Contents/Sommaire

ransylvanian eview Vol. XXVI T R No. 4 /Revue de Transylvanie Winter 2017

Contents/Sommaire Romanian Academy Chairman: • Paradigms Academician Ionel-Valentin Vlad L’édification d’une carrière ecclésiastique pendant la Première Guerre mondiale: Center for L’histoire d’un prélat orthodoxe de Transylvanie 3 Transylvanian Studies Marius Eppel Director: Academician Ioan-Aurel Pop Romania As Reflected in the Acts of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Empire: From the Outbreak of World War I Until the Conclusion of the Sazonov–Diamandy Agreement 18 Ion Gumenâi Gheorghe Bãgulescu (1890–1963): From the War Diary to the Historical Novel or the Offensive of Literature on the Battlefront of History 30 Rodica Frenþiu • Transsilvanica Die Überschwemmungen des Jahres 1771 in Siebenbürgen: Die Rolle des Zentrums und der Peripherie bei der Bewältigung der Katastrophe 43 Dorin-Ioan Rus Patterns in Family Relationships in 19th Century Transylvania: Data from the Historical Population Database of Transylvania 63 Daniela Mârza

The Initiatives of astra Meant to Improve the Lives of the Romanian Peasants in Transylvania (1900–1914) 71 Alexandru Nicolaescu On the cover: Postcard sent on 6 November 1915 Transylvanian Echoes of a European Phenomenon: from Mukačevo (Ukraine) to Cluj, The Vatican and the National-Christian Movements by Lieutenant Béla Móricz, a patient in the mobile army hospital in the Mid–1920s 84 at Uzhgorod (Ukraine). Maria Ghitta The postcard shows Austro-Hungar- ian, German, and Russian soldiers • Tangencies engaged in hand-to-hand combat. The New Interpretations of the Concepts Regarding caption says: “Resounding victory in Galicia: Allied troops storming the Familiars and Possession in Angevin Hungary enemy positions.” during the Early 14th Century 96 Private collection of Balázs Soó-Zöld Mihai Safta (Cluj-Napoca) Gender, Race and Labor in America: Transylvanian Review continues the How One Labor Union Confronted tradition of Revue de Transylvanie, Racial and Gender Conflict during founded by Silviu Dragomir, which the Second World War 106 was published in Cluj and then in Sibiu Timothy Borden between 1934 and 1944. Transylvanian Review is published The Peasant Family in the Urals in the quarterly by the Center for Transylvanian 1920s–1960s: Reconstruction Based Studies and the Romanian Academy. on the Data of Budget Studies 119 Lyudmila Mazur Editorial Board Cesare Alzati, Ph.D. Oleg Gorbachev Facoltà di Scienze della Formazione, Istituto di Storia Moderna e Contemporanea, • Europe Università Cattolica, Milan, Italy The European Union Faced Horst Fassel, Ph.D. with a New Systemic Challenge 136 Institut für donauschwäbische Geschichte und Landeskunde, Tübingen, Germany Petru Filip Konrad Gündisch, Ph.D. Bundesinstitut für Kultur und Geschichte • Book Reviews der Deutschen im östlichen Europa, Ion Cârja, ed., Imperi e nazioni nell’Europa Oldenburg, Germany centro-orientale alla vigilia della Prima Guerra Mondiale Harald Heppner, Ph.D. Institut für Geschichte, Graz, Austria (reviewed by Robert-Marius Mihalache) 149 Paul E. Michelson, Ph.D. Ioan Bolovan, Rudolf Gräf, Harald Heppner, Huntington University, Indiana, USA and Oana Mihaela Tãmaş, eds., World War I— Momčilo Pavlović, Ph. D. Director of the Institute of Contemporary The Other Face of the War History, Belgrade, Serbia (reviewed by Anamaria Pop) 154 Alexandru Zub, Ph.D. Academician, honorary director of A. D. Alberto Basciani, L’illusione della modernità: Xenopol Institute of History, Iaºi, Romania Il Sud-est dell’Europa tra le due guerre mondiali (reviewed by Ion Cârja) 155 Editorial Staff Ioan-Aurel Pop Daniela Mârza Ioan Bolovan, Primul Rãzboi Mondial şi realitãþile Ioan Bolovan Robert-M. Mihalache demografice din Transilvania: Familie, moralitate Raveca Divricean Alexandru Simon Maria Ghitta Florian D. Soporan şi raporturi de gen Rudolf Gräf George State (reviewed by Iuliu-Marius Morariu) 158 Virgil Leon • Contributors 160 Translated by Bogdan Aldea—English Liana Lãpãdatu—French Desktop Publishing Edith Fogarasi Publication indexed and abstracted in the Cosmina Varga Thomson Reuters Social Sciences Citation Index® Correspondence, manuscripts and books and in Arts & Humanities Citation Index®, should be sent to: Transylvanian Review, Centrul de Studii Transilvane and included in ebsco’s and elsevier’s products. (Center for Transylvanian Studies) 12–14 Mihail Kogãlniceanu St., ISSN 1221-1249 Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania. All material copyright © 2017 by the Center for Transylvanian Studies and the Printed in Romania by Color Print Romanian Academy. Reproduction or use 66, 22 Decembrie 1989 St., without written permission is prohibited. zalãu 450031, Romania [email protected] Tel. (0040)260-660598 www.centruldestudiitransilvane.ro paradigms

L’édification d’une carrière ecclésiastique pendant la Première Guerre mondiale L’histoire d’un prélat orthodoxe M a r i u s E p p e l de Transylvanie

Méthodologie

u’il s’agisse de la relation Dieu- homme, croyant-Église ou Qmême citoyen-État, le clergé a toujours représenté une catégorie socio- professionnelle qui a assumé un statut intermédiaire entre des types différents d’autorité. Ce statut représente une hy- pothèse attirante pour la recherche historique. Et lorsque l’analyse est appliquée à un espace multi-confessionnel et mul- tiethnique comme celui de Transylvanie, les provocations en sont amplifiées. Recherche dans le cadre du projet de finan cement cncs-uefiscdi, numéro de projet pn- Vasile Mangra (1850–1918) iii-p4-id-pce-2016-0661. Des extraits de cet article se retrouvent également dans l’article « A Transylvanian Metropolitan Involved in Marius Eppel War Propaganda: Vasile Mangra in Un Chercheur au Centre d’Études sur settled Times (1916-1918) » en cours de la Population, Université Babeº-Bolyai publication dans le volume Ana Victoria de Cluj-Napoca. Auteur du vol. Politics Sima et Teodora Mihalache (dir.), Persuading and Church in Transylvania 1875-1918 Minds : Propaganda and Mobilisation in (2012). Transylvania during wwi, Peter Lang, 2017. 4 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Pour ce qui est du cas particulier des Roumains de la Monarchie austro-hongroise, le prêtre a constitué l’une des plus importantes catégories de l’élite1, béné- ficiant du rôle de représentation le plus important dans le cadre de leur propres communautés. Le haut et le moyen clergé s’est érigé en posture du vecteur le plus actif de la vie culturelle, politique et économique de la nation roumaine dans l’empire. À quelques exceptions près, l’historiographie roumaine s’est contentée d’études que l’on peut ranger plutôt dans la catégorie des exercices d’admiration. Ainsi, on a évité un examen critique des personnalités ecclésiastiques analysées. Notamment, la relation de l’élite ecclésiastique avec les facteurs décisionnels de la politique a représenté un chapitre sensible, plus difficile à mettre en cause, puisqu’il nécessitait des compétences acquises dans les domaines des sciences historiques, politiques et théologiques. Une approche interdisciplinaire est vue à présent comme nécessaire et comme une solution pour dépasser les blocages créés par une interprétation restrictive. Ce type de recherche consacrée à l’époque dualiste doit constamment garder à l’esprit que la catégorie socio-culturelle du clergé est soumise aux nombreuses interactions et contraintes par le champ politique. Compte tenu de ces considé- rations, l’activité de ce segment de l’élite suppose des interrogations et des mises en contexte qui dépassent la sphère strictement théologique.

Le portrait controversé d’une personnalité ecclésiastique

asile Mangra, métropolite de la Transylvanie de 1916 à 1918, reste jusqu’à nos jours une des personnalités ecclésiastiques les plus contro- V versées de Roumanie. Le parcours de ce hiérarque comporte une série de nuances et de ruptures de rythme qui rendent encore plus problématique le portrait de celui qui est devenu le dirigeant ecclésiastique suprême de l’Église orthodoxe pendant les dernières années de la guerre. Dans l’ensemble, le jugement de la postérité ne lui a pas été favorable, étant influencé négativement par son attitude conciliante envers le gouvernement hongrois et surtout par la relation qu’il a établie avec l’homme politique le plus puissant de Budapest, István Tisza. Le fils du premier ministre libéral, Kálmán Tisza, István Tisza avait des vues politiques dans lesquelles se mêlaient des conceptions libérales et conservatrices avec des nuances autoritaires.2 Il considérait que la seule possibilité de consolider la Hongrie sur la scène européenne était de maintenir en vigueur le compromis de 1867.3 En effet, l’empereur François-Joseph, considérait qu’István Tisza (premier ministre lui aussi de 1903 à 1905 et de 1913 à 1917) était « l’ancre de stabilité » de l’empire.4 Paradigms • 5

Dans la disposition établie par l’historiographie roumaine de d’entre-deux- guerres juste après la fin de la première conflagration mondiale, Vasile Mangra a occupé la place inconfortable du traître national.5 Le chœur des détracteurs a été tellement virulent à son égard6, qu’en 1919 le nom de Mangra a été écarté des Diptyques de l’Église orthodoxe, la période pendant laquelle il a été à la tête de la métropole orthodoxe de Transylvanie a été considérée « usurpée », et il a été condamné à une véritable damnatio memoriae par les autorités ecclésiastiques. Tout de même, le dossier a été rouvert après 1990 et réexaminé à partir des positions historiographiques beaucoup moins tendues.7 Cet article est orienté vers l’analyse de la période la plus problématique de la carrière de Vasile Mangra, respectivement celle des années 1916-1918. Vu que l’une des principales accusations qui lui ont été apportées était d’avoir assumé le rôle du propagandiste de la guerre, d’un agent d’influence de l’État, nous concen- trons notre investigation sur la manière dont Mangra a assumé et a géré ultérieu- rement cette situation. Des parenthèses biographiques sont pourtant nécessaires pour établir le profile d’un prélat comme Vasile Mangra et pour mettre en évidence les contours d’une philosophie de vie qui n’a pas toujours suivi une cadence linéaire.

La micro-biographie d’un prêtre transylvain

asile Mangra est né le 25 mai 1850 à Sãldãbagiu (h. Körösszáldo- bágy), comitat de Bihor, dans la famille du prêtre Mihai Mangra.8 À V la fin de ses études au collège de Beiuş, où il a reçu la mention cum eminentia, Mangra s’est inscrit aux cours de l’Académie de Droit d’Oradea. Les supplications insistantes de sa mère l’ont déterminé à renoncer peu de temps après (1872-1873) aux perspectives d’une carrière juridique et à commencer ses études à l’Institut théologique d’Arad. Dans la société roumaine de Transylvanie, la profession de prêtre était char- gée d’une grande signification symbolique et sociale. Le prêtre était considéré comme un dirigeant spirituel, l’ordonnateur de l’espace communautaire. Sa voix était respectée dans un milieu où, à la fin du XIXe siècle, les implications de la sécularisation étaient encore significativement atténuées comparativement au reste de l’Europe et où l’attachement aux valeurs spirituelles était encore fort consolidé.9 À la fin de ses études à l’Institut théologique d’Arad, Vasile Mangra a été attiré par la scène culturelle et la presse de Transylvanie. Il a travaillé en tant que rédacteur du journal officiel de l’éparchie d’Arad, Lumina (La Lumière), dont il a été le dirigeant entre 1874 et 1875 – tandis que, depuis 1877, il a pris en charge le hebdomadaire Biserica ºi ºcoala (L’Église et l’école). Il a également 6 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

été vice-président de l’Association nationale d’Arad et membre de la Société de lecture des théologiens d’Arad. En 1875, l’évêque Ioan Meþianu, qui appréciait le zèle et l’efficience de Mangra, lui a offert la position de professeur suppléant à Institut théologique d’Arad, où celui-ci a enseigné jusqu’en 1893 et dont il a été le directeur provisoire.10 En 1893, Mangra a attiré pour la première fois l’attention des autorités politiques par son opposition à la décision de remettre les matricules des paroisses en gestion de l’État. Même pas l’évêque d’Arad, Ioan Meþianu, n’a réussi à le convaincre de ne plus faire du bruit sur le sujet. La conséquence en a été que le ministre de l’intérieur, Károly Hieronymi, a dû intervenir et réclamer aux autorités ecclésiastiques le transfert de Mangra de l’Institut, sous prétexte qu’il répandait des « idées dangereuses ».11 Le 2 septembre 1893, Mangra a été ren- voyé définitivement de sa position d’enseignant, par une décision de la direction de l’Institut, accompagnée d’un ordre ministériel. L’accusation principale contre Mangra a été qu’il pratiquait une politique nationaliste et il pourrait devenir « un élément dangereux pour l’éducation de la jeunesse ».12 On lui a également repro- ché d’avoir accompagné la délégation des leaders politiques de Transylvanie à Vienne, pour adresser un mémorandum à l’empereur, où on sollicitait des droits pour la population roumaine de Hongrie et on dénonçait les abus politiques du gouvernement de Budapest.13 En 1895, Mangra est revenu au premier plan de l’attention des autorités hongroises à cause d’avoir mis sur pied un Congrès des nationalités. Dans le cadre de ce colloque, des représentants des Serbes, des Slovaques et des Roumains ont internationalisé la question des groupes non-hongrois de Hongrie et ont pro- posé un programme commun, rassemblé autour de la défense solidaire de leurs intérêts, tout en insistant sur les vulnérabilités ressenties par ces minorités dans leurs rapports avec l’État.14 D’ailleurs, Vasile Mangra a été l’un des prélats transylvains fortement attirés par l’exercice politique. Il a été l’un des représentants les plus connus du Parti Na- tional Roumain, dont il était devenu membre en 1875. Après avoir été contraint de renoncer à sa carrière didactique, Mangra a déployé toute son énergie vers les affaires politiques et ecclésiastiques de la Transylvanie. En 1879, il a reçu la tonsure monastique, entrant ainsi dans les rangs des moines du monastère de Hodoº-Bodrog, tandis qu’en 1900 il a été élu vicaire du Consistoire épiscopal d’Oradea.15 Les élections épiscopales d’Arad, en 1902, ont représenté un moment important de la carrière ecclésiastique de Vasile Mangra. Bien qu’élu évêque, Mangra n’a pas obtenu la confirmation de l’empereur-roi, en raison d’avoir été re- péré comme agitateur nationaliste par les cercles politiques officiels de Hongrie.16 À la suite de ce moment, il y a eu un changement crucial dans son orientation politique. Le prétendant au trône d’évêque est devenu de plus en plus intéressé Paradigms • 7 par une collaboration politique avec les autorités gouvernementales hongroises.17 Une partie de la correspondance du prélat laisse supposer que ce rapprochement des cercles politiques hongrois a été suggéré aussi par certains leaders politiques du Royaume de Roumanie, intéressés de maintenir l’alliance avec l’Autriche- Hongrie. On espérait aussi tempérer la pression de l’opinion publique de Bu- carest, qui était extrêmement sensible aux politiques de magyarisation ciblées contre les Roumains de Transylvanie. Il y avait l’espoir que l’adoption d’une stratégie plus modérée, contrairement à une attitude inflexible, apporterait plus facilement des concessions pour la population roumaine de Transylvanie. Conformément à la logique expliquée ci-dessus, ses co-membres du Parti National Roumain ont convaincu Mangra de ne pas se porter candidat sur la liste d’un des partis hongrois aux élections de 1905. Pourtant, ils n’ont pas réussi à l’empêcher au scrutin suivant.18 Aux élections parlementaires de 1910, Vasile Mangra a déposé sa candidature au corps électoral Ceica, dans le département de Bihor, en tant qu’adhérent au programme du Parti National du Travail (Nemzeti Munkapárt) dirigé par István Tisza, et dont il a obtenu finalement le mandat de député.19 Répudié par toute la presse nationaliste de Transylvanie, Mangra a été longtemps étiqueté comme « renégat ». Il est devenu le hiérarque à l’image publique la plus difficile à gérer. En 1909 il est élu membre de l’Académie roumaine grâce à ses contributions dans le domaine de l’histoire. Pourtant, il n’a jamais eu la possibilité de prononcer son discours de réception dans l’institution culturelle de Bucarest, car il a été expulsé de ses rangs en mai 1914. Puisqu’il était vu comme un « espion de Budapest », envoyé pour provoquer des troubles dans l’Académie roumaine, sa personne était indésirable aux milieux intellectuels du Royaume de Roumanie.20 La réorientation politique de Mangra depuis l’année 1910 doit être comprise dans le contexte d’un assaut de plus en plus virulent de la part des politiques gouvernementales contre l’Église orthodoxe de Transylvanie. Pendant la première décennie du XXe siècle, le ministre de la Culture et de l’Instruction publique de Budapest a promulgué un paquet législatif qui obligeait les paroisses à payer aux instituteurs confessionnels le même salaire que recevait les instituteurs employés par l’État. Cela était impossible de mettre en pratique pour plusieurs paroisses démunies de la Transylvanie. Le même ministre, Albert Apponyi, a insisté que les prêtres qui ne parlaient pas le hongrois ne reçoivent plus le salaire d’appoint payé par l’État.21 Face à de telles réactions de la part du gouvernement de Buda- pest, Mangra considérait que le compromis entre les Roumains et les Hongrois restait la seule manière d’assurer la survie et le bon fonctionnement de l’autonomie ecclésiastique de la Métropole orthodoxe de Transylvanie. 8 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

L’apogée de la carrière ecclésiastique – l’activité au Siège métropolitain

e 21 janvier/3 février 1916, meurt le métropolite Meþianu. Les prépa- ratifs pour l’élection d’un successeur commencent peu de temps après. L En dépit du fait qu’il n’était pas le candidat préféré initialement par le premier ministre István Tisza, le 24 juillet/6 août 1916, Vasile Mangra reçoit le support des autorités politiques hongroises et il est élu métropolite des Rou- mains orthodoxes de Transylvanie et de Hongrie. Il prend en charge sa nouvelle fonction le 16/29 octobre de la même année. Du point de vue du chef du gouvernement hongrois, le candidat idéal pour cette position était celui qui pourrait assurer la meilleure entente entre les Roumains et les Hongrois. À cette fin, on a utilisé des pressions et des menaces, ainsi que des interventions brutales de l’État, par conséquent l’autonomie ecclésiastique a été suspendue pendant les élections. Si la presse hongroise exultait à l’idée que Mangra serait élu métropo- lite, les journalistes roumains voyaient dans la promotion du vicaire d’Oradea en tant que premier dignitaire de l’Église le signe du fait que « la citadelle-même de notre vie nationale tomberait aux mains de l’ennemi ».22 Quelques jours seulement après l’élection de Mangra et lorsque son dossier devait être confirmé par le gouvernement et l’empereur, la Roumanie a déclaré la guerre à l’Autriche-Hongrie. L’armée roumaine a traversé les Carpates en essayant d’occuper la Transylvanie. Après une progression fulgurante, les ar- mées roumaines n’ont pas pu faire face à la contre-offensive germano-austro- hongroise. À la fin de novembre 1916, les forces militaires roumaines ont été contraintes à se retirer complètement de Transylvanie. Le 8/21 septembre 1916 le métropolite Vasile Mangra, avec les évêques Papp et Cristea, ont signé une lettre circulaire adressée au clergé vénérable et au peuple fidèle de la Métropole bénie par Dieu des Roumains de Hongrie et de Tran- sylvanie. Cette lettre condamnait ardemment l’incursion de l’armée roumaine au-delà des Carpates et s’appuyait sur des arguments tirés des écrits des Saint- Pères pour convaincre que les actions de la Roumanie n’étaient pas conformes à la morale chrétienne. Confiants en la victoire finale des Empires centraux, les hiérarques avaient demandé aux croyants qui se trouvaient sur le front ou à la maison de prouver leur « adhésion inconditionnelle au Trône et à la Patrie ».23 En s’appuyant sur des séquences historiques prises hors du contexte, Mangra a même suggéré l’idée d’une supériorité de la Hongrie face à la Roumanie. Il a voulu prouver que certains accomplissements politiques et culturels du royaume voisin ont été le fruit des efforts des personnalités hongroises. Toute connexion entre la Roumanie et la Transylvanie était définitivement compromise, pensait Mangra après la déclaration de guerre du gouvernement de Bucarest contre Paradigms • 9 l’Autriche-Hongrie.24 Dans sa lettre circulaire, le métropolite récemment élu n’a pas hésité à nommer l’armée roumaine l’ennemi des Roumains de Transylvanie, une troupe d’envahisseurs païens qui sont arrivés avec « le désir de pillage dans l’âme » et qui, avec une « envie sauvage, tuent leurs frères et leurs parents ». Les images véhiculées par le contenu de cette lettre étaient d’une violence fantastique pour une société transylvaine habituée à investir considérablement dans les idées sur la culture nationale et les liens ethniques qui unissaient les pays des deux côtés des Carpates. C’était la première fois qu’un métropolite avait le courage d’exprimer dans des termes si durs les différences d’intérêt entre les Roumains de Transylvanie et ceux du Royaume de Roumanie. En s’appuyant sur des explications théologiques et faisant l’appel à une morale chrétienne, Mangra a demandé aux croyants de rester fidèles au trône pendant cette période éprouvante et leur a promis qu’à la fin de la guerre les facteurs de décision de Vienne et de Buda- pest allaient se souvenir de l’effort des Roumains et leur assurer des conditions accrues de développement culturel et économique. Les journaux hongrois Buda- pesti Hírlap et Pester Lloyd lui ont offert généreusement de la place sur leurs pages et ont spéculé les opinions du métropolite roumain. Celui-ci était devenu, de façon inattendue, un supporter de l’État hongrois dans ses actions de rendre la population roumaine de Transylvanie loyale à la Double Monarchie.25 En l’automne de 1916, Mangra a pris en charge la direction du journal officiel de la Métropole, qu’il a également utilisé comme tribune de propagande contre le Royaume de Roumanie. Dans le journal Telegraful român (Le Telé graphe roumain), ont paru à la fin d’octobre 1916 des analyses par lesquelles on continuait à condamner le geste politique de la Roumanie : « Si les sages de Bucarest ont considéré que c’était mieux ainsi, tant pis ! Nous accomplirons nos devoirs contre eux également. Car même si notre amour fraternel est grand, encore plus grand est notre amour de la patrie. »26 Les circulaires, ainsi que d’autres interventions similaires dans la presse buda- pestoise, ont fait sensation au sein de l’opinion publique hongroise. Nous pou- vons affirmer que les déclarations anti-roumaines du métropolite ont constitué une arme subtile dans les mains des autorités hongroises. Elles ont pu s’en servir pour influencer la psychologie des masses, tant de celles sur le front, que des communautés restées à la maison.27 Bien que Mangra ait toujours insisté dans ses discours publiquement assumés sur une dissociation entre la loyauté nationale (pour la Roumanie) et la loyauté réservée à la patrie, à l’État (la Hongrie), seulement la dernière méritait d’être prioritaire pour les Roumains de Transyl- vanie. En dépit des tentatives du métropolite orthodoxe de rassurer les leaders hongrois de la loyauté des Roumains, il y avait de nombreux cas de prêtres qui ont apporté leur soutien à l’armée roumaine. Quelques-uns se sont même retirés 10 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) avec les forces roumaines face à l’intervention militaire germano-austro-hongroise.28 L’appui offert par les membres du clergé à « l’invasion roumaine » de la Transylvanie a déterminé le gouvernement budapestois à afficher de fortes réserves au sujet de l’institution ecclésiastique des Roumains. La méfiance accrue avec laquelle István Tisza a traité à partir de ce moment la question des prêtres roumains de Transylvanie n’a plus jamais été surmontée. Par conséquent, l’année 1916 a représenté une faille dans les relations du gouvernement hongrois avec l’Église orthodoxe de Transylvanie. À la suite des essais réitérés de la part du premier ministre István Tisza d’arriver à un compromis entre les Roumains et les Hongrois, l’entrée des troupes roumaines en Transylvanie le 14/15 août 1916 a rendu considérablement plus difficile toute perspective d’accomplir cette volonté. Même dans cette situation, le métropolite Mangra a continué à motiver, par ses sermons, les soldats roumains de l’ar- mée austro-hongroise. Il affirmait que les soldats qui faisaient leur devoir sur le champ de bataille accomplissaient implicitement leur devoir « envers Dieu, le prochain, le Trône et la patrie ».29 Ses connexions avec les autorités politiques de Budapest se sont matérialisées dans l’appui financier offert à l’Église orthodoxe de Transylvanie : le 24 novembre 1916, Mangra a reçu le montant de 190.000 couronnes de la part du ministre de la Culture et de l’Instruction publique pour aider ses fidèles. Pendant la même période, son homologue de l’Église gréco- catholique de Transylvanie, le métropolite Victor Mihály a reçu uniquement 10.000 couronnes.30 Pendant la guerre, Mangra s’est attribué le rôle de représentant suprême du peuple roumain de la Hongrie, en travaillant directement avec les autorités gouvernementales sur les causes les plus différentes : commençant avec le problème des internés de guerre roumains pour lesquels il intervient personnellement au- près du ministre de l’Intérieur János Sándor et auprès du ministre de la Culture, Béla Jankovich, jusqu’aux subsides accordées par l’État à Métropole orthodoxe.31 L’élection comme métropolite donnait à Mangra le droit d’occuper un des fauteuils de la Chambre Supérieure du parlement de Budapest.32 Il a préféré pourtant garder tout au long de la guerre sa position de député obtenue aux élec- tions de 1910 sur les listes du parti gouvernemental dirigé par István Tisza. La singularité du profil de Mangra est due surtout à la conjonction entre l’homme politique et le dirigeant ecclésiastique, qui l’avait obligé à mener un dialogue beaucoup plus soutenu avec les facteurs de décision hongrois que ne l’avaient fait ses devanciers. Paradigms • 11

Exercices de loyalisation politique

u début de l’année 1917, Mangra a réagi contre la propagande de la Triple-Entente qui essayait d’étiqueter l’Autriche-Hongrie de « prison A des peuples ». Aux côtés d’autres représentants de la vie politique et ec- clésiastique de Transylvanie, le métropolite a initié une protestation par laquelle il condamnait le recours à de telles stratégies par les opposants, en affirmant: « En ce qui nous concerne, l’État hongrois, auquel nous lient les traditions du passé et nos intérêts pour l’avenir, ne signifie pas une domination étrangère. »33 Mangra et les représentants de la hiérarchie orthodoxe de Transylvanie n’étaient pas les seuls à s’assumer cette déclaration, en effet, le métropolite et les évêques gréco-catholiques ont également adhéré aux protestations écrites pour montrer leur fidélité à l’État hongrois et à la Monarchie austro-hongroise.34 Leur attitude pourrait être expliquée par le contexte de guerre qui nécessitait de tels rattache- ments publics de la part des représentants de l’Église, qui n’auraient pu avoir une autre position que la position officielle. Les compensations salariales et les subsides annuels offerts par l’État aux clergé roumain représentaient les voies par lesquelles le gouvernement hongrois pouvait exercer sa pression sur le haut clergé à tout moment où l’on considérait que la position de ces hiérarques supé- rieurs n’était pas conforme à la politique hongroise. Le document, signé par approximativement 200 intellectuels roumains35, a représenté la confirmation de la loyauté des Roumains de Transylvanie, autant qu’un renforcement de l’élite ecclésiastique en défaveur de l’élite politique. Cette tournure avait été encouragée par István Tisza dès 1911, quand il a suggéré dans un discours dans la Chambre des Députés que « le rôle dirigeant revient aux prélats roumains [...] le haut clergé roumain [...] n’exerce que le pouvoir ecclésiastique, mais il est également le dépositaire de la confiance de ses fidèles. Sous sa main s’unissent le droit ecclé- siastique, c’est-à-dire le pouvoir ecclésiastique, et la grande puissance qui a sa source dans la confiance de ses fidèles ».36 Des déclarations comme celles signées par le métropolite Mangra et les autres intellectuels roumains de Transylvanie au printemps de 1917 étaient les indi- cateurs d’une « culture politique archaïque » menée par le gouvernement de Budapest, qui faisait appel à des formules exigeant une loyauté forcée.37 Arguant du comportement « antipatriotique » de quelques instituteurs roumains pendant l’automne 1916, le ministre Albert Apponyi a préparé au début de l’année suivante le projet de la « zone culturelle » qui décidait l’étatisation des écoles confes- sionnelles des comitats transylvains de frontière38, une nouvelle expérimentation extrêmement difficile pour les hiérarques roumains. En 1917, Mangra a également rédigé un ouvrage moins connu, intitulé Ma- gyarok és románok (Hongrois et Roumains) dans lequel il militait pour la conci- 12 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) liation la plus sincère entre ces deux entités ethniques de Hongrie. La valeur de l’ouvrage est pourtant diminuée à cause du fait que l’auteur a subordonné l’information historique à l’intérêt politique des autorités hongroises ; il devient, conséquemment, plutôt un livre tributaire de la propagande de guerre, et non pas un ouvrage scientifique. Il est à remarquer qu’à travers cet ouvrage Mangra ne parle jamais de la « nation roumaine », mais du « peuple roumain » – une dissociation constamment utilisée par les autorités hongroise pour qui les Rou- mains étaient une nationalité, pas une nation. Pour consolider l’adhésion à cette vision culturelle intégrative, Mangra utilise en outre dans son texte l’expression « Hongrois de langue roumaine » (román ajkú magyarok).39 Étant donné que l’ouvrage paraît vers la fin de la guerre, on ne connaît pas son impact sur l’opinion publique roumaine. Dans toutes les lettres pastorales et les circulaires envoyées entre 1916 et 1918, Mangra a constamment insisté sur l’attachement inconditionnel que les prêtres et les fidèles devaient à la Monarchie. Le 28 octobre 1917, lorsque l’empereur Charles Ier est sorti vivant d’un accident sur la rivière Isonzo, en Italie, le métro- polite a envoyé immédiatement une circulaire aux doyennés et aux paroisses de l’archidiocèse. Après avoir exposé le contexte de l’événement, Mangra a insisté sur le caractère divin de ce qui s’était passé. Dieu a montré qu’il aimait « Sa Majesté et qu’il était préoccupé du destin de la monarchie » et, par conséquent, que la guerre ne pouvait s’achever que par la victoire de celle-ci. Pour que cette impression soit aussi généralisée que possible, Mangra a invité tous les prêtres à relater ces explications aux fidèles. Les prêtres avaient en plus l’obligation d’in- tercaler dans le service religieux du 12/25 novembre des prières de remerciement pour « ce geste de charité divine » qui a « sauvé du danger de mort la vie de Sa Majesté l’empereur-roi ».40 En outre, Mangra s’est révélé comme un pion important pour la familiarisation du peuple roumain de Transylvanie avec l’image du nouvel empereur-roi, vu que la figure de François-Joseph avait occupé une place principale dans la configuration du loyalisme dynastique. Cette opération de transfert symbolique d’autorité avait une grande signification aussi bien pour les hommes se trouvant sur la ligne du front que pour ceux qui sont restés chez eux. Avec la lettre pastorale signée en 1916, Vasile Mangra avait déjà introduit sur la scène le nouvel empereur-roi, de crainte que la disparition de François-Joseph ne produise une érosion du loyalisme dans la mentalité collective roumaine. Le métropolite orthodoxe a choisi de présenter Charles d’Autriche à ses fidèles en termes élogieux: un « grand et courageux roi, qui ne cherche pas sa gloire et sa splendeur dans les victoires militaires et la conquête d’autres pays, mais dans la conquête des âmes, dans l’amour et le bonheur de ses peuples ». Mangra a demandé aux fidèles d’être disposés à faire « des sacrifices, aussi grands et aussi Paradigms • 13 souvent que ce soit nécessaire jusqu’à l’instauration de la paix inébranlable pour le bien et le bonheur de la patrie ».41 Le même métropolite a envoyé une circulaire à tous les doyennés et à toutes les paroisses de l’achidiocèse de Transylvanie, par laquelle il exigeait que, le 17/30 décembre 1916, jour du couronnement à Budapest du roi Charles IV et de la reine Zita, une messe spéciale soit célébrée pour demander à la divinité que, pendant la vie du monarque, « s’instaure la paix partout dans le monde [...] que son bras devienne fort, qu’il arrive à dominer tous ses ennemis, que Dieu insuffle dans son âme l’amour et la pitié pour ses sujets ». Il conseillait également les prêtres de s’assurer que surtout les élèves participent à ce service.42 Tout au long de son mandat, Mangra a usé du prétexte de ces pastorales pour bâtir une communauté fidèle aux intérêts austro-hongrois. Le métropolite n’ignorait pas que la lettre pastorale était le véhicule le plus accessible pour que son message arrive à chaque fidèle et il a inséré dans ces sermons beaucoup de références aux réalités du présent, interprétant sans hésitations les événements militaires et politiques et prenant position en ce qui les concerne. Dans la lettre pastorale envoyée à l’occasion des fêtes pascales de 1917, il présentait le portrait idyllique des Roumains de la « patrie hongroise », et leur développement culturel et économique avec l’appui de l’État, « vivant en harmonie et concorde avec leurs concitoyens », sans songer à la désunion. Dans le même texte, Mangra met en garde contre le « masque du nationalisme » et contre les « idées utopiques » qui ont transformé certains Roumains en faux prophètes. Le syntagme était une allusion aux prêtres qui avaient pactisé avec l’armée roumaine aux mois d’août et de septembre 1916. Mangra comparait ceux-ci à Judas et considérait qu’ils avaient oublié leur devoir pour « la patrie et le pasteur », tombant dans la tentation et compromettant par leur attitude « l’honneur du clergé et les saints intérêts de l’Église et du peuple ». Pour symboliser l’unité indestructible entre les Roumains et les Hongrois, Mangra a utilisé la métaphore de l’arbre et des rameaux qui poussaient depuis des siècles sur le « tronc de l’arbre de l’État hongrois ». En essayant de rappro- cher les Roumains de la cause de la Monarchie austro-hongroise, Mangra n’a pas hésité d’utiliser une des marottes préférées des Empires centraux, celle du péril slave : « le peuple roumain sait comment bien distinguer entre le vent de l’Est et celui de l’Occident, il sait d’où peut venir son salut et d’où vient son dépéris- sement ».43 Les discours prononcés publiquement par Mangra reprennent la plupart des arguments diffusés par la classe politique de Budapest et de Vienne pour expli- quer la nécessité de la conflagration militaire et inspirer la résolution pour la continuation de la lutte. Les appels répétés à dépasser les différences ethniques, 14 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

à bâtir à l’intérieur du pays une paix qui renforce la monarchie à l’étranger et pour disposer le culte du nouvel empereur-roi, constituent juste une partie des moyens utilisés par Mangra dans ses interventions publiques des années 1916- 1918, dont surtout la superposition des idées de patrie et d’État et la slavo phobie.

La fin de la guerre, la fin d’une carrière

u qu’il était conscient des contraintes préparées, déjà depuis le début du XXe siècle, par les manœuvres gouvernementales hongroises à l’égard de V l’Église orthodoxe de Transylvanie, on pourrait se demander en quelle mesure les affirmations prononcées pendant la guerre par le hiérarque étaient la réflexion de ses convictions ou de son esprit diplomatique. Les institutions ecclésiastiques ont été obligées de répondre à des défis encore plus durs pendant la guerre, mais le test de la loyauté à la puissance séculaire en a été l’épreuve principale. De ce point de vue, Mangra s’est assumé le rôle d’un agent fidèle de l’État, car il était convaincu que c’était la seule démarche possible pour garantir la survie de l’Église et de ses fidèles. C’est une stratégie qui pourrait être inscrite sur la grille du réalisme politique, impopulaire auprès d’une part de l’élite intransi- geante sur les questions nationales. Pourtant, elle a constitué la seule solution de compromis envisageable par le métropolite. Dès le début du XXe siècle, Mangra avait répudié le radicalisme politique, en le considérant comme une expérience ratée qui ne peut pas produire des résultats effectifs en faveur de la population roumaine de Hongrie. De la sorte, il est devenu de plus en plus ouvert vers des formules de conciliation entre les Roumains et les Hongrois, régies par une orientation modérée des revendications. Son discours revêt souvent la forme d’un acte de propagande commandé par les instances décisionnelles de l’État. Le métropolite a pourtant précisé que l’effort de consolider une communauté roumaine-hongroise dans les tranchées n’était pas un acte gratuit, sans finalité. Au contraire, on espérait que lorsque le contexte le lui permettra, le gouvernement allait faire preuve de toute sa disponibilité et adopter des mesures culturelles, économiques etc. au bénéfice des Roumains de Transylvanie. Ses interventions publiques, de la chaire ou dans la presse, pendant la période où il a occupé le siège métropolitain, ont représenté en effet des exercices désespérés pour rendre les Roumains de Transylvanie loyaux à la Monarchie austro-hongroise, n’im- porte s’ils étaient sur le front ou s’ils étaient restés dans leurs communautés. Le 1/14 octobre 1918, le métropolite a rendu l’âme, peu avant la fin de la guerre et de l’union de la Transylvanie au Royaume de Roumanie, un épilogue Paradigms • 15 inattendu pour celui qui avait fait pendant la dernière partie de sa vie un pari qui allait le placer du côté perdant de l’histoire. q

Notes

1. Ladislau Gyémánt, « Elita intelectualã româneascã din Transilvania. Evoluþie comparativã 1848-1910 », Anuarul Institutului de Istorie Cluj, XXXII (1993), p. 141-147 ; Cornel Sigmirean, Istoria formãrii intelectualitãþii româneºti din Transil- vania ºi Banat în epoca modernã, Cluj-Napoca, Presa Universitarã Clujeanã, 2000, p. 16-24. 2. István Deák, « The Decline and Fall of Habsburg Hungary 1914-1918 », in Hunga- ry in Revolution 1918-1919 : Nine Essays, édité par Iván Völgyes, Lincoln, University of Nebraska Press, 1971, p. 10-21. 3. Tamás Baranyi, « Possibility of a Hungarian Way : Count Tisza and His Foreign Policy Concept (1903-1914) », in Romania and European Diplomacy : From Cabi- net Diplomacy to the 21th Century Challenges, dir. Gheorghe Clivetti, Adrian Bogdan Ceobanu et Adrian Viþalaru, Trieste, Iaºi, Beit Casa Editrice Trieste, Ed. Univer- sitãþii Alexandru Ioan Cuza, 2012, p. 259-268. 4. Gábor Vermes, István Tisza : The Liberal Vision and Conservative Statecraft of a Ma gyar Nationalist, New York, Columbia University Press, 1985, p. 365. 5. Un des critiques les plus acerbes du métropolite, Ion Rusu Abrudeanu a considéré que la période pendant laquelle Mangra a occupé le siège métropolitain de Tran- sylvanie a représenté « la tâche la plus noire sur l’histoire de l’Église roumaine orthodoxe de Transylvanie ». Ion Rusu Abrudeanu, Pãcatele Ardealului faþã de sufletul Vechiului Regat, Bucarest, Cartea Româneascã, 1930, p. 263. 6. Nous mentionnons surtout le groupe dont le leader était Valeriu Braniºte, qui a di- rigé le Ministère de l’Instruction et des Cultes depuis 1919 dans le cadre du Conseil Dirigeant de Transylvanie et qui s’est beaucoup préoccupé de la question du dénigre- ment de l’ancien métropolite Mangra. 7. Mircea Pãcurariu, « Vasile Mangra, istoric ºi militant pentru drepturile românilor transilvãneni », Mitropolia Ardealului (Sibiu), XXXV, n° 2, mars-avril 1990, p. 31. 8. Marius Eppel, Un mitropolit ºi epoca sa. Vasile Mangra (1850-1918), Cluj-Napoca, Presa Universitarã Clujeanã, 2006, p. 21-25. 9. Sándor Nagy, « One Empire, Two States, Many Laws : Matrimonial Law and Di- vorce in the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy », Hungarian Historical Review, 3, n° 1, 2014, p. 239. 10. Mircea Pãcurariu, Dicþionarul teologilor români, Bucarest, Ed. Enciclopedicã, 2002, p. 266. 11. Archives de la Bibliothèque Métropolitaine de Sibiu, Fonds Mangra, dossier 447-838, doc. 558/1893. 16 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

12. Mãrturii privind lupta românilor din pãrþile Aradului pentru pãstrarea fiinþei naþionale prin educaþie ºi culturã, Arad, s.n., 1986, p. 325. 13. Eppel, Un mitropolit, op. cit., p. 78. 14. Pour un tableau plus ample, voir Nicolae Edroiu (dir.), Solidaritatea miºcãrilor naþionale în Europa Centralã ºi de Sud-Est, Cluj-Napoca, Argonaut, 2008. 15. Eppel, Un mitropolit, op. cit., p. 83, 97-98. 16. Ibid., p. 260-261. 17. Marius Eppel, Politics and Church in Transylvania 1875-1918, Francfort-sur-le-Main, Peter Lang, 2012, p. 119-129. 18. Ovidiu Emil Iudean, The Romanian Governmental Representatives in the Budapest Parliament 1881-1918, Cluj-Napoca, Mega, 2016, p. 163-164. 19. Teodor Neº, Oameni din Bihor (1848-1918), Oradea, Biblioteca Revistei Familia, 2006, p. 485. 20. Eppel, Politics and Church, op. cit., p. 143-146. 21. Mircea Pãcurariu, Politica statului ungar faþã de Biserica româneascã din Transilvania în perioada dualismului 1867-1918, Sibiu, Ed. Institutului Biblic ºi de Misiune al Bisericii Ortodoxe Române, 1986, p. 152-162. 22. Gheorghe Pãdure, « Epoca lui Mangra », Tribuna (Bucarest), II, n° 17, 24 avril 1916, p. 285-287. 23. Deºteptarea (Bacãu), XII, n° 35, 13/26 septembre 1916, p. 1. 24. Rusu Abrudeanu, Pãcatele Ardealului, op. cit., p. 265-266. 25. On a retrouvé de telles idées dans les messages de Mangra: « les Roumains de Hon- grie n’ont jamais oublié que la Roumanie a été créée par l’Autriche-Hongrie, qui l’a levée au rang d’un État puissant et indépendant. » Ou : « C’est toujours la mo narchie Austro-Hongroise qui sera appelée, qui aura la mission historique de sau- ver la Roumanie et tout le peuple roumain. » « România trebuie sã cearã pace », Deºteptarea, XII, n° 45, 6/19 octobre 1916, p. 1-2. 26. « Noul nostru duºman », Telegraful român (Sibiu), n° 85, 11/24 octobre 1916, apud Rusu Abrudeanu, Pãcatele Ardealului, op. cit., p. 264. 27. Ioan Bolovan et Sorina Paula Bolovan, « War and Society : The Impact of World War I on the Family in Transylvania », Transylvanian Review, XIX, Supplément n° 1, 2010, p. 143-159. 28. Sebastian Stanca, Contribuþia preoþimii române din Ardeal la Rãsboiul pentru Între- girea Neamului 1916-1919, Cluj-Napoca, Cartea Româneascã, 1925 ; Septimiu Popa, Temniþele Clujului. Din însemnãrile unui popã românesc, Cluj-Napoca, Insti- tutul de Literaturã şi Tipografie Minerva, 1937 ; Grigore N. Popescu, Preoþimea românã ºi întregirea neamului (Temniþe ºi lagãre), 2 vols., Bucarest, Tipografia Vre- mea, 1940 ; Pãcurariu, Politica statului ungar, op. cit. 29. « Predica mitropolitului Vasile Mangra la capela româneascã gr[eco] orientalã din Budapesta », Deºteptarea, n° 55, 11 novembre/29 octobre 1916, p. 2. 30. A Magyar Országos Levéltár, Fonds du Ministère de la Culture, K 305-1918-16- 476, fol. 890. 31. Eppel, Church and Politics, op. cit., p. 183. Paradigms • 17

32. Miklós Szalai, « Førendiházi reform Magyarországon 1885-ben », Történelmi Szemle, 6, 2012, p. 1294-1338. 33. V. Mangra, « Românii din patrie ºi Antanta », Deºteptarea, XIII, n° 4, 10 février/28 janvier 1917, p. 1. 34. « Declaraþiile Il. Sale episc. Radu despre fidelitatea Românilor », Unirea (Blaj), XXVI, n° 6, 8 février 1917, p. 1. 35. « Declaraþia de loialitate a Românilor », Unirea, XXVI, n° 8, 17 février 1917, p. 1. 36. « Un nou ºi bun început », Deºteptarea, n° 6, 24 janvier/11 février 1917, p. 1. 37. Aviel Roshwald, Ethnic Nationalism and the Fall of Empires : Central Europe, Russia and the Middle East 1914-1923, New York, Routledge, 2001, p. 71. 38. Pãcurariu, Politica statului ungar, op. cit., p. 153-176. 39. M.V., Magyarok és románok, Nagyszeben, s.n., 1918, p. 8. Pour une description plus complète du livre, voir Eppel, Un mitropolit, op. cit., p. 187-189. 40. Archives de la Bibliothèque Métropolitaine de Sibiu, Fonds Vasile Mangra, doc. 607/1917, La circulaire de 31 octobre 1917, n° 8373/1917. 41. La pastorale de Noël, Telegraful român, LXIV, n° 100, 20 décembre 1916/2 janvier 1917, p. 1. 42. Ibid. 43. La pastorale, Telegraful român, LXV, n° 23, 30 mars/12 avril 1917, p. 1-2.

Abstract Building an Ecclesiastical Career during World War I: The Story of a Transylvanian OrthodoxPrelate

It would bedifficult to imagine the events of World War I and at the same time overlookthe importance of propaganda. In all areas of conflict, the period between 1914 and 1918 saw the circulation of numerous and convincing narratives regardingthe stakes of the war. The belligerent states resorted to all the instrumentslikely to generate a mobilizing discourse that would vibrantly justify theparticipation in the war and make citizens identify with the nationalinterests. However, when in a multiethnic state such as the Dual Monarchy Vasile Mangra (1850–1918), a metropolitan bishop belonging to a religious and ethnic minority assumes theprerogatives of a state agent and plays an essential role in the warpropaganda, the analysis of such a phenomenon comes to include rather surprisinglevels of investigation.

Keywords World War I, Austria-Hungary, Orthodox Church, Vasile Mangra, loyalism, national minorities Romania As Reflected in the Acts of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Empire From the Outbreak of World War I Until the Conclusion of the I o n G u m e n â i Sazonov–Diamandy Agreement

Taking into account its R omanian-Russian relations have always had a contradictory nature or at geographical position, least they have been treated this way in its natural resources, and a number of historiographical papers. To comprehend their evolution is an its active role on the inter- even greater task, especially when par- national arena, Romania ticular tense situations or confronta- tions are tackled. was of special interest The outbreak of the War of Nations to the Russian Empire. is precisely the case of such a situation and, moreover, the Russian historiography treated the then relationships between Romania and the Russian Empire in the most tendentious way. This fact made us revisit this subject, Ion Gumenâi and we started by analyzing the docu- Associate professor at the Faculty of ments issued by the Russian structures History and Philosophy, Moldova State in charge of the relations between the University, author of the vol. Comuni Empire and an ally of the Entente. tãþile romano-catolice, protestante ºi lipoveneºti din Basarabia în secolul In this regard, we will approach the al XIX-lea (Roman-Catholic, Protestant, series of events that started on 11 July and Lipovan communities in 19th century 1914, when the diary of the Ministry Bessarabia)(2014). of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Em- Paradigms • 19 pire mentioned that the French Ambassador invited S. D. Sazonov, the British ambassador, and the representative of Romania to his residence, for breakfast and an exchange of opinions. Furthermore, the French ambassador urged the guests to immediately request their governments to develop a common action plan. This message was obviously passed on to the Romanian representative, the author of the diary stating that “it led to Romania’s involvement in a joint action, and for us it was convenient to draw Romania on our side and it is clear that, for Romania, it was an honor to equally participate in diplomatic actions alongside big nations.”1 The position of the representative of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Empire towards Romania seems a little erroneous, as he stated that “it was an honor.” In our opinion, by using this qualifying phrase, he decreased the importance this country could have had. Actually, this fact was also confirmed by S. D. Sazonov, the minister of Foreign Affairs of Tsar Nicholas I, who, in his speech to the State Duma on 27 January 1915, showed that “the German influence in Romania has been rendering ignorant the people who have a faith and conscience similar to ours, decreasing our interests, both economic, due to our neighborhood, and political, considering that a large part of our fellow citizens are under Austro-Hungarian oppression. In relation to Bulgaria, for instance, although connected to us by special historic ties, Germany takes efforts to sub- due it to its interests.”2 Therefore, we don’t think that Romania’s position could have been overlooked, a thing proven by the abovementioned words of the Russian foreign minister, who clearly stated this position in his memoirs: “The issue about Ro- mania’s involvement into the war divided the opinions of the Entente members. In the opinion of the Petrograd Soviet, the goal of the Alliance’s policy was to break the ties between Romania and the Central Powers, and that would have guaranteed its neutrality, rather than its active participation in the war. Because of its natural resources, Romania was a strong economic power in Southeast Europe. It became a key actor during the war as a cereals and oil supplier—assets that Germany and Austria acutely needed. To deprive our enemy of the Romanian products became my major concern, and for this service the imperial government was ready to pay Romania a big price.”3 It is precisely for these reasons that Romania was instantly involved into the diplomatic actions of the Russian imperial court, and on 14 July 1914 the diary of the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs related: “The Romanian Minister Plenipotentiary informed Baron Schilling that in the reply to a telegram he had sent to Bucharest after being asked by S. D. Sazonov to invite Romania to join the states making an appeal to Vienna to extend the deadline of the ultimatum imposed to Serbia, Brãtianu stated that on such short notice the request could 20 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) not be fulfilled. Brãtianu also informed Diamandy of the statement made by the Austrian representative in Bucharest, according to whom Austria-Hungary was not looking for a territorial expansion towards Serbia, and even if it had to occupy the Serbian territory with military support, it would be only temporary.”4 The secretary of the chancellery objected to that answer, claiming that those statements were not quite trustworthy, especially with regard to Austria, which, given the example of Bosnia and Herzegovina, had showed the entire world what it understood by the temporary occupation of a territory. Therefore, Baron Schilling reminded Mr. Diamandy of his own words during his journey to the Hungarian territories, namely, that Serbia and Romania’s interests were iden- tical and forced Romania to be on Serbia’s side should the latter be attacked by Austria-Hungary—thus pressuring the Romanian diplomat in an attempt to bring Romania closer to Russia and the Entente.5 The Romanian plenipotentiary did not disavow his words; on the contrary, he declared that he would defend his position and, moreover, he wished that the Serbian-Austrian conflict would not turn into a war, since Romania could find itself in a difficult situation.6 From 12 July to 16 July, there was an intense correspondence between the Russian Minister Plenipotentiary in Bucharest, Stanislas Poklevsky-Koziell, and the head of the Russian diplomacy. They sought to make the leadership of the Romanian state, namely, I. I. C. Brãtianu, aware of a potential conflict, and of the benefits to be received if Romania declared war on Austria-Hungary. At long last, on 16 July, S. D. Sazonov requested the Russian minister plenipotentiary in Bucharest to demand in a categorical and imperative manner that Brãtianu define Romania’s position, suggesting that if it went against Austria, certain benefits would come forward. It was specified, on the following day, that should it fight against Austria-Hungary, the unification of Romanian and Transylvania would take place (under the auspices of the Russian Empire, which also promised the Allies’ support).7 For the Russian diplomatic bodies, the situation was still uncertain, although the Russian representative Poklevsky stated on 18 July that voices in Bucharest and in the press claimed Romania would join the Triple Alliance, should a conflict emerge. The Russian diplomat did indicate, however, that he was not yet ready to draw a conclusion or to formulate a hypothesis, but nevertheless, he did not believe that Romania “could act treacherously.”8 Romania’s uncertainty was also aggravated by a series of pressures on the Russian ministry of Foreign Affairs and other states. Thus, on 19 July, the Rus- sian ambassador in Paris, Mr. Izvolsky, declared that Raymond Poincaré had requested the disclosure to Romania of the possibility of uniting with Tran- sylvania, in exchange of not siding with Austria-Hungary.9 The same concerns came from Belgrade, where the Russian diplomacy, relying on the information Paradigms • 21 submitted by M. G. Ristić, the Serbian plenipotentiary in Bucharest, stated that the issue of Romania joining the Central Powers was almost solved, the main role having been played by King Carol.10 In the meantime, Germany declared war on the Russian Empire and Roma- nia was then facing another issue: the position of Bulgaria and being its potential target. The Russian minister of Foreign Affairs issued a pessimistic note with regard to Romania, informing the Russian diplomacy in Paris that lately there had been doubts concerning Romania’s safety and that even the proposal referring to Transylvania did not lead to any agreements with Romania.11 Nevertheless, the intercessions of the Russian diplomacy with the Romanian president of the Council of Ministers continued. He was informed that Tran- sylvania’s return to Romania was not only a desire expressed by the Russian Empire, but also by France. When, on 21 July, Poklevsky stated that Austrian and German diplomats had demanded Romania’s involvement into the war on their side, guaranteeing security on Bulgaria’s side and the cession of Bessarabia, where there were no military units, and had indicated that a declaration of neutrality could be interpreted as hostile towards the Central Powers,12 S. D. Sazonov contacted the Russian ambassadors in Paris and London, requesting that the representatives of France and the United Kingdom state that: they agreed with the concessions proposed by Russia should Romania actively cooperate with Russia against Austria; for as long as Romania actively sided with Russia against Austria-Hungary, the United Kingdom and France would treat as an enemy any state that might attack Romania.13 Nevertheless, the concern about Romania joining the Central Powers was still present and the Russian ambassador in Rome informed the Russian Min- istry of Foreign Affairs that Antonio di San Giuliano was certain that Romania would join Austria against the Entente, since that was the king’s will. This information was supported by the information sent by the Russian ambassador in Constantinople, via a secret telegram, on 2 August, showing that the Italian ambassador explicitly confirmed that Romania had concluded a written agreement with Austria, which would expire in two years.14 Finally, on 20 August, Poklevsky reported that while discussing with I. I. C. Brãtianu, he had found out that the latter was ready to guarantee Romania’s neutrality throughout the entire conflict in exchange of an assurance (agreement) that after the end of the war, Romania would receive all the territories inhabited by a Romanian majority that were part of the Austro-Hungarian Em- pire. Nobody was to find out about that proposal issued by the president of the Council of Ministers, not even the king or anyone from among the Allies, at least not until the conclusion of such an agreement. A few days later, on 26 22 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

August, the same source stated that Brãtianu had reiterated his proposal, adding that under certain circumstances, Romania could even enter the war against the Austrian-Hungarian Monarchy.15 On 1 September, Poklevsky requested the Russian Ministry of Foreign Af- fairs to put forward a proposal to Romania to occupy that part of Bukovina that was inhabited by Romanians as an indication of the Russian Empire’s favorable position towards Romania.16 Subsequently, on 3 September, S. D. Sazonov sent the Russian representative in Bucharest a telegram:

By occupying a part of Bukovina, Russia took the first step to free those territories from under Austrian occupation, a freedom much desired by both Russians and Romanians. In light of this fact, the Imperial Government again addressed the Royal Government, making an appeal to join it in the fulfilment of the same goal and proposed to occupy with no delay Southern Bukovina and Transylvania. The distribution of the Russian and Romanian armies in Bukovina had to be made subsequent to the agreement reached by the Chiefs of Staff, ensuing specifically from military interests. This would not hamper the upcoming partition by the Governments, based on the ethnic composition of the population.17

It is a known fact that those proposals were rejected, Romania maintaining its neutrality. Therefore, on 9 September, Sazonov declared that, for its neutrality, until the war ended the most they could guarantee to Romania was the promise made by the three major powers to recognize the union of Transylvania with Romania, if that did not demand any special military actions from their side in order to occupy that territory. In the meantime, Poklevsky had sent some information from Bucharest, claiming that the Central Powers had promised Romania a special status for Transylvania, some adjustments to the borders with Bukovina, as well as the entire Bessarabia, and its borders defended by a state that was to be a vassal to Germany and Austria—the Grand Ukrainian Principal- ity. He also mentioned that the Kaiser William had promised King Carol during his last visit to Germany that in 20 years Transylvania would be Romanian.18 Forced by the circumstances, the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs had to act fast. Thus, on 13 September, the head of the Russian diplomacy proposed the text of the agreement between the Russian Empire and Romania and, on 15 September, Poklevsky announced that Brãtianu had accepted to sign the agreement. The procedure for the signing of the agreement is described in min- ute detail in the diary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which related on 20 September: Paradigms • 23

On 16 September, the Romanian Minister Plenipotentiary, Mr. Diamandy, visited the Minister and declared he was empowered to sign the note in the format proposed [see Annex 1 (in Russian)]. The Minister said that during the discussion he had had on the eve with his Majesty the King, the latter had approved the signa- ture of the notes, suggesting that those should contain the obligations of both parties. In addition to that, some words that didn’t have great importance were slightly changed. Diamandy declared he could sign the note with the changes that had been introduced. After his departure, an accompanying note [see Annex 2 (in Russian)] was prepared to be signed by the Romanian Government, together with the first note. Consequently, the Minister asked the Romanian Plenipotentiary on the phone to come back and handed him the accompanying note. Probably, Diamandy was discontented with the addition and, claiming he had no instructions on signing an accompanying note, suggested telegramming Brãtianu, in order to request further instructions. In the opinion of Sazonov, Diamandy was extremely bothered by the restrictions ensuing from the accompanying note.19

The opposition and refusal of Constantin Diamandy made both the Russian diplomatic apparatus and Sazonov review their positions and drop the accompanying note. For these reasons, the Romanian minister plenipotentiary received a call asking him to return to the mfa, but that happened on the following day, on 17 September. After a discussion with the Romanian diplomat, Schilling related:

Diamandy started speaking and it turned out he was indeed very upset about yesterday’s conversation with the Minister. He expressed his doubts that our new proposal would be accepted by Bucharest, pointing to the fact that our proposal to sign the accompanying note proved our mistrust towards Romania and that the additional note demanded from Romania the promise to allow the smuggling of weapons. Probably Diamandy first became upset when Sazonov told him about the accompanying note—I assume this does not come from you—Sazonov replying in a tough manner: “Mister Plenipotentiary, beware, you are walking on thin ice.” And then, when Diamandy started to complain about the accompanying note, he was again shaken when Sazonov told him that he did not care about his opinion, but about Brãtianu’s, to whom he had to send the text. As a result, Diamandy stated that “I am not a message-bearer to the Imperial Government, but only to mine. Your message-bearer in Bucharest is Poklevsky.” Diamandy thought that adding an annex to the main note would stir an unpleasant response in Bucharest and could even make Brãtianu renounce his intention to sign the agreement . . . that response could have a huge impact on Brãtianu, and all the agreements signed in 24 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Constanþa might be annulled; Diamandy explained to us that we had taken a step back compared to the agreements reached in Constanþa, and that even if Brãtianu delegated him to sign the accompanying note, he would hand in his resignation rather than sign such a paper.20

The opposition of the Romanian minister plenipotentiary made the Russian diplomacy review the signing and the accompanying note. Thus, during the discussions with Constantin Diamandy, the secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Empire indicated that there was no intention to sign both documents simultaneously, but only the key one. Although the Romanian representative disagreed, stating that there were new circumstances, nevertheless, after a three-hour discussion, he was convinced that the final answer would come the following day. S. D. Sazonov was informed of the same thing. He agreed to that position and subsequently the Romanian representative received the same information by phone. Constantin Diamandy went to the mfa of the Russian Empire on the following day, where the notes (the agreement) were exchanged, having the date of the previous day.21 The Russian side decided that Poklevsky would inform Brãtianu about the remark concerning the word “to oppose” at point 1, as well as about the explanation of the word “favorable” used in connection to Romania’s neutrality. Accordingly, the diary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs related:

On 1 October, at 6 pm, the representative of Romania paid me a visit and informed me that he had recently received a telegram from Bucharest, in which Brãtianu communicated to him that on the eve Poklevsky had passed on the package from Petrograd and had also enclosed a letter, or rather a note in which he explained his wrong wording of the term “to oppose” and our explanation concerning Roma- nia’s “favorable neutrality.” According to Diamandy, that note, especially its last part that referred to neutrality, had had a negative impact on Brãtianu, to such extent that Brãtianu was wondering if an agreement had indeed been reached. He considered that he could not accept the note of Stanislas Poklevsky-Koziell, telling Diamandy to inform Sazonov about that, suggesting that if we do insist on it being accepted, then the agreement should be deemed as void . . . To the question whether Poklevsky acted in line with the directions from Petro- grad, I replied that indeed, he had the task to issue a written intercession concerning our interpretation of the term “to oppose,” since we don’t want in any way to give you illusions, even if those illusions would be helpful for us; especially, bearing in mind the year 1877, we would not want potential misunderstandings to arise again. Paradigms • 25

Concerning our interpretation of the Romanian “favorable neutrality,” Poklevsky was not told in which form he should have sent Brãtianu our interpretation. Probably, Poklevky thought that the written form would be appropriate, but I am convinced that our side would not insist on this very format. Therefore, I suggested Diamandy to telegram Brãtianu, telling him that Poklevsky had been ordered to notify on the following: that we understand the phrase “favorable neutrality” as expecting Romania to facilitate the supply of Serbia and, at the same time, to forbid the states who were suspected of supporting the enemies of the Entente from using Romania’s warehouses and roads.22

At last, after the discussion between Constantin Diamandy and Baron Schilling, it was decided that I. I. C. Brãtianu’s response should not be communicated to the Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs, S. D. Sazonov. The Romanian minister plenipotentiary had to telegram Bucharest to explain what the Russian side understood by “willing neutrality,” while the chancellor of the mfa had to “propose S. D. Sazonov to telegram Poklevsky to confirm the need to issue a written explanation of the word ‘to oppose,’ and to prepare a verbal explanation related to the second part of the message, in order to get a verbal answer from Brãtianu, as formulated by me. Therefore, an end was put to that new incident, and after the discussion Sazonov agreed to telegram Poklevsky.”23 Thus, indeed, the incident was solved, and the Sazonov–Diamandy agreement remained in force, establishing the relations between Romania and the Russian Empire.

he memoirs and the documentary data analyzed here show that Soviet and, later on, Russian qualifying statements were totally groundless, T since one of the goals of the Imperial Russian diplomacy was to preserve at least Romania’s neutrality status. Taking into account its geographical position, its natural resources, and its active role on the international arena, Romania was of special interest to the Russian Empire. As for the diplomatic efforts of the two states, overall they would eventually reach their goals, given that the Rus- sian Empire obtained Romania’s neutrality guarantee, while Romania, should the Entente win, would have obtained the recognition of the incorporated territories inhabited by Romanians, which were part of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. 26 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Annex 1

Нота министра иностранных дел румынскому посланнику в Петрограде Диаманди.

1 октября/18 сентября 1914 г. Mr. le ministre, A la suite des pourparlers qui ont eu lieu entre nons, j’ai l’honneur de vous faire la déclaration suivante : La Russie s’engage à s’opposer à toute atteinte au statu quo territorial de la Rouma- nie dans l’étendue de ses frontières actuelles. Elle s’engage également à reconnaître à la Roumanie le droit d’annexer les régions de la monarchie Austro-Hongroise habitées par des Roumains. Pour ce qui a trait spé- cialement à la Bukovine, le principe de la majorité de la population servira de base à la délimitation des territoires à annexer soit par la Russie, soit par la Roumanie. Cette déli- mitation sera effectuée à la suite d’études spéciales sur les lieux. Une commission mixte sera nommée à cet effet, munie d’instructions qui s’inspireront de l’esprit de conciliation qui anime les deux gouvernements. La Roumanie pourra occuper les territoires susindiqués au moment qu’elle jugera opportun. La Russie s’emploiera à faire ratifier les engagements ci-dessus par les Cabi- nets de Londres et de Paris. En échange de ce qui précède la Roumanie de son côté s’engagera à observer, jusqu’au jour où elle occupera les régions de la monarchie Austro-Hongroise habitées par des Roumains, une neutralité bienveillante à l’égard de la Russie. Il est entendu que la présente déclaration sera tenue secrète jusqu’au moment de l’annexion par la Roumanie des territoires dont il est question. Veuillez etc. S a z o n o w.

Перевод. Г. посланник, Ссылаясь на происходившие между нами переговоры, имею честь сделать вам сле- дующую декларацию: Россия обязуется противодействовать всякой попытке нарушить территориаль- ный status quo Румынии в пределах ее настоящих границ. Она равным образом принимает на себя обязательство признать зa Румынией пра- во присоединить населенные румынами области Австро-Венгерской монархии. Что касается специально Буковины, то принцип большинства населения будет служить основанием для разграничения территорий, которые должны быть присочинены или к России, или к Р у м ы н и и . Э т о разграничение будет проведено после специаль- ного изучения вопроса на месте. С этой целью будет назначена смешанная комиссия, которая будет снабжена инструкциями, составленными в примирительном духе, оду- шевляющем оба правительства. Paradigms • 27

Румыния может занять означенные выше территории в момент, который она со- чтет удобным. Россия возьмет на себя получение от лондонского и парижского кабинетов рати- фикации указанных выше обязательств. Взамен за вышеизложенное Румыния, со своей стороны, обязуется соблюдать до того дня, когда она займет населенные румынами области Австро-Венгерской монар- хии, доброжелательный нейтралитет в отношении России. Условлено, что настоящая декларация останется секретной до момента при соединения Румынией территорий, о которых идет речь. Примите и пр. Сазонов.

Annex 2

Проект добавления к ноте Сазонова. Pour éviter tout malentendu le soussigné Mr. Sazonow, ministre des affaires étran- gères, croit devoir préciser que l’engagement contenu dans sa note du...24 de s’opposer à toute atteinte au statu quo territorial actuel de la Roumanie implique pour la Russie une action diplomatique et non pas une action militaire. En outre Mr. Sazonow croit devoir ajouter que la neutralité bienveillante que la Rou- manie s’engage à observer aux conditions spécifiées dans la, note précitée, implique : 1) Le concours amical du gouvernement roumain à la Russie en tout ce qui concerne la guerre actuelle et tant que ce concours n’exige pas une action militaire que la Rouma- nie reste libre de n’entreprendre que si elle le juge opportun. 2) La prohibition par le gouvernement roumain de tout passage par son territoire de combattants ou de personnel affecté à des services techniques militaires ainsi que toute exportation ou transit d’articles considérés comme contrebande, de guerre à destination des pays en guerre avec la Russie et ses alliés ou des pays dont l’attitude dans le présent conflit est encore incertaine. 3) La concession de toutes facilités pour le transit de matériel de guerre et d’appro visionnement venant de Russie et destiné à la Serbie.

Перевод. Во избежание всякого недоразумения нижеподписавшийся г. Сазонов, министр иностранных дел, считает долгом разъяснить, что заключающееся в его ноте от... обязательство противодействовать всякой попытке нарушения нынешнего террито- риального status quo Румынии влечет для России принятие мер дипломатического воздействия, а не военное выступление. Помимо того, г. Сазонов считает нужным добавить, что доброжелательный ней- тралитет, который Румыния обязуется соблюдать на условиях, изложенных в указан- ной выше ноте, включает: 1) Дружественное содействие румынского правительства России во всем, что ка- сается нынешней войны, поскольку это содействие не вызывает военных действий, 28 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

которые Румыния сохраняет право начать лишь в случае, если она сочтет это целе- сообразным. 2) Запрещение румынским правительством всякого транзита через свою террито- рию комбатантов или персонала, входящего в состав военно-техничесской службы, а равно вывоз и транзит предметов, признаваемых за военную контрабанду, если они предназначаются для стран, находящихся в войне с Россией и ее союзниками, или для стран, отношение которых к настоящему конфликту еще не выяснилось. 3) Предоставление всякого рода льгот для транзита предметов военного снаряже- ния и снабжения, идущих из России и предназначенных для Сербии.

Международные отношения в эпоху империализма. Документы из архивов царского и временного правительства 1878-1917. Серия 3. 1914–917. Том 6, часть 1: 341–344.

Notes

1. С. В. Лавров, В. Г. Титов, and А. И. Кузнецов, eds., Министерство иностранных дел России в годы Первой мировой войны: Сборник документов (Тула, Изд.: Аква- рис, 2014), 26. 2. Ibid., 206. 3. С.Д. Сазонов, Воспоминания (Москва: Издательство Международные Отношения, 1991), 162. 4. M. F. Schilling (1872–1934), senator and secretary of the Chancellery of the Minis- try of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Empire. 5. Лавров, Титов, and Кузнецов, 28. 6. Ibid. 7. М. Н. Покровский and Я. А. Березин, eds., Международные отношения в эпоху империализма. Документы из архивов царского и временного правительства 1878- 1917, Серия 3. 1914–917, Том 3, Государственное социально-экономическое изда- тельство (Москва/Ленинград, 1934), 206–207. 8. Ibid., 304–306. 9. Ibid. 10. Ibid., 346. 11. Царская Россия в мировой войне. Сборник материалов и документов, Том 1 (Ле- нинград: Издательство Центрархив, 1925), 150. 12. Ibid., 152. This very telegram of the Russian plenipotentiary shows the pessimism of the Romanian politicians and illustrates the words of Take Ionescu, who stated that “Romania is dead anyway, since, regardless of its decisions, it would be either wiped off the map or turned into something like a Russian or Hungarian governo- rate.” 13. Покровский and Березин, Том 6, часть 1: 34. Paradigms • 29

14. Царская Россия в мировой войне, 154. 15. Ibid., 156–159. 16. Ibid., 160. 17. Ibid., 161. 18. Ibid., 164. 19. Лавров, Титов, and Кузнецов, 35. 20. Покровский and Березин, 343–344. 21. Лавров, Титов, and Кузнецов, 36. 22. Ibid., 37–38. 23. Ibid., 38–39.

Abstract Romania As Reflected in the Acts of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Empire: From the Outbreak of World War I Until the Conclusion of the Sazonov–Diamandy Agreement

The topic proposed for analysis stems from a number of erroneous statements of the Soviet and post-Soviet Russian historiography referring to Romania’s neutrality in the early years of the First World War. Therefore, we have brought to light some information originating from the Minis- try of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Empire, in an attempt to identify the true interests and the backstage diplomatic games that took place during this period, as well as the position of various officials, concerning one issue or another, emerging as a result of the position taken by Romania. The data comes from documents of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and mainly from the daily journal of this institution.

Keywords World War I, Romania, Russian Empire, Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Transylvania Gheorghe Bãgulescu (1890–1963) From the War Diary to the Historical Novel or the Offensive of Literature on the Battlefront R o d i c a F r e n Þi u of History

The republishing, in 2004, 70 years after its first edition, of Gheor- ghe Bãgulescu’s novel Japanese Soul, happened on the occasion of the one hundredth anniversary of Romanian– Japanese diplomatic relations. We believe this can be encapsulated in the old Japan–West flux that had known not only syncopes as time went by, but also variations in intensity, and was finally concretized by the deepening of mutual understanding. After two hundred and fifty years of isolation (sakoku), in which Japan had Gheorghe Bãgulescu been closed not only to Europeans, but (1890–1963) also to diplomatic relations with China, with the Meiji Restauration (“the Era Rodica Frenþiu of Enlightened Rule,” 1862–1912) Professor dr. habil., Department of Asian in the second half of the 19th century Languages and Literatures (Director), the Land of the Rising Sun knows the Faculty of Letters, Babeº-Bolyai University. Author, among others, of the book Limba- “Western adventure,” when the archi- jul poetic—act creator ºi actualitate pelago opens its doors towards the th culturalã: Modelul cultural japonez West, entering an ambivalent 20 cen- (Poetic language—creative act and cul- tury, both violent and peaceful, riddled tural actuality: The Japanese cultural with various religious, social, econom- model) (2017) ic, political, and military problems. Paradigms • 31

However, Japanese intellectuals of the time quickly understood that, in order to bring their country at the forefront of the world, a simple “Westernization” was not enough. An understanding, from the inside, by the Japanese themselves, of their own cultural inheritance was needed. As a result, a famous writer of the time, Mori Ogai (1862–1922), was swayed by the “return to Japan” or the “return to being Japanese” current (see Hirakawa 2009, 117) towards the end of his life, and considered it appropriate to give up fiction entirely, believing it to be uso (‘lie’) (see Snyder 1994, 353), and focused on historical narrative and biog- raphies. In fact, ever since the end of the 19th century, the archeologist Okakura Tenshin (1863–1913) had already formulated the idea of an Asian unity, based on universality and the will to discover the truth, in which Japan would occupy a privileged position. As there was a tendency to attribute the power of Western nations to technology, Confucian conservatives in Japanese society could feed the illusion of Asian spiritual superiority. For example, to Okakura Tenshin (see Vande Walle 2009, 63), the West was a world dominated by restlessness, obsessed with fighting and wars, with the psychology of individuality, all in the name of freedom and equality, while Western intellectuals seemed to be rather interested in analytical means of researching the resources of life rather than the meaning or the object of life. In total contrast, to the Japanese intellectual Asian civilization seemed to be characterized by stability and harmony, through the power of self-sacrifice and tolerance. But this Asian unity was seen, according to the same interpretation, as centered on Japan, since the archipelago had managed, because of its native genius, to synthesize and adapt in a modern fashion the two great Chinese and Indian civilizations (see ibid., 62), thus appearing superior when compared to the West. Joining the Japanese, foreigners of the time also let themselves go with this flow of defining Japan, so that the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore, on his first visit to Japan, held a conference at Keio¯ University called “The Spirit of Japan.” On this occasion, he invoked before the Japanese public the reasoning behind the “responsibility” of each country in sending a “cultural and spiritual invita- tion” to the entire world (see Kawabata 1969, 54). Overcoming cultural relativ- ity, which states that no foreigner will ever be able to truly understand another culture beside their own, Tagore seems to try to surpass the aforementioned anthropological hypothesis, and assumes the mission of showing the Japanese the unseen face of the greatness of their own cultural identity: “When Japan is in imminent peril of neglecting to realize where she is great, it is the duty of a foreigner like myself to remind her that she has given rise to a civilization which is perfect in its form, and has evolved a sense of sight which clearly sees truth in beauty and beauty in truth. She has achieved something which is positive and complete. It is easier for a stranger to know what it is in her which is 32 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) truly valuable for all mankind,—what is there which only she, of all other races, has produced from her inner life and not from her mere power of adaptability” (Tagore, apud Kawabata 1969, 55). After the “modernization” which began with the Meiji era, in 1868, replacing the feudal system with that of a nation which recognizes the absolute authority of the emperor, after so many years of... absence, a historical moment came, which demanded not only political reform, but also the positioning of Japan, as a modern capitalist state, within an international context. History followed its course, and the almost forced development of the archipelago also brought about the crisis (cf. O¯ e 1995, 41–43) which triggered, in the Showa period (“The Era of Enlightened Peace,” 1926–1989), a rise in Japanese fascism, the invasion of China, and the Pacific War. Within these political circumstances in which Japanese propaganda becomes more and more violent through statements regarding the superiority of the yel- low race, the civilizing role of Japan and its historical mission to save the world (see Buşe and Zamfir 1990, 268), Gheorghe Bãgulescu, the former captain of the “Mountain Hunters” regiment from the first line of the Mãrãşti and Oituz front of the Great War, is sent by the Romanian government to Japan, first as a military, naval and aeronautical attaché (1935–1939), and, a few years later, as minister plenipotentiary (1941–1943). Gheorghe Bãgulescu was born on 11 November 1890, in Brãila County. Af- ter graduating high school in Bârlad in 1907, he enrolled in the Military School for Infantry Officers, following all the steps of a military career, from soldier to general. He joined the campaign in Bulgaria in 1913 as a second lieutenant, fought in the First World War as a captain, and on 1 December 1918 he was sent as a representative of the Romanian Army to the National Assembly of Alba Iulia in order to take to Bucharest the official document of the Great Union. His bravery on the battlefield and the wounds suffered in 1916 brought him the honors and recognition he fully deserved. Thus, in June 1935, he was appointed military attaché in Japan, where he remained until February 1939, when he was called home in order to take the exam that would advance him to the rank of general. He had gloriously ended his first Japanese mission, returning home with many impressive honors. Out of these, it is worth mentioning that in 1939 he received from the Japanese Emperor, at the proposal of the Minister of External Affairs, the Imperial Order of the Sacred Treasure, 3rd Class. He was also named a member of the Chuo Gishikai national Academy in Tokyo, and at that time he was, in fact, the only foreigner to enjoy such appreciation from the highest scientific forum in Japan. Furthermore, upon his return he brought an impressive collection of Japanese and Chinese artefacts, which offered him the opportunity to organize an exhibit of 261 pieces Paradigms • 33 at the Romanian Athenaeum. He was strongly driven by the wish to create a museum of Eastern art in Herãstrãu Park in Bucharest, following the model of the Katsura summer villa of the Japanese emperors. Gheorghe Bãgulescu took this opportunity to donate to the Romanian state 726 paintings, bronze, stone, and pre-Christian marble statues, ceramics, chinaware, golden laquerware, early coins of gold, silver, and bronze, 12 large Japanese folding screens, 18 medium- sized folding screens, 2,017 original gravures, all accounting nowadays for most of the Japanese section in the Bucharest Art Museum (see Epure 2002, 160). General Bãgulescu would return to the Far East, this time as minister plenipotentiary in Japan, China, and Manchukuo, two years later, a few months before the attack on Pearl Harbor (7 December 1941), which would heavily mark the Pacific military conflict. Japanese officials organized a very warm welcome for the Romanian diplomat, as conveyed by the press of that time. On 4 March 1941, for example, Tokyo Nichi-Nichi newspaper printed:

General Bãgulescu, researcher of the legend of the 47 faithful samurai of Ako, has been appointed the new minister of Romania in Japan. Speaking of General Bãgulescu, the minister of Romania appointed to Japan, he is the well-known man that we indeed remember immediately: the Military Attaché, good friend of our country and diligent student of the Chushingura. . . . Since His Excellency’s ar- rival, he has realized that before all else he must know the spirit of this country. For this purpose he promptly chose the legend of the 47 faithful samurai of Ako. . . . When he regretfully left Japan in February 1939, after a 4-year stay, the general returned to his mother country. As he was still spellbound by the quintessence of the Japanese spirit, His Excellency published the 2nd part of the work Japanese Soul (Yamato Damashii)—vol. 1 and 2—in September 1939, the year when the World War began. In an article that was published at the time by the Romanian press, we were told that the work enjoyed great popularity, being the most fitting read for a Romania which was at war. . . (apud Epure 2002, 157–158)

But, in 1942, Minister Plenipotentiary Bãgulescu published the anti-Nazi, anti-totalitarian work La nouvelle religion, where he pleaded for the principles of “harmony” and “creation” as basic principles of the “New Religion.” For this religion, war is not only “the original sin” and “contrary to moral law,” but also “the enemy of universal Law” (apud Scumpieru 2013, 217). As consequence, in the following year, Marshal I. Antonescu decided to end the Japan mission of Gheorghe Bãgulescu. The general thus left Tokyo and arrived in China, was kept under house arrest until 1946, when he left for the usa with the help of the us Navy. He finally settled in France (Nice), where he remained until his death in 1963. 34 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Although it seemed that General Bãgulescu had made a name for himself, the workings of history would decide differently. Despite being honored as a hero after the First World War, the name of Gheorghe Bãgulescu is missing from military history, perhaps because he was declared a war criminal by the regime installed after the Second World War—a sentence that kept him away from his home country for the rest of his life. Likewise, the Japanese Minister of War, General Itagaki Seishiro, declared him persona non grata in the archipelago, despite having given Colonel Bãgulescu, upon the end of his first mission to Japan, a statuette of Kusunoki Masashige, a famous samurai of the 14th century who became the symbol of the Japanese bushido¯ spirit. This was due to the open condemnation of the “aggression, vanity and conflict between the races” (apud Scumpieru 2013, 220), which Bãgulescu confessed in the book The New Reli- gion. Furthermore, literary history has not remembered his name either, in spite of the fact that he was a member of the Society of Romanian Writers ever since 1921 and was awarded several prizes for his published works. Thus forgotten by both military and literary histories after 1944, the name of Gheorghe Bãgulescu reappeared in the press only after 1990, in specialized magazines or specialized literature, outlining his portrait as an army officer or diplomat, as a writer and art collector. As a writer, Gheorghe Bãgulescu had his debut with the volume of short stories and novellas Lines from the Border. The short story collection Days of En- ergy: Stories from the War of Union (Târgu-Neamþ, 1918) followed, prefaced by a letter of Nicolae Iorga. In fact, this book can be read as a a battlefront diary that narrates the victories of the Romanian army in the “triangle of death”: “I tried to depict some moments from the times of energy, decisiveness, bravery and sacrifice that the Country has gone through, while describing here and there only a few of the countless deeds of valor accomplished by the sons of the holy land, or impressions born of a state of mind, where the wishes and pain of an entire People seethe” (Bãgulescu 1919, 7). Gheorghe Bãgulescu’s literary activity continued with the volume Sad Days: Short Stories and Novellas from the War of Union (Bucharest, 1919), which was also accompanied by a letter from Nicolae Iorga. This work turns the written word into an offensive weapon, openly expressing the revolt of the military man regarding the Peace Treaty of Bucharest (Buftea), under conditions that enslaved Romania. In this volume, the novella “The Deserter” is remarkable. It was later published independently, in five additional editions, and it seems to have inspired Liviu Rebreanu to write the short story “Iþic Ştrul Deserter.” During all this time, Gheorghe Bãgulescu tried his hand at longer prose, but the novels The Commander or Antiquitas Rediviva (1926) passed unnoticed. Paradigms • 35

As inferred by the letter that accompanies the short story volume Days of Energy, Nicolae Iorga was betting on the debutant Bãgulescu’s narrative talent. He notes that the latter wrote “knowledgeably and with spiritual warmth.” The historian confesses to be a reader that he was “moved” by such a “noble and proud” book, which he suggestively names “a soldier’s Bible.” He assures the author that his work will pass the test of time: “And a long time after you are gone, they will be grateful to he who was not satisfied just with doing, but with telling the whole world, on pages that will not die, about the deeds of the sub- lime and humble soldiers” (Iorga, apud Bãgulescu 1919, 2). Unlike the battlefront diary of General Alexandru Averescu (Daily War Notes 1916–1918), which strictly adheres to the tenets of the genre, recording in detail the tense moments in between bombardments, the preparations for an attack, or the events following the skirmishes on the first lines of the front, Gheorghe Bãgulescu’s stories move towards the battlefront memoir under the guise of a third person narrative interwoven with the first person voice: “From the earthly hell, other souls ascended to heaven, other trees were broken, another strip of forest was destroyed, the earth shook, but... there was no going further. And the Teutonic hordes fell silent” (Bãgulescu 1919, 69). The memoir was always recognized not only as a genre that was born of man’s natural wish to “self-define” or for “retrospective justification,” but also as a keeper of the “document confession” value (Bocºan and Leu 2015, 42). Bãgulescu’s choice of this type of hybrid writing, which apparently conjoins the literary formula of the story with that of the diary, can be easily understood not only from his explicit dedications, but also from the prefaces signed by the author himself, legitimating and giving reason for recording the “lived moment” through the written word: “The pieces that follow are not crafted, they will not have a neat shape and enough spirit of observation to satisfy a critic—an observer from afar; they will appear mundane, even, to a... sedentary man. But I know one thing, and those who were in battle will find this to be true: they are lived moments” (Bãgulescu 1919, 8). Gheorghe Bãgulescu published a second edition of Days of Energy the following year. In the 1919 preface to this new edition he mentioned the joy he felt that the book he wrote during the wars was put into print in a unified Romania. This was the individual ideal that had become the ideal of a nation, for which so many soldiers had sacrificed their lives. He had felt it his duty to speak for them, to open his heart, which was full of hope for the deeds of the future and burdened with bitterness for those of the present: “They who have given their lives have a greater right to this than us, who only sacrificed energy and a part of our blood. They have a right to the first word” (Bãgulescu 1919, 203). And perhaps it is precisely because of this wish to give priority to the voices of the 36 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) dead that the author hides his own ego behind a third person. The result is an atypical war memoir, different from those generally used by cultural history in order to reconstruct individual or collective fates and mentalities (see Bolovan, Cojocaru, and Tãmaş 2015, 17–175).

t the peak of his military career, during his first diplomatic mission to Japan (1935–1939), Gheorghe Bãgulescu would revisit writing and A publish the novel Japanese Soul (Yamato Damashii). He drafted the plan for the trilogy in 1935, and presented it in the same year, on the occasion of some conferences held at the national Academy Chuo Gishikai in Tokyo. In fact, he would soon become a member, being the first and last foreigner to receive such an honor during those times. Gheorghe Bãgulescu’s novel has the chu¯shingura, the theme of the 47 masterless samurai (ro¯nin), at its core. Legend has it that the warriors carefully planned to avenge their master’s foul murder for two years, in order to bring the culprit’s head to their master’s grave, following which they all committed seppuku, or ritual suicide. The historical novel tells of events from around the year 1645 until the author’s own day and age. This was a page out of Japanese feudal history, for which he carried out research in the archives of prestigious Japanese universities and of various museums in Tokyo and Ako. The text brings before the reader the historical fate of the Asano clan of Ako, followed across a few generations, and concludes with a commentary not only on Japanese (and Chinese) art, but also on the political and economic situation of the Far East. The novel seems to have been written to disseminate knowledge on “the Great Far East,” within the trend opened at the beginning of the 20th century by the linguist Basil Chamberlain, the journalist Lafkadio Hearn and the poet Rabindranath Tagore. Ultimately, it touches upon the issue of the warrior’s code, or bushido¯ (bushi = ‘warrior,’ do¯ = ‘path’), the code of samurai honor whose principles spring from the three faiths embraced by the Japanese archipelago across history: Shinto, based on the adoration of nature, Confucianism, which promotes the five moral relations between the government and the follower, master and servant, father and child, man and woman, older brother and younger brother, and Buddhism, which is connected to the fatalism of human existence, while its esoteric sect Zen pushes for meditation and contemplation. Chu¯shingura is, in fact, the title of a famous Japanese drama, a play written by Takeda Izumo and his collaborators for the bunraku puppet theatre, with a first showing at Osaka in 1748. With this stage production of a real story which happened in the 18th century, the heroism of the vengeful ro¯nin, in the name of honor as promoted by the samurai code, rapidly entered legend. The theme was soon picked up by both kabuki theatre and literary prose, as well as by cinema- Paradigms • 37 tography, later on. Thus, the novel by Osaragi Jiro (1897–1973) was published two hundred years after the historical event, in 1927, in a Japan that was increasingly militarized and warlike. Ako¯ Gishi (The Faithful Samurai of Ako) resumed the theme of loyalty and honor of vassals left masterless. It would be followed, several years later, by Gheorghe Bãgulescu’s trilogy. The first volume of the Romanian military attaché’s trilogy was published by Kenkyusha Publishing House, Tokyo, in 1936, in French and English. In Romanian, the first volume of Japanese Soul was published by the Universul newspaper press in Bucharest, between November 1937 and January 1938. The second volume followed in 1939. Each volume bears a title: volume 1, Sho- gun, Daimyo, Samurai; volume 2, part 1: Injustice, Faith, Revenge, and part 2: Two Hundred Years Later. Volume 1 begins with the words of Marquis Asano to Colonel Bãgulescu, at the Sengaku-ji temple (where the graves of the ro¯nin and their master lie) on 13 July 1936: “Dying, and committing their untainted samurai virtues to life in the future, the 47 ro¯nin are the mirror in which their descendants can reflect their conscience, following their good example” (Bãgulescu 2004, 5). The 2nd volume, however, opens with an author’s preface, accompanied by a collage of reactions from notable people of the time or appreciations issued by the mass-media after the first volume of the trilogy appeared. Out of these, we have selected the words of Admiral Yamamoto, vice-minister of the Navy, from 21 January 1939: “During his stay in Japan, Colonel G. Bãgulescu had an extensive activity, studying not only military matters, but also the Japa- nese history and character, insomuch that he published a splendid work. I can only express my boundless respect” (apud Bãgulescu 2004/2: 9). Recognized by the Japanese intellectual elite as “the first foreigner that has touched our patriotic heart” (Bãgulescu 2004/2: 9), Bãgulescu was considered to be a genuine “phenomenon” (ibid., 14) by foreigners in the press of the time. Through his trichotomous personality encapsulating the elite military man, the famous writer and the distinguished Orientalist, he had come to be a role model even among the Japanese military. For example, Commander M. Ano confessed, in a personal letter, that he was at the Headquarters of the Japanese army in the north of China, with the mission to chase out the foreigners from Asia, in order to recreate “l’Asie claire” and that, in his soldier’s pack, you could always find the first volume of the Romanian military attaché’s book. Ending his letter, the Japanese officer expressed the eagerness with which he waited for the following volumes of the trilogy (ibid., 15). During those times, when the “red peril” and “internal chaos” grew in con- tinental Asia, Japan wanted to show the world its virtues of as a world leader, a “peace-maker” and a “keeper of order” in the Far East (cf. Buºe and Zamfir 1990, 265). It became somewhat natural that the publication, in French, Eng- 38 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) lish, and Romanian, of a new novel on the theme of the feudal code of samurai honor, emphasizing and glorifying the qualities of the Japanese soul, this time written by a non-native, was a genuine publishing event. High Japanese authorities—not only men of letters and culture, but also the press and the diplomatic corps in Tokyo—thus felt it their duty to eulogize the published work and to honor the author. As a result, the Romanian minister plenipotentiary received numerous congratulatory letters from military men (such as the Japanese Min- ister of War, the Japanese admiral or colleagues from other foreign diplomatic corps in Japan), as well as from the rectors of prestigious Japanese universities. As a gesture of supreme appreciation, he was honored by being awarded an imperial order offered by Emperor Hirohito himself (as explained later in the collage that opens the 2nd volume of the trilogy). The Japan of the ’30s and ’40s had gained increased international influence. The last years of the Taisho era (1912–1926) would strengthen the trend towards the rise of Japan in the Asia-Pacific area and in the world (see Epure 2002, 134). In order to make its presence known in the world, Japan took advantage of the internal strife in China, and so took the first step towards the doctrine regarding “the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere” (see Vlad 1998, 69). This was proclaimed in 1938 by General Hachiro Arita, the minister of foreign affairs, who was trying to create a basis for cooperation among the states in the area, with Japan as a privileged partner and protective power. Although the Japa- nese general was a supporter of expansion through peaceful means (see Buºe and Zamfir 1990, 311), Japanese expansion in China, Southeast Asia and the South Pacific would actually entail military operations and the invasion of territories. As a result, only a few years later and under the direct influence of the world political context, the political attitude of Japan would shape itself into two directions that manifested themselves in parallel: on the one hand, the initiation of simultaneous talks with Germany, the ussr, and the usa, and on the other hand, actual preparations for a war which seemed imminent (see Buºe and Zamfir 1990, 276). But the Japanese military propaganda relating to expansionist external politics, which emphasized the special mission and the responsibility of Japan in the context of world politics, was like an echo across time of the idea of Asian unity in which Japan would occupy a privileged position. This latter idea, formulated by Okakura Tenshin (1826–1916) at the end of the 19th century, would soon be recognizable inside the country. In consequence, Gunbatsu, or the military caste, unnoticeably gained more and more power in the life of the state, and military men came to monopolize all key positions in the government. At the time of its apparition, when Japan’s prestige and power in the Far East were on the rise, when the internal national-chauvinist, militarist and fascist pro- Paradigms • 39 paganda in favor of Greater Japan (Dai Nihon) was in full swing, the novel Japa- nese Soul seemed to be fated for success with the public. The narrative text signed by Gheorghe Bãgulescu brought to contemporaneity the legend of the 47 ro¯nin, thus suggesting to the world that understanding the spirit of the Japanese people (yamato damashii) can be achieved by a recourse to its history. Its events tap into traits such as a sense of justice, of faith and mercy, of resisting the wickedness and adversities of fate, of Confucian loyalty to one’s superior, etc. and welcomed the spirit of the age, although, after Japan’s surrender in the Second World War, the legend would be reduced to insignificance by the American occupation. In the Romania of the time as well, due to the exoticism of the theme and the ingredients that seasoned the subject with contemporary relevance, the publi cation of the historical novel Japanese Soul met the expectations of readers that were far removed geographically and culturally from the theme of chu¯shingura offered by the novel, which brought it a warm welcome from the interwar public. Should one reread nowadays this “gospel of the samurai of Ako,” as the author subtitled his historical trilogy, independently from the political context in which it was created, one may objectively admit that, although the nucleus of the book is a legend that has made it around the world along the years— a fact that would have ensured its success through the very generosity of its theme—the text’s construction and narrative strategy as well as the authenticity of its character occasionally lead the discourse to a dead end. Rather preoccu- pied by the thesis aspect of this legend, which exhibits virtues and personalities, the author forgets about narrative demands, and the characters enter a cone of unnatural idealization, their heroism being rather told than lived. In fact, the narrative technique is very similar to that of the author’s early story collections. If Days of Energy can ultimately be considered a battlefront diary of the First World War, where Gheorghe Bãgulescu wishes to “honor” with the medal of... eternity the valor of the Romanian soldiers fallen in the line of duty with the hopes of unifying their people, the novel Japanese Soul can be read as a “documentary” on servants who stay faithful to their master’s ideals. In the end, it is about the same loyalty to a master or an idea, which is in fact demonstrated by General Bãgulescu himself throughout his entire military and diplomatic career, as he was always faithful to the ideal of a united Romania and its supreme commander, the king. Professionally a military man, Gheorghe Bãgulescu prioritizes in his Japanese historical novel the conflict between heroes and traitors, in order to emphasize the virtue of the former. His wish is to discover, by means of the chu¯shingura legend, similarities between the Romanian and Japanese spirits, and so he sacrifices the natural thread of the story on this altar. Yet, this attempt to bring two spiritualities closer, veiled throughout the book, is openly confessed 40 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) in the Preface to the 2nd volume of the novel, where the author shows that he bears in his heart the wish to write a trilogy called Romanian Soul, to record “the wonderful deeds of valor and sacrifice” (Bãgulescu 2004/2: 28) of Romanian history. In fact, during his Japanese missions, somehow Gheorghe Bãgulescu had already done his “research” for this project, as he had taken numerous actions to present Romania, a country known little or not at all in that part of the world. He thus wrote, alongside articles presenting his home country for various Japa- nese cultural magazines, the monograph Romania, published in Tokyo in 1942. Across 118 pages, he presented the history, art and culture of Romania, accompanied by representative illustrations. Since it was written in Japanese, as the author intended, the book had great impact (cf. Scumpieru 2013, 216), although it is true that the Soviet and Hungarian governments protested immediately, asking the Japanese government to stop its circulation. Minister Plenipotentiary Gheorghe Bãgulescu also held numerous conferences on Romania or on Ro- manian folklore. He also translated folk ballads and poems by Eminescu into Japanese, he organized exhibitions of Romanian folk art, as if to illustrate his faith that “the art of any nation, which is usually national in its roots, becomes universal through its effects” (Bãgulescu 2004/2: 41). And, not lastly, he visited schools, offering Japanese professors teaching materials on his home country; he also screened documentaries on Romania. He was fully convinced that Japan would one day become an ally that would influence or even practically aid the historic destiny of his country: “Taking into consideration that the vote of Japan will weigh heavily in the new world order, the money spent on propaganda is not wasted, and its fruit will be reaped shortly not only in the political field as a restoration of borders, but also economically, culturally and artistically” (Bãgulescu, apud Epure 2002, 183). Aware that the times he lived did not involve clashes of armed forces as much as ideologies that would grant the world a new beginning, the military and diplomatic career of General Gheorghe Bãgulescu is tightly interwoven with the history of the Romanian people: his participation in the First World War continued with the diplomatic battle to make his country known in geographically remote places. Conversely, the same general led the battle through which he attempted to bring the Far East closer to Europe, for a better mutual awareness and understanding. However, in achieving this goal, he used not only the path of diplomacy, but also the art of writing, both to make his opinion known, and to thus be a part of the fate of the world: “And still, if I am to die, History will remain. . .” (Bãgulescu 1919, 224). q Paradigms • 41

References

Averescu, Alexandru. 1920. Notiþe zilnice din rãzboiu (1916–1918). 3rd edition. Bucha- rest: Cultura Naþionalã. Bãgulescu, Gheorghe. 1919. Zile de energie: Impresii şi povestiri de pe front 1916–1917. With a letter by N. Iorga. 2nd edition. Bucharest: Institutul de Arte Grafice C. Sfetea. ——. 2004. Suflet japonez, roman. 3 vols. Bucharest: Cartega Publishing House in collaboration with Nipponica Publishing House. Bocşan, Nicolae and Valeriu Leu. 2015. “Memorialişti români din Banat despre Marele Rãzboi: Motivaþia redactãrii scrierilor.” In Primul Rãzboi Mondial: Perspectivã is- toricã şi istoriograficã/World War I: A Historical and Historiographical Perspective, eds. Ioan Bolovan, Gheorghe Cojocaru, and Oana Mihaela Tãmaş, 41–51. Cluj-Napoca: Academia Românã, Centrul de Studii Transilvane, Presa Universitarã Clujeanã. Bolovan, Ioan, Gheorghe Cojocaru, and Oana Mihaela Tãmaş, eds. 2015. Primul rãz- boi mondial: Perspectivã istoricã şi istoriograficã/World War I: A Historical and Histo- riographical Perspective. Cluj-Napoca: Academia Românã, Centrul de Studii Transil- vane, Presa Universitarã Clujeanã. Buşe, Constantin and Zorin Zamfir. 1990. Japonia. Un secol de istorie (1853–1945). Bu- charest: Humanitas. Epure, Mihai. 2002. Aproape de Soare Rãsare. Bucharest: Cartega Publishing House in collaboration with Nipponica Publishing House. Hirakawa, Sukehiro. 2009. Japan’s Love-Hate Relationship with the West. Kent: Global Oriental. Kawabata, Yasunari. 1969. The Existence and Discovery of Beauty/Bi no sonzai to hakken. Transl. V. H. Viglielmo. Tokyo: The Mainichi Newspapers. O¯ e, Kenzaburo¯. 1995. Japan, the Ambiguous, and Myself (The Nobel Prize Speech and Other Lectures). Tokyo: Kodansha International. Scumpieru, Ion. 2013. 133 de ani de relaþii România-Japonia. Bucharest: Fundaþia Eu- ropeanã Titulescu. Snyder, Stephen. 1994. “Ogai and the Problem of Fiction: Gan and Its Antecedents.” Monumenta Nipponica 49, 3 (Autumn): 353–373. Vande Walle, Willy F. 2009. “Le Japon de l’ère Meiji: Identité, modernisation, occidentalisation.” In Mondialisation et identité: Les débats autour de l’occidentalisation et de l’orientalisation (19e–21e siècles), ed. Thierry Marrès, 39–64. Louvain-la-Neuve: Academia Edo. Vlad, Constantin. 1998. Japonia: Introducere în istorie, culturã şi civilizaþie. Bucharest: Fundaþia România de Mâine. 42 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Abstract Gheorghe Bãgulescu (1890–1963): From the War Diary to the Historical Novel or the Offensive of Literature on the Battlefront of History

Actively combatting the saying “When weapons speak, the muses are silent,” General Gheorghe Bãgulescu was adamant in recording the events of history he lived or read, by using the art of literature. As he was aware that the times he lived did not involve the clash of armed forces as much as ideologies that would change the face of the world, the military and diplomatic career of General Bãgulescu is tightly interwoven with the history of the Romanian people. His participation in the First World War, immortalized in stories that can be read as a battlefront diary, continued with the diplomatic battle of making his country known, as a military, naval and aeronautical attaché in Japan (1935–1939), as minister plenipotentiary in Japan, China and Manchukuo (1941–1943), and in other, more geographically remote places. Conversely, the same military man and diplomat published the trilogy Japanese Soul (1937) in French, English and Romanian, and attempted to bring the Far East closer to Europe, with the purpose of better mutual understanding and awareness.

Keywords battlefront diary, historical novel, bushido¯ (samurai code), Romania, Japan transsilvanica

Die Überschwemmungen des Jahres 1771 in Siebenbürgen Die Rolle des Zentrums und der Peripherie bei der Bewältigung D o r i n -I o a n R u s der Katastrophe

Einführung

as Ziel des vorliegenden Vorhabens ist die Darstellung D und Analyse der Verhältnisse zwischen der österreichischen Obrig- keit in Siebenbürgen und der lokalen Bevölkerung während der Über- schwemmungen im siebenbürgischen

Abb. 1. Das Wassernetz Siebenbürgens Kokel-Hochland (Abb. 1). und die Überschwemmungen Die klimatischen Schwankungen in dem Kokel-Gebiet oder die Launen der eher als feindlich wahrgenommenen Natur, haben zur Zerstörung des alltäglichen Lebens Dorin-Ioan Rus beigetragen und führten zu einem hat Geschichte und Anthropologie an Unruhe-, Unsicherheits- und Angst- der Lucian Blaga Universität in Sibiu zustand innerhalb der vorindustriellen (Hermannstadt) studiert. Seit dem Jahre 2009 wohnt und arbeitet er in Österreich Gesellschaften. Die Beschreibungen (Wien und Graz). Seine neueste Mono- dieser Zustände wurden sowohl in graphie: Wald- und Ressourcenpolitik Reiseberichten, als auch in Memoiren, im Siebenbürgen des 18. Jahrhunderts Tagebüchern, Chroniken und in religi- (2017). ösen Gesangsbüchern aufgenommen. 44 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Die Folgen dieser Phänomene waren ungleich; während einige wie Ha- gel und Frost Konjunkturcharakter hatten, betrafen andere, wie Dürre, Über- schwemmungen, lange Winter ausgedehnte Gebiete und hatten manchmal einen katastrophalen Charakter. Die zyklische Erscheinung dieser Phänomene verstärkte die Folgen, und auch für die kollektive Mentalität entstanden kata- strophale Ausmaße. Wegen der Unsicherheit menschlichen Subsistenzmitteln brachten diese Naturkatastrophen die Gemeinden an grenzwertige Situationen. Bereits eine klimatische Abweichung hatte eine schwache Ernte, die Teuerung von Getreide, oder sogar dessen Verschwinden vom Markt, den Verzehr von nicht genug nahrhaften Lebensmitteln, und letztendlich den Hunger, mit allen seinen Leiden, als direkte Folgen. Die siebenbürgischen Chroniken des 18. Jahr- hunderts berichten für das Jahr 1771, außer den Überschwemmungen in ganzen Siebenbürgen, noch von einem schweren Winter1, Hungersnot und Tierseuchen in verschiedenen Gebieten des Landes.2 Hunger war der Grund für das Elend der Massen im 18. Jahrhundert.3 Die Zeitspannen 1717 bis 1719, 1766 bis 1772, und 1813 bis 1818 werden in den siebenbürgischen Chroniken als Hungerjahre bezeichnet, deren Ursachen die schweren Winter, die langen Dürreperioden oder Kriege waren.4 Die regneri- schen Jahren 1770 bis 1772 führten zu Missernten, und schließlich zur größ- ten Hungersnot des Jahrhunderts in Mitteleuropa.5 Die schwere Subsistenzkrise dieser drei Jahre, hat für die Habsburgermonarchie weitreichende Folgen ge- habt.6 Die Hungerkrise von 1770 bis 1772 förderte die Emigration aus Süd- westdeutschland in das Banat7, wodurch viele neue Siedler in das Gebiet der siebenbürgischen Erzgebirges kamen.8 Die Bevölkerung Siebenbürgens in der zweiten Hälfte des 18. Jahrhunderts war hauptsächlich in der Landwirtschaft tätig. Der Bürgerstand war in drei Ka- tegorien unterteilt: Freie königliche Städte, Loca taxalia, oder oppida privilegia- ta und oppida nobilia. Mediasch und Schäßburg, sowie Elisabethstadt, die von der Naturkatastrophe betroffen waren gehörten zur ersten Kategorie.9 Im Jahre 1772 gab es in Siebenbürgen 302.986 Familien; obwohl es keine Statistik aus dieser Zeit gibt, nimmt man an, dass Schäßburg ungefähr 5500, Mediasch um 5000 Einwohner hatte.10

Forschungsstand

ngaben zu den Überschwemmungen des Jahres 1771 bei Mediasch be- finden sich im „Archiv des Vereins für siebenbürgische Landeskunde“ A (16/1880)11, wo die Autobiographie des Gelehrten Michael von Heyden- dorf aus Mediasch wiedergegeben wurde. Die Auswirkungen der Überschwem- Transsilvanica • 45 mungen der Kleinkokel bei Schäßburg wurden schon 1852 von einem anonymen Verfasser12 im „Siebenbürgischen Hauskalender“ beschrieben. Aus diesen zwei Studien ergibt sich, dass die Überschwemmungen des Jahres 1771 einen pluvi- alen Ursprung hatten, und dass, ein paar Tage nach dem ersten Hochwasser vom 18. Juli ein zweites von gleicher Intensität stattgefunden hatte. Die beiden Ar- tikel sind deskriptiv, sie berichten über die räumliche Ausdehnung und über die vom Hochwasser verursachten Schäden, ohne weitere Kommentare und Analy- sen. Außerdem berichten die Autoren lediglich über die Schäden und die Aus- wirkungen der Überschwemmungen in ihren Gemeinden, und zeigen sich nicht interessiert an dem Schicksal der rumänischen, ungarischen und armenischen Ort- schaften. Die Überschwemmungen wurden dann von Toader Nicoarã13, Paul Binder und Paul Cernovodeanu14 kurz erwähnt. Auch die in Österreich und Deutsch- land veröffentlichten Ortsmonographien der siebenbürgisch-sächsischen Ge- meinden des Kokel-Gebietes15 erwähnen diese Naturereignisse. In der rumänischen Fachliteratur wurden die technischen Aspekte der spä- teren Überschwemmungen der beiden Flüsse Kokel aus den Jahren 193216, 197017, 197518 analysiert, und diejenigen aus den Jahren 1981, 1991, 1995, 1997, 1998, 2000, 2005 präsentiert.19 Von den Überschwemmungen des Flusses Mieresch im Jahre 1771 in Arad, außerhalb Siebenbürgens jedoch im Gebiet des heutigen Rumäniens, berichtete Eugen Ghiþã im Jahre 2010 in dem von Corneliu Pãdurean und Ioan Bolovan herausgegebenen Band Studii de demografie istoricã (secolele XVII-XX) eine kurze Studie mit dem Titel „Efectele inundaþiilor din 1771 în oraºul Arad“ (Die Fol- gen der Überschwemmungen des Jahres 1771 in Arad).

Die geographische Lage und das Wasserregime im Kokel-Hochland

ie untersuchte Region, ein Teil der siebenbürgischen Senke, bildet die ausgedehnteste Einheit (6366 km2) unter den drei großen Einheiten D des Siebenbürgischen Hochlandes (das Samosch-Hochland, die Sie- benbürgische Heide und das Kokel-Hochland). Das Kokel-Hochland liegt im Süden der Siebenbürgischen Senke und gegen- über des angrenzenden Gebirges. Es beeinflusst die Wind- und Energiezirkula- tion in dem analysierten Raum durch die Versperrung der westlichen Feucht- luftmassenadvektion durch das Apuseni-Gebirge und durch die Ergänzung der Wasserressourcen aus den Ostkarpaten, durch die Klein- und Großkokel.20 46 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Die räumliche Verteilung des Durchschnittsablaufes verfolgt die Gesetzmä- ßigkeit der Verteilung der Niederschlagsmenge, die von der westlichen Feucht- luftadvektion und von dem Anstieg der Reliefhöhen von Westen nach Osten bestimmt wird. Die Quantität und Qualität der Wasserressourcen hängt von der Gesamtheit der geographischen Bedingungen dieser Region ab. Die Abflussrich- tung und die Wasserorganisation werden hier von den physisch-geographischen Faktoren (wie Relief, Geologie, Vegetation und Boden) bestimmt.21 Unter menschlichem Einfluss wurde die geographische Struktur des Kokel- Plateaus, die im Jahr 1989 aus 72,8% Agrarland, 19,4% Wäldern und 7,8% anderen Nutzungen bestand mehrfach geändert.22 Die jahreszeitlichen und monatlichen Abflussregime spiegeln die bedeutende Rolle der klimatischen Faktoren wieder. Der größte Abfluss findet im Frühling (36-43% des jährlichen Durchschnittsabflusses) der niedrigste im Herbst (11- 18%) statt.23 Aufgrund des Vergleiches zwischen dem jährlichen Durchschnittsabfluss und der Sonnenaktivität wurde eine enge Beziehung festgestellt, und zwar, dass den Intensivierungsphasen reiche Abflussperioden, und den minimalen Sonnenakti- vitäts-phasen geringe Abflussperioden entsprechen. Für die mehrjährige Variati- on des jährlichen Abflusses sind Zyklen von 11-12 Jahren analysiert worden. Im Falle des jahreszeitlichen Abflusses wurden eine gute Korrelation im Frühling und eine schwächere Korrelation im Herbst beobachtet.24 Was die Frequenz und Genese des Anschwellens der Gewässer betrifft, wurde festgestellt, dass dies in der Zeitspanne Mai-Oktober stattfindet.25 Nach den Überschwemmungen des Jahres 197026 trafen die kommunisti- schen Verwalter Maßnahmen gegen den negativen Auswirkungen des Wassers, wie den Bau von Antierosionseinrichtungen und Uferschutzanlagen27, und un- terstützten wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen im Bereich der Hydrologie. So wurde durch den Bau von komplexen Anlagen der Wasserbedarf gesichert und die Hochwasserintensität verringert.

Rekonstitution der Überschwemmungen vom Juli 1771 im Kokel-Hochland

Überschwemmungen in Mediasch. 1771 war Mediasch (Abb. 2) die Hauptstadt des Mediascher Stuhles, aber auch Sitz des Magistrates und 1.des gleichnamigen Stuhlgerichtes. Der sandige Boden war meist mit Mais bepflanzt und hier wurde den besten Wein Siebenbürgens kultiviert. Die Hauptbeschäftigung der Einwohner dieser Region war Wein- und Ackerbau. Zu Transsilvanica • 47

Abb. 2. Mediasch im 18. Jahrhundert diesem Stuhl gehörte auch Elisabethstadt, deren armenischen Einwohner den Handel betrieben.28 Michael von Heidendorf berichtete über den am 18. Juli beginnenden Re- gen, der in ganz Siebenbürgen Überschwemmungen zur Folge hatte. Die Flüsse des Landes, darunter auch die Großkokel waren so angeschwollen, dass die beiden Brücken der Stadt – die Mediascher Brücke und die Kokelbrücke – wegge- schwemmt wurden. Die Nebenflüsse der Großkokel, die in den Csíker, Háromszéker und Foga- rascher Gebirge entsprangen, waren schon ab Mitte Juli wegen des außerordent- lich starken und anhaltenden Regens angeschwollen, was zu Überschwemmun- gen in Mediascher Gebiet führten. Die Großkokel wuchs in der Nacht zwischen dem 18. und 19. Juli um 11 Uhr in Mediasch dermaßen an, dass das ganze oberhalb der Stadt gelegene Tal weggespült wurde.29 Zu der Beschreibung der Überschwemmung tragen auch die menschlichen Wahrnehmungen bei: das Geschrei der Menschen, die Glockenschläge in der Nacht30 und die Ansicht31 des unendlichen Wassers schufen ein apokalyptisches Bild der Naturereignisses in Mediasch. Heidendorf wurde informiert, dass die Hauptflüsse Siebenbürgens Teile des Landes überschwemmt haben und weiß, dass dieses Naturereignis nicht nur Teuerungen und Krankheiten32 mit sich bringt, sondern es „Vorläufer von wich- tigen Veränderungen in den Schicksalen der Völker“33 gewesen sei. 48 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

2. Überschwemmungen in Schäßburg. Im Vergleich mit dem Bild aus Mediasch, das eine Erzählung in der ersten Person ist, stützen sich die Schäßburger Dar- stellungen auf Erinnerungen und sind in der dritten Person dargestellt. Schäßburg (Abb. 3) war die Hauptstadt des Schäßburger Stuhles, sie war Sitz des Magistrates und des Stuhlgerichtes. Der Boden war fruchtbar für viele Getreidearten, sowie auch für Flachs und Hanf. Die Einwohner setzten sich aus vor allem aus Sachsen und Rumänen zusammen, die meist von Ackerbau, Wein- anbau und der Viehzucht lebten. Die Sachsen bauten vorwiegend Flachs und Hanf an, und fertigen daraus Leinwände, die sie allenthalben im Land absetzten. Die Einwohner waren vor allem Handwerker, nur wenige waren als Kaufleute tätig. Beide dieser Berufssparten trieben nebst ihren Gewerben die Feld- und Landwirtschaft. Dieser Stuhl war in den oberen und unteren Kreis eingeteilt, die zehn, bzw. sechs Dorfschaften umfassten.34

Abb. 3. Schäßburg im Jahr 1767

Die Ursache für die Überschwemmungen der Kleinkokel im Juli 1771 waren Platzregen und Wolkenbrüchen, sowie die Übersättigung der Erde mit Wasser im Frühling. Die angeschwollenen Bäche und Gräben vom benachbarten Gör- gau (rum. Gurghiu) Gebirge hatten eine unermessliche Wassermenge in Kokel zugeführt. Der Fluss überstieg am 18. Juli seine Ufer, hatte alle Widerstände niedergebrochen und überflutete rasch die zunächst gelegenen Teile der Schäß- burger Unterstadt, ihre Gärten und Felder. In derselben Zeit stieg auch der Bach Schaesch gestiegen35 (Abb. 4). Die von den Anrainer getroffenen Schutzmaßnahmen, die im Bau von Schan- zen vor den Häusern und Kellern bestanden, waren unwirksam geblieben, weil Transsilvanica • 49

Abb. 4. Überschwemmungen des Flusses Großkokel bei Schäßburg im Jahr 1771 das Wasser nicht allmählich, sondern plötzlich kam: „In wenigen Augenblicken war das Wasser in alle Keller und tiefer gelegenen Wohnungen eingedrungen. Die Höhe desselben nahm fortwährend zu, so dass es auf dem Markt bis zum Kommandantenhaus, dem jetzigen Stadtwirtshaus, heraustrat, klafterhoch an den Häusern in der Baiergasse vorbeifloss und die unteren Fenster derselben ganz bedeckte.“36 Das Hochwasser hatte große Teile der Schäßburger Unterstadt über- schwemmt und eine zahllose Menge von Früchten, Bäume, Brücken, hölzerne Häuser, Hauseinrichtungen mit sich gerissen, sogar eine Wiege mit einem Kind, die sich mitten in den Wellen befand. Der Strom führte Weinfässer aus den Kel- lern in die Gassen mit sich und lies viel Schlamm liegen.37 Die Zerstörung der beiden Brücken über die Kleinkokel – bei der Beiergas- se und dem Fischhof – verursachte auch die Unterbrechung der Verbindungen zwischen den beiden Teilen der unteren Stadt. Gemäß den Berichten einer Au- genzeugin, soll sich ein Bürger namens Michael Henning auf ein Dach gestellt haben, in der Hoffnung, dass er dort vor der Flut besser geschützt wäre. Er habe in sein Schindeldach ein Loch geschlagen, sei auf die Dachspitze gestiegen und von dort mit verzweifelter Stimme um Hilfe gerufen. Die Erteilung des letzten Segens von einem reformierten Pfarrer ist ein Beweis der menschlichen Solida- rität. Das 50 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

aber stand nicht in menschlichen Kräften; ohne Kahn, ohne Floss konnte ihm Nie- mand beistehen. So weit entfernt von den vom Wasser allein noch unbedeckten Bergen, ringsum von hohen Wellen, die das Nachbarhäuschen bereits verschlungen hatten und bei deren starken Schlag das seine krachend erbebte, umflutet, schien er unrettbar ein Opfer des Wassertodes zu sein. In dieser Voraussetzung bestieg der fromme Siecherhofprediger Trausch den Kreuzberg und bereitete von hier aus den in der höchsten Lebensgefahr schwebenden Mann, vermittelst eines Sprachrohrs, zum Tode vor. Dadurch fühlte sich der Unglückliche in so hohem Grade getröstet, dass er ruhig den Ausgang seines Schicksals abwartete, bis endlich das Wasser fiel und seine Rettung möglich ward.38

Ein zweiter Fall betrifft acht Fleischergesellen aus Schäßburg die von einem Markt zurückkamen als sie von dem Hochwasser überrascht wurden. Weil die Brücken vom Wasser fortgerissen waren, blieben sie von der Stadt abgeschnit- ten. Sie erreichten einen Berg, wo sie drei Tage in einem Bienengarten Unter- kunft fanden. Daraufhin bekamen sie Zehrung und Unterkunft bei einem wa- lachischen Meier. Nachdem auch dessen Speisen aufgebaucht waren, fragten sie nach der Unterstützung des Predigers vom Sichhof, da jedoch die Verbindung mit dem jenseitigen Ufer auch in den folgenden drei Tagen nicht hergestellt werden konnte

bestiegen nämlich mit einem aus Hollunder verfertigten Sprachrohr den Galgen- berg und riefen nach dem gegenüber liegenden Hennerberg, man möge es ihren Angehörigen sagen, sie litten großen Mangel. Kaum hatten diese erfahren, dass die längst Erwarteten am jenseitigen Ufer angekommen seien, so wurde ein Fäss- chen von 10 Eimern mit allerlei Esswaren gefüllt und ein ausgezeichnet tüchtiger Schwimmer Bernhard herbeigeholt, der es im Schwimmen gleichsam ins Schlepptau nahm und den sehnsüchtig Harrenden auch glücklich hinüber brachte. So hausten nun diese von Neuem im Bienengarten, bis endlich an der Stelle der Siechenbrücke mit dem in Schlamm der Kokelufer gefundenen Bauholz ein Steg errichtet und die Verbindung der beiden Ufer wiederhergestellt war.39

Die Opfer waren in Schäßburg minimal: es wurde von einem Leichnam einer unbekannten Frau berichtet. Die Verwüstungen führten aber zum Mangel an Früchten und Heu sowie zur Teuerung der Preise an Nahrungsmittel und Holz, die so spürbar war, dass die Preise beinahe so hoch wie zur Zeit einer Hungers- not waren.40 Der Wasserstand während der Überschwemmung des Jahres 1771 blieb im kollektiven Gedächtnis und wurde an der Rückseite des so genannten Pfaffen- meierhofs eingeschrieben. Dieser Wasserstandmarkierung zufolge betrug die Transsilvanica • 51

Höhe der Flut etwas mehr als 21 Fuß41 über dem mittleren Wasserstande des kleinen Kokels. Er überstieg die damals noch kenntlichen Wasserstandmarkie- rung von 1668.42

3. Überschwemmung in Elisabethstadt. Über die Überschwemmungen in der armenischen Stadt Ebesfálva – auch Elisabethstadt genannt – gibt es keine kon- krete Beschreibungen: aus den verschiedenen Berichten und Gutachten die im österreichischen Staatsarchiv erhalten sind43 sowie aus dem Tagebuch Kaisers Josephs II. der am 2. Juni 177344 diese Stadt besuchte, ergibt sich, dass sie von den Überschwemmungen stark betroffen war und Keller, Handelshäuser und Felder beträchtlich beschädigt würden. Bis zur Errichtung eines Kanals in der zweiten Hälfte des Jahres 1773 hatte der Großkokel einen schädlichen und ge- fährlichen Verlauf und drang an drei Stellen vor der Stadt ein.

Zentrum und Peripherie nach der Krise Maßnahmen des Zentrums

it dem Ziel die Überschwemmungen und das Hochwasser zu be- kämpfen baute die Obrigkeit im Laufe des 18. Jahrhunderts Kanäle. M Der erste Kanal auf dem Gebiet heutigen Rumäniens, Bega-Kanal genannt, wurde von den Österreichern in der Nähe der Stadt Temeswar gebaut, mit dem Zweck, die Sümpfe zu entwässern und eine schiffbare Wasserstraße zu schaffen; in der Walachei hat der Fürst Alexander Ipsilanti (1774-1782) den Bau eines Kanals zwischen den Flüssen Dâmboviþa und Argeº angeordnet, das Ziel dessen Baues war die Ablenkung der Hochwässer, welche die Hauptstadt Bukarest während den Niederschlägen bedrohten.45 In einem „untertänig gehorsamsten“ Gutachten46, das der Kammeral-Buch- halter Waggler am 27. Jänner 1772 von Ebesfálva nach Wien geschickt hatte, ist den Verlauf des Flusses Groß-Kokel beschrieben und der Bau eines Kanals vor der Stadt wurde darin vorgeschlagen (Abb. 5). Der aufgenommene Plan weist zu Beginn ganz klar auf jene drei gefährliche Einfälle und Einschneidungen, die der Fluss Küküllø (Kokel) durch seine Wen- dungen machte, hin. Der erste Einfall des Flusses befand sich bei Punkt H. durch den er die dort gebauten Zigeuner- und Handwerkerwohnungen der Stadt Ebesfálva zu über- schwemmen drohte, und sich seinen Verlauf und Durchbruch bis zur Schmidt- werkstatt in Punkt I. bahnte. Der zweite Einfall des Flusses trat bei I. und K. an, wo der Fluss der Stadt am gefährlichsten zu werden begann; dort waren Stallungen und einige Keller- 52 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Abb. 5. Plan für die Verbesserung des schädlichen Verlauf des Flusses Kokel (1772)

Gebäude gefährdet; daraufhin waren die Gebäuden die in der Nähe des Ufers standen, bedroht. Nach dem die Gebäude eingestürzt waren, nahm der Fluss seinen Verlauf durch die ohnehin vertiefte große Gasse entlang des Platzes, wo er durch den dort befindlichen Wasserkanal oder Graben weiter in Richtung Stadt fortfloss, daraufhin zirka 400 Häuser abschnitt und sodann nach den Felder- Gräben bis hin zur Brücke floss, und dann das neue Brauhaus erreichte. Der dritte Einfall des Flusses stand bei Punkt L., wo er bereits eine Reihe von Meierhöfen und kleinen Häusern überflutet hätte; der Verlauf des Flusses machte hier eine sehr schädliche und spitzige Biegung und drohte immer mehr und mehr in die Stadt einzudringen. Nach einer kurzen Strecke fiel er in eine lange Grube bei Punkt M. ein, wo ein Fischteich gewesen war; von dort führte er ganz leicht seinen Verlauf bis in Punkt N. fort und bis er schlussendlich die links stehende Meierhöfe und Gärten von der Stadt gänzlich abtrennte. Um diese Einfälle des Flusses zu vermeiden, versuchte der Hauptmann Pux- baum weitere Einrisse, Ein- und Abschneidungen und Punkte in der Stadt zu finden, und mit wenigen Kosten den Fluss umzuleiten. Er schlug die Punkte C. bis D. und D. bis O. vor. Im ersten Fall, indem er plante einen Kanal von C. bis D. zu graben, würden die Einfälle I. und K. bleiben und der Punkt L. wäre ungeschützt; im weiten Fall, von von D. bis O., würde eine gefährliche Krümmung des Flusses bei H. bleiben. Wenn man die beiden Möglichkeiten in Transsilvanica • 53

Betracht ziehen würden, so der Autor, würden sie nicht lange dauern, aufgrund des spitzigen Winkels bei D., und der Stadt wäre langfristig nicht geholfen und sie wäre nicht gesichert. Ein natürlicher, bequemer und auch kürzerer Punkt war in A., wo er eine natürliche Verlaufslinie nach E. mit einem roten Streif auf dem Plan bezeichnet hat. Durch diesen Kanal, dessen Bau langfristig geplant und ausgeführt werden musste, konnte der Fluss keine Wendungen gegen der Stadt machen. Der Punkt müsste sicher sein, um die Stadt und die Landstraße vor dem Verlauf der Kokel zu schützen. Eine zweite Möglichkeit, die der Hauptmann mit einer gelben Linie markier- te, hatte den Einleitungspunkt in G. und den Ableitungspunkt in E. und ähnelte der ersten Version des Planes. Der einzige Unterschied in diesem Fall sah er in der Notwendigkeit eines längeren Dammes und im Einrichten der Wehre in südwärts (S.), und daher musste der Fluss schräg eingeleitet werden. Als Joseph II. die Stadt am 2. Juni 1773 besuchte, berichteten ihm die Ar- menier, dass die Schäden der Überschwemmung nicht so groß seien, wie sie befürchtet haben, und sie zeigten, haben ihm den gefährlichen Lauf des Flusses Großkokel. Er bemerkte auch, dass dieser viele Krümmungen machte und dass gegenüberliegende Ufer viel höher als auf der „armenischen“ Seite sei. Er be- fürwortete das Projekt des Hauptmanns Puxbaum, der einen Einschnitt in den Fluss und die Errichtung eines Kanals vorschlug, der dem Fluss einen geraden Lauf geben sollte. Diese Rektifikation des Flusses durch das Entfernen der Han- delsstadt setzte den Bau des Kanals auf der Gemarkung des sächsischen Dorfes Scharosch voraus47, ein Plan, den die Gemeinde von Scharosch nur gegen den Tausch eines armenischen Grundes akzeptieren wollte.48 Diese Form der Unterstützung für eine kleine Stadt könnte vor allem aus dem Interesse der Wiener Politik für den Viehhandel verstanden werden, denn der wirtschaftliche Plan in Siebenbürgen setzte eine Förderung des Kommerzes mit Hornvieh49 voraus, deshalb wollten die österreichischen Ökonomen die armenischen Handelsleute und -städte privilegieren. Ein zweiter wichtiger Beitrag Wiens zum Wiederaufbau nach der Naturka- tastrophe, der hier nicht mehr analysiert werden kann, war der Bau einer neuen Brücke bei Karlsburg, wo ein wichtiger Verkehrsknotenpunkt des Salztransports und des Verkehrs war, und dadurch in den Mittalpunkt des wirtschaftlichen In- teresses Wiens rückte.50 54 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Maßnahmen des Guberniums

as Gubernium war jene Institution, die die kaiserliche Autorität in der Provinz vertrat. Die Kompetenzen des Guberniums waren nicht klar, D sondern knüpften an die politischen und an die administrativen und juridischen Angelegenheiten an. Die Verbindung zwischen dem Wiener Hof und den provinziellen Obrigkeiten war von der Kanzlei, die in Wien agierte, gesichert. Die Verwaltung betreffend war Siebenbürgen in Distrikte, Stühle und Komitate unterteilt.51 Deshalb kann man sagen, dass es in Siebenbürgen mehrere Zentren (Hermannstadt war die Sitz des Guberniums und Hauptstadt der Sachsen; Klausenburg die der Ungaren, Marosvásárhely die der Szekler) gab und somit mehrere Peripherien. In Siebenbürgen gab es schon seit dem Jahre 1770 eine Gubernial-Verord- nung, die jene Steuerbefreiung gewährte, die wegen der Bränden, Überschwem- mungen und dem Hagel Schäden litten hatten.52 Nach einer weiteren Verord- nung, die am 2. Juli 1770 festgesetzt wurde, sollten jene Eigentümer entschä- digt werden, deren Häuser beim Bau von Dämmen und Mühlen, beschädigt wurden.53 Neue Brücken in Schäßburg wurden hingegen fünf Jahre später gebaut. An- fang des Jahres 1777 wird durch eine Verordnung des Schäßburger Magistrates mit der Nr. 186 der Wiederaufbau der Fogarascher Brücke beschlossen.54 Ein Protokoll vom 12. Jänner erwähnte, dass der Bau der Sichhofbrücke dem aus- ländischen Zimmermann Luft übergeben werden soll, der zusammen mit dem Schäßburger Zimmermann Thiess arbeiten sollte.55 Die weggespülte Wench- brücke wurde erst im Jahre 1785 neu gebaut. 56 Über die Verhältnisse zwischen dem Gubernium und den Komitaten erfahren wir in der Zeit nach den Überschwemmungen des Flusses Alt und seines Haupt- nebenflusses Negru (ung. Fekete) im Stuhl Háromszék (rum. Trei Scaune, dt. Drei Stühle).57 Von Hermannstadt wurde die Regulierungen dieser Flüsse 177358, 177859, der Dämme im 177060 und Entwässerung der Sümpfe im Jahre 177861 angeordnet. Aus einer Gubernial-Verordnung wurde schon im Jahr 1772 eine neue Zollbrücke über den Alt zwischen den Dörfern Doboli de Jos und Hãrman gebaut.62 Im Laufe des Jahres 1772 hat das Gubernium Verordnungen betreffend die Instandhaltung der Straßen und Brücken in ganz Siebenbürgen ausgegeben.63 Die Reparationen und Errichtungen von neuen Brücken fanden noch im Jah- re 1784 statt, als das Gubernium von Hermannstadt die Wiedergutmachung der im Jahre 1771 von Hochwässern zerstörten Brücken, sowie den Ankauf der nötigen Bauholz und weiteren Materialien, verordnete.64 Aus den Berichten des Obersten Baron Mazersheim bezüglich der Wiedergutmachung und Errich- Transsilvanica • 55 tung von Straßen und Brücken im Jahre 1784, ergibt sich, dass das Gubernium an deren Entwürfen und Kostenvoranschlägen sehr interessiert war; außerdem, verlangt das Gubernium nähere Informationen über das gestohlene Bauholz das zur Errichtung einer neuen Brücke über den Fluss Alt benötigt worden wäre.65 Darüber hinaus wurden Maßnahmen gegen Krankheiten und Schutzmaß- nahmen gegen die Pest getroffen.66 Die Einwohner, deren Häuser wegen Aus- breitung der Pest und Tierseuchen des Jahres 1771/72 niedergebrannt wurden, erhielten Entschädigungen.67 Gegen diese Tierseuche verordnete das Guberni- um am 2. September 1771 eine Gebrauchsanweisung der Pestwurzel.68 Die Überschwemmungen haben nicht nur zur Kohäsion sondern auch zu Kon- flikten zwischen benachbarten Gemeinden geführt. Im Jahre 1772 entstand eine Streitigkeit zwischen den Dörfern Chilieni und Coºeni vom Háromszéker Stuhl wegen der unrechtmäßigen Inanspruchnahme einer Brücke über den Fluss Alt.69 Auch die Kontakte zwischen den administrativen Einheiten funktionierten nicht immer zufriedenstellend. Die Naturkatastrophe des Jahres 1771 führte nicht zur Solidarität zwischen den lokalen Obrigkeiten; im Gegenteil, die Kon- flikte wurden immer schärfer und die Interessen um Ressourcen blieben wichtiger als den Bau von öffentlichen Anlagen. Eine Tatsache, die zu einem Konflikt zwischen der Stadt Schäßburg und dem Komitat Küküllø im Laufe demselben Jahres entstand, als die Beamten des genannten Komitates Eichenholz aus einem verbotenen Wald vom Schäßburger Stuhl für den Bau einer Brücke verlangten. Dieses Begehren wurde jedoch abgewiesen.70

Verhältnis Zentrum-Peripherie

ährend seiner ersten Reise durch Siebenbürgen im Jahre 1773 bemerkte Joseph II. den Kontrast zwischen dem Fleiß der Bevölkerung W und den Schwachpunkten der Administration und der Bürokratie. Die Ursache dieser Missstände seien die Feindseligkeiten zwischen den privilegierten Ständen in Siebenbürgen (Sachsen, Ungarn, Szeklern) gewesen. Die ständigen Reibungspunkte zwischen den ungarischen Adeligen und sächsischen Patriziern, zwischen den Katholiken und Protestanten hinderten die Bildung einer einheit lichen Verwaltung und die Entwicklung von nachhaltigen Projekten für das Land. In ihren Berichten nach Wien übertrieben die ungarischen und szeklerischen Magnaten und Adeligen die verschiedenen Probleme innerhalb der Sächsischen Universität, andererseits kritisierten die Sachsen systematisch das Verhalten der Adeligen in den Komitaten und im Gubernium, was zu einer gewissen Verwir- rung in der Wiener Hofkanzlei führte. In dieser Art versuchte jede Partei ihre Kandidaten zu fördern und ihre Interessen der Administration vorzubringen.71 56 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Aus den Berichten Josephs II. ergibt sich sein Wünsch, die sozial-politischen Probleme Siebenbürgens aus der Sicht des Zentralismus und des aufgeklärten Rationalismus zu lösen. Andererseits kann man bemerken, dass die siebenbürgi- sche Gesellschaft relativ rigide im Vergleich zu anderen Gesellschaften der habsburgischen Monarchie gewesen ist, seine Wahrnehmung als fremder Reisender und erfahrener Politiker war hingegen klarer und objektiver als die der lokalen Stände. Sein Interesse fokussierte auf die Funktionsstörungen und Unzufrieden- heit im Lande, die für die siebenbürgische Gesellschaft spezifisch waren und die bis zur Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts Siebenbürgen haltend blieben.72 Wie Kaiser Joseph II. in seinem am 10. Juli 1773 von Hermannstadt an seine Mutter nach Wien gesendeten Bericht bemerkte, seien die zu befürwor- tenden Projekte wegen den Kabalen, der Widersprüche und religiösen Proble- men gescheitert: „man hätte die Menschen, nicht die Probleme gehalten“. Das Haupthindernis bestand in die mangelnden Umsetzung der Pläne, aufgrund der Unkenntnis der lokalen Realitäten von den kaiserlichen Ratgebern und Hofre- ferenten.73

Lokalen Schutzmaßnahmen und Katastrophenkultur

ie praktischen Maßnahmen, die der Gesellschaft zur Vermeidung von Katastrophen zur Verfügung standen waren ziemlich schwach und in- effektiv. Sie wurden manchmal von magisch-religiösen Praktiken unter- D 74 stützt: Talismane, Wallfahrten, usw. Aus der Heidendorfs Biographie sowie aus der Darstellung der Überschwem- mungen in Schäßburg und das Verhalten der Menschen, ergibt sich, dass für die Menschen des 18. Jahrhunderts solche Phänomene nicht als Naturereignisse, sondern als Zeichen einer übernatürlichen Kraft galten. Auch die verwende- ten Wörter, wie Sintflut, führen uns zur Idee eines biblischen Ereignisses und zur göttlichen Strafe die den Weltuntergang suggeriert. Die Autoren dieser Be- schreibungen erklärten zwar die natürliche Ursache der Überschwemmungen, aber sie lebten noch in der Vorstellung göttlicher Bestraffungen. Andererseits ist festzustellen, dass die Einwohner dieser zwei sächsischen Gemeinden eine Kata- strophenkultur lebten – sie behielten den höchsten Wasserstand einer früheren Überschwemmung in Form von Wasserstandmarkierungen in Erinnerung, oder fertigten Verteidigungsschanzen an um den Transport von Lebensmitteln über den Fluss zu gewährleisten. Die traditionelle Mentalität blieb so unter einem mittelalterlichen denken verhaftet, dem gemäß das ganze sichtbare Universum eine Doppelbedeutung habe, und dass das unsichtbare Universum mit feindlichen Wesen bevölkert sei. Transsilvanica • 57

Die Wirkung dieser Naturkatastrophen führte zur Schlussfolgerung, dass die städtischen und dörflichen Gesellschaften immer noch an die Anwesenheit von göttlichen Zeichen glaubten, die ihnen die Zukunft und das Schicksal ankün- digten. Die Naturereignisse konnten nicht kontrolliert werden, die umgebende Natur war mysteriös und bedrohlich.

Schlussfolgerung

n einem weitem Kontext der Hungersnöte, Tierseuchen, Pest und Über- schwemmungen, hat das Zentrum Wien vor allem direkt dort geholfen, wo I sein wirtschaftliches Interesse wichtig war. Der Bau des Rinnsals bei Elisa- bethstadt wurde auf der Gemarkung Heves des sächsischen Dorfes Scharosch zum Vorteil der armenischen Handelsstadt durchgeführt. Die siebenbürgisch- sächsischen Städte Mediasch und Schäßburg bekamen vom Zentrum Wien keine Unterstützung, obwohl ihre wirtschaftliche Kraft viel stärker wichtiger als der armenischen Ebesfálva war. Der Hauptgrund der schlechten Verhältnisse zwischen Wien und der/den siebenbürgischen Peripherie(n) bestand in den permanenten Streitigkeiten der Stände und ihrer Vertreter. Als zweiter Grund könnte der komplizierte bürokra- tische Apparat Siebenbürgens betrachtet werden. Besser scheint es zwischen den Gemeindemitgliedern funktioniert zu haben, wo es eine gegenseitige materielle Unterstützung und eine gewisse Katastro- phenkultur gab, sowie zwischen dem Zentrum Hermannstadt und den Obrig- keiten der Stühle, Komitate und Städte. Einige Gemeinden erachteten das Interesse an die Ressource Holz als wichtiger als jenes für das Gemeinwohl, nämlich in der Errichtung von öffentlichen Bauten usw. Hierbei sind als Beispiel, die der Verhältnisse der Stadt Schäßburg/ Komitat Küküllø im Bezug auf das Bauholz zu erwähnen und Elisabethstadt/ Scharosch wegen den Grund-Heves, der letztendlich den Sachsen den Zugang an einem Wald sicherte und deshalb Verhandlungsobjekt geworden war. Man kann auch behaupten, dass der Bau von öffentlichen Anlagen anstatt zur Besei- tigung der Krise zu Konflikten geführt hatte. Die Naturkatastrophe des Jahres 1771 stellte kein Verbindungselement zwischen dem Zentrum Wien und der Peripherie Siebenbürgen dar, sondern ver- band verschiedene Zentren und kleineren Peripherien. Abhängig davon, waren eben die jeweiligen Interessen an den Infrastrukturen wichtig. q 58 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Anmerkungen

1. Vgl. Toader Nicoarã: Variaþii climaterice ºi mentalitãþi colective în secolul al XVIII- lea ºi începutul secolului al XIX-lea (1700-1830). In: Studii ºi comunicãri, VII-VIII, Satu Mare 1986-1987, S. 253. 2. Sigmund Konrad: Quellen zur Geschichte des Stadtwaldes von Schäßburg, Manuskript, Siebenbürgisches Archiv Gundelsheim, A VIII 189, Bd. II, Nr. 135, S. 32. Arhivele Naþionale ale României (anr), Serviciul Judeþean (sj) Covasna, Fond Scaunul Trei Scaune, Inventarnummer 2, 1778, VIII. 4, S. 1-18. 3. Vgl. Karl Vocelka: Glanz und Untergang der höfischen Welt. Repräsentation, Re- form und Reaktion im habsburgischen Vielvölkerstaat. In: Österreichische Ge- schichte 1699-1815, hg. von Herwig Wolfram, ub Innsbruck 2004, S. 329-330. 4. Vgl. Paul Cernovodeanu und Paul Binder: Cavalerii apocalipsului, Bukarest 1993, S. 125-214. 5. Vgl. Joseph Nussbaumer: Die Gewalt der Natur. Eine Chronik der Naturkatastro- phen von 1500 bis Heute, Grünbach 1996, S. 107-108. 6. Vgl. Vocelka: Glanz und Untergang, S. 329-330. 7. Ebd. 8. Vgl. Gustav Gündisch: Deutsche Bewerkssiedlungen in dem siebenbürgischen Erz gebierge. In: Deutsche Forschungen in Südosten, 1, 1942, S. 53-81. 9. Vgl. Historisch-Politische Beschreibung des Großfürstentums Siebenbürgen, 1775, Österreichische Staatsarchiv, Kriegsarchiv, K VII k 341, Manuskript, angefertigt auf Weisung des Hofkriegsrates vom 18. Mai 1771, Kap. 4, s.p. 10. Vgl. Avram Andea, Aurel Rãduþiu und Nicolae Edroiu: Istoria României. Transilva- nia. Bd. 1, Cluj-Napoca 1997, S. 647-744. 11. Vgl. Friedrich Teutsch: Aufzeichnungen aus dem 17. und 18. Jahrhundert, K 3 (1880), S. 53-55 [Memoiren-Tagebücher, Briefe, Reiseberichte, Memoiren], auch in: Michael Conrad von Heidendorf. Eine Selbstbiographie. Mitgeteilt von Dr. Rudolf Theil. In: Archiv des Vereins für siebenbürgische Landeskunde, nf, XVI, 1880, S. 190-193. 12. Der Artikel hatte den Titel „Die Überschwemmung Schäßburgs im Jahre 1771“ und ist im „Sächsischer Hausfreund. Ein Kalender für Siebenbürger zur Unterhal- tung und Belehrung auf das Sächsische 1852“, XIV. Jahrgang, S. 112-114, in Her- mannstadt erschienen. 13. Nicoarã: Variaþii climaterice ºi mentalitãþi colective, S. 247-264. 14. Cernovodeanu und Binder: Cavalerii apocalipsului, S. 164-165. 15. Wie zum Beispiel Kelp Georg: Grossprobstdorf, München 1999, S. 59. 16. Das Hochwasser aus März-April 1932, das die Überschwemmungen der beiden Kokel verursachte, fand sowohl der Schneeverschmelzung als auch des Regens und der plötzlichen Hochtemperaturen statt. (Vgl. Victor Sorocovschi: Podiºul Târna- velor. Studiu hidrogeografic, Cluj-Napoca 1996, S. 105-106.) 17. Die Überschwemmungen vom Mai 1970 betrafen nicht nur das Kokel-Hochland, sondern das ganz Siebenbürgen. Als Ursachen können die Schneeschmelze in den Gebirgen sowie die langandauernden Niederschläge auf ausgedehnten Flächen Transsilvanica • 59

herangezogen werden. (Vgl. Andrei Doneaud: Un fenomen meteorologic rar în- tâlnit în þara noastrã, cu caracter catastrofal. In: Hidrotehnica, Bukarest 1970, S. 615-619.) 18. Zwischen 1. und 3. Juli 1975 wurden besonders starke und andauernden Nieder- schläge gezeichnet werden, die katastrophalen Überschwemmungen im Kokelgebiet, in ganzen Siebenbürgen und im Südosten Rumäniens verursacht haben. (Vgl. Ioan Zãvoianu und M. Podani: Les inondations catastrophiques de l’année 1975 en Rou manie. In: Revista românã de geologie, geofizicã ºi geografie, 21, Bukarest 1977.) 19. Vgl. P. Stanciu, G. Nedelcu und Gh. Nicula: Hazardurile hidrologice din România. In: Mediul ambiant, Bukarest, Nr. 5 (23), Oktober 2005, S. 11-17. 20. Vgl. Lucian Badea (Hg.): Geografia României. Bd. I. Geografia fizicã. Bukarest 1983, S. 331. 21. Vgl. Sorocovschi: Podiºul Târnavelor, S. 86-87. 22. Ebd., S. 46-49. 23. Vgl. Aurel Constantin Ilie: Amenajarea complexã a bazinelor hidrografice, Bukarest 2007, S. 83-89. 24. Vgl. Sorocovschi: Podiºul Târnavelor, S. 103-124. 25. Vgl. Ilie: Amenajarea, S. 85-86. 26. Vgl. Nicolae Josan: Inundaþiile din luna mai 1970 de pe Târnava Micã (Podiºul Transilvaniei). In: Studii ºi cercetãri de geologie, geofizicã ºi geografie, XVIII, 1, Bukarest 1971; Gustav Servatius: Viiturile ºi inundaþiile Târnavei Mari la Mediaº în 1970. In: Buletinul Societãþii de ªtiinþe Geografice din România, nf, III (LXXIII), Bukarest 1973; Ders: Die Hochwasserkatastrophe der Großen Kokel von 1970 in Mediasch. In: Zeitschrift für siebenbürgische Landeskunde, 13 (84), 1990, S. 217- 219; Nicolae Josan und Alexandru Sãndulache: Inundaþiile din luna mai 1970 pe Târnava Mare. In: Lucrãri ºtiinþifice, ªtiinþe Geografice, Oradea 1971. 27. Vgl. Florin Lãzãrescu und Maria Nicolau: Amenajarea complexã pentru combaterea inundaþiiilor din zona Târnãveni. In: Hidrotehnica, Bd. 23, Nr. 6, Bukarest 1978, S. 136-138. 28. Vgl. Historisch-Politische Beschreibung des Großfürstentums Siebenbürgen, 1775, Österreichische Staatsarchiv, Kriegsarchiv, K VII k 341, Manuskript, angefertigt auf Weisung des hkr vom 18. Mai 1771, Erster Absatz. Erstes Kapitel: von der Lage und Beschaffenheit des Landes, s.p. 29. „Das Wasser floss hinter dem Galgenberge über alle Häme, dass man weder Wei- den, viel weniger Gras sah. Die Füße der das Tal einschließenden Reihen von Ber- gen waren die Ufer des unerhörten und schrecklichen Stroms. Unsere große Mühle stand bis ans Dach im Wasser, so dass man nicht auf das Gebäude kommen konnte. Die Mühlgasse und Maierhöfe vor dem Steingässer Tor und dem Badergassen Türel standen ganz im Wasser. Das Wasser ging bei dem Steingässer Tor bis auf etwa 20 Klafter vom Tor und auf der anderen Seite des Flusses bis an den Fuß des Burg- berges. Die Baderau war ganz überschwemmt, wie auch die zwischen dem Stein gässer Tor und Badergässer wie auch Kotgässer Türel gelegenen Gärten, also dass das auf den Maierhöfen auf der Baderau befindliche Vieh durch die Gärten auf dem zwischen dem Steingässer Tor und Badegässer Türel befindlichen Schanz heraus 60 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

schwamm. Die Klausenburger Wiese war ganz überschwemmt, so dass man kein Gras darauf sah. Von dem zwischen dem Steingässer Tor und dem Badergässer Türel befindlichen Schanz fortan bis an den Weinbuchels war nichts als Wasser zu sehen und alles ein Strom. Dieses schreckliches Wasser war nicht succesive, sondern in ein paar Minuten gleichsam auf einmal angewachsen, also dass sich die armen Mühl gässer und Vorstadt Maierer kaum auf den Stubenböden und Scheuer-Balken ihr Leben hatten retten können. Ja der auf der Klausenburger Wiese wohnende Maier hatte sich mit seinen Kindern vor der grausamen Flut auf den dort befindlichen Erdbeerbaum gerettet. Die ganze Stadt wurde Munter und ging in die Nacht vor das Steingässer und Czekescher Tor.“ (Heidendorf: Selbstbiographie, S. 190.) 30. „Auf das Geheul und Wehklagen der armen Mühlgässer, welche, ihren Tod vor Augen sehend, schreiend baten, dass man ihnen auf die Leiche läuten sollte, wurden wirklich in der Nacht um 12 Uhr in der Stadt die Glocken wie zur Leiche gezogen, welches diese Nacht noch schrecklicher machte“ (Heidendorf: Selbstbiographie, S. 191). 31. „Den anderen Tag, nämlich den 19. Vormittag ritt ich auf die Vogelstange, um von dort mir einen größeren Begriff von der Überschwemmung zu machen, und sah wirklich das ganze Tal ober und unter der Stadt voll Wasser. In der Rohrau sah man von eines Berges Fuß bis zum anderen nichts als Wasser; von dem Flüsschen, welches sich aus dem Walde in die Rohrau versenkt bis nach Probstdorf, war alles ein Wasser, welches gleich einer Sintflut um so fürchterlicher aussah, weil die Berge mit Nebel von allen Seiten bedeckt waren und gleichsam mit einer noch größeren Flut drohten. Durch diese große Überschwemmung wurden denn nicht nur alle unsere Wiesen verdorben, sondern auch die schöne, erst vor 12 Jahren gebaute Kokelbrücke also weggeführt, dass nur der mittlere Kasten stehen blieb. Es dauerte diese Flut bis den 19. gegen Abend unter beständigen Regen immer fort. Sodann fiel das Wasser etwa drei Klaftern; den 24. gegen Mittag aber wuchs solches abermals dermaßen an, dass es nur um eine halbe Klafter niederer war, als den 19“ (Ebd., S. 192). 32. „Dass nun diese gleichsam allgemeine Überschwemmung des Landes patente stinkende Wasser, infizierte kranke Luft, Mangel an Heu, mageres Vieh, Krankheiten zwischen dem Vieh, Mangel an Früchten und anderes Elend nach sich ziehen wird, ist leicht vorzusehen. Ob solche aber nicht auch eine Vorbedeutung auf andere außerordentliche Landesplagen sein dürfte, wird uns die Zukunft schon lehren“ (Ebd.). 33. Ebd., S. 193. 34. Vgl. Historisch-Politische Beschreibung des Großfürstentums Siebenbürgen, 1775, Österreichische Staatsarchiv, Kriegsarchiv, K VII k 341, Manuskript, angefertigt auf Weisung des hkr vom 18. Mai 1771, Erster Absatz. Erstes Kapitel: von der Lage und Beschaffenheit des Landes, s.p. 35. Vgl. Sächsischer Hausfreund. Ein Kalender für Siebenbürger zur Unterhaltung und Belehrung auf das Sächsische 1852, XIV. Jahrgang, S. 112. 36. Vgl. Sächsischer Hausfreund, S. 112-113. 37. Vgl. Ebd., S. 113. 38. Ebd. Transsilvanica • 61

39. Ebd., S. 114. 40. Ebd. 41. Nach Wiener Maaß = 6638 mm. 42. Der Wasserstand während der Überschwemmung des Jahres 1668 wurde in Schäßburg an mehreren Häusern markiert. (Vgl. D. Hain: Beiträge zur Witterung- skunde Siebenbürgens. In: Programm des evangelischen Gymnasiums in Schässburg und der damit verbundenen Lehranstalten zum Schluss des Schuljahres 1853/4, herausgegeben von der Gymnasialdirektion, Kronstadt 1854, S. 21.) 43. Vgl. Plan von dem schädlichen Lauff des an der Armenischen Stadt Ebesfalva vor- beyfliessenden Fluss Küküllø. Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Finanz- und Hofkam- merarchiv, Siebenbürgische Kammerale, 350, S. 208-230. 44. Vgl. Ileana Bozac und Teodor Pavel: Cãlãtoria împãratului Iosif al II-lea în Transil- vania la 1773/Die Reise des Kaisers II. durch Siebenbürgen im Jahre 1773, Bd. 1, 2. Aufl., Cluj-Napoca/Klausenburg 2007, S. 555. 45. Cernovodeanu und Binder: Cavalerii, S. 23. 46. Plan von dem schädlichen Lauff des an der Armenischen Stadt Ebesfalva vorbey- fliessenden Fluss Küküllø. Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Finanz- und Hofkammer- archiv, Siebenbürgische Kammerale, 350, S. 202-205. 47. Vgl. Bozac und Pavel: Cãlãtoria împãratului, Bd. 1, S. 612-613. 48. Vgl. Helmut Mosberger: Scharosch an der Großen Kokel, Eigenverlag, 2004, S. 42-43. 49. Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv Wien, Familienarchiv, Hofreisen, Karton 7, S. 774-783. 50. Brückenbau über den Maros Fluß unweit Karlsburg bey dem Portu gegen Dorf Orda. In: Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Finanz- und Hofkammerarchiv, Siebenbür- gische Akten, 350 (1763-1773), S. 1533-1627. 51. Vgl. Bozac und Pavel: Cãlãtoria împãratului, Bd. I, S. 83-89. 52. Vgl. anr, sj Covasna, Fond Scaunul Trei Scaune, Inventarnummer 2, 1770, 92, S. 1-10. 53. Vgl. anr, sj Covasna, Inventarnummer 2, 24, 1770, 2. Juli, S. 1-2. 54. Vgl. Konrad: Quellen, Nr. 172, S. 35. 55. Vgl. ebd., Nr. 173, S. 35. 56. Vgl. ebd., Nr. 259, S.50. 57. Vgl. anr, sj Covasna, Inventarnummer 2, 1771, II.2, S. 1-27; 1772, II.21, S. 1-6. 58. Vgl. ebd., 1773, V.3, S. 1-3. 59. Vgl. ebd., 1778, V.3, S. 1-2. 60. Vgl. ebd., 24, 1770, 2. Juli, S. 1-2. 61. Vgl. ebd., 1778, V.3, S. 1-2. 62. Vgl. ebd., 1772, VI.6, S. 1-7. 63. Vgl. ebd., 1772, V.2, S. 1-11. 64. Vgl. ebd., 1784, V.2, S. 1-38. 65. Vgl. ebd., 1784, V.2, S. 1-38. 66. Vgl. ebd., 1771, VIII. 4, S. 1-117. 62 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

67. Vgl. ebd., 1778, VIII. 4, S. 1-18. 68. Sie bestand aus einer handvoll grüner oder nach dem trockenen zu Pulver zer- stoßene Wurzeln und wurden mit vier-fünf mal so viel Kleie und einer handvoll Salz gemischt und zum Viehfuttern gegeben. Wenn die Wurzeln grün sind, so werden sie in kochendes Wasser geschüttet und lau verabreicht. (Vgl. Konrad: Quellen, Nr. 135, S. 32.) 69. Vgl. anr, sj Covasna, Inventarnummer 2, 1773, II.8, S. 29-30. 70. Vgl. Konrad: Quellen, Nr. 178, S. 38. 71. Vgl. Bozac und Pavel: Cãlãtoria împãratului, Bd. I, S. 55-77. 72. Vgl. ebd., S. 101. 73. Vgl. ebd., S. 714-715. 74. Vgl. Nicoarã: Variaþii, S. 262.

Abstract The Floods of 1771 in Transylvania: The Role of the Center and the Periphery in Solving the Crisis

The study aims to present and analyse the relations between the Austrian authorities in Transylva- nia and the local population during the 1771 floods on the Târnava Plateau. In the wider context of the famine, epizootics, plague and floods, the Viennese authorities intervened wherever they had a significant economic interest. The main reason for the bad relations between the center and the Transylvanian peripheries was the constant tension between the Estates and their representatives. The second reason was the cumbersome administrative apparatus of the Transylvanian Principality. It appears that the relations between the members of communities where there was mutual material assistance and a disaster culture, such as between the center of Sibiu and the authorities of seats, counties and towns, were somewhat better. One can also argue that the construction of buildings and objects of public interest became a source of conflict instead of solving the crisis. The natural disaster of 1771 did not strengthen the link between the Viennese center and the Transylvanian periphery, but rather between the various smaller provincial centers and peripheries. Still, this link depended on momentary interests.

Keywords floods, famine, central and local authorities, nutrition, perception of disasters, Saxons, Romani- ans, Catholics, Lutherans, Orthodox Patterns in Family Relationships in 19th Century Transylvania Data from the Historical Population D a n i e l a M â r z a Database of Transylvania

In 19th century Transylvania, kin- Necronymic naming is, first ship played an essential role in social of all, a tool for analyzing life, being part of a system that offered a sense of belonging, an identity, but family relationships, because also solidarity and mutual support. The it highlights the significance information about the Transylvanian family structures of this period comes of names as a factor of iden- largely from ethnographic research. In tification and solidarity addition to this, a new direction in the within the family. history of the family can be followed and explored, thanks to a historical population database of Transylvania (known as hpdt), under construction at the Center for Population Studies of Babeş-Bolyai University (the public version of this database is available at http://hpdt.ro:4080/). This will allow, for the first time in Romanian historiography, an extensive analysis of the family relationships in this region. To this date, hpdt includes over 30 localities, with data collected from parish registers covering over 100 years Daniela Mârza Researcher at the Center for Transylva- This work was supported by uefiscdi, pro- nian Studies, Romanian Academy. ject number pn-ii-tu-te-2014-4-2208. 64 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

(1800–1914). One way to reconstitute the dynamics of family relationships, possible with hpdt, is by way of onomastics, through the analysis of the names given to children at birth. Child naming is an essential act within the family, and the name is never chosen at random, but has a particular meaning for the child’s parents. The factors that determine the choice of a name vary greatly from one period to another, and from one region to another.1 Through naming, the child receives an identity, being integrated into the family, and at the same time in the community, he is socialized and placed within a hierarchy.2 In 19th century Transylvania, people relied heavily on family ties, both in everyday life and at special events. In this context, the naming of children was not at all random. The recurrence of certain names, and not of others, in a particular family during three or four generations, could be an indication of the type and the quality of links in that family.3 The name of the child was chosen according to several criteria: the first-born male often received the name of his paternal grandfather or that of his father; at other times, the nearest holiday was considered, in which case the child was baptized with the name of that saint.4 In some communities, the reason why the child was given the name of grandparents or grandparents was the belief that they were beneficial spirits who watched over the family. Sometimes children were given the names of more important people in the village, believing that their qualities could be passed on to the children in question.5 Among these practices, one in particular suggests that names made an essential contribution to the strengthening and perpetuation of the fabric of the family: the so-called “necronymic naming”: naming a child after a deceased sibling, a common practice throughout the world, from the Middle Ages to the 19th century. To analyze this practice, two localities included in hpdt were selected: Ocna- Mureş and Rãzboieni-Cetate (1811–1914). Ocna-Mureş was a mining town (salt mines), with an ethnically diverse population (Romanians, Hungarians, Jews, Germans, Gypsies), with many denominations (Greek Catholic, Ortho- dox, Roman Catholic, Calvinist). Rãzboieni-Cetate was a neighboring village, with Orthodox Romanians and Calvinist Hungarians. This diversity was the main reason why these two localities were chosen. More than 10,000 births were registered, and about 10% of them involve necronymic naming. This practice is common to all the Christian denominations, to Romanians, Hungarians and Germans; not even one case was found within the Jewish community. To better understand this practice, some examples are given below. Transsilvanica • 65

The first is of a couple from Ocna-Mureº, Albert Gulácsi (born in 1844) and Rozalia Roºca (born in 1847). Between 1871 and 1889, they had nine children, including three sons named Albert (obviously the father’s name), and two daughters named Józéfa (Rosalia Roºca, among others, had a sister called Iosefa). Among the children, there was also a boy baptized with the name of the paternal grandfather, István. The parents of Rozalia Roºca, Iuliana Herin and Cosma Roşca, gave their descendants their own names, also having, among others, a son named Cosma and a daughter named Iuliana. The available records do not contain more data about the grandparents’ families, so the analysis of names cannot be extended to more generations. Another example is from Rãzboieni-Cetate: the couple Agripina Câmpean and Ioan Vasinc had thirteen children between 1884 and 1901 (including two pairs of twins). Among these, there were four daughters named Maria, two daughters named Ana, two daughters named Victoria, two sons named Alexandru, and two sons named Ieronim. Most of these children died at an early age; the table below shows the succession of their births and deaths:

Child name Date of birth Date of death Alexandru 11.07.1884 03.08.1884 Maria 29.05.1885 22.06.1885 Ana 29.05.1886 01.06.1886 Maria 29.05.1886 30.01.1892 Victoria 08.02.1888 07.05.1890 Maria 12.05.1890 28.05.1890 Victoria 16.08.1891 05.03.1932 Alexandru 09.09.1893 Unknown Maria 23.08.1895 23.07.1896 Ana 07.06.1897 Unknown Ieronim 25.12.1898 02.05.1899 Lazãr 25.12.1898 Unknown Ieronim 19.01.1901 Unknown

We see that this couple really wanted to have the name Maria in the family, since it so named four of their daughters. The first, born in 1885, lived for only three weeks; the second, born in 1886, died in 1892; in 1890, another newborn girl was baptized Maria, but she lived only for a few days. The fourth Maria, born in 1895, lived for less than a year. The name Maria, being the name of the Virgin, has always been popular on the Romanian territory, but this is not enough to explain the determination of that couple to have this name in the family. Unfor- tunately, there is not enough data to reconstruct the extended family. The only 66 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) information found was that the father of these children, Ioan Vasinc, had two sisters named Maria. In some cases, a child began to be called with the name of a dead sibling, even though she had initially been baptized with her own name. Such is the case of Veronica Aldea from Ocna-Mureş, born on 19.11.1857, who had an older sister, Elisabeta (b. 9.08.1855, d. 27.01.1857). At some point, over the years, it seems that Veronica began to be called with the name of her dead sister, because the record of her marriages stated: “The bride is called today Elisabeta after an older sister who died, but her name at baptism was Veronica.”

n order to identify the possible patterns in child naming, and to deduce from it the existing patterns in the structure of the extended family, it is nec- I essary to reconstitute the families for at least three or four generations. This is, unfortunately, possible only in a limited number of cases, due to the lack of information from sources. Thus, not all the births, marriages and deaths in the parishes were recorded in the parish registers, mainly because of the negligence of the priests (those who had the duty to record these events). Other confusing situations are those of people with common names living in the community, with similar birth dates, whose family of affiliation is hard to establish. One such example is that of Iacob Damian of Rãzboieni, the father of nine children between 1879 and 1897: trying to identify his parents, one may found out that he could be the son, born in 1854, of the couple Anisia and Onisim Damian, or of the couple Maria and ªtefan Damian (in which case he would have been born in 1853). There are no clues in the registers to correctly establish his affiliation, and therefore it is not possible to reconstitute his family. In many parish registers, when the baptism (birth) is recorded, the mother of the child is often mentioned only by her forename, making it difficult to establish her family of origin, and the recurrence of certain names. Another major difficulty is that the names of people included in hpdt are not yet standardized: a person’s name can be written in many ways, depend- ing on the competence of the clerk who recorded the event, and on the time it took place (a common example is the name Ioan, written as such, or Ion, Iuon, Juon, Ioannes, Joannes, János, Johann). For this reason, the family reconstitution cannot be done automatically, but only manually, being a very slow and time-consuming process. Unfortunately, Romania does not yet have a large-scale, standardized historical population database, in contrast to other countries in Europe and America. For this reason, studying family structures and dynamics through family reconstitution is still at the beginning. Transsilvanica • 67

Only a few dozen families have been reconstituted until now. Until the com- pletion of this process, which will result in an extensive paper, some examples of reconstituted families, with recurrent names, may be given. One of it is the Baciu family of Ocna-Mureº, a large family with three–four generations recorded throughout the entire period covered by the registers. The- re are 35 families with the name Baciu; some used necronymic naming, others did not. The reconstruction of as many of them as possible enables us to notice the recurrence of names, and their possible significance in the case of necronymic naming. Unfortunately, there is no data in the registers to accurately reconstitute all the families on both maternal and paternal lines. As far as the existing data allowed, we followed a branch of the Baciu family starting with the couple Ioan Baciu (b. 1813) and Oana Dãnilã (b. 1813). They had eight children between 1834 and 1850 (Augustin, Cruciþa, Maria, Nicolae, Vasile, Iosif, Sava, Ioan). The parents of Ioan Baciu were Sava and Nicolae Baciu, who had three children between 1811 and 1816—Ioan, Chiriana and Maria. The parents of Oana Dãnilã had two children between 1813 and 1816, Oana and Nicolae. The relationship between their names can be summarized as follows:

Year Relative after which Grandparents Parents Children of birth the child was named Augustin 1834 Unknown Sava Ioan Baciu Cruciþa 1836 Unknown Nicolae Baciu b. 1813 Maria 1837 Father’s sister Nicolae 1840 Paternal grandfather/ Mother’s brother Ana Oana Dãnilã Vasile 1843 Maternal grandfather Vasile Dãnilã b.1813 Iosif 1844 Unknown Sava 1847 Paternal grandmother Ioan 1850 Father’s name

Of the children of this couple, it was possible to reconstitute only the families of two: Augustin (b. 1834) and Nicolae (b. 1840). The first-born of this couple, Augustin, was married to Ioana Vlad (daughter of Lina Codre and Ioan Vlad), and had five children, including two daughters named Maria. His wife came from a family of seven children: Iudita, Ioana, Melintie, Nicolae, Ieremia, Ana Cruciþa, and Ieremia (there is a case of necronymic naming, with Ieremia). The relationship between their names can be summarized as follows: 68 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Year Relative after which Grandparents Parents Children of birth the child has named Ioan Baciu Augustin Baciu Maria 1864 Father’s sister Oana Danila b. 1834 Maria 1865 Father’s sister (necronymic naming) Ioan 1867 Paternal grandfather Lina Codre Ioana Vlad Ana 1869 Maternal great-grandmother Ioan Vlad b. 1842 Maternal great-grandfather/ Vasile 1872 father’s brother

Another child of the couple Ioan Baciu and Oana Dãnilã was Nicolae (b. 1840), married to Iustina Deac (b. 1845). This Iustina, daughter of Maria Muntea- nu and Ioan Deac, had five siblings—Augustin, Maria, Veronica, Nicolae, and Veronica. In this case, there are also records relating to the wife’s grandparents, both maternal and paternal. Iustina Deac’s maternal grandparents were Ana and Ioan Munteanu who, between 1815 and 1829, had seven children: Tatiana, Maria, Nicolae, Veronica, Paraschiva, Ioan, and Oana. The paternal grandparents were Maria Florea and Crãciun Deac, who had eight children between 1818 and 1837: Ioan, Nicolae, Grigore, Ana, Maria Lina, Anastasia, George, and Anastasia. The relationship between the names of the children of Nicolae Baciu and Iustina Deac with those of the extended family can be summarized as follows:

Year Relative after which Grandparents Parents Children of birth the child was named Iosif 1868 Father’s brother Ioan Baciu Nicolae Baciu Veronica 1870 Mother’s sister/Grandmother’s sister Oana Danila b. 1840 Iosif 1872 Necronymic naming Nicolae 1878 Father’s name/Mother’s brother Nicodim 1880 Unknown Ilarie 1883 Unknown Maria Muntean Iustina Deac Silvia 1885 Unknown Ioan Deac b.1845 Maternal grandmother/ Maria 1888 Mother’s sister/Father’s sister

Going to the next generation, it was possible to reconstitute the family of one of the sons of the couple Augustin Baciu (b. 1834) and Ioana Vlad (b. 1842), mentioned above. This one, named Ioan (b. 1867), was married to Maria Macaveiu (born 1873), and had eight children, including three sons named Ioan. In this case, there was also available data pertaining to the wife’s family—the parents Maria Roşca and Ioan Macaveiu, the siblings Veronica, Vasile, Ioan, Ana, and Rozalia. The relationship between their names can be summarized as follows: Transsilvanica • 69

Year of Relative after which Grandparents Parents Children birth the child was named Father’s name/Maternal Ioan 1893 Augustin Baciu Ioan Baciu grandfather’s name/Mother’s brother Ioana Vlad b. 1867 Augustin 1894 Grandfather’s name Mother’s name/Maternal Maria 1896 grandmother’s name/Father’s sister Ioan 1899 Necronymic naming Maria Roºca Maria Macaveiu Ana 1902 Father’s sister/Mother’s sister Ioan Macaveiu b. 1873 Victor 1906 Unknown Rozalia 1908 Mother’s sister Ioan 1910 Necronymic naming

The number of families reconstituted so far is too small to show clear patterns in assigning children’s names. Even the practice of naming the first-born male after his paternal grandfather or after his father is not general, as ethnographic studies suggest. So far, we have noticed that the naming of children after the siblings of their parents or grandparents (uncles and aunts) is quite frequent, which sup- ports the theory that the relationships between siblings were the building blocks of kinship.6 As a conclusion, necronymic naming is a practice whose meaning is not yet fully analyzed and understood. Perhaps, as some scholars say, it is inspired by the hope of neutralizing death with the promise of rebirth.7 This practice may also suggest that the name was part of the heritage of a family, that through such a name both the qualities of a person and the relationship of that person with the family were symbolically transmitted.8 Although it is an interesting practice in itself, necronymic naming is, first of all, a tool for analyzing family relationships, because it highlights the significance of names as a factor of identification and solidarity within the family. q

Notes

1. David Warren Sabean, Kinship in Neckarhausen, 1700–1870 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), XXV. 2. Rodica Colta, De la naştere la moarte: rituri domestice şi alte comportamente rituale contextualizate din judeþul Arad (Bucharest: Ed. Etnologicã, 2015), 35. 3. See Nicolae Constantinescu, Etnologia ºi folclorul relaþiilor de rudenie (Bucharest: Univers, 2000). 4. Lazãr Temian, “Obiceiuri, credinþe ºi practici în legãturã cu naºterea,” Memoria Ethno- logica (Baia Mare) 16–17 (July–December), 5 (2005): 1617. 70 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

5. Pamfil Bilþiu, “Obiceiuri de naştere din Þara Lãpuşului,” Memoria Ethnologica, 46– 47 (January–June), 13 (2013): 130. 6. Sabean, 24. 7. Stephen Wilson, The Means of Naming: A Social and Cultural History of Personal Naming in Western Europe (London: ucl Press, 1998), 224. 8. Frans van Poppel, Gerrit Bloothooft, Doreen Gerritzen, and Jan Verdun, “Naming for Kin and the Development of Modern Family Structures,” The History of the Fam- ily 4, 3 (1999): 263.

Abstract Patterns in Family Relationships in 19th Century Transylvania: Data from the Historical Population Database of Transylvania

Child naming is an essential part of family life, because choosing a name is never a random decision. This practice can also be used to reconstitute the dynamics of family structures at a given time. For 19th century Transylvania, due to a historical population database under construction at Babeş-Bolyai University of Cluj, such a reconstruction can be done for the first time. The present paper focuses on the practice of necronymic naming, as an indication of the importance of certain names in the family. For this analysis, two localities were selected, Ocna-Mureş and Rãzboieni- Cetate. Although this research is still a work in progress, there is already plenty of data to support the hypothesis that child naming was used to strengthen family relationships.

Keywords child naming, necronymic naming, 19th century Transylvania, Historical Population Database of Transylvania, family reconstitution The Initiatives of astra Meant to Improve the Lives of the Romanian Peasants in A l e x a n d r u N i c o l a e s c u Transylvania (1900–1914)

In the present study we focused on the involvement of the Transylvanian Association for Romanian Literature and the Culture of the Romanian People (astra) in the efforts related, mainly, to the development of Roma- nian agriculture. At the beginning of the twentieth century the Association tried to make known among the Tran- sylvanian Romanians the cooperative system, and also the need to introduce new plant varieties, modern methods of cultivation, and the use of machinery. All of them had priority in the activity of the most important Roma- nian cultural societies in Transylvania. Transilvania (Sibiu, 1900) In what concerns the methodology, I chose to present in the first part

This paper has been drawn up under the aegis of the Research Institute for the Quality of Life of the Romanian Academy, as part of a program co-funded by the Eu- ropean Union within the Sectoral Opera- tional Program Human Resources Devel- Alexandru Nicolaescu opment, through the project for plural and Researcher at the Sibiu Institute of Social interdisciplinary research in doctoral and Sciences and Humanities of the Roma- post-doctoral programs. Project Code: nian Academy. posdru/159/1.5/S/141086. 72 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) astra’s work in the theoretical support of the agricultural industry, through the publication of specialized studies in its official press organ, and the support for various printed works, disseminated through its system of libraries. In the second part I focused on the practical steps, such as the organization of lectures that conveyed information of general interest, particularly in the rural world (and especially among the illiterate), and the organization of their own cooperative system, which was the main concern in the early twentieth century. Since its establishment, the Transylvanian Association for Romanian Lit- erature and the Culture of the Romanian People had had among the goals issues related to agriculture, industry and commerce. In this regard, an initiative supporting the creation of an agronomic section was launched in 1874 by the Braşov branch, however without any tangible result. Finally, the Herculane General Assembly of 1900 decided to establish an economic section, which had on its agenda issues pertaining to agricultural development.1

Attempts to Theorize the Cooperative System in the astra

s, starting with the second half of the nineteenth century, the Transyl- vanian Romanian elite became increasingly interested in various eco- A nomic issues and in the issue of productivity,2 it also turned towards a new approach in agriculture. In this context, before 1900, Transilvania magazine, the official organ of the astra, published a series of articles on the agronomy and economy of Transylvania. Among the most significant contributions were: “Agricultur’a la Romani cu tóte ramurile sale dupa Columella” (Agricul- ture with the Romanians, with its all branches, after Columella),3 “Institutele de credit ºi economii” (Credit and savings institutes),4 “Economiã Naþionalã” (The National economy).5 One of the few articles that dealt with the cooperative system before 1900 was signed by the priest I. Costin.6 He urged the Romanians to unite and create their own economic institutions in villages, considering that the strongest popular unifying force of that time was the organization of economic partnerships, relevant not only financially, but also from a cultural and moral perspective. Before 1900, astra’s magazine presented a series of published works of major importance for the cooperative movement, the most significant being F. W. Raiffeisen’s “Credit associations operating in conjunction with consumer, sales, winemaking, dairy associations, etc.,” translated by A. Brote.7 A detailed review was soon published, which set out the main ideas behind cooperatives of Transsilvanica • 73 this kind.8 It must be noted that the Romanian intellectuals were aware of the most important Western publications regarding cooperative associations. After 1900, Transilvania magazine published a series of articles related to the development of the cooperative movement, seen by astra’s leaders as palliative for the situation of Romanian agriculture in Transylvania. Authors like Romul Simu,9 Oct. C. Tãslãuanu,10 and Vasile C. Osvadã11 supported the establishment of agricultural cooperatives, believing that only through this system Romanian agriculture in Transylvania had a chance to modernize. Analyzing the articles which contained information about the cooperative movement, I have seen that most of them advocated cooperative organization as a way to avoid usury and to improve the economic situation of the Romanians in Transylvania. The authors also considered that the main priority was the setting up of popular/village banks, to be followed by other types of agricultural cooperatives. Most theo- rists saw the movement as a national one—very few embraced a transnational approach (for instance, V. C. Osvadã)—, but also as a movement that would help the Romanians develop their villages by buying and working the land with modern methods and tools. A common point of the articles is the call for al- truism, self-reliance, and equality. The investigated articles also show that the Romanians in Transylvania perceived the cooperative movement in rather negative terms and that it was seldom applied. We note that the cooperative actions of the Romanians in Transylvania, and in particular those of astra, were not unanimously supported, and even among the Romanian elite that agreed with the idea there were various opinions related to its support and implementation. As evident from the ideas of the authors listed above, some researchers found that the cooperative movement in Transylvania was perceived as a means to achieve the national aspirations, and with minor exceptions it was driven by national principles. This is why we see the creation of distinct Romanian, Hun- garian and Saxon12 cooperatives. Following the intensification of cooperative propaganda, in 1912 the leaders of astra decided to have a permanent column in Transilvania devoted to the creation of cooperatives among the Romanians in Transylvania.13 This did happen, but after that date they focused on practical information and stopped publishing relevant articles about the theory behind the movement, those mentioned above remaining the only contributions of this kind. Information about the cooperative organizations of other nationalities in Transylvania14 was not missing from the debates conducted by astra’s leaders. Such information was pretty accurate and tried to capture the similarities and differences between them and those of the Romanians. They also played a powerful motivational role, in an attempt to trigger a similar process among the 74 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Romanians. astra members took into consideration the cooperative model of the Transylvanian Saxons, focusing in particular on the number of these institutions rather than on their model of organization.15 The cooperatives set up by the Transylvanian Hungarians were best described by V. C. Osvadã in his report completed in 1912.16 We must emphasize that the data presented in the official organ of astra differs from that provided by contemporary researchers.17 Without being the most representative Transylvanian magazine when it came to supporting cooperative associations, the official press organ of astra did nevertheless help to spread these ideas. If we take into account the life of the most important magazines that published articles about cooperation, such as Bunul econom (The good economist) (Orãºtie, 1900–1908) and Tovãrãºia (The fellow- ship) (Hunedoara, 1906–1911), we find that after 1911 Transilvania was alone in this endeavor. Even if we cannot quantify its circulation and the extent to which the press organ of astra had an impact upon Transylvanian society, we believe that the concern for this area is quite evident in the pages of the magazine, which managed to reach the rural areas through the libraries organized by astra in villages. We also note that the articles published in Transilvania about the cooperative system reflect the perspective of the most important cultural societies of the Transylvanian Romanians. The data presented is relevant, even if often it did not coincide with the facts provided by contemporary researchers knowledgeable in the field. It remains important because the archive documents in the astra Collection18 do not contain such information. astra’s attempts to help the Romanian peasants in Transylvania was supported by the publication of several special works related to agriculture. One of the most important collections edited in the early twentieth century, “Biblioteca poporalã a Asociaþiunii” (The popular library of the Association), had included among its aims the printing of more brochures about the role of village cooperatives and modern farming methods.19 The collection came to include several works devoted especially to the peasantry,20 written in a language they could understand and often accompanied by drawings exemplifying the ideas therein. The mentioned collection was one of the main popularization vectors for agricultural techniques in the Transylvanian Romanian rural world. An interesting proposal was made to astra by Ioan Costin, a priest from Sibiu, on 3 April 1895. He wanted to edit an “Economic Library,” covering topics that ranged from farming and gardening to animal husbandry and other economic activities. Due to the lack of funds, astra could not accommodate his request,21 but it deserves to be mentioned because it shows the concern of astra’s members to improve the lives of the peasants. One of the most effective means of spreading information in the rural world was the library system developed by astra. It was the first cultural society which Transsilvanica • 75 undertook to establish libraries in Romanian villages. It sought to instruct the Romanians by granting them access to works of general interest. The network of village libraries reflected the idea that a library was not just for the rich, but also for the less wealthy, who were in the majority in the rural world.22 There- fore, the statutes adopted at the end of the nineteenth century provided for the establishment of popular libraries.23 The astra libraries offered free access to anyone interested in them. Even if the intention was to stock the departmental libraries with many texts on agriculture, these works were outnumbered by books of poetry, stories, fiction, history and geography.24 With the departmental libraries in mind, works were published related to the development of agriculture, such as Sãdirea ºi cultura viei (Planting and tending to vineyards) by N. Pop, and Pomãritul (Pomiculture) by Iosif Bãlan.25 Also for the needs of their own libraries, some departments printed books from their own funds.

The astra’s Actions in Organizing a Distinct Cooperative System

ropaganda was the most efficient and effective way to mobilize the Ro- manians in Transylvania. Propaganda used means such as publications, P dissertations, lectures and conferences, it had to stimulate the national development of social structures, indicating the optimal ways and solutions and the means for their implementation.26 Before 1900, astra organized several conferences with an academic character, dedicated to the cultural elite. Subsequently, it gave up on the idea of the academic character and the conferences focused on the rural areas, in the form of “popular lectures” where the intellectuals would interact with the peasants. This ensured the dissemination of ideas from the cultural elite to the villagers.27 Until 1900 these conferences covered various topics, and just a few dealt with agriculture and insurance.28 After the economic section was set up (in 1900), the best way of carrying out economic propaganda in villages was to organize conferences accompanied by practical demonstrations. This was due to the fact that in the villages there were a large number of illiterate people who could not obtain the information disseminated through printed works.29 The decision to organize conferences was taken after the meeting held on 23 April 1904.30 Soon it became necessary to hire several agricultural specialists31 able to organize the demonstrations. Until the two lecturers needed by astra were employed (an agronomist and an expert in cooperatives, who entered in the service of the Sibiu cultural association in 1910 and 1913), the conferences were held by priests, teachers, agronomists, 76 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) lawyers, doctors, bank directors and officers, students, notaries, pharmacists, landowners, administrative clerks, merchants, etc. Every time the teachers and priests covered at least half of the annual conferences. After 1900, not only astra organized such conferences. For instance, the Economic Association of Orãºtie, through its members E. Brote, R. Simu, V. Todãrãşianu, I. F. Negruþiu, Ioan Baciu and others, organized economic conferences. The difference is that the broad audience of the Sibiu cultural society allowed it to reach the whole of Transylvania.32 It should also be noted that those listed above were also members of astra. To improve their approach, astra’s leaders issued a circular in 1908 which outlined the model of a popular conference and the subjects approached. The dissemination of information was supported by the setting up of popular libraries stocked with brochures about the topics addressed in some popular conferences.33 Believing that through popular lectures they would be able to better inform the people, the most important cultural society of the Romanians in Transylvania tried to address topics of agricultural interest, such as apiculture, sericulture, the adoption of agricultural machinery, and new methods of cultivation.34 Through its lectures, it also succeeded to generate a true mass education, addressing dozens of listeners. The effort was accompanied by the inclusion of popularization materials in its publications, Transilvania and the “Popular library of the Association.”35 Following the creation of a “popular magazine” in 1907 (the periodical Þara noastrã/Our country), it was hoped that the lectures would also benefit, because in its columns the issues were treated by specialists devoted to the problems of the peasantry.36

Table of popular conferences supported by astra during 1906–1914 Financial issues (association, Industry Economy Insurance partnership, Financial and and its and Participants Year Total Agriculture insurance) (insurance) commerce branches association (approx.) 1906 165 1907 341 127 31 1908 355 85 17 5 95 1909 389 17 8 30,000 1910 497 49 7 97 100,000 1911 773 86 28 137 150,000 1912 1,140 50 151 64 125,000 1913 1,468 1914 893 Transsilvanica • 77

As reflected in the table above, during 1906–1914 astra organized 6,021 popular conferences, their number increasing each year. After analyzing the information, we concluded that over this period a number of approximatively 240 issues approached the topic of cooperatives and over 200 touched upon agricultural issues. After the employment of lecturers on agronomy and cooperatives, in 1910 and 1913, respectively, we find a number of conferences on the topic of agriculture and cooperation, a number that appears in their annual reports. Between 1 September 1910 and the first part of 1911, Aurel Cosciuc, newly hired as lecturer on agronomy, held 49 conferences in 26 communes, stressing that in every lecture he had spoken about the “issue of cooperatives.” In 1912, of the 40 conferences delivered by the lecturer on agronomy, only 4 were about cooperation (one on cattle insurance—delivered twice, one on credit associations and one about the importance of agricultural associations) and the rest touched upon various problems pertaining to agronomy.37 In 1913, the lecturer held 233 conferences in 103 localities,38 of which only 22 were about agricultural associations (particularly credit associations).39 The following year, Aurel Cosciuc organized 138 popular conferences in 58 villages, of which only 7 were about agricultural associations.40 After the outbreak of the Great War in the second half of 1914, no popular conferences were organized,41 a situation that lasted until the end of the war. For this reason, in a report from October 1915, Aurel Cosciuc mentioned that he was out of a job, because he could no longer fulfil his duties.42 On this occasion he presented a detailed report showing that he had held a total of about 500 conferences on various aspects pertaining to agriculture, and a course on horticulture and viticulture, organized in Pianul de Jos and Sibiu. It should be noted that during 1900–1914 astra held lectures and conferences in all of its territorial units, which means that it covered almost the entire area of Transylvania. The main topics were related to agriculture, cooperatives, hygiene, emigration to America, alcoholism, clothing, housing, etc. As it can be seen from the data presented, although not numerically dominant, the conferences about cooperatives were some of the most important, as it was emphasized that such conferences should help establish effective associations.43 In what concerns the penetration of cooperative ideas in the Romanian villages in Tran- sylvania, it is considered to have been consistent with the agricultural situation of the Romanian peasantry.44 The popular lectures had a practical result in regard to the setting up of village cooperatives in Transylvania. In the report about the activity of astra’s departments we find information about associations set up as a consequence of the lectures, but the data is often incomplete and not very accurate, which is why at this time we cannot propose a precise figure in connection to this process. 78 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

The most conclusive survey of the cooperative system organized by astra until 1914 belongs to Nicolae Iancu, the second lecturer specialized in cooperatives. In a report presented to the board of the Association, he provided a brief overview of his entire activity. He made a table with the village banks established by him until the middle of 1914:

The total capital Number of the subscribed Popular bank of Participation participations Commune County name members (crowns) (crowns) Curciu Târnava Micã Izvorul Sãteanului 54 20 1,080 Sâncel Târnava Micã Înfrãþirea 40 20 800 Însoþirea de Boian Târnava Micã Economii ºi Credit 35 20 700 ªcola Târnava Mare Poporul 35 20 700 Turniºor Sibiu Steaua 21 25 525 Brânzic Hunedoara Plugul 54 20 1,080 Sãcãmaº Hunedoara Izbânda 40 20 800 Sohodol Turda-Arieº Moþul 50 20 1,000 Ponor Turda-Arieº Deºteptarea 40 20 800 Ocoliºul Mare Turda-Arieº Izvorul 42 20 840 Aruncuta Cojocna Aruncuteana 30 50 1,500 Idicel-Sat Mureº-Turda Izvorul Plugarului 45 20 900 Bicfalãu Talpatak Trei Scaune Furnica 100 20 2,000 Dragomireºti Maramureº Creºtinul 99 50 4,950 Petrova Maramureº Petrovana 135 20 2,700 Dumitra Alba Inferioarã Însoþirea de Credit 30 20 600 Sãuºa Alba Inferioarã Însoþirea de Credit 30 20 600 Stremþi Alba Inferioarã Frãþia 40 20 800

From the information provided, it appears that the total number of banks established after the popular propaganda supported by astra through this lecturer reached 25. Apart from these activities, N. Iancu provided counselling on the issue of statutes in 60 other Romanian villages and got in touch with more than 200 heads of villages from different counties. Unfortunately, he failed to complete his work because of the outbreak of wwi.45 Following the analysis of the data, we believe that to the 25 cooperatives set up by the second cooperative lecturer of astra we should add those organized by the first cooperative lecturer and those supported by the one specializing in agronomy, but also those organized after popular conferences. Therefore, the number of cooperatives organized by the most representative Transylvanian cul- Transsilvanica • 79 tural society is more than 25, but at present it would be difficult to determine the exact number. This because some of the cooperatives were rather ephemeral, others had short lives and some, despite having statutes, were never actually functional. However, regardless of the number of cooperatives established, we appreciate astra’s approach as being beneficial for the agricultural development of Romanian Transylvania. Analyzing the cooperative process in Transylvania, researchers considered that, especially after 1900, the activity of astra could be considered a third stage of the phenomenon. The previous stages were represented by the actions of Albina Bank, followed by the intervention the Romanian agricultural association of Sibiu and Orãştie.46 All three stages up to 1918 involved the application of distinct cooperative models.47 During this period, the three major types of cooperative can also be found in Transylvania: Schulze-Delitzsch, Raiffeisen, and Haas.48 The last was a compromise between the first two. The Raiffeisen- type cooperatives were limited to a single commune because, besides banking activities, they also undertook a series of actions in the general interest, aimed at modernizing farms by introducing agricultural machinery, livestock breeding, etc.49 These characteristics made this cooperative system quite appropriate for the social and economic needs of the peasants in Transylvania. The Transylvanian Romanian cooperative movement should be seen in relation to the other nationalities in the province. astra’s direct involvement in the organization of village cooperatives in Transylvania intensified after 1913 when, by hiring specialized lecturers, it acquired the means for necessary action. Even before this date, it had campaigned for the smooth implementation of the system, a good vector being the lecturer on agronomy and the popular conferences. The activities carried out in this field by the Sibiu cultural association were not the most important of their kind in Transylvania, as other Romanian financial institutions in the province managed to organize more cooperatives. astra’s involvement is however relevant, insofar as it exceeded the regional character of the other Romanian institutions, disseminating the model of cooperatives among the Romanians living throughout the whole of Transylvania. astra’s importance for the cooperative movement is demonstrated by the fact that it was supported by the vast majority of Romanian Transylvanian peasants,50 without forgetting that it made its intentions known with the help of Transilvania magazine, of other publications such as “Popular library of the As- sociation,” and of episodic publications. 80 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Conclusions

stra’s leaders of the early twentieth century combined cooperative propaganda with the development of agriculture, an initiative supported by A the lecturers on agronomy and cooperatives. Their activities raised the awareness of the intellectual elite and highlighted the need for their involvement in the development of agriculture, especially because the vast majority of Roma- nians in Transylvania lived in rural areas. Even if we did not focus very much on the theoretical approaches, we noticed the involvement and the good knowledge of the international works related to cooperatives, as the authors mentioned above were already familiar with the global cooperative models. It is also worth noting that through its system of libraries, astra managed to spread the theoretical information featured in its own publications and in other texts. Perhaps the most efficient way of encouraging new cultivation methods, the introduction of agricultural machinery, and the implementation of a distinct cooperative system were the popular conferences, delivered by the village elites (teachers and priests), and by lecturers specializing in the transmission of information to an otherwise uninformed audience. After 1900, the involvement of astra’s leaders in improving the lives of Ro- manians in Transylvania, especially of the peasants, demonstrate the awareness of the Romanian cultural elite that without economic development and rising standards of living, the implementation of its cultural program did not have any chance of success. q

Notes

1. Romul Simu, “Raportul secþiunii economice a Asociaþiunii despre activitatea sa în anul de gestiune 1903/4,” Analele Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român (Sibiu) 4 (1904): 184. 2. Keith Hitchins, Afirmarea naþiunii: Miºcarea naþionalã româneascã din Transilvania, 1860–1914, trans. (Bucharest: Ed. Enciclopedicã, 2000), 211. 3. G. B., “Agricultur’a la Romani cu tóte ramurile sale dupa Columella,” Transilvania (Sibiu) 5–6 (1886): 33–37. 4. G. B., “Institutele de credit ºi economii,” Transilvania 7–8 (1887): 49–51. 5. “Economiã Naþionalã,” Transilvania 3 (1896): 49–58. 6. I. Costinŭ, “Glasulŭ timpuluĭ,” Transilvania 8 (1895): 230–234. 7. “Economie,” Transilvania 1–2 (1896): 42. 8. “Economie,” Transilvania 4–5 (1896): 144–147. Transsilvanica • 81

9. Romul Simu, “Situaþia noastrã economicã ºi mijloacele pentru îndreptarea ei,” Tran- silvania 2 (1909): 75–85. 10. Oct. C. Tãslãuanu, “Organizarea satelor noastre,” Transilvania 2 (1911): 117–121. 11. Vasile C. Osvadã, “Miºcarea cooperativã,” Transilvania 1–2 (1912): 1–38. 12. Vasile Dobrescu, “Literatura ºi propaganda cooperatistã economicã româneascã din Transilvania—concepþii, tendinþe, rezultate (1848–1918),” Studia Universitatis Babeº- Bolyai. Historia 1–2 (1995): 37; Attila Gábor Hunyadi, Cooperativele minoritãþii maghi- are din România în perioada interbelicã (Cluj-Napoca: Argonaut, 2010), 63. 13. “ªedinþa a V-a a comitetului central þinutã la 11 Maiu 1912,” Transilvania 3–4 (1912): 287. 14. On the history of the Saxon community in Transylvania, see Hunyadi, 71–87, and regarding the Hungarian movement, see 88–104. 15. “Cronicã,” Transilvania 10–12 (1914): 507. The cooperative lecturer of astra, specified that “the Saxons’ Central Cooperative, based in Sibiu, in early 1914 had as members 252 cooperatives, namely: 184 rural Raiffeisen system banks with 15,985 members, 59 consumer cooperatives with 3,549 members, 5 wine cooperatives with 158 members, one mill cooperative with 36 members, and also one central consumer cooperative, one central cooperative for wine storage and the Storage house of Sibiu.” 16. Osvadã, 9–16. After studying the cooperative movement in the whole of Hungary, V. C. Osvadã stated that there was a total of 7,200 of companionships. 17. For the Hungarian system of cooperatives, see Hunyadi, 103–104, 109. For the Saxons see Vasile Dobrescu, Sistemul de credit românesc din Transilvania 1872–1918 (Târgu-Mureº: Ed. Universitãþii Petru Maior, 1999), 232–233. 18. National Archives, Sibiu County Division, the astra collection and the astra–Acte collection. 19. “ªedinþa a V-a a comitetului central þinutã la 11 Maiu 1912,” Transilvania 3–4 (1912): 285–287. 20. Asociaþiunea—“Astra” Activitatea editorialã la Sibiu (Sibiu: Biblioteca Astra Sibiu, 1973), 1–10. The reference is to Valer Moldovan, Despre cãrþile fundare în întabulãri (1902); id., Despre testament: Explicarea articolului de lege XVI din anul 1876 (1903); Ioan F. Negruþiu, Grãdina de legume: Disertaþiune poporalã (1904); id., Cultura cucu- ruzului: Disertaþiune poporalã (1904); id., Împãrþirea, lucrarea ºi îngrijirea unei moºii: Disertaþiune poporalã (1905); Romul Simu, Comuna “Viitorul”: Sfaturi ºi pilduiri pentru înaintarea unui sat prin sine însuºi (1907, 1912); A. Cosciuc, Lucrarea pãmân- tului (1911); Nicolae Iosif, Creºterea pomilor: Sfaturi ºi poveþe pentru þãranii români (1912); Ioan F. Negruþiu, Nutreþul mãiestrit sau cele mai bune plante de nutreþ. Cu mai multe ilustraþiuni (1912); Aurel Cosciuc, Îngrãºarea sau gunoirea pãmântului (1913); Iosif N. Simu, Sfaturi pentru popor cu învãþãturi pentru lucrãrile economice (1914). 21. “Proces-verbal,” Transilvania 5 (1895): 155. 22, Tudor Nedelcea, Civilizaþia cãrþii: Incursiune în istoria cãrþii, presei ºi a tiparului (Craiova: Scrisul Românesc, 1996), 123–125. 23. “Statutele Asociaþiunei,” Transilvania 7 (1897): 169. We will not reiterate here the way in which the library system of astra was developed, which is very well analysed 82 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

in Ioan Holhoº, “Concepþia biblioteconomicã promovatã în acþiunea Astrei de creare a sistemului de biblioteci publice în Transilvania ºi în alte provincii româneºti,” in Astra 1861–1950, Asociaþiunea Transilvanã pentru Literatura Românã ºi Cultura Pop- orului Român. 125 de ani de la înfiinþare, ed. Victor V. Grecu (Sibiu: Academia Re- publicii Socialiste România, Secþia de Stiinþe Istorice, Societatea de Stiinþe Filologice din R.S. România, Filiala Sibiu, 1987), 384; Mariana Daneº, “Astra ºi bibliotecile populare,” Corviniana (Hunedoara) 9 (2005): 244; Eugenia Glodariu, “Biblioteci poporale ale Astrei (Partea I),” Acta Mvsei Napocensis 6 (1969): 352; id., “Biblio- teci poporale ale Astrei (Partea a II-a),” Acta Mvsei Napocensis 7 (1970): 310–312; Nicolae Gastone, “Rolul ºcolilor ºi bibliotecilor sãteºti în realizarea programului cultural al Astrei,” in Astra 1861–1950, 357. 24. “Din despãrþěminte,” Transilvania 1 (1901): 40–41. 25. “Proces-verbal,” Transilvania 2 (1907): 124. 26. Vasile Dobrescu, “Astra în viaþa social-economicã a românilor din Transilvania (1861–1918),” Marisia (Târgu-Mureº) 8 (1978): 185. 27. Nicola Roxana Gabriela, Despãrþãmintele astrei în comitatele Hunedoara ºi Zarand [1873–1918] (Sibiu: Techno Media, 2009), 46. 28. “Raportul general al comitetului central al Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român pe anul 1899,” Transilvania 8 (1900): 95. 29. Valentin Orga, “Strategii de implementare a ideilor asociaþioniste în lumea satului. Studiu de caz: Zona Orãºtie,” in Centru ºi periferie, eds. Corneliu Gaiu and Horaþiu Bodale (Cluj-Napoca: Accent, 2004), 320. 30. Mihai Sofronie, “Contribuþia secþiunilor ºtiinþifice ale Asociaþiunii Transilvane (Astra) la propãºirea culturalã româneascã pânã la 1918,” Anuarul Institutului de Cercetãri Socio-Umane Sibiu 2 (1995): 230. 31. “Proces-verbal: ªedinþa secþiunii economice a Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român, þinutã în Sibiiu la 11 Iulie n. 1905,” Analele Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român 4 (1905): 168. 32. Dobrescu, “Literatura ºi propaganda cooperatistã,” 42. 33. “Circularã,” Transilvania: Analele Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura po porului român 4 (1908): 221–222. 34. “Raportul general al comitetului central al Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român cãtrã adunarea generalã convocatã în Bistriþa la 21 ºi 22 Septembrie st. n. 1907,” Transilvania: Analele Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român 3 (1907): 64. 35. I. Kovács, A. Ardos, and M. Mirel, “Din istoria învãþãmântului agricol în Transilva- nia (1849–1900),” Acta Mvsei Napocensis 7 (1970): 303–304. 36. “Raportul general al comitetului central al Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român cãtrã adunarea generalã convocatã la Braºov pentru 21 ºi 22 Septemvrie st. n. 1906,” Analele Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român 4 (1906): 80. 37. “Prelegerile þinute de conferenþiarul agronomic al Asociaþiunii în cursul anului 1912,” Transilvania 4–5 (1913): 271. Transsilvanica • 83

38. “Raportul general al comitetului central al Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român despre lucrãrile îndeplinite în anul 1913,” Transilvania 7–9 (1914): 243–244. 39. Aurel Cosciuc, “Raportul conferenþiarului agronomic pe anul 1913,” Transilvania 7–8 (1914): 295. 40. Aurel Cosciuc, “Raportul conferenþiarului agronomic pe anul 1914,” Transilvania 7–12 (1915): 145. 41. “Raport general al comitetului central al Asociaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român despre lucrãrile îndeplinite ºi despre situaþia Asociaþiunii în anul 1915,” Transilvania 7–12 (1916): 99. 42. Cosciuc, “Raportul conferenþiarului agronomic pe anul 1914,” 145–146. 43. N. Petra Petrescu, “Opinie în chestia aranjãrii de prelegeri economice,” Analele Aso- ciaþiunii pentru literatura românã ºi cultura poporului român 4 (1904): 203–204. 44. Mihai Sofronie, Aspecte ale activitãþii Asociaþiunii transilvane (Astra) pânã la 1918 (Sibiu: Caleidoscop, 1996), 43–44, 55. 45. Nicolae Iancu, “Raportul conferenþiarului cooperativ despre activitatea sa, desfãºuratã în lunile Noemvrie ºi Decemvrie 1913 ºi în prima jumãtate a anului 1914,” Transil- vania 7–9 (1914): 301–309. 46. For more details on the work of the Orãºtie meetings, see Orga, 311–320. 47. Dobrescu, Sistemul de credit românesc, 247. 48. For more information on the occurrence, development and characteristics of cooperative models, see Dan Cruceru, Cooperaþia în România: Istorie ºi actualitate (Bucureºti: Artifex, 2007), 20–28; Gheorghe Popescu, Evoluþia gândirii economice, 3rd edition (Bucharest: Ed. Academiei Române; Cluj-Napoca: Cartimpex, 2004), 306–326. 49. Dobrescu, Sistemul de credit românesc, 213. 50. Dobrescu, “Astra în viaþa social-economicã a românilor,” 199.

Abstract The Initiatives of astra Meant to Improve the Lives of the Romanian Peasants in Transylvania (1900–1914)

This study shows how astra intended to support the economic development of the Romanians in Transylvania. Realizing that the vast majority of them lived in villages, the most important actions were undertaken in the field of agriculture. Efforts were focused on two levels, one concerning the theorization of new agricultural techniques, the introduction and implementation of a cooperative system and of machinery, and a practical one, involving the organization of conferences for the dissemination of such information, practical demonstrations, and the development of a distinct cooperative system.

Keywords astra, Transylvania, cooperative system, agriculture, culture Transylvanian Echoes of a European Phenomenon The Vatican and the National- Christian Movements in the M a r i a G h i tt a Mid–1920s

The winter of 1926 seems to have been a perfectly ordinary one for the Greek Catholic Church in Tran sylvania. Historical texts make no reference whatsoever to any remarkable or outstanding events for the period in question. Upon closer investigation, however, certain previously overlooked facts begin to emerge. Albeit unknown and ignored to far, these facts may not Unirea (Blaj, 1926) actually be that surprising. This Church with a dual orientation (Western and Eastern), located since its establishment in the late 17th century at the point of contact between the major trends in European thinking (political, religious, etc.) and the realities of the Romanian space, could not deviate from this pattern even after the beginning of the 20th century. What were the most important Maria Ghitta issues for the Greek Catholic elite and Researcher at the Center for Transylva- what potentially new elements appear nian Studies, Romanian Academy. Co- editor of the vol. Dilemele convieþuirii: on its public agenda? What did actu- Evrei ºi neevrei în Europa Central-Rãsã ally happen in the autumn of that year? riteanã/Dilemmes de la cohabitation: A survey of the representative press of Juifs et Non-Juifs en Europe centrale- that time comes to provide a number of orientale (2006). relevant clues. Transsilvanica • 85

Hierarchs of the Church, professors at the theological academies, priests and (more rarely) laypersons made their voices known in the publications of the ep- archies, in official acts, in catechistic texts, or in opinion pieces.1 The life of the Greek Catholic community was reflected in the pages of the Unirea (Union), an “ecclesiastical political paper” published weekly in Blaj, the town that hosted the administrative and spiritual center of this denomination: the Metropolitan See. At that time, the periodical in question, whose suggestive subtitle alluded to its mission as a communication channel between Church and society, had as its director Dr. Alexandru Rusu (the future bishop) and, as its editor-in-chief, Dr. Augustin Popa. Both of them were also teaching at the local theological Academy. The periodical reflected a diversity of opinions, polemical exchanges were also quite common, but we are nearly always told what the editorial board believed about the various matter under discussion. In what the content is concerned, a first category that emerges is that of texts providing guidance to those tended to by the Church, believers and priests. We read about the restless work of the bishops, about their visits in the territory and the measures taken to remedy one situation or another,2 about what it meant to be a good shepherd to one’s flock, about the education provided to youths and adults alike, about the need for a proper moral and spiritual training of the priests, about the scarcity of catechistic literature, etc.3 We are dealing here with a whole range of general and permanent concerns, most likely common to all Churches, but also with a number of distinctive features. Then come the reports on various events of that time. These were, of course, selected on the basis of their relevance to Church matters. We also find pieces of news coming from Rome or Romania. Some are profoundly spiritual, such as the reports on the celebrations marking 700 years (on 4 October 1926) since the death of St. Francis of Assisi, accompanied by a survey of his life and teach- ings.4 We also find gloomier news, such as that about the illness of Metropolitan Bishop Vasile Suciu, or about the poor health of King Ferdinand I.5 However, if we were to identify the major topic of interest and concern for the editorial board of Unirea, this would undoubtedly be that of the relations with the Orthodox faith. Practically every debate is connected to this tense relationship. Often highlighted and sometimes bemoaned, the disputes between the two Churches dominate the public agenda. “Our Uniate Church and the Orthodox Church are like a small rock faced with a much larger one. Unavoid- ably, these two rocks grind against one another,”6 as one of the contributors suggestively summed up the existing state of affairs. The two Churches shared a troubled history. The union with Rome of a significant part of the Transylvanian Romanian clergy, in 1700, was always seen 86 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) as a betrayal by the Orthodox Church. No matter how hard the new denomination (Greek Catholic) tried to justify the ecclesiastical union—mainly with arguments regarding the improved status of the Romanian nation in Transyl- vania (higher social standing, education, culture, Latin identity, the Transylva- nian School, etc.)7—the Orthodox remained decidedly unmoved. The religious union had split the Romanian community in two, and the “other side,” with its hierarchy and priests, had sided with the “foreigners” (the House of Habsburg or the Pope in Rome). In certain situations the recriminations became even more bitter, to the point where the Uniate were labelled false Romanians or even un-Romanian.8 In fact, much of this religious conflict was fought with national (ethnic) “weapons.” The moment of grace that had seen the embrace between the bishops of the two Churches, Iuliu Hossu and Miron Cristea (the future patriarch of the Orthodox Church), at Alba Iulia on 1 December 1918, at the great assembly that decided the union between Transylvania and Romania, now seemed to be a thing of the past. There, where the former (Iuliu Hossu) had read out the proclamation of the union, the two Churches came closest to one another. With the fulfilment of the national ideal (the union of the Romanians into a single country), the chapter on cooperation seemed closed. But new disputes emerged: what would be the status of each Church in the new state? The Constitution of 1923 had come with a solution to the issue, by granting both denominations—Orthodox and Greek Catholic—the title of “Romanian Church,” but it had also favored the former: “as this is the religion of most Roma- nians, it shall be the dominant Church in the Romanian state; the Greek Catho- lic Church shall take precedence over the other denominations.”9 The argument concerning the overwhelming majority and the constitutional tradition of the Kingdom of Romania led things in this direction. However, the Greek Catholic Church itself was given precedence over the other denominations. Now, in late 1926, a major event was about to take place, this time at international level: the Concordat between Romania and the Vatican. If before 1918 Romania had had little reason to sign such an agreement, given the small number of Catholics on its territory, after 1918 the situation had changed.10 Transylvania contributed a large number of Catholics to the population of Greater Romania, and most of these Catholics were Romanians of the Greek rite. They were accompanied by a significant Catholic community of the Latin rite, largely Hungarians, but also some Germans. Not all the Hungarians in Transylvania—and, for that matter, not all of the local Germans—were Catholic.11 After having presented, over the years, the successive phases in the negotiations regarding the Concordat,12 in the autumn of 1926 Unirea was covering yet another failure. The Romanian prime minister’s September visit to Rome had Transsilvanica • 87 ended without the document being signed.13 The Blaj periodical focused on the Orthodox offensive on the matter of the “Jesuit monster spawned by the Vati- can,” opposed by that “Orthodox pope,” State Secretary Vasile Goldiş.14 Even if eventually Goldiş himself would sign the document on behalf of the Romanian state (in the spring of the following year),15 in 1926 Unirea was clearly not one of his greatest admirers.16 The same antipathy once again becomes manifest in November of the same year, when he issued decision no. 49838 of the Ministry of Religious Denominations, which regulated the creation of state-supported parishes. Essentially, in future, for any parish to be recognized it had to have 400 families, if in the urban environment, or 200 families in the rural areas. A “census” of parishes was to be carried out. The proposal was met with fierce opposition by the Greek Catholic hierar- chy17 (and also enjoyed a lukewarm reception among the other denominations, including the Orthodox one, for obvious reasons). The Greek Catholics feared the loss of parishes kept in operation “during the hard times experienced by our nation.” There were areas of Transylvania where such numbers were difficult to achieve, and the dissolution of parishes seemed to threaten the preservation of the Romanian identity itself. This initiative led to broad polemical exchanges regarding the possible consequences, some even hosted by the Romanian Sen- ate,18 and brought to the fore another thorny issue affecting the bilateral relation between the two denominations: the competition over followers and over the presence in the territory. Two questions, chiefly rhetorical, addressed to the priests come to confirm this observation: “1. What Orthodox parishes were approved for Transylva- nia—purely as a thorn in our side—with fewer than 300 believers, the minimum number required for such approval; 2. In which villages, deprived of a parish and maybe even of believers . . . was land granted following the agrarian reform, in order to benefit the Orthodox parishes that were to be set up here in the future.”19 Also present is the fear that the many Romanian civil servants (mostly Orthodox) who had come to Transylvania after the Union would also somewhat alter the denominational balance in the region.20 This because, even if the Orthodox were numerically dominant in the province as a whole, there were areas where the situation was quite the reverse, and the Greek Catholics were the majority population (especially in the northern and central areas).21 Amid all these disputes regarding status, pastoral work, influence, history, ecclesiastical jurisdictions, etc., a new reason for dissension emerged. It was a matter of considerable consequence, coming from the political realm. The article signed—with remarkable courage!—by “An Orthodox priest” highlights a profound reason for worry: “Most Orthodox priests have embraced a political orientation that is the very opposite of Orthodoxy and Christianity. Consider 88 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) the many priests who ran on the lists of the National Christian Defense League (ncdl). After Unirea and Cuvântul reviewed Mr. Cuza’s brochure—and, to my knowledge, no Orthodox publication has ever criticized it—Mr. Cuza reviewed the Christian faith for the benefit of his League. Did the priests who ran on the lists of Cuza’s League take any measure to ensure that their priestly mission would not be affected? Or did Their Holinesses make any declaration to that effect? They did not. Because there are no regulatory mechanisms within the Orthodox Church.”22 This was not the first time that Unirea was dealing with A. C. Cuza or his League. But it was the first time that it accused the Orthodox priests for their involvement in the organization, and their Church for failing to react to that. Since the early summer of that year, Augustin Popa (Unirea’s editor-in-chief) had been aware of the “revised Christianity” of Mr. A. C. Cuza and of his “revo- lutionary” brochure. On behalf of a generic “we,” the Blaj professor expressed his reticence towards the League: “From the very outset, we were appalled by the loud and bellicose Christianism of this group.” In his opinion, violence was utterly un-Christian, and their doctrinarian grounds were also inacceptable, re- ducing Christianity to anti-Judaism. “Mr. Cuza is not a Christian. He is a sec- tarian nationalist, or indeed a mere politician.” As to its League, it was but “an anti-Christian sect, or indeed an anti-Semitic political party, no matter how much they challenge the label.” Finally, he complained about the hijacking of Christianity for the purposes of electoral demagoguery: “Mr. Cuza has the du- bious merit of having dragged the pure flag of the Gospel through the mud of the political disputes, for entirely un-Christian purposes.” If he wants to make “a fuss about the Semitic issue,” he would be well advised to do it on his own behalf instead of wrapping his bizarre rants in the Christian flag.”23 By early autumn, the ideological struggle against Cuza’s League had un- expectedly received “foreign assistance,” or maybe the domestic reactions had themselves been inspired by the European developments. “In the much-troubled France there is a powerful movement supporting a national-Christian revival: the Action Française. Its heart and soul is Charles Maurras, one of the leading personalities of our time.” Yet, the exultant introduction was followed by a striking “however, Maurras is not a believer!” “His approach to Catholicism is a purely social-moral one.”24 This introductory text dated 18 September summed up a much longer story. The movement established in France at the end of the previous century had been long supported by the Catholic Church. Presently, in the mid–1920s, things had changed. The development of the movement, the ideas of the new pope (Pius XI, elected in 1922), and the spirit of the times had combined to drive the two radically apart.25 The statements made by Cardinal Transsilvanica • 89

Andrieux in Bordeaux—in response to the questions asked by “a group of young Catholics”—were followed by a papal letter which strongly condemned the “manifestations of a new religious, moral, and social system” in which religion and morals were subordinated to politics, and which expressed grave concerns regarding its potential effects on the youth. “In essence, these manifestations display the features of a revived paganism, combined with naturalism,” concluded the Pope.26 The anonymous author of the piece published in Unirea provided his own pedagogical conclusion: “I have written this letter especially because we are dealing with a case similar to that of the Action Française: the ncdl. . . . The Pope’s words should therefore be a memento for those who have joined the League, and especially for the priests who have joined its ranks.”27 The warning was clear, but in the aforementioned article of October 1926 (“O confesiune: Criza ortodoxismului românesc”/A confession: The crisis of Romanian Ortho- doxy) only the Orthodox priests were rebuked for having joined Cuza’s League. But they owed no allegiance to the Pope! Before identifying any other category of League supporters, Unirea turned to a new dispute involving the Holy See. An article dated 25 September talked about a “conflict between the Vatican and the fascists,” indicating that “a major gymnastics competition involving Catholic youths from all countries,” for which 7,000 participants were scheduled to meet in Rome, had just been canceled. The reason was the “hostile attitude of the fascist militias” towards “all organizations of the Catholic youth.” Sifting through the numerous such instances, the periodical mentioned the events occurred in August of that year in Mantua and Macerata, which had ended in violence and led to the suppression of the Catho- lic youth association, the only one deemed responsible for what had happened (!). A sense of revolt, despair, and confusion is obvious in the final paragraph of the report: “It is almost impossible to explain such a situation, for as long as Mussolini’s policy determinately seeks to strengthen both religion and the Church. But what happened was not the government’s fault. The fascist organizations, which the government is seemingly unable to control, wish to monopolize all youth organizations.”28 We also see here the tense relations between the Vatican and two of the great Catholic nations of Europe. The preparations for the signing of documents of reconciliation (concordats) were hampered by such events. The attitude of the Holy See towards these new ideological trends, some calling themselves “national-Christian,” but which universally sought to control the youth, was one of concern and it influenced the making of decisions.29 The two topics (the Action Française and the “fascist youth groups”) were once again mentioned by the Pope in his consistorial address of 20 December.30 On that occasion, he denounced the French movement, in a statement aimed 90 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) at the entire Catholic world: “Catholics shall not actively embrace those ideologies that place party interests before religion, and subordinate the latter to the former.”31 Echoes of the papal statement eventually reached the Greek Catholic community in Romania, as not only Orthodox priests had embraced the local version of national-Christianism represented at that time by the ncdl. Among its members we also find a significant group of Transylvanian Romanian intellectuals who, in June 1923, had set up in Cluj an organization called the Romanian Action (with direct reference to the original model). Now incorporated into Cuza’s League, which operated at the level of the whole country, the Transylvanian organization also had Greek Catholic members, foremost among them being the priest and professor Titus Mãlaiu, who at the time was also a member of the ncdl leadership.32 He was also the one who responded vehemently to all these statements regarding the national-Christian movements. The Christmas issue of Unirea featured not only pastorals and messages concerning the peaceful and joyous celebration of the birth of Christ, but also a lenghty article by this professor at the Greek Catholic theological Academy of Gherla, bearing the title “Precizãri într-o chestiune de importanþã” (Clarifica- tions on an important matter). Titus Mãlaiu was no novice when it came to journalistic discourse. Through- out the previous year (1925), as well as in 1926, he had contributed pieces to the publication of the Romanian Action (and then to that of the ncdl), in its successive iterations (România Întregitã/Reunited Romania, Înfrãþirea Româneascã/Romanian brotherhood). As opposed to the style chosen for this publication, the purpose of which was to flatter or persuade the reader to join the promoted cause, the piece he contributed to Unirea seems an uncontrolled outburst of anger. We find here an apology of the ncdl, portrayed as a besieged fortress. According to the author, the organization was facing an unjustified “hail of bullets” coming from all directions, from the “unchristian hydra,” from “a certain part of the press,” from the “Hungarian Christian brethren,” and—to his utter disappointment—even from the Greek Catholics. All because he had dared initiate “a radical and unforgiving struggle under the Christian banner.”33 Only one name was significantly absent from this updated list of the enemies of the national-Christian cause: the Pope himself. The paragraphs detailing his beliefs are formulated in the same vehement manner: “Philo-Semitism is a blemish upon any Christian,” while “anti-Semi- tism is an obligation.” “To open fire on the Mosaic-Semitic front is the fundamental and honorable duty of any soldier in the service of the Christian creed.” Equally bellicose metaphors are employed when he lists the “ways to fight the spread of the Mosaic faith,” of which some are deemed to be “exaggerated” Transsilvanica • 91

(such as the detection of “racial sins by way of blood” or the elimination of the Old Testament and of all allusions to it from the biblical exegesis). These, alongside things such as statistical works, the ancient Roman ghetto, insults, beatings, and pogroms are listed in order to highlight a contrast. As compared to such practices, the street rallies (challenged by the critics) “can be a practical and appealing way of carrying out anti-Semitic propaganda, especially for the vigorous and expansive Christian youths.”34 After all, even “the Church has been employ- ing such means in its Christian apostolic work (see, for instance, the Eucharistic congresses and their impressive processions).”35 Father Mãlaiu’s statements come not only to generally defend the ncdl against the criticism levied against it, even in the pages of Unirea, but are also meant to protect him should his own position be seen as coinciding with that condemned by the Pope. This emerges quite clearly in the lines he devotes to the “political program” of the organization in whose executive committee he himself sat. The first clarification in this regard seems a bit strange: “no matter how anti-Semitic the members of the ncdl, the word ‘anti-Semitism’ cannot be found anywhere in their program!” (He had just told readers that anti-Semitism was an honorable duty. . . Were the ncdl members exempt from it?) When he lists the foreign models that inspired the program of the League, he mentions the social-Christian movements in Belgium, Italy, Austria, etc., but not the ones in France. The preferred model seems to be the program of the Viennese social-Christian party which, Mãlaiu writes, “was approved by the entire elite of the Roman Catholic Church in Austria.” How could the Romanian elite of a Catholic Church reject a similar program, Mãlaiu seems to wonder, also indicating that Unirea itself had welcomed the preparations for the establishment of the Romanian Action. Finally, a strong argument in support of the ncdl program raised before the unnamed “jury” of the Greek Catholic Church is that in the program in question “the two Romanian Christian Churches are placed on an equal footing.”36 Furthermore, by following a precept of the League one could achieve “brotherly harmony between the national Churches, utterly ruling out inter-denominational conflicts.”37 (In other words: rather than fight with our Christian brethren, we should join forces in the struggle against the non- Christians, thus achieving the much-desired national harmony. Maybe under the flag of the ncdl!) The end of the article once again turns into a plea: “We believe that what has been said here so far is quite enough to persuade any reasonable person of the fact that the ncdl is not about frivolous sectarianism or shallow ‘revisionism,’ and that it does not ‘compromise a slogan.’” Did Mãlaiu manage to persuade the jury, and who was actually in that jury? The response coming from the contributor who had previously highlighted the 92 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

“problems” associated with Cuza’s League did not diverge from the initial position: the ncdl is neither Christian, nor anti-Christian; it is an anti-Semitic party. It was no more Christian than “other bourgeois parties in the country.” But the latter were willing to “leave Christianity in the hands of the Church, rather than revise it in support of their political agenda.” The allusion to the recent European events relevant for this matter is quite transparent: “at least some League members should consider the case of the Action Française.” For the case of Romania, an interesting solution is proposed, and the decision should be taken as follows: “Now that the readers have seen the clarifications offered by Mr. Mãlaiu, they can decide what the Church should do.”38 We see that Augustin Popa does not turn directly to the local hierarchy in search of a clear and transparent solution, but rather asks the public to mediate in the dispute. Indeed, the public soon re- acted. The relations between some representatives of the Greek Catholic Church and some of the political trends (parties) of that time would become the object of polemical exchanges at the beginning of the following year, within a debate fostered by the consistorial speech of the Pope, made on 20 December 1926.

o sum up, these were the novel and significant elements in the debate involving the Greek Catholic intellectual circles during the autumn and T winter of 1926. Individuals like Father Mãlaiu (but not only he) were experiencing first-hand the perverse effects of joining some Western trends of that time. We see that the West offered not just ideas likely to inspire of justify one’s own beliefs, but also limitations of the latter and models of behavior deemed inadequate or even unacceptable. The Greek Catholic Church as a whole was called upon to meet these new challenges. q (Translated by Bogdan Aldea)

Notes

1. Curierul Creştin (The Christian courier), published in Gherla, which hosted the Greek Catholic bishopric of northern Transylvania, made a clear distinction between the two categories of texts, which were structured into the “official part” and the “unofficial part.” 2. See the article “Munca apostolicã,” Unirea (Blaj) 40 (2 October 1926), on the activity of Bishop Iuliu Hossu during the seven years passed since the Union. 3. Petru Herb, “Probleme de pastoraþie,” Unirea 47 (20 November 1926): 2; “Ce ne trebuie,” Unirea 47 (20 November 1926): 2 (not the only examples of this kind). 4. Several reports and articles regard the commemoration of St. Francis of Assisi. The most representative one is Giovanni Papini, “Un sfânt catolic: Sf. Francisc din Assisi,” Unirea 41 (9 October 1926): 2. Transsilvanica • 93

5. In the autumn of 1926, Metropolitan Bishop Vasile Suciu, who led the Greek Cath- olic Church between 1920 and 1935, experienced severe complications of his chronic disease, resulting in the amputation of a part of his left leg. The illness kept him away from his residence for a few months, but he returned there on 28 November. “Metropolitan Bishop Vasile Suciu did not return from the clinics of Cluj. He came back from the borders of eternity,” said the first page article titled “Întru mulþi ani stãpâne!” Unirea 49 (4 December 1926): 1. See also Lucian Turcu, Între idealuri şi realitate: Arhidieceza greco-catolicã de Alba-Iulia şi Fãgãraş în timpul pãstoririi mitropolitului Vasile Suciu (1920–1935) (Cluj-Napoca: Mega, 2017), 306–308. The disease of King Ferdinand I was even more serious and led to his death, in July of the following year. His health was periodically mentioned in Unirea, in the form of medical bulletins and accompanying comments. 6. Priest Ioan Borza, “Câteva reflexii,” Unirea 44 (30 October 1926): 3. 7. “Şcoala Ardeleanã” (the Transylvanian School), the most important manifestation of the Enlightenment among the Romanians, active in the second half of the 18th century and in the first part of the 19th century, generated not only a significant body of historical, philosophical, philological texts or works of fiction, but also some of the seminal ideas of Romanian nationalism. In this regard, see Ioan-Aurel Pop, “Şcoala Ardeleanã şi naþiunea românã din Transilvania în Secolul Luminilor,” and Marta Petreu, “Şcoala Ardeleanã,” România literarã (Bucharest), 51–52 (2015). 8. For the combination of religion and nationalism in the case of this dispute (between the Uniate and the Orthodox), see also Ioan-Marius Bucur, Din istoria bisericii greco-catolice române 1918–1953 (Cluj-Napoca: Accent, 2003), the chapter “Religie şi naþionalism: Biserica Unitã în perioada interbelicã,” 29–42; Ciprian Ghişa, “The Greek Catholic Discourse of Identity in the Inter-War Period: The Relation between the Nation and People’s Religious Confession,” Studia Universitatis Babeş-Bolyai. Historia (Cluj-Napoca) 57, 2 (2012): 54–82. 9. Apud Bucur, 63. 10. At the end of the 19th century, of the 5,912,520 inhabitants of the Kingdom of Ro- mania, only 144,000 were Catholic (of the Latin rite). In 1930, in Greater Romania, of the 13,108,227 inhabitants, 1,427,391 were Greek Catholic and 1,234,151 were Roman Catholic. Apud Ciprian Ghişa, “Întãrind vechi alteritãþi, ridicând noi fron- tiere: Concordatul dintre România şi Vatican—1929,” Studia Universitatis Babeş- Bolyai. Theologia Catholica 55, 4 (2010): 45–46. 11. The Hungarian census of 1910 indicates that Transylvania’s population was 53.66% Romanian, 31.65% Hungarian, and 10.74% German (according to the mother tongue). By denomination, it was 34.28% Orthodox, 23.72% Greek Catholic, 18.91% Roman Catholic, 13.22% Calvinist, 4.99% Evangelical, 3.5% Mosaic. Recensãmântul din 1910 în Transilvania, eds. Traian Rotaru, Maria Semeniuc, and Elemér Mezei, vol. 1 (Bucharest: Staff, 1999), 8. 12. For the various stages, drafts, authors (Greek Catholic or Roman Catholic), the issues disputed by the Romanian state, the representatives of the Catholic denominations, the Holy See, see Bucur, 49–59, and especially Turcu, 151–230. 13. “Dl general Averescu şi Concordatul,” Unirea 41 (9 October 1926): 1. 94 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

14. “Frica de nãluci,” Unirea 36 (4 September 1926): 1. 15. The Concordat was signed in Rome on 10 May 1927, a potential factor being the desire of King Ferdinand I to see it completed before his death. It was ratified by the Romanian Parliament only in 1929. See Ghişa, “Întãrind vechi alteritãþi,” 43–56; Turcu, 151–230. 16. Goldiş was not just an “Orthodox pope,” but also a politician who had defected from the traditional party of the Transylvanians (the Romanian National Party, led by Iuliu Maniu) in order to join, alongside other leading Transylvanians (most of them Orthodox), the People’s Party led by General Averescu. 17. See Dr. Alexandru Rusu, “Ministerul cultelor a alarmat opinia publicã a þãrii,” Unirea 49 (4 December 1929): 2. 18. During the dispute in question, some clergymen were surprised to be dubbed “Hun- garians” by the Bucharest press, years after the unification of the country. See “Dis- cursul Prea Sfinþiei Sale Iuliu rostit în şedinþa Senatului dela 18 Decembrie 1926,” Curierul Creştin 3–4 (1927): 23–31. 19. “O rugãminte,” Unirea 45 (6 November 1926): 2. Allusions or reports about disputes between the two Churches over assets or believers do occur, but relatively seldom. See, for instance, Ioan Turdeanu, “Din eparhia Orãzii,” Unirea 51 (18 De- cember 1926), a report on the “proselytizing actions carried out by the Orthodox against our Church in Arad County.” 20. One such hint can be found in the text entitled “Munca apostolicã,” Unirea 40 (1926): 1 (“many Romanian public officials, lured by the mirage of Orthodoxy, instead of doing their jobs, lent a hand to the subversive propaganda”), in which we read about the situation in Maramureş. 21. The example of the city of Cluj is quite relevant in this respect. In 1910 it was home to 2,318 Orthodox and 9,136 Greek Catholics (Recensãmântul din 1910, 241). In 1930, we have 13,745 Orthodox and 23,290 Greek Catholics: Recensãmântul din 1930: Transilvania, eds. Traian Rotaru, Maria Semeniuc, and Elemér Mezei (Cluj- Napoca: puc, 2011), 251. For the region as a whole, the percentages for the year 1930 were largely similar to those of 1910: 34.8% Orthodox and 25% Greek Cath- olics, indicating that the balance had not shifted in the meantime (ibid., 12). 22. “O confesiune: Criza ortodoxismului românesc,” Unirea 42 (16 October 1926): 2–3. The brochure alluded to in the quote had been published in 1925 under the title Învãþãtura lui Isus, judaismul şi teologia creştinã. 23. Augustin Popa, “O sectã nouã,” Unirea 23 (5 June 1926): 1. 24. “Papa şi Maurranismul,” Unirea 38 (18 September 1926): 3. 25. For the relationship between the Catholic Church and the Action Française, see Jacques Prévotat, L’ Action française (Paris: puf, 2004), 25–28, 58–67. 26. “Papa şi Maurranismul,” 3. 27. Ibid., 4. 28. “Conflict între Vatican şi fascişti,” Unirea 39 (25 September 1926): 3. 29. For the complicated relationship between Pius XI and Mussolini see, more recently, David J. Ketzer, Il patto col diavolo: Mussolini e papa Pio XI. Le relazioni segrete fra il Vaticano e l’Italia fascista, 2nd edition (Milan: Rizzoli, 2015). Transsilvanica • 95

30. “Alocuþiunea consistorialã a Sf. Pãrinte,” Unirea 1 (1927): 2. 31. Apud Ernst Nolte, Fascismul în epoca sa: Action française, Fascismul italian, Naþional- socialismul, trans. (Bucharest: Vivaldi, 2009), 221. Or, as Unirea put it, “the Catho- lics shall not join a program or a pseudo-school that places politics above religion and makes the latter serve the former”: “Un cuvânt al Papei,” Unirea 3 (15 January 1927): 2. 32. See Maria Ghitta, “A Priest in the ‘Romanian Action’: Dr. Titus Mãlaiu,” Transylva- nian Review 24, 3 (Autumn 2015): 26–39. 33. Titus Mãlaiu, “Precizãri într-o chestie de importanþã,” Unirea 52 (25 December 1926): 6. 34. Ibid. 35. The person providing the response feels compelled to indicate that a comparison between the street rallies of Cuza’s supporters and the Eucharistic congresses “is so farfetched that I shall not even qualify it in any way, so as not to betray the spirit of Christmas!” Augustin Popa, “Partid antisemit,” Unirea 52 (1926): 8. 36. His statements are corroborated by chapter VI, “Problemele bisericeşti.” See “Pro- gramul Ligei Apãrãrii Naþional Creştine,” Înfrãþirea Româneascã 1, 11 (1 October 1925): 7. 37. Mãlaiu, 8. 38. Popa, “Partid antisemit,” 8.

Abstract Transylvanian Echoes of a European Phenomenon: The Vatican and the National-Christian Movements in the Mid–1920s

The article examines the manner in which the public agenda of the Greek Catholic Church in Transylvania came to include an issue of European interest: the difficult relationship between the Holy See and certain political trends, during the mid–1920s. The disavowal by Pius XI of the Action Française and his condemnation of the actions taken by the fascist militias against the Catholic youth, both occurred in the second half of 1926, also had an impact upon the Greek Catholic circles in Romania. A number of priests belonging to this denomination had joined the local manifestation of the national-Christian trend (the National Christian Defense League), and the question was whether the papal ban on Catholics joining the movements that placed religion in the service of their own political interests was also relevant for the Romanian space.

Keywords Greek Catholic Church in Romania, Pope Pius XI, Action Française, Liga Apãrãrii Naþional- Creştine (National Christian Defense League), Titus Mãlaiu tangencies

New Interpretations of the Concepts Regarding Familiars and Possession in Angevin Hungary th M i h a i S a f t a during the Early 14 Century

The 14th century brought with it “He raises the poor from the Angevin cadet branch from Naples the dust and lifts the needy into power in the medieval Kingdom of Hungary, together with nobles from the ash heap; from the French and Italian elite, Ro- he seats them with princes man law and canon law doctrines. This research investigates the first Angevin and has them inherit king, Charles Robert, the heir favored a throne of honor.” by the Holy See, who went on to pos- (Samuel 2:8) sess the fullness of power, plenitudine potestatis, despite the customary law still having a strong presence in the realm. Considering that the founding of the Angevin dynasty1 was very different in Hungary compared to Na- ples,2 the question arises: after almost 20 years of struggle, was his mentality closer to that of the Hungarian noble elite rather than that of his kin back in Naples? We believe that the answer Mihai Safta lays in the institutions of the kingdom Ph. D. candidate at the Faculty of History and in the legal background. Influ- and Philosophy, Babeº-Bolyai University, ences of Roman and canon law were Cluj-Napoca. already present in the realm by the 13th Tangencies • 97 century, and the new king, Charles Robert, did not find at court a different mentality, but rather a different name for the same concepts. Was Charles Robert (or Caroberto) acting in accordance with the customary law of the Kingdom of Hungary? In order to formulate an answer, we must make a brief incursion into the legal background of the Kingdom of Hungary, and ask another question: how much knowledge of Roman law did the chancellery have during the 13th and the 14th centuries? Was it customary law that predominated, or was it a mixture of canon and Roman law applied over a customary foundation? According to Professor Gábor Hamza,3 Roman law started having a direct influence in Hungary only during the age of the Glossators.4 The influence and use of canon law in the Kingdom of Hungary and the areas situated in the traditional domain of the crown, both de facto and de jure, was in accordance to Western legal works during the 13th and 14th centuries.5 One of the most important Hungarian students of Roman law was Paulus Hungarus,6 who was an adept of the traditional mainstream of legal education in Bologna. In his work, he also included twenty references to the particular customs of the Hungarian Church, citing, now and then, the iura propria and local canonical customs of the territories known today as France, Sicily, Lombardy, Venice and Spain.7 Although this comparative approach was innovating, his active role in the royal chancellery has been debated recently.8 Several decades later, under the influence of the Fourth Lateran Council (1215), in the 1279 Synod of Buda, the papal legate, Philip of Fermo, ordered that clerics who dealt with family wills and marriage cases in ecclesiastical courts of law had to have at least three years of training in canon law at a university. Canon law had influenced, and prevailed, in the enactments of the 1298 Hungar- ian Diet that had been summoned and its resolutions enforced by the last king of the House of Árpád, Andrew III.9 On these grounds, we can understand how Roman canon law had, indeed, prevailed in the laws of the Hungarian kings, including various articles of the Golden Bull of 1222, and its variant of 1231, in the legislative acts of Béla IV, and in the 1298 legalistic resolutions (Constitutio- nes) that had been enacted by Andrew III (d. 1301), to serve as evidence of the historic fact that during the 12th and 13th centuries Arpadian Hungary had been an active participant in the Latin Western political and cultural mainstream. Charles Robert needed almost ten years to assume direct control of the realm,10 and in 1321,11 when this was achieved, “Charles est devenu roi omnipo- tent de Hongrie, où personne ne pouvait contester la plénitude de ses droits.”12 During the succession wars the power of the aristocratic families increased, and the kingdom was de facto divided into smaller parts governed by members of the high aristocracy assuming titles of major officers of the realm, but actually 98 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) pursuing their own policy without regard to royal authority.13 Similarly to his predecessor,14 Charles donated the confiscated property to his household, his faithful companions and followers, his familiars.

he process of this “social rising” started at the very end of the 12th century and continued throughout the 13th century and beyond. This change concerned the group of liberi, that is, the impoverished descendants of T 15 the former elite, and the hospites as well. However, by the first half of the 14th century, Zsolt Hunyadi16 considers that one segment of the “free elements” remained out of the circle of the lesser nobility. This was the group of free landowners, homines possessionati, who were able to retain their lands during the fundamental social changes of the 13th century. Unfortunately, none of the clas- sifications devised by Hungarian scholars could find the proper place for them, although this group definitely belonged to the upper layer of society. The preeminent dignitaries of the realm were the barones regni, also called magnificus vir dominus. The second group were the knights in service to the king, normally without any special honorary title, and the youths at court, aule regie iuvenis. Although the king imported many Western institutions, there is no linear evolution of rights or charters regarding noble privileges. Martyn Rady17 considers that the 14th century Hungarian elite opposed the development of par- liamentary practice, with a strong adversity towards the Golden Bull of 1222, while Enikø Csukovits18 considers that we must see Naples as a gateway to the Christian world rather than a fundamental model of institutions and government when it comes to the Kingdom of Hungary. Another new institution introduced in the realm by the Anjou kings was the institution of chivalry (i.e. classical Western chivalry). The particularity was that the anointment of a knight was in Hungary a right reserved exclusively to the king. However, this institution found an unstable ground on which to build a proper foundation, considering that all the nobles in the kingdom were considered eo ipso knights without the sacral ointment. This aversion did not prevent the king from creating the order of The Knightly Brotherhood of Saint Georges (Societas Militiae Sancti Georgi) in 1318, following the example of the French Plantagenet order founded by Louis the Saint. It was the second among all Eu- ropean orders of knights.19 After 1323, the king created the rank of knight of the court (aule regie miles), while the young and the infants were now considered pages of the court or aule parvulus. The most revered title at court was considered to be that of the magister curiae regiae, then followed the barons, the palatine, woyvod of Transylvania, the judge of the royal curia (judex curiae regiae), and the ban of Slovenia, Croatia, Dalmatia, Macso, Szoreny, the master of the treasury, the master of custodians, Tangencies • 99 the master of servants of the kitchen, the master of copying, the master of stables etc. By the end of 1330 justice was the province of four autonomous national judges. The woyvod and the ban also had judicial authority.20 The best known model of social stratification, apart from the cliché of the bellatores, oratores and laboratores, is perhaps that of Pál Engel, based on possession, meaning those who held property rights and those who did not. The homo possessionatus is considered to be equivalent to the noble, while the homo impossessionatus is the man without nobility, homo ignobilis. However, the medieval term of possession was sometimes mixed with the Roman dominium. In classical Ro- man law, a man “possesses” a thing if he has control of it—if he “has” it, with or without a title.21 Another more function-oriented division is that of the plough pushers and the ones that pay the plough pushers.22 Another possible model of stratification of the nobles of the realm23 is their division into nobiles bene possessionati, nobiles unius possessionis, and familiares.24 The first category, the nobles of good status, was very ambiguously defined, as the fortune necessary to be integrated into this category was not specifically quantified. Considering this, the nobles bene possessionati were again separated into nobles of great, middle and small possession. The second category, the nobiles unius possessionis, the nobles of one possession, meant usually one manor house (curialistae), without serfs (nobiles job- bagiones non habentes). They could not live, in this manner, the “noble way,” they could not satisfy their military obligations, and they had to work their own lands, in many ways being assimilated to the serfs. The third category, the familiares, the nobles and the serfs in service to the king and the great barons, represented an important presence at the court. The political rights of the familiares were much more limited than those of other lesser nobles. The military service however remained the same. We consider that the main feature of the system of familiars was not one in which less powerful and poorer nobles entered in the service of magnates and performed for them as their lords (domini),25 but rather one of social stability and social rising, based on a mutual agreement, or even a very specific contract. The creation of the familiars, after the civil war, was not as István Petrovics26 considers, namely that after defeating the “little kings” the king then proceeded to redistribute the confiscated estates pro honore among his new aristocracy. We must point out here that the expression “little kings” is meant to refer to the reguli specific in the imperial chancelleries of the 12th and 13th centuries, and should not be applied to Charles Robert, who did not see himself as a dominus mundi, but rather as an instrument of the papacy. Then again, “confiscating estates for himself and then redistributing them pro honore among his new aristocracy” mirrors the actions of Henry II, the first Angevin king of England.27 In 100 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) this sense we must make the following specification: during the reign of Henry II, the feudal relationship involved profound mutual obligations, represented and secured by a precarious grant of land. The lord provided protection and upkeep to his man. The obligation was symbolized by the homage. By that ceremony he entered into a relationship of subordination: in all things he was to further his lord’s earthly honor. Obviously he had to conscientiously perform his knightly or other services.28 The familiaris regis was not a specifically unique institution of the Kingdom of Hungary, but rather a common development at the king’s court, in England, France and Sicily. The familiares of a king, col- lectively referred to as the familia regis, evolved into a private royal council in England during the reign of Henry III (1216–72)29 and in France during that of Philip V (1316–22).30 In England, it was known as the concilium familiare or concilium privatum (Privy Council) and in France as the magnum consilium (Great Council, the Conseil du Roi).31 The donation of the confiscated property to his household, his faithful companions and followers, his familiars, created a form of “social contract.” To- gether, lords and men constituted a unit for the exercise of force and influence. Group benefit dictated a balance between assuring the lord the services of his tenants and the claim on the lord’s standing by his undertakings. Another aspect intimately linked with possession was the honor system. We believe that this framework, honor-possession, was indeed functional in medieval Hungary and was presented in Zoltán Kordé’s study,32 where he mentions the discovery and the role that Pál Engel had attributed to the term honor, and its relation to possession. Honor and political-moral considerations moderated lordly control. A good lord followed the counsel of his men: they constituted his court; they rendered the judgments. Together, lord and men constituted a unit for the exercise of force and influence. The tyrannical or capricious lord could not expect loyalty indefinitely, nor could the unreliable man expect to continue to reap benefits without shouldering burdens. Given that balancing consideration, feudal relationships could not be governed by any strict definition of the rights or obligations of lords. Feudal courts had vast discretion. Claims to land were claims for the benefit of a personal relationship. Personal relationships and the tenures dependent on them were essentially different from property rights.33 The problem with the familiars, possessions and hereditary property,34 in Angevin England and Hungary, was related to the idea of “men raised from dust,” the fact that the monarchs were choosing those low-born men, plebes, ignobiles, even rustici or servi as their ministers and counselors, instead of members of the old noble families. They complained that the king was choosing his courtiers or familiars from this rabble, and allowed them to usurp places that belonged to the aristocracy. This chorus of complaint began in the time of William Tangencies • 101 the Conqueror’s sons, in England, and during the oligarchy wars, in Hungary. Only then did nobiles and curiales begin to divide into two distinct groups, and new administrative posts provided opportunities for new men to rise to greater wealth and influence.35 Land granted by Charles Robert36 was usually followed by the expression perpetuo possidendam.37 This meant that the beneficiary could enjoy only the usufructus, and only for a limited time, despite the misleading term perpetuo.38 Even if a term was fixed, the death of the holder ended it. In the charters of 1301–1340, the period we have studied, adding the heirs to this perpetual grant was not a transformation into a hereditary hold, but rather a safeguard against abuse, or the dissolution of contract.

. . . magistrum Theodorum et suos antecessores habite extiterunt et possesse, dedisse, donasse et tradidisse sibi et per eum suis heredibus heredumque suorum successori- bus iure perpetuo et irrevocabiliter possidendas tenendas et habendas.39 Nullum ius dominii vel alicuis proprietatis sibi ibidem de dictis possessionibus reservantes . . .40

Mentioned above are some examples of Roman terms included in a medieval document dating from 1322. Interesting for our study are the expression iure perpetuo et irrevocabiliter possidendas tenendas et habendas and the verbs possesse, dedisse, donasse and tradidisse (i.e. possessed, given, bestowed, and handed over).41 Property rights, as we understand them today, were inherently antithetical to feudal holdings. Property as a legal phenomenon is a modern concept and cannot be used when referring to medieval forms of possession.42

Conclusions

he royal administration of justice and the “regalist reforms” as opposed to “feudal reforms” of the Angevin kings—Henry II in England, Charles T Robert the Wise in Sicily and Charles Robert in Hungary—shape the concept of Anjou colonization. By importing a new system in order to protect the conquered lands and through the dissolution of the hereditary noble offices, the king created a stable monarchy, but also more adversity between the oligarchy and the familiares regis, some of them foreign nobles while others were simply men raised from dust. Regarding the concept of possession, we have argued that the idea of the homo possessionatus and the homo impossessionatus is unjust and lim- its the perception of the machinations of the Crown. Acknowledging that three main types of property were present in the Kingdom of Hungary (i.e. the eccle- 102 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) siastical possession, the noble possessions, and the Crown), and considering that there could be common ownership of a usufruct and that a usufruct might be granted in an undivided share of property, “landowning” and “nobility” emerge as very complex terms with several connotations and superposing elements, which must not leave the attention of historians and jurists any time soon. q

Notes

1. The book recently published by Enikø Csukovits, L’Ungheria angioina (Rome: Viella, 2013), is a collection of the most important works considered for the repre- sentation of the Hungarian Angevin historiography, in foreign languages. Relevant sources concerning the Angevin rule exerted over the Kingdom of Hungary since the early 14th century are still considered to be Gennaro Maria Monti’s La legislazi- one napoletana di Ludovico I d’Ungheria (Benevento, 1929) published in 1930, while the only volume available in Italian was Bálint Hóman’s Gli Angioini di Napoli in Ungheria, 1290–1403 published in 1938. Other major works still cited by historians are Pál Engel’s The Realm of St Stephen (2001), Miklós Molnár’s A Concise History of Hungary (2001) and David Abulafia’s I regni del Mediterraneo occidentale dal 1200 al 1500: La Lotta per il dominio (2012). Other important works available in English that have discussed the Angevin dynasty are: Ede Mészáros, De cultu litterarum et de lingua Latina Hungariae medii aevi (Rome: Istituto di Studi Romani, 1940); Erik Fügedi, Kings, Bishops, Nobles, and Burghers in Medieval Hungary (London: Vari- orum, 1986); Gábor Klaniczay, Holy Rulers and Blessed Princesses: Dynastic Cults in Medieval Central Europe (Cambridge, uk, and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002); Attila Zsoldos, The Legacy of Saint Stephen, transl. Judit Barna (Buda- pest: Lucidus, 2004). 2. Charles I of Naples was almost 40 years of age and had governing experience when, in 1265, he set forth with his French troops to conquer the Kingdom of Sicily, while Charles I of Hungary was a child of 12 years of age and had a very small retinue. 3. Gábor Hamza, “Roman Law and the Development of Hungarian Private Law before the Promulgation of the Civil Code of 1959,” Fundamina (Pretoria) 20, 1 (2017): 383–393. Available from: . Last accessed on 19.09.2015. 4. Ibid. 5. Until the middle of the twelfth century, they were using works from previous Caro- lingian times, namely, the Collection Dionysio-Hadriana and the Collection Pseudo- Isidoriana. A copy of Gratian’s Decretal, from the 12th century, kept in the capitulary Library of Bratislava and a cataloged exemplary T.301 at the Library of the Hungar- ian Academy of Science indicate its dissemination and application in the Hungarian Tangencies • 103

space. ªerban Turcuº, Sfântul Scaun ºi românii în secolul al XIII-lea (Bucharest: Ed. Enciclopedicã, 2001), 39–40. 6. “A thirteenth century jurist, Paulus Hungarus, is part of a bigger group of Hungar- ian students at Bologna. It is speculated that he was born around 1180, and arrived at Bologna in about 1200” (Manlio Bellomo and Orazio Condorelli, “Monumenta Iuris Canonici,” in Proceedings of the Eleventh International Congress of Medieval Law, eds. Manlio Bellomo and Orazio Condorelli (Catania: Biblioteca Apostolica Vati- cana, 2006), 600–601. 7. Ibid. 8. As Nora Berend states, “these texts obviously do not prove that Paul actively helped the Hungarian king in any specific debate with the papacy. But it is noteworthy that a canon lawyer and founder of the Hungarian Dominican province explicitly stated his opinion in favor of the royal power even over ecclesiastical regulations” (apud Bellomo and Condorelli, 600–601). 9. Bellomo and Condorelli, 600–601. 10. Noel Coulet and Jean Michel Matz, Actes du colloque international organisé par l’Université d’Anger, Angers-Saumur, 3-6 juin 1998. La Noblesse dans les territoires An- gevins à la fin du Moyen Age (Rome: École Française de Rome, 2000), 429. 11. “The clergy of Buda took the remarkable action of excommunicating the pope and the Hungarian episcopate on account of their failure to support the Bohemian claimants. The hostility of the citizens of Buda and the fact that nearly the entire realm was controlled by the oligarchs forced Charles I to find a temporary residence in south-east Hungary. He found this place in the town of Temesvar (modern day Timisoara in Romania), where he had his royal seat between 1315 and 1323” (ibid., 436). 12. Ibid., 429. 13. Ibid. 14. “The alienation of royal estate was not, therefore, a sign of Andrew’s irresponsibility, but arose from the contemporary understanding of faithfulness and from the way that this affected military obligation.” Martyn Rady, “Hungary and the Golden Bull of 1222,” Banatica (Reºiþa) 24–II (2014): 87–108. 15. Zsolt Hunyadi, “Maiores, Optimates, Nobiles: Semantic Questions in the Early His- tory of the Hungarian Nobility,” Annual of Medieval Studies at the ceu, 1996–1997, eds. R. Mikolajczyk and M. Sebøk (Budapest: Central European University, 1998), 208. 16. Ibid., 204–211. 17. Rady, 87–108. 18. Csukovits, 134–135. 19. Charles d’Eszlary, Histoire des institutions publiques hongroises (Paris: Librairie Marcel Rivière, 1959), 72–73. 20. Csukovits, 85. 21. W. W. Buckland, A text-book of Roman Law from Augustus to Iustinian (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1921), 198. 104 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

22. Susan Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals: The Medieval Evidence Reinterpreted (Oxford: Clar- endon Press, 1994), 39. 23. The evolution of the lesser nobility throughout the kingdom was mostly homog- enous, and it evolved mainly from the castle warriors, and in Transylvania the royal servitors became nobles by military service: “Similarly, as to the Transylvanian royal servitors, they became nobles on the basis of their military service, though the former group and their ‘companions’ in Slavonia (present-day Croatia) acquired the right of the veri nobiles regni by the royal decrees of 1290, 1298, and 1324.” Although K. Tagányi put forward the idea that the lesser nobility in the various regions of the Kingdom of Hungary developed differently, E. Mályusz proved that although there were indeed temporal divergences and local peculiarities there were no radical differences between the “core” of the country and its other parts. Thus, “the lesser nobility of County Turóc and Liptó in Upper Hungary (present-day Slovakia) evolved mainly from the castle warriors,” in the first case from the filii iobagionium of Turóc and, in the second, the “lancers” of Liptó. Hunyadi (http://www.staff.u-szeged.hu/~capitul/ oktatas/hung_soc/maiores.pdf), 206–211. 24. d’Eszlary, 313–320. 25. According to Damir Karbić, the main features of the system of familiaritas were as follows: less powerful and poorer nobles entered in the service of magnates and performed for their lords (domini) different administrative and military tasks as their retainers (servientes/familiares). For that they received a salary usually paid in cash. Grants of land were given to the retainers only exceptionally, and that was usually a reward for former service and not a precondition. (Coulet and Matz, 436.) 26. Coulet and Matz, 438. 27. The action of reorganizing the social and territorial administration, following the French-Anjou colonization model, resembles the reforms of the Angevin monarchs of the past (particularly Henry II of England, Charles Robert the Wise in Sicily, and the particularities of Provence). 28. Robert C. Palmer, “The Origins of Property in England” (1985). Faculty Publica- tions. Paper 901. http://scholarship.law.wm.edu/facpubs/901. 29. Ralph V. Turner, Judges, Administrators and the Common Law in Angevin England (London: The Hambledon Press, 1994), 876–905. 30. This idea has been developed in the works of: Eric Bournazel, Le gouvernement capétien au XIIe siècle (1108-1180): Structures sociales et mutations institutionnelles (Paris: puf, 1975); J. E. A. Jolliffe, Angevin Kingship (London: A.&C. Black, 1955); François Olivier-Martin, Histoire du droit français des origines à la Révolution, 2nd ed. (Paris: Domat Montchrestien, 1951). 31. Hiroshi Takayama, “Familiares Regis and the Royal Inner Council in Twelfth-Cen- tury Sicily,” The English Historical Review (1989): 357–372. 32. Coulet and Matz, 452. 33. Palmer, 5. 34. Ibid., 6. 35. Turner, 225–226. Tangencies • 105

36. During the first decades of the 14th century the transfer of property functioned as indicated by the following case. What is interesting is that this document predates the Angevin dynasty and we must try to answer if this form of exchange along with others did or did not suffer mutations following the Capetian monarchy institu- tional model. Documente privind istoria României, veacul XIV. C. Transilvania, vol. 2 (1321–1330) (Bucharest: Ed. Academiei, 1953), doc. no. 16, p. 12. 37. As it can be seen throughout the collection by Imre Nagy and Gyula Nagy, Codex diplomaticus hungaricus andegavensis (Budapest: A Magyar Tudományos Akadémia, 1881), vols. 1 (1301–1321), 2 (1322–1332), 3 (1333–1339). 38. In Roman law, the usufructus was the right to enjoy the property of another and to take the fruits, but not to destroy it, or fundamentally alter its character. It was usually for life, never more, and, sometimes for a fixed term. Where it was given to a corporation its limit under Justinian was 100 years (Buckland, 268). 39. Documente privind Istoria României, veacul XIV. C. Transilvania, 2, doc. no. 125, pp. 354–355. 40. Ibid., doc. no. 125, pp. 354–355. 41. Ibid. 42. Palmer, 7.

Abstract New Interpretations of the Concepts Regarding Familiars and Possession in Angevin Hungary during the Early 14th Century

This article surveys the evolution and the creation of the royal household during the first decades of the reign of Charles Robert of Anjou. Following the brief presentation of the legal background of the chancellery we present the two main concepts, familiars and possession, and the effects of the civil war with the nobles, all the while considering and presenting the influences from two important Angevin-run regions: England and Sicily. We bring arguments against the concept of familiares regis as an original and regional concept, seeing it rather as an imported and adapted institution, displaying the influences and mutations suffered under the rule of the first Angevin king.

Keywords familiars, possession, medieval law, Transylvania, Charles Robert, Anjou, rights of possession, 14th century Anjou Hungary Gender, Race and Labor in America How One Labor Union Confronted Racial and Gender Conflict T i m o th y B o r d e n during the Second World War

“He may be snubbed, re- Race and War in America: A Labor Union Confronts sented, even kicked around, Racial Conflict during but it won’t be like the South. Wartime He will not find a carefully n April 1935, the United Auto worked out technique of sup- Workers Union (uaw) staged its pressions operating against I most important labor action of him. His fights will be open the 1930s—and, possibly, the most important labor action in America dur- and on the surface, and he ing that period—when it confronted will not be opposed by the the General Motors Corporation (gm) at its Chevrolet Transmission plant on whole white community. Central Avenue in Toledo, Ohio. The He will make friends.” three-week closure of the factory by the union resulted in a “Memorandum (Arna Bontemps of Negotiations” and marked the first & Jack Conroy) time gm had bargained with an independent labor union. The very ability of a union to conduct a successful la- Timothy Borden bor strike against gm—with an orderly Graduate researcher at the Center for the Study of History and Memory, Indiana procession of workers carrying protest University, usa. Editor and contributor to signs around the factory during the American Originals: Northwest Ohio’s strike—demonstrated the potential Polish Community at Home, Work, power of workers’ demands for collec- Worship and Play (2014). tive action. Yet this strength, born of Tangencies • 107 class solidarity and militancy in the Great Depression of the 1930s, had another side for African-American workers in the next decade, as events during the Sec- ond World War would demonstrate.1

Working-Class Americanism: Ethnicity, Race and Gender from Prosperity to Hardship

cademic writers have argued that some white workers in America— fearing the changes of modernism of the 1920s—embraced conserva- A tive, even racist, organizations such as the infamous Ku Klux Klan. It appears that most working-class, white Americans, however, adopted new hab- its that embraced modernism, most notably the participation in a nationally oriented consumer culture. For many of these workers, especially those that were immigrants themselves, overt (even racist) calls to “traditional” American values held no value. Thus, a broad form of working-class Americanism remained alive through the 1920s, despite a politically conservative culture. When the prosperity of the 1920s turned into the Great Depression of the 1930s, the basis for this broad coalition of working-class Americans showed its potential power.2

A Case Study: African-Americans and the Labor Movement in an American City, from Depression through War

n contrast to the waves of European immigration that changed its character in the late nineteenth century, the city of Toledo, in the State of Ohio— I arguably, the most “average” city in the nation, then as now—has always had an African-American community. In the first national census of the town in 1840, 54 “free Blacks” lived in the town, about 4.4% of the total population. Like any community, Toledo’s Black population formed its own church parishes, two of which dated from the antebellum period (before the American Civil War of the 1860s). By the time of the American Civil War, about 200 African-Americans lived in the city.3 Although they were free in the northern states of America, other forms of discrimination were imposed on African Americans. In 1850 the Toledo Col- ored (Black) School Association resulted from the imposed racial segregation in the State of Ohio’s newly created public school system for children. In contrast to other cities in the state, however, Toledo’s public (or common) schools de- 108 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) segregated by 1870. Similarly, the state’s “Black Laws,” designed to segregate by race one’s residence and employment and to limit voting rights along racial lines, were ignored in the city. By 1890 African Americans lived in all nine wards (or neighborhoods) of the city, although their presence was usually concentrated within each ward. Yet there was no racial ghetto; in fact, the African American population in Toledo declined through the First World War to just 1.1% of the total population. As in every other northern American city, the Great Migration of African Ameri- cans during and after the First World War changed demographics completely in Toledo. Between 1915 and 1920 about 4,000 African Americans arrived in Toledo, which doubled their presence in the city. The move was largely spurred by economic opportunity and advancement: whereas almost none of the city’s African American workers were in skilled occupations in 1910, about 28% held skilled or semi-skilled positions in 1920, according to researchers at the Univer- sity of Toledo. However, most African-Americans worked as porters, janitors or domestic servants in the city. Despite the demand for labor in the city during the war, few factories would hire African Americans.4 The influx of new residents tested the demand for housing and services in the city, and, for the first time, a racial ghetto took shape. In the eastern part of the city, African Americans were warned by newspaper stories to stay away from the area; a formal committee, the Citizens’ Realty Plan, publically announced racially restrictive purchasing agreements for homeowners. On a more positive note, the racial tensions that caused unrest, as well as fatal violence, in other northern cities during the First World War did not occur in Toledo. On a negative note, new African American arrivals to Toledo were largely directed to find housing in the Pinewood District, a formerly German neighborhood just southwest of the main downtown area of the city’s central business district. They largely had no choice but to take housing there. The racial segregation was still largely informal, but it was nonetheless very real. The changes in the neighborhood, once known as Lenk’s Hill, into the Pine- wood District were astonishingly rapid. In 1914 the area has just 16 Black families living in it, about a third of the neighborhood’s population. By 1920 about two- thirds of Toledo’s 5,691 African Americans lived in the wards that included the Pinewood District. Lenk’s Hill had been a semi-industrial, partly residential neighborhood through 1900, with many small businesses, saloons, barbershops, grocer- ies and small factories taking their place among the houses in the area. By the First World War, small businesses and factories were the main buildings in the neighborhood, with houses for the owners and workers taking up the rest of the area. Although the prosperous years of the First World War in America boosted the neighborhood’s businesses, the houses in the ward had already deteriorated. Tangencies • 109

Most of the homes on the eastern side of Lenk’s Hill had been built in the early 1880s; in fact, the area had been over-built with smaller, over-crowded homes because of speculation in property during that period. Initial landowners sub- divided lots for housing, even as the area became industrialized after 1900. The neighborhood retained some stability, as many self-employed artisans—paint- ers, plasterers, plumbers and shoemakers—worked out of their homes. But these residents moved on as their jobs became industrialized and were located in factories, not homes. The neighborhood soon became Toledo’s “Colored Town” after the First World War. There were other policy changes that shaped the formation of Toledo’s racial ghetto in the first decades of the twentieth century; chief among them was the levy of property taxes on the area. Although the residences of Lenk’s Hill were clearly less valuable after 1900, property taxes on the land remained high. Because the neighborhood was increasingly one of industry and was adjacent to valuable downtown business parcels, landowners paid relatively high taxes on the land in comparison to newly developed parts of the city. With the real value (in terms of rental income) of residential buildings barely sufficient to justify the upkeep and repair of private dwellings in Lenk’s Hill, many fell into neglect. Many property owners thus converted formerly one-family homes into multi-family residences in order to get as much out of their holdings as quickly as possible. Still, at a rate of almost 28% in 1923, home ownership among Toledo’s African American population surpassed that of other northern American cities even as residential segregation increased. The rate of home ownership in Toledo declined a bit to about 20% by 1930, but it still far surpassed the rate in other northern cities such as Chicago (10%) or Buffalo (7%). Although the rate of home ownership among African Americans was relatively high in Toledo, however, it has to be put into perspective. The economic collapse of the Great Depression in America intensified the formation of a racial ghetto in Toledo. In the city as a whole, unemployment reached almost 50% in 1932. In Pinewood, which was then 87% African Ameri- can, unemployment reached 80%. The area in the easternmost portion of Lenk’s Hill (eventually marked for “slum eradication” as a New Deal measure by the us Government in 1934) had 75% of its buildings graded in “bad” condition, with fewer than 5% in “good” condition. A slum survey showed that 90% of the city’s tuberculosis cases were in the Pinewood District and its rate of illegiti- mate births, at 7% of all births, far outpaced the city’s rate of 2.6%. Only the downtown district, with no residential population aside from transients staying in run-down “flop” houses, had higher rates of criminal convictions, juvenile and adult delinquency and mental illnesses.5 110 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Labor and Race in Toledo, Ohio

mong the major businesses in Toledo, few employed African-Americans throughout the Depression years of the 1930s in any number whatsoever, A in contrast when some had found jobs during the growth of the 1920s. The Willys-Overland Company, with about 2,000 employees on its payroll in 1932, employed only 4 African Americans, as janitors. Among the 1,400 workers of the Libbey-Owens-Ford (lof) glass-making factory, 12 African Americans worked as janitors, as did 40 of the 1,2000 employees of the General Motors Chevrolet Transmission Plant. Ohio Bell (the city’s monopoly telephone company), Electric Auto-Lite, and Doehler-Jarvis, among the city’s largest employers, hired not a single African American worker. As these companies were among the region’s leading employers, African-Americans were excluded from the jobs that had the greatest chance of surviving the Great Depression intact. Even with the federal government’s New Deal programs, designed to get jobs and money into the economy, African Americans continued to suffer more during the Depression. By 1937 employment among workers had fallen to about 10% in Toledo in general. For African American workers, the rate was about 33%.6 In addition to the resistance of employers to hire African American workers for anything but low-wage work, their segregation in the work force stemmed from their second-class status in the city’s labor unions. None of the city’s unions had ever taken an interest in including African American workers. Those that joined a labor union found little advancement in the workplace. Referring to the practice of hiring white members of a union over African-American union members for jobs, one academic study concluded that “Such practices and policies lead one to believe that even unions which do admit the Negro do so only for the purpose of controlling him.” Emmett Wheaton, Sr., an African American attorney who completed an academic study at the University of Toledo in 1927 indicated that “The trouble with labor and capital is that . . . they have become antagonistic forces for group and race advantage and exploitation. . . . The Ne- gro is confined to the lowest ranks of labor in the mills, shops and factories of industrial establishments. He hardly if ever rises to the rank of foreman and other positions of supervisory capacity, regardless of his ability, and his struggles to enter the class of skilled laborers are far more severe and discouraging than those of the white man.”7 By the end of the Second World War, however, Emmett Wheaton, Sr.’s son would challenge these very prerogatives as a member of the United Auto Work- ers Union, an organization that pledged itself to ending racial discrimination in the workplace. It would be a hard battle; not only would workers pit themselves against one another, but the union would be split at times as well. Tangencies • 111

Labor, Gender, Race and War in uaw Local 14’s Chevrolet Transmission Plant (Toledo, Ohio)

gainst the background of an economic depression and the onset of war, consider the first of at least three unauthorized strikes (“wildcat” A strikes) by the workers at the Chevrolet Transmission plant, organized by the uaw’s Local 14, between July 1943 and April 1944. It was a time when America’s war production had reached its full potential and unemployment was virtually non-existent. The union had also agreed to a no-strike pledge to the us Government for the duration of the war. The unauthorized, or “wildcat” strike that began on 13 July 1943 started with a supervisor’s reprimand of employee Russell Eastham, who had received several prior disciplinary warnings for various infractions. This time, Eastham was punished for smoking in one of the factory’s toilets; in response, Eastham alleged that he was being arbitrarily punished for a common offense in the plant. Eastham then went further and stormed into the factory’s personnel office, where he found Claude Cochenour, a general manager in the plant. Eastham— mistakenly, as it turned out—assumed that Cochenour had ordered him to be reprimanded, and then attacked him. So violent was Eastham’s outburst that he carried Cochenour out of the plant and onto the sidewalk during the course of the attack. Eastham was fired on the spot and his co-workers then walked out during their meal break to demand that he be reinstated. The first union official to respond to the strike was Local 14’s Recording Secretary, James Cook. After he failed to get the strikers to return to their jobs, he contacted the top official of Local 14, Regional Director Richard Gosser. As Cook later described events at the plant, “Gosser came to the shop and talked to the men outside during their lunch period, and by appealing to their patriotism and so forth he urged them to go back to work. This they did when the work signal sounded at 8:30 and there was no further stoppage of work.” While the men went back to work, Eastham was not so fortunate. Although the union tried to get his job back before a labor hearing board, it rejected its appeal.8 Eastham’s outburst and subsequent actions by his union showed just how much labor unions had changed the nature of the workplace in the factory. Only a few years before, as one worker remembered, “If you had something to say, for the better or for yourself, well, you wasn’t organized, you was afraid to do it, because you was on your own. You had to be organized to have power to talk to somebody . . . [Workers] had grievances, but they couldn’t come out into the open.”9 Now, workers felt confident enough of their power that they violated a national no-strike pledge during wartime to fight one man’s dismissal over what was likely a personal dispute. They may have gone back to work under patriotic 112 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) appeals, but only after demonstrating a measure of control over the workplace. Their collective dignity, along with decent wages and job security, were important goals. Male workers in the plant voiced similar demands in their next wildcat strike, but this time in protest against assertions of equality from their own, female colleagues. On 13 March 1944, 35–40 men in the plant’s grinding department stopped work “because of a girl put on a grinder” machine, according to a later statement by one of the strikers. The woman had worked in the department before, but had been removed after the men protested “to get an older [male] employee on the job.” But while the union argued that the men’s actions resulted from being “fed up with practice of supervision in putting new employees on higher-rated jobs when employees with merit, ability, capacity and seniority are available to do a grinder,” no-one denied that the protest was specifically intended to keep women from working in the department.10 In the aftermath of the strike, the company invoked patriotism to justify its disciplinary action against the men who participated in the strike. “Our young men are giving their lives in the War on foreign lands,” wrote the plant manager in response to the men’s grievances, “And the least we can do here at home is to keep our machines running and thus try to do our part in supporting them in their gigantic task. . . . Every man involved should consider himself censured for stopping war work on such a trivial context.” In response, the union claimed that the strike was a spontaneous action and was therefore no individual man’s fault. The argument was as flimsy as was its defense of Russell Eastham. The strike was blamed entirely on the men who walked out. After the matter had settled down, however, women met with little future resistance in working in various departments around the plant. There were no other recorded labor disruptions there based on claims of gender supremacy during the course of the war. The next strike, however, brought some of the plant’s men and women together in a test of racial supremacy as some white workers staged a so-called “hate” strike that began on 20 April 1944 and continued through the next day. Initially, the strike involved 7 white women—Jessie Rhoads, Florence Anthony, Helen Cuddebak, Deloris Linkey, Maxine Crowe, Cora Dailey and Opal Jewell —who refused to work with 4 African-American women who were placed on a production line alongside them. Joined by over 100 workers in their department, the women walked out and stopped production in the entire plant. The next day, workers went back to their jobs pending the reinstatement of the 7 women, who had received 2-week suspensions for their actions. When the women’s appeal was denied, workers left the plant again. Vincent DuBell, later singled out as a leader of the second walkout, described what happened in his subsequent grievance: Tangencies • 113

When I came out for lunch hour my intentions were to go back to work. I ate at Frank’s Restaurant. There was a large crowd there and I don’t remember any faces but all had Chevrolet badges on and told me that I shouldn’t go back to work, but the crowd decided to go back in the plant. The crowd left the plant all together and went to the union hall as there was an [union] man there to speak to them. The international and local officers told us all to go back to work. After the international and local officers left the meeting I expressed myself. Quote, “In my judgment we should all go back to work and that the membership should use their own judgment and above all there should be no picket line of any source.” I came out Saturday morning to see if the day shift went to work so I could prepare myself to go to work and there was a picket line around the plant. The crowd hollered at me and asked, “What’s the matter, Vince, are you afraid to go in?” I then fell in with the crowd. I hung around with the gang for about an hour and then went home and was there all day. I worked around the house and heard over the radio there would be a meeting for all Chevrolet workers Sunday at 1pm at 611 Huron Street. I attended the meeting.11

Another worker, Albert H. Scofield, also protested his discharge from the plant for leading the picket line. Scofield claimed he joined the protest only because “I was told I better get in by someone I didn’t know so I got in and walked around a couple of times. Then I left for home and told my wife that they had a picket line at the plant and that the doors were locked.” Three other workers, Gerald Smith, Lois Hollinger and Annie Alford, also received 60-day suspensions for “attempting to induce other employees to quit working.” The general meeting on Sunday, 23 April, however, ended the walkout, as workers voted to submit all grievances for arbitration and go back to work.12 Although workers in the second walkout may have been motivated by several issues—the union’s attempt to get the 7 women placed back on the job, after all, was a test of its authority in the plant—the meaning of the strike was clear. Remarkably, just 5 weeks after women themselves had been the target of a strike by men in the grinding department—and less than 9 months after they had first been hired in the Chevrolet plant—women helped to lead a protest with their colleagues to enforce shop-floor racial segregation. But the women received little support from their union for their actions. As in the previous walkouts over the attack on a supervisor by Russell Eastham and the protests by male grinders against a woman placed in their department, Lo- cal 14 officials stated publicly that the racial strike was unsanctioned and took immediate action to get workers back into the plant. On each occasion, workers failed in their overt attempts to shape the union to a particular vision of gender or racial prerogatives. 114 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Asking the union to live up to its ideals in its own daily affairs, however, was another matter. Far more than the strikes of 1943 and 1944, the events that created the most tension within Local 14 and the uaw during the war resulted from the demands of several African-American workers that the union enforce its working-class commitment to racial equality and end less overt, but no less pernicious, discriminatory practices in the factory and the union itself. For To- ledo’s African-American unionists, the second part of the “Double V for Vic- tory” campaign—victory against fascism abroad and racism at home—could not wait until the war’s end. The day-long hearing of the uaw’s Fair Practices Committee in Toledo on 30 April 1945 resulted from a complaint filed by 9 African-American union members (all of whom lived in the Pinewood District) from various plants in the region. Under the leadership of Emmett Wheaton, Jr. (who also chaired a group known as the Toledo Fact-Finding Committee to raise awareness of union activities in Toledo’s African-American community), the group alleged a series of discriminatory practices tolerated by the union. In Local 14, these practices included passing over long-time Black employees for promotion in favor of newly hired White workers, both male and female. The group claimed that although some of the Black workers had over 20 years of seniority at the Chevrolet plant, they remained classified as janitors, even if they now operated machines or performed other duties unrelated to their job classification. The complaint also alleged that under the union’s discretion, Blacks had been denied a pay raise granted by General Motors in 1940 to all workers in the plant. The list of infractions by the group also stated that union officials in the region refused to process the grievances of Black workers and that these workers were then denied promotions at work because of their race. In uaw Local 12’s Champion Spark Plug factory, one worker, Clarence Dale, had been taken off of a new job when 20 White workers in his department refused to work with him. According to testimony during the subsequent hearing, the union failed to discipline the wildcat workers or give the company an assurance that workers would stay on the job. This lack of action by the union forced Dale and another Black worker waiting a promotion at the factory back to their previous jobs in the plant. Dale’s complaint also charged that the union failed to pursue allegations that several area companies refused to hire Black workers and engaged in other racially discriminatory practices. In Willys-Overland’s Local 12 unit, these allegations were made even more damning by claiming that union leader Richard Gosser himself controlled hiring in the plant and that he had arranged to have Emmett Wheaton, Jr. fired from his position as an assistant supervisor with the company in retribution for his activism.13 Tangencies • 115

The union’s internal correspondence shows just how outraged Gosser was by the group’s charges. Firing off a letter to George Addes, chairman of the national union’s Fair Practices Committee, Gosser admitted problems in promotional practices at the Chevrolet factory. However, he argued that Wheaton’s group had ignored proper union procedures in issuing its public complaints. “These fellows did not tell me one damned thing I did not know. . . . Furthermore, these people are not a representative group of anyone, and . . . I refuse to meet with chosen individuals who set themselves up as a representative group of any group of people.” Gosser also attacked Wheaton’s challenge to his authority in the union’s own newspaper, The Toledo Union-Journal. Although Gosser reiterated his support of the union’s commitment “that there shall be no discrimination because of race, color or creed,” an editorial in the paper against the “efforts of a self-appointed leader of the Negro workers in Toledo to stir up dissension and discontent” criticized Wheaton’s absence at a union meeting in support of a Fair Employment Practices Act then under consideration by the State of Ohio.14 In the end, the Fair Practices Committee of the uaw dismissed most of the 12 allegations that it heard from lack of evidence. The charges it upheld, however, demonstrated a determined effort by the union to end the discriminatory practices that it agreed “are perpetuated there by mutual agreement between the plant’s management and certain unnamed committeemen of the Chevrolet Unit of Local 14.” The Committee condemned the management of Local 14’s willingness to agree to the racial prejudices of White workers in the plant by failing to support promotions for Black workers and ordered Director Gosser to negotiate with Chevrolet management to end such practices. Further, the Committee stated that it would review the subsequent agreement and take the matter out of the local union’s jurisdiction if Gosser failed to eliminate racial discrimination in Local 14.15 The Committee was even more forceful in ordering uaw Local 12’s Clarence Dale and Fred Clark to get their promotions at the Champion Spark Plug factory, which was the basis for the entire protest. Its recommendation gave the local union just 30 days to resolve the matter and stated that the union would refuse to hear any grievances related to disciplinary actions from a racial “hate strike” by their fellow workers. These terms were unambiguous in condemn- ing racial hatred within the factory by its workers. The Committee refused, however, to recommend the reinstatement of Emmett Wheaton, Jr. Although it admitted into evidence that Gosser had threatened to have Wheaton fired for his prior meeting with George Addes, the Committee found that the union did not have jurisdiction over Wheaton’s position as an assistant foreman, which was not covered by the union’s collective bargaining agreement with the company. However, Wheaton later regained employment at the Willys-Overland factory.16 116 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Race and Labor’s Hegemony in Toledo after the Second World War

espite the personal costs and amidst conflicting claims over the union’s authority and mission, Wheaton’s group forced the uaw to take its an- D ti-discrimination pledge very seriously by the end of the Second World War. Of course, the changes it demanded took years to implement in the union. In 1948, similar charges of discriminatory hiring at the Electric Auto-Lite factory and again at the Willys-Overland plant led to another report to the uaw’s Fair Practices Department. But the significance of the group’s wartime actions to subsequent events cannot be discounted. Even before the Fair Practices Committee had met in April 1945, Chevro- let workers voted to support the uaw’s anti-discrimination policies as well as the union’s plans to bring the issue into collective bargaining negotiations with gm’s management. By April 1946, soon after the war’s end, Reuben Harper, an African-American worker from Toledo’s American Aviation plant (represented by the uaw), served as a representative of the uaw in the factory, one of the first persons of color to hold that position in the entire national union. And in 1945, James B. Simmons, Jr., who had assisted the union’s Black workers as an organizer of the Mass Movement League in Toledo, won election to the City of Toledo’s City Council, the first African-American to win such an office. When Emmett Wheaton, Jr. joined the staff of the newly formed “Tole- do Sepia City Press” as the newspaper’s labor editor in 1948, he claimed that “[Walter] Reuther [the head of the entire uaw] and Gosser . . . are not just talking Negro leadership—they are really bringing it forward.” In one congratulatory column that followed, Wheaton noted that “Gosser and Regional Director Ballard are doing all they can to bring forth and develop safe and sane Negro leadership within the cio [Congress of Industrial Organizations]. They are proving, by deeds rather than words, just where they stand on the Negro question.” Other articles praised Gosser’s efforts to run the racially integrated uaw Children’s Summer Camp as well as his opposition to potential communist rivals within the labor movement, a force that Wheaton viewed with “utter contempt.” When Gosser faced his greatest challenges during his attempt to get Toledo’s employer to agree to an area pension plan in the 1950s, Wheaton was one of his biggest supporters.17 The wartime tensions in uaw Local 14 showed the conflicting claims that workers put on their union during the Second World War. White, male workers asserted traditional racial and gender prerogatives to determine who their co- workers would be. White, female workers quickly learned to defend the “color Tangencies • 117 line” and led efforts to force the union to enforce it in Local 14 through their “hate strikes.” But even while their fellow workers struck over demands of an all-male or all-White work place, Black workers felt confident enough to pursue their demands through formal, official complaints through their union. Using their union to reshape their workplace, union and even local government at a time when such actions led to outright violence in many American cities—including Detroit, a city only 50 miles away which was marked by racial riots in 1943—the changes demanded by African-American unionists in Toledo are particularly remarkable. Labor’s hegemony had become powerful enough by the end of the Second World War to bridge one of the most significant divisions of American life at a time when many other institutions failed in this respect. The uaw’s record on racial relations in the Toledo area was not ideal, but it did it did set the standard for coalition building that later empowered the modern Civil Rights Movement in America in the 1950s and 1960s. It also showed that the labor movement was strong enough to survive internal divisions over gender and race and emerge ever more vital.18 q

Notes

1. Sidney Fine, Sit-Down: The General Motors Strike of 1936–1937 (Ann Arbor: Univer- sity of Michigan Press, 1969); David R. Roediger, The Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American Working Class (New York: Verso, 1991). 2. Lizabeth Cohen, Making a New Deal: Industrial Workers in Chicago, 1919–1939 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Nelson Lichtenstein, Labor’s War at Home: The cio in World War II (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991). 3. Lee Williams, “Newcomers to the City: A Study of Black Population Growth in Toledo, Ohio, 1910–1930,” Ohio History 89 (Winter 1980). 4. Nicholas Lemann, The Promised Land: The Great Migration and How It Changed America (New York: Vintage Books, 1991). 5. Tana Porter, “The Brand Whitlock Homes: The Land, the People and the Project.” M.A. thesis, The University of Toledo, 1981. 6. Ibid. 7. Emmett L. Wheaton, “The Social Status of the Negro in Toledo, Ohio,” M.A. thesis, The University of Toledo, 1927. 8. Grievance Case #C-22, 22 July 1943, uaw Local 14 Collection, Box 4, Folder 3, Wayne State University Archives of Labor History and Urban Affairs. 9. Interview, Vincent Nowak and Victoria Nowak, 19 February 1980. Included in “Ethnic Groups of Toledo: Poles Oral History Project,” Toledo-Lucas County Pub- lic Library Local History Collection. 118 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

10. Grievance Case #C-29, 13 March 1944. uaw Local 14 Collection, Wayne State University Archives of Labor History and Urban Affairs. 11. Grievance Cases #C-31, #C-34 and #C-35, April 1944. uaw Local 14 Collection, Wayne State University Archives of Labor History and Urban Affairs; “Workers Out at Chevrolet,” Toledo Blade, 22 April 1944. 12. Ibid.; “Production Resumed at Chevrolet Plant,” Toledo Blade, 24 April 1944. 13. Emmett Wheaton et al to George Addess, uaw Fair Practices Committee, 27 March 1945, uaw Fair Practices Collection, Wayne State University Archives of Labor His- tory and Urban Affairs. 14. Richard Gosser to George Addess, uaw Fair Practices Committee, 9 April 1945, uaw Fair Practices Collection, Wayne State University Archives of Labor History and Urban Affairs. 15. Fair Practices Committee Report on Toledo Hearing, 28 July 1945, uaw Fair Prac- tices Collection, Wayne State University Archives of Labor History and Urban Affairs. 16. Ibid. 17. Emmett Wheaton, “Labor in Review,” Toledo Sepia City Press, 2 April 1948; 17 April 1948; 24 April 1948; 1 May 1948; 22 May 1948; 29 May 1948; 5 June 1948; 3 July 1948; 7 May 1949; 28 May 1949; 11 March 1950. 18. Kevin Boyle, The uaw and the Heyday of American Liberalism, 1945–1968 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995); Nancy Gabin, Feminism in the Labor Movement: Women and the United Auto Workers, 1935–1975 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990).

Abstract Gender, Race and Labor in America: How One Labor Union Confronted Racial and Gender Conflict during the Second World War

This study of race relations within one labor union in America addresses the concept of working- class Americanism and its journey from the economic hardship of the 1930s through the Second World War. As the study shows, the impact of working-class consciousness, gender and patriotism were almost as important as the sometimes overt fact of racism in shaping the labor union’s actions as it both controlled and defended its members. The actions of this labor union would be repeated in later years during the Civil Rights movement in America during the 1960s, when working-class institutions again negotiated in favor of racial equality, sometimes enduring the opposition of their own members. In this study, African-American workers prevailed in achieving a measure of equality at a time when some of their fellow workers demanded exclusionary racial employment. Although informal racial discrimination continued, African-American workers in this instance forced its union to commit itself to fighting racial discrimination, both publicly and within its own ranks.

Keywords race, gender, unions, patriotism, Americanism, Second World War, United Auto Workers Union, civil rights, feminism The Peasant Family in the Urals in the 1920s–1960s

L y u d m i l a M a z u r Reconstruction Based on the O l e g G o r b a ch e v Data of Budget Studies

The “Soviet” model of demo- The peasant family was at the center of the Russian family structure in the graphic transition was typi- early twentieth century and determined cal of societies that entered its demographic profile. In the ensuing years, under the impact of industrializa- the stage of modernization tion and urbanization, the peasant fam- comparatively late and ily gradually started to give way to other family types, but until the 1950s it had that chose forced economic managed to preserve its role by shaping and social restructuring the standards of demographic behavior and family relationships among the vast in the course of their histo majority of the population. rical development. The traditional peasant family is an archetype, a heritage of the rural society, which relied on the concept of the family as a work unit. The household was at the core of the peasant family and determined its main characteristics: the gender and age division of labor and the involvement of all family members into household activities. Lyudmila Mazur The high fertility of peasant families Professor at the Department of History, was offset by high rates of infant and Ural Federal University, Ekaterinburg, child mortality. Familial relationships Russian Federation. This research is supported by the grant of Oleg Gorbachev the Russian Science Foundation (project Professor at the Department of History, no. 16-18-10106, The Early Soviet Society Ural Federal University, Ekaterinburg, as a Social Project: Concepts, Mechanisms of Russian Federation. Realization, and Results). 120 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) were based on patriarchal principles underpinned by traditional values.1 Another peculiarity of traditional families was their size and complex structure (undivided and/or multigenerational), although these features gradually started to transform in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. According to B. N. Mironov, the transition to the small (nuclear) family type started within the nobility and then the intelligentsia; by the late nineteenth century, this type had started to prevail in Russian cities and towns.2 In peasant communities, the traditional family was preserved longer than in other social groups but it still could not remain unaffected by the changes. In general, the demographic development of the peasant family in the twentieth century was influenced by a complex of factors: firstly, objective trends of the demographic transition which directed the family evolution towards the democratic nuclear model; secondly, the forced industrialization and urbanization of Soviet society; and, finally, several demographic disasters which undermined the demographic potential of the rural areas. An additional factor which destroyed the remainder of the rural demographic potential was an enormous outflow of migrants from rural areas. The working population, especially young people, was fleeing from rural areas on a massive scale, which changed the balance between age and sex groups in the villages. The mortality rates exceeded fertility rates. The major objective of this study is to demonstrate how the abovementioned factors affected the structure and functions of the peasant family and to describe the characteristics of the ‘Soviet model’ of the demographic transition. Geo- graphically, our research covers the Middle Urals—the zone in the middle of the Ural ridge. As an administrative unit, this area belonged to the Ural region (1923–1933) and after 1934, to Sverdlovsk region. The Middle Urals is particularly interesting due to the fact that it allows us to trace back the demographic trends, which encompassed the whole of twentieth-century Russia. Sverdlovsk region had a developed mining, metallurgical and other industries, which resulted in a high level of urbanization, comparable to metropolitan areas. This intensified such processes as the steady decline in the peasant population, as well as familial and demographic transformations.

Budget Studies of Peasant Households in the 1920s and 1960s

udget statistics proved to be a valuable source due to the extreme scarcity of data on the peasant family.3 Historical family studies tend to B rely on census results, that is, on generalized data.4 The primary census forms, which were particularly valuable for family studies, did not survive. For- Tangencies • 121 tunately, materials related to budget studies were preserved in regional archival funds and, most importantly, they contain comprehensive information about the family as a household unit. In the collections of the State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region we found primary Forms of Budget Description of the Peasant Household, 1928/1929.5 In 1928, in the Urals there were 1,240,300 individual peasant households. 400 households (0.32%) were surveyed and 325 budget descriptions (81.24% of the sample size) are extant. Overall, the Soviet budget studies covered approximately twenty thousand households.6 The program of the 1928–1929 budget studies comprised several sections: the population and their working hours; land and land use; cattle farming; poultry farming; fishery; income and expenditures; family diet; and so on. In the Form of Budget Description of the Peasant Household, a special place was given to the characteristics of peasant families, which included information about family members, their age, sex, kinship relations, nationality, literacy, occupations, temporary and permanent disabilities (the number of sick days). The forms also recorded all changes which happened in the family throughout the year (births, deaths, marriages). If we analyze the data about households in 1913 (the number of family members; the area of arable land; the number of horses and cows), we can identify the main trends in the development of peasant households from the early twentieth century to the late 1920s. The form structure was later used to design databases, which comprised 44 fields, including the characteristics of the household’s head (age, sex, nationality, literacy, affiliation with public organizations); data on the family size and structure; the age of family members; the number of minor children; the composition of the family in 1913; the year when the household was formed; its land and livestock (in 1913 and 1918); its income and expenditures. This database has allowed us to piece together the structure of the peasant family on the eve of collectivization. Starting from 1932, in the ussr there was a massive reorganization of the system of budget studies: a permanent budgetary network was established, which covered 0.01% of all the families in the country. In 1963, 62,000 families were constantly monitored.7 In Sverdlovsk region in the 1960s, 2,000 families were surveyed, including 100 families of kolkhoz farmers, 1,000, of production workers, and 660 of white collar workers. The budget studies of kolkhozniks in the period between the 1930s and 1960s were similar to those of the 1920s and included similar sections: family data; working hours; earned income (in a kolkhoz), enterprise or institution; the turn- over of foodstuffs in the household; expenditures on the acquisition of industrial goods, on transport, housing, household services, on the payment of taxes and debts; food consumption patterns; the size and the structure of households. 122 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

All the information was recorded in statistical data forms: these were five in the 1930s, four of which were considered as primary and were filled on the basis of field inquiry and self-reporting. In the 1950s, the number of forms was reduced to three and in the 1960s, to two: Statistical Form 1 Family Budget and Statistical Form 2 Budget Statistician’s Control Notebook, filled annually for each family. The second form was filled each month throughout the year to verify the completeness and accurateness of the data provided by the family during the interview. Overall, in the State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region there are 221 control note- books providing statistics for 1963 (55.25% of the original sample). The design of the database took into account the program of the 1929 budget survey to provide comparability of the data. Thus, the budget information from the two databases allowed us to study the dynamics of the peasant family in the Middle Urals.

Historiographical Aspects of Studying the Russian Peasant Family in the Period between the 1920s and the 1960s

he research on the peasant family in Russia follows a long-standing historiographical tradition, dating back to the surveys of zemstvo statisti- T cians of the late nineteenth century, who found correlations between demographic trends in rural areas and the economic activities of peasant households.8 Therefore, the pre-Soviet stage in the history of the peasant family was thoroughly studied, not only from the demographic but also from the social and cultural point of view.9 In the 1920s, the peasant family aroused considerable scholarly interest10: Alexander Chayanov used the materials of budget studies to develop his domestic labor theory of a peasant household.11 In the 1970s and 1980s, there was another revival of interest in historical demography. The greatest contribution was made by V. P. Danilov and his students, O. M. Verbitskaya and N. A. Aralovets. They continued their historical-demographic studies in the 2000s and conducted a comprehensive analysis of family relationships in Soviet rural and urban areas between the 1920s and 1950s.12 Attention to primary (nominative) sources, and in particular to materials of budget statistics, was a characteristic feature of the late Soviet historiography. Among the most significant works were those of Yu. P. Bokarev, who analyzed budget statistics of the 1920s as a historical source and showed the potential of this data for research on the peasant family structure in the late 1920s.13 The Vologda school of agricultural history used budget statistics of the 1930s–1960s to conduct a comprehensive analysis of the economic problems and demograph- Tangencies • 123 ic behavior of kolkhoz peasants in the Russian North.14 L. N. Mazur studied the budgets of Ural kolkhozniks of the 1960s to describe the structure and functions of the peasant family and the factors of its transformations in the final stage of the demographic transition.15 In general, the Russian historiography of the peasant family is characterized by the following: firstly, it relies on aggregated statistical sources; secondly, it focuses on the economic aspects of peasant life and on the material well-being of peasants. Primary nominative sources are used infrequently, which negatively affects the depth of historical reconstructions.

The Peasant Family in the Urals on the Eve of Collectivization (Based on the Results of Budget Studies of 1928–1929)

he general statistical picture of the peasant family in the late 1920s and its structural and quantitative characteristics correspond to the com- T mon notions of a traditional peasant household. Out of the 325 families participating in the survey, 201 households (62.15%) had been formed before 1913, while the rest emerged in the 1920s. When asked about the current state of their households and the trends of its development, 32.0% of the families pointed out that their household had grown in comparison with the pre-rev- olutionary period; 41.54% said that nothing had changed, and 25.23% of re- spondents observed that their households were in decline due to the shortage of workers, high taxes, and the lack of plough cattle. Our analysis of peasant families shows that those consisting of five to eight members prevailed. Moreover, by 1929 their percentage had risen from 50.00% to 65.23% (Table 1). Small families (from one to four family members) accounted for a little less than one-third and their number indicated a downward trend (from 32.67% to 28.00%). The percentage of large households (over eight members) decreased from 16.83% in 1913 to 6.46% in 1929. These fluctuations occurred due to natural causes—the life cycles in the evolution of families. Furthermore, it is important to take into consideration the impact of economic factors: on the one hand, the postwar crisis and the nep policy stimulated family households to merge and consolidate; on the other hand, the Soviet taxation policy in 1928–1929 and the threat of dekulakization contributed to the splitting of households. In general, the data on the size of peasant families demonstrate that they preserved their traditional practices of functioning based on joint household ownership. On average, peasant families tended to grow smaller in size: in 1913 they comprised 6.10 people, while in 1929 only 5.52. 124 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

Table 1. Distribution of peasant families in the Urals according to their size in 1913–1963

Number 1913 1929 1963 of household Number Number Number % % % members of households of households of households 1 1 0.49 1 0.31 20 9.05 2 9 4.45 14 4.31 45 20.36 3 27 13.37 18 5.54 49 22.17 4 30 14.85 59 18.15 42 19.00 5 32 15.84 81 24.92 30 13.57 6 29 14.36 68 20.92 35 15.84 7 22 10.89 47 14.46 8 18 8.91 16 4.92 9 9 4.45 13 4.00 10 10 4.95 5 1.54 11 1 0.49 1 0.31 12 5 2.47 1 0.31 13 1 0.49 0 0.00 14 4 1.98 1 0.31 15 1 0.49 0 0.00 16 1 0.49 0 0.00 22 1 0.49 0 0.00 No data 1 0.49 0 0.00 Total 202 100.00 325 100.00 221 100 The table is based on the calculations made by using the data of peasant budget studies in 1928– 1929 and 1963.

However, if we compare these data with the materials of the All-Soviet Census of 1926, we see the difference: in the budget studies the average indicators are higher (Table 2).

Table 2. Peasant households in the Urals in 1916–1926 Indicator 1916 1926 Number of households (thousands) 1,096 1,224 On average per household: People 5.2 4.7 Work horses 1.65 1.21 Cows 1.73 1.46 Arable land, desyatinas 4.34 4.00

Source: S. A. Nefedov, Agrarian and Demographic Outcomes of Stalin’s Collectivization (Tambov: Publishing House of Tambov State University n.a. G. R. Derzhavin, 2013), 81. The statistical data were recalculated for the Urals only, excluding the other regions. Tangencies • 125

The average family size, according to the 1926 census, is confirmed by the data of the All-Russia Party Census of 1922–1924. The families of communist peasants were small and predominantly consisted of two to four people, 48.57%; of five to eight people, 37.14%; and of over eight people, 7.62 %. Singles constituted a noticeably large share, 6.67 %. On average, the families of communist peasants consisted of 4.5 people.16 Different sources provide us with different data on the average size of peasant families due to the peculiarities of the sample chosen for budget studies. Accord- ing to Yu. P. Bokarev, statistics agencies mostly focused on those family households that were systematically engaged in agricultural activities and used them as a source of income. Therefore, the budget studies tended to underestimate the share of fringe groups.17 In 1929, 96.82% of households were headed by men and only 3.08%, by women, predominantly widows with children. For peasant households the role of men was crucial. The head of the family and adult male members were mostly occupied with crop farming while women were responsible for such field work as harrowing, manuring and haymaking. The main female occupations were also poultry farming, gardening and cattle handling. It is interesting that the census of 1922 and of 1926 classified peasant women who performed household duties as dependents. This was one of the main reasons why, after the loss of the breadwinner, widows sought to remarry. The budget studies describe several families in which the widow tried to solve the problem of labor shortage by entering into an unequal marriage: in one case, a 48-year-old woman married a 27-year-old man, who thus accepted a caregiving role in the family18; in another case, in a Tatar family, a 29-year-old man married a 41-year-old widow with four children.19 Widow- ers also sought to remarry, especially if they had to take care of small children.20 Overall, the budget studies show that only 6.47% of families were single- parent, the rest were two-parent. It should be highlighted, however, that in that period Ural villages were still struggling to cope with the consequences of the demographic disaster of 1914–1923. In general, the share of single-parent families was much higher and reached 19.8% among Party members, in cities and towns—up to 30.5%.21 The grouping of peasant households according to the age of their heads cor- responds to the normal distribution and reflects the natural alternation of gene rations (Table 3). In the later period the shifts were more noticeable, though. The budget studies of 1963 brought to light the ageing of the population, the declining number of young families, and the growing percentage of families aged 46 and above. The age-related imbalance, which resulted in the depopula- tion of Ural villages, was caused not only by World War Two but also by rural migration, which peaked in the 1950–1960s. 126 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

In 1929, over a half of the families in the sample (56.92%) were simple nuclear families, predominantly married couples with children. Three-generation families also made up a large proportion: they corresponded to the subtypes ‘extended upwards’ (21.85%) and ‘extended downwards’ (14.77%). These were the family categories which determined the general family structure of rural areas in the Urals.

Table 3. Distribution of peasant households in the Urals in 1929–1963 according to the age of the household’s head Household head’s 1929 1963 age, years Households % Households % under 25 17 5.23 6 2.71 26–30 51 15.69 18 8.14 31–35 48 14.77 25 11.31 36–40 61 18.77 38 17.19 41–45 36 11.08 26 11.76 46–50 35 10.77 38 17.19 51–55 30 9.23 29 13.12 56–60 27 8.31 25 11.31 61 and above 20 6.15 16 7.24 Total 325 100.00 221 100.0 The table is based on the calculations made by using the data of peasant budget studies in 1928– 1929 and 1963.

There were also different kinds of single-parent families (6.47%), half of which belonged to the simple nuclear type (Table 4). The shrinking diversity of demographic types and the increasing share of single-parent families constituted trends in family development.

Table 4. Distribution of peasant families in the Urals in 1929–1963 according to their demographic types 1929 1963 Laslett’s Number of Number of % % classification Demographic family type households households Childless married couple 3a (simple family) 11 3.38 23 10.41 Nuclear family 3b (married couple with children) 164 50.46 82 37.10 Married couple with parents and 4a children (extended upwards) 71 21.85 27 12.22 Married couple with children and 4b grandchildren (extended downwards) 48 14.77 0 0.00 Tangencies • 127

1929 1963 Laslett’s Number of Number of % % classification Demographic family type households households Childless married couple with parents 4c+4d and relatives (extended laterally) 8 2.46 5 2.26 5e Laterally extended families (undivided) 1 0.31 0 0.00 Caregiver (father or mother) 3c+3d with children (simple family) 10 3.08 47 21.27 Caregiver with parents and children 4a (extended upwards) 1 0.31 17 7.69 Caregiver with parents and relatives 4d (extended upwards and laterally) 1 0.31 0 0.00 Caregiver with relatives 4d (extended laterally) 1 0.31 0 0.00 Caregiver with children and 5c grandchildren (extended downwards) 8 2.46 0 0.00 1a+1b Singles 1 0.31 20 9.05

Total 325 100.00 221 100.00 The table is based on the calculations made by using the data of peasant budget studies in 1928/1929 and 1963.

Table 5. Distribution of peasant families in the Urals in 1929–1963 according to the number of minor children

Minor children 1929 1963 (under 18) Households % Households % 0 25 7.69 79 35.74 1 48 14.77 55 24.89 2 85 26.15 40 18.10 3 82 25.23 31 14.03 4 61 18.77 8 3.62 5 17 5.23 8 3.62 6 4 1.23 7 3 0.92 Total 325 100.00 221 100.00 The table is based on the calculations made by using the data of peasant budget studies in 1928–1929 and 1963.

The peasant family is commonly expected to have high fertility rates. As Table 5 illustrates, over 70% of households had between two and four minor children while 7.4% had five and more. Families with no children or just one child accounted 128 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) for 22.46% of cases. Sometimes families had no children due to infertility but in 60% of cases they did have children but the children grew up and were statistically registered as adult family members. Thus, the indicator ‘the number of minor children’ does not fully reflect the fertility of peasant families but shows certain characteristics of their demographic behavior. As one peasant woman recollected, “on average families had four-five children, rarely three. Women used to give birth to many children but many of them died because nobody treated them: if they managed to survive, they lived. My mother had nine of us, but only three survived.”22 Overall, in the late 1920s, despite all the social transformations, the peasant family preserved its traditional characteristics and was less affected by modernization processes than the urban family. The vast majority of peasant families (96.92%) were headed my men and only 3.07% by widows aged 35–60, usually with one child. Peasant families followed the patriarchal pattern of relationships, which is supported by the evidence provided by oral history. For example, A. A. Markov (born in 1925) remembered the following: “As a child I lived in a large family. My grandfather was a severe man, sometimes he even bullied my father, let alone my grandmother and mother. We were afraid of him. He did all the decision-making, and his word was law. We used to hide when he was irritated. My father expressed his opinions and was unhappy with the grandfather. How- ever, he couldn’t change this patriarchal way of life and built a place of his own on the edge of the village and this is where we lived with my mother, aunt and five children.”23 The budgets record such family traditions as the payment of the bride price (kalym), which varied from twenty to seventy roubles.24 These data are confirmed by peasants’ memories: “They negotiated the ‘request’ or the price of the bride,” tells A. S. Busygin. “Back in the day my mother was estimated at sixty roubles, which was a high price then. For comparison a cow cost thirty roubles. Anyway, they paid thirty roubles in cash and thirty roubles in gold.”25 Although the state launched a full-scale anticlerical campaign, pushed the Church out of politics and declared that civil marriage took precedence over church marriage,26 throughout the 1920s the authority of the Church remained high among the peasants.27 In almost all families, including those of Party and Komsomol members, people followed religious rituals (this fact is confirmed by extensive factual evidence). There were cases when communists who participated in religious wedding ceremonies were expelled from the Party.28 Therefore, religion and religious family rituals characterized peasant lifestyle until the late 1920s. In the 1930s, however, people who adhered to religious rituals could be persecuted since this supposedly showed their “disloyalty.” An additional factor contributing to secularization of everyday peasant life was the mass closure of churches (1929–1930). Tangencies • 129

In the 1920s, divorce became a new fact of village life. It was allowed by the decrees of the Soviet authorities, but it took some time before peasants grew accustomed to it and this new development contributed to the increasing instability of the family.29 In one of the budget study forms it was written that a 40-year-old peasant from the village of Malye Luzhki in Perm district, Ural region, had left his wife and five minor children.30 The expenditure section of the budgets often mentioned alimony payments.31 In the 1920s, in the rural areas of the ussr per every thousand marriages there were 100–150 divorces— almost half as many as in the urban areas.32 Thus, divorce started to be perceived as nothing out of the ordinary in familial relationships. 1.8% of budget forms recorded ‘family conflicts’ as the reason for the decline of the household. Despite the subordinate status of women, divorce was normally initiated by men.

Peasant Families in the Middle Urals in the 1930s–1950s

n the 1930s, collectivization, dekulakization and the creation of collective farms brought about considerable changes to the family structure of the I Russian peasantry and its functions. The family transformations in this period were shaped by the three key factors: dekulakization and the breakup of large peasant households; the 1932 famine; and the purges. These negatively affected the peasantry,33 inevitably influencing the average family composition and its structure. According to the 1939 census, the number of single people in the structure of the rural population of Sverdlovsk region accounted for 2.4%; the share of small families comprising two to four members, 64.3%. On the contrary, the share of large families decreased (for example, families consisting of five to seven people accounted for 32%; those of eight and more people were 3.7%). The average family composition was reduced to 4.03 people.34 Despite collectivization, peasant/kolkhoz life still economically relied on private households, which changed their status to private garden plots and until the 1960s determined the families’ levels of income and consumption. Since the peasant family preserved its economic foundation, it also preserved its archaic characteristics such as the patriarchal nature of familial relationships, the traditions of age and gender labor division, and women’s subordination. Thus, in the family life of the peasantry social transformations preceded the demographic transformations. This gap shaped the peasant family’s demographic transition: even though it preserved its patriarchal characteristics throughout the whole given period, its demographic characteristics were radically transformed. The next stage in the peasant family’s evolution was linked to World War Two, its demographic consequences and the postwar agrarian policy of the So- 130 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) viet government, which was openly anti-peasant. To reconstruct the country the government needed funds, which it drew out of kolkhoz production and through the heavy taxation of the rural population. The policy caused the famine of 1946 and 1947, which affected the most fertile areas of Ukraine and the Central Black Earth regions of Russia. According to M. Ellman, in 1946 and 1947 in the ussr, between 1 and 1.5 million people perished from starvation.35 The pauperization of the peasantry, the severe conditions of life and work were conducive to migration: men of working age were the first to start leaving the country, and the women followed suit starting with the mid–1950s. In this period the rural population plummeted (in the Urals in the period between 1941 and 1965 the population decreased by 41%).36 There were also changes in its age and gender make-up and, as a result, in family structure. The rise in the number of single-parent families and the decline of birth rates were the outcomes of direct losses in the male population in the war years and the migration outflow in the postwar period. If we compare the average family size, we see the following trend: in 1939 it was 4.04 people while in 1965 it was only 3.6. The dynamics of the average family size in rural areas reflects the general transition from large extended peasant families to small nuclear ones. According to the 1963 budget study, in the early 1960s, the peasant family structure was dominated by small families (less than three people) (51.6%). The share of singles (9.05%), mostly consisting of older women, was also significant. Families consisting of four members or more accounted for less than a half (48.4%), with a large share of families of six people or more, 15.6% (see Table 1). These statistics point to the fact that peasant communities still followed the traditional norms of reproductive behavior and were oriented towards creating large families, which was typical of the rural way of life and was considerably different from urban communities. For instance, in 1959 in the ussr families of workers that consisted of six people or more accounted for 6.9%, while in peasant communities such families accounted for 15.3%.37 The distribution of peasant families according to their demographic type shows that in the Middle Urals nuclear families prevailed: ‘married couples with children’ made up 37.10% and a half of them had three or more children. 10.41% of families were “childless married couples.” These were generally the families that reached the final stage of their life cycle: the age of the family’s head was usually over 46 (86.8%) and only 13% of such families were comparatively young (36 to 45 years old). At the same time, the number of extended multigenerational families was falling (22.17%) and their structure tended to become more unified: they were mostly either “married couples with parents and children” or “the head of the household with children and parents.” Up until the mid–1960s, almost every third family in Ural villages was a single-parent family (28.96%) and corresponded to the demographic types of Tangencies • 131

“mother (father) with children” or “mother (father) with children and parents” (see Table 4). Single-parent families were mostly headed by women who became widows in the war and postwar periods. This trend was also caused by the rising number of divorces in the 1960s, in both urban and rural areas. In 1958–1959 the divorce rate in the Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic was 6.5 divorces per one hundred families and in 1968–1977 this figure rose to 13.3, which means that it more than doubled.38 By and large, the diversity of demographic types shrank considerably in comparison with 1929, which shows the unification of family processes in the course of the demographic transition. Another trend was the ageing of the rural population in the Urals and the changes in family structure (see Table 3 and Table 5). In 1963, over 60.6% of families reached the final stage of their life cycle: in 28.95% of families the age of the head was 40–49 and in 31.67% of families the head was older than 51. It is remarkable that the head of every fifth surveyed family was retired. The group of young families, on the contrary, was extremely small—only 10.9%. The fact that there was a large proportion of families in the final stage of their life cycle shows that the migration of grown-up children had disrupted the continuity of generations. Therefore, there were many single-person households and childless married couples (38.5%). Fertility rates shaped the demographic situation in rural areas and determined the specific types of population reproduction. In the mid–1960s, peasant families tended to have fewer and fewer children: in 1963, in Ural villages, over a third of families (35.74%) had no minor children and 24.89% had only one child (see Table 5). On average, in Sverdlovsk region, in 1960, per 100 families of kolkhozniks there were 122 children under 16; 132 children in 1963; 123 in 1965.39 A small group of families with many children (four or more) accounted for 7.24%. The head of the family was usually 31–50 years old, that is, these were families at the peak of their life cycle. Although in the given period the peasant population demonstrated a steady downward trend in its fertility rates, peasant families with many children twice outnumbered the urban ones. The head of the family was still the main decision-maker and the principal caregiver. The budget studies show that men continued playing the key role in their families. In the vast majority of families, men were married and only in 2.7%, unmarried. Women as family heads were found in 42.5% of families. As for their marital status, this category was different from male heads of families: women were generally single so these were single-parent families. Among female heads of families, women over 45 predominated (56.4%) and only 3.2% were under 30. A particularly interesting type of families comprised married couples (7.2%) in which the woman was identified as the head. This fact brings to light cer- 132 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) tain shifts in familial relationships and the changing status of women in society. Thus, two-parent families were mostly headed by men and, on the contrary, single-parent families mostly relied on older women. The statistical analysis of the whole spectrum of family data leads us to the conclusion that small families prevailed in the Ural village and that most of them were at the final stage of their life cycle. This situation was to a great extent the result of the anti-peasant social policy. Low standards of living and poor working conditions provoked mass migration to the city and thus contributed to the ageing and decline of the rural population. Overall, in Sverdlovsk region, between 1960 and 1967 the rural population dropped from 926 thousand to 830 thousand people.40 Therefore, in the given period, there were tumultuous shifts in the peasant family structure, which were determined by the demographic transition. These processes gradually encompassed all spheres of family life, actively modernizing production relations and the economic functions of the family. The demographic structure of the population is generally quite inert but it adjusts to the changing social conditions: peasant families grew smaller in size and they tended to have fewer children. These transformations show that by the mid–1960s, the demographic transition had been completed and the new patterns of reproduction had been established, which caused a demographic crisis in rural areas and the decline in rural population.

Conclusion

he analysis of budget statistics has revealed the following characteristics of the demographic transition in the Russian village: the transforma- T tions of the family structure progressed rapidly (from the 1920s to the 1960s); they were accompanied by demographic disasters, which were caused not only by wars but also by political campaigns. The intensive rural migration of the 1950s and 1960s also turned into a major demographic disaster. As a result, the peasant family became unable to provide the agricultural economy with adequate population reproduction. The “Soviet” model of demographic transition was typical of societies that entered the stage of modernization comparatively late and that chose forced economic and social restructuring in the course of their historical development. Demographic trends in the Ural region were similar to those of the whole Soviet society: transition to the small nuclear family type, increase in the number of single people, and progressive ageing of the rural population. These changes gradually encompassed all spheres of family life. The demographic family struc- Tangencies • 133 ture, its functions and familial relations were modernized most actively. None- theless, the peasant family managed to preserve some of its patriarchal features, which were determined by their ownership of private households. In the 1970s, when the role of household plots started to diminish, the demographic transition entered its final stage: the family structure became more unified and the differences between rural/peasant and urban families all but disappeared. q

Notes

1. For more details, see M. S. Matskovsky, Sociology of Family: Theory and Methodology (Moscow, 1989), 48–49. Here and further, the original Russian titles are given in the English translation. 2. B. N. Mironov, Social History of Russia (Eighteenth–Early Twentieth Centuries) (St. Petersburg, 1999), 1: 266. 3. See L. Mazur and O. Gorbachev, “Primary Sources on the History of the Soviet Family in the Twentieth Century: Analytical Review,” The History of the Family 21, 1 (2016), Special Issue: Three Centuries of Northern Population Censuses, 101–120. 4. In Russia, the first population census was held in 1897; in the Soviet period, in 1926, 1937, 1939, 1959, 1970, 1979, and 1989. 5. State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region, fond 1812, op. 12, d. 39–60. The fiscal year began on 1 July 1928 and ended on 1 July 1929. 6. Ibid., 55. 7. L. N. Mazur, “Budgets of Kolkhozniks as a Source of Data on the Social and Eco- nomic Structure of the Ural Peasantry in the First Half of the 1960s,” Ph.D. thesis in History, Ekaterinburg, Ural State University, 1992. 8. C. Mozel, Materials of Geography and Statistics of Russia Collected by the Officers of the General Staff: Perm Guberniya (St. Petersburg, 1864), Pt. 1; 1982. Pt. 2; A. I. Shin- garev, Position of Women in Peasant Communities (Voronezh, 1899). 9. See, for example: B. N. Mironov, The Russian Empire: from Tradition to Modernity, vol. 1 (St. Petersburg, 2014); V. A. Alexandrov, “Typology of the Russian Peasant Family in Feudalism,” History of the ussr 3 (1981): 78–96; N. A. Gorskaya, Historical Demography of Russia in the Period of Feudalism (Research Results and Problems) (Mos- cow, 1994); N. A. Minenko, The Russian Peasant Family in Western Siberia (Eighteenth Century and the First Half of the Nineteenth Century) (Novosibirsk, 1979). 10. R.Y. Vnukov, Contradictions inside the Old Peasant Family (Orel, 1929). 11. A. V. Chayanov, Organization of a Peasant Household (Moscow, 1925). 12. V. P. Danilov, Soviet Village of the Pre-Kolkhoz Period: Population, Land Use, and Economy (Moscow, 1978); O. M. Verbitskaya, Peasant Family in the nep Period//nep: Economic, Political, Social and Cultural Aspects (Moscow, 2006); id., Russian Peasant Family in 1897–1959 (Moscow–Tula, 2009); id., “Main Trends in the Development of the Peas- ant Family in Russia in the Twentieth Century,” in Collected Writings of the Institute 134 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

of Russian History 9, eds. A. N. Sakharov and E. N. Rudaya (Moscow–Tula, 2010), 332–353; N. A. Aralovets, Urban Family in Russia, 1897–1926: Historical and Demo- graphic Aspect (Moscow, 2003); id., Urban Family in Russia, 1927–1959 (Tula, 2009); id., “Marriage and Family in the Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic,” Russian History (2010): 55–62. 13. See, for example: Yu. P. Bokarev, Budget Studies of Peasant Households in the 1920s as a Historical Source (Moscow, 1981); id., “Peasant Household and Industrial De- velopment of Soviet Russia in the mid–1920s,” Mathematical Methods in Historical, Economical and Cultural Studies (Moscow, 1977); id., “Methods of Studying Peasant Budgets of the 1920s,” Source Studies of the History of Soviet Society 3 (1978). 14. See, for example: M. A. Beznin, Peasant Household in Russian Non-Black Earth Belt in 1950–1965 (Moscow–Vologda, 1991); M. N. Glumnaya, “Individual Peasant Household in the European North of Russia in 1933–1937,” Abstract of Ph.D. thesis, 1994; O. V. Artemova, “Peasant Household in the European North (Second Half of the 1930s and the 1940s),” Abstract of Ph.D. thesis, Vologda, 1997. 15. L. N. Mazur, “Peasant Household in the Middle Urals in the First Half of the 1960s (Based on the Materials of Budget Studies),” ecm and Mathematical Methods in Historical Studies (Moscow, 1993), 139–165; id., “Peasant Family in the Middle Urals in the First Half of the 1960s: Reconstruction Based on the Materials of Budget Studies of Kolkhozniks,” Problems of Russian and International History, Theory and Methodology: Collected Papers (Ekaterinburg: Ural State Pedagogical University, 2002), 130–144; id., Russian Village in the Conditions of Urbanization: Regional Di- mension (Second Half of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Century) (Ekaterinburg, 2012). 16. The analysis relied on the database drawing on the 1922 Party Census information. Documentation Centre of Non-Governmental Organizations of Sverdlovsk Region, fond 76, op. 1, d. 557–574. 17. Yu. P. Bokarev, Budget Studies of Peasant Households in the 1920s as a Historical Source (Moscow, 1981), 71. 18. State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region, fond 1812, op. 2, d. 42, budget 58. 19. Ibid., d. 43, budget 73. 20. Ibid., d. 49, budget 40. 21. See L. N. Mazur, “Communist Families in Ekaterinburg Guberniya (Based on the Materials of the All-Russia Party Census of 1922),” Journal of the Ural Federal Uni- versity 2, Humanities, 3 (154), 18 (2016): 94. 22. V. Berdinskikh, Russian Village: Customs and Traditions (Moscow, 2013), 178. 23. Ibid., 148. 24. State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region, fond 1812, op. 2, d. 59, budget 267; d. 58, budget 210. 25. Berdinskikh, 165–166. 26. zags or the Civil Registry Office belonged to the structure of the Soviet government bodies. 27. The Decree of the All-Russian Congresses of Soviets and the Council of People’s Commissariats “On Civil Marriage, Children and Keeping the Registry Books” of 18 (31) December 1917,” Decrees of Soviet Power 1, 25 October 1917–16 March 1918 (Moscow, 1957), 247. Tangencies • 135

28. Documentation Center of Non-Governmental Organizations of Sverdlovsk Region, fond 76, op. 1, d. 574, l. 192; d. 569, l. 145–154. 29. The Decree adopted by the All-Russia Central Executive Committee and the Coun- cil of People’s Commissars “On Marriage Termination” (as of 16/29 December 1917),” Decrees of Soviet Government 1, 237–238. 30. State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region, fond 1812, op. 2, d. 48, budget 95. 31. State Archive of Sverdlovsk Region, fond 1812, op. 2, d. 60, budget 252; d. 47, budget 108; budget 96. 32. O. M. Verbitskaya, “Main Trends,” 340. 33. Depeasantation was the dissolution of the peasant estate. Externally, this process was associated with the shrinking size of the peasant population, while internally it meant changes in lifestyle and demographic behaviour due to urbanization. This process also manifested itself through the changing criteria of social self-identification. 34. Calculated by using the data of the All-Soviet Census of 1939. Ural Region, com- piled by V. P. Motrevich (Ekaterinburg, 2002), 289. 35. M. Ellman, “Famine of 1947 in the USSR,” Economic History: Overview, ed. L. I. Borodkina, 10 (Moscow, 2005), 197–199. 36. Ural Population: Twentieth Century (Ekaterinburg, 1996), 137–139. 37. M. A. Beznin, Financial Situation of Kolkhoz Farmers of Russian Non-Black Earth Belt in 1950–1965, pt. 1 (Vologda, 1988), 15. 38. Ibid., pt. 2 (Vologda, 1989), 13. 39. Population of the ussr, 1987 (Moscow, 1988), 208. 40. Beznin, 19.

Abstract The Peasant Family in the Urals in the 1920s–1960s: Reconstruction Based on the Data of Budget Studies

The paper discusses the evolution of the peasant family in Russia in the twentieth century. We have studied the structure and dynamics of the Ural peasant family in the 1920s–1960s. In our comparative analysis we used the materials of the 1929 and 1936 budget studies of peasant households in the Urals. These data were supplemented by other sources: the Party Census of 1922, the population censuses of 1926 and 1939, and Soviet films of the period between the 1920s and 1970s. The analysis of budget statistics has brought to light the following characteristics of the demographic transition: the family structure was changing at an accelerated pace (from 1920 to the 1960s); the family transformation was affected by demographic disasters such as wars and political campaigns (collectivization, forced evictions of the population of small rural settlements). The intensive rural migration of the 1950s and 1960s turned into a major demographic disaster, too. As a result, the peasant family became unable to provide the agricultural economy with adequate population reproduction.

Keywords peasant family, household, demographic transition, demographic type, family composition europe

The European Union Faced with a New Systemic

P e tr u F i l i p Challenge

“Each country must find The eu Dilemma: Federation or Confederation of States its own way to reform in the light of the actual situation ccording to Wikipedia, a confederation is a union of inde- and of traditions. The eu A pendent states or autonomous should avoid the large territorial units, set up on the basis of an international agreement, by which (exhaustive) procedures the conditions of association of the and the wrong harmoniza- states are determined, as well as their functioning. The confederations are tion attempts.” formed, as a rule, in order to jointly solve critical issues, such as defense, foreign affairs, foreign trade, and the single currency. A confederation, in modern political terms, is usually limited to a permanent union of sover- eign states, having common positions and actions in the relations with other states. The internal relations between the members of a confederation vary to a great extent. Also, the relation between the member states and the central government, as well as the dis- Petru Filip tribution of powers between the com- Professor at the Faculty of Economic Sci- ponent states, are highly variable. The ences, University of Oradea, Romania. European Union is from this point of Europe • 137 view a confederation of states, the same as the us or Switzerland. While in the case of the aforementioned countries this thing is expressly stipulated in their Constitutions, no European Treaty—from the Treaty of Rome of 1957 to the Treaty of Nice of 2001—does stipulate that the eu is a confederation of states. From the beginning of the second decade of the previous century, when V. I. Lenin wrote his famous article “The United States of Europe,” until the present date, i.e. for almost 100 years, none of the eu ideologists (meaning all those who have described and presented over the years projects of European unification) could foresee where the eu is heading: towards a federation of historical regions (as this is what most European states are at present: Austria, Belgium, France, Germany, Italy, Great Britain, Holland, Romania, Spain, Hungary) or a confederation of states (according to the us model or that of the former Soviet Union). The fact that this ideological dilemma was not solved, for almost 100 years and more pressingly for the past 65 years, can lead to the dissolution on the aforementioned levels of the respective idea—which I actually consider as being the eu’s great dilemma. Thus several maps showing the Europe of the year 2035, initially published in 2012 in Russia, have drawn the attention of specialists, not only as apparent cartographic fantasies meant to reflect the dreams of the former and the current Russian empire. By 2035, Russia will have annexed not only Crimea, but also the Donbass region (currently disputed by the forces of Kiev and the pro- Russian separatists). The Kremlin will have also absorbed the territories held by the former Tsarist Empire, the so-called NovoRossia, stretching into what is now southern Ukraine, reaching Transnistria, and completely cutting off the Ukraine’s access to the sea. It is doubtful that these maps represent the current plan of Vladimir Putin: “experts in Geopolitics” have drawn the maps based on the information from “open sources” from the research institutes, as well as based on the previous writings of Alvin Toffler, Zbigniew Brzezinski or Samuel Huntington. These maps could rather be interpreted as a reflection of both the aspirations and the frustrations of the Russian countries, or at least of a segment of the public opinion. The maps in question present a Western Europe more fragmented in 2035, following a moral degradation and the economic failure of the idea of European Union. The great European states will be affected by secession. After the separation of Great Britain and that of Catalonia, as a result of the already announced refer- enda, Northern Ireland will integrate into the Republic of Ireland (Eire), so the United Kingdom will remain only with England and Wales. Then will come the declaration of independence of the Basque Country, while Spain will prove to be a confederation of regions. France will lose territories as well, according to the 138 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) experts’ forecast, either in favor of the Basque Region, or following the effective loss of Corsica, but also of Alsace and Lorraine, the provinces always disputed with Germany. At the same time, in the South of France, most probably with the capital in Marseille, an independent state will rise, named the “Arab Pied- mont” by the experts. Belgium will be divided between Flanders, united with the Netherlands, and Wallonia, which will become part of France. Until 2035, Russia will extend its domination upon all the territories in which there is an ethnic Russian majority. Thus, Belarus will become a mere republic of the Russian Federation, whereas the Baltic States will lose parts of their territory in favor of Moscow. Ukraine will also become a province of Rus- sia. In order to compensate for the loss of a part of Transylvania, Romania will reunite with the current Republic of Moldova (without Transnistria) and with Northern Bukovina. On the other hand, Bulgaria will be “punished” by Turkey, which shall occupy a large area around the port of Burgas, where a great part of the numerous Turkish minority will take up residence. In the Caucasus, Georgia will pay dearly for the current overtures to the West. The country will be practically cut in two by a corridor linking Armenia to the Russian allies. Thereafter, Georgia will lose the current separatist republic of Abkhazia, which will be annexed by Moscow. “You may wonder as much as you like,” Foreign Policy concluded. “No matter how ridiculous these scenarios might seem now, comparative to the way in which the picture was in 2012, the situation seems to move in this direction…”

The Treaty of Nice—the Beginning of the End of the European Union

he Treaty of Nice modified all preceding treaties signed by the member states, as well as the related acts; it was signed by the eu member states T heads of states and governments on 20 February 2001, and it entered into force after the conclusion of its ratification by the member states, on 1 Feb- ruary 2003. The Treaty of Nice marked a new step in preparing the enlargement of the Union with countries from the central, eastern, Mediterranean and Baltic regions of Europe. The Treaty of Nice brought changes in the organization and functioning of all European institutions: the European Parliament, the European Council, the European Commission, the Court of Justice and the Court of Auditors, as well as the two consultative community bodies, the Economic and Social Committee (ecosoc) and the Committee of the Regions (cor). The changes are as follows: Europe • 139

Changes related to the European Parliament. By the Treaty the role of co-leg- islator of the European Parliament was consolidated. A new juridical base was created with the aim of enabling the European Council to regulate the functioning of political parties at European level. Having in mind the eu enlargement, the Treaty has limited the maximum number of European deputies to 732. Changes related to the European Council. In a Union that will one day comprise 30 member states, a unanimous agreement will be very difficult to reach, there being a risk of deadlock in eu actions. It was thus necessary that this reform should reduce the number of situations in which member states can use their veto. Thus, the Treaty of Nice allows for a qualified majority on the decisions to be adopted for approximately 30 dispositions, previously governed by the rule of unanimity. In what concerns the community policies, approximately 12 dispositions allow for decision making with a qualified majority. Reference is being made here to decisions in the field of civil judicial cooperation, and in the field of commercial agreements regarding services or intellectual property. Changes related to the European Commission. After the accession to the Union of the other 12 states (the wave of 10 states of May 2004, plus Bulgaria and Ro- mania on 1 January 2007), the Treaty of Nice provided for the functioning of the European Commission with 33 members. Then, since 2009, each member state has had a single commissioner in the European Commission. The Treaty of Nice has consolidated the powers of the president of the Com- mission as an indispensable measure for ensuring the coherence of a board extended to over 20 members. The President of the Commission decides the distribution of portfolios and can reshuffle the commissioners’ responsibilities, also having the right to ask for the resignation of a commissioner, which has to be approved, nevertheless, by the plenum of the Commission. Changes related to the Court of Justice. Taking into account the overload of cases to be solved, and the fact that the number is on the increase after the accession of new members, a situation that would have led to great delays in solving the cases, the Treaty of Nice has distributed more efficiently the competences between the Court and the Court of First Instance. The possibility of creating jurisdictional chambers, specialized in certain areas, was also foreseen. According to the Treaty of Nice, given the enlarged Union, the Court of Justice shall number as many judges as eu member states. In order to avoid the summoning of the plenum, the Treaty stipulates the possibility of a meeting of the Court within a Great Chamber, made of 13 judges. Changes related to the Court of Auditors. The Treaty states that this institution must be made up of a representative of each member state. The appointment of members is validated by the European Council, with a qualified majority, for a 6 year term. 140 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

The Court of Auditors can create Chambers for the adoption of certain categories of reports or notices. The Court and the national control institutions are invited to improve the cooperation by creating a contact committee with the presidents of the national institutions. Changes related to the Economic and Social Committee. The Treaty stipulates that this institution should be made up of the representatives of various categories of the organized civil society. The number of members was limited to 350, which makes it possible to keep the current number of members for each state. Changes related to the Committee of the Regions. The number of its members was limited to 350. The Treaty of Nice also requires that Committee members have a mandate from the whole collectivity they represent or are politically ac- countable to it. Important changes brought in other fields. In the mechanism of consolidated cooperation, the Amsterdam Treaty set rigorous conditions that limited the practical possibilities of resorting to it. With the aim of making this mechanism more operational, the Treaty of Nice eliminated the possibility that each member state could express its veto upon the setting in of a consolidated cooperation. The minimum number of members required for the setting up of such a cooperation was set at 8, and allowances were made for the possibility of initiating a consolidated cooperation in the field of the common foreign and security policy (cfsp), but not in the field of defense. In what concerns the problems of the fundamental human rights and liberties, the Treaty of Nice stipulates that, by a majority of four-fifths of the members of the European Council, after the congruent notice (counsel) of the Eu- ropean Parliament and after hearing the member state concerned, the Council can state whether there is a clear risk of severe breach by a member state of the fundamental human rights and liberties on which the Union is grounded. In such a situation, the Council can address proper recommendations to the state concerned. The right of initiative for such a decision pertains to a third of states, to the Commission or the European Parliament. It was also at Nice that the Charter of fundamental rights of the Union was proclaimed. The Charter stipulates an ensemble of civil, political, economic and social rights of the European citizens, grouped into six categories: dignity, freedom, equality, solidarity, citizenship and justice. These rights are grounded on the fundamental rights and liberties stipulated by the echr and based on the traditions of the eu countries. The Treaty of Nice has in its annex a Declaration on the future of the Union. On this occasion, it was also decided to summon a Convention on the future of Europe which would formulate alternative solutions to the questions on the future of Europe. The main task was that of drafting a constitutional text starting Europe • 141 from the following premises: a) the simplification of the treaties by regrouping the fundamental dispositions of the four eu Treaties into a single one, which must be more clearly worded and more intelligible for citizens; b) delineating the competences at the level of the Union or of the member states, ensuring a better way for the various levels of legislative and administrative action to complement one another in a more efficient way; c) the status of the Charter of fundamental rights (incorporating it into the future European Constitution); d) the role of the national parliaments in the European architecture; e) the new dimensions of the common foreign and security policy (cfsp). Romania’s representatives at the Convention on the future of Europe put forward a series of collective rights, which are meant to be recognized alongside the common individual rights of the local or cultural communities. A very important proposal concerned the necessity that in the future, the European Union would adhere to the European Convention of Human Rights, adopted by the Council of Europe, which institutes the first mechanism of protection for human rights at regional level by means of the European Court of Human Rights.

Replacing the Revised Lisbon Strategy with the Strategy 2020

n 2005, halfway through the period foreseen for the eu to surpass the most competitive economy of the world (the usa), the eu leaders realized that I the Lisbon Agenda (the revised Lisbon Strategy) was not reflected in the daily lives of the people and that it was not well known by the European citizens. They, like any other citizens, wish for a few simple and clear things: to work, to start their own business, to offer a better education to their children, quality services, decent pensions, access to the new technologies and, last but not least, to find a symbiosis between family and professional life. The European Commission recommended that closer attention be paid to several fields, of utmost importance being scientific research, technology, the development of trade based on regional agreements, the digital market, education, the reform of the labor market, and social protection. Each member state of the Union had to develop and to put into practice a national program of reforms, over a period of three to five years. These were to be put into practice between the years 2006 and 2010, in order to comply with the objectives of the revised Lisbon Strategy. The intention was to ensure a strong European influence upon national policies, as well as a dimension concerning the European legislation standards, so that the national governments and the European in- 142 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) stitutions would go through the same stages. The reason was a simple one: the experts noticed that the us economy was approximately 20 years ahead of that of the eu, according to a critical report of the Eurochambres (the Group of the Chambers of Commerce) issued at the beginning of 2005. The liberalization of economic regulations was asked, as well as an increase in the funds destined to research, in order to stimulate development and to prevent a deepening of the gap between the eu and the us. The eu had to create the single market, where capital and labor would circulate freely, to abstain from passing new laws that would hinder the businesses and to ensure (and provide) generous funding for R&D activities. It was for this purpose that the body called the Lisbon Council was set up. This was a think-tank consisting of a group of initiative of Brussels citizens and lobbying groups of young entrepreneurs. Addressing this ad hoc Council, in mid–March 2005, the ex-president of the European Commission, José Manuel Barroso, underlined the need to create a “Europe of opportunities,” since the single market “is not a truly dynamic market in the sense of providing opportunities.” He admitted that the first Lisbon Strategy (2001–2005) “has suffered because of a multitude of actions with no priority, which lacked co-ordination and the clear separation of responsibilities among the various actors involved.” The European Commission had three priorities on its agenda: to turn Europe into a more attractive place to invest and to work; to use innovation and knowledge in order to foster economic growth; to create more numerous and better jobs. In order to make Europe more attractive, the Commission had to make the eu single market function better. This had to be done by way of three actions: a) a better implementation of the eu laws and better regulations; b) a more strict implementation of competition policies; c) finalizing the internal market, that of services. The President of the European Commission defended the single market of services and the “principle of the country of origin.” He repeatedly underlined the economic advantages of opening the services market and announced the launching by the Commission of a study related to the costs of a “non-Lisbon” strategy. One of the old eu member states did not completely adapt to enlargement. According to José Manuel Barroso, “they are ready to accept the free movement of goods, but not also the free movement of persons and services . . . The Commission does not exist in order to protect the interests of the eu-15.” In order to promote knowledge and innovation in view of the development of the eu in general, the president of the European Commission mentioned the plans of his team to create two “innovation poles” at regional and local level, a Euro- pean Institute for Technology and a European Research Area. He performed a revision of the state aid regime in the eu, for R&D, expressing the hope for Europe • 143 a rapid agreement to be concluded with regard to the Community Patent; he also mentioned that he had invited the European winners of the Nobel Prize to discuss these matters with the Commission: “When it comes to research, the researchers can provide us better ideas than bureaucrats.” In order to create more and better jobs, the European Commission had to improve the mobility and adaptability of workers and to modernize the labor markets as well as the social protection systems: “Each country must find its own way to reform in the light of the actual situation and of traditions. The eu should avoid the large (exhaustive) procedures and the wrong harmonization attempts.” The Belgian premier of that time, Guy Verhofstadt, was one of the politicians who was in serious doubt about the proposals of the European Commission of re-launching the Lisbon Agenda. In a memorandum sent to the colleagues from the other eu member states, also in March 2005, he put forward a series of alternative ideas with regard to the modality of turning the eu into the most competitive knowledge-based society in the world until 2010. Guy Verhofstadt was of the opinion that, along with the national action plans proposed by the Commission on the occasion of its partial evaluation, there should be a strategy at European level: “If we rely only on the national action plans, we can be confronted with a phenomenon of social and fiscal dumping, since competition between the action plans shall thus appear.” The Belgian prime minister also had doubts about the efficiency of the “open method of coordination,” in what concerns the goals of the revised Lisbon Strategy. Hence his plea for a European strategy with a genuine method. He gave the example of other great European projects, such as the Euro, that had the Stability and Development Pact as its main driving force: “It is only with the national action plans, the role of the European Commission is [...] under question.” Guy Verhofstadt proposed the setting up of a “Convergence Code,” with minimum and maximum values, in what concerns particular economic and social matters of utmost importance, such as the flexibility of the labor market and/or the fiscal pressure on private companies. The “Convergence Code” would have left a lot of room for action to member states in order to define their own policies, contrary to the “philosophy” underlying the Stability and Development Pact, which was much more rigorous. Among those who criticized the revised Lisbon Strategy there was also the president of the European Socialist Party, Poul Nyrup Rasmussen. This is what he essentially thought: “Once with the reforms we impose, we must create jobs. If we don’t do this, the people shall not support us”; and he added further on, that “if one does not have people on one’s side, one can talk on end about competitiveness.” Nyrup Rasmussen impetuously urged Barroso to put an end to the confusion related to the revised Lisbon Agenda. Barroso’s answer came at 144 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) once: the Lisbon Agenda has not yet yielded sufficient jobs and development, because of the “successful defending of the established interests to the detriment of society on the whole.” That is why the battle for the Lisbon Agenda was not a battle between the Left and/or the Right, but between “modernizers and reac- tionaries” (José Manuel Barroso). Further on, the problems that Europe and its economies were confronted with were significant throughout the economic crisis started in 2007. The eu had to face a tougher economic competition in a more and more globalized world. Apart from the challenges posed by the United States and Japan, the developing economies grouped into brics, especially China and India, had progressed more rapidly in the period of time in discussion. At the same time, in the eu, processes such as population aging, the inflexible regulations and the increased costs were followed by low levels of economic growth, of productivity and job creation. Europe was not able to counteract these challenges in the past 5 years (2011– 2015). Being limited by the decision-making procedures and by the lack of involvement on the part of the political leaders, the progress towards the Lisbon or revised Lisbon objectives was insignificant. As such, the eu constantly lost competitiveness, economic welfare and workplaces. The European leaders must now remedy this situation, which can no longer be sustained, placing the economy ahead of all priorities. The chambers of commerce from the eu member states have requested in vain the creation by the Europeans of 10 million new workplaces, until the year 2010. A sound and healthy economic structure had to constitute the precondition of maintaining the validity of the social models and of the European environmental standards. In spite of the lack of visible results, the business environment remained committed to the objectives of the revised Lisbon Strategy. The alternative—the Strategy Europe 2020 was created. Now, the Chambers of Commerce and the member states governments must offer their entire support for Europe to become yet again an economic leader. With an environment supporting the companies, which provides flexible and adaptable labor markets that encourage investments, we are of opinion that the European economy will be revitalized. However, this requires a genuine ambition and commitment in order to excel in everything we do. The European leaders must fulfil this possibility of turning Europe’s economy into an absolute priority, this being the only guarantee that the provisions of the eu Strategy 2020, valid for the decade 2011–2020, would be re-analyzed. Europe • 145

The New European Regional Groupings

he previous decades have been marked by the continuity and the appear- ance inside the eu of group(ing)s of countries according to the regional T criterion, almost as it happened less than a century ago, when, during the interwar years (between the two world wars that strongly marked the previous century), new regional groupings appeared. Nowadays we are confronted with structured regional entities, called the Visegrád Group, the Craiova Group, the Normandy Group, or the Process of Cooperation of South-East Europe, the Euro-region of the Danube, a.o., which prove, should it still be necessary, that the national and regional values can exceed, in certain conditions, the European ones. Tomáš Sedláček, a Czech economist, philosopher and academic, has reviewed the current problems of Europe and of capitalism in general, drawing attention to the fact that “times with zero interest are times with a lack of trust in the future” and that the current Western social systems are built on the dangerous illusion of the continuous economic growth. It is not capitalism in itself, but the capitalism “of growth” that is in crisis, Sedláček asserted at the Financial Summit for Central and Eastern Europe, organized in Vienna by the online economic publication Portfolio.hu from Hungary. Tomáš Sedláček is of the opinion that Europe can view the actual migration towards our continent as a blessing. Sedláček has explained that the Eurozone has been confronted with four major crises since its formation: the credit crisis that started in 2007, that of the Greek debt (2013), the war in Ukraine (2014) and the refugee crisis (2015). Nevertheless, none of these crises was solved, although Europe managed to a certain extent to overcome them. In what migration is concerned, according to the economist, it is obvious that the solution does not consist in allocating funds for each migrant accepted by a eu member state. The current situation in Europe is, perhaps, similar to that of the usa in 2007, when the us “wanted” higher economic growth and a lower unemployment rate. “There is not enough demand and the policies created in order to artificially cover the lack of demand were exhausted,” Sedláček said. An example of the change of paradigm in which Juncker, the current president of the European Commission, started his term of office is that of adminis- tering a budget of the Union which in absolute values is comparable to that of the previous years. Nevertheless, the expectations and challenges to which the Union is subjected from the inside as well as from the outside are much higher. Moreover, the post-accession expectations of the countries that entered the eu after 2004 are high, and the pressure of the migratory flux at the borders of the Union is also at a high level. Unfortunately, for the first time in many years of existence, the Union is marked by a lack of predictability in the strategic planning related to the events 146 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) under way in its Eastern and Southern neighborhood, this having a major impact upon the expenses that are not comprised within the budget. This endan- gers the infrastructure and cohesion projects, so long awaited in the Central and East-European countries. As a force-majeure measure, the Juncker Commission has envisaged a program of attracting an investment fund of around 350 billion Euro from the area of economic interest of the great companies, which should be stimulated by launching economic projects of interest, relying on the lever effect generated by a guarantee fund of the Union of around 5 billion Euro. At the very moment this analysis is made, the project is still in the discussion stage, at the level of principles, procedures and other bureaucratic aspects with which the Union has started to struggle within a state of chronic disease. Probably they were also adopted as a protective measure, given the increasingly numerous and vocal re- quests of some member states that have lost their patience.

Conclusions

he systemic crisis the eu is currently undergoing is not actually a mere consequence of the crisis of the years 2008–2014. The current system T crisis is amplified by the insufficiency of the Union’s financial sources, at a time when a solution to this crisis and the involvement in finding solutions for the crises in the vicinity of the eu require such a thing, but also concrete intervention instruments other than the diplomatic means and the influence the eu has in various decision-making structures of certain regional or global organizations. The crisis in North Africa, a region situated in the southern vicinity of the Union, requires a direct intervention, assumed by the respective actors, with real support for the creation of democratic regimes. Unfortunately, this has not happened. On the contrary, the joy of the “Arab Spring” has turned into sorrow in the form of the “Arab Winter,” with a serious regional impact, both in Algeria, Libya, Tunisia, Egypt, as well as in the Saharan region, turned into a free corridor for the weapons and drugs funneled towards the areas controlled by terrorist groupings from the Middle East. The interventions in the region, instead of being under the aegis of the Union, were direct and punctual interventions of the member states having a direct interest in the area: France directly intervened in Mali or Algeria, Italy intervened in Libya, and Great Britain in Egypt. This is actually a return to the old areas of influence from before the dismantlement of the colonial empires. The crisis in Syria, also in the vicinity of the eu, is another story, with interests involving “heavy” players seeking to control a major strategic point of the Middle Europe • 147

East, Syria being a big country, with a millenary history, at a crossroads between the East and the West, having access to the Mediterranean, located in the vicinity of major oilfields, and close to another conflict area that has become historically chronic, Israel and Palestine. It is hard to say who would gain in such situations, but it is certain that it would be the ones making pragmatic decisions in real time, with very few bureaucratic—and in some cases democratic—procedures. The crisis in Ukraine began right after the fall of the ussr, when Russia decided, within a strategy specific to the Russian school of diplomacy, to tena- ciously pursue its aim of recovering its historical area of influence and not only. To this strategic step made by Russia after 1996, having well-defined stages, the European Union replied with the project of the Eastern Partnership, which was actually thought of with the aim of turning the governments of the 6 ex-Soviet republics (Ukraine, Belarus, Moldova, Armenia, Georgia and Azerbaijan) towards the values of European democracy, with the perspective of concluding As- sociation Agreements with the eu, with mutual economic benefits and moreover with the ambiguous prospect of accepting the start of the accession negotiations at an unspecified date. The Project was launched in 2008 after several summits, the most important of which was in Vilnius in 2013. Two countries which have signed the Association Agreement, i.e. Georgia and Moldova, remain in the project, while the others are within Russia’s area of influence. The eu seems incapable to make a strategic political decision regarding their acceptance within the eu family, considering that the financial efforts will be considerable, and the conflict with Russia, thus amplified, will be hard to balance. What characterizes the current eu common foreign and security policy is the quasi-total dependence on nato from the point of view of global security and the almost total dependence on the economic stability of the main European economic players: Germany, France, the Netherlands, and Great Britain (in conjunction with the usa). The migrant crisis has brought to light an aspect that seems to be critical at a time when one of the basic principles of the eu’s existence is the solidarity in the decisions concerning the common interest of the Union. It is for the first time that the Commission has worked out a set of decisions concerning the predict- able solution to this issue, so that at any time each member state and the Union would know what has to be done. However, in the Framework Regulations that also set the formula to be applied in the calculation of migrant quotas for each state, the explanatory Note stipulates that Britain, Ireland, and Denmark shall have distinct positions as to the framework regulations. Such an approach represents a major departure from the Union’s common principles, and consequently some states such as Poland, Slovakia, Romania, a.o. have been reserved as to such an approach. 148 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

All these realities combine with the economic crisis experienced by the majority of eu member states on the southern border of the Union, with the failure of the Lisbon Agenda, with difficulties in applying certain European policies, such as those in the fields of finance and taxation, of human resources, of political reform, with the difficulties in reaching the work parameters set for the eu Strat- egy 2020, which can become a new Lisbon Agenda in what concerns the non- fulfilment of the stated objectives. Therefore, the systemic crisis of the eu is not a conjunctural, but an essential one, underlying the entire community system. q

References

Bãdescu, Ilie and Ciprian Bãdescu. Conversiunea sistemelor: Pustiul postmodern ºi de- formãrile lumii. Bucharest: Mica Valahie, 2014. “Cum au trecut statele ue criza economicã?” Jurnalul european, 27 September 2015. Ortan (Acîrnãresei), Andreea-Maria. “Crize sistemice în Uniunea Europeanã: O analizã prospectiv istoricã.” Ph.D. thesis. Cluj-Napoca, Babeº-Bolyai University, 2015. Pârvulescu, Cristian. “Criza de sistem?” Bursa (Bucharest), 13 October 2008. Teodoru, Ştefan and Cristian Barna. Globalizarea ameninþãrilor asimetrice. Bucharest: ani, 2007. Totir, Felix-Costinel and Ingrid-Mihaela Dragotã. “Criza economicã şi financiarã actu- alã—aspecte noi sau revenirea la vechile probleme? Paradigme, cauze, efecte şi soluþii adoptate.” Economie teoreticã şi aplicatã (Bucharest) 18 (2011), 1(554): 131–153. Tratatul de la Nisa de modificare a Tratatului privind Uniunea Europeanã, a Tratatelor de instituire a Comunitãþilor Europene şi a anumitor acte conexe (2001/c 80/01). http:// cronicaeuropeana.ro/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/nisa-2001.pdf.

Abstract The European Union Faced with a New Systemic Challenge

Any material or spiritual entity has a graphical evolution explained by “Gauss’ bell.” We consider that the European Union (eu) has entered an irrefutable downward trend, facing decline in the evolution of the system, and it is in the phase of exhausting its institutions, which can no longer deal with the dynamic of national and specific eu values. In 2015, there was an increase in the importance of national concepts in the eu member states, in which national values are identified to the detriment of the specific values of a union of states which could not define its political option in order to function either as a federation or confederation of states. The eu is a unique experiment in history, wherein, therefore, the main actors want to be strong, but independent in decision- making. Within history, such a thing has enjoyed but a temporary success.

Keywords European Union, federation, confederation, regional groupings Book Reviews

Imperi e nazioni nell’Europa centro- fiques dédiées à des événements qui avaient marqué l’histoire de l’Italie à l’époque mo- orientale alla vigilia della Prima Guerra derne (L’Unità d’Italia in Europa, édité par Mondiale Andrea Ciampani, Rome, 2013 ; Cadice e (Atti del Convegno internazionale, oltre : Costituzione, Nazione e Libertà. La Cluj-Napoca, 21 febbraio 2014) carta gaditana nel bicentenario della sua Publié par Ion Cârja, Introduction par promulgazione, édité par Fernando García Andrea Ciampani Sanz, Rome, 2015 ; et Imperi e nazioni Rome – Cluj-Napoca, Argonaut, 2016 nell’Europa centro-orientale alla vigilia della Prima Guerra Mondiale, édité par Ion Cârja, Rome – Cluj-Napoca, 2016). es événements scientifiques organi- L Le livre contient quatorze articles qui sés pour célébrer le centenaire de la Pre- sont structurés en trois catégories. Dans mière Guerre mondiale ont été une bonne l’Introduction (p. V-VII), Andrea Ciampani, occasion pour les spécialistes de présenter le coordinateur du Groupe de chercheurs les résultats de leurs activités en tant que étrangers à l’Istituto per la storia del Risor- principale axe d’étude de la Grande Guerre gimento italiano, commence par recon- – comme les contemporains avaient appelé naître la valeur incontestable et le caractère le conflit transnational et transcontinental exemplaire de ces spécialistes, roumains et déroulé entre 1914-1918. italiens. Il considère que ce volume, d’une La conférence internationale organisée part, évoque la réalité européenne trans- à Cluj-Napoca en février 2014 a rassemblé nationale tout en mettant en évidence les des spécialistes roumains et italiens du do- traits nationaux, et, de l’autre, démontre maine dont les recherches ont surtout visé que les chercheurs du groupe peuvent for- les événements ayant précédé la Première mer un réseau transnational d’études et ali- Guerre mondiale. Les études présentées menter ainsi l’esprit européen. à cette occasion ont été réunies dans le La Présentation (p. IX-XVII) offre des volume ci-présent et publiées par les soins données sur des événements qui avaient de Ion Cârja, professeur au Département précédé la Première Guerre déclenchée en d’Histoire moderne, Archivistique et Eth- 1914. L’assassinat de l’archiduc François nologie de l’Université Babeş-Bolyai à Cluj- Ferdinand à Sarajevo, en 1914, a détermi- Napoca. né l’Autriche-Hongrie à déclarer la guerre Paru en 2016 sous l’égide de l’Istituto à la Serbie, dans un contexte international per la storia del Risorgimento italiano, ce li assez tendu à la suite de la guerre franco- vre représente le Ve volume de la catégorie prussienne (1870-1871) et des guerres Perspectives (les volumes antérieurs avaient balkaniques (1912-1913). été publiés en 2005, 2007, 2013 et 2015). Comme la Grande Guerre européenne Les trois derniers volumes réunissent les avait acquis une ampleur mondiale par l’im- travaux présentés aux conférences scienti- plication des empires européens dont les 150 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) frontières dépassaient les limites du conti- innovazioni » (p. 15-26), la situation et la nent européen, elle est connue dans l’histo- politique étrangère de la Grèce au début riographie sous le nom de Première Guerre du XXe siècle. Il s’agit surtout des rapports mondiale, terme qui devait différencier entre le royaume grec et l’Empire ottoman, cette guerre de celle qui allait éclater deux devenus plus tendus après que la Grèce décennies après. eut obtenu son indépendance en 1830, La première partie du volume, intitulée les Grecs essayant par tous les moyens de « Imperi e identità nazionali nell’area Da déstabiliser le pouvoir ottoman dans les nubiano-Balcanica tra XIX e XX secolo », Balkans. est composée de cinq études portant sur Stefka Rakova présente la situation de la question de l’identité nationale dans la la Maison royale bulgare à la fin du XIXe région danubienne et balkanique. siècle dans son article « Le “cose di Bulga- Dans son étude « Una “preda” da spar- ria” secondo alcune carte d’archivio vati- tire: Impero ottomano, Grandi potenze cane del 1902 » (p. 27-37). La royauté e Stati balcanici » (p. 3-13), Antonio bulgare « pendulait » entre les politiques D’Alessandri fait une analyse de l’Empire du Saint-Siège et celles de l’Empire tsa- ottoman avant le déclenchement de la riste, ne sachant pas quelle religion choi- Grande Guerre. Il montre que l’expression sir pour baptiser l’héritier du trône, Boris, « le malade de l’Europe » attribuée à la afin d’entrer dans les bonnes grâces des Turquie impériale doit être cherchée dans entités politiques susmentionnées. l’instabilité du gouvernement turc sur le L’autonomie politique de la Galicie plan national et international. Les signes dans l’Empire habsbourgeois est abordée d’affaiblissement du pouvoir de l’Empire par Bogdan Szlachta dans « Alcune osser- ottoman se sont multipliés après les pertes vazioni sull`autonomia politica della Gali- territoriales qu’il avait subies en faveur de zia nell’Impero asburgico » (p. 39-54). l’Empire britannique – le Chypre en 1878 Après avoir été conquises par les Habs- et l’Égypte en 1882 –, et après que les bourg en 1772, les régions de Galicie et pays balkaniques eussent obtenu leur indé- de Lodomérie avaient joué d’un statut pendance à la même période, ce qui avait autonome par rapport à la couronne impé- déterminé Constantinople à chercher des riale viennoise tout au long du XIXe siècle. alliés parmi les pays européens. En outre, Cette autonomie signifiait une Chambre l’empire des sultans a dû faire face à une des députés qui essayait de défendre les crise intérieure sévère, qui a culminé par intérêts des habitants de ces régions, la Révolte des Jeunes Turcs en 1908. Mal- même si elles n’étaient pas exemptes de la gré ces signes évidents d’incapacité de la politique absolutiste et germanisante de la Turquie de participer à la Grande Guerre, Cour de Vienne. dans le contexte de son alliance avec l’Alle- Tamás Véghseø montre dans son ar- magne et dans l’espoir de reconquérir les ticle « Una minoranza religiosa nella tem- territoires perdus, elle s’est dirigée de ma- pesta della Grande Guerra. La fondazione nière irréversible vers son démembrement dell’eparchia di Hajdúdorog per i greco- impérial. cattolici ungheresi (1912) e i suoi primi Franceso Guida évoque dans son étude, anni » (p. 55–68) que la fondation du « La Grecia nei primi anni del Novecento diocèse gréco-catholique de Hajdúdorog tra politiche irredentistiche e significative pour la communauté de rite byzantin, en Book Reviews • 151

1912, a été un acte administratif impor- del Novecento: Benedetto De Luca » (p. tant avant le déclenchement de la Première 107-124), passe en revue l’activité de Be- Guerre mondiale. nedetto De Luca, un journaliste italien qui La deuxième partie du volume, « Italia s’intéressait à la question des nationalités ni e Romeni tra impero e nazione : la belle dans l’Empire dualiste austro-hongrois au epoque e la Grande Guerra », se compose début du XIXe siècle. Il était un publiciste de quatre études centrées sur la situation respecté, qui s’était activement impliqué des Italiens et des Roumains d’avant la dans la vie culturelle d’Italie et de Rouma- guerre. nie. Ses articles abordaient la question des Dans « Italiani nell’impero. Trieste alla nationalités, un sujet d’actualité dans tous vigilia della Grande Guerra » (p. 71-81), les empires européens, depuis l’Empire Stefan Wedrac fait une brève radiographie russe à l’Empire austro-hongrois et à l’Em- de Trieste en mettant en évidence la po- pire ottoman. Ces empires avaient adopté lyvalence de cette ville impériale. Par son une politique agressive de nationalisation, caractère multiculturel et surtout par son qui mécontentait profondément les mino- économie développée, Trieste était l’image rités. Dans ses écrits sur la politique de na- en miniature de l’Empire autrichien, étant tionalisation de l’Empire austro-hongrois, le principal port de l’empire dualiste. Benedetto De Luca arrive à comparer en Alina Dorojan évoque l’évolution de la quelque sorte l’aspect politique de la Sla- colonie italienne à Bucarest au milieu du vonie à la situation de la Transylvanie où, XIXe siècle, avant l’union des Principautés affirme-t-il, la plupart de la population roumaines et jusqu’au déclenchement de était formée de Roumains. Étant un par- la Première Guerre mondiale, dans « La tisan actif du latinisme, il présente souvent colonia italiana di Bucarest dalla secon- dans ses publications la situation des habi- da metà dell’Ottocento alla vigilia della tants de cette région qui avaient été sou- Prima Guerra Mondiale » (p. 83-106). mis à une politique d’assimilation par le Avant l’union des Principautés roumaines gouvernement de Budapest, bien que son en 1859, les Italiens avaient des missions aire d’intérêt vise aussi d’autres peuples diplomatiques – des consulats à Galaþi en balkaniques englobés dans l’Empire aus- Moldavie et à Brãila en Valachie –, même tro-hongrois. si la colonie italienne de Bucarest ne s’était Dans « Tra impero e nazione. Romeni pas trop remarquée jusqu’à ce moment- e Italiani sotto il vessillo asburgico negli là, ayant un nombre réduit d’habitants. anni della Grande Guerra » (p. 125-148), Leur nombre a augmenté après l’Union Ion Cârja fait un parallèle entre la situation de 1859, lorsque le pouvoir politique et des Roumains et celle des Italiens à l’inté- économique des deux principautés danu- rieur des frontières de l’Empire danubien. biennes fut concentré à Bucarest. Outre un Il parle de la lutte des deux minorités pour consulat diplomatique, les Italiens ont bé- l’union à la mère-patrie, respectivement néficié aussi d’écoles et d’une église et ont la Roumanie et l’Italie, tout en mettant participé activement à la vie quotidienne en évidence les points communs des deux de Bucarest. peuples latins « habsbourgeois ». Bien L’article de Raluca Tomi, « Un pubbli- qu’ils aient poursuivi le même objectif, ils cista italiano e il problema delle nazionalità se sont rapportés de manière différente au della Monarchia austro-ungarica all’inizio pouvoir impérial de Vienne : si les Italiens 152 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) avaient choisi de lutter ouvertement contre Dans « L’idée de nation chez les Rou l’empire, les Roumains avaient préféré être mains de l’Autriche-Hongrie à la veille de loyaux à Vienne. La cause en avait été le la Grande Guerre » (p. 151-162), Nicolae partage de la Monarchie des Habsbourg, Bocºan évoque l’apparition et la consolida- en 1867, en deux entités politiques et tion de l’idée de nation chez les Roumains administratives distinctes, nullement indé- de l’Empire austro-hongrois. Ce courant a pendants, sous la forme de l’Empire aus- été promu, entre autres, par Alexandru Mo- tro-hongrois. Les Italiens faisaient partie cioni et A. C. Popovici, qui par leurs activi- de la Cisleithanie, et les Roumains de la tés politiques et journalistiques ont essayé Transleithanie – détail administratif qui dif- de renforcer cette conception identitaire. férenciait déjà les deux peuples. En plus, les En 1906, A. C. Popovici a même proposé Italiens étaient beaucoup plus nombreux une organisation fédéraliste de l’Empire que les Roumains dans l’Empire danubien. dualiste austro-hongrois, qu’il tenait pour Conformément aux statistiques de 1910, la seule chance viable d’affranchissement la Transylvanie avait une population de 5,2 des Roumains. Son idée était de diviser millions d’habitants, dont 53,7 % Rou- l’empire en 15 États unitaires du point de mains, alors que la région habsbourgeoise vue ethnique et linguistique, avec une au- de Trentino avait presque 400 mille habi- tonomie constitutionnelle distincte. Cette tants, dont 93,3 % Italiens. Si les Roumains proposition a été soutenue surtout par les formaient des blocs compacts dans les chefs politiques roumains de Transylvanie. régions habsbourgeoises qu’ils habitaient Bien que cette idée ne se fût pas matériali- (la Transylvanie, la Crişana, le Maramureş sée avant le déclenchement de la Première et la Bucovine), les Italiens occupaient des Guerre mondiale, les sus-mentionnés ont zones géographiques plus distancées (Tren- le mérite d’avoir cherché des solutions des- tino, le littoral autrichien, la Dalmatie). Les tinées à développer la notion identitaire deux peuples avaient cependant des repré- parmi les Roumains transylvains. sentants politiques dans les gouvernements Le rapport entre la Roumanie et la de Vienne, respectivement de Budapest. Triple Alliance créée en 1882 est discuté Bien que l’élément commun entre les Rou- par Rudolf Dinu dans l’étude « La ques- mains et les Italiens eût été leur volonté de tione nazionale e i rapporti tra la Roma- s’unir aux « mères-patries », objectif réalisé nia e la Triplice Alleanza (1883-1914). à l’issue de la Première Guerre mondiale, Alcune considerazioni » (p. 163-188). Il en 1918, les différences ont été signifi- passe brièvement en revue les principaux catives entre les régions habitées par des moments diplomatiques qui avaient mar- Roumains et respectivement des Italiens, qué l’adhésion de la Roumanie à la Triple depuis les questions économiques à celles Alliance en 1883, jusqu’au déclenchement démographiques. de la Première Guerre mondiale en 1914. La troisième partie du volume, « I Ro- Ana Victoria Sima évoque dans « La meni tra pace e guerra. Nazione, cultura religione della Casa Reale di Romania e le politica e diplomazia », comprend cinq sue implicazioni politiche a ridosso della études portant sur des aspects identitaires, Prima Guerra Mondiale » (p. 189-201) religieux et diplomatiques des Roumains un moment assez compliqué de la vie reli- avant le déclenchement de la Première gieuse de la famille royale roumaine. Le Guerre mondiale. premier moment important a été l’avène- Book Reviews • 153 ment du prince Charles de Hohenzollern- tellectualité ecclésiastique gréco-catho- Sigmaringen sur le trône des Principautés lique d’Oradea au début de la Première roumaines de Moldavie et de Valachie, Guerre mondiale qui, tout en soutenant en 1866. Ce fut la pierre angulaire de la le mouvement d’affranchissement culturel royauté roumaine qui allait naître quelques des Roumains, devait respecter les direc- années plus tard. L’essentiel était la reli- tives religieuses de Rome. Créé en 1777, gion du nouveau prince régnant, catho- l’évêché gréco-catholique des Roumains lique dans un pays majoritairement ortho- d’Oradea a été le deuxième épiscopat gré- doxe, une situation rencontrée aussi dans co-catholique après celui de Blaj. des pays comme la Grèce et la Bulgarie, Le dernier article du volume, « L’evolu- orthodoxes toujours, où régnaient des zione del nazionalismo romeno di Transil- princes de confession catholique. L’appa- vania prima e dopo la Grande Guerra » (p. rition de ce nouveau royaume (la Rouma- 215-229), signé Stefano Santoro, passe en nie devenait royaume en 1881) qui avait revue l’évolution du nationalisme roumain à sa tête un roi catholique ne put évidem- en Transylvanie avant et après la Grande ment que plaire au Saint-Siège, qui le Guerre. Le courant nationaliste a pris de voyait déjà comme un élément important l’ampleur chez les Roumains surtout après dans ses efforts de consolider le catholi- 1868, lorsque le gouvernement hongrois a cisme dans la région. Cependant, ses plans commencé à mener une politique agressive étaient en contradiction avec la situation de magyarisation en Transylvanie. La tendu territoire. Un autre moment impor- dance de magyarisation s’accentua après le tant dans la vie de la royauté roumaine partage de l’Empire autrichien en deux, la a été le mariage du prince roumain avec Cisleithanie et la Transleithanie, en 1867, une princesse protestante, en 1869. En la Transylvanie revenant à la Transleitha- l’absence d’une dispense pontificale, ils se nie, c’est-à-dire à la Hongrie. Bien que sont mariés sans l’accord du Saint-Siège. les actions des gouvernements de Buda- Et les complications religieuses dans la pest eussent mécontenté tous les peuples vie de la famille royale roumaine conti- de Hongrie, l’étude de Stefano Santoro nuèrent. Marie, la fille du couple royal, ne présente que les réactions des chefs née en 1871, fut baptisée orthodoxe, et politiques des Roumains de Transylvanie l’héritier du trône, Ferdinand, allait se ma- contre les normes et les actions imposées rier en 1893 à une princesse anglaise de par l’exécutif de Budapest. confession anglicane. Cependant, quelque En guise de conclusions, les quatorze compliqués que fussent les liens matrimo- articles du volume édité par Ion Cârja niaux de la royauté roumaine, surtout sur offrent une image de la réalité européenne le plan religieux, ils durent se conformer d’avant-guerre et démontrent que des cher- aux exigences locales, de rite byzantin ou cheurs de différents pays peuvent former orthodoxe, aspects statués par la loi fonda- un réseau transnational d’études, alimen- mentale du pays de 1866. tant ainsi l’esprit européen que les empires L’étude de Mirela Popa-Andrei, inti- européens du milieu de la deuxième décen- tulée « L’intellettualità ecclesiastica greco- nie du XXe siècle avaient malheureusement cattolica di Oradea Mare (Gran Varadino) ignoré. all’inizio della Prima Guerra Mondiale » q (p. 203-213), présente la situation de l’in Robert-Marius Mihalache 154 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017)

La première section porte sur la pensée Ioan Bolovan, Rudolf Gräf, Harald et les actions entreprises par les politiciens Heppner et Oana Mihaela TÃmaş (dir.) et les hommes de culture de Roumanie World War I – The Other Face of the War durant les deux ans de neutralité. Si l’ar- Cluj-Napoca, Romanian Academy, ticle signé Raluca Tomi évoque l’activité Center for Transylvanian Studies, Cluj politique du président de l’Académie Rou- University Press, 2016 maine, Constantin I. Istrati, entre 1914- 1916, d’autres études sont consacrées à l’espace transylvain pendant la Première e volume ci-présent comprend tren L Guerre mondiale. Vlad Popovici analyse te-trois articles scientifiques sur des thèmes liés à la Première Guerre mondiale. Une l’activité des députés roumains dans le Par- partie de ces études avait été présentée à lement de Hongrie durant les quatre ans la conférence internationale World War I, de guerre, alors que Ovidiu Iudean se sert The Other Face of the War, organisée par d’une étude de cas sur l’activité du député les universités Babeş-Bolyai de Cluj-Na- Ion Ciocan pour démontrer que les élus poca et Karl Franzens de Graz, en colla- étaient appelés aussi à résoudre les pro- boration avec l’Académie Roumaine, le blèmes des communautés dont ils faisaient Centre d’Études Transylvaines, du 12 au partie. Les études de Joseph Schmauch et 14 octobre 2015. de Marius Mircea Mitrache portent sur des Les coordinateurs de ce volume se pro- sujets d’intérêt de l’histoire de l’Allemagne posent de déplacer le centre d’intérêt des et de la France, tels que les plans gouver- chercheurs de l’histoire militaire de la Pre- nementaux des deux États visant l’Alsace mière Guerre mondiale – aspect largement et la Lorraine, ou bien les mouvements débattu dans l’historiographie – vers des en faveur de la paix pendant la première sujets en quelque sorte marginalisés par les conflagration mondiale. études centrées sur l’investigation et la re- La deuxième section est centrée sur un constitution de la première conflagration, sentiment qui a été souvent invoqué pen- qui a changé de manière radicale l’aspect dant la guerre, le patriotisme. Dzhumyha du monde moderne. Yevhen montre que la naissance de ce sen- Les articles de cet ouvrage sont groupés timent dans le cœur des enfants était la en trois grandes sections : Pensée politique, conséquence de l’action de la propagande Mémoire, Nationalisme et Société civile. de guerre, réalisée par l’intermédiaire de Chaque section comprend des études consa- l’éducation qu’on leur offrait à l’école et crées aussi bien à l’histoire des Roumains des activités de volontariat dans lesquelles pendant la Première Guerre mondiale qu’à ils étaient impliqués. l’histoire universelle de cet événement. Le Les articles réunis dans la section sur le souhait que les coordinateurs du volume nationalisme font des analyses consistantes avaient énoncé dès la préface est ainsi confir- et bien documentées des manifestations du mé. Le volume présente des sujets moins nationalisme au début du XXe siècle et de connus sur la Première Guerre mondiale leurs conséquences pour les Roumains et et qui, placés en un dialogue international, les Ruthènes de l’Empire austro-hongrois. conduisent à la découverte d’horizons d’ana- Dans le cas des Roumains, ce nationalisme lyse plus larges et plus complexes. a été soutenu et alimenté par l’intérêt na- Book Reviews • 155 tional du Royaume de Roumanie pendant sur des thèmes comme les répercussions les années de la neutralité. politiques et démographiques de cet évé- La dernière section du volume com- nement majeur, l’idéologie, les sentiments, prend des articles consacrés à la vie quoti- la vie quotidienne et la médecine pendant dienne pendant la guerre, telles que l’acti- la guerre. Ces articles peuvent s’avérer très vité des prêtres sur le front transylvain, la utiles pour les passionnés d’histoire de la vie des enfants, la correspondance. Ce sont Première Guerre mondiale, enrichissant des sujets moins abordés jusqu’à présent, l’historiographie autochtone de nouvelles qui pourraient générer de nouvelles pistes directions de recherche. de recherche sur la complexité de la Pre- q mière Guerre mondiale. Anamaria Pop Les musées, les universités, les institutions de culture d’Europe et non seulement ont tenu à marquer le centième Alberto Basciani anniversaire du déclenchement de la Pre- L’illusione della modernità: Il Sud-est mière Guerre mondiale par différents évé- dell’Europa tra le due guerre mondiali nements, telles que des sessions de com- (The illusion of modernity: Southeast munications scientifiques, expositions, ate- Europe between the two World Wars) liers, campagnes de collecte de « souvenirs Soveria Mannelli: Rubbettino Editore, de famille » de la Première Guerre mon- 2016 diale. Dans ce contexte, on ne pourrait que saluer l’initiative de l’Université Babeş- Bolyai, du Centre d’Études Transylvaines Following the publication of this book, de l’Académie Roumaine et de l’Institut the historiography of Southeast Europe d’Histoire de l’Académie des Sciences de between the two World Wars is enriched la République de Moldavie d’organiser, en with yet another substantial contribution, juin 2014, une conférence internationale of incontestable scientific value. In addi- consacrée à la Première Guerre mondiale. tion to what the national historiographies Les travaux présentés à cette occasion ont of this region produce and publish, there été réunis dans un volume intitulé Primul is also a long-established international his- Rãzboi Mondial: Perspectivã istoricã şi isto- toriography concerning this part of the riograficã/The First World War: In Historical continent, all the more so as the region and Historiographical Perspective (coordon- experienced, after 1989, a transition from né par Ioan Bolovan, Gheorghe Cojocaru et communism to democracy and European Oana Mihaela Tãmaş, Academia Românã, integration. Thus, Western analysts have Centrul de Studii Transilvane, 2015). Le been confronted with a new type of per- volume World War I – The Other Face of ception about this part of the Old Conti- the War continue la démarche commen- nent, which was long seen as the Other in cée en 2014, dans l’intention de créer un relation to the identity, the cultural and so- forum international de débats sur les évé- cietal model of Western Europe. The lead- nements de la Première Guerre mondiale ing historiographies of Europe, those of qui avaient marqué profondément surtout Germany, Britain, or France, and even that l’ordre européen. Il contient des articles produced by us scholars, have generated 156 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) an outstanding literature concerning the parts, each divided in turn into chapters, modern and contemporary history of dedicated to the interwar evolution of the Southeast Europe, long regarded as the East European states the author focuses “powder keg” of Europe. Italian histori- on. The three parts into which the con- ography is among those that have offered tent of the volume is organized are en- substantial contributions to the history titled: “Le molte eredità del conflitto: Il of Central and Eastern Europe. In this primo dopoguerra nel Sud-est dell’Europa respect, we should mention, in passing, (1918–1923)” (The many legacies of the a few scholars of reference that have re- conflict: Southeast Europe in the post- cently published works on this subject: war period, 1918–1923), “Gli anni Venti: Francesco Guida, Rita Tolomeo, Pasquale l’epoca delle sfide” (The twenties: the era Fornaro, Stefano Santoro, and Antonio of challenges), “Gli anni Trenta: Il Sud- D’Alessandri. est dell’Europa tra emergenza economica Alberto Basciani belongs to an institu- e crisi democratica” (The thirties: South- tional and historiographic context which east Europe between economic growth is already a reference point in Italian his- and democratic crisis). At the end we have toriography: the study group for Central an “Epilogue,” the “Conclusions” to the and Eastern Europe created by Professor work, thus called by the author, and an In- Francesco Guida at the Faculty of Political dex of Names. Sciences of Roma Tre University. Having After presenting the greatest prob- trained as a researcher under the guidance lems faced by Balkan Europe at the end of Professor Guida, who actually super- of World War I, Alberto Basciani provides, vised his doctorate, Alberto Basciani, as- in parts two and three of his book, true sociate professor at the Faculty of Politi- “miniature monographs” of the evolu- cal Sciences of the Roman University, is tion of the region’s states throughout the already one of the experts in this field of two decades between the World Wars: study: the history of Central and Eastern the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slo- Europe. Among the contributions of Al- venes (as of 1929, Yugoslavia), Bulgaria, berto Basciani we find not only numerous Greater Romania, Albania, and Greece. studies, but also two books dedicated to For each of these countries, the author Romanian issues: La contesa fra Bulgaria has produced synthetic studies, most of e Romania in Dobrugia del sud 1918–1940 them consistent, in which he outlines the (Cosenza, 2001), and La difficile unione: major features of their history during the La Bessarabia e la Grande Romania (1919– period under consideration. Thus, in these 1940) (Rome, 2007), the latter forthcom- sections or separate chapters from the sec- ing, in Romanian translation, at Cartier ond and the third parts of the volume, Press in Chiºinãu. the reader is presented with brief over- The book begins with extensive intro- views regarding the “outcome” of World ductory considerations, followed by a sec- War I for each of the five countries that tion of acknowledgments devoted to the the book approaches, the repositioning of persons and institutions that facilitated the those countries in the new European geo- research. The content proper of the vol- political context, enshrined under the Paris ume comes next, consisting of three major Peace Treaties of 1919–1920, the return Book Reviews • 157 to postwar “normalcy” in Balkan Europe, cal history and the history of international the main features of political life, the most relations. The author declares that the doc- important personalities, the impact of the umentation effort that preceded the writ- 1929–1930 economic crisis in the area, ing of the book meant processing only the the management by these states of the bibliography published in English, French complicated problems of the minorities and Italian. In this regard we believe that inside their frontiers during the two inter- the author has fully achieved his goal of war decades, the efforts towards building a integrating an impressive amount of schol- democratic life, with the major challenges arship published in Italy and abroad into this process was subjected to, particularly his arguments. during the 1930s, etc. The author states As I also noted on other occasions that he did not envisage this undertaking when I signaled the publication of works as a textbook, but it must be said that his authored by Italian scholars who approach book is an excellent tool for informing the topics of Romanian or Southeast Euro- Italian-speaking public about the most rel- pean history, there is an international his- evant and representative topics and issues toriography dedicated to this part of the pertaining to the evolution of Southeast Old Continent (particularly to the modern Europe within the timeframe marked by and contemporary periods in its history), a the two World Wars. professional, dynamic and productive his- The volume authored by Alberto Bas- toriography, which has evolved alongside ciani is an undeniable historiographic feat, the historical writing in the countries situ- which is why we believe it deserves to be ated in this region. A good portion of this brought to the attention of the Romanian historiographic output is, of course, pro- readership. The main beneficiary of this duced in the Italian language. The advan- book is, obviously, the Italian historiog- tage of this type of approach is the poised, raphy or, in general, the Italian scientific balanced perspective, the external gaze, and cultural milieus, to whom this study the fact that those scholars are foreign to is primarily addressed. There have been the disputes and polemical positions on other more recent publications of Italian certain sensitive topics of the historians historiographers which tackle the history from the countries concerned. This gives of Southeast Europe between the two them, most of the time, an additional note World Wars, and we refer here especially of objectivity and, last but not least, of to two titles: the work of Stefano Santoro, credibility. The existence of research proj- L’Italia e l’Europa orientale: Diplomazia cul- ects of this kind in Italy, France, Germany, turale e propaganda 1918–1943, published the United Kingdom, etc., is facilitated by by Franco Angeli Press in Milan, and re- the many issues that are common to the spectively Francesco Guida’s, L’altra metà history of Central and Eastern Europe, dell’Europa: Dalla Grande Guerra ai giorni such as the relationship with the multina- nostri (Rome–Bari, 2015). The book that tional empires and the Great Powers with is the subject of this review stands out interests in the area, the birth of nation- through a more thorough focus on the states in the Balkans, interwar evolutions period 1918–1940 and, not least, through from democracy to authoritarianism, the the privileging of certain issues of politi- impact of the two World Wars, commu- 158 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (Winter 2017) nization, followed by the collapse of the In this context, the approach of Pro- totalitarian regimes here at the end of the fessor Ioan Bolovan, vice-rector of Babeş- 20th century and, last but not least, the pro- Bolyai University of Cluj-Napoca, quite cess of European integration. The fact that different and interesting, offers an example scholars write about the history of South- of both demographic research and histori- east Europe not only in Bucharest, Sofia, cal synthesis. His book is the culmination Belgrade, Tirana, and Athens, but also in of a long series of demographic investiga- Vienna, Berlin, Munich, Paris, London, tions conducted by the author. Rome, and Milan suggests the existence of The Foreword, signed by Professor a climate of competition that is likely to Liviu Maior, known in the Romanian hi- foster a high professional standing for the storiography for his work on the history historiographic approaches devoted to this of Transylvania in the 19th century, sur- part of the world. veys the most important investigations q dedicated to the conflagration until now, Ion Cârja highlighting the contribution of the Ro- manian historians and showing that, in Ioan Bolovan’s book, “the demographic problems, the dislocation of population, Ioan Bolovan village and soldiers’ morality, family, ma- Primul Rãzboi Mondial şi realitãþile trimonial behavior, Church and society, are demografice din Transilvania: Familie, approached with professionalism” (p. 10). moralitate şi raporturi de gen Then, in the introductory part (pp. 11– (The First World War and the demo- 21), the author speaks about the relevance graphic realities in Transylvania: Family, of the First World War for the Romanians morality and gender relations) in Transylvania, surveys some of the most Cluj-Napoca: Şcoala Ardeleanã, 2015 important titles dedicated to the subject, in the international and the Romanian historiography, presents his sources and his Starting at the beginning of this cen- objectives, and expresses his gratitude to tury, but especially after 2014, many histo- those who helped him in his research. rians, theologians and philologists turned The first chapter (pp. 23–52) is dedi- their attention towards the First World cated to general demographic aspects (the War, in a comprehensive attempt to com- number of victims caused by the confla- memorate this painful event. If, in coun- gration, the number of men conscripted tries like America or the United Kingdom, between 1 August 1914 and 1 November they tried to emphasize aspects pertaining 1918 in Transylvania, and their ethnic dis- to ideology or daily life, or to problemati- tribution, their percentage in the entire ze various aspects of the frontlines or the population of the province, the emigrati- home fronts, in Romania most historians on from the villages, deportations, etc.), preferred to bring to attention manuscripts while the second one (pp. 53–74) is dedi- featuring the memories of participants or cated to the so-called “natural movement” documentary information. of the population in this area (the number Book Reviews • 159 of births and deaths and the difference bet- hypotheses of historian Lucian Boia, pro- ween them). The author explains, for the ving that serious research must be based non-specialist readers, terms and processes on sources and not on pure speculation. pertaining to demography, and illustrates Well written, accompanied by extensi- the way in which they took place in the ve illustrations and a bibliographical list, investigated space. The last two parts are the book of Professor Ioan Bolovan is an dedicated to matrimonial behavior (pp. interesting approach that brings to the 75–124) and to the attitudes of the Tran- Romanian historiography the flair of the sylvanian Churches (Orthodox and Greek Annales researchers and provides a lot of Catholic) towards the dangers of the war. information that can be read in a pleasant They are followed by a section entitled way, by both historians and outsiders. “Instead of conclusions” (pp. 139–150), q where the author disproves some fallacious Iuliu-Marius Morariu contributors

Timothy Borden, Ph.D. Lyudmila Mazur, Ph.D. Graduate researcher at the Center for the Study Department of History, Ural Federal University of History and Memory, Indiana University. 51 Lenina Ave., Ekaterinburg 620000, Russian 400 North Sunrise Drive, Bloomington, in 47405 Federation e-mail: [email protected] e-mail: [email protected]

Ion Cârja, Ph.D. Daniela Mârza, Ph.D. Associate professor at Babeº-Bolyai University Senior researcher at the Center for Transylvanian 1 Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania Studies of Romanian Academy e-mail: [email protected] 12–14 Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania e-mail: [email protected] Marius Eppel, Ph.D. Researcher at the Center for Population Robert-Marius Mihalache, Ph.D. Studies, Babeº-Bolyai University Researcher at the Center for Transylvanian Studies, 68 Avram Iancu St., Cluj-Napoca 400083, Romania Romanian Academy e-mail: [email protected] 12–14 Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania e-mail: [email protected] Petru Filip, Ph.D. Professor at the Faculty of Economic Sciences, Iuliu-Marius Morariu, Ph.D. candidate University of Oradea Faculty of Orthodox Theology, Babeş-Bolyai 1 Universitãþii St., Oradea 410087, Romania University e-mail: [email protected] Episcop Nicolae Ivan St., Cluj-Napoca 400000, Romania Rodica Frenþiu, Ph.D. e-mail: [email protected] Associate professor at the Faculty of Letters, Babeº-Bolyai University Alexandru Nicolaescu, Ph.D. 21 Horea St., Cluj-Napoca 400038, Romania Researcher at the Institute of Social Science and e-mail: [email protected] Humanities of the Romanian Academy 40 Victoriei Bldv., Sibiu 550024, Romania Maria Ghitta, Ph.D. candidate e-mail: [email protected] Researcher at the Center for Transylvanian Studies, Romanian Academy Anamaria Pop, Ph.D. candidate 12–14 Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Faculty of History and Philosophy, Babeş-Bolyai Romania University e-mail: [email protected] 1 Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania e-mail: [email protected] Oleg Gorbachev, Ph.D. Department of History, Ural Federal University Dorin-Ioan Rus, Ph.D. 51 Lenina Ave., Ekaterinburg 620000, Russian Senior researcher at the Institute of History, Federation Karl-Franzens University e-mail: [email protected] 3 Mozartgasse St., Graz A-8010, Austria e-mail: [email protected] Ion Gumenâi, Ph.D. Associate professor, Faculty of History and Mihai Safta, Ph.D. candidate Philosophy, Moldova State University, Faculty of History and Philosophy, Babeº-Bolyai 60 Al. Mateevici St., Chişinãu, MD-2009 University e-mail: [email protected] 1 Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania e-mail: [email protected]