuna delle predicte cose, ma che/ tute siano arte fa el prefato Re per cavare et extorquere dinare de Italia, s’el potra. Et per quello posso comprendere dicta Signoria non vive ponto ben/ sincera de sua Maesta. Mando alla Sublimita vostra ad questa alligate alcune littere de meser Iustiniano/ Cavitello, et de meser Luca Lupo de Ungaria, il quale me scrive/ havere receuto tute le littere della v<ostra> Excellentia, mandate per mie mano./ 20 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Siche circha cio non me extendiro piu ultra, perche son certo che per le/ dicte littere loro scriverano diffusamente il tuto. Me racomando/ humilmente alla V<ostra> Illustrissima S<ignoria>. Datum Venetijs, die XVIII Septembris 1476. Illustrissimae Dominationis, Dominationis Vestrae Servus Leonardus Botta31. Si trattava dell’aiuto reale, arrivato (alla fine della spedizione del sultano) dalla parte del re ungherese, al confine della Piccola Valacchia (la Moldavia), motivo per cui il ritiro dell’esercito ottomano è stato precipitato. Però, la notizia del re Mattia non fu creduta e, di più, fu considerata un nuovo tentativo del sovrano ungherese “per cavare et extorquere dinare de Italia”. Queste sono prove della sfiducia che regnava tra gli alleati della lega antiottomana, dei pregiudizi ancora vivi, del desiderio di profitto individuale di ciascuno, nell’ambito della ripartizione dei soldi destinati alla crociata. Al dispetto di tutte queste dissensioni e rivalità, il Quattrocento rimane il “secolo d’oro” della resistenza antiottomana dei Paesi e popoli europei. Si tratta di un periodo nel quale si credeva ancora nella possibilità di mantenere l’unione dell’Occidente con l’Oriente, per poter fermare l’assalto ai grandi valori della civiltà europea. Note 1. Iulian-Mihai Damian, La Depositeria della Crociata (1463-1490) e i sussidi dei pontefici romani a Mattia Crovino, in Annuario dell’Istituto Romeno di Cultura e Ricerca Umanistica di Venezia, vol. VIII, no. 8, 2006, p. 137. 2. Ibidem, p. 139. 3. ªerban Papacostea, Moldova, stat tributar al Imperiului Otoman în secolul al XV-lea: cadrul internaþional al raporturilor stabilite în 1455-1456, in vol. di ªerban Papacostea, Evul Mediu românesc. Realitãþi politice ºi curente spirituale, Bucureºti, 2001, pp. 109-113. 4. Archivio di Stato di Milano (ASM), Archivio Ducale Sforzesco (ADS), Potenze Estere, Venezia, carteggio (cart.) 361, fascicolo (fasc.) 2, s.n. (senza numero). 5. L’assedio di Sabac (fortezza situata sulla riva meridionale del fiume Sava) ha avuto successo solo nel 15 Febbraio 1476, quando la fortezza era presa per le truppe di Mattia Corvino. Cf. Pal Engel, Regatul Sfântului ªtefan. Istoria Ungariei medievale (895-1526), edizione di Adrian Andrei Rusu e Ioan Drãgan, Cluj-Napoca, 2006, p. 328; ª. Papacostea, Evul Mediu românesc..., p. 157. 6. L’autore del rapporto si chiama Leonardo Botta, è l’inviato milanese a Venezia e scrive al suo padrone, il duca del capoluogo lombardo. 7. Ioan Bogdan, Documentele lui ªtefan cel Mare, vol. II, Bucureºti, 1913, p. 321. 8. Adrian Niculescu, Diplomazia veneziana e il principe Stefan cel Mare di Moldavia (1457’1504) durante la guerra contro i Turchi del 1463-1479, in vol. di Sante Graciotti (a cura di), Italia e HISTORY 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 21 Romania, due popoli e due storie a confronto (secc. XIV-XVIII), Firenze, 1998, pp. 98-139; Ioan-Aurel Pop, Il principe romeno Stefano il Grande (1457-1504) e la Repubblica di Venezia, in vol. di Andrzej Litwornia, Gizella Nemeth e Adriano Papo (a cura di), Da Aquileia al Baltico attraverso i paesi della nuova Europa, Mariano del Friuli, 2005, pp. 57-62. ASM, ADS, Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 359, fasc. 1, s.n. La cosa è importante, perché di solito negli ambiti cattolici (latini) gli ortodossi non erano chiamati “cristiani”, ma “scismatici”. Il pericolo ottomano aveva integrato – come si vede – tra i cristiani anche i credenti bizantini (in questo caso i romeni). Non dobbiamo dimenticare anche l’ambito generale dell’unione delle Chiese Cristiane, decisa a Firenze nel 1439, dopo la quale, per alcuni decenni, si sperava di mantenere e consolidare l’unità dei “greci” e dei “latini”. L’anno è sbagliato; deve essere 1475. ASM, ADS, Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 359, fasc. 1, s.n. ASM, ADS, Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 359, fasc. 1, s.n. ASM, ADS, Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 359, fasc. 2, s.n. ASM, ADS, Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 359, fasc. 2, s.n. ASM, ADS, Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 359, fasc. 2, s.n. ASM, ADS, Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 359, fasc. 2, s.n. ª. Papacostea, Relaþiile internaþionale ale Moldovei în vremea lui ªtefan cel Mare, in vol. di ªerban Papacostea, Evul Mediu românesc..., p. 155. Corretto: pervenuto. Preceduto da bene, tagliato. Preceduto da convocati, tagliato. ASM, ADS, Potenze Estere, Roma, cart. 80, fasc. 3, s.n. Il nome del voivoda o duca vallacho è scritto in questo documento di una maniera esitante (Velancho, Velaticho), forse per la somiglianza di questo nome con quello del figlio di un altro Stefano (Kosarka, voivoda di Bosnia), chiamato Vlatko o Vlatiko. Scritto con inchiostro nero persistente, da un altra mano di quella che aveva scritto il documento propriamente detto. Cinquanta. Vescovo di Transilvania, regione organizzata come vaivodato nel quadro del Regno d’Ungheria. Si tratta delle decime della Chiesa. Corretto, inizialmente era vostra. Le vigesime. ASM, ADS, Potenze Estere, Roma, cart. 80, fasc. 3, s.n. ASM, ADS, Potenze Estere, Venezia, cart. 360, fasc. 3, s.n. 22 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Abstract The Holly See, Venice and “Walachia” in the Framework of the Anti-Ottoman Crusade at the End of 15th Century The article underlines, by the mean of some important new sources (issued between 1474 and 1476) form the Archives of Milan, how the prince Stephen the Great (1457-1504), voievode of Moldavia (currently called Walachia in the Italian reports), has succeeded to integrate himself and his country in the anti-ottoman crusade (the so called Late Crusade). The documents show the Venetian and Papal echo of some battles between Romanian (Moldavian) troops, helped by king of Hungary Matthias Corvinus, and the Turkish army on the soil of Moldavia, in 1475 and 1476. Some main problems illustrated here are the funds gathered from Italy for the crusade, the destination of such amount of money, the confidence in Hungarian king, the real support necessary to help the “Walachian” (Moldavian) prince Stephen the Great etc. An important place in these reports is given to the “Wallachian” victory from January 1475, at Vaslui, where the Ottoman army was crushed. Stephen the Great is characterized as a “fortress of Hungary” and of the whole Christianity, very brave but in a huge need of subsidies, necessaries in order to face the new assaults of the sultan. The sources show also the disputes between the Christian powers concerning the use and the destination of funds necessaries for the anti-ottoman effort. Keywords anti-Ottoman crusade, Wallachia (Moldavia), Stephen the Great, the Holly See, Venice, Christian subsidies Historiography and Archaeology: Information Collected from Anonymus’ Gesta Hungarorum on the Duchy of Menumorut and on the Archaeological Research at Biharea F LORIN S FRENGEU T HUNGARIAN historiography has several important works allowing us to become familiar with the Hungarian society and the realities in Central and SouthEastern European area. As Ioan Aurel Pop pointed out, the following aspects stand out in these narrative sources: “the situation of the social-political and economic evolution of the Hungarians shortly before they settled in Pannonia; the ethno-demographic structure of Pannonia at the time and thenceforth; the expeditions of the Hungarians to the west, south and east of Europe; the conflicts with some states and certain political structures in the Pannonian and Carpathian areas; the changes of the Hungarian society from nomad to sedentary and feudal life; their Christianisation; the colonisation and settlement of foreigners in Hungary; the formation of the Hungarian state; the successions within the Árpád dynasty; the conquests of the Hungarians to the detriment of the surrounding states and peoples, etc.”1 First critically analysed by Hóman Bálint, the Hungarian historiography in 12th to 15th centuries is based on two archetypes of epics: Gesta Ungarorum and Gesta Hungarorum, both of them lost2. The first archetype shows the events in the Hungarian history from its mythical beginnings until 1091. The anonymous author, probably a clergyman of French and Italian culture, used Regino’s Chronicle, Annales Altahenses, the family traditions of the Árpád kings and Hungarian noblemen. Written at the end of Saint Ladislaus’ (1077-1095) epoch, the work was used as a material basis by Anonymus, along with Annales Posonienses, Ricardus’ Report, Thomas of Spalato’s Chronicle and the verbal information provided by Odo of Deuil. The second archetype was written at the end of the 18th century, under Ladislaus the Cuman’s reign (1272-1290), which served as a source of inspiration to Simon of Keza for the Minor Chronicle, as well as for other Hungarian chronicles dating back to the 14th and 15th centuries, HE 24 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) out of which we can mention the following: Chronicon pictum Vindobonense, Chronicon Posoniense, Chronicon Dubnicense, and Chronicon Budense3. The work of the Anonymous Notary, Gesta Hungarorum (The Deeds of the Hungarians) is considered by most specialists as an important work revealing a series of events and realities at the end of the first millennium and the beginning of the second millennium of the Christian era not only referring to the newly arrived Hungarians to Central Europe, but also to other inhabitants in the area who were victims of their actions. Some historians thought of the magister also known as P., the notary, today nicknamed as Anonymus, to be either of King Béla II (1131-1141) or Béla III (1172-1196). According to Stelian Brezeanu and others, he was educated in the Parisian atmosphere of the 12th century. He took as a model the Romanesque chansons de geste (songs of heroic deeds), which were highly trendy in the French society at the time. He celebrated the military actions of the Hungarian kings and noblemen turning the conquest of Pannonia and the plunders in the West and the Balkans into the core episode of his narration4. The first chapter, Who was the Anonymous Notary? of Alexandru Madgearu’s book entitled Românii în opera Notarului Anonim (Romanians in the Work of the Anonymous Notary) recapitulates the entire issue on the identity and time when he wrote his work, considering that they have been much debated by historians. In conclusion, the author is inclined to date the source at a time after Béla II and before the rebirth of Bulgaria, very likely around 1150. Yet he points out that other hypotheses cannot be ignored. Consequently, there is no definite dating5. Recently, Tudor Sãlãgean has approached the topic of the possible dating of Gesta Hungarorum at a time subsequent to Béla I’s rule (1060-1063). Anonymous was most likely educated in Italy, because some clues in the text of the work show that Anonymous was very familiar with Northern Italy. There are broad references to political realities, cities and people when describing the Hungarian campaigns in Italy, such as: the heraldry of Lombardy, Friuli, Padua, Vercelli, Susa, Torino, and the plain of Lombardy6. The work has been partly preserved in one manuscript since mid-13th century. Currently, it is at the Hungarian National Library. It was first published in 1746 by J. G. Schwandter and M. Bel, but it was first mentioned in 1652 in a catalogue of the Imperial Library in Vienna7. The work of the Anonymous Notary has not been preserved in its entirety, as shown by chapter 15, of which one can infer that the narration reached Andrew I’s time (1046-1060) and ended with Duke Géza’s rule also making reference to events contemporary with Stephen I. The work is structured as follows: chapters 1-11 describe Hungarians’ country of origin, their leaving from Ruthenia and the battles with the Ruthenians; HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 25 chapters 12-18 describe the conquest of the territory between the Danube and the Tisa; chapters 19-29 describe the battles with the Duke of Byhor, Menumorut, and the conquest of Gelu’s country; chapters 30-43 show the battles with Salanus, the Bohemians and the Duke of Bulgaria; chapters 44-5 describe the battles with Glad and the campaign south of Danube; chapters 46-50 present the conquest of the territory west of Danube (Pannonia); chapters 50-52 account the following battles with Menumorut; chapters 52-53 and 57 introduce Árpád’s descendants up to Géza; chapters 53-56 describe the campaigns in the West. Menumorut’s Duchy that Anonymous mentions in chapters 19-22, 28, 5052 lay between Tisa, Mureº, Someº and Western Carpathians, the duchy’s seat being in Biharea. After analysing the accounts in the aforementioned chapters of Anonymous’ chronicle, Ioan-Aurel Pop shows that the war against the Duchy of Criºana had three stages: “– The first military expedition from north-east to south-east leads to the attack against the territory between the rivers of Ér and Someº, the city of Satmar, up to the Meseº Mountains and Zalãu; – The second expedition is a sequel to the first one from north-east to northwest along the river Ér. It ends with the defeat of the Hungarian troops at Szeghalom; – The third one stretches from south to north-east and leads to the fall and plunder of the city of Biharea. The army avant-garde is made up of Szeklers”8. Each step mentions the battles between the Hungarians and the natives. According to Anonymous, the Hungarians faced hardships in defeating the resistance of the locals, even if they were terrified9. In chapter 51, Anonymous relates the siege of the city of Byhor and the surrender to the Hungarians and the Szeklers. The fortification has been identified on the archaeological site of the current location of Biharea, which lies 14 km away from Oradea. After the Hungarians and the Szeklers swam across the river Criº to Mons Cervinus (Deer Mountain), they camped near the Tekereu river, an affluent of the Criº that does no longer exist. Fearing the enemies, Menumorut did not dare to face them as, according to Anonymus: “he had heard that Duke Árpád and his soldiers were very brave at war, that the Romans in Pannonia had been chased away, that they had robbed the territories belonging to the Moravian Carinthians, that several thousands of people fell under their swords, that they had conquered the Kingdom of Pannonia and that the enemies had run away from them. Then, Duke Menumorut, leaving the mass of soldiers in the fortress of Byhor, fled together with his wife and daughter and sought to remain in the Ygfon woods. Usubuu, Velec and their armies were happy and started riding against the fortress of Byhor settling the camp near the river of Iuzos. After settling the armies on the third day, he left for the caster of Belland. 26 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) On the other side, the soldiers belonging to several nations started the battle against Usubuu and his soldiers. The Szeklers and the Hungarians used their arrows to kill many people. Usubuu and Velec killed 125 soldiers with their ballista. And they fought for twelve days and 20 Hungarians and 15 Szeklers from Usubuu’s army were killed. But on the thirteenth day, after the Hungarians and Szeklers filled the moats of the fortress and wanted to put ladders to climb on the walls, seeing the courage of the Hungarians, Duke Menumorut’s soldiers started to beg the two army leaders; they opened the fortress and came barefoot begging in front of Usubuu and Velec. Putting guards next to them, Usubuu and Velec entered the fortress and found many riches belonging to the soldiers. When Menumorut heard the news from the runaway messengers, he was terrified and sent emissaries to Usubuu and Velec with gifts. He himself asked them to mediate the peace and let the messengers go to Árpád to inform him that Menumorut, the one who at the beginning proudly told them that he refused to give a single inch of land, now, through these messengers, defeated and overwhelmed with grief, is ready to give him the entire kingdom and his daughter to Árpád’s son, Zulta. Then, Usubuu and Velec were glad to approve his plan and together with their delegates they sent messengers to pray their ruler, Duke Árpád, for peace.”10 At Biharea, the archaeological diggings started as early as the 20th century and continuing to this day have shown that the main fortress of Menumorut’s Duchy, Byhor, lay on this important site. The city is still imposing. It has waves about 30 meters thick at the basis and approximately 20 meters wide moats on three sides. Their shape is rectangular with sides of 150 x 115 meters. In March 1900, P. Cseplø, the director of the Museum in Oradea, and I. Karácsonyi, a medievalist, started the first archaeological research upon the request of the “Society of Archaeology and History in Bihor and Oradea” for nine days. Published the following year, the separate reports on the diggings carried out at Biharea were signed by each author, providing different points of view11. Under the supervision of I. Karácsonyi, the leader of the diggings, the waves of land were sectioned in four places, one section for each southern, eastern, and western wave, as well as the wave of Girls’ City. P. Cseplø’s report was drawn up based on archaeological information corroborated with written sources, having a scientific vision on the issues studied. Although he was wrong when considering that the wave was erected over the wall, maybe because he participated to the diggings only at the very beginning, he was courageous in presenting his scientific opinions, thus proving a good historical background. Amongst others, he considered that the Hungarians had come to the city by conquering a country belonging to another people and stated that Hungarian royal feudal cities made of stone had been erected only after the Tatar invasion in 1241. Although HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 27 he recorded the data provided by the archaeological diggings thoroughly, I. Karácsonyi made few remarks, some valid to this day: first, the earth wave was built, then the wall was inserted. These seem to be constructions built at different epochs by two peoples. As a matter of fact, he did not continue the research on the city12. In the spring of 1902, the tomb of a rider was accidentally discovered on the ªumuleu hill near the fortress of Biharea. Afterwards, I. Karácsonyi pursued the research and discovered seven more tombs lying next to one another. The tombs contained horse skulls laid at the feet of the deceased, an inventory with two types of pieces belonging to the deceased (curled rings, bracelets, arrow heads, flint steel, battle axe and, in one case, a sword) and his horse (harness metal pieces: bits, leather saddle pieces, stirrup). In I. Karácsonyi’s opinion, according to the inventory, the tombs dated back to the 10th century and belonged to a population of warrior riders at the time the Hungarians settled in the area13. In 1924-1925, M. Roska carried out archaeological research at the place called Brick Yard, about 400-500 meters south of the earth fortress. Yet the results have been only partly published14. He dug up a broad necropolis comprising 506 tombs dating back to 11th to 14th centuries, few of them even to 4th and 5th centuries. The inventory of the early feudal tombs comprised the following pieces: vessels, rings, S-shape top temple rings, curly copper wire necklaces, bracelets, pendants, and paste and glass beads. The cemetery and settlements discovered have not been published and the archaeological material has not been recorded personally15. In 1954, M. Rusu took back the research at the Brick Yard at Biharea, thus continuing from the area researched by M. Roska. The research did not last long and was meant to save and check the vestiges. Yet it led to important results. The archaeologist from Cluj-Napoca wrote the first historical-archaeological survey on the fortress at Biharea: Contribuþii arheologice la istoricul cetãþii Biharea (Archaeological Contributions to the History of the Biharea Fortress). He did not dig on the earth city, yet he was concerned with the position and aspect of the city and the topographical data provided during the surface research. Thoroughly analysing the reports published in 1901, he considered that they were pretty small and did not provide accurate data on the building technique, or on the beginning or the end of the city16. M. Rusu’s main results were broadly described in the archaeological monograph of Biharea17. We only mention some conclusions of the archaeologist M. Rusu after the research on the cemetery discovered by M. Roska: a) “If the Hungarians had lived for a century at Biharea (since the conquest of Menumorut’s city until their Christianisation), then the cemetery (on the ªumuleu hill, attributed to the Hungarians, n. S.D.) had to be much greater 28 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) and would have had an inventory corresponding to cemeteries found on the territory of the Hungarian Republic dating back to the latter half of the 10th century. b) Only as of the 11th century, when the fortress of Biharea was mentioned in documents and the Bjelo-Brdo type cemetery appeared at the “Brick Yard” (dated between Andrew I – 1046/1061 and Andrew III – 1290/1301, according to coins), we can definitely speak of the effective rule of the Hungarians over the fortress.”18 The archaeological research within the fortress at Biharea in 1973-1976 was largely published in the archaeological monograph entitled Biharea and focused on the central and south-western area of the city. Two north – south large parallel sections were traced in the central area SI (65 x 2.20 m) and SII (98 x 2.20 m). Between metres 1-20, at the northern end, three other sections with a parallel opening towards west were traced. All five made up a case. In this area, eleven tombs were discovered, as well as the remains of an apse-shaped construction made up of river stones and another quadrilateral construction with remains of walls made of adobe, stone and brick. The strata of section SI sets to the foreground three great stages “made up of three layers of well individualised soil underlined by prehistoric Dacian vestiges belonging to the pre-feudal and early feudal Roman and post-Roman epochs illustrated by traces of constructions using stone and brick”19. The interesting fact about section II is that between meters 89-98 on the southern wing, there is a thick layer of coal and burnt elements as a consequence of a strong fire under the layer of early feudal remains. Stratigraphy led to the remark that the soil fortress had been erected over the hallstatt layer and during or immediately after the level with strongly burnt elements occurred20. On the basis of the archaeological material – the Christian inhumation cemetery, the apse-shaped construction, the quadrilateral archaic constructions, all in a layered context shown in detail in the monograph – we can speak of a local Romanian level dating back to the 7th/8th to 9th/10th centuries A.D., a level prior to the one traced in the early feudal materials represented by clay pots and brick-walled constructions21. Archaeological research developed in 1975 and 1976 on the south-western area of the earth Fortress by tracing an east-west section of 25 x 2 meters, a section developed to the south between meters 10-24 by 18.50 meters, thus making up a case of 14 x 18.50 meters. There were two levels of early feudal settlements: a level stressed by a lens of yellow soil devoid of clay pots, and a level provided by an early feudal settlement made of wood and clay, 20 meters long and 10 meters wide, with archaeological remains made up of several ceramic fragments such as clay pots, an iron spur with rhomboid peg and a coin dat- HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 29 ing back to Béla III’s time (1172-1190). There were found no remains after mid13th century22. Archaeological research carried out in 1998-2000 focused on the Western Area of the earth fortress. In 1998, a north-south SI control section of 25 x 1 meters parallel to the western wave and perpendicular on the section in the southwestern area existing since 1975. In 1999, another section SII of 1.50 x 18 meters 1 meter far from the western vallum of the fortress was traced. In 2000, SIII of 2 x 20 meters was traced in parallel with SII, 0.5 meters far from the vallum. The layers show three levels of archaeological beds: a) early ceramic level with clay pots; b) older beds belonging to early feudal epoch devoid of clay pots, where ceramic fragments with brown and olive green enamel stand out. These two levels are separated by a layer of burnt structure made up of burnt clay bricks. Under the two levels making up the early feudal layer, there is a layer of clay soil mixed with stones. There are no archaeological remains indicating a clay bed discharged from the fortress vallum after its erection. Under the sterile layer, there is a thick layer of black soil with hallstatt and Roman epoch remains. The 1998-2000 archaeological research confirmed and highlighted the previous conclusions concerning the moment when the earth fortress had been built. This moment can be dated back both the Roman and an early feudal time belonging to older level. There was also a separation of the two early feudal levels by beds of burnt material and burnt clay brick. In some places, there are even two sublevels within the inferior (older) early feudal level23. During the subsequent years, from 2001 to 2004, archaeological diggings continued within the earth fortress, in the southern area. The layers of the section dug out in 2001 showed two levels of archaeological beds separated by a layer of yellow clay (discharged from the vallum) with traces of burnt elements, rolled stones and some animal bone fragments. The first level lying under the vegetal layer contains ceramic fragments belonging to the early mediaeval time, having several pot rims, animal bones, river stones and calcareous stones. There are two river stone platforms and traces of a stone building made of river stones and stone blocks carved in till at this level. The second level lying under the clay layer comprises older early mediaeval ceramic fragments devoid of clay pots24. In 2002, the constructions in section I (2001) marked by tracing three cases and another part of the section were exposed. The stone construction devoid of heating system built from east to west and covering a surface of 4.80 x 4.15 meters has till floor and is made of river stones. A fragment of Roman small pillar broken in two was also discovered. It must have belonged to the construction or to the battered tower. It was discovered at the basis of a river stone and till tower; the wall was 0.52 meters thick. Nearby, there were early feudal bricks with mortar in a secondary position, fallen either from the crowning of the fortress, 30 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) or from the tower. In the southern wing of case I towards the vallum, there were traces of a wall 0.62 meters deep. At a depth of 1.5 meters, there was a hallstatt settlement of 3.80 x 1.90 meters, oriented east – west, up to 2.25 meters deep entering under the vallum. This settlement was “cut” by another one, probably dating back to 8th – 10th century and penetrating to a depth of 2.60 meters. Here were discovered some ceramic fragments belonging to the 8th – 10th centuries and several animal bones25. The following year, a settlement equipped with a fireplace was exposed. It goes down to 1.00 – 1.15 meters and is edged by two supporting pillar cavities to east and west. A stone (chiselled till and limestone) and mortar and brick construction with an apse on the eastern side was also discovered. The stone construction layer seems to have shattered the clay pots and peg spurs level. Several animal bones were discovered along with ceramic fragments and different metal pieces characteristic of the 11th – 13th centuries26. The 2004 archaeological research focused on unveiling the stone and mortar and brick construction found during the previous year research, a construction assumed to have been the foundation of a church. The open southern wall parallel with the fortress vallum is 7.90 meters long, 0.65 meters wide and lies at a depth of 0.60 meters as compared to the current step level. The foundation is made of river stone and till, while the open bricks, some of them in initial position, others in a secondary position, bear marks of mortar. The separate discovery of the mortar indicates that the wall of the construction was made of mortar and brick and was subsequently destroyed and cogged up by the earth discharged from the vallum. At the western end of the wall there is a shallow till foundation going deeper to 0.80 meters. It has a quadrilateral shape of 2 x 1.80 meters with a recess of 0.15 meters, probably the entrance to the church or even the foundation of a belfry. At the eastern end, the wall has a 0.80 meters recess to the north whence it opens to an apse with a semi-diameter of 2.52 meters. Only the foundation has been preserved; it is 0.42 meters deep and is made of river stone, some tills and only three bricks, as it was shattered by subsequent interventions. In the northern wing, the apse could not be pursued to the northern wall, which left little trace, particularly river stone in the foundation. The level of the church lying 0.40-0.50 meters deep overlaps the living level with fragments of clay pots. In the church, in the area where traces of four pillars separating the apse from the nave of the church were discovered (probably a rampant or an iconostasis), a recessed lighting fitting made of golden copper was discovered. Outside the apse, in the northern wing, several iron pieces were discovered at 0.40-0.50 meters deep: saw fragment, drill head and a piece of harness. Outside the same apse, to the south, an arrow head was discovered. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 31 At the joint of the southern wall with the apse, above the foundation stones, a fragment of an iron spur was discovered at a depth of 0.52 meters27. Under the north-eastern corner of the church at 1.05 meters deep in the northern part and 1.25 meters deep in the southern part as compared to the current step level, a 4.55 x 3 meters settlement oriented north-south was discovered. In the north-western part of the settlement, an oven of 1.30 x 1.20 meters was discovered from 1.02 meters to 1.40 meters deep. The clay oven contained the following: an approximately 0.20 meters thick ash layer, stones, some ceramic fragments, burnt clay and an iron head. At a depth of 1.10 meters in the centre of the settlement, there was a hard-packed clay fireplace with a diameter of 0.6 meters. The ceramics in the settlement was made of trim paste with sand at potter’s wheel. It was decorated with simple and waved streaks, bands and lines dating back to the 8th – 9th centuries. Under the settlement, there is only yellow clay bearing no trace of material culture. The research revealed three early mediaeval bed levels, as follows: I – level of settlements dating back to 8th – 9th centuries; II – level of findings with fragments of clay pots and iron spurs; III – level of stone and brick apse construction considered to have been a church28. Referring to the vestiges discovered at Biharea, archaeologist S. Dumitraºcu reached the following conclusion: “These vestiges unveiled the existence of a continuing civilisation with material covering, and with no 10-25 year gaps. It did not outline an ordinary village, but a small town thanks to which and for which the earth voievode fortress was erected. It was a typical fortress in Central and Western Europe amongst the defence monuments built by the inhabitants of these European territories against the Hungarian penetration (Cf. Mechtild Schulze, Das ungarische kriegergrab von Aspres-lès-Corps. Untersuchungen zu den Ungarneneinfallen nach Mittel-West-und Südeuropa (899-955 n. Chr.), in Jahrbuch des Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseums Mainz, 31, Mainz, 1984, pp. 473-517).”29 This is a conclusion that we still consider to be valid and is also sustained by the new archaeological discoveries. Castrum Byhor mentioned in Anonymus’ work can only be the imposing vallum fortress at Biharea. Notes 1. I.-A. Pop, Românii ºi maghiarii în secolele IX-XIV. Geneza statului medieval în Transilvania, ediþia a II-a, Cluj-Napoca, 2003, p. 92. 2. St. Brezeanu, „Romani” ºi „Blachi” la Anonymus. Istorie ºi ideologie politicã”, in Romanitatea orientalã în Evul Mediu, Bucureºti, 1999, p. 138, where he reminds two of the surveys by the Hungarian specialist: B. Hóman, A szent László-kori Gesta Ungarorum, Budapesta, 1925; 32 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. Idem, „La première période de l`historiographie hongroise”, in Revue des Études Hongroises et Finno-ougriennes, III, 1925. St. Brezeanu, „Romani” ºi „Blachi”, p. 138; I.- A. Pop, Românii ºi maghiarii, p. 95. St. Brezeanu, „Romani” ºi „Blachi”, p. 138. Al. Madgearu, Românii în opera Notarului Anonim, Cluj-Napoca, 2001, pp. 19-25. T. Sãlãgean, Þara lui Gelou: Contribuþii la istoria Transilvaniei de Nord în secolele IX-XI, ClujNapoca, 2006, pp. 16-18. St. Brezeanu, „Romani” ºi „Blachi”, pp. 137-138; Al. Madgearu, Românii în opera Notarului Anonim, pp. 19-20. I. A. Pop, Românii ºi maghiarii, p. 135. Ibid. Faptele ungurilor (Gesta Hungarorum), by King Béla’s anonymous secretary, in Izvoarele istoriei românilor (Fontes Historiae Daco-Romanorum), vol. I, translation by G. Popa-Lisseanu, Bucureºti, 1934, edition coordinated and prefaced by I. Opriºan, Bucureºti, 2010, chap. LI, pp. 160-161. S. Dumitraºcu, Biharea. Sãpãturile arheologice din anii 1973-1980, Oradea, 1994, pp. 35-43, where he makes a detailed presentation of the research and the conclusion of the author. According to notes 17 and 19 in the abovementioned monograph, the reports were printed in 1901: P. Cseplõ, „Régészeti ásatásokról a Bihari várban”, in ArchÉrt, XXI, 1901, pp. 6971; I. Karácsonyi, „Ásatásokról a Bihari földvárban”, in ArchÉrt, XXI, 1901, pp. 72-74. S. Dumitraºcu, Biharea, pp. 35-43, comprising a broad presentation of the two reports. I. Karácsonyi, „A bihari honfoglaláskori lovassírokról”, in ArchÉrt, XXIII, 1903, pp. 405-412, apud. S. Dumitraºcu, Biharea, pp. 40-41. S. Dumitraºcu, Biharea, pp. 43-49; it shows the concerns of the time regarding the organisation of archaeological research in Romania, particularly in Crisana, as well as the research carried out by M. Roºka in 1924-1925. Only part of it was published: M. Roºka, „Recherches préhistoriques pendant l’année 1924”, in Dacia, I, 1924, pp. 297-316; Idem, „Rapport préliminaire sur les fouilles archéologiques de l’année 1925”, in Dacia, II, 1925, pp. 400-416. S. Dumitraºcu, Biharea, p. 48. M. Rusu, „Contribuþii arheologice la istoricul cetãþii Biharea”, in Anuarul Institutului de Istorie din Cluj, III, 1960, pp. 7-22. S. Dumitraºcu, Biharea, p. 49-55; “His study bringing together for the first time all the information on the archaeological findings at Biharea to which his own research is added, as well as the use of Middle Ages literary sources, is a first micro-monograph of this important research. The conclusions of his research, with certain touches, are still valid to this day.” (p. 49). Ibid., p. 53. Ibid., p. 63. Ibid., pp. 64-65. Ibid., p. 70. Ibid., p. 71. For an accurate positioning of the archaeological research, see fig. 5. The earth fortress (plan), pp. 272- 273. S. Dumitraºcu, Fl. Sfrengeu, Mihaela Goman, „Sãpãturile arheologice din vara anului 1998 la Biharea-„Cetatea de pãmânt”, in Criºana Antiqua et Mediaevalia, I, Oradea, 2000, pp. 63-73; S. Dumitraºcu, Fl. Sfrengeu, „Biharea, com. Biharea, jud. Bihor”, in Cronica cercetãrilor arheologice din România (hereinafter CCAR), the 1999 campaign, Deva, 2000; Idem, „Biharea, com. Biharea, jud. Bihor”, in CCAR, the 2000 campaign, Suceava, 2001; Fl. Sfrengeu, „Un pinten din evul mediu timpuriu descoperit la Biharea”, in Analele Universitãþii din Oradea, Istorie-Arheologie, X, 2000, pp. 36-37; Idem, „Fragmente de cazane de lut descoperite la HISTORY 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 33 Biharea (1998-2000)”, in Analele Universitãþii din Oradea, Istorie-Arheologie XI, 2001, pp. 16-27; Idem, „Cercetãrile arheologice de la Biharea. Cetatea de pãmânt (zona de vest) din anii 1999-2000”, in Analele Universitãþii din Oradea, Istorie-Arheologie, XII, 2002, pp. 19-23. S. Dumitraºcu, Fl. Sfrengeu, „Biharea, com. Biharea, jud. Bihor”, in CCAR, the 2001 campaign, Buziaº, 2002. Idem, „Biharea, com. Biharea, jud. Bihor”, in CCAR, the 2002 campaign, Covasna, 2003. Idem, „Biharea, com. Biharea, jud. Bihor”, in CCAR, the 2003 campaign, Cluj Napoca, 2004; Fl. Sfrengeu, „Sãpãturile arheologice din anii 2001-2002 de la Biharea – Cetatea de pãmânt (zona de sud)”, in Analele Universitãþii din Oradea, Istorie-Arheologie, XIV, 2004, pp. 1118. Fl. Sfrengeu, Nord-vestul României în secolele VIII-XII, doctoral thesis, manuscript, Oradea, 2007, pp. 207-211, index of discoveries 24. a.4. Ibid. S. Dumitraºcu, Biharea, pp. 8-9. Abstract Historiography and Archaeology: Information Collected from Anonymus’ Gesta Hungarorum on the Duchy of Menumorut and Archaeological Research at Biharea The work provides information from Anonymus’ work Gesta Hungarorum on the Hungarian penetration on the territory of the duchy ruled by Menumorut, a duchy with the seat in castrum Byhor, the siege and conquest of the fortress, as well as the description of the archaeological research carried out at the earth fortress at Biharea. Gesta Hungarorum (Dees of the Hungarians) is considered an important work revealing events and realities referring to the Hungarians who had just come to Central Europe and to other peoples in the area who had to suffer because of their actions. Archaeological research at Biharea covered several stages. In 1900, P. Cseplo, the director of the Museum of Oradea, and I. Karácsonyi, a medievalist, carried out the first archaeological research at the earth fortress. They drew up different archaeological reports. In 1924-1925, M. Roska searched the area known as the Brick Yard, approximately 400-500 meters south from the earth fortress, where he discovered a large necropolis with 506 tombs most of them dating back to 11th – 14th centuries, while others dated back to 4th – 5th centuries. Rusu restarted the research at Biharea in 1954 by continuing to search the area approached by M. Roska. He did not make diggings at the earth fortress, yet he was concerned with the position and aspect of the fortress, such as topographic data provided by surface research. The archaeological research at Biharea was continued by S. Dumitraºcu in 1973. Besides several reports and surveys, the archaeologist from Oradea published the archaeological monograph entitled Biharea. The archaeological research carried out in 1998-2004 confirmed and strengthened the previous conclusions regarding the time the earth fortress was built. The time can be set to a period between the Roman epoch settlement and older early feudal settlement. The historical-archaeological research so far has shown that the main fortress in the duchy of Menumorut called castrum Byhor in Anonymus’ chronicle can be placed on the territory of Biharea, where the huge vallum is still very impressive to this day. Keywords Anonymus, chronicle, Biharea, archaeological research, earth fortress The Mediaeval History of Banat as Reflected in Monographs Compiled During the First Half of the Twentieth Century T IBERIU C IOBANU I MMEDIATELY AFTER the Great Union, a particularly keen interest was increasingly shown in the elaboration and publication of monographs in Romanian, dedicated to urban centres in Banat, and especially to Timiºoara. Some contain general historical data on the locality they refer to, but we also may find in their pages information on the mediaeval past of the place in question. In what follows, we shall make reference to monographs (or in some cases, merely monographic sketches, or guides) featuring the city of Timiºoara, as well as to Monografia Banatului [A Monograph of Banat], Volume I, by Ioan Lotreanu. Special works about Timiºoara, in German and Hungarian, were written in as early as 1853, when Monographie der königlichen Freistadt Temes-vár by Johann Preyer was published in Timiºoara, continuing thereafter with the extensive monographic historical section covering Timiºoara from Volume II of the work entitled Temes vármegye (Budapest, no year) by Borovsky Samuel, with Temesvár sz. kir. város kis monografiája (Timiºoara, 1900) by Berkeszi István and concluding with Alt Temesvár by Josef Geml, printed in Timiºoara in 1920. 1. 1921 saw the publication of the (now forgotten) tract Istoricul Cetãþii Timiºoara. Perla Banatului (cu diferite gravuri ºi hãrþi) [A History of Timiºoara City. The Pearl of Banat (with various engravings and maps)] by Lt. Col. Iosif Knezy. The author is Romanian and his name is Cnezul (the Chinese man), but it bears the imprint of Hungarian spelling. Animated by the enthusiasm specific to that period, generated by the accomplishment of the Great Union, he writes in the Preface: “... but I, through the present history, derived from deeds and patents, handwritten notes and rescripts, wish to prove that no other people amongst those that live today in this province is as ancient, always having stood 36 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) guard, always having fought battles against the Goths, the Huns, the Slavs, the Hungarians, the Tatars and the Turks – as the Romanian people – I wish my beloved comrades, as well as the larger public, the beloved Romanian army, to which I dedicate my modest work, became inspired, took worthy example to follow for cementing our forefathers’ valour in our glorious army, which has richly and abundantly brought its sacrificial offerings especially in the battles of Mãrãºti, Mãrãºeºti, Oituz and in the fields of Hungary.”1 Lt. Col. Iosif Knezy proves to be passionate about the history of his province and wants it to be known by his fellow countrymen. He finds his documentary sources in the historical works of George Popoviciu and of several Hungarian authors. Unfortunately, the aforementioned author does not reveal his sources, since he makes no claim that his work is a specialised study; instead, he envisages it as a work meant to popularise history. Given the time elapsed since its publication, this document has now acquired the status of a historiographic document, with a dash, perhaps, of social psychology. In general, his information is correct and useful for readers interested in the mediaeval history of the city of Timiºoara. He devotes considerable space to John Hunyadi, “the greatest fighter of his time, who was appointed count of Timiºoara and captain of Belgrade.”2 About this, the Lieutenant-Colonel contends that: “Here in Banat was the place where Ion Huniade, the greatest hero of Christianity, began his military career.”3 He also insists on the links John Hunyadi developed throughout time with Timiºoara. As regards ancient Timiºoara, Iosif Knezy mentions that “situated as it was, between bogs and morasses, like all the cities of its type, this city of earth was in fact a kind of city of water (Wasserburg).”4 He lists the most important events related to this settlement during the Hungarian rule, at the time of the fights against the Turks and of its occupation by the latter, and makes reference, by providing significant details, to its conquest by the Austrians in 1716. 2. In the same year when Knezy’s work appeared (1921), an interesting guide to the city on the Bega, authored by Virgil Molin, was also published, bearing the title Micul Cicerone pentru oraºul Timiºoara [Little Cicerone for the City of Timiºoara]. It begins with a chapter entitled “O scurtã privire asupra oraºului Timiºoara” [“A brief overview of Timiºoara.”] The author remarks that “in the age of the Arpadian kings, our city was hardly ever mentioned. Only during the time of the Angevin King Charles Robert did it begin to gain a certain degree of importance. In actual fact, this king moved his residence to Timiºoara, and where the Huniade fortress lies today he built a royal palace, this city serving him [Charles Robert] as a residence, from 13105 to 1325.”6 Virgil Molin further highlights the importance of this locality in the Middle Ages, a fact also substantiated by the interest shown by other kings of Hungary in this city, which they used while organising their campaigns against their HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 37 enemies. Thus, in 1368, King Louis the Great (king of Hungary between 1342-1382, and of Poland between 1370 and 1382) made a halt with his army in Timiºoara, on his way to Wallachia, where he intended to subdue its prince, Vladislav I (1364-1377). In 1396, it was here that King Sigismund of Luxembourg (king of Hungary between 1387-1437 and, from 1410, emperor of Germany, crowned, however, as such, in Rome only in 1433) rallied his army to wage war against the Turks, the fight taking place at Nicopolis. “After this unfortunate battle,” Virgil Molin writes, “the kings of Hungary gave special attention to Timiºoara, reinforcing it with walls and turning it into a central stronghold of the smaller forts along the banks of the Danube, appointing as ‘Counts’ (conte, comte, conde, Graf – our note, T. C.) of Timiºoara the most worthy of the Hungarian noblemen, which is why they always had fierce battles against the heads of the eight Romanian districts in Banat, who demanded that this dignity should be entrusted to a Romanian.”7(It appears that Molin did not have a good grasp of the historical reality of Banat in the Middle Ages, ascribing to the privileged “heads of the eight Romanian counties” acts that they could not possibly have accomplished, given the existing regulations in the administration of the Hungarian Kingdom). Next, Virgil Molina mentions the following moments in the history of Timiºoara: “starting in 1456, when John Hunyadi was ‘Count of Timiº’ and Count Supreme (Prefect) of the city of Timiºoara,”8 he paid great attention to the fortification and the castle here; he strengthened the city’s fortifications and rebuilt the castle. During the time of Hunyadi, Timiºoara was the “centre for the assembly of the troops that were to be deployed against the Turks.”9 Then, “the election of Matthias as King of Hungary was staged”10 in this city. It was also here that “the mighty Pavel Chinezul [Pál Kinizsi], a Romanian who was a native of Banat, the one who vanquished the Turks on the ‘Bread Plains,’11 lived for a long time.” In 1514, “the city was besieged by rebel peasants, mostly Romanians, led by Gheorghe Doja, who was called “King of the peasants.”12 After the victory of the Ottoman army at “Mohaciu” (Mohács) on 29 August 1526, “both Banat and Timiºoara were laid open to Turkish invasions.”13 What are also mentioned are the sieges of Timiºoara by the Turks from the years 1551 and 1552 and its conquest by the Ottoman army, led by Ahmed Pasha, which had to overcome the fierce resistance of the defenders of the city, who were led by the mighty Stephen Losonczy. “The Turks’ 164 yearlong rule (1552-1716) over Timiºoara is the saddest page in the history of the city,”14 Virgil Molin writes. Then, in great haste, he moves on to “its liberation from the Turkish yoke,”15 which occurred in 1716, when the city was conquered by the Austrian imperial army. 3. A well-known personality of the Romanian political life in Banat from the late nineteenth century and the first three decades of the twentieth century 38 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) – we are making reference to Emanuil Ungurianu16 – also linked his name to a work on the history of Timiºoara.17 Here the works consulted are mentioned. We shall list them as the author records them: 1. Enciclopedia românã [The Romanian Encyclopaedia] by Dr. Cornel Diaconovici; 2. Istoria românilor [The History of the Romanians] by Xenopol; 3. Istoria românilor sub Mihai Viteazu [The History of the Romanians under Michael the Brave] by Nicolae Bãlcescu; 4. Scrierile [Works] by Demetrius Onciu; 5. Monografia oraºului Timiºoara [A Monograph of the City of Timiºoara] (in Hungarian)18 by Dr. ªtefan Berkeszi; 6. Istoria Banatului [The History of Banat] (in German) by Griselini; 7. Istoria Banatului [The History of Banat] (in German) by Leonard Böhm; 8. Monografia oraºului Timiºoara [A Monograph of the City of Timiºoara] (in German) by I. Preyer; 9. Istoria comitatului Timiºului ºi a oraºului Timiºoara [The History of Timiº County and of Timiºoara City], written by several historians on commission by the Hungarian government (in Hungarian); 10. Anton Bodor: Timiºoara ºi Ungaria de Sud [Timiºoara and South Hungary] (in Hungarian); 11. Szentkláray: Una sutã de ani din istoria Ungariei de Sud [One Hundred Years in the History of South Hungary] (in Hungarian). We have provided the titles of these works also with a view to highlighting the documentary and bibliographical horizon of an intellectual from Timiºoara, during the third decade of the twentieth century, as regards the history of Banat in general and of Timiºoara in particular. In accordance with the information derived from the aforementioned historical sources, Ungurianu refers to the migratory populations that passed through Banat, and then to the arrival of the Hungarians in Pannonia and their contact with the dukedom of Glad. He points out that “in the year 896, when the Hungarians came from the Don River across Galicia, the Romanian people were living in the entire Banat area under the Dukedom of Glad, whose residence was in Zambara;19 on the Hungarians’ arrival, Glad made a pact with the Hungarian beliduci [army leaders, translator’s note] Kund (sic) and Kadosa,20 who had been sent by Arpad, the Duke of the Hungarians, to conquer Banat; under the terms of this pact, Glad recognised the sovereignty of the Hungarians’ Voivode, remained, with the Romanian people, in possession of Banat, and this state lasted more than one hundred years, until, in around 1010,21 a descendant of Glad’s by the name of Aiton,22 wanting to shake off the sovereignty of the King of Hungary and place himself under the shield of the Byzantine Emperor, was defeated by Cianad, a beliduce of Stephen’s, the first King of Hungary; and Banat was annexed to Hungary; the Romanian people stayed on in Banat, with its organisation into small districts, under their ancient law – jus consuetudinarium valachium – and from these districts, the so-called Romanian chinezate (duchies) were born.”23 The author continues by combating the tendentious theses of foreign historiography, which argues that on the arrival of Hungarians, Banat was not inhab- HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 39 ited by the Romanians: “So the assertion made by German and Hungarian historians in more recent times, whereby the Romanians in Transylvania, Banat and the former Hungary sneaked into these areas during the thirteenth and the fourteenth centuries as cattle herdsmen coming from the Balkans and that they are not the indigenous people of Dacia Traiana is simply not true and is devoid of any real foundation,”24 Ungurianu writes. He brings the argument that Priscus Panites, the ambassador of Constantinople to Attila’s court in 448, “which lay between Szeged and Kunfegyhaza, heard the ausonic language which was then spoken and which was actually the Romanian language”25; then, “the old Hungarian chronicles attest that at the time when the Hungarians came to Hungary, Dacia Traiana was inhabited by the Romanian people.”26 The same thing – Ungurianu continues – is proved by the letter addressed by Pope Gregory IX (1227-1241) to the Hungarian King Bela IV (1235-1270) in 1243. In this letter, the sovereign pontiff draws the attention of the Hungarian King to the schismatics (i.e. Romanians) “from the Fords of the Danube.” The document “testifies,” Ungurianu writes, “that the Romanian people from Dacia Traiana had also organised, by that time, the Orthodox Romanian Episcopates, which the letter calls schismatic, and the Pope demands that King Bela IV should proceed with their destruction, lest they should stand in the way of Catholicism spreading around.”27 In fact, the document in question, which has long been commented on by Romanian historians, refers to the “Vlachs” in the “Cumans’ episcopate”, i.e. in a vast region, difficult to define today, most likely situated not in the area of the fords of the Danube, but in the extra-Carpathian region, ranging from the Olt River, covering the curvature of the Carpathians, and reaching what would come to be known as Bukovina. Ungurianu appears to be the first Romanian intellectual who drew attention to the first historical record of Timiºoara. “From the incorporation of Banat into Hungary, in around 1010,28 until the year 1203, Hungarian history and chronicles make no mention of either Banat or the city of Zambara.29 In 1203, Emeric (Imre), King of Hungary (1096-1204), donated an estate to a Catholic monastery near Timiºoara (in the whereabouts of where today lies the town of Becicherecul Mic [Zrenjanin]. In order to more clearly specify the site of the said estate, the donation act designates it as situated “where at first there was Castrum Temesiensis – Temesvár, Fastung Temesvar, the city of Timiº – fuctuor aratra a castro temesiense.”30 Ungurianu then adds that 10 years later this town was mentioned again. Namely, in 1213, the King of Hungary Andrew II (1205-1235) donated an estate – located approximately where Ciacova lies today – to a family of Hungarians (called Csáki). This time too, we are told, in order to more clearly set the limits of the estate, “the name Temesvár is mentioned in this document.”31 Finally, Ungurianu also remarks that “the name Temesvár was 40 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) also mentioned in 1278,”32 when King Ladislaus IV (1272-1290) stayed in this place for a few days. Timiºoara witnessed its first significant development during the reign of Charles Robert of Anjou (1308-1342), who, for a while, transferred his residence there. After outlining this situation, Ungurianu briefly reviews the feats of bravery committed by John Hunyadi and Pavel Chinezul. Regarding the latter, Ungurianu states that Matthias Corvinus (1458-1490) appointed “in the year 1475, a Romanian boyar called Paulus of Kenyes as count of the whole of Banat and as prefect of Timiºoara; Romanian documents refer to him as Paul Kinezu, the Hungarians call him Kinézsi, Pál Paulus of Kenyes, correctly translated as Paul Chinezeanu into Romanian; in Timiº County, in the rural district of Vinga, there is a village called Satchinez (the Chinese village, in translation); this village appears on a geographical map drawn in the year 1460 under the name of Kenéz, which makes it possible for the predicate (sic) and the name Paul Chinezu to derive from this village.”33 No other aspects regarding Timiºoara in the Middle Ages can be found in Emanuil Ungurianu’s modest work. 4. A dense historical micromonograph of Timiºoara is found in Ioan Lotreanu’s work, Monografia Banatului [A Monograph of Banat], volume I, Situaþia geograficã. Locuitorii – Comunele [The Geographical Situation. The Inhabitants – the Villages], Timiºoara: The Institute of Graphic Arts “Þara”, 1935, pp. 403-420. This synthesis of Timiºoara’s past is the first comprehensive presentation of the history of this town in Romanian historiography. The chronological sequence of events that constitutes the history of this city was mapped correctly by Lotreanu, this explaining the fact that the subsequent historians of Timiºoara would use it copiously, almost all of them proceeding in their studies from this work. It remains hardly comprehensible, however, why some of them neither mention nor cite it, amongst them being the thorough historian Nicolae Ilieºiu, the author of Timiºoara. Monografie istoricã [Timiºoara. A Historical Monograph], Timiºoara, 1943, which we shall present later. Lotreanu was also convinced that Timiºoara was situated on the hearth of the ancient Roman settlement “Zambara,” recorded by Ptolemy in the second century AD. After imagining what the city might have looked like at the beginning of Arpadian period, Lotreanu mentions that there is more accurate information on it dating back to the reign of Bela III (1172-1196), when a certain Pancraþiu [Pancras] was appointed as Count Supreme of Timiºoara (1172 -1175). In 1278, King Ladislaus IV (1272-1290) chose Timiºoara as a place for rallying and organising his army, Gregory, Bishop of Cenad, also being present there at the time. By the late thirteenth century, the King of Hungary had apparently donated Timiºoara to Parabuch, rewarding him thus for services he had rendered. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 41 That after Ladislaus IV (after 1290), for years on end, no king visited Timiºoara could be explained – according to Lotreanu – by the fact that, at that particular time, the city was in a state unfit for a royal reception. We have no documentary attestation from before the mid-fifteenth century that “there was a ‘civitas urbs’ or a ‘municipium Temesiensis’; Timiºoara was still called a castrum, and was ruled by a castellan.”34 King Charles Robert came to Timiºoara in 1307, aiming to check on the condition of this city in order to commence work on its restoration. Then he contacted Italian masters “from the banks of the Adriatic, who were highly skilled masons, which is also visible in the masonry model; on the other hand, it is known that in those times there were no craftsmen excelling at such work in our areas.”35 They most likely began construction works in 1307. The effort was lengthy, lasting about eight years, during which time King Charles Robert repeatedly visited Timiºoara, supervising the progress of the construction, especially between the years 1313-1315. It is claimed that Charles Robert’s palace was built on the site where, a century and a half later, John Hunyadi would raise his own castle, which would be much larger. On 1 May 1315, Charles Robert transferred his residence to Timiºoara, in the royal palace, settling there until 1323 (until 1325, according to other historians), when he changed his residence, choosing Visegrád instead. From Timiºoara he set off with his army, in 1330, against Basarab I, the Voivode of Wallachia (cca. 1310-1352). Having conquered the fortified town of Sebeº, on reaching Wallachia, his army was defeated by Basarab’s troops, in a place generically called Posada (9-12 November 1330), from where – after a hair’s breadth escape – he returned to Timiºoara, with the small group of soldiers that his entire army had been reduced to. After Charles Robert moved to Visegrád, the castle in Timiºoara became the residence of the prefect (count) of Timiºoara, Cenad and Cuvin, until 1441, when it came into the possession of John Hunyadi, who was then Ban of Severin and who was appointed Count of Timiºoara, Cenad and Cuvin. “Since then, this corner of the country has been called Banat,”36 John Lotreanu contends. He considers that “the most important period in the history of Timiºoara coincided with the rule of the Corvinus family. On his appointment as Ban of Timiºoara, John Hunyadi also became commander of the armies against the Turks. He systematically strengthened the city and the castle, and he also brought John of Cafa, Bishop of the Romanians, to Timiºoara, in 1450.”37 Next, Lotreanu overviews the visits paid by several kings of Hungary to Timiºoara, and their direct connections with the city. Thus King Sigismund of Luxembourg went to Timiºoara for the first time in September 1389. While he and his army fought against the Serbs, his wife “spent” (lived – our note, T. C.) in the company of the high-society ladies. She lived in Timiºoara for about two years, this being made possible, as Lotreanu explains, by the special condi- 42 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) tions that Timiºoara could offer her. In November 1456, Ladislaus V the Posthumous,38 accompanied by several officials, coming from Belgrade (Nánddorfehér), made a halt in Timiºoara, in the city castle, where he was received by the widow of John Hunyadi and by his son Matthias – then aged 13 – and was put up as their guest until the end of the month. Timiºoara appears as a city (civitas Themesiensis) for the first time in the certificates of 1474, this title entailing that the “property and personal freedom of the inhabitants was guaranteed under special laws.”39 The fortress remained in the property of the Corvinus family until 1490. As of 1492, it went into the possession of Pavel Chinezul, the count of Timiºoara. That was the year when King Vladislav II (1490-1516) carried out fortification works in the city; then, in 1494, he returned to Timiºoara and stayed there for five days, making certain plans, together with Pavel Chinezul, regarding the organisation of a battle against the Turks. Lotreanu believes that the fortress of the Hunyadis and its castle reentered the possession of the crown, but the latter never became a royal residence again, being only used as a dwelling place by the counts of Timiº, from 1490 to 1552, the year when it was occupied by the Turks.40 One of the most important moments in the history of Timiºoara was related to the peasant war led by Gheorghe Doja in 1514. His army was defeated under the walls of Timiºoara, and he was slaughtered, having received the terrible sentence of being burned on a red-hot iron “throne.” “From here, from a window, from the Josephine district of the palace,” Lotreanu writes, “the prefect Stephen Bathory and the future King John Zápolya, Voivode of Transylvania, watched how the revolutionary leader Gheorghe Dozsa was carried to the execution place and was burned at the stake.”41 Returning to the connections certain kings had with Timiºoara, Ioan Lotreanu states that Matthias Corvinus went there in November 1458, visiting his mother, with whom he spent two weeks. In 1494 King Vladislav II was in Timiºoara, together with Pavel Chinezul, to decide on the organisation of the battles against the Turks. However, that very year, on November 24, Pavel Chinezul died of apoplexy. After him, the next count of Timiºoara was Iosif of Szomu, “who died during the plague, between 15091511.”42 In 1528, the Serbs’ uprising started from Timiºoara, “incited by Ioan Csernovits and the men of King Ferdinand I (of Habsburg – our note, T. C.), who was the rival of King John Szapolyai, while during this time there were elected two kings. The insurgents, however, were completely destroyed.”43 In August 1551, Stephen Losonczy was appointed count of Timiºoara, and he had good training in the military tactics of the time; this was imperative, then, for a leader of this city, which was under the threat of an imminent attack by the Turks. Losonczy commanded 300 horsemen of Timiºoara city, 300 of Serédi’s warriors, a band of soldiers belonging to Gabriel Berényi and Nicholas Báthory, as well HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 43 as 400 Spaniards and as many German pandours led by General Aldana.44 At the behest of the Sultan, the beglerbeg (governor) of Rumelia, Mehmed Sököllü (Sokolovics) prepared a strong army with which he occupied Banat, arriving in mid-October 1551 in Timiºoara. The battles between the besiegers and the defenders of the city lasted ten days, until October 25, when the Ottomans abandoned their positions and began to withdraw towards Bečej.45 On June 24, 1552, Kasám, the Bey of Becicherec (Zrenjanin) arrived with 1,500 horsemen before Timiºoara. From the city, 400 horsemen led by Alfonso Perez and Nicholas the Voivode and 100 Spanish infantry came out to launch the attack. 20 Turks were killed in the battle. The next day, Stephen Losonczy closed the city and took all the measures for defence against the besiegers. On June 26 the Ottoman siege artillery arrived in Timiºoara. After three days, on June 28, Ahmed Pasha with all the Ottoman military forces arrived in the Ottoman camp. The troops from Rumelia led by Mehmed Sököllü and the Anatolian troops running under Hasan Pasha’s command also took part in the siege. The besiegers were far more numerous than the defenders46 of the city and they were well equipped with weaponry. Until July 25, there were many battles, the forces of the defenders dwindling substantially; they retreated in the last fortress, no longer having either food or ammunition. The citizens of Timiºoara insisted on handing over the city. Without revealing his documentary sources, Lotreanu states that “because of the Spanish mercenaries’ revolt in the city, Losonczy was forced to begin peace negotiations and, to this end, he sent two officers to the Pasha with the proposal and the conditions for ceasefire.”47 As regards the Spanish led by Castelluvio, something else is known, namely that they were remarkable in the fierce battles of 29 July and 6 July (when they repelled a strong Turkish attack, and when the brave commander Mendoza was wounded).48 According to the surrender agreement with the Ottomans, the city garrison was to leave freely through the Praiko gate. However, while they were coming out of the city, they were involved in incidents caused by the Ottomans, which eventually escalated into a slaughter and in which Stephen Locsonczy was seriously injured. He ended up alive in the hands of the Turks, who nonetheless beheaded him. They peeled the skin off his head and filled it with straw and sent it to the Sultan, along with other signs of their victory over the Christians. From then on until 1716, Timiºoara was occupied by the Turks. Lotreanu argues that “the Christian religion as such was not persecuted by the Turks; they had merely seized the churches. 60 years after its occupation by the Turks, the city had a Serbian Greek-Orthodox diocese, whose bishop in 1608 was Neophitus. In 1716, when Timiºoara was taken over from the Turks by Eugene of Savoy, Vladislavlyevici Ioaniþiu, the then Serbian bishop, rendered great services to the former (espionage, offering the Austrians information about the 44 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Ottoman army in the city – our note, T. C.). Being caught red-handed by the Turks, they sentenced him to prison. For his merits, the Court of Vienna reinforced his position in the episcopal see of Timiºoara in 1722.”49 Lotreanu considers that under the Turks, the Romanians from Timiºoara suffered greatly. They were evicted from the city, which was intended only for the Muslims. Other documentary sources claim that the Romanians remained inside the city during the Turkish occupation. Counting on their co-nationals’ massive presence in the area during the Austrians’ siege of Timiºoara, the Romanians are said to have cast arrows into the city with notes written in Romanian, to incite their countrymen to an anti-Ottoman uprising. Because of the Turkish oppressions – Lotreanu shows – the Romanians rose in rebellion (in 1594) and, under the leadership of “Bishop Teodor, of Ioan from Lugoj and of a certain Iancu, they occupied several fortresses in Banat and beat the Turks as many as 3-4 times and even the pasha from Timiºoara.”50 Not wanting to endure the “Ottoman wrath,”51 Lotreanu writes, “many Romanians joined the army of Michael the Brave, believing that it would free them from the Turkish yoke.”52 The author considers that it was also with the help of the Romanians that Sigismund Báthory (Prince of Transylvania between 1581-1587, 1596-1599, 1601, 1601-1602) held Timiºoara under siege for two months in 1596, but the Turkish garrison in the city could not be defeated because it was aided by an army of 20,000 Tatars. According to Lotreanu, in 1602, the Romanians were also amongst the soldiers fighting for Stephen Bocskay (1605-1606), who defeated the pasha of Timiºoara near the fortress of Fãget. A second attempt to conquer Timiºoara back from the Turks (during the first 45 years of Ottoman rule) was made in 1596, when the Prince of Transylvania, Sigismund Báthory, sent his Chancellor, the Romanian nobleman ªtefan Iosika, with 25,000 soldiers, to occupy Timiºoara, but because of the heavy rains that autumn, his army had to give up waging war. Only a century later, in the years 1695-1696, would the Austrian army succeed in freeing most of Banat from the Turkish rule. Given certain diplomatic measures, Timiºoara remained, at that time, under the Turks. The same condition, of a city occupied by the Turks, was reserved to it under the peace talks from Karlowitz in 1699. The situation would only change in 1716, when the war between the Austrian Empire and the Ottoman Empire broke out. Under those circumstances, on August 26, 1716, an imperial army led by Prince Eugene of Savoy laid siege to Timiºoara, “surrounded it from all sides, thwarting any possibility for the Turks to provide it with supplies.”53 Then, starting on September 29, a continuous bombing of Timiºoara began, which lasted 40 days. Refusing to surrender, the Ottomans obstinately kept their ground until October 12, when the imperial troops entered the city, from where they continued to bomb the fortress. Then followed the surrender, and the next day, on October 13, a peace HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 45 treaty was signed between the warring parties, whereby the Turks were allowed to freely leave the city and the fortress, the Austrians ensuring their safety on the road to Belgrade. The population of the city – Romanians, Serbians, Armenians, Jews – could opt either to remain in Timiºoara or leave it. On October 18, 1716, leading his troops, Prince Eugene of Savoy made a triumphal entry into the city of Timiºoara, taking it into his possession – a happy circumstance during which he also celebrated his 43rd anniversary. Eugene of Savoy entrusted the security and the administration of Timiºoara to General Claudius Florimund de Mercy. Emperor Charles VI of Austria (1711-1740) immortalised the moment of Timiºoara’s conquest by issuing, in 1716, a commemorative coin. “The official seal of Timiºoara was probably also made in 1716,” Lotreanu writes, “since it was found printed on an intestate succession act from 1734, with the inscription Sigilum Regie Civitatis Temes-variensis 1716.”54 Prince Eugene of Savoy appointed General Walles Francis Paul as Commander of the city of Timiºoara. He and Mercy were cautioned by Eugene of Savoy to allow no one but Germans of the Roman Catholic religion into the city, demanding that all the other nationalities should settle in the suburbs. During the Ottoman rule, the Romanians, on the one hand, and the Serbs, on the other hand, lived in separate, independent suburbs. Nicolae Muncia was the mayor of the Serbian suburb; during the Austrian siege, he, together with Bishop Vladislavlievici, crept out of the city, informing the imperials about the state of affairs inside. Thus, for the Serbs in Timiºoara, a situation was created which would prove to their advantage in their relations with the representatives of the Austrian government. Unlike foreign (but also some Romanian) historians, who idealise the establishment of the Austrian rule in Banat, in the sense that it was nothing but a source of blessings, Ioan Lotreanu takes a more objective stance, which will gain ground in the Romanian historiography of the interwar period. Thus, he shows that, first of all, the Court of Vienna had an interest in fully exploiting this province, the expected profits being derived from the work of the majority population here, which was of Romanian extraction. Then – which is even worse – the imperials fostered a socio-political framework that was detrimental to the Romanians’ ethnic and cultural affirmation, imposing the Serbian hierarchy over the Romanian Orthodox Church until 1865, and, from 1867, defining their status as “subjects” of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. Both measures generated serious pressures, aimed at the denationalisation of the Romanians. Lotreanu claims that “for the Romanians, Timiºoara’s reconquest did not mean emancipation, but the beginning of a long series of serious struggles against the tendency to denationalise them.”55 Ioan Lotreanu conducts a thorough historical documentation on all the localities in the Romanian Banat and in his monograph, he presents the most impor- 46 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) tant historical data about them. The information on the Middle Ages has clear priority and, implicitly, great significance. He uses the works of Stefan Berkeszi, Anton Bodor, S. Borovszky, L. Bölm, Fr. Griselini, St. Iványi, Fr. Milleker, T. Ortvay, Fr. Pesty, I. Preyer, E. Szentkláray, and J. H. Schwicker, as well as several studies belonging to Romanian authors. Amongst them are cited Traian Birãescu’s Banatul sub turci ([Banat under the Turks], Timiºoara, 1934), Patriciu Drãgãlina’s Istoria Banatului Severin [The History of Severin Banat, C. Diaconovici’s Enciclopedia românã [The Romanian Encyclopaedia], A. Ghidiu and I. Bãlan’s Monografia oraºului Caransebeº [A Monograph of the City of Caransebeº], Ioan Lupaº’ Istoria bisericii române din Ardeal [The History of the Romanian Church in Transylvania], Petru Maior’s Istoria pentru începutul romanilor în Dacia [The History of the Beginnings of the Romans in Dacia], T. Pãcãþian’s Cartea de aur ([The Golden Book], Sibiu, 1904), George Popoviciu’s Istoria românilor bãnãþeni [The History of the Romanians from Banat], Traian Simu’s Drumuri ºi cetãþi române din Banat ([Romanian Roads and Cities from Banat], Lugoj, 1924) and Colonizarea ºvabilor în Banat ([The Colonization of the Swabians from Banat], Timiºoara, 1924), Gr. Tocilescu’s Dacia înainte de romani ([Dacia before the Romans], Bucharest, 1880), Emanuil Ungurianu’s Originea ºi trecutul Timiºoarei [The Origin and the History of Timiºoara], Iuliu Vuia’s Districtus valachorum (Timiºoara, 1929), A. D. Xenopol’s Istoria românilor din Dacia Traianã ([The History of the Romanians in Dacia Traiana], 13 volumes, Iaºi, 1896-1912), to which are added the journals The Annals of Banat (1928-1931) and Gemina (1923). Besides Timiºoara, he also allots a substantial space to Caransebeº in his monograph. What is surprising, however, is that in presenting the information from the Middle Ages on this locality, he does not use Ioachim Miloia’s study,56 recently published in Analele Banatului (Annals of Banat). It would have exempted him from certain confusions, such as the one whereby the locality “used to be referred to as Caran and Sebeº.”57 Miloia demonstrates that they were two different settlements, located at a distance of about 15 km, both being district centres. We believe that the title of Lotreanu’s work is inaccurate because this is not a monograph of Banat, but a historical dictionary of the localities here. The importance of this work is all the greater, therefore, as an instrument of research, since it provides concise documentation on each settlement in this region. As regards the first historical attestations of the localities in Banat and the references to them from various mediaeval documents, Lotreanu’s work was, for a long time, the sole source, in Romanian at least, for researchers, in particular, and for the inhabitants of each settlement here, in general. This was the case until the publication of such works as Coriolan Suciu’s Dicþionar istoric al localitãþilor din Transilvania [A Historical Dictionary of the Localities in Transylvania], I-II (Academy Press, Bucharest, 1967-1968) and Nicolae Stoicescu’s Bibliografia localitãþilor ºi HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 47 monumentelor medievale din Banat [A Bibliography of Mediaeval Localities and Monuments from Banat], (Timiºoara, 1973). We learn from the preamble (În loc de prefaþã) to this work that Lotreanu gathered very much material with a view to developing an extensive work on the history of Banat, encompassing about 10 to 12 volumes. Only the first volume came out and even that was not as the author had intended it, because of the lack of sufficient financial support for its printing. The author himself confesses to the insurmountable obstacles in the way of valorising the published results of his research: “After hard, meticulous work, carried out for more than ten years, searching through archives and public libraries, and wandering through this land, far and wide, I managed to gather the necessary material for publishing Monografia Banatului, a work consisting of 10 to 12 volumes, which were to remirror the entire past of this corner of the country.58 For my labour I was rewarded by the joy I felt after scouring all this material, sifting through and ranking it in a peculiar order, with a word, ready to be put to print, to see daylight shortly, for many are those, even amongst the natives of Banat, who barely know anything about their own land. But my joy was short-lived, because in addition to the many obstacles to collecting this material, I now have to face other, greater difficulties: difficulties of a financial order. For in addition to the tremendous work I have done to help describe the past of this corner of the country, I have also exhausted my modest cash fund, created and refilled every month from my even more modest civil servant salary. The encouragement of my friends and the promises of the gentlemen who handle the funds for national culture and propaganda, that is those who administer the public money, have led me to place the first volume of my work under print, and after knocking on all doors, calling for assistance at least to partially cover the printing fees for this work, I was astonished when generous hands, after so many pleas I had made, would only give me the sum of 10,000 lei (please read ten thousand lei), whereas for so many other things of little or no importance, hundreds of thousands are given away from the public funds. And so, with all my hopes dashed, and only because my work was already put to print, I had to cut down on the material and go into debt in order to see printed at least this first volume of the monograph. For this reason, my work has appeared under poor conditions, mainly as regards the technical aspects. But if it is appreciated at its just value and is received with a similar joy to the excitement I experienced about 10-12 years ago when I started it, all these errors and shortcomings will no longer be noticed in any possible second edition this volume.”59 No second edition and no other work of historiography signed by Lotreanu were ever issued. Nothing is also known about the “other volumes which (as testified by Lotreanu in 1935) lie in manuscript.”60 48 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 5. In 1936 Ghidul Banatului [A Guide to Banat] by Emil Grãdinaru and Ion Stoia-Udrea appeared in Timiºoara, which has a chapter entitled “Scurtã privire istoricã” [“A Brief Historical Overview”], on which we shall focus below. This chapter was, of course, written by Ion Stoia-Udrea, one of the leading historians of Banat. The other author was one of intellectuals of interwar Timiºoara, who worked, for a long time, as a clerk for the City Hall, specifically as head of its Cultural Department. He also had a modest publishing activity and was the author of Regele Ferdinand ºi Banatul [King Ferdinand and Banat], Timiºoara, 1930. Since the information on the mediaeval history of Banat contained in this guide is better organised in Ion Stoia-Udrea’s study “Banatul în prima jumãtate a mileniului nostru” [“Banat during the First Half of Our Millennium”], published in Studii ºi documente bãnãþene de istorie, artã ºi etnografie [Banat Studies and Documents on History, Art and Ethnography], published in Timiºoara in 1943 and analysed in the paper, here we shall only undertake a brief summary of the above-mentioned chapter, “A Brief Historical Overview”. In it, the period of Glad and Ahtum is presented in passing and in a confused manner. Then mention is made of the Magyarization of the Romanian nobility, while “the Knyazes still maintain themselves as Romanian. But as soon as a Knyaz is turned into a nobleman, he enters the ranks of another nation and, a few generations later, his original ethnic character has completely been lost.”61 It is emphasised that “solely the lower class, that of the land workers turned serfs retains its ethnic character throughout time. It remains the same over the centuries, under all the conquerors who succeed one another.”62 This idea, which Udrea is very fond of, appears many times in his studies and articles published in Vrerea (Series I, 1932-1937; Series II, 1944-1947). He then presents several significant aspects from the Arpadian period of Hungary’s history, which “have a bearing on Banat.”63 What is important is the sequence in which is presented the “political geography of the territory between the Mureº, the Tisa and the Danube”64 from that period: “The western part comprises the counties of Timiº (the city of Timiºoara being, of course, its residence) and Caraº, with the cities of Sumigul, Horomul and Caraºova being almost always subjected to the jurisdiction and military power of the count of Timiº. In the east, we have the Banat of Severin, including the territory of Severin County, a part of Caraº and Mehedinþi. This Banat of Severin was a political organisation stemming from the military needs of Hungary, and its territory fluctuated continuously, according to circumstances. At the head of this county there was a Ban, who, from a military point of view, was almost always subordinated to the count of Timiº, just like the Wallachian districts.”65 What readers back then found useful in the guide was the correct information, of a general nature, about the Romanian districts (only the eight privileged districts were featured), highlighting “their (administrative and legal – HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 49 our note T. C.) autonomy within the Hungarian state”66 and their “indivisible” character (“not even the king himself can alienate the lands of their territories”67). Emphasis is laid on the links between Charles Robert and Banat, on the development of the city of Timiºoara and the construction of the castle here by this king of Hungary. Due to historical circumstances – especially the Ottoman threat, we are told – Timiºoara becomes the “key to the whole of Hungary and to the whole of Christian Europe.”68 The Turks’ first raid in Banat occurred in 1396, after the defeat of the Christian armies at Nicopolis. A large space (in the section entitled “Scurtã privire istoricã” - “A Brief Historical Overview”) is devoted to John Hunyadi, insisting also on the support the Knyazes from Banat gave him in his anti-Ottoman fight. There are a few forays into the history of the Hungarian Kingdom, highlighting especially those aspects which relate directly to Banat; thereafter, the chapter focuses on the time of its partial occupation by the Turks and underscores several characteristics of the Ottoman rule in the province. Banat, the guide contends, “is divided into two by now. The Western part, which is under the jurisdiction of the Timiº count, is ruled by the Turks. It is turned into a pashalik and is divided into four sanjaks: of Timiºoara, Cenad, Zrenjanin and Lipova. At the head of the pashalik is the beglerbeg of Timiºoara, while the cities of Ciacova, Cuvin, Pancevo, Vrsac, Orºova, Mehadia and the others are placed under the command of a pasha. Also in Timiºoara is located the mufti (the head of justice and the religious leader of the pashalik), as well as the chasinedar (the treasurer of the province). The eastern part of the province, comprising the north-western lands of the former Banat of Severin, hence many of territories of the Wallachian districts, formed, for 100 years, a separate political entity called ‘the Banat of Lugoj and Caransebeº,’ whose Ban was always the Voivode of Transylvania. In 1658, however, these lands were also subjected to Turkish rule, being annexed to the Pashalik of Timiº.”69 Next, it is shown that the Turkish rule brought great changes to the social organisation of Banat. Firstly, the nobility disappeared here (having sought refuge in Hungary or Transylvania), because after the introduction of the Ottoman administration in Banat, all the older class privileges were abolished. All the remaining residents here were on the same level, that is they were “infidel subjects” of the sultan. The land was the padishah’s, who bestowed it according to his own will. However, during a certain period (around 1700), the life of the peasantry was somewhat eased, because a system of land grants was introduced in Banat; this contributed to the welfare of farmers, which was above the level encountered in the Hungarian areas. Therefore, part of the populace residing near the borders began to emigrate to Banat. These are facts that are increasingly highlighted in the Romanian historiography on Banat during the interwar period, amounting thus – also from this point of view – to a counterresponse to the 50 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) theses of those foreign historians who present the Ottoman rule exclusively through its negative side, so as to highlight, by positive contrast, the Austrian “saving” and “beneficial liberation.” 6. In 1943 appeared the work Timiºoara. Monografie istoricã [Timiºoara. A Historical Monograph] by Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu, an author who, like Ioan Lotreanu, became known in the interwar period by publishing historical studies.70 In the brief Cuvânt cãtre cititori [Foreword to the Readers], Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu shows that “the present monograph is part of the work Istoria Banatului [The History of Banat], a work that is almost completed (...). While volume I of the work has certain lacks, lacunae, I ask the reader that they should not be attributed only to me but also to the times. These lacks and lacunae I shall redress in Volume II, which will deal primarily with the economic, financial, social and commercial life, with ethnography, statistics, communications.” Neither the history of Banat, nor volume II of this work ever came out. These failures may also be accounted given that the period coincided with the aftermath of World War II. In 2003, on the anniversary of 60 years since the princeps edition of Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu’s historical monograph of Timiºoara was published, the second edition came out, revised and enlarged. One might understand that it was “revised and enlarged” by the author, which is not true. A copy of the monograph, which belonged to Ilieºiu, has been found, with annotations made by the author in 1961. These annotations, to which reference is made in the text of the paper, are highlighted in the Addenda. The part of mediaeval history is structured as follows: I. Timiºoara pânã la anul 1552 – Timiºoara until the Year 1552 (1. Timiºoara din cele mai vechi timpuri pânã în secolul XIV - Timiºoara from the dawn of time until the fourteenth century, 2. Epoca de înflorire. Timiºoara capitala Ungariei – The period of prosperity. Timiºoara as the capital of Hungary, 3. Timiºoara centru de operaþiune contra turcilor – Timiºoara as a centre of operations against the Turks, 4. Timiºoara asediatã de cãtre Gheorghe Doja – Timiºoara besieged by Gheorghe Doja, 5. Turcii sub zidurile Timiºoarei – The Turks under the walls of Timiºoara); II. Cetatea Timiºoarei – The City of Timiºoara (1. Vechea cetate - The old city, 2. Cetatea sub Anjouvini – The city under the Angevins, 3. În timpul Huniadeºtilor – During the time of the Hunyadis, 4. În timpul turcilor – During the time of the Turks 5. Sub Carol VI – Under Charles VI); and III. Timiºoara sub ocupaþie turceascã - Timiºoara under Turkish Occupation (1. Organizarea Paºalâcului – The Organisation of the Pashalik, 2. Încercãri de recucerire – Reconquest attempts, 3. Condiþiile capitulãrii – The terms of surrender; 4. ªirul Paºalelor din Timiºoara – The series of pashas in Timiºoara). We shall mention some of the most important works included in the bibliography of this monograph, in order to circumscribe, to the extent possible, Ilieºiu’s documentary framework: Fr. Griselini’s Istoria Banatului Timiºan ([The HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 51 History of the Banat of Temeswar], translated from Italian by N. Bolocan, Timiºoara, 1926); L. Bölm’s Geschichte des Temeser Banats, Leipzig, 1861; Czimer Károly’s Temesvár megvétele, Budapest, 1893; Dr. S. Márki’s Dózsa György és forradalma, Budapest, 1883; Pesty Frigyes’s Krassó varmegye története, Budapest, 1884; Barat Ármin’s Die Königliche Freistadt Temesvár, Temesvár, 1902; Johann Preyer’s Monographie der königlichen Freistadt Temesvár, Temesvár, 1853; Ortvay Tivadar’s Oklevelek Temesvár város történetéhez, Pozsony, 1896; Dr. George Popoviciu’s Istoria românilor bãnãþeni [The History of the Romanians from Banat], Lugoj, 1904; B. Millek’s Délmagyarország régiségleletei, Temesvár, 1897; Patriciu Drãgãlina’s Din istoria Banatului Severin [From the History of Severin Banat], volumes I-II-III, Caransebeº, 1899, 1900, 1902; Emil Grãdinaru and Ion Stoia-Udrea’s Ghidul Banatului [A Guide to Banat], Timiºoara, 1936. To these papers are added documents from the City Hall Archives in Timiºoara, the parish archives in Timiºoara, articles from the magazines and newspapers published in Timiºoara. Ilieºiu considers that “where Timiºoara lies today, or closely nearby, there was a military castrum in the Roman times, Zambara, or Zurobara. On the Pentingerian tables, the place is a little farther north from where Timiºoara lies today, about where the village of Iarmota is.”71 Besides the above-mentioned, he adds elsewhere, in relation to the location of the Roman castrum Zambara or Zurobara in Timiºoara, that some historians do not connect the respective place name from the Pentingerian Tables to Timiºoara.72 Nicolae Ilieºiu’s annotation in the Addenda states that “T. Ortvay claims that Zambara, indicated in the Pentingerian Tables, is not Timiºoara and that in the place where Timiºoara is today there was another Tibiscum, while Zambara is Zenta (...). That here (in the place of Timiºoara – our note T. C.) there was a Roman castrum may be inferred from various inscriptions (...). That here was a Roman resort may also be proved by the coins or objects dug out during various excavations. In 1901-1902, when a part of the city walls were torn down, various objects came to light, such as coins, traces, sherds of dishes from Roman times.” The author of Note on the edition, archaeologist Florin Medeleþ does not comment in any way these arguments made by Nicolae Ilieºiu. In 1203, Timiº County was attested in a document, count Poth being also mentioned. Since Timiº County had its centre in Timiºoara, Ilieºiu concludes that 1203 is also the year of the documentary attestation of Timiºoara. The castrum is mentioned in the certificate of King Andrew II from 1212. During the Tatar invasion, the city of Timiºoara was destroyed. It was rebuilt by King Bela IV. In 1278, King Ladislaus IV the Cuman was in Timiºoara, accompanied by Gregory, Bishop of Cenad. There he gathered an army for the expedition that magister Georgius led against the Romanian Voivode Litovoi. 52 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Data from older monographs are reiterated here. Under the dynasty of Anjou, Timiºoara underwent a tremendous development, starting with the major urban works that were carried out here on the initiative of King Charles Robert. After rebuilding the city and constructing the royal palace, Charles Robert transferred his residence to Timiºoara in 1315. With the establishment of the royal family and of various feudal lords in Timiºoara, an ecclesiastical cultural life gained roots here, especially given that the Hungarian monarchs were apostolic kings, having, above all, the mission to convert the “faithless Vlachs” to Catholicism. Missionary Catholic priests also arrived with various great feudal lords in other regions of Banat. That is why, in the fourteenth century, in Banat – where the majority population was Romanian – there were Catholic priests, but there were no Catholic parishes.73 In this sense, the tithe lists (decima ecclesiastica) from the years 1332-1337 are self explanatory, recording several villages that had Catholic priests, but where the population was not Catholic. There is evidence that the Orthodox clergy and population were subjected to tithing. Timiºoara was a royal residence until 1325. Then, amongst the notables who stayed close to the royal court was – we are told – also the Romanian nobleman Nicolae Teutul, count of Timiº. After moving the capital of Hungary to Visegrád, and then to Buda, King Charles Robert returned to Timiºoara on two occasions, the former in 1330, when he started his expedition against Voivode Basarab from Wallachia, and the latter, in 1332, at the time of the Christmas holidays. After the death of King Charles Robert, we are assured that the royal palace in Timiºoara came into the possession of the crown, the future kings and their entourage staying here during their voyages to the city. It is also shown that in 1358, King Louis the Great was in Timiºoara, whence he launched an expedition against the Serbian despot Uroº. The second time he was here was ten years later, in 1368, when, with his army, he waged war against Vlaicu Vodã, Prince of Wallachia. In 1385, Queen Elizabeth, the widow of Louis the Great, stayed with her daughter Mary for a longer while in Timiºoara.74 In 1389, King Sigismund of Luxembourg with his wife Mary came to Timiºoara and remained here for nearly two years. The King led, from here, the military operations against the Serbian ruler Stephen. In the years 1396, 1397, 1409, 1426, 1428, King Sigismund of Luxembourg for a long time in Timiºoara, which, by that time, had become an efficient centre for guiding the military operations against the Ottomans. Ilieºiu considers that “Sigismund’s longer stay in Timiºoara may be explained not only by the fact that he ran his operations against the Turks from here, but also by his fear of an uprising of the Hungarian nobility, which was disgruntled by the acts of his reign. Amongst the discontented were many noblemen from Banat. It was the latter whom the King wanted to attract to his side.”75 Other events are succinctly rendered: on September 24, HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 53 1397, King Sigismund of Luxembourg summoned the Diet of Hungary in Timiºoara, aiming to find the most appropriate measures for the defence against the Turkish incursions; for the first time in the history of Hungary, the representatives of cities were also invited to this diet, which attested the importance of that debate. The author highlights the decisions taken by the Diet sitting in Timiºoara: during the Turkish incursions, if the nobility situated near the border under attack is unable to cope with the situation, the entire nobility from the Kingdom of Hungary shall head for the threatened frontier, that army being led by the king or the palatine; the nobility shall also send one fully equipped soldier into battle for every group of 20 serf households; during the war, half of the church revenue shall be channelled towards covering the military needs.76 Details are also provided about another general assembly of the nobility, summoned by Sigismund in Timiºoara, in 1399, when under debate was the resolution of certain disagreements that had arisen between some of the noblemen. What is emphasised is how Timiºoara became the very centre of organising expeditions against the Turks during the time of John Hunyadi, Ban of Severin, Count of Timiº, Voivode of Transylvania and, between 1446 and 1453, Governor of Hungary. Ilieºiu gives a detailed presentation of John Hunyadi’s military and administrative work. In 1455, being in dire need of money because of the many wars he had waged, King Ladislaus V the Posthumous pawned the city of Timiºoara with all its appurtenances to John Hunyadi. Entry into possession was done, as usual, through the mediation of the Chapter of Cenad, on August 8, 1455. A further act, issued on 7 April 1456, confirmed once again that the city of Timiºoara had been given to John Hunyadi for the sum of 20,000 florins, which he had lent to King Ladislaus V the Posthumous. Details are then provided about Matthias Corvinus, John Hunyadi’s son, who was elected King of Hungary on January 24, 1458. We learn that in November that same year, the young king was in Timiºoara – the city of his childhood – where he spent two weeks. Back then – as shown by historiographer Bonfinius, who lived at the court of King Matthias Corvinus – Timiºoara was a pleasant and nice city, with a strong fortress, elegant buildings and pompous palaces.77 By that time, the Turks had increasingly intensified their marauding incursions in Banat. In 1463, Ali Beg, commander of the Ottoman cities in Serbia, reached with his army the very walls of the city of Timiºoara. Here he was defeated by an army made up of Romanians and Székelys, led by I. Pongrácz, the Voivode of Transylvania. Three years later, in 1476, the same Ali Beg was vanquished again under the walls of Timiºoara city. Between 1478-1494, Pavel Chinezul held the dignity of Count of Timiº. In 1482, he gathered in Timiºoara an army of 3,000 soldiers, “the majority of whom were Romanians”78 – Ilieºiu points out – with which he set out to free the city 54 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) of Horon. To withstand the frequent attacks from the Turks, King Vladislau II gave orders that reinforcement works should be conducted in the city Timiºoara. Strengthening the fortifications was achieved under the rule of Pavel Chinezul, who spent a great deal of his fortune for carrying out the necessary works. Such was the importance given to this fortification that in 1492, King Vladislau II arrived in Timiºoara to check on the manner the works had been carried out here. On this occasion, he spent a month in Timiºoara. The previous time King Vladislau II had been in Timiºoara, in 1495, he had taken part in serious trials, such as that in which Bartolomeu Berislo was sentenced to death for collaboration with the Ottomans, theft and money forgery. Vladislav II switched his sentence to life imprisonment in the Timiºoara gaol. Another trial that took place in the presence of the king was that of Bishop Sigismund Ernust from Pecs (Five Churches), who was sentenced to prison for embezzling the sum of 400,000 ducats. He was punished by imprisonment in the city of Timiºoara, pending his repayment of the embezzled sum. Ilieºiu devotes a special chapter in his monograph to the tragic moment in Timiºoara involving Gheorghe Doja, the leader of the peasant war of 1514. He manifests sympathy for Doja and the Transylvanian peasantry, driven to rebellion because the terrible hardships of life, being overly exploited by the barons of the Hungarian Kingdom. For the first time in the historiography of Banat is published the shattering description of Doja’s torture, which took place in Timiºoara, and which is tackled by Nicolae Isthvanfi’s work entitled Pannoni Historiarum de rebus Hungaricis.79 Simplifying or inaccurate statements are also made: after the battle of Mohács in 1526, Hungary falls under Turkish rule, and the Ottoman Empire cedes Banat to John Zápolya (Voivode of Transylvania between 1510-1526 and King of Eastern Hungary between 1526-1540). In fact, direct Ottoman rule was established, as it is well known, only later. After the death of John Zápolya, his widow, Isabella, concluded an agreement with Ferdinand I of Habsburg (King of Western Hungary between 1526-1563 and Emperor of Germany from 1556 to 1564), whereby the imperials received Transylvania, Banat and the crown of Hungary, while Isabella was awarded a compensation of 240,000 florins and several estates in Silesia for her son John Sigismund. The act under which Isabella relinquished Transylvania was approved by the Diet of Cluj, on 26 July 1551. As regards Banat, it is important that on July 30, 1551, in the Diet of Cluj, the delegates of Petru Petrovici, Count of Timiº, said on his behalf that they would cede the cities from Timiº County to the imperials in exchange for city of Muncaci (Munkács, Mukačevo).80 However, these negotiations proved futile in terms of the European policy of the Ottoman Empire, which was determined to enter into possession of Banat HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 55 and to displace the Habsburgs from Transylvania. The book then details the events related to the occupation of a large part of Banat by the Ottomans. In 1551, Lugoj and Caransebeº were in the hands of Emperor Ferdinand I (since 7 February), on about 10 or 12 May the cities of Mãnãºtiur and Margina came under the rule of the imperials and on August 3, Aldana reached Timiºoara with 400 Spanish soldiers and one hundred German mercenaries, who started consolidating its fortifications.81 On September 7, 1551, the Ottoman army entered the west of Banat and, continuing its military operations, on 11 September it besieged the city of Bečej. It was there that on September 11, Vizier Mehmed Sököllü (Sokolovics) also arrived with his troops. The fortress was captured on September 14. On September 24-25, the Ottomans besieged and conquered Becicherecu Mare (Zrenjanin). Here, the Turks established the first Sanjak on the territory of Banat, comprising the areas of Bečej, Becicherecu Mare, Ciacova, ªemlacu Mic and Ilidia.82 Also in September, the Ottomans took the cities of Cenad, Igriº, Felnac, Nãdlac, Chemac, Pãuliº, Mândruloc, and later, in early October, Lipova. The siege of Timiºoara, which had become imminent, is presented in a rather dramatic manner. The advance of the Ottoman troops towards Timiºoara began on 13-14 October. “The first clash between the two armies occurred on October 16, 1551”83 – Ilieºiu writes. However, according to certain documentary sources (Czimer Károly, “Temesvár megvetele 1551-1552,” in Hadtörténelmi Közleményet, VI, Budapest, 1893, fasc. I, pp. 15-71),84 the first confrontations took place on October 15. In what follows, Ilieºiu describes the battles between the besiegers and the besieged: “on October 17, 1551, the Turks dig their trenches before the northern gate of the city and install heavy bombardment canons. The garrison is summoned to surrender, being guaranteed the freedom to exit the city. Commander Losoncius (Losonczy) rejects the offer. The Turks surround Timiºoara from all sides. The Island (Small Palanca) is under a particularly strong siege, which makes the besieged set fire to their houses and prepare for retreat. General Aldana with 100 Spaniards carries the food supplies and the weapons from the Island into the city, sets fire to the houses and destroys the bridge connecting the Island and the city.”85 However, to the relief of the besieged, the Ottoman army made a headlong retreat from under the walls of Timiºoara and headed towards the city of Bečej. Ilieºiu says that the event happened on October 27; according to other documentary sources, the Ottomans abandoned their positions and began their retreat to Bečej on October 25.86 Timiºoara would be conquered by the Turks in the summer of 1552, the imperials’ surrender taking place on July 25. Ilieºiu describes in detail how the confrontation took place between the Ottomans and the imperials, using the best documentary source at the time regarding the event, namely Czimer Károly’s work Temesvár megvetéle, Budapest, 1883. Particularly important is Chapter II of 56 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Ilieºiu’s work, which is dedicated to the city of Timiºoara. This is the first approach to this topic in the Romanian historiography devoted to the Middle Ages in Banat. Ilieºiu considers that the city of Timiºoara dates back approximately to the tenth century and that it was built after the system of Avar fortifications, from earth mixed with stones. “Around the city,” he writes, “in the nearby vicinity, there were mounds of earth covered with grass, then came the ditches filled with water.”87 Adrian Andrei Rusu claims that so far, no evidence has been brought to attest the existence in Timiºoara of a city of earth.88 The first documentary mention – found by Ilieºiu – about the city of Timiºoara comes from the year 1212, when a certificate of Andrew II mentions the castrum regius Temesvar.89 This confirms what Adrian Andrei Rusu contends, namely that “logic calls for the presumption that Charles Robert’s choice of [Timiºoara] was determined by the existence of an older (Arpadian?) military base there.”90 Ilieºiu shows that he has not been able to identify precisely the site of Timiºoara’s fortification, but “it is very likely that the primitive fortress (built from earth – our note T. C.) was where the National Theatre and Liberty Square are now.”91 Even today the landmarks of Timiºoara are the same. Useful are the presentations of the city “under the Angevins” and “during the Hunyadis,” highlighting, above all, the building of fortifications and of the castle by Charles Robert and by John Hunyadi. Equally valuable are the data about the city during the Ottoman occupation and the reign of Emperor Charles VI. Ilieºiu’s contribution to clarifying some aspects related to the endurance of the Timiºoara fortification and the castle here during the Middle Ages has not been sufficiently emphasised yet. Even the prominent specialist in the history of Timiºoara’s architecture, M. Opriº,92 fails to acknowledge Ilieºiu’s rightfully deserved place in the historiography on the old constructions of this city. Based mainly on information from the work Magyarországi Torac kincstári defterek (Budapest, 1886), by Dr. Lászlófalvi Velics Antal, N. Ilieºiu describes the organisation of the Vilayet of Timiºoara. He shows that it “had several sanjaks (districts), namely Timiºoara, Cenad, Becicherec, Ciacova, Panciova, Lipova, Moldova Nouã, Orºova and Ineu. The sanjaks had, in turn, several kaza (circles), and these had several nahije (...). The Pashalik (Vilayet) had military garrisons in Timiºoara, Hudoc near Iarmata, Arad, Butin, Ineu, Vrsac, Vãrãdia, Bocºa, Cenad Giulia, Fãget and Lipova.”93 In Timiºoara there was a senior official called “defterdar,” who was assisted by a “chiatib” and by clerks (sagirdi). Next, Ilieºiu refers to the judicial apparatus, to the schooling and the religious situation, managing to create a very telling picture of Timiºoara at that time. Ilieºiu describes in detail the conquest of Timiºoara by the imperials in the fall of 1716 and the terms of the Turks’ surrender on October 12 that year. Before presenting the first period of the imperial military rule in Timiºoara, the author HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 57 provides a complete list of the pashas in Timiºoara, between the years 15521716,94 such a document appearing now for the first time in the Romanian historiography on the Ottoman rule in Banat. In fact, the contributions of this historian represent an important step forward in deciphering the mediaeval past of Banat. His relevant contentions and his correct valorisation of his sources recommend Nicolae Ilieºiu as a serious historian, who is alert, genial, and capable of conveying the message of the past to a wide readership. Translated into English by CARMEN BORBÉLY Notes 1. Lt. Col. Iosif Knezy, Istoricul Cetãþii Timiºoara. Perla Banatului (cu diferite gravuri ºi trei hãrþi), Timiºoara, 1921, p. 1. 2. Ibidem, p. 12 3. Ibidem. 4. Ibidem. 5. Charles Robert established his royal residence in Timiºoara, after building here his city and castle, which were completed in 1315. 6. Virgil Molin, Micul Cicerone pentru oraºul Timiºoara, Timiºoara, 1921, p. 1. 7. Ibidem, pp. 1-2. 8. Ibidem, p. 2. 9. Ibidem. 10. Ibidem. 11. Ibidem. 12. Ibidem. 13. Ibidem, p. 3. 14. Ibidem, p. 5. 15. Ibidem, p. 6. 16. He was born on December 21, 1845, in Satchinez, Timiº County. He graduated his high school studies in Timiºoara, in 1868, and his academic studies – law – in Budapest, in 1872. Starting in 1874, he practised law in Timiºoara; between 1885-1896, he was director of “Timiºana” Bank in Timiºoara. Also in the metropolis of Banat, between 1885-1897, he was the head of Alumneul Românesc. He was a founding member of several Romanian cultural societies, the director of the Timiºoara Branch of Astra, Sibiu, one of the founders of this institution’s museum in Sibiu, as well as of the newspaper Dreptatea in Timiºoara. He made great efforts to establish a Commercial Academy in Timiºoara. After the Great Union, he founded in Banat approximately 100 branches of the House of National Education, thus contributing to the cultural prosperity of this province. To financially support the Romanian cultural institutions, he set up the “Emanuil Ungurianu” Foundation, which had a fund of 500,000 gold crowns. As a member of the Romanian National Party, Ungurianu asserted himself in the struggle for the national emancipation of his people from the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy and in the struggle to achieve the unitary Romanian national state. He died on 25 March 1929. In addition to his numerous articles in the press of his time, he published the following books: Sfaturi bune, Sibiu, 1904; Istoria activitãþii politice a poporului român din Ungaria ºi Ardeal, Timiºoara, 1925; Originea ºi trecutul oraºului Timiºoara, Timiºoara, 1925. 58 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 17. Emanuil Ungurianu, Originea ºi trecutul oraºului Timiºoara, Timiºoara, 1925. 18. The mention – in brackets – of the language in which the works were written is ours (our note – T. C.). 19. A still unidentified settlement, with any certainty whatsoever; several historians do claim that it existed on the site of Timiºoara. In no case, however, was Zambara the residence of Glad’s Dukedom, as described by Ungurianu. Moreover, academician Ioan-Aurel Pop asserts that: “We do not think there was necessarily a single city of residence belonging to the Duke, but if there was such a main fortification, we believe that it lies in the south or the southeast of the area (Keve, Urscia), which seems to have been the stronghold of the dukedom” (Ioan-Aurel Pop, Românii ºi maghiarii în secolele IX-XIV. Geneza statului medieval în Transilvania, second edition, revised and enlarged, Cluj-Napoca: Tribuna Publishing House, 2003, p. 156). 20. Cadusa, who, together with his brother Zuardu and with Boyta were the heads of the army of the Hungarian Duke Arpad. 21. Ioan-Aurel Pop, in op. cit., p. 168, considers that the defeat of Ahtum “probably occurred in 1028”. 22. Ahtum, Ohtum. 23. Emanuil Ungurianu, op. cit., p. 5-6. 24. Ibidem, p. 5. 25. Ibidem. 26. Ibidem; these are Gesta Hungarorum by Anonymus and Legenda Sancti Gerardi. 27. Ibidem. 28. He considers that this was the year when Ahtum was defeated by the army of Duke Arpad (which occurred in around 1028). However, at that time, the “incorporation of Banat in Hungary” had not taken place, this historical process happening later, over a long period of time. 29. Emanuil Ungurianu, op.cit., p. 7. As regards the identification of Timiºoara with the Zambara (or Zurobara) settlement, the work entitled Timiºoara 700. Pagini din trecut ºi de azi Timiºoara, 1969, p. 33, states that: “To this day there have been no reported traces of Roman buildings, inscriptions, or monuments that might help locate, beyond any doubt, ancient Zurobara, the locality that appears on the map of geographer Claudius Ptolomaios from Alexandria (about 150 AD) and is alleged to be the Timiºoara of today.” 30. Ibidem. 31. Ibidem. 32. Ibidem, p. 11. 33. Ibidem. In Ioan Haþegan’s work, “Originea lui Pavel Chinezu. O problemã controversatã a istoriografiei sud-estului European,” published in Studii de istorie a Banatului, XII, Timiºoara, 1986, it is shown that as concerns his birthplace, three villages in Banat are still worthy contestants: Kenez (Satchinez today, Timiº County), Kenez near Hodoº-Lugoj and Kenez near Igriº-Nãdlac. “Which one of these localities was Pavel Chinezu’s native place – Ioan Haþegan writes – is difficult to assume at the current stage of research” (op. cit., p. 51). 34. Ioan Lotreanu, Monografia Banatului, vol I, Situaþia geograficã. Locuitorii-Comunele, Timiºoara: Institutul de Arte Grafice “Þara”, 1935, p. 404. 35. Ibidem. 36. Ibidem, p. 405. 37. Ibidem, p. 407. 38. The King of Hungary from 1444 to 1457; however, until 1453, being a minor, he ruled under guardianship. From 1446 until 1453, the governing of Hungary was ensured by John Hunyadi, as regent or governor general, a position into which he had been elected by the Diet of Hungary, in its sitting from Rákos, near Buda, on 5 June 1446. HISTORY 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 59 Ibidem. Ibidem. Ibidem, p. 408. Ibidem. Ibidem. According to more recent research, the garrison city of Timisoara “included 2,020 riders (300 under Losonczy’s command, 300 under Seredy’s, 200 under Alfonso Perez’, 120 under Nicholas Báthory’s, 100 under Gabriel Pereny’s and 1,000 Serbian horsemen) and 1,550 footmen (400 Spaniards and 450 mercenaries led by Aldana, 600 Spaniards led by Castelluvio and Villandrando and 100 outlaws). All in all there were 3,570 defenders” (Ioan Haþegan, “Banatul în faþa cuceririi otomane 1551-1552. Repere cronologice,” in Patrimonium Banaticum, IV, Timiºoara, 2005, p. 156. The Ottoman chronicler Ibrahim Pecevi describes the situation from Timiºoara back then in the following terms: “From Lipova they went to Timisoara and the brave ones, entering the buttresses, endeavoured to conquer it. But with the weather changing and the cold setting in and the rain falling incessantly, the ramparts and their rat-like holes filled with water and so the soldiers could not keep their ground. Since the conquest was to be made in its own time, it was considered most appropriate to relinquish it for now” (Cronici turceºti privitoare la Þãrile Române. Extrase, vol. I, compiled by Mihail Guboglu and Mustafa Mehmet, Bucharest: Editura Academiei RSR, 1966, p. 483). From a letter sent by Castaldo to Maximilian we learn that the garrison defending Timiºoara had 1,000 horsemen-soldiers, 200 outlaws, 300 Czechs, 250 Spaniards, 150 Germans, 17 canons. (They also had 12,000 florins, cash). According to other sources, the city had 760 Hussars, 250 Germans, 100 Englishmen led by Castelluvio, 100 soldiers from Caransebeº, 250 soldiers of the city” (Ioan Haþegan, op.cit., p. 165). Ioan Lotreanu, op.cit., p. 410. Ioan Haþegan, op.cit., p. 165. Ioan Lotreanu, op.cit., p. 411. Ibidem. On this uprising from 1594, we have information in Ion Stoia-Udrea’s “Cine s-a rãsculat la 1594 în Banat,” in Marginale la istoria bãnãþeanã, Timiºoara: Editura Institutului Cultural de Vest, 1940, pp. 57-68. Ibidem. Ibidem. Ibidem, p. 412. Ibidem, p. 413. Ibidem. Ioachim Miloia, “Cãvãranul din Evul Mediu (O rectificare istoricã),” in Analele Banatului, no. 1, fasc. 8, Timiºoara, January-March 1931. Ioan Lotreanu, op.cit., p. 101. Between 1936-1940, Timiºoara saw the publication of Colþ de Þarã, a daily in the beginning, and later a social-literary weekly, whose contributor and editor-in-chief was Ioan Lotreanu. Ioan Lotreanu, În loc de prefaþã la Monografia Banatului, vol. I, Timiºoara, 1935, pp. V-VI. Ibidem, p. VI. Emil Grãdinaru, Ion Stoia-Udrea, Ghidul Banatului, Timiºoara, 1936, p. 30. Ibidem. Ibidem, p. 31. Ibidem, p. 33. Ibidem. 60 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 66. Ibidem. 67. Ibidem. 68. Ibidem, p. 35. 69. Ibidem, p. 42. 70. In September-December 1939, he had a serial in the newspaper Dacia, in which he presented historical data on Banat from the first half of the nineteenth century, from a work by Fenyes. N. Ilieºiu’s interest in history was well known, both from his previous publishing activity in the newspapers Banatul (1919-1921), Voinþa Banatului (1934), in the political weekly Banatul (1934 to 1938 ), and Drapelul Banatului (1934-1935). Then it is also known that in 1934 he administered a historical survey throughout Banat; receiving responses from many localities, he undertook a relentless effort to sort the data received and correlate them with a rich specialised bibliography in the field. Fortunately, many of Ilieºiu’s “notebooks,” with the results of that survey, are to be found in the Museum of Banat and in the Timiº Branch of the National Archives from Timiºoara. 71. Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu, Timiºoara. Monografie istoricã, Ediþia a II-a (Foreword and edition by – Petru Ilieºu; Preface – Victor Neumann; Addenda and Note on the edition – Florin Medeleþ), Timiºoara: Planetarium, 2003, p. 25. 72. Florin Medeleþ, Notã asupra ediþiei, in Nicolae Ilieºiu, op. cit., p. 402. 73. Nicolae Ilieºiu, op. cit., p. 28. 74. Ibidem, p. 30. 75. Ibidem, p. 31. 76. Ibidem. 77. Ibidem, p. 34. 78. Ibidem, p. 35. 79. Ibidem, p. 37. 80. Ibidem, p. 40. 81. Ioan Haþegan, Banatul în faþa cuceririi otomane 1551-1552. Repere crono-logice, p. 152. 82. Ibidem, p. 154. 83. Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu, op. cit., p. 40. 84. Ioan Haþegan, op. cit., p. 157. 85. Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu, op. cit, p. 41. Ilieºiu quotes a passage about the battle then, from Expugnatio arcis Temesvari, descripta per Ioannem Sambucum, p. 815: “But the Turk placed his camp in the south and by choosing the right places for the race, he dispersed his army. He began to raise, by position and by occupation, an obstacle not to be despised, because it closed Timiºoara with the Timiº river that flows (...) creating three islands, which were, however, separated, the fortress with the city from the water garrison, lest water should be detoured through holes or any other craft; it seemed that given the comfortable grooves between the three gates that rose through the two huge earth mounds, they would provide safe refuge and peacefulness. Thus, with anger abating and ambition drives being removed, he struck the walls with machines and with contained blows, so much so that he made it impossible for the weaponry to be restored through the rain that had been falling for 4 days, so in that area he opened a large space and brought the walls to ruin. Given his relentless forces, our people left the Island, set the houselets in the city on fire, taking with them a lot of things to defend themselves and hide...” After reproducing the quotation, N. Ilieºiu writes: “We cannot be sure whether in this description, Sambucus shows the retreat from the Island during the first siege of Timiºoara in 1551, or duing the second one, in 1552” (op. cit., p. 41). Nonetheless, if we corroborate the information about the four days of heavy rainfall, offered by Sambucus, with the claim made by the Turkish chronicle Cronici turceºti privitoare la Þãrile Române. Extrase, HISTORY 86. 87. 88 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 61 vol. I, compiled by Mihail Guboglu and Mustafa Mehmet, Bucharest: Editura Academiei RSR, 1966) that in 1551, “with the weather changing and the cold arriving and the rain continually falling,” the Ottoman army withdrew from the siege, the dating issue becomes clear. Moreover, in the summer of 1552, when the siege of Timiºoara by the Ottoman army took place, there was a drought. Ilieºiu himself writes that “then, in the month of July, the waters of the Timiº and of the Beghei start receding, the marshes dry up, which makes it easier for a siege on the city to be mounted” (op. cit., p. 45). Ioan Haþegan, op. cit. p. 158. Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu, op. cit., p. 51. Adrian Andrei Rusu, Castelarea Carpatica, Cluj-Napoca: Mega, 2005, p. 538. Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu, op. cit., p. 51. Adrian Andrei Rusu, op. cit., p. 538. Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu, op. cit., p. 51. Mihai Opriº, “Timiºoara, evoluþia structurii urbane medievale,” in Arhitectura, no. 3, Bucharest, 1985, pp. 45-54; Idem, Timiºoara. Micã monografie urbanisticã, Bucharest, 1987, pp. 1824. Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu, op. cit., p. 61; These aspects are presented in detailed manner in Cristina Feneºan’s Cultura otomanã a vilayetului Timiºoara (1552-1716), Timiºoara: Editura de Vest, 2004. Ibidem, p. 75. Abstract The Mediaeval History of Banat as Reflected in Monographs Compiled During the First Half of the Twentieth Century Immediately after the Great Union, a particularly keen interest was increasingly shown in the elaboration and publication of monographs in Romanian, dedicated to urban centres in Banat, and especially to Timiºoara. Some contain general historical data on the locality they refer to, but we also may encounter in their pages information on the mediaeval past of the settlement in question. The most important monographs, monographic sketches or guides referring to Timiºoara and Banat are: Istoricul Cetãþii Timiºoara. Perla Banatului (cu diferite gravuri ºi hãrþi) by Lt. Col. Iosif Knezy (Timiºoara, 1921); Micul Cicerone pentru oraºul Timiºoara by Virgil Molin (Timiºoara, 1921); Originea ºi trecutul oraºului Timiºoara by Emanuil Ungurianu (Timiºoara, 1925); Monografia Banatului, vol. I, Situaþia geograficã. Locuitorii – Comunele by Ioan Lotreanu (Institutul de Arte Grafice „Þara”, Timiºoara, 1935); Ghidul Banatului by Emil Grãdinaru and Ion Stoia-Udrea (Timiºoara, 1936) and Timiºoara. Monografie istoricã by Dr. Nicolae Ilieºiu (Timiºoara, 1943). Keywords monograph, historiography, Banat, the Middle Ages, Timiºoara, monographism, mediaeval. Forme e funzioni dell’autodiegesi nella Relatio di Odorico da Pordenone* A LVISE A NDREOSE E GO FR . Odoricus de Foro Julii de Ordine fratrum Minorum testificor et testimonium perhibeo reverendo patri Fr. Guidoto, Ministro provincie S. Anthonii, cum ab eo fuerim per obedientiam requisitus, quod hec omnia que superius scripta sunt, aut propriis oculis ego vidi aut ab hominibus fide dignis audivi. Comunis autem locutio illarum contratarum illa que non vidi testatur esse vera. Multa etiam alia ego dimisi que scribi non feci, cum ipsa quasi incredibilia apud aliquos viderentur, nisi illa propriis oculis perspexissent1. (‘Io fra Odorico del Friuli, dell’ordine dei Frati Minori, attesto e rendo testimonianza davanti al reverendo padre fra Guidotto, Ministro della Provincia [Veneta] di S. Antonio – che per obbedienza mi ha richiesto di farlo –, che tutte le cose che qui sopra sono scritte o le vidi con i miei propri occhi o le udii da persone degne di fede. La veridicità delle cose che non vidi di persona è inoltre testimoniata dall’opinione comune di quei paesi. Ho omesso di fare scrivere anche molte altre cose, perché sembrerebbero quasi inverosimili a chi non le avesse viste con in propri occhi’). Con tale dichiarazione si chiude la Relatio (o Itinerarium) che il frate minore Odorico da Pordenone dettò al confratello Guglielmo da Solagna nel maggio del 1330, nel convento di Sant’Antonio a Padova, di ritorno dal lungo viaggio in Oriente e in Cina2. La rivendicazione della veridicità dell’opera compare – seppur in forma più concisa – anche nel proemio: * Una versione precedente e meno estesa del presente saggio è apparsa nella rivista Quaderni di Storia Religiosa (13 [2006]: 217-235) sotto il titolo “‘Ego frater Odoricus de Foro Julii de Ordine fratrum Minorum’: forme dell’autodiegesi nell’Itinerarium di Odorico da Pordenone”. 64 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Licet multa et varia de ritibus et condicionibus huius mundi a multis enarentur, tamen est sciendum quod ego frater Hodoricus de Foro Iulii volens transfretare et ad partes infidelium volens ire ut fructus aliquos lucrifacerem animarum, multa magna et mirabilia audivi atque vidi que possum veraciter enarrare3. (‘Benché molte e diverse cose delle usanze e dei costumi di questo mondo vengano narrate da molti autori, tuttavia bisogna sapere che io fra Odorico del Friuli, volendo oltrepassare il mare e recarmi nelle terre degli infedeli per fare qualche guadagno di anime, vidi e udii molte cose notevoli e meravigliose che posso narrare fedelmente’). Affermazioni simili sono frequenti nelle relazioni di viaggio del Due- e Trecento. Anzi, potremmo dire che costituiscono uno degli elementi caratterizzanti di tale tipologia testuale4. È noto che i testi odeporici medievali appartengono ad una categoria dallo statuto incerto, che, a differenza di altri generi letterari maggiormente codificati, non presenta caratteri tipologici costanti5. A prima vista, poche sembrano essere le affinità che legano opere così diverse sotto il profilo contenutistico, stilistico e formale come, ad esempio, l’Historia Mongalorum di Giovanni di Pian di Carpine6, l’Iter (o Itinerarium) di Guglielmo di Rubruck7, il Liber peregrinationis di Ricoldo di Montecroce8, il Devisement dou monde di Marco Polo9, la Relatio di Odorico. In realtà, una lettura più attenta permette di isolare almeno tre elementi comuni. In primo luogo, tutte le opere citate sono “scritture di viaggio” (o “discorsi del viaggio”)10, cioè riferiscono le esperienze e le conoscenze accumulate da un viaggiatore nel corso di un itinerario in terre remote. In secondo luogo, tutti i testi presi in esame si presentano esplicitamente come “veri” dal punto di vista referenziale11. Infine, in queste opere di norma protagonista del viaggio e autore del testo coincidono12. Quest’ultimo elemento costituisce la necessaria premessa agli altri due: infatti, la garanzia che ciò che viene narrato o descritto corrisponde al vero è fornita dal fatto che chi lo racconta lo ha visto di persona o lo ha udito da testimoni degni di fede13. Naturalmente, perché la finalità comunicativa insita nell’opera raggiunga i suoi scopi, è indispensabile che il destinatario accetti tale premessa. Di qui discende la necessità da parte dell’autore di convincere il lettore di essere stato testimone diretto di cose che “sembrerebbero quasi inverosimili a chi non le avesse viste coi propri occhi”14, inserendo, all’inizio o alla fine della sua opera, una dichiarazione di veridicità volta a stabilire un nesso – potremmo dire l’equivalenza – tra vissuto e narrato, tra esperienza extra-testuale e testo, tra viaggio e resoconto: ...multa magna et mirabilia audivi atque vidi que possum veraciter enarrare. (Relatio, cap. I, par. 2) (‘...vidi e udii molte cose notevoli e meravigliose che posso narrare fedelmente’) HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 65 ...hec omnia que superius scripta sunt, aut propriis oculis ego vidi aut ab hominibus fide dignis audivi. (Relatio, cap. XXXVIII, par. 6)15 (‘...tutte le cose che qui sopra sono scritte o le vidi con i miei propri occhi o le udii da persone degne di fede’) La coincidenza tra autore del libro e protagonista del viaggio fa sì che questo genere di opere si configuri necessariamente come “autobiografico”16. Il discorso sul viaggio, infatti, non può non essere anche discorso sul viaggiatore. Questa equazione può avere delle conseguenze pure sulla forma narrativa del testo, in quanto implica spesso – ma non sistematicamente – l’autodiegesi, cioè l’identità tra l’io narratore e l’io personaggio17. Una notevole eccezione a tale tendenza è rappresentata dal Devisement dou monde, in cui, per riferire le azioni di Marcopersonaggio, viene usata perlopiù la terza persona singolare. Questo dipende senza dubbio dal fatto che l’opera è frutto della collaborazione tra Marco Polo, l’autore e il protagonista del libro, e Rustichello da Pisa, il redattore. Il risultato di tale sinergia è la coesistenza nel testo di due narratori, uno di primo grado, Rustichello, e uno di secondo grado, Marco, che provoca molto spesso l’oscillazione tra eterodiegesi e autodiegesi18. Un’altra eccezione è costituita dalla breve relazione che il francescano Benedetto Polono, compagno di viaggio di Giovanni di Pian di Carpine, dettò di ritorno dalla missione presso i Mongoli del 1245 “cuidam prelato et quondam scholastico Coloniensi, historiarum non ignaro, cum transitum per Coloniam faceret”19. Anche in tale resoconto la narrazione è condotta in terza persona. Il peso che le componente autobiografica assume all’interno del testo varia da opera ad opera. In generale, possiamo dire che ovunque le parti di tipo descrittivo-informativo appaiono prevalenti: i testi odeporici medievali concedono maggiore spazio infatti a ciò che è stato visto e udito durante il viaggio che non al viaggio stesso. Il caso limite, da questo punto di vista, è rappresentato dal Devisement dou monde di Marco Polo, in cui i pochi dati relativi all’itinerario sono confinati nel prolegue (‘prologo’), che occupa 19 dei 233 capitoli totali20. Presenta una struttura analoga anche l’Historia Mongalorum di Giovanni di Pian di Carpine. Qui la descrizione del percorso – che, per quanto stringata, risulta sicuramente più estesa che nel libro poliano – è inserita nella parte finale del testo (cap. IX)21. Questo ordinamento della materia è pienamente rispondente alle finalità delle due opere, che si presentano infatti non come resoconti di viaggio in senso proprio, ma piuttosto come trattati geografici, etnografici, storici sull’Asia mongola22. All’estremo opposto si colloca la relazione di Guglielmo di Rubruck, in cui non solo l’argomento centrale del testo, ossia l’esposizione degli usi e dei costumi dei Tartari e dei popoli che vivono nel loro impero, lascia ampio spazio al racconto delle vicende del narratore-protagonista e dei suoi compagni, 66 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) ma anche gli inserti descrittivi e informativi si inseriscono all’interno di un racconto autobiografico che ricalca fedelmente il dipanarsi del viaggio dell’autore dal Mar Nero fino al cuore del dominio mongolo. La corrispondenza tra struttura del testo e ordine dell’itinerario si ritrova praticamente in tutte le altre opere considerate23, ivi compresa la Relatio di Odorico. Per quanto nel proemio ci venga detto esplicitamente che l’oggetto del racconto saranno i multa magna et mirabilia visti e uditi dall’autore, la relazione odoriciana non mira soltanto a fornire una rappresentazione delle “usanze” e dei “costumi” dell’Oriente24, ma vuole essere anche un rapporto veridico e dettagliato di un viaggio reale attraverso paesi sconosciuti e affascinanti. È una “descrizione del mondo” ma anche “un diario di viaggio vero e proprio”25. Come in Guglielmo di Rubruck, anche in Odorico le parti autobiografiche svolgono prevalentemente una funzione che potremmo definire “strutturale” e “contestualizzante”, in quanto contribuiscono a creare quella fitta rete di coordinate spazio-temporali in cui trovano spazio via via i luoghi, le consuetudini, gli eventi descritti nell’opera26. Rispetto al testo del viaggiatore francese, tuttavia, le indicazioni sono qui senza dubbio più scarne ed essenziali. Odorico si limita di norma a riferire pochi dati: il punto di partenza (ess. (1)(11)), il punto di arrivo (ess. (1)-(10), (12)), a volte la direzione (ess. (5), (8), (12)), le giornate di viaggio (ess. (4), (5), (9)-(12)), i luoghi attraversati (ess. (6), (9), (10)) e le modalità dello spostamento (ess. (5), (11), (12)): (1) Hinc recedens ivi in Armeniam maiorem... (Relatio, cap. I, par. 4) (‘Partendomi da qui mi recai in Armenia Maggiore...’). (2) De hac recedens ivi ad quemdam montem qui vocatur Solissaculo... (Relatio, cap. II, par. 1) (‘Partendomi da qui giunsi a un monte detto Solissaculo...’). (3) De ista contrata recedens me transtuli Tauris... (Relatio, cap. III, par. 1) (‘Partendomi da questa contrada mi recai a Tabriz...’). (4) Ab hac civitate Tauris ivi per X dietas ad quamdam civitatem, que vocabatur Soldania. (Relatio, cap. III, par. 5) (‘Da questa città di Tabriz giunsi, dopo dieci giornate di cammino, a una città chiamata Soldania’). (5) De ista civitate recedens cum caravanis, id est cum quadam societate, ivi versus Indiam superiorem, ad quam dum sic irem per multas dietas, applicui ad unam civitatem Regum Magorum que vocatur Cassam... (Relatio, cap. IV, par. 1) (‘Partendomi da questa città con le carovane, cioè in compagnia di altri viaggiatori, mi diressi verso l’India Superiore. Mentre ero in viaggio verso questa terra, dopo molti giorni di cammino giunsi a una delle città dei Re Magi, detta Cassam...’). (6) Ab hac recedens et transiens per multas civitates et terras, ivi ad quamdam terram nomine Comum... (Relatio, cap. V, par. 2) (‘Partendomi da que- HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 67 sta città e attraversando molte città e borghi, giunsi in un villaggio chiamato Comum...’). (7) Exinde exiens ivi in Caldeam que est regnum magnum; ad quam dum sic irem, ivi iuxta turrim Babel, que per IIIIor dietas distat ab illa. (Relatio, cap. VII, par. 1) (‘Allontanandomi da là mi recai in Caldea, che è un regno importante. Strada facendo, passai vicino alla Torre di Babele, che dista quattro giornate di cammino da quella regione’). (8) De hac contrata, veni versus orientem ad unam civitatem nomine Fuço... (Relatio, cap. XXII, par. 1) (‘Da questa regione, procedendo verso oriente giunsi a una città chiamata Fuço...’). (9) De qua recedens, ivi per XVIII dietas transiens per multas terras et civitates aliaque diversa multa. Dum autem sic irem, veni ad unum magnum montem... (Relatio, cap. XXII, par. 2) (‘Partendomi da quella città, viaggiai per diciotto giornate, attraversando molti borghi e città, e visitando molte altre cose. Strada facendo, giunsi presso a un alto monte...’). (10) Hinc transiens per XVIII alias dietas et per terras et civitates multas et veniens ad unum magnum flumen, aplicui ad unam civitatem, et per transversum istud flumen habet unum pontem. (Relatio, cap. XXII, par. 3) (‘Da lì, viaggiando per altri diciotto giorni e attraversando molti borghi e città, giunsi sulle rive di un grande fiume. [Qui imbarcatomi], approdai a una città, [che sorge in un punto in cui] questo fiume è attraversato da un ponte’). (11) In unum istorum navigiorum ego ascendi, in quo nullum ferrum in aliquo loco potui reperire; in quod dum sic ascendissem, in viginti octo dietis me transtuli usque ad Tanam... (Relatio, cap. VII, par. 4) (‘Io salii su una di queste imbarcazioni e non vi potei trovare ferro da nessuna parte. Imbarcatomi su questa nave, in ventotto giorni mi spinsi fino a Tana...’). (12) Ubi sciendum est quod dum navigarem per mare occeanum versus orientem per multas dietas, ad illam nobilem provinciam Mançi ego veni. (Relatio, cap. XIX, par. 1) (‘Dunque bisogna sapere che, navigando sull’Oceano [Indiano] verso oriente per molti giorni, giunsi all’illustre provincia del Mangi’); ecc. Altrove, l’autorappresentazione appare dettata da maggiore consapevolezza. In alcune parti della relazione di tipo descrittivo-informativo, infatti, l’autore si raffigura sulla scena come testimone diretto per garantire la veridicità del narrato27. Vediamo qualche esempio. Imbarcatosi su un naviglio suto solo spago, cioè tenuto insieme (‘cucito’) soltanto da corde, Odorico offre al lettore la propria personale conferma: 68 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) In unum istorum navigiorum ego ascendi, in quo nullum ferrum in aliquo loco potui reperire; in quod dum sic ascendissem, in viginti octo dietis me transtuli usque ad Tanam, in qua pro fide Christi gloriosum martirium passi fuerunt IIIIor nostri fratres Minores. (Relatio, cap. VII, par. 4) (‘Io salii su una di queste imbarcazioni e non vi potei trovare ferro da nessuna parte. Imbarcatomi su questa nave, in ventotto giorni mi spinsi fino a Tana d’India, dove quattro nostri frati Minori sostennero il glorioso martirio per la fede in Cristo’). Nel brano relativo all’albero del pane28, il narratore ricorda di avere mangiato il cibo che se ne ricava e di avere assistito propriis oculis al lungo processo di preparazione: Arbores isto modo farinam producunt: nam ipse sunt magne, non tamen multum alte, et eas una securi incidunt circa pedem, per quod quidam liquor exauritur ab ipsis ad modum colle; quem liquorem ipsi ponunt in saccis ex foliis, quos dimittunt per XV dies in sole, et in fine XV dierum ex ipso liquore est facta farina quam postea ponunt per duos dies in aqua maris, deinde lavant eam aqua dulci et sic faciunt pastam bonam de mundo, et tunc faciunt de ipsa quicquid volunt, sive cibum, sive panem multum bonum, de quo ego Fr. Hodoricus iam comedi. Hec autem propriis oculis ego vidi. Huius modi autem panis exterius pulcer est, interius autem aliquantulum niger est. (Relatio, cap. XIV, par. 2) (‘Gli alberi producono la farina nel modo seguente. Sono grandi, ma non molto alti. [Gli abitanti del luogo] li incidono con una scure alla base del tronco. Da questa incisione cola un liquido simile a colla. Pongono tale liquido in sacchi fatti di foglie, che lasciano poi al sole per quindici giorni. Al termine di questo intervallo, il liquido si è trasformato in farina, che viene poi messa per due giorni in acqua di mare e successivamente sciacquata in acqua dolce. Producono così la migliore pasta del mondo, con cui fanno ciò che vogliono, o cibo, o pane buonissimo, che io stesso, fra Odorico, a suo tempo ebbi modo di assaggiare. Tutte queste cose le ho viste di persona. Questo tipo pane risulta esternamente di bell’aspetto, ma internamente è alquanto scuro’). Lo stesso meccanismo torna anche nel brano in cui viene descritta la pesca col cormorano. In questo caso, tuttavia, l’io narrante non si limita a suggellare la veridicità del narrato tramite una semplice dichiarazione finale, come negli esempî precedenti, ma fornisce anche qualche dettaglio sulle circostanze che lo hanno portato ad essere testimone diretto dell’evento: HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 69 Hinc transiens per XVIII alias dietas et per terras et civitates multas et veniens ad unum magnum flumen, aplicui ad unam civitatem, et per transversum istud flumen habet unum pontem. In capite eius in domo cuiusdam hospitis hospitatus fui. Qui volens complacere michi, dixit: “Si tu vis bene piscari videre, veni mecum”. Et sic me duxit super istum pontem, in quo dum sic essem, aspexi et vidi in illis suis barchis mergos super perticas alligatos, quos postea ille homo uno filo ligavit ad gulam, ne illi se in aquam submergentes et pisces capientes illos comedere possent. Unde in una barcha posuit tres magnas cistas, unam ab uno capite navis, secundam ab alio, terciam vero posuit in medio. Dum autem hoc sic fecisset, illos mergos disolvit, qui se postea in aquam submergebant, et sic pisces quam plurimos capiebant, quos ipsemet postea in illis cistis ponebat. Unde in parva hora omnes ille ciste fuerunt plene piscibus. Dum autem sic plene essent, a collo eorum filum illud accipiebat et eos in aquam submergere permittebat, ut inde piscibus pascerentur. Cum autem pasti sunt, ad sua loca revertuntur, et eos ibi ligat sicut prius erant. Ego autem de illis piscibus manducavi. (Relatio, cap. XXII, par. 3) (‘Da lì, viaggiando per altri diciotto giorni e attraversando molti borghi e città, giunsi sulle rive di un grande fiume. [Qui imbarcatomi], approdai a una città, [che sorge in un punto in cui] questo fiume è attraversato da un ponte. Proprio ad una dell’estremità di questo ponte fui alloggiato in una locanda, il cui oste, volendo farmi cosa gradita, mi disse: “Se tu vuoi vedere pescare abbondantemente, vieni con me”. E così mi condusse sopra quel ponte. Quando mi trovai lì, guardai in giro e vidi in alcune sue barche degli smerghi legati sopra pertiche. Successivamente l’uomo legò loro una corda attorno alla gola, perché, una volta entrati in acqua, non potessero mangiare i pesci che prendevano. Poi pose tre grandi ceste in una barca, una a prua, l’altra a poppa e la terza nel mezzo. Dopo di che sciolse gli smerghi. Questi si gettavano immediatamente in acqua e prendevano moltissimi pesci, che poi lui stesso metteva nelle ceste. Così in poco tempo tutte quelle ceste furono colme di pesci. Quando queste furono riempite, l’uomo toglieva la corda dal collo degli uccelli e lasciava che si tuffassero in acqua per nutrirsi di pesci. Dopo essersi saziati, tornano al loro posto, e lui li lega come erano prima. Io davvero mangiai di quei pesci’). Talvolta poi la conferma che viene dall’esperienza diretta non è possibile, e al narratore non resta che dichiarare al lettore il proprio senso di frustrazione; così accade ad esempio per l’episodio del monte Ararat, “in quem” – dichiara Odorico – “libenter ascendissem si mea societas me prestolari voluisset” (‘su cui sarei salito volentieri se la mia compagnia avesse voluto aspettarmi’)29. 70 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) In alcuni casi si va ben oltre la semplice testimonianza. Questo, ad esempio, capita quando si instaura un dialogo fra il personaggio Odorico e gli abitanti delle terre visitate: è il caso dei monaci del monastero di Camsay30, che intrattengono con il viaggiatore una discussione sulla reincarnazione: Et in ea [= la città di Camsay] IIIIor fratres nostri Minores ad fidem nostram unum potentem hominem converterunt, in domo cuius hospitabar. Unde mihi aliquando dicebat: “Atha, id est pater, vis tu venire videre terram”? Et sibi dicebam me velle ire. Unde ascendimus unam barcham, et ivimus ad unum illorum monasteriorum magnum que ibi erant. Ad quod cum ivissemus, unum illorum religiosorum vocavit dicens: “Vides tu hunc raban franchi, id est virum istum religiosum? Ipse venit inde ubi occidit sol, et nunc vadit Cambalec ut roget vitam pro magno Cane. Ideo sibi ostendas aliquid quod ipse videre possit si hic est mirabile, ut si reverteretur ad suas contratas etiam dicere possit: tale quid novum vidi in Camsay”. Tunc ipse dixit se libenter velle ostendere sibi aliquid novum. (Relatio, cap. XXIII, par. 5) (‘In quella città quattro nostri frati Minori convertirono alla nostra fede cristiana un uomo potente, in casa del quale ero ospitato. Ebbene, talvolta mi diceva: “Atha, cioè padre, vuoi visitare la regione?” E io acconsentivo. Dunque salimmo su una barca e ci recammo in uno di quei grandi monasteri che sorgevano da quelle parti. Una volta arrivati, chiamò uno dei monaci e gli disse: “Vedi tu questo raban franchi, cioè questo religioso? Viene dalle regioni dove tramonta il sole e ora va a Cambalec per pregare per la vita del Gran Can. Mostragli dunque qualcosa cosicché lui possa vedere coi suoi occhi se qui c’è una meraviglia, affinché, se ritornerà al suo paese, possa dire anche: tale prodigio ho visto a Camsay”. Quello rispose allora che ben volentieri gli avrebbe mostrato qualcosa di straordinario.’) Il monaco, si racconta nel paragrafo successivo, prende duos magnos mastelos in cui sono stati riposti gli avanzi del pasto precedente, entra assieme a Odorico e al suo ospite in un giardino in cui sorge un monticello boscoso e comincia a battere su una campana. Al suono dello strumento, molti animali simili a scimmie e “multa alia que faciem hominis habebant” (‘e molti altri animali che avevano fattezze umane’) escono dalla foresta e vanno a sedersi attorno al monaco, che distribuisce loro delle scodelle piene di cibo. Quando hanno terminato il pasto, aspettano che il monaco cominci nuovamente a suonare la campana prima di fare ritorno nel bosco. Odorico, che finora ha osservato in silenzio, mostra di non capire il significato del gesto: Dum autem sic viderem ista, multum cepi ridere dicens: “Tu michi dicas quid hoc indicare vellit”. Tunc ipse respondit dicens: “Hec animalia sunt anime HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 71 nobilium virorum, que nos pascimus amore Dei”. Ei autem respondi dicens: “Hec animalia non sunt anime sed solum bestie et animalia ipsa sunt”. Michi autem respondit dicens: “Verum non est quod hec animalia sint, sed solum nobilium virorum iste sunt anime. Unde sicut unus illorum fuit nobilis homo, sic eius anima in aliquod ipsorum animalium ipsa intrat nobilium; anime vero rusticorum hominum animalia vilia intrant et habitant”. Sic autem isto modo dicere poteram sibi multa, quod nunquam aliud credere volebat. (Relatio, cap. XXIII, par. 7) (‘Mentre osservavo queste cose, cominciai a ridere sonoramente e dissi: “Dimmi che cosa significa tutto questo”. Quello mi rispose allora: “Questi animali sono anime di uomini nobili che noi nutriamo per amore di Dio”. E io replicai: “Questi animali non sono anime, ma solo bestie e animali veri e propri”. Ma lui controbatté: “Non è vero che questi siano animali, queste sono solo anime di uomini nobili. Infatti, se uno di loro fu un nobile uomo, la sua anima entra proprio in uno di questi nobili animali; le anime degli zotici, invece, entrano e dimorano negli animali vili”. Avrei potuto dirgli molte cose di questo tenore, ma lui mai avrebbe voluto credere diversamente’). Un episodio analogo si verifica con i necrofagi dell’isola di Dandin31, dediti a pratiche che – a detta del narratore – perfino le bestie avrebbero in orrore: Turpem inter se consuetudinem habent, nam pater comedit filium, filius patrem, uxor maritum, maritus uxorem. Et hoc per istum modum: ponatur enim quod pater alicuius illorum infermetur, filius ipse tunc ibit ad astrologum, id est ad sacerdotem, et tunc ipse dicet sic: “Domine ite vos ad sciendum a Deo nostro si pater meus potest ab illa infirmitate liberari vel mori”. Tunc sacerdos et ille cuius pater infirmatur accedunt ad ipsum ydolum, quod est de auro vel de argento, eique faciunt orationes et dicunt: “Domine tu es Deus noster quem pro Deo nos adoramus, nobis respondeas ad ea que tibi dicemus; talis homo multum infirmatur, ideo a te petimus si mori debet ex hoc langore vel liberari”. Tunc demon per os ydoli respondet et dicit: “Pater tuus non morietur, sed de ista liberabitur infirmitate; unde tale quid facere debes et liberabitur ipse”. Ita quod demon docet ipsum illum modum quem circa patrem tenere debet. Deinde filius ad patrem accedit et sibi diligenter servit, donec totaliter ipse liberatus sit. (Relatio, cap. XVIII, parr. 2-3) (‘Hanno tra loro una turpe usanza: infatti il padre mangia il figlio, il figlio il padre, la moglie il marito, il marito la moglie. E ciò avviene in questo modo. Poniamo che il padre di qualcuno si ammali. Il figlio stesso va allora da un astrologo – cioè da un sacerdote – e gli dice: “Signore, andate a interpellare il nostro dio per sapere se mio padre può guarire dalla malattia o deve morire”. Allora il sacerdote e il figlio 72 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) dell’infermo si recano presso a un idolo fatto d’oro e d’argento, e gli rivolgono tale preghiera: “Signore, tu sei il nostro dio e come dio ti veneriamo: rispondi al quesito che ti poniamo: il tale uomo è molto malato, per questo ti chiediamo se debba morire di questa malattia o debba guarire”. Al che un demone attraverso la bocca dell’idolo risponde: “Tuo padre non morirà, ma guarirà da questa malattia; pertanto devi fare la tal cosa e lui guarirà”. Quindi il demone gli insegna quali misure deve osservare verso il padre. Poi il figlio ritorna dal padre e lo serve premurosamente finché non sia totalmente guarito’). Se invece – narra Odorico – il demone dichiara che il padre deve morire, il sacerdote si reca dall’infermo, lo soffoca ponendogli un panno sulla bocca e, con l’aiuto del figlio, lo taglia a pezzi e lo cuoce. Viene poi organizzato un banchetto, in cui, “cum cantibus et gaudio magno”, gli amici e i parenti mangiano il corpo del defunto. Alla fine della festa, le ossa vengono sepolte “sub terra cum magna solempnitate”. L’importanza dell’evento è tale, ci dice Odorico, che per i parenti sarebbe un’onta gravissima non parteciparvi32. In questo caso, la reazione sdegnata del viaggiatore appare maggiormente comprensibile: Hos tales multum reprehendebam dicens: “Quare sic facitis vos, cum hoc quod facitis sit contra omnem rationem. Nam si canis aliquis occideretur et ipse ante alium canem poneretur, ipse de illo nullatenus manducaret; nedum vos qui homines videmini rationabiles”. Ad hoc michi respondebant dicentes: “Hoc facimus ne vermes comedent eius carnem. Ideoque carnem eius comedimus ut anima eius aliqua non paciatur pena, nam si eius carnem vermes comederent ipsius anima magnas pateretur penas”. Et sic tantum dicere poteram quantum ego volebam quod nunquam aliud credere volebant, nec ab isto ritu discedere quem tenebant. (Relatio, cap. XVIII, par. 4) (‘Io rimproveravo duramente queste persone, dicendo: “Perché fate ciò, se quello che fate è contrario a ogni ragione? Infatti, se un cane venisse ucciso e fosse posto davanti a un altro cane, in nessun modo quest’ultimo ne mangerebbe; tanto meno dovreste farlo voi, che mi sembrate uomini razionali”. Al che mi rispondevano: “Facciamo questo perché i vermi non mangino la sua carne. Mangiamo dunque la sua carne perché la sua anima non patisca nessuna pena; infatti, se i vermi mangiassero la sua carne, l’anima stessa soffrirebbe grandi pene”. E avrei potuto parlare quanto volevo, ma loro mai avrebbero voluto credere diversamente né abbandonare questa loro usanza’). Sia nell’episodio dei monaci di Camsay, sia in quello dei necrofagi dell’isola di Dandin, l’intervento di Odorico ha la funzione di suggerire al lettore un HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 73 giudizio di netta condanna nei confronti degli usi descritti33. Potremmo dunque dire che in tali contesti le parti autodiegetiche svolgono una funzione “interpretativa”34. Odorico, infatti, non si limita qui a osservatore la realtà, ma ne fornisce al tempo stesso una chiave di lettura. La sua opera, così, cessa di essere “descrizione del mondo” e si propone come “interpretazione” di esso, come tentativo di mediazione tra reale e lettore. C’è una parte del testo in cui la centralità di Odorico-personaggio sembra venire meno, cioè il lungo racconto del martirio di quattro frati Minori a Tana d’India. Dopo aver attraversato la Grande Armenia e la Persia, Odorico giunge nell’isola di Hormuz, sul Golfo Persico. Qui si imbarca e dopo circa un mese di navigazione arriva a Tana, sull’isola di Salsetta, nei pressi di Bombay, dove, il 9 aprile 1321, il beato Tommaso da Tolentino e altri tre missionari francescani erano stati messi a morte dalle autorità musulmane35. Un’ampia parte della relazione è dedicata al dettagliato racconto dell’uccisione dei quattro frati e dei loro miracoli post mortem36. L’assenza di Odorico sulla scena è però solo temporanea: i paragrafi successivi sono dedicati alla travagliate vicissitudini accadute a lui e ai suoi compagni mentre cercano di portare in luogo consacrato le reliquie dei confratelli. In tre diverse occasioni, il viaggiatore viene miracolosamente salvato dalle spoglie dei martiri, diventando così testimone diretto della loro santità. Dopo aver appreso dell’uccisione dei quattro, Odorico ne riesuma i corpi per portarli “in Indiam superiorem ad unum locum Minorum fratrum”, cioè in uno dei due conventi francescani di Quanzhou (Zayton)37. Durante il viaggio, viene ospitato in domo cuiusdam con il compagno e il servo. Prima di addormentarsi, si mette le ossa dei confratelli sotto la testa: Et dum sic dormirem, ipsa domus a saracenis subito fuit accensa ut me facerent mori alta voce populi universi. Nam hoc est Imperatoris preceptum ut cuius domus accenditur, ipse penitus moriatur. Ipsa sic accesa, socius meus cum famulo exivit domum, me in ea cum ossibus remanente. Qui dum sic essem in domo, ea ardente, ossa eorum fratrum accepi et in uno angulo ipsius me aptavi. Sic autem igne domum comburente tres anguli ipsius domus fuerunt combusti, illo solo in quo eram remanente. Me autem sic in illo angulo residente, ignis desuper me aderat, non me ledens neque ipsius domus angulum comburens. Quamdiu autem in domo cum istis ossibus permanebam, ignis nunquam descendebat sed ad modum crucis ipse desuper residebat. Cum domum egressus fuissem, tunc autem ipsa totaliter fuit combusta, et non solum ipsa sed multe alie que illi contigue videbantur; et sic inde illesus exivi. (Relatio, cap. VIII, par. 22) (‘Mentre stavo dormendo, i musulmani incendiarono improvvisamente la casa, per far sì che morissi per acclamazione di tutto il popolo. Infatti una disposizione dell’imperatore prevede che colui la cui casa prende fuoco 74 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) debba assolutamente morire. Non appena la casa fu incendiata, il mio compagno uscì fuori con il servo, ma io rimasi dentro con le ossa. Mentre ero dentro alla casa in fiamme, presi le ossa di quei frati e mi riparai in un angolo dell’edificio. Il fuoco intanto consumava la casa e tre angoli erano già stati distrutti: restava solo quello in cui mi trovavo. Mentre rimanevo in quell’angolo, il fuoco era sopra di me ma non mi recava danno né bruciava quella parte della casa. Finché rimasi in casa con quelle ossa, il fuoco non scese mai, ma a guisa di croce restò sopra di me. Non appena uscii fuori, la casa fu arsa completamente, e non solo quella, ma molte altre che sorgevano lì vicino. E così ne venni fuori sano e salvo’). Il secondo evento miracoloso si verifica in mare aperto. Mentre si trovano sulla nave che li porta dal luogo di sepoltura dei martiri di Tana (verosimilmente il porto di Supera)38 “ad unam civitatem que vocatur Polumbum” (Quilon), la nave su cui viaggino Odorico e i suoi compagni viene sorpresa da un’improvvisa bonaccia. Prima gli “idolatri” (cioè gli induisti o i buddisti), poi i musulmani che sono a bordo si mettono a invocare le rispettive divinità per ottenere vento favorevole, ma le loro preghiere non sortiscono alcun effetto. Viene quindi il turno dei viaggiatori cristiani: Inde michi et socio meo preceptum fuit ut orationes Deo fundere deberemus quatinus nobis finaliter exiberet. Qui si haberi posset, nobis honorem maximum exiberent. Et ut alii intelligere non possent, ille rector navis armenice fuit locutus dicens: “Si ventus haberi non possit, hec ossa prohicimus in mare”. Tunc ego hec et socius audientes, orationes facimus ipsi Deo. Qui videntes ventum haberi non posse, ad honorem Virginis gloriose multas missas promisimus cellebrare, si ventum possemus in aliquo nos habere. Cum autem ventum minime habere nos poteramus, tunc accipiens ex ossibus istis unum, ipsum dedi famulo nostro ut iens ad caput navis ipsum in mari prohiceret festinanter. Tunc ipso osse sic in mari proiecto, statim nobis ventus ita bonus et prosper effectus est, quod nunquam nobis defecit, donec nos fuimus ad portum ad quem meritis istorum fratrum devenimus cum salute. (Relatio, cap. VIII, par. 23) (‘Quindi fu ordinato a me e al mio compagno di profonderci in preghiere fino a che non fossimo stati esauditi. E se fossimo riusciti a ottenerlo [= il vento], ci avrebbero reso grandissimo onore. E perché gli altri non potessero capire, il comandante della nave ci parlò in armeno e ci disse: “Se invece non otterrete vento, getteremo queste ossa in mare”. Udendo ciò, io e il mio compagno rivolgemmo allora le nostre preghiere direttamente Dio. Ma vedendo che non potevamo avere vento, promettemmo di celebrare numerose messe in onore della gloriosa Vergine, se, in qualche modo, avessimo potu- HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 75 to ottenere vento. Ma non riuscendo affatto ad avere vento, presi allora un osso e lo diedi al nostro servo perché andasse in fretta a una delle estremità della nave e lo gettasse in mare. Non appena l’osso fu gettato in mare, subito ci venne concesso vento mite e favorevole, che non ci venne meno fino a quando fummo nel porto, in cui giungemmo sani e salvi grazie ai meriti di questi frati’). L’ultimo miracolo avviene quando la nave attracca nel porto di Quilon: Nunc ydolatre hanc consuetudinem in se habent: nam antequam ipsi applicent ad portum per totam navem inquirunt ut videant quid in ea est, si ibi ossa mortuorum essent. Que si ipsi reperirent illa, in mari proicerent statim; et habentibus illa, mortis periculum magnum immineret. Cum autem sic inquirerent, licet in magna fuerint quantitate, nunquam in aliquo tamen invenire potuerunt. (Relatio, cap. VIII, par. 24) (‘Ora gli idolatri hanno tra loro questa consuetudine. Prima di entrare in porto, perquisiscono tutta la nave per vedere che cosa ci sia a bordo, se per caso vi siano ossa di morti. E se le trovassero, le getterebbero subito in mare, mentre coloro che le portano con sé sarebbero in grande pericolo di morte. Ma quando ispezionarono, benché ce ne fossero in grande quantità, non riuscirono mai a trovarne da nessuna parte’). Come si può vedere, in tutti e tre gli episodi è Odorico il centro dell’azione: è lui l’oggetto delle persecuzioni dei musulmani ed è lui che nell’incendio beneficia del potere miracoloso delle reliquie; è lui che, nel bel mezzo della bonaccia, capisce che un osso dei martiri può più delle preghiere a Dio e alla Vergine; è lui, infine, che corre il rischio di essere giustiziato per avere trasgredito il divieto di trasportare ossa mortuorum. C’è un indubbio parallelismo tra il racconto del martirio dei frati e la vicenda personale di Odorico. La fermezza dimostrata da Tommaso da Tolentino e dai compagni nel combattere l’errore e nel predicare il Vangelo fino alla morte, anticipa la determinazione con cui Odorico porta avanti la sua missione: la gloria dei confratelli si riverbera e trova compimento nell’esperienza del viaggiatore. Come ha acutamente osservato Lucio Monaco, la vicenda dei frati Minori martirizzati a Tana, così come è raccontata nella Relatio, “riconduce in ultima analisi all’autore stesso, protagonista del viaggio”39. Non ci stupisce, dunque, che il narratore – a differenza di quanto faccia Guglielmo di Rubruck – alluda appena ai due compagni di avventure40, tacendone comunque sempre i nomi41. Né, tantomeno, che il confratello Giovanni da Montecorvino, vescovo di Pechino, personaggio di indiscusso spessore, venga indicato semplicemente con la generica espressione di noster Episcopus42. Il viaggio odoriciano, esperienza totalizzante ed irripetibile, conosce un solo protagonista. 76 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) La centralità del personaggio di Odorico nel testo è tanto più emblematica qualora si voglia proporre dell’opera un’interpretazione che si discosti dalla lettera. Il viaggio concreto attraverso territori sconosciuti e pericolosi si può configurare, agli occhi del lettore medievale, come figura del viaggio che conduce il cristiano attraverso le seduzioni del mondo alla beatitudine celeste. In questa prospettiva, l’autodiegesi assume un valore che potremmo definire “esemplare”: l’io narrante suggerisce al lettore la propria concreta esperienza personale come exemplum edificante. Si noti, a questo proposito, che molti testimoni latini designano la relazione come Iter o Itinerarium43. Non sappiamo quale fosse il titolo originario dell’opera odoriciana, ma certo l’idea di “viaggio” che è insita nei due termini risulta del tutto appropriata per un testo che è assieme cammino concreto e percorso spirituale. Una lettura figurale è, poi, l’unica possibile per quelle parti del testo che invece rischierebbero di restare incomprensibili ad un approccio che ne privilegiasse esclusivamente gli aspetti referenziali. Ci riferiamo soprattutto al capitolo dedicato all’attraversamento della valle “que posita est supra flumen deliciarum” (definita vallis terribilis nella rubrica), brano che ha resistito ai molti tentativi di localizzazione e di interpretazione letterale: Aliud terribile magnum ego vidi. Nam dum irem per vallem, que posita est supra flumen deliciarum, multa corpora vidi mortua, in qua etiam audiebam diversa genera musicorum maxime autem nachara, que ibi mirabiliter pulsabantur. Unde tantus ibi erat clamor et rumor quod timor michi maximus incuciebatur. 2Hec autem vallis forte longa est VII vel octo milliaribus terre in qua si aliquis intrat nunquam de illa exit sed statim moritur sine mora. Et quamquam sic in illa moriatur, tamen volui in illam intrare, ut viderem finaliter quicquid hoc esset. Dum autem sic in illam intrassem, ego, sicut iam dixi, tot mortua corpora vidi, quod nisi aliquis illa vidisset quasi sibi incredibile videretur. In hac etiam valle ab uno latere eius in ipso saxo parietis unam faciem hominis valde terribilem ego vidi, que in tantum terribilis erat quod pre nimio timore spiritum perdere vel perire me credebam. Quapropter Verbum caro factum est ore proferrebam. Ad ipsam autem faciem nunquam fui ausus totaliter appropinquare, sed ab illa VII vel VIII passibus distans ego fui. 3Cum autem illic accedere non auderem, ad aliud capud vallis ego ivi. Et tunc super unum montem arenosum ascendi, in quo circumspiciens nichil videbam preter illa nachara que pulsari mirabiliter audiebam. Cum autem in capite montis ego fui, illic aurum et argentum ego reperii in maxima quantitate, ibi quasi squame piscium congregatum, de quo posui in gremio meo. Et quia de ipso non curabam et etiam cogitans ut non essent illuxiones demonum, illud totaliter in terram proieci. Et sic dante Deo, inde illesus exivi. 4Deinde omnes saraceni cum 1 HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 77 hoc sciverunt reverebantur me multum, dicentes me esse sanctum, illos autem qui mortui erant in illa valle dicebant esse homines demonis infernalis. (Relatio, cap. XXXVII, parr. 1-4) (‘Vidi un’altra cosa straordinaria e terribile. Mentre attraversavo una valle, che si snoda lungo il Fiume delle Delizie, vidi molti corpi morti; udivo inoltre diversi tipi di strumenti, soprattutto timpani, che erano percossi meravigliosamente. C’era così tanto chiasso e rumore, che venni preso da grandissimo timore. Questa valle è lunga ben sette o otto miglia terrestri. Se qualcuno vi entra, non ne esce mai più, ma subito muore all’istante. Nonostante questo, tuttavia vi volli entrare, per vedere alla fin fine di che cosa si trattasse. Dopo essere entrato, come ho già detto, trovai così tanti corpi morti che, se uno non li avesse visti, quasi non ci potrebbe credere. Su un fianco di questa valle, inoltre, proprio sulla parete rocciosa vidi un volto umano veramente terribile, tanto terribile che credevo di perdere i sensi o di morire di paura. Perciò recitavo ad alta voce le parole “Verbum caro factum est”. Mai osai avvicinarmi completamente a questo volto, ma mi tenni a una distanza di sette o otto passi. Non osando avvicinarmi a quel luogo, mi diressi verso l’altro capo della valle. Lì salii sopra un monte di sabbia, dal quale, guardando attorno, non vedevo nulla se non quei timpani che sentivo suonare meravigliosamente. Quando giunsi sulla sommità del monte, vi trovai grandissima quantità di oro e di argento, ammassati lì come squame di pesce, e me ne misi un po’ in grembo. Ma poiché non mi interessava e anzi pensavo che si trattasse di allucinazioni demoniache, lo gettai tutto in terra. E così, grazie a Dio, uscii di lì sano e salvo. Infine i musulmani, quando lo seppero, mi trattarono con grande deferenza, dicendo che ero santo, mentre coloro che erano morti nella valle erano adepti di un demone infernale.’) Anche se la maggior parte degli studiosi ha cercato di fornire una spiegazione letterale del passo44, l’unica interpretazione possibile ci sembra quella proposta da Monaco, per il quale l’episodio ha un carattere “simbolico e autoagiografico”45. Numerosi sono gli elementi che supportano tale lettura. Il brano si presenta anzitutto decontestualizzato, in quanto non è introdotto dalle abituali indicazioni relative all’itinerario. Odorico ci dice solo di avere visto “aliud terribile magnum”. L’unico toponimo citato, flumen deliciarum ha un forte carattere evocativo, poiché sembra rimandare al Paradisus deliciarum, ossia il Paradiso terrestre, che una tradizione molto antica collocava all’estremità orientale del mondo. Altri elementi contribuiscono a creare un’atmosfera rarefatta e enigmatica: i tamburi che suonano, i corpi morti, il terribile volto umano scolpito (?) nella roccia, il monte di sabbia, l’oro e l’argento “ammassati come squame di pesce”46. In tale contesto ha luogo la lotta tra Odorico e le forze infernali. Sconfiggendo prima 78 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) la paura, poi le tentazioni, il frate riesce a superare la prova, guadagnandosi così l’appellativo di sanctus da parte delle popolazioni locali. Se si considera che tale brano si colloca praticamente alla fine dell’opera, si capisce come tale “beatificazione in vita” possa ben rappresentare la degna conclusione dell’itinerario odoriciano. Il percorso reale del viaggiatore attraverso i mirabilia e i terribilia dell’Oriente e quello spirituale dell’uomo attraverso le tentazioni terrene – sembra dirci Odorico – procedono di pari passo. Comunque si voglia leggere l’episodio della Valle terribile, quel che è evidente è che una lettura dell’opera in chiave morale o religiosa può essere complementare a una interpretazione letterale del testo, perché ci può aiutare a decifrarne i varî livelli di significato. L’opera di Odorico presenta infatti un indubbio carattere polisemico: è il resoconto fedele di un viaggio reale in India e in Cina, e assieme compilazione di mirabilia e di stravaganze esotiche; descrizione del mondo e, nel contempo, interpretazione del mondo; epopea del Francescanesimo e dei suoi successi nell’Estremo Oriente, documento diplomatico inviato alla corte di Avignone – e forse pure redatto – nella speranza che il pontefice concedesse ai frati Minori ulteriori rinforzi per le missioni cinesi; e, oltre a ciò, narrazione di un itinerario personale di salvezza, ai limiti quasi dell’esaltazione autoagiografica47. Una pluralità di significati che trova la sua sintesi nella figura poliedrica di Odorico: viaggiatore, osservatore del mondo, missionario, uomo di fede. Ma, soprattutto, autore, narratore e protagonista del suo libro. Notes 1. B. Odoricus de Portu Naonis, “Relatio”, in Sinica Franciscana, I: Itinera et relationes fratrum Minorum saeculi XIII et XIV, collegit, ad fidem codicum redegit et annotavit p. Anastasius van den Wyngaert O.F.M. (Ad Claras Aquas [Quaracchi], apud Collegium S. Bonaventurae, 1929), 413-495 [d’ora in poi = Relatio], cap. XXXVIII, par. 6. 2. Odorico da Pordenone partì per il Catai dopo il luglio 1318, accompagnato da un socius e da un famulus. Per recarsi in Estremo oriente si avvalse della cosiddetta “via meridionale” che attraverso l’Asia minore, l’Armenia e la Persia si spingeva fino alle coste dell’Oceano indiano, proseguiva via mare, circumnavigando l’India e l’Indocina, e raggiungeva la città di Canton (Censcala) nella Cina meridionale. Giunse tra il 1324 e il 1326 alla grandiosa residenza del Gran Khan Yesun Timur a Tatu (Taydo), nei pressi di Cambelec, l’odierna Pechino (Relatio, capp. XXVI-XXX), e vi rimase tre anni prima di prendere la via del ritorno. Si servì stavolta della “via settentrionale”, che passava per la Cina e l’Asia centrale. Come apprendiamo dalle righe finali della Relatio, nel maggio dell’anno 1330 Odorico si trovava già a Padova, nel convento di Sant’Antonio, dove dettò a fra Guglielmo da Solagna il resoconto del suo viaggio (Relatio, cap. XXXVIII, par. 7). Messosi in viaggio per recarsi alla corte papale di Avignone – forse al fine di ottenere rinforzi per le missioni cinesi - si ammalò gravemente a Pisa e fu trasportato, ormai moribondo, a Udine, dove morì il 14 gennaio dell’anno 1331. Sull’itinerario e sulla cronologia del viaggio odoriciano – oltre agli ormai invecchiati ma sempre indispen- HISTORY 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 79 sabili commenti di Henry Yule (Cathay and the Way Thither being a Collection of Medieval Notices of China, I-IV [London, Hakluyt Society, 1913-1915, II: Odoric of Pordenone, 1913; prima ed.: 1866]) e Henri Cordier (Les voyages en Asie au XIVe siècle du bienheureux frère Odoric de Pordenone, Réligieux de Saint-François [Paris, E. Leroux, 1891]) – cfr. Lucio Monaco, “Introduzione”, in Memoriale toscano di Odorico da Pordenone (Alessandria, Edizioni dell’Orso, 1990), 21-80, in part. 21-63; sulla biografia di Odorico prima e dopo il viaggio: Andrea Tilatti, “Odorico da Pordenone. Vita e Miracula”, in Atti della ricognizine scientifica del corpo del beato Odorico da Pordenone, (Padova, Centro Studi Antoniani, 2004 [= Il Santo, 44]): 313474, in part. 313-393. Relatio, cap. I, par. 1. Giorgio Raimondo Cardona, “I viaggi e le scoperte”, in Letteratura italiana, dir. da Alberto Asor Rosa, V: Le questioni (Torino, Einaudi, 1986), 687-716, in part. 705-706; Valeria Bertolucci Pizzorusso, “La certificazione autoptica: materiali per l’analisi di una costante della scrittura di viaggio”, in Viaggi e scritture di viaggio, a cura di Corrado Bologna (Pisa, Giardini, 1990 [= L’Uomo. Società tradizione sviluppo, n.s., 3]), 281-299, poi in Ead., Scritture di viaggio. Relazioni di viaggiatori e altre testimonianze letterarie e documentarie (Roma, Aracne, 2011), 9-26, da cui si cita; Michèle Guéret-Laferté, Sur les routes de l’empire mongol. Ordre et rhétorique des relations de voyage au XIIIe et XIVe siècles (Paris, Champion, 1994), 161-187. Si vedano a tal proposito le osservazioni di Gioia Zaganelli, “In margine a due recenti edizioni del Milione di Marco Polo”, in Critica del testo, 3 (2000): 1023-1032, in part. 1023-1028. Giovanni di Pian di Carpine, Storia dei Mongoli, edizione critica del testo latino a cura di Enrico Menestò, traduzione italiana a cura di Maria Cristiana Lungarotti, note di Paolo Daffinà, introduzione di Luciano Petech, studi storico-filologici di Claudio Leonardi, Maria Cristiana Lungarotti, Enrico Menestò (Spoleto, Centro italiano di studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1989). “Itinerarium Willelmi de Rubruc”, in Sinica Franciscana, I, 164-332; si veda anche Guglielmo di Rubruck, Viaggio nell’impero dei Mongoli, a cura di Claude e René Kappler (Roma, Lucarini, 1987; ed. orig.: Paris 1985). Riccold de Monte Croce, Pérégrinations en Terre Sainte et au Proche Orient. Lettre sur la chute de Saint-Jean d’Acre, publié par René Kappler (Paris, Champion, 1997); Ugo Monneret de Villard, Il libro della peregrinazione nelle parti d’Oriente di frate Ricoldo da Montecroce (Roma, Istituto storico domenicano, 1948). Marco Polo, Milione. Le divisament dou monde. Il Milione nelle redazioni toscana e franco-italiana, a cura di Gabriella Ronchi, introduzione di Cesare Segre (Milano, A. Mondadori, 1982), da cui si cita. Cfr. anche Marco Polo, Il Milione. Prima edizione integrale a cura di Luigi Foscolo Benedetto (Firenze, Olschki, 1928); Il manoscritto della Bibliothèque nationale de France fr. 1116. I. Testo, a cura di Mario Eusebi (Roma-Padova, Antenore, 2010). Questa seconda formula (“discours du voyage”), più generica della prima, ma sostanzialmente equivalente, è stata proposta da Friedrich Wolfzettel, Le discours du voyageur. Pour une histoire littéraire du récit de voyage en France du Moyen Age au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, Presses Universitaires de France, 1996), e ripresa da Alvaro Barbieri, “Marco, Rustichello, il ‘patto’, il libro: genesi e statuto testuale del Milione”, in Il viaggio nelle letterature romanze e orientali, V Colloquio Internazionale. VII Convegno della Società Italiana di Filologia Romanza (Catania-Ragusa 24-27 settembre 2003), a cura di Giovanna Carbonaro, Mirella Cassarino, Eliana Creazzo, Gaetano Lalomia, Indici a cura di Giovanna Carbonaro ed Eliana Creazzo (Soveria Mannelli, Rubbettino, 2006): 23-42, poi in Id., Dal viaggio al libro. Studi sul Milione (Verona, Fiorini, 2004), 129-154, da cui si cita. Ai nostri fini, non appare rilevante, invece, che i testi siano veri, dal momento che la nostra analisi si fonda soltanto su elementi deducibili dalle opere stesse. L’effettiva verità del viaggio e dei fatti narrati è un elemento non testuale, ma extra-testuale. Più esattamente, lo potrem- 80 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. mo definire “pre-testuale”, in quanto costituisce la precondizione di esistenza del testo. La differenza tra un testo chiaramente apocrifo come i Voyages di Jean de Mandeville e un testo vero come il Milione poliano risiede non nel testo ma nelle ragioni e nelle modalità della sua elaborazione. Come è noto, al momento della scrittura più di un viaggiatore si avvale dell’aiuto di uno “scrivano” o di un “compilatore” che registra sotto dettatura (Odorico, Ibn Battuta), oppure di uno “scrittore” vero e proprio che collabora attivamente all’elaborazione del testo (Marco Polo, Benedetto Polono). Nel primo caso, la sostanza del discorso non cambia, dal momento che le conseguenze sul testo non sono – almeno dal punto di vista della forma narrativa – particolarmente rilevanti. Diverso è, come si vedrà, il secondo caso, dal momento che il contributo del redattore all’elaborazione del testo risulta sicuramente più marcato. Sulla questione, cfr. Guéret-Laferté, Sur les routes de l’empire mongol, pp. 134-147; Valeria Bertolucci Pizzorusso, “La figura del redattore nella ricezione delle relazioni di viaggio medievali. Un caso esemplare”, in Il viaggio nella letteratura occidentale tra mito e simbolo, a cura di Antonio Gargano e Marisa Squillante, Napoli, Liguori, 2005, poi in Ead., Scritture di viaggio, pp. 127-142, in part. pp. 127-131; Alvise Andreose, “Dalla voce alla scrittura: problemi di transcodificazione nella stesura della Relatio di Odorico da Pordenone”, in Interpretazione del documento storico: valore documentario e dimensioni letterarie, Atti del Colloquio scientifico internazionale (Padova il 17 novembre 2009), a cura di Dan Octavian Cepraga, Sorin ªipoº (Oradea, Editura Universitãþii din Oradea, 2010): 125-140, in part. 125-127. Sul caso del Milione, si vedano in particolare: Valeria Bertolucci Pizzorusso, “Enunciazione e produzione del testo nel Milione”, in Studi mediolatini e volgari, 25 (1977): 5-43, poi in Ead., Morfologie del testo medievale, Bologna, Il Mulino, 1989, 209-241, e in Ead., Scritture di viaggio, pp. 27-67, da cui si cita (cfr. anche ibid., pp. 131-142); Cesare Segre, “Chi ha scritto il Milione di Marco Polo?”, in I viaggi del Milione. Itinerari testuali, vettori di trasmissione e metamorfosi del Devisement du monde di Marco Polo e Rustichello da Pisa nella pluralità delle attestazioni. Atti del convegno internazionale (Venezia, 6-8 ottobre 2005), a cura di Silvia Conte (Roma, Tiellemedia, 2008): 5-16. Cfr. Guéret-Laferté, Sur les routes de l’empire mongol, pp. 148-153. Cfr. Relatio, cap. XXXVIII, par. 6. Qui e negli esempi successivi, usiamo il tondo per evidenziare le parti di testo pertinenti al nostro discorso. Per quanto, come ricorda Philippe Lejeune, Il patto autobiografico (Bologna, Il Mulino, 1986; ed. orig.: Paris 1975), 3-17, l’autobiografia comporti di norma l’identità tra autore, narratore e protagonista, la semplice coincidenza tra autore e protagonista è sufficiente a identificare tale tipologia testuale. Sui concetti di “autodiegesi” e di “eterodiegesi”, cfr. Gérard Genette, Figure III. Discorso del racconto (Torino, Einaudi, 1976; ed. orig.: Paris 1972), 291-300. Sull’adozione da parte della voce narrante della prima o della terza persona in alcuni testi odeporici medievali si veda Jeannine Guérin Dalle Mese, “Io o lui? (Il problema del narratore in alcune relazioni di viaggio del Trecento-Quattrocento)”, in La letteratura di viaggio dal Medioevo al Rinascimento. Generi e problemi (Alessandria, Edizioni dell’Orso, 1989): 7-17. Nel Devisement troviamo anche passi in cui ci si riferisce a Marco in prima persona. Sull’alternanza tra eterodiegesi e autodiegesi nell’opera, si veda Bertolucci Pizzorusso, “Enunciazione e produzione”, pp. 36-37 e 46-52. Nell’Itinerarium di Odorico si usa solo la prima persona. L’unica parte in cui si parla di Odorico in terza persona è la sottoscrizione finale dello scriba, Guglielmo da Solagna: “Predicta autem ego Fr. Guilgelmus de Solagna in scriptis redegi sicut predictus Fr. Odoricus ore proprio exprimebat anno Domini MCCCXXX de mense madii, Padue in loco S. Anthonii. Nec curavi de latino difficili et ornato stilo, sed sicut ille narabat sic ego scribebam ad hoc ut omnes facilius intelligerent que scribuntur vel dicuntur” (Relatio, cap. XXXVIII, par. 7). HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 81 19. “Annales Sancti Pantaleonis Coloniensis”, edidit Hermannus Cardauns, in [Historici Germaniae saec. XII], edidit Georgius Heinricus Pertz, A. Hiersemann (Stuttgart; Kraus Reprint, New York; ripr. facs. dell’ed.: Hannoverae 1872; “Monumenta Germaniae Historica”, Scriptores, Scriptores in folio, t. XXII): 529-547, in part. 542. La Relatio di Benedetto Polono è edita in Sinica Franciscana, I, pp. 135-143. 20. Ci riferiamo, naturalmente, alla versione franco-italiana così come è tràdita dal ms. BNF fr. 1116. 21. Cfr. Guéret-Laferté, Sur les routes de l’empire mongol, pp. 25-43. 22. Sulla struttura delle due opere, cfr. Zaganelli, “In margine a due recenti edizioni”, pp. 10251027. Michèle Guéret-Laferté, che distingue tra “relations organisées selon l’ordre des matières” e “relations organisées selon l’ordre de l’itinéraire” (Sur les routes de l’empire mongol, pp. 23-24), pur rilevando le affinità tra l’Historia e il Devisement, inserisce quest’ultimo nel secondo gruppo “puisque le livre déroul[e] les régions visitèes dans l’ordre même du voyage” (ibid., p. 47). 23. In realtà, nel Liber peregrinationis di Ricoldo di Monte Croce la descrizione del viaggio si conclude con l’arrivo a Baghdad e lascia spazio a una lunga digressione sui cristiani nestoriani e sulla religione islamica (cfr. l’ed. Kappler, pp. 155-205). 24. Relatio, cap. I, par. 1. 25. Monaco, “Introduzione”, pp. 56 e 57. 26. Su questo argomento, pur in una prospettiva leggermente diversa, cfr. Guéret-Laferté, Sur les routes de l’empire mongol, pp. 164-169. 27. La Guéret-Laferté, Sur les routes de l’empire mongol, pp. 153-154 e 169 sgg., riprendendo alcune categorie enucleate da Genette (Figure III, pp. 304-305), parla in questo caso di “fonction testimoniale”. 28. Genere di palma (Metroxylon laeve), diffuso in tutto l’arcipelago indiano, che contiene nel tronco una sostanza farinosa (detta in malese sagu); ne parla anche Marco Polo (Divisament dou monde, cap. CLXX, parr. 4-6). Cfr. Giorgio Raimondo Cardona, “Indice ragionato”, in Marco Polo, Milione. Versione toscana del Trecento, edizione critica a cura di Valeria Bertolucci Pizzorusso (Milano, Adelphi, 1975), 489-761, in part. 622. 29. Relatio, cap. II, par. 1. 30. La città di Hangzhou, nella Cina sud-orientale. Capitale della dinastia Song (960-1279) dal 1138, fu conquistata dal Gran Khan Qubilai nel 1276. Odorico visitò verosimilmente il tempio buddista ‘Della Solitudine Ispirata’ (Linyin Si), che sorge non molto lontano dalla città. 31. Probabilmente le isole Andamane. Un episodio molto simile a quello descritto da Odorico è narrato da Marco Polo a proposito del regno Dagroian, sull’isola di Sumatra (Divisament dou monde, cap. CLXVIII, parr. 3-8). 32. Relatio, cap. XVIII, par. 3. 33. Nel brano in cui si parla della nudità degli abitanti di Lamori, sull’isola di Sumatra, Odorico viene irriso per i suoi vestiti ma non reagisce: “Hii de me multum truffabant, quia dicebant Deum Adam fecisse hominem nudum, et ego me malo suo velle vestire volebam” (Relatio, cap. XII, par. 1). In questo caso è il comportamento sfacciatamente provocatorio e blasfemo degli indigeni che suscita lo sdegno del lettore. 34. “Fonction idéologique” nello schema della Guéret-Laferté, Sur les routes de l’empire mongol, pp. 159-160. 35. Fra Tommaso da Tolentino era partito da Tabriz (nell’Iran nord-occidentale) per recarsi in India intorno al 1320, in compagnia di tre confratelli: fra Jacopo da Padova, fra Pietro da Siena e il frate laico Demetrio, originario della Georgia o dell’Armenia, che fungeva da interprete. Giunto a Tana, fu ucciso il 9 aprile 1321 assieme a fra Jacopo e fra Demetrio. Il quarto componente della missione, fra Pietro, venne martirizzato due giorni dopo. Cfr. Girolamo Golubovich, Biblioteca bio-bibliografica della Terra Santa e dell’Oriente francescano (Quaracchi, 82 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. Collegio di S. Bonaventura), t. II, 1913, pp. 69-70; t. III, 1919, pp. 219-221; Analecta franciscana (Ad Claras Aquas [Quaracchi] prope Florentiam, ex typ. Collegii S. Bonaventurae), t. III, 1897, pp. 474-479 e 597-613; t. IV, 1906, pp. 332-334; Arthur Cristopher Moule, Christians in China before 1550 (London, Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1930), 210-215; Cajus Othmer, “Das Martyrium von vier Franziskanern zu Tana in Indien am 9. und 12. April 1321”, in Franziskanische Studien, 16 (1929): 72-80; Christian T. Troll, “Die Chinamission im Mittelalter”, in Franziskanische Studien, 48 (1966): 109-150, in part. 143144; Marina Münkler, Erfahrung des Fremden, Die Beschreibung Ost-asiens in den Augenzeugenberichten des 13. und 14. Jahrhunderts (Berlin, Siedler Verlag, 1985), 93-95; Christine Gadrat, “Jordan Catala de Sévérac”, in Histoire littéraire de la France, 42/2 (2002): 269279; Ead., Une image de l’Orient au XIVe siècle. Les Mirabilia descripta de Jordan Catala de Sévérac, Paris, École des Chartes, 2005, 112-121, 309-315. Il capitolo dedicato ai martiri di Tana, cioè l’ottavo, costituisce circa un quinto dell’intera opera. Relatio, cap. XXI, par. 1. Secondo la testimonianza del francescano Ugolino di Sultaniyeh (Hugolinus de Soldania), il domenicano Jourdan Catala de Sévérac, che fu compagno dei quattro frati Minori nel viaggio da Tabriz a Tana, avrebbe raccolto i loro resti e li avrebbe inumati in una chiesa di Supera (l’antica Suppara o Supparaka, presso l’attuale Nala Sopara, sobborgo di Mumbai). Cfr. Analecta Franciscana, III, p. 606; Golubovich, Biblioteca bio-bibliografica, III, p. 218. Monaco, “Introduzione”, p. 40. Cfr. anche Guéret-Laferté, Sur les routes de l’empire mongol, pp. 193-195. Relatio, cap. VIII, par. 22: “ipsa [ossa] in Indiam superiorem ad unum locum Minorum fratrum cum socio et famulo deferrebam”; “socius meus cum famulo exivit domum”. Relatio, cap. VIII, par. 23: “Inde michi et socio meo preceptum fuit ut orationes Deo fundere deberemus”; “Tunc ego hec et socius audientes, orationes facimus ipsi Deo”; “tunc accipiens ex ossibus istis unum, ipsum dedi famulo nostro”. Una nota dei camerari del comune di Udine datata 5 aprile 1331 ci permette di identificare il socius di Odorico con un tal frater Iacobus de Ibernia (cfr. Golubovich, Biblioteca bio-bibliografica, III, p. 393; Tilatti, “Odorico da Pordenone”, pp. 346, 349-350, 385). Fonti abbastanza tarde (cfr. Golubovich, Biblioteca bio-bibliografica, pp. 393-394; Antonio Sartori, “Odoriciana. Vita e memorie”, in Il Santo, 6 [1966]: 7-65, in part. 24) identificano poi il famulus con un certo fra Michele da Venezia che, stando alla Chronica XXIV generalium (Analecta Franciscana, III, pp. 503-504) sarebbe stato miracolosamente guarito da Odorico, ma la notizia appare destituita di ogni fondamento. Relatio, cap. XXXVIII, par. 2. Numerosi sono i titoli che la tradizione attribuisce all’opera di Odorico: Itinerarium, Iter (con la corrispondente traduzione Viaggio), De rebus mirabilibus, Diversae historiae, Peregrinacio, Descriptio, ecc. A partire dagli anni Trenta del Novecento si è imposta la denominazione Relatio, promossa dal p. Anastasius van den Wyngaert nella sua edizione critica del testo (cfr. sopra, nota 1). A detta di Giorgio Melis (“Odorico nella Cina del Trecento: itinerario e realtà sociale secondo la Relatio”, in Odorico da Pordenone e la Cina. Atti del convegno storico internazionale [Pordenone 28-29 maggio 1982], Pordenone, Concordia sette, 1984: 203236, in part. 225 n. 2), tuttavia, la titolazione Itinerarium sarebbe quella più frequente nei manoscritti e nelle stampe. Per la questione si rimanda a Lucio Monaco, “I volgarizzamenti italiani della Relazione di Odorico da Pordenone”, in Studi mediolatini e volgari, 26 (19781979): 179-220, in part. 179; Folker E. Reichert, Incontri con la Cina. La scoperta dell’Asia orientale nel Medioevo (Milano 1997; ed. orig.: Sigmaringen 1992), 181 n. 160; Paolo Chiesa, “Per un riordino della tradizione manoscritta della Relatio di Odorico da Pordenone”, in Filologia mediolatina, 6-7 (1999-2000): 310-350, in part. 310 n. 1. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 83 44. Per es. Yule, Cathay and the Way Thither, pp. 262-264; Teofilo Domenichelli, Sopra la vita e i viaggi del beato Odorico da Pordenone dell’ordine de’ Minori. Studi con documenti rari ed inediti, sotto la direzione del p. Marcellino da Civezza (Prato, R. Guasti, 1881), 360; Cordier, Les Voyages en Asie, pp. 492-496; Giorgio Pullè, Viaggio del Beato Odorico da Pordenone (Milano, Alpes, 1931), 243-245; Odorico da Pordenone, Relación de viaje, introducción, traducción y notas [por] Nilda Guglielmi (Buenos Aires, Biblos, 1987), 152; Die Reise des seligen Odorich von Pordenone nach Indien und China (1314/18-1330), übersetzt, eingeleitet und erläutert von Folker Reichert (Heidelberg, Manutius Verlag, 1987), 145; Folker E. Reichert, Incontri con la Cina. La scoperta dell’Asia orientale nel Medioevo (Milano, Biblioteca francescana, 1997; ed. orig. ted.: Sigmaringen 1992), 101-102; Alessandro Grossato, Navigatori e viaggiatori veneti sulla rotta per l’India da Marco Polo ad Angelo Legrenzi, prefazione di Stefano RossoMazzinghi (Firenze, L.S. Olschki, 1994), 36, 45-46. Sulle varie ipotesi di localizzazione si veda la sintesi di Alvaro Barbieri, “Lieux de mise à l’épreuve dans le récit de voyage médiéval: la Vallée Périlleuse, le désert, le Passage des Pierres”, in Espaces et Mondes au Moyen Âge. Actes du Colloque international tenu à Bucarest les 17-18 octobre 2008, éditeurs scientifiques: Mianda Cioba, Cãtãlina Gîrbea, Ioana Gogeanu, Mihaela Voicu (Bucureºti, Editura Universitãþii din Bucureºti, 2009): 37-49, in part. 38-40. 45. Monaco, “Introduzione”, p. 165. Secondo Monaco (ibid., p. 51), l’episodio andrebbe correlato al capitolo immediatamente precedente, in cui si parla degli esorcismi praticati dai frati Minori in magna Tartaria (Relatio, cap. XXXVI): “l’episodio [della Valle Terribile] appare come l’applicazione ad una persona particolare (Odorico) della regola generale (la vittoria dei francescani missionari sulle forze del male)”. Alvaro Barbieri (“Lieux de mise à l’épreuve”, pp. 4049) – che propone di considerare l’episodio della Valle terribile come la declinazione di uno dei motivi “classici” dei racconti di viaggio medievali, quello del “folkore du désert” – perviene a conclusioni simili: “il suffit de lire le texte d’une façon attentive pour comprendre que dans cet épisode de la Relatio nous n’avons pas affaire à des coordonnées géographiques reconnaissables, mais plutôt à la toponymie évocatrice et fantastique des ailleurs. La Vallée terrible nous rappelle la Vallée du Jugement, tandis que le Fleuve des Délices pourrait se rapporter au Paradisus deliciarum, c’est-à-dire au paradis terrestre” (ibid., p. 43). 46. Sui diversi elementi simbolici che autorizzano tale tipo di lettura, vd. anche Barbieri, “Lieux de mise à l’épreuve”, pp. 44-46. 47. Sulle diverse possibilità di lettura del testo, cfr. Monaco, “Introduzione”, pp. 62 sgg.; Alvise Andreose, “Nota bio-bibliografica”, in Libro delle nuove e strane e meravigliose cose. Volgarizzamento italiano del secolo XIV dell’Itinerarium di Odorico da Pordenone (Padova, Centro Studi Antoniani, 2000): 17-43, in part. 18-26; Id., “Tra ricezione e riscrittura: la fortuna romanza della Relatio di Odorico da Pordenone”, in Il viaggio nelle letterature romanze e orientali, cit., pp. 5-21, in part. pp. 5-7; Valeria Bertolucci Pizzorusso, “Le relazioni di viaggio di Marco Polo e di Odorico da Pordenone: due testi a confronto”, in I viaggi del Milione, cit., pp. 155-172, ora in Ead., Scritture di viaggio, pp. 143-163, in part. 156-160; Alvaro Barbieri, “Lieux de mise à l’épreuve”, pp. 43-46. 84 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Abstract Forms and functions of the autodiegetic perspective in Odoric of Podenone’s Relatio The present paper aims at examining the effects of autodiegetic perspective in Odoric of Podenone’s Relatio. Odoric’s narrative, as well as other medieval travel accounts, such as Marco Polo’s Devisement dou Monde, results from collaboration between a traveller, the Friar Minor Odoric, and a scribe, Brother William of Solagna. Nevertheless, the narration is entirely conducted in the first person. First af all, the autodiegetic narration serves a “structural” and “contextualizing” function, since it defines the geographical and chronological coordinates of the traveller’s experience. Elsewhere the author represents himself as taking part in the action, in order to warrant the truthfulness of his stories. In some cases, the first-person narration enables the author to offer an interpretation of reality to the reader. Finally, in the last chapters of Odoric’s account, the “autodiegesis” acquires exemplary value: the first-person narrator presents his own experience as an edifying example for other Christians. Keywords Odoric of Pordenone, medieval travel literature, autodiegetic narration The Image of England and the English in Ion Codru Drãguºanu’s Transylvanian Pilgrim D ANA PANTEA T HE END of the 18 century and the beginning of the 19th was strongly marked by powerful changes in the historical background of South Eastern Europe. One of these historical events, the French Revolution had its impact upon the Romanian policy by stimulating the new intellectual elite’s thinking and leading it towards reforms. France joins Russia against the Ottoman Empire while England sustains the Ottomans thus being interested in the fate of the principalities. The political atmosphere of the 19th century began with a rising in the claims of the two principalities, thus their fate reached the international debate after which they were granted certain privileges. As far as Transylvania is concerned, the echo of Horea’s rebellion made the province known by the European public opinion. Following these historical events, the Romanians came to a conclusion that would determine their manner of acting in the 19th century: the necessity to combine the actions inside the province with those at international level l1. The 19th century brought about radical changes in the lives of the people both in Transylvania and Romania. The more and more frequent contacts with the Occident lead to economic, social and cultural changes, to the birth of the intellectual elite that was to fight in the European spirit for the Romanian nation. All these profound transformations as well as the militant spirit drawn towards the forming of the nation fell into the specific atmosphere of South East Europe where there was a continuous fight for the assertion of the nation. In this historical context the Romanians had something more that drew them towards West: their Latin origin: “We are, in addition, the Latins of the East bringing along a little bit of Rome’s relaxed rigour in this space of perpetual political transactions, of prolonged but fruitful lingering, of the totalitarian and domineering gesture, of the twilight glows, of futile but great sacrifices, of the mystery and ecstasy of Orthodoxy”2 th 86 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) The modernization of all political, economic, social, judicial structures, the gaining of the independence brought along changes in terms of culture: new, modern, national institutions were established, old cultural values were observed while the new ones maintained historical traditions with the aim to support the national being. This is the structure upon which Western cultural models left their marks: the French model left its print both in Romania and Transylvania, the German cultural model influenced Transylvania, moreover the English model, in spite of the great geographical distance left certain important marks in terms of culture. Furthermore these models together with Romanticism formed the basis of the modern culture which was able to sustain the crucial historical moments of the 19th century such as political confrontations and the Revolution in 18483. The cultural relations between England and the three Romanian provinces had been quite scarce up to the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the 19th when we can notice the first literary contacts. The first Romanian to reach England was ªtefan Bogdan who went to Queen Elisabeth I’s Court to seek for political support. The first English writings entered the Romanian culture first through Greek and Serbian intermediaries and later through French and German ones. These works were those considered of great value by other European cultures, thus they were worth translating into their respective languages. The very moment they entered the Romanian culture circuit they highlighted the level and needs of the Romanian collective mentality at that time. In Transylvania the anglophilia was much stronger than in the Principalities both because of the predominant German influence and the social political situation of the Romanians here who were fighting for their freedom in the enlighten spirit of the epoch in which constitutional monarchy represented a model to follow4. There had to be a contact for a cultural model to enter a different mentality than the one that generated it. At the beginning this contact was made by means of travelling which was meant to broaden the human horizon, which made man think, learn and change himself in order to change others. The result of these travellings can be found in the image of the foreigners, expressed in letters, notes, articles, short stories, diplomatic documents. This image is usually provided by means of a comparative approach which helps project the self image upon the Other who is the foreigner, thus different from us. When the historian himself studies a past reality he cannot in fact look upon it as it really was, but what he analyses is a representation of the reality among whose characteristics we must include the researcher’s subjectivity. The image draws us towards the reality it represents, furthermore, when this same image can be found in different writings and in the collective mentality we have the stereotype which is nothing but a simple, deformed copy of reality having deep repercussion on another people’s culture. When analyzing the perception of the Other both diachronically HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 87 and synchronically, we can better understand the needs of the one who created the image, his cultural values, his hopes, his shortcomings. By studying an image we try to live again a historical event, to interpret it, to understand it, to explain the way in which a collective identity has generated certain ideas and attitudes such as the concepts of fatherland, nation. As the image is the subjective reflection of reality, the researcher’s task is quite difficult because he has to take into consideration the framework in which the image was generated and not the one he is living in. This is the perspective through which national images formed as a result of the contact between two cultures should be looked upon5. When defining national images we must take into account the human presence with all the characteristics involved: moral and physical features, cultural references, way of living, nutrition, clothing. Of all these, the aesthetic image of the foreigner that comes with all its particularities is the one that determines the observer’s attitude who will decide whether he likes the foreigner or not and who will label a whole nation according to the image created in his mind. This image of alterity, of the Other, and the self image coexist in a fundamental relationship and help the researcher define the identity. Each way of living has a central figure, an image of the human model: the Italian Courtier, l’honnet homme, the gentleman, the bourgeois6. The merchant, the newest human type, who contributes to the welfare of England through commerce, thus bringing his country both honour and power, was created by two Englishmen, Adison and Steel who published it first in The Tatler and later on in The Spectator two newspapers rapidly spred in all London’s caffees. This English model was soon known all over the Continent by means of newspapers, theatre, novels, travel literature, fashion so that many people started imitating the Englishman’s simplicity both in clothing and behaviour7. This English model is enriched by the Romantic spirit, it becomes engaged in the fight against tirany, despotism, imperialism and acquires new features which have a great impact upon the collective mentalities all over Europe. This is the model the Romamian travellers, students, intelectualls will meet and try to give as an example for those at home, but only after their contact with England and the English. It was only at the beginning of the 19th century that the Romanians from the three provinces started travelling throughout Europe. Some of them had to go in exile while others were driven either by the wish to discover new places, to study or had to take care of their health. Few things are known about them, but, as we progress in the 19th century, people began to record, to send letters, to write in order to make another world known to the opressed ones at home, they started to write their memories and travel journals, or mere and 88 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) simple to write literature through which to convey their thoughts, impressions and suggestions. Travel literature, a genre often criticized, even forgotten on the shelves or in the drawers is a rich source which helps us understand the collective mentality of a certain people, the stereotypes that dominated its psychology, its evolution. The testimonies here are transparant, the strict canons of other literary genres do not apply here, thus travel literature maintains its originality and authenciticy8, and, the image of „the Other” it provides, is clearer and easier to perceive. However, travel literature is subjective. There are writers, scholars or simple travelers who decided to share their experience and opinions having a certain goal: to enlighten their own people, to change their way of living, to introduce a new human model, or, mere and simple as our great poet Vasile Alecsandri did, to report a travel experience which had no specific aim. They all fulfill their goal by presenting the image of the Other, thus trying to introduce new models worth being followed. Out of the three Romanian provinces those living in Transylvania were the diligent travelers who set forth having a certain goal: to read everything from cover to cover as they were interested in ethics and philology. Another goal of their journey was the theme of our Latinity; they travelled to study and search in the archives. One of the most experienced travelers in the first half of the 19th century was Ion Codru Dragusanu, a descendent from an ancient free noble family. Quite educated for his time, – he could speak German, he had read the classics, – he left for Wallachia where from he started his journeys first by accompanying others such as ruler Alexandru Ghica. In this way he had the possibility to travel through Austria, Italy, Germany, France, England, Switzerland wherefrom he wrote letters to a friend sharing his spontaneous thoughts and impressions without ever forgetting to be a good patriot. During one of his journeys, Ion Codru Drãguºanu set forth from Paris to London and wrote down the impressions England and the English left upon him. His first contact with the English was in Le Havre where their influence was to be felt quite strongly, but the impression was not a good one. It changed next morning when after having suffered all night long from sea sickness he went on the deck and talked to the steersman and the man was pretty kind. It is also now that he gave his first description of the geography of England as seen from the sea: “The next morning I woke up a bit more worn than usual, and I went on the deck of the steamship to see the place. One could only see the clear blue skies and the green waters, mirroring each other. The steersman spoke French, so I approached him and asked him several questions. Very affably, which I did not expect from an Englishman, he explained to me the virtues HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 89 of the maritime compass and the use of the chart of the 39 winds, known well only by the professional seaman; later on he showed me the white chalk coast of England, which gave the country its old name of Albion, to which the French have added the epithet ‘perfidious’9. His remarkable gift as a writer left us a picturesque image of London. Step by step the English capital reveals itself in the front of the curious eyes of the traveler: the squares, the tunnel, the gardens, the buildings, the houses the shops. Nowhere before had he seen such “piazzas” as in London: “almost all of them are quadrangular, therefore the name of ‘squares’. They all have some monument, of course not all grand, and generally they have flower gardens, lawns and trees in the middle”10. He was deeply impressed by the large gardens and parks which he compared with plains: “There are in London public gardens – or should I say whole plains, so wide they are – where there are only green lawns, tall trees, bushes, and rivulets or crystal-clear lakes. One will find, but only seldom, beds of flowers. Such public places for the enjoyment of everybody are Regents Green, Hyde and St James’s Park, their name being ‘parks’11. When presenting London, Ion Codru Drãguºanu, permanently compares it with Paris underling those things which he considers to be better or worse than in the capital of France. He was not the only one to write as such, almost all the Romanians who wrote their impressions after visiting England used to compare it to France. This attitude is due to the strong bonds which existed between the Romanians and the French and also to the fact that the Romanians used to travel and study first and foremost in France whom they considered to be our “older sister”. A profound observer, he notes: “First of all, London surprises you by the great number of people and the great quietness. Then the exemplary cleanness of the streets shocks you, as well as the simplicity of the buildings and the uniform clothing of men, which is generally grey or a gloomy ash grey. All streets are large and straight, especially the main ones, which are also paved with wood frames or covered in macadam. The houses do not have such exquisite architecture as in Paris, nor are they as solid, because this city is a whole world of almost two million inhabitants. London has stretched each year passing by, and has engulfed private properties that would sum up a surface as big as Olt County in our country. Many neighbourhoods have the name of Such-andsuch Garden. These lands are freehold or leasehold for 20-30 years, and the builders calculate the expenses according to the lease and they build easily”12. The luxury in London is comfortable, there carpets on the stairs up to the level of the street, however this luxury is far from that in Paris. The writer regards the tunnel under the Thames as one of the world’s wonders “which surpasses those of the most praised of the ancient world”, but, he ironically adds “it is made by a Frenchman”. 90 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Ion Codru Drãguºanu proves to be a subtle economic analyst when he presents the trade going on London, in its port and the domineering power the country has all over the world due to its trade. He makes the connection between the powerful millionaire merchants, their interests and the country’s policy serving them: “The core of London, called The City, is formed especially by small shops, as small as shells, whose owners are all millionaires. They only keep here samples of merchandise, and they all own factories so big so they could equip twenty ships in any port of the world, for a whole week. These merchants with their money keep the whole rule of England and they put the pressure on the political barometer of the world, according to their own interests”13. He has a great admiration for the English because they are the first to put into practice the latest scientific discoveries: the electric telegraph, the steam engine; while working to perfect new discoveries such as the pneumatic locomotion. The Transylvanian traveller is deeply impressed by the experiments in the fields of chemistry, physics, and mechanics done at the Royal Polytechnic Institution and by the fact that they are presented to the large public so that everyone may have access to the latest discoveries. As a well educated person, Ion Codru Drãguºanu pays a visit to the British Museum where the mammoth and whale skeletons seemed extraordinary to him and so did the Greek, Egyptian and Italian sculptures which were arranged in a perfect order. He also went to the Covent Garden to attend an opera. He admired the hall which was resplendent, but he didn’t enjoy the music in English because he believed “ that the English will never ever accommodate their tongue to singing, because harmony requires sonorous, clear vowels, not swallowed and sneezed sounds such as theirs”14. Each part of the English life is dealt with: clothing, food, and specific customs. That’s why we can quite easily draw the stereotype out of his work. Thus the Englishman is simple in everything, even in food:” It is simple, as everything English, but very rich – I mean, all their food is made of steaks, really not done at all, and maybe only licked once by charcoal fire. The meat is wonderful, most tender, because they do not work their land with their horned beasts, and game is kept in parks, where it gets fat. But, as I say, from the steak heated-up blood is dripping, and they could eat it if they feel like it, otherwise they say it is ruined by continental tastes. Along with the roast beef comes, generally, the plum-pudding, a sort of Romanian ‘mamaliga’ made out of fine flour, which is very thick and has plums in it, hence the name. For the high houses, it is made with sweet sultanas. Then come potatoes, boiled, and served whole, with their skin on, then bread, fresh butter, and this is all. Soups, sauces, salads, and other thousands of delicacies are kept in contempt, not to mention sauerkraut and pork fat from which they run like hell”15. The menu includes a lot of HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 91 beer and good quality wine imported from Portugal and Spain. Hence another characteristic of the Englishman: he doesn’t fake anything, that’s why the wine is so good. The portrait of the Englishman is completed with his image as the greedest eater in the world. In spite of the simplicity of his food the Englishman eats a lot: he drinks tea or coffee in the morning, at 10 o’clock he eats a beefsteak and drinks beer, at noon he has lunch, at 5 o’clock he drinks tea and, later on, he has dinner. He respects this lifestyle wherever he goes on the continent, as he travels a lot and he enjoys travelling, and eating well and drinking, sleeping well and being comfortable everywhere. The author of the letters makes a comparison between the English traveller and the Romanian one: while the English travel in order to enjoy life, others, like him travel with the aim of broadening his knowledge. But there is also another category of Romanians, the nobleman who travels in order to ruin himself and he gives the example of Dudescu. It is a bitter example meant to be a lesson for those at home to follow the English model and not the Romanian one. Ion Codru Drãguºanu makes acquaintance with another English tradition, that of drinking tea. He stopped at a café and instead of being served the lemonade he was used to with at home, he got a cup of hot tea: “Very strange was an English habit, which I found later on is something natural. We were hot after all our excursions, so [our guide] took us to a cafe, in order to cool down. On the spot, we were served with hot tea, while I was waiting, as is our custom, for lemonades, orangeade, or cold sorbet16”. It seemed quite strange for him at the beginning, but, finally he enjoyed it which made him come to the conclusion: “we are still ignorant”. The English people’s attitude towards religion implies the same seriousness concerning the rules which they strictly observe; they cannot leave the church during the divine ceremony, they do not open the shops on Sundays or on holidays as the French do: “Generally, the Protestants and the Anglicans in particular are more rigid in those matters concerning religion than the Orthodox. They believe less, but do more for the dignity of religion, which is devoid of all kind of hocus-pocus. In London, nobody works on Sundays, as I saw them do in Paris, not even for the enterprises owned by the State”17. There are aspects Ion Codru Drãguºanu doesn’t like at all and he says so: he hates one of the sports the English enjoy very much, boxing. He presents a boxing match between two English “gladiators” who threw hard blows to each other’s face and stomach. He considers it to be too violent for his taste and leaves the Box Hall. Order, discipline and correctness are characteristics of the Englishman and the English society no matter where one encounters them. When entering the 92 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) country our pilgrim was horrified at the thought of not finding his luggage anymore, but in the end his feelings were those of complete admiration: “Finally we got to the Customs. All passengers’ luggage flew like balls from the ship to boats and from here they were taken to the halls of the Customs, and I was close to believing we would never see them again. But here people are so much into order and practice that if you trust them with a needle, it will never get lost or be taken by others “18 Being amazed at not having seen armed policemen or soldiers in the streets of London and other towns the writer comes to the conclusion that the English are the most civilised people in the world: “Undoubtedly, Great Britain is the most civilised state in the world. I have observed this closely in London – you will not find soldiers here. Either there is not much of an army, or regular soldiers are allowed to don civil clothing when not on duty. But you can find on the streets the so-called ‘constables’, a sort of policemen armed only with short truncheons, filled with lead, and with the arms of the realm at one end. Everybody tries to respect them, even if one is arrogant, otherwise people will have the occasion to experiment on their own skin the specific weight of the lead helped by the constable”19 The same strict rules which dominate the English life are to be found in the way people dress. The English way of clothing show the same simplicity, it is elegant and that’s why it is called “a l’anglaise”, namely according to the English taste: “In the English urban society you cannot show your face without scandalising the others unless you wear a black suit with white tie. At the royal court and high lords, even nowadays one must wear tight trousers, silken socks and shoes. Otherwise, shoes are not important at all, because the English, far from excelling in this domain, will even wear riding boots”20. The Englishman is a man of words for whom exactitude is sacred and who never changes his subsequence but, on the contrary he remains faithful to it all his life, a quality worth giving for example. Even the life of lords and the royal family is characterized by simplicity and solidity, but also by opulence. Ion Codru Drãguºanu had the opportunity to see Queen Victoria leaving Windsor Castle together with Prince Albert and their Guest the Duke of Nemours. He visits the royal apartments and he remarks again that neither the apartments nor the throne hall is adorned as those in Versailles. Here he is impressed more by the Chapel and the large park. Being from Transylvania, Codru Drãguºanu is interested in the British Parliament, politics and political parties. He admires the fact that the English have only two political parties – unlike the French - the Tory and the Whigs that rule in turn. He explains and mocks the meaning of their names, but he completely agrees with their denomination. He is also amazed by the lack of cen- HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 93 sorship; one can even criticize the queen without being punished. It is an observation which was meant to have a great impact at home where people were not free to speak themselves. A fine psychologist Codru Drãguºanu analyzes and makes comparisons between the English and the French, he begins with individuals, particular scenes and having a fine sense of observation he ends by realizing a clever and profound psychology of peoples: “There are only two great peoples throughout Europe: the French and the English. Writers compare the former with the ancient Greeks, and the latter with the Romans, but this is true only from the point view of the main characteristics of the nation, because I believe that the reverse would not be false either. The French have a frivolous inconstancy and a convulsive tendency to rebel, but they have a tasteful and attractive luxury, and their writings are full of spirit – thus they resemble the Grecians, while their great deeds and their influence on the general culture of other peoples make them the true Romans of modern times. On the other hand, the English are thoroughly endowed with constancy, the chief virtue of Rome, but they have the speculative spirit and egotistical habits that focus on their own interest, which are nothing more but Grecian attributes. In alliance with each other, these two nations are destined to rule the world and decide the fate of nations”21 The Transylvanian pilgrim is our first European observer who, for the first time in our culture noticed the national character of the individual, who made observations strongly related to cultural psychology and psychology of peoples Our pilgrim considers the men tall and handsome, but they have a problem as many of them are bold while women are beautiful with nice hair. It was a great loss for our culture in the three provinces that his work was published much later after it was written down. His letters were written in the Latin spirit of the epoch, making use of orthography and vocabulary which only the Transylvanian intellectuals of that time could understand but not the large public. This is the reason why his work was put aside for 45 years. It was Nicolae Iorga who discovered it, adapted it to today’s literary style and gave it for publication. The Anglo-Romanian relations have evolved for a long period of time and known a wide range of fields: political and commercial at the very beginning, while the cultural contacts have developed later during the long process of knowing each other. As England has been a powerful country along centuries and because the industrial revolution started there it has also become a model, an effective example especially for a country such as Romania, where modernization was imperative. That’s why Romanians from all three provinces go to England, but each having his own interest. If at the very beginning of the contacts with England the aim was mainly political, to ask for support in order to obtain the 94 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) throne, the interests changed according to the personality who visited England. For example Petrache Poenaru was interested in industry, manufactures, technical problems, comminication; Vasile Alecsandri and Jean Bart, both writers, left in their books the image of the most civilized country. Vasile Alecsandri, who was also a diplomat, together with Ion Ghica drew their attention upon the problems of the Union and Independence. There are many notes, articles private and diplomatic letters which give us a great picture of England wherefrom we find out the details of British everyday life, the social life of different classes, the traditions, religion, the educational system, the parliament system. The Romanians went to England not only to ask for politcal support, but also to observe, to learn and to bring back all this knowledge and disseminate it at home so that the Romanians could live a better life. The travellers and the diplomats admired the bicameral English Parliament, and the constitutional monarchy, models which finally they succeeded to implement in their country. They also admired the English woman who was so independent and emancipated as compared to the Romanian one. The educational system in England was also a model for establishing new schools in the three provinces. Many times it has been said that the Romaninans have a special philia for the French people who influenced the formation and development of our culture and society. But the modern spirituality of the Romanian people was formed not only under the French and German influence, but also the English spirit penetrates the Romanian collective mentality, thus the English culture becomes a model for the Romanian culture. Notes 1. Mihai Bãrbulescu, Dennis Deletant,Keith Hitchins, ªerban Papacostea, Pompiliu Teodor, Istoria României, Editura Corint, 2004, p. 270-271 2. Razvan Theodorescu, Culturã ºi civilizaþie europeanã, Bucureºti, Editura Fundaþiei România de Mâine, 2003 p.113 3. Razvan Theodorescu, op. cit., p.167 4. Alexandru Duþu, Explorãri în istoria literaturii române, Bucureºti, Editura pentru literaturã, 1969 p. 89 5. Sorin Mitu, Imagini europene þi mentalitãþi româneþti din Transilvania la începutul epocii moderne, Cluj-Napoca, Editura Presa Universitarã Clujeanã, 2000, p 271 6. Alexandru Duþu, Eseu în istoria modelelor umane. Imaginea omului în literaturã þi picturã, Bucureºti, Editura ªtiinþificã, 1972, p. 219 7. Ibidem, p. 224-231 8. Florin Faifer, Semnele lui Hermes. Memorialistica de cãlãtorie (pânã la 1900) între real ºi imaginar, Bucureºti. Editura Minerva, 1993, p. 5 HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 95 9. Ion Codru Drãguþanu, Cãlatoriile unui Român adelean În þarã ºi în strãinãtate (1834-1844) Peregrinul transilvan ediþia a II-a, Bucureºti, Tip. Societãþii „Cultura neamului românesc”, 1924, p 119 10. Ibid., p121 11. Ibid., p 122 12. Ibid., p 120 13. Ibid., p 126 14. Ibid., p 125 15. Ibid., p 127 16. Ibid., p 253 17. Ibid., p 122 18. Ibid., p 120 19. Ibid., p 251 20. Ibid., p 126 21. Ibid., p 119 Abstract The Image of England and the English in Ion Codru Drãguºanu’s Transylvanian Pilgrim This study starts by making an analysis of the historical changes in the 19th century society and culture both in Europe and in the three Romanian Provinces. Against this background we point out the impact of the English and England upon the development of the Romanians, the way in which the great “insular: nation, in spite of the geographical distance, determined certain trends in the social, cultural, educational, economic changes. By defining, admiring or criticizing the Other, in our case the English, we can find both the needs and the characteristics of our people. This research has applied the methods of imagology on the letters written by Ion Codru-Drãgu?anu while visiting England and the result is the portrait of the Englishman and Englishwoman, the picture of their society, culture, education, in one word, their way of living. culture, the Other, 19th century, impact Keywords The Diplomat Martinho de Brederode and the Romanian-Portuguese Cultural Relations A LINA S TOICA N OWADAYS, THE analyses made by political scientists and particularly by researchers concerned with external politics have largely approached the notion and role of cultural diplomacy in the relations between countries. Propaganda, cultural diplomacy, cultural politics, and image strategy are but greatly resembling terms yet they bear slight differences. “Cultural politics is a model of intellectual attitude and orientation regarding politics as expressed by members of a political system. It is a subjective field lying at the basis of political actions, conferring them importance”1. Carmen Burcea goes even further in analysing and stressing the difference between cultural politics, which she considers as the most appropriate and efficient tool to achieve and implement political plans, while the task to promote an external positive image of a country mainly belongs to cultural diplomacy as a parallel or alternative to political or economic diplomacy. Thus, culture is an external action tool for affirmation and influence.2 Referring to the interwar period, the notion of cultural propaganda corresponds to the current cultural diplomacy, a term considered by Nicolae Iorga as “unpleasant, even repugnant”. Propaganda “assumes a systematic action of an organised group to spread a doctrine or an idea with the aim to convince and acquire adepts, to produce actions convenient to the established political objectives” (DEX). Carmen Burcea manages to make a very interesting combination between politics, culture and propaganda. The researcher speaks of the “complementarities of two elements – politics and culture, strengthened by a third one – propaganda. In this equation, culture is the attractive layer of politics, while propaganda is the tool providing cohesion. The boundaries between them are frail and largely depend on changes occurring in a given context thus determining their ceaseless adjustment”3. 98 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) When talking about the diplomatic relations between the two countries, Romania and Portugal, we can notice that a means of collaboration and mutual relations between them started as early as the Roman Empire. In the 5th century for instance, Paul Orosius, a Latin writer from Northern Portugal, knew about Dacia4. “Alania lies in the east, Dacia is in the middle, Gothia is in the same place” (Historie adversus paganos). There are also the notes by ªtefan Rozgonyi, Earl of Raab5, who mentioned D Pedro das sete Partidas, Duke of Coimbra, son of the Portuguese King D. João I and Queen Filipa de Lencastre, who was with an army in Transylvania in 1427, together with Dan II, whom he helped to fight against the Ottoman Empire. In 1857, western newspapers published a piece of information according to which a group of Romanian exiled in Paris proposed the throne of the planned Moldavian-Wallachian Kingdom to the Portuguese Prince Dom Luis, brother of Dom Pedro V of Portugal. The prince refused because he had other plans and concerns for the future6. The first printed text on Portugal was entitled Lisboa, capital de Portugal (Lisbon, Capital of Portugal) and was published in a literary magazine in Iaºi, in 18657. Nevertheless, the diplomatic relations between the two countries considerably developed after World War I. Following the after war deep changes in the international political and trade relations, Portugal intended to obtain all the advantages the country had made so many sacrifices for. All these issues compelled the Government not to give up the complete remoulding of the organic law of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. “As far as the Balkans is concerned, we do not have a single career consulate [there were only honorary consulates – A/N] in Romania, Serbia or Greece. Romania will be a strong country after the Great Conflagration, while Serbia already has an accredited minister amongst us”8. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Lisbon also needed a skilful and clever policy in all these countries. The fact that they could turn into a market for Portuguese goods that could not be found in the Balkans could support the state recover an important part of the material loss.9 Consequently, Martinho de Brederode’s main objectives aimed to get closer to this region from the economic and commercial points of view by also using the cultural aspect of his mission in Bucharest. A great supporter of the Portuguese monarchy, which was replaced by the republic in 1910, the Portuguese diplomat, initiated several propaganda actions with politicians in Bucharest, as well as with the Royal House through Queen Mary whom he had met at literary meetings held in Bucharest and to whom he was very close. He had two main advantages. On the one hand, his origins, as he belonged to one of the noblest families in Lisbon, the de Cunha family, and on the other hand his talent in the field of literature and especially poetry which was highly HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 99 appreciated in all important circles in Bucharest. An eloquent example in point was the change of the personal coat-of-arms when he inherited the title of Earl of Cunha of Portugal, a change done by Mateiu Caragiale in Bucharest. As far as his literary talent was concerned, as early as “high-school, Martinho de Brederode had a special gift for literature, as he wrote poetry and translated from French. His poetry showed a strong influence of the French symbolism, particularly Mallarme and Verlaine, whose works he subsequently translated”10. Out of the Portuguese writers, he greatly admired Eca de Queros. It was under his influence that he wrote the novel A morte de amor (Death of Love), where he showed the bohemian life in Lisbon. The novel was published in 1894, while he was a diplomat at the Political Directorate of the Portuguese State Secretariat11, under the nickname Marco Sponti, most likely for reasons of diplomatic discretion. Two years later, when he was 30, he published the volume entitled Charneca, a work pertaining to the Portuguese Symbolism. “He still cultivated Symbolism up to decadence, as seen in his poetry published in 1898 and 1905”12, O po da estrada (Dust on the Road) and Sul (South). In this latter volume, he tried to integrate the “Parnassian movement13 of the great Portuguese poet Cesário Verde to the Symbolism with an imprint of Portuguese sensitivity traditions of the great poet Antonio Nobre”14. Antonio Nobre considered the work Sul “a book of value felt and lived, certainly revealing artistic vocation”15. Martinho de Brederode’s literary work was completed by a play, As lagrimas, chorai (Tears Went By) belonging to the same literary genre. Clever and slender, used to exploit every contact to his interest, Martinho de Brederode managed to know the members of the most important literary societies in Bucharest due to his charm (Queen Mary, Tudor Arghezi, Lucian Blaga, Mircea Eliade, Mircea Vulcanescu, Duiliu Zamfirescu, and Mateiu Caragiale). Due to his diplomat qualities, he managed to know the representatives of the most important Legations in the capital of Romania (Franz Rattigan – UK). He met Mateiu Caragiale the year he arrived at Bucharest, in 1919. “For a while, the two become very close, which means in fact that Mateiu was used by the diplomat to solve the most diverse issues of the mission, from guarding the headquarters to protocol activities”16. In 1923, Brederode inherited the title of Earl of Cunha. Consequently, he needed to change his coat-of-arms. Mateiu Caragiale was the one helping him and Brederode promised him the medal Christ Great Cross, an important decoration of Portugal often awarded to diplomats in mission in the capital of Portugal. “But the plenipotentiary aristocrat very good at boasting off would not keep his promise. Moreover, he proves to be excessively arrogant, impulsive and rude”17. We already know that the Romanian writer, coat-of-arms specialist and genealogist Mateiu Caragiale contributed with suggestions and his talent to draw 100 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) coat-of-arms to elaborate the coat-of-arms for the royalist minister of the Portuguese Republic in Bucharest according to the requirements. Then, Mateiu Caragiale helped Martinho de Brederode several times to publish articles about himself or Portugal in Universul. Unfortunately, we could not find in the diplomatic and private correspondence existing in the Portuguese archives any mention of the Portuguese diplomat regarding the son of the great playwright. However, without mentioning the name, Martinho de Brederode spoke of the article on Vasco da Gama in his Report dated October 21, 1925. The translation and publication into Romanian cost 7,800 lei, probably an exaggerated amount, if we consider that Mateiu referred to the same article with the amount of 5,000 lei. Nevertheless, it is important that the Portuguese diplomat mentioned the support received from a friend. He must have referred to Mateiu Caragiale18. Yet some excerpts made by Perpessicius from Mateiu Caragiale’s Diary (19231935)19 that burnt during the fire at the Rosseti Library in Bucharest during the 1944 bombing, prove the existence of a broad collaboration between the two. “January 7. Universul. The article on Vasco da Gama and picture, 5,000 lei. January 17, Brederode. Universul. January 19. Disagreeable event for Brederode. At least I was not wrong about him. January 20 (scissors). Universul. I take a receipt from Brederode”20. It seems that the translator of the article into French was Brederode, while Mateiu Caragiale translated it into Romanian and left the imprint of his artful vocabulary without altering the original meaning at all21. In January 1924, Portugal celebrated four centenaries since Vasco da Gama’s death22. On this occasion, academician Henrique Lopes de Mendonca, the author of Portugal’s national anthem, was appointed by the Government of the Portuguese Republic to elaborate a brochure on Vasco da Gama that was subsequently sent to the Portuguese legations in allied and friend countries with the indication of having it translated into the national language of the countries concerned and published in the media in order to disseminate the name of Vasco da Gama – a symbol of the Portuguese navy, the immortal hero of Camoes’ epic, Lusiada. The break of the two was triggered by an incident occurring at the headquarters of the Universul newspaper in 1925. Martinho de Brederode got into an argument with Stelian Popescu, the director of the paper, at the time of the publication of issue no. 16 of the newspaper on January 25, 1925, regarding the anniversary article on Vasco da Gama. “Looking for cheap prices, he comes to the newspaper and behaves like a man looking for scandal. Mateiu, who was involved in the dispute on text processing due to the Portuguese academician Henrique Lopes de Mendonca, ceases all relations with him”23. It was maybe after the publication of the article ordered by Brederode that he refused to pay for it, or intended to pay less, thus putting Mateiu in a very bad situation. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 101 They met again ten years later. Mateiu went on mentioning him even if the manner was not at all favourable: “I meet Brederode at the end of the Bridge; the boaster is smartly dressed, but he smells like a cheap woman. He hugs me affably, but I know him very well, he is a hypocrite. He says he wants to hang out with me again, I listen to him, but I am convinced: il ne me met pas dans une sale affaire. Indeed, in a few minutes he involves me in a leu speculation on the European market and gives me the tip on Concordia shares that will go up précisément next week from 2,225 to at least 2,400 lei. He assures me of his good will and friendship ignoring all the mess he got me into! Less than ten years have passed since the scandal at Universul caused by Mendonca’s evocation; my relationship with Stelica has become cold for a receipt! I did not deserve it. Neither me, nor Vasco da Gama”, signs Mateiu24. Looking beyond these conflicts, Martinho de Brederode facilitated several cultural-scientific connections between the two countries. Top political and cultural personalities from Romania had tight connections with Portuguese men of culture. “I have just received from the Ministry of Education an item of information about Transylvania; there are invitations for the rectors of the Universities of Coimbra, Lisbon and Porto to take part to the solemn inauguration of the University Dacia Superior in Cluj on February 1st. I am kindly asking you to urgently relay the invitation. The special train leaves Bucharest for Cluj on January 29th. I have been invited, too”25, pointed out the Portuguese diplomat. In 1925, another invitation was sent to Portugal Legacy in Bucharest and its minister, Martinho de Brededore. It was an invitation to an International Conference on Chemistry that was to be held on June 21-27 in Bucharest. “The official delegations of the countries will join the International Chemistry Union”26. The same invitation was sent to the Chemistry Society in Portugal, which was late in replying. The analysis of subsequent documents on this situation shows that Portugal was finally absent at the conference. In 1926, political control in Portugal was taken over by Oliveira Salazar and his fascist dictatorial regime. It was not by accident that the first visit to Portugal of Professor Mihail Manoilescu happened the same year. He was there to hold some conferences on corporatism at the Universities of Lisbon and Coimbra27. The following years, Manoilescu went to Portugal several times, where he managed to meet Salazar in 1936. We also have to mention the poet Lucian Blaga, the Ambassador of Romania in Lisbon, who used to say: “I have had the honour to meet this statesman twice. Manoilescu has had the same honour during his visit as a guest of the Portuguese Government. His ambassadors were two works: Teoria Protecþionismului (Theory of Protectionism) and Secolul Corporatist (Corporate Century)”28. Upon his return 102 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) to Bucharest, he held a conference on Portugal and Salazar’s political regime, a conference subsequently published as a brochure into Romanian in 194029. In 1928, the historian Nicolae Iorga visited Portugal at the invitation of the Society of Geography. Shortly after, he published the work entitled O país latino mais afastado na Europa: Portugal (The Farthest Latin Country in Europe: Portugal), in which he proposed the establishment of an “integral Latin school” in Coimbra as a “symbol, statement and providence for the future”30. The year 1929, when Alexandru Guranescu was the Romanian Ambassador in Lisbon, was the most fruitful year in point of cultural relations between the two countries. According to the Report of July 31, 1929, the first Romanian library with the appropriate reading room was established at the University of Coimbra in Portugal31. The same year 1929, Nicolae Titulescu, one of the best internationally known Romanian politicians and diplomats visited Lisbon together with Vespasian Pella. When he set foot on the Portuguese land, Titulescu said: “To us, the Romanians, Portugal is a beloved and appreciated country because we work together within the Society of Nations and we have never had divergences”32. It was the time when the “choosers’ trial” was resolved. It ended at the Hague Conference and was signed in Paris in April 1930. Debts to Portugal, as well as those of England, France, Italy, Japan and Belgium, for damages owed by Hungary, were transferred to the “agrarian fund” established in Paris for the payment of the Hungarian choosers33. So, the Portuguese diplomat granted much importance to the academic and scientific cooperation relations. As we could see, there was a tight collaboration on the level of higher education institutions. The educational departments in the two countries developed programmes for student exchange granting funding, so that more and more Romanians had annual scholarships from prestigious Portuguese universities and institutions, such as Lisbon, Coimbra, or Porto and also from Portugal to Bucharest or Cluj34. Brederode’s endeavours for the Romanian-Portuguese cultural cooperation bore fruit after his retirement35, particularly after 1935, when Alexandru Duiliu Zamfirescu was appointed as Romania’s Ambassador in Lisbon. In a Report dated June 10, 1936, he noted: “when I came here, first I had to organise the Chancery, to organise the archives and current works. Now, it is time for culture and propaganda... In the past few months, several requests have come from the Portuguese state institutions, from renowned academics and particular settlements to provide information materials on Romania. Besides that, on the occasion of the admirable conference held by Elena Vacarescu at the University of Coimbra, the Dean of the Faculty of Letters, Eugenio de Castro, a well-known poet worldwide, requested some materials to establish a Romanian Institute, besides the French, German, Spanish, Italian and English ones that are sheltered in the superb rooms of the new wing [of the University, A/N]”36. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 103 Elena Vacarescu’s connection with Portugal was much deeper and was based on the Romanian and Portuguese presences in the League of Nations. Here, the Romanian writer and poet Elena Vacarescu and the Portuguese Julio Dantas met. He was already interested in Romania judging by the great number of Romanian books he owned. He knew and admired Elena Vacarescu and he even wrote many articles about her, amongst which Tres mulheres celebras (Three Famous Women) where he placed Elena Vacarescu together with Marie Curie37. In a report dated July 21, 1937, Mihail Comarsescu pointed out: “So far, no Portuguese work on Romania has been published in Portugal. In order to correct this, I have considered it useful to take the initiative of elaborating a brochure rendering an image of Romania showing its cultural, artistic and tourist opportunities to the Portuguese readers, as well as to readers in Latin America, particularly Brazil”38. Until 1938, according to the reports existing in the Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Bucharest, the personality of Oliveira Salazar was pretty well-known in Romania due to the several articles dedicated to him in the newspapers and magazines of the time and particularly to a detailed portrait published by Sterie Diamandi39. The range of Romanian-Portuguese collaborations also expanded to art exhibitions. The most relevant was the exhibition in Lisbon in 1940 entitled “The Expansion of Portugal in the World”. The Ministry of Propaganda in Bucharest40 “ordered the Legation a portrait evoking the meeting between Voievod Dan of Muntenia and the Portuguese Prince Dom Pedro, Duke of Coimbra” to “organise a Romanian corner at the exhibition”41. The same year, Romania was present at the Portuguese Centenaries Feast [800 years since the establishment of the Portuguese state – A/N] and the exhibition organised on this occasion, “The Portuguese World”42. As a cultural attaché of Romania in Lisbon in 1940-1944, Mircea Eliade wrote a lot on this country. He grew to love Camoes, the national poet of Portugal. Camoes fascinated him with his Lusiades, while Eminescu and his poetry meant for Eliade – the emigrant – the direct access link to his own roots, identity and development of creativity43. His interest was materialised in his article entitled Camões e Eminescu, published in the magazine Acção44, in Lisbon. Besides these studies on Camoes and Eminescu, Eliade translated the works of important Romanian cultural personalities, such as Alexandru Popescu Telega (in A voz or The Voice, 6 February 1943), Nicolae Iorga (in Acção or Action, 24 February 1944), Liviu Rebreanu (in Acção, 26 August 1942)45, etc. In 1942, the Gordian Publishing House published the work Salazar and the Revolution in Portugal. His work continued in 1942-1943, when Eliade elaborated an introduction to the history of the Romanian culture, Os Romenos, Latinos do Oriente. In the Portuguese diary, we have found some references on the elaboration of this book. In October, 104 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Eliade wrote: “I write this book on Romania and I have completed it using several documents. Although I am not a historian, I do not want to appear as an amateur”46. At the beginning of December 1942, the book was ready and had 120 handwritten pages47. On March 8, one day before he turned 36 years old, the same diary confesses on the satisfaction of the author when the “brochure”, as he called it, was published. It had good critic and was appreciated by the readers48. The book was written in French and was translated into Portuguese with the help of his Portuguese friend, Eugenio de Navarro. In this work, Eliade spoke of the enduring mission of the Romanian people to keep the trade for Europe on the Danube free. „ O oitavo mar de Europa, o Danúbio, sempre tem desempenhado e continuará a desempenhar, com efeito, um considerável papel geopolítico. A liberdade e o regime europeu dêste rio só tèm sido garantidos com un Estado romeno forte, independente, ao abrigo das ameaças imperialistas provindas da estepe euro-asiática”49. A pioneer people at the limits of Europe, the Romanians had had this mission for centuries, first in their battles against the Turks, then against the Bolshevik Russia. The precarious situation of this border people was expressed in two central myths according to Eliade: the Legend of Master Manole and the Miorita Ballad. They both have a common topic: sacrifice as a core action50. In the preface to his work, Eliade wrote the following: “it is not easy to write on the history of a people in just a few pages, particularly when you bear in mind the idea of tracing their spiritual profile, of speaking of their soul, of evoking their artistic work, of analysing their myths. This is because the work is more than a general introduction study on the place of the Romanians in universal history, more than an abstract of their civilisation or their history”51. Through this book, Eliade intended to let the Portuguese know about the history of their Latin brothers on the other side of the world by finding several common points: “We have both fought Islam throughout centuries; we have both participated to Christian and European missions [crusades – A/N].” He also promised to the Portuguese a return, namely a work on Portugal and its place in the history of the world. “As we have elaborated this brochure, we will never give up thinking about writing a new one into Romanian for the Romanians on the Portuguese history and culture, on the mission of the Portuguese people in history”52. This idea would remain a project, if we ignore the already written work on the history of Portugal entitled Salazar and the Revolution in Portugal. The year Mircea Eliade arrived at Lisbon, after the discussions between Mihai Antonescu and the Minister for the Propaganda in Bucharest and their homologues on the Romanian – Portuguese relations, two Portuguese journalists were invited to Romania for an exchange. For personal reasons, Salazar postponed it53. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 105 In parallel with all these events, throughout the third decade of the 20th century, there were negotiations on signing a Romanian – Portuguese cultural agreement. The attempts in this respect developed in 1938-1939, when Carol II’s friend and man of confidence, Lucian Blaga, was Ambassador in Lisbon. Besides strengthening the relations between the two states from an economic point of view, Blaga contributed to strengthening the connections through “cinema” exchanges (films – A/N), theatre etc.54. Moreover, the Romanian poet contributed to the Romanian – Portuguese culture through the “Portuguese cycle” made up of approximately eleven poems55. From the point of view of the Romanian – Portuguese cultural diplomatic relations, the first agreement was signed only on September 25, 1942, when Mircea Eliade was a cultural and propaganda attaché in Lisbon56. In conclusion, promoting the external image of the state in the interwar period, just like nowadays, was a lucrative activity, a successful business for those who either knew how to exploit it, or had the necessary connections to do it. Notes 1. Gabriel A., Almond, B. G., Powell, Coparative Politics. A Developmental Approach, Boston, 1966, p 14 2. Carmen Burcea, Diplomaþie culturalã – Prezenþe româneºti în Italia interbelicã, Bucureºti, Editura Institutului Cultural Român, 2005, pp 10-11. 3. Ibid., p 11. 4. “Alania lies in the east, Dacia is in the middle, Gothia is in the same place.” See: Paul Orosius, Historie adversus paganos, Apud Pavel Mocanu, Documente diplomatice portugheze din secolele XVIII-XIX, privitoare la Þãrile Române, Bucureºti, Editura Meteor Press, 2003, p 4. 5. ADMAE, Lisbon, fund Legação de Portugal em Bucareste/Legaþia Portugaliei din Bucureºti, Pasta Pessoal Martinho de Brederode/personal file Martinho de Brederode, CX 138, Series D, no. 24, Bucharest, Report Martinho de Brederode, 31 October 1925; Nicolae Iorga, Un prinþ portughez cruciat în Þara Româneascã a secolului al-XV-lea, Bucureºti, Editura Cultura Naþionalã, 1925, pp 333-334; Mihaela Ghiþescu, Cultura luso-brasileira na Romenia. See: http://www.geocities. com/ ail_br/culturalusobrasileiranaromenia.html 6. Ibid., p 5. 7. Mihaela Ghiþescu, Cultura luso-brasileira na Romenia. See: http://www.geocities.com/ail_br/ culturalusobrasileiranaromenia.html 8. Anuário diplomático e consular portugûes (1918-1919), Criação das Legaçõis de Tóquio e de Balcans /Establishing Legations in Tokio and the Balkans, Decreto nr. 5:74, Lisboa, Impressa Nacional, 1920, p 235. 9. Ibid.. 10. Pavel Mocanu, Martinho de Brederode...., p 8. 11. Anuario Diplomatico e Consular Portugues (1918-1919), p 125. 12. Pavel Mocanu, Martinho de Brederode...., p 9. 106 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 13. Parnassian movement – poetry movement occurring in France in mid-19th century. It cultivated the virtuosity of image, grandiose evocation of nature and past civilisations, description of external glamour of things, scientific construction of the language. Movement or French literary school in mid-19th century cultivating cold, pictorial and impersonal poetry. It was characterised by the cult of shape and exaggerated hermetism [fr. parnassianisme, cf. Contemporary Parnas – French magazine (1866-1876)]. Literary trend occurring in France in mid-19th century around the magazine Contemporary Parnas. It cultivated a cold, pictorial and impersonal poetry with stylistic virtuosities, refined imagery and plastic harmony against the sentimentalism, rhetoric and abuse of fantasy. (< it. parnassianismo). Cj. Dictionarul Explicativ al Limbii Române, online. See: http://dexonline.ro/search.php?cuv=parnasianism 14. Pavel Mocanu, Martinho de Brederode..., p 10 15. Ibid., p 14. 16. Ion Iovan, „Index la ultimele însemnãri ale lui Mateiu Caragiale”, in România literarã, no. 1, Bucureºti, January 2007, p 1. See: http://www.romlit.ro/index_la_ultimele_nsemnri_ale_ lui_mateiu_caragiale?makePrintable=1 17. Ibid., p 2. 18. Arquivo Diplomatico do Ministerio das Negocios Estrangeiros (ADMAE), Lisbon, fund Legação de Portugal em Bucareste, personal file Martinho de Brederode, Cx 37, Series D, no 22, Bucharest, Report, 11 October 1925, f. 2. 19. Daniel Perdigão, Mihai Zamfir, „Un portret Matein: Vasco da Gama”, in Amfiteatru, no.2, Bucureºti, 1998, p 4. 20. Ibid.. 21. Ibid., p 6. 22. Ibid., p 5. 23. Ibid.. 24. From Mateiu Caragiale’s Diary, 24 January, 10 years after the publication of the article on Vasco da Gama, Apud Ion Iovan, op.cit., p 1. 25. ADMAE, Lisabona, fond Legaão de Portugal em Bucareste, personal file Martinho de Brederode, Series B, no 11, Bucharest, Telegram Martinho de Brederode, 10 January 1920, f.1. 26. Ibid., Series D, no 4, Bucharest, Report, 19 May 1925, f.1. 27. AMAE, Bucharest, fund. Portugalia, volumul XII, 1920-1934, f.137-138. 28. Ibid., f.123, vol I, p 220. 29. Mihail Manoilescu, Portugalia lui Salazar, Bucureºti, Biblioteca Lumea Nouã, 1936. 30. N. Iorga, Þara latinã cea mai îndepãrtatã de Europa: Portugalia. Note de drum ºi conferinþe, Bucureºti, Editura Casei ªcolare, 1928, pp 12-15. 31. AMAE, Bucharest, fond. Portugalia, volume XII, 1920-1934, f.59-61. 32. Mihaela Ghiþescu, op.cit. 33. Ion M. Oprea, Nicolae Titulescu, Bucureºti, Editura ªtiinþificã, 1966, p 151. 34. ADMAE, Lisbon, fund Relaçõis com a Roménia / fund Relations with Romania 1925-1931, Culture file, P2, A.16 35. He retired in 1933, but he remained in Bucharest until 1952, when he died. 36. AMAE, Bucharest, fond Portugalia, f. 234. 37. Mihaela Ghiþescu, op.cit.. 38. AMAE, Bucharest, fund Portugalia,…. F. 236. 39. Sterie Diamandi, „Oliveira Salazar”, în Galeria Dictatorilor, Bucureºti, Editura Cugetarea, 1938, pp 54-75. 40. AMAE, Bucharest, Fond Portugalia, f. 256. 41. Ibid., no 426, Lisbon, 31 March 1941, f. 63-70. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 107 42. Ibid.. 43. Albert von Brunn, „Mircea Eliade em Portugal”, in magazine ICALP, vol. 20, July-October 1990, p 40. 44. Acção (Lisbon), 1942, no 121, 3 September, article written by Mircea Eliade, Camões e Eminescu. 45. These newspapers can be found in the document archives at the Municipal Library in Coimbra, Portugal. 46. Ibid., p 49. 47. Ibid., p 62. 48. Mircea Eliade, Diario Portugues(1941-1945), translation from Romanian by Joaquin Garrigos, Barcelona, Kairos Editions, 2000, p 86. 49. Mircea Eliade, Os Romenos Latinos de Oriente, Lisabona, Livraria Classica Editora, A.M. Teixeira & C. (Filhos), 1943, p 9 (work available at the Archives of the Faculty of Letters in Coimbra, room Ferreira Lima, no 5657). Translation into English: “The eighth sea of Europe, the Danube, has always had a considerable geographic role. The European freedom and regime relating to this river can only be guaranteed by a strong independent Romanian state without being under the imperialist threat of the provinces in the Euro-Asian steppes”. 50. Albert von Brunn, op.cit., pp 41-42. 51. Mircea Eliade, Os Romenos Latinos de Oriente, p 7. 52. Ibid., p 8. 53. Ibid., f. 17. 54. Ibid., f. 125. 55. Mihaela Ghiþescu, op.cit. 56. AMAE, Bucharest, fund Portugalia, 1939, f. 38; Mircea Eliade, Memorii, Bucureºti, Editura Humanitas, 2000, p 256. Abstract The Diplomat Martinho de Brederode and the Romanian-Portuguese Cultural Relations The paper approaches an aspect belonging to a broad research topic we have focused on during the past years concerning the Romanian-Portuguese diplomatic relations. Using the definition and relation between politics, culture and propaganda, we will attempt to show the presence and influence of cultural propaganda on settling and developing the cultural relations between the two states considering that we mainly refer to the interwar period. Our paper has as central character Martinho de Brederode and the way in which he understood to reach the objectives of strengthening the economic relations between Portugal and Romania by using the cultural aspect of his mission in Bucharest. Keywords Cultural propaganda, Martinho de Brederode, Romania, Portugal, diplomatic relations The Security, Silviu Dragomir and the Notes in His Surveillance File (1957-1962) S ORIN ª IPO ª 1. Opening the file – the context H politician, Silviu Dragomir stood out in a different manner from two points of view. Far from being remarkable as compared to his colleagues, his political activity caused him several problems after 1947, except for moments when he was a State Secretary and a Minister of Minorities. He was arrested on 1 July 1949 in Cluj1; then he was transferred to the penitentiary in Caransebeº to serve a six-month sentence in a correctional facility for offence against Law on Banks. To that they added a correctional fine of 2,600,000 lei2. The correctional fine was subsequently changed to one year in prison, so that Silviu Dragomir was to serve one year and six months in a correctional facility3. On 6 May 1950, Silviu Dragomir was transferred to the prison in Sighet and joined the politicians and intellectuals imprisoned there. We have to point out that on 6-7 May 1950, Silviu Dragomir and the other high officials and intellectuals were imprisoned in Sighet on no legal basis. It was barely on 1 August 1951 that 89 former high officials were sent to a labour unit for 24 months based on the Decision of the Ministry of Internal Affairs no. 334 signed by the Deputy Minister, General-Lieutenant Gheorghe Pintilies. In the case of Silviu Dragomir, the conviction was for 38 months. The administrative punishment for high officials with no possibility of appeal increased by 60 months based on the Decision of the Ministry of Internal Affairs no. 559 signed by Alexandru Nicolschi on behalf of the President of the State Security Commission4. Silviu Dragomir and other high officials remained in Sighet until 5 July 1955, when some of them were set free, while others were transferred to other prisons5. Right after his release from the penitentiary, Silviu Dragomir came again to the attention of the Security. Several memos referring to the historian were gathISTORIAN AND 110 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) ered. The officers were confused because they were not aware of the place where he lived for a while. Most likely, this was mainly due to the fact that, after being released, Silviu Dragomir was not recorded because of his age6. More information on Silviu Dragomir was collected during the action of identifying all members of the former Romanian – American Association in Cluj. The Transylvanian branch of the association had him as president in 1946-19477. The action led by Lt. Hiriscau Vasile did not focus on Silviu Dragomir in particular. Until January 1958, he was recorded by Office 1 (in charge with the issue relating to “legionaries and supporters of Cuza”) at Department III (Internal Intelligence) of the Cluj Regional Security Directorate as a former remarkable member of the P.N.C.8. On 7 March 1957, Office 2 (P.N.T., P.N.L.) at Service III instituted a file for informative surveillance on Iuliu Moldovan, former Minister of Health delegated by P.N.Þ9. The measure plan drawn up at the beginning envisaged that “we would settle the group of friends through the former agent Chioreanu; then we will most likely recruit him as an agent”10. During the surveillance period of the former minister, the informers informed the Security that one of Iuliu Moldovan’s closest friends was Silviu Dragomir. They used to be inmates in Sighet. He often visited him and they regularly met in the city. Under the circumstances, Silviu Dragomir became a “recruitment candidate”. That is why the Security started to collect data on his activity. On 26 July 1957, the informant known as “Panzaru” submitted a memo under the coordination of Maj. Lt. Ciubotariu Constantin. It read: “Silviu Dragomir does not say a word about life in prison. When asked, he says ‘like prison’ and changes the subject. He is cautious in everything he does and avoids to discuss politics”11. After mentioning that Silviu Dragomir had been a member of the Romanian – American Association, the officer guided the agent to “approach political issues on the internal and international situation”12. The results of the investigations were a disappointment. So, the Security gave up recruiting Silviu Dragomir particularly since he was suspected of espionage in favour of the English13. The opportunity was a visit of a delegation of English members of the Parliament to Cluj in September 1957. One of the members of the delegation was Lord Oswald St. whom the Security suspected of collaborating with the English intelligence14. Consequently, the members of the delegation were pursued all the time when they were in Romania. Thus, the Security was informed by Tiberiu Holan, the Vice-President of the Cluj City People’s Council, who accompanied the delegation, that the English Lord had not been with the delegation for a few hours one day and that he was in touch with several people holding offices in the interwar Governments15. Although no further information was provided on the identity of the people he had met, the informant mentioned that he had a list with some names of people in Cluj. One of the people mentioned on the HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 111 list was Silviu Dragomir. The fact that there was a note written in pencil next to his name was a clue for the informant that the two had met16. After this, the Cluj Regional Directorate at the Ministry of Internal Affairs forwarded the report no. 221/21210 dated 16 October 1957 to Directorate II at the Ministry of Internal Affairs presenting the situation of the latest visit of the English Parliament delegation to Cluj. Ten days later, the Directorate II at the Ministry of Internal Affairs sent the telegram no. 488 dated 29 October 1957 signed by Lieutenant-Colonel Holingher. The telegram requested the Cluj Regional Directorate to urgently inform on the “result of identification and verification of Agarbiceanu Ion and Dragomir”17. Less than a month after the request of Directorate II Bucharest, the Cluj Regional Directorate issued a first memo on Silviu Dragomir18. The memo was a general presentation of the historian’s political and scientific activity during the interwar period and the first years after the war. It is interesting that the data was taken from file no. 4202 at “C” Department. The file must have been used to transfer the historian from Caransebes to the prison in Sighet and to the extension of his detention. The officer noticed the participation of Silviu Dragomir to the Goga – Cuza Government, his activity at the Romanian – American Association in 1945 – 1946, his involvement in the trial of the former leaders of the Agrarian Bank in Cluj, his sentence and imprisonment in Caransebes, and the pursuit of his detention in Sighet. We have to note that many times the memo associated the name of the historian with the former National Peasant Party and with people on which the State Security focused. It was the case of the Agrarian Bank in Cluj. Amongst others, the officer mentioned that the bank belonged to the National Peasant Party. It was the same in the case of the friendly relationships with Sabãu Emil, former editor at several PNT newspapers, a relative of Ion Ratiu who was a refugee in England at the time, with Tarta Vasile, former director of the Agrarian Bank, a connection of the former English Consul in Cluj19. On 17 December 1957, the Cluj Regional Directorate sent Directorate II in Bucharest the information they had requested in note no. 222/2134820. In general, the report contained information close to the internal memo dated 21st of November. The novelty was the assessment of Silviu Dragomir’s situation at the time, that is: “He is currently used by the Institute of History in Cluj for historical papers”21. Beyond the biographic information, we notice the interest of the authorities in the political activity of the historian during the interwar period, as well as in his relationships with Romanian and foreign former politicians. The Security verified Silviu Dragomir to get information on his political activity during the interwar period. They had a hard time to get the information on the historian, considering that he lived a secluded life after prison and he was not registered by the department. However, he had a file at the “C” Section that also had a certain collateral interest in the historian. 112 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) According to the data provided at the time, the historian was involved in politics and held offices under the interwar political regimes, and he was a member of the National Peasant Party22. Silviu Dragomir was involved in politics and held important offices for a short span of time, yet he was never a member of the National Peasant Party. Silviu Dragomir pursued a different political route. He was a member of the National – Christian Party led by Octavian Goga when he had certain positions in the ministry, then he belonged to the National Renaissance Front, if we refer to the time when he held offices at the ministry. The historian was a State Secretary with minister rank for minorities when Octavian Goga was a Prime Minister. Subsequently, he was a Minister of Minorities for the National Renaissance Front, but not as a member of the National Peasant Party. There is one more piece of important information which helps us comprehend the way the communist regime worked. The historian was a founding member of the Romanian – American Association, which could only add to the suspicion of the authorities. The verification note comprised a brief presentation of Silviu Dragomir’s scientific activity laying stress on the years 1937 – 1945, as well as information on his connections with historians in the West23. We also notice that there were several errors regarding Silviu Dragomir in the documents issued by the Security. As we have seen, his political activity was related to the National Peasant Party. The first years of detention in Sighet were not mentioned. His birth place was written Curasada instead of Gurasada. The information on Silviu Dragomir could have been questioned by the State Security. At the time, people involved in politics in the interwar period and under Marshal Ion Antonescu were considered either enemies, or potential enemies of the communist regime. The communists criticised and condemned the political regimes in the interwar period particularly when they got to the power. They were also reluctant to political or professional relations that intellectuals and scholars settled throughout the years. Consequently, on 30 January 1958, Captain Pira Nicolae and Lieutenant Salisteanu Ioan suggested to the Head of the Directorate, Lieutenant – Colonel Breban Iosif, to open a verification file on Silviu Dragomir’s name considering the information they held on the historian24. The officer concluded as follows: “Considering the facts mentioned above, Silviu Dragomir is a suspect of informative activity in favour of the English intelligence. He is to be recorded as a suspect of espionage”25. The officers proposed to settle Silviu Dragomir’s guilt or lack of guilt using a language specific to the time: “to set data either confirming or denying the suspicions he is subject to. [...] The verification will develop on 10 February – 10 August 1958”26. The proposal was approved by the head of the Cluj Regional Directorate at the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Lieutenant Colonel Breban Iosif. The officer HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 113 wrote down the following when signing the document: “Mind the age!”27. We could consider the honest and humane side of Lieutenant Colonel Iosif Breban. If we analyze the sentence in the context of the time, it rather urges the officers to be cautious, to avoid complicating things uselessly. The decision to open the verification file on Silviu Dragomir was made after an active correspondence with Directorate II Bucharest at the Ministry of Internal Affairs and after previous verification of the historian. At the same time, Dragomir was indirectly pursued. He drew state’s attention also due to his friendly relationship with Iuliu Moldovan28, as the Security had opened a file on him too. 2. Officers and agents S DRAGOMIR enjoyed special attention from the Security officers, although he had a verification file. Eleven Security officers were in charge with the historian in February 1958 – 22 February 1962, at the time when he was verified on the issue of espionage for England, of the older file as a former member of the Goga – Cuza Government and collaterally on the file open for Iuliu Moldovan. We find information on the officers supervising Dragomir either in their reports, or in memos provided by the Security collaborators. The Security officers mentioned in Silviu Dragomir’s file were the following: Captain Peres Alexandru, who elaborated a memo on Dragomir; Major Hanches Ioan, who participated to three meetings with agents providing information on the historian; Captain Puscau Ilie, who participated to a meeting; Captain Gocan Ioan, who attended a meeting with an agent; Captain Cabulea Ioan, who participated to one meeting; Captain Ciubotar Constantin, who took part in two meetings; Lieutenant Major Banciu Constantin, who elaborated a memo and took part in five meetings with the agents; Lieutenant Major Salisteanu Ioan, who drafted a note and participated in ten meetings; Lieutenant Major Domnita Nicolae, who attended two meetings with the agents; Lieutenant Major Margineanu Emil, who participated in one meeting; Lieutenant Marosi Andrei, who participated in one meeting. In most cases, the activity of the officers was limited to taking part in one or two meetings with the agents and drafting a report to the superiors. Yet there are exceptions! Lieutenant Salisteanu, one of the officers in charge with the historian, participated in ten meetings and drafted a memo for his superiors. Likewise, Lieutenant Major Banciu Constantin drafted a memo and participated in five meetings with the Security informants. There were officers in charge with solving the file of the retired historian. Except for Major Hanches, who parILVIU 114 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) ticipated in three meetings, and Captains Puscasu and Gocan, who tried to get information on Iuliu Moldovan from Silviu Dragomir through agents, the other eight officers were involved in finding evidence in the verification file opened for Silviu Dragomir on the issue of the espionage for the English. Why such mobilisation in the case of Silviu Dragomir? Most likely, the great number of officers directly working or collaborating on this case was mainly due to the fact that Silviu Dragomir lived in seclusion at the time and hardly got in contact with people except for the ones he trusted. Thus, the Security was compelled to use the officers working with collaborators from amongst the people in the Dragomir family group of friends. Another possible clue regarding the high interest of the Security in the historian would be the quality of the officers involved in the verification process. Thus, the officers working on Iuliu Moldovan’s file, where Dragomir played a minor part, had superior ranks. We do not think this was merely a coincidence. The fact that the officers were experienced determined the superior to use them to solve important cases. In the verification file opened on Iuliu Moldovan the Security intended to find details on reticulin, a product invented by the physician and highly appreciated at the time. Some notes and reports provided by officers were forwarded to the Minister of Internal Affairs, the First Secretary of the Cluj County and the head of the Security, which show the special interest of the regime in Iuliu Moldovan and his scientific achievements. In other words, the communist regime sought for solutions to reintegrate the specialists of the interwar period, although some of them were not fit ideologically, at least in this particular case. The Security used agents/informants to gather information on Silviu Dragomir’s activity. It is difficult to settle the real identity of the agents at this stage of the research and we do not intend to. We are rather interested in settling the manner in which the Security acted in the case of Dragomir. From a methodological perspective, we have to point out that the notes are analyzed and interpreted according to the general context of the time. Our attention mainly focuses on all individuals mentioned in the memos drafted by agents Sanda Predescu, Szarka Ernest, Axinteanu and Ionescu, who were mentioned in the final report of the Security29. A future endeavour to identify the informants should be doubled by specifications regarding the context and reasons for which they became collaborators and a thorough verification of the information. Some informers provided realistic information on the individual pursued by the Security. Sometimes, there is a shade of sympathy emanating from the text. Others provided information with tendentious trends. Besides the abovementioned informers, there were other agents submitting memos on Silviu Dragomir. Thus the total number of agents rose to thirteen. Yet HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 115 the figure has to be cautiously considered, as there were situations when an agent had one, two, or even three code names. Nevertheless, the quantitative analysis of the notes show the following situation: Szarka Ernest had three notes, Baciu Ion one, Voicu three notes, Ionescu Vasile three notess, Tudor one note, Panzaru three notes, Axinteanu one note, Chioreanu one note, Ionescu Radu one note, Sanda Predescu two notes, Emil Isaia one note, Lucretiu three notes, and Marian one note. Agents Lucretiu and Marian provided notes to the Security in the file opened on Iuliu Moldovan; agent Tudor provided for both files, while the rest of agents only provided information regarding Silviu Dragomir. The relationships between the pursued individual, in this case Silviu Dragomir, the informants and the Security officers were somehow special. The relationships between the pursued and the informants were generally normal, collegial, or even friendly. However, the good relationships were a favourable premise to get the information required by the Security officer. The agent directed the conversation to topics previously settled by the Security officer, so that intimate thoughts, personal and professional plans of the pursued could be revealed to the Security. A relationship ignored by the pursued individual was settled between the pursued and the Security officers through the agents. Special relationships were settled between the Security officers and the informants. Up to this stage of the research, we can mention the names of the officers in charge with the agents. Lieutenant Major Salisteanu was in contact with agents Szarka Ernest, Emil Isaia and Baciu Ion; Lieutenant Major Banciu Constantin was in contact with agents Voicu and Sanda Predescu; Lieutenant Major Domnita Nicolae was in contact with agent Ionescu Vasile; Captain Cabulea Traian was in contact with agent Tudor; agent Panzaru was in contact with Captain Ciubotariu Constantin; agent Axinteanu was in contact with Lieutenant Major Margineanu Emil; Chioreanu was in contact with Lieutenant Salisteanu Emil; Ionescu Radu with Marosi Andrei; agent Lucretiu with major Hanches Ioan and Captain Puscasu Ilie; agent Marian was in contact with Captain Gocan Ioan. The agents had a code name, so that it is difficult or even impossible to identify their real names. Our interest focuses on deciphering the means of action of the Security in the case of Silviu Dragomir. If we do not have the real names of the informants, in order to find out their real identity, we have to search for clues on their profession or employment that might shed light on the relationships between the pursued individual and the informants. According to the documents, in some cases we can settle what the relationships between the Security agents and the espionage suspect were, as well as the job or quality of the informant. For instance, agent Voicu wrote the following in a memo on Sabin Belu dated 21 May 1958: “Generally, he did not make a fuss about the events at the institute. He has come in late at the institute lately [...]. 116 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) I have noticed several unknown people spending a lot of time at Prof. Silviu Dragomir”30. In a memo dated 10 February 1959, the informer Ionescu Vasile wrote the following: “On 11 February, when the source was about to leave, M.[ihail] Dan, with whom I leave at noon, told him: We have to pay a visit to Silviu Dragomir [..]. When they got off, Dan Mihail called Silviu Dragomir”31. In the case of these two agents, the most plausible hypothesis would be that they worked with Silviu Dragomir at the Institute of History. Agent Ionescu Radu wrote the following at the end of the memo forwarded to the Security on 28 April 1958: “Considering that I only know the librarian vaguely and tangentially, I can only agree to these opinions”32. The quality of the informant is undoubtedly shown by the memo. In his turn, agent Sarca Ernest wrote as follows in a memo drafted on 25 June 1960: “I paid a visit to Silviu Dragomir on 25 June. We had a long discussion on historical issues regarding the Apuseni Mountains as he is currently working on a paper on the topic upon the request of the RPR Academy”33. Agent Lucretiu wrote the following in a memo dated 2 December 1960: “When I asked him on the discussion at the RPR Academy regarding the treaty on the history of Romania, Silviu Dragomir said he had been asked to take the floor, he took the floor and he had a good speech, since Daicoviciu congratulated him at the end of the meeting”. [...] “The agent drafted a review for Silviu Dragomir’s work entitled Vlahii din Nordul Peninsulei Balcanice în evul mediu (Wallachians in North-Western Balkans in Middle Ages)”. 34 We are likely to deal with people that are historians. They could have been colleagues at the Institute of History, researchers at other institutes, or university professors. Agent Tudor wrote as follows in a note dated 5 November 1960: “in any case, whenever it comes to issues where he could have a nationalist trend, he talks to us at the Institute of History”35. The thorough and accurate biographic information and the researched topics provided by the notes lead us to the conclusion that agents Axinteanu and Chioreanu were either historians, or were working in the field of humanities. This hypothesis is also supported by the fact that the Security managed to penetrate with difficulty in the entourage of Silviu Dragomir. They managed to do that with the help of historians or intellectuals in Cluj who often talked with Silviu Dragomir. We also have a clue regarding agent Emil Isaia. He did not hesitate to present the context in which he met Silviu Dragomir36. The informant Sanda Predescu, who was close to the Vatasianu family, thus managing to get information on Silviu Dragomir, was a somehow special situation, as we cannot express any opinion on her profession37. Agent Marian was rarely in touch with Silviu Dragomir, so he might have had a different background. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 117 3. The image of Silviu Dragomir O aims at retracing the image of Silviu Dragomir based on notes. From a methodological point of view, we have compared the information provided by the notes with other types of sources that is mail, new and old surveys, and the history in general. We have also compared Dragomir’s statements expressed on different occasions with the point of view expressed by the agents and the Security officers in order to see the extent to which the words of the pursued individual were credible to the Security. The notes may be divided into two categories: characterisations of the historian in general made by people who knew him, and notes resulting after direct discussions between him and the agents. Each one is important to our aim. The first brings to the foreground how Silviu Dragomir was perceived by the intellectuals in Cluj after his release from prison. The notes resulting from the meetings with Silviu Dragomir provide information on his thoughts and plans, on his behaviour in the given political context, and on his attitude regarding the new historiography. The notes outline the historian’s interest in several working fields. First of all, they provide information on Dragomir’s activity in the interwar period and right after the war. The information mainly refers to his scientific concerns and relationships with former university colleagues. Last but not least, we have information on Silviu Dragomir’s comments regarding the political events at the time as a result of the questions asked by the informants. The comments regarding his activity were favourable. His colleagues and former students admitted his competence. In a memo dated 30 December 1957, agent Emil Isaia wrote: “I met him in 1940-1944 at the editorial office of Campia Libertatii [...]. At the time, Silviu Dragomir enjoyed a high reputation. He was considered as one of the best connoisseurs of issues relating to Ardeal, an international authority in the matter […]38. On 27 November 1958, agent Chioreanu wrote the following: “In 1920, when the Romanian university was established in Cluj, he was appointed professor at the Faculty of Languages and Philosophy. [...]. He had no particular political activity. He was concerned mostly with historical writing and important works. He was appointed a member of the Academy. In 1940-1944, he was the editor of a highly regarded historical magazine in Sibiu. After 1944, he moved back to Cluj”39. Agent Ionescu Radu considered Silviu Dragomir as the most competent and learned scholar on the 1848 Revolution in Transylvania and mentioned that he published important works40. In his turn, agent Panzaru characterised him in a note at the beginning of the year 1960 as follows: “As he was a renowned professor of theology and a UR ENDEAVOUR 118 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) great historian, he was appointed professor at the Faculty of Letters at the University of Cluj in March 1919. There he taught the course on the History of Peoples in South-Eastern Europe. Silviu Dragomir was unanimously considered a great scholar and one of the best professors at the university. He was an active member of the Academy too”41. Yet informer Axinteanu was critical regarding Silviu Dragomir’s activity. In a four-page memo, agent Axinteanu described the historian according to the time, that is: “He represented the nationalist-clerical orientation in historical research. He was a reactionary politician holding important positions in the bourgeoislandlord state (former minister, etc.). He provided the main documents for the anti-Hungarian propaganda on a historical land.”42 Undoubtedly judging by the language and the materialist-dialectical expression, we deal either with a historian educated under the new political regime, or with one well adjusted to the reality. The agent criticised the widespread national trend that could be seized in Dragomir’s writings during the interwar period. Hence, he was very close to making allegations of anti-Hungarian propaganda. Likewise, the historian’s interest in the Romanians in North-Western Balkans was considered by the informant as a support to the imperialist expansion policy characteristic of the Romanian bourgeois-landlord class43. Speaking of the historian’s work on the union of the Romanians with the Church of Rome, the same agent considered the author as “a fanatic Orthodox turning the Orthodox Church into the representative of national interests of the Romanian people”44. The agents also provided information on a crucial moment in the historian’s life namely the time when he was a convict in Caransebes and Sighet. The Security was rather interested in the fact that the historian might speak about the time in prison. In this sense, agent Panzaru wrote as follows: “In 1948, he was discarded from the educational system and retired based on his previous political activity. As he was involved in a criminal lawsuit against the former leaders of the Agrarian Bank in 1948, he was sentenced to one or 1.5 year of prison. He served his time in Caransebes. He was then still arrested as a former minister in Sighet whence he was released in 1955. Silviu Dragomir says absolutely nothing on the time he spent there as an inmate. When asked about that period, he says ‘like jail’ and changes the subject. He is cautious in everything he does and avoids to speak about politics”45. Judging by the note sent by the agent, he proved to be up to date with his difficult life experience. Besides, he cast some taints and showed the real reasons for which he had been discarded and forced to retire before the legal retirement age. At the same time, agent Panzaru seized the real reason why Silviu Dragomir was imprisoned in Sighet, just because he had been a minister under the former Government. Sufferance and experience in Sighet made the historian be cautious, a fact noticed by the agent too. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 119 According to a memo submitted at the end of the year 1957, agent Emil Isaia was less informed on the detention46. This might be a proof that the agent was not very close to the historian. Ionescu Radu knew only that the historian was a convict but he made no further remarks47. The fact that the historian was employed at the Institute of History was considered by most agents who wrote about his activity at the time as something natural, as compensation. Agent Panzaru wrote the following: “Prof. Silviu Dragomir is a pensioner of over 70 years old and works at the Institute of History based on an agreement. He is a collaborator to works on history”48. In another memo, the same agent spoke of the actual reasons determining the regime to turn to Silviu Dragomir49. In his turn, agent Chioreanu wrote the following: “Today he has been commissioned by the Academy for some historical issues relating to Transylvania and he currently lives in the house of the Academy”50. Yet there was an exception, agent Voicu. He wrote as follows: “Prof. Dragomir Silviu works under the direct supervision of Prof. Oþetea. His only contacts in the Institute are Prof. Pascu Stefan and the Director of the Institute. Certainly, he could do no harm to the regime through his professional work. Yet his isolation may facilitate hateful actions of a different nature in case he has not yet come to his senses. His office in on Jokai Street and the director has settled this matter in such a way that he cannot be embarrassed by the presence of any stranger to his reactionary environment”51. The text emanates the discontent of the agent that Dragomir, a former reactionary, enjoyed the support of the academician Andrei Oþetea, of ªtefan Pascu and of the Director of the Institute in Cluj. Most likely, the informer belonged to the new generation of historians, or he was an individual converted to the new realities. The agent was educated in hatred against the intellectuals under the former regime. He had a hard time admitting that the communist regime needed their expertise. Consequently, the informer showed an almost sick suspicion against the bourgeois historian, a former convict who might commit some actions against the regime. Agent Voicu also criticised the leaders of the Institute of History in Cluj whom he blamed for having employed Dragomir. 4. Work plans S DRAGOMIR discreetly returned to his scientific activity in 1955, when he was employed first as external collaborator, then as permanent scientific researcher at the Institute of History and Archaeology in Cluj52. This aspect was noticed by the informants. To the historian, the collaboration and then his employment at the institute meant a lot from the financial, professional and human points of view. Devoid of pension and quite ill, Silviu ILVIU 120 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Dragomir could thus pursue his old plans and support himself. Yet he had problems adapting to the new way of writing history, to the dialectic and historic materialism. Silviu Dragomir was caught between the need to survive and the compromises imposed by the communist regime just like many Romanian intellectuals starting their careers during the interwar period. The most frequent allegations against his writing focused on the national element, as his works supported the imperialist policy of the former political regime and the fact that the bourgeois historian did not mention the role of the masses. Consequently, in order to avoid all possible allegations coming from the party, Silviu Dragomir felt the need to have his works reviewed by historians familiar with the new historical method and conception. The reports of the agents often described in detail the torment of the historian, his discussions with some of his colleagues at the institute, their suggestions to make Dragomir’s work accepted. At the meeting held with Lieutenant Major Domnita Nicolae, agent Ionescu Vasile wrote the following: “At about 9.30 on 17 February 1959, Silviu Dragomir brought to the source the paper he was about to submit in Bucharest. The work was for the treaty on the hist[ory of Romania], asking him to read it and mention the errors. He pointed out: because I want to be loyal to the official point of view […]. At noon on 18 February, Silviu Dragomir came to take the paper to submit it to Fotino, the delegate from Bucharest. The typewriters had already left and Pascu Stefan, who was in charge in Cluj, brought the materials for the Treaty. Silviu Dragomir thanked the source for the support and told Stefan Pascu: I try to read using the Marxist conception. Although I was proud that I had succeeded, the source found several mistakes. I obeyed and corrected them. Pascu replied: a smart man learns from his own mistakes. Silviu Dragomir laughed and answered: It is difficult, very difficult at old age. But we do our best”53. At a first stage, Silviu Dragomir was chosen from amongst the members of the group to draft the Istoria Romaniei (History of Romania) considering the stake of the project for the regime. Therefore he felt the need to consult some of his collaborators at the institute. The note mentioned three important historians, one of them was Stefan Pascu, Dragomir’s former student, and a historian the party trusted. The relationship between the two was quite close. Stefan Pascu supported his being employed at the institute several times. The discussion between the two shows the efforts made by the historian to understand the new conceptions according to which the party required to investigate the past. Furthermore, the source reveals the reasons and manner in which changes were made to the paper prepared by Silviu Dragomir for the third volume of the Istoria României54. Showing Dragomir’s efforts to adjust to the new directives, the source underlines that the greatest issue was that he could not have a just view of social issues. The historian identified the serf with the Romanian, while the nobleman was a Hungarian. Yet according to the informer, HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 121 a social issue was seen by the historian as a national one, which was condemnable in Romania. In his turn, source Tudor made the following remarks on Silviu Dragomir’s scientific work as compared to the new political realities: “The written material shows that he has began to become familiar with the dialectic materialist conception on the history of our people and he stated that history written from a Marxist point of view is more favourable to the origin and continuity of our people than the bourgeois historiography55. We do not know if Silviu Dragomir really believed that historiography written from a Marxist point of view favoured the Romanian historiography. It must be a courtesy statement since the historian suspected that some of his colleagues collaborated with the Security. Agent Tudor provided information to the Security according to which Silviu Dragomir was shown as a valuable historian who managed to adjust to the new method to research the past, a historian that the party needed56. The fact that they resorted from both political and scientific levels to Silviu Dragomir’s expertise to draw up a review to the 2nd volume of Istoria României, highly appreciated by agent Tudor, proved that the political regime understood that professional expertise had to prevail over the political choice. The agent also made reference to the fact that the historian was involved in translating some works published in Hungary that only rarely mentioned the Romanians57. The only problem elegantly mentioned by the agent that could alter the collaboration with Silviu Dragomir was the nationalist interpretation of certain issues from the past. The agent rushed to add the following: “nevertheless, whenever he considers that he might show a nationalist trend, he asks us at the Institute of History, such as the issue of the first book published in Romanian”58. We can notice with no shed of doubt the concern of the informer to avoid causing trouble to Silviu Dragomir. As a conclusion, agent Tudor said the following: “In conclusion: Prof. SILVIU DRAGOMIR seems to be willing to serve the country and the party, C.C. in Bucharest. After all, they entrusted him with all historical works mentioned above although he was not completely free from the influence of the bourgeois historiography. In order to avoid committing errors, he always seeks information at those who are more qualified in the field of Marxist historiography”59. If we consider agent Tudor’s remarks referring to Silviu Dragomir against the background of the epoch, we may consider them as a certificate coming from a historian whom the Party and the Security trusted. 122 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) T 5. Political ideas SECURITY was interested in Silviu Dragomir’s professional projects as well. When he was employed as external collaborator, Silviu Dragomir returned to scientific activity little by little. The historian was interested to publish his old research and bring to an end the topics he approached after his release. The agents were required by the Security officers to inform on the surveys Silviu Dragomir was planning to publish. The memos reveal a historian still optimistic, hoping for better times when he could publish his work on the 1848 Revolution and the union of the Romanians with the Church of Rome. In a memo dated 17 May 1960, agent Sarca Ernest pointed out: “He is very optimistic on how things are going on here, particularly after the ‘discovery of Karl Marx’s manuscript on the 1848-1849 Revolution in Austro-Hungary, where Avram Iancu appeared as a fighter for the rights and liberties of the people, while Kossuth – a soldier of fortune serving the reaction – [..]. Another manuscript by Engels that was discovered in the Amsterdam archives praised Barnutiu’s discourse that made Cherestesiu characterise him as a reactionary, etc., in 1948/magazine Lupta de clasã, etc.“60. Silviu Dragomir was entitled to hope that since Marx and Engels published works praising the actions of the Romanian revolutionaries in Transylvania, the political authorities would not consider them as reactionaries, or counter-revolutionaries as it had happened in the first years of the communist regime in Romania. Another memo forwarded by the same informer shows that Silviu Dragomir had a clear image of the way the communist regime worked61. Agent’s Tudor memo sent at the end of the year 1969 was written in the same spirit62. The historian understood that it was just a matter of time before the political regime in Romania would change its attitude regarding national history considering the political situation in the USSR after Stalin’s death. Besides, Dragomir was willing to publish his monograph on Avram Iancu with certain arguments used by the Marxist historiography when investigating the 1848 Revolution. The role of the people in the revolution and the democratic and national character of the movement were concepts that could be found in Dragomir’s writing in the interwar period. These were arguments brought by the historian in his relations with the political authorities to publish the monograph. Silviu Dragomir foresaw the changes yet he did not have the chance to see the monograph published. The monograph was published only in 1964, two years after the death of its author. His scientific activity after detention was shown in the notes drafted by the Security agents. At a meeting with Captain Cabulea Traian, agent Tudor gave him a memo in which he mentioned a discussion with Silviu Dragomir on his research63. The agent noticed that Silviu Dragomir was amongst the authors of HE HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 123 the third volume of the Istoria României in which he had to draw up several subchapters on the 18th century. The agent also mentioned that Silviu Dragomir was a member in the modern history group working on the documentary volumes on the 1848 Revolution. The chapter written by Silviu Dragomir for the third volume of the Istoria României was not inserted in the volume, as the people in charge with the volume considered it was not according to the spirit of the time64. The historian’s endeavours and initiatives to continue the series on Studii ºi documente privitoare la Revoluþia de la 1848 (Studies and documents on the 1848 Revolution) were not successful. Yet the idea to gather and print documents on the 1848 Revolution in a new series was finally achieved a few years later under the care of the Institute of History in Cluj. The memos also mentioned other plans Silviu Dragomir was working on. In the memo dated 16 February 1959, agent Ionescu Vasile noticed the historian’s interest in the Diploma of the Joannites and the research on the Northern Balkans Roman origins65. His interest in the Romanians in Northern Balkans occurred right after World War I, when he published some important studies, such as Vlahii ºi morlacii. Studii din istoria românismului balcanic (Wallachians and Morlachs. Studies on the Balkans’ Romanian origins). This topic was one of his priorities. When he was released, he continued his research and prepared a work entitled Vlahii din nordul Peninsulei Balcanice în Evul Mediu (Wallachians in Northern Balkans in Middle Ages). The informer mentioned that the work was in print. It was published in 1959, after the author had a hard time convincing the reviewers of the need to have this work and the rigour of the conclusions he had reached. As far as the 1247 diploma was concerned, Silviu Dragomir already had a manuscript entitled Diploma Cavalerilor Ioaniþi din 1247. Studiu critic (The 1247 Diploma of the Joannites. Critical Study). After 1955, the historian pursued his critical investigation on the Diploma of the Joannites hoping that he would manage to publish his work. Considering the conclusions he reached in his writing, he never managed to publish it. The union of the Romanians with the Church of Rome was another topic approached by the historian that was mentioned in the memos. Agent Lucretiu described in two memos Silviu Dragomir’s attempts to publish his study on the origins of the Greek-Catholic Church. In the first memo, agent Lucretiu wrote as follows: “Based on the documents brought by the agent from the State Archives in Budapest, Silviu Dragomir wrote a paper entitled Contribuþiuni la istoria unirii românilor din Transilvania cu Biserica Catolicã (Contributions to the history of the union of the Romanians in Transylvania with the Catholic Church) and he intends to publish it. [...] In this sense, the agent will suggest Silviu Dragomir to turn to Captain Margineanu (both knew him from the time when the work on the union with Catholicism was drafted) to discuss the details regarding the possi- 124 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) bility to publish Silviu Dragomir’s work […]”66. The informer brought to the foreground Silviu Dragomir’s interest in researching the union and the consequences of the union with the Church of Rome, as well as the regime’s attitude towards the topic. The informer pointed out that the historian managed to publish in the magazine Studii ºi materiale de istorie medie in 1959. The study the informer referred to was much broader and had documentary annexes. This version was published in the magazine Biserica Ortodoxã Românã in 1962. In his turn, the historian tried to find arguments to convince the authorities that the study had a scientific basis and its publishing was to the best interest of the country67. The presence of the Security officer as a mediator between the author of the study and the editorial office was dangerous considering that he could decide whether the work would be published or not. The Security was particularly interested in his political options, his contacts and his attitude regarding the new political regime, in order to be able to verify the suspicions relating to the accusation of espionage. These items of information could only be provided by the informers through such discussions. After the time served as a convict, Silviu Dragomir was extremely cautious. The informers agreed on this matter68. Consequently, the Security officers tried first to identify his group of friends in order to get closer to Silviu Dragomir. An important aspect was that his group of friends significantly decreased. The informers mentioned his former colleagues at the university and from the time spent in prison, particularly Iuliu Moldovan and Stefan Metes, to which we have to add Prof. Goia and the former bank Director Ghircoiaº69. Agent Panzaru noticed that: “Once a week, he goes to a terrace with his intimate friends: Prof. I. Moldovan, Goia, St. Metes. Naturally, he knows all university professors of his age but they do not visit one another. Sometimes his wife’s sisters living in Bucharest come to visit him: Tibi Man and Stela Savu, both widowers”70. Agent Chioreanu pointed out that: “In Cluj, his friends are his colleagues at the university: Lupas, Iuliu Moldovanu, Stefan Metes and others. He has a brother in Cluj, Dragomir Alexandru, a former solicitor”71. At the same time, the Security urged their informers to action. Most of them were probably colleagues with Silviu Dragomir. The means of action of the Security were already established and had maximum efficiency in such situations. The informers were required by their connection officer to consult Silviu Dragomir on different scientific issues and propose to support him with documents. During the professional debates, the informers were trained to bring up some topics previously settled with the officer in a certain manner and at a certain time, in order to test him. In a memo dated 25 June 1960, agent Sarca Ernest wrote as follows: “On 22 June, I visited Silviu Dragomir. We discussed about history of the Apuseni Mountains. He is drafting a paper on this topic upon the request HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 125 of the RSR Academy. Referring to the international political situation, S. Dragomir said just: Thank God we are through with the war and we can mind our own business in peace. Maybe we could have gone on with our discussion, but we were interrupted by his wife, who came in to let him know that someone was there to see him, a professor of history from the countryside. Since I could provide him with information that I can only find in local toponymy and land registers, I will go back to him and I hope I will be luckier next time”72. The text is significant on the means of action of the Security. Agent Sarca Ernest began with scientific issues. He then little by little moved to international politics. Fortunately, the discussion was interrupted when a visitor came over. Yet, a little while before, agent Sarca Ernest was lucky, as he managed to have a long discussion with the historian Silviu Dragomir73. According to the memo, the agent explained that Silviu Dragomir paid attention to the international political life and he listened to the main radio stations from the capitalist countries. Besides, he was interested in his former colleagues to find out who was arrested, convicted or released. The proof provided by the agent was the example of the former interwar high official Ghita Pop. He wrote: “during a recent visit, when his brother Alexandru was there, I mentioned the name of the former minister Ghita Pop. There were rumours that he had been arrested again after being released to forced residence in Baragan. Silviu Dragomir stated: He was arrested again together with Beldeanu, the young man arrested in Eastern Berlin who was involved in Setu’s murder at the Romanian Legation in Bern. But Ghita is free again. In fact, Mihai Popovici and Pufi Lencutia have been arrested for a few weeks either”74. According to the information provided by the agent, Silviu Dragomir was aware of the former high official’s situation, as he made a clear-cut analysis by joining and comparing the events abroad and their consequences upon the former interwar high officials. Lieutenant Major Salisteanu, who was a connection officer, pointed out the manner in which the agent had to behave during the following meeting75. The challenge the officer prepared for Silviu Dragomir was interesting. He asked the agent to speak of the apprehension of some people from Cluj that had met the English delegation years before. The officer asked the agent to pay attention to the reaction of the historian. Depending on Dragomir’s reaction, the agent had to continue or end the discussion. The aim of the challenge was to get information on a possible meeting between the historian and the members of the delegation at all costs76. A few days later, the agent met Silviu Dragomir again. The meeting between the Security officer and the agent took place on 29 February 1960. The memo showed that the agent strictly followed the directives of the officer, as he spoke about the new apprehensions in a discreet manner. He was also careful about Silviu Dragomir’s reaction and he noticed a certain concern on 126 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) his face77. The tasks assigned by the officer to the agent are also interesting in order to better grasp the means of action of the Security78. The officer asked Sarca Ernest to avoid speaking about politics during the following meeting with the historian to avoid suspicion. Agent Lucretiu made reference to discussions with Silviu Dragomir on the evolution of internal and international political life. In a memo, the source brought up the issue of disarmament. Silviu Dragomir noticed that Khrushchev really wanted it, as it could help saving, increasing the standard of living and implicitly strengthening the regime79. The agent noticed the historian’s scepticism regarding the actual disarmament claimed by the two political-military blocks80. Time showed that Silviu Dragomir was right, as actual steps in this sense were taken only starting the 1980s. Silviu Dragomir also noticed a possible political amnesty in Romania due to the 3rd PMR Congress81. In another memo, agent Lucretiu led the discussion with Silviu Dragomir to the relations between the USSR and the USA82, the relations between Romania and Yugoslavia83, and a possible atomic conflict and its impact on the Romanians84. We can notice Silviu Dragomir’s clear remarks particularly when discussing about the relations between the USSR and western countries. According to him, an aggressive tone towards capitalist states would not be a favourable premise for the development of the negotiations. He also drew the attention to the major risk that an atomic war would bring upon humankind. Silviu Dragomir noticed that Romania would be caught in the middle between the two superpowers of the time and the consequences would be catastrophic. Based on the memos gathered from 10 February 1958 to 28 July 1960, the Security Department decided to close the file opened on Silviu Dragomir on suspicion of espionage for the English85. The document showed that throughout the verification, the Security used the following agents: Sanda Predescu, Szarka Ernest, Axinteanu and Ionescu86. Captain Peres Alexandru, the head of department, proposed to close the Silviu Dragomir’s file based on the following arguments: “Dragomir Silviu lives a secluded life and is ill. Therefore he barely walks out, spending most of the time at home/he is 72 years old. He has made some statements proving he regrets his activity. Although he is old, he tries to do something and therefore he writes historical papers or works trying to follow the right way. He has received the tasks assigned by the state authorities to draft historical works (translations) and he makes efforts to do them right. There have been no suspicions that he would be involved in espionage. He has not been hostile either”87. Generally speaking, the conclusions of the Security captain were based on memos coming from the agents. The decision did not mention the allegations expressed in memos submitted by agents Axinteanu and Voicu. The items of information must have been compared and the point of view shown in most HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 127 memos prevailed. The other agents noticed Silviu Dragomir’s attempts to pursue his scientific activity under the new political regime considering the Marxist conceptions in writing history. Moreover, except for Axinteanu, none of the agents noticed a clue on an activity of espionage in Silviu Dragomir’s behaviour. Consequently, the Security officer proposed as follows: “Since the information is of little importance, we propose to close the file on Silviu Dragomir and attach it to issue file no. 20 and supervise his further activity”.88 If they closed Silviu Dragomir’s file opened on suspicion of espionage, the Security kept pursuing him. His interwar political activity made him undesirable to the new political regime. Although the historian made efforts to show his willingness, the political regime distrusted the interwar political leaders. The Security pursued the historian until 23 February 1962, when he died89. 6. Conclusions T HE ABOVEMENTIONED notes lead to the following conclusions: generally, the biography is accurate and the informers grasped the main moments in Silviu Dragomir’s activity. A further argument was that they knew him well. For instance, they knew his wife’s relatives in Bucharest, his brother Alexandru, the former dean of the Solicitors Bar. There are errors in the reports submitted by the Security officers. In all Security documents, Silviu Dragomir was mentioned as a member of the National Peasant Party, although the informers noticed that the historian’s political activity was connected to the National – Christian Party and the National Renaissance Front. The information provided by the agents was generally well articulated regarding his academic studies on all epochs and his activity at the university stressing the main moments in contemporary history, the Union in 1918, the Vienna Dictate, the refuge at Sibiu, and the return. The informers also showed Silviu Dragomir’s remarkable scientific activity in the interwar period. Agents Axinteanu and Voicu were the only ones to disagree by criticising the work and national options of the historian. Generally speaking, his political activity was correctly described, yet it was insignificant as compared to his scientific activity. Most informers knew Silviu Dragomir’s detention period in detail. When he was released, the historian tried to pursue his scientific activity and attempted to publish his work. In this sense, he was willing to become familiar with the Marxist philosophy, with dialectic and historic materialism, and to accept the support of his young colleagues educated in a new political reality. The time spent in Sighet made him become more reserved, even extremely cautious with people around him. He knew that the Security still pursued him and that 128 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) many of those simulating friendship were actually informers at the Security. Consequently, after his release, Silviu Dragomir lived a secluded life. He barely spoke about his experience in Sighet and avoided discussing political issues that could cause him trouble. Nevertheless, the Security managed to acquire all the information they needed with the help of informers in Dragomir’s entourage. Note 1. The concept of the request of Silviu Dragomir to the President of the Great National Assembly Board in Archives of the Enescu family, p. 1. 2. According to the decision of the Council Chamber on 29 December 1948, “the Court decided that the phrase together with shall be replaced by to 2,600,000 correctional fine each” (A.N.D.J. Deva, Fond Silviu Dragomir, file 4, p. 23). 3. “Sentenced by the Court of Appeal Cluj on 6 November 1948 for offence against State Bank Law to 6 months in prison and a financial fine equivalent to one year of detention, I was arrested in Cluj in July 1949 to be released on 27 December 1950.” (Autobiografia autorului in A.N.-D.J. Deva, Fond Silviu Dragomir, file 4). 4. Claudiu Secaºiu, op. cit., in loc. cit., p. 263. 5. According to the Release Note no. 193 534 in 1956, Silviu Dragomir was released on 9 June 1955 (A.N.-D.J. Deva, Fond Silviu Dragomir, dosar 4). His release on 9 June is confirmed by the special travel ticket Sighet-Cluj, 3rd class, series A, no. 0635301, on Silviu Dragomir’s name (Ibid.). 6. “The aforementioned Dragomir Silviu, former minister, was arrested for several years. In the summer of 1955, he was released, and he is currently unemployed; in fact, he is old – 77. He is too old to be registered” (Notã dating 13 September 1955, in Consiliul Naþional pentru Studierea Arhivelor Securitãþii (National Council for the Study of the Security Archives) (hereinafter CNSAS), file Silviu Dragomir, I 513, p. 8. Ibid., p. 10. The officer drafting the memo miscalculated the age of the historian; Silviu Dragomir was actually 67 years old. 7. Liviu Pleºa, Dosarul de Security al istoricului Silviu Dragomir, în Annales Universitatis Apulensis. Series Historica, tome IX, 2005, Alba Iulia, pp. 217-229. See also Idem, Istoricul Silviu Dragomir în plasa Securitãþii, in Dosarele Istoriei, no. 11, 2005, p. 43. 8. Ibid.. Ibid.. 9. Ibid.. 10. Ibid.. 11. Ibid.. 12. Ibid.. 13. Ibid.. 14. “According to the documents – statements – we can reach the following conclusions: In September, the English Parliament delegation went to Cluj. One of the members of the delegation was Lord Oswald St., an alleged agent of the English intelligence. He was subsequently identified as a connection of the runaway Raþiu Ioan in England, an individual involved in espionage against our country” Hotãrârea de deschidere a dosarului de verificare asupra lui Silviu Dragomir, 30 ianuarie 1958, in CNSAS, file Silviu Dragomir, I 513, p. 8. 15. Ibid., p. 18. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 129 16. “Lord Oswald St. had a list with different people. DRAGOMIR SILVIU was identified amongst the people on the list. Lord Oswald St. is supposed to have gotten in contact with him for unknown reasons.” (Hotãrârea de deschidere a dosarului de verificare asupra lui Silviu Dragomir, 30 ianuarie 1958, in Ibid., p. 8). 17. Telegramã. Cãtre DIR. REG. M.A.I. Cluj, in Ibid., p. 18. 18. Notã privind persoana numitului DRAGOMIR SILVIU , 21 XI 1957, in Ibid., p. 11. 19. Ibid.. 20. Adresa Direcþiei Regionale Cluj, din 17 decembrie 1957, cãtre Ministerul Afacerilor Interne. Direcþia a II-a Bucureºti, in Ibid., p. 19-20. 21. Ibid., p. 20. 22. “When we verified Dragomir Silviu’s previous activity, we saw that he was a champion of the PNT, a former minister in the PNT Government and a founding member of the RomanianAmerican Association in Sibiu, then in Cluj”(Ibid., p. 8). 23. “He is considered as one of the best specialists in topics relating to the Ardeal. He therefore had a rich correspondence with the French and English groups, and he was friend with Seaton Watson” (Ibid., p. 9). 24. Ibid., pp. 8-9. 25. Ibid., p. 9. 26. Ibid., p. 8. 27. Ibid.. 28. “Silviu Dragomir is mentioned as a connection in the individual file no. 743 concerning Iuliu Moldovan“, in CNSAS, File I 512/1, p. 1. 29. Hotãrâre cu propuneri pentru închiderea dosarului de verificare 738, privind pe Dragomir Silviu, on 28 July 1960, in Idem, File Silviu Dragomir, no. I 513, p. 6). 30. Notã informativã. Sursa Voicu, 21 mai 1958, in Ibid., p. 40. 31. Notã informativã. Sursa Ionescu Vasile, 16 II 1959, in Ibid., p. 65. 32. Notã informativã. Sursa Ionescu Radu, 28 IV 1958, in Ibid., p. 85. 33. Notã informativã. Sursa Sarca Ernest, 25 VI 1969, in Ibid., p. 76. 34. Notã informativã. Sursa Lucreþiu, 2 decembrie 1960, in Ibid., p. 32. 35. Notã informativã. Sursa Tudor, 5 XI 1960, in Ibid., p. 120 36. “I met Silviu Dragomir in 1940-2944 at the editorial office of the journal Câmpia Libertãþii led by the poet Vlaicu Bârna from Ardeal […] I had one or two notes there on issues relating to the Ardeal.” (Notã informativã. Sursa de Emil Isaia, 30 decembrie 1957, in Ibid., p. 95). 37. Notã informativã. Sursa Sanda Predescu, 22 I 1958, in Ibid., p. 93. 38. Notã informativã. Sursa Emil Isaia, 30 decembrie 1957, in Ibid., p. 95. 39. Notã informativã. Sursa Chioreanu, 27 XI 1958, in Ibid., p. 86. 40. Notã informativã. Sursa Ionescu Radu, 28 IV 1957, in Ibid., p. 88. 41. Notã informativã. Sursa Pînzaru, 26 VII 1957, in Ibid., p. 97. 42. Notã informativã. Sursa Axinteanu, 3 IX 1958, in Ibid., p. 78. 43. “The aforementioned Silviu Dragomir supported the imperialist expansionist policy of the Romanian bourgeois-landlords through studies drawing the attention of the Romanians abroad.” (Ibid., p. 80.) 44. Ibid., p. 78. 45. Notã informativã. Sursa Pînzaru, 26 VII 1957, in Ibid., pp. 97-98. 46. “I know he was arrested and imprisoned in 1950-1954. After his being released, he has been living a secluded life and he would not speak to any of his acquaintances on the street, as far as I know” (Notã informativã. Sursa Emil Isaia, 30 decembrie 1957, in Ibid., p. 95). 130 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 47. “Until a few years ago, he was a convict as a high official – I think he once was an undersecretary in a bourgeois ministry” (Notã informativã. Sursa Ionescu Radu, 28 IV 1958, in Ibid., p. 85). 48. Notã informativã. Sursa Pânzaru, 18 III 1960, in Ibid., p. 74. 49. “In spring, he was called at the Ministry of Education and was asked to write some historical papers on the rights of the Romanians over the Ardeal thus responding to the propaganda of the Hungarian refugees abroad” (Notã informativã. Sursa Pânzaru, 26 VII 1957, in Ibid., p. 97.) In a memo dated 17 May 1960, agent Sarca Ernest wrote the following: “Silviu Dragomir regularly works at the RPR Academy. He has taken back his old passion, fishing, in his spare time” (Notã informativã. Sursa Sarca Ernest, 17 V 1960 in Ibid., p. 77.) 50. Notã informativã. Sursa Chioreanu, 27 XI 1958, in Ibid., p. 86. 51. Notã informativã. Sursa Voicu, 1 III 1958, in Ibid., p. 90. 52. According to the memo of the Subsection of Historical Sciences at the Romanian Academy signed by Petre Constantinescu-Iasi and dated 30 January 1956, Silviu Dragomir was informed that “considering your employment request during our [Subsection of Historical Sciences] meeting held on 24 January 1956, we have accepted your application and forwarded it to the Presidium of the R.P.R. Academy. Consequently, we are kindly asking you to go to the Institute of History of the R.P.R. Academy in Cluj to take the work you have been recommended for” (A.N.D.J. Deva, Fond Silviu Dragomir, file 92). 53. Notã informativã. Sursa Ionescu Vasile, 20 II 1959, in CNSAS Archives, File Silviu Dragomir, no. I 513, p. 66. 54. “The work is entitled Transilvania sub stãpânirea habsburgicã (Transylvania under the Habsburg Rule). It had 52 typewritten pages. When carefully reading the work, the source noticed that SILVIU DRAGOMIR attempted a just approach of the issues – yet he did not manage to justly consider social issues at all times or to draw the conclusions he was supposed to. He cannot distinguish between serfs of any nationality that suffered in the feudal epoch like the Romanians who were both serfs and noblemen. To S. DRAGOMIR a Transylvanian serf was a servant to the Hungarian nobleman. This might be the basic error. Although not clearly specified, this can be felt in the structure of the sentences. The source mentioned that to Silviu Dragomir and the latter corrected the error. Sometimes he had to delete entire phrases.” (Ibid.). 55. Notã informativã. Sursa Tudor, 5 XI 1969, in Ibid., p. 120 56. “When requested to express his opinion on the 2nd volume of the Tratat (Treaty) printed on dummy and focusing on the years 1000-1550, a work supposed to be discussed in detail in Bucharest on 15 November c.y., he submitted a written paper with several just remarks that were accepted by the authors particularly concerning the penetration of the Hungarians and Swabians in Transylvania (issues that are presented favourably by our Marxist historiography – and now I understand them better and more clearly than before – as Dragomir used to say. However, certain chapters on Bulgarians’ rule to the north of Danube exhale a slight nationalism. As a matter of fact our Marxist historians do not fully agree on this matter.” (Ibid.). 57. “According to indirect information, Prof. S. Dragomir seems to HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED FROM THE TOP (some say it might be the Cultural Section of the Central Committee in Bucharest) to draft some reports on the Tratatului de istoria Ungariei (Treaty on the History of Hungary). Three volumes have been published so far (into Hungarian) and the Romanian people from Transylvania is not properly presented according to their past” (Ibid., pp. 120-121). 58. Ibid., p. 121. 59. Ibid.. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 131 60. Notã informativã. Sursa Sarca Ernest, în 17 V 1960, in Ibid., p. 77. 61. “During a discussion, Silviu Dragomir was particularly reserved referring to political events. That is why the discussion focused on his work for the Academy. Referring to the possibility of publishing his work on the 1848 Revolution, he expressed his hope that it would be published. Since the Soviet historiography rehabilitated Avram Iancu, so should the RPR historiography. Unfortunately, there still are some left-wing influences reluctant to understanding the truth and presenting the years 1848-1849 according to the old ideology/such as Victor Cheresteºiu from Cluj/.” (Notã informativã. Sursa Sarca Ernest, 24 VI 1959, in Ibid., p. 68) 62. “After the discovery in the Netherlands of the original notes belonging to Karl Marx that spoke favourably of the claims of the Romanians from Transylvania in the revolution, the collaboration of Prof. S. Dragomir has focused on the idea of showing as the mass says the just claims and their denial by Louis (Lajos) Kossuth, as Dragomir argued.” (Notã informativã. Sursa Tudor, 5 XI 1960, in Ibid., p. 121.) 63. “Since Prof. S. Dragomir was in his study at home, I had the opportunity to have a long conversation with him thus reaching the following conclusion: 1. He has finished his collaboration to the Tratatul de Istoria României focusing on the 18th century (vol. III of the Treaty), a century with which he is very familiar. He was appointed to draft some chapters on this century [….]. 5. Prof. Silviu Dragomir was also assigned to collaborate for other documents he knows and partly owns in order to clarify the issue of the Revolution in 1848-1849” (Ibid., pp. 120-121). 64. “His name will not be mentioned in the chapters written by him for the volume, as they will be put together with Comrade DAVID PRODAN’s materials and the latter will provide the appropriate Marxist interpretation.” (Ibid., pp. 120-121). 65. “On 11 February, when the source was about to leave for home, M. Dan, with whom he leaves at noon, told him: We have to visit SILVIU DRAGOMIR. He wants to ask me to photocopy some documents for him if I go to Budapest. When they got off, DAN MIHAI knocked at SILVIU DRAGOMIR’s door. He came out and asked him to photocopy some documents for a work he had in print if he went to Budapest. The title of the work was: Vlahii ºi Morlacii (Wallachians and Morlachs). There was also another document on a diploma dating back to 1247, the diploma of the ‘Joannites’ that SILVIU DRAGOMIR thought was a fake.” (Notã informativã. Sursa Ionescu Vasile, 10 II 1959, in Ibid., p. 65). 66. Notã informativã. Sursa Lucreþiu, 2 dec. 1960, in CNSAS, dosarul Iuliu Moldovan, I 512/1, pp. 33-34. 67. “Did you have any trouble publishing any of your works? The abovementioned Silviu Dragomir said Yes, I cannot have the work on the Union published. Now it is the time to publish it, because next year Pope John XXIII will summon the ecumenical synod in Venice. He has recently appointed someone named Criste as bishop for all Romanians in the Ardeal. I heard that on the radio, he has an apostolic legation. Certainly, the regime will not let him enter the country but whenever he gets the moment, he will come to Romania and will restore the Greek-Catholic Church. It is in our best interest to respond to these preparations of the Vatican, to fight them, to publish.” (Notã informativã. Sursa Lucreþiu, 9 XII 1960, in Ibid., pp. 35-36). 68. “He then added: this is why I do not want to visit anyone and I do not like people visiting me; as long as I live, I want to live peacefully for I have suffered enough; what is the point meeting your friends and get people suspicious” (Notã informativã. Sursa Pânzaru, 28 III 1958, in Idem, Dosarul Silviu Dragomir, no. I 513, p. 92). “I know he was arrested and imprisoned in 1950–1954. After his being released – as far as I know – he has been living a secluded life and would not speak to mere acquaintance on the street.” (Notã informativã. Sursa Emil Isaia, 30 dec. 1957, Ibid., p. 95). 132 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. Notã informativã. Sursa Voicu, 1 III 1958, in Ibid., p. 90. Notã informativã. Sursa Pânzaru, 18 III 1960, in Ibid., p. 95 Notã informativã. Sursa Chioreanu, 27 XI 1958, in Ibid., p. 86. Notã informativã. Sursa Sarca Ernest, 25 VI 1960, in Ibid., p. 79. “Returning to his activity to the full in the section of national history – Silviu Dragomir is very well informed on internal and external daily events. His brother Dr. Alexandru Dragomir – former dean at the Solicitors Bar in Cluj – provides him with the news from the BBC, the Voice of America, the Free Europe. His brother buys bread at the bakery on Jokai street although he lives in Abatorului Square. It is a mere pretext to come to his brother. He mainly listens to German shows, as they are not jammed. S. Dragomir is in contact with many of his old friends and is informed on all market movements, court debates, new arrests, releases” (Notã informativã. Sursa Sarca Ernest, 22 II 1960, in Ibid., p. 70.) Ibid.. “First of all, the agent will keep visiting Silviu Dragomir regularly under the pretext of consulting him on the works he is writing. This week, he will pay him a visit again. During the discussions he will have regarding the people that have been arrested, he will talk to him about the following: that he has heard about the apprehension of people who allegedly had connections with foreign citizens who visited Cluj a few years ago. He will not be specific about it and he will not show any particular interest in the topic. He will consider it as news in brief. The agent has been instructed to pay attention to Silviu Dragomir’s reaction as he will have to inform in detail if the news will have made an impression. If he insists on details, the agent will pretend to ignore the details and will let him make statements or assumptions.” (Ibid., p. 71). “These measures are necessary to be able to draw a conclusion on Dragomir’s attitude and interest in the former group of English members of the Parliament.”(Ibid..). “I have been informed that there might be some new apprehensions in high brow society. Haven’t you heard? Instead of a reply, the interlocutor looked at me in silence. In my turn, I did the same. I hear that it might be related to the visit of some foreigners? When I said that, S. Dragomir looked at me and I saw some concern on his face. You know that Romi Ioan and the others that were apprehended earlier this autumn seem to be related to these visits. Once again, he did not reply but he looked as concerned as before.” (Notã informativã. Sursa Sarca Ernest, 29 II 1960, in Ibid., p. 72.) “Tasks: The agent has been instructed to continue visiting Dragomir Silviu, but only after he returns from Turda. He will go there to bring the manuscript and he will pay him a visit under this pretext. On that occasion, he will avoid discussing politics or any other known aspects from Cluj.” (Ibid.). “The source also approached other problems during the discussion. Regarding disarmament, Dragomir Silviu said: I think Khrushchev really wants disarmament, because it is the only way to save, to lift the standard of living, and to strengthen the regime in the USSR. Generally, Dragomir Silviu was sceptic about the possibility of disarmament.” (Notã informativã. Sursa Lucreþiu, 15 IV 1960, in CNSAS, dosarul Iuliu Moldovan, I 512/1, p. 41). Ibid.. “When the 3rd PRM Congress took place, Dragomir Silviu also said he had heard that political amnesty would be granted. He also heard that the Congress would be postponed as the congress room at the Palace of the Republic was not finished.” (Ibid.) “The source informs that on 8 December c.y., when speaking to Dragomir Silviu, a former member of the PNC, we discussed on the declaration of Moscow at his place on Jokai Street, between 11-12 a.m. Dragomir Silviu said: The declaration is full of ideas, yet it is too dense. HISTORY 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 133 All ideas he maintains should be developed. When he was asked what what striking about the declaration, he said: It stands for the victory of the Soviet viewpoint over the Chinese one. The tone was very striking and harsh towards Western powers. Certainly, such a tone will not earn their goodwill for future negotiations.” (Notã informativã. Sursa Lucreþiu, 9 XII 1969, in Ibid., p. 35). “At that point, Dragomir Silviu noticed: We would get closer to a war, yet our leaders would not do it as they fear the USSR. In fact, an economic closeness between us and the Serbs would not help the Serbs. I listen to Serbian radio stations and I see they import a lot from the USA and they produce many things in Yugoslavia.” (Ibid.). “During the discussion, we returned to the issue of a possible war, when Dragomir S. Said: An atomic war would be terrible for us, as we are in the middle. Some think atomic bombs will not fall down, but I think it would be enough if one or two falls down, or even radioactive ashes, and it would be a catastrophe.” (Ibid., p. 36). “Aiming to verify if the English Parliament has been in connection with Silviu Dragomir and if he performs any espionage activity, he is being verified” (Hotãrâre cu propuneri pentru închiderea dosarului de verificare 738, privind pe Dragomir Silviu, din 28 iulie 1960, in Idem, File Silviu Dragomir, no. I 513, pp. 6-7). Ibid., p. 7. Ibid., pp. 6-7. Ibid., p. 7. “On Friday, 23 February 1962, Prof. Silviu Dragomir from Cluj, a former minister, a former member of the Romanian Academy, and one of the greatest historians of the past of Transylvania passed away in a hospital in Bucharest. […]. As a historian, Silviu Dragomir is considered as one of the best connoisseurs of the history of Transylvania, particularly the 18th and 19th centuries and the 1848-1849 Revolution, on which he wrote a great monograph (manuscript). His death is regretted by all Romanian intellectual groups. The funerals will be held on Monday, 26 February 1962.” (Raport de Szarka Ernest, 26 II 1962, in Ibid., p. 3). Abstract The Security, Silviu Dragomir and the Notes in His Surveillance File (1957-1962) Silviu Dragomir stood out due to two qualities as historian and politician. The professor was arrested in Cluj on the 1st of July, 1949. He was then transferred to the penitentiary in Caransebes to serve a six-month sentence for offence against Bank Law to which a correctional fine of 2,600,000 lei was added. On 6 May 1950, Silviu Dragomir was transferred to the prison in Sighet, thus joining the arrested politicians and intellectuals that were inmates there. After having been released, the historian Silviu Dragomir tried to pursue his scientific activity by publishing his work. Yet the Securitate (Security) distrusted former political convicts. At a first stage, the Security tried to recruit Silviu Dragomir. He then drew the attention of the repression authorities as they considered him a suspect of espionage for the English. Consequently, the Security officers proposed to make a file to pursue him in order to settle whether he was guilty of espionage favouring the English. The Security managed to gather all the information they needed due to the informants in Dragomir’s entourage. The notes lead to the following conclusions: generally, the biography is accurate and the informants managed to seize the main moments in Silviu Dragomir’s activity. Moreover, they knew him very well. The information provided by the agents was accurate regarding his academic 134 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) studies on all epochs and his activity at the university. They also mentioned the main moments in contemporary history, such as the Union in 1918, the Vienna Dictate, the refuge in Sibiu, and his return. The informants also brought to the foreground the remarkable scientific activity of Silviu Dragomir during the interwar period. His political activity was generally correctly presented, although it was insignificant as compared to his scientific one. Keywords Silviu Dragomir, Romanian Security, surveillance file, notes, intelligence Text and Subtext in Communist Romania: “Thematic Framework for County Museums of History” (1985) G ABRIEL M OISA I ’80s Nicolae Ceauºescu’s personality cult reached very high peaks. Most experts believe that its debut should be traced back to Nicolae Ceauºescu’s visit to China and North Korea, June on 1st-24th, 1971, a visit which is said to have marked him deeply1. Others, however, determine the onset of the phenomenon earlier, immediately after 1968, only that the world then showed more preoccupation for the events of August, 1968 and less preoccupation for the presence of some germs of the cult of personality2. We must assert openly that this cult of personality was not the work of Nicolae Ceauºescu, but rather the work of a “front” formed by activists, artists, literates and journalists who saw the privileges of glorifying the leader from Bucharest in pecuniary gains, social position, possibility of travelling abroad3 etc. Lacking solid education, Nicolae Ceauºescu enjoyed this show and often even provoked it. Shortly, a true propaganda machine was put in place as to create a personality cult completely shocking for the free world. Both individuals and institutions were involved in this “cultural” picture. Among the institutions entirely devoted to and by the year more and more involved in this direction were Romania’s museums that were abused continuously from this point of view. Complying with the ideology of the time, they were constrained to adapt their museographic life to all the trends of the political regime. Unfortunately, too often in communist Romania’s museums, history, as it was broadcast to the public by means of permanent and temporary exhibitions, was forged. The public was presented with a teleological history where the past was designed and redesigned through the perspective of the current political party commander. The phenomenon marked its presence in the late ‘40s when the Communists took power and when the people’s democratic regime acted even in this respect in order N THE 136 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) to implement “democratic bases” in the life of the Romanian museography4, following an upward trend, its climax being reached in the mid ’80s. At the famous Central Committee Plenum on June 1st, 1982, Nicolae Ceauºescu gave a speech which referred to “the actual stage of building socialism, to theoretical and ideological issues and to the politico-educational activity of the party”. It was here that he launched an extraordinary idea, incomprehensible at the time, an idea which would directly affect museums in Romania. It is about “the unification of all museums under a single central history museum that shall be in the possession of all important documents, (...) the museums from other centres shall detain documents referring to the local region of the museum”5. A first attempt to ideologically update permanent museum exhibitions was carried out in 1982, following the ideological action program launched there by the Romanian Communist Party leaders. The report of museums’ reorganization begun in June, 1982 is considered, paradoxically, enlightening to what was expected from the “museographic front”. I say paradoxically since almost simultaneously new rules on the reorganization of history museums were issued. But the apparent paradox is explained by the anniversary year of 1965 that marked the celebration of two decades since Nicolae Ceauºescu’s coming to power and the Romanian museography had to fully mark this event in the life of museums. Romanian curators had to make, in this context, clear evidence that “during the 20 years since the communist’s Forum in July, 1965 Romania has been turned into a huge construction site (...). To the successful report presented by the Romanian people at this great anniversary we can add the remarkable achievements in the development of museum network and the enhancement of their activity. Thanks to the policy of the Romanian Communist Party of fully exploiting the rich cultural heritage, the years that followed the historical 9th Congress of the Party a veritable revolution of the museographic movement emerged, both in terms of dramatic expansion of units, so that each county should be in the possession of representative and powerful units, and in the thematic enrichment of museums and their integration into the category of a large social and political, ideological commitment ...”6. The theme was transmitted to county museums on no less than 45 pages. From the beginning, it was disproportionate in terms of quantity of exhibits since the vast majority of the exhibition would be dedicated to contemporary history. Of the 45 pages only 11 were dedicated to other historical ages than the contemporary one. Basically, about 27% of the new history exhibition would represent the ancient, middle and modern age, while the rest, 73%, would represent the contemporary age which, according to the theme, began on “May 8th. The formation of the Romanian Communist Party”7. With few exceptions, the entire part of the exhibition devoted to contemporary age presented the history of the Communist Party. The theme for the other ages was crowded on 11 pages HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 137 as follows: 2.5 pages to Antiquity, 4 pages to Middle Ages and 4.5 pages to Modern Age of which an entire page was reserved exclusively to explain the way of displaying “the formation of the party of the working class”8. The great ideological themes of the age were very well put into practice when promoting the exhibition theme. Moreover, the official historiography conceived them with disengagement, disinhibition and childish innocence and then vigorously promoted them. Protochronism played havoc on this occasion as well. The great theme of continuity of the Romanian people in the geographic area of contemporary Romania made its way, like a red thread, throughout the project. This became clear in the very first part of basic exhibitions, “The Ancient History of the Romanian People”. Although the theme was referring to the early history of Romania, we find that, in fact, it talked about Palaeolithic and Neolithic, ages that had nothing in common with the Romanian people. It was obviously a transposition of the Programme of the Romanian Communist Party of 1975 which dated the origins of the Romanian people back to the “Stone Age”9. Beginning with this chapter, the second most important ideological Gordian knot had to be suggested and solved: the unity of the Romanian territory throughout the history. The project clearly expressed this requirement: “In order to present the material and spiritual unity of life, local materials shall be presented in a natural dialogue with the most significant artefacts discovered nation wide”10. The following major sub-themes referred to the Dacians, highlighting them as the ancestors of the Romanian people. In this chapter it seems that the Romans were at loss because they should not, according to the official theme, be even mentioned as ancestors of the Romanian people. This idea of “blending” between the two civilizations could only be accepted fugitively, the Roman element being inferior. From this point of view, as an interpretation of this historical fact, it was a comeback to the ‘50s when the Roman “imperialists” did much worse to the Dacian population. Actually, this fact was suggested by the very program of the Romanian Communist Party. According to the program, the Roman conquest of Dacia was a negative thing11. It was probably a reflection of Romania’s increasingly anti-Western policy during the ‘80s, and the Romans were guilty to have belonged to an area that in the period of the “Golden Age” belonged to that part of Europe that Nicolae Ceauºescu hated. It was a serious and inexcusable mistake made by the Romans that now reflected on them directly. The part dedicated to the Middle Ages had, as suggested by the title, to mainly pursue and prove the unitary development of the Romanian people12. Indeed, the entire Middle Ages thematic answered this command. Such subheadings as “Economic Links between the Romanian Countries”, “The Settling of the Romanian feudal States Wallachia, Moldova, Transylvania and Dobrogea”, “The Common Fight of Defending the Independence of the Romanian Countries”, 138 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) “Cultural Connections between the Romanian Countries” etc. emphasize this preoccupation. Other ideological conventions, now considered valid, were to be found among the subtitles of this theme together with the negative impact of foreign domination and its role in decelerating the evolution of the human society within this specific Romanian spiritual space, “The Plundering of the Country’s Wealth”13 etc. The project of the exhibition devoted to the Middle Ages contained other approved ideas such as peasants’ exacerbating role in “the fight for independence”, the blurring of the military leaders’ role”, others than those approved by Ceauºescu, as presented, for instance, in Sabin Balaºa’s famous painting, the “numerous” attempts of unifying the Romanian countries, etc., all these ideas are found in the official documents of the Party, beginning with The Program of The Romanian Communist Party, the speeches of the political leader from Bucharest or the “stage transpositions” conceived by the historians in the circle of the power. It is also interesting the way in which they solved the problem of continuity by means of the thematic projects, another major concern of Romanian historiography and ideology during the Ceauºescu regime. Neither more nor less, these projects took over the idea launched by the party’s program according to which, after “the withdrawal of the Roman military and civilian authorities from the former province of Dacia”, what remained here was “an unorganized state”14 and therefore the resistance to migrants was diminished. We learn that the first state formations to efficiently fight their independence settled only when “the population from the territory of ancient Dacia began to organize its life in different configurations of small states”15. The given theme also clarified a number of issues of terminology considered “unclear” until then by the Romanian historiography. Thus, Gheorghe Doja’s Revolt became Gheorghe Doja’s Peasant War, the episode Horea, Cloºca and Criºan remained a revolt and not a revolution as the official historiography tried to impose in the early ‘80s16. Modern Age seems a little bit more protected from ideological interference, at least this is what the thematic project shows. The main emphasis fell on the establishment of the modern Romanian state. However, point by point, minor moments of Romanian history, but major in terms of the history of the Romanian Communist Party, were emphasized much more than necessary. Moments like the Scãeni Phalanstery, “the attitude of the socialist and labour movement towards the war of independence”, the formation of the political party of the labour class in Romania, etc. were all largely presented in museum exhibitions. If until 1893, at the creation of RSDWP, the thematic part representing modern history was acceptable, from that moment on up to the contemporary age, the historical exhibition had to be an almost exclusively ideological one. For example, for the period 1893-1914 the following sub-themes had to be introduced: Professional and Political Labour Organizations, Socialist and Propagandist Activity, Strikes and Peasant Movements, the Romanian Social-Democratic Workers’ Party HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 139 and its place in the Romanian socio-political life, Peasants’ Revolt of 1907, International Solidarity. It is suggested therefore that these were the most important historical events that took place in Romania during that period. If the historical ages mentioned above were ideologized also by forging history and by lack of professional ethics, contemporary history was presented, in terms of museography, according to the theme, practically without following the course of the Romanian history during that period. That is why I consider that we should insist more upon this age. Firstly, what is striking in the thematic and, later on, in the history exhibitions is the fact that the period of 1918-1944 was allotted only four pages, while the rest of 30 pages was allotted to the period of 1945-1985. This would be accurately reflected in exhibitions, too. Even more striking, however, are the proportions dedicated to the communist age. Thus, the Dej regime got only 2 pages while the Ceauºescu regime got 28 pages. And even here it is worth mentioning an interesting fact, namely that of the two pages devoted to the 1945-1965 period, 1.75 pages present the period August 23rd, 1944 - December 30th,1947 and only 0.25 pages present the Dej regime. Consequently, in the new exhibitions of Romania’s contemporary history this period is practically inexistent and Dej not even mentioned. The removing of Dej’s name from history, at Ceauºescu’s order, represented the climax. Therefore, of the 45 pages devoted to the Romanian area from Antiquity to 1989, 28 are devoted exclusively to the 20 years of Ceauºescu’s regime, the remaining 17 covering the rest of the history, to the year of 1965. The comparison is self-evident for what the age trend meant for Romanian history and historiography, and not only. Ceauºescu’s personality cult had to be displayed in museums, as a means of educating by force of example the younger generation in the spirit of the “new man”. But even this was not enough since the interwar period highlighted the same personality of young Ceauºescu, from a very early age. It is, in fact, the period when a representative book, from this point of view, that classicized Ceauºescu’s militant revolutionary youth was published. It was Olimpiu Matichescu’s work: The Revolutionary Youth of Comrade Nicolae Ceauºescu17. Thus, the Propaganda Department of CC of RCP demanded by means of the theme that each museum must exhibit from a museographic point of view, too - posters, newspaper excerpts, panels - two important moments related to Nicolae Ceauºescu. The first relates to ”The assertion of comrade Nicolae Ceauºescu’s personality as leading activist of the party with high patriotic and revolutionary qualities, devoted to the supreme cause of the Romanian people, to the freedom and independence of the fatherland”18 and the second, largely presented, had to be dedicated to “the great anti-fascist and anti-war demonstrations of May 1st, 1939” highlighting “the decisive role of comrade Nicolae Ceauºescu, of comrade Elena Petrescu (Ceauºescu) in organizing 140 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) and conducting the great anti-fascist and anti-war demonstrations of May 1st, 1939 to preserve the integrity of the country, the democratic rights and freedoms”19. It is well known fact that in order to solve this museographic dilemma, the photos with the demonstration of May 1st, 1939 were forged by attaching a photo of Nicolae Ceauºescu’s head to the body of another man chosen at random from the crowd. In fact, the demonstration mentioned above was not the work of the communists but it had been organized by the labour minister in Armand Cãlinescu, Mihail Ralea government. It is a classic example of gross counterfeiting historical truth. The way of treating the entire historical period beginning with August 23rd, 1944 falls in the same category. The museographic presentation matched up. The entire museographic presentation was a triumphant display, its climax being the proper display of the exhibits belonging to Ceauºescu’s age. Moreover, even the theme sent to museums by CCES gave the title to this part of the exhibition “Nicolae Ceauºescu’s age - the age of the most successful achievements in the history of the Romanian people 1965-1985”20. Everything was filtered by censorship and what was born out of it was a fake contemporary history of Romania, and it was presented in museums. The 28 pages dedicated to “The Golden Age” began, of course, with the 9th Congress. From then on, everything was highlighted and more detailed in the theme, mentioning the exact texts and photos to be displayed, nothing being left to chance. It was compulsory for the text to be displayed at the beginning of the exhibition segment dedicated to this historical period to leave no doubt about what the Ceauºescu regime meant, according to the propaganda, “The period inaugurated by the 9th Congress - the richest in accomplishments throughout the history of the country - is directly linked to the General Secretary of the Romanian Communist Party Nicolae Ceauºescu’s, , tireless work done with deep revolutionary passion and high responsibility for the fate of the country”. The statement was very enlightening for what was to be displayed. Nicolae Ceauºescu’s photo at the tribune of the 9th Congress of RCP had to be displayed along with this text21. Henceforth, all pages of the theme came to support the opening statement of the exhibition segment devoted to the “Nicolae Ceauºescu Age.” Most various comparisons, different images and photographs, aspects showing Nicolae Ceauºescu’s “dialogue” with the masses, an argument of “unity” between the Romanian political leader and the “people”, the unprecedented industrial growth in different fields over the past 20 years, the welfare growth following the increased labour productivity, the extraordinary development of education and culture etc., all these statements demonstrated the happiness and the enthusiasm of the population in those years, but were in flagrant disagreement with what was happening in Romania. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 141 The purpose of the exhibitions and their related theme is quite explicit. The personality cult reached unbelievable peaks. In the context of an increasing tendency for programs of building the “new man”, all museums and exhibitions had to organize their exhibitions as an homage to the “beloved leader”. The younger generation should not see anything else, or know another prominent personality in history more clearly emphasized than that of the nation’s parent, Nicolae Ceauºescu. Many museums in the country changed their basic history exhibitions, some completely, others only the section of contemporary history. In many cases there were provided supplementary exhibition spaces solely reserved for the great achievements of the “Golden Age”. Therefore, at that time, all museums in Romania looked much the same. For a visitor it was enough to visit a single museum in the country and he might consider having seen them all. The few local features accepted by the Propaganda Department of RCP did not change much in the exhibition concept. The so clearly expressed desire of the General Secretary of RCP in Mangalia on June 1st-2nd, 1982 to unify the country’s museums into a single one was finally fulfilled. Several museums were among the institutions in charge with “translating into life the ideological program of the party adopted at the 13th Congress of RCP, the precious indications given by the party’s general secretary, comrade Nicolae Ceauºescu, that have become cradles of genuine socialist civilization contributing greatly to the formation of the new man, with a new and advanced conscience”22. They all followed the same thematic and, except for some local peculiarities, all historical exhibitions were practically identical: same texts, photographs, speech excerpts. It came, therefore, to hilarious situations where replicas of exhibits specific to particular historical epochs and geographical areas were present in several museums in the country for purely propagandistic purposes. A good example in this regard is the well-known “Thinker of Hamangia” which could be found both in Constanþa - its area of discovery - and in other museums, some hundreds of miles away. The thought in the minds of those who conceived this project was, in this case, to demonstrate the unity of the Romanian territory since the Neolithic. It seemed that things would stop here. But, a few months later, things proved to be different. The education of the young Romanian by power of the model presented by Nicolae Ceauºescu in the new history exhibitions was not enough. The Romanian political leader’s personality cult had to be fulfilled and highlighted once again by other means and instruments in the Romanian museography. This led to the initiative of organizing a temporary thematic exhibition entitled “The Nicolae Ceauºescu age - the age of the most successful achievements in the history of the Romanian people 1965-1985”. Its obvious purpose, meaning and content could be already guessed from the exhibition’s title, chosen by CCES. Thus, most museums in the country received in early June, 1985 an address signed by the vice president of CCES, Iulian Antonescu, in which they were 142 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) imposed the organization of a history exhibition with the above title by July 10th, 1985. No less than 32 pages described the main coordinates of the exhibition whose hero was, of course, Nicolae Ceauºescu. Photos, quotes, accomplishments of his age, all focused on Nicolae Ceauºescu. Nothing around him except for “the people”, an amorphous, impersonal mass, over which he claimed control and which, allegedly, was extremely close to him. In Oradea, for example, the opening of the exhibition was held on August 19th, 1985. Basically, the new section was opened in a new permanent exhibition area of the Department of History to celebrate 20 years since the 9th Congress of the Communist Party when Ceauºescu was elected general secretary. Between 1985 and 1986, many museums in the country were thus forced to reorganize the exhibitions of contemporary history and not only, according to the directives set by the sent guiding materials. In a large article published in 1986 by Revista Muzeelor ºi Monumentelor (Journal of Museums and Monuments), Ioan Don, one of the “reliable members of the regime” in museographic area, along with Elisabeta Simion, listed, with extreme satisfaction, the great museographic achievements of this period. Thus, according to the two authors, Romanian museums were restored in terms of thematic as it was needed “to ensure coverage of the Romanian realities since ancient times to the present day”23. They linedup a total of 24 museums, in Bucharest and in the country, which reorganized their exhibitions until the second half of 1986: The Museum of History of the Communist Party, The History Museum of the SPR, The Art Museum of Bucharest, all the museums from Bucharest, Alba Iulia, Giurgiu, Arad, Argeº, Botoºani, Covasna, Dolj, Galaþi, Hunedoara, Iaºi, Mehedinþi, Neamþ, Olt, Prahova, Suceava, Timiº, Tulcea, Vaslui, Vâlcea. Later we learned that other museums also complied with these demands, e.g. the museums from Brãila, Constanþa, Oradea, St. Gheorghe, Tg. Jiu, Tg. Mureº Slatina, Zalãu, Piteºti, Sibiu, Timiºoara, Târgoviºte, Arad, Câmpulung, Argeº24, Galaþi25, the latter inaugurated a little bit later. Basically, the most important institutions of its kind in Romania resorted to reorganizing exhibitions according to the received “indications” and under close supervision of the regime censorship. According to the existing documents, some surpassed themselves in the need of presenting their own creations in order to keep pace with the official discourse. This was the case of several museums. The museum of Sibiu, for example, announced loudly the inauguration, according to the plan, in the “cultural-educational sector of contemporary history – of the first new Museum of History by opening a permanent exhibition entitled The Nicolae Ceauºescu Age - The Age of the Most Successful Achievements in the History of the Romanian People”26. Cluj outbid Sibiu, considering that, only after the new restructuring of the Romanian museography, history would be presented “in the spirit of the historical truth, HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 143 objectively, as recommended by the party documents...”27. Those from T. Severin did not want to seem less inferior announcing that, in 1988, even if with some delay, the curators from Drobeta Turnu-Severin put into practice the new trend in museography as presented by “the Party’s ideological program, by the General Secretary’s speeches, comrade Nicolae Ceauºescu, regarding the ample, permanent and noble work of training the socialist consciousness”28. Finally, we mention the widely praised effort of the curators from the Bucharest Museum of Arts and History who realized, in addition to the goals set by authorities, a unique exhibition entitled “Bucharest of the Ceauºescu Age” in an effort to report they exceeded the plan, a tribute to the great achievements of the age29. Other museums in the country struggled to report a variety of great achievements imposed by the authorities and new exhibitions according to the precepts of the age. Some records tried to maintain a certain common sense, within acceptable limits given the period we are speaking about. The reorganization of exhibitions in Romanian museums in accordance with the new ideological commandments was an ordeal for the Romanian curators. The new exhibition would be reviewed before the official opening by ideological committees at all levels. Each of them had something to modify so that after their departure, curators had to make the required changes. It was rarely for a committee to take a decision, and then a second one came and corrected it and then a third one was to come and give orders to redo everything as it was in the beginning. Each member of a commission had to prove his own importance and usefulness. To illustrate this phenomenon, I shall give only one example, common to each of the museums in the country during this period, the Museum of Þara Criºurilor Oradea which officially opened the new history exhibition on July 30th, 1987. Before the official opening, a whole suite of commissions and committees attended the so-called ideological viewing of the exhibition, many times performing the necessary corrections. The first check took place on May 20th, 1987, two months before the actual opening, led by Ana Sãndulescu, the local ideological supervisor. On May 25th, 1987 the exhibition was inspected by Mircea Muºat and Ion Ardeleanu, chief censors of CC of RCP, followed by another inspection, on the next day, this time together with C. Pãtroiu. On May 27th, Petru Enache was present at the Museum of Þara Criºurilor, Oradea, and on May 28th, Adrian Ionescu from AGERPRES, the responsible for the photographs and their censoring, was also present. On June 1st, 1987 Petru Enache, together with Adrian Ionescu and Ilie Ceauºescu, were again present in Oradea, and once again on June 4th. Each of these visits was followed by suggestions and corrections to the content of the exhibition, which had to be revised until the next inspection. On June 10th and 11th, Nicolae Ceauºescu 144 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) visited Bihor County. A week later, on June 18-19th, 1987 two curators from Oradea travelled to Bucharest for a meeting with Adrian Ionescu about the photographs taken on the occasion of Nicolae Ceauºescu’s last visit to Bihor County and how they should be displayed in the exhibition. Curators were given a month for correcting what was considered inappropriate. On July 28th, 1987 the new exhibition was inspected again by the regime’s censors, Mircea Muºat and Ion Ardeleanu. They made sure that all suggested changes were carried out because, the next day, on July 29th, 1987 the ideological Commission of CC of RCP should perform its last inspection. It seems that the Commission was pleased since it gave the green light for the official opening ceremony the next day, on July 30th, 1987. The last years of the regime were equally bleak for the Romanian museography. The Romanian museum went on acting as an ideological means of the political authority, a characteristic much emphasized during the the last five years of the “Golden Age”. The Romanian political leader left a serious impression on the museographic movement. In museums, the cult of personality could manifest itself permanently and fully, and so did the image it created. More and more indications were coming from the Department of Press and Propaganda of CC of RCP. The last of the most consistent materials on “updating basic exhibitions in county history museums” was issued just a few months before the fall of the Ceauºescu regime. Thus, on February 28th, 1989 a broad thematic project was issued by the same Department of Propaganda of CC of RCP, signed by the very head of this department, General Constantin Olteanu. Museums came into its possession in the first days of February, 1989. The directive was as clear as possible: “We send you the selected texts from the Presentation of Comrade Nicolae Ceauºescu, General Secretary of the Romanian Communist Party, at the joint meeting of the Central Committee Plenum of the Romanian Communist Party, of democratic bodies and of mass and public organizations from November 1988, to update basic exhibitions in county history museums”31. Equally plain was the deadline for finalizing this action in all museums across Romania. The document stipulated that up to March 30th, 1989 all required changes were to be fulfilled. However, not all museums responded promptly to this new ideological initiative. Upon receipt of this order on March 4th-5th, 1989 there were only three weeks left until the deadline. Some institutions did not do anything in this regard, attracting thus a series of inconveniences, particularly for their leadership, from the repressive institutions of the state which had received orders to supervise the implementation of this objective. It is known the case of the museum of Oradea, where the Security monitored the fact that “updates” were not made, fact recorded by the official documents of the time32. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 145 The “necessary” changes to the exhibitions were analyzed textually and punctually on no less than 12 pages. Without exception, all changes were cited from Nicolae Ceauºescu’s Presentation at the CC Plenum of RCP of November 28th-30th, 1988. They proposed even subtle changes of nuance. Thus they asked, for example, to replace in the exhibition the existing expression “the CarpathianDanubian-Pontic space” with “the Romanian people’s living and ethnogenetic space” or “the first centralized Dacian state” with “the centralized and independent Dacian state”. A creation of the “Golden Age”, but generally a much discussed topic33, the syntagm “Carpathian-Danubian-Pontic space” that was meant to set geographically a unified territory, even if it exceeded a certain geographical reality, suffered a slight change in 1989 when it became “the Romanian people’s living and ethnogenetic space”. Once the “Carpathian-Danubian-Pontic” space settled, it had to be further set as “the Romanian people’s living and ethnogenetic space”. The change is not at all foreign to the political and historiographical developments of 1965-1989. The Romanian-Hungarian historiographical dispute on the issue of the first settler in this area, exacerbated after the publication in 1986 of “The History of Transylvania”, and had to be clarified in the museographic space as well. The history exhibition had to reflect and highlight, even in the text ordered to be implemented in exhibitions, the reality of the formation of the Romanian people in an area that “was claimed” by the Hungarian neighbours as well. The dispute remained valid also for the eastern Romanian space where there was a similar problem with the Russian neighbour to the east, due to the fact that the Romanian ethnogenetic and living space expanded between the Prut and Dniester, a space under Soviet “custody” at that time. Since the Perestroika and Glasnost seriously affected the political relations between Romania and the Soviet Republic, “teasing” the Soviets was welcome by the official propaganda. Maps exhibited in museums extended the space of the formation of the Romanian people over the Prut, even beyond the Dniester. This chicanery was historiographically implemented in 1988 when Dobrinescu Florin Valeriu, a historian from Iaºi, published a very bold book on this subject entitled “Romania and the post-war organization of the world (1945-1947)”34 which, for the first time in Romania after decades of silence, openly debated the issue of Bessarabia and Bukovina. These subtle changes could not have been made without the defrosting promoted by Gorbachev’s Moscow that opened the possibility of dispute and defrosted the communist world, including the old historical dispute between the communist states that had been banned by Moscow for decades. The change of “the first centralized and independent Dacian state” into “the centralized and independent Dacian state”, without being so profound as the above mentioned one, comes to emphasize once again, from a museographic point of view, the current benefits of the existence of a centralized, independ- 146 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) ent state since Dacian times. More and more question marks are being raised upon this ancient reality as the Dacian state, ruled either by Burebista or Decebal, was not characterized by the features previously discussed. It was more a reflection of a modern concept upon an ancient reality. In fact, it was more a reflection of the state that Ceauºescu wanted for himself, a super centralized and “independent” one. That was why the Romanian state leader made Romania pay its external debt in order to gain “independence” from the retrograde Western. Using museums as ideological instruments was realized not only by means of permanent history exhibitions, periodically modified and improved especially in the ‘80s, following the ideological directive. This was also done by means of many temporary and itinerant politically ordered exhibitions, which “took into consideration the need to deepen and explain certain processes defining for the political existence...”35. Some of these exhibitions are worth mentioning, they were organized mainly by the museums in the capital city, then itinerated around the country, especially in the ‘80s. They surely corresponded to the political directive of the moment. Among these: “The Nicolae Ceauºescu age, the age of the most brilliant achievements in the history of the Romanian people”, “The socio-political thinking of the General Secretary of the Communist Party, President of the Socialist Republic of Romania, Nicolae Ceauºescu”, “the 9th Congress – a milestone in the development of the multilaterally developed socialist society in Romania”, “65 years since the formation of RCP”, “35 years since the trial of the communist and anti-fascist fighters from Braºov “, “ 65 years since the formation of UCY”, “The Nicolae Ceauºescu age - the age of the most sublime socialist achievements in the work and life of peasantry and of the entire nation”, “Homage to work and youth - contemporary art exhibition”, “Mutations in Romanian folk art during the last two decades”36, etc... The main idea that logically emerges from this investigative detour is that, like other fields, Romanian museography was more and more used for propagandistic purposes as years passed. This made the institutions live in an increasingly limitted and extremely well controlled cultural horizon. Curators were involved, involuntarily in most cases, in the specific actions of the totalitarian regime propaganda. Too few uncontrolled manoeuvre elements could be performed by Romanian museums. However, museums were true oasis in the ocean of Romanian historiography, especially in terms of research opportunities and scientific events, fact that I have highlighted on another occasion and I shall not insist upon this now37. In a totalitarian political system, such as the Romanian one, museums were able to survive, develop and manifest themselves only under politically dictated terms. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 147 Notes 1. Anneli Ute Gabanyi, Cultul lui Ceauºescu (Bucharest, Ed. Polirom, 2003) 2. Adrian Cioroianu, Ce Ceauºescu qui hante les Roumanis, (Bucharest, Ed. Curtea Veche, 2004) 3. Idem, „Cine a profitat de cultul lui Ceauºescu”, in Historia (Bucharest) 99, (March 2010): 3637 4. Gabriel Moisa, „Un istoric proletcultist „uitat”: Solomon ªtirbu”, in Istorie, Etnologie. Artã (History, Ethnography, Arts), (coordinator A. Chiriac, B. ªtefãnescu), (Oradea, Ed. Muzeului Þãrii Criºurilor, 2009),139-142 5. N. Ceauºescu, România pe drumul construrii societãþii socialiste multilateral dezvoltate ºi înaintare a României spre comunism, vol. 24, (Bucharest, Ed. Politicã, 1982), 67 6. G. Sarafolean, “20 de ani de mãreþe realizãri ale muzeografiei româneºti”, in Revista muzeelor ºi monumentelor, (Bucharest), 2, (1985): 10 7. Tematica cadru pentru muzeele judeþene de istorie, Colecþia de Istoria instituþiei a Muzeului Þãrii Criºurilor din Oradea, inv. 8692 (Oradea), (following Tematica...) 8. Ibid. 9. Programul Partidului Comunist Român de fãurire a societãþii socialiste multilateral dezvoltate ºi înaintare a României spre comunism, (Bucharest, Ed. Politicã, 1975), 11 10. Ibid. 11. Ibid. pp.11-12 12. Tematica, p. 17 13. Ibid. p. 12 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid. 16. C. Corbu, “1784 - eveniment de seamã în istoria luptei revoluþionare din þara noastrã”, in Anale de istorie, (Bucharest), 5, (1983): 125-133; see also K. Verdery, Compromis ºi rezistenþã. Cultura românã sub Ceauºescu), (Bucharest, Ed. Humanitas, 1993), 214-232 17. O. Matichescu, Tinereþea revoluþionarã a tovarãºului Nicolae Ceauºescu (The Revolutionary Youth of Comrade Nicolae Ceauºescu), Publisher: Editura Politicã, Bucharest, 1981 17. Tematica, p. 19 18. Ibid., p. 21 19. Ibid., p. 24 20. Ibid. 21. I. Antonescu, “Contribuþia muzeelor la înfãptuirea programului ideologic al Partidului Comunist Român”, in Revista Muzeelor ºi Monumentelor, (Bucharest) 9, (1987): 3 22. Eugenia Glodariu, „Muzeul de istorie din Cluj-Napoca – mijloc de reflectare a luptei ºi muncii comune de educare patrioticã a tuturor cetãþenilor patrie”, in Revista Muzeelor ºi Monumentelor, (Bucharest) 6, (1987): 10 23. Eugenia Glodariu, „Muzeul de istorie din Cluj-Napoca – mijloc de reflectare a luptei ºi muncii comune de educare patrioticã a tuturor cetãþenilor patriei”, in Revista Muzeelor ºi Monumentelor, (Bucharest) 6, (1987): 10 24. Ibid. 25. D. Popa, „Epoca Nicolae Ceauºescu – epoca celor mai rodnice împliniri din istoria poporului român” – expoziþie permanentã a complexului muzeal Sibiu” in Revista Muzeelor ºi Monumentelor , (Bucharest) 6, (1987): 19 26. Eugenia Glodariu, „Muzeul de istorie din Cluj-Napoca – mijloc de reflectare a luptei ºi muncii comune de educare patrioticã a tuturor cetãþenilor patriei”, in Revista Muzeelor ºi Monumentelor, (Bucharest) 6, (1987): 10 148 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 27. I. Grigorescu, „Eficienþa educativã – obiectiv major al muzeografilor din Drobeta Turnu Severin”, in Revista Muzeelor ºi Monumentelor (Bucharest) 5, (1988): 35 28. D. Andronache, „Un bogat program instructiv-educativ la Muzeul de istorie ºi artã al Municipiului Bucureºti”, în Revista Muzeelor ºi Monumentelor, (Bucharest) 2, (1986): 27-30 29. Thanks to Mrs. Lucia Cornea, chief of the History Section of the Musem of Þãrii Criºurilor of Oradea, who put to my disposal all this detailed information regarding these events in Oradea. 30. Tematica, p. 37 31. Valeriu Florin Dobrinescu, România ºi organizarea postbelicã a lumii (1945-1947), (Bucharest, Ed. Academiei R.S.R., 1988). 32. Claude Nicolet, L’inventaire du monde. Géographie et politique aux origines des l ‘Empire romain, (Paris, Hachette, 1988); Cl. Raffestin, Pour une géographie du pouvoir, (Paris, 1980); F. Ratzel, Politische Geographie, (Munnich, 1903), etc. 33. Valeriu Florin Dobrinescu, op. cit. 34. Ibid. 35. Ibid., pp. 3-4 36. G. Moisa, Istoria Transilvaniei în istoriografia româneascã 1965-1989, (Cluj-Napoca, Ed. Presa Universitarã Clujeanã, 2003), 168-204; 231-255 Abstract Text and Subtext in Communist Romania: “Thematic Framework for County Museums of History” (1985) Under the communist rule, Romanian museography was more and more used for propagandistic purposes as years passed. Curators were involved, involuntarily in most cases, in the specific actions of the totalitarian regime propaganda. This made the institutions live in an increasingly limited and extremely well controlled cultural horizon. Too few uncontrolled manoeuvre elements could be performed by Romanian museums. In a totalitarian political system, such as the Romanian one, museums were able to survive, develop and manifest themselves only under politically dictated terms. Keywords Romanian museography, curators, history, propaganda, totalitarism Le PCR et le culte de Nicolae Ceauºescu – un cas de substitution A LINA PAVELESCU A des principes de représentations symboliques, le culte de Nicolae Ceauºescu a fait l’objet de plusieurs études, dont plusieurs lui sont dédiées exclusivement.1 L’opinion de Vladimir Tismãneanu par exemple, c’est que le culte de Nicolae Ceauºescu, tel qu’il s’est développé au long des années 1970-1980, a représenté l’expression d’une culture politique spécifique pour les communistes roumains.2 Ce point de vue est repris par la plupart des exégètes du régime Ceauºescu.3 A son tour, Mary Ellen Fisher situe les origines du culte dans une synthèse de plusieurs éléments diachroniques et synchroniques. Les plus importants sont l’éducation politique marxiste-léniniste dont Nicolae Ceauºescu représente l’un des produits, les traits psychologiques de ce dernier, mais également sa volonté de s’assurer une large mobilisation sociale autour d’un projet politique et économique assumé à titre personnel.4 Le culte en soi ne représente pas un trait spécifique du communisme roumain. Son appareil rituel et ses moyens de propagation sont subsumés sous le modèle général du culte du leader pratiqué dans les régimes de type soviétique. Une brève comparaison entre le modèle de référence, celui du culte de la personnalité de Staline en URSS5, le culte de Mao Tse Dong en Chine6 et le culte de Ceauºescu en Roumanie permet d’observer pour le moins trois traits généraux communs : légitimation revendiquée d’une source idéologique considérée comme infaillible et dépositaire d’une vérité absolue (le marxisme-léninisme), représentation de celui qui fait l’objet du culte comme étant le digne « fils du peuple », incarnation idéale de l’éthos national dans l’interprétation donnée à celui-là par le régime ; ce à quoi on doit ajouter l’accaparement de tous les succès réels ou imaginaires du régime communiste, attribués à sa sagesse et à ses capacités visionnaires.7 Notre démarche ne se propose pas de reprendre ces démonstrations, ni de réaliser une nouvelle analyse du culte. Nous essayerons seulement d’utiliser les modèles théoriques et les conclusions avancés par les auteurs respectifs dans le but d’étayer notre hypothèse concernant la substitution de Ceauºescu au PCR U NIVEAU 150 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) dans le cadre de la relation Parti/Nation et les effets de cette substitution sur le développement de la stratégie de légitimation du régime Ceauºescu. Dans une étude sur le rôle du parti « monolithique », Leonard Shapiro8 part de la situation du Parti Communiste de l’Union Soviétique à l’époque de Staline pour formuler une conclusion significative : le parti n’est pas nécessairement une institution indispensable dans les régimes de type soviétique et sa fonction politique est facilement remplaçable par un leader autoritaire. Shapiro établit une corrélation entre l’effacement du rôle du parti et l’intérêt du leader d’éliminer tout élément concurrent dans l’exercice d’un pouvoir discrétionnaire.9 Cette relation parti communiste/leader autoritaire semble fonctionner dans la Roumanie de Ceauºescu de manière au moins partiellement analogue à l’URSS de Staline. Dans les lignes qui suivent, nous questionnerons l’hypothèse de la substitution de Nicolae Ceauºescu au PCR, au cours du processus de construction d’un communisme nationaliste roumain, sous plusieurs angles : la légitimation de Ceauºescu devant le Parti (par le démantèlement de l’image idéalisée de son prédécesseur), sa légitimation à travers le Parti (en confisquant tant l’imagerie révolutionnaire du communisme roumain que les nouveaux symboles qui entrent dans le cadre de la symbiose idéologique Parti-Nation) et, finalement, sa légitimation au-delà du Parti (par l’insertion directe de l’image présidentielle dans une mythologie et un panthéon national pré-communistes, récupéré par le PCR et dont il est évacué graduellement par la construction politique de plus en plus accaparante du culte). Au moins dans les premières phases de la constitution du culte, ces trois directions d’action sont poursuivies. Cependant, à mesure que la fonction du Parti est vidée de son contenu, la préoccupation du secrétaire-général de garder un certain niveau de légitimation devant l’appareil du parti est remplacée par son contrôle total de cet appareil à l’aide d’un système de mesures coercitives de plus en plus discrétionnaires et d’un système de récompenses dont bénéficient les membres de la hiérarchie qui font preuve de fidélité envers le conducator, sa famille et ses réseaux. M. E. Fisher situe les prémisses du culte de Nicolae Ceauºescu entre les années 1969 et 197110. A son tour, Adrian Cioroianu se montre plus prudent quant à l’identification d’une date précise. Il préfère mener une interprétation du culte en tant que processus, une construction progressive dont les traits se précisent en étapes successives et qui établit une relation à double sens avec les changements de contexte politique : d’une part, l’évolution même du culte engendre certains de ces changements ; d’autre part, ses représentations et ses structures sont en permanence adaptées aux modifications du contexte général.11 Nous partageons le point de vue de Cioroianu concernant la nécessité de traiter le culte de Nicolae Ceauºescu comme un processus évolutif. Notre démonstration est construite dans une perspective dynamique. Par conséquent, même si, pour des raisons méthodolo- HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 151 giques, notre analyse prendra en compte chacune des trois hypothèses mentionnées ci-dessus en les traitant de manière distincte, on doit garder à l’esprit que cette séparation est purement analytique. Dans la réalité des pratiques politiques du régime Ceauºescu, les trois plans sont toujours imbriqués. La position de Ceauºescu devant le PCR passe avant tout par sa relation avec les autres membres de la direction du parti mais aussi, d’une manière significative, par sa relation avec la mémoire de son prédécesseur. Le passage de la position de primus inter pares – dans laquelle, pour des raisons relevant de la conjoncture politique, il semble s’installer au moment de son élection comme secrétaire général – à celle de leader unique et incontesté se produit par conséquent au but d’une manœuvre en deux temps : tout d’abord, l’appropriation par Ceauºescu de l’héritage politique de Gheorghiu-Dej suivie, dans un deuxième temps, par le démantèlement de l’image du prédécesseur en tant que père fondateur du communisme roumain ; ensuite, la construction de l’image du nouveau leader comme père refondateur et garant de la justesse doctrinaire du parti. L’arrivée de Ceauºescu à la tête du PCR s’accompagne initialement d’un message sans équivoque de continuité par rapport aux grandes lignes d’évolution politiques établies au cours des dernières années du régime Gheorghiu-Dej. Au moment de son élection, le nouveau secrétaire assume l’héritage politique du prédécesseur ainsi que son propre image de collaborateur préféré de Dej et successeur désigné par ce dernier.12 Cette continuité – qui n’a jamais été vraiment abandonnée au niveau de la pratique politique – est pourtant définitivement délaissée au niveau du discours en 1968. La séparation définitive de Ceauºescu de son prédécesseur Gheorghiu-Dej est publiquement marquée au cours de l’épisode des réhabilitations des anciens leader communistes, victimes des purges staliniens. Le fait que la culpabilité de Dej est clairement mentionnée dans le Plénum du Comité central est, sous cet angle, aussi important que sa condamnation explicite devant la masse des membres du parti. Cette condamnation, Ceauºescu tient à la prononcer lui-même, le 26 avril 1968, dans un discours assez impétueux devant les membres de l’organisation communiste de Bucarest.13 Ses accusations concernent exclusivement les fautes de Dej à l’égard des membres du PCR, ce qui équivaut à sa délégitimation en tant que père fondateur du parti : « Aucun des mérites de Dej ne saurait lui excuser les abus et la responsabilité dans l’assassinat de Pãtrãºcanu, ainsi que les multiples actes d’illégalité commis contre des activistes du Parti et de l’Etat. »14 Ceauºescu va au-delà des simples accusations pour affirmer son refus d’une image idéalisée du prédécesseur en même temps que son attachement aux principes marxistes-léninistes : 152 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) « Dans le jugement de l’activité de chaque camarade, notre partie part de l’analyse objective et lucide des faits et non pas des mythes. Nous n’avons pas besoin d’idoles. Nous n’avons pas besoin d’avoir des ports-drapeaux humains. Le marxisme-léninisme rejette ces conceptions comme étrangères à l’idéologie de la classe ouvrière. Notre porte-drapeau est le marxismeléninisme, la conception du prolétariat sur le monde et sur la vie. »15 De cette manière, la critique du prédécesseur a pour revers une image complémentaire du successeur comme garant de la justesse doctrinaire, investi de ce point de vue d’une autorité justicière reconnue pour autant que les opinions autorisées à l’intérieur du parti, contraires à la sienne, soit se trouvent délégitimées par les soupçons de complicité aux abus, soit ne sont pas publiquement exprimées. Le prédécesseur revient une dernière fois dans le rapport de Ceauºescu devant le Xème Congres du PCR, mais la tonalité est alors plus prudente et la position beaucoup plus nuancée, parce qu’elle est destinée à des acteurs politiques plus avisés sur les coulisses de l’histoire réelle du parti et directement concernés par les implications politiques de ce changement.16 L’impact réel de cette manœuvre sur l’image de Dej dans le Parti et, plus généralement, dans l’opinion roumaine est difficile à quantifier.17 On peut seulement supposer que l’image de Dej garde dans une certaine mesure son potentiel concurrentiel devant le culte de Ceauºescu et que, surtout dans les années 1980, quand la propagande multiplie les facettes du dernier jusqu’à ce qu’elles deviennent grotesques, l’époque de Dej est réinvestie dans la mémoire des Roumains d’une valeur positive.18 Néanmoins, cette supposition est difficile à généraliser étant donné le traitement que l’image du prédécesseur de Ceauºescu subit au cours du travail de réécriture de l’histoire officielle du PCR. La critique de Dej, telle qu’elle est menée dans les deux discours mentionnés, ne représente qu’un aspect superficiel, le plus spectaculaire mais aussi le moins exploité, du démantèlement de son image publique. Une pratique plus subtile et en même temps beaucoup plus efficace dans la longue durée fait de Dej – tout autant que de Pãtrãºcanu et des autres figures du panthéon communiste – un marginal, quasiment absent de l’histoire officielle du PCR.19 En fait, l’histoire officielle du Parti jusqu’en 1965 est pratiquement vidée de ses personnages. Elle n’est peuplée que par deux grands acteurs collectifs, le Parti et la classe ouvrière. Après 1965, son seul personnage et héros par excellence devient Nicolae Ceauºescu, accompagné, dès la fin des années 1970 mais surtout au cours des années 1980, par sa femme. Pour le lecteur des manuels scolaires roumains des années 1970-1989, Ceauºescu représente la seule incarnation du PCR. Le Parti lui-même ne dépasse pas le statut d’entité abstraite, dont le fonctionnement n’est que vaguement explicité par des citations de l’œuvre de son HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 153 secrétaire général. Dans le processus de construction du culte, la totalité de la synthèse idéologique qui circonscrit le communisme nationaliste roumain finit par être attribuée, sous la dénomination de « doctrine Ceauºescu »20, à sa pensée visionnaire. A un deuxième niveau de la construction du culte, la biographie révolutionnaire21 de Nicolae Ceauºescu est bâtie sur la tradition révolutionnaire du Parti. Les symboles et les références de l’histoire officielle du PCR sont engloutis de cette manière dans la biographie mythique de son leader, devenu l’homme providentiel du socialisme roumain. Né en 1918, Ceauºescu est trop jeune pour détenir une position importante dans le PCR dans la période de l’entre-deux-guerres. Ses contacts avec les membres du parti s’établissent à travers l’appartenance au mouvement de son maître cordonnier qui l’utilise pour des tâches mineurs au bénéfice des communistes : apparemment, à l’age de 12-14 ans, le futur secrétaire général du PCR est envoyé par son patron dans les rues de Bucarest pour distribuer des tracts communistes et, quelques années plus tard, fait partie d’une équipe de jeunes agitateurs qui protestent devant la Cour d’Assises de Craiova contre l’instruction du procès des ferroviaires arrêtés pendant les grèves de 1933.22 Les traces laissées dans les archives par son activité politique d’avant 1944 sont trop peu pour nourrir une vraie biographie révolutionnaire du personnage : des mentions lapidaires au sein des rapports de la police, un récit du procès politique dans lequel Ceauºescu est impliqué en 193623, les témoignages – pour la plupart discutables parce que périodiquement repris et modifiés par leurs auteurs, en fonction des conjonctures politiques – de ses camarades de prison et de ceux qui l’ont rencontré à l’époque. Ce manque de détails laisse beaucoup de place à l’imagination de l’hagiographe qui doit combler le vide d’informations sur l’activité personnelle de Ceauºescu par des détails de l’histoire du PCR où l’image du leader est insérée avec une habileté purement littéraire. Entre la littérature concernant la jeunesse révolutionnaire du Conducator et le récit de son élection comme secrétaire général du PCR, sa carrière – présentant au moins deux points faibles : sa position subalterne dans l’équipe GheorghiuDej et ses actions personnelles au cours de la soviétisation – constitue une parenthèse significative.24 Après 1965, commence « le vrai pouvoir »25, désigné par les syntagmes « âge d’or » ou « époque Ceauºescu ». Ce schéma est suivi, dans ses grandes lignes, dans toutes les biographies officielles de Nicolae Ceauºescu. Les épisodes choisis pour illustrer la biographie mythique du leader coïncident jusqu’au moindre détail avec les grands moments de l’existence du PCR sélectionnés pour illustrer la nouvelle synthèse de son histoire officielle. Par exemple, l’image du jeune Ceauºescu combattant antifasciste – un des leitmotive des récits de sa biographie mythique26 – confisque au bénéfice exclusif du culte une des hypostases les plus soutenables, parce que les moins en contradiction avec 154 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) l’image d’un PCR dont les intérêts ont toujours été harmonisés avec l’intérêt national, de l’histoire du parti. De façon complémentaire, les marques de la nouvelle histoire du PCR arrivent graduellement à être soumises à un processus de sélection en fonction de leur représentativité pour la biographie personnelle de Ceauºescu. Le mythe du IXème Congrès, moment de fondation de l’époque Ceauºescu, évacue graduellement du discours historique officiel tout récit événementiel concernant les changements importants intervenus à cette occasion dans le fonctionnement du parti. La signification primordiale du congrès, retenue par l’histoire officielle est liée à l’élection de Ceauºescu comme secrétaire général.27 L’événement dont l’importance est impossible à occulter, parce qu’il coïncide avec l’arrivée des communistes au pouvoir, mais en même temps reste difficilement associable à la biographie personnelle de Ceauºescu est le coup d’Etat de 23 août 1944. Le biographe recourt dans ce cas à la citation de l’œuvre du secrétaire général, qui explique la signification du moment et, ce faisant, se l’approprie en le réinvestissant d’une valeur symbolique liée à sa personne.28 La pratique des citations devient d’ailleurs, au cours des années 1980, non seulement usuelles dans les publications de la propagande, mais un passage obligé pour la parution de tout ouvrage scientifique, quelque soit son objet d’intérêts.29 La combinaison entre les pratiques qui instaurent la suprématie symbolique du leader, « le communisme dynastique » et la rotation des cadres conduit à ce que Jeremy T. Paltiel décrit comme « un renversement des pôles d’autorité »30 : l’autorité et la cohésion du parti sont graduellement évacuées par l’image de son leader comme source unique de l’autorité cohérente. Ainsi, comme l’observe Paltiel, il existe une correspondance directe entre la construction du culte et l’atomisation progressive du parti.31 A la fin de ce processus, ce n’est plus le leader qui gouverne au nom du parti, mais le parti qui devient un instrument de pouvoir à l’usage de son leader. La véracité de cette affirmation est pleinement appuyée au troisième niveau de notre analyse par l’insertion directe du leader-idole32 dans le panthéon mythologique national. Le début spectaculaire de cette opération est représenté par le discours de Ceauºescu devant les bucarestois à l’occasion de l’invasion soviétique en Tchécoslovaquie, le 21 août 1968.33 La position du PCR dans la question du régime réformiste de Dubcek est toujours discutée dans l’historiographie roumaine postcommuniste qui essaie surtout d’expliquer pourquoi un régime si peu disposé à mener une réforme du système socialiste a adopté une position favorable dans ses relations politiques avec le régime tchécoslovaque.34 Nous n’allons pas insister dans la présente démarche sur les considérations concernant ce sujet, nous contentant seulement de remarquer que l’idée d’une légitimité des voies nationales dans la construction du socialisme a représenté, dans ce cas tout autant comme dans la plupart de la politique étrangère du régime HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 155 Ceauºescu, le pilon fort de l’argumentaire roumain, sans rapport direct avec l’orientation plus ou moins réformiste des régimes communistes en question.35 On se concentre ici sur la position de Nicolae Ceauºescu dans cette configuration. Dans l’après-midi du 21 août 1968, après que le Comité Politique exécutif ait décidé de protester contre l’invasion de la Tchécoslovaquie par les alliés du Pacte de Varsovie, on organise à Bucarest une assemblée populaire avec la participation de quelques milliers de personnes. Dans l’histoire du régime communiste roumain, il s’agit de la seule assemblée populaire organisée par la direction du parti à laquelle les citoyens ne participent pas par obligation mais par conviction. Devant une foule enthousiaste, animée par de forts sentiments antisoviétiques, Ceauºescu tient son plus fameux discours politique.36 Sa spécificité est avancée dès son annonce pour le moins inhabituel dans la pratique du discours communiste roumain jusqu’à ce moment mais ayant un précédant illustre dans le discours de Staline au moment de l’attaque de l’ex-allié nazie contre l’URSS. Ceauºescu éveille le sentiment national des manifestants en les appelant à l’aide d’une formule archaïque qui, aux yeux des Roumains communisés, semblait définitivement jetée aux oubliettes de la langue de bois : « chère camarades, citoyens du Pays Roumain ». Cette formule qui transcende la question de l’adhésion à la politique du parti communiste abolit de cette manière – au moins pour un court mais significatif instant – la ligne de fracture qui, déjà depuis vingt ans, traverse la société roumaine. Le porte-parole – et depuis ce moment, l’incarnation – de cette formule inédite de solidarité d’intérêts entre le PCR et les Roumains est Nicolae Ceauºescu. C’est lui qui annonce la décision du Comité central de s’opposer formellement à l’intervention en Tchécoslovaquie, au nom du droit de chaque partie communiste, mais aussi de chaque peuple de choisir librement sa voie dans la construction du socialisme. Et il lance également l’idée que la Roumanie est en danger d’être occupée par les troupes du Pacte de Varsovie et demande aux Roumains de montrer leur solidarité avec le PCR dans la défense armée de la patrie.37 Ce thème de la solidarité au nom de la patrie menacée par un ennemi extérieur – l’un des plus anciens et redoutés, la Russie soviétique – n’est que trop familier aux Roumains. L’effet de surprise provient de son intégration dans le discours d’un parti communiste dont l’image dans la société roumaine était jusqu’alors celle d’un organisme entièrement étranger à elle-même. Par sa nouvelle attitude, ce parti partage « subitement », d’une manière inconcevable jusqu’alors, une communauté d’intérêts avec les Roumains, se dressant contre son protecteur de jadis, celui qui l’a installé à la tête d’une communauté vaincue et hostile. Nous sommes devant un bouleversement radical de perspective – et de perceptions – dont la seule incarnation visible est représentée par la personne de Ceauºescu. Même si les décisions concernant la réaction du PCR devant l’invasion de Prague ont été prises avec l’accord unanime de la direction 156 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) du Parti, Ceauºescu est le seul bénéficiaire de ce moment unique de solidarité entre le Parti et la Nation. Il se trouve au premier plan de la scène publique, prêt à devenir Héros et Idole.38 Il apparaît comme l’intermédiaire de la relation Parti-Nation ou, selon la formule d’Adrian Cioroianu, « avec l’accord de ses subordonnés, Ceauºescu arrive à représenter la Roumanie, de se substituer à celle-ci ».39 Cette posture de 1968 l’investit d’un charisme fortuit40 qu’il apprend à exploiter au profit du culte de sa personnalité. Depuis « la scène du balcon », des modifications profondes se produisent dans le paysage politique de la Roumanie communiste et surtout dans le rapport de force PCR - Ceauºescu.41 Dans ce processus qui commence le 21 août 1968, la royauté symbolique – qui, à l’avis de Mary Ellen Fisher, fait l’originalité du culte du leader roumain – annoncée par la décision du Xème Congrès concernant la futur élection du secrétaire général par la totalité des membres du parti et non seulement par le Comité central42, pleinement consacrée en 1974 par le cérémonial d’élection de Ceauºescu dans la fonction de Président de la République – s’inscrit comme un élément de cohérence. L’évolution du culte dans les années 1980 ne fait qu’apporter des arguments supplémentaires à notre démonstration. Ces arguments proviennent de la façon dont on réécrit l’histoire nationale de la Roumanie dans une synthèse où la place du parti communiste est graduellement évacuée pour être occupée par son leader. Si, dans la synthèse du communisme nationaliste roumain, l’histoire officielle du PCR est presque complètement vidée de ses personnages à l’exception de Ceauºescu, l’histoire de la Nation est, pour une raison facile à comprendre, peuplée par une multitude de personnages très visibles et fortement idéalisés.43 Dans les rites politiques44 qu’accompagnent le culte, ces personnages – souvent incarnés par des acteurs professionnels, dans la représentation dramatique d’un « gouvernement virtuel » 45 d’une Roumanie éternelle, dont l’apothéose est représentée par « l’époque Ceauºescu » – sont appelés à témoigner de la légitimité du Conducãtor.46 Au milieu de cette histoire nationale peuplée par des héros qui doivent exclusivement leur gloire à leurs qualités personnelles exceptionnelles, Ceauºescu n’a plus besoin du paravent représenté par Parti. C’est à ce moment que son apothéose est totale et que le PCR est complètement évacué du pacte Parti-Nation proposé par la synthèse idéologique du communisme nationaliste. Jusqu’au bout de ce jeu, le culte tente de se subordonner la relation PartiNation en confisquant le rôle du premier dans cette relation bipolaire. A l’origine, le culte de Ceauºescu se trouve dans un rapport de cohérence avec la stratégie de légitimation du PCR par la récupération du nationalisme, ce qui lui facilite l’installation dans la pratique courante de l’acte de pouvoir. L’incongruité intervient là où, une fois évacué le Parti, le culte du Leader entame une évolution HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 157 sournoise qui menace de confisquer également la Nation (via l’appropriation/réinterprétation/destruction de ses symboles et de ses lieux de mémoire) et finit par compromettre tant les moyens d’accomplir cette relation que son contenu idéologique. Notes 1. Adrian Cioroianu, Ce Ceauºescu qui hante les Roumains. Le mythe, les représentations et le culte du Dirigeant dans la Roumanie communiste, Bucarest, Editions Curtea Veche & Agence Universitaire de la Francophonie, 2004 ; voir aussi une synthèse des conclusions formulées par le même auteur au sujet du culte de Ceauºescu, in Adrian Cioroianu, Pe umerii lui Marx. O introducere în istoria comunismului românesc [Sur les épaules de Marx. Une introduction dans le communisme roumain], Bucarest, Editions Curtea Veche, 2005 pp. 392-442. L’analyse de Cioroianu reprend et approfondit les observations de M. E. Fisher, Nicolae Ceausescu. A Study in Political Leadership, Boulder & London, Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1989 , pp. 160-189, en utilisant le modèle théorique proposé par Jeremy T. Paltiel, « The Cult of Personality : Some Comparative Reflections on Political Culture in Leninist Regimes », in Studies in Comparative Communism, vol. XVI, no 1-2, spring/summer 1983, pp. 25-48. Pour les besoins de notre démarche, une observation de Cioroianu nous semble particulièrement importante : « Le culte de la personnalité de Ceauºescu n’est pas un événement en soi, mais un processus ; un processus évolutif des événements politiques et historiques de l’époque et étant influencé par eux, un processus qui a supporté une re-création permanente… » (Adrian Cioroianu, op.cit., p. 136). Une autre étude intéressante, analysant les représentations de Ceauºescu et de la tyrannie après 1989, est menée par Constantin Dobrilã, Entre Dracula et Ceauºescu. La tyrannie chez les Roumains, Bucarest, Institutul Cultural Roman, 2006, pp. 283344. Sur les aspects du culte d’Elena Ceauºescu, voir Mary Ellen Fisher, « Women in Romanian Politics : Elena Ceauºescu, Pronatalism, and the Promotion of Women », in Sharon L. Wolchik, Alfred G. Meyer, eds., Women, State and Party in Eastern Europe, Durham, Duke University Press, 1985, pp. 121-137. Voir aussi la contribution plus récente de Manuela Marin, Originea ºi evoluþia cultului personalitãþii lui Nicolae Ceauºescu, 1965-1989 [„Les origine set l’évolution du culte de la personnalité de Nicolae Ceauºescu, 1965-1989”], Alba Iulia, Editions ALTIP, 2008, un très utile passage en revue des hypostases mythiques du leader dans l’imaginaire politique du régime Ceauºescu. 2 Vladimir Tismãneanu, The Tragicomedy of the Romanian Communism, in « Fantoma lui GheorgiuDej » [Le fantôme de Gheorghiu-Dej], Bucarest, Editions Univers, 1995, pp. 330-331. 3. C’est le cas surtout d’Adrian Cioroianu. La démonstration de Cioroianu inclue une parallèle entre le culte du roi Charles Ier, fondateur de la dynastie roumaine de Hohenzollern, et le culte de Nicolae Ceauºescu, en estimant que ce dernier incarne « la dégénérescence du modèle » initial. (Adrian Cioroianu, op. cit., pp. 79-98). 4. Cf. Mary Ellen Fisher, op. cit., p. 188; Fisher estime que la multiplication des échecs politiques et économiques du PCR a déterminé la direction du parti à accepter le culte de son secrétaire général comme un façon de stimuler la confiance des Roumains dans le projet socioéconomique communiste (ibidem, p. 166). 5. Nous suivons à ce propos la démonstration de Robert C. Tucker, « The Rise of Stalin Personality Cult », in The American Historical Review, vol. 84, no. 2, april 1979, pp. 347-366. 158 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 6. Cf. l’étude de la stratégie chinoise de mobilisation par le culte du leader menée par Daniel C. Nelson, op.cit., pp. 83-86; voir aussi Martin Macauly, Stephen Carter, eds., Leadership and Succession in the Soviet Union, Eastern Europe and China, Armonk, New York, M.E. Sharpe Inc., 1986, pp. 150-211; pour le culte de Mao à l’intérieur du Parti Communiste Chinois, voir Lawrence R. Sullivan, « The Analysis of « Despotism » in the CCP: 1978-1982 », in Asian Survey, vol. 27, no. 7, juillet 1987, pp. 800-821. 7. Ces trois traits communs sont identifiés par Graeme Gill, dans une étude qui établit un parallélisme entre le culte de Staline et celui de Brejnev ; cf. Graeme Gill, « The Soviet Leader Cult: Reflections on the Structure of Leadership in the Soviet Union », in British Journal of Political Science, vol. 10, no. 2, april, 1980, pp. 167-186. 8. Leonard Shapiro, « Reflections on the Changing Role of the Party in the Totalitarian Polity », in Studies in Comparative Communism, vol. 2, no. 2, avril 1969, pp. 1-13. 9. Ibidem, p. 4 : « C’est dans la nature du gouvernement d’un despote totalitaire de ne pouvoir tolérer aucune institution rivale. » (la traduction de l’anglais nous appartient). 10. Mary Ellen Fisher, op. cit., p. 60. 11. Adrian Cioroianu, op.cit., p. 135-144. 12. Graeme Gill, op.cit., p. 167 explique que le positionnement privilégié du nouveau leader par rapport à un « founding father » (Lénine, dans le cas de Staline ou Gheorghiu-Dej, dans le cas de Ceauºescu) représente un élément clef dans la construction du culte du chef dans les régimes de type soviétique. L’utilisation de cette stratégie de légitimation aux débuts du régime Ceauºescu est attestée par les témoignages de ses collaborateurs, dont Ion Gheorghe Maurer est le plus explicite ; cf. Lavinia Betea, Partea lor de adevãr [Leur partie de vérité], Bucarest, Editions Compania, 2008, pp. 174 -175. 13. Nicolae Ceauºescu, România pe drumul desãvârºirii construcþiei socialiste. Rapoarte, cuvântãri, articole [La Roumanie sur la route de l’accomplissement de la construction socialiste. Rapports, discours, articles.], vol. I-XVII, Bucarest, Editions Politicã, 1968-1989, vol. III, pp. 177-208. 14. Ibidem, p. 193 (la traduction du roumain nous appartient). 15. Ibidem, pp. 193-194 (la traduction du roumain nous appartient). 16. Cf. Nicolae Ceauºescu, Rapport au Xe Congrès du PCR. 6 Août 1969, Bucarest, AGERPRES, 1969, p. 87. Pour une meilleure compréhension des différences de tonalité, nous traduisons ici la totalité du passage concernant la mise en question de la personnalité de GheorghiuDej dans l’histoire du parti : « Déjà au cours des débats de 1968 certains camarades ont soulevé la question de la responsabilité de Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej [dans les persécutions politiques de Pãtrãºcanu et de ses amis]. Il est hors de doutes que Gheorghiu-Dej porte une grosse responsabilité pour ce qui s’est passé, d’autant plus que certains cas ont été instrumentés directement par lui. Voilà pourquoi maintenant, quand nous analysons ces faits, nous avons le droit et l’obligation de critiquer et de blâmer les aspects négatifs de l’activité de GheorghiuDej. Ce faisant, nous ne voulons pas minimiser l’activité et les mérites de Gheorghiu-Dej devant le parti et le peuple. Il est connu que dans les années de la clandestinité ainsi que dans la prison, mais surtout après la Libération, il a joué un rôle important dans le parti et dans l’Etat. Pendant 20 ans, comme premier secrétaire du Comité central, Gheorghiu-Dej a occupé une place importante dans toute l’activité de construction du socialisme ; le parti, le peuple donnent une haute appréciation à son travail ». 17. Comme le relèvent les témoignages de ses anciens collaborateurs, Dej était doté d’une habileté à établir des relations de confiance avec les masses et ce trait psychologique a beaucoup contribué à une construction charismatique ad hoc autour du personnage ; voir, par exemple, le témoignage de son secrétaire personnel, Paul Sfetcu, in Lavinia Betea, op. cit., pp. 342-343. 18. Une telle supposition est soutenue par l’étude des avatars de la mémoire de Ceauºescu dans la société roumaine postcommuniste. Comme le montre Constantin Dobrilã, op. cit., p. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 159 337, l’image du tyran renversé du pouvoir subit à long terme un travail de mémoire qui tend à la transformer du « promoteur de la violence en victime ». 19. Dans deux manuels utilisés pour l’enseignement de l’histoire dans les lycées et dans les universités roumaines, l’un datant de la fin des années 1970, l’autre publié dans les années 1980, nous avons compté respectivement 3 et 5 mentions du nom de Gheorghiu-Dej, toutes lapidaires et manquant de toute appréciation, soient-elles positives ou négatives. Les moments auxquels on fait référence sont à peu près les mêmes dans les deux manuels : les grèves ferroviaires de 1933, au cours desquelles Gheorghiu-Dej s’est illustré comme leader du mouvement communiste, la Conférence nationale du PCR, en 1945, où Dej a été élu premier secrétaire du Parti et la mort de Dej, accompagnée par l’élection de Ceauºescu. Pour ce dernier moment, on doit remarquer que la place la plus importante revient à Ceauºescu, dont l’élection est présentée comme l’événement crucial dans l’histoire du parti. D’ailleurs, les seuls communistes dont les noms sont mentionnés dans ces manuels – à part l’omniprésent Ceauºescu – sont Dej et Pãtrãºcanu. Pãtrãºcanu bénéficie d’un traitement égal à celui accordé à Dej (grosso modo, le même nombre de mentions) mais on passe complètement sous silence sa fin tragique et les détails de son emprisonnement dans les années 1950. En ce qui concerne Ceauºescu, même pour la période d’avant la deuxième guerre, quand sa carrière politique n’avait encore aucune visibilité publique, son nom est omniprésent, soit par des récits d’événements inexistants (par exemple celui concernant sa position de leader de la Jeunesse Communiste, qu’il n’a jamais occupé avant 1945), soit par la promotion de certains événements mineurs (sa condamnation suite à un procès devant la Court de Brasov) au rang d’événements exemplaires de l’histoire du communisme roumain. Cf. Probleme fundamentale ale istoriei patriei ºi Partidului Comunist Român. Prelegeri [Problèmes fondamentaux de l’histoire de la patrie et du Parti Communiste Roumain. Cours], Bucarest, Editions Didacticã ºi Pedagogicã, 1977 et Probleme fundamentale ale istoriei României [Problèmes fondamentaux de l’histoire de la Roumanie], Bucarest, Editions Didacticã ºi Pedagogicã, 1983. 20. Ce concept est explicité en tant que tel dans une encyclopédie de politologie publiée à Bucarest en 1977, Ovidiu Trãznea, Nicolae Kallos, eds., Mica enciclopedie de politologie [Petite encyclopédie de politologie], Bucarest, Editions ªtiinþificã ºi Enciclopedicã, 1977, pp. 136-145 Ses coordonnées principales concernent la contribution de Nicolae Ceauºescu à la définition de « la société socialiste multilatéralement développée », de « l’homme nouveau socialiste » et de « la nation socialiste ». Voir aussi Petre Bãrbulescu, Dumitru M. Bârliba, eds., Micã enciclopedie de relaþii internaþionale pentru tineret [Petite encyclopédie des relations internationales à l’usage des jeunes], Bucarest, Editions Politicã, 1984, pp. 55-64. Pour comprendre le poids de l’image de Ceauºescu en tant qu’idéologue du communisme nationaliste dans la socialisation politique des Roumains, un détail nous semble surtout pertinent : dans la Roumanie des années 1980, les concours scolaires les plus fréquentés par les meilleurs élèves étaient les « olympiades scolaires », organisées pour chaque matière d’études ; à l’épreuve d’histoire, une des exigences que les participants devaient obligatoirement satisfaire était de réaliser une analyse (comentariu) d’un passage de l’ouvre de Nicolae Ceauºescu. 21. Pour analyser l’hagiographie de Ceauºescu, Adrian Cioroianu, op. cit., pp. 47-49, utilise comme références deux livres écrits par deux biographes occidentaux du leader roumain, le français Michel Pierre Hamelet en 1971, et l’italien Giancarlo Elia Valori en 1974. Même si, surtout dans le cas de la biographie rédigée par Hamelet, Cioroianu a raison d’affirmer que sa parution à Paris et son modèle de biographie mythologisée ont été largement utilisés par la propagande roumaine à l’intérieur du pays, nous avons du mal à convenir avec Cioroianu que ces deux biographies de Ceauºescu ont été les plus médiatisées en Roumanie. Leur structure, conçue pour démontrer à l’Ouest le « visage humain » du personnage, ne correspondait que partiellement aux besoins du culte à l’intérieur du pays. Nous considérons donc que le 160 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. référentiel hagiographique pour la Roumanie est représenté par la biographie dont l’auteur est un journaliste roumain, Olimpiu Matichescu, Tinereþea revoluþionarã a tovarãºului Nicolae Ceauºescu [La jeunesse révolutionnaire du camarade Nicolae Ceauºescu], Bucarest, Editions Scânteia Tineretului, 1981. Cf. Thomas Kunze, Nicolae Ceauºescu. Eine Biographie, Berlin, Ch. Links Verlag, 2000 ; édition roumaine - Nicolae Ceauºescu. O Biografie [Nicolae Ceausescu. Une biographie], traduit de l’allemand par Alexandru Teodorescu, Bucarest, Editions Vremea, 2002., pp. 35-36 L’auteur de ce récit favorable au jeune Ceauºescu, le journaliste et poète Eugen Jebeleanu, fait dans les années 1970 une belle carrière dans le Comité central du PCR et devient une des figures proéminentes de l’Union des Ecrivains ; dans les années 1980, sa position devient très critique à l’égard de Ceauºescu et Jebeleanu rejoint les rangs des écrivains défavorables aux excès du nationalisme communiste ; SERVICIUL ROMÂN DE INFORMAÞII, Cartea albã a Securitãþii. Istorii literare ºi artistice (1969-1989) [Le livre blanc de la Securitate. Histoires littéraires et artistiques (1969-1989)], Bucarest, Editions Presa Româneascã, 1996, pp. 209 et passim. Cette parenthèse est remarquée par Adrian Cioroianu, op. cit., p. 56. Ibidem, p. 57. Dans l’effort de produire des épreuves sur cet avatar de sa biographie révolutionnaire, l’appareil de la propagande roumaine n’hésite pas à falsifier, dans les années 1980, une photo prise en 1939, à l’occasion d’une manifestation organisée le 1 Mai à Bucarest, à l’initiative du gouvernement du roi Charles le IIème, de telle manière que les figures de Nicolae et Elena Ceauºescu soient identifiables dans la foule ; l’épisode a fait l’objet d’une étude de B. T. Râpeanu, 1 Mai 1939 : de la realitate la fals [Le 1 Mai 1939 : de la réalité à la falsification], in Magazin istoric [Magazin historique], nouvelle série, an XXIV, no. 11, novembre 1990, pp. 24-25 et 61 ; son histoire est également reprise par Thomas Kunze, op. cit., p. 51. La photo falsifiée a été publiée pour la première fois en 1981 dans une « Histoire illustrée de la Roumanie », pour être largement reprise au cours des années 1980 tant dans les manuels scolaires que dans la presse, surtout à l’occasion des célébrations annuelles du 1 Mai. A comparer l’évolution de ce type de discours dans les deux manuels d’histoire cités ci-dessus : en 1977, les décisions du IXème Congrès sont encore mentionnées et détaillées tandis que l’élection de Ceauºescu fait l’objet d’une seule mention sans connotation laudative ; par contre, en 1983 le rapport de forces semble complètement inversé, puisque la première phrase introduisant l’événement est formulée de cette manière : « Dans l’orientation de l’effort de notre peuple [vers la consolidation du socialisme], le IXème Congrès du parti au cours duquel le camarade Nicolae Ceauºescu fût élu à la tête du parti, moment crucial pour la vie de notre parti et de notre peuple, qui a marqué le début d’une nouvelle étape dans la construction de la société socialiste en Roumanie » (cf. Probleme fundamentale…op.cit., 1983, p.164 ; voir aussi, pour la comparaison, Probleme fundamentale…op.cit., 1977, pp. 263-267). Cf. Olimpiu Matichescu, op. cit., p. 76. L’épisode est d’ailleurs expédié en quelques lignes, comme d’autres sujets importants pour l’histoire du parti, mais sans rapport avec la biographie de Nicolae Ceauºescu. L’historien Ioan Scurtu, in Ana Maria Cãtãnuº, eds., Sfârºitul perioadei liberale a regimului Ceauºescu: minirevoluþia culturalã din 1971 [La fin de la période libérale du régime Ceausescu: la mini-révolution culturelle de 1971], Bucarest, Institutul Naþional pentru Studiul Totalitarismului, 2005p. 112, raconte par exemple la manière dont il a été obligé par la Section de propagande du Comité central d’introduire une citation d’Elena Ceauºescu dans un ouvrage ayant comme sujet l’histoire de la monarchie en Roumanie. Dans la version présentée à la Section de propagande, plusieurs citations de Nicolae Ceauºescu se trouvaient déjà intégrées dans le corpus du volume afin de démonter les éventuelles suspicions du censeur. Jeremy T. Paltiel, op. cit., p. 63. HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 161 31. Ibidem, p. 63: « Le paradoxe du culte – et la raison pour laquelle les leaders mènent à bonne fin leurs plans – c’est que le parti doit être attaqué pour pouvoir continuer son œuvre. Le parti est attaqué pour être sauvé. » (La traduction de l’anglais nous appartient ; version originale : « The paradox of the cult of personnality – and the reason why the leaders are successful in carrying out their plans – is that the party must be attacked in order to continue the work of the party. The party is attacked in order to save it. »). 32. Dans le processus de construction du culte, la création d’une image d’idole pour Nicolae Ceauºescu ne suppose pas, ainsi que l’observe Mary Ellen Fisher, Nicolae Ceauºescu … op. cit., p. 165, un succès, mais plutôt un échec de son charisme : « Ceauºescu n’est pas devenu pour la plupart des Roumains un chef authentique, doué d’un charisme génuine, un exemple à suivre. En échange, il est devenu une idole. » (la traduction de l’anglais nous appartient ; la version originale : « Ceauºescu did not become for most Romanians an authentic leader with genuine charisma, an example it be followed. Instead, he became an idol. »). 33. Le texte du discours est entièrement reproduit in Nicolae Ceauºescu, România pe drumul desãvârºirii …, vol. III, pp. 415-418. 34. Voir en ce sens la contribution de Mihai Retegan, In the Shadow of the Prague Spring: Romanian Foreign Policy and the Crisis in Czechoslovakia, Jassy, Oxford, Portland: Center for the Romanian Studies, 2000. 35. Voir, parmi les témoignages dédiés au contexte politique de l’août 1968, celui du journaliste Marian Stefan, rédacteur de la revue roumaine Magazin istoric, qui explique que la réticence des dirigeants roumains à l’égard de l’orientation réformiste du gouvernement tchécoslovaque à été observable tout au long de l’année 1968, malgré les déclarations publiques de soutien au réformisme de Dubcek ; cf. Dan Cãtãnuº, eds, România ºi primãvara de la Praga [La Roumanie et le Printemps de Prague], Bucarest, Institutul Naþional pentru Studiul Totalitarismului, 2005, p. 83. 36. Ce discours est connu dans historiographie roumaine comme la première « scène du balcon », parce que l’événement a eu lieu dans le même balcon du bâtiment du Comité central d’où Ceauºescu a prononcé son dernier discours, en décembre 1989. On estime qu’au milieu de la crise politique de 1989, il a essayé de rééditer le succès personnel de 1968 en jouant de son charisme présupposée ; cf. Adrian Cioroianu, Pe umerii lui Marx…, p. 410 37. Au nom du Comité central, Ceauºescu assure les Roumains de la fidélité des communistes pour la patrie et, au nom de cette fidélité, demande la formation de Gardes Patriotiques avec la participation de tous les citoyens roumains : « Regardez-nous : nous sommes ici tout le Comité central, tout le Conseil d’Etat, le Gouvernement. Nous sommes tous décidés de servir avec loyauté le peuple dans la construction du socialisme, dans la défense des conquêtes révolutionnaires, de son indépendance. (Applaudissements, ovations) Nous sommes ici des communistes et des antifascistes qui avons affronté la prison et la morte mais nous n’avons jamais trahi les intérêts de la classe ouvrière, de notre peuple. Ayez la certitude, camarades, ayez la certitude, citoyens de la Roumanie, que nous ne trahirons jamais notre patrie, nous ne trahirons jamais les intérêts de notre peuple. (Applaudissements, acclamations, ovations) » (cf. Nicolae Ceauºescu, op. cit., vol. III, p. 417 ; la traduction du roumain nous appartient) 38. Adrian Cioroianu, op. cit., p. 411. 39. Ibidem. 40. La formule appartient à Daniel C. Nelson, op. cit., p. 77. 41. La situation est bien formulée par Adrian Cioroianu : « La période d’après 1968 et surtout au début des années 1970, trouve la Roumanie dans une situation paradoxale et (…) unique en Europe de l’Est (…) Suite à la bravade réellement courageuse de son Conducator en août 1968, la Roumanie devient très vite un pays communiste qui, aussi bizarre que ça 162 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. puisse paraître, n’a plus de parti communiste et, deuxièmement, le pays où, ni dans ses structures de pouvoir, ni au niveau de la société, l’opposition n’arrive à se coaguler » (Adrian Cioroianu, op. cit., pp. 411-412 ; la traduction du roumain nous appartient). M. E. Fischer, op. cit., pp. 153-159. Adrian Cioroianu, op.cit., p 96. Le même auteur, passe en revue de huit personnages, du roi dace Bourébistas au maréchal Ion Antonescu, dont les biographies mythifiées sont subsumées au culte de Ceauºescu en tant que « modèles d’autorité » ; cf ibidem, pp. 66-70. Nous utilisons ce concept dans le sens défini par David I. Kertzer : « comportement symbolique, répétitif et standardisé du point de vue social ». cf. David I. Kertzer, Ritual, Politics and Power, Yale University Press, 1988 ; l’édition roumaine : David I. Kertzer, Ritual, politica si putere, Bucarest, Editions Univers, 2002, p. 22 ; la traduction du roumain nous appartient. Adrian Cioroianu, op. cit., p. 98. Ce terme, « Conducãtor » (le Dirigeant), que l’appareil de la propagande communiste reprend, dès la moitié des années 1970, pour designer Nicolae Ceauºescu, a été lui aussi consacré dans le discours politique roumain par Ion Antonescu ; cf. Adrian Cioroianu, Pe umerii lui Marx…, p. 417 (voir note 609). L’autre terme, « Cârmaciul », quasi-synonyme, employé lui aussi pour désigner le même personnage, Ceauºescu, et que Cioroianu suppose représenter la traduction d’une terminologie asiatique est plus archaïque dans la langue roumaine (son premier sens étant celui de « timonier ») ; moins utilisé que « Conducãtor », sa connotation est plutôt littéraire et ne dépasse jamais la panoplie métaphorique du culte pour signifier une réalité politique liée au contenu du pouvoir. Abstract The RCP and the cult of Nicolae Ceausescu – a substitution case The present study is an attempt to understand the relationship between the leader cult and the political legitimacy of the Romanian Communist party inside the Ceauºescu regime. We are arguing that, far from being a Romanian exception, the Ceauºescu cult is a specific treat of a soviet-type political regime. Our hypothesis is that the peculiarity of this leader cult consists in its effect on the RCP position besides the Romanian society. It has as main effect the symbolic replacement of the Party – and partially of its ideological assets – by the symbols and the specific rituals built to support the leader’s cult. As a result, in the Romanian public mind of the ’80, the communism is entirely assimilated with the person of Nicolae Ceauºescu and, consequently, the RCP loses its political substance together with its possibilities to benefit from the nationalistic legitimacy put in place at the and of 1960s- beginning of 1970s. Keywords Romania, Nicolae Ceauºescu, RCP, nationalism, leader’s cult National Memory and European Integration I OAN H ORGA , G EORGE A NGLIÞOIU T crisis that has hit all countries, particularly certain Member States of the European Union, has shown several examples where turning to national public space is a handy reaction for political, civil, or media stakeholders in EU Member States rather than a combative affirmation in the European public space with arguments meant to encourage public opinion that the process of European construction is not the cause of crisis. Furthermore, deepening integration might be the solution to the crisis. A major obstacle – the financial crisis – has made many of those considering the EU as a vocational actor worldwide stating institutional neoliberal conceptions and attitudes1 start to doubt such a hypothesis and turn to neorealist solutions2. Dysfunctions occurring amongst EU Member States against the background of the crisis have encouraged sympathies from scepticism to federalism or inter-governmentalism, as well as severe critics against supra-nationalists, constructivists and the new theories of integration (governance, policy network). Considering the abovementioned ideas, we aim to turn to one of the vectors supporting the idea of turning to the national public space and explaining the paradigmatic undetermination of political, civil and media actors present in the European public space – memory. We will turn not only to national memory, but also to European identity. They will be both considered according to the argument’s ambivalence or obstacle in the process of post-crisis integration. HE FINANCIAL 1. National Memory – integration argument A LTHOUGH THE Union is an area of shared values of respect for human dignity, freedom, democracy, equality, the rule of law and respect for human rights as stated by the Stockholm Programme, adopted by the European Council on 10/11 December3, these values are not always a steady 164 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) element in a common understanding of memory, even those imprinted in collective awareness, such as totalitarian crimes, thus needing the intervention of top European political level (Council conclusions on the memory of the crimes committed by totalitarian regimes in Europe, 9-10 June 2010). Several studies show that Europe has such issues, as it does not dispose of yet another common civic space4, a public space5 or of a common cultural space6, which is the foundation of forging the European identity. There are still many obstacles against the effective development of a public European space, as a ground of common identity. It is enough to mention that never the problem of public European space was a priority for the political and economic elites in the process of European construction7. Paradoxically, a common European memory exists only from the time of the historic conflicts between the EU Member States.8 Preserving the historical and national memory leads to the enhanced durability of the nation-state. The continuous hegemony of the nation-state, even in the presence of the European integration process, underlines the fact that nowadays and for a long period of time, the problems of the internal borders of the EU have to be viewed only from a transnational manner and only timidly as a post-national attribute. Several surveys show that suppressing state borders and enhancing the limits of the community borders have direct effects. First and foremost, suppressing the physical barriers, without suppressing the mental circles, that have served to the creation of distorted images about “the other”, as defence mechanisms, shall maintain or shall create new borders within the European memory. Secondly, it is impossible to ensure a material development by giving up the potential of mutual cooperation9. Heading towards this direction, Enrique Banus noticed that “in real cultural life frontier often has been not so relevant. But we have to speak not only about mental frontier, but also about the significance of the real frontier in the mental world, this collective inner world also is part of culture”10. If we combine a real need, the need to belong to a community, with the historically consolidated collective identity, which have been the States for a long time, the frontiers – a political reality – can become a cultural reality, can distinguish, can be significant as defining elements of “otherness”: the “other” is who lives on the other side of the frontier – not to speak about the problem when the “other” is living within their own community, the problem of the so called “minorities”, people belonging to the same political community, but unified by a different cultural code. Indeed a society in which in a relevant manner different cultures coexist can create insecurity to people needing a clear adscription to an identity11. Today, the population chooses a few identity types: regional, religious, racial and linguistic, “where spatial and cultural borders are becoming ever more permeable”12. There is a division in the world between the new states and the old HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 165 states from the point of view of the identity paradigm: the new states, e.g. USA, “a civic nationalism replaced the ethnic nationalism”13, thus “the state tries to make an effort to promote civic nationalism that is ultimately weaker”14. The balance between memory and identity in approaching the frontier mentality is highly visible in the communities that have different perceptions about the historic past. For instance, a recent study on the Romanian and Hungarian community in the city of Satu Mare/Szatmar, Andreas Blomquist reaches the conclusion that although “the city has a true interethnic mixture with a strong tolerance” if you stay more “you will notice that the Romanians and the Hungarians have their own network of contacts”15. The historical perception of the past has created two different images of the city’s history. These mental borders have the origin in a process of constructed identities of Hungarians and Romanians. In this process such factors as ethnocentrism, perception of history, great power politics, linguistic and religious differences play an important role. Perceptions on history, as well as linguistic and religious difference are used as social boundary markers. Both groups have a strong ethnocentrism, which created one city with two images and two communities. However, within the city there are some people who have a kind of situational identity, thus shifting between being “Hungarian” and “Romanian” depending on the situation16. Such ambivalent perceptions on historical memory have been researched in other cities in Transylvania (Sibiu17 or Oradea18). This example shows that memory is an obstacle in the mental disappearance of state physical borders, or of national space boundaries, in the case of peoples with historical minorities in other countries. Although historical memory is an argument for integration in a Europe of diversity, the persistence of mental borders provides historical memory with “a quasi metaphysical dimension”19. Generally, historical memory of different groups is the point at which differences and criteria for inclusion are most clearly articulated20. In national communities, where the memory has the role of legitimating sovereignty21, historical memory represents the foundation for the unity of collective imagery and confers the borders the role of excluding non-members 22. If the borders are the physical manifestation of the social boundaries existing around the community23, historical memory still stands for the mental manifestation of the geographical frontiers. This geographic perspective of the frontiers cannot be automatically transformed into a social reality, because “the border communities, although officially national community members, are also socially integrated with the other, resulting in their being viewed with some suspicion”24. The literature referring to the communities at the borders25 of the national community and historical 166 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) memory demonstrates how ambiguous is the situation of community or identity members in defining themselves as belonging to a people and another national community at the same time. The border communities have a double role to play in the national memory, according to R. Shields26. On the one hand, the inhabitants of minority communities are heroes because they live there. Border communities mark the limits of identity27 and defend traditions. At the same time they assert the myths and traditions about the unity of the people as well as the myths about the natural unity of the territory28. On the other hand, border communities can represent “the other” in national memory29. According to T.M. Wilson and H. Donnan, “border people are comfortable with the notion that they are tied culturally to many other people in neighbouring states”30. Cultural diversity involves plurality of ideas, images, values and expressions. They are all possible through a variety of expressions and the presence of a great number of parallel local, regional, ethnic, national, etc. cultures. Moreover, given the context, certain authors speak of “identity revenge” and the “feeling of returning to historical, national and cultural identity”, particularly in an area such as Central and Eastern Europe and at a historical time when national features and identity are compelled to be redefined by being more open to the new geopolitical, historical, or cultural configurations31. National identity and stateness issue might deeply influence the evolution of post-communist countries32. The identity of each nation cannot be considered as contradictory, multiple and subject to steady updates. Thus, the evolution of lifestyle, economy, science, as well as the staggering development of means of communication, the protest against institutions and structures (Church, army, and university) involve deep changes and deteriorations. As a matter of fact, the maintenance of “heritages” cannot be an end in itself. Although memory is the foundation of culture, we cannot speak of a productivity of oblivion: according to Yves Hersant, new generations “cannot play their music from a sheet of the past”33. Despite possible initiatives, certain economic and social elements interfere with national cultural policy and rather contribute to stating national values to the disadvantage of an intercultural platform. An example in point is the establishment of a European Cultural Institute. However, it largely depends on harmonisation of national policies. In other words, such a project can only be strengthened by settling a common basis. We can therefore say that all harmonisation process faces several difficulties. Current challenges of the European cultural project have their origins in antagonisms that will only be overcome in favour of human meetings and exchanges that are indispensable to a joint project. According to Pamela Sticht, “it is certain HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 167 that all confrontation with foreign norms leads to questioning one’s own values – without being necessary to break the differences characteristic of human cultural richness”34. To sum up, Europe is characterised by a cultural diversity strengthened by its local, regional and national identities and entities. It is true that national and even regional cultural identities currently coexist with the European “cultural identity” 35. The cultural project within the EEC is limited to its initial phase to define the objectives and methods for a European union on the political, economic and cultural levels. It is obvious that national interests prevail. Due to the difficulties in interpreting the concept of culture, the cultural project is not materialised. However, cooperation between supranational instances has had an important impact on the process of harmonising national interests in a European context. As a matter of fact, it is not surprising that it has become urgent to become aware of the value of culture in the European political context36. Which is then the innovative element brought by the Treaty of Maastricht from the point of the European dimension of culture? I repeat, it is the enforcement of the principle of subsidiarity expanded to the cultural field. This means that the dispositions of art. 128 consider the use of the European patrimony and at the same time the importance of diversity of regional and national cultures. Which are the common elements and which are the differences? The article of the Treaty expresses in a very objective manner the following: increasing knowledge and the dissemination of the European culture and history; preservation and safeguard of the European cultural patrimony; cultural exchange; artistic, literary and audiovisual creations. It means bringing to the foreground the cooperation with third countries and international organisations competent in the field of culture, particularly the Council of Europe. The intrinsic connection between culture and other fields of intervention is settled, too. But if community policy has to be complementary to national policies, we should also mention private initiatives establishing inter-European networks (centres, associations, forums, etc.). Within the framework of the abovementioned changes, two antagonist thinking movements prevail: the former allows the coexistence of local, regional and national identities, that is, multiculturalism; the latter is based on the will to bring together national interests with a view to reach a single policy aiming at establishing a European national state against national states or at defending interculturality – as needed and advisable. Thus, we can wonder if it is not a utopia to attempt to establish a European state based on a joint European culture. The question is immediate: such united culture is still a myth in a Europe of cultural diversity37 . 168 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 2. National Memory – obstacle against integration T profound and important changes emerging in the nature of national memory within the globalizing world. Arjun Appadurai’s rich, eloquent arguments suggest that importance of global diasporas, which he considers are in the process of replacing nation-states as sources of identity and affective sentiment. Like the examples previously cited, he notes the continuing tendency for exile communities and protest movements to speak the language of nationalism, but cautions against seeing this as a proof of the permanency of the nation-state. ‘For counter-nationalist movements, territorial sovereignty is a plausible idiom for their aspirations, but it should not be mistaken for their founding logic or their ultimate concern38. National memory established in different historical and political contexts has contributed to national and cultural economic integration of peripheries. In the current context, the integration of Central and Eastern European countries to the European Union has brought about a reversed phenomenon: disintegration of national market and administrative decentralisation have led to influencing the integration of peripheries to national and cultural systems. From the national memory point of view, we can notice the flows of exchanges without a loss of local, regional, or national features. From another perspective, although national memories lose their importance in the European identity, in time they might reoccur as “symbols of singularity and independence”39. Such an evolution relates to cultural border that acquire a new ever more visible role. It is not only an internal approach, when cultural “sub-elements” specific to the European area can be identified; it is also an approach characteristic of governance external to the European Union. This cultural border makes a clear-cut distinction between Europe and non-Europe. This perspective raising the issue of the unity of the European civilisation and providing the image of a European cultural set (divided into cultural “sub-elements”) is crushed by the supporters of national cultures of European peoples. The “culture of cultures” idea lays stress on cultures’ specifics, yet acknowledging its unity. Basically, cultural borders are contact areas providing communication and cooperation to avoid barriers between the European peoples or cultures. National memory, pluralism and multiculturalism are elements specific to the European area. The European integration process is complex; it does not impose and is not conditioned by the idea of cultural unity, or the existence of a common culture including all Europeans. Each European society has to find their own integrating solutions depending on traditions and institutions. The integrating model used in Germany might not work in France. There are salient differences between the model of the French assimilation policy and the tolerHERE ARE HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 169 ance expressed in the United Kingdom. If we expand this approach to Central and Eastern European area, differences are even more striking. As compared to political memory, cultural memory is not seen exclusively in connection with the idea of state; this image can also be seen as compared to the international context, international political system and international bodies. However, everything can be connected with the relation between the political area and the border through “democracy”. Just like democracy, culture is not, and should not be, the exclusive means of political structures. Intergovernmental bodies established after WWII have repeatedly stated their interest in “cultural democracy”, “cultural rights” and the promotion of coherent policies in the cultural field40. Besides these desiderata, national states have been directly involved in promoting national sovereignty and requirements for costly policy convergence41. Several European states allow an important part of their cultural budget to preserve and protect a material cultural patrimony standing for the joint heritage of Europe in its entirety. Promoting cultural identity and culture, favouring creativity and active participation in the cultural field are four fundamental objectives of the European cultural policies. The importance deriving from such policy is the foundation of establishing identities and states in several regions of the European continent. Tracing political borders, as well as claims of any nature are supported more often than not by cultural and identity arguments. It is a topical perspective even in the context of European integration and globalisation nowadays: the process is associated with current trends to local and regional elements, which brings about the strengthening of identity significance and cultural heritage42. Irrespective of the approaches on diversity and multiple identities from a national memory point of view, Europe can be conceived as an organic cultural structure despite disruptions that may occur between the elements making up its complex structure. Considering this approach, the European integration has been built on an intricate system of common values characterising the European cultural area. Just like isles making up an archipelago, despite some areas delimitating it, the European cultural area is made up of elements that can be characterised as organic structures with a certain composition in point of shape and expression. The areas limiting these “insular” cultural areas interpreted as national memory from the perspective of our approach are disruptions within an organic cultural system: Europe. Another approach conferring unity to the European area refers to the common interests of Europe. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Eastern and Western Europe have undergone a process of political, economic, military and environmental integration43. The fight against terrorism and the fear of military wars, the fear of increasing world population associated with poverty and migration to Western Europe raise the 170 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) following dilemma: integration or national identity? Which is the role of the EU in this situation? The answers to these questions have to be sought in the following fields: culture, history, religion, economy and security44. Besides divergences separating the Europeans, the current context brings to the foreground the strong determinism recorded by the integrationist trend triggered by common interest. An area with common values and interests is able to build and strengthen its common identity character. There is also the relation with the non-European area. From this point of view, the European cultural area takes a distinct form as compared to other cultural types and systems. Such cultural border makes a clear distinction between Europe and non-Europe. Besides this theory laying stress on scepticism concerning certain projects for future enlargement of the European Union, we can notice the use of debating on the issue of the national memories from Europe, an issue approached by analysts for centuries. The multiplication of education, research and cooperation opportunities in the historical field has been carried out due to international “workshops” and the development of transnational networks. Thematic networks aim at settling research, development and knowledge actions on common interests identified on regional, interregional and transnational levels. Technically, the network is made up of a group of institutions with resembling aims identifying a common need in their field of action. Joining under an organisation can be formal or informal, as communication between members and sharing joint objectives of the networks are essential for it to work. Cultural characteristics introduce the debate on national memory. The field of national memory tends to become “multi-polar” and belongs to a network of national memories. These networks may be a support for “European identity, communication, relationship and information”45. Yet, in the crisis context, when national memory is strengthened, integration can be blocked. This turns national memory into a major obstacle against integration, particularly during crises crossing Europe. The antidote to such a phenomenon is the need to promote European memory. Speaking about European memory, we have to envisage on the one hand the European memory preceding the process of European unification and the memory of the process of European construction, on the other hand. Not only common values or common cultural patrimony, but also historical wounds from earliest times to totalitarian crimes belong to the European memory preceding the process of European unification. Rehabilitation, reparation, as well as prevention of the totalitarian past have to be the starting coordinates to restore the memory of totalitarian crimes46. The memory of the process of European construction will naturally comprise the following: a memory of the European construction until the events HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 171 in 1989-1990; a memory of European integration – the Euro-memory, the broadest logistic exercise after WWII47; a memory of the European unification; and a memory of the financial-economic crisis. Conclusions A background of the current financial-economic crisis, the balance between national memory and European identity in the process of European integration acquires not only new connotations, but also the most unexpected reverberations. National memory can be stimulated only through the action of political stakeholders, as well as through the level of expectancy and protection it can play in the eyes of public opinion. On the one hand, it can become a strong argument to stimulate the process of integration and strengthen European identity. This can only turn into reality through European leaders’ persuasion and insight, while national leaders have to refrain from pursuing a cheap Euroscepticism. On the other hand, national memory may become an obstacle if steps to the European unification are slowly replaced by fragmentation, or if European leaders do not find definite solutions, while national leaders may become content that European unification is no longer a solution. GAINST THE Notes 1. H.V. Milner, A. Moravcsik, Power, Interdependence, and Nonstate Actors in World Politics, (Princeton and Oxford, Princeton University Press, 2009) 2. Waltz 3. OJ C115, 04/05/2010 P. 0001-0038 4. R. de la Brosse, “Espace médiatique européen et « communauté de destines » : complémentarités ou oppositions entre échelles continetales, nationales, régionales et locales ?”, in Ideias de Europa: que fronteiras? (ed. M. M. Tavares Ribeiro), (Coimbra, Quarteto, 2004): 283-296 5. I. Horga, “The National Media Impact on European Security”, in International and European Security versus the Explosion of Global Media (ed. M. M. Tavares Ribeiro, R. de la Brosse, I. Horga), (IISA, Bruxelles, 2004) , 25-41 6. M. Samaniego Boneu, “Las fronteras socio-culturales de la Unión Europea”, in Ideas de Europa: Que fronteiras (eds. M. M. Tavares Ribeiro), (Coimbra, Quarteto, 2004) , 87-98 7. C. Calhon, “The Democratic Integration of Europe” in Europe without Borders. Remapping Territory, Citizenship and Identity in Transnational Age (ed. M. Berezin, M. Schain), (The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore and London, 2003), 272 8. Y. Laurent, “Existe-t-il une mémoire commune européenne?”, in Le Monde, 5 mars 2003 9. M. Samaniego Boneu, op.cit., 90 172 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 10. E. Banus, “The cultural relevance of the borders”, in Eurolimes, vol. 2, (OradeaUniversity Press, 2006) : 201 11. Ibid., 201-202 12. J. T. Checkel & P.J.Katzenstein, European Identity, (Cambridge, 2010), 2 13. S. F. Joireman, Nationalism and Political Identity, (London, New York, Continuum, 2003), 25 14. Ibid., 46 15. A. Blomqvist, “One City – Two Images – Two Communities: The case of the RomanianHungarian City of Satu Mare/Szatmárnemeti”, in Eurolimes, vol. 2, (Oradea University Press, 2006) 37-44. In another study Justyna Kutrzeba follows this difference in the perception of the past in the region Pokuttya and Carpathian region (J. Kutrzeba, “Jewish inhabitants of the Pokkutya and Carpathian region, as seen by their neighbors based on the folklore of Oskar Kolberg”, in Eurolimes, vol. 2, (Oradea University Press, 2006) , 96-102) 16. Ibid., 42 17. D. Dragoman, op.cit., 63-78 18. M. Hoffman, “Intercultural dialogue and the urban space –Observing relational space in Oradea”, in The European Parliament. Intercultural Dialogue and European Neighbourhood Policy, eds. I. Horga, G. Silasi, I. Suli-Zakar, S. Sagan, (Oradea University Press, 2009), 165-176 19. I. Horga, “The role of the Media in Changing the Meaning of Borders”, in Eurolimes, vol. 3 (Oradea, University Press, 2007), 28-46 20. F. Gill, “Public and private: national identities in a Scottish Borders community” in Nation and Nationalism (journal of Association for Study of Ethnicity and Nationalism), vol. 11/1, 2005, 86 21. M. Anderson, Frontiers, Territory and State Formation in the Modern World (Cambridge, Polity Press, 2004), 189 22. E. Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, (Oxford, Blackwell, 1994), 4 23. F. Barth, Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: the Social Organisation of Culture, (London, George Allain &Unwin, 1970) 24. F. Gill, op.cit, 84 25. A. P. Cohen, Symbolising Boundaries: Identity and Diversity in British Cultures, (Manchester University Press, 1986); L. O’Dowd, T.M. Wilson, Borders, Nations and States: Frontiers of Sovereignty in the New Europe, (Aldershot, Avebury, 1996); A. Paasi, Territories, Boundaries and Consciousness: the Changing Geographies of the Finnish-Russian Border, Chichester, (John Wiley &Son, 1996); T.M. Wilson, H. Donnan, Border Identities: Nation and State at International Frontiers, (Cambridge University Press, 1998); H. Donnan, T.M. Wilson, Borders: Frontiers of Identity, Nation and State, (New York, Berg, 1999) 26. R. Shields, Places on the Margin : Alternative Geographies of Modernity, (London, Routledge, 1992) , 5 27. Seen the study about the impact of the cross-borders identity in the territorial marketing (G. Kozma, “The use of cross-border co-operation and border location in place marketing”, in Eurolimes, vol. 2, (Oradea University Press, 2006), 74-80; L. Soproni, “Cross-border Identity in Building a Regional Brand: The Northern Transylvania Region”, in Eurolimes, vol. 2, (Oradea University Press, 2006), 54-64 28. M. Anderson, op. cit., 2. 29. F. Gill, op.cit., 84 30. Ibid., 84-85; T.M.Wilson, H.Donnan, op.cit, 4 31. D. Florea, C. Florea, “Archetipul cultural si conceptul de traditie”, in The Proceedings of the European Integration –Between Tradition and Modernity Congress 2nd Edition, (Editura Universitatii “Petru Maior, Tg. Mures, 2007), 645-646); I. Horga, M. Brie, “Europe: A Cultural Border, or a Geocultural Archipelago”, in Eurolimes, vol. 9 (Oradea University Press, 2010), 155 HISTORY AND POLITICAL IMAGERY • 173 32. D. Dragoman, “National identity and Europeanization in post-communist Romania. The meaning of citizenship in Sibiu : European Capital of Culture 2007”, in Communist and PostCommunist Studies, 2008, 41(1), 64-79, 2008. 33. M. M. Tavares Ribeiro, “Europe of Cultural Unity and Diversity”, in Eurolimes, vol. 9, (Oradea University Press, 2010), 22; Y. Hersant, “Synthèse des travaux”, in Culture nationale et conscience européenne, Paris, L’Harmattan, 1999. 34. P. Sticht, Culture europeenne ou Europe des cultures ? Les enjeux actuels de la politique culturelle en Europe, (Paris, L’Harmattan, 2000),118 35. M. M. Tavares Ribeiro, op. cit., 24 36. Ibid., 26 37. P. Sticht, op.cit., 228-240; G. Vinsonneau, L’identite culturelle, (Paris, Armand Colin, 2002) 38. A. Appadurai, Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), 21; S. Gemy, “Re-defining Refugees: Nations, Borders and Gloablisation, in Eurolimes vol. 9, (Oradea University Press, 2010), 32-33 39. E. Banus, op.cit., 139 40. Xxx, La culture au cœur. Contribution au debat sur la culture et le developpement en Europe, (Editions du Conseil de l’Europe, Strasbourg, 1998), 37 41. A. Moravcsik, “Europe’s Integration at Century’s End”, in Centralisation of Fragmentation ? Europe facing the Challenges of Deepening, Diversity and Democracy, eds. A. Moravcsik (New York , A Council on Foreign Relations Books, 1998), 3 42. G.Wackermann, Les frontieres dans monde en mouvement, (Paris, Ellipses, 2003), 39; L. O’Dowd, Th. M. Wilson, op.cit., 237 43. I. Dubnièka, “Les interets communes de l’Europe”, in L’Union Europeenne et ses espaces de proximite. Entre strategie inclusive et parteneriats removes : quell avenir pour le nouveau voisinage de l’Union?”, eds. L. Beurdeley, R. de La Brosse, F. Maron, (Bruxelles, Bruylant, 2007), 299 44. Ibid., 299-309 45. G. Pehn, La mise en reseau des cultures. Le role des reseaux culturels europeenes, (Strasbourg, Editions du Conseil de l’Europe, 1999), 8 46. (www.theclubofprague.org/clancy/pravo/non-paper-from-lithuanin-delegation-conc..., 7.08.2011 47. P. Kahnna, Lumea adoua. Imperii si Influenta in noua ordine globala, (Iasi, Polirom, 2008), 28. Abstract National Memoryand European Integration The paper aims at pursuing the way in which national memory and European identity behave considering the current financial-economic crisis. As seen, national memory has turned into a fashion, whether by being turned into a tool by political actors, or by turning it into an expectation and protection tool for public opinion. Yet from the point of view of the European integration, national memory may become a highly important argument to deepen the process of integrating and strengthening European identity. This can only come true due to the European leaders’ force of persuasion and insight of approach, as well as on national leaders’ mastering the urge of triumphantly turning to a cheap Euroscepticism. On the other hand, national memory may become an obstacle if steps to European unification are replaced by fragmentation. Keywords national memory, European identity, mentality, culture L I T E R AT U R E A N D M E M O RY Holograph Notes on Church Books – the Power of Information on Rural World Sensitivity B ARBU ª TEFÃNESCU G from a historiographic point of view, the peasant is perceived as a discreet being due to his position if not outside at least at the edge of the written word. Particularly, peasant world discourse on itself is precarious, as the historian has difficulty in finding documents that might bring light out of the boundaries of the quasi-general orality through confessions on the peasant. One source meeting these requirements is represented by the small side notes (“annotations”) in church books in the 16th to 20th centuries that are fascinating through the humanity of the feelings, the very convincing yet simple and straightforward sensitivity expressed by the authors or their fellow peasants, for whom and about whom they write. These “petty chronicles” “from the inside”1 are drawn up by people with basic knowledge of history in order to nourish and refresh collective memory that is so inaccurate and selective in its oral form. They become essential for any attempt meant to focus the research on the level of “majority’s destinies” intending to write on “the history of everyday people”2. The deceptive appearance of a dull, bleak peasant life usually generated by a shallow, distant and superior approach of the Transylvanian village at the beginning of modern times is denied by this type of less conventional historical documents made up of facts, attitudes, gestures and words revealing a world structured around symbolic values. Amongst them, the worship for God and hope for Heavens are obvious due to the care for the Church and the posthumous fate of the spirit. More often than not, these simple archaic phrases that are so clumsy and therefore closer to peasant’s heart express their way of feeling, behaving, as well as their attitude in front of everyday problems, death, and the world on the other side. In all cases, they express the relationship with the Divinity. It is not by accident that the widest range of notes are related to the book’s life itself, to its meaning as a gift with transcendental and community shades, ENERALLY SPEAKING 178 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) its handling by the priest as a spiritual and material asset. More often than not, the formulations belong to a pattern, a rhetoric belonging to an education as “operator of the sacred” of the author of the note3. As a ritual gesture, the gift expresses the belief in the need to ceaselessly preserve the amiable connections with supernatural forces dominating traditional spirituality, to preserve the balance in the assumed relationship between the com4 munity of the living and that of the ancestors , to mediate between two different worlds: there are incompatibilities between the lay world and the sacred world 5 and they can only be overcome through rites such as the thank-offerings meant to gradually reduce the gaps, Irrespective of the field to which the written word refers, the printed page 6 acquires a sacred touch at the beginning of modern times . It belongs to sacred objects merging with God and is an important sacred mediator. Hence, the range of contradictory feelings its presence imposes on the users or beneficiaries of the divine message of worship and the fear it relays: a Liturghier (Ritual Book) (Targoviste, 1713) mentions that “Romolus Raica from Strungari found it at the Culici family in Dealul Ciorii; the man kept it on the bottom of a box filled with clothes and would not touch it, as not everybody is entitled to touch the Ritual. Only priests and monks can touch such books”7. 8 At the same time, it is a very expensive material “object” . It stands for an important exchange asset, a merchandise present on the market evaluated either in money or in barter: cattle, cereals, labour day, etc. Together with money, barter is often used as a means of trade in a society short of money. Notes acting as salepurchase documents strictly mention the means of payment for the books: “.... 9 they paid 30 and 4 gauges, 4 wheat kips....” ; “.... I bought it from father Ion, 10 at [the] Oradea [fair] for 2 oxen” ; in 1834, a Pentecostal Book was bought by “Popa Mihai’s sons” from Leheceni in exchange for the two-year income at the 11 village pub . We could provide more examples for this aspect for which several data are available. Under exceptional circumstances, cult book entails the urge for human and Christian solidarity. This is best shown by the note of the priest from Fofeldea (Sibiu) made in 1710 on a Miscellaneous, a manuscript dating back to the 17th century. The initiative of the priest, the “sinner priest Toma” to recover the book’s “broken” bindings at a craftsman in Sibiu – “I, priest Toma, took it to Sibiu, where a German fixed it for 2 florins” – was prevented by a plague occurring unexpectedly: “And the plague occurred”. The village of Fofeldea did not manage to collect the needed amount: “there was no money”, wrote the priest in a simple and serious manner. He had to withdraw the book because of the danger of quarantine, of craftsman’s possible death, of the danger of giving away the book. If this happened, he, the priest, would have been guilty in front of God: LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 179 “I did my best to go and take it” and he found “good” understanding people lending him the amount needed to take the book from Sibiu, which was besieged by the plague. The same circumstances prevented the priest from honouring his promise to return the money he had borrowed within three days: “The villagers were not able to give the money”. Under the circumstances, the book remained as a deposit for six or seven weeks, “until good God urged Oprea Pura from Holtman to give the florin, and miller Stan gave 50 bani, and Oprea Tatulia gave 40 bani and I could pay”. Three people from outside the village yet belonging to the same spiritual community managed to do what the entire village community had not: “And these good people gave charity for their souls (...)”. Buying back the book through the faithful act of the three managed to restore the legal status of the book and give peace to the tormented priest: “This has been written by me, the sinner priest Toma, from the village of Fofelde, in peace and good health”. Due to its rarity and the difficulty of getting it corroborated with the spectacularly increasing demand as a consequence of a new type of devotion, the book stands for a great spiritual, cultural, representative, social and material value while temptations around it are as great. Human weaknesses, favourable historical conditions, unclear situations, wars, and hardships may lead to the thought of illegally giving or taking this highly valuable asset. Hence there is a need to find the most efficient means to protect it. Within the syntax of donation documents, the act of laying the book in church is accompanied by imprecations and hard church curses12. The power of information concerning this type of source is also high in point of the relation between written and oral word, or the basic forms of rural sociability, of the ceaseless game between de-structuring trends and community aggregation, of means of expressing popular religiosity. These notes also introduce us to the less known issue of ritual and its determining role in traditional societies as a social regulator13. However, it is easily supported historiographically despite the fact that every society possesses a code of ritual communication able to reaffirm social and spiritual cohesion of the group14, to provide manifold interaction: individual – individual, individual – social group, individual/social group – divinity15. The priest is often requested by the community to solve several issues beyond the competence settled by the canons due to his “power” as operator of the sacred. Such an example is when the priest has to prove his spiritual power, whether canonical or not, to the community was the prompt involvement of the priest in the village of Spinus in the county of Bihor, a village facing a locust invasion in 1847: “At about 5 in the afternoon, on a Thursday, on the 12th of August, this year [1847], a terrible cloud of locusts suddenly appeared from the east 180 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) covering all horizon and people panicked”, a situation when the reaction of the priest was firm, first from a practical point of view: “The local priest immediately ordered to toll the bells and they made noise with other means so that all people could go to their lands and set fire near maize and wheat. Suddenly, the smoke covered all lands”. The result was that the mass of locusts did not settle on urbarial lands in the Spinus area; they only settled on the landowner’s land “where they spent several days destroying all crop”. This was one year before the fall of feudalism and six years before it was ratified. The landowner was entitled to require the peasants to take actions; he did it through the village judge: “The village landowner ordered mayor Iliyes, a skinny frightful man, to urge the people to cast away the locusts. He did not manage to do that. The bells had no influence on the people”. The lack of efficiency of landowner’s measures and orders and the settlement of locusts within the boundaries of the village – as they could move to the inhabitants’ crops anytime – brought about a new intervention of the priest, who added spiritual means to the material ones: an exceptional procession meant to determine a prompt community mobilisation. “Therefore, the priest summoned the people to the church by tolling the bells. Dressed in church vestments, he went on a procession in the upper part of the village. When the people saw the catastrophe and realized that it was a serious matter, old and young came to the procession and went to the northern hill, at Patcas’ mill, crossed the meadow to the boundary of the land, the limit with Ciuhoi, where the locusts had settled and eaten all the green maize. The people were terrified. The priest kneeled on the land and, according to the Eastern Church ceremonial, he uttered curse prays asking God to help the people, he asked them to pray, and then the people stood up. Afterwards, the priest stuck the banners in the earth, two at the head and two on the edge – a symbolic circum16 scription of the land within a magic area , an exorcism gesture to defend the village from the plague – then (...) they rushed over the locusts, they hit to kill them with their feet and continued the attack until the locusts were banned from 17 the Ciuhoi area, so that they finished with the locusts that day (...)” . Out of the three core moments in an individual’s life and a social moment in traditional groups that the community has a hard time to manage relates to the mysteries of the “Great Passing Over”. If death at old age following marriage and children birth is facilitated by recurring and accelerated rituals shortly before, unexpected death framed as “bad” death expresses the end of an individual whose 18 life and deeds “eluded the Christian model” , the sudden change of status does 19 not leave enough time to achieve all ritual stages and particularly the last viaticum . The note made by priest Ionasel from Vintesti in 1752 on a Pentecostal Book printed in Ramnic in 1743 refers to a tragedy that might happen anywhere given the exceptional conditions of the plague. We witness an exceptional existential LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 181 drama standing out against the background of a high death rate caused by the plague due to family tragedy managed by the priest according to the epoch. Spouses Bud Mihoc, also known as Zimbru Mihoc, and Gafie’s wife were all almost 70 years old and they lost their six children, five single boys and a married daughter, as they were all “taken away” by the “killing plague” and “only the two old people live and no longer have their lads”. Priest Ionasel’s note invoked the boys by the singular term “lad” as none of them was living anymore. The girl was not mentioned. As she was married – so she was mentioned accordingly by the priest (“the women”) – she left the house and she belonged to another family and thus fulfilled her fate from this point of view. The loss of the five children was even more painful for the parents as they were all boys. It is well known that in traditional conception the boys “stand for the principle of top vitality of the community”20. They were also single, so they had all overcome different dangers haunting children at an early age, they were lads; they had participated to the initiation rituals integrating them to the new category providing social prestige and were on the verge of having their own families. Moreover, none had got married to fall into line. Therefore, death at that age was per21 ceived as even more painful in the traditional world of the village . The words of the priest also express another general point of view of the time: the loss of five boys left some girls unmarried and limited birth rate in the community; in 22 archaic thought, only marriage “provides a meaning to life and death” . Traditionally, according to the Romanian and other rural worlds, youth dying at the time when they can marry are traditionally married on the other side (“the 23 dead man’s wedding”) . Community concern indirectly expressed still existed at a time when people were less impressed by death. Nevertheless, the uncommon fate of the two spouses impressed the priest, who considered it a sign belonging to a series of hardships sent by God: “So I wrote this so that people may know that curse is now haunting and that is it is putting noblemen in Maramurãº to test”. The exceptional situation to which the drama mentioned in the note belonged was accompanied and proved by a disturbed order of the world foretelling the most hor24 rible catastrophes . In this case, there is a reversed value of altimetry, of relief: “So you have to know that plateaus are higher and hills are lower, a great miracle”. It was the first of the signs identified by Saint Geronimo as a foreteller of the end of the world: the sea will rise above the mountains25. These signs symbolically correspond to reversing the order of deaths in the Bud family: old people, whose death would have been natural, did not die of plague, yet the children did. The grieving parents thought that it was a proof of God’s power over people expressed by the freedom of vile sacred. The death of their six children made the parents think of their own sins. According to traditional society, 182 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) illness was a consequence of witchcraft, curses or very serious sins26 and consequently they became even more devout: “And they loved church so much; when they heard the bell, they both came to church right away, at the evening service, at matins, and the holy mass” as they were convinced that what had happened to them was caused by their previous faults: “God is very angry with us!”. This attitude was encouraged by the priest, “a shepherd of Jesus Christ’s flock”. It focused on superior devotion acts enjoying God’s appreciation to the highest degree and thus their sons’ souls would enjoy a resembling consideration: “So, I, priest Ionasel, as their confessor, have encouraged them and I told them: ‘Well, if you are sorry, .... you can buy the holy book that is opened from Easter day to Pentecost.’”. As the two grieving parents accepted the solution, they started the negotiations to buy the book: “I, priest Ionasel, went with Mihoc to Baite”, where the two bought the book: “and they paid 12 florins for the book, Mihoc and Gafie” to ransom their sins and “their offspring’s sins, for their souls’ redemption forever”. They donated the book to the church in Budesti: “and they promised it to patron St. Nicolas in the village of Budesti”. The book was not picked randomly by the priest. It is a book to be first used on Easter day with the hope to repeat Christ’s model. Killed by the plague, the six children of the Bud family could not enjoy the sacrament of confession and communion, which led to marginalising their souls and postponing their integration to the world of the dead. The book donation was the only and most important gesture that the parents so hardly hit by fate could do to favourably influence the posthumous evolution of their children’s souls. Thus, they faithfully entrusted their fate to God, as He was the only one that might help them in their torment and could provide comfort to the old and disoriented parents to live their remaining days as church goers. It provided safety to the community hit by the plague. If violence was frequent in the Transylvanian rural world of the Old Regime, crimes were something exceptional, at least according to religious books, although books were selective. The few cases spread throughout one century and a half rather show they were an exception. In time, rural criminality was decreasing. It was a rather gradual transfer of competence to state justice that increasingly assumed murder cases. Thus, community reconciliation rituals became less important as they were usurped by the exemplary punishments enforced by territorial courts of law. Crime committed by a member against another member of the community led to tensions in the community life on several levels along the main solidarity lines: between the family members of the murdered and the murderer; between the murderer and the members of his own family group, as what he had done compromised their social status, whether they were favourable or against it; LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 183 between the murderer and the community of the living; between the murderer and the soul of the murdered, as according to popular belief the latter faced serious issues in integrating to the new world precisely because of his violent death devoid of eucharist, thus tending to turn to the murderer, his family and the whole community through vile actions, as they were not able to prevent it; the action was supposed to enjoy the solidarity of the world of the dead, his direct forerunners and the whole community of the underworld. Moreover, there were tensions not only between the murderer and the divinity, but also between the divinity and the community as a whole, as divinity was alerted by the infringement of rules of Christian life on which the community had to watch. A crime touching the honour of a family claimed for revenge against the author and his family and could trigger a potential series of “vendetta”. Therefore, the group focused not on punishing the murderer first, but on preventing the crisis caused by the action from turning into an irremediably destructive factor. No matter how serious the deed was, the community particularly envisaged a quick reaction to overcome the negative consequences by a symbolic public reconciliation of the parties. Moreover, the community strove to turn the disintegration crisis into re-aggregation by assimilating violence to a creative sacrificial action able to entail a regeneration of the group and to reaffirm the sociability lines. The note found on the pages of a copy of the New Testament (Alba Iulia, 1648) 27 written in a village in the Zarand county , refers to the fact that the forbiddance to sell, hide, steal, or take it by force is accompanied by the reading: “that it is bought for the death of the good son Toader”. The penalties set through imprecation acquired aggravating trends: it was not an ordinary donation. It was determined by a community event whose exceptional character was represented by the death of a son, that is, a member of the community with maximum social potential to which the author adds a euphemistic touch: Toader had been a “good” son belonging to the elite of the sons in the village from the point of view of the community perception due to personal qualities and his immediate lineage: his father was the community leader, the prince; the book was a sign of forgiveness bestowed by the father on the murderer, of reconciliation upon the request of the murderer, who bought the book but whose name was not mentioned – the murderer obeyed the punishment of not being mentioned, a penalty considered as hard, or even harder than death itself28 - , according to the understanding: “the father, Bogdan Chinezul, forgave him because they reconciled if the murderer who had killed Bogdan’s son asked him saying that he would buy the book for that innocent blood”. Because of the seriousness of his deed on several levels, the murderer was thus symbolically deleted from collective memory and was subject to “banishment from history”29. The 184 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) phrase “innocent blood” was promoted by Christian texts to stress the enormity of the sin committed by shedding blood30. The pain of the father for the loss of the “good” son was shown by the text and the wish for revenge that he hardly controlled for the moment. He was not convinced that he could control it in the future and refrain from instinctively resorting to the lex talionis. In order to prevent revenge urges that would add more sins to this death – violence by reaction had aggravating touches as compared to other forms of human violence31 -, reconciliation was proposed and accepted de jure. Yet the fear of no longer being able to master his feelings led to inserting restrictions regarding the murderer. Thus, he could no longer live in the same village with the victim’s family, “they forgave him only if he no longer lived in that village” in order to prevent a conflict with unpredictable consequences from occurring: “if he continues living in the village, whether drunk or sober, we do not know what might happen”. This understanding was the best for the community; “archpriests, priests and lay boyars” were informed. In this way, the community could quickly get rid of those endangering aggregation lines32. In this case, the fact that the murderer (supposedly) moved to another village excluded not only the risk of subsequently approaching again the formally assumed balance through reconciliation; it also redirected the flow of negative energy exhaling from the soul of the murdered, of the unseen world of the dead, the underworld. In this case, the murderer assumed the role of a genuine scapegoat: he took the death sin outside the community area. At the same time, the murderer was not punished but he had to stand the status as a marginal, as a stranger. Just like Cain, the unmentioned murderer was “condemned to separation”, to “breaking from the group”, to isolation and exclusion assimilated to another state of death: “Breaking away from his people, losing his meaning and relationships with the others, the individual dies and actually enters under the separation power of death”33. Consequently, as a sacrificial rite, donation of books to church to facilitate reconciliation and uplift the tension in community relationships has a therapeutic role turning into a core element of comforting strategy on individual and community levels in the Transylvanian rural world at the beginning of modern times. Notes 1. Jean-Francois Soulet, Istoria imediatã (Bucureºti, 2000), p. 48 2. Paul Cernovodeanu, „Nicolae Iorga ºi Istoria românilor „prin cei mici”, in Revista istoricã, new series, 1991, no. 11-12, p. 628 3. Jacques Paul, Biserica ºi cultura în Occident, vol. II, (Bucureºti, 1996), p. 149 4. Ofelia Vãduva, Paºi spre sacru. Din etnologia alimentaþiei româneºti, (Bucureºti,1996), p.119 LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 185 5. Arnold Van Gennep, Riturile de trecere, (Iaºi, 1996), p. 15 6. Robert Muchambled, Societé et mentalités dans la France moderne, XVI-e - XVIII-e siecle (Paris,1990), p. 143 7. Doina Lupan, „Cartea veche româneascã în biblioteca Muzeului din Sebeº”, in Apulum, XIX, 1981 (hereinafter: Doina Lupan, Cartea veche româneascã...), p. 483 8. Ibid., p. 155 9. Varlaam, Carte româneascã de învãþãturã (Iaºi, 1643), copy of Mãriºelu (Bistriþa-Nãsãud) (Florian Dudaº, Memoria vechilor cãrþi româneºti. Însemnãri de demult, (Oradea, 1990) (hereinafter: Florian Dudaº, Memoria vechilor cãrþi româneºti...., p. 146) 10. Chiriacodromion (Alba Iulia, 1699), copy of Aºtileu (Bihor) (Florian Dudaº, Memoria vechilor cãrþi româneºti..., p. 172) 11. Penticostar (Blaj), copy of Leheceni (Bihor) (Titus Roºu, Însemnãri ºi inscripþii bihorene, (Oradea, 1999), p. 34) 12. Dan Horia Mazilu, O istorie a blestemului, (Iaºi, 2001), p. 276 13. Mihai Fifor, „Comunicare, ritual, ritualizare. Repere teoretice”, in Symposia. Caiete de etnologie ºi antropologie, no. 1, 2002, p. 81 14. Ibid., p. 91 15. Ibid., pp. 81-82 16. Robert Muchambled, op. cit., p. 74 17. Florian Dudaº, Memoria vechilor cãrþi româneºti..., pp. 337-338 18. Doru Radosav, Sentimentul religios la români..., pp. 146-147 19. Ibid., p. 137 20. Gheorghe ªiºeºtean, Forme tradiþionale de viaþã þãrãneascã (Zalãu, 1999), p. 37 21. Kail Kligman, op.cit., p. 112 22. Ibid., p. 40 23. Ibid., p. 41 24. Jacques Paul, op. cit., vol. II, pp. 288-289 25. Lucian Boia, Sfârºitul lumii, o istorie fãrã sfârºit (Bucureºti, 1999), p. 54 26. Gheorghe ªiºeºtean, Antropologia ºi sociologia sacrului, (Zalãu, 2002), p. 110 27. Noul Testament (Alba Iulia, 1648), copy preserved in Sibiu (Florian Dudaº, Memoria vechilor cãrþi româneºti..., pp. 186-187) 28. Dan Horia Mazilu, op.cit., p. 402 29. Ibid., p. 106 30. Ibid., pp. 81-82 31. Toader Nicoarã, „Istorie ºi violenþã. Lecturi posibile”, în Caiete de antropologie istoricã, year I, 2003, no. 2, p. 11 32. Nicolae Mihai, Gestul interzis. Imaginea sinuciderii în Oltenia primei jumãtãþi a secolului al XIXlea (Cazul Petre Carapancea din 1835), în Symposia. Caiete de etnologie ºi antropologie, no. 1, 2002, p. 297 33. Dan Horia Mazilu, op.cit., pp. 32-33 186 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Abstract Holograph Notes on Church Books – the Power of Information on Rural World Sensitivity Particularly, peasant world discourse on itself is precarious, as the historian has difficulty in finding documents that might strike through the boundaries of the quasi-general orality through confessions on the peasant. One source meeting these requirements is represented by the small side notes (“annotations”) in church books in the 16th to 20th centuries that are fascinating through the humanity of the feelings, the very convincing yet simple and straightforward sensitivity expressed by the authors or their fellow peasants, for whom and about whom they write. The apparently dull, bleak peasant life usually drawing a shallow, distant and superior approach of the Transylvanian village at the beginning of modern times is denied by this type of less conventional documents made up of facts, attitudes, gestures and words revealing a world structured around symbolic values. The power of information concerning this type of source is high in point of the relation between written and oral word, or the basic forms of rural sociability, of the ceaseless game between de-structuring trends and community aggregation, of means of expressing popular religiosity. These notes also introduce the less known issue of ritual and its determining role in traditional societies as social regulator. Keyswords holograph notes, peasant world, sensitivity, church books, community aggregation Parish registers of civil status in Transylvania in the second half of the nineteenth century Documentary signification M IRCEA B RIE 1. Parish registers and beginnings of historical demography A S AN independent discipline within the field of Social Sciences, Historical Demography was established in the postwar period, developing under the tutelage of Demography and History1. As the French geographer Pierre George2 said, “Historical Demography is a new ore relatively new science, one of the latest coming from Humanities, daughter to the marriage between figures and Social Sciences related to Geography – science of localization and space - with History - science of circumstances and time – disciplined through the rigors of Economy, subject to the ineluctable imperatives of Biology”. The term of Historical Demography was first used on the occasion of the VIII International Congress of Historical Sciences in 1933, where J. Bourdon presented a communication titled Les méthodes de la démographie historique. But this term was synonymous with the history of the population3. Likewise, in the sense of history of the population, Roger Mols uses the phrase “historical demography” when analysing the medieval genesis of European settlements4. Moreover, the author outlines a first history of the parish registers within Western Europe5, inquiring about the period of their occurrence in various countries. It is also emphasised how important and valuable are such documents to historical demography. The author of Demography Manual (Philippe Moucha), published in 1964, found the retrospective demographic study to be of the utmost importance6, demography in its historical evolution respectively. He warned though that such research is difficult and very complex and that would require the study of 188 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) multiple sources of information, sometimes contradictory. He advocates for the recovery of these sources, for their comparison (until compatibility is reached), and for the obtained results to be analysed by using working hypotheses. The interest for these documentary sources, especially for parish registers is old. They have often been analysed and catalogued, but rarely effectively investigated. An interesting study, dating 1912, under the name Les registres paroissiaux en Belgique7, was published by J. Vannerus. The author of this study does nothing but an inventory of the documents, signalling their importance and respective role. No research in the sense of stripping, of cutting to the core of information had been done. The founder of Historical Demography is undoubtedly considered to be Louis Henry8. Himself and Michel Fleury were the authors of the very first manual of Historical Demography (published in Paris in 1956, under the name Des registres paroissiaux et l`histoire de la population. Manuel de dépouillement et d`exploatation de l`état civil ancien). The two authors propose to add demographic data with other sources, never before used for this purpose. They will apply a new method, modern and innovating, of stripping and analysing the parish registers of civil status, in the sense of reconstruction of the demographic events (birth, marriage, death). The method of family reconstitution by analysing the parish registers of civil status proposed by L. Henry and M. Fleury has revolutionised the field of study dealing with people9. Louis Henry believes that the parish registers of civil status is the ultimate source of information for the pre-state period and this is precisely the reason for his proposing to restore the biological life of the family. He considers that family is the most important social group of the community and of the society. In 1958, Henry L. and E. Gautier, after researching the community and family in the village of Crulai, published a paper setting out much more clearer methodologies for Historical Demography10. This is the first monograph addressed from the perspective of historical demography. Historical Demography is beginning to define the sources of documentation (civil status registers) also by the used methods (microanalysis was introduced based on nominal data coupling)11. Numerous monographs, whose research was founded on the method of stripping parish registers of civil status were about to be developed in the near future. Among these we mention the work titled Beauvais et Beauvaises de 1600 á 1730, signed by P. Goubert12. The method used by the author allowed him to capture the behaviour of peasants in the Beauvais area13, managing to explain the reduced frequency of illegitimacy, the rarity of celibacy, late marriage age, during the interval between births, the birth rate, etc. The method used by the two researchers who led the way was followed by hundreds of historians from across Europe. The parish registers ceased to be the “dormant mob” of the old archives14, becoming now the most important and some- LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 189 times the only source of documentation for the history of the many and the humble. Demographers and historians were joined in the following period by sociologists, anthropologists, ethnographers; thus, the approach became much wider. Civil status registers became important sources of documentation for increasingly various fields of research. Thus, the prospects for addressing the rural community and the family have expanded considerably. On the occasion of the World Congress of the International Committee of Historical Science held in 1960 in the city of Stockholm, L. Henry made a synthetic presentation of the methods used by Historic Demography. The experts present at the event decided to set up an International Commission of Historical Demography15. In 1963, in Paris, the Society of Historical Demography was established (chaired in rotation – until 1975 - by Marcel Reinhard, Pierre Goubert, Louis Henry and A. Armengaud) whose periodical publication, Annales de démographie historique, played an important role in promoting the new History discipline16. The publication “Annales de démographie historique”, published since 196517, played an overwhelming role in imposing the discipline internationally. The Historical Demography has evolved gradually, both technically and methodologically. Many historians, demographers and staticians will review the methodology used in the study of population. The use and retrieval of statistical data, which to that date had not proved to be of interest for historical research, gained a new impetus with the analysis of Bertrand Grille on statistical sources18. Family, marriage and nuptiality, fecundity and birth are increasingly debated topics in the circles of French demographic historians of this period19. Extensive works of interest were published outside France, in Belgium, Britain, Western Germany, USA, etc. In 1964, in Cambridge, a research team led by Peter Laslett and E.A. Wrigley founded a prestigious profile institution: Cambridge Group for History of Population and Social Structure, reorganised in 1974 as an independent research unit. The research carried out by this institution allowed the wider approach of other issues related to family life20. Also, the socio-economic structure of peasant households during the pre-state period is identified along with other demographic variables of the British society. Representatives of this institution will partake, with a significant role, in research that aims to restore the demographic situation of the English society for a period of 300 years. The research is completed by the publication of An Introduction to English Historical Demography. From the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century21. The proposed model was resumed by Lawrence Stone22, in 1979, when he published the volume titled The Family, Sex and Marriage in England 1500 – 180023. As conclusions to this paper, we note the fact that the pace of socio-economic, political and cultural development influences directly the mutations of the individual behaviour towards 190 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) his family, marital arrangements, reflection on feelings and gender. Specific situation marriages, housekeeping, number of children, divorce or concubinage place the individual somewhere social control and inner desire. The traditional world begins to crumble on its own structure, the individual emancipation entails the community emancipation and implicitly, the birth of new mental patterns, accepted as values by the following generations. A great contribution to research of marriage and family fertility, together with E.A. Wrigley24, has been brought by J. Hajnal25 or by E. Shorter26. J. Hajnal, after a long period of researching the parish registers of civil status, concluded that the Western Latin Church played a key role in shaping the specific demographic model of modern Europe. “European marriage”, as conceptualized by J. Hajnal model, around which rallied many Western historians demographers, is considered by P. Chaunu as “unique, unprecedented and without corollary”27. The model designed by Hajnal characterized the modern “marriage” by old age at the time of marriage and celibacy in women. This reality, rather specific to Catholic and Protestant Europe, is difficult to identify in Eastern Europe, including Romanian space where female celibacy is almost nonexistent, and the age at marriage has remained at levels not very high. Such a model, characterized as “European”, is regarded with circumspection by P. Chaunu who, distancing himself from it, states that European marriage is socially homogenous, with sub-models or nuances, one of an aristocratic type, and the other popular28. Female celibacy is rarely met in village households, unlike what happens at the top of the social hierarchy29. Martine Segalen, starting off from a denominative presentation of parish registers of civil status of a place called Vraiville came to a family reconstruction through an analysis that included socio-professional aspects of those involved30. Using “cross-section analysis”31, the researcher could follow the evolution curve in marriage age over two centuries and a half, together with the seasonal variation of marriage32. Moving beyond the dry statistics, Martine Segalen’s methodology provides a sociologizing perspective of the demographic phenomena. Interpersonal relations33, the role of marriage in the reproduction of family and society, the community are elements that emphasize what Historical Sociology itself defined by marriage34. Relying then to “cross-section analysis”, the author could follow generational and inter-generational developments35. Somewhat similar concerns had also Yvonne Knibiehler36, J.L. Flandrin37, Edward Shorter38, Robert Muchembled39, Jack Goody40, M. Mitterauer, R. Sieder41, etc., but Philippe Ariès, George Duby, Michelle Perrot, Pierre Chaunu, Alain Corbin, François Lebrun are more known. An undeniable contribution, both qualitative and quantitative, bring to the table, by promoting the same approaches, the volumes of Histoire de la famille, coordinated by André Burguiére, Christiane Klapish-Zuber, Martine Segalen ºi Françoise Zonabend42. LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 191 A famous research team, a true laboratory of Historical Demography, has worked at the Sorbonne since 1972. In addition to restoring families, the interest of this school of the Sorbonne has been also that of “Historical Demography”43. Another team, led by Pierre Chaunu and P. Gouhier is created at the University of Caen. An important reference work for Historical Demography was published by Jaques Duparquier44 in Paris, in, 1974, titled Introduction à la démographie historique. A remarkable manual of Historical Demography, the work manages to capture the existing necessary links between demography and local history. We note an interesting stripping method of the parish registers of civil status, following the main thread of demographic events in the life of reconstituted families. Restoring family history has continued to preoccupy researchers, the methods have diversified with the use of information provided by sciences related to historical demography. Historical Demography seeks to go beyond quantifying numbers, basically following the issuance of assumptions and conclusions meant to demystify history. The individual, as an actor of the historical event, cannot and should not be separated from the living environment and the world in which he lives. He identifies with life and everyday existence of his community, with the collective mind, with the crowd, crowd that shapes and sculpt values, norms and patterns. 2. General aspects on the parish registers of civil status registration in Transylvania A T FIRST, these registers were not completed on regular basis, priests were free to produce documents as they wanted, there was no standard form for it45. The first civil registry records were simple notes that priests took with reference to donations and fees received by the clergy at baptisms, weddings and funerals. Also, not all demographic events were recorded46. Until the end of XVIII century, the civil status notes were very brief and mixed up together, in chronological order, for all demographic events; then they started to record information under three headings: baptism, marriage and death. If in the West, the compulsory registration of these civil registries was required quite early, with the state involved in controlling the church documents, in the Romanian space they are rather late. Earlier in Transylvania than in Moldova or the Romanian Country, these records came to be regularly registered, while respecting a certain methodology in filling them. The bishops of various denominations within Transylvania from the late XVIII century, at the Austrian government’s intervention, gave instructions to the priests together with standard models of filling 192 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) in civil status registers. The Recruitment Rules issued by Maria Theresa in 1773 and implemented by Joseph II in 1784, provided an entire chapter on how to prepare such documents of civil status47. It also provided the priests’ obligation to submit quarterly reports on the increase or decrease of the population. We mention here the following orders, issued to priests by the state authorities: all priests would keep records books (January 7, 1770); all records would be kept in places away from sources of fire, and in case a fire broke out these records would be saved first (May 10, 1774); the register transcripts would be drawn up in two copies, one to be submitted to the civilian jurisdiction (Law 23 of 1827)48. The state gives the Church this role, but strongly requires the Bishops to oversee the preparation of these registers49. By the mid XIX century, the civil status registers were manually lined by the priests, although the printing of such documents had been started since 1784. The Orthodox registers are written in Romanian and Serbian (in Banat), the Roman-Catholic ones in Latin and Hungarian, the Calvinist and Unitarian ones in Hungarian, the Lutheran ones in German, the Greek Catholic ones in Latin and Romanian and the mosaic ones in Hungarian, German or even Hebrew50. The contents of registers of civil status was improving more and more, primarily due to the state pressure. Since 1850 new sections are entered in the register for baptized people, one is referring to the still-born, another to recording the birth legitimacy or illegitimacy. In the register for married people there is room for new entries referring to the state of married people (young person, widow(er)), and in the death register a new entry registered the cause of death. In all registers, there was a section reserved for observations and special mentions which the priest might write down. 3. Parish registers of civil status in Transylvania – documentary significance and importance C HURCH REGISTERS are the only ones able to give an insight into the family in rural areas, at least for the second half of the XIX century. Church documents, fundamental sources for researching the family life are of two categories: 1. Registers of civil status and annual reports of the parishes; 2. Church authorities funds, documents and minutes recorded by the bishoprics. These are complex sources for the researcher with an interest in historical demography, in social history and economic history of toponimy, birthdays, etc. Processing the data from these registers requires a specific methodology. They allow us to observe trends that have occurred on the long-term demographic events such as birth, marriage or death. These records are, for a long time, unique sources LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 193 of documentation regarding civil status and demographic events in the private life of the majority of population. Researching these records, we can discover important features of natural movement of population, the phenomenon of birth, of marriage, of the divorce and of death51. Then, an analysis of form and content of these registers can capture the cultural universe of the priests filling in these records. a. Parish registers: sources of ethnic and religious setting N HUNGARY and Transylvania, after the first census of 1784-1787, a new official and general census took place just over six and a half decades in the mid-XIX century. After the revolution of 1848/1849 in Hungary, and in particular by political and administrative restructuring of the Monarchy, it became inevitable to have a new census organized. Reviewing started in the summer of 1850, but because of preparations for war against Prussia, the actual census was completed in the summer of 1851. It is the only census of Transylvania (until the reunion with Romania) in which nationality was a criterion used to register population. Census instructions did not clarify the meaning of the concept of nationality so that, when entering information various points of view were intertwined. Later censuses were also organized in the years of 1857, 1869, 1880, 1890, 1900 and 191052. If confession had a clear entering requirement, in terms of nationality things were different than they were in 1850. Only in 1880 a clarification is attempted in this regard. The census organizers were satisfied with recording the mother tongue. It is known that not all cases declared the language specific to the ethnic group to which he/she belonged. Then, the children who could not speak were excluded from this category (this is later on fixed in the census in 1890 when children were attributed by default the mother tongue of their birth mother). In 1900, only an alive tongue could be entered as mother tongue, so Latin, Gypsy and Jewish languages could not be highlighted. Given the lack of the few censuses conducted by the Hungarian state of a variable nationality, we propose an analysis based on the parish registers of civil status. Ecclesiastical information gives us a relatively clear picture of the religious structure, but not of the ethnic structure. This information should be closely analysed, if possible even be compared with information from other sources, because often, this information refers only to followers of that denomination, and not least we can see a certain bias that slipped in when data was recorded. A comparison between information from multiple documentary sources is, we believe, welcome if we want to achieve its purpose, namely to determine the structures of ethnic and confessional structures and the respective links between them. The available documents do not allow us to accurately determine a person’s ethnicity. Even if we wanted to highlight just ethnicity, we cannot do this because I 194 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) at the level of the XIX century even the official censuses do not use the nationality variable, but only the mother tongue variable. Parish registers and civil status reports allow for establishing a person’s ethnic identity in an even lesser extent, the criterion by which the population was recorded was their confession. In the latter case, establishing a relationship between ethnicity and religion has an even greater margin of error. Based on the information we have in using the census and parish registers, in order to add and verify this information, we propose the following method of determining the ethnic identity: a. a check of the native language; b. establishing the religious identity; c. onomastic study. The criteria that can determine the ethnicity in this region are, in addition to individual declaration of ethnicity (data is very scarce), language, religion and the name of the person (mainly family name). Obviously, when using these criteria, we must consider all these indicators, not just one. An individual may know or may not know the language of the people to which he/she belongs. He/she loses the religious identity, or simply converts to another denomination or religion. The variable of name is even more relative. A person, often through marriage, changes her/his name. At the beginning of the XX century, the process of linguistic change is increasing under the influence of the Apponyi law53. But, what is ethnic identity? An individual who loses his religion, name and language (especially) and does not lose ethnic identity? Ethnic, national identity is more complex than the religious or linguistic issue. Precisely for that reason, we must consider all factors together with socio-political, economic and cultural conditions that imprint a particular ethnic reality. It is necessary to use at least two of the mentioned criteria. If we consider religion, we can say that Romanians are Orthodox and Greek Catholics. We do not exclude the fact that some Hungarians might be Greek Catholics or Orthodox54. We need to consider all factors, all possible indicators. The fact that we found in documents Hungarians of Greek Catholic or Orthodox religion is explained to a lesser extent by converting Hungarians to these confessions, though we find many such cases, rather by some Romanians’ Hungarisation, but who will not give up their religion. After being Hungarised, many Romanians converted to Roman Catholicism or Protestantism. Another problem that occurs in establishing ethnic identity according to religion is in this area, but not limited to Jews. In 1880, for example, in Beiuº and Vaºcãu there were 621 Israelis55 and in 1900, across the entire Country of Beius there were altogether 1,709 Israelis56. All these people are in fact Jews. In censuses conducted by the Austri-Hungarian state, the region does not list any Jew (because of census procedures). Most of them declare themselves as Hungarians or Romanians, according to case. LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 195 Using both criteria associated with anthroponyms is required, as we have seen. Moreover, it appears that in the process of losing the ethnic identity, language is lost first, then religion and, finally, the anthroponym. b. Parish registers: sources of reconstruction of family life cycle N THE second half of the XIX century, Transylvania was dominated by a traditional rural society, except for a few urban centres and areas immediately adjacent thereto. The village was a world of constraints and echelons where all individuals must comply with group affiliation. Social diversions of any kind were viewed with scepticism and moral and religious precepts were the defining social and societal norms of those times. Community was strict in control of the family through the various “rituals” of interference in its internal problems. Any disruption of family relationships might mean in terms of coexistence within a community of both small family groups of two partners, a major disruption of community mechanisms. It is these “slippages” that should be avoided. In this respect, an entire suite of collective attitude was triggered, designed to prevent the occurrence of such situations. Community adjusted so by various constraints and determinism, the whole mechanism that enforces order and social norms. Major events of family life, such as baptism, marriage (including pre-marital relations of the two partners) and burial were strictly supervised by the community. Family-community relationship runs deep and it cannot be understood by a fragmented and sequential analysis. From the perspective of the family, the general community is providing the “model”. On the other hand, the community lives its emotions and sensitivities in the crucial moments of family life. The starting point of the family is marriage. It is when the most important social group of a society is created. Community celebrates through marriage the victory over time, and on this occasion the human sensitivity is nearing the “desired perfection57”. Through various mechanisms that regulate, the community interferes with the life an individual at its deepest individuals at marriage and at wedding. Starting from this reality, the present our research with marriage as reference point to which we reported the entire initial debate, community-family relationship. Both are taught and prepared to accept the hierarchies that provide community order. At each marriage, not only for the two but for the rest of the community, all defining elements of interpersonal relationships required by the community are repeated out loud. The family was the place where all rules of conduct had to be implemented and to which the entire community group reported. In the period under our review, the families of the two young people getting married were no longer in full control of the marriage act. If marriage I 196 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) was prior decided exclusively by the two families, where the sincere feelings of affection were not important, now young people have a partner of their choice. Despite this radical transformation of mentality, the community still has control over the levers necessary for association for a new family. This control is more visible in the village, which features a traditional existence, by comparison with the city life with more diluted traditions, where relations between the family (usually nuclear) and the community were built on other rules. Not only social factors acted on the family within this region. The family stayed in the blow of demographic realities, the political-legislative changes occurring during this period. The family was directly affected by various legislative measures that established the framework of its formal existence and indirectly by shaping the whole series of conditions, which have often proved to be very strong. Secular and ecclesiastical legislation on the family – is the subject of a chapter of this work – imposed, while the church was exclusive when it came to the public management of family problems in the second half of the XIX century, a setting where family relationships could develop. The family administration maintained the often tense religious rivalries. Roman Catholic and Greek Catholic, under the influence of the Austrian state bias, often prevailed in competition with other denominations. In developing a family under the major community influence, the constraints and ethno-confessional determinism proved to be strong and decisive. The political reality and all events with political connotations, which occurred during the second half of the XIX century, had a direct influence on the conduct of the processes and phenomena related to ethno-religious evolution of the population of the area in question. Milestones leading to the formation and shaping of the family are surprised by the entries in parish registers ad civil status. Marriage, which is associated with the birth of children, owned the main constructive role in the family. Based on the wealth of information provided by parish registers of civil status, we can reconstruct family lifecycles (birth, marriage, death), and on the other hand, to give life to all experience hidden behind figures. Unveiling of desires, often associated to infirmities recorded in everyday life of families in this area, was not only a wish but also an imperative of this research. Entering the intimacy can only be done through an analysis of several reactions and behavioural capabilities of those involved, and a related analysis on the changes occurring in society (the main trends were of dilution of traditional ethno-religious and community precepts, associated with increasingly visible socio-professional mobility). Special attention can be paid to elements of erosion, of dissolution of the family. Divorce, cohabitation and illegitimacy of births are closely monitored by the Church; priests had to submit reports to Transylvanian bishoprics on yearly basis, containing the number and evolution of these phenomena. The LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 197 traditional image of family is changed in this period under the effect of urban culture increasingly present. Modernity takes its toll, not only by imposing the nuclear family, but also by the appearance of a more permissive attitude about slippages. Cohabitation, divorce, legitimacy, by their approach have proven important opportunities to discover the family and everyday realities. c. Parish registers: sources of reconstruction of mental, socio-economic and professional transformation ARISH REGISTERS of civil status are an important source of documentation in terms of socio-professional status of members of religious communities. When children are baptised we learn information about the social status of their parents; in the case of young people getting married or in the case of death, we have the opportunity to reconstruct the socio-professional status of the respective people. A comprehensive analysis over a longer period of time, allowing comparison between different localities (rural, pre-urban or urban) between city of different regions, across the region with different socioeconomic profiles, gives the research the possibility of documentation of social, economic and professional changes . The city is producing significant social and professional changes related to the pre-industrial era and the onset of industrial era that favours not only the human mobility within the city, but also from the rural to urban environments. These mobilities were accompanied by uprooting, of otherness of tradition or conflict with the constraints of the rural patriarchy Under the effect of modernity, the society influences the family, not only its form but also the roles and functions that were achieved. Attitudes change with the form and nature of society. There is no longer an extended family and the family no longer accepts the community mix and much less of the village. The changes are most obvious in the city, but in time they became visible in rural areas, too. Nuclear family is the new family where the outside interference is insignificant. With the transition to a modern society, there is a restriction of the social role of the family, role that is passed in time and in various areas to other institutions (market, state, school, etc.). The family no longer dominates social life. Over time, we identified several significant changes in the collective mentality. The family unit is no longer an economic production: spouses are not performing productive work in the household; the economic link that keeps them together practically no longer exists. There is a reducing in family size by restricting the number of children for a couple and by quasi-generalization of the nuclear family. Smaller families are more suitable for social changes of modernization. Reducing family size caused significant changes in lifestyle, in family behav- P 198 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) iors. Another important effect of modernity is linked to matrimonial mobility, the decline of parental authority of the clan in general and increasing the role of individual decision on the timing and choice of marriage partner. Due to the transfer of family functions to other social institutions, economic and political reasons the marriage began to lose importance. Although considerations of wealth plays a less important role, socio-cultural similarity of spouses’ statuses prevail in establishing couples. Compared to the traditional social status of inferiority, the modern woman begins to obtain social and political rights, going all the way to legislating equality with men in all spheres of social life. Work outside the home makes the space provided for communication between spouses, between parents and children, to shrink. Parents try to compensate this by “spoiling” children (gifts, pocket money). Required in traditional society to work at an early age (in workshops or in rural household), children are gradually begun to be perceived not as labour but as a value in itself58. We note thus the improvement of the social status of women (economic independence, social and political rights), which is not bound to accept an unsatisfactorily couples life. The effects of such developments are among the most diverse. Moreover, the more the society recognizes rights of women, the more increased is the marital instability. The phenomenon is visible in the city and towards the beginning of the XX century also in some rural areas where tradition leaves room under the influence of propagation of non-agricultural activities, to a socio-economic modernization process. These changes led, as it easily can be expected, to our mental perceptions, and hence a different reaction of the community. The social norms are changing. d. Parish registers: sources to identify patterns and demographic trends NALYSING THE natural movement of population during this period, some researchers speak of the demographic revolution that combines old demographic transition model, characterized by high levels of mortality and birth to new model that expresses low levels of mortality and birth. The transition to this model, as we could note from the analysis made ??on mortality and birth, was started by reducing the mortality rate, followed and a reduction in birth rates. Such a form of expression led to the so-called “transient increase” 59 . With the transformation of socio-economic, cultural and health conditions, a demographic transition model was imposed briefly in the last two decades of the nineteenth century, more and more (first in the city). Characterized by a high birth rate and low mortality, this transition has contributed to a substantial increase in population. A LITERATURE EVOLUTION 1866 Birth Death Natural increase 1868 OF BIRTH, DEATH AND NATURAL INCREASE IN 1870 1877 1879 1881 1885 AND MEMORY • 199 BIHOR COUNTY60 1887 1889 1901 1905 1910 18.686 19.011 18.916 17.806 20.546 19.230 22.194 23.285 24.127 16.113 17.158 18.016 13.885 14.941 15.005 16.356 14.783 15.712 17.522 17.191 17.191 11.560 13.045 12.429 4.801 4.070 3.911 1.450 5.763 3.518 4.672 6.094 6.936 4.553 4.113 5.587 In the Bihor county, reported to the years that our research took as sample landmarks on which correlations were made between births and deaths (thus resulting in the natural surplus), population growth was positive. Despite high mortality, which in some cases shocked by the large scale, the higher level of birth rates led to a natural increase of between 1, 450 people (1877) and 6,094 people, as was the natural increase since 1889. This positive natural increase did not characterize the entire area of ??the county. Many localities faced in this period profound and violent expressions of mortality crises that generated a negative natural growth throughout the period we analysed. The major effect of high mortality (less the birth rate, which remains high) the natural increase can be seen in the case of many localities, so much more since the period under review surprised some mortality crises whose effects were downright devastating to the population of these villages. Deep economic crises encountered in those years throughout the Monarchy, in conjunction with outbreaks (keep in mind especially the cholera epidemic of 1872-1873, and its extension) exercise fantastic demographic pressure. The effects of the cholera epidemic in the years 1872-1873 were catastrophic: in Bihor County 30 447 people fell ill, of which 10 980 people died (of which only 1096 people in Oradea), which is 2.28 % of the total county population; in Satmar people fell sick and died: 17 330 5268, representing 2.13% of the total population in this county61. We offer an example, the case two localities where the effect of regional epidemic was devastating in terms of increased mortality. The Greek Catholic parish of Abrãmuþ, during 1860-1880, recorded population growth that was negative (the number of people who died by comparison with the number of newborns is greater by 27). Negative growth did not characterize the entire period, but the effect of crisis mortality was captured by us during the death investigation of this parish. Thus we identify two periods with negative levels of natural increase: 1. period 1861-1864, when low natural surplus was due to both lower birth rates, and increased mortality, 2. period 1870-1874, characterized by major crises of mortality caused by numerous epidemics whose effects were heightened during the cholera epidemic of from18721873. 200 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) EVOLUTION OF BIRTHS, DEATHS AND NATURAL GROWTH IN THE ABRÃMU? GREEK-CATHOLIC PARISH 40 30 20 10 0 -10 -20 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 0 24 12 20 18 14 16 15 18 15 19 12 18 11 8 16 18 16 14 13 24 18 0 17 19 21 34 22 7 10 10 14 14 19 30 26 23 28 11 12 12 11 13 13 0 7 -7 -1 -16 -8 9 5 8 1 5 -7 -12 -15 -15 -12 7 4 2 2 11 5 Source: Arhivele Naþionale, Direcþia Judeþeanã Bihor (hereinafter A.N-D.J. BH), Colecþia Registrelor de Stare Civilã, file, 7, 6-22, 37-55 EVOLUTION OF BIRTHS, DEATHS AND NATURAL GROWTH IN THE BEIUS GREEK-CATHOLIC PARISH 60 50 40 30 20 10 0 -10 -20 -30 -40 -50 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 0 27 29 19 20 17 32 33 26 21 17 27 32 13 21 15 15 24 24 24 23 21 0 24 23 26 23 26 21 22 32 30 27 29 34 43 54 52 21 23 21 18 26 22 0 3 6 -7 -3 -9 11 11 -6 -9 -10 -2 -2 -30 -33 -37 -6 1 3 6 -3 -1 Source: A.N-D.J. BH, Colecþia Registrelor de Stare Civilã, file, 91, 24-45; file, 94, 25-49 LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 201 The Greek Catholic community Beius recorded 117 people who died during 1860-1880 over the number of newborn. Despite social and economic progress (to which most often we tend to associate a better existence, which later translate into lower mortality), the Greek Catholic parish of Beius faced this period more death than birth. Then, the city requires a substantially different demographic model from that recorded in the rural environment: the decrease in births rate is more visible here. Despite tangible progress in terms of decreased mortality, the natural increase is low, even negative. Evolution of the number of births and deaths highlights, in the case of Oradea city, a rather negative natural growth for the period of the second half of the nineteenth century. The negative value of the natural growth in Oradea, somewhat surprisingly, was due to an interesting demographic transformation process. EVOLUTION Births Deaths Natural growth OF BIRTHS, DEATHS AND NATURAL GROWTH IN ORADEA 1877 1879 1881 1885 1887 1889 1901 1905 1910 1.172 1.271 -99 1.183 1.363 -180 1.302 1.390 -88 1.326 1.433 -107 1.330 1.362 -32 1.442 1.316 126 1.540 1.305 235 1.597 1.644 -47 1.763 1.732 31 Sources: Anuarele “Magyar Statistikai Évkönyv” 1877, 1879, 1881, 1885, 1887, 1889; Iosif I. Adam and I. Puºcaº, “Izvoare de demografie istoricã”, 236-237, 652-655; Traian Rotariu (coord.), Recensãmântul din 1880”, 50-51, 274-275; Idem, Recensãmântul din 1900”, 110-113, 474-477. The city by the cultural, socio-professional and mental environments provided the background that led to the creation of a new family type. The urban family begins to be a modern family. The number of children who are born in the city is decreasing (the proof is the fact that birth rates in Oradea were lower by up to 10 ‰ than the value recorded in the whole county of Bihor). Positive changes that had as effect a decrease in mortality, were not able to keep pace with the reduction of birth: city birth rate drops more visible and earlier than mortality. From this point of view, Oradea family was one in which fewer children were born. The emancipation of the family, arising primarily due to women’s empowerment, was not accompanied by a reduction in mortality. The first impression is, in this context, that the family is emancipated earlier than realities of society allowed. Furthermore, the social, economic and medical advances do not measure up to the new challenges leading to “recovery” of society as a whole. Only the late nineteenth century witnessed a phenomenon expected turn. In the years 1901-1910 the natural growth in Oradea was positive throughout the period, registering a natural surplus of 1.405 people62. This transformation was possible because of reduction by almost 15 ‰ of the mortality rate in the city, from 1880 to 1910. 202 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) This period demographically known as “transitory” records the different behaviours of the population: expressions of traditional coexist with expressions of modernization and empowerment at the same time. We offer an example of a rural subject. We chose the number of children as an indicator for personal and family empowerment. IN THE DISTRIBUTION OF CHILDREN IN FAMILIES FORMED GREEK-CATHOLIC PARISH IN THE PERIOD 1860-1910 IN GHENETEA Number of families Number of families 16 15 14 12 11 10 11 9 8 7 6 5 4 6 5 6 3 2 1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 1 12 1 13 1 14 Number of children Source: A.N-D.J. BH, Colecþia Registrelor de Stare Civilã, file, 461, 32-50, 64-75; file, 462, 4-101; file, 463, 1-21. As it can be seen, according to the number of children / family, there are numerous categories of families that have: 1-4 children (representing 51.2% of families and 23.07% of all children) and 7-9 children, respectively (constituting 28.05% of families and the number of children no less than 44.23%). Between the two families (like there were different “worlds”!), families with children 4 and 5 children are numerically smaller (by 5 cases each). Despite the two mentioned trends, evident by the large number of families with 1-2 children and those with 7-9 children, most children are born in this parish still in the large families. Although the number of families with 1-2 children is more and more towards the end of the surveyed period, the share of these children remains low, this is because most children remain concentrated in families with several children, although these families are fewer in number The fact that many children are born to families in Transylvania does not mean that these families had actually many children. Many of them died at an early age. Children are most at risk when facing social or economic vicissitudes, and the weather. Throughout the second half of the nineteenth century and early twen- LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 203 tieth century infant mortality rate remained very high. Moreover, as seen in the Old Principality of Transylvania63, in some regions infant mortality rate was even increased during this period. Causes of such high infant mortality were very numerous and complex. They had their origins in the poor living conditions, in the poor nutrition and inadequate, failing hygiene and trained medical staff, and inadequate living conditions in newborns, without the special care needed for children this age, in the attempts to treat diseases of children with “treatments” applied by traditional medicine to adults, etc. Many children, as it can be seen from the analysis of civil status registers, died in childbirth or shortly thereafter. Finally, high infant mortality has its origin in the collective mentality damage and the population attitudes towards medical and health care. 4. Conclusions P of civil status have been proving to be important documentary sources for historians as well as for demographers, sociologists, anthropologists, ethnographers, linguists, etc. These Church documents proved to be important, especially where other documentary sources (mainly those in the category of records made by the state) have proved insufficient, incomplete and unclear. The parish registers of civil status in this case are suitable for both a qualitative analysis, and a quantitative one at the level of local communities. Beyond their usefulness and significance of documentary source, these documents should be regarded as being subjective because they were managed by priests (every priest is then an exponent to promote demographic and confessional “realities” and such realities were viewed from the perspective of his own religious convictions). The parish registers, however, prove to be the only documents that allow us to penetrate the privacy of individuals in each community. A documentary is also undeniably a good dowry that researchers should promote and use in their research not only locally but also to verify and demonstrate certain behaviours and overall trends. ARISH REGISTERS Note 1. Jaques Duparquier, Introduction à la démographie historique (Paris – Tournai – Monreal: Gamma, 1974), 9. 2. Apud ªtefan Pascu, Demografia istoricã, in the collective volume Populaþie ºi societate. Izvoare de demografie istoricã, vol. I, published by ªtefan Pascu (Cluj-Napoca: Editura Dacia, 1972), 30. 204 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 3. Apud Sorina Paula Bolovan, Familia în satul românesc din Transilvania. A doua jumãtate a secolului al XIX-lea ºi începutul secolului XX (Cluj-Napoca: Centrul de Studii Transilvane, Fundaþia Culturalã Românã, 1999), 14. 4. Ibid.; the work of Roger Mols, published in 3 volume, under the title of Introduction à la démographie historique de villes de l`Europe du XIVe au XVIIe siècle ºwas published by Receuil de Travaux Printing House, Louvain, 1954-1956. 5. André LaRose, “L`enregistrement des événements démographiques par les églises: une question internationale”, in the collective Populaþie ºi societate. Izvoare de demografie istoricã, vol. III, published by ªtefan Pascu (Cluj-Napoca, Editura Dacia, 1980), 25. 6. Annie Vidal, Démographie. Eléments d`analyse et évolution du peuplement humain (Grenoble: Presse Universitaires de Grenoble, 1994), 13. 7. Brunnel C., “L`enregistrement des baptêmes, mariages et décês, sous l`ancien régime, en Belgique”, in the collective volume Populaþie ºi societate. Izvoare de demografie istoricã, vol. III, published by ªtefan Pascu (Cluj-Napoca, Editura Dacia, 1980), 69. 8. Annie Vidal, “Démographie. Eléments d`analyse et evolution”, 15. 9. Sorina Paula Bolovan, “Istoria familiei ºi demografia istoricã în România la început de mileniu”, în Caiete de antropologie istoricã, anul I, nr. 1 (Cluj-Napoca: 2002), 24. 10. L. Henry, E. Gautier, La population de Crulai, paroisse normande: étude historique (Paris: Institut national d’études démographiques, 1958). 11. Sorina Paula Bolovan, “Familia în satul românesc”, 15. 12. Pierre Goubert, Beauvais et Beauvaises de 1600 á 1730. Contribution á l’histoire sociale de la France au XVIIeme siècle (Paris: Service d’Edition et de Vente des Publications de l’Education Nationale, 1960). 13. Sorina Paula Bolovan, “Familia în satul românesc”, 16. 14. Pierre Chaunu, Civilizaþia Europei clasice, vol. I (Bucureºti: Editura Meridiane, 1989), 212. 15. Sorina Paula Bolovan, “Istoria familiei ºi demografia istoricã”, 25. 16. Ioan Horga, “Consideraþii pe marginea evoluþiei demografiei istorice: metodã, surse de documentare, modelare proprie”, in Corneliu Crãciun, Antonio Faur (coord.), Istoria - ca experienþã intelectualã (Oradea: Editura Universitãþii din Oradea, 2001), 446; Sorina Paula Bolovan, “Familia în satul românesc”, 16; Idem, “Istoria familiei ºi demografia istoricã”, 25. In the same year, in Ottawa, the Council decided to establish a committee of historical demography, whose purpose was to promote the new discipline (Ibid.). 17. It is published in 1964, too, but under the nema of “Études et chronique de démographie historique”. 18. Bertrand Grille, Les sources statistiques de l’histoire de France (Paris: 1964). 19. New works get published during these years, bearing an important role in strengthening the historical demographic science, both in terms of methodology, and promoting new research directions: Alain Girard, Le choix du conjoint. Une enquete psycho-sociologique en France (Paris: Presse Universitaire de France - Institut national d’études démographiques, 1964); L. Henry, La fécondité du mariage: Nouvelle méthode de mesure (Paris: Institut national d’études démographiques, 1965); Idem, Le manuele de demographie historique (Geneva-Paris: Librairie Droz, 1967); John T. Noonan, Contraception et mariaje (Paris: 1969), etc. 20. In 1965, London, D.V. Glass and D.E.C. Eversley edit the collective volume Population in History. Essays in Demography that will continue to get published in the years to come. 21. E.A. Wrigley (coord.), An Introduction to English Historical Demography. From the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century (Londra, Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1966). This work is considered by Pierre Chaunu as a “very successful imitation of French textbooks of historical demography”. Pierre Chaunu, Histoire science sociale. La durée, l’espace et l’homme á l’epoque moderne (Paris: Edition SEDES, 1974), 296. 22. Sorina Paula Bolovan, “Familia în satul românesc”,18. LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 205 23. Ibid., 19. 24. E.A. Wrigley, Société et Population (Paris: Hachette, 1969). 25. J. Hajnal, “European marriage pattern in perspective”, in Populations History, volume edited by D.V. Glass, D.E.C. (Londra: Eversley, 1968), 101-148. 26. E. Shorter, The Making of the Modern Family (Londra: 1976). 27. Pierre Chaunu, “Histoire science sociale”, 316; G. Ranki, The European periphery and industriliazation (1780-1914) (Budapesta: 1982). 28. Pierre Chaunu, “Histoire science sociale”. 31. 29. Idem, “Civilizaþia”, 222. 30. Martine Segalen, Nuptialité et alliance. Choix du conjoint dans une commune d’Eure (Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, 1972). 31. Also known as the analysis of the moment. By this method, a demographic phenomenon can be analysed during one year, notwithstanding generations. Anie Vidal, “Démographie. Eléments d`analyse et evolution”, 36-37. 32. Ioan Horga, Consideraþii pe marginea evoluþiei demografiei”, 433. 33. Martine Segalen, Mari et femme dans la société paysanne (Paris, Flammarion, 1980), 123185. 34. Idem, Sociologie de la famille, ed. IV, (Paris: Armand Colin, 1996), 116-123. 35. Ioan Horga, Consideraþii pe marginea evoluþiei demografiei”, 433. 36. Yvonne Knibiehler, Histoire de mère, du Moyen Age á nos jours (Paris:, Montolba, 1980) (în colaborare cu Chaterine Fouguet); Idem, La femme au temps des colonies (Paris: Stock, 1985) (în colaborare cu Régine Goutalier); Idem, La Femme et les médecins (Paris: Hachette, 1983) (în colaborare cu Chaterine Fouguet); Idem, Les pères aussi ont une histoire... (Paris: Hachette, 1987); etc. 37. J.L. Flandrin, Familles. Parente, maison, sexualité dans l’ancienne societé (Paris: Hachette, 1976). 38. Edward Shorter, Naissance de la famille moderne XVIIIe-XXe siècle (Paris: Édition du Seuil, 1977) 39. Robert Muchembled, “Famille et l`histoire des mentalités (XVI – XVIIIe siècles). Etat present de la recherché”, in Revue des Etudes Sud-Est Europeenne, 1974, nr. 3, 349 – 369. 40. Jack Goody, La famille en Europe (French edition translated by Jean-Perre Bardon with a foreword by Jacques Le Goff) (Paris: 2001). 41. M. Mitterauer, R. Sieder, The European Family. Patriarchy to Partnership from the Midlle Age to the Present (Oxford: Blackwell, 1982). 42. André Burguiére, Christiane Klapish-Zuber, Martine Segalen, Françoise Zonabend (coord.), Histoire de la famille (Paris: Armand Colin, 1986). 43. Jaques Duparquier, “Introduction à la démographie historique”, 87. 44. Author of important works of historical demography. In addition to the already cited work (Introduction à la démographie historique), we remind of studies such as: “Sur la population francaise aux XVII-eme et XVIII-eme siècles”, in Revue Historique, nr. 485, ianuarie-martie 1968, p. 43-79; “La population du Bassin parisien (XVII-XVIII)”, in Hommange a Marcel Reinhard. Sur la population francaise au XVIIIe et au XIXe siècle, Paris, 1973; Jacques Dupâquier, La population rurale du Bassin parisien à l’époque de Louis XIV (Paris: École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 1979); “Le mouvement saisonnier des mariages en France (1856-1910)”, in Annales de demographie historique (Paris: Société de Démographie Historique, 1977); La population francaise aux XVII-eme et XVIII-eme siècles (Paris: 1979). 45. Jaques Duparquier, “Introduction à la démographie historique”, 53. 46. At first the priests recorded were only children who were baptized, and that it was to have a record of parishioners. It followed the recording of weddings, of marriages, and eventually deaths. Information on infant mortality or divorce lacks. Also lacks information about the families who were the protagonists of these demographic events. 206 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 47. Liviu Moldovan, “Înregistrarea de cãtre biserici a botezaþilor, cununaþilor ºi înmormântãrilor în Þãrile Române în secolele XVIII – XIX”, in the collective volume Populaþie ºi societate. Izvoare de demografie istoricã, vol. III, published by ªtefan Pascu (Cluj-Napoca, Editura Dacia, 1980), 137. 48. Ibid. 49. An example is the Gubernia Order of May 24, 1825 that required the bishops to oversee the preparation of registers of civil status of their dioceses. 50. Liviu Moldovan, “Înregistrarea de cãtre biserici”, 139. 51. ªtefan Pascu, ªtefan Pascu, L`actualité de la démographie historique, în volumul colectiv Populaþie ºi societate. Izvoare de demografie istoricã, vol. III, apãrut sub redacþia lui ªtefan Pascu (ClujNapoca, Editura Dacia, 1980), 12-13. 52. Information related to these censuses was collected from Traian Rotariu (coord.), Maria Semeniuc, Mezei Elemér, Recensãmântul din 1910. Transilvania (Cluj-Napoca: Studia Censualica Transsilvanica, Editura Staff, 1999), 693-712. 53. Gheorghe ªiºeºtean, Etnie, confesiune ºi cãsãtorie în nord-vestul Transilvaniei (Zalãu: Editura Caiete Silvane, 2002), 15. 54. A good example is the village of Beius ªuncuiuº (Bihor county), where in 1900 there were, according to census 370 Romanian Hungarian, 388 Greek Catholics, plus the 19 Orthodox. From here we can easily conclude that some of the declared Hungarian majority population in the village were Greek Catholic or Orthodox. 55. Traian Rotariu (coord.), Recensãmântul din 1880. Transilvania (Cluj-Napoca: Studia Censualica Transsilvanica, Editura Staff, 1997), 5082. 56. Alexandru Ilieº, Etnie, confesiune ºi comportament electoral în Criºana ºi Maramureº (Cluj-Napoca: Editura Dacia, 1998), 327. 57. Pierre Chaunu, “Civilizaþia”, 222. 58. J.C. Chesnais, La transition démographique (Paris: Presse Universitaire de France, 1986), 93-141. 59. Apud Ioan Bolovan, Transilvania între Revoluþia de la 1848 ºi Unirea din 1918. Contribuþii demografice (Cluj-Napoca: Centrul de Studii Transilvane, Fundaþia Culturalã Românã, 2000), 158. 60. Annals Magyar Statistikai Évkönyv. Szerkeszti és kiadja. Az országos Magyar Kir. Statistikai. Hivatal I Füzet (1877 – Budapesta, 1878; 1879 – Budapesta, 1881; 1881 – Budapesta, 1883; 1885 – Budapesta, 1887; 1887 – Budapesta, 1889; 1889 – Budapesta, 1891; Iosif I. Adam, I. Puºcaº, Izvoare de demografie istoricã, vol. II, Secolul al XIX-lea – 1914. Transilvania, (Bucureºti: Direcþia Generalã a Arhivelor Statului, 1987), 236-237, 652-655; Traian Rotariu (coord.), “Recensãmântul din 1880”, 50-51, 274-275; Traian Rotariu (coord.), Recensãmântul din 1900. Transilvania (ClujNapoca: Studia Censualica Transsilvanica, Editura Staff, 1999), 110-113, 474-477. 61. Iosif I. Adam, I. Puºcaº, “Izvoare de demografie istoricã”, 243-244. 62. Ibid., 656. 63. Value of the infant mortality rate in Transylvanian space (not included here the regions of Banat, Crisana and Maramures) was in 1865 to 178.3 ‰, while in the first decade of the twentieth century to reach 193 ‰.Ioan Bolovan, “Transilvania între Revoluþia”, 156. LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 207 Abstract Parish registers of civil status in Transylvania in the second half of the XIX century. Documentary signification The parish registers of civil status, although the main sources of documentation for historical demography, are used with significant results by the other sciences such as history, ethnography, sociology, anthropology, linguistics, etc.. The perspectives of approaching the rural community and family have expanded considerably using these sources of ecclesiastical origin documentaries. The first researchers who refer to a systematic methodology that uses the parish registers of civil status as documentary sources for the completion of demographic data suggest the use of other sources, hitherto unused for this purpose. They will apply a new method, a modern innovation, the stripping and analysis of parish registers of civil status within the meaning of the reconstruction of demographic events (birth, marriage, death). The family reconstitution method, by analyzing the parish registers of civil status proposed by L. Henry and M. Fleury, has revolutionized the field of study dealing with people. Louis Henry believes that the parish registers of civil status is the ultimate source of information for the prestate period and this is precisely the reason for which he proposes restoring the family’s biological life. Church registers are only able to give us an insight into the family in rural areas, at least for the second half of the XIX century. Church documents, the fundamental sources for researching family life, are of two categories: 1. civil status registers and annual reports of the parishes, 2. Church authorities funds, documents and minutes recorded by the bishops. These documents are complex sources for the researcher interested in historical demography, social history, and the economic history of toponymy, birthdays, etc. Processing the data contained in these records requires a specific methodology. They allow us to observe trends that have occurred on the long-term demographic events such as: birth, marriage or death. These records are presented for a long time as their only source of documentation regarding civil status and demographic events in the life of most people. Researching these records can unveil important features of natural population movement, the phenomenon of birth, of marriage, the divorce or death. Then, an analysis of form and content of these registers can capture the cultural universe of the priests who fill these records. These Church documents proved to be important, especially where other documentary sources (mainly those in the category of records made by the state) have proved insufficient, incomplete and unclear. The parish registers of civil status in this case are suitable for both a qualitative analysis, and a quantitative one at the level of local communities. Beyond their usefulness and significance of documentary source, these documents should be regarded as being subjective because they were managed by priests (every priest is then an exponent to promote demographic and confessional “realities” and such realities were viewed from the perspective of his own religious convictions). The parish registers, however, prove to be the only documents that allow us to penetrate the privacy of individuals in each community. A documentary is also undeniably a good dowry that researchers should promote and use in their research not only locally but also to verify and demonstrate certain behaviours and overall trends. Keywords Parish registers, Transylvanya, family, ethnicity, confession, community Edipo in Transilvania: tracce del folklore romeno nel Novecento italiano D AN O CTAVIAN C EPRAGA 1. I L 23 febbraio del 1946, sul numero 22 del «Politecnico» di Vittorini, una delle più importanti riviste militanti del Dopoguerra italiano, si potevano leggere, ovviamente in traduzione, due bellissimi e ancestrali canti popolari romeni della sepoltura. Raccolti in taglio basso a pagina 3, all’interno di un piccolo riquadro, sotto il titolo suggestivo di Consigli al morto, i due testi portavano la firma del giovane e, ai tempi, quasi sconosciuto Franco Fortini, che pochi mesi più tardi avrebbe consegnato ad Einaudi il suo primo volume di poesia, Foglio di via, in cui saranno inclusi, con il medesimo titolo, anche i due enigmatici canti funebri romeni.1 È una prima, imprevedibile traccia lasciata dal folklore della Romania nell’opera di un autore italiano del Novecento. Ad essa ne seguiranno altre, di diverso peso e natura, ma tutte ugualmente segnate dalla presenza degli arcaici «canti del morto», un vero e proprio filo rosso che accomuna gli incontri di tre grandi e influenti intellettuali italiani con la poesia e le tradizioni popolari romene: prima Fortini, più tardi Ernesto de Martino e Pier Paolo Pasolini. La storia di questi tre incontri, per quanto marginale e misconosciuta, merita, crediamo, di essere raccontata. In essi, il «figurato» e il «rimosso» procedono, se così possiamo dire, di pari passo. Nati da una medesima fascinazione esercitata dal volto arcaico e primordiale della cultura tradizionale romena, essi sono altresì percorsi da curiose reticenze e ambiguità, a volte da una vera e propria volontà di occultamento e rimozione della fonte. Messi uno accanto all’altro costituiscono anche un capitolo, non privo di interesse, dei rapporti complessi e contraddittori che gli intellettuali europei del Novecento hanno intrattenuto con le culture popolari. Un caso, per certi versi eclatante, di ri-uso e appropriazione della poesia tradizionale è quello di Franco Fortini. Non sappiamo con precisione quando il giovane Fortini sia venuto a conoscenza dei canti della sepoltura romeni. Siamo certi, tuttavia, che li abbia letti in traduzione francese e che sulla versione francese, e 210 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) non su quella originale romena, che gli era inaccessibile, abbia poi fondato i suoi ‘rifacimenti’. Come è noto, nel settembre del 1943 Fortini si era rifugiato in Svizzera, dove, a parte un breve rientro nella Valdossola liberata, resterà fino al maggio del 1945. Sono anni di esilio inquieto e duro, di vita da rifugiato, ma anche di incontri, letture, maturazione poetica e politica.2 Nel campo di internamento di Adliswil, nei pressi di Zurigo, si troverà fianco a fianco con i profughi, ebrei e non, provenienti da tutta l’Europa orientale, ne ascolterà le voci, le storie, i «gemiti incomprensibili» e i «lunghissimi lamenti funebri», assistendo, forse con lo stupore della scoperta di un’altra e diversa Europa, alle «congreghe e alle risse dei serbi, dei greci e dei rumeni».3 Sono gli anni in cui scrive una buona parte delle poesie che formeranno la sua prima raccolta, Foglio di via, e in cui cresce e si consolida la passione, di lunga durata, per le traduzioni vere o «immaginarie»: su un foglio socialista di emigrati italiani in Zurigo pubblica alcune versioni di poesie della resistenza francese (sono alcuni dei testi pubblicati alla macchia da Éluard, Cassou, Emmanuel), ma anche due poesie proprie, che finge di aver tradotto da un inesistente originale polacco.4 Benché Fortini non ne abbia mai fatto menzione, è probabile che proprio in questo periodo gli sia capitata tra le mani la rivista parigina «Mesures», periodico militante di letteratura e critica, diretto e animato da Jean Paulhan assieme a Henri Michaux, Giuseppe Ungaretti e altri, e al quale collaboravano regolarmente nomi come quelli di Queneau, Bataille, Leiris, Caillois. Nel numero 4 del 1939, Fortini deve aver letto con particolare attenzione e, come vedremo, con il senso di una intima consonanza poetica ed esistenziale, la piccola raccolta di tredici canti popolari romeni della sepoltura, tradotti in francese, con il titolo di Chants du mort (folklore roumain), dal poeta romeno Ilarie Voronca, figura di spicco dell’avanguardia letteraria, emigrato a Parigi, e dal critico d’arte francese Jacques Lassaigne.5 Originariamente, i canti erano stati raccolti dal grande etnomusicologo romeno Constantin Brãiloiu intorno al 1930 nel Sud-ovest della Romania, nei villaggi dell’allora distretto di Gorj (Oltenia settentrionale), e pubblicati pochi anni più tardi in una breve plaquette dell’Archivio di Folklore di Bucarest.6 Si tratta di canti rituali, eseguiti durante il cerimoniale della sepoltura, che affondano le proprie radici in una antichissima e ininterrotta tradizione orale. Sono testi singolari e di folgorante bellezza, che hanno il fascino di una poesia arcaica e indefinibile, testimonianza di un immaginario mitico primordiale, appena sfiorato dal Cristianesimo. In essi si parla del viaggio del morto verso l’Aldilà, di quel periodo di erranza e di pericolosa peregrinazione che, secondo la mentalità tradizionale, il defunto deve affrontare nella fase di passaggio fra la condizione dei vivi e quella dei morti, fra il momento del decesso e la sua definitiva integrazione nella comunità ultraterrena. Vi sono descritti i preparativi per il viaggio del «bianco LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 211 viandante», i presagi di morte, lo smarrimento e l’attraversamento di dogane e guadi pericolosi, gli animali guida che accompagnano verso l’Altro mondo, gli incontri prodigiosi in cui la Madonna ha le sembianze di un salice in fiore e le grida degli angeli assomigliano al canto dei galli.7 Non è difficile capire perché questi testi avessero colpito con tanta intensità il Fortini di allora, che deve averli letti con in mente i «lunghissimi lamenti funebri» dei profughi di Adliswil, scorgendovi, anzi, un inatteso e segreto legame con la propria condizione esistenziale, quasi il riflesso su di un piano mitico e allegorico del suo esilio, dei suoi viaggi e discese nell’Ade della guerra. Sono state, senza dubbio, anche queste circostanze esterne, biografiche, corroborate da più profonde ragioni di poetica, a spingere Fortini a tradurre, intorno al 1945, alcuni canti romeni della piccola silloge uscita su «Mesures» e in seguito, più radicalmente, ad appropriarsene, inglobandoli nella sua poesia.8 Due di queste traduzioni (Vai diritto e La sera si fa sera) saranno incluse, come abbiamo già detto, in Foglio di via e altri versi, suo primo volume di poesia pubblicato da Einaudi nell’aprile del 1946. I due testi vi si trovano raccolti sotto il titolo comune di Consigli al morto, al quale segue una breve indicazione fra parentesi: «Da antichi canti funebri rumeni». Pochi mesi prima, nel febbraio dello stesso anno, aveva pubblicato i due Consigli al morto sul «Politecnico» (nr. 22 del 23 febbraio 1946, p. 3), dove erano accompagnati da un’interessante nota, probabilmente redazionale, che indicava con più precisione l’operazione compiuta sulla fonte («rifacimenti») e ne offriva una rapida chiave di lettura: Sono questi Consigli rifacimenti su motivi di antichi canti funebri romeni. Alla morte segue un viaggio verso la pace, attraverso una natura miracolosa. Nel primo dei Consigli s’illumina una primavera di apparizioni, nel secondo si percorre un viaggio notturno per i boschi, fra animali funebri, verso un colle di paradiso, dove sia reintegrata la vita larvale dell’anima. Ai Consigli Fortini continuerà a pensare anche in seguito, tanto che nell’edizione di Foglio di via inclusa all’interno di Poesia e errore del 1959, volume che raccoglie in ordine cronologico quasi tutte le poesie stampate fino a quella data, ai due testi originari della sezione ne aggiungerà un terzo, inedito (E tu pregali), anch’esso ripreso dalla raccoltina di canti romeni di «Mesures». Rispetto all’edizione precedente vengono operati alcuni cambiamenti paratestuali: sparisce dal titolo la parentesi con l’indicazione della fonte, mentre i testi, prima individuati da un numero progressivo, vengono dotati di un titolo autonomo, che ne ricalca il primo verso. Solo in fondo al volume una nota spiega: «Consigli al morto: sono rifacimenti da canti funebri romeni». 212 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Infine, nella successiva edizione, riveduta e corretta, di Foglio di via, uscita nel 1967 nella collezione di poesia di Einaudi, scompare qualsiasi riferimento all’eventuale modello o fonte dei Consigli al morto, nonostante la presenza di una lunga prefazione autoesegetica, che si incarica di fare il punto sulle ragioni biografiche e ideali che stanno alla base della raccolta. In essa Fortini indica alcuni modelli, ricorda l’incontro con i testi della resistenza francese, parla dello «stile da traduzione» delle poesie degli anni 1944-45. Riconosce, inoltre, la rilevanza della piccola sezione dei Consigli al morto, che viene descritta come una messa in scena di un viaggio verso l’Altro mondo, simile ai molti altri viaggi e discese negli inferi della guerra raffigurati in altre poesie della raccolta, a partire proprio da quella che la intitola.9 Nessuna parola viene detta, però, sull’antecedente dei testi. Questa situazione sarà confermata dall’edizione definitiva di Foglio di via, inserita in Una volta per sempre, del 1978. Giunto a questo punto, il lettore non possiede più alcun elemento per distinguere i Consigli al morto dagli altri testi d’autore, riconoscendoli quali rifacimenti o traduzioni: il processo di progressiva rimozione della fonte è giunto a compimento. Bisognerà ora intendersi sull’operazione compiuta da Fortini sui canti funebri romeni. I Consigli al morto non sono, infatti, imitazioni o parafrasi, né tanto meno rifacimenti (come lo stesso Fortini li ha più volte chiamati), che si sviluppino in maniera più o meno indipendente dal loro antecedente. Si tratta, come è facile dimostrare, di fedeli traduzioni poetiche, che seguono in maniera letterale, verso per verso, il testo francese di Voronca e Lassaigne, a sua volta versione fedele dell’originale romeno pubblicato da Brãiloiu. Si leggano, uno accanto all’altro, il testo romeno, la traduzione francese e la versione di Fortini, così come compare nell’edizione definitiva del 1967: C. Brãiloiu, Ale mortului * Nainte sã mergi, Sã nu te sfieºti. Dacã mi-ei vedea Rãchitã-mpupitã, Nu este rãchitã, Ci e Maica sfântã. Nainte sã mergi, Sã nu te sfieºti. Dacã mi-ei vedea Un pom înflorit, Nu-i pom înflorit, Ci e Domnul sfânt. Nainte sã mergi, Sã nu te sfieºti. Voronca – Lassaigne, Chants du mort * Va droit devant toi Et ne prends pas peur Si tu aperçois Un ormeau en fleurs; Ce n’est ne pas un ormeau fleuri, C’est la Vierge Marie. Va droit devant toi Et ne prends pas peur Si tu aperçois Un arbre fleuri; Ce n’est pas un arbre en fleurs, C’est Notre Seigneur. Va droit devant toi Et ne prends pas peur F. Fortini, Consigli al morto VAI DIRITTO Vai diritto sulla via E non prendere paura Se tu vedi un olmo in fiore. Non è un olmo in fiore, quello: È la Vergine Maria. 5 Vai diritto sulla via E non prendere paura. Se tu vedi un prato in fiore Non è un prato in fiore, quello: È Gesú Nostro Signore. 10 Vai diritto sulla via E non prendere paura LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 213 Dacã-i auzi Cocoºii cântând, Nu-s cocoºi cântând, Ci-s îngeri strigând. Si tu entends les coqs chanter: Ce ne sont pas coqs qui chantent, Mais Anges qui crient. Se odi canto di galletti: Non è canto di galletti Sono Angeli che gridano * Roagã-mi-te, roagã De ºapte zidari, ªapte meºteri mari, Zidul sã-þi zideascã ªi þie sã-þi lase ªapte ferãstrui, ªapte zãbrelui. Pe una sã-þi vinã Colac ºi luminã; Pe una sã-þi vinã Izvorel de apã, Dorul de la tatã; Pe una sã-þi vinã Miroase de flori De pe la surori; Pe una sã-þi vinã Spicul grâului Cu tot rodul lui; Pe una sã-þi vinã Buciumel de vie Cu tot rodul lui; Pe una sã-þi vinã Raza soarelui Cu cãldura lui; Pe una sã-þi vinã Vântul cu rãcoarea, Sã te rãcoreºti, Sã nu putrezeºti. * Prie, prie les sept maçons, Les sept maîtres maçons, Qu’ils bâtissent le mur Et qu’ils laissent pour toi sept petites fenêtres. Par une te viennent, Le pain, la lumière; Par une te vienne Une source d’eau, Souvenir de ton père; Par une te vienne Une odeur de fleurs, Souvenir de tes sœurs; Par une te viennent Les épis de blé Avec tout leur fruit; Par une te vienne Le cep de la vigne Avec tout son fruit; Par une te vienne Le rayon du soleil Avec sa chaleur; Par une te viennent Le vent, sa fraîcheur Pour te rafraîchir Pour que tu ne pourisses pas. E TU PREGALI E tu pregali, i sette muratori, Pregali, pregali, i sette maestri Muratori che devono murare, Perché lascino a te Sette spiragli al muro, Perché arrivino a te La luce e il pane. E da uno ti venga Una sorgente d’acqua, Ricordo di tuo padre; E da un altro ti venga Il profumo di fiori Delle sorelle che avevi; E da un altro ti vengano Spighe lunghe di grano Con tutto il loro frutto; E da un altro ti venga La vite della vigna Con i grappoli pieni. E da un altro ti venga Qualche luce di sole Che ti riscaldi il cuore Che non si spenga tutto. 15 5 10 15 20 E il vento, il fresco del vento, Il vento fresco dei boschi 25 Arrivi fino a te, Che ti rinfreschi il capo, Non marcisca il tuo capo. Oh tu pregali, pregali, pregali I sette muratori! 30 * Seara va-nsera, Gazdã n-ai avea ªi-þi va mai ieºi Vidra înainte, * Le soir devient soir Tu n’auras pas d’hôtes. Et alors viendra la loutre vers toi LA SERA SI FA SERA La sera si fa sera, Tu non avrai compagni. Ed allora verrà La faina da te 214 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Ca sã te spãimânte. Sã nu te spãimânþi, De sorã s-o prinzi, Cã vidra mai ºtie Seama apelor ªi-a vadurilor ªi ea mi te-a trece, Ca sã nu te-nece, ªi mi te-a purta La izvoare reci, Sã te rãcoreºti Pe mâini pânã-n coate De fiori de moarte. ªi-þi va mai ieºi Lupul înainte, Ca sã te spãimânte. Sã nu te spãimânþi, Frate bun sã-l prinzi, Cã lupul mai ºtie Seama codrilor ªi-a potecilor. ªi el te va scoate La drumul de plai, La-un fecior de crai, Sã te ducã-n rai, C-acolo-i de trai; In dealul cu jocul, C-acolo þi-e locul; ‘N câmpul cu bujorul, C-acolo þi-e dorul. Pour te faire peur. Mais ne prends pas peur, Prends-la por ta sœur, Car la loutre sait L’ordre des rivières Et le sens des gués, Te fera passer Sans que tu te noies Et te portera Jusqu’aux froides sources Pour te rafraîchir Des mains jusqu’aux coudes Des frissons de mort. Paraîtra encore Le loup devant toi Pour te faire peur; Mais ne prends pas peur, Prends-le pour ton frère, Car le loup connaît L’ordre des forêts, Le sens des sentiers, Il te conduira Par la route plane, Vers un fils de roi, Vers le paradis: Où il fait bon vivre, La colline aux jeux: Là bas est ta place, Le champ aux dahlias: Là bas est ton cœur. Per metterti paura. Ma non prender paura, Prendila per sorella. La faina conosce E l’ordine dei fiumi E i fondali dei guadi E ti farà passare Senza che tu t’anneghi E poi ti condurrà Fino alle fonti fredde Perché tu ti rinfreschi Dai polsi fino ai gomiti Dei brividi di morte. Anche comparirà Davanti a te il lupo Per metterti paura. Ma non prender paura Prendilo per fratello. Perché il lupo conosce E l’ordine dei boschi E il senso dei sentieri E t’accompagnerà Per la via più leggera Verso un alto giardino Dove la luce è quieta. Il tuo posto è laggiú, Dove vivere è bello Dov’è il campo di dalie La collina dei giochi. E laggiú c’è il tuo cuore. 5 10 15 20 25 30 Fortini traduce dal francese, senza aver presente l’originale romeno, come dimostrato dal fatto che ripete in più luoghi errori di traduzione e lacune della versione di Voronca e Lassaigne. Si veda, ad esempio, in Vai diritto v. 4, olmo, sul francese ormeau, laddove in romeno c’è rãchitã «salice», oppure in E tu pregali, vv. 1-3, la lacuna di un verso rispetto al testo romeno (Roagã-mi-te, roagã / De ºapte zidari, / ªapte meºteri mari / Zidul sã-þo zideascã), determinata dalla corrispondente lacuna della versione francese. Ci sono, invece, altri casi in cui Fortini si discosta deliberatamente dal testo francese, con piccole modifiche che hanno, tuttavia, ricadute non trascurabili sul piano poetico. Ad esempio, al v. 2 di La sera si fa sera, dove il francese ha hôtes, che traduce il romeno gazdã (= «padrone di casa», ma anche «riparo, rifugio»), Fortini scrive compagni, che è parola chiave delle poesie resistenziali di Foglio di via, LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 215 termine forte, assunto in accezione esplicitamente politica. Allo stesso modo, in La sera si fa sera v. 4, la loutre francese, che traduce fedelmente il romeno vidra («lontra»), viene cambiata in faina. L’animale psicopompo tradizionale, che nel folclore romeno ha forti implicazioni mitiche, viene cioè sostituito da uno degli animali del bestiario allegorico fortiniano, altrove impiegato come figura del tradimento e dell’inganno (si pensi ad una poesia di poco posteriore ai Consigli come Neve e faine del 1946-47, contenuta in Poesia e errore). Non si può dubitare della volontà di appropriazione di Fortini, che ha cercato, il più possibile, di ambientare e integrare i canti romeni all’interno del suo libro di poesia. Parlano chiaro a questo proposito le scelte formali e di intonazione poetica, dalle opzioni metriche e lessicali a più minute spie stilistiche, che confermano la sostanziale equiparazione fra le traduzioni dei Consigli e gli altri testi che compongono la raccolta. Si pensi, solo per fare qualche esempio, alla partizione strofica operata nei testi italiani, ma assente nell’originale romeno e nella versione francese, oppure ad un tic stilistico quale l’uso insistito della congiunzione e in apertura di testo e di frase (vedi «E tu pregali, i sette muratori» dove il francese ha «Prie, prie les sept maçons», oppure la chiusa di La sera si fa sera: «E laggiù c’è il tuo cuore»), che è tratto tipico, di matrice ancora ermetica, del primo Fortini, ben documentato in tutto Foglio di via (fra le tante occorrenze vedi l’iniziale «E questo è il sonno…», «E guarderemo…», le tre riprese di Valdossola, che iniziano tutte con «E il tuo fucile…»).10 Nell’economia generale della raccolta, la sezione dei Consigli è uno dei centri di gravità, che segna tutta l’ultima parte del volume (intitolata Altri versi). Immediatamente contiguo ai Consigli si trova, ad esempio, un testo originale come Canzone per bambina, che ai canti romeni sembra direttamente ispirato, essendovi legato da precise corrispondenze tematiche e formali. Anche in questo caso si tratta di una poesia prescrittiva, rivolta ad un tu generico, che mette in guardia il viandante da un viaggio pieno di pericoli, in un bosco notturno e misterioso, dai connotati mitici. La fine del testo richiama esplicitamente lo smarrimento e la necessità di guide e compagni della precedente La sera si fa sera: «E quando ti ridesti / Tutto è notte sul mondo / Non hai più compagnia / Non c’è lume né via / E tu sei senza aiuto…». Non c’è bisogno di insistere sull’importanza, e sul peso anche ideologico, che hanno per Fortini le “imitazioni” e le parafrasi, le liriche “da”, i pezzi “di maniera”, presenze costanti di tutta la sua produzione lirica. Non stupirà, dunque, che proprio una traduzione come quella dei Consigli al morto rappresenti uno dei centri nevralgici della sua prima raccolta poetica, punto profondo di percussione di temi e motivi dominanti, proiettati sul piano di una “allegoria” popolare e collettiva, quale è quella del mito del grande viaggio messo in scena dai canti rituali della sepoltura.11 216 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Non è difficile riconoscere nel tu al quale sono rivolti i Consigli l’esule, il profugo, lo scrittore-politico in fuga, che per il Fortini del 1945-46 non è soltanto, come abbiamo detto, bruciante materia esistenziale, ma anche figura da proiettare sui «destini generali» e sulla Storia recente, su quel prossimo passato che, come scriverà nel 1967, «si faceva subito remoto e tornava ad assalire in figura di spettro, com’è dei morti di morte violenta».12 Allo stesso modo, il viaggio miracoloso verso l’Aldilà dei Consigli è la risposta, portata su di un piano simbolico diverso, alle discese agli inferi rappresentate in componimenti come E guarderemo, Sonetto, Foglio di via, dove l’immagine stessa del titolo, la bassa di passaggio che nei trasferimenti accompagna il soldato isolato, rimanda ancora una volta al mito dell’erranza, del viaggio periglioso, dell’esilio. La risposta dei Consigli, così perfettamente incarnata nelle immagini semplici e strane del mito popolare dei canti romeni, si muove sul piano oracolare della profezia, della «gioia avvenire», che è l’altro polo attorno al quale gravita la poesia di Foglio di via, in diretta corrispondenza e tensione con quello della rappresentazione definitiva e testamentaria del passato recente della guerra. Il colle di paradiso intravisto alla fine di La sera si fa sera, le apparizioni miracolose di Vai diritto, l’animale compagno e guida che conosce «l’ordine dei boschi e il senso dei sentieri» andranno letti, in questo modo, come controcanto alla folla silenziosa «di dormenti e di morti d’altri inverni» (E guarderemo), ovvero alla sera spettrale di Foglio di via, dove dall’alto del colle si guarda «in fondo alla valle dove le feste han spento tutte le lampade». I Consigli al morto non sono, dunque, episodio marginale o prova estemporanea e fortuita. Al contrario, sembrano riassumere e rilanciare le principali poste in gioco ideologiche e poetiche di Foglio di via, fissandole nella dimensione immaginifica della mitologia popolare, di una poesia semplice e di “tutti”, che ha a che fare con archetipi ancestrali e condivisi (la morte, il viaggio, il pericolo, i legami tra i vivi e i morti, la gioia promessa). Probabilmente, è proprio questo il motivo per cui il processo profondo e organico di appropriazione dei canti romeni per Fortini è andato di pari passo con un progressivo occultamento della fonte, fino alla totale rimozione di ogni riferimento al loro antecedente. 2. IN ITALIA, come abbiamo detto, Fortini non è stato l’unico a conoscere e ad utilizzare i canti romeni della sepoltura. All’incirca dieci anni dopo la pubblicazione di Foglio di via, e con ogni probabilità in modo completamente indipendente, le testimonianze del folklore funebre romeno ritornano in uno dei grandi libri del Dopoguerra italiano: Morte e pianto rituale di Ernesto de Martino, che all’interno della sua vasta indagine storico-religiosa sul lamento funebre riserva un posto di primissimo piano alla descrizione e l’analisi di un funerale romeno, svoltosi nel 1950 in un piccolo villaggio della Transilvania meri- LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 217 dionale e dettagliatamente documentato da un’equipe di etnografi dell’Istituto di Etnografia e Folklore di Bucarest.13 Certo, l’interesse di de Martino per le testimonianze folkloriche romene è principalmente etnografico e trova la sua ragion d’essere nelle esigenze scientifiche e argomentative della ricerca intrapresa. Tuttavia, anche in questo caso non possiamo escludere che abbia agito, per vie sotterranee e immediatamente rimosse, il fascino arcaico e primordiale dei canti romeni.14 Sappiamo che de Martino guardava con grande attenzione non solo all’affermarsi novecentesco delle discipline antropologiche, ma anche al rinnovato interesse per il lato oscuro dell’anima, per il mondo del subconscio, del sogno, dei fenomeni magici e paranormali. L’umanesimo tradizionale, affermava de Martino, «ha lasciato fuori della considerazione umana e storica non soltanto il mondo popolare subalterno, ma anche ciò che di ‘popolare’ e di ‘subalterno’ vive in ciascuno di noi, onde la luce fatta sul mondo storico primitivo illumina noi stessi, è incremento della nostra stessa umanità».15 Seguendo il filo che dal mondo arcaico porta alle culture popolari moderne era naturale, verrebbe da dire inevitabile, l’incontro di de Martino con il folklore romeno, con le testimonianze, cioè, di una delle culture popolari più conservative d’Europa. L’incontro avverrà appunto in occasione della grande indagine antropologica e storico-religiosa sul lamento funebre, che porterà nel 1958 a Morte e pianto rituale. Il libro, come si sa, segna la grande svolta antropologica di de Martino, testimoniando la scelta cruciale del confronto diretto con la ricerca sul terreno, che si concretizzerà tra il 1953 e il 1956 nelle inchieste condotte a più riprese nei villaggi della Lucania. Benché de Martino non lo abbia mai ammesso esplicitamente, i suoi viaggi nel Sud furono anche viaggi verso l’arcaico e l’ancestrale, verso le zone più remote e arretrate dell’Italia, dove negli occhi dei contadini poveri si poteva ancora scrutare quella primordiale e «oscura angoscia teogonica», che rinsaldò in de Martino, all’interno di un unico movimento, l’impegno politico militante, la ricerca antropologica e la riflessione sui destini, attuali, dell’Occidente. Sempre sulle tracce di un arcaico rimosso e mai apertamente dichiarato, de Martino arriverà in Romania. Grazie alla mediazione proprio di Constantin Brãiloiu, nell’ottobre del 1955 lo studioso italiano passerà un mese presso l’Istituto di Folklore di Bucarest e si recherà, in compagnia dell’allora giovane Ovidiu Bîrlea, che sarà uno dei grandi maestri della folkloristica romena del Dopoguerra, nel villaggio di Clopotiva nel distretto transilvano di Hunedoara. Qui assisterà direttamente ad alcune lamentazioni funebri e potrà eseguire interviste con lamentatrici del luogo.16 A chiunque legga con attenzione Morte e pianto rituale risulterà evidente il ruolo centrale, anzi dirimente, che il capitolo romeno svolge all’interno del percorso critico e argomentativo del libro. I materiali funebri romeni, perfettamente conservati nella loro integrità religiosa e cerimoniale, rappresentano un 218 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) vero punto di svolta, il cardine che permette di «abbandonare il terreno della documentazione folklorica» per «internarsi nel mondo culturale a cui il lamento organicamente appartenne, cioè il mondo antico». Le testimonianze romene, grazie al loro carattere conservativo, sono cioè essenziali per risalire dalla Lucania contemporanea alla Grecia arcaica, da cerimoniali funebri segnati dall’ideologia e dalla prassi liturgica cristiana, a tradizioni più antiche e precristiane, radicate nel passato più remoto dell’umanità. Non a caso, fra le schede del funerale di Lazzaro Boia utilizzate da de Martino, si trova anche una variante di un canto del morto, dello stesso tipo di quelli raccolti da Brãiloiu. Si tratta del canto dell’abete, eseguito durante la processione e il trasporto rituale dell’albero destinato a essere piantato sulla tomba del defunto. È un canto dal respiro mitico e pagano, che sembra provenire da un passato insondabile. Le lamentatrici chiedono all’abete: «Abete, abete,/ chi ti ha ordinato/ che giù sei calato,/ da luogo pietroso/ a luogo paludoso,/ da luogo di pietra/ qui giù all’acqua?». E l’albero risponde, ricordando il momento in cui all’alba due giovani del villaggio sono venuti a tagliarlo e a portarlo giù a valle per piantarlo sulla tomba di un giovane: «Io se lo sapevo,/ mica nascevo,/ l’avessi saputo,/ non sarei cresciuto».17 Tutto preso a seguire le forme del rituale, il contesto operativo e cerimoniale nel quale si inserisce il lamento funebre, de Martino non sembra interessato ai contenuti mitici e simbolici dei canti popolari romeni. Guardata dalla prospettiva dei lamenti funebri della Lucania, dal loro orizzonte religioso e simbolico così angusto e disgregato «dalla millenaria storia cristiana», la distanza fra il documento etnografico attuale e l’universo mitico arcaico e precristiano gli sembrava, anzi, incolmabile. Tuttavia, dalle pagine di Morte e pianto rituale viene fuori, forse per la prima volta in Occidente, una Romania rurale diversa, dai tratti complessi e problematici, un mondo dove la primordiale e astratta sapienza dei contadini romeni prende sfumature più sfuggenti e concrete, dove in maniera inestricabile e, a volte, indecidibile si mescolano l’arcaico e l’attuale, il lutto pagano e le immagini del mito cristiano, le fiabe ancestrali e le discussioni fra i contadini in cui, come testimonia de Martino, «si riflettono i temi più rozzi della propaganda comunista nelle campagne».18 Quest’ultimo punto meriterebbe forse ulteriori approfondimenti. Esso ci riporta, così crediamo, alla questione dei silenzi e delle rimozioni, che abbiamo già visto all’opera in Fortini. In Romania de Martino aveva avuto la possibilità di vedere di persona la realtà del villaggio romeno. Accompagnato dall’etnologo Ovidiu Bîrlea, e forse dovremmo dire guardato a vista, come lo erano all’epoca tutti i visitatori occidentali, si era recato in una piccola località della Transilvania meridionale, sulle pendici settentrionali dei bellissimi Monti Retezat, dove, come LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 219 abbiamo già ricordato, aveva eseguito interviste con alcune donne del luogo, esperte di lamenti rituali. Come testimoniato da Clara Gallini, il contenitore 9 dell’Archivio de Martino custodisce le note e i materiali raccolti durante il soggiorno romeno.19 Tuttavia, de Martino ha scelto di non utilizzare gli appunti e le osservazioni raccolte in prima persona, preferendo lavorare su alcune schede etnografiche presenti presso l’Istituto di Folklore di Bucarest, che contenevano materiali riguardanti i funerali del pastore Lazzaro Boia e che erano state redatte cinque anni prima da un gruppo di ricercatori dell’Istituto. De Martino, cioè, decide di non raccontare la sua Romania, tacendo su tutto ciò che aveva visto con i propri occhi. Per quanto ci risulta, nè in Morte e pianto rituale nè altrove vi si trova il benché minimo accenno. C’è da chiedersi perché. E c’è da chiedersi quale Romania avesse visto de Martino in quell’ottobre del 1955, nel periodo più oscuro e drammatico dello stalinismo romeno, in un momento in cui soprattutto nelle campagne si andava attuando un processo capillare di collettivizzazione forzata su modello sovietico, con risultati spesso devastanti per il mondo tradizionale delle antiche comunità di villaggio. Forse, in questo caso il rimosso aveva a che fare con qualcosa che non si voleva vedere.20 3. ALLA FINE di Morte e pianto rituale, nello straordinario Atlante figurato del pianto, accanto alle celebri foto scattate da Franco Pinna in Lucania e ad altro materiale iconografico che spaziava dall’arte antica fino alla pittura italiana rinascimentale, si trovano anche cinque fotografie provenienti dalla Romania. Anche in questo caso si tratta di reperti d’archivio: una foto del 1950 tratta dalle schede etnografiche sui funerali di Lazzaro Boia, con il trasporto rituale dell’abete funerario, assieme ad alcune immagini più antiche, probabilmente scattate negli anni Trenta in diversi villaggi della Romania, con il carro funebre e il banchetto rituale sulla bara usata come desco. È probabile che Pier Paolo Pasolini, che conosceva e apprezzava il libro di de Martino, abbia pensato proprio a queste immagini, quando alla metà degli anni Sessanta decise di recarsi in Romania per compiere alcuni sopralluoghi in vista delle riprese del suo Edipo re. Contrariamente alle sue aspettative, la Romania gli era sembrata un paese in gran parte modernizzato, con il mondo delle campagne sottoposto a una vera e propria «rivoluzione industriale», in cui non era rimasto «nulla di antico». L’idea di condurvi le riprese verrà abbandonata e la Grecia del Mito verrà ricostruita nelle zone desertiche del Marocco meridionale. Tuttavia, qualcosa di quel viaggio romeno lascerà la sua traccia nel film. Pasolini, aveva scoperto, infatti, alcuni canti popolari romeni, tra i quali anche gli arcaici canti del morto, e aveva deciso di utilizzarli all’interno della colonna sonora, che è costituita in larga parte da registrazioni autentiche di musica popolare proveniente da varie regioni della Romania. In particolare, tutta la musica diegetica, 220 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) che risuona on-screen nella Grecia barbarica e tribale in cui è ambientata la storia di Edipo, e che si immagina eseguita sulla scena da gruppi o singole persone che vi sono presenti, proviene dal repertorio folklorico romeno. Se guardiamo la sequenza che apre la parte ‘antica’ del film, subito dopo il prologo ‘moderno’, si dovrà convenire che la Transilvania costituisce, almeno virtualmente, uno dei luoghi dell’Edipo pasoliniano, da mettere acanto al Friuli dell’infanzia, che ritroviamo nelle sequenze iniziali, al deserto del Marocco o a Piazza Maggiore di Bologna, sorprendente scenario dell’epilogo ‘moderno’. La grande scena che si svolge davanti alle mura dell’antica Corinto si apre con le greggi e i pastori che scendono e si affrettano da ogni dove. La folla si accalca come in un giorno di mercato attorno ad un «baldacchino rozzo e, insieme, barbaricamente raffinato, con pelli e ornamenti d’oro». Un pastore ha portato al re Polibo un neonato, un trovatello abbandonato sul monte Citerone: il piccolo Edipo.21 In sottofondo, si leva un canto solenne e festoso: è una colinda romena, uno dei canti tradizionali che gruppi di giovani eseguono nei villaggi della Romania durante le festività del solstizio invernale. Si tratta di Juni cu juni se-ntîlnia-rã una colinda transilvana, registrata nel 1957 nel villaggio di Almãº Sãliºte, nel distretto di Hunedoara, durante l’esecuzione di un gruppo composto da nove colindãtori (i cantori rituali). Nelle scene immediatamente successive, in cui Polibo si allontana a dorso di mulo con in braccio il piccolo trovatello, in lontananza risuona un arcaico canto romeno della sepoltura, dello steso tipo di quelli raccolti da Brãiloiu, i cui testi avevano affascinato il giovane Fortini. Si tratta di un ‘canto dell’alba’ (Cîntecul zorilor), in cui le esecutrici rituali invocano le luci dell’alba, chiedendo loro di non affrettarsi a sorgere, per concedere al defunto il tempo necessario per compiere i preparativi per il grande viaggio verso l’Aldilà. La variante presente nell’Edipo re è stata registrata nel 1938 a Mãru, un villaggio del Banato romeno, vicino alla città di Caransebeº, dalle voci di due donne del luogo, Persida Popovici-Fileasa di 64 anni e Brânduºa Popovici di 39. Più avanti, quando Edipo giunge al cospetto di Tiresia, nelle campagne presso Tebe, dalla folla si alza ancora una volta una voce romena, una donna che intona un bocet, i lamenti funebri che le parenti del defunto improvvisano durante il funerale per dare sfogo ed espressione al proprio cordoglio. La voce, registrata nel 1937, è quella di Leontina Niga del villaggio di Deia, nel distretto di Suceava, che intreccia il suo lamento per la madre defunta alla melodia eseguita al flauto moldavo da Trifan Nemciuc, un vecchio contadino, suo compaesano, di 73 anni. Traendo ispirazione dal lamento funebre romeno, nella sceneggiatura Pasolini aveva scritto:22 LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 221 Poi una voce si alza a cantare: una voce di donna che canta il dolore di un popolo. Le sue parole strascicate, seguite dal lamento di un flauto, dicono come quello che succede in quel luogo, in quel momento, è un dolore di profughi, e che quella è la via dell’esilio. Pasolini, del resto, è quello che più apertamente ha cercato di spiegare le ragioni del suo interesse per il folclore romeno, ragioni che per lui rivestivano una certa rilevanza teorica e generale, non finalizzata, cioè, unicamente al risultato artistico immediato del film. Nella celebre intervista concessa a Oswald Stack dirà:23 «In Romania ho trovato certi motivi popolari che mi sono piaciuti moltissimo perché sono estremamente ambigui: sono qualcosa a metà strada tra i canti slavi, quelli greci e quelli arabi, sono indefinibili. È improbabile che uno che non possieda una conoscenza specifica riesca a localizzarne l’origine; sono un po’ fuori dalla Storia. Poiché intendevo fare dell’Edipo un mito, avevo bisogno di musica che fosse astorica, atemporale». Musica ancestrale, che trascende la Storia e aumenta il mistero indefinibile del mito: la scelta dei canti romeni si collega, dunque, ad uno dei nodi principali della poetica pasoliniana, al ri-uso, cioè, dei materiali popolari e dei prodotti delle culture subalterne, al recupero dei valori della civiltà contadina, di una civiltà che scavalca la Storia e affonda le proprie radici nel tempo incorrotto del Mito. Sullo schermo risuonano colinde, canti dei riti agrari primaverili, lamenti funebri romeni, anche due degli antichissimi canti del morto fatti conoscere dalla raccolta di Brãiloiu. Ancora una volta il ri-uso della poesia popolare romena riflette la nostalgia tutta moderna di un passato mitico e irraggiungibile. Con un gesto forte e straniante di appropriazione, analogo a quello di Fortini che porta i canti del morto al centro del suo viaggio attraverso la guerra e la recente Storia collettiva, Pasolini fa risuonare i canti popolari romeni nella Tebe e nella Corinto del mito, facendoli diventare parte integrante del fascino selvaggio delle immagini. Giunti a questo punto, non sarà privo di interesse notare che, come per Fortini e de Martino, anche l’operazione di Pasolini si accompagna a una piccola (involontaria?) reticenza. La fonte discografica dalla quale sono tratti tutti i canti e le musiche romene che compaiono nell’Edipo re non è mai stata dichiarata. Per quanto ci risulta, essa non compare citata nei titoli del film e non è mai stata identificata dalla critica. Non vi sono notizie utili a questo proposito neppure nella più recente e dettagliata monografia dedicata alla musica nell’opera di Pasolini, l’ottimo volume di Roberto Calabretto, che pure offre spunti critici di estremo interesse per quanto riguarda l’utilizzo della musica etnica e popolare nell’Edipo 222 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) re e negli altri film della trilogia sul teatro tragico greco.24 Nondimeno, quando si tratta di indicare le fonti della colonna sonora dell’Edipo, si continua a ripetere un dato che solo parzialmente corrisponde alla verità, segnalando testualmente la presenza di una «suite di motivi popolari romeni arrangiati da Luigi Malatesta, edizioni musicali Rete».25 Eppure, i canti popolari romeni non sono in alcun modo arrangiati o rielaborati, bensì semplicemente prelevati da una fonte discografica importante e ben nota agli addetti ai lavori, vale a dire i sei LP della Anthology of Romanian Folk Music, pubblicati dalle edizioni musicali Electrecord a Bucarest nel 1963.26 L’antologia era stata curata, con estrema perizia, dall’etnomusicologo Tiberiu Alexandru, allievo di Constantin Brãiloiu, e contiene straordinari materiali inediti provenienti dall’Archivio fonografico dell’Istituto di Etnografia e Folclore di Bucarest, che comprendono esempi di tutti i generi e le modalità del canto e del folklore musicale romeno. I due eleganti cofanetti sono accompagnati da due utilissimi libretti, che offrono un ampio apparato di note per ciascun brano. Ad essi abbiamo attinto anche noi le notizie riportate sopra sul genere, gli esecutori, i luoghi di provenienza e le date di registrazione dei canti romeni presenti nella colonna sonora dell’Edipo re. Pasolini, probabilmente con l’aiuto di Luigi Malatesta, si era limitato a scegliere una serie di brani, principalmente dal disco IV (EPD-1015), dedicato ai canti e alle musiche cerimoniali che accompagnano i riti e le feste calendariali delle comunità rurali romene, inserendoli poi, con gusto finissimo e strabiliante abilità mimetica, nelle scene del film.27 Anche in questo caso, il ri-uso, l’appropriazione e la rimozione della fonte appaiono inestricabilmente legati. Si potrebbe obiettare che gli occultamenti più o meno volontari e i silenzi qui ricordati sembrano e, per certi versi, sono di poco conto. Nondimeno, essi ci portano al cuore di una questione più vasta e complicata, quella dei rapporti, ambigui e complessi, fra gli intellettuali europei del Novecento e le culture popolari, ovvero del ri-uso colto di forme poetiche e figurative provenienti da culture diverse, marginali, estranee. A spiriti critici come Fortini, de Martino e Pasolini non potevano sfuggire i rischi e le contraddizioni insite nel ri-uso estetico e ideologico del folklore e delle tradizioni popolari. Probabilmente, i silenzi e le rimozioni derivano anche dalla coscienza di questa dose di ambiguità e mistificazione, dal sapere che ogni gesto di appropriazione è anche, inevitabilmente, espressione di un rapporto di forza. Del resto, come ha scritto di recente Carlo Ginzburg, «gli strumenti che ci consentono di afferrare culture diverse dalla nostra sono gli strumenti che ci hanno consentito di dominarle». LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 223 Note 1. Dei Consigli al morto di Fortini ho già trattato nell’introduzione a Constantin Brãiloiu, Consigli al morto / Ale mortului, a cura di Dan Octavian Cepraga (Viterbo, Stampa alternativa, 2005), pp. 4-20. Riprendiamo qui, con alcune modifiche e aggiunte, quanto già scritto in quella sede. Le racccolte poetiche di Franco Fortini citate nel testo in forma abbreviata sono le seguenti: Foglio di via e altri versi (Torino, Einaudi, 1946); Poesia ed errore: 1937-1957 (Milano, Feltrinelli, 1959); Una volta per sempre (Torino, Einaudi, 1978). 2. Sull’esilio «inquieto» di Fortini si può vedere l’ampio e documentato saggio di Renata Broggini, “«Svizzera rifugio della libertà». L’esilio inquieto di Franco Fortini (1943-1945)”, in L’ospite ingrato. Annuario del Centro Studi Franco Fortini, 2 (1999): 121-168. 3. Il campo di Adliswil è rievocato brevemente da Fortini stesso nella Prefazione al suo romanzo Sere in Valdossola (Milano, Mondadori, 1963), da cui le citazioni, a p. 10. 4. Cfr. la Prefazione dello stesso Fortini alla ristampa del 1967 di Foglio di via (ora nell’edizione definitiva del 1978 Una volta per sempre, p. 359-60). Le finte traduzioni dal polacco sono le due poesie intitolate Varsavia 1939 e Varsavia 1944, entrambe in Foglio di via. 5. Cfr. Chants du mort (folklore roumain), recueillis par C. Braïloïu, traduits du roumain par I. Voronca et J. Lassaigne, in Mesures, 15, nr. 4, octombre (1939): 86-93. 6. Brãiloiu pubblica “I canti del morto del distretto di Gorj” (Ale mortului din Gorj) nel 1936, prima nella rivista “Muzicã ºi poezie”, poi come estratto nelle Pubblicazioni dell’Archivio di Folclore di Bucarest: Constantin Brãiloiu, Ale mortului din Gorj, extras din Publicaþiile Arhivei de Folklore, 7 (Bucureºti, Societatea compozitorilor români, 1936). La breve plaquette si compone di tredici testi, privi di notazione musicale e di commento, che dovevano costituire l’anteprima di un’edizione critica del repertorio funebre rituale dell’Oltenia settentrionale, edizione che tuttavia Brãiloiu non realizzerà mai. I testi erano stati raccolti nel corso della campagna etnografica condotta nell’estate del 1930 nel piccolo comune rurale di Runcu (nell’allora distretto di Gorj), nell’Oltenia settentrionale, regione del sud-ovest della Romania. È interessante sapere che Brãiloiu e Fortini si trovavano in Svizzera negli stessi anni. Tuttavia l’aristocratico e cosmopolita studioso romeno, direttore di importanti istituzioni europee, come gli Archivi internazionali del Folklore musicale di Ginevra, e il giovane poeta italiano, profugo nei campi di internamento, non si incontreranno mai di persona. 7. I canti del morto devono aver avuto un certo successo, visto che verranno ripubblicati in volume nel 1947, nella collezione “Poésie et theatre” diretta da Albert Camus: Les chants du mort, recueillis par C. Bräiloiu, traduits du roumain par Jacques Lassaigne et Ilarie Voronca (Paris, Edmond Charlot, 1947 «Collection Poésie et théâtre dirigée par Albert Camus»). In seguito, alcuni canti del morto verranno inclusi da Roger Caillois, ai tempi anch’egli collaboratore di «Mesures», nella sua antologia della poesia universale: cfr. Roger Caillois, JeanClarence Lambert, Trésor de la poésie universelle (Paris, Gallimard, 1959), i Chants du mort sono alle pp. 58-60. 8. Il punto sulle sue traduzioni poetiche, Fortini lo ha fatto nella rapida premessa a Il ladro di ciliege (Torino, Einaudi, 1982): pp. V-IX. 9. Cfr. Una volta per sempre, p. 359. 10. Sulla poesia di Fortini ho tenuto presente le pagine fondamentali di Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo nell’Introduzione a Franco Fortini, Poesie scelte (1938-1973), a cura di P. V. Mengaldo (Milano, Mondadori, 1974): 11-24. 11. Sullo ‘stile da traduzione’ del primo Fortini è interessante Giovanni Raboni, “Temi resistenziali e ‘stile da traduzione’ in Foglio di via” in Per Franco Fortini. Contributi e testimonianze sulla sua poesia, a cura di C. Fini (Padova, Liviana, 1980): 155-61. 224 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 12. Cfr. Una volta per sempre, p. 359. 13. Di Morte e pianto rituale, pubblicato per la prima volta nel 1958 (e riedito con leggera modificazione del titolo nel 1975), si veda ora la nuova edizione, accompagnata da una bella introduzione di Clara Gallini (Ernesto de Martino, Morte e pianto rituale. Dal lamento funebre antico al pianto di Maria, introduzione di Clara Gallini, Bollati Boringhieri, Torino, 2000). Si fa riferimento al cap. 4 I funerali di Lazzaro Boia, alle pp. 150-77). È interessante notare che fu proprio Constantin Brãiloiu a mettere in contatto de Martino con l’Istituto di Folklore di Bucarest, favorendo il soggiorno dello studioso italiano in Romania (vedi anche l’Introduzione di Clara Gallini, ibidem, pp. XXX-XXXI). 14. Ci siamo già occupati di de Martino e dei suoi accostamenti alle tradizioni popolari romene in “Attualità dell’arcaico. Accostamenti alla poesia popolare romena” in Quaderni del Premio Letterario Giuseppe Acerbi - Letteratura della Romania, vol. 6 (2005): pp. 61-67. Riprendiamo nei seguenti paragrafi, con alcune modifiche e aggiunte, quanto sostenuto in quella sede. 15. Cfr. Ernesto de Martino, “Intorno a una storia del mondo popolare subalterno”, in Società, nr. 3 (1949), da leggere ora in Dibattito sulla cultura delle classi subalterne, a cura di Pietro Angelini (Roma, Savelli, 1977): 49-72, citazione alle pp. 60-61. 16. Lo ricorda de Martino stesso in Morte e piano rituale, cit. p. 151. Sull’incontro con Brãiloiu vedi la già citata Introduzione di Clara Gallini, ibidem, pp. xxx-xxxi. 17. Cfr. C. Brãiloiu, Consigli al morto, cit., pp. 31-37. 18. Cfr. E. de Martino, Morte e pianto rituale, cit., p. 161. 19. Ibidem, p. XXX. 20. De Martino, del resto, nel 1955 era fermamente convinto che la Rivoluzione stesse per arrivare non solo in Italia, ma in tutto il mondo occidentale. È interessante, a questo proposito, leggere ciò che gli scriveva in una lettera del 1957 Pietro Secchia, importante dirigente del Partito Comunista Italiano e suo amico fedele, richiamandolo ad una più pragmatica visione dei fatti: «... in certi momenti ho l’impressione che in te ci sia una sopravalutazione di ciò che noi possiamo fare per modificare l’attuale situazione e per affrontare lo sviluppo del processo rivoluzionario». Vedi l’articolo di Giovanni Agosti e Maurizio Sciuto, “L’Atlante del pianto di Ernesto de Martino”, in La contraddizione felice? Ernesto de Martino e gli altri, a cura di R. Di Donato (Pisa, ETS, 1990): 185-95, citazione a p. 191. 21. Nella sceneggiatura originale è la scena nr. 9 Corinto (Esterno. Giorno); cfr. Pier Paolo Pasolini, Il Vangelo secondo Matteo – Edipo re – Medea (Milano, Garzanti, 1991): p. 365. 22. Ibidem, p. 395. 23. Cfr. Oswald Stack, Pasolini on Pasolini (London, Thames and Hudson, 1969): p.126. «… I found some folk-tunes wich I liked a lot because they are extremely ambiguous: they are half-way between Slav, Greek and Arab songs, they are indefinable: it is unlikely that anyone who didn’t have specialized knowledge could locate them; they are a bit outside history. As I wanted to make Oedipus a myth, I wanted music wich was a-historical, a-temporal». 24. Cfr. Roberto Calabretto, Pasolini e la musica (Pordenone, Cinemazero, 1999), in particolare alle pp. 432-37 e 472-75. 25. Ibidem, p. 475. 26. Antologia muzicii populare romîneºti (Anthology of Rumanian Folk Music), a cura di Tiberiu Alexandru, 6 LP (Electrecord, Bucarest, 1963). 27. Questi sono alcuni dei brani dell’antologia pubblicata presso Electrecord utilizzati nella colonna sonora dell’Edipo re: - Scena 9. Corinto: Colinda «canto del solstizio invernale» Juni cu juni se-ntâlniarã (Disco IV, lato A, 1c); - Scena 10. Fiume presso Corinto: Segnale funebre (IV, B, 1a), Cântecul zorilor «Canto dell’alba» (IV, B, 1b), Drãgaica «Canto del solstizio di primavera» (IV, A, 4a); - Scena 17. Santuario di Delfo: Jocul caprelor «La danza delle capre» LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 225 (IV, A, 2b), Pluguºorul «Canto dell’aratro» (IV, A, 2a); - Scena 21. Osteria sulla strada di Tebe: Cãluºul «Danza rituale della Pentecoste» (IV, A, 5); - Scena 27. Campagne presso Tebe: Bocet la mamã «Lamento funebre per la madre» (IV, B, 2c), ecc... . 28. Cfr. Carlo Ginzburg, Rapporti di forza (Milano, Feltrinelli, 2000): p. 47. Abstract Oedipus in Transylvania: Traces of Romanian Folklore in Twentieth-Century Italian Culture This paper aims to reconstruct the traces that romanian folklore left within the works of three prominent italian writers and intellectuals of the second-half of the twentieth-century: Franco Fortini, Ernesto de Martino and Pier Paolo Pasolini. In his first book of poetry, Foglio di via (1946), Fortini translated, from a french version made by Ilarie Voronca, some romanian funeral songs, trying to conceal the folkloric sources, in order to misappropriate them. The same archaic ceremonial songs are used, as historical and ethnographic evidences, by Ernesto de Martino in his great anthropological survey on european funeral laments, Morte e pianto rituale (1958), and then by Pier Paolo Pasolini as a soundtrack for his movie Oedipus Rex (1967). In all of this cases, the fascination for the romanian popular poetry is tangled with reticences and ambiguities, that reveal the complex relationships existing between intellectuals and popular traditions in twentiethcentury culture. Keywords Franco Fortini, Ernesto de Martino, Pier Paolo Pasolini, folklore roumain L’epopea tragica dei Sassoni di Transilvania nei romanzi di Dieter Schlesak L ORENZO R ENZI 1. Schlesak: dalla vita all’opera T scrittori transilvani di lingua tedesca occupa un posto di rilievo Dieter Schlesak, nato nel 1934 nella comunità sassone di Sighiºoara (in ted. Schässburg), uno delle sette città fortificate (o castelli) che formavano l’antica Transilvania. Schlesak proveniva da una famiglia borghese di questa antica città, ed è vissuto in Romania fino alla partenza per l’allora Repubblica federale tedesca avvenuta nel 1969 per sfuggire alla pressione ideologica e alle angherie del regime comunista di Ceauºescu. Negli anni della sua infanzia e giovinezza Schlesak aveva vissuto l’ascesa del nazismo nella propria comunità natale, riflesso di quella del Reich, e aveva visto i propri parenti prendere parte alla seconda guerra mondiale, prima arruolati nell’esercito romeno alleato ai Tedeschi, poi direttamente inquadrati nelle SS combattenti. In realtà alcuni dei suoi parenti e degli amici della sua famiglia non erano “al fronte” come credevano i parenti e le donne rimaste a casa, esprimendo la loro ammirazione per la loro abnegazione e il loro sacrificio, ma prendevano parte attiva all’organizzazione dei lager che accoglievano, e spesso sopprimevano, le vittime ebree della persecuzione nazista. Queste vittime appartenevano spesso alle stesse comunità transilvane, dove c’era una cospicua presenza di ebrei ungheresi o di lingua tedesca, che fino ad allora avevano vissuto in stretto contatto e in armonia con la comunità sassone. La sconfitta militare della Germania coglie i Sassoni di Transilvania di sorpresa: la loro fiducia nel potente Reich tedesco, di cui ambivano a sentirsi parte integrante, era illimitata. Invece improvvisamente, nel 1944, i Russi erano alla porte, occupavano le città e i paesi. Ora era l’Unione Sovietica a pilotare il destino di questa terra un tempo felice nelle sue varie componenti etniche e culturali, anche se il potere sta ancora apparentemente in mano allo stato romeno. Comincia la nazionalizzazione delle terre e dei beni. Ma non c’è solo RA GLI 228 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) questa grande espropriazione che esclude la comunità tedesca, come quelle romena e ungherese, dalle secolari professioni e attività (il nonno di Schlesak muore di infarto il giorno dell’esproprio del suo negozio). Non c’è solo questo. La gran parte della popolazione sassone viene deportata in Russia, anche se alcuni, come lo stesso Schlesak, che ha allora 11 anni, riescono a sfuggire a questa ennesima disastrosa avventura. I sassoni verranno riportati dopo qualche tempo nel loro paese, inserendosi nella corrente della vita quotidiana, apparentemente tranquilla, del paese socialistizzato. Prima insegnante di tedesco nel proprio paese, Schlesak, che aveva sentito precocemente la vocazione letteraria, diventa scrittore, membro dell’Unione degli Scrittori, e inizia la sua carriera nel mondo delle lettere. La storia del suo passato “hitlerista” non faceva allora parte dei soggetti della sua opera, del resto prevalentemente lirica. In realtà la politica culturale comunista escludeva la rievocazione di un passato dalle componenti politiche tragiche e capace di provocare ancora divisioni e odi. Il silenzio (non la rievocazione oggettiva, né la denuncia) è stata la linea ufficiale del partito unico comunista sia sulla partecipazione dei romeni e delle altre popolazioni del paese al Nazismo, sia sulla persecuzionei degli Ebrei, come pure su tutti gli altri eventi politici e militari di quegli anni tragici e convulsi. Neil bellissimio volume racconti di Norman Manea, autore romeno ben noto, di ascendenza ebraica, quasi coetaneo di Schlesak (nato nel 1936), raccolti nel volume Ottobre ore otto (1981), l’ambientazione in un campo di concentramento in Bessarabia resta implicito e incomprensibile al lettore non avvertito. Con il perfezionarsi della comunistizzazione e con la pressione ideologica imponente sulla popolazione e soprattutto sugli intellettuali, molti tedeschi, ebrei, ma anche romeni, lasciano il paese, raggiungendo la Germania Federale, Israele, gli Stati Uniti. Anche Schlesak lascia la Romania (nel 1969, come abbiamo già ricordato), per rifugiarsi in Germania. L’esodo, anche se realizzato individualmente, assume tali dimensioni che non si può oggi più quasi parlare di Sassoni di Romania. Le loro comunità, che vivevano nel paese da secoli, sono scomparse, restano solo singoli individui. E resta il profilo inconfondibilmente tedesco dellea loro belle città, ornate di castelli e di cattedrali. Restano, scriverà Schlesak, solo le cartoline delle chiese-fortezze sassoni sulle creste dei Carpazi. Questi sono gli avvenimentio storici che stanno dietro ai due romanzi che Dieter Schlesak ha scritto molti anni dopo quei fatti: Capesius, der Auschwitzapotheker (2006) e Transylwahnien (2011). Questi libri sono apparsi tempestivamente in italiano (tra le altre lingue) coi titoli Il farmacista di Auschwitz (con prefazione di Claudio Magris, 2009) e L’uomo senza radici (2011), sempre presso l’editore Garzanti, Milano, nelle ottime traduzioni di Tomaso Cavallo. Nel secondo caso il titolo tedesco conteneva una paronomasia, impossibile da tradurre in italiano, tra le parole Transylvanien (Transilvania) e Wahn, “follia, inganno” e come LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 229 verbo wähnen “immaginarsi, ingannarsi”. La traduzione italiana è efficace, ma in fondo fallace: “l’uomo” (l’io narrante del romanzo) mostra ben salde le sue radici sassoni e transilvane, anche nel momento stesso in cui ne piange la perdita fatale e mostra la necessaria espiazione che rende irrevocabile la perdita. Se questi due romanzi rappresentano la tarda opera di Schlesak, vigoroso settantenne, ed è anche quella che certamente ha goduto di maggior ascolto e successo presso il pubblico internazionale, l’autore ha ripetuto più volte di sentirsi soprattutto poeta. Effettivamente una forte componente lirica è presente anche nei suoi romanzi. La sua produzione lirica è ora presente, d’altra parte, anche in Italia in una bella raccolta fatta da Stefano Busellato, autore delle traduzioni italiane e dell’Introduzione. Il titolo della scelta poetica, bilingue italiana e tedesca, è composito, e contiene anche questa volta dei giochi di parole intraducibili: Settanta volte sete/Siebzig mal Durst; Grenzen Los (Oltrelimite). Poesie (edizione ETS, Pisa, 2006). La produzione poetica di Schlesak è di ardua bellezza e difficoltà, spesso irraggiungibile nel suo nucleo semantico profondo anche da un lettore sensibile e esperto. La stessa qualità è presente nei romanzi, composti con una tecnica raffinata che combina il flusso di coscienza con la polifonia, cosicché la voce dell’autore, che spazia liberamente tra i suoi ricordi e le sue ispirazioni del momento, e le voci di testimoni e comprimari, si intrecciano liberamente. Ma il lettore dei romanzi, portato da questo flusso aereo che si innalza spesso liricamente, non ha difficoltà a ricomporre in sé la compatta e coerente linea narrativa. Rivivere e disseppellire il passato è il compito che si è dato Dieter Schlesak nei suoi recenti romanzi. 2.Il farmacista di Auschwitz S un nuova grande opera sullo sterminio nazista dopo che una lunga serie di libri di terribile bellezza, ultimo Necropoli dello sloveno Boris Pahor (1967, in ital. 1997), avevano rappresentato con drammatica vivezza la realtà dei campi di concentramento tedeschi. Sembrava impossibile anche perché gli ultimi testimoni diretti stanno per scomparire, e non ci sarà più chi potrà raccontarne gli orrori per esperienza diretta. Ma Il farmacista di Auschwitz ci ha riproposto con forza la storia già nota in una prospettiva nuova. Il narratore, questa volta, non è un testimone, ma qualcuno che, viaggiando per la Germania, ha raccolto le testimonianze di persone che erano state presenti nel campo di sterminio sia tra le vittime scampate al massacro, sia soprattutto tra i carnefici. In particolare Schlesak ha messo a fuoco la figura di un protagonista non minore della macchina infernale dello sterminio, il tedesco di EMBRAVA IMPOSSIBILE 230 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Transilvania Victor Capesius. Capesius, nato a Miercurea Sibiului (in ungherese Szerdahely, in tedesco Reussmarkt, a non più di 100 km. da Sighiºoara, la città dell’autore) era stato uno stretto collaboratore del famigerato Mengele, e ad Auschwitz era il distributore del mortale Zyklon B impiegato nelle camere a gas. Il dottor Mengele era lo scienziato per cui il campo di sterminio era diventato un grande laboratorio di ricerca eugenetica, sede di sadici esperimenti. Il Dottor Capesius era il capo della farmacia da cui partivano i fatali prodotti chimici per lo sterminio di massa. Se Mengele, brillante esponente della scienza tedesca, era della Baviera, Capesius, come abbiamo detto, era un tedesco di Transilvania. Le famiglie dello scrittore e quella di Victor Capesius si conoscevano. Per gli Schlesak Capesius era una presenza familiare, era “lo zio Vik”. Capesius, che aveva indossato prima la divisa dell’esercito romeno, era poi passato nell’esercito tedesco, come molti altri uomini dell’esercito romeno che appartenevano alle minoranze tedesche del paese. Nel romanzo la figura di Capesius non è certo sola. Lo circonda una folla di altre persone (non dico personaggi, e si vedrà perché: tutto è preso dalla realtà). Molti di loro vengono dalla Transilvania: tedeschi e ebrei. Tra i primi il soldato semplice e poi, di colpo, ufficiale Roland Albert, anche lui di Sighiºoara, che ad Auschwitz alternava le ore di servizio e quelle di professore di religione nella scuola tedesca. Schlesak fa risuonare spesso nel Farmacista (e poi anche nell’Uomo senza radici) la sua voce sgradevole, acuta e pedante, che rievoca i suoi gusti privati: la musica, la lettura di Hölderlin. O ancora il dottor Fritz Klein, di Codlea /Zeiden in Transilvania, condannato a morte nel processo di Francoforte. Dall’altra parte stanno i medici ebrei prigionieri come Miklós Nyiszli, diventato aiutante di Mengele nelle autopsie, le due dottoresse, Gisela Böhm e Ella Salomon Böhm, madre e figlia, anche loro ingaggiate nella farmacia di Capesius, ebree della Transilvania che saranno più tardi testimoni dell’accusa al processo di Francoforte. E tante altre vittime, soprattutto ebrei transilvani, alcuni dei quali avevano riconosciuto con sorpresa il loro compaesano Capesius tra i militari tedeschi che li accoglievano ad Auschwitz. Ma c’erano anche polacchi, francesi, ebrei e non ebrei, e prigionieri di molte altre nazionalità, che appaiono raramente nel romanzo: sono quasi tutti scomparsi nel gorgo infernale, e non hanno più voce. Quanti tedeschi di Transilvania ad Auschwitz! Nell’arruolarli, assieme ad altri tedeschi nati fuori dai confini patrii, Volksdeutsche a differenza dei tedeschi di Germania, i Reichsdeutsche, il comando tedesco li aveva spesso avviati a mansioni complementari, come questa che abbiamo detto, di assistenza ai campi di prigionia, e all’occorrenza di sterminio, che avrebbe fatto di molti di loro dei criminali. Quegli ex-militari romeni, già sudditi ungheresi, buoni fedeli della chiesa riformata di Transilvania, avevano potuto vedere arrivare in massa tra il maggio e il luglio del 1944, nei terribili trasporti organizzati da Eichmann, gli LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 231 ebrei dell’Ungheria e della Transilvania settentrionale. Compaesani, questi ultimi, conoscenti, amici, adulti e bambini. Con questi vicini avevano vissuto porta a porta senza scontri né rivalità. Alla loro discesa dai fatali treni blindati, molti avevano visto ad aspettarli Capesius. I sopravvissuti diventeranno testimoni a suo carico. Anche se Capesius pretende di essersi rivolto a questi compaesani in modo cordiale e amichevole, di avergli parlato in lingua ungherese, un’attenzione non piccola in un mondo in cui doveva esistere la sola lingua tedesca (in realtà, come nota più volte Schlesak l’orribile, deformato tedesco del lager). Ma con le sue parole e i suoi sorrisi, se questi ci saranno veramente stati (il libro ci lascia in dubbio su questa sua pretesa), li aveva solo ingannati, avviandoli, come gli altri, alla morte. Questa complessa materia narrativa, che si svolge per più di 400 pagine davanti agli occhi del lettore allibito (ancora una volta!) da tante efferatezze, è presentata con una tecnica narrativa particolare. Il libro è un immenso collage, un romanzo polifonico non nel senso di Bachtin, ma secondo il modello dei Falsari di André Gide (mediato certamente da altre opere), scritto con ineguagliabile abilità e efficacia. La voce dell’autore-narratore, quasi sdoppiata a tratti con quella di un personaggio reale la cui identità sarà svelata del tutto nel secondo romanzo, Adam, introduce e commenta sobriamente i documenti dei fatti: verbali, deposizioni del processo che, per appurare le responsabilità personali, si è tenuto a Francoforte nel 1964 (da cui la memorabile Istruttoria di Peter Weiss), e soprattutto dichiarazioni private di Capesius, come di altri protagonisti, fatte all’autore stesso del libro. Schlesak, infatti, prima di stendere il suo libro, si è trasformato in reporter ed è andato a far visita a Capesius, libero dopo 9 anni di carcere, in Germania a Göppingen, dove il farmacista si era rifatto una vita, ed era proprietario di una farmacia e di un salone di bellezza. I soldi non gli mancavano, e c’era il sospetto che fosse riuscito a trattenere una parte di quelli accantonati in oro (dalle protesi delle vittime!) e gioielli degli ebrei finiti nei forni di Auschwitz. Nella Romania comunista era stato condannato a morte, invece, e la via del ritorno a casa, nel dolce paradiso sassone, gli era preclusa. Tanto più per questo Capesius aveva accolto a cuore aperto il giovane ex-vicino di casa, il figlio di amici, e gli aveva fatto numerose confidenze, che noi possiamo leggere qui. Parziali ammissioni, giustificazioni (“era la guerra!”), digressioni, in breve: nessuna ammissione di responsabilità, nessun sentimento di colpa! Lo stesso atteggiamento che aveva tenuto nel processo di Francoforte, dove un solo cenno di pentimento avrebbe in realtà potuto favorirlo nel verdetto. Capesius, invece, aveva cercato di accumulare prove, anche minime, di proprie azioni che avrebbero potuto essere considerate delle attenuanti, come per esempio di un presunta richiesta, di cui non c’è traccia, di farsi trasferire da Auschwitz. Aveva cercato di far documentare il proprio atteggiamento umano verso alcune vitti- 232 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) me del suo stesso paese. Aveva provato a influenzare i testimoni, scrivendo minute di quello che avrebbero potuto dichiarare al giudice in suo favore. Questo libro terribile, che “ti colpisce come un pugno”, come ha scritto Claudio Magris nella sua bellissima Introduzione, è fatto di tanti frammenti narrativi che compongono come un grande, moderno mosaico, le cui tessere non sempre si incastrano. La verità non è sempre facile da sapere e non è sempre univoca. Un punto essenziale è il coinvolgimento emotivo dell’autore che in ogni pagina, in ogni riga, si trova di fronte all’immagine mostruosamente deformata del suo paese natale, della sua stessa famiglia, proiettati di colpo dallo sfondo dell’idillio transilvano al primo piano della brutalità della storia. Quello che era accaduto ai suoi vicini, di diventare un carnefice o almeno un corresponsabile silenzioso di un crimine smisurato, pensa l’autore, avrebbe potuto accedere a lui stesso. In fondo Capesius era stato al Ginnasio tedesco di Sighiºoara il compagno delle ore di ballo di sua mamma, e l’infernale farmacista di Auschwitz avrebbe potuto anche essere anche suo padre. Nella piccola patria tranquilla e tollerante, la Heimat transilvana, erano cresciuti con gli anni, l’orgoglio di essere tedeschi, e, con l’amore per la grande patria lontana (il Reich), anche l’ammirazione per Hitler, che l’aveva portata rapidamente al ruolo di protagonista sulla scena mondiale. Questa tematica viene ripresa e orchestrata in pieno nel romanzo seguente. La storia del Farmacista, grande libro, ma anche ennesimo capitolo della “banalità del male” finisce qui. L’uomo senza radici riprende questa tela narrativa allargandola a ciò che la precede, l’infanzia transilvana dell’autore e la storia della sua famiglia e della comunità sassone prima della guerra mondiale, e a ciò che la segue, l’occupazione russa, la comunistizzazione della Romania, la deportazione e il ritorno dei sassoni in Transilvania, infine la storia dell’emigrazione dell’autore e di un suo ritorno nella piccola patria perduta quando ormai tutti i protagonisti della storia sono scomparsi e la piccola patria non esiste più. La drammaticità di questi tempi recenti è grande, ma quello che resta al centro e al cuore del libro è il dramma della partecipazione al nazismo e all’immenso crimine della persecuzione degli Ebrei. 3. L’uomo senza radici. L narrativa del nuovo vasto romanzo (450 pagine), che riprende e amplia la materia del precedente, ha un punto di osservazione esterno. È un paese della Toscana, Agliano, dove l’autore vive prevalentemente con la moglie tedesca (occidentale) Linda (che negli scritti di Schlesak diventa Hannah), di Stoccarda, anche lei reduce da un terribile trauma infantile, il bombardamento che ha distrutto quasi interamente la sua città, Stoccarda. Il proA MATERIA LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 233 tagonista-narratore riceve nella sua casa di Agliano la vecchia mamma, a cui l’autore è legato da un amore fortissimo, ancora quasi infantile. Anche la mamma, come tutti gli altri parenti, si è trasferita in Germania. La patria sassone ormai non esiste più. Nella nuova, pallida, patria che li ha accolti, si indebolisce e si cancella addirittura quel complesso di sentimenti morali e di tradizioni che aveva rappresentato la germanicità profonda in cui l’autore e tutta la comunità erano cresciuti e si erano riconosciuti. La nuova Germania Federale, che ha accolto i profughi dell’Est, ha voltato le spalle a quel modo di sentire e, per cancellare il passato, ne ha anche dimenticato ogni antico modo di sentire. Il “cuore tedesco” non esiste più, e la mamma dell’autore rimpiange questa perdita e questa assenza. Ma, l’autore se ne rende ben conto, è questa la sola condizione per cui, dopo i misfatti della guerra mondiale, i Tedeschi possono continuare a vivere tra di loro e con gli altri popoli. Dopo gli accenni del primo romanzo, è in questo secondo che Schlesak rappresenta narrativamente a tutto campo la storia dell’adesione della comunità sassone in cui era nato e della sua stessa famiglia al nazismo. Ricorda perfino il furore che aveva preso lui stesso, undicenne, quando, a guerra perduta, i genitori avevano dovuto trattenerlo dal precipitarsi tra gli ultimi resistenti tedeschi. Avrebbe certamente perso la vita. Ricorda lo stupore della comunità rumena all’arrivo dei Russi, le grida con cui i compaesani rumeni li accolgono (hitleriºti, hitleriºti!). Qualche sasso, ma ai concittadini di sempre i Romeni non torcono un capello. Il disorientamento generale, il ritorno a un’esistenza tranquilla, ma nel profondo pur sempre drammatica, dopo la comunistizzazione e l’espropriazione dei beni. Il racconto procede per grandi quadri, di dettaglio in dettaglio, con frequenti inserti poetici. Schlesak ricorda e cita le canzoni della realtà precedente alla guerra, dai Lieder classici alle canzoni popolari, a quei canti patriottici che testimoniano della partecipazione al regime nazista e all’impegno militare. Ma cita anche dalle sue proprie bellissime poesie in tedesco e nel dialetto bassotedesco del paese. Il dialetto punteggia la prosa del romanzo, assieme ai più rari inserti nelle altre lingue del paese, il romeno e l’ungherese. L’autobiografia non segue un passo eguale, i piani temporali si sovrappongono e si confondono. Nell’ultima parte del libro, poi, le esperienze dell’infanzia e le ultime vicissitudini della famiglia e della comunità prima dell’esodo sono in gran parte rievocate nel quadro di una visita che lo scrittore fa al paese poco dopo la caduta del Comunismo, nei primi anni Novanta. È una parte di grande spessore poetico che ricalca, del resto, il luogo topico del ritorno (nostos), antichissimo e quasi primigenio nella letteratura occidentale. Il ritorno di Schlesak è un viaggio sentimentale, e in gran parte un viaggio a una terra dei morti. Diverso, molto diverso, dal ritorno alla terra natale ben più laico e terreno del già ricordato scrittore ebreo rumeno Norman Manea (Întoarcerea huliganului, in ingl. The 234 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) hooligan’s Return e in it. Il ritorno dell’uligano, sempre 2003)1; la gran parte dell’opera narrativa e saggistica di Norman Manea è stata magnificamente tradotta in italiano da Marco Cugno). Paradossalmente, quello che dà al viaggio narrato da Schlesak una maggiore drammaticità, è proprio la riconosciuta appartenenza del suo autore alla parte dei carnefici. Il viaggio di Schlesak non è una resa dei conti, come è in parte quello di Manea, ma un pellegrinaggio e un’espiazione. Il ritorno, dunque. Il protagonista è accolto dai nuovi inquilini romeni nella vecchia casa di famiglia. I signori Agapie (il nome, che evoca il greco “amore”, appare simbolico, ma probabilmente è reale), gli offrono di abitarci indisturbato e di dormirci. Gli chiedono perfino scusa dei pochi insignificanti cambiamenti che hanno fatto nell’appartamento quando sono subentrati. L’interlocutore privilegiato del protagonista nel suo ritorno a Sighiºoara è Adam Salmen. Salmen è anche l’ultima persona della città a parlare il tedesco, ma non è un sassone. È un ebreo sfuggito alla morte nel campo di concentramento, emigrato in Israele e tornato poi in Romania nel paese natale. La sua voce, quella di un testimone diretto della persecuzione e del campo di concentramento, era risuonata spesso nel primo romanzo, come abbiamo ricordato. Ora Adam riceve, anche fisicamente, un volto: ha gli occhi infossati nella faccia grigia, il viso di uno che è tornato dall’inferno. Anche lui è in cerca di un patria che non c’è più. Semplice comparsa, che appare anche nelle parole del padre del protagonista, la figuretta dell’ultimo degli ultimi, immancabile tuttavia nel paesaggio della vecchia Transilvania, lo zingaro. Va col suo asino, che gira ancora la mola, ed era rispettato - si difende il papà- dal vecchio padrone tedesco. Nelle ultime imprevedibili righe del libro, l’autore immagina che l’aereo che lo riporta da Bucarest a casa (e casa questa volta è Stoccarda) precipiti, proprio dopo che il protagonista aveva ripensato tra sé le parole della mamma che si chiedeva, negli ultimi anni di malattia, quando l’avrebbe colta la morte e dove l’avrebbe portata. L’aereo sbalza a terra con tremendo fragore l’autore e anche il suo libro. Il libro, che il lettore ha davanti a sé, l’autore lo aveva scritto con ansia, ogni sera, nella vecchia casa natale di Sighiºoara. Nei due libri di Schlesak poesia (fantasia) e realtà si sono date veramente la mano. LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 235 4. Appendice: l’autore di questo saggio a Sighiºoara H ricordo personale di Sighiºoara, e voglio metterlo in appendice qui, scusandomi con il lettore per l’intrusione. Nel 2001 ero stato invitato a Cluj a tenere dei corsi in italiano all’Università Babeº-Bolyai. In un giorno festivo, assieme al mio più giovane collega italiano Carlo Pulsoni, che era a Cluj con la stessa mansione, abbiamo deciso di fare insieme una gita a Sighiºoara. Un treno - in terribili condizioni- ci ha portati la mattina a Sighiºoara e ci ha riportati indietro la sera. Non avevo allora ancora letto Schlesak, ma sapevo che Sighiºoara era unao delle sette città sassoni (la Transilvania storica si chiama in tedesco Siebenbüurgen). Era anche una delle città di origine del comune giovane amico romeno (ma anche italiano) Dan Octavian Cepraga, ora professore di romeno all’Università di Padova, come lo ero stato io anni prima. La stazione, anch’essa in uno stato spaventoso di rovina - le conseguenze di più di Quarant’anni di Comunismo erano simili a quelle di una guerra- era abbastanza lontana dalla città. Ci siamo andati per la strada dei campi. La città, di cui non eravamo riusciti a riconoscere l’antico nucleo tedesco, culminava nella rocca, unico ricordo, almeno ai miei occhi, dell’antica presenza germanica. Credo che oggi la città storica sia in gran parte restaurata, e che la Germania abbia contribuito in modo essenziale a quest’opera. Siamo tornati presto alla stazione, e ci siamo seduti ad aspettare l’ora dell’arrivo del treno a un bufet. Abbiamo occupato un tavolino assieme a una coppia di anziani. Non erano marito e moglie, ma un uomo e una donna che si erano amati un tempo, ma che la frontiera romeno-ungherese aveva diviso per anni. Era il loro primo patetico reincontro dopo una lunghissima separazione, e avevano voluto farcene parte raccontandoci la loro patetica storia. Avevano provato a farlo in vano in ungherese, poi, con stupore, avevano constatato che capivamo il romeno. I loro volti portavano le tracce di innumerevoli sofferenze, erano i volti stessi di un paese ferito. Le loro mani tremanti testimoniavano di una malattia, forse dell’alcolismo. Era l’ora del treno, ci siamo salutati. Non ci saremmo visti mai più. Ma soprattutto per loro stessi quello era, ci avevano detto, il loro ultimo incontro. Non poteva esserci incontro più intenso e eloquente con un paese, con un’umanità ferita. O UN Note 1. La gran parte dell’opera narrativa e saggistica di Norman Manea è stata magnificamente tradotta in italiano da Marco Cugno: cf. Il ritorno dell’huligano. Una vita, cura e traduzione di M. Cugno, Il Saggiatore, Milano, 2004. Lo stesso tema del ritorno si ritrova nel romanzo di Gabriela Adameºteanu, L’incontro, traduzione di Roberto Merlo, nottetempo, Roma, 2010. 236 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Abstract The Tragic Epic of the Transylvanian Saxons in Dieter Schelsak’s Novels This paper presents a close reading of two recent novels by the German-Romanian writer Dieter Schlesak: Capesius der Auschwitzapotheker (2006) and Transylwahnien (2011). Born in 1934 among the German community of Transylvania, Schlesak deals in his novels with the tragic epic of the Holocaust, seen from the particular point of view of the transylvanian Saxons and their involvement in the Nazi crimes. More precisely, he depicts the “little homeland” of the Saxons and his dramatic dissolution, while History painfully reveals the existence of the Evil within the reassuring transylvanian Heimat. Keywords Dieter Schlesak, Saxons de Transylvanie, roman Frammenti di un carteggio inedito: Alexandru Marcu – Giandomenico Serra ª TEFAN D AMIAN T RA LE numerose testimonianze dei rapporti culturali romeno-italiani conservate nel Carteggio Serra1, abbiamo alcune lettere che ci offrono la possibilità di seguire anche una stretta collaborazionbe intellettuale e umana tra due italianisti di elevato valore scientifico, che hanno svolto un’intensa attività di ricerca tra le due guerre, tanto in Romania, quanto in Italia. Sin dall’inizio dobbiamo affermare che i due protagonisti della estremamente ridotta ed incompleta corrispondenza a nostra disposizione, hanno manifestato sentimenti di profondo rispetto ed amore per il proprio Paese, e nella stessa misura, anche per il Paese che per un certo periodo della loro vita li ha ospitati e offerto la possibilità di prepararsi e manifestarsi pienamente. Il primo di loro, il piemontese il glottologo Giandomenico Serra2, nato a Locana Canavese nel 1885, prima di laurearsi in Italia, alla regia Università di Torino, con l’insigne romanista e romenista Matteo Bartoli3 svolse diverse attività, tanto in Italia, quanto all’estero, per poter sostenere se e la famiglia che versava in ristrettezze economiche. Negli anni trascorsi ad Aja, come pedagogo dei figli del ministro d’Italia prima della Grande guerra e durante tutti gli stages di preparazione in diversi paesi europei, imparò numerose lingue, da quelle classiche (greco, latino) alle lingue orientali (tra le quali l’arabo) e alle moderne: francese, tedesco, spagnolo, romeno, inglese. Ne è testimonianza la sua corrispondenza, dalla quale emerge anche la grande disponibilità umana ed il profondo senso dell’amicizia che animava il Serra, nonché le sue vastissime conoscenze che andavano dal campo linguistico a quello della storia, dei costumi e della letteratura. Nel 1921, dopo la fondazione dell’Università Romena di Cluj, su raccomandazione del professor Bartoli fu invitato in Romania dal linguista Sextil Puºcariu (1875-1948), il primo rettore della nuova instituzione di cultura, dove aprì il Seminario di lingua e letteratura italiana e dove, nel 1926, fondò la Cattedra d’italiano che diresse fino al Natale del 1939 quando si ritirò in Italia, a Cagliari, dove nel frattempo aveva vinto il concorso per occupare il posto di professore di glottologia. 238 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Da Cagliari (dove, tra l’altro, ricoprì anche la carica di preside della Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia) intrattenne un interessante rapporto epistolare con un impressionante numero di intellettuali europei e di tutto il mondo, di primaria importanza nel campo della glottologia, ma anche della cultura e la spiritualità romene4, per le quali Giandomenico Serra ha sempre avuto una particolare attenzione. Nel 1953, dopo la scomparsa di Vittorio Bertoldi5, si trasferì a Napoli, diventando direttore di studi alla Cattedra di glottologia dell’Università partenopea fino al 23 febbraio 1958, anno della sua improvvisa scomparsa. Per la sua attività, G. D. Serra fu insignito di numerosi titoli e onorificenze, tra i quali ricordiamo: Cavaliere Ufficiale della Corona di Romania, Accademico Onorario dell’Accademia Lunigianese “G. Cappellini”, Membro del Comitato Direttivo del Centro Nazionale di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, Accademico Corrispondente della “R. Academia di Buenas Letras” di Barcellona, Membro Onorario dell’Accademia Svedese Gustavo Adolfo, Membro Straniero dell’Accademia R. Società di Scienze e Lettere di Goteborg, Accademico Titolare dell’Accademia del Mediterraneo, Membro d’Onore dell’Accademia di Romania, Membro dell’Accademia di Oropa, Membro effettivo della Societé Académique du Duché d’Aosta, Medaglia d’oro dei Benemeriti della Scuola, della Cultura e dell’Arte. Il suo collega romeno, Alexandru Marcu6, con il quale, d’altronde, G.D. Serra condivideva non soltanto il culto dell’importanza del mondo latino per lo sviluppo culturale e politico europeo, ma anche idee politiche di carattere nazionalista, nacque nel 1894, in un paese della Moldavia, dove suo padre, ferroviere, lavorava. Fece gli studi ginnasiali e liceali a Craiova, in uno dei migliori licei romeni del tempo, studi conclusi nel 1914, dove ebbe rimarchevoli professori, e dove iniziò lo studio della lingua e della cultura italiana, insieme a quella francese, che conobbe a perfezione. Negli durissimi anni della Prima guerra mondiale si ritirò, insieme alla famiglia, in Moldavia, dove ebbe il tentativo di pubblicare una rivista che, però, non potendola sostenere finanziarmente, cesso la sua apparizione quasi subito. Dopo la guerra poi seguì i corsi della Facoltà di Lettere dell’Università di Bucarest, sotto la direzione del professore Ramiro Ortiz7, il fondatore della cattedra d’italiano. Di là passò all’Università di Firenze, dove ottenne il dottorato in Lettere (1922) con una tesi su Ippolito Nievo. Qui strinse amicizia con un gruppo di scrittori di “La Voce” e soprattutto con Giovanni Papini, di cui poi fu un importante traduttore. Furono questi gli anni in cui si interessò di una migliore diffusione della letteratura romena nello spazio culturale peninsulare, traducendo per diverse testate letterarie novelle e racconti di autori romeni moderni, tra cui Liviu Rebreanu, Mihail Sadoveanu, Al. Brãtescu - Voineºti, Gib Mihãescu. Tra gli anni 1922-1924 si annoverò tra i soci della allora recente Scuola Romena di Roma, dove preparò e pubblicò i saggi di ampio respiro Riflessi di storia LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 239 rumena in opere italiane dei secoli XIV e XV (1923) e Un pittore rumeno all’Accademia di S. Luca. Giorgio Tatarescu (1923); dopo il rientro in Romania, furono pubblicati gli ampi saggi I romantici italiani ed i romeni (1924) e La Spagna ed il Portogallo nella visione dei romantici italiani (1924). Nel 1926 divenne professore associato di lingua e letteratura italiana all’Università di Bucarest, dove lavorò fino al 1933 col professor Ramiro Ortiz. Nello stesso periodo insegnò, per parecchi anni, l’italiano all’Accademia Commerciale di Bucarest. Dopo il ritiro in Italia del professor Ortiz, Marcu fu titolare – dal 1933 – della Cattedra di lingua e letteratura italiana della Facoltà di Lettere di Bucarest. Pubblica ora alcuni studi, tra cui menzioniamo Cospiratori e cospirazioni nell’epoca della Rinascita politica della Romania (1848-1877) – 1930. Nello stesso periodo si dedicò con impegno alla traduzione della Divina Commedia, che pubblicò tra gli anni 1932 e 1934. Negli anni a venire continuò a pubblicare saggi relativi alle relazioni politiche e culturali romeno-italiane, e lavori sul periodo del Rinascimento (Figure femminili del Rinascimento – 1939, Il valore dell’Arte nel Rinascimento – 1942). Sempre allora, la sua attività di italianista si ampliò con la traduzione di opere di Leopardi, Carducci, Papini, Deledda, Goldoni, Pirandello e.a. Continuò la pubblicazione della rivista di Ortiz, “Roma”, che cambiò testata diventando “Studii italiene”. Per la sua attività scientifica e letteraria fu insignito nel 1940 del premio “San Remo” concessogli dall’Accademia d’Italia e nello stesso anno fu eletto socio corrispondente dell’Accademia Romena. Ricoprì anche la carica di preside (1940-1941) della Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia di Bucarest. Alexandru Marcu è stato uno dei nostri più importanti italianisti. Affermatosi tanto nel campo della storia e storia della letteratura, quanto come traduttore dall’italiano in romeno e dal romeno in italiano, è stato un convinto promotore delle relazioni umane, culturali, sociali, e anche politiche tra la Romania e l’Italia. Date le alte cariche istituzionali (particolarmente in qualità di ministro alla Propaganda Nazionale negli anni 1941-1944) fu uno dei più assidui promotori della cultura italiana in Romania. Ebbe, così, la possibilità di introdurre nelle scuole lo studio dell’italiano sin dagli anni di ginnasio, tenne alla Radio Bucarest numerossime conferenze su realtà e personalità italiane, ebbe molti invitati di cui si occupò con massima attenzione, organizzando per loro possibilità d’incontro con il pubblico romeno, diresse collane di testi teatrali italiani tradotti in romeno e.a. Gli avvenimenti politici ulteriori al 23 agosto 1944 capovolsero il suo destino. Con l’arresto di Ion Antonescu, Al. Marcu fu allontanato dal Governo, dall’Università e dall’Accademia Romena. Nel maggio 1946 fu arrestato, e due anni più tardi fu condannato a 12 anni di lavori forzati che scontò in diverse carceri. Morì in prigione il 27 febbraio 1955. 240 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 1. Lettera scritta a macchina su carta riportando la scritta “Cultura Italo-Românã”. Bucureºti, 26 Fevruarie 1929. Domnule Profesor, În dorinþa de a promova ºi intensifica legãturile noastre culturale cu Italia, sprijinind diferitele iniþiative existente ºi ce sunt de luat în vederea unui cât mai activ schimbcultural între cele douã þãri, s’a alcãtuit de curând în Bucureºti un Comitet promotor, în vederea constituirei Asociaþiunei “Cultura Italo-Românã”. Din acest Comitet promotor fac parte Domnii: I. Bianu, Secretar General al Academiei Române; Garzoni, Consul General al Italiei la Bucureºti; Marchesano, Directorul Bãncii Comerciale Italo-Române din Bucureºti; G. Murnu, Profesor Universitar; R. Ortiz, Profesor Universitar; L. Rebreanu, Preºedintele S.S.R. cât ºi subsemnaþii. Preºedinþia de onoare a fost oferitã Domnului G. Preziosi, Ministrul Italiei la Bucureºti ºi D-lui Profesor Nicolae Iorga. În urma hotãrârilor luate de Comitetul nostru, în ºedinþa dela 20 Fevruarie a.c., facem un cãlduros apel pe lângã D-Voastrã rugându-vã sã binevoiþi a accepta invitaþiunea noastrã de a face parte din Comitetul de Acþiune al nouei Asociaþiuni. Mulþumindu-vã anticipat pentru sprijinul ce nu ne îndoim cã-l veþi acorda ºi în aceastã formã iniþiativei noastre, vã rugãm a primi, din parte-ne, expresiunea celei mai distinse consideraþiuni. Preºedinte (Semnat): Al. Em. Lahovary8 7, Str. B. Mussolini Secretar (Semnat): Alex. Marcu. Domniei Sale Domnului Profesor G. D. Serra, Facultatea de Litere Cluj. 2. Lettera scritta a macchina su carta non intestata. Bucureºti 17. V. 1929. Domnule Profesor, În toamna acestui an se vor împlini douãzeci de ani decând ºi-a început rodnica sa activitate ca profesor de Literaturã Italianã la Universitatea din Bucureºti, dl prof. Ramiro Ortiz. Spre a comemora aceastã datã, s’a luat iniþiativa publicãrii unui volum omagial care urmeazã sã-i fie prezentat sãrbãtoritului cu prilejul deschiderii noului an ºcolar. În acest scop apelãm la concursul D-voastre, cu rugãmintea de a ne rãspunde dacã veþi binevoi sã colaboraþi la alcãtuirea volumului, trimiþându-ne un articol ale cãrui proporþii nu ar putea trece de zece pagini de tipar, forma -8°. În caz afirmativ, vã rugãm a ne comunica încã de pe acum titlul articolului D-voa- LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 241 stre, urmând ca manuscrisul sã fie trimis spre imprimare cel mai târziu pânã la 1 Septembrie a.c. Toatã corespondenþa privitoare la aceastã iniþiativã urmeazã a-i fi adresatã slui Alexandru Marcu, Conferenþiar Universitar, str. Roma 16 Bucureºti (III). (Aggiunto a mano, da Al. Marcu): Dsale Dlui G. D. Serra Facultatea de Litere Cluj. 3. Abbozzo di lettera scritta a macchina su carta non intestata. Scrivente: G.D. Serra. Cluj lì 31.I. 35. “Chiarissimo Professore, per dare una risposta più sollecita alla Sua raccomandata del ventisei c.m. ho incaricato una mia allieva di rilevare dai registri della Segreteria della nostra Facoltà di Lettere il numero esatto degli iscritti ai corsi d’italiano per l’anno accademico 1933-34. Risulta di 101 (centoeuno). Il programma dei corsi era il seguente: A. – Corso d’introduzione allo studio della lingua italiana / 3 ore / Letture sulla storia e sulla geografia dell’Italia / 1 ora / Cenni sulla storia generale della letteratura italiana / 1 ora /. B. – La Divina Commedia / contin. / / 1 ora / Antologia della poesia e della prosa italiana / con particolare applicazione allo studio della ritmica e della metrica italiana / 1 ora / Grammatica storica italiana / Elementi di fonetica e di morfologia / 1 ora /. Seminario: Esercizi di traduzione dall’italiano in rumeno e viceversa / 1 ora /. Porgo a Lei i migliori saluti e auguri e alla Sua gentile Signora anche a nome della mia”. * 4. Lettera olografa su carta intestata: Seminarul de Literatura Italiana Bucarest. “Bucarest, 29. II. 936. Str. Stirbei Vodã 20. Ottimo Prof. Serra, Ho avuto tutto: le bozze, la rivista (Revue de Transylvanie), nonché il contributo di 3500 lei per la stampa del Suo articolo. 242 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) E di tutto La ringrazio vivamente. Le bozze mi sono già state rimandate dalla tipografia, in ordine. Domani farò io stesso la revisione e poi comincieremo (sic!) la stampa. Darò tutte le disposizioni per i Suoi estratti e Le farò anzi avere nuovamente le bozze, con le modificazioni da Ella desiderate. Così, avremo il secondo volume di questi Studii Italiene. Per ciò che mi riguarda, sono contento, anzi fiero di avere la Sua collaborazione. Un solo scrupolo di coscienza mi tormenta ancora: come sacrificare la precedenza che Le spetta nel sommario, per non dare al fascicolo un carattere troppo esclusivamente e prettamente glottologico? Ella sa però i sensi di viva stima e simpatia che nutro per il nostro ottimo professor Serra. Al quale vorrà rinnovare, come pure alla gentile Signora Serra, tanti sensi di devota sincera amicizia ed ammirazione da parte del Suo Alexandru Marcu.” 5. Lettera olografa su carta intestata: Et ventis adversis. “Bucarest, 12 Apr. 937. Strada Stirbei Voda 20. Chiar.mo prof. Serra, Come avrà visto dai giornali, ci ritroveremo nuovamente, e presto, a Cluj, per gli esami di “Capacitate”. Ne sono molto contento, L’assicuro e con me, mia moglie, che mi accompagnerà forse. I nostri esami cominceranno (sic!) il giorno 25 corr. Già dalla vigilia (sera) cercherò di essere presente, ed allora sarà mia premura ossequiare la Gent.ma Signora Serra e Lei. Suo Alexandru Marcu.” 6. Nella stessa busta si conserva la risposta scritta a macchina e non spedita: Scrivente: G. D. Serra “Chiarissimo Prof. Marcu, sono veramente lieto di poterla rivedere in un (sic!) colla sua gentilissima Signora, qui, in Cluj, per gli esami di “Capacitate”. I sentimenti della nostra fraterna reciproca devozione, la squisita delicatezza, ben esperimentata, del suo animo, la fermezza del suo giudizio spassionato mi assicurano che, anche questa volta, usciremo dalla “prova del fuoco”, riaffermando rinsaldata la nostra amicizia nell’approvazione comune, tanto degli altri commissari che dei candidati, all’opera nostra. LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 243 Nella certezza di un tanto felice esito, Le porgo i migliori saluti anche a nome della mia Maria, che mi si unisce per rivolgere alla sua gentile Signora il più cordiale ossequio e nel dire Loro “A ben arrivederci”. Cluj, lì 15.IV. 37. P.S. Sarò ad attenderla alla stazione la sera del 24 c.m., s’Ella mi vorrà usare la bontà di comunicarmi l’ora dell’arrivo del Loro treno.” * 7. Lettera scritta a macchina su carta intestata: t ventis adversis. Bucarest lì 29 ott. 939. “Ottimo Prof. Serra, A Cernãuþi, dove ci siamo trovati con Puºcariu9 e con Giuglea10 per un concorso di “conferenza” ho avuto la prima notizia della Sua partenza definitiva (questa volta) dalla Romania. Caro, ottimo professore: ecco il momento di essere egoisti e di dirLe che tale notizia è stata per me una sorpresa non tanto...buona! Con la Sua partenza dalla Romania, dopo tanti anni di lotte e di collaborazioni sempre concorde, ho un non so che strano senso d’isolamento... pur rimanendo io in Romania! Ma nello stesso tempo la Sua chiamata in Italia mi rende alquanto orgoglioso, perché... non una volta ebbi a spiegare a tanti amici italiani, compreso il maestro Bertoni11 il reale valore (morale ed intellettuale) del “nostro” professor Serra! Me ne congratulo ora di cuore, di cuore, di tutto il cuore... pur rimpiangendo un po’ il Suo allontanamento! Spero anch’io di vederci prima che Lei e la Signora Serra, lascino per sempre Cluj. Perché da Bucarest passeranno lo stesso! Avremo l’occasione così di stringerci ancora una volta la mano io leggendo nel Suo sguardo l’espressione di una leale amicizia, Lei nel mio quello di una franca e definitiva ammirazione. Omaggio alla Signora Serra da parte nostra. Suo dev.mo Alexandru Marcu.” 244 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Notes 1. È il nome d’invenzione che diamo ad un numero di circa duecento lettere, cartoline e abbozzi di risposta conservate dopo la sparizione del glottologo italiano e consegnato all’accademico Ovidiu Drimba da Maria Serra, vedova Serra, nel periodo in cui l’accademico romeno era lettore di lingua romena all’Università di Torino. A sua volta, Ovidiu Drimba ha avuto la gentilezza di consegnarle alla Prof.ssa Viorica Lascu, per molti anni insegnante d’italiano presso la Facoltà di Lettere dell’Università Babeº-Bolyai di Cluj-Napoca, ex allieva di Serra, che le ha messe a nostra disposizione. 2. Cfr. Ioanni Dominico Serra ex munere laeto inferiale, Libreria Liguori, 1959, dedicato alla memoria dell’autore dall’Università degli Studi di Napoli, Istituto di Glottologia: La genesi della parola, Torino, Bona, 1907, pp. 83; Sulla voce italiana “medaglia”, in “Dacoromania”, II, Cluj, 1923; Per la storia del cognome italiano. I. Cognomi canavesani e piemontesi di forma collettiva in -aglia, -ata, -ato, in “Dacormania”, Cluj, 1924, pp. 523-549; Problema continutãþii onomastici latine în onomastica italianã, Bucureºti, 1926, pp. 22; Per la storia del cognome italiano. II. Continuità dell’onmastica latino-romanza nei nomi propri canavesani e piemontesi, in “Dacormania”, IV, Cluj, 1926, pp. 517-640; Contributo toponomastico alla descrizione delle vie romane e romee nel Canavese, in “Melanges d’Historire Générale, Institutul de Istorie Universaleè a Universitãþii din Cluj, Cluj, 1927, pp. 243-322; Ceneri e faville. Etimologie, I, in “Dacoromania”, V, 1928, pp. 426-467; Contributo toponomastico alla teoria della continuità nel Medioevo delle comunità rurali romane e preromane dell’Italia Superiore, Ed. “Cartea Româneascã”, Cluj, 1931, pp. VIII-325. È il volume no. IV della Biblioteca Dacoromaniei diretta da Sextil Puºcariu, apparsa sotto la sigla dell’Università “Regele Ferdinand I” di Cluj; Contribuþie la istoria terminologiei professionale medievale. Despre tipul morfologic lat. vulg. panatarius, span. panadero, port. padeiro, catal. panater, prov. panatier, fr. panetier, ital. panattiere-panettiere, in Volumul Omagial pentru fraþii Alexandru ºi Ion Lãpedatu, Bucureºti, 1936, pp. 779-797; Per la storia dei nomi locali lombardi e dell’Italia superiore. Note in margine al Dizionario di Tponomastica Lombarda di dante Olivieri, in “Zeitschrift fur romanische Philologie”, LVII, 5, Halle, 1937, pp. 521-563; Appunti toponomastici sul “Comitatus Auriatensis”, în “Rivista di Studi Liguri”, IX, 1, 1943, pp. 3-56; Continuità e sviluppo dela voce latina ‘civitas’ nel sardo medievale, in “Revista Portuguesa de Filologia”, vol. IV, 1950, pp. 5.23; Tracce del culto dell’olmo e del tiglio nella toponomastica e negli usi civili dell’Italia medioevale. Comunicare þinutã la al III-lea Congres international de Toponimie et d’Anthoponymie, Bruxelles, 15-19 juillet 1949, vedi “Actes et Memoires”, vol. III, Louvain, 1951, pp. 547-563; Etruschi e Latini in Sardegna, în “Mélanges de Philologie Romane” offerts à M. Karl Michaelsson, Goteborg, 1952, pp. 407-450; Lineamenti di una storia Linguistica dell’Italia Medioevale, Vol. I, Napoli, Ed. Liguori, 1954, pp. 322; Giandomenico Serra, Lineamenti di una storia linguistica dell’Italia medioevale, II, Napoli, Libreria Editrice R. Liguori, 1958 ed il III volume, con lo stesso titolo e con la stessa casa editrice, nel 1965, Contributo alla storia dei derivati di Burgus: LITERATURE 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. AND MEMORY • 245 Borgale, Borgaria, Borgoro, in “Filologia Romanza”, anno V, fasc. 1, nr. 17, Torino, 1958 (Chiantore), pp. 1-48 e numerosi altri. In numero ristretto è stato finora pubblicato nelle pagini della rivista “Steaua” no. 1/2008, 11-12/2008, no. 1-2/2009 sotto le firme di Viorica Lascu - ªtefan Damian e nel volume Studii de romanisticã. Volum dedicat profesorului Lorenzo Renzi, Editura Fundaþiei pentru studii europene, Cluj-Napoca, 2007. Importante linguista italiano (1873 - 1946), capocattedra di Lingua e letteratura romena alla Regia Università di Torino. Nacque ad Albona, in Istria, dove imparò il dialetto degli istroromeno. Ha studiato a Viena dove conobbe Sextil Puºcariu. Cfr. ªtefan Damian, Privirea reciprocã, IDC Press, Cluj-Napoca, 2009. Vittorio Bertoldi (Trento 1888 - Roma 1953), studiò a Vienna, Parigi, Firenze. Prese la libera docenza a Bonn. Insegnò glottologia a Cagliari e Napoli. Tra i suoi libri più importanti ricordiamo La parola quale mezzo di espressione (1947) e Colonizzazioni nell’antico Mediterraneo occidentale alla luce degli aspetti linguistici, Napoli, 1950. Cfr. Veronica Turcuº, Alexandru Marcu (1894-1955). Vita ed opera di un italianista romeno, Ed. Fundaþia Culturalã Românã, Cluj-Napoca, 2009. Ramiro Ortiz (1879-1947), il fondatore della Cattedra di lingua e letteratura italiana dell’Università di Bucarest (1913) e dell’Istituto Italiano di Cultura (1924). Nel 1933 rientrò in Italia, all’Università di Padova. Al. Em. Lahovary, nato a Parigi nel 1855 (o 1856), morto a Bucarest nel 1950. Ex ministro e ministro plenipotenziario in diverse capitali europee: Costantinopoli, Vienna, Parigi, Roma. Sextil Puscariu (1875-1948), rinomato linguista, ex lettore di romeno all’Università di Vienna, professore universitario a Cernauti e poi a Cluj, membro dell’Accademia Romena. Autore di libri di grammatica, dialettologia, storia della letteratura, direttore dell’Institutul Limbii Române di Cluj. Direttore della rivista “Dacormania”. George Giuglea (1884-1967), professore universitario di filologia romanza alla Facoltà di Lettere di Cluj, membro dell’Accademia Romana. Insigne linguista, storico della lingua, ha insegnato il romeno all’Università di Sorbona. Si era specializzato anche in Italia e in Spagna e conosceva le rispettive lingue. Giulio Bertoni (1878-1942), storico e critico letterario, si è occupato con la poesia delle Origini, del Rinascimento a Ferrara, di Ariosto, però anche con gli studi di filologia. Professore universitario, accademico d’Italia, ha avuto una particolare attenzione verso i romeni e la loro cultura. 246 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Abstract Fragments of an Unpublished Correspondence: Alexandru Marcu – Domenico Serra A few letters from a personal archive, the author seeks the relationship of respect, friendship and intellectual solidarity between two leading scientists of the firsthalf of the twentieth century. From this is presented the interest for philology-glottology and also for the events that marked their life. glotologie, filologie, arhiva. Keywords Marian Papahagi e la romanistica: la tesi di laurea con Aurelio Roncaglia A LVARO B ARBIERI D URANTE IL triennio 1968-1970, in un clima di relativa distensione che coinvolge a più livelli la vita politica e pubblica, entrano in vigore in Romania nuove normative sulla concessione dei passaporti, che schiudono qualche inattesa possibilità di circolazione oltre frontiera1. Nel 1968, «per ragioni del tutto congiunturali»2, lo stato romeno stabilisce di inviare all’estero un esiguo manipolo di giovani studiosi, uno dei quali destinato a specializzarsi nel settore dell’italianistica. È inserendosi in questo sottile spiraglio che Marian Papahagi riesce ad aprirsi una strada verso Roma, città nella quale resterà poco più di quattro anni (1968-1972), laureandosi in Filologia romanza con Aurelio Roncaglia. Di questo snodo biografico – di certo provvidenziale per il protagonista della vicenda ma ancor più, in prospettiva, per i rapporti culturali tra il paese di partenza e quello d’arrivo – ci ha restituito un limpido referto fattuale Doina Derer3. Ma per una ricostruzione della parabola formativa di Papahagi conterà anzitutto domandarsi per quale motivo un giovane aspirante italianista, approdato a Roma dopo essersi fatto le ossa negli ambienti letterari di Cluj, non si sia laureato, come sarebbe stato forse più naturale, in Letteratura italiana, ma si sia messo alla scuola di Roncaglia, eleggendo l’Istituto di Filologia romanza come luogo ideale di formazione. Oltre al fascino personale e all’eccezionale magistero scientifico di Aurelio Roncaglia, che cosa poteva offrire la romanistica al ventenne Marian Papahagi? Credo che una risposta minimamente adeguata a tale quesito debba essere articolata su più piani. In uno dei due tombeaux intelligenti e commossi che ha dedicato a Papahagi, Lorenzo Renzi scrive che l’opera dell’amico prematuramente scomparso «sembra segnata da quella stessa ansia universalistica ed enciclopedica che si ritrova in tanti eruditi romeni del passato, Dimitrie Cantemir e Bogdan Petriceicu Hasdeu, ma anche del passato recente e del presente, Nicolae Iorga e Mircea Eliade»4. È un’intuizione importante, che spiega la straordinaria estensione degli interessi intellettuali di Papahagi, ma anche la sua operosità febbrile, la sua passione per 248 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) le grandi sintesi, la sua capacità davvero prodigiosa di spogliare e dominare immense bibliografie. Abbracciando la filologia romanza – disciplina dalla robusta inclinazione comparatistica e statutariamente orientata verso le scritture dell’Età di Mezzo –, Papahagi poteva annettersi nella sua totalità (da Roma a Lisbona, passando per Parigi) quel Medioevo neolatino così cruciale nella storia europea, eppure così lontano dal mainstream di una cultura che comincia la sua storia letteraria ben al di là dei confini cronologici medievali e che ha semmai un sontuoso Medioevo folclorico fatto di colinde, di canti narrativi e di ricchissime tradizioni popolari. Insomma: la romanistica costituiva una via d’accesso privilegiata, se non proprio la via maestra, alla storia culturale e letteraria dell’Occidente europeo. Immagino poi che a questa tensione universalistica da umanista integrale, Papahagi abbia ben presto aggiunto la consapevolezza che uno studio approfondito dei testi italiani delle Origini non può andare disgiunto dalla conoscenza delle letterature d’oc e d’oïl. Animato da infiniti interessi ma particolarmente attratto dalla produzione poetica, Papahagi deve aver intuito subito che per capire i siciliani e gli stilnovisti occorreva aver letto prima i trovatori. Tra l’altro, fuori dal dominio delle culture medievali, la romanistica può portare a fecondissimi incontri con le singole lingue e letterature neolatine. È nell’Istituto di Filologia romanza che Papahagi comincia a studiare il portoghese sotto la guida di Luciana Stegagno Picchio, perfezionando la sua formazione con soggiorni estivi in Portogallo e dando così inizio ad un’importante attività di lusitanista5. Come tutte le discipline “a baricentro” storico-filologico, anche la romanistica italiana, che alla Sapienza aveva una delle sue punte d’eccellenza, offriva rigorosi protocolli di ricerca basati sulla linguistica, sullo strumentario stilisticoretorico e sulla sensibilità ecdotica per la concretezza del dato testuale. Ma a questa solidità d’impostazione, che affondava le sue radici nel nucleo istituzionale dei saperi disciplinari, si saldava un atteggiamento estremamente ricettivo nei confronti delle principali novità che si affacciavano sul terreno dell’ermeneutica e della teoria letteraria. Gli anni dell’apprendistato romano di Papahagi sono quelli, fiammeggianti e innovativi, della prima massiccia diffusione dello strutturalismo letterario in Italia. Nel 1966 esce da Bompiani il libro di Victor Erlich sui formalisti russi, mentre nel 1968 Einaudi pubblica la silloge curata da Todorov (l’edizione francese risale al 1965). Queste introduzioni al formalismo russo riscuotono un significativo successo editoriale e lasciano un’eco profonda, che si riverbera ben al di là del ristretto ambito specialistico cui erano originariamente rivolte. Frattanto, cominciano a muoversi anche gli italiani, che danno autonomamente i primi saggi di critica strutturale: è del 1965 la prima redazione degli Orecchini di Montale di Avalle (molto più precoce è, ovviamente, la variantisti- LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 249 ca strutturale: le Implicazioni leopardiane di Contini sono del 1947). E nell’ottobre 1966 nasce «Strumenti critici», rivista quadrimestrale edita a Torino da Einaudi, che diviene il principale laboratorio della semiotica e dello strutturalismo letterari in Italia. In questo tumultuoso carosello di dibattiti teorici e applicazioni testuali, che fa circolare nei settori umanistici una ventata rinfrescante di energie intellettuali, giocano un ruolo d’avanguardia i filologi romanzi, specialmente due figure di primissimo piano come Cesare Segre e il già citato D’Arco Silvio Avalle6. Ecco: nella romanistica italiana il ventenne Papahagi trova non soltanto il rigore della scuola storica e le raffinatezze esegetiche della stilistica, ma anche le più appassionanti novità del paradigma formale. Della salutare sbornia strutturalista del giovane studente romeno ci parla una bella testimonianza di Stegagno Picchio7: E penso specialmente a quei giovani che come Marian vivevano allora insieme a noi la stessa entusiasmante avventura iniziatica. Era stato un continuo oscillare fra la pratica ecdotica e la frequentazione di tutti i classici e i novissimi della tradizione italiana ed europea, da Croce a Spitzer fino ai nuovi Beatles strutturalisti degli «Strumenti critici». E non posso dimenticare quelle giornate che tutti, insieme a maestri come Cesare Segre e D’Arco Silvio Avalle, e giovanissimi studenti come Marian Papahagi e Carmen Radulet, passavamo qui, chiusi nella stanzetta del seminario di portoghese, a individuare le strutture significative di testi come l’Infinito di Leopardi o Cá nesta Babilónia di Camões: felici, a riprova che si trattava veramente di un metodo scientifico, quando tutti coincidevamo nelle nostre letture. Il quadriennio di studi universitari alla Sapienza culmina nella discussione di una tesi di laurea in Filologia romanza, diretta da Aurelio Roncaglia e dedicata agli Aspetti blasfemi nella poesia romanza delle origini8. Siamo nell’anno accademico 1971-1972 e correlatrice è proprio Stegagno Picchio, che dopo Roncaglia è il secondo nume tutelare del laureando. Lavoro di mole ragguardevole, la tesi di Papahagi consta di 465 pagine dattiloscritte di 34/35 righe scarsamente interlineate, con margini superiori, inferiori e laterali assai striminziti. Questa monografia poderosa e arborescente, di cui vorrei presentarvi le acquisizioni più rilevanti, è rimasta completamente inedita. Nessuna porzione della tesi romana è mai uscita a stampa, né vi sono stati travasi di materiali in altre successive pubblicazioni. È, ad esempio, sorprendente che le pagine su Cavalcanti e quelle sui realistico-giocosi non siano state convogliate nella tesi di dottorato sulla lirica italiana del Duecento (Intelectualitate ºi laicitate, pubblicata nel 1986 col titolo di Intelectualitate ºi poezie). Eppure, certe idee forza del Papahagi maturo trovano la loro prima nitida enunciazione nella tesi di laurea romana, il cui 250 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) ripescaggio si deve all’iniziativa del figlio Adrian, che nel gennaio 2009 ha presentato alla comunità scientifica l’inedito paterno9. Con generosità e cortesia non comuni, Adrian Papahagi mi ha donato una fotocopia integrale della tesi del padre, garantendo alla presente rassegna l’indispensabile base documentaria. Di questo – così come di molte preziose informazioni scambiate via e-mail tra Romania e Italia – gli sono profondamente grato. Oggetto della tesi di laurea di Marian Papahagi sono gli elementi blasfemi isolabili nella «poesia romanza delle origini». In realtà, il corpus esaminato è assai più ampio di quanto non dica il titolo. Anzitutto, la forcella cronologica non si astringe affatto alle Origini. L’escursione è, anzi, piuttosto larga, poiché si va dal primo trovatore occitano attestato (Guglielmo, nono duca d’Aquitania e settimo conte di Poitiers, 1071-1126) ad Alfonso Álvarez de Villasandino, che era ancora attivo nel 1424. L’impressione è che la specificazione «delle origini» contenuta nell’intitolazione vada intesa nel senso esteso di «medievali / del Medioevo». Inoltre, la campionatura delle fonti non si limita al repertorio poetico nei suoi tre grandi filoni – amoroso, politico-satirico-morale e comico-giocoso –, ma sconfina nei territori del genere romanzesco con il Tristan di Thomas, la Charrette di Chrétien de Troyes e il romanzo in lingua d’oc di Flamenca, arruolando anche la chantefable di Aucassin et Nicolette e il vasto poema allegorico-enciclopedico che va sotto il nome di Roman de la rose. A queste inclusioni di area galloromanza, sempre motivate dalle necessità dell’argomentazione, si aggiunge poi, per l’ambito iberico, il Libro de buen amor di Juan Ruiz. Monografia di taglio tematico su una questione di forte rilevanza ideologica, la tesi romana si tiene in equilibrio tra il lavoro analitico sui singoli testi e la volontà costruttiva del pensiero critico. Questa tensione, riconosciuta da Ion Pop come un tratto tipico del lavoro scientifico di Papahagi10, attraversa questo lavoro giovanile da capo a fondo. Gli enunciati di portata generale sono sempre corroborati da un’abbondante campionatura di evidenze testuali, allineate cronologicamente e ripartite per area linguistico-culturale. L’esame degli specimina prodotti è sempre ravvicinato e granulare, ma interessa di solito singoli passi o punti estrapolati da componimenti più vasti. Deroga a questo principio il close reading di Donna me prega, col quale Papahagi fornisce una lettura integrale della grande canzone dottrinale di Guido Cavalcanti (pp. 266-279). Pur tenendo conto dei contesti sociologici e delle coordinate di genere entro cui si manifesta il fenomeno studiato, Papahagi aderisce con decisione al modello formalista, propugnando con forza l’autonomia dell’oggetto letterario e la necessità di offrirne una lettura immanente, che valorizzi le funzioni e i piani significanti dell’opera in sé e per sé. A p. 34 si legge una vera e propria professione di fede strutturalista, nella quale gli idola polemici sono, con ogni evidenza, le varie incarnazioni dello storicismo: LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 251 La prima cosa da dire, molto importante, è che bisogna considerare sempre un oggetto qualsiasi nel suo contesto strutturale, al quale appartiene di diritto. Allorché il discorso che si fa è letterario, ogni testo è da considerare esclusivamente come testo letterario. Non si pone qui il problema derivante dall’alternativa, cioè dall’osservazione che un determinato testo può avere un altro valore, se riguardato sotto una diversa angolatura. La verità obbiettiva di un testo è quella e solo quella del suo contesto strutturale; altre sue verità non ci sono. Leggendo queste righe dal tono così perentorio, viene in mente un aneddoto raccontato da Gian Luigi Beccaria. Seduto alla sua scrivania, D’Arco Silvio Avalle indica un dipinto attaccato alla parete e dice: «anche questo quadro [...] che ho alle spalle [...] è soltanto “struttura”, bisogna studiare questa superficie, dietro non c’è nulla, nulla»11. D’altra parte, è nei passaggi di tenore speculativo che il giovane studioso dà il meglio di sé. All’età di ventiquattro anni, Papahagi mostra di essere già quello che sarà durante tutta la sua brillantissima carriera: un critico dalla marcata torsione ideologica. E ciò si riflette nitidamente nella grana della sua scrittura. Nei sondaggi testuali Papahagi impiega una prosa precisa e rigorosa, allineata ai valori medi dello stile accademico, ma è nelle zone di pronunciata tensione teorica che gli riescono le pagine migliori della tesi. Si veda, exempli gratia, questa precisazione sulle nozioni di poesia “sentimentale” e “razionale” (p. 126): Non crediamo di grande valore l’ideale distinzione della poesia in funzione del sentimento e della ragione, poiché è sempre difficile trovare una poesia “sentimentale” o “razionale” allo stato puro; per non dir niente poi del fatto che tali concetti non sono prevalentemente estetici ma, anzi, si riconducono, ognuno di essi, a discipline diverse; parlare infatti di sentimento della poesia vuol dire considerarla da un punto di vista psico-estetico, mentre parlare di razionalità della medesima altro non è che percepirla su un piano strettamente concettuale, col risultato di prescindere, in ultima analisi, da quella che è la caratteristica della poesia, e cioè il linguaggio in funzione poetica. Siamo ancora, come si vede, in piena infatuazione strutturalista, ma ciò che conta – mi pare – è l’andamento secco e raziocinante degli enunciati, improntati ad un tono di assertiva densità concettuale. Credo che Papahagi, benché sensibile alla significatività del dettaglio e molto dotato per l’analisi formale del testo letterario, sia sempre stato un critico dalla forte impronta filosofica e speculativa. 252 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Ho già ricordato che l’argomento della tesi romana di Papahagi è la “bestemmia” nella poesia del Medioevo neolatino. La blasfemia, osservabile in varie forme – esplicite o camuffate – nei numerosissimi testi romanzi scrutinati, è analizzata nell’estrema varietà della sua fenomenologia e delle sue basi ideologiche. Papahagi prende in considerazione le invettive antidivine come le parodie sacrileghe, gli spunti di polemica anticlericale come le impertinenze libertine, abbracciando tutte le manifestazioni irriverenti e/o insultanti verso Dio, la Chiesa latina di Roma, il papato, il clero, la morale cristiana. A tale pluralità di modi espressivi e di bersagli polemici corrisponde una molteplicità di motivazioni e di inneschi: scelte dottrinali eterodosse, miscredenza, insofferenza nei confronti delle istituzioni ecclesiastiche, cinismo o ribellismo spregiudicato. Ecco perché nel titolo della tesi si preferisce parlare di «aspetti blasfemi», con riferimento all’eterogeneità del fenomeno considerato, anziché del concetto di «blasfemia», che sarebbe suonato astrattamente teologico. Sennonché, occupandosi di blasfemia, è dalle coordinate religiose e teologiche che si deve inevitabilmente partire. Ragion per cui Papahagi redige un denso capitolo introduttivo, dove si forniscono i preliminari teorici e metodologici di tutta la questione, ragionando sulla nozione di bestemmia in rapporto alle categorie del religioso e dell’opposizione sacro/profano (Parte prima, Aspetti teorici: pp. 1-56). E qui è interessante vedere quali siano i riferimenti culturali del giovane studioso nell’ambito dell’antropologia religiosa. Sono due i filoni chiaramente riconoscibili: da un lato la filiera Rudolf Otto-Mircea Eliade; dall’altro la linea del parigino Collège de sociologie, rappresentato per sineddoche da Roger Caillois. Ma le considerazioni più rilevanti di questa sezione riguardano le specificità del cristianesimo occidentale e latino. Nella sfera delle credenze religiose, il concetto di sacro non si identifica, in linea di principio, con quello di bene. È soltanto con il cristianesimo che si stabilisce l’equazione Dio = sommo bene, dalla quale discende la moralizzazione delle entità e dei divieti religiosi. Per tale motivo, il cristianesimo tende a far corpo con la sua morale, saldando i fondamenti dottrinali della fede con i precetti etici. A ciò si aggiunge il fatto che la Chiesa romana attribuisce un carattere sacro alle sue istituzioni e alle sue gerarchie, sviluppando «in termini di dottrina religiosa delle idee politiche e fa[cendo] valere sul piano della vita sociale e laica i suoi intendimenti religiosi» (p. 13). Questa riflessione sul «potente ingresso della Chiesa nella vita laica» (ibidem), unitamente a quella sulla fusione del religioso con l’etico, sono essenziali all’interno della tesi di Papahagi, perché servono ad incorporare nel discorso critico sulla bestemmia non soltanto le dichiarazioni esplicitamente irreligiose o le imprecazioni contro Dio, ma anche i moti di rivolta contro la morale cristiana, le prese di posizione ostili alla politica papale, la satira esercitata contro gli ordini religiosi e via dicendo. LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 253 La Parte seconda (pp. 57-207) reca un titolo parlante (Cinici, vagabondi, ribelli: verso una possibile prefigurazione del poeta libero nel Medioevo romanzo) ed è, a parer mio, la sezione più riuscita e compiuta di tutta la tesi. Aperto da un excursus sulla poesia goliardica mediolatina, questo importante capitolo cerca di isolare nelle letterature romanze gli affioramenti e le tracce di posture intellettuali spregiudicate o irriverenti che annunciano la figura del “poeta libero”, capace di smarcarsi dalle costrizioni dell’ideologia dominante infrangendo il codice culturale vigente: In un quadro ideologico quale quello medioevale, in cui la prevalenza della morale cattolica è indiscutibile, in cui sotto la lettera di uno scritto qualsiasi si può intravedere, come su un ideale palinsesto, la lettera della Scrittura, l’atteggiarsi diversamente significa aver acquistato coscienza della possibilità di pensare indipendentemente, aver compreso la poesia come possibilità di espressione del proprio pensiero, come dominio della libertà. (p. 60) Passando al setaccio il Medioevo occitano, francese, italiano, galego-portoghese e castigliano, Papahagi raduna un significativo dossier di casi riconducibili, in modo più o meno evidente, ad un indirizzo laico e anticonformista. Molti sono i poeti che finiscono sotto la lente del giovane studioso, ma gli “eroi” di questo capitolo sono due personaggi di spicco della letteratura galloromanza medievale: Guglielmo ix e Rutebeuf, i quali incarnano rispettivamente l’impertinenza di un grande feudale e il sarcasmo di un polemista. L’implicazione del primo trovatore in un discorso sulla laicità irriverente e sulle licenze libertine potrà apparire piuttosto scontata, ma le prevedibili osservazioni sulla «straordinaria insolenza» del Duca d’Aquitania (si ricordi comunque che il saggio di Rita Lejeune è del 1973)12 sono integrate da un affondo critico sulla «poetica e la filosofia del “dreyt nien”, dell’inesistenza sollevata a rango di realtà suprema» (p. 87). Quanto all’intenso paragrafo consacrato al poliedrico Rutebeuf, Papahagi vi mette bene a fuoco la verve satirica del poeta oitanico, il suo ribellismo di ascendenza goliardica e l’affermarsi, nei suoi componimenti, di un’esibita aneddotica dell’io. Simili osservazioni, che ci possono apparire un po’ ripetitive dopo l’uscita della monografia di Michel Zink sulla nascita della soggettività letteraria e della cosiddetta “lirica personale”13, erano molto meno ovvie quando correva l’anno accademico 1971-1972. Aggiungerei di passata che il taglio decisamente tematico-ideologico della tesi non offusca la sensibilità di Papahagi per le costanti formali e i procedimenti dello stile. In due casi, ad esempio, il giovane studioso nota con finezza come il ricorso ad una pointe finale di tipo ironico o giocoso serva a disinnescare lo scandalo della bestemmia stemperandone l’oltranza. 254 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) La Parte terza, dedicata alla Poesia romanza medioevale fra eresia e filosofia (pp. 208-352), raccoglie quei documenti letterari neolatini in cui si profilano stili e posizioni intellettuali contrari al dogma cristiano o – quanto meno – difformi dalla sua sostanza ideologica. «La poesia che considereremo», scrive Papahagi, «è blasfema per il fatto che le idee che abbraccia si possono intendere come lesive dell’ortodossia, e per ciò stesso rientrano di diritto nel quadro della nostra tematica» (p. 213). Di fatto, questa ampia porzione del lavoro tenta di delineare, con tutte le cautele del caso, due correnti di pensiero antidogmatico – l’una religiosa, l’altra filosofica –, rinvianti rispettivamente alla diffusione del catarismo nei territori d’oc e alla circolazione dell’averroismo nei circoli colti, specialmente negli ambienti universitari. Concentrando il fuoco dell’attenzione su alcuni poli di riflessione privilegiati – l’anticlericalismo di Guilhem Figueira e di Peire Cardenal, il Roman de la rose di Jean de Meun, le basi dottrinali di Guido Cavalcanti –, la trattazione si sviluppa attorno a due momenti nevralgici dell’offensiva della Chiesa contro le tendenze eterodosse: la crociata contro gli albigesi (1209-1229) e la condanna dell’averroismo latino da parte del vescovo di Parigi Stefano Tempier (1270 e 1277). Gli autori studiati da Papahagi in questa sezione si inserirebbero in un filone di cultura laica che cerca di denunciare e contrastare la violenza della repressione clericale. Per esaurire questa cursoria illustrazione della table des matières, resta da ricordare la Parte quarta ed ultima, che ha per argomento l’affermazione dell’ideologia cortese nel panorama letterario romanzo (La poesia d’amore: pp. 353438). Inseguendo le manifestazioni della fin’amor nei trovatori e nel romanzo oitanico, Papahagi sostiene che la concezione dell’eros cortese si presenta in certi testi come un’opzione autonoma, estranea all’ideale religioso della Chiesa. Dotata di una sua specifica mitologia e di codici indipendenti da quelli della cultura clericale, la letteratura cortese si costituirebbe come una pericolosa alternativa ai modelli della religione dominante. «Una poesia in cui Dio è assente è più lontana dalla religione di una poesia in cui Dio è bestemmiato» (p. 441). A più riprese e con notevole insistenza, Papahagi valorizza nelle testimonianze scrutinate quegli elementi che sfondano il quadro della cultura medievale aprendo all’Umanesimo o, più in generale, a sviluppi e trasformazioni ulteriori (cfr. pp. 290, 295, 307, 330, 419-420). Tra i numerosi luoghi che si potrebbero citare, estrapolo un paio di passaggi particolarmente impressivi: [I]n termini di ideologia letteraria la presenza della poesia “blasfema” nelle letterature romanze sta a certificare l’esistenza di nuclei formativi suscettibili di costituirsi come premessa per l’apparizione dei germi della nuova cultura, quella dell’Umanesimo. Non è una premessa che si iscriva in una linea determinante circa l’Umanesimo; non è, cioè, la poesia “blasfema” LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 255 qui considerata, un “preumanesimo” letterario. Essa ha però un valore indicativo in quanto che presuppone una disposizione di mentalità in senso decisamente laterale circa la norma, circa l’ideologia e la mentalità predominanti, e consente la giustificazione – anche psicologica – dell’avvento di nuovi modi di pensare, di nuove ideologie e atteggiamenti, diversi da quelli prettamente “medioevali”. In questo senso, crediamo, lo studio degli elementi blasfemi nella poesia e delle loro motivazioni, come anche dei poeti nella cui opera essi si trovano, facilita la considerazione del passaggio dal Medioevo alle epoche culturali successive. (pp. 179-180) Questo sforzo di rinnovamento, di cui l’atteggiamento blasfemo è solo uno degli indici (ma, vogliamo credere, non uno dei meno importanti) porterà praticamente alla creazione di un mondo diverso, quello umanistico, e poi quello moderno in generale. E se si trattasse di dare un’interpretazione globale dell’atteggiamento blasfemo, prescindendo da tutte le sue forme e motivazioni, allora diremmo che esso sta a significare lo sforzo del Medioevo di affrettare la propria fine. (p. 443) Nell’anticonformismo irreligioso di certi testi letterari romanzi Papahagi riconosce il segno rivelatore di un’evoluzione in corso, la presenza sottotraccia di atteggiamenti germinali che eccedono la mentalità medievale preludendo all’Umanesimo. La devianza e lo scarto dalla norma dell’ideologia dominante sono dunque l’indice di un movimento sommerso che prepara il nuovo. Potrei sbagliarmi, ma mi sembra di cogliere in queste indicazioni una fortissima influenza dell’Autunno del Medioevo di Huizinga, opera centrale nella costellazione bibliografica della tesi di Papahagi. A questo punto, vorrei segnalare quello che mi pare il più vistoso elemento di continuità fra la tesi romana e i successivi contributi del Papahagi medievista. Fin dalla prima pagina della sua dissertazione dattiloscritta, il giovane studioso si preoccupa di sottolineare la natura ambivalente del Medioevo letterario, epoca di trapasso con una faccia rivolta all’antico e l’altra al moderno. Col suo statuto ancipite, da Giano bifronte, l’Età di Mezzo sa «far esistere su piani diversi i suoi elementi componenti» (p. 2). La distanza culturale di un mondo che non riusciamo a capire fino in fondo, la carenza di documentazione, gli accidenti e la mobilità della tradizione manoscritta: tutti questi fattori concorrono a definire il carattere ambivalente dei testi medievali. Questa intrinseca ambiguità del Medioevo letterario, che dà filo da torcere all’interprete d’oggidì, è una delle acquisizioni sempre presenti al Papahagi maturo. Basti leggere queste poche righe desunte da Intelectualitate ºi poezie: 256 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Datoritã tradiþiei textuale, tãcerii documentelor, structurii înseºi a epocii [...] ambiguitatea textelor literare ale Evului Mediu este un element care face parte dintr-o recunoaºtere necesarã. Dalle licenziosità libertine alle spregiudicatezze scapigliate, dall’assunzione di posizioni eterodosse all’irriverenza antidogmatica, dalla polemica anticlericale alla battuta sacrilega, Papahagi allestisce nella sua tesi romana un regesto di testimonianze che, in vario modo e con diverse gradazioni, rivelano un desiderio di sfida e di rottura rispetto alla dominante culturale dell’epoca. Al disotto di un’ideologia religiosa che permea e informa di sé le strutture mentali, i sistemi di rappresentazione e le forme del vivere sociale, il giovane studioso romeno cerca le tracce di una controcultura laica, i segnali di un Medioevo anticonformista che trova nella poesia uno spazio di libertà e di affrancamento dalla morsa oppressiva della Chiesa. È, certo, uno schema un po’ rigido, ma è anche un punto visuale che permette di organizzare tutta una serie di fatti rilevanti attorno ad un’idea forte. E non sarà fuori luogo aggiungere che l’ipotesi di una poesia blasfema contrapposta ad un’ideologia repressiva ha certamente dei legami col vissuto di Papahagi, ossia con la sua provenienza da un paese in cui mancava proprio la libertà di esprimere un pensiero non conforme. Forse, però, le cose non sono così semplici. Forse bisogna guardare anche a ciò che accadeva entro i confini dell’Europa occidentale. Il ’68, infatti, non è solo l’anno della ventata strutturalista: altri venti, più impetuosi e rapinosi, soffiavano dal maggio francese. Lo studente ventenne venuto da Cluj può aver respirato in Italia qualche boccata di quell’aria di rivolta, un’aria che recava con sé una nuova sensibilità per le controculture e per i testi trasgressivi. Note 1. Cfr. Ion Bulei, Scurtã istorie a românilor, (Bucureºti, Editura Meronia, 1996; trad. it. Breve storia dei romeni, edizione italiana a cura di Roberto Merlo, presentazione di Gianni Perona, Edizioni dell’Orso, Alessandria 1999, da cui si cita, pp. 174-175); Antonello Biagini, Storia della Romania contemporanea, (Milano, Bompiani, 2004), pp. 120-121. 2. Doina Derer, “Marian Papahagi e l’italianistica romena nel secondo dopoguerra”, in Il piacere della ricerca. Atti delle Giornate di studio in onore di Marian Papahagi (Roma, 28-29 gennaio 2000), a cura di Luisa Valmarin e Angela Tarantino, (Roma, Bagatto Libri, 2001), pp. 59-68, a p. 61. 3. Ibid. 4. Lorenzo Renzi, “Marian Papahagi 1948-1999”, in Premio «Città di Monselice» per la traduzione letteraria e scientifica. 28-29-30, a cura di Gianfelice Peron, (Monselice, Il Poligrafo, 2003), LITERATURE 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. AND MEMORY • 257 pp. 130-134, p. 132. Un altro obituary di Papahagi dovuto alla penna di Renzi era uscito con lo stesso titolo in Il piacere della ricerca, cit., pp. 25-28. Cfr. Luciana Stegagno Picchio, “Marian Papahagi e il mondo di lingua portoghese”, in Il piacere della ricerca, cit., pp. 211-221. Sull’arrivo dello strutturalismo letterario in Italia si può leggere con profitto la silloge Quando eravamo strutturalisti, a cura di Gian Luigi Beccaria, (Alessandria, Edizioni dell’Orso, 1999). Ibid., p. 212. Marian Dumitru Papahagi, Aspetti blasfemi nella poesia romanza delle origini, tesi di laurea in Filologia romanza, relatore Chiar.mo Prof. Aurelio Roncaglia, Università degli Studi Roma, Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia, Istituto di Filologia romanza, anno accademico 19711972. Citazioni e riferimenti sono conformi al testo e all’impaginazione del dattiloscritto. La presentazione della tesi di laurea inedita è avvenuta in occasione di una giornata di studi per Marian Papahagi promossa dall’Accademia di Romania in Roma e dal Dipartimento di Studi Europei ed Interculturali dell’Università degli Studi di Roma “La Sapienza” (In memoriam Marian Papahagi. Tra Italia e Romania in dolce stil moderno: Roma, 16 gennaio 2009). Cfr. Ion Pop, “Discours sur les méthodes”, in Il piacere della ricerca, cit., pp. 123-131, alle pp. 126-127. Gian Luigi Beccaria, “Quando eravamo strutturalisti”, in Quando eravamo strutturalisti, cit., pp. 9-18, a p. 9. Rita Lejeune, “L’extraordinaire insolence du troubadour Guillaume IX d’Aquitaine”, in Mélanges de langue et de littérature médiévales offerts à Pierre Le Gentil par ses collègues, ses élèves et ses amis, (Paris, SEDES, 1973), pp. 480-503. Michel Zink, La subjectivité littéraire. Autour du siècle de saint Louis, (Paris, Presses Universitaires de France, 1985), pp. 47-74. Abstract Marian Papahagi and the Romance Studies: his Degree Thesis with Aurelio Roncaglia Marian Papahagi (1948-1999) was a prominent figure in Romanian academia, a most refined translator, a pugnacious critic, the author of trailblazing theoretical essays, and a formidable cultural organiser. Most know him for his work as an italianist. Few know that the crucial stages of the journey that shaped him as a scholar are characterised by an important phase of specialised training in the area of Neo-Latin literatures. Papahagi arrived in Rome as a twenty-year-old, and he spent there four very productive years (1968-1972), graduating in Romance Philology at “La Sapienza” University under the guidance of a great master such as Aurelio Roncaglia. His dissertation, Aspetti blasfemi nella poesia romanza delle origini (“Blasphemous aspects of early romance poetry”), is a vast monograph (456 machine-typed pages) that has never been published in its whole or partially re-utilised in subsequent works by the scholar. This paper aims to reconstruct the environment and the spirit of Papahagi’s period in Rome, as well as to provide a critical and analytical account of his unpublished dissertation. Keywords Marian Papahagi, Aurelio Roncaglia, romance studies, intellectual history Carcere, letteratura, verità* Z ENO L. V ERLATO 1. R IPORTIAMO UN’OPINIONE di Teodoro Giùttari, direttore letterario della casa editrice Todariana di Milano, sul rapporto intercorrente tra letteratura e carcere: «Non credo infatti che esista la letteratura in carcere. Cosa sarebbe? In carcere ci sono analfabeti, autodidatti, scrittori occasionali e qualche raro de Sade e Genet».1 Come dire: in carcere si scrive, come si scrive fuori dal carcere. Tolta di mezzo ogni considerazione riguardante l’ambiente, conta alla fin fine la statura dell’autore, non il movente della scrittura. Una considerazione che colpisce tanto più da parte del curatore di una delle opere letterarie più significative uscite dalle galere italiane.2 Da essa, tuttavia, pare liquidata senza mezzi termini l’idea stessa che la letteratura carceraria possa individuare una categoria critica a sé stante. E, in assenza di più sottili determinazioni tipologiche, come dare torto a Giùttari? In carcere si scrive tanto, si scrive di tutto, senza che prevalga un genere in particolare. Si scrive in poesia e in prosa. Se, come pare lecito aspettarsi, ha un posto d’onore la scrittura autobiografica, tuttavia non manca affatto la letteratura d’invenzione: racconti gialli e polizieschi in quantità, ma anche letteratura umoristica, fiabe. Si scrive inoltre di politica, di sociologia, ma anche di religione, di sport e di altro ancora. Evidentemente, a forme di scrittura in cui prevale l’aspetto dell’esserci, in cui prevale l’urgenza dell’espressione di sé, si accompagnano forme in cui la scrittura filtra l’esperienza, talvolta sino a cancellarla. Ancora una volta, è esattamente ciò che accade anche fuori dal carcere.3 Tutta questa letteratura, insomma, presa in blocco, da che altro è accomunata se non da un aspetto incidentale, cioè la provenienza da un particolare ambiente?4 Possiamo veramente, ci sembra dire Giùttari, confondere opere e autori il cui valore assoluto travalica la contingenza del dove, con opere ed autori * Riproponiamo con alcune modifiche il testo già pubblicato nel volume: «Le loro prigioni»: scritture dal carcere, a cura di Anna Maria Babbi e Tobia Zanon, Atti del Colloquio Internazionale, Verona, 25-28 maggio 2005 (Verona, Fiorini, 2007): pp. 499–530. Un ringraziamento sentito va ad Anna Maria Babbi che organizzò quel convegno, e che oggi acconsente all’estrapolazione del contributo dagli Atti. 260 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) che hanno come unico valore di fondo proprio tale contingenza? Non è forse meglio liquidare per quanto possibile l’idea di un rapporto di causa ed effetto tra carcere e letteratura? Ridurre il carcere a un’accidente tra i tanti che portano una persona, nell’arco della sua vita, a scrivere parole, negando una specificità alla letteratura de profundis? In sintesi, non è opportuno far prevalere l’opera sulla biografia, lasciando sottointeso che quando non sia possibile fare questo, allora significa che l’opera non è in grado di reggere da sola, e affermare definitivamente che «di un autore contano solo le opere »?5 Ma, per rimanere ai due soli autori citati da Giùttari, De Sade e Genet, non si può certo dire che una simile operazione sarebbe sopportata allo stesso modo, indifferentemente, dall’opera dell’uno e dell’altro. Se infatti la sottrazione dell’aspetto biografico dalle opere di De Sade avrebbe conseguenze più sul mito del divin marchese, che sull’intelligenza delle sue opere, tanto che potremmo dire che il carcere interferisce sui temi e sui modi della sua scrittura solo in modo accidentale ed esterno, viceversa, per quanto riguarda Genet, si può affermare che almeno le sue prime opere, quelle scritte in carcere, ad esso devono tutto. Devono l’occasione, ma anche la forma e i contenuti. L’occasione: la primissima opera di Genet, il poemetto Le Condamné a mort,6 fu scritta come risposta polemica alla fama di un compagno di detenzione che millantava capacità di poeta, e che Genet stimava autore di versi scadenti (vers de mirliton). Ma andrà detto anche che i contenuti stessi sono eminentemente carcerari, configurandosi il poemetto come un vero e proprio gap criminale, e che la forma, la classicissima quartina di alessandrini con cui esso è redatto, è prescelta come il veicolo migliore per rinchiudere in una salda gabbia retorico-stilistica di ascendenza colta (diciamo pure corneliana) i temi esacerbati del disordine interiore. Il collegamento effetto-causa tra composizione poetica e carcere, infine, è esplicitato dallo stesso Genet, con un atto che non può passare inosservato: l’aggiunta in calce ai versi di una lunga razo in prosa, in cui l’autore esplicita – con nomi e cognomi, con luoghi e date – la non genericità della sua ispirazione, anzi il collegamento diretto di essa con l’esperienza totalmente assorbente del carcere. Dalla dedica all’amico giustiziato Pilorge alla descrizione della propria condizione esistenziale e ambientale: attualizzazioni del testo poetico fondate sull’essere in carcere dello scrittore. E infine, andrà pur ricordato che è in buona parte alla condizione di carcerato che Genet dovette l’iniziale, per quanto discreta, promozione di Cocteau,7 ma soprattutto la prepotente affermazione all’interno degli ambienti intellettuali francesi voluta da Sartre, che fece dello scrittore occasionale Jean Genet il martire esistenzialista Saint Genet, protagonista di un’agiografia in cui vita e scrittura, carcere e poesia, divengono un tutt’uno indissolubile.8 Per cercare di dare una prima approssimativa risposta alla provocazione di Giùttari, quindi, potremmo avanzare un preliminare tentativo di classificazio- LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 261 ne, all’interno della densa e magmatica fenomenologia della letteratura in carcere, sceverando da una parte le opere che denunciano l’essere in carcere dello scrittore, e che da tale fatto esistenziale principalmente prendono piede e forma, facendo del carcere occasione dell’impulso creativo; e le opere che stabiliscono un evento più neutrale, che potremmo definire dell’essere scrittore in carcere, per le quali il carcere assume più un aspetto di contingenza all’esprimersi dell’autore. Tipicamente, a questa seconda categoria apparterranno in primo luogo le opere di chi, ed è la maggioranza degli autori presentati in questo convegno, scrittori prima di entrare in carcere, continuano ad esserlo anche in seguito. Per costoro, appunto, il carcere ha valore di contingenza, per quanto drammatica. In carcere essi scrivono una nuova opera: per lo più l’esperienza carceraria avrà un influsso diretto sui temi della scrittura, spesso anche sullo stile. Non solo in conseguenza delle particolari necessità psicologiche, ma anche più banalmente a causa delle speciali necessità ambientali e materiali. Per fare un esempio, i temi del De profundis di Oscar Wilde non sono certo indifferenti allo stato di reclusione del suo autore, così come non lo sono i tempi e i modi di composizione, dovuti a restrizioni regolamentari o alla banale difficoltà di disporre di carta e inchiostro: i fogli su cui il carcerato Wilde scrive sono contati uno a uno dall’amministrazione del penitenziario di Reading. Quel che vogliamo mettere in luce, tuttavia, è che per Wilde, come per molti altri autori, la scrittura non è affatto una conquista né una rivelazione acquisita tramite il carcere.9 Viceversa, esistono autori per i quali l’attività scrittoria sembra dipendere strettamente dalla carcerazione, che è perciò definibile come vera e propria occasione all’impulso creativo. A tale categoria appartiene un gruppo fortemente disomogeneo di autori. Si va dal dilettante che in carcere rafforza la propria vena, sino a divenire scrittore professionista (ma è caso relativamente raro), all’intellettuale che, provenendo da altro campo del sapere, in carcere si confronta con le lettere. La gran massa di coloro che scrivono in carcere, tuttavia, è rappresentata da persone di modesta o scarsa cultura che, di propria volontà o condotti da adeguate politiche educative, iniziano a scrivere spesso sprovvisti delle più elementari cognizioni artistiche, talvolta addirittura di una salda competenza linguistica. È bene ricordare che la più ampia colonia di scrittori italofoni è oggi rappresentata da scrittori di madrelingua araba, albanese e slava ospiti delle nostre carceri. È evidente che in questa seconda categoria andranno fatte rientrare, con opportuni ragionamenti caso per caso, anche le opere per cui la scrittura è situata post-evento, cioè una volta che sia avvenuta la remissione in libertà del detenuto. Avremo in tal caso a che fare con una scrittura memorialistica, nata sotto l’urgenza ancora viva delle esperienze vissute e differita solo per l’impossibilità di darvi corso durante la reclusione. Per quanto si tratti di opere che nascono in con- 262 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) dizioni che potremmo sbrigativamente definire di libertà personale, tuttavia esse condividono con le opere che nascono effettivamente in carcere caratteristiche precise, in primo luogo la sottomissione dei problemi di stile alla necessità di dire la verità ‘nuda e cruda’ su di sé e sulla propria esperienza. Tuttavia, andrà tenuto conto di un aspetto di rilevante differenza tra le due tipologie. La scrittura strettamente carceraria, infatti, situandosi nel presente dell’afflizione (nel «collasso del tempo misurato»10), che schiaccia e comprime passato e futuro, qualora sia racconto autobiografico, fa della memoria denuncia (o autocommiserazione) e della speranza delirio più spesso che ripercorrimento di eventi passati o prefigurazione di fatti a venire.11 Di fatto, il memorialista conosce già il finale della propria vicenda, mentre per il carcerato tutto è ancora in gioco. 2. L A DIFFICOLTÀ manifestata da Giùttari di riconoscere alla letteratura in carcere uno statuto critico preciso è direttamente collegata alla incoerenza e alla disomogeneità delle opere in generale, aspetti tanto più evidenti per quelle opere per cui il carcere rappresenta un’occasione. Non solo per il valore qualitativo difforme riscontrabile da opera a opera, ma anche per il fatto che, in linea generale, esse non si identificano in alcun genere preciso.12 Non esiste una poetica condivisa a priori dagli autori carcerati. Per quanto esistano, in linea generalissima, elementi stilistici più frequentemente riscontrabili di altri (brevità del discorso, scarsa elaborazione retorica, tendenza a parlare dei fatti, ma il discorso non vale sempre e per tutti i casi), pure si tratta di elementi che ciascuno scrittore ha scelto per sé, non in obbedienza a una scuola o nel rispetto di una poetica o di un modello. Il carcere non è un club e non ha nemmeno le caratteristiche di un circolo culturale o di una scuola letteraria. Perciò, quando Giùttari sostiene che la letteratura in carcere non esiste, ha ragione, se si intende che in realtà ne esiste ben più di una. Se, infatti, l’aspetto di più immediata individuazione della letteratura dal carcere riguarda la scrittura di sé (e in questo senso è diffusissima l’opzione poetica) o l’autobiografismo, genere che attira la produzione di carcerati delle più diverse origini sociali e nazionali, della più diversa estrazione culturale, bisogna ricordare che in carcere è assai diffusa la scrittura di finzione, dei più disparati generi, e che in essa il carcere non è sempre posto a tema. Tanto che in carcere, accanto all’urlo dell’innocente, all’imprecazione del condannato, all’espiazione del redento, possono trovare posto anche voci inaspettate, quali la letteratura umoristica, la fiaba.13 Per il primo genere ci piace citare lo scrittore statunitense O. Henry (pseudonimo di William Sidney Porter, 1862-1910) che passò in carcere dall’eserci- LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 263 zio dilettantesco della letteratura a una carriera professionistica continuata per tutta la vita. Impiegato di banca, imprigionato per appropriazione indebita di una somma di denaro, egli non parlò mai della sua esperienza carceraria, né negli scritti composti in prigione né nei successivi.14 Per quanto i suoi racconti umoristici siano affollati di personaggi dall’esistenza grigia come la sua, piccoli furfanti, borderliner di poco conto, ubriaconi, truffatori, preferisce narrarne le gesta picaresche, condendole di un qual certo moralismo qualunquista (celebre il finale del racconto Assalto al treno, che si finge resoconto riportato «quasi parola per parola» dalla bocca di un fuorilegge del Sud-Ovest: «il saltatreno ha la vita assai meno piacevole degli altri suoi consanguinei, il politico e l’accaparratore»).15 Il termine del racconto generalmente coincide con un twisting-ending,16 in grado di spuntare la dimensione realmente biografica, a favore di una dimensione pienamente letteraria. Se fu la carcerazione a fare di Porter uno scrittore vero, tuttavia essa si limitò ad essere occasione, movente personale, senza influssi sui contenuti e sul genere dei suoi scritti.17 Per venire all’Italia e a tempi più recenti,18 vale la pena di citare il caso di Adriano Sofri il quale, già saggista e giornalista ‘a tutto campo’ nella sua vita da libero, durante la detenzione ha dedicato buona parte della sua attività all’analisi della realtà carceraria, in articoli e volumi in cui l’esperienza personale è solo la prima mossa per indagini sociologiche a più vasto raggio (come suggerisce bene il titolo del volume: Le prigioni degli altri del 1993). Nell’opera Un attaccante estremo, di cui Adriano Sofri è coautore con il giornalista-scrittore Giorgio Porrà, il gioco del calcio, visto in sé, e come metafora della vita fuori e dentro il carcere, consente una visione decentrata, dal sé dell’autore all’altro. Movimento ancora più evidente nella produzione ‘minore’ di Sofri, il quale si è tenuto ben lungi dalla spinta puramente autoreferenziale, del racconto di sé, scegliendo di applicarsi a un genere straniante come la fiaba. Nei coloratissimi volumetti Racconto di Natale (2002), Gli angeli del cortile (2003) e L’impero delle cicale (2004), illustrati dai coniugi Staino, il carcere è tema di sottofondo (specie per quanto riguarda i primi due). Tuttavia, con la scelta dello scritto d’arte, Sofri evita anche in questo caso la nudità dell’autobiografia, della scrittura di sé: le forme della narrazione rappresentano una efficace protezione del soggetto che scrive. 3. L Ricapitolando, la scelta di O. Henry di non tematizzare nella propria scrittura in alcun modo l’esperienza carceraria vissuta, e quella di Sofri di oggettivarla o di metaforizzarla; le rispettive opzioni verso generi narrativi totalmente fizionali (il racconto umoristico, la fiaba), non sono eventi del tutto isolati 264 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) nel panorama della scrittura prodotta in carcere. Essi ci parlano di una reazione dei singoli autori al carcere, che si concreta in una sorta di evitamento in un caso, di una trasposizione in universale nell’altro. Tuttavia, possiamo ben dire che esempi di tal fatta ci consegnano singoli aspetti del fenomeno letteratura in carcere, ma non consentono di determinare le caratteristiche più proprie di un genere carcerario. La letteratura carceraria individua un genere e non solo un fenomeno, allorché essa ponga al proprio centro il sé dello scrittore. Quando cioè il rapporto esistente tra attività scrittoria e situazione esistenziale non sia solo un punto di partenza (congiunturale o strettamente causale) ma anche il punto d’arrivo, determinante la materia stessa, il tema della scrittura e la forma dell’opera. Si tratta di un aspetto che spesso gli autori pongono in evidenza con grande forza, e che i lettori (e intendiamo anche quelli più avvertiti) avvertono come centrale. Esso possiede due aspetti distinti. Il sé autoriale sente come pressante l’urgenza di manifestarsi: la scrittura appare come un mezzo, non come un fine. Da ciò nasce l’idea che ciò che riguarda gli aspetti dello stile e della forma, sia o da considerarsi un ingombro o un aspetto secondario della scrittura. Si crea nell’autore (e ciò è spesso detto in modo esplicito) l’idea che ciò che egli scrive non sia ‘letteratura’, intendendo con questa una forma menzognera di espressione, in cui non l’autore e la sua esperienza sono messi a confronto col lettore, ma solo i segni che, mediatamente, l’autore produce. In sostanza, il libro non rimanda mai a sé, almeno nelle intenzioni dello scrittore, ma costantemente al di fuori di sé. La vita, il sé in un certo qual modo utilizzano la scrittura, ma con essa combattono per non venirne cancellati. Quel che è interessante, è che questa stessa concezione è condivisa tanto dagli autori che dai lettori. E che in essa sia da stabilire almeno un embrione di ciò che vogliamo chiamare genere carcerario, lo prova il fatto che proprio su ciò insistano le case editrici nel momento della pubblicazione e della promozione di un’opera prodotta dal carcere. Nel pubblico dei lettori (e, a diverso livello, della critica) tale visione parte, prima ancora che da speculazioni estetiche, da un punto di vista ricorrente, più prossimo a un sentimento che a un giudizio, riguardante l’arte prodotta in condizioni di difficoltà esistenziale. Diciamo, approssimativamente, una sorta di generosa sympàtheia verso l’arte che proviene dalle carceri, dagli ospedali manicomiali, o da artisti affetti da gravi malattie fisiche. Interpretare letteralmente, e banalmente, tale sympàtheia come ‘compassione’ sarebbe limitativo. D’impulso, a tali artisti si riconosce una sorta di stato di grazia. In particolare, il libro composto dietro alle sbarre, possiede un’attrattiva speciale. È infatti dato per scontato che esso sia scritto con fatica, se non clandestinamente, a rischio dell’incolumità stessa dell’autore. Nel caso che l’autore sia, poi, un criminale incallito, la scoperta LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 265 di una vena artistica è presa come una sorta di redenzione: quel libro ne rappresenta un riscatto commovente. Infine, quello stesso libro ci parla di una dimensione esistenziale sconosciuta ai più, ma per tutti temibile. Una dimensione che confina con la cancellazione fisica e spirituale di un essere, voluta dall’uomo su un altro uomo. L’opera, in questo senso, si pone come testimonianza di resistenza: la letteratura dal carcere è quanto di più vicino si possa immaginare alla voce di un vivo nel regno della morte, di un testimone che ci parla da una tomba silenziosa.19 Infine, il fascino della voce che prorompe dal carcere deriva in buona parte dal fatto che essa nasce da un’esigenza primaria. La resistenza contro il silenzio e la cancellazione, la raffinazione che essa subisce attraverso il travaglio interiore e le difficoltà oggettive di trasmissione – come accade per la voce dello Iokanaan wildiano dal buio della cisterna in cui è rinchiuso – la rendono di fatto una voce avvertita come più sincera. In quanto sostanzialmente meno interessata alle esigenze dell’arte che all’urgenza di comunicare la verità, nuda e cruda, comportata dall’esigenza di confessione o di testimonianza. Per la critica, la categoria più ristretta di letteratura carceraria punta direttamente sul documentario. In questo senso, l’opera è da ritenersi specchio di una situazione biografica, storica precisa, e la sua dimensione di verità si decifra attraverso un lavoro di interpretazione che corrisponde a un lavoro di decostruzione critica. La lettura interna tende fatalmente, insomma, attraverso l’eliminazione dei tratti formali ritenuti sovrastrutturali e ‘insinceri’, cioè di tipo ‘letterario’ in senso deteriore, a fare riemergere – per usare un concetto caro a Paul Zumthor – la ‘voce’ dell’autore, marcando quanto di naïf, di spontaneo vi si può riconoscere, che appunto per questo diviene volta a volta la confessione, il grido dell’autore. Se questa è la modalità di lettura prevalente, va detto che essa si incontra con l’idea che gli stessi scrittori carcerari hanno del proprio lavoro. Per essi la scrittura è ben altro che esercizio estetico. Per essi è il mezzo con cui far riemergere la propria voce dal buio, per dire parole di verità su sé stessi, sulle cose vissute e patite. Letteratura e verità, letteratura e riscatto. Verità come riscatto. Queste le coppie di concetti che si riscontrano abbondantemente nei discorsi degli scrittori reclusi. Così, ad esempio, il best-sellerer statunitense, dal lungo passato di criminale e carcerato, Edward Bunker: «La scrittura era diventata la mia sola possibilità di uscire dal pantano in cui era scivolata la mia vita. Avevo perseverato anche quando la candela della speranza si era completamente consumata […]. Scrivere un buon libro mi avrebbe aperto le porte. Il mondo avrebbe letto le verità che scrivevo».20 Se scrivere rappresenta per Bunker una possibilità concreta di riscatto,21 lo è anche perché gli consente di dire le verità provenienti da un mondo sprofondato nelle tenebre. Ma verità che sono tali in quanto estranee alla letteratura. Così si esprime l’autore stesso: «Io ho l’immaginazione scarsa e la memo- 266 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) ria molto forte. Do una forma a cose e fatti che ho visto o di cui ho sentito, ma è raro che inventi qualcosa».22 E, parlando dell’amico James Ellroy, lo scrittore di hard-boiled che più di ogni altro lo aiutò a trovare un editore per i primi libri: «Io lo ammiro molto, anche se tra me e lui c’è una differenza sostanziale: lui inventa tutto, io non invento niente!». La necessità di assecondare l’urgenza del ricordo può dar luogo a un conflitto drammatico con le necessità dell’arte, soprattutto quando chi scrive ha una sviluppata coscienza di tale conflitto. È ciò che accade ad esempio al filosofo e detenuto politico romeno Nicu Steinhardt. Al termine di una carcerazione durata tredici anni nelle mani della securitate, intraprende la stesura di un diario dei suoi anni di prigionia. Non avendolo potuto materialmente scrivere in carcere, egli si affida alla sequenza dei ricordi via via affioranti. Che emergono tuttavia non secondo la cronologia del vissuto, ma secondo necessità interiori. La questione per Steinhardt è se, nella stesura scritta, sia necessario riassegnare ai fatti il loro ordine naturale, operando cioè secondo arte sui ricordi, oppure limitarsi a procedere secondo l’urgenza, tradendo in qualche modo il reale per come effettivamente vissuto ed esperito. In questo caso, l’opposizione tra verità ed arte ha perduto nettezza, e il problema si offre a Steinhardt come insolubile. Ma la necessità del dire obbliga a ‘correre il rischio’:23 Carta e matita in prigione, neanche a pensarci. Dunque sarei bugiardo se cercassi di sostenere che questo “diario” sia stato tenuto cronologicamente; esso è stato scritto après coup, sulla base di alcuni ricordi vivi e limpidi. Dal momento che non l’ho potuto sviluppare nel tempo, credo mi sia permesso di presentarlo progressivamente, ma così come, e questa volta in modo reale, si sono susseguite le immagini, i ricordi, i pensieri in quella fiumana di sensazioni che amiamo chiamare coscienza. Certo, il risultato sembra un po’ artefatto, ma è un rischio che devo correre. È lo stesso nodo affrontato, ma risolto in modo differente, da Primo Levi durante la stesura di Se questo è un uomo. Come esplicitato nella premessa all’opera, l’urgenza della testimonianza, del resoconto veritiero (espressamente: «mi pare superfluo aggiungere che nessuno dei fatti è inventato»)24 si scontra con le necessità formali del racconto scritto. In prima battuta, in fase di inventio, ha la meglio il flusso di coscienza, tanto che il libro riceve in origine un carattere frammentario: «i capitoli sono stati scritti non in successione logica, ma per ordine di urgenza. Il lavoro di raccordo e di fusione è stato svolto su piano, ed è posteriore».25 Ma come lo stesso Levi tiene a precisare nell’appendice all’edizione per le scuole dell’opera (1976), tra l’esperienza detentiva del Lager e la scrittura esiste un rapporto diretto e causale, obbligatorio, talmente immediato da far sì che «i problemi di stile mi sembravano ridicoli».26 LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 267 4. L sincere degli scrittori detenuti, le motivazioni che li portano ad intraprendere la scrittura, le loro scelte estetiche, sono immediatamente comprensibili anche ai lettori delle loro opere. Anzi, sono buona parte del fascino che su di essi esercitano. Non è un caso se su tali aspetti insistono e puntano direttamente le case editrici. Esiste infatti, ed è fiorente, un filone editoriale di letteratura carceraria, che ha portato al successo presso il grande pubblico scritti talvolta di grande spessore artistico, talaltra piuttosto mediocri, accomunati comunque dal presunto valore, ben evidenziato tramite richiami in copertina, nell’aletta, nel paratesto, di sinceri documenti di valore storico, politico, più semplicemente umano. Valore accresciuto, per le opere di minore prestigio letterario, proprio dalle loro caratteristiche di intrinseca spontaneità, semplicità, coincidenti con la loro scarsa artisticità. Un esempio di operazione editoriale ben oliata, giocata sui meccanismi attrattivi del vif vécu carcerario, è rappresentata dal best-seller internazionale Papillon, libro di memorie scritto da Henry Charrière, deportato al bagno penale della Cayenna e di lì evaso dopo anni di tentativi. Pubblicato da Laffont nel 1969, vende più di un milione di copie in Francia, centinaia di migliaia in tutto il mondo ed ha una trasposizione cinematografica di grande impegno produttivo.27 Più che addentrarsi nell’analisi dell’opera interessa, in questo caso, analizzare le modalità con cui l’editore propose il libro ai lettori. Occorre innanzitutto notare che, come spesso accade per opere di questo tipo, il libro è foderato di scritti extra e paratestuali: una quarta di copertina, un’aletta, una premessa e una postfazione, insomma una quantità di testi sussidiari, cui è assegnata la funzione di promuovere il testo ma anche di proteggerlo, motivandolo. La quarta di copertina contiene soprattutto flashes diretti all’emotività del presunto acquirente. A riscuotere sentimenti di curiosità pruriginosa (l’accenno iniziale al milieu criminale da cui proviene l’autore) e sentimenti di nobiltà (la sequenza esatta di colpa, innocenza, pena, riscatto vissuta dal protagonista), senza tralasciare elementi biografici precisi (date, nomi): E ESIGENZE Dans le milieu on l’appelait Papillon […]. C’étaient les années 30. Et en 1930, justement il “tombe”: il est arrêté pour un meurtre qu’il n’a pas commis, car Henry Charrière n’est ni barbeau ni tueur. Commence alors la plus fantastique des aventures. Condamné au bagne à vie à Cayenne, grâce à des faux temoignages, il refuse cette peine aussi injuste que démesurée: la grande cavaie a pris le départ. 268 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) L’aletta, invece, che normalmente è letta da un numero minore di potenziali compratori, inserisce gli altri, meno immediati, elementi necessari a completare il quadro. In particolare si spinge sul valore testimoniale del libro. Anche attraverso un forzatissimo confronto tra la vicenda individuale di Charrière e quella collettiva di movimenti popolari della storia francese oggetto di persecuzione (i recenti Résistants, i più antichi Camisards e i remoti Albigeois, tutti eroi, tutti con l’iniziale maiuscola). Nelle ultime righe si opera l’equazione tra sincerità e non letterarietà del testo (si parla di esso come di un prezioso quanto vago exemple de littérature orale: la zumthoriana voix, appunto): Voici l’une des plus étourdissantes et de plus tonique épopées que nous ayons lues depuis longtemps […]. Aussi surprenant que cela puisse paraître, ce livre d’un ex-forçat nous oblige à penser aux Resistants, aux Camisards, aux Albigeois, à tous ceux qui, à un moment donné, ont préferé leur idée de l’homme et de la justice à l’ecception de la défaite. Le beau, c’est que Papillon joue – tout – et qu’en fin de compte il gagne. Il gagne aussi sur le plan littéraire, et de la plus singulière façon. Jean-François Revel, dans la brève étude qui clôt le livre, nous invite à voir en ce recit un magnifique et rare exemple de littérature orale. Henry Charrière n’écrit pas, il parle – ou plutôt il écrit comme il parle, comme il raconte, et c’est merveilleux. Passiamo dall’esterno all’interno del libro. Nell’avant-propos, firmata da JeanPierre Castelnou (pp. 9-11), si spinge sul medesimo pedale, magnificando la nonletterarietà dell’opera, prodotto di un’ingenuità positiva, propria di un non intellettuale che, in quanto tale, ha veramente qualcosa da dire. Castelnou, dopo aver sennatamente avvertito che «l’aventure, le malheur, l’injustice les plus corsés ne font pas forcément un bon livre», a maggior ragione dice con entusiasmo del libro di Charrière: et le miracle se produit: pur de tout contact et de toute ambition littéraires (il [scil.: Charrière] m’écrira: Je vous envoie mes aventures, faitesles écrire par quelqu’un du métier), ce qu’il écrit c’est “comme il vous le raconte”. L’autenticità del documento di vita vissuta pretenderebbe a questo punto un rispetto assoluto del testo. La sua non-letterarietà a tutti i livelli (linguistico, stilistico) dovrebbe essere preservata con scrupolo filologico. E niente dei contenuti dovrebbe essere toccato. Ma così non è. Si scopre in realtà che l’editor ha rispettato solo ciò che gli ‘conveniva’ rispettare, sforbiciando elementi di reale interesse documentario: aspetti linguistici, dati storici, nomi di persona e altro LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 269 ancora, salvando cioè eminentemente il contenuto romanzesco (come dire, esattamente non documentaristico). Vale la pena di riportare per esteso la dichiarazione dei criteri seguiti: Ce livre, écrit au fil rouge vif du souvenir, tapé par d’enthousiastes, changeantes et pas très françaises dactylos, je n’ai pour ainsi dire pas touché. Je n’ai fait que rétablir la ponctuation, convertir certains hispanismes trop obscurs, corriger telles confusions de sens et telles inversions dues à la pratique quotidienne, à Caracas, de trois ou quatre languages apprises oralement. Quant à son authenticité, je m’en porte garant sur le fond […]. Autenticità nel senso più ristretto possibile, certo, ma anche in quello più necessario a determinare un’opera carceraria: l’esistenza di un sé preciso al centro della scrittura. Ma quanto al testo, interessa veramente la sua autenticità? Par principe, nous avons changé tous le noms des bagnards, des sourveillants et commandants de l’Administration pénitentiaire, le propos de ce livre n’étant pas d’attaquer des personnes mais de fixer des types et un monde. De même pour les dates […]. Car Charrière n’a pas voulu écrire un livre d’historien, mais raconter, telle qu’il l’a vif vécue, avec dureté, avec foi, ce qui apparaît comme l’extraordinaire épopée d’un homme qui n’accepte pas ce qu’il peut y avoir de démesuré à l’excès entre la compréhensible défense d’une societé contre ses truands et une répression à proprement parler indigne d’une nation civilisée. Le ‘conversioni’ e le ‘correzioni’ alla lingua del testo originale, ma assai più la cancellazione dei dati storici concreti, vanno insieme con una riduzione generale del peso documentaristico. Castelnou, per remore tutto sommato comprensibili, revocando ogni elemento di denuncia, sopprime l’urgente memoria di Charrière, facendone semplicemente l’epopea di Papillon. Il documento di preziosa antiletterarietà è divenuto romanzo. Nell’ultimo degli apparati paratestuali contenuti nel volume, la parola passa al filosofo Jean-François Revel (pp. 514-516). Il quale, senza curarsi delle censure attuate da Castelnou, batte ancora il tasto dell’autenticità, della spontaneità, dell’ingenuità del libro, il cui autore «n’a pas à se demander pourquoi il écrit». Revel situa l’opera di Charrière in una più ampia teoria del romanzo francese contemporaneo, che ritiene ormai giunto a un punto morto, a causa del concrescere della letteratura su sé stessa, divenuta autoreferenziale, priva di contatti col reale e di qualsiasi ‘stato di grazia’, puro esercizio di stile.28 Lo ‘stato di grazia’ può impre- 270 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) vidibilmente riapparire, quindi, solo da opere che abbiano la loro origine nell’extraletterario, in un campo cioè in cui «la force d’évocation visuelle et événementielle, et non point sa contrefaçon au niveau du langage, joint-elle d’une sorte de dispense qui permet de braver les écoles et les conjoinctures littéraires – sans le savoir, bien sûr». La forza di un romanzo come Papillon, per Revel, proviene dalla sua ingenua (sans le savoir) capacità di porsi al di qua delle regole e delle idiosincrasie della letteratura colta.29 E per Revel si tratta di una capacità che agisce prima di tutto a livello della lingua, secondo una dinamica che oppone tra loro lingua letteraria e lingua spontanea, scrittura d’arte e oralità. Car il s’agit en fait ici de langage, je veux dire de langage oral, et non d’écriture. Dans Papillon, l’écriture est un succédané de la parole, elle n’est pas le dépassement, la transmutation, comme dans la littérature savante […]. Les reconstitutions littéraires de la langue parlée, chez Céline, par exemple, souffrent précisément de ne pas porter la marque de la spontanéité. D’autre part, il est d’une rareté extrême que le français parlé puisse, sans truquage, aboutir à une œuvre achevée. Devant la page à écrire, la genie populaire se croît genéralement obligé de faire appel aux quelques ibrides qu’il connaît du français littéraire. Il perd sur les deux tableaux (c’est ce qu’on appelle méchamment des “romans d’autodidactes”). Pour franchir ce barrage redoutable – la culture écrite – sans s’en apercevoir, en gardant la totalité de ses ressources narratives comme si l’on parlait, il faut cette innocence rusée qui fut celle du Douanier Rousseau, et que possède Papillon, l’intemporel “conteur qui prend place au pied du térébinthe”. La proprietà del paragone tra Charrière e Céline meriterebbe un’ampia e delicata discussione, che qui non è opportuno affrontare.30 Interessa per ora solo mettere in luce come Revel stabilisca una catena precisa tra urgenza dello scrivere la verità nuda e cruda, fatta di esperienze vissute e patite in prima persona, e uno stile che si configura come un’assenza di stile, dando luogo a una letteratura antiletteraria, che ha in ciò il proprio valore rilevante. 5. A L DI là delle operazioni più o meno arbitrarie poste in atto dalle case editrici, possiamo ben dire che esse comunque fanno forza ed enfatizzano precise specificità, sentite dai lettori, condivise dagli autori: la sincerità e la maggiore capacità di dire il vero rispetto alla ‘normale’ letteratura d’arte. Lo scrittore dalla prigionia, dal lager (ma anche dall’esilio, dalla malat- LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 271 tia, insomma lo scrittore che emerge dalla lontananza, dalla separazione rispetto agli altri uomini), possiede, pur nella diversità dei singoli casi, i nobili tratti del reduce, del martire e del chiaroveggente. Impossibile, ovviamente, non mettere tale specificità della voce de profundis, in correlazione con lo spirito e la tradizione della religione cristiana. Lo scrittore carcerato è Paolo, è l’evangelista Giovanni dall’isola di Patmos. Ed è, naturalmente, figura del Cristo torturato, incarcerato, ucciso, il Cristo che nella sofferenza non parla più per parabole, ma pronuncia solo sette parole, le uniche necessarie. È Boezio, etimo storico dello scrittore carcerato per il Medioevo, cui Dante riconosceva la fisionomia di martire, cioè di testimone proprio in quanto nunzio di verità dalla prigionia e dal dolore.31 Ed è legittimo discendente dell’eremita Girolamo, non a caso modello del più antico monachesimo (specie di quello orientale, monachesimo d’isolamento). Ed è naturalmente strettamente coinvolto dalla mistica dell’ostacolo, del salto verso la verità tramite il sacrificio della libertà del corpo. Isolamento, sofferenza come tramiti verso la chiarovvegenza, quindi. Proprio perché carcerato, lo scrittore godrebbe di una maggiore capacità di oggettivazione del reale, rispetto a chi è immerso nel caos indeterminato dell’esperienza fenomenica, e una maggior capacità di colpire al cuore l’uomo libero. Per quanto si tratti di una visione che potrebbe essere accusata di sentimentalismo romantico, non sorprende come essa ricorra con frequenza nei giudizi critici relativi a opere scritte in carcere. Per fare un esempio, proprio su concetti di tal fatta si basa la recensione apparsa sul quotidiano il manifesto del 4 ottobre 2004, in relazione al libro di Adriano Sofri e Giorgio Porrà, Un attaccante estremo, di cui già si è detto: «Sofri, immerso in un tempo senza fine, ha la facoltà di riflettere che gli è stata drammaticamente imposta dagli eventi. Dal suo eremo pisano ha sempre detto la sua su molte questioni; a volte i suoi pensieri sono sembrati fuori dal tempo, come incapaci di tastare il polso della nostra storia. Ma quando dice “la vita è rotonda” – ennesima applicazione di una metafora calcistica alla vita di tutti i giorni – Adriano Sofri colpisce violentemente al cuore». Da sottolineare, crediamo, la nozione del carcere come luogo-tempo della riflessione,32 l’accento posto sull’isolamento – si parla significativamente di eremo, di cui non occorre sottolineare la concomitanza con il lessico ascetico.33 Ma da sottolineare soprattutto il rapporto stretto tra l’inattualità della parola carceraria e la sua capacità di cogliere non la realtà ma la verità profonda, (sino «al cuore») delle cose. Distanza, inattualità, verità. Il topos dell’impedimento ricorre anche in un aneddoto riportato da Milo De Angelis dall’interno stesso del carcere. La dimensione della lontananza, dell’esclusione come occasione di vedere, di sentire più a fondo di chi vede, è bene espressa attraverso le parole di un carcerato: «L’anno scorso, durante una lezione su Leopardi, un detenuto mi ha detto che per lui le 272 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) sbarre della cella sono come la siepe nella poesia “L’Infinito” di Leopardi: impedendo di vedere, suscitano qualcos’altro di più grande; impedendo di vedere, suscitano la visione».34 La prestanza del topos è tale che esso compare anche negli scritti di poeti non reclusi, e che in carcere non ci sono mai stati, nel momento in cui parlano di carcere. Ciò conferma la sorprendente condivisione di immagini e di istituti ideologici esistente tra le motivazioni reali degli autori reclusi e quelle degli ‘altri’. Citiamo uno solo dei tanti esempi che si potrebbero prendere da autori contemporanei. Così Franco Fortini nella sua Lingua e prigioni: «Non conoscerò che me stesso / ma tutti in me stesso. La mia prigione / vede più della tua libertà».35 A cui associamo volentieri, per la simiglianza di contenuti, le parole del detenuto siriano Yousef Wakkas, che in carcere è divenuto scrittore in lingua italiana.36 In una dichiarazione, in cui spiega le ragioni della sua attività, ponendo tra le motivazioni la necessità di ‘evadere’ dalla disumanità inaccettabile del carcere, riconosce infine alla propria scrittura una dimensione più alta, quella cioè di ‘trascinare’ con sé la realtà, facendola giungere sino alla dimensione della verità, identificata senza possibilità di errore nel Verbo, con la ‘v’ maiuscola: «Io senza mezzi termini, scelsi la via del Verbo, trascinando tutti quanti con me, ed immortalandoli con racconti e riflessioni che vanno al di là di quella realtà “ristretta e reclusa” a suon di sentenze, ordinanze, articoli, commi». A questa dimensione del topos, si accompagna un aspetto diverso ma che mostra forti elementi di colleganza o di complementarietà. Alla capacità di dire parole di verità causata dalla reclusione, si aggiunge infatti un elemento che non sapremmo definire altrimenti che metaletterario. La prigione è infatti paragonabile in questo senso alla stessa attività artistica, che a causa delle costrizioni imposte, innalza la parola a dimensioni più elevate. Arte da arcte, per utilizzare una pseudoetimologia in voga nel medioevo: arte proveniente dall’obbligo, dalla costrizione. Come dice Milo De Angelis: «Avete mai visto una cella? Pochi metri quadrati dove ogni cosa ha la sua esatta posizione, dove basta spostare uno sgabello per sovvertire un ordine consueto, un equilibrio faticosamente raggiunto. È ciò che avviene in poesia, dove basta modificare un aggettivo per fare il caos. Carcere e poesia hanno in comune un regime di sorveglianza, di massima sorveglianza».37 6. È che a questo punto il topos travalica sempre più nei pressi della metafora pura. In cui cioè non si ha un rapporto univoco nel riconoscimento della referenzialità, ma un’identificazione libera tra i due concetti. E il fatto più interessante è che ciò accade innanzitutto a partire da chi nel carcere vive, o col carcere ha ampia frequentazione. Meno sorprendente, quinCHIARO LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 273 di, in fin dei conti, se tale metafora è riuscita a imporsi e ad essere vitale anche nella letteratura non carceraria. Se cioè anche da parte di autori fra loro del tutto diversi, si è potuta identificare in una prigionia intesa in senso lato – e che comunque ha costantemente le caratteristiche di un impedimentum autoimposto – l’occasione per lo scaturire dell’impulso artistico, e l’attribuzione alla parola così concepita di particolari caratteristiche di veridicità. Porteremo solo pochi esempi, e piuttosto eterogenei per mostrare la relativa variabilità del topos. Il primo di essi riguarda esclusivamente il riconoscimento di un legame causale (che più sopra abbiamo definito occasione per gli autori effettivamente carcerati) tra un’oggettiva situazione di impedimentum e il sorgere di una vocazione letteraria. Facciamo riferimento alle parole con cui è presentata al pubblico la più importante edizione antica delle opere dello scrittore vicentino Luigi da Porto:38 Rime e prosa di M. Luigi da Porto, il quale essendo bellissimo e animosissimo giovane, per lo suo valore condottier de’ signor’ veneziani, combattendo per loro nel Frìgoli co’ nimici tedeschi, fu ferito di maniera che rimase prima perduto della persona per un tempo, e poi zoppo e debole mentre e’ visse. Per la qual cagione, si rivolse alle lettere e alla volgar poesia, onde ne nacquero questi frutti. Il rapporto di casualità interessa, poiché mette in opposizione due stadi della vita dello scrittore. Il secondo stadio, quello della paralisi, della malattia e della debolezza, dell’impedimento è appunto quello che spinge (per la qual cagione) la nascita del poeta.39 Più interessante, perché basato sulle parole dirette dell’autore, e perché pone in campo i due elementi essenziali del topos, la testimonianza di Alfieri riportata nella Vita.40 Siamo nel 1775, l’epoca in cui cioè lo scrittore abbandona la vita oziosa e viziosa per dedicarsi prima allo studio dei classici, poi concretamente alla creazione artistica. Al preludio di questo processo, si situa un fatto curioso. Alfieri, preso da una morbosa passione (il «terzo intoppo amoroso») per la nobildonna Elena Margherita Gabrielli di Villafalletto, e volendone guarire, escogita un rimedio assai violento: la reclusione volontaria all’interno di una stanza della propria casa. Il rimedio giunge presto ad effetto: «Isolato in tal guisa in casa mia, proibiti tutti i messaggi, urlando e ruggendo, passai i primi quindici giorni di questa mia strana liberazione». La riuscita della terapia coincide con un progressivo stato di abbrutimento e di depressione intellettuale: Mi andava provando di leggere qualche cosuccia, ma non intendeva neppure la gazetta, non che alcun menomo libro; e mi accadeva di aver letto 274 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) delle pagine intere cogli occhi, e talor con le labbra, senza saper una parola sola di quel ch’avessi letto. Ma al termine di quella carcerazione annichilente, e a causa di essa, Alfieri riceve in dono l’ispirazione per un componimento poetico, il primo sonetto della sua vita che, per quanto disprezzato in seguito dall’autore, aveva in sé i contenuti di una rivelazione, di una presa di coscienza sincera del proprio nuovo stato emotivo. Di lì viene nuova linfa alla creatività poetica, sopita dagli ozî (cioè: dal disordine della libertà o del libertinaggio) e la capacità finalmente di associare senza dolore alcuno l’arte all’idea di restrizione, assimilando senza alcuna riserva l’attività artistica «al mio carcere»:41 Era tuttavia sommo il guadagno dell’andarmi con questo nuovo impulso cancellando dal cuore quella non degna fiamma, e di andare ad oncia ad oncia riacquistando il mio già sì lungamente allopiato intelletto. Non mi trovava almeno più nella dura e risibile necessità di farmi legare su la mia seggiola, come avea praticato più volte fin allora, per impedire in tal modo me stesso dal potere fuggir di casa, e ritornare al mio carcere». Ma il caso forse più significativo è quello rappresentato da Salvador Dalí scrittore. Il più grande Schauerspieler, in senso freudiano, del Novecento infatti, cui non mancavano per propria sensibilità propensioni e slanci verso un cristianesimo di ribollente ascetismo, descrive bene, in apertura del suo Journal d’un génie la sua declinazione del topos dell’impedimentum, riportandolo alle sue dimensioni etimologiche, di ‘intralcio posto tra i piedi’:42 Per scrivere queste pagine, utilizzo per la prima volta delle scarpe di vernice che non ho mai potuto portare a lungo perché sono orribilmente strette. Le calzo in genere un attimo prima di cominciare una conferenza. La costrizione dolorosa che esse esercitano sui miei piedi esalta al massimo le mie capacità oratorie. Questo dolore sottile e schiacciante mi fa cantare come un usignolo, o come uno di quei cantanti napoletani che portano, anch’essi, scarpe troppo strette. La sollecitazione fisico-viscerale, la tortura evidente che provocano le mie scarpe di vernice, mi obbligano a far sgorgare dalle parole verità condensate, sublimi, universalizzate dalla suprema inquisizione del dolore subìto ai piedi. Calzo dunque le mie scarpe e comincio a scrivere masochisticamente e senza precipitazione tutta la verità sulla mia esclusione dal gruppo surrealista. Se ricordiamo il fatto che, in altre occasioni, per portare al massimo la propria capacità artistica, Dalí afferma di aver dipinto completamente nudo, cioè del tutto LITERATURE AND MEMORY • 275 libero, risulta più evidente come la costrizione descritta nel passo appena citato è non solo causa di arte, ma è causa della forma più dolorosa e alta dell’arte, che si ha quando la finzione si incarica di dire la verità. Un espediente del tutto appropriato per l’inventore del metodo critico-paranoico, secondo il quale la disciplina dei «procedimenti di ricerca più rigorosi» è messa a disposizione di una «feconda ed elastica immaginazione», spesso di contenuti misticheggianti. Insomma, le scarpe strette hanno il potere di far sgorgare la verità dalle parole, in quanto procedura di disciplinazione. Un castigo, da un lato, ma un castigo autoimposto, di cui non si mette in discussione la giustizia da cui discende, ma solo i suoi effetti. Le scarpe di Dalí rappresentano a un tempo l’oggettivazione estrema e la parodia di situazioni di vita assai più serie e drammatiche. Ma mettono in campo anche un problema che, crediamo, tocchi argomenti di interesse ermeneutico. In particolare l’argomento che sta al centro della scrittura carceraria, come abbiamo cercato di mostrare sin qui, cioè a dire quello della verità del testo. Poco importa se Dalí indossasse realmente le sue scarpe accingendosi alla scrittura, importa che lo dica e che colleghi questo gesto alla sua volontà di dire la verità. A simili asserzioni d’altronde tocca credere, a meno di non scindere alla radice il patto di mutua fiducia, l’unico che permette una comunicazione tra scrittore e lettore: il patto per cui il lettore si rende disponibile a lasciarsi comunicare qualcosa, e che fa sì che la parola divenga vincolante, in quanto vincola autore e lettore (ma non va dimenticato che anche chi mente vuol essere creduto). Ma come ci si dovrà porre non rispetto alle procedure utilizzate per dire la verità, ma ai contenuti delle parole annunciate come parole di verità (da Dalì, come da Bunker, come da Levi)? L’applicazione al nostro discorso dell’aforisma di Fortini secondo cui «col coltello alla gola, le parole possono in qualche caso farsi meno elusive o illudersi di esserlo»,43 crediamo che centri solo un aspetto del problema. E cioè quello di cui abbiamo diffusamente parlato sino ad ora: la capacità – inaspettata, scandalosa, intimamente disarmante – della parola prodotta in e dal carcere, o in qualunque altra dimensione estrema, proibitiva, di persuadere di un proprio statuto di verità. Ma in che cosa risiede o in che cosa consiste tale verità? Ed è forse diversa dalla verità di cui si può parlare per un testo prodotto fuori dal carcere? La verità del testo letterario è possibile, secondo Gadamer, per il testo eminente, e cioè per il testo che si «definisce innanzitutto come forma (Gebilde), poiché nel termine “forma” è implicito che il fenomeno si sia lasciato alle spalle in modo singolare il procedimento del suo sorgere oppure l’abbia respinto nell’indeterminato, così da reggersi totalmente su se stesso nel suo peculiare aspetto ed apparire».44 Ma se questo può valere, come crediamo che valga, in linea generale, sembrerebbe male attagliarsi proprio alla letteratura carceraria che, abbiamo visto, pone come scaturigine della propria veridicità il procedimento da cui sorge e la centralità del sé autoriale. 276 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) Ne conseguirebbe quindi che la letteratura carceraria non possa produrre testi eminenti e che sia vuota ogni sua pretesa di veridicità. L’eminenza sarebbe riservata solo a quei grandi capolavori la cui origine carceraria è solo contingente, per i quali cioè conta fino a un certo punto l’occasione che li ha prodotti. Pure, ci sembra che se la verità del testo carcerario d’arte discende innanzitutto dall’occasione che lo produce, ciò non sia da intendere nel suo senso più concreto, ambientale, storico, quanto dal fatto che la ‘letteratura dell’impedimento’ rappresenta in qualche modo ai nostri occhi la perfetta realizzazione della condizione necessaria perché un testo sia eminente e quindi capace di verità, e cioè il fatto che sia innanzitutto sottoposto a regole, ferree regole di tipo formale, sulle quali poggia il patto stesso col lettore, che nessuno vuole verificare nella sua liceità (almeno mai fino in fondo). In realtà, ciò che dice lo scrittore in carcere ha una sua particolare natura, che amplifica a dismisura la condizione necessaria perché un testo sia riconosciuto come eminente, cioè il fatto di essere provvisto di una forma governata da regole, cioè vincoli, riconoscibili. Le sue parole insomma non sono mai ‘parole in libertà’.45 Esse, tanto da parte dell’autore che nella coscienza del lettore, sono parole vincolate, prodotte arcte. Parole che non vivono nella temporalità o in una dimensione sfuggente, ma parole che stanno scritte,46 e, per quanto possano essere all’occorrenza urlo, imprecazione, preghiera, o qualunque altra cosa, a meno che non si perda tale loro cristallina impossibilità di sfuggire, ci appaiono vere, o più vere. Insomma, prima ancora della letteratura in carcere, la letteratura come carcere, almeno dal punto di vista formale. Viene a taglio, per chiudere, ancora una frase del poeta Milo De Angelis: «Infinito esprimersi della libertà attraverso l’osservanza scrupolosa di una legge: poesia e carcere hanno in comune questa condizione».47 Notes 1. Riportiamo queste parole da una lettera inviataci da Giùttari stesso per cortese risposta. 2. Ci riferiamo alla silloge poetica di Alfredo Bonazzi, Ergastolo azzurro (Todariana, Milano, 1970), che descrive il terribile mondo del manicomio criminale e delle sue torture fisiche e psicologiche (particolarmente toccanti le parole dedicate al letto di contenzione). Bonazzi, omicida ed ergastolano, già noto alla cronaca come “la belva di viale Zara”, si attirò per le sue poesie la pubblica stima di Eugenio Montale e ottenne (per meriti letterari) la grazia presidenziale. 3. Il poeta Milo De Angelis, che da anni svolge un’attività volontaria di insegnante in carcere, pone il problema del punto differenziale tra letteratura in e fuori di prigione a partire dal punto di vista del carcerato, introducendo il concetto di alibi: «Anni fa, quando ho iniziato a insegnare nella Casa di Reclusione di Opera, alla periferia di Milano, pensavo di andare lì per diffondere la poesia, la buona novella della poesia. Niente di più sbagliato. In carcere di versi se ne scrivono già tanti, dovunque e senza tregua. Solamente che non è poesia. Sono sfo- LITERATURE 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. AND MEMORY • 277 ghi, confessioni, parole buttate su un quaderno, parole senza peso e senza ricerca. Come tante che si leggono ogni giorno, certo, ma con in più l’alibi di sentirsi garantite dal fatto di nascere lì, in quel luogo di sofferenza, quasi fosse un lasciapassare» (Milo De Angelis, “Appunti sulla poesia in carcere”, in Poesia, XVI, 176 (2003): pp. 43-47, a p. 43). In partenza, abbiamo un concetto simile a quello espresso da Giùttari: la differenza reale è tra buona poesia e cattiva poesia. Ma, rispetto a Giùttari, De Angelis individua una specificità, che sta tutta nell’aspetto psicologico, fortemente sentito da parte del recluso, e cioè che la propria è una scrittura interamente dovuta al carcere. Il carcere ne è la causa scatenante. La libertà non avrebbe saputo crearla. In questo consiste l’alibi evocato da De Angelis: certo un mettere le mani avanti da parte degli autori rispetto al livello tecnico e alla perizia compositiva (spesso di basso livello); ma anche un riconoscere alla propria scrittura il valore aggiunto di essere nata dall’urgenza di dire tutta la nuda e cruda verità su sé stessi, sull’esperienza dell’abisso, senza preoccupazioni stilistiche e formali. Cercheremo, nel prosieguo della nostra trattazione, di evidenziare come rispetto alla letteratura in carcere al concetto di alibi sia necessario riguadagnare anche il senso che esso possiede in radice: l’‘essere altrove’ dello scrittore carcerato, l’‘essere fuori del mondo’. Un ‘altrove’ in cui tempo e spazio hanno dimensioni diverse rispetto a quelle esperite dai liberi, e che causano l’espressione di una voce nuova, sentita per questo come più vera. In ciò, la letteratura è per il carcerato contemporaneamente l’alternativa alla propria realtà degradata, e quindi un modo per vivere dentro, ma anche il modo per far uscire la propria voce fuori, secondo i modi di una scrittura di ‘evasione’. Si stenterebbe tuttavia a pensare al carcere come a un ambiente omogeneo, giacché passa molta differenza non solo tra le carceri, poniamo, dell’Italia di oggi e quelle di cinquant’anni fa, ma anche tra le carceri dei diversi paesi del mondo. Variano le condizioni esistenziali, oltreché la composizione stessa della popolazione reclusa, nella quale, a seconda delle circostanze storiche e politiche si possono trovare folti gruppi di intellettuali o una loro quasi totale assenza. Questa la dichiarazione di Italo Calvino in una lettera a Germana Pescio Bottino, spesso riportata in esergo alle note biografiche delle edizioni mondadoriane dello scrittore: «Dati biografici: io sono ancora di quelli che credono, con Croce, che di un autore contano solo le opere. (Quando contano, naturalmente). Perciò dati biografici non ne do, o li do falsi, o comunque cerco di cambiarli da una volta all’altra». Edito con traduzione italiana (di Giancarlo Pavanello) in Jean Genet, Poesie (Guanda, Parma, 2004): pp. 24-43. Fu molto probabilmente proprio Jean Cocteau l’anonimo sostenitore che si accollò le spese della prima pubblicazione del romanzo Notre-Dame-des-Fleurs, uscito appunto «aux dépens d’un amateur» nel 1943, quando Genet era ancora incarcerato. Cfr. il saggio di Jean-Paul Sartre, Saint Genet comédien et martyr (Paris, Gallimard, 1952), che occupa l’intero primo volume dei sei in cui è riunita l’opera omnia di Genet. L’operazione di Sartre fu tanto spinta da far sorgere un vero blocco creativo in Genet stesso, che ci mise ben quattro anni prima di tornare a pubblicare un’opera. Oggi si tende a percorrere strade diverse nell’interpretazione dell’opera di Genet, basate su un’analisi interna dello stile e della lingua, prescindendo per quanto possibile dalle ragioni esistenziali che le hanno generate. Ma è notevole che anche chi si muove in questa direzione, come Jean Picot, si senta di dare nei propri saggi giustificazione dettagliata e preventiva di ciò. Non sono pochi tra l’altro gli autori che, giunti in carcere, interrompono ogni attività scrittoria. È stato giustamente fatto notare che «per ogni autore famoso che finisce in carcere e lì scrive il suo nuovo libro, ce n’è un altro che sul carcere non riesce a scrivere una parola» (cfr. l’introduzione di Siobhan Dowd al volume Scrittori dal carcere. Antologia PEN di testimonianze edite e inedite, prefazione di Josif Brodskij, cura di Siobhan Dowd (Feltrinelli, Milano, 1998): pp. 19-32, a p. 30). 278 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 10. Cfr. Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo, “I temi e i linguaggi della testimonianza”, in L’Indice dei libri del mese, XXII, 4 (2005): pp. 31-35, p. 35, dove la felice formula si riferisce alla dimensione concentrazionaria. 11. Per Vincenzo Andraous, ergastolano catanese e scrittore, il tempo del detenuto, il suo presente, è appunto formato dalla riproduzione di un passato impossibile da rielaborare e da un futuro impossibile da immaginare: «il detenuto non è in una situazione di attesa, dove il tempo serve a ricostruire e rigenerare bensì, non attendendo alcun domani, egli è fermo a un passato riprodotto a tal punto, che tutto rincula a ieri, come se fosse possibile vivere senza futuro, come se delirare fosse identico a sperare» (da Intervista condannata all’ergastolo, reperibile all’indirizzo Internet www.atuttascuola.it/temi/intervista_condannata_all_ergastolo.htm). Non deve sorprendere quindi se la letteratura scritta effettivamente in carcere non è quasi mai letteratura di memoria, ma piuttosto letteratura dell’esserci. Per il carcerato la memoria è comprensibilmente innanzitutto dolore, come esprime bene l’argentino Jacobo Timerman, descrivendo il processo di scrittura mentale di una poesia dedicata alla moglie. Alle prese con un metaforico foglio bianco, egli cerca un modello poetico a cui rifarsi: «Si potrebbe pensare che la scelta dello stile avrebbe portato con sé memorie dei tempi in cui avevo letto questi scrittori per la prima volta. La memoria è il principale nemico dell’uomo solo, torturato: niente è più pericoloso in questi momenti […]. Ma riuscii a sviluppare alcuni espedienti che m’inducevano la passività per sopportare la tortura, e trucchi antimemoria per le lunghe ore nella cella solitaria. Rifiutai di ricordare tutto ciò che avesse a che fare con l’esperienza della vita: ero uno stoico professionista dedito al proprio compito» (in Scrittori dal carcere, cit., p. 110). 12. Gli elementi proposti da Siobhan Dowd per l’identificazione di un genere carcerario ci paiono contemporaneamente insufficienti e degni di discussione: «Dato che così tanti scrittori di prim’ordine del ventesimo secolo si sono trovati a vedere il cielo a scacchi, non sorprende che il corpus costituito dall’opera prodotta sulle loro esperienze in carcere meriti il termine di “genere”» (Scrittori dal carcere, cit., p. 29). Il fatto meramente quantitativo del numero di scrittori attivi in prigionia ci sembra punto di partenza certo per l’individuazione del corpus ma non di un genere, mentre è assai più rilevante, per quanto bisognoso a nostro avviso di una discussione preliminare (cui ci accingiamo), l’individuazione della scrittura di sé come tema dominante intorno a cui costituire il genere stesso. 13. Non tratteremo in alcun modo di un altra tipologia della scrittura in carcere, quella forse in cui più evidentemente la dimensione esistenziale del carcerato è filtrata, fino ad annullarsi, per mezzo dell’opera, vale a dire la tipologia della traduzione. 14. Porter fu incarcerato dopo essersi reso protagonista di una vicenda dai contorni pateticamente avventurosi, in cui egli si mostrò di indole e attitudini assai simili a quelle di tanti suoi personaggi, furbi per volontà o per necessità ma non per istinto, destinati ad essere schiacciati dal più forte, sia esso un criminale più abile o la legge stessa. Lo scrittore, infatti, ricevuta l’intimazione a presentarsi in tribunale per rispondere di un ammanco di cassa di cui probabilmente non aveva colpe, pur avendo buone possibilità di difendersi e di essere prosciolto, preferì fuggire in Honduras. Due anni dopo, venuto a conoscenza delle cattive condizioni di salute della moglie, tornò in patria, dove fu processato e condannato a cinque anni di reclusione (poi ridotti a tre anni e tre mesi per buona condotta). 15. Cfr. O. Henry, Memorie di un cane giallo e altri racconti, a cura di G. Manganelli (Adelphi, Milano, 1981): p. 329. 16. Il finale sorprendente e puntuto dei racconti di O. Henry è talmente tipico da aver meritato in patria gli onori di una vera e propria categoria narratologica a parte, denominata O. Henry ending. 17. Non a caso, Giorgio Manganelli, nella sua introduzione alla più ricca raccolta di racconti di O. Henry stampata in Italia (Memorie di un cane giallo, cit., pp. 9-23), evita ogni accenno all’e- LITERATURE 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. AND MEMORY • 279 pisodio dell’imprigionamento vissuto dall’autore e di conseguenza di discutere un qualsivoglia influsso di esso sull’opera. In ogni caso, gli esempi cui faremo riferimento non si allontaneranno mai se non di qualche anno dal Novecento, per ragioni facilmente intuibili di omogeneità dei dati. Così l’africano Jack Mapanje, detenuto politico in Malawi: «È questo l’attimo / che ci atterriva; quando saremmo scesi tutti / nell’abisso, soli; senza moglie né figlio / senza madre; senza carta né penna / senza una storia (solo tre Bibbie per / novanta uomini) senza accusa né processo». E ancora, il cubano Angel Cuadra: «Io sono soltanto un abbozzo di poesia / tra ferri e ombra, / una voce che hanno voluto soffocare / in sordina…» (in Scrittori dal carcere, cit., pp. 45-46 e 100). Cfr. Edward Bunker, Educazione di una canaglia (Einaudi, Torino 2002): pp. 509-510 (corsivo nostro), vera e propria autobiografia dell’autore. Ancora sul tema della ‘letteratura che salva la vita’, l’autore in un’intervista riportata sul quotidiano il Mattino del 6 giugno 2002: «io rimango fermo a Dostoewskij, a Hemingway, a Cervantes, a Tolstoj, a Fitzgerald, a Jack London. Sì, sono fedele a loro: perché sono i miei maestri, perché li ho letti in prigione e mi hanno aiutato a vivere. Forse, senza quei romanzi avrei ancora una pistola in mano, o sarei morto in una cella». Dice lo stesso Bunker a David Grieco, in un’intervista a l’Unità del 29 novembre 2002: «Ho capito che quello era l’unico modo per reinserirmi nella società. Gli Stati Uniti non sono un paese indulgente. È un paese molto puritano. I paesi cattolici sono molto più indulgenti. In America, quando finisci dietro le sbarre, sei fuori gioco. L’unica strada che mi si è aperta era scrivere». Intervista a Emanuele Trevi per il Manifesto del 6 giugno 2002. Cfr. Nicu Steinhardt, Jurnalul fericirii (Dacia, Cluj-Napoca, 19922), ed. it., Id., Diario della felicità (il Mulino, Bologna, 1995), da cui si cita, p. 29. Primo Levi, Se questo è un uomo (Einaudi, Torino, 1958), ma citiamo dall’ed. del 1982, p. 8. Ibid., p. 8. Ibid. p. 246: «È stata l’esperienza del Lager a costringermi a scrivere: non ho avuto da combattere con la pigrizia, i problemi di stile mi sembravano ridicoli, ho trovato miracolosamente il tempo di scrivere pur senza mai sottrarre neppure un’ora al mio mestiere quotidiano: mi pareva, questo libro, di averlo già in testa tutto pronto, di doverlo solo lasciare uscire e scendere sulla carta». Il film, diretto da Franklin J. Schaffner, che porta lo stesso titolo del libro, esce nel 1973 e si avvale di attori del calibro di Steve Mc Queen e Dustin Hoffmann. Fu un gran successo al botteghino. Siamo nel 1969: gli esperimenti alla Queneau dominano la scena letteraria francese (anche se vedremo che il punto di riferimento polemico di Revel è piuttosto Céline). Citiamo qui, come indiretta risposta a tutto questo armamentario critico intorno all’opera di Charrière, il secco giudizio espresso a caldo da Andrea Zanzotto: «In questi tempi si è creata addirittura una retorica sul letterato-ergastolano (Papillon). L’avidità con cu le mode e il consumismo si sono impadroniti di questa figura stravolgendone la connotazione umana, avvilendola perfino attraverso l’esaltazione (da salotto e da rotocalco), costituisce uno dei fenomeni più rivoltanti del momento attuale» (Andrea Zanzotto, “Consapevolezza”, in L’ergastolo azzurro di Alfredo Bonazzi, a cura di Teodoro Giùttari (Todariana Editrice, Milano, 1971): p. 219. A questa altezza cronologica Céline rappresenta una vera e propria pietra d’inciampo (per ragioni ideologiche ma anche estetiche, o per una combinazione dei due aspetti) per molti critici letterari francesi, certo non eliminata dal saggio riabilitativo di Poulet del 1959 (Entretiens familiers aves L. F. Céline, Plon, Paris). Ad ogni buon conto, la discussione sullo stile e la lingua di Céline comincia sin dalla comparsa del Voyage, e verte subito sul dilemma se si tratti 280 • TRANSYLVANIAN REVIEW • VOL. XX, SUPPLEMENT NO. 3 (2011) 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. di voce spontanea o artefatta, tanto che Céline già nel 1937 è costretto a un’autodifesa, esposta in un’intervista a Louis Gerin del 1937: «ho steso così i miei grossi libri, donde senza dubbio il loro tono trafelato, ansante che mi rimproverano, che credono costruito. Ma è così che parlo, puro e semplice. Non faccio dello ‘stile’» (cfr. 1: Céline et l’actualité littéraires, textes réunis et présentés par Jean-Pierre Dauphin et Henry Godard (Gallimard, Paris, 1976) [ed. it. a cura di Giancarlo Pontiggia (SE, Milano, 1992), da cui citiamo, p. 8]. Lo stesso Céline, d’altronde, in un’intervista del 1932, rivendica l’estraneità ad accademie e scuole letterarie della propria opera, opponendo in modo sarcastico esperienza personale e cultura dei ‘morti’: «I miei maestri? Dei medici […]. E anche una ballerina americana […]. I morti? Li ho masticati i loro libri, me la sono ingoiata la minestra classica, lavorando, prima con le mie mani, poi facendo la guerra, per passare la maturità, e poi anche lavorando per passare il dottorato» (ibid., p. 21). Come si può vedere, posizioni non tanto dissimili, al fondo, da quelle con cui Revel valorizza Papillon, ma che il critico non deve avere considerato del tutto convincenti. Cfr. Dante Alighieri, Paradiso, X, 124-29: «Per vedere ogni ben dentro vi gode / l’anima santa che ’l mondo fallace / fa manifesto a chi di lei ben ode; lo corpo ond’ella cacciata giace / giuso in Cieldauro; ed essa da martiro / e da esilio venne a questa pace». Diceva Iacopone, con spirito assai più polemico, ma a partire da un’idea simile della carcerazione: «Que farai, Pier da Morrone? / Èi venuto al paragone. / Vederimo êl lavorato / che en cell’ài contemplato» (cfr. Iacopone da Todi, Laude, a cura di Franco Mancini (Laterza, Roma-Bari, 1974): 74, vv. 1-4, p. 218. Preferisce la nozione di emigrazione politica (cioè di esilio) Franco Fortini, nel definire la condizione del detenuto Del Giudice con cui tiene corrispondenza: «le tue lettere ci misurano la distanza che giorno dopo giorno si è dilatata fra coloro che, come te, nella detenzione sono divenuti quasi degli emigrati politici in un’altra terra e quelli che, come me, sono rimasti in patria (se questa può chiamarsi tale) in figura di “emigrazione interna”». Quel che conta, è il senso di perdita di aderenza dell’emigrato politico dall’attualità, che garantisce una resistenza maggiore alla capacità di analisi. Il carcerato è capace di un «mantenimento di un […] orizzonte generale» rispetto al libero, che proprio in quanto libero e perciò più soggetto agli inganni perpetrati «dalla perfetta organizzazione, oggettiva e intenzionale non importa, che il potere, il palazzo, il sistema, la macchina o come vogliamo chiamare la Città entro cui tu ed io viviamo, hanno saputo mettere in movimento e con la quale hanno persuaso la nazione della paradossale “normalità” di quel che è accaduto nel nostro paese» e che ha causato tra gli intellettuali «abiezione […], gusto della propria decadenza, […] passione di apostasia» (cfr. Franco Fortini, “A un detenuto”, in Insistenze (Garzanti, Milano 1985): pp. 211-214, qui pp. 211-212. Cfr. De Angelis, Appunti sulla letteratura in carcere, cit., p. 43. Cfr. Franco Fortini, Non solo oggi. Cinquantanove voci, a cura di Paolo Jachia (Editori Riuniti, Roma, 1991): p. 133. Dice a proposito del suo apprendimento: «ricordo in particolare modo quelli che provavano pietà per un immigrato che voleva scrivere racconti niente meno che nella lingua di Dante» (intervista disponibile in Internet al sito www.eksetra.net/forummigra/relWakkas03.html, da cui traiamo anche i successivi brani citati). Cfr. De Angelis, Appunti sulla poesia in carcere, cit., p. 43. Luigi da Porto, Rime, a cura di Guglielmo Gorni e Giovanna Brianti (Pozza, Vicenza, 1983): p. 1. Come argomenta Gorni, c’è di che credere alla nascita di un piccolo mito, già in epoca immediatamente successiva alla morte di da Porto, basato sul rapporto di necessità tra infer- LITERATURE 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. AND MEMORY • 281 mità e conversione alla poesia. È infatti probabile che alcune delle poesie raccolte nella stampa postuma, in realtà rimontino all’epoca in cui da Porto non era ancora «un poeta invalido e ormai congedato dall’esercito» (cfr. Da Porto, Rime, cit., p. XIV). Cfr. Vittorio Alfieri, Opere, introduzione e scelta di Mario Fubini, testo e commento a cura di Arnaldo Di Benedetto (Ricciardi, Milano-Napoli, 1977): t. I, pp. 143-145. Ibid., p. 147. Salvador Dalí, Diario di un genio, traduzione e postafazione di Fausto Gianfranceschi (SE, Milano, 1996): p. 17. Cfr. F. Fortini, “Letteratura e educazione”, in Non solo oggi, cit., pp. 109-118, p. 115. Cfr. H.G. Gadamer, Il gioco dell’arte, in Id., L’attualità del bello (Marietti, Genova, 20014): pp. 177-185, p. 180. E quindi siamo del tutto lontani dal giudizio secondo cui «la caratteristica della letteratura, cioè del linguaggio in libertà, del linguaggio che si abbandona sfrenatamente al pieno esercizio della sua forza, è di non rispettare alcuna cosa tangibile, alcun fatto dimostrato» (G. Poulet, “Fenomenologia della coscienza critica”, in Id., La coscienza critica (Marietti, Genova, 1991): pp. 233-264, p. 236, corsivo nostro). Al contrario, il rifiuto delle cure dello stile (che non equivale a un disinteresse altrettale per la forma, la cui tirannia si impone da sé) da parte degli autori carcerari ha il carattere di un rifiuto verso la massima libertà dell’arte, cioè quello della dissimulazione della verità. Cfr. ancora H. G. Gadamer, “Arte poetica e ricerca della verità”, in L’attualità del bello, cit., pp. 159-169, p. 162 sgg. M. De Angelis, Appunti sulla poesia in carcere, cit., p. 44. Abstract Prison, literature, truth Prison and literature. In order to the huge literary production in centuries (high, good and mediocre literature; memoirs, fictions, essays, etc), can prison be considered just a where or better a reason why? Since literature in and from prison is not a genre itself, is it possible to trace out coordinates (formal and conceptual ones) at least for some part of such literature? The present paper details these coordinates, for autobiographical prison literature, with the express willingness to ‘ tell the truth’, that can be at most considered as an opposition between ‘telling stories’ (literature) and ‘the urge to tell’ (speech of truth). Keywords prison literature, autobiography, hermeneutics L I S T O F AU T H O R S ALVISE ANDREOSE, Ph.D. Department of Romanistic, University of Padova 11 Cavazuccherina St., 35141 Padova, Italy e-mail: alviseandreose@hotmail.com GEORGE ANGLIÞOIU, Ph.D. Lecturer in International Relations and European Integration Studies / Scientific Secretary of the Department of International Relations and European Integration (The National School for Political Studies and Public Administration), Bucharest, Romania e-mail: 3valmont@gmail.com MIRCEA BRIE, Ph.D. Lecturer at the Faculty of History, International Relations, Political Sciences and Communication Sciences, University of Oradea 1 Universitãþii St., Oradea 410087, Romania 300389, Romania e-mail: briedri@hotmail.com DAN OCTAVIAN CEPRAGA, Ph.D. Professor of Romanian Language and Literature at the Department of Romanistic, University of Padova 1 Beato Pellegrino St., 35147 Padova, Italy e-mail: danoctavian.cepraga@unipd.it GABRIEL MOISA, Ph.D. Senior Lecturer at Faculty of History, International Relations, Political Sciences and Communication Sciences, University of Oradea 1 Universitãþii St., Oradea 410087, Romania e-mail: gabimoisa@hotmail.com DANA PANTEA, Ph.D. Lecturer at Faculty of History, Geography and International Relations, University of Oradea 1 Universitãþii St., Oradea 410087, Romania e-mail: danapantea@yahoo.com ALINA PAVELESCU, Ph.D. The County Bucharest Department of National Archives 470 Calea Vãcãreºti, Bucharest 040071, Romania e-mail: alina.pavelescu@gmail.com IOAN-AUREL POP, Acad. Director of the Center for Transylvanian Studies 12-14 Mihail Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania e-mail: i_a_pop@yahoo.com LORENZO RENZI, Ph.D. TIBERIU CIOBANU, Ph.D. Professor of Romance Philology at the University of Padova 2 8 Febbraio St., Padova 35122, Italy e-mail: lorenzo.renzi@unipd.it ªTEFAN DAMIAN, Ph.D. Lecturer at the Faculty of History, International Relations, Political Sciences and Communication Sciences, University of Oradea 1 Universitãþii St., Oradea 410087, Romania e-mail: florinsfrengeu@yahoo.com Associate Professor at Ioan Slavici University, Timiºoara 144 Dr. Aurel Pãunescu Podeanu St., Timiºoara 300389, Romania e-mail: tiberiuciobanu_vt@yahoo.com Professor at the Faculty of Letters of Babeº-Bolyai University 31 Horea St., Cluj-Napoca 400038, Romania e-mail: stefanndamian@yahoo.it IOAN HORGA, Ph.D. Professor at the Faculty of History, International Relations, Political Sciences and Communication Sciences, University of Oradea 1 Universitãþii St., Oradea 410087, Romania e-mail: ihorga@uoradea.ro FLORIN SFRENGEU, Ph.D. ALINA STOICA, Ph.D. Lecturer at the Faculty of History, International Relations, Political Sciences and Communication Sciences, University of Oradea 1 Universitãþii St., Oradea 410087, Romania e-mail: stoicaalina79@)yahoo.com SORIN ªIPOª, Ph.D. Professor at the Faculty of History, International Relations, Political Sciences and Communication Sciences, University of Oradea 1 Universitãþii St., Oradea 410087, Romania e-mail: ssipos@uoradea.ro BARBU ªTEFÃNESCU, Ph.D. Professor at the Faculty of History, International Relations, Political Sciences and Communication Sciences, University of Oradea 1 Universitãþii St., Oradea 410087, Romania e-mail: bstefanescu@uoradea.ro ZENO L. VERLATO, Ph.D. Researcher at the Istituto Opera del Vocabolario italiano, CNR, Firenze 46 Castello St., 50141 Firenze, Italy e-mail: zeno.verlato@alice.it

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Textus Testis. Documentary Value and Literary Dimension of the Historical Text, edited by Sorin Șipoș, Dan Octavian Cepraga, Ioan-Aurel Pop; Romanian Academy, Center for Transylvanian Studies, Cluj (= "Transylvanian Review" vol. XX, supplement no.3, 2011).

Textus Testis. Documentary Value and Literary Dimension of the Historical Text, edited by Sorin Șipoș, Dan Octavian Cepraga, Ioan-Aurel Pop; Romanian Academy, Center for Transylvanian Studies, Cluj (= "Transylvanian Review" vol. XX, supplement no.3, 2011).

Textus Testis. Documentary Value and Literary Dimension of the Historical Text, edited by Sorin Șipoș, Dan Octavian Cepraga, Ioan-Aurel Pop; Romanian Academy, Center for Transylvanian Studies, Cluj (= "Transylvanian Review" vol. XX, supplement no.3, 2011).

Textus Testis. Documentary Value and Literary Dimension of the Historical Text, edited by Sorin Șipoș, Dan Octavian Cepraga, Ioan-Aurel Pop; Romanian Academy, Center for Transylvanian Studies, Cluj (= "Transylvanian Review" vol. XX, supplement no.3, 2011).

Textus Testis. Documentary Value and Literary Dimension of the Historical Text, edited by Sorin Șipoș, Dan Octavian Cepraga, Ioan-Aurel Pop; Romanian Academy, Center for Transylvanian Studies, Cluj (= "Transylvanian Review" vol. XX, supplement no.3, 2011).

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