ransylvanian eview Vol. XXVIII T R No. 3 /Revue de Transylvanie Autumn 2019

Contents/Sommaire Romanian Academy Chairman: • Paradigms Academician Ioan-Aurel Pop The Romanian Revolution 3 Anneli Ute Gabanyi Center for Transylvanian Studies December 1989 in Romania: People’s Revolt, Revolution, or Coup d’État? 28 Dennis Deletant “On Behalf of the People...”: Fake News, Manipulation and Persuasion at the End of the Ceauşescu Spouses 46 Lavinia Betea • Transsilvanica Privates und öffentliches Leben, Umwelt, Zeit- und Katastrophenwahrnehmung in der Chronik der Familie Kürschel aus Schäßburg (1662–1745) 64 Dorin-Ioan Rus “Triple Fugue” Revisited: Patrick Leigh Fermor, “István” and “Angéla” 86 Gavin Bowd • Tangencies Imagination Studies in the Era of Neurosciences 101 Corin Braga • Communio A Journey to Westworld Guided by Eliade and Culianu 122 Laura Teodora David Dorin David • Literature La traduction en roumain des néologismes On the cover: littéraires de Je voudrais pas crever de Boris Vian 130 Suzana Fântânariu, Letiþia Ilea The Big Grey (2014), A Past Best Forgotten: Histories and Stories acryl, metal-plastic/treated wood col- in Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Buried Giant, lage, door of the old Timiºoara barracks, 170 (H) x 80 (W) x 10 (D) cm. The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go 144 Currently exhibited at the Timiºoara Ana Maria Hopârtean Museum of the Revolution. • Book Reviews Transylvanian Review continues the Vasile Alexandru Barbolovici, tradition of Revue de Transylvanie, Conciliul de la Ferrara-Florenþa (1438–1439): founded by Silviu Dragomir, which was published in Cluj and then in Sibiu Istoria ºi ecleziologia unirilor between 1934 and 1944. (reviewed by Robert-Marius Mihalache) 153 Transylvanian Review is published Adrian Onofreiu and Claudia Septimia SabÃu, eds., quarterly by the Center for Transylvanian “Despre împlinirea celor neîmplinite” Studies and the Romanian Academy.

în districtul Nãsãud: Condicile administrative Editorial Board de la Mãgura (1866–1868) ºi ªanþ (1874) Cesare Alzati, Ph.D. (reviewed by Daniela Mârza) 155 Facoltà di Scienze della Formazione, Istituto di Storia Moderna e Contemporanea, Ioan DegÃu and Viorel Faur, eds., Università Cattolica, Milan, Italy Beiuºul ºi lumea lui, vol. 5, Lupta pentru unire Mathias Beer, Ph.D. (1918–1919): Oameni, fapte, întâmplãri din Bihor Institut für donauschwäbische Geschichte und Landeskunde, Tübingen, Germany (reviewed by Florian Dumitru Soporan) 157 Konrad Gündisch, Ph.D. Bundesinstitut für Kultur und Geschichte der Deutschen im östlichen Europa, Oldenburg, Germany Harald Heppner, Ph.D. Institut für Geschichte, Graz, Austria Paul E. Michelson, Ph.D. Huntington University, Indiana, USA Momčilo Pavlović, Ph.D. Director of the Institute of Contemporary History, Belgrade, Serbia Alexandru Zub, Ph.D. Academician, honorary director of A. D. Xenopol Institute of History, Iaºi, Romania

Publication indexed and abstracted in the Editorial Staff Thomson Reuters Social Sciences Citation Index® Ioan-Aurel Pop Daniela Mârza and in Arts & Humanities Citation Index®, Ioan Bolovan Robert-M. Mihalache Raveca Divricean Ferenc Páll-Szabó and included in ebsco’s and elsevier’s products. Maria Ghitta Alexandru Simon Rudolf Gräf Florian D. Soporan ISSN 1221-1249 Virgil Leon George State Translated by Bogdan Aldea—English Liana Lãpãdatu—French Desktop Publishing Edith Fogarasi Cosmina Varga Correspondence, manuscripts and books should be sent to: Transylvanian Review, Centrul de Studii Transilvane (Center for Transylvanian Studies) 12–14 Mihail Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania. All material copyright © 2019 by the Printed in Romania by Color Print Center for Transylvanian Studies and the 66, 22 Decembrie 1989 St., Romanian Academy. Reproduction or use Zalãu 450031, Romania without written permission is prohibited. Tel. (0040)260-660598 [email protected] www.centruldestudiitransilvane.ro paradigms

The Romanian A n n e l i U t e G a b a n y i Revolution

T hree decades after the events that led to the violent fall of the commu- nist dictator Nicolae Ceauºescu on 22 December 1989, the Romanian revo-­ lution is still something of an enigma and shrouded in mystery and mystifi- cation. Although more than four hun- dred books1 and innumerable articles have been written on this topic—by the actors involved, contemporary witnesses, as well as by Romanian and Romanian Revolution (21 December 1989), foreign historians—there are still pro- Cluj-Napoca. Photo by Rãzvan Rotta found disagreements between them about the actual events and how to interpret them. A major issue in the debate is whether what occurred in Romania was a revolution at all, and Anneli Ute Gabanyi if so, what kind of revolution. Other Senior research analyst and head of divisive questions concern how or why the Romanian Department of the Radio violence was used during the various Free Europe Research Institute, Munich stages of the revolution, the goals pur- (1969–1987); senior research associate at sued by the protagonists of the revolu- the Southeast-European Institute, Munich tion, and last but not least, the role—if (1988–2000) and at the German Institute any—played by external actors in the for International and Security Affairs, Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik, Berlin The paper was first published in The Revo- (2001–2007). Author, among others, lutions of 1989: A Handbook, eds. Wolfgang of the vol. The Ceauşescu Cult: Propa- Mueller, Michael Gehler, and Arnold Suppan ganda and Power Policy in Communist (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akad- Romania (2000). emie der Wissenschaften, 2015), 199–220. 4 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) process. A major divide continues to persist between the protagonists of the anti-communist protest movement and the anti-Ceauºescu dissidents who took power after the dictator’s fall. The scholarly community examining the topic is split between researchers who question the reliability of Romanian sources and those who are principally not opposed to them. Today, there is a broad archival basis available in Romania for research on the 1989 revolution. The results of the inquiries into the revolutionary events produced by two special committees of the Romanian Senate between 1990–92 and 1992–96 have been published, as have a considerable number of documents from the archives of the Romanian Communist Party (rcp), the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Secret Services, and the Ministry of Defense. The Institute of the Romanian Revolution of December 1989, set up in 2005, is conducting systematic research on the topic.2

Collective Memories of Previous Uprisings

omania’s history under communist rule is not marked by “eruptive” uprisings, but by a sort of societal “magma” involving a fundamental R rejection of Marxist-Leninist ideology coupled with a historically based mistrust of the Soviet Union, whose armies had imposed the communist system in the country. Several factors account for this. One is language and culture—Ro- mania is the only country of the former Soviet bloc where a Romance language is spoken and whose culture is closely connected to the culture of Western Eu- rope. During the first years of Soviet occupation, a partisan movement existed in the mountain areas of Romania; its final defeat came only after the suppression of the Hungarian uprising of 1956. There is, however, a tradition of socially motivated uprisings in communist Romania. These include the miners’ strike of the Jiu Valley in 1977 and the 1987 workers’ demonstration in Braºov, both put down without bloodshed. The Braºov demonstration in particular is thought to have served as a kind of dress rehearsal for the Timiºoara uprising, which marked the beginning of the 1989 revolution. Whereas in November 19873 the massive workers’ protests in Braºov were quelled by the regime through a show of force and subsequent arrests, the Timiºoara protests developed into a violent uprising after the first protesters were killed or wounded. And the Romanian collective memory recalls a number of historical coups d’état. Among the best known in a series of conspiracies is the coup that led to the deposition in 1866 of Alexandru Ioan Cuza, the architect of the unification of the Romanian principalities, and the coup d’état of 23 August 1944, through which King Michael I, supported by several political leaders, overthrew the head of state, Marshal Ion Antonescu. Paradigms • 5

But interestingly, the protagonists of the 1989 revolutionary coup did not call on this aspect of Romania’s political tradition. Instead, they looked even further back, explicitly and insistently referring to the French Revolution of 1789 in order to accredit the idea of the Romanian revolution of 1989 as being a classical popular uprising, and to support the political myth of the allegedly spontaneous “emanation” of its leaders from the “chaos” following Ceauºescu’s arrest.

The Structural and Long-term Causes of the Romanian Revolution

he East European revolutions of 1989 were revolutions of a historically new type. Their most exceptional feature was that they did not represent T individual national phenomena, but they were links in a chain of pro- cesses that revolutionized the Soviet-dominated system in Eastern Europe. The revolution of the Soviet bloc, caused by a general crisis in the communist sys- tem, was part and parcel of a geopolitical revolution facilitated by the rapproche- ment between the United States and the Soviet Union in the late 1980s, which had led to substantial changes in the political architecture of the entire world.4 Despite a number of common features in the 1989 East European revolutions, their specific course was marked by historically, politically and socially deter- mined differences. Whereas the transition of power in Poland and Hungary was negotiated between representatives of the communist rulers and the opposition in a manner reminiscent of the Spanish model of the so-called Moncloa Pact of 1978, or was a non-violent coup de parti, as in the gdr, Czechoslovakia and Bul- garia, the—in the end violent—overthrow of the Ceauºescu regime, which was originally envisaged to follow the non-violent example of the 1974 Portuguese revolution, makes it a singular case.5 Only in Romania did a violent military coup d’état take place during which the communist head of state was executed. In more than one respect, the unique mode of the transition of power in Romania was a direct consequence of the “Romanian deviation” in its rela- tions with the Soviet Union, as had been pursued by Romania since the 1960s. The Soviet leadership became increasingly aware of the danger represented by Romania’s autonomous course in economic and foreign policy, not only for the stability of the communist regime within Romania itself, but also for the coherence of the Soviet bloc as a whole. After having successfully negotiated the withdrawal of the Soviet troops in 1958, the Romanian communist leadership, at that time headed by Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej, began to oppose Soviet pres- sure for a larger degree of integration and specialization of the cmea (Council 6 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) for Mutual Economic Assistance) countries, and attempted to create closer eco- nomic ties to the developed Western countries. At the same time, Romania also embarked on a more autonomous policy in its foreign and security policy, trying to distance itself from the Soviet imperial power. In an internal power struggle following the death of Gheorghiu-Dej in 1965, the supporters of Romania’s autonomous course headed by Nicolae Ceauºescu gained the upper hand over those who supported a return to the Soviet fold. While trying to remove his pro-Soviet opponents from powerful party and state positions, Ceauºescu accelerated the independent foreign policy course inau- gurated by his predecessor. In order to strengthen his hold on political power, Ceauºescu allowed a certain degree of de-Stalinization and de-Sovietization in the cultural field and liberalized contacts with the West. He also took steps to co-opt the young technocratic and cultural intelligentsia and to reconcile the old national-minded elites who had been imprisoned or discriminated against in the 1950s. With a speech held at a mass rally in Bucharest on 21 August 1968 criticizing the Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia, in which Romanian troops had not taken part, Ceauºescu achieved a degree of unanimity between the party, intellectuals and the population that was unknown in the other bloc countries, where de-Sovietization started only after 1989. There are four main elements that led to the downfall of the Ceauºescu re- gime: the impact of the crisis of Soviet-style communism on Romania, the ef- fects of the world economic crisis, Romania’s loss of Western support, and the emergence of domestic opposition.

The Restructuring of the Soviet Bloc

rom the mid–1970s, the communist system, which had been imposed on the peoples of the Soviet Union and exported to the countries in Eastern F Europe that had been occupied by the Red Army at the end of World War II, went through a deep crisis. The Soviet and East European economies were clearly unable to keep pace with the technological progress registered in the West. Moreover, they were deeply affected by the worldwide crisis in raw materials and on the financial markets. East European leaders expected the So- viet Union to help them overcome the economic and financial crises, whereby they asked for more deliveries of oil, gas and raw materials in exchange for products they were unable to sell on Western markets. The Soviet Union, how- ever, was no longer able or willing to continue this traditional cmea policy, and requested its partners to pay for such deliveries in hard currency and on the basis of world market prices. Because of the economic crisis, these regimes could thus Paradigms • 7 no longer live up to their vigorous promises of economic welfare, and failed to honor the social contract that had been tacitly concluded with the populations of their respective countries. The Marxist-Leninist ideology had lost legitimacy and the grasp of the communist parties in power was no longer left unchallenged. Yuri Andropov, a former kgb chief and Central Committee secretary in charge of relations with the “fraternal” East European parties, who followed Leonid Brezhnev at the helm of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, was well aware of the specter of a three-pronged revolt looming in the mem- ber countries of the Soviet economic and military bloc: revolts directed against the communist system, against the respective political regimes, and against the Soviet imperial power. In order to prevent an outbreak of revolts or a systemic breakdown of the communist system in these countries, Andropov and Gor- bachev were determined to implement a coordinated policy of restructuring the economies of the Soviet bloc in accordance with Soviet strategies, without, however, doing anything that would endanger the communist system.6 After his advent to power in 1985, Gorbachev pursued what was described as the “Gorbachev doctrine”: politically supporting reformist forces in those countries where the communist rulers opposed Moscow’s intra-bloc and do- mestic policies.7According to recently discovered Soviet documents, Gorbachev held a speech at the 6 October 1988 Politburo meeting in which he stated that socialism was in a profound crisis and thus all the communist regimes had to introduce perestroika-style reforms in order to survive:

A number of countries have followed our example, or even preceded us on the road of deep reforms. Others, such as the gdr, Romania or North Korea, still fail to rec- ognize the need for such reforms—but the reasons for that are rather political, since the present leadership is unwilling to change anything. In reality, all these countries need change. We don’t say this publicly, lest we are accused of an attempt to impose perestroika on friends, but the fact is: there are clear signs of a forthcoming crisis, and thus radical reforms are required all over the socialist world. In this sense, the factor of personalities becomes one of huge significance . . . Those who stubbornly refuse to follow the call of the times only push the illness deep inside and greatly ag- gravate its future course. That concerns us very directly. We may have abandoned the rights of the “Big Brother” of the socialist world, but we cannot abandon our role as its leader. Objectively, it shall always belong to the Soviet Union, as the strongest country of socialism and the birthplace of the October Revolution.8

Two days before Ceauºescu’s fall, Radio Moscow broadcast a statement in Ro- manian made by the Soviet Foreign Minister Eduard Shevardnadze, stating that “the internal processes in Romania are beginning to bear consequences for inter- 8 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) state relations,” bringing the potential of “tarnishing the socialist ideals.”9 On 21 December, the same radio station aired interviews of three deputies of the ussr Supreme Soviet (in session at the time) charging Ceauºescu of “no longer being a socialist (having shot at his people) and of being an opponent of Soviet per- estroika and of the inexorable process of democratization in Eastern Europe.”10 At a press conference during his visit early in January, just a few days after the new leaders had taken power in Bucharest, Shevardnadze referred to past Soviet-Romanian disagreements in the area of foreign policy and the Soviet re- form process. Ceauºescu, he said, had isolated Romania from the East-European reform process, and in the end he had resorted to openly criticizing it. How- ever, now that the last non-conformist regime in Eastern Europe had collapsed, Shevardnadze was hopeful “that the reconstruction and modernization of Com- econ and the Warsaw Pact could start.” Already in 1983, Romania had been perceived as the weakest link in the Soviet imperial chain. It was the country where social revolt would most likely be directed against the communist system as such; indeed, it seemed possible for the country to leave the Soviet bloc and turn to the West.11 In February 1989, an investigation under the aegis of the social scientist Oleg Bogomolov painted a pessimistic scenario for Romania. As stated in the report submitted by Gorbachev’s advisor, if the financial means set free after the repayment of Ro- mania’s debts were not used to raise the living standards of the population, a

social explosion cannot be excluded. At a moment when the renovating processes go- ing on in the other socialist countries have not yet proved the feasibility of the reform policies, there is a danger that there will be a decisive turn toward the West (which also means its leaving the Warsaw Treaty) in this country, whose population has liberated itself from socialist values and been traditionally educated in the spirit of having a common fate with the Latin world.12

Even worse from the Soviet point of view, the Bogomolov commission did not exclude the possibility of an anti-Ceauºescu revolt of “the leading class” that would result in “changes from the top,” a revolt, one is left to understand, which would lead to the same results.

The Impact of the World Economic Crisis

he crisis that rocked the world economy in the 1970s was another deter- mining factor. Under its impact, the three fundamental pillars of Roma- T nia’s economic and trade policy—avoidance of dependency on the Soviet Paradigms • 9

Union, reliance on raw materials imported from Third World countries, and financial support from developed Western countries—collapsed. The Romanian economy, which needed massive imports of crude oil for its oversized refinery capacities that had been built with Western loans, encountered difficulties after deliveries from its main providers stopped as a result of the Iran–Iraq war. The country could not expect to get Soviet support, since it had distanced itself from the cmea mechanism of energy deliveries at sub-market prices in exchange for non-competitive goods. Last but not least, Romania could no longer consolidate its debts at Western banks, which had panicked as a result of the Polish crisis in 1980. After its Western creditors stopped granting or guaranteeing further loans, and after the conditions set by the International Monetary Fund for further loans had been rejected as unacceptable by the Romanian government, Romania— unlike other East European countries with considerably higher per capita indebt- edness such as Hungary or Poland—was forced to repay its foreign debts. The drastic cuts in crude oil and raw material imports led to a severe reduc- tion of industrial production and hence in energy exports to Western coun- tries. In order to procure the hard currency needed to repay its debt, Romania increased its exports of food to the detriment of domestic consumption, and reduced the imports of consumer goods, policies that severely affected the living standards of the population. The harsh austerity program imposed by the re- gime included food rationing, radical cuts in the private consumption of energy, and wage reductions. When Ceauºescu triumphantly announced the successful repayment of its hard currency debt in March 1989, the Romanian population had reached a degree of economic need, social misery and depression unknown anywhere else in the bloc. Any earlier support for Ceauºescu was gone, and the Romanian society as a whole wanted a change.

The Loss of Western Support

he Soviet policy of reshaping its relations inside the Soviet bloc and implementing perestroika-style reforms in the East European states was T possible only in the context of a redefinition of the relationship between the great powers in the East and the West. After having successfully negotiated a treaty in 1987 with Mikhail Gorbachev that would eliminate intermediate-range nuclear missiles, the United States signaled willingness to back the new Soviet leader and to respect Moscow’s security interests as did other Western states such as Britain and France. The repercussions of this Western policy change dealt a major blow to the Ceauºescu regime. During the Cold War era, Romania’s foreign policy, which 10 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) had obstructed the deeper integration of the Warsaw Pact, had been attributed a kind of “nuisance value” by the nato countries. But in the light of Gorbachev’s “new political thinking,” Ceauºescu’s deviations from the political and ideologi- cal positions of the Soviet Union were no longer relevant. Instead, Romania was increasingly perceived as a factor that disturbed the process of rapprochement between the Soviet Union and the Western powers. Western governments and financial institutions were no longer ready to grant Romania the trade privileges it had enjoyed earlier, and the European Community stalled negotiations with Romania on a new trade agreement. In 1989, Romania, once a forerunner in relations between the cmea countries and the European Community, was now the only European cmea state that had not yet applied to establish diplomatic relations with this body. Similarly, the us government was no longer ready to extend the Most Favored Nation’s Clause to Romania’s “repressive regime.” In order to preempt the us decision, Romania unilaterally renounced the clause in 1988. Western media turned their focus on the low living standards of the population, the violation of human and nationality rights, and the treatment of regime opponents in the country. In the csce and at the United Nations, Romania’s human rights and minority record came increasingly under fire from both East and West. The loss of Western support for Ceauºescu’s policies dealt another heavy blow to his image at home.

The Emergence of Domestic Opposition

eauºescu’s nationalist anti-Soviet rhetoric was the main reason why a dissident movement was late in developing in Romania, and also why C so many dissident figures were connected to the pro-Soviet communist elites who had been removed from the center of power in the 1960s. Following Romania’s 1968 criticism of the Warsaw Pact intervention in Czechoslovakia, the Soviet Union set in motion all the levers at its disposal to destabilize the restive Romanian leadership internally. In 1969, Moscow initiated “Operation Dniester,” whose goal was to win over Romanian officers to engage in an at- tempt to topple Ceauºescu, and “in case this coup was not successful by itself, to find a pretext for the Soviets to get involved.”13 Not surprisingly, the first signs of organized opposition against the Ceauºescu regime appeared in the armed forces. Although Romania had discontinued sending its leading party, military and security officials for training to the Soviet Union in the early 1960s—a common practice that the rest of the Warsaw Pact member states observed until 1990—there were still a large number of senior officers in Romania who had studied in the Soviet Union. In order to counteract the perceived threat to the Paradigms • 11 country’s foreign policy as well as to his own power, Ceauºescu undertook a thorough restructuring of Romania’s defense system. After a first military coup attempt led by General Ioan ªerb had failed in 1971, a new defense law was adopted in 1972. In 1974, the new Romanian Constitution transferred the su- preme command over the national armed forces to the newly created position of state president, i.e. to Ceauºescu. A new Romanian military doctrine based on the concept of the people’s war marked another step in Romania distancing itself further from the Warsaw Pact. In the course of the army’s reorganization, officers detected or suspected of conspiring against Ceauºescu, including those who were of Russian, Jewish or Hungarian origin, who had studied in the So- viet Union, or were married to Soviet wives, were removed from leadership positions in the army. Despite these precautionary measures, military coup at- tempts are reported to have taken place in 1971, 1976, 1983, 1984, and 1985. All, however, could be prevented. The officers involved in these attempts were removed from active service and dispatched for civil work. With the onset of the debt crisis in Romania in the early 1980s, opposi- tion to Ceauºescu’s policies began to be voiced also by national-minded officers. They were antagonized by the regime’s preferential treatment of the state police (Securitate) over the military, cuts in defense spending, and reductions in the higher technology needed for the national defense industry, and were against the massive use of army manpower in agriculture and infrastructure construc- tion projects. 14 Despite their preferential treatment, dissatisfaction was also brewing in the secret services, the external information services in particular. Following the defection to the United States in 1978 of Ion Mihai Pacepa, a Soviet-trained old-standing Securitate official and deputy head of the Department for External Information, this department was reduced to complete disarray from which it never recovered. It is presumed that a considerable number of leading officials in this department were won over by foreign, mainly Western intelligence services. In the final phase of the Ceauºescu regime, when its collapse seemed unavoid- able, even members of the internal Securitate service, well aware of the surge in dissatisfaction in the country, began distancing themselves from the regime. Support for Ceauºescu was also dwindling within the Romanian Commu- nist Party. Party activists were increasingly upset by reductions in their material privileges and by his policy of cadre rotation, which led to an unprecedent- ed concentration of power in the hands of the “Ceauºescu clan,” made up of Nicolae, his wife Elena, their son Nicu and a small group of loyalists. As a re- sult, the ranks of the old, pro-Soviet party cadres who had been marginalized by Ceauºescu were strengthened by dissatisfied members of the younger, tech- nocratic party elites. A growing number of intellectuals and creative artists who 12 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) had been won over by Ceauºescu’s anti-Sovietism during the 1960s now raised their voice against the ideological hardening, the recourse to nationalist ma- nipulation, and the excessive personality cult of Ceauºescu designed in the wake of his so-called cultural mini-revolution. A rapprochement took place between frustrated technocratic and cultural elites and disgruntled anti-Ceauºescu party activists, as well as army and secret service officers. Even a member of the Po- litical Executive Committee and vice-chairman of the State Council, Gheorghe “Gogu” Rãdulescu, supported a group of prominent dissident writers, who met regularly at his country house in Comana, south of Bucharest.15

Chronology of Events

he first attempt to begin a popular revolt occurred on 14 December 1989, but it ended in failure. Organized by an underground group called T Romanian Popular Front (Frontul Popular Român) in the northeastern city of Iaºi, its leaders were immediately arrested. The next day, 15 December, a Reformist pastor belonging to the Hungarian minority, László Tøkés,16 who had gained quite a bit of notoriety after pro- testing, in a secret interview granted to a Canadian television station in Au- gust 1989, Ceauºescu’s policies and plans of razing villages inhabited by mostly Hungarian- and German-speaking citizens, was to be evicted from his home in Timiºoara. He called on his parishioners to demonstrate against his eviction on the square in front of his house. In order to defuse the situation, the Timiºoara mayor assured Tøkés that the official order for his eviction had been revoked. The next day, Tøkés tried to calm the people who had gathered in front of his house. However, when the number of persons in the square grew after some young demonstrators blocked a nearby streetcar line, the protests escalated and slogans against Ceauºescu’s dictatorship could be heard. First acts of vandalism occurred, culminating in an attack on the county party headquarters. On 17 December, Ceauºescu ordered the local party leaders to proceed with the eviction of Pastor Tøkés, illegally proclaimed a state of emergency in Timiºoara, and dispatched the generals ªtefan Guºã,17 from the Ministry of De- fense, and Emil Macri, from the Securitate, to Timiºoara to restore order in the city. On the same day, a meeting of the Political Executive Committee of the Romanian Communist Party took place in Bucharest. Party Secretary General Ceauºescu announced he was going to take over the command of the army himself. He accused Minister of Defense Vasile Milea, Minister of the Interior Tudor Postelnicu, and the commander of the Securitate troops of having dis- regarded his order to shoot the demonstrators, and threatened to put the three Paradigms • 13 before a firing squad. When several members of the Committee voiced their dis- agreement with these drastic measures, Ceauºescu offered his resignation (“Elect another secretary general!”), but he was persuaded to stay. In the course of the violent clashes between demonstrators and the army in Timiºoara, between 16 and 20 December, 72 persons died in Timiºoara and 253 were wounded.18 The next day, 18 December, convinced that the situation in Timiºoara was under control, Ceauºescu left for an official visit to Iran where he planned to sign an important economic contract on the delivery of a considerable quantity of crude oil to Romania. However, the popular uprising in Timiºoara took a new turn, with workers from the large industrial plants19 joining the protesters. In order to cover up the previous day’s killings, Ceauºescu’s wife Elena, together with Minister of the Interior Postelnicu and Party Secretary Emil Bobu, ordered most corpses to be flown to Bucharest, where they were cremated. Despite the nearly total isolation of Timiºoara and the closing of the borders with Hungary and Yugoslavia, there were reports in international media that the clashes had resulted in thousands of victims. In contrast, the Romanian media kept silent about the events. On 19 December, the protesting workers requested the military to withdraw from Timiºoara’s streets. Party officials as well as General Guºã attempted to persuade them to return to work. Confronted with a massive turnout of workers joining the protesters in the streets, on 20 December, Guºã decided to withdraw the army to the barracks. A Democratic Forum was established in this city, which requested the resignation of the government and of Ceauºescu as party secretary, the release of those detained during the uprising, the opening of the borders and freedom of the press. Ceauºescu, who had returned from Iran, ad- dressed the issue publicly for the first time in a speech broadcast live on state television. Far from giving in to the demands of Timiºoara’s Democratic Forum, he accused so-called terrorist anti-national groups of having joined hands with “reactionary, imperialistic and chauvinistic circles, as well as with secret services from various foreign states,” who were waging an attack on the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the Romanian state.20 Western governments and the leaders of the Soviet Union as well as of the other Warsaw Pact countries, with the exception of the gdr, condemned the violent reprisals. Ceauºescu protested against what he alleged “was an action previously planned in the context of the Warsaw Pact,” and charged the Soviet leadership with intending “to intervene militarily in Romania.”21 Convinced that he could once more appeal to the patriotic feelings of the Romanian people, the next day, 21 December, Ceauºescu decided to hold a meeting on the same Bucharest square where he had protested the Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia in August 1968. However, he had hardly started 14 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) to speak when he was interrupted by loud shouts, clamor and yelling. After a short interruption, during which television broadcasts showed a panicking head of state, Ceauºescu resumed his speech by announcing that measures would be taken to raise the living standards of the population. After a few minutes, another outbreak of noise emerged from the audience, whereupon the meeting was broken off and the participants were dispersed. During that night, savage fighting broke out in Bucharest between demonstrators and the army, the Secu- ritate and militia forces, and the Patriotic Guards, leaving many people dead or injured. Rioting also broke out in other cities in western and central Romania. On the morning of 22 December, Ceauºescu pronounced a state of emer- gency in the entire country. Minister of Defense Milea was found dead after Ceauºescu had reprimanded him for not having brought troops to Bucharest from the provinces quickly enough. First Deputy Minister of Defense General Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu22 was then ordered to take over the command of the army. Contrary to Ceauºescu’s orders to use force against the demonstrators, Stãnculescu ordered the troops that were en route to Bucharest to return to their barracks. General Iulian Vlad, head of the Securitate, later reported to the Sen- ate’s investigative commission that early in the morning he had withdrawn the Securitate and militia troops defending the Central Committee building. The Ministry of Defense and the Ministry of the Interior dispatched orders to the troops across the country to stop firing at demonstrators.23 When the demonstrators reached the Central Committee building without meeting any resistance, Ceauºescu, his wife and two of their closest aides were persuaded by Stãnculescu to leave Bucharest by helicopter. However, their hur- ried departure did not result in their rescue. They were held in a garrison in the city of Tîrgoviºte, northwest of Bucharest. After Ceauºescu’s flight, Romanian television, renamed Free Romanian Tele- vision, proclaimed the victory of the revolution. While various political figures from the Ceauºescu party apparatus competed for the scraps of political power, the vacuum of power was filled by actors who had been associated for years in clandestine endeavors to topple Ceauºescu. The preordained political leader of this conspiratorial group was Ion Iliescu,24 who had won for himself the image of a regime dissident and proponent of Gorbachev-style reforms in Romania. He presented General Nicolae Militaru on television as the future minister of Defense.25 The same day, 22 December, Iliescu also announced the setting up of a new provisional power structure called the Front of National Salvation (Frontul Salvãrii Naþionale, fsn) and appointed a Council of the Front to govern the country until democratic elections could be held. The 39 members of the Council were selected from older anti-Ceauºescu groups, including members of the party, the military and the Securitate, as well as younger technocrats whose Paradigms • 15 careers had been blocked during the Ceauºescu era, representatives of the Hun- garian minority who had protested the previous regime’s nationality policies and, last but not least, a number of intellectuals and writers. Iliescu was ap- pointed chairman of this council. As soon as demonstrators in Bucharest realized that the new leaders who had presented their program on television were in fact Soviet-loyal dissidents to the Ceauºescu regime and not opponents of the communist system, their attitude turned from anti-Ceauºescu to anti-communist. “Whereas the demonstrators in the street were shouting ‘Down with communism,’ Ion Iliescu spoke about the ‘noble ideas of communism’ in his first speech on television. . . . It is clear and obvious that Iliescu did not then conceive the fall of communism, something that was in flagrant contradiction with the demands of the people in the streets.”26 In his addresses to the demonstrators on 22 December whom he called “comrades,” Iliescu eschewed the word “revolution,” speaking of “change and transformation” instead.27 In their “Timiºoara Proclamation” issued on 11 March 1990, partici- pants of the Timiºoara uprising made it clear that the 1989 revolution “was cat- egorically an anti-communist and not only an anti-Ceauºescu revolution.”28 They had not risked their lives, they wrote, “to help a group of anti-Ceauºescu dissidents inside the Romanian Communist Party accede to political power.”

The Particularities of the Romanian Revolution

hree major differences can be seen between the revolutionary course of events in Romania and the peaceful transition of power as it occurred T elsewhere in the Warsaw Pact countries: • the use of force; • the execution of the communist head of party and state; • the active involvement of external actors in the process.

The Use of Force

t should be noted that the use of force is neither a characteristic of Roma- nian political culture nor a defining trait in Romania’s historical tradition. I Two questions have not been fully clarified to this day: why the initially peaceful uprising that started on 16 December 1989 in Timiºoara and then in Bucharest turned violent and who is responsible for the outbreak of violence after 22 December. 16 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

One widespread interpretation claims that violence in the initial stage of the revolution was due exclusively to pro-Ceauºescu forces, whereas the violence that broke out after 22 December was due mainly if not exclusively to forces aiming, first, to suppress the uprising and, later, to liberate the dictator and start a counterrevolution.29 A second model claims that the outbreak of violence in the initial stages of the uprising was the result of covert operations by the Soviet Union30 and possibly also other Warsaw Pact countries and Yugoslavia, as well as Romanian expatri- ates. According to this model, this was done in order to provoke the Romanian army and security forces to become aggressive. Later, a “terrorist diversion” after Ceauºescu’s capture is thought to have been started by pro-Soviet forces centered around General Militaru. By 25 December, when the violence stopped after the execution of the dictator and his wife had been shown on Romanian television, 967 people had died and 2,587 had been injured.31 While there is no doubt that the army and security forces obeying Ceauºescu’s orders tried to suppress the uprising by the use of force, there continues to be disagreement about the responsibility for the second wave of violence that started on 22 December after Ceauºescu had fled from Bucharest, becoming a de facto prisoner of the new leaders. The new leaders used television broadcasts, which they had monopolized, to charge so-called terrorists with attempting to liberate Ceauºescu and to restore the pre-revolutionary regime.32 According to Stãnculescu, 1,015 “terrorists,” most of them Soviet citizens, were arrested by the Romanian army, but they were subsequently released by General Militaru.33 This was accompanied by “a torrent of destabilizing actions, diversion and elec- tronic war” on the entire territory of Romania, blocking military telecommuni- cation channels and feeding false information into the Romanian army’s radio- electronic reconnaissance systems.34 The new leaders handed over an unknown number of weapons to civilians, which contributed to the ensuing chaos. According to the second interpretation model, several goals may have prompt- ed the use of force by the provisional new leadership in the period following Ceauºescu’s imprisonment, the first and foremost being creating a pretext for eliminating Nicolae Ceauºescu.35 His execution, they declared, was necessary in order to end the bloody turmoil created by the “terrorists.” The terrorist attacks ended as soon as this goal had been attained on 25 December. As a sec- ond motive according to this line of interpretation, the pro-Soviet forces were intent on preventing nationalist minded army generals from taking power.36 At the time of the revolution, rumors made their way into the Western press reporting that the Timiºoara uprising had, in fact, gotten ahead of a revolt of a nationally minded segment of the army, which had planned to depose Ceauºescu due to the damage he had caused in Romania. They did not, however, plan to Paradigms • 17 bring Romania back into the Warsaw Pact fold, but rather were determined to continue the autonomous course of Romania’s foreign policy.37 As early as 22 December, calls were heard for the “traitor Guºã” to be arrested.38 On 29 De- cember, Guºã was ousted as chief of staff of the Romanian army on the grounds of alleged incompetence, and was replaced by another pro-Soviet general. Three days before Guºã’s release, the Soviet Pravda had pointed out that the regular army was obviously incapable of putting an end to the terrorist attacks.39 A third goal, according to this interpretation, was to use the chaos and panic within the population as a pretext for calling on the Soviet Union for help in case their plans for takeover were in danger. In the end, it was possible to avert the out- break of a civil war in Romania because the overwhelming majority of the army (and security) forces did not react to provocations.

Ceauºescu’s Execution

he execution of the ruling head of state is perhaps the most striking feature of the Romanian revolution and a singular event in the context T of the other former communist East European countries. Whereas else- where in Eastern Europe, the decisive military power lay with the (Soviet) com- mander of the Warsaw Pact in the respective capitals, in Romania the president was the supreme commander of the national army and the members of the secret police. And only by having the supreme commander of the Romanian army executed—with the act shown on television—could the organizers of the coup expect loyal Romanian army and Securitate forces to change sides. The decision to have Ceauºescu executed as soon as possible was made by the inner circle of the Front of National Salvation.40 Only Iliescu insisted on the need to organize a brief, obviously bogus trial, before actually killing him. The exceptional military court of justice set up in Târgoviºte organized a sort of revolutionary show tribunal, in which Ceauºescu was deposed politically before being hastily shot on 25 December. A videotape of the execution was broadcast on Romanian television on the evening of 26 December. After the Front of National Salvation government had been founded,41 Min- ister of Defense Militaru recalled eighteen generals who had been removed by Ceauºescu from active service because of their cooperation with the Soviet secret services. One of these generals, Vasile Ionel, replaced General Guºã, who had as the head of the General Staff only days before refused the entry of Soviet troops into Romania. In addition, the first ordinance adopted by the newly constituted Council of the Front of National Salvation was to abolish the law concerning the functions of the Romanian Defense Council, which had been adopted in 1969 18 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) in reaction to the 1968 Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia. It was this act that had laid the basis for Romania’s political and military autonomy within the Warsaw Pact.42 And last but not least, Iliescu, the chairman of the Council, went to see the Soviet ambassador in Romania to tell him that Romania was planning to remain within the Soviet sphere of influence.43

External Involvement

nother distinctive feature of the Romanian revolution concerns the external support from—and direct involvement of—foreign countries A in Romania’s process of power transition. The problem with external support is that it cannot be precisely quantified due to the secret nature of many operations. Moreover, after events have occurred, external support is often de- nied both by those who granted it and those who received it. This is for reasons of political respectability on one side, and of legitimacy on the other. The question of a Romanian call for Soviet and/or Warsaw Pact military aid to the provisional leadership and the Soviet response to this call is still one of the most controversial issues of the Romanian 1989 events. To this day, Ion Iliescu insists that he never called for Soviet help and that he contacted the Soviets no earlier than on 27 December.44 However, according to Cornel Dinu, Iliescu’s bodyguard, in the night of 22 to 23 December Iliescu spoke with a representa- tive of the Soviet embassy and asked for the intervention of Soviet troops. The embassy official is quoted as having told Iliescu that the Soviets were not ready 45 to use the omon troops that had already landed in Romania. By that time, Soviet ground troops stood at the Romanian-Soviet border ready to cross the frontier.46 In a recently declassified message from the Polish embassy in Bucha- rest to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Warsaw, a Soviet diplomat is quoted as having said that Ion Iliescu and Silviu Brucan had asked for military aid and been promised any kind of support other than a military invasion. In the mean- time, the Front of National Salvation announced on tv that the embassy had promised military aid.47 Talks between the new leadership and the Soviet military were confirmed in a report of the chief of the Special Office of the General Staff in the Operations Directorate given to the members of the parliamentary commission investigat- ing the 1989 events. According to Dumitru Mircea, on 22 December, a message was received by the Romanian military leadership from Mikhail Moiseyev, head of the Soviet General Staff, and from the deputy chief of staff of the Warsaw Pact forces. They were “ready to grant support in any area.”48 This was con- firmed by Romanian radio and tv on 23 December.49 Paradigms • 19

By noon of 23 December, Mircea was ordered by the deputy chief of the Romanian General Staff, Nicolae Eftimescu, to call General Moiseyev to ask him “whether it would be possible to count on Soviet military aid against the terrorists.” Moiseyev referred him to the governmental level.50 After the death of the minister of Defense and in the absence of the head of state, the chief of staff of the Romanian army, General Stefan Guºã, was the only person le- gally entitled to launch a call for foreign aid. When he arrived at the Ministry of Defense, he vetoed this initiative and ordered Romanian border guards not to permit the entry of Soviet army units into Romanian territory. He called his Soviet counterpart to tell him that “we did not ask for Soviet military aid and we will not ask for it.”51 The attitude of the Soviet Union was marked by ambivalence. On one hand, Gorbachev insisted that the Brezhnev Doctrine was no longer applicable. On the other hand, there is evidence that the Soviet military was prepared to send ground or airborne troops to Romania. While it is understandable that Gorbachev did not want to be seen as supporting an open Soviet military intervention in Romania, it is, however, quite improbable that he was not informed about such actions. Talking to the Congress of the People’s Deputies of the Soviet Union on 23 December, Gorbachev confirmed that a call for help had been dispatched to Moscow by the Romanian Front of National Salvation. The Romanian chief of staff had, however, rejected help. Gorbachev announced that the Soviet leadership was going to get in contact with other Warsaw Pact member states “to cooperate and coordinate activities to support the Romanian people.”52 One of the measures he proposed was to set up a group of Warsaw Pact observers to monitor the events in Romania. The creation of this group was confirmed by Hungary’s Foreign Minister Gyula Horn on Hungarian television. Although strong Warsaw Pact troops were in place on Hungarian territory close to the Romanian border, the Hungarian Defense Minister Ferenc Kárpáti ruled out an “immediate” intervention in the neighboring county.53 Soviet commentators made it clear, however, that the decision to desist from an intervention in Romania was only provisional. If the page turned in favor of the Ceauºescu-friendly forces, “the Warsaw Pact could not and should not” desist from intervening. They even favored a military in- tervention that went beyond the Warsaw Pact, also including forces from other countries. In a meeting with the Soviet ambassador, Yevgeny Tyazhelnikov, on 27 December, Iliescu said that an agreement had been made with Gorbachev that “this was not necessary because there would be unwanted interpretations that would coincide with Ceauºescu’s statement at his trial that this was a coup d’état with foreign military support.”54 The United States had signaled to the Soviet Union that it would not object to a Warsaw Pact or other intervention “if it becomes necessary to put down 20 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) heavy fighting by Romanian security troops still loyal [to Ceauºescu].”55 France declared its readiness to join such an operation, either in conjunction with the Soviet and Warsaw Pact forces, or in the form of an international brigade. There is only scanty evidence, and even less solid documentary proof, about covert actions undertaken by the West in the revolutionary process. However, a number of now-retired officials from France and the United States have ac- knowledged involvement in disinformation activities, the establishment of con- tacts with Ceauºescu opponents, the selection of and support for dissidents, as well as the training of refugees from Romania who, after their return, were used as agents provocateurs.56 More than the other East European revolutions of 1989, the Romanian revo- lution is difficult to imagine without the support of electronic media in the form of Western radio stations broadcasting to Romania, above all Radio Free Europe located in Munich. rfe broadcasts were extremely popular in Romania and were decisive in the anti-regime mobilization of the population, the de- legitimizing of the Ceauºescu leadership, and for “accrediting” and popularizing regime dissidents in the 1980s. From the mid–1980s, Radio Free Europe began to include former party and Securitate activists with questionable democratic credentials among their list of praiseworthy dissidents. In addition, with the broadcasting time of the local radio and tv stations sharply reduced due to elec- tricity shortages, Romanian listeners and viewers increasingly turned to radio and tv stations located in the Soviet Union and in other neighboring commu- nist countries such as Hungary, Bulgaria, and Yugoslavia. Immediately after the departure of Ceauºescu on 22 December from Bucharest, the national television station took over the role of Western broadcasting and became the stage for a “tele-revolution” that was unique in the history of the medium.57

The Transformation: The Long-term Consequences of the Revolution

he Romanian revolution took a heavy toll of human lives. In total, 1,166 people—civilians, officers and army conscripts—were killed and 4,069 in- T jured. Whereas the popular uprising against Ceauºescu had cost the lives of 159 people and caused injuries to another 1,502, a much higher number of victims (967 dead and 2,587 injured) were recorded after December 22, the day Ceauºescu was flown out of Bucharest and arrested.58 There is the widespread be- lief among Romanians that these victims died in vain, because the anti-communist uprising of the people had been “stolen” and “diverted.” This has left a deep im- print on the Romanian collective memory and is considered “the original sin” of Paradigms • 21 the Romanian transition. It continues to impact the country’s course of political, social and economic transformation to this day. Moreover, it is felt that those who seized power in 1989 did everything they could to obstruct the criminal investiga- tion, prosecution and condemnation of the true culprits for the bloodshed. After December 1989, more than 5,000 people were investigated with re- gard to their responsibility for the crimes committed both before and after the fall of Ceauºescu. In total, 245 persons were put on trial, among them 18 gener- als from the armed forces and the Securitate troops, as well as 24 members of the highest party nomenklatura.59 Most of those investigated were released at the beginning of 1990 or pardoned. However, due to the fact that the group around Iliescu, which had seized power in the military coup d’état following the popular uprising in Timiºoara, succeeded in staying in power for so long, most of those who are thought responsible for the bloodshed have escaped condemnation. De- spite the fact that organizations representing the victims of the revolution have pressured that they be prosecuted, the judiciary, acting on political orders, has done everything it can to delay prosecution in high-level cases. Documents have been confiscated (such as the files on the Ceauºescu trial), destroyed, forged, or are still being withheld by military or civilian prosecutors’ offices. Investigations have also been hampered by the fact that many of the key figures from the Ceauºescu family, the military, the secret services, counter- espionage and the militia who were involved in the events committed suicide or died under mysterious circumstances, some of them in prison.60 Together with General Mihai Chiþac, in 1989, the head of the chemical arms division, General Stãnculescu, was the only major figure of the revolution to be tried and sentenced after 1989. Stãnculescu is also the only major actor of the coup who still remains in prison in 2014, where he has been held since October 2008 with a sentence of 15 years on charges of having executed Ceauºescu’s repressive or- ders against the participants in the Timiºoara uprising. This is why Stãnculescu is the only high-level revolutionary figure who has chosen to break the ominous silence about some if not all of the riddles surrounding the still mysterious 1989 events, especially concerning the roles played by other top players as well as for- eign involvement—both Eastern and Western—in the process. In contrast to Stãnculescu, Iliescu had a formidable political career in post- revolutionary Romania, despite being the target of persistent criticism. Some of the post–1989 electorate was won over by the populist measures he introduced immediately after the fall of Ceauºescu, and thus he was voted into presiden- tial office in 1990, followed by reelection for two full terms, 1992–1996 and 2000–2004. However, another part of the population would like to see him put on trial, not only for the role he played during the revolution, but also during the incidents of violence by miners Iliescu had allegedly sent against 22 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) anti-communist demonstrators in Bucharest in 1990, the so-called “mineriads.” Iliescu is also seen as the main culprit for the misguided policy course followed in Romania in the early 1990s, which obstructed the genuine democratization of the society, the introduction of market-type reforms, as well as the country’s progress toward membership in nato and the eu. Only after Emil Constanti- nescu, a representative of the civil society, was elected president in 1996 was the country’s foreign policy toward the West vigorously redirected and real, albeit painful, economic reforms were launched. Iliescu continued this path during his final term from 2000 to 2004. During these years Romania became a member of nato and concluded accession negotiations with the eu. Due to its violent character and the human lives lost in the process, the 1989 revolution left distinct traces on the collective memory as well as the mental- ity of the Romanians. The society is still strongly divided on the question of whether what happened in 1989 was a revolution or coup d’état, and whether the events were home-grown or engineered by forces from abroad. Despite the generational shift that has occurred over the past twenty years, demands for the criminal prosecution of the crimes committed in 1989 and the lustration of for- mer regime activists are still high in the public interests. q

Notes

1. Here is a necessarily incomplete selection of books on the Romanian revolution: Michel Castex, Un mensonge gros comme le siècle: Roumanie, histoire d’une manipula- tion (Paris: Albin Michel, 1990); Ruxandra Cesereanu, Decembrie ’89: Deconstrucþia unei revoluþii, 2nd edition (Iaºi: Polirom, 2009); Emil Constantinescu, Adevãrul de- spre România (1989–2004): Un preºedinte în rãzboi cu mafia securisto-comunistã (Bu- charest: Universalia, 2004); Dennis Deletant, Ceauºescu and the Securitate: Coercion and Dissent in Romania, 1965–1989 (London: C. Hurst and Co., 1995); Daniela Veronica Guºã de Drãgan, Condamnat la adevãr: General ªtefan Guºã (Bucharest: rao, 2004); Anneli Ute Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolution: Rumänien zwischen Diktatur und Demokratie (Munich: Piper, 1990); ead., Systemwechsel in Rumänien: Von der Revolution zur Transformation (Munich: R. Oldenbourg, 1998); Radu Portocala, Autopsie du coup d’État roumain: Au pays du mensonge triomphant (Paris: Calmann-Levy, 1990); Dumitru Preda and Mihai Retegan, 1989: Principiul domi- noului: Prãbuºirea regimurilor comuniste europene (Bucharest: Ed. Fundaþiei Cul- turale Române, 2000); Peter Siani-Davies, The Romanian Revolution of December 1989 (Ithaca–London: Cornell University Press, 2005); Alex Mihai Stoenescu, Is- toria loviturilor de stat în România, vol. 4, “Revoluþia din decembrie 1989”—o tragedie româneascã (Bucharest: rao, 2005); id., Cronologia evenimentelor din decembrie 1989 Paradigms • 23

(Bucharest: rao, 2009); Vladimir Tismãneanu, Stalinism for All Seasons: A Political History of Romanian Communism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003). 2. For an excellent overview, see Ioan Scurtu, La Révolution roumaine de 1989, dans le contexte international de l’époque (Bucharest: Ed. Institutului Revoluþiei Române din Decembrie 1989, 2008), 7–22. 3. Marius Oprea (ed.), Flori Bãlãnescu, and Stejãrel Olaru, Ziua care nu se uitã: Revolta braºovenilor din 15 noiembrie 1987, 2nd edition, rev. and enl. (Iaºi: Polirom, 2017), with a list of those taken into custody. 4. See an excellent detailed analysis of these worldwide changes in Pierre Grosser, 1989: L’année où le monde a basculé (Paris: Perrin, 2009). 5. In an interview with Alex Mihai Stoenescu, Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu pointed out that “the main scenario was patterned on the Portuguese model: i.e. a short-term military regime followed by a democratic regime supported by the army.” În sfârºit, adevãrul… Generalul Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu în dialog cu Alex Mihai Stoenescu (Bucharest: rao, 2009), 73. 6. In a conversation in March 1989 with Károly Grosz, the secretary general of the Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party, the Soviet leader emphasized that “we clearly have to draw boundaries, thinking about others and ourselves at the same time. De- mocracy is much needed, and interests have to be harmonized. The limit, however, is the safekeeping of socialism and assurance of stability.” See the Report for the members of the Political Committee, 29 March 1989, mol m-ks-288-11I4458o.e., in Political Transition in Hungary, 1989–1990: A Compendium of Declassified Docu- ments and Chronology of Events, eds. Csaba Békés, Malcolm Byrne, Melinda Kalmár, Zoltán Ripp, and Miklós Vörös (Washington–Budapest: National Security Archive, Cold War History Research Center, and 1956 Institute, 1999), 6. 7. “Le nouveau leader du Kremlin visait à l’élimination des vieux dirigeants des pays socialistes et à leur remplacement par des personnes jeunes, prêtes à appliquer la pe- restroika . . . Le remplacement des leaders conservateurs, souhaité par Gorbachev, a été soutenu par les médias occidentaux.” Scurtu, 6–8. See also Anneli Ute Gabanyi, “Gorbačev in Bukarest: Rumänisch-sowjetische Differenzen treten offen zutage,” Südosteuropa 36, 5 (1987): 267–275; ead., “Rumänien und Gorbatschow,” in Süd­ osteuropa in der Ära Gorbatschow: Auswirkungen der sowjetischen Reformpolitik auf die südosteuropäischen Länder, ed. Walter Althammer (Munich: Sagner, 1987), 75–82. 8. Cf. Jamie Glazov, “Symposium: Secrets of Communism’s ‘Collapse’,” 23 September 2010, https://archives.frontpagemag.com/fpm/symposium-secrets-communisms- colla­­ ­pse-jamie-glazov/ (accessed 12 September 2013). 9. Radio Moscow in Romanian, 20 December 1989. Cf. Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolution, 121. 10. Radio Moscow in Romanian, 21 December 1989. Cf. Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolution, 122. 11. See Oleg Gordiewsky and Christopher Andrew, kgb: Die Geschichte seiner Auslands- operationen von Lenin bis Gorbatschow (Munich: C. Bertelsmann, 1990), 824. 12. See Preda and Retegan, 18–20. 24 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

13. Ion Mihai Pacepa, a high ranking defector from the Romanian Department of External Information, in a television interview on Hungarian Duna Television. Cf. Jurnalul naþional (Bucharest), 3 March 2004. 14. This author analyzed the conflict between Ceauºescu and the military at an early stage. Romanian Situation Report 5, Radio Free Europe research, 17 March 1983, reprinted in Anneli Ute Gabanyi, The Ceauºescu Cult: Propaganda and Power Policy in Communist Romania (Bucharest: The Romanian Cultural Foundation Publishing House, 2000), 391–96. 15. According to Virgil Mãgureanu, the first head of the post–1989 Romanian Infor­ mation Service, Gogu Rãdulescu was a high-ranking kgb spy who had been infiltrated into Romania to assist the so-called cultural dissidence, which supported regime change in Romania. See “Mãgureanu ºi agenþii kgb,” Ziua (Bucharest), 30 October 2006. 16. László Tøkés, born in 1952 to a family of ethnic Hungarians and a pastor of the Reformed Church, was known from the early 1980s as a dissident in the Ceauºescu regime. In his sermons and in interviews with Western media, he protested the of- ficial Romanian program of rural development and planning projects. Cf. Marius Mioc, Revoluþia fãrã mistere: Începutul revoluþiei române: Lászlö Tøkés (Timiºoara: Al- manahul Banatului, 2002). 17. Lieutenant-General ªtefan Guºã (1940–1994), first deputy minister of Defense and chief of the General Staff (1986–1989). His role in the suppression of the Timiºoara uprising is still unclear, although available evidence shows that he tried to prevent bloodshed there and ordered the withdrawal of the army into the barracks. Members of the pro-Soviet coalition suspected him of having tried to stage a countercoup of national-minded officers, which they prevented. 18. Curtea Supremã de Justiþie (Înalta Curte de Casaþie ºi Justiþie), Procesele Revoluþiei din Timiºoara (1989): Documente istorice: Procesul lotului “Timiºoara—decembrie 1989” (cei 25—Ion Coman, Radu Bãlan º.a.), Procesul Sãnculescu–Chiþac, adunate ºi comentate de Marius Mioc (Timi­­ ­ºoara: ArtPress, 2004), 42. More recently, official figures have set the number of dead in Timiºoara at 73 and the number of wounded at 296. http://www.ziare.com/stiri/eveniment/timisoara-primul-oras-liber-sirenele- au-sunat-la-23-de-ani-de-la-revolutie-1208385 (accessed 12 September 2013). 19. Until 1989, Timiºoara was one of Romania’s most important industrial centers, with big plants for machine building, electronics, chemical and petrochemical manu- facturing and food industries. 20. Scurtu, 188–190. 21. Preda and Retegan, 477. 22. He acknowledged having been in contact prior to 1989 not only with Western, above all British secret services, but also with kgb officers via Hungary. 23. ªerban Sãndulescu, Decembrie ’89: Lovitura de stat a confiscat revoluþia românã (Bucharest: Omega Ziua Press, 1996), 195–98; Constantin Sava and Constantin Monac, Adevãr despre Decembrie 1989: Conspiraþie, diversiune, revoluþie: Documente din Arhivele Armatei (Bucharest: Forum, 1999), 114–15. 24. Born in 1930, Iliescu was an engineer by profession and had studied in Bucharest and Moscow. The son of an illegal communist party member, Iliescu joined the party in Paradigms • 25

1953 and quickly rose in the party nomenklatura, becoming a member of the Roma- nian Communist Party Central Committee in 1965, then a minister of Youth and the head of the Central Committee propaganda department. In 1971, the presumptive heir apparent to Ceauºescu fell from the leader’s grace, most probably because of his suspected anti-Ceauºescu position. He was progressively downgraded and released from the Central Committee, finally becoming the director of the Technical Publish- ing House. In the 1980s, there were rumors that he would become the new Romanian leader in a pro-Gorbachev Romania. 25. Nicolae Militaru (1925–1994), was an army officer who had studied in Bucharest and Moscow. He was sent into the reserves in 1978 and appointed deputy minister of Industrial Constructions. He retired in 1986. 26. Mãlin Bot, “Crimele nepedepsite ale lui Iliescu,” Evenimentul zilei (Bucharest), 15 June, 2013, http://www. evz.ro/detalii/stiri/crimele-nepedepsite-ale-lui-ion-iliescu- 1042664.html (accessed 13 September 2013). 27. Cf. Siani-Davies, 109, 112–114. 28. For the text of the Proclamation, see http://proclamatia.wordpress.com (accessed 17 October 2013). 29. Ceauºescus’s press secretary Eugen Florescu has reported a conversation he over- heard between Nicolae Ceauºescu and his brother Ilie, the head of the Political Council of the Army, which took place at 6 a.m. on 22 December in the cc building. Ilie Ceauºescu had drawn Nicolae’s attention to the great number of workers march- ing towards central Bucharest from industrial sites outside the capital, and Nicolae is quoted as saying: “Come on, there were a million people on Tiananmen Square and they let them have it.” Stoenescu, Cronologia evenimentelor, 162–163. 30. The model does not provide evidence as to who ordered these operations. 31. Grigore Cartianu, Cartea Revoluþiei, foreword by Alex Mihai Stoenescu (Bucharest: Adevãrul Holding, 2011), 980. 32. After he took over as minister of Defense, Stãnculescu even called what had hap- pened “psychological warfare.” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 13 February 1990. 33. For more details, see Gabanyi, Systemwechsel, 192–193. 34. Sergiu Nicolaescu, Cartea revoluþiei române decembrie ’89 (Bucharest: Editura Ion Cristoiu, 1999), 477–478; Sãndulescu, 73. Cf. Castex. 35. “‘Tensions were stirred up at the time to create a reason to kill Ceauºescu,’ says for- mer General Stãnculescu. By whom? ‘You’d have to ask Iliescu’.” Iliescu admitted that “the widespread chaos in December 1989 was aggravated by made-up reports from the television headquarters controlled by the National Salvation Front lead- ers—reports that the drinking water had been poisoned, the army was on its last legs and unknown ‘terrorists’ were in the pay of the counter-revolution.” Walter Mayr, “‘A Mission of Honor’: Key Players Recall Romania’s Bloody Revolution,” Der Spiegel International, 20 October 2009, http://www.spiegel.de/international/europe/a- mission-of-honor-key-players-recall-romania-s-bloody-revolution-a-655557-2.html (accessed 5 September 2013). 36. Cf. Sãndulescu, 167. Western media at the time wrote about a civil war having bro- ken out in Romania between army units loyal to the new provisional leadership on 26 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

one hand and Securitate fighters together with Arab mercenaries on the other. ard Tagesschau, 23 December 1989, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucpqlmnx_y4 (accessed 5 September 2013). 37. Mircea Dinescu, a Romanian dissident close to Gorbachev, has pointed out that Ion Iliescu was “the only alternative to a military coup” and “the only chance” to prevent it. Frankfurter Rundschau, 11 January 1990. See Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolu- tion, 108; ead., Systemwechsel, 183–185. 38. Radio Bucharest, 22 December 1989. 39. See Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolution, 114–115. 40. Constantin Mitea, Ceauºescu’s adviser who participated in the last meeting be- tween Gorbachev and Ceauºescu held in Moscow on 4–5 December in the wake of the Bush–Gorbachev meeting in Malta, reported that Gorbachev took leave from Ceauºescu wishing him happy Christmas and a good New Year, adding the words, “if you live as long as that.” Quoted by Ceauºescu’s press secretary Eugen Florescu in Alex Mihai Stoenescu, Interviuri despre revoluþie (Bucharest: rao, 2004), 81–82. 41. Militaru was presented on tv as the future minister of Defense as early as 23 De- cember, and the high command of the Soviet army was informed about Militaru’s “nomination” the same day. Sãndulescu, 322. 42. See Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolution, 117–118. 43. Alex Mihai Stoenescu, Din culisele luptei pentru putere 1989–1990: Prima guvernare Petre Roman (Bucharest: rao, 2006), 547, Annex 1. 44. Adam Burakowski, “O intervenþie armatã ar fi fost un dezastru,” Adevãrul (Bucha- rest), 7 March 2010, https://adevarul.ro/news/eveniment/adam-burakowski-o-inter­- ventie-armata-fost-dezastru-1_50ad20fe7c42d5a6638f3561/index.html (accessed 13 September 2013). 45. “Cornel Dinu, Discuþiile purtate cu consilierul sovietic au avut loc în biroul de la etajul 11 al Televiziunii Române, în noaptea zilei de 22 spre 23 decembrie 1989, undeva în jurul orelor 3–4. El a spus cã în încãpere se aflau mai multe per- soane, dintre care i-a enumerat pe Petre Roman, Ion Iliescu, Silviu Brucan, Mihai Bujor, Petre Constantin (directorul Televiziunii la acel moment) ºi Nina Iliescu. Iliescu a cerut interventia ruºilor. ªi-un tanc pentru Nina”: https://stirea.wordpress. com/2010/03/10/cornel-dinu-discutiile-purtate-cu-consilierul-sovietic-au-avut-loc- in-biroul-de-la-etajul-11-al-televiziunii-romane-in-noaptea-zilei-de-22-spre-23-de- cembrie-1989-undeva-in-jurul-orelor-3-4-el-a (accessed 9 September 2013). See also Siani-Davies, 186. 46. Cf. Sãndulescu, 327. 47. Adam Burakowski, “În Decembrie 1989, Iliescu ºi Brucan au cerut ajutor militar de la sovietici,” Revista 22 (Bucharest) 21, 1039 (2–8 February 2010), https://revis- ta22.ro/dosar/in-decembrie-1989-iliescu-351i-brucan-au-cerut-ajutor-militar-de-la- sovietici (accessed 9 September 2013). 48. Cf. Sãndulescu, 321. 49. Reuters, 23 December 1989. See also Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolution, 123–124. 50. Cf. Sãndulescu, 317. 51. Ibid., 317–318. See also Guºã de Drãgan, 62–63, 350. Paradigms • 27

52. tass, 23 December 1989. Cf. Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolution, 124. 53. The Independent, 24 December 1989. Cf. Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolution, 126. 54. See the full text of the discussion with Tyazhelnikov: https://stirea.wordpress. com/2010/03/09/ion-iliescu-catre-evgheni-tiajelnikov-noi-ne-am-bucurat-de-sim- patia-acestor-mase-n-a-fost-o-campanie-anticomunista-avem-nevoie-de-sprijin-ca- aceasta-este-cea-mai-importanta-problema-acum/ (accessed 9 September 2013). 55. The Washington Post, 25 December 1989. Cf. Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolution, 129. See also Thomas Blanton, “When did the Cold War End?” Cold War Inter- national History Project Bulletin 10 (March 1998): 184–191, http://www.wilson- center.org/sites/default/files/cwihpbulletin10_p5.pdf (accessed 9 September 2013); Thomas L. Friedman, “us would favor use of Soviet troops in Romania, Baker says,” New York Times, 25 December 1989. Michael R. Beschloss and Strobe Talbott have explained the attitude of the us administration as being guided by its desire to secure Soviet support for the intervention that the United States had just started in Panama to depose leader Manuel Antonio Noriega. See Michael R. Beschloss and Strobe Talbott, At the Highest Levels: The Inside Story of the End of the Cold War (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1993), 240. 56. See the interviews in the documentary film Schachmatt—Strategie einer Revolution by Susanne Brandstätter, first shown on German and Austrian state television in 2003. 57. See Gabanyi, Die unvollendete Revolution, 7–11. 58. Cartianu, 980. 59. “Greii dosarului ‘Revoluþiei’, protejaþi de neglijenþa lui Voinea,” Evenimentul zilei, 21 December 2009. 60. Teodor Mãrieº, “Generalul Puiu: Salvaþi-mã cã ãºtia vor sã mã omoare,” Evenimentul zilei, 11 December 2005.

Abstract The Romanian Revolution

The Romanian revolution of 1989 was part and parcel of the disintegration of the Soviet bloc and the collapse of the East European communist regimes. Despite a number of common features, Romania took a special course. It experienced a violent military coup d’état in the course of which the national-minded Ceauºescu elite was replaced by a group of long-time pro-Soviet conspira- tors. The head of state was imprisoned and executed. The main reasons for the outbreak of the popular uprising preceding the coup d’état were: the dissatisfaction of the population with the austerity policy imposed by the regime during in the 1980s, the emergence of a domestic opposi- tion, pressure from the Soviet Union and the loss of the Western support for Romania.

Keyword revolution, coup d’état, Romanian deviation, crisis of Soviet-style communist system, cmea, War- saw Pact, Gorbachev Doctrine, Soviet-Western rapprochement, domestic opposition, coup at- tempts by the military, Timiºoara events, Ceauºescu trial, the use of force, external involvement in the revolution December 1989 in Romania People’s Revolt, Revolution, D e n n i s D e l e t a n t or Coup d’État?

A logical departure point for our discussion is a brief presentation of the events of late December 1989 in Romania that led to the overthrow of Nicolae Ceauºescu. Barely a week spanned the dem- onstrations outside the home of pas- tor László Tøkés in Timiºoara and the flight of Nicolae Ceauşescu from the Central Committee building in the capital. The vigil held on 15 De- cember in support of Tøkés, whose eviction from his home had been or- Romanian Revolution (1989), Timiºoara ©Private Photograph Collection dered, turned into a major demon- stration on the following day. Some of the protesters attempted to enter the Party county headquarters but the building was deserted and the doors locked, so they turned their attention to nearby shops and set fire to volumes of Ceauşescu’s speeches looted from a bookshop. Eventually, the security Dennis Deletant forces dispersed them with water can- Visiting Ion Raþiu professor of Romanian non. Fresh crowds gathered in the Studies at Georgetown University, Wash- morning of 17 December in the cen- ington, D.C., and emeritus professor at ter of the city and moved towards the the School of Slavonic and East European Studies, University College, London. local Party headquarters which they Author, among others, of the vol. Roma- found protected by a double cordon of nia under Communism: Paradox and troops and fire-engines. As the crowd Degeneration (2018). advanced, one of the engines came to Paradigms • 29 meet it and sprayed it with water, thus infuriating the protesters who pushed the troops back, thereby allowing some young demonstrators to break into the building. The youths ransacked the lower floors before the security forces forced them out. Most of the crowd streamed back towards the Hotel Continental to join hundreds of other protesters throwing stones and petrol bombs. The army garrison was also attacked and furniture from it seized and set on fire. It was amidst this chaos that in the late afternoon the first gunshots were heard and the first victims of the revolution fell.1 The gunshots were the result of an order given to troops to use live ammu- nition on the demonstrators. That order was given, according to First Deputy Defense Minister Lieutenant-General Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu, by the Min- ister of Defense, Colonel-General Vasile Milea, doubtless on the command of Ceauşescu himself.2 The latter was in constant touch by telephone with Tudor Postelnicu, the minister of the Interior, to keep himself informed of the dis- turbances, and ordered firm measures to be taken against the protesters.3 After the ransacking of the local Party headquarters in Timişoara on 17 December, Radu Bãlan, the county Party secretary, and Ilie Matei, the secretary of the Party Central Committee who was a native of the city, rang Ceauşescu to tell him of events. A full meeting of the Party Political Executive Committee was convened just after 5 pm. Ceauşescu blamed the disturbances on “revisionist circles and agents both from the East and West. Their aim was to destabilize Romania, to act to destroy Romania’s independence and her territorial integrity.” He chided Milea, and Postelnicu:

Instead of doing what I told you, you sent in the army with blank bullets. . . . Not one of the soldiers was equipped with live ammunition. Do you know how you behaved? Pure and simple, you displayed a defeatist attitude. If I had known that you were not capable of stopping these hooligans, these wayward elements, I would have called upon 500 workers, armed them, and then we would have solved the problem. . . . I told you what you had to do. But you did not do it. You should have fired! You should have fired warning shots and if they did not stop, you should have fired at them. In the first place, you should have fired at their legs. . .4

An hour later, Ceauşescu gave a teleconference from the basement of the Central Committee building in Bucharest in which he addressed country Party chiefs and senior officials. They must have been dismayed to see a tired, fossilized Ceauşescu flanked by his stone-faced wife and surrounded by a dinosaur-like group of Politburo members. The sight hardly evinced authority, rather the weakening of a grip on power. Ceauşescu blamed the violence on a few “hooli- 30 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) gan” elements and claimed that behind Tøkés lay “foreign spy agencies, princi- pally Budapest because he [Tøkés] also gave an interview. Actually the facts are well-known. Moreover, it is known that both in the East as well as in the West everyone is saying that things ought to change in Romania. Both East and West have decided to change things and they are using any means possible.”5 The teleconference was followed by a broadcast to the nation in the same vein by Ceauşescu. The broadcast had a profoundly negative effect upon many viewers, especially the young. Protesters in Timişoara were infuriated to be described as stooges of a foreign power. A stream of senior army and Securitate officers were sent from the capital to put down the protests. Major-General Emil Macri, head of the economic coun- ter-espionage directorate of the Securitate, was joined by Lieutenant-General Constantin Nuþã and Major-General Mihalea Velicu, the heads of the militia, on the morning of 17 December. That same afternoon Colonel-General Ion Coman, secretary of the Central Committee responsible for military and security affairs, Major-General Ştefan Guşã, first deputy Defense minister and chief of the General Staff, Lieutenant-General Victor Stãnculescu, first deputy Defense minister responsible for procurement, and Lieutenant-General Mihai Chiþac, head of the chemical troops and commander of the Bucharest garrison, arrived.6 Live ammunition was distributed to the troops as the security forces moved to the offensive. Demonstrators were shot dead in the city center, near the cathe- dral and in Piaþa Operei (Opera Square), as well as in the suburbs (Calea Li- povei and Piaþa Traian). Tanks abandoned by the army in Calea Girocului were withdrawn after the army fired upon protesters. The violent repression left more than sixty civilians dead and more than two hundred wounded. About seven hundred persons had been arrested.7 Despite the crisis facing his regime Ceauşescu flew to Iran on the morning of 18 December for a three-day state visit. He was probably persuaded to go ahead with the visit by the promise of signing contracts for the sale of arms to the Iranians estimated to be worth more than $2 billion.8 His wife Elena was left in charge of the situation at home, to be assisted by Politburo members Manea Mãnescu and Emil Bobu. Yet Ceauşescu’s absence undermined any authority which his regime had maintained and even ignited rumors that he had taken substantial gold reserves to Iran as insurance against possible flight. In an effort to hide evidence of those murdered by the army, the bodies of 44 civilians were taken from the Timiºoara mortuary, on Elena Ceauşescu’s orders—as rumour had it—, and heaped into a refrigerated lorry which took them first to the local militia headquarters and then to Bucharest where they were cremated and the ashes scattered at the entrance to a canal in a village called Popeşti-Leordeni, on the southern outskirts of Bucharest.9 Such treatment of the bodies was regarded Paradigms • 31 as un-Christian by the largely devout Orthodox population and certainly fuelled hostility to the regime, at the same time adding confusion to calculations of the exact numbers of dead from 17 and 18 December. More demonstrators died on 19 December as thousands of factory workers reported for work but joined in sympathy strikes with colleagues who had gone on strike elsewhere in the city. On 20 December, tens of thousands of work- ers decided to come out of the factory gates and joined forces in a mass march to the Opera Square in the city center. There, although confronted by lines of troops and armored vehicles, they surged forward and with shouts of “Noi sun- tem poporul!” (We are the people!), “Armata e cu noi!” (The army is on our side!) and “Nu vã fie fricã, Ceauşescu picã)” (Have no fear, Ceauşescu will fall) they embraced the soldiers, stuffing flags in the turrets of the armored person- nel carriers and tanks, and handing flowers, cigarettes and bread to the young soldiers. From that moment the regime could no longer count on the army to defend it.10 Timişoara was, some in the crowd claimed, “un oraş liber” (a free city). The crowd moved towards the Opera House and as troops withdrew to a side street, entry was made through a back door. At this point some eyewit- nesses report that a certain Claudiu Iordache made an emotional appeal for the army to withdraw.11 Others state that the first person to address the crowd from the Opera House balcony, where a loudspeaker system had already been set up on the balcony in anticipation that the Prime Minister Constantin Dãscãlescu would address the crowd, was Lorin Fortuna, a professor at Timişoara Poly- technic.12 His speech, delivered at around 2 pm, was followed by a succession of others from factory representatives urging the crowd, estimated at about 40,000 persons, to remain united.13 A few streets away, outside the Party county headquarters, another large crowd had gathered, calling upon the Prime Minister, Constantin Dãscãlescu and senior Political Executive Committee (Politburo) member, Emil Bobu, who had arrived earlier in the day from Bucharest, to speak to the crowd from the balcony. When they did, they were booed and quickly withdrew. It was then agreed that a delegation drawn from the crowd should join the two officials in the building for negotiations. Several of the senior army commanders were present at the talks which culminated in a demand for the resignation of Ceauşescu and the govern- ment, and free elections.14 Dãscãlescu stonewalled, pleading the need to consult with Bucharest, and gave little ground, conceding merely the return of the bodies of the dead, the release of arrested demonstrators, and immunity for the delega- tion. After Ceauşescu’s defiant broadcast that evening, the talks were suspended and the crowds dispersed. This proved to be a felicitous development for during the night, on Ceauşescu’s orders, between ten and twenty thousand workers from Oltenia were given patriotic guard uniforms and dragooned into boarding special 32 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) trains for Timişoara, with orders to drive from the streets of the city the “hooli- gans” and “drunks” who were acting at the behest of foreign intelligence agencies. When the workers arrived the next morning, they found no one to target and spent the day aimlessly until, with Ceauşescu’s approval, they returned home.15 Instead, the spokesperson of citizens of Timişoara, Lorin Fortuna, had estab- lished that same morning the Romanian Democratic Front with himself at the head. Its composition was enlarged with the inclusion of some of those who had taken part in the negotiations with Dãscãlescu, but with pressure from others that it should be expanded even further it soon became clear—and this was evi- dent in the immediate aftermath of Ceauşescu’s overthrow—that while the op- ponents of Ceauşescu knew what they were against, there was no agreement as to what they were for. A program was eventually issued by Fortuna which called for the resignation of Ceauşescu, the organization of free elections, the creation of a democratic media, respect for human rights, and economic reforms. Ac- cording to one source, troops intervened to stop the publication of the program on 21 December and it was only after Ceauşescu’s flight that it appeared on 22 December as a leaflet with the title “The Tyranny has Fallen” and was broadcast on Romanian radio.16 Nevertheless, the protesters in Timişoara had effectively brought an end to Ceauşescu’s dictatorship and that two days before Ceauşescu fled from Bucharest. Thus for two days there were dual centers of power in Ro- mania, one established by the anti-Ceauşescu Romanian Democratic Front in Timişoara, the other in the Central Committee building in Bucharest. The hostility to Ceauşescu unleashed in Timişoara quickly spread to neigh- boring towns and then into Transylvania. Protestors took to the streets on 20 December in Jimbolia, Sânnicolau Mare, Deta and Lugoj, and on the following day came out in Buziaş, Reşiþa, Caransebeş, Oradea, Arad, Cluj-Napoca, Sibiu, Târgu-Mureş, Braşov, and Bucharest. On the morning of 22 December dem- onstrations took place in Alba Iulia, Bistriþa, Miercurea-Ciuc, Sfântu Gheorghe, and Turda.17 Only in Oltenia and Moldavia did towns remain largely quiet, with bemused citizens in Piteşti—for example—aimlessly milling around and limply dangling pro-Ceauşescu banners when the address of Ceauşescu, due to be relayed that morning to the main square from the capital, was abruptly aban- doned. In Cluj, twenty-six demonstrators were shot dead by army units on 21 December.18 In Sibiu, where Nicu Ceauşescu, the dictator’s son, was the county Party secretary, demonstrators took to the streets chanting anti-Ceauşescu slo- gans on the morning of 21 December and an assortment of armed militia, Se- curitate troops, and cadets from three army academies in the cities were sent onto the streets to maintain public order. Eyewitnesses stated that the Securitate troops opened fire on the demonstrators at midday. The protesters eventually Paradigms • 33 made their way to the Securitate and militia headquarters, which were in the same complex and opposite one of the military academies, and demanded the release of those demonstrators who had been arrested. After getting no response from the head of the Securitate, Lieutenant-Colonel Theodor Petrişor, some in the crowd of around 3,000 began to stone the headquarters late in the eve- ning. They then set fire to the trees around the militia hq, an act which led to shots being fired from inside the building. Four demonstrators were killed and 11 wounded. The Securitate and militia chiefs asked the commander of the Sibiu military garrison, Lt. Col. Aurel Dragomir, for reinforcements and three armored personnel carriers (apcs) were sent to guard the militia headquarters. The protesters remained outside the Securitate and militia throughout the night and about midday on 22 December tried to force the gates of the Secu- ritate building. At that point automatic fire resumed, first from the Securitate headquarters and then from those of the militia. Shortly afterwards, the fire was directed at the military academy opposite and at the cadets who were guarding the militia buildings. There followed a veritable gun battle between the army cadets, led by their officers, and the militia and Securitate officers. A group of militia, dressed in khaki jackets, tried to gain entry to the academy but were captured by the defenders. Other cadets took an apc (Armored Personnel Car- rier) and opened fire on the militia and Securitate buildings. In the course of the afternoon militia and Securitate officers also tried to take the two other military academies, and regular soldiers and civilians were fired upon by snipers at other points in the town. As a result of these attacks more than fifty people were killed, eight of whom were soldiers, twenty-three from the Securitate and militia, and more than thirty civilians.19

udged in retrospect Ceauşescu made three fatal errors. In his broadcast of 20 December he completely misjudged the mood of the people by display- Jing no hint of compassion for the victims of Timişoara and by dismissing the demonstrations as the work of “fascists” and “hooligan elements,” inspired by Hungarian irredentism. With echoes in his ears of the people’s acclamation of his speech of 21 August 1968 denouncing the Warsaw Pact invasion, he made his second mistake. He convened a public meeting of support on 21 De- cember in Bucharest, in an atmosphere, this time, of public disgust at his lack of humanity. After the broadcast of 20 December meetings were convened at factories and military barracks to mobilize support for Ceauşescu and were ad- dressed by local Party officials. At the same time, the Political Executive Com- mittee took the decision to organize a mass meeting the following morning in Bucharest’s Palace Square to demonstrate unstinting approval for the regime 34 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) and therefore implicit backing for the repression in Timiºoara. It was to be televised and broadcast nationally. Selected by factory, workers were taken by bus to the square the following morning, equipped with the usual banners for Party-orchestrated meetings proclaiming “Peace,” “Ceauşescu and the People,” “Ceauşescu—R(omanian) C(ommunist) P(arty).” Ceauşescu began to speak at 12:31.20 Scarcely had he begun with a few introductory remarks than, to his be- wilderment, a disturbance in the crowd—off camera—and high-pitched screams caused him to break off his speech. The live television and radio coverage was cut, but not before Ceauşescu’s confusion had been captured by the cameras and transmitted to the thousands watching on television. For the first time in the history of the communist regime in Romania, a stage-managed address by its leader had been interrupted in full view of the public. It proved to be a fatal blow, first to Ceauşescu, and second, to his entire regime. The origin of the commotion in the crowd has never been clearly established. Correspondents of the bbc interviewed several members of the crowd, standing in different places in the square, in the early days of January 1990, and a num- ber of explanations were given.21 One of them, Nica Leon, said that the loud, crackling noise caught by Ceauşescu’s microphone, was the sound of banners being trampled underfoot as they were discarded by their bearers, concerned that a group of young men chanting “Timiºoara” standing close to them, would be arrested by the Securitate and they too detained.22 Another, a cameraman of Romanian television, said that it was the noise of short-circuiting loudspeakers, a third person claimed that the sound came from a firework let off in the crowd, a fourth that it was caused by tear-gas grenades fired at the public by the secu- rity forces. The sound may have resulted from a combination of any of these incidents but the result was that when Ceauşescu was able to resume his speech, he did so from a position of fragility. He attempted to placate the crowd by announcing salary and pension increases, but this stratagem only angered them further. At the end of his speech large groups of young people remained in the city center and, encouraged by the mild, unseasonal weather, lingered into the evening. It was at this point that they were fired upon by the army and security troops, and many were shot dead.23 On the following morning of 22 December, Ceauşescu committed his third error. He summoned yet another public meeting of support and attempted to address it at 11:30. Boos and stones were directed at the balcony of the Central Committee building and Ceauşescu was ushered inside by the head of his per- sonal bodyguard, Major-General Marin Neagoe.24 He fled from the rooftop in a helicopter accompanied by his wife and two of his closest allies, Manea Mãnescu and Emil Bobu, and two bodyguards, Major Florian Raþ and Captain Marian Paradigms • 35

Constantin Rusu. Ceauşescu ordered the helicopter pilot to land at Snagov, some 30 km to the north of Bucharest, where he had a country mansion, and it was from here that he and his wife collected a suitcase of clothing. Mãnescu and Bobu remained behind as the helicopter took off once more with the Ceauşescus and the bodyguards, first, according to the pilot Major Vasile Maluþan, in the direc- tion of the helicopter base at Otopeni, and then, on Ceauşescu’s instructions, to the parachutists’ base at Boteni, but the pilot was told by the commandant there that he could not land. The pilot received orders to tell Ceauşescu that he was short of fuel and fearful of being spotted by radar, and so Ceauşescu ordered him to put down on a main road just outside Titu, near the village of Serdanu, some 35 km to the south of the town of Târgovişte.25 The bodyguards flagged down a car driven by a doctor named Nicolae Decã, who took them as far as the vil- lage of Vãcãreşti, just outside Târgovişte, where his car ran out of fuel, forcing the bodyguards to commandeer a second car, this one belonging to an engineer named Nicolae Petrişor who took them to the steelworks at Târgovişte, where a bodyguard got out to seek local Party assistance but did not return.26 Petrişor, uncertain what to do with the presidential couple, decided to drive to a nearby agricultural experimental station where the manager, bewildered and frightened, shut them away in a room and summoned the local police.27 The two policemen took them to the Târgovişte police headquarters where the Securitate was also based but crowds blocking the entrance prevented them from entering.28 The po- licemen then drove the couple to a nearby village called Rãþoaia where they tried to remain out of sight in some reeds by a lake until the commotion in Târgovişte died down. On being informed that relative calm had been restored by an army unit around the police station, the policemen returned to headquarters in the ear- ly evening and the Ceauşescus were then taken to the army garrison in the town.29 In Bucharest, following the flight of the Ceauşescus, crowds began to gather at the television center in the north of the city. A delegation of protesters was permitted to enter to negotiate a resumption of broadcasting to convey the news of the morning’s events in the city.30 The tv management was evasive until a number of armored cars carrying, amongst others, the well-known actor Ion Caramitru and the dissident poet Mircea Dinescu, arrived. It was Caramitru who was the first person to appear on Romanian television after the interrup- tion of service. In a voice quivering with emotion he declared: “Brothers, thanks to God we are in the television studios, we managed here on the back of tanks, with the army and with students and with the people whom you see and with thousands and thousands of Romanians.’31 A stream of speakers followed. They included senior Party members who had fallen out with Ceauºescu—Ion Iliescu and Silviu Brucan—and figures unknown to the public but who were to rise to 36 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) prominence later—Petre Roman and Gelu Voican Voiculescu. Iliescu, judging from eyewitness accounts, entered the tv studios with an air of authority.32 Iliescu, a former Party head in Iaºi county who had been marginalized by Ceauºescu, was rumored in the West to enjoy the favor of Mikhail Gorbachev, a view which gained credence following the former’s enigmatic call for reform in the literary journal România literarã in September 1987.33 He appealed for support for the new provisional authority which was to be established. He then withdrew to an office in the Central Committee where, in concert with a dozen or so others, including Silviu Brucan, General Nicolae Militaru, Colonel Gheorghe Ardeleanu, head of the anti-terrorist brigade usla, and Petre Roman, a provisional government, styled “The Council of the National Salvation Front,” was formed.34 The decision was taken, according to Brucan, on the evening of 24 December to place the Ceauºescus on trial, by Iliescu, Roman, Brucan, Voiculescu, and Militaru, who had all moved to the Ministry of Defense for security reasons.35 General Stãnculescu was tasked with making the logistical arrangements. To give a fig-leaf of legality to the proceedings an “Exceptional Military Tribu- nal” was constituted. It was before this kangaroo court that the unsubstantiated charge of genocide was brought as well as the accusation, among others, that Ceauºescu had undermined the national economy. Ceauºescu challenged the constitutionality of the court and argued that, as president, he was responsible only to the Great National Assembly. The cnsf was the product of a foreign plot, he claimed. But to no avail since the verdict had been preordained. The trial lasted little under an hour and after a short period of deliberation military prosecutor Colonel Gicã Popa, the head of the tribunal, sentenced the two ac- cused to death.36 The Ceauºescus, hands bound, were led outside and summarily shot by a firing-squad. The controversial nature of the above events is reflected in their historiogra- phy. Here is a sample of views:

Someone asked: “But should we call this a revolution? After all, a revolution in- volves violence . . . In fact, we always have to qualify it; we call it “velvet,” we call it “peaceful,” we call it “evolutionary’ . . . I call it “refolution”—a mixture of revo­ lution and reform. Curiously enough, the moment when people in the West finally thought there was a revolution was when they saw television pictures of Romania: crowds, tanks, shooting, blood in the streets. They said: “That—we know that is a revolution,” and of course the joke is that it was the only one that wasn’t.37

The Romanian revolution of December 1989 is a controversial moment in our history. The disputes involve both the synthetic definition of the event (was it a Paradigms • 37

revolution, a people’s revolt, or a coup d’état?), as well as the reconstruction of some of its particular aspects and, especially, the role played by the participants, whether individuals or institutions . . . This derives from the uncertainty which hovers over the agents provocateurs, over the causes and the political effects of the principal events of December 1989.38

Ruxandra Cesereanu tried to place the various accounts of the revolution in three categories: the first—of those who believe in a straightforward success- ful mass uprising against a dictatorship; the second—of those who believe in a coup d’état carried by either internal or external forces; the third—of those who believe in a combination of these two explanations.39

The revolution of 1989 had a marked anti-communist character, exemplified by the following: the chanting of anti-communist slogans, the destruction of commu- nist flags (red flags with the hammer and sickle), the symbolic flying of the na- tional flag from which had been cut out the communist emblem of the country (in the overwhelming majority of places in Romania), the removal of the adjectives “communist”/“socialist” from public signs, the removal from public places of Roma- nian and Soviet communist statues and monuments, the removal of the names of communist activists or of communist slogans from public buildings etc. . . . In the period which immediately followed 22 December 1989, the group which seized power hijacked the pronounced anti-communist character of the revolution by un- dermining the spontaneous anti-communist demonstrations of the people, by censor- ing the anti-communist messages broadcast on the television network which had become the “headquarters” of the first “telerevolution” in history. The television was used to create the majority of the “diversions,” the most effective being the permanent “danger of death” embodied by the “terrorists faithful to the dictator Ceauşescu’ . . . The danger seemed entirely credible given that in the period 22–27 December there were 942 deaths recorded and thousands of wounded . . . Afterwards, not a single terrorist was arrested and tried.40

Were, then, the events of December 1989 in Romania “a revolution”? Following Peter Siani-Davies’s analysis the word “revolution” is associated with two popular metaphors.41 “The first is that it is a relatively quick and violent single incident . . . conventionally distinguished by a time-related epithet, such as ‘The October Rev- olution’ in Russia or the ‘February Revolution’ of 1848 in Paris,” and his analy- sis “would argue that ‘The Romanian Revolution of December 1989’ might be added to this list. Secondly, the idea of revolution can embrace a longer process of social change often spanning many decades, in which case it is usually referred to in more general terms, as in the Russian, French, or Chinese Revolution.”42 38 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

he claim can be made that there was a rupture in sovereignty in Roma- nia represented by the transfer of power from the Romanian Commu- T nist Party to the National Salvation Front. There were competing cen- ters of power in Timişoara after the establishment of the Romanian Democratic Front on 20 December in opposition to the remnants of the Communist Party organization in the county council building; indeed, such a duality of power can be extrapolated to distinguish Timişoara from the rest of the country in the period 20–25 December.43 Are we to disqualify the use of the term “revolution” in the Romanian context not because a rupture took place in sovereignty but because there was no rupture in continuity, i.e. communists took over power? Or is it that some see the authenticity of a revolution defined not only in policy change, but also in a change of mentality? We can argue that Nicolae Ceauşescu’s overthrow was not a coup d’état. As has been pointed out, Erich Honecker in East Germany, Todor Zhivkov in Bulgaria, and Miloš Jakeš in Czechoslovakia were all victims of palace coups and had Ceauşescu been removed after the December 17 Political Executive Com- mittee meeting and replaced by a fellow-member, he could have been placed in that category, but his retreat from the center of Bucharest in the face of vociferous protest bears the mark of revolution, as does the mass mobilization, widespread violence, spontaneous creation of revolutionary institutions, and subsequent fierce struggle between the revolutionary contenders on the streets of Romania’s cities.44 “That multiple sovereignty did not last longer can be ex- plained by two, at first sight, rather contradictory conditions; firstly, high levels of coercion prevented the appearance of an effective opposition prior to the revolution and, secondly, at the same time, such was the advanced level of state breakdown in Romania that in the end the regime needed only a limited chal- lenge before it collapsed.”45 The questions raised by the above selection of viewpoints have remained un- answered owing to the confusion surrounding a number of events whose clarity has been obscured by the rumor factories which, alongside the Securitate, were the only institutions which worked overtime during Ceauºescu’s rule. Matters have also been confused by a series of writers who invented conspiracy theories which have no convincing evidence to support them. The feeling that many had of being misled, or that the sacrifice made in December 1989 was to no avail, was aggravated by the suspicion that the fighting in Bucharest after Ceauºescu’s flight was a diversion, carried out to give the impression of the revolution, and therefore to give legitimacy to the National Salvation Front which emerged after the dictator’s downfall. These questions were put by John Simpson to Virgil Mãgureanu, Director of the Serviciul Român de Informaþii (sri), the post-communist security service, Paradigms • 39 in a lengthy interview that he gave on 6 December 1994 at sri headquarters.46 Mãgureanu’s replies drew heavily upon a preliminary report made by the sri about “the events in December 1989” from which I shall quote:

The beginning of the Romanian revolution at Timiºoara has not been regarded by everybody as merely the expression of spontaneous revolt of a population which, over the years, had become profoundly dissatisfied both materially and spiritually. On the contrary, numerous scenarios have been attributed to the revolution, placing its origins either outside Romania, or within in various plots which had long been hatched.47

These scenarios were invoked because the events of late December 1989 were marked by certain deeds which, in the opinion of the sri, “point to the premedi- tated acts of certain individuals who are to be distinguished from the crowds who came out spontaneously onto the streets.” 48 Among such acts cited by the report were those of a group of youths who, on the afternoon of 16 December, at a point when the number of people gathered around the home of pastor Tøkés had fallen considerably, broke the windows of several shops and blocked the buses. Question marks were also raised in the report about certain acts of provoca- tion against the army in Timiºoara. These required, it was claimed, an “expert hand” and consisted of blocking the tracks of tanks by placing strips of wire in them, using special keys to open the spare diesel tanks and setting fire to the oil, and throwing Molotov cocktails and ball-bearings at the troops. “It should be pointed out in reply to these claims of ‘premeditated acts’ that exactly the same measures have often been taken by demonstrators against security forces in other parts of the world during periods of civil unrest without there being any accusations of ‘conspiracy’ or ‘foreign intervention’ leveled to explain them.”49 However, there was concrete evidence of foreign involvement in the revolu- tion, according to the sri report, more specifically of Soviet interference:

The data and existing information led to the conclusion that the Soviet apparatus of intelligence and diversion was involved in all phases of the events. Beginning on 9 De- cember 1989, the number of Soviet tourists in “private” cars grew considerably from about 80 per day to 1,000. The occupants—two or three to a car—were mostly men of athletic build aged between 25 and 40. They avoided hotels, sleeping in their cars, and in the rare cases when they required hotel services, they paid in hard currency . . . Most of these cars were en route to Yugoslavia but some of them were forbidden entry to that country because weapons were found in the vehicles. One thing is certain, that during the events in Timiºoara there were a large number of Soviet tourists.50 40 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

The report goes on to state:

A short while after the revolution, there was an accident involving a car in which a Soviet citizen Alexandr Lout and another man were travelling. While repairs were being carried out on the car at a garage, twelve Romanian army camouflage uniforms were found together with a Soviet tunic with the pips of a major. The two men claimed that they were officers in the reserve and that they had previously fought in Afghanistan.51

Direct Soviet involvement in the violent events during the revolution has been the subject of speculation amongst historians and commentators. The issue is not so much one of the presence of Soviet “tourists” in Romania in late Decem- ber 1989, but of the scale of that presence. Convincing evidence to support the contention that 25,000 of the 37,000 Soviet tourists who allegedly visited or transited Romania in the two weeks before the flight of Ceauºescu stayed in the country for several months has yet to be produced.52 The sri report continued:

Invisible and silent, anonymous and impeccably trained, merciless and well-armed, the “terrorists” constituted in the minds of the public the most obsessive presence of the last days of December 1989 . . . If we add to the above catalogue of considerations stray bullets which caused death and wounding, personal vendettas, the use of weap- ons by people untrained in their use, panic reactions and bravura deeds, the reasons behind so many human sacrifices and material losses become less mysterious.­ 53

ate has its own way of rewarding the courageous and of punishing ty- rants. Despite the divisiveness of Ceauºescu’s policies towards the peoples F of Romania, their shared experience of suffering under his rule brought them together. It was the defiance of László Tøkés which provided the catalyst for the display of ethnic solidarity which sparked off the overthrow of the dicta- tor. This convergence of circumstance started the series of events which led to the revolution. One may argue that it was only a matter of time before Ceauºescu fell, given his isolation in the international arena, and the growing dissent at home. But it was the merit of Tøkés and of his supporters, both Romanian and Hungarian, that they pressed on with their protest against the regime’s abuse of power which was characteristic of a denial of human rights which typified the Ceauºescu regime. Tøkés’s stand, based on the right of his church to defend the interests of its faithful, transcended the narrowness of a sectarian claim and acquired the symbol of a common cause of peoples united against oppression. q Paradigms • 41

Notes

1. Peter Siani-Davies, The Romanian Revolution of December 1989 (Ithaca–London: Cornell University Press, 2005), 61–62. Siani-Davies’s study is the most compre- hensive and judicious account of the revolution of which I am aware. 2. Dinu Sãraru în dialog cu Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu, Generalul Revoluþiei cu piciorul în ghips: Interviu-fiºe pentru un posibil roman (Bucharest: rao, 2005), 104. 3. Sergiu Nicolaescu, Revoluþia, începutul adevãrului: Un raport personal (Bucharest: Topaz, 1995), 277. 4. Quoted from the transcript of the Politburo meeting published by Mihnea Berindei, “20 de ani de la revoluþie: Ceauşescu, decembrie 1989,” Revista 22 (Bucharest) 20, 52+1 (1033+1034)(22 December 2009–4 January 2010) (my translation). 5. Quoted from Siani-Davies, Romanian Revolution, 64–65. 6. Stãnculescu and Chiþac were charged in January 1998 with “incitement to commit murder” for their part in events in Timişoara when they served respectively as first deputy minister of Defense and head of the Chemical Corps and commander of the Bucharest garrison. They were each sentenced by the Romanian Supreme Court on 15 July 1999 to 15 years’ jail for the murder of 72 people and the wounding of 253 others during the uprising in Timişoara on 17 and 18 December 1989. Both gener- als lodged an appeal against their conviction. Their sentences were upheld by the Supreme Court on 25 February 2000 but further appeals delayed their application. Eventually, on 15 October 2008, the Supreme Court upheld once again the sen- tence. Chiþac’s health deteriorated rapidly and on 16 September 2010 he was trans- ferred from Jilava prison hospital to the Bucharest military hospital where he died of heart failure on 1 November. After serving five years of his sentence Stãnculescu was released from Jilava prison on 20 May 2014. He died in Bucharest on 19 June 2016. Guşã died in 1994 at the age of 54. Coman (1926–2016) was arrested on 22 De- cember 1989, tried and sentenced on 9 December 1991 to jail terms of twenty-five years for his actions in Timişoara. These sentences were reduced on appeal in 1997 to 20 years, while on 11 December 2000 President Emil Constantinescu granted him a pardon for the rest of the sentence so that Coman only actually spent little more than three years in jail (from 1997). 7. Siani-Davies, Romanian Revolution, 68. 8. Ibid., 69. 9. Filip Teodorescu, Un risc asumat: Timiºoara decembrie 1989 (Bucharest: Viitorul Românesc, 1992), 294–299. 10. Miodrag Milin, Timişoara: 15–21 decembrie ’89 (Timişoara: Întreprinderea Poligra- ficã Banat, 1990), 117–118. 11. Ibid., 124–125. 12. Constantin Dãscãlescu (1923–2003). A lathe operator by trade, he left school at the age of sixteen. He joined the party in 1945 and studied at various party schools from 1949 to 1962. From 1968 to 1975 he was party secretary for Galaþi county and in 1979 became a member of the Permanent Bureau of the Politburo. In 1982, he was appointed prime minister; see Mihnea Berindei, Dorin Dobrincu, and Armand 42 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

Goºu, eds., Istoria comunismului din România, vol. 3, Documente Nicolae Ceauºescu (1972–1975) (Iaºi: Polirom, 2016), 186, footnote 1. 13. Teodorescu, 106. 14. Titus Suciu, Reportaj cu sufletul la gurã (Timiºoara, 16–22 decembrie 1989): Traseele revoluþiei (Timişoara: Facla, 1990), 274. 15. Milin, 170–171; see also Siani-Davies, Romanian Revolution, 77. 16. Siani-Davies, Romanian Revolution, 77–78. 17. Ibid., 78–79. 18. A report in the newspaper Ziua claimed that the Cluj military prosecutor, Titus-Liviu Domºa, had prepared the ground in March 1990 for a number of army officers to be prosecuted, but had climbed down after local commanders had threatened to occupy Cluj city center with armored vehicles if charges were brought. Foreign Broadcast Information Service (hereafter cited as fbis) -eeu-98-071, “Romania: army chief accused of involvement in 1989 ‘massacre,’” 12 March 1998. It was only in 1997 that the decision was taken to reopen the Cluj dossiers and Gheorghe Surdescu was appointed as prosecutor. The army’s role in Cluj was especially sensitive because the name of General Constantin Degeratu, the then Army Chief of Staff, was linked to it. Degeratu was a colonel in the Fourth Army in that city in December 1989 and he was alleged to have transmitted orders from General Ilie Ceauşescu, a brother of Nicolae, to put down the demonstrations in Cluj. Degeratu strongly denied these claims in an interview given in April 1998 to the daily Adevãrul. In his defense he argued that as an officer in the operational section of the Fourth Army in charge of research and analysis he was only charged with drawing up regional defense plans but his accusers have argued that these duties included the tactics used by the army in crushing the demonstrations in Cluj. A further twist to the story came when Constantin Darna, head of um 0215, came to Degeratu’s support. He disclosed that the accusations were concocted by 0215 officers in Cluj, a significant proportion of whom were probably Securitate officers, since Darna himself announced that up to 50% of the 0215 officers in the counties were recruited from this source (fbis- eeu-98-153, “Romania: officer admits plot to discredit chief of staff,” 2 June 1998). Darna’s intervention, together with the announcement several days earlier that the military prosecutor had decided to press charges against six persons who occupied key positions in the Communist Party and army in Cluj in December 1989, took the spotlight off Degeratu. The persons in question were Ioachim Moga, former first secretary of the Cluj Party Committee, Nicolae Constantin, former Political Ex- ecutive Committee member, General Iulian Topliceanu, former commander of the Fourth Army, Colonel Valeriu Burdea, former commander of military unit 01215 based in Floreşti, Lt. Col. Laurenþiu Cocan, former divisional commander of the above unit, and Major Ilie Dicu, former company commander with unit 01278 Someşeni. According to the prosecutor’s charges, the first two accused ordered the peaceful anti-Ceauşescu protests to be put down, and the army, in carrying out this order, resorted to a totally-unjustified use of force on the direct orders of Burdea, Cocan, and Dicu. As a consequence, 26 people were killed and another 52 were wounded (fbis-eeu-98-141, “Romania: Former Cluj Party, Military heads charged Paradigms • 43

for ’89 role,” 21 May 1998). The charges against the army officers were adjudged to be proscribed but Moga (b. 14 March 1926) was sentenced on 23 May 2005 on two charges of murder to eight and five year’ imprisonment, to be served concurrently. His lawyers successfully petitioned the court for a stay of imprisonment on medical grounds and Moga died of heart problems on 2 December 2007 in a Cluj hospital. 19. I base this account on Paul Abrudan, Sibiul în revoluþia din decembrie 1989 (Sibiu: Casa Armatei, 1990), 24–27. 20. Siani-Davies, Romanian Revolution, 84. 21. I was present at and translated these interviews for the bbc “Panoroma” documen- tary, broadcast on 8 January 1990. 22. For more on Nica see Siani-Davies, Romanian Revolution, 85, note 99. 23. For details see ibid., 86–87. 24. Personal protection of Ceauşescu and his wife was the responsibility of the Fifth Directorate of the Securitate. 25. Author’s interview with Vasile Maluþan, 5 January 1990. Lieutenant-General Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu, deputy minister of Defense, told me in an interview on 6 January 1990 that he had issued these orders. Both interviews were for the bbc “Pa- noroma” documentary, broadcast on 8 January 1990. 26. As Peter Siani-Davies writes, “the other bodyguard had already been lost some- where en route” (Romanian Revolution, 95). According to Gelu Voican Voiculescu, Ceauºescu wanted Decã to take him to Voineşti because there was a national ra- dio transmitter there under the command of a distant relative of Elena Ceauºescu. Ceauºescu hoped that the workers at the steelworks in Târgoviºte would support him but the car carrying him was turned away (Gelu Voican Voiculescu, interview with Radu Moraru for the programme Naºul, re-transmitted B1 Television, 27 June 2008). 27. bbc interview with Nicolae Petrişor, 3 January 1990 (for the bbc “Panoroma” docu- mentary, broadcast on 8 January 1990.) 28. According to one account, cited by Siani-Davies, a car from the presidential fleet also appeared at the agricultural station and accompanied the militiamen’s car to Târgovişte but then became detached as both vehicles tried to approach the police headquarters (Romanian Revolution, 96). 29. Author’s interview with Lieutenant-General Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu, deputy minister of Defense, 6 January 1990. 30. Siani-Davies, Romanian Revolution, 104. 31. Ibid. 32. Author’s interview with Mircea Dinescu, 8 January 1990. 33. One of the earliest mentions of the rumor was an article in Der Spiegel in November 1986; see Siani-Davies, Romanian Revolution, 107, footnote 40. 34. The names of the thirty-nine members of the cnsf are listed in Siani-Davies, Roma- nian Revolution, 116, footnote 61. 35. This was confirmed by Brucan to this author (interview on 8 January 1990). Ac- cording to Stãnculescu, the decision was taken on the night of 23/24 December; see his account below of these events. 44 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

36. Popa committed suicide on 1 March 1990; see Richard Hall, “Rewriting the Revo- lution: Authoritarian Regime-State Relations and the Triumphs of Securitate Revi- sionism in Post-Ceauºescu Romania,” Ph.D. thesis, Indiana University Blooming- ton, 1997, 343–344. 37. Timothy Garton-Ash, “Conclusions,” in Between Past and Future: The Revolutions of 1989 and Their Aftermath, eds. Sorin Antohi and Vladimir Tismãneanu (Budapest: Central European University Press, 2000), 395. 38. Ruxandra Cesereanu, Decembrie ’89: Deconstrucþia unei revoluþii, 2nd edition (Iaºi: Polirom, 2009). 39. Bogdan Murgescu, “Reprezentarea Revoluþiei din 1989: Câteva consideraþii,” in Re­voluþia Românã din decembrie 1989: Istorie şi memorie, ed. Bogdan Murgescu (Iaşi: Polirom, 2007), 11–12. 40. Vladimir Tismãneanu, Dorin Dobrincu, and Cristian Vasile, eds., Comisia Pre­ zidenþialã pentru Analiza Dictaturii Comuniste din România: Raport final (Bucharest: Humanitas, 2007), 454. 41. Peter Siani-Davies, “Romanian Revolution or Coup d’État? A Theoretical View of the Events of December 1989,” Communist and Post-Communist Studies 29, 4 (1996): 453–465 (457). 42. Ibid. 43. Ibid., 458. The analysis of contradiction forms the subject of Jolan Bogdan, Per- formative Contradiction and the Romanian Revolution (London–New York: Rowman and Littlefield International), 2017. 44. See Siani-Davies, “Romanian Revolution or Coup d’État?” 459. 45. Ibid. 46. Parts of this interview were included in a bbc “Newsnight” special, televised on 16 December 1994. 47. “Punct de vedere preliminar al Serviciului Român de Informaþii privind evenimen- tele din decembrie 1989,” Bucharest (1993), 3. 48. Ibid. 49. Ibid., 8. 50. Ibid., 20. 51. Ibid., 22. 52. See Marius Mioc’s blog “Rãstãlmãcirile lui Larry Watts şi rãstãlmãcirile altora despre Larry Watts,” 24 January 2013, https://mariusmioc.wordpress.com; see also Rich- ard Andrew Hall, “All the ‘Soviet Tourists,’ where do they all come from?,” The Archive of the Romanian Revolution of December 1989 (blog), https://romanianrevolutionofde- cember 1989.com, accessed on multiple occasions. 53. “Punct de vedere preliminar,” 23. Paradigms • 45

Abstract December 1989 in Romania: People’s Revolt, Revolution, or Coup d’État?

The paper discusses the events of December 1989 in Romania. Were they “a revolution”? The claim can be made that there was a rupture in sovereignty in Romania represented by the transfer of power from the Romanian Communist Party to the National Salvation Front. There were competing centers of power in Timişoara after the establishment of the Romanian Democratic Front on 20 December in opposition to the remnants of the Communist Party organization in the county council building; indeed, such a duality of power can be extrapolated to distinguish Timişoara from the rest of the country in the period 20–25 December. Are we to disqualify the use of the term “revolution” in the Romanian context not because a rupture took place in sover- eignty but because there was no rupture in continuity, i.e. communists took over power? Or is it that some see the authenticity of a revolution defined not only in policy change, but also in a change of mentality? We can argue that Nicolae Ceauşescu’s overthrow was not a coup d’état. His retreat from the center of Bucharest in the face of vociferous protest bears the mark of revolu- tion, as does the mass mobilization, widespread violence, spontaneous creation of revolutionary institutions, and subsequent fierce struggle between the revolutionary contenders on the streets of Romania’s cities. That multiple sovereignty did not last longer can be explained by two condi- tions; firstly, high levels of coercion prevented the appearance of an effective opposition prior to the revolution and, secondly, at the same time, such was the advanced level of state breakdown in Romania that in the end the regime needed only a limited challenge before it collapsed.

Keywords revolution, coup d’état, people’s revolt, Ceauºescu, Timiºoara, National Salvation Front “On Behalf of the People...” Fake News, Manipulation and Persuasion at the End of the L a v i n i a B e t e a Ceauşescu Spouses

National and International Context

isconnected from the infor- mation on the evolution of D the reforms initiated by the Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev un- der the name of “perestroika” and their effects in the other “fraternal coun- tries,” the Romanians were subjected to a—largely successful—attempt to People gesturing towards a helicopter portray the events of December 1989 in which the country’s communist dictator as a revolution. Nicolae Ceauşescu fled the Romanian Communist Party Central Committee Moreover, the crisis caused by headquarters (agerpres.ro). Nicolae Ceauşescu’s decision to pay the entire external debt could be seen as the “revolutionary situation” men- tioned by Lenin as a prerequisite for revolution. Excessive production and export activities placed a tremendous burden on the whole economy. The introduction of ration cards limiting Lavinia Betea Professor at the Faculty of Educational the availability of basic food products, Sciences, Psychology and Social Work, the measures meant to reduce the con- Aurel Vlaicu University of Arad. Co- sumption of electricity and water, and author of the book Viaþa lui Ceauºescu the reduction of heating in the work- (Ceauşescu’s life), 3 vols. (2012–2015). place and in the private space, the de- Paradigms • 47 mographic control introduced by the prohibition of abortions and of contracep- tive means, all affected the primary needs of individuals. The numerous public tasks, the censorship and the ideological control, but especially the discrepancy between the public discourse and the reality of its references severely altered other basic human needs, first of all security and self-esteem. The life of Ro- manian citizens had become incomparable with the postwar experiences of any other European people, as noted by the French ambassador to Bucharest of that time, Jean-Marie Le Breton.1 The frustration worsened after Ceauºescu announced the full repayment of the foreign debt, but continued with the policy of restrictions. It escalated even further after November 1989, when the 14th Congress of the Romanian Com- munist Party decided to intensify export activities and increase the volume and value of large investments to the detriment of the consumer fund, amid new measures to “develop the socialist consciousness.” This was an intensification of the propaganda that glorified the Ceauşescu couple as a “mobilizing example.” All this came in the context of the reformist movements initiated by the neigh- boring countries of the communist bloc. The events of December 1989 oc- curred, therefore, against the backdrop of these comparisons and aspirations. In addition to that there were also the planned manipulations and secret missions entrusted to agents of change at the level of the superstate organizations—the Warsaw Treaty and the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance, or Come- con—to which Romania was also a part. As Ceauºescu stubbornly opposed the alignment with Gorbachev’s reforms (accepted by all the other member states in keeping with the structure of the communist bloc of the Cold War), the Romanian regime change exhibited these particular aspects of the transfer of power: 1. in Romania alone there was a violent and bloody overthrow of the regime during which 1,166 people died and over 4,000 were injured (according to the Institute for the Investigation of the Crimes of Communism and the Memory of the Romanian Exile); 2. in order to give legitimacy to the new leadership of the country, the re- course to violence occurred especially after the departure of the Ceauºescus from Bucharest and their (secret) forced stay in Târgoviºte; 3. exclusively in Romania, the head of the party and the state was executed; 4. only after the overthrow of the nationalist-communist dictatorship did reformist communists gain access to power.2 The perverse effect of the propaganda of the last years of the regime, which included political rallies, politically correct forms of address, as well as slogans and praises for the Nicolae and Elena Ceauşescu couple, cannot be omitted. This ultimately led to their representation as the root of all evil and an impediment 48 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) for any sort of change, and the Romanians were easily led to believe that they were locked in a fight to the death against these forces of evil.

“Today in Timiºoara, Tomorrow All Over the Country!”

t the congress, even the members of the decision-making core, the Po- litical Executive Committee (Politburo), suffered a disappointment, re- A alizing that things would go on as before. A shadow of hope appeared with Ceauşescu’s promise that changes would come in the spring, at the begin- ning of the new session of the Great National Assembly.3 However, there were only two real alternatives to Nicolae Ceauşescu. The first and most dreaded one was Elena Ceauşescu, officially the second most powerful person in the state; but the inner circle knew that their hierarchy worked according to the logic of the old Romanian saying “the man is the head of the family, but the woman is its neck.” The second alternative, more palatable, was the youngest son, Nicu,4 the then leader of the Sibiu county party organization. The direct subordinates thought that under Comrade Elena it would have been even worse than under Comrade Nicolae,5 and some even tried to pull strings in favor of Nicu.6 How- ever, when contacted during the events of December 1989 by a leader of the Romanian Communist Youth, with the suggestion of a political discussion with his parents, Nicu refused, claiming that it would have been utterly pointless.7 The events in Timiºoara began on 15 December. Initially, a small group of elderly members of the Reformed Church gathered in front of the Maria Square building which served as a parochial house for the priest László Tøkés.8 They silently supported his refusal to obey the order to evacuate and move to another county.9 The following day, a Saturday, the number of curious people gathered around these supporters increased. At one point, a tram was stopped and crowds of passengers got off. And all of a sudden, someone shouted “Down with Ceauşescu!” In the official headquarters, the surviving documents indicate that the day passed normally.10 In Timiºoara, however, the situation was getting out of hand, and conflicts flared up in several places. Tøkés was forcefully evacuated, but his fate did not seem to concern the protesters who entered the local government headquarters, destroying red flags, books and portraits of Ceauşescu. They sang “Romanians, Awaken!” and chanted “Down with Ceauºescu!” During the night, the authori- ties arrested ca. 200 protesters. As everything seemed to settle down, Ceauşescu organized a hunting trip on Saturday afternoon, 16 December.11 Paradigms • 49

Only on 17 December, he gathered the Politburo12 in the famous meeting where he informed them that a “situation” had arisen in Timiºoara. It was due to the fact that “both in the East and in the West everyone says that things should change in Romania,” he claimed. He also found the culprits: the heads of the Ministry of the Interior and of the Army, who had not armed the troops, allowing “a handful of hooligans” to “destroy socialism.”13 The meeting also had a dramatic moment, left out of the minutes: his “abdication.” “I am no longer your general secretary, choose another,” said he, dissatisfied with their performance and attitude.14 Who else could the they choose, when at the recent congress the four million members of the party had voted for Ceauºescu?! In tears, the women sought to prevent him from leaving the room... Then he decided that he could go on with the previously planned visit to Iran.15 The coordination of internal affairs remained with the Permanent Bureau of the Politburo, and he left his wife in charge of all current activities. In Timiºoara, the orders to respond with bullets were carried out. On the morning of 18 December, Ceauºescu was informed that the situation was under control. The bloodshed strengthened the people’s desire to revolt: “Either we win or we die!” replied the people of Timiºoara. 63 were killed by gunfire, 227 wounded, and hundreds arrested.16 The bodies were transported to the morgue of the County Hospital. The people in Timiºoara were asking for their dead, but especially for the removal of the Ceauºescus from their position of power. In the absence of her husband, Elena Ceauşescu assumed all prerogatives of her office. From morning to night she held meetings with various dignitar- ies.17 She, over her head and without informing Ceauşescu, decided to solve the matter of the dead bodies of Timiºoara. On the night of 18 to 19 December, 44 bodies were removed from the hospital’s morgue. Five of them remained forever unidentified.18 The bodies were incinerated, in the greatest secrecy, at the “Cenuşa” (Ashes) crematorium in the Capital. The families of those turned into ash could only imagine that they had crossed the border and disappeared without a trace.19 Except for the information directly provided by her, she forbade others to communicate with Ceauşescu in Iran. She and she alone could talk to him through a special telephone, and in his turn he “forgot” to inform his retinue on the events back home.20 When Ceauºescu returned from Iran on the afternoon of 20 December, Timiºoara was already a “city free of communism.” In a very short Politburo meeting and during a teleconference with the county leaders, Ceauşescu brought “additional clarifications”: the events in Timiºoara were the consequence of an agreement between the Soviets and the Americans; the former were looking after their interests here and the latter sought a regime change in Panama.21 50 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

Against the “hooligans” of Timiºoara, he said, the military and law enforcement had intervened in accordance with the Constitution and the laws of the country. In his televised speech, his references to external threats, foreign agents, pa- triotism, etc., without any mention of the long and unjustified crisis in the coun- try, seemed to the people another striking proof of Ceauşescu’s senility. The rally organized in Palace Square was different from the others, seemingly the initiative of someone who had “lost his marbles.”22 It started after the typical formula but soon it was interrupted by strange noises.23 They managed to get a televised rally, but the participants turned into protesters. Additional protests had already erupted in other cities.24

The Last Day in Power

fter the rally, the Ceauşescus did not leave the Central Committee headquarters. Quite determined, they stayed overnight to rest in a room A in Cabinet 1.25 They asked for a change of clothes for the next day. They were not prepared to run anywhere. While the center of Bucharest was bleeding after the intervention of the armed forces, Elena kept vigil all night, paying particular attention to the movements of the dignitaries who, according to their example, had remained in the headquar- ters. Whatever the outcome, the culprits had to be found. The Ceauşescus had not yet envisaged the possibility of the culprits being none other than themselves. In the morning of 22 December, after the report of Vasile Milea,26 the Defense minister, Ceauºescu held him responsible for the crimes. The general had a mental breakdown and killed himself. In the Politburo meeting convened for that morning, Ceauşescu announced the culprit: the “traitor” Milea. The news was devastating. Informed more or less correctly by foreign radio stations, the Romanians had started protest movements in other cities and the country was paralyzed. Large columns of workers were making their way to- wards the government buildings.27 They had weapons stolen from the Patriotic Guards and had disarmed the military. Ceauşescu once again demanded from his subordinates fidelity to the “cause.” But how to shoot the workers? The army had withdrawn from Palace Square, but the Central Committee headquarters was full of Securitate personnel. The television broadcast about the suicide of the “traitor” Milea was inter- preted by the citizens of Romania in the sense that the minister had been killed by Ceauşescu because he had refused to order the troops to fire at the people. Undeservingly, Milea became a national hero. In the county capitals of Transyl- vania, the protesters had taken over the party headquarters. Paradigms • 51

Undeterred, Ceauºescu grabbed a megaphone and tried to address the crowd from the balcony, but stones were thrown at him. “Let’s go!,” his wife screamed.28 The way out was offered by the new Defense minister, General Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu29: to leave the roof of the Central Committee headquarters by heli- copter. They narrowly escaped falling into the hands of the rebels who entered the building via doors opened hastily by the Securitate people. At 12:06, the helicopter took off amid the triumphant shouting of the crowd: the “despicable dictator” and his “sinister wife” were fleeing in fear of the people! That’s how the Ceauºescus started their fateful adventure. They stopped at Snagov Palace where he phoned some county officials interested in the local situation. He also called some people in the city of Târgoviºte. It seems that he intended to relocate there, in a few hours, the whole leadership of the country.30 From the new capital, he could organize the fight against the “hooligans” and the foreign agents. But the head of the Securitate, Iulian Vlad, had issued orders to allow the protesters access to the television studios and not to cut the transmission.31 Just over half an hour after the departure of Ceauºescu from the Central Commit- tee headquarters, the poet Mircea Dinescu announced on television, “We have won! The dictator has fled!” Then the whole country joined in the “revolution.” Everyone, including the Ceauºescus’ helicopter crew, was listening to the radio. Only the Ceauşescu spouses were unaware that they had lost the war. Under the pretext that they would be shot down from the ground, the crew landed near the town of Titu. Those accompanying the Ceauºescus sought to commandeer a vehicle.32 After several attempts, the Ceauºescus forced a certain Nicolae Petriºor, an employee of the Plant Protection Center in Târgoviºte, to take them in his car. Nicolae Ceauºescu presently intended to hold a meeting with the workers at the Special Steels Plant in Târgoviºte. The first shock was when the driver turned on the radio and they heard the statements of those who had deposed them. Second came the stones that started flying at the car when they were recognized by passers-by. The headquarters of the county party organization to which they were headed was already under the control of the protesters.33 As was the case everywhere during those hours, Army officers had assumed control over the county administrations.34 Not knowing what else to do, Petriºor took them with him to work. But nobody wanted them anymore. The television broadcast included made-up tales that were getting more and more phantasmagoric, but also a report whereby the fugitives were in the Târgoviºte area. A search was mounted. Around 2 pm, on the authority of General Stãnculescu, Colonel Andrei Kemenici, the commander of the Târgoviºte garrison, received the order to capture them.35 Identical orders were also received by the police. The employees of the Plant Protection Cen- 52 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) ter informed the ones in charge of their capture about the whereabouts of the Ceauºescus.36 Two police officers took the couple in their custody, promising them protec- tion. Because of the protesters, they were unable to enter the police building, which also hosted the Securitate headquarters. In their patrol car, the two of- ficers took them to the edge of Rãþoaia village. For the next 4 hours all four occupants remained in the police vehicle in a field near the forest, whilst the media was spreading misleading reports. The guards were communicating with the prisoners in a way no one could have imagined possible just a few hours ago. They denied having kept the people in the dark, hungry and cold, they denied the existence of victims in Timiºoara.37 They were themselves hungry and cold and it was getting dark. Then a strange thing happened. A fox started circling the car. It seemed not to fear them. Elena Ceauºescu got really scared and said: “Take us wherever you want, because here the wolves will eat us.”38

Under Protection or Arrested?

hey were taken to the police headquarters, which was already in the hands of the protesters. They body searched and interrogated the Ceauşescu couple as if they were prisoners of war. He grew very pale, T 39 alarming everyone around with a seemingly fatal collapse. In Bucharest the configuration of power seemed uncertain.40 Governments were created and dissolved. The ones that made history were acting from the television headquarters: Iliescu,41 Roman,42 Militaru,43 Brucan,44 Vlad.45 Dis- connected from reality, the Ceauşescus reached Târgoviºte around 6 pm.46 Colo- nel Andrei Kemenici, the commander of the local army unit, addressed him satisfactorily as “Comrade president.”47 An hour and a half later he informed Stãnculescu, who gave orders to keep them there at all cost and in the strictest secrecy.48 During that evening the colonel was contacted and told by Ion Iliescu to keep them there until he would send someone for them.49 According to Kemenici, their arrival at the garrison triggered a radio-electron- ic diversion: a mysterious army of terrorists who were “fighting for Ceauşescu” suddenly descended upon the country. The new leaders of the country, grouped in the National Salvation Front, knew that both spouses were under lock and key and that no one was fighting for them. But the Romanians were kept in the dark and incited to suspect and kill each other. This ensured the continua- tion and amplification of the violent actions, which made more victims than the Ceauºescus prior to their “escape.” Paradigms • 53

In Târgoviºte they converted an office in the command building into a three- bed bedroom. The Ceauşescu couple were given rations and the uniforms of post- ed officers.50 They brought them dinner—dry bread, cheese and tea. Ceauşescu spat out the sweetened tea. “Don’t you know that the Comrade has diabetes?”— she barked, forgetting that their diseases were kept secret.51 Dissatisfied that they were not allowed to sleep in the same bed, they asked for the garrison commander to come. “Am I under arrest or under your protection?” Ceauşescu questioned Kemenici authoritatively. “Then let me sleep with my wife!” he ordered.52 In Târgoviºte, during that first night, Nicolae Ceauºescu paced around like a caged lion. In the dark, the soldiers fired over one million cartridges in the direc- tion of the high school building in front of the garrison, mistakenly believing that “terrorists” were hiding there.53 “Calm down, Nicu, it’ll work out in one way or the other.” Elena kept reassuring him. They caressed each other “like newlyweds,” according to the guards’ reports. The latter were living a night- mare: he drove them crazy with his nervous walk, she, numb, looked like a corpse: hands on her belly, mouth open, leathery skin...54

Criminal Plans

y the crack of dawn the Ceauşescu couple were taken to an armored per- sonnel carrier which then joined the forces deployed around the unit.55 The following nights were spent in the apc. “You’re taking us out into B 56 the fields to kill us,” he probed the soldiers in the vehicle. The intention was seemingly their physical elimination, combined with the psychological torture of the soldiers guarding them, concluded one of the guards.57 In Bucharest, they really wanted to get rid of them using the tactics of attrition: have them shot under the pretext of an escape attempt. In this regard, pressure was put on Kemenici.58 The Ceauşescus had only the clothes on their back. He asked, unsuccessfully, to borrow money to buy a shirt instead of the dirty one. At one point, he rushed to break the camouflaged window. He wanted to go out and talk to the dem- onstrators who, he believed, were supporting him. Hastily pulled back, he came out bleeding from that altercation. “Help, they are trying to kill the Comrade!” Elena screamed.59 They concluded among themselves that the causes of the rebellion must be due to foreign agents. He saw himself as the one protecting the country from dismemberment: the Hungarians wanted Transylvania, and the Russians, Mol- davia. The country was betrayed and the people did not know it. He wanted to 54 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) go to Mija, Câmpulung, Voineºti, Piteºti...60 Otherwise, the country was facing ruin. “They are mad,” they said to each other.61 The diversion intensified continuously. The unit seemed to be attacked by unknown forces. In Târgoviºte the rumor started to spread that the Ceauºescus were hiding in the city. Kemenici decided to move them to a tent pitched be- tween gun emplacements and soldiers. But Nicolae Ceauºescu was feeling un- well: he was very pale, urinated often, and complained of abdominal pain and dizziness. Notified, Stãnculescu almost rejoiced: “No problem, number 1 dies, number 2 remains.”62 Notwithstanding the pressure, on the evening of 24 December Kemenici informed his superiors that he would go to Bucharest, in an armored column, to hand over the prisoners. In a meeting that would be the object of much later discussion, the new self-appointed leaders—Iliescu, Militaru, Brucan, Roman, Voican Voiculescu63—decided the execution of the Ceauºescus.64 It lat- er emerged that the decision was taken in a toilet inside the Ministry of National Defense. There they wrote, by hand, the Decision on the establishment of the Exceptional Military Tribunal, signed by Ion Iliescu on behalf of the Council of the National Salvation Front, which was a reinvention of the Romanian Com- munist Party structures through some changes of names and characters and the abolition of some of the older laws.65 In the early hours of 25 December, dressed in military uniforms, the tired Ceauşescus were dozing off in their apc, but still had hope. He kept asking to be allowed to address the people. Stãnculescu ordered them to remain under guard, announcing Kemenici that he would arrive to pick them up around 9 am. Over three hours late, two helicopters landed in the courtyard of the garrison. From them descended the members of the court and a group of soldiers from the Boteni paratrooper unit. Through the viewfinder of the apc in which they had spent the night, Ceauşescu saw General Stãnculescu descending from a helicopter. “You can relax, be calm, Stãnculescu is here,” he whispered happily to his wife.66 But Stãnculescu was already looking for the right room for the trial.67 “Where do we shoot them?”—he bluntly asked Kemenici, before picking the spot himself. He had already brought with him the necessary body bags. As the preparations unfolded, three other helicopters circled above, increasing the tension.68 An hour and a half after the arrival of the helicopters it was all over. Paradigms • 55

What the People Saw and What Was Concealed

n Christmas Day the Romanian television broadcasted a horror movie,­ for the first time in its history. Also that day the first private business deal was conducted in post–Ceauºescu Romania: the French saw the O 69 tape with the Ceauºescus trial before its official release in Romania. For the Romanian audience, the film director Sergiu Nicolaescu edited the original, eliminating the scenes in which other people except the Ceauºescus could be seen.70 It was the proof that the “despicable one” and his “sinister wife” were gone, and also a clear sign that there was a new power in place. The shocking dif- ference between the official image of the dictators and their “exit” in the televised scene led to the suspicion that the recording was fake. Their fallen bodies after the execution, with their hands tied, seemed like props. Shocked by what they had seen and heard, the Romanian people did not even focus on the transfer of power. The opening scene featured Ceauºescu exiting the apc. Compared to his officially released portraits, he was barely recognizable as the old man with a crooked fur hat covering one eye. What followed were other equally staged scenes. The small room where the Ceauşescus were taken normally served as a classroom for the political and ideo- logical education of soldiers and officers. In an adjoining room, those barely arrived from Bucharest were preparing. Nervous and in a rush, Colonel Gicã Popa,71 the court president, left behind a paper with the outline of the trial.72 The others also lacked the necessary documents, but one of them had accidentally left Bucharest with a copy of the Penal Code in his briefcase.73 They had gathered in great secret at the order sent individually to each of them in the name of the National Salvation Front. They were told that they were to judge the terrorists,74 people who had allegedly poisoned the drinking water and shot women and children with sophisticated weapons, after having received new clothes and new identities. According to the report published a day before in the communist pa- per Scânteia (The Spark), renamed Scânteia poporului (The Spark of the People), those were the fanatically obedient servants of the former dictator who had set fire to buildings, set explosives, committed unspeakable crimes.75 For three days now, they had been fighting the “revolutionaries” and the “good people” from all over the country.76 According to some, these murderous ghosts were Ceauşescu’s informers; others spoke about Arabs sent by his Muslim friends; it was also rumored that they were orphans raised and indoctrinated to be stalwart guards for the head of the country... At 13:20 the magistrates, Stãnculescu, and the two civilians representing the Council of the National Salvation Front entered the room where the Ceauºescus were waiting. About Virgil Mãgureanu,77 a lecturer at ªtefan Gheorghiu Acad- 56 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) emy, Ceauşescus knew vaguely in the context of General Ion Ioniþã’s conspiracy. Comrade Elena remembered him as “the one with the Trabant”78 from the Se- curitate briefings on his meetings with Ion Iliescu and General Nicolae Militaru. In spring, among other “preventive measures” made necessary by the changes in the neighboring countries, they had removed him from their entourage, giving him a position as a museographer in Focºani.79 Around Christmas, according to local custom, Mãgureanu had gone on a short holiday to take part in the “slaughtering of the pig,” a local tradition in his hometown in the north of the country. He did not catch the beginning of the Bucharest protests but respond- ed urgently to the call of the former fellow conspirators. And, there he was, in that room, at Iliescu’s recommendation.80 The other, the geologist Gelu Voican Voiculescu, a bearded man with an outfit and allure that recalled the early pho- tographs of Fidel Castro and Che Guevara, had been nobody until the previous day. With the file on him secreted or destroyed by the special services, in the period that followed he circulated phantasmagoric autobiographical episodes and alluded to arcane spiritual and hereditary affiliations. The camera started. Exhausted by the events of the previous week, the Ceauºescus’ performance shocked the country. These were the dictators?! Is the old man who moved his eyebrows talking nonsense the tyrant? Is the old wom- an with evil eyes his sinister wife? “You stand before a people’s court,” the president warned. Ceauşescu replied, shocked by the loss of power: “I do not recognize any court except the Great National Assembly.” This strategy was immediately adopted by both of them. Mobilized by its novelty, they were working together again. “The Great National Assembly has been abolished. The new organ of power is another,” said the judge. “The coup d’état cannot be recognized,” Ceauşescu abruptly introduced the issue of authority. The shocked judge retorted: “We are proceeding in keeping with the new law passed by the Council of the National Salvation Front. Please stand up, defendant.” The judge did not manage to make them behave as one should before a court of law. They refused to stand up and answer questions. The president pointlessly insisted, invoking “the power and the will of the people,” the authority of the Council of the National Salvation Front. He went directly to the charges, without... an act of indictment. With the air of a clever party worker, he improvised on the topic of the last decade lived by Romanians in the cold, in darkness and hunger. Among other things, he scolded Ceauºescu for the 200 grams of salami one was allowed to purchase daily upon the presentation of one’s identity card! However, the magistrate, Colonel Gicã Popa, had not lived the life of ordinary Romanians! He had no clue that bread, meat, sugar, butter and eggs were rationed, but not salami or cheese. For the lat- Paradigms • 57 ter and other foodstuffs, the Romanians had to queue for long and humiliating hours. The salami he mentioned would have been an unexpected treat. Taking his role as prosecutor seriously, Dan Voinea hastily requested the death sentence for both defendants. Their actions, he said, had been incompati- ble with human dignity and the principles of socialist justice. His argumentation involved references to legislation in a phraseology recalling that of prosecutor Vyshinsky in the Stalinist trials of the 1930s. “Vicious lies,” Ceauºescu labeled the accusations; the trial, a “masquerade.” The people, he threatened, would fight until the elimination of “this gang of traitors to their country who have colluded with the foreigners who organized the coup.” He didn’t acknowledge any charges, pledging to answer all questions before the Great National Assembly. And before the people. Gicã Popa unleashed a shocking string of concrete accusations and unofficial poetic expressions, talk- ing about the “dawn of freedom” experienced three days earlier by the “ances- tral land” destroyed by Ceauºescu. “Don’t let them gather their wits, they’re criminals...!,” Voican Voiculescu would later brag about having instructed the panel.81 Overwhelmed by the dazzling scene, the viewers could not see or sus- pect the directorial indications, the selection of the cast, or the props employed. Guiding the scenario towards the final decision, Voican Voiculescu sent hastily scribbled notes to the magistrates. “Why did they kill Milea?” read the president; who were the “foreign mercenaries” who were terrorizing the country? What are the foreign accounts in which they kept their money?...82 Their daughter Zoia83 used to weigh the meat served to the dogs on a golden scale; in the villa they had found $ 90,000...84 It was utter and complete madness. But there was more. Voinea demanded from Ceauşescu details regarding his personal Swiss account of $ 400,000. The figure seemed too low to the presi- dent of the tribunal and he multiplied it a thousand times. “A disgusting allega- tion,” commented Elena Ceauşescu. And she asked, inspired, “to see the proof.” Having gotten nowhere, the judges tried something else: at the order of the de- fendants and of their entourage, fire had been opened at “the people”—64,000 people had been killed. “Really, where did he hear this?,” Elena asked her hus- band. Those who saw it on television were left with the impression of the revela- tion of some secret great crimes. In the shocking dialogues, viewers were only shown the faces of the Ceauşescus. They would witness, without realizing it yet, the functionality of the evil couple. Seated to his right, she quickly rushes in, like she used to do in meetings.85 He tempers her, calms her by touching her hand, urging her to keep quiet...86 She calls the others present “pigs,” “clowns,” “bastards.” 58 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

Those in front of the tvs did not see the military man who entered the room to whisper something to General Stãnculescu. Even the Ceauºescus were un- aware that on the other side of the door Colonel Andrei Kemenici was eaves- dropping.87 He had received an order from Stãnculescu to keep an eye on the tv set and notify him if something out of the ordinary happened. The colonel delegated this task to a subordinate and put himself in charge of the phone calls with Bucharest. General Nicolae Militaru, the new Defense minister, called di- rectly three times with the order to speed up the trial. It cannot go any faster, Stãnculescu said, once replying from the actual courtroom.88 Unanimously, both Ceauºescu spouses received the capital punishment, in addition to the total confiscation of assets, for having committed genocide, un- dermined the state power, for acts of diversion and for undermining the national economy. A fifth accusation was added in the Official Journal of the following day: the attempt to flee the country on the basis of funds of over $ 1 billion deposited with foreign banks.89 “A bunch of traitors,” Nicolae Ceauºescu concluded after the sentence was announced. “And we kept them near us, the betrayals come from our entou- rage,” she agreed.90 “Take them, cuff them, and execute them!,” ordered Stãnculescu to the para- troopers brought from Boteni.91 “One at a time,” the Ceauşescus heard. Only then did they become aware of their imminent death.92 The sequences broadcast on television culminated in the “shrew” protesting at being handcuffed. The angry rebuke directed at the soldiers (“I raised you as a mother!”) was interpreted as a sign of utter disrespect. Their dead bodies were transported by helicopter to Ghencea stadium in Bucharest. Rushing to attend the Christmas party organized by the directors of the “Steaua” Club, founded by the man he had just liquidated, Stãculescu left the “packages” under paratrooper guard. They had to wait for an aro suv to come and pick up the bodies. Fearing a trap, they left them lying out there in the open, and returned to their unit. Af- ter a long search, those who found them the following morning were frightened by their content. There seemed to be two mannequins wrapped in tarpaulin. It looked like a booby trap, witnesses claimed...93 During the days of fighting with the ghostly terrorists (after 22 December), 828 people were killed. It didn’t matter to the new leaders. They had estimated 60,000. Carried away by the strong winds of historical change, they imagined that 22 December 1989 would be what 23 August 1944 had been. Once in power, they would become the revolutionaries capable of rewriting the past and of planning the future. On behalf of the people... q Paradigms • 59

Notes

1. Jean-Marie Le Breton, Sfârşitul lui Ceauşescu: Istoria unei revoluþii, transl. Ioana Cantacuzino, foreword by Nicolae Manolescu (Bucharest: Cavallioti, 1997), 197. 2. Annely Ute Gabanyi, Revoluþia neterminatã (Bucharest, Editura Fundaþiei Culturale Române, 1999), 280. 3. The author’s interview with Ion Coman on 4 December 2008. 4. Nicu Ceauşescu (1951–1996), initial profession: physicist. Nicolae and Elena Ceauşescu’s firstborn child was trained and introduced to high political positions since 1971. A member of the Central Committee of the Romanian Communist Party (1979–1989) and of the Politburo (1984–1989). Among the positions held: first secretary of the Central Committee of the Union of Communist Youth and minister for Youth Issues (1983–1987), first secretary of the Sibiu county party organization (1987–1989). Arrested on 28 December 1989, sentenced in 1990 to 20 years in prison, released for health reasons in 1992. 5. “Comrade” was the title used by Ceauşescu when he addressed or was addressed by his close entourage. “Cabinet 1” and “Cabinet 2” direct subordinates referred to them as “Tovarãºul”/“Tovarãºa” which roughly translates as “companion.” 6. Ştefan Andrei în dialog cu Lavinia Betea: Stãpânul secretelor lui Ceauşescu: I se spunea Machiavelli (Bucharest: Adevãrul, 2011), 271. 7. Ion Traian ªtefãnescu, Întâlniri cu Nicolae Ceauºescu, foreword by Ion Cristoiu (Bu- charest: Mediafax, 2019), 262. 8. László Tøkés (b. 1952), Reformed pastor, bishop of the Reformed Diocese of Piatra Craiului (1990–2009), mep from 2007. 9. Tøkés had appeared several times on the show “Panorama” of Budapest television criti- cizing Ceauºescu but compared to the popularity of Doina Cornea, Mircea Dinescu or the signatories of the “Letter of the six,” Tøkés was relatively unknown in Romania. 10. Arhivele Naþonale Istorice Centrale (Central Historical National Archives, hereafter cited as anic), Fond cc al pcr—Cabinetul 1, file 24/1989. 11. Maria Dobrescu, La curtea lui Ceauşescu: Dezvãluiri despre viaþa de familie a cuplului prezidenþial (Bucharest: Amaltea, 2004), 230. 12. anic, Fond cc al pcr—Cabinetul 1, file 24/1989. The meeting was held between 16:20 and 17:30 hours, followed immediately by the teleconference with the heads of the county party organizations. 13. “Stenograma ºedinþei Comitetului Politic Executiv din 17 decembrie 1989,” Scânteia —Jurnalul României 1989—Acum 20 de ani, suppl. of Jurnalul naþional, 17 Decem- ber 1989. 14. Dumitru Popescu, Cronos autodevorându-se… Memorii, vol. 5, Reducþia celularã (Bu- charest: Curtea Veche, 2007), 28. 15. Lavinia Betea, “Enigma vizitei lui Ceauşescu la Teheran,” interview with Ion Stoian, http://www.historia.ro/exclusiv_web/general/articol/enigma-vizitei-lui-Ceauşescu- teheran. 16. Sergiu Nicolaescu, Lupta pentru putere: Decembrie ’89 (Bucharest: All, 2005), 577. 17. anic, Fond cc al pcr—Cabinetul 1, file 24/1989. 60 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

18. List provided by Traian Orban, director of the Memorial of the Revolution in Timiºoara in 2009. 19. Nicolaescu, 107. 20. Betea, “Enigma vizitei lui Ceauºescu la Teheran.” 21. On 20 December 1989, over 27,000 American soldiers invaded Panama to over- throw and capture the dictator Noriega. 22. “Vinovatul de serviciu: Generalul Iulian Vlad,” Dosarele Cotidianul (Bucharest), 2 (2017): 145. 23. According to the subsequent information provided by General Iulian Vlad, the panic and the explosions at the rally were organized by the film director Sergiu Nicolaescu. To achieve that effect he used the props and stunts usually employed in his films. See http://evz.ro/gral-iulian-vlad-ultimul-sef-al-securitatii-spune-adevarul.html. 24. After Timiºoara, from 21 December onwards, there were disturbances and demon- strations in Arad (workers from the local enterprises occupied the square in front of the City Hall between 7 and 8 in the morning), Buziaº, Sibiu, Cugir (they started between 9 and 11), Târgu-Mureº, Caransebeº, Hunedoara, Reºiþa, Braºov, Ghimbav and Fãgãraº (between 11 and 13 hours). After the popular rally in Bucharest, the protests started in Cluj-Napoca (3 pm), Cisnãdie (6 pm), and Alba Iulia (10 pm). 25. The author’s interview with Andrei Popescu on 5 September 2018. 26. General Vasile Milea (1927–1989), a member of the Central Committee of the Ro- manian Communist Party (1979–1989), minister of Defense (1985–1989). His suicide on 22 December 1989 remains a controversial moment in the history of the events that culminated in the execution of Ceauşescu. 27. Arhiva Tribunalului Militar Teritorial Bucureºti (Bucharest Territorial Military Court Archive), file 126/1990, 232. 28. Grigore Cartianu, Sfârºitul Ceauºeºtilor: Sã mori împuºcat ca un animal sãlbatic, fore- word by Alex Mihai Stoenescu (Bucharest: Adevãrul Holding, 2010), 167. 29. General Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu (1928–2016), first deputy minister of Endow- ment (1986–1989) and minister of Defense (1989; 1990–1991). He entered the collective memory as the organizer of the trial and execution of the Ceauşescu spous- es on 25 December 1989. Sentenced to prison in 1999, released on parole in 2014. 30. Viorel Domenico, Ceauºescu la Târgoviºte: 22–25 decembrie 1989, 2nd edition (Târgoviºte: Cetatea de Scaun, 2014), 241. 31. “Vinovatul de serviciu: Generalul Iulian Vlad,” 100. 32. Cartianu, 206. 33. Vartan Arachelian, În faþa dumneavoastrã: Revoluþia ºi personajele sale, foreword by Florin Constantiniu (Bucharest: Nemira, 1998), 253. 34. Domenico, 245. 35. Ibid., 24–25. 36. Ibid., 35. 37. Cartianu, 240. 38. Arachelian, 258. 39. Marius Tucã Show, Ultimele zile ale lui Ceauºescu: Dramã româneascã în cinci acte cu un prolog ºi cu un epilog (Bucharest: Machiavelli, 1999), 282 (“Marius Tucã Show” Paradigms • 61

on Antena television station on 1 December 1999; guests: General Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu, Gelu Voican Voiculescu, General Andrei Kemenici, magistrate Gene­ ral Constantin Lucescu, Viorel Domenico, Captain Ionel Boeru, Major Constantin Paisie, analyst Ion Cristoiu). 40. Ibid., 47. 41. Ion Iliescu (b. 1930), initial profession: engineer. First secretary of the Central Com- mittee of the Union of Communist Youth (1967–1971) and member of the Central Committee of the Romanian Communist Party (1969–1984), during which time he served as secretary in charge of propaganda of the Central Committee of the Romanian Communist Party, secretary for propaganda in the county of Timiş, first secretary at the Iaşi county party organization, president of the National Water Council. Later he was appointed director of the Technical Publishing House (1984–1989). During the events of December 1989, he was appointed as the president of the Council of the Na- tional Salvation Front. He was the president of Romania (1990–1996, 2000–2004). 42. Petre Roman (b. 1946), engineer, prime minister of Romania (26 December 1989– October 1991), deputy and senator in the Romanian Parliament representing vari- ous political formations since 1990. 43. Nicolae Militaru (1925–1996), army general, alternate member of the Central Com- mittee of the Romanian Communist Party (1974–1984), minister of the National Defense (1989–1990). 44. Silviu Brucan (Saul Bruckner, 1916–2006). Secretary-general of the editorial board of the newspaper Scânteia (1944–1952), Romania’s ambassador to the United Na- tions (1959–1962). Signatory of the “Letter of the six” (1989). 45. Iulian Vlad (1931–2017), colonel-general, after 1987 state secretary in the Ministry of the Interior and head of the Department of State Security. 46. Domenico, 221. 47. Marius Tucã Show, 73. 48. Ibid., 81. 49. Domenico, 35. 50. Ibid., 101. 51. Marius Tucã Show, 286. 52. Domenico, 105. 53. Marius Tucã Show, 288. 54. Domenico, 265. 55. Ibid., 51. 56. Ibid., 234. 57. Marius Tucã Show, 289. 58. Domenico, 128. 59. Ibid., 106–107. 60. Ibid., 208. 61. Ibid., 214. 62. Ibid., 121. 63. Gelu Voican Voiculescu (b. 1941), by profession a geologist. In unclear circum- stances, together with Victor Atanasie Stãnculescu and Virgil Mãgureanu, he be- 62 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

came a delegate to the trial of Ceauşescu on 25 December. He became deputy prime minister in the first post–Ceauşescu provisional government and was also responsi- ble for the control of the secret services (28 December 1989–28 June 1990). Sena- tor (1990–1992), then ambassador to Tunisia and Morocco. After 2018, director general of the Institute of the Romanian Revolution of December 1989. 64. Vinovatul de serviciu: “Generalul Iulian Vlad,” 103, 113. 65. Alex Mihai Stoenescu, “Triumful democraþiei ºi judecarea lui Ceauşescu,” Jurnalul naþional (Bucharest), 17 December 2017. 66. Domenico, 270. 67. Ibid., 156. 68. Ibid., 148. 69. The unedited tape with the Ceauşescu trial was watched in Romania only at the end of April 1990. 70. Marius Tucã Show, 203. 71. Colonel Gicã Popa, military judge in 1989. In the summer of 1989 he presided over the court that sentenced the diplomat Mircea Rãceanu to death for espionage. He committed suicide on 1 March 1990. 72. Domenico, 160. 73. Marius Tucã Show, 149–150. 74. Ibid., 135. 75. Scânteia poporului (Bucharest), 24 December 1989. 76. Ibid. 77. Virgil Mãgureanu (b. 1941), lecturer at ªtefan Gheorghiu Academy (1969–1989), director of the Romanian Intelligence Service (1990–1997). 78. “Vinovatul de serviciu: Generalul Iulian Vlad,” 151. 79. Aurel I. Rogojan, “Evenimentele din decembrie 1989, între speranþele unora ºi dezi- luziile altora, III,” Cotidianul (Bucharest), 25 December 2013. 80. Marius Tucã Show, 147. 81. Domenico, 288. 82. Ibid. 83. Zoia Ceauşescu (1949–2006), daughter of Nicolae and Elena Ceauşescu, mathema- tician. On 24 December 1989 she was arrested on charges of undermining the na- tional economy. Released on 18 August 1990. 84. The possession of foreign currency by the citizens of Romania was considered a criminal act under the communist regime. 85. Her interventions and attempts to intervene until the judges withdrew for delibera- tion are 96 in number. 86. Until the withdrawal of the judges for deliberation we can count 24 instances, dur- ing an hour, in which Ceauşescu tried to calm down his wife. 87. Domenico, 162. 88. Ibid., 163. 89. Monitorul Oficial al României 1, 3 (26 December 1989). 90. Marius Tucã Show, 262. 91. Ibid., 183. Paradigms • 63

92. Ibid., 191. 93. Ibid., 205.

Abstract “On Behalf of the People...”: Fake News, Manipulation and Persuasion at the End of the Ceauşescu Spouses

On 25 December 1989, the spouses Nicolae and Elena Ceauºescu were executed following the last Stalinist trial in the history of communism, “On behalf of the people” and under allegations just as unfounded as those of the prosecutions patented in the 1930s by the prosecutor Andrey Vyshinsky. The “people” on whose behalf they were liquidated were experiencing disturbing events, later interpreted as the successful experiments of the “terrorists business” and as “the revo- lution, live on television.” As for the Ceauºescu spouses, they had spent their last three days, under guard and in secret, in the barracks of the garrison in Târgoviºte, in utter confusion. Although their detention came with the agreement and amid a continuous exchange of information with the new decision-making group, given the confusion created by the fight against the “terrorists” who defended Ceauşescu, the victims were significantly more numerous than during the repression of the demonstrators against their dictatorship. The behaviors and statements of the Ceauşescu spouses during the trial broadcast on television and the realities that have emerged over the years still fuel the collective trauma of an unprecedented cognitive dissonance in Romanian history.

Keywords Nicolae and Elena Ceauºescu, Romanian Politburo, Timiºoara, terrorists, December 1989 transsilvanica

Privates und öffentliches Leben, Umwelt, Zeit- und Katastrophenwahrnehmung in der Chronik der Familie Kürschel D o r i n -I o a n R u s aus Schäßburg (1662-1745)

Die bis jetzt unbekannte, Einführung im siebenbürgischen Archiv as Leben der Uhrmacherfa- Gundelsheim aufbewahrte milie Kürschel aus Schäßburg D ist den Forschern aus Sieben- Chronik der Familie bürgen fast unbekannt. Eine im sieben- Kirschel in Schäßburg aus bürgischen Archiv Gundelsheim aufbe- wahrte Chronik der Familie Kirschel in dem 17. und 18. Jahrhun- Schässburg aus dem 17. und 18. Jahrhun- dert liefert wichtige Infor- dert1 liefert uns zahlreiche Informatio- nen über das Leben dieser Familie, die mationen über die Geschich- seit der Mitte des 17. Jahrhunderts in te der Stadt Schäßburg. der Stadt Schäßburg tätig war. Die erste Information über Kirschel stammt aus dem Jahre 1639, als er den jungen Theologiestudenten Martin Guist in Thorn kennenlernte. Martin Guist war Pfarrer im siebenbürgisch-­ Dorin-Ioan Rus sächsischen Dorf Radeln, einer Ort- Projektmitarbeiter am Institut für Ge­­ schaft 40 km südöstlich von Schäß- schich­te der Karl-Franzens-Universität 2 Graz (Österreich). Seine neueste Mono­ burg. Seine Tochter Esther heiratet graphie: Wald- und Ressourcenpolitik am 30. Oktober 1663 den jungen im Siebenbürgen des 18. Jahrhunderts Johannes Kirschel, den ältesten Sohn (2017). des Uhrmachermeisters Kirschel, der Transsilvanica • 65 im Jahre 1646 den Schäßburger „Stundturm“ repariert und verbessert hatte. Der alte Pfarrer übergab ihm, das dicke Büchlein, in dem der junge Meister die Chronik seiner Familie einzutragen begann. Der in Königsberg geborene Kirschel befand sich in Thorn, in der Geburts- stadt des Astronomen Kopernikus, um wahrscheinlich die für Uhrmacherei notwendige Astronomie zu lernen. Guist erlaubte ihm, ein achtzeiliges Gedicht in sein Heft einzutragen. Kirschel wanderte weiter nach Siebenbürgen, wo er eine Frau fand, er heiratete sie und ließ sich in Schäßburg nieder. Sein Sohn Johannes, auch Uhrmacher von Beruf, ließ vielleicht den Namen aus Kirschel in Kürschel ändern, ein Grund dafür wäre, dass das Wort „Kirschel“3 in der Schäßburg Anlass zur Verspottung gab.

Johann Kirschel und die Uhrmacherei in Schäßburg

hrmacher gab es in Schäßburg schon seit Anfang des 17. Jahrhun- derts. Die älteste bekannte Aufzeichnung betreffend einen Uhrmacher U in der siebenbürgischen Kokelstadt wurde am 30. November 1520 in die Kronstädter Schaffnerrechnung eingetragen und besagt, dass dem „Meister Georg factor horologiorum de Segeswar“ auf Rechnung der zu machenden Uhr in Kronstadt 20 Gulden ausgezahlt wurden.4 In seiner Heimatstadt wurde er in der Stadtrechnung des Jahres 1522 als „Georgius horarum factor“ und als „Georgius Stundenmacher“ als Zentschaftsmann erwähnt.5 Dass in Schäßburg das Uhrmacherhandwerk von den Schlossern ausgeübt wurde, beweisen die städtischen Rechnungen aus den Jahren 1563-1580, als verschiedene Schlosser für die Besorgung „unserer Uhr“ Belohnungen erhiel- ten.6 Die Schäßburger Stadtrechnungen aus dem Jahre 1578 erwähnen eine Uhr des Spitals in der Unterstadt, die vom Schlosser Christian, ab 1582 vom Stadttrompeter betreut wurde.7 Ein Uhrenbesorger (Rector horologii) erscheint in den städtischen Rechnungen ab dem Jahr 1589.8 Die erste offizielle Erwähnung des Meisters Kirschel als Uhrmacher stammt aus dem Jahre 1648, als er das Uhrwerk und die Figuren des alten, infolge des am Ostersonntag desselben Jahres durch Erdbeben zerstörten „Stundturms“9 wiederhergestellt hatte. Über die Reparatur und Verbesserung der Schäßburger Stundturmuhr und seines Figurenwerks berichteten zum ersten Mal Johannes Goebel und Georg Wachsmann in ihrer Chronik der Stadt Schäßburg, die erst im 19. Jahrhundert von dem ungarischen Gelehrten Joseph Kemény veröffent- licht wurde10: „Eodem Anno (1648) wird der Stunden Zirkel erneuert, die Vier- 66 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) tel Stunde hinzugesetzet, und die Glöckel verfertigt durch Johannem Kirschel Uhrmacher, vofür er von der Stadt ein Honorarium von flor. 40 bekommen.“11 Da der Stundturm nie ein Glockenspiel hatte, sollte das Wort „Glöckel“ ein Transkriptionsfehler gewesen sein, so wie Karl Fabritius demonstriert hatte.12 Es müsse, so Fabritius, „Geckel“ heißen, was aus sächsisch „Hempelmänner“ bedeutet, womit die Gestalten des Figurenwerks gemeint sind.13 Der Turmuhrmacher Johann Kirschel ersetzte die Uhrzeiger und fügte unter anderem der Turmuhr auch das Viertelstunden-Schlagwerk hinzu.14 Es ist äu- ßerst wahrscheinlich, dass Kirschel weitere Reparaturen und Verbesserungen an Turm und Uhrwerk durchführte, weil das Beben am 3. April 1648 viele Spuren hinterlassen hatte.15 Beim großen Brand am 30. April 1676 wurden wiederum die Uhr und die Figuren beschädigt. Der Historiker Roland Melzer vermutete, dass Kirschel selbst oder seine Nachkommen die Holzfiguren reparierten.16 Diese Vermu- tungen aber werden in der hier analysierten „Familienchronik“ weder bestätigt noch entkräftet; der Uhrmacher Kirschel überlebte diese Zerstörung nicht, sein Sohn Johannes Kürschel berichtete jedoch über diese Katastrophe.

Das Hausbuch der Familie Kürschel

ie oben schon erwähnt, übernahm Johannes Kürschel, Sohn des Uhr- machers Johannes Kirschel, das Manuskript seines Schwiegervaters W Martin Guist und begann auf der sechsten Seite die Hauptereignisse seiner Familie ab dem Jahr 1663 aufzuschreiben. Die ersten Einträge stammen aus dem Jahre 1662, wobei es möglich ist, dass er die ersten Aufzeichnungen später eintrug. In der Familienchronik schrieb der Hausvater die wichtigsten Ereignisse aus dem Leben seiner Familie auf. Das Hauptziel dieser Chronik war die Verbindung zwischen mehreren Generationen derselben Familie, dies spielte eine genealogische Rolle. Die Chronik verband aber das private Leben mit dem Bewusstsein des Schreibers.17 Kürschel registrierte nicht nur die Ereignisse seiner Familie wie Geburten, Todesfälle und Vermählungen, sondern auch seine nicht beruflichen Geschäfte: Geschäfts- und Getreidedarlehen, Ausleihen usw.; damit wurde sein Heft auch ein Hausbuch, oder „La livre de raison“, wie es die Historiker der französischen Schule nennen. Das Hausbuch war also ein Buch, in dem ein tüchtiger Meister oder Händler alle Ausgaben und Einnahmen aufnahm, damit er für sich selbst Rechenschaft seiner persönlichen Geschäfte geben konnte.18 Die Hausbücher sind in erster Linie einfache Rechnungsbücher; wenn sie wei- tere Informationen enthalten, handelt es sich auch um Geschäfte. In die Haus- Transsilvanica • 67 bücher wurde jeden Tag geschrieben, sie waren nach einem einfachen Schema des Alltagslebens gebaut, in seinem Rhythmus, in seinen prosaischen, materiellen Aspekten, in seinen gewöhnlichsten Tätigkeiten, die jeden Tag, in einer elemen- taren Ausdrucksform aufgezeichnet wurden. Die Dauer und die Tätigkeit solcher Handlungen sind einen Tag lang. Deswegen können sie keiner literarischen Form zugeordnet werden. Eine solche elementare Schriftform schließt die Beschreibung und Erzählung sowie weitere Stilformen aus. Die Verfasser, die nur die tägli- chen Handlungen und Ereignisse aufzeichneten, waren gar nicht an einer literari- schen Form interessiert, weil sie ihre Schriften der Öffentlichkeit nicht überlassen wollten. Die Hausbücher gehörten zur Privatsphäre des Verfassers, in denen die Geschehnisse in Stunden oder Viertelstunden, oder nach den religiösen Festta- gen aufgezeichnet werden. Sie sind Bücher des Lebens, der Krankheit und Ge- sundheit, die nicht in wissenschaftlicher, sondern einfacher und direkter Form geschrieben wurden. Vernachlässigt sind aber die Gefühle, die privaten Erlebnisse und innigsten Gedanken. Der Stil ist trocken es fehlen Gefühlsäußerungen, Er- zählungen und vertraulichen Mitteilungen. Jedes Hausbuch ist ein selbstständiges Werk, obwohl sie keiner literarischen Gattung angehören. Diese Autoren schreiben so, als hätten sie weder Haus, noch Wohnung, noch Bett, sie sehen nichts davon, was draußen auf der Straße passiert. Der Rahmen, in dem die Familie lebt, wird nie beschrieben, ihre Häuser werden größer, mo- dernisiert, aber die neuesten Änderungen werden nicht erwähnt. Sie erwähnen auch nicht, wo sich diese Häuser befinden.19

Das Familienleben

n dem Hausbuch gibt es keine Erwähnung des Familienlebens. Es scheint kein weibliches Zeugnis auf. Die männliche Sichtweise verbirgt die weibli- I che Meinung über sich selbst als Frau und Mutter. Daher ist nicht bekannt, wie sich der Hausherr mit seiner Frau verstand, welche Konflikte es zwischen den beiden gab. Es gibt kein Bildnis, kein Gesicht. Die Angaben über die Anwesenheit der Frau fehlen nicht, aber sie sind im- mer kurz und elementar, wir wissen nichts über ihr Aussehen, über ihr Wesen als Mutter. Es sind die Geburten erwähnt, die fast jährlich in einer Familie statt- fanden und fast immer eine Tragödie waren, aber die glücklichen Folgen einer Geburt sind nie beschrieben. Erst in der Sterbestunde werden einige Wörter über die Frau geschrieben, über ihre Zugehörigkeit dem Mann gegenüber, wie z.B. beim Uhrmacher Kürschel zu lesen ist: „Anno 1666, den 9. Novembris des Abends Vmb 10 Uhr Vnd 30 Min: Hatt der Hochste Gott mein Vielgeliebste Ehegemahl Von meiner Seyt genohmen, Und ist hernacher begraben worden 68 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) den 11 Novembris des morgens Vmb 8 Uhr, welcher Tag auch der S. Martins Tag war. Ihres alters 17 Jahr Vnd 32 Wochen, Vnd haben im Ehestand zuge- bracht 3 Jahr Vnd 2 wochen, Gott Verleye ihr ein fröliche aufferstehung.“20 Auch der Stuhlrichter Kürschel notierte pünktlich wie sein Vater vor 42 Jah- ren die Sterbestunde seiner Frau und fasst den Ablauf ihres Zusammenlebens zusammen: „Anno 1708 den 2 Februaris des Abenst umb 11 Uhr und 46 Mi- nuten hatt Gott mein Vielgeliebtes Ehegemahl von meiner Seiten genommen ir Alter ist gewest 25 Jar weniger 3 Wochen habe 2 Söhnlein mitt ihr zeugt einen Johan den andern Michael Gott verleyhe ihr Ein frolig aufferstehung.“21 Die Informationen über die Frauen sind sehr spärlich, nur bei der Heirat werden sie als „tugendhaften Jungfrauen“ erwähnt: der Uhrmacher Kürschel tritt im Jahre 1663 „in den Heiligen Ehestand“ und nimmt die „Tugendsamer Jungfrav Ester Guistin, des E. W. Hern H. Martiono Guist Pfarhern zu Radlen, leiblicher Tochter“22 zur Frau. Die Abstammung seiner Frau ist ihm wichtig, so- wie die göttliche Segnung dieser Institution: „Anno 1667 Den 23 Novembris, hab ich mich zum andern mahl in den Heyligen Ehestanden eingelassen, mitt der Tugendsamen Jungfrav Sara, des achtbaren Thomae Rohrbächers leiblicher Tochter.“23 Die soziale Herkunft der beiden Frauen des Stuhlrichters Kürschel werden von ihm betont: „1700 Die 16 junius Hab ich mich in den Heiligen Ehestanden begeben mitt der Tugendsam Jungfrau Anna Schnabelin, der lei- bigen Tochter des Woll Weissen Herren Michaeli Snabels Mittglidt des Rats Gott verbinde uns mitt ehelicher Liebe.“24 Nachdem seine erste Frau, Anna Schnabel am 11. Februar 1708 gestorben war, heiratete er im November des gleichen Jahres 1708 die „Tugendsamen Junffer Anna Dorotea Pancratiana des W. Weissen H. Hartvigi Pancratii leibliche junver Tochter. Hir bey unserer Köhniglicher Stadt Schassburg Verordneter Herr Stuhlsrichter.“25 Durch die Trennung der Fruchtbarkeit von der Kindererziehung, findet eine Änderung der Rolle der Frau in der Gesellschaft statt.26 Die Mutterrolle gewann immer mehr an Bedeutung, denn sie erfuhr eine große Achtung und ihre weib- lichen häuslichen Aufgaben werden immer eingeengt. Auch das private Leben der Frauen findet keine besondere Erwähnung. Die Frau gehört zum Heim, ihre Beschäftigungen sind vor allem häuslich. Der von der Kirche und Gesellschaft festgestellte Rahmen dieses Lebens ist die Familie und das Haus. Sie ist sowohl Herrin als auch Dienerin.27 Sie nimmt an der äußerlichen, kommerziellen Wirt- schaft nicht teil, sie macht kein Geschäft, die Verwaltung des Geldes gehört nicht zu ihren Kompetenzen. Die Tatsache, dass der Uhrmacher Kürschel die Magd mehrmals zwischen 1669 und 1671 mit Geld und Kleidern bezahlt, weist auf ihre Rolle in der Hauswirtschaft hin. Hier ein kurzes Beispiel „Anno 1670 wass ich meiner Magd Zuschka, gedinget hab als fl. 3 an Parem Gelt, ein borten Transsilvanica • 69

Pro fl. 1 ein gürtel Pro fl. 1 fur die leinwat, zum schonen hembt fl. 1“28 und viele andere. In seinen ersten Lebensjahren steht das Kind im Zentrum der Aufmerksam- keit seiner Familie. In den Hausbüchern werden die Kinder kaum erwähnt, es fehlen Erzählungen und Bildnisse, nur wenige affektive Sätze. Dies charakteri- siert das Hausbuch; es ist, in derselben Zeit, eine Familienchronik und ein Re- gister der häuslichen Ausgaben; und damit eine wesentliche Unterlage, obwohl es nur kurze Sätze enthält. Wenn ein Kind geboren wurde, sollen die darüber berichtenden Sätze sehr aufmerksam gelesen werden. Geburten wurden immer aufgezeichnet, aber wie in einem offiziellen Rechnungsbuch, ohne Kommentare oder Glückswünsche, weil nur das Weitergeben des Lebens darin aufgenommen wurde. Auch Taufen wurden so kurz und bündig wie die Geburt aufgezeichnet. Geburt und Taufe wurden als eine göttliche Gabe wahrgenommen. Uhrmacher Kürschel: „Anno 1666 den 12 Aprilis des abends Vmb 9 Uhr, hatt uns der liebe Gott mitt einem Jungen Sohn begabt, mitt namen Marti- nus.“29 Vier Jahre später, schreibt derselbe: „Anno 1670 den 3 Februariy, des morgens 8 Vhr hatt mich der liebe Gott abermall mitt einer Jungen Tochter begabet...“30 und dann, schreibt er die Geburt seines dritten Kindes auf: „Anno 1674 Den 5 Decembris Umb 2 Uhr Vnd 30 Minuten nachmittag hatt Vns Gott abermall mitt einem Jungen Sohn begabett, Nahmens Johannes...“31 Stuhlrichter Kürschel notiert mit Genauigkeit die Geburt seiner Kinder; zu- erst Johannes: „Anno 1701 Die 1 November nach Mitag umb 1 Uhr und 45 Minuten Hatt uns Gott der aller Höchste mitt einem jungen Son begabt mitt Namen Johannes“32, dann Michael: „Anno 1705 Die 25 Augustus des Morgens umb 6 Uhr undt 16 Minuten Hatt uns Gott abermal mitt einem jungen Sohn begabet, namens Michael“33 und Juliana: „Anno 1712 den 27 Januari Hatt uns gott abermall gesegnet mitt einem lieben Töchterlein, Agneta Juliana.“34 Alle diese Geburten sind Gottesgaben; nachdem sein drittes Kind gestorben war, wünscht er dem vierten, am 3. Oktober 1715 neugeborenen Hartvig „gott ver- ley ihm gutt gesundheit unt langes Leben.“35 Die Chronik enthält keine detaillierte Angabe über die Durchführung der Taufe, obwohl nach jeder Geburt die beiden Paten und Goden (Patinnen) ge- nannt werden. Die Kinder wurden zu Hause geboren, wobei die Hebamme36 immer, der Arzt nur bei Komplikationen gerufen wurde. Es ist nicht bekannt, welche Ausbildung sie hatten. In den ersten Wochen bekam die Wöchnerin das Essen von Verwandten geschickt. Bei der Taufe erhielt der erste Sohn den Vor- namen des Vaters, das erste Mädchen den der Mutter. Die Kürschels erwähnen nicht das Datum der Durchführung der religiösen Taufe, es ist möglich, dass sie in den ersten Tagen nach der Geburt stattfand, weil die Lebenserwartung der 70 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) neugeborenen Kinder ziemlich niedrig war. Von den Paten und Goden erhielt das Kind Geld oder kleine Geschenke. In den ersten Lebensjahren des Kindes beschränken sich die Ausgaben auf die Anstellung eines Kindermädchens oder einer Dienerin, die der Uhrmacher Kürschel an den Feiertagen für die geleisteten Dienste mit Geld oder Kleidern bezahlte: „Auff dass 1671 Jahr hab ich meiner Magd der Susca gegeben am lohn fl. 1 Ittem abermall fl. 1 Ittem am Martini Jarmark fl. 1//50, Ittem den 48 Ittem den 48 den 23. Dezember.“37 Es wird nichts über die physischen Fortschritte des Kindes, seine Verspieltheit und Charakterzüge aufgeschrieben. Kein Satz, der eine Affektivität verraten hätte können, was ein Hinweis auf eine Gleichgül- tigkeit diesbezüglich sein könnte. Einige Texte enthalten Verkleinerungsformen der Namen (Zschuska für Sara, Hanok für Johanna) und es gibt Ausdrücke wie „Söhnlein“, „Töchterchen“, die eine gewisse Affektivität verraten. Die Liebe für das Kind ist auch erkennbar, wenn es stirbt, aber auch nur in sehr wenigen Wörtern. Die Traurigkeit des Stuhlrichters ist rechtschaffen und zurückhaltend: „Anno 1708 den 11. August des Morgens um 5 Uhr den Tag Tiberius genandt, mein liebes Söhnlein namen Michael von disser Welt abgefor- dert, sein Alter ist gewest 3 Jar weniger 2 Wochen Gott verleyhe ihm Ein fröhli- che Aufferstehung.“38 Er erwähnt keine Todesursache, keine Krankheit: „Anno 1710 den 3 Novembris umb 10 Uhr welcher Tag war Gottlieb genandt Mein liebes Sohnlein Hartvigius Von dieser Veldt abgefordert sein alter ist gewest 7 Wochen, gott verleihe ihm Eine frolige aufferstehung.“39 Die elterliche Liebe und grausamen Schmerzen werden durch eine mecha- nische Wiederholung der Hoffnung auf die Auferstehung ins Hausbuch aufge- nommen: „Anno 1727 Die 14 Septembris Hatt uns der Lieb gott, dass Liebe Töchterlein Agneta Juliana, Vecheg genohmen Um punct 12 Uhr in der Nacht, sein alter ist gewest 15, jar, undt 4 Wochen, gott Verley im ein grohlich auf- ferstehung.“40 Der Tod seines Kindes regte ihn auf, aber er erschütterte ihn nicht. Ein Hausbuch ist nicht für die Äußerung der seelischen Schmerzen und Verzweiflung bestimmt, solche Gefühle wurden anderswo freigelassen. Die Lie- be für das Kind äußert sich in den häufigen Bestellungen für die Mädchen; sie genossen keine berufliche Erziehung, sie sollten nur gut aussehen und gut gekleidet sein.41 So gibt der Stuhlrichter Kürschel seiner Schwester 3 Fl. für die Fransen42, die sie für den Mantel seiner Tochter Sara gekauft hat. Der Uhrma- cher Kürschel bezahlt im Jahre 1670 seinem Schwiegervater für die Herstellung eines Kleides und eines Pelzhutes aus eigenem Stoff: „Ittem hatt er meinem Töchtertein einen fievenen Hutt gemacht Von meinem fievich.43 Item hat er in einem Röcklein gefuttert von seinem futter. [...] Anno 1671, hat er abermal ein grün Röcklein Von seinem futter gefuttert.“44 Transsilvanica • 71

Erziehung und Ausbildung

as die Kindererziehung betrifft, gibt es wenige Angaben in dieser Schriftgattung. Es ist bekannt, dass die Kirche und der Staat die W Leitung des Erziehungssystems inne hatten. Diese Verschiebung der erzieherischen Aufgaben vom privaten in den öffentlichen Bereich zeigt den Wunsch der staatlichen und religiösen Macht, die gesamte Gesellschaft zu kontrollieren.45 Der Erfolg dieses Systems besteht darin, dass es die Charaktere „modelliert“. Der Knabe verbringt sein Leben nicht innerhalb seiner Familie, denn er wird einem Kindermädchen oder Zunftmeister zur Erziehung anver- traut. Dadurch wird seine professionelle Erziehung anderen Personen außerhalb der Familie überlassen. Durch die Wahl eines Berufs konnte das Kind oder der Jugendliche seiner Gruppe entkommen zur professionellen Erziehung und Ausbildung eines Ju- gendlichen gehörte die Zeit der Wanderschaft, ein Ritual für die jungen Gesel- len.46 Martin Kürschel schreibt in der Familienchronik über die Abfahrt seines Bruders und erbittet den göttlichen Schutz für dessen Reise: „Anno 1695 Die 11 Julii Reist unser Johanes Vordt auff seine Wanderschafft Gott segen seine stras Vndt beschutze in.“47 Über seine Wanderschaft berichtete kurz auch Hartvig Kürschel. Zwischen 6. April und 21. November 1741 arbeitete der 25-jährige Sohn des Stuhlrich- ters Johann Kürschel als Schreiber im Dienst der Pächter von Hoffnungsvald in Eisenmarkt. Am 22. Jänner 1742 wanderte er von seiner Heimatstadt nach Ungarn, wo er ein Jahr in Eger blieb, von wo er weiter nach Kaschau, Prešov, Levoča, Kežmarok, Bardejov, Ofen-Pest, Komárom, Gyør, Preßburg und So- pron reiste. Von dort wanderte er nach Österreich und arbeitete in den Städ- ten Brück48, Wien, in Graz, Rust und Mariazell. Im Jahre 1743 wanderte er in Ober-Ungarn, arbeitete im Klein-Zeben und reiste weiter nach Polen, in die Stadt Krakau, wo er bis zum 2. Juni 1745 arbeitete. Von Krakau reiste er auf der Weichsel nach Warschau, wo er im Dienste des Königlichen Hoffkirsch- ners Ferdinand Kindermäher neun Wochen arbeitete.49 Sein letzter Arbeits- und Lernplatz war in Torun´. Nach Pfingsten des Jahres 1746 kehrte er zurück nach Schäßburg. Im Vergleich zu der Wanderung von Hartvig Kürschel, hat die Reise von Martin Guist einen akademischen Charakter. Zwischen 1639 und 1641 be- findet sich der junge Student auf einer Wanderung durch einige protestantische Städte. Seine akademische „Peregrinatio“ folgt die Route Kopenhagen – Danzig – Thorn (heute Torun´ in Polen) – Eperjes (heute Prešov in der Slowakei), wo er seine theologische Ausbildung absolviert. In sein Heft tragen die Kollegen ihre Wünsche und Abschiedsworte in lateinischer Sprache ein. Der erste Eintrag in sein Heft stammt vom 25. August 1639, als M. Simon Henningh, Ecclesiae teu- 72 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) tonicae Hafniae Minister in Kopenhagen, auf Seite 175 schreibt: „Cui Dominus favet, huic nemo nocere potest. Der Herr ist mit mir, darumb fürchte Ich mich nicht, was können mir Menschen tun?“50 Ihm folgen am 28. August 1639 in Kopenhagen Claudius Plumius Juris consultus, professor ac pro tempore, Rector regius Hafniensis51, dann am 3. September 163952, Georgius Teilesius aus Siebenbürgen und Johann Hoch (oder Hodza?).53 In Danzig, wo er weiter studierte, loben ihn am 20. September 1639 Gaspar Keresdi54 und am 23. September Paulus Wernerus55 aus Schön- berg56, beide aus Siebenbürgen und drei Tage später der Konrektor Jakobus Zetzikius.57 Ab November 1639 ist Martin Guist als Student in Thorn. Hier tragen sich auch junge Studierende aus Siebenbürgen in sein Heft ein: am 18. November 1639 Johannes Molnár58 aus Ungarn, am 23. März 1640 Samuel Graffius59, am 7. Juni 1640 Lasarus Aquilinus junior60, Michael Funck61 aus Prossdorff 62, Matthias Rehner63 aus Bistritz, und Samuel Heilmann64 aus Bis- tritz; am 29. April 1641, Michael Haltrich65 aus Bogeschdorf66, sowie am 30. April 1641 der Preuße Friedrich Lichtfuess67 aus Toporziske68, zwei Mal. Ein Blasius Albrich69 aus Dobring70, Siebenbürgen, wurde auch in Thorun, ohne Datum, eingetragen. Von Thorn geht er nach Eperjes71, wo sich am 25. Mai 1641 weitere Studenten aus Siebenbürgen, wie Stephanus Breit72 aus Klein Blasendorf 73, Michael Itali74 aus Bodendorf75, Johannes Rill76 aus Tatarlaki77, Henricus Leonhardi78 und noch ein anonymer Akademiker aufzeichnen. Am 5. Jänner 1644 schreiben noch Johannes Finckius79 aus Tarnovia S.80, Viktor Hradcky aus Böhmen81 und David Peucerus82, aus Lippa83, Böhmen lateinische Zitate für ihren Freund Martin Guist.

Eigener Körper

ber den eigenen Körper wird in einem Hausbuch weitgehend ge- schwiegen, als stecke ein Geheimnis dahinter. Krankheiten werden Ü kaum bzw. nicht in Einzelheiten beschrieben.84 Es wird nur knapp erwähnt, welche Bekleidung für die Familienmitglieder angeschafft wurde: im Jahr 1671 kaufte der Uhrmacher Kürschel ein paar alte „Zischmen“85 für 28 Denar und für neue Sohlenleder bezahlte er 12 Denar. Es scheint, als hätten sie eine robuste Gesundheit, denn sie überlebten alle Pestepi- demien des Jahrhunderts. Während der großen Hungersnot und verheerenden Pestepidemie des Jahres 1646 starben 4673 Personen86, im Jahr 1647 genau 1796 Personen87, während der Epidemie des Jahres 1661 starben in Schäßburg 620 Personen88, im Jahr 1709 fast 4000 Menschen, das waren vier Fünftel der Bevölkerung89; bei der letzten Pestwelle im Jahr 1719 starben nur wenige Men- Transsilvanica • 73 schen.90 In der Chronik der Familie Kürschel gibt es keine Erwähnung der Pest, es gibt sogar keinen Sterbefall in den genannten Pestjahren. Die medizinische Versorgung oblag den Barbieren und Wundärzten, die kei- ne medizinische Ausbildung hatten. Sie waren „Handwerker“ und als solche auf die Ausführung gewisser chirurgischer Eingriffe spezialisiert (Bruchbrenner, Steinschneider, Zahnreißer usw.). Der erste in Schäßburg bekannte Wundarzt war Pankratius, der im Jahre 1561 erwähnt wurde.91 Die erste Apotheke wird im Jahr 1595 erwähnt.92 1700 wird die Apotheke „Zur Krone“ und 1720 die Apotheke „Zum Löwen“ gegründet.93 Der Stuhlrichter Kürschel rechnet seine Ausgaben für die Genesung seiner erkrankten Frau: „wider wie sie krank ist gewest den 64 wider von Aderlassen dem Balbier Den[ar] 16 [...] Wider vor den dranck Vom Apoteker Den[ar] 48 [...] Wider dass man vor sie hatt gebeten Den[ar] 16.“ 94 Die Uhrzeit und die Art des Ablebens der Familienangehörigen, der näheren Bekannten und wichtigen Persönlichkeiten ist genau angegeben. Der Uhrmacher Kürschel benutzt die Höflichkeitsformeln des Barock bei der Aufzeichnung eines Sterbefalls: [1668] „den 27 Januariy ist der fohrsichtige Vnd Wollweysse H. Petrus Nussbaumer Seelig Verschieden Vnd den 29 begra- ben worden, Vnd ist ihm zum ersten mitt der grossen gelock geleittet worden, zur leich.“95 Statt der alten Form „Weihnachtsabend“, verwendet er das Da- tum „Anno 1669 den 24 Dezembris Ist des Namhaften Vnd Wollweissen Hern Petro Nussbaumers, hinlassenes Ehegemahl Gertruda Männin Von dieser welt verschieden“.96 Der Stuhlrichter Kürschel vermerkte, dass sein Vater, der Uhrmacher Johann Kürschel am 16. September 1690 von Szeklern „Schreck- lich ermordet worden“97 sei. Seine Mutter andererseits starb ruhig und gesund: „A[anno] 1711 Die 22 Martius ist mein Mutter Eines sehr Seeligen Todes ge- storben, des Morgens zwischen 5 undt 6 Uhr, gesund undt Tott Gott verlaie ir ein Fröhlich auferstehung.“ 98 Bei fast jeder Eintragung des Sterbefalls wie- derholt sich automatisch die religiöse Formel der „fröhlichen Auferstehung“. Ausnahme macht der Stuhlrichter Kürschel, als er eine Ausgabe von 2.20 Fl. für den Sarg seines Schwagers erwähnt. Ein letzter Aspekt des Familienlebens, der sich aus dieser Familienchronik er- gibt, betrifft die Freunde, Vertraulichkeit und Gastfreundschaft. Die Freundschaft ist ein Bestandteil der vorhandenen und nötigen Sozialverbindungen zwischen Familien. In diesem Fall ist sie zerbrechlich, sie braucht viele Überprüfungen, die während der Zeit stattfinden. Der Uhrmacher Kürschel notierte die Leihen: „Anno 1668 hab ich mich mitt meinem Schwieger Vatter verrechnet Vnd bleibt er mir noch Rest fl. 14// 53. Item ein 40 kuff. Zweiy 20 Eymer legen, Vnd ein 5 Eymer legen, ein gross Ackes Vnd auch ein kleine, Von der Mutter 3-theil99 bleibt er mir auch schuldig 2 Cub: korn Vnd auch 2.40 Kuffen, Vnd einen kessel. Item als er dass Hauss 74 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) gekauft hatt hab ich in geliehen fl. 20, davon hatt er gezahlt einmal fl. 3 Vnd abermal fl. 10 bleibt noch an der Schult Rest fl. 7.“100 Derselbe Uhrmacher half seinem Freund Hans Nadescher im Laufe des Jahres 1668: „Im Jahr 1668 habe ich zusammen Summiert wass ich dem Hans Nadescher dass Jahr Vber gegeben hab, auff den Herbst welches in einer Summa thut als fl. 11 Den 15. In diesser schuld hatt er im gemelten Jahr mitt Most abgezahlt als fl.4, Den 50, bleibt noch rest fl. 6 Den 65.“ 101 Nadescher bezahlte mit Most, ein Zeichen dafür, dass im Jahr 1668 gutes Wetter war. Der Stuhlrichter Kürschel vermerkte in dem Hausbuch, er habe seinem Schwager „40 Eimern Wein gegeben [...] undt ist an genommen pro flo 40 die wein Herrn seint gewest“.102 Zwischen dem Herrn und seinem Knecht ist eine bestimmte Vertraulichkeit festzustellen, weil sie miteinander innerhalb eines Hauses, im Rahmen der täg- lichen Tätigkeiten lebten, und weil der Herr ihm die Belohnung direkt in die Hand gab. Die lange Liste der Geschenke, die der Uhrmacher Kürschel seiner Magd machte, sind ebenfalls ein Beispiel dieser Vertraulichkeit. Eine andere Perspektive dieser Sozialverbindungen ist der Umgang mit der Krankheit und dem Tod. In diesem Fall berühren sich privates und öffentliches Leben. Die Krankheit und der Tod werden nicht mit Schmerz-, Traurigkeits-, Aufregungsgefühlen wahrgenommen; solche Gefühle sind nie ausgedrückt, sie gehören nicht den innersten Empfindungen der Menschen, sondern dem ge- meinsamen Leben des Dorfes. Die Art und Weise, in der die Nachricht über das Sterben eines Mitmenschen ins Tagebuch eingetragen ist, steht in Verbindung mit dem dörflichen Zusammenleben. In solchen Momenten wendet sich der gesunde Mensch dem Kranken, der Lebende dem Sterbenden zu. Die dörfliche Solidarität zeigt sich in der Aufmerksamkeit der Gemeinde, ihre Geschenke zur Genesung, die von dem besten und fachkundigsten Mitbewohner angebotene Verpflegung, statt einer ärztlichen Hilfe.103

Die Umwelt

as von Kürschel am zweiten Sonntag nach Epiphanias gesehene „feu- rige Luft-Zeichen“, das gleichzeitig auch von Bewohnern der benach- D barten Stadt Mediasch104 beobachtet wurde, schien ein Komet zu sein: „Anno 1676 Den 19, Januari des Morgens ist ein feveriges Lufft Zeichen Uber Schessburg Plötzlich gezogen Vnd ist auch im ganzen land gesehen worden.“ 105 Solche Himmelskörper wurden auch von Italien im März 1676 beobachtet.106 Den italienischen Augenzeugen zufolge ließen sie sich nach Sonnenuntergang sehen, seien so groß wie der volle Mond, strichen den ganzen Himmel durch und führten lichthelle Schweifen hinter sich her. Transsilvanica • 75

Die Chronisten Siebenbürgens berichteten schon früher von Himmelskör- pern wie Kometen, Meteoriten, seltsamen Sternbildungen, die von Naturka- tastrophen, Gewittern, Wetterkapriolen und Missgeschick gefolgt waren. Die in den Jahren 1531, 1556, 1569, 1572, 1577, 1580, 1593, 1596, 1599, 1600, 1602, 1605, 1607, 1611, 1614, 1618, 1635, 1654 und 1665107 beobachte- ten Gestirne ängstigten die Menschen, die sie als Ursache für ein kommendes Un­glück betrachteten. Dieser Komet war auch für den Uhrmacher Johannes Kürschel das Vorzeichen einer kommenden Katastrophe: „welches Deuttung wier mitt grossem Jamer erfahren haben. Den Anno 1667108 Den letzten April welcher war Der Schrökliche Unglukstag an welchem fast die gantze Stadt Schessburg sampt der Obern burg durch die feversbrunst ist Verbrandt worden.“109 Ausgehend von einer strohbedeckten Holzbackstube in der Unteren Baier- gasse entstand am Donnerstag, den 30. April 1676 um 10 Uhr ein Großbrand in Schäßburg, vermutlich infolge einer Brandstiftung. Verstärkt durch den Ostwind verbreitete sich das Feuer weiter und brannte die gesamte Unterstadt nieder. Die schnell eingetroffenen „Burgmannen“, die unter anderem auch mit der Löschung von Feuersbrünsten betraut waren, konnten die Ausbreitung des Brandes nicht hindern Nach sechs Stunden griffen die Flammen auch auf in der Oberstadt gelegene Gebäude wie das Rathaus, die Kloster- und Nonnen- kirche, die Schulen, sechs Verteidigungstürme, den Stundturm und die beiden Burgtore über. Außerdem brannten 624 Häuser und 120 Maierhöfe nieder. Die Bergkirche, fünf Zunfttürme und einige kleine Gebäude blieben verschont. Bei der Bekämpfung des Feuers kamen 20 „Bergmannen“ und andere Bürger ums Leben, viele Einwohner verarmten und verließen die Stadt. Der Wiederaufbau der Kirche dauerte ein Jahr: „Ao 1678 den 29 8bis110 ist durch Gottes Hilff die Kirch wiederumb erbavet Und Verfertiget worden, Vnd den 30 Octobris eingesegnet worden.“111 Auch die Wiedererrichtung anderer öffentlicher Gebäude, wie der Verteidigungstürme, des Rathauses, das damals im „Stundturm“ untergebracht war, dauerte sehr lange und hatte Auswirkungen auf die Umwelt, weil für dessen Aufbau große Mengen an Brenn-, Bau- und Nutzholz benötigt wurden. Zur Erinnerung an diesen Tag wurde in Schäßburg für den 30. April jeden Jahres die Feier eines Buß- und Bettages angeordnet.112 Ein weiterer Aspekt, der sich in der Chronik befindet, betrifft die Nutzung des Waldes. Martin Kürschel baute einen Bretterzaun und legte einen Garten an. Die angegebenen Informationen sind nicht nur bezüglich des Umgangs mit dem Wald wichtig, sondern auch für die Sprachwissenschaft, denn der Autor verwendete einige bis dahin unbekannte Wörter. Er informierte über den Bau eines Gartenzaunes. Die Errichtung dieses Bretterzaunes wurde mehrmals, zwi- schen den Jahren 1690 und 1695 durchgeführt. Der Zaun bestand aus Brettern und Pfosten, die im Laufe der Jahre ersetzt werden mussten. 76 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

Für die Errichtung der Zäune wurden große Mengen an Holz benötigt. Sie hatten eine größere Bedeutung für die landwirtschaftlichen Einrichtungen des Hügellandes als für diejenigen in der Siebenbürgischen Heide. Zäune gab es auch in den Städten und in den Straßendörfern, wo eine rege wirtschaftliche Tä- tigkeit bestand, sowie in den bewaldeten Gebieten, wo sie als Schutz vor wilden Tieren dienten. Im Hügelland (Voralpengebiete) wurde Feldgraswirtschaft be- trieben, hier waren meist Holzzäune anzutreffen, die die Weiden umschlossen. Weiter dienten sie zur Markierung der Grenzen und verwehrten dem Vieh den Zugang zu verbotenen Plätzen.113 In der siebenbürgischen Heide wurde die Dreifelderwirtschaft praktiziert. Da dieses System einen Wechsel zwischen Ackerbau und Weide voraussetzte, wurden hier keine Dauerzäune gebaut, sondern bewegliche und leicht zu ent- fernende Einzäunungen. Dies hing auch von der Weidezeit ab. Die Dauerzäune dienten zur Abgrenzung der Hofstätten und Gärten, zur Begleitung der Wege auf die Fluren und waren meist geflochten.114 Maßnahmen gegen die Verwen- dung des Holzes für Zäune gab es schon vor 1781. In der Gubernialverordnung Seebergs vom Jahre 1753 wurde die Verwendung von Eichenruten für Zäune verboten, weil dadurch das Wachstum der Waldungen verhindert wurde.115 Weitere Informationen bezüglich der Umwelt beziehen sich auf die Brot- und Kornpreise; sie wurden in diesem Hausbuch eingetragen und geben uns An- kunft über die Entwicklung der Preise sowie über die Beziehungen zwischen den Menschen. Eine weitere, in der Familienchronik enthaltene Information betrifft die Schlacht von Groß-Alisch (rum. Seleuº, säch. Grisz-Alesch, ung. Nagyszølløs, Keménynagyszølløs): der Uhrmacher Kürschel schrieb: „Anno 1662 den 23 Februar, ist der Johan Kenyni [Kemény] sampt etlich Hundert Deutschen Volckern bey Gross Alesch erschlagen worden.“116 Im Jahre 1661 dankte der siebenbürgische Fürst Achatius Barcsay (1558-1661) ab, der Landtag wählte János Kemény zum neuen Fürsten. Als die Türken ihn nicht anerkannten und Michael Apafi zum Fürsten ausriefen, kam es zum Krieg. Apafi suchte in Schäßburg Schutz und rief das im Lande herumirrende türkische Heer unter Ali-Pascha zu Hilfe. Anfang 1662 belagerte Keménys Heer die Stadt Schäßburg. Seine Truppen lagerten in Schaas117, Wolkendorf118 und Weißkirch.119 Noch be- vor es zum Sturm auf die Stadt kam, erreichte ein türkisches Janitscharenheer von 2000 Reitern unter Kutschuk-Pascha die Stadt. Keménys Heer ergriff die Flucht, wurde aber bei Großalisch eingeholt. Es kam zur Schlacht, in der Kemény fiel. Für Schäßburg brachte das keine Vorteile, denn die Türken verblieben län- gere Zeit in der Stadt und Umgebung und hinterließen einen sehr schlechten Eindruck.120 Es scheint, sie blieben länger in Schäßburg, weil eine Eintragung des Uhrmachers aus dem Jahre 1760 über einen türkischen Artisten in der Stadt Transsilvanica • 77 lautet: „Anno 1670 den 23 Juny ist ein Türck alhier zu Schässburg auff dem Seyl gegangen.“121 Es ist aber interessant, dass keiner von den vier Chronisten der Familie Kürschel über die Naturkatastrophen und Pestepidemien, die das Land Siebenbürgen und die Stadt Schäßburg heimsuchten, berichtete.

Die Zeitwahrnehmung

ie wichtigsten in dieser Familienchronik aufgezeichneten Ereignisse wie Geburten und Sterbefälle, Angaben über hochgestellte Persönlich- D keiten, Schlacht, Unwetter, Entwicklung der Preise usw. wurden von den Berichterstattern sowohl mit modernen Stundenangaben, als auch mit den alten Formen der Tageszeitangaben, wie Sonnenaufgang, Mittag, Vormittag usw. versehen und ergänzt, was sie authentischer erscheinen lässt. Die Tages- zeitangaben waren für sie aber nicht besonders wichtig, denn die Schreiber der Familie Kürschel vergaßen oder vernachlässigten diese manchmal. Beim Stuhl- richter Johannes Kürschel ist die Neigung und die Möglichkeit, bedeutsame Sachverhalte präziser zu datieren, zu bemerken, nämlich minutenweise, wäh- rend sein Vater, der Uhrmacher Johannes Kürschel, über solche technische Mit- tel nicht verfügte. Dadurch wird bestätigt, dass die zeitgenössische Chronistik punktuell auf Innovationen reagierte.122 Die erste genaue Zeitangabe in der siebenbürgischen Chronistik erscheint im Jahr 1516, als über ein Erdbeben, das in Kronstadt verspürt wurde, berichtet wird, dass am 24. November, um 1 Uhr Nachmittag stattfand.123 In der hier analysierten Familienchronik werden zum ersten Mal in der siebenbürgischen Chronistik die Viertelstunden und Minuten angegeben. Der Einbau der Viertelstundenanzeiger an der Schäßburger Turmuhr im Jahre 1646124 bedeutete einen Wandel des Zeitbewusstseins in den städtischen Gemeinden, die ab diesem Zeitpunkt auch Uhren benutzten, denn der Um- gang mit der Alltagszeit, Uhrenbenutzung und Uhrenbesitz sind Indikatoren von Modernität.125 Über öffentliche Uhren verfügten die Städte Siebenbürgens schon ab dem 15. Jahrhundert.126 Mit der Einführung der Uhren fand auch ein Wandel im Zeitbewusstsein und in der Mentalität statt. Durch die Verstädter- ung wurde die Wahrnehmung für die ökonomischen Implikationen von Zeitor- ganisation und Arbeitszeit geschärft.127 Marc Bloch bezeichnete die Fortschritte der Zeitmessung als „la plupart pro- fondes révolutions dans la vie intellectuelle et pratique de nos sociétés et comme l’un des principaux événements de la fin de l’histoire médiévale“.128 Für den innerstädtischen Alltag Schäßburgs war der Stundturm ein zentraler Ort, der 78 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) als Wachturm, Archiv und Rathaus diente. Eine wichtige Rolle in der Bekannt- machung der Stunden spielten die Glocken. Die bürgerlichen Glocken regelten die Arbeitszeit der städtischen Lohnarbeiter. Ihr Geläut unterschied sich von denen der Kirchen.129 Den Stadtbewohnern wurden nicht nur Anrufe, Verbote und Gebote angezeigt, sie erhielten auch eine Fülle akustischer Informationen über die Ereignisse, die für die Stadt wichtig waren.130 Ihr Signal sollte in der ganzen Stadt vernommen werden. Die regelmäßigen Glockensignale waren für die Städter auch Zeitsignale, nach denen sich die Arbeiter richten mussten. Die Signalzeitpunkte wurden nach Tageslicht oder Sonnenstand reguliert.131 Die Glocken stellten damit die Massenmedien des Mittelalters dar.132 Die früheren Zeitmesser, wie die Klepsydra, die Wasseruhr oder die Son- nenuhr konnten das Vergehen der Zeit nur zeigen, aber die mechanischen Uhren, die am Anfang für die Mönche als Vorankündigung der Messen gedacht waren, läuteten die kanonischen Stunden und hingen nicht mehr von der Son- ne ab.133 Als die Uhren etwas Gewöhnliches und Alltägliches geworden waren, betrachteten die Menschen die Zeit nicht mehr als einen fließenden Strom, son- dern als eine Ansammlung der getrennten und gemessenen Momente. Die neue Zeitmessung gehörte nicht mehr zu dem solaren Licht, sondern der mechani- schen Welt, die sie schon messen konnte.134 Die Einführung der städtischen Uhren in Siebenbürgen bedeutete, dass der ökonomische, politische und soziale Ton in den Gemeinden von den Zunftmeis- tern, Händlern und Kaufleuten angegeben wurde. Viele städtische Gemeinden Siebenbürgens verfügten über eine öffentliche Uhr, noch vor der Lösung ihrer hygienischen und Kanalisationsprobleme oder der Wasserversorgung. Die vom Stuhlrichter Kürschel genau angegebenen Minuten sind ein Beweis dafür, dass er seine eigene Uhr besaß. Es ist zu vermuten, dass am Anfang des 18. Jahrhun- derts jeder Bürger seine eigene Uhr haben wollte, zuerst für das Haus, dann für sich selbst. Je mehr Bürger Uhren besaßen, desto größer war der Anspruch auf Pünktlichkeit bei der Arbeit oder beim Gottesdienst.

Schlussbetrachtung

er hier analysierte Text kann sowohl als Familienchronik als auch als Hausbuch betrachtet werden. Die bis jetzt unbekannte, im siebenbür- D gischen Archiv Gundelsheim aufbewahrte Chronik der Familie Kirschel in Schäßburg aus dem 17. und 18. Jahrhundert liefert wichtige Informationen über die Geschichte der Stadt Schäßburg und das Familien-und Sozialleben in den Städten Siebenbürgens am Ende des 17. und in der ersten Hälfte des 18. Jahrhunderts sowie für die genealogische Forschung. Die Chronik und das Transsilvanica • 79

Hausbuch wurden in einem Heft aufgezeichnet, das zuerst dem evangelischen Theologiestudenten und späteren Pfarrer Martin Guist gehörte und später in den Besitz der Uhrmacherfamilie Kürschel kam. Die Familienchronik und die Aufzeichnungen bezüglich der Rechnungen wurden von vier Mitgliedern der Familie Kürschel geschrieben. Aus der Studienzeit von Martin Guist stammen eine Reihe von Aufzeichnungen in lateinischer, deutscher, griechischer, italieni- scher, ungarischer und französischer Sprache. Die Kürschels schrieben ihre Tex- te in deutscher Sprache, aber mit zahlreichen Wörtern in Schäßburger Mundart. Die Mitglieder der Familie Kürschel genossen ein hohes Ansehen in der Schäß- burger Gesellschaft; einer von ihnen, Johannes Kürschel (1674-1741), der auch einen Teil dieser Familienchronik redigierte, war Richter des Stuhles Schäßburg. Die Chronik liefert Informationen bezüglich des Familienlebens, der Umwelt und Zeitwahrnehmung. Die Auskünfte über die Familie und ihre Angehörigen sind sehr sparsam. Manchmal sind sie auf kurze Angaben über die wichtigsten Momente des Lebens, wie Geburt, Taufe, Heirat, Paten, Wanderschaft, Tod reduziert. Was die Umwelt betrifft, werden meist Informationen über die Prei- se von Brot, Weizen, weiteren Nahrungsmitteln oder Holzverbrauch vermerkt. Interessant ist die Mitteilung über die Erscheinung eines Kometen, woraus zu schließen ist, dass die Menschen des 17. Jahrhunderts immer noch abergläubisch waren. Die Chronik vermittelt Konklusionen über die Zeitwahrnehmung, sowohl seitens der Chronisten, als auch der Bevölkerung. Die Kürschels sind die ersten Chronisten Siebenbürgens, die genaue Zeitangaben in ihren Berichten eintra- gen. Durch die Einführung der Uhren mit Viertelstundenwerk und mit Läuten der Stunden, Halb- und Viertelstunden, wird die Arbeitszeit geregelt und damit die Zeit anders wahrgenommen als früher. Die Regelung der Arbeitszeit nach weltlichen und nicht nach kirchlichen Stunden ist ein Beweis dafür, dass die Macht in den siebenbürgischen Städten ab der Mitte des 17. Jahrhunderts bei den Zünften und Händlern lag. q

Anmerkungen

1. Chronik der Familie Kirschel in Schässburg aus dem 17. und 18. Jahrhundert. In: Siebenbürgisches Archiv Gundelsheim, Nachlaß Czoppelt, A169, Sächsisch-Regen, Band 8, 12 Seiten in Format din A3. Die Chronik wurde wahrscheinlich von dem Sächsisch-Regener Gymnasiallehrer Wilhelm Hellwig vom Original ins Deutsche in moderner Schrift mit lateinischen Buchstaben transkribiert. Alle vier Autoren dieser Familienchronik haben zahlreiche Wörter in Schäßburger Mundart verwendet, die teilweise von Professor Hellwig ins Hochdeutsche übersetzt wurden; andere, die er 80 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

nicht kannte, wurden von Frau Professor Erika Schneider-Binder ins Hochdeutsch übersetzt, dafür ich mich herzlich bedanke. Mein Dank gilt auch Frau Professor Maria Conþ aus Târgu-Mureº und Franziskaner-Bruder Moritz Windegger aus Graz für die Unterstützung bei der Übersetzung der lateinischen Textteile. Dem Kollegen Charalapos Minaoglu von der Nationalen Universität Athen bedanke ich mich für die Übersetzung der griechischen Sätze. 2. Radeln (rum. Roadeº, ung. Rádos) ist eine Gemeinde im Kreis Braºov, in Sieben- bürgen. 3. „Kirschel“ und „Kirchel“ bedeuten in der Schäßburger Mundart „Mist“, „Kot“, „Unrat“. 4. Vgl. Gernot Nussbächer: „Stundenmacher“ in Schäßburg im 16. Jahrhundert. In: Karpaten Rundschau (Kronstadt/Braºov), Nr. 2745, 17. Januar 2004, S. III. 5. Vgl. A. Berger: Volkszählung in der 7 und 2 Stühlen, im Bistritzer und im Kronstäd- ter Distrikte vom Ende des XV. und Anfang des XVI. Jahrhunderts. In: Korrespon- denzblatt des Vereins für siebenbürgische Landeskunde, Hermannstadt 1894, S. 68. 6. Vgl. Nussbächer: „Stundenmacher“, S. III. 7. Ebd. 8. Ebd. 9. Nach Meinung der Fachleute stammt der Schäßburger Stundturm aus dem 14. Jahrhundert. Vgl. Roland Melzer: Der Stundturm von Schäßburg. In: Sieben- bürgisch-Sächsischer Hauskalender (München), 1979, S. 135-151, hier 139. 10. Johannis Goebel, et Georgii Wachsmann Chronica Civitatis Schaesburgensis 1514- 1663. In: G. Joseph Kemény (Hg.): Deutsche Fundgruben der Geschichte Sieben- bürgens, Bd. II, Klausenburg 1840, S. 85-140. 11. Ebd., S. 114-115. 12. Vgl. Karl Fabritius: Die Siebenbürger Chronisten des XVII. Jahrhunderts, apud Roland Melzer: Der Stundturm von Schäßburg, S. 149. 13. Ebd. 14. Siebenbürgische Chronik des Schässburger Stadtschreibers Georg Kraus (1608- 1665), hrsg. vom Ausschuss des Vereines für siebenbürgische Landeskunde, Bd. I, Wien 1862, S. 177. 15. Vgl. Kemény: Deutsche Fundgrube, S. 114. 16. Melzer: Der Stundturm von Schäßburg, S. 149. 17. Vgl. Jacques Revel, Orest Ranum, Jean-Louis Flandrin, Jacques Gélis, Madeleine Foisil u. Jean Marie Goulemot: Forme de privatizare. In: Philippe Ariès u. Georges Duby (Hgg.): Istoria vieþii private, Bd. VI: De la Renaºtere la Epoca Luminilor, Übersetzer Constanþa Tãnãsescu, Bukarest 1995, S. 204. 18. Vgl. Madeleine Foisil: Scrieri private. In: Ariès u. Duby (Hgg.): Istoria vieþii priva- te, Bd. VI, S. 26. 19. Ebd., S. 39-40. 20. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 8. 21. Ebd., S. 143. 22. Ebd., S. 6. 23. Ebd., S. 9. Transsilvanica • 81

24. Ebd., S. 141. 25. Ebd., S. 145. 26. Vgl. Jacques Gélis: Individualizarea copilului. In: Ariès u. Duby (Hgg.): Istoria vieþii private, Bd. VI, S. 15. 27. Vgl. Nicole Castan: Sectorul public ºi sectorul privat. In: Ariès u. Duby (Hgg.): Istoria vieþii private, Bd. VI, S. 142. 28. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 255. 29. Ebd., S.6. 30. Ebd., S. 11. 31. Ebd., S. 12. 32. Ebd., S. 142. 33. Ebd., S. 142-143. 34. Ebd., S. 148. 35. Ebd., S. 149. 36. 1595 erfahren wir zum ersten Mal aus einer Stadtrechnung von der Existenz ei- ner Hebamme in Schäßburg. Vgl. Ernst Johann Graef: Das Gesundheitswesen in Schäßburg. In: Schäßburg. Bild einer siebenbürgischen Stadt, hrsg. von Hans-Heinz Brandsch, Heinz Heltmann u. Walter Ligner, Thaur bei Innsbruck 1994, S. 287. 37. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 254. 38. Ebd., S. 144. 39. Ebd., S. 147. 40. Ebd., S. 152. 41. Vgl. Martine Sonnet: Mädchenerziehung. In: Georges Duby u. Michelle Perrot (Hgg.): Geschichte der Frauen, Bd. Frühe Neuzeit, hrsg. von Arlette Farge u. Natalie Zemon Davis, Frankfurt/Main 1994, S. 129. 42. 1678 wurde in Schäßburg die Zunft der Fransenmacher gegründet, als erste ihrer Art in Siebenbürgen. Vgl. Ernst Johann Graef: Zeittafel der Stadt Schäßburg. In: Schäßburg. Bild einer siebenbürgischen Stadt, S. 352. 43. Pelz vom grauen Siebenschläfer. 44. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 254. 45. Vgl. Gélis: Individualizarea copilului, S. 17. 46. Vgl. Ernst Frisius, Das Freisprechen eines Schmiedegesellen. In: Bruno Brandl u. Günther Creutzburg, Die Zunftlade. Das Handwerk im Spiegel der Literatur vom 15. bis 19. Jahrhundert, Berlin 1973, S. 263-269. 47. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 30-31. 48. Möglicherweise handelt es sich um die Stadt Bruck an der Leitha, weil er früher im nahgelegenen Sopron war. 49. „Ao 1745 den 2 Junii binn ich in Krakau auff das Wasser Weichsel gesesen und auff Varsau, hingewandert, und zum Königl. Hoffkirschner Ferdinand Kindermaiher ge- arbeitet 9 Wochen Nachgehens auff Thoren hingezogen und allda zum letztenmahl gearbeitet“ (Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 162). 50. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 175. 51. Ebd., S. 63. 52. Ebd., S. 219. 82 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

53. Ebd., S. 221. 54. Ebd., S. 215. 55. Ebd., S. 203. 56. Schönberg (rum. Dealu Frumos, seltener auch Dealul Frumos, früher ªulumberg, ung. Lesses) ist ein Dorf im Kreis Sibiu, in Siebenbürgen. 57. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 201. 58. Ebd., S. 235. 59. Ebd., S. 12. 60. Ebd., S. 225. 61. Ebd., S. 229. 62. Es handelt sich um die Gemeinde Großprobstdorf (rum. Proºtea Mare/Târnava, ung. Nagy-ekemezø, säch.: Griuspriustref) im Kreis Sibiu, in Siebenbürgen. 63. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 237. 64. Ebd., S. 238. 65. Ebd., S. 223. 66. Bogeschdorf (rum. Bãgaciu, säch. Bogeschtref, ung. Szászbogács oder Bogács) ist eine Gemeinde im Kreis Mureº, in Siebenbürgen. 67. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 50 und 270. 68. Toporzisko ist ein Dorf und Gutshof in West-Preußen, unweit Thorn. 69. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 226. 70. Dobring (rum. Dobârca, ung. Doborka, säch. Dobrengk) liegt im Kreis Sibiu, in Siebenbürgen. 71. Es handelt sich um die Stadt Prešov in der Slowakei, die im 17. Jahrhundert eine protestantische Mehrheit gab und wo im Jahre 1668 ein „evangelisches Kollegium“ gegründet wurde. 72. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 247. 73. Kleinblasendorf (rum. Blãjel, ung. Balázstelke, säch. Bluesenderf) ist eine Gemeinde im Kreis Sibiu, in Siebenbürgen. 74. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 251. 75. Bodendorf (rum. Buneşti, ung. Szászbuda, säch. Bodendref), liegt im Kreis Braşov, in Siebenbürgen. 76. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 253. 77. Rum. Tãrtãria, ung. Alsótatárlaka, im Kreis Alba, in Siebenbürgen. 78. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 257. 79. Ebd., S. 259. 80. Tarnow (Tarnów) ist eine Stadt in Galizien. 81. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 261. 82. Ebd., S. 258. 83. Česká Lípa, eine Stadt im Norden Tschechiens. 84. Vgl. Madeleine Foisil: Scrieri private, S. 57. 85. Stiefel. 86. Vgl. D. Hain: Beitrag zur Witterungskunde Siebenbürgens. In: Programm des evan- gelischen Gymnasiums in Schossburg und der damit verbundenen Lehranstalten zum Schluss des Schuljahres 1853/4, hrsg. von der Gymnasialdirektion, Kronstadt Transsilvanica • 83

1854, S. 2-25, hier 19; Siebenbürgische Chronik des Schässburger Stadtschreibers Georg Kraus (1608-1665), hrsg. von dem Ausschusse des Vereines für siebenber- gische Landeskunde, Wien 1862, Bd. I, S. 167. 87. Ebd., S. 20. 88. Vgl. Paul Binder: Epidemiile de ciumã din Transilvania în secolul al XVII-lea (1622- 1677). In: Gheorghe Brãtescu (Hg.): Apãrarea sãnãtãþii ieri ºi azi. Studii, note ºi docu- mente, Bukarest 1984, S. 56. 89. Vgl. ebd, S. 173. 90. Ebd., S. 178. 91. Vgl. Ernst Johann Graef: Das Gesundheitswesen in Schäßburg, S. 285. 92. Ebd., S. 291. 93. Ebd. 94. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 117. 95. Ebd., S. 10. 96. Ebd., S. 11. 97. Ebd., S. 15. 98. Ebd., S. 16. 99. Nach dem Sächsischen Recht 1583-1853. 100. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 19. 101. Ebd., S. 263. 102. Ebd., S. 120. 103. Vgl. Foisil: Scrieri private, S. 44. 104. „Die 19 Januarii que erat Dies Domini Evangelium Eadem totam fere Tranniam in aere Draco volans visus et sonitus Tormenti auditus.“ Vgl. Eduard Albert Bielz: Beitrag zur Geschichte merkwürdiger Naturbegebenheiten in Siebenbürgen. In: Verhandlungen und Mitteilungen des siebenbürgischen Vereins für Naturwissenschaften, Nr. 4. Her- mannstadt 1862, S. 55. Bielz zitiert die von Joseph Freiherrn Bedeus von Scharberg d.Ä. im Archiv des Vereins für siebenbürgische Landeskunde, Bd. III, veröffentlichte „Mitteilung über ein Medwischer Stadtbuch aus dem 16. und 17. Jahrhundert“. 105. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 13-14. 106. Vgl. Thomas Stackhouse: Herrn Thomas Stackhouse Vertheidigung der Biblischen Geschichte..., Bd. 3, Rostock 1754, S. 680. 107. Hain: Beiträge zur Witterungskunde Siebenbürgens, S. 7-21. 108. Eigentlich 1676, wahrscheinlich ein Transkriptionsfehler. 109. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 14. 110. Octombris. 111. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 14. 112. Vgl. Karl Fabritius: Der Brand Schäßburgs im Jahre 1676. In: Archiv des Vereins für siebenbürgische Landeskunde, Bd. 1, Heft 2, 1853, S. 220-237. 113. Vgl. Valer Buturã: Strãvechi mãrturii de civilizaþie româneascã. Transilvania, Bukarest 1989, S. 88-90. 114. Vgl. Johann Binder: Geschichte des Waldes der Stadt Hermannstadt, Hermannstadt 1909, S. 120. 115. Vgl. Konrad Siegmund: Quellen zur Geschichte des Stadtwaldes von Schäßburg, Manu- skript, Siebenbürgisches Archiv Gundelsheim, A VIII 189, Bd. 2, Nr. 83, S. 21-22. 116. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 6. 84 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

117. Schaas (rum. ªaeº, ung. Segesd) ist eine Gemeinde im Kreis Mureº, in Siebenbürgen. 118. Wolkendorf (rum. Vulcan, ung. Volkány, säch. Wulkendref) ist eine Gemeinde im Kreis Braºov, in Siebenbürgen. 119. Weißkirch oder Deutsch-Weißkirch (rum. Viscri, ung. Szászfehéregyháza, säch. Weis­ kirich) ist ein Ort im Kreis Braºov, in Siebenbürgen. 120. Vgl. Michael Kroner: Geschichtliche Entwicklung. In: Schäßburg. Bild einer sieben- bürgischen Stadt, S. 72. 121. Chronik der Familie Kirschel, S. 12. 122. Vgl. Gerhard Dohrn-van Rossum: Die Geschichte der Stunde. Uhren und moderne Zeitordnungen, Köln 2007, S. 286. 123. Vgl. Matthias Miles: Siebenbürgischer Würg-Engel, unveränderter Nachdruck der Ausgabe Hermannstadt 1670, Köln und Wien 1984. In: Schriften zur Landeskunde Siebenbürgens, Bd. 8, S. 10. 124. Um das Jahr 1500, schlug die Turmuhr der englischen Kathedrale von Wells zum ersten Mal die Viertelstunden in Europa. Vgl. Daniel J. Boorstin: Descoperitorii. O istorie a cãutãrilor omului pentru cunoaºterea lumii ºi a lui însuºi, Übersetzer Elena I. Burlacu, Bd. 1, Bukarest 1996, S. 58. 125. Vgl. Dohrn-van Rossum: Die Geschichte der Stunde, S. 11. 126. Die im Jahre 1425 nach Heltau [Cisnãdie] gebrachte Uhr gilt als die älteste Turmuhr Sie- benbürgens. Die Turmuhr in Hermannstadt stammt aus dem Jahre 1494, der Schwarzen Kirche in Kronstadt aus 1514, die Bistritzer aus 1521, die Mediascher Uhr des Trom- petenturmes aus dem 17. Jahrhundert, die Mühlbacher wurde zwischen 1662 und 1664 gebaut. Vgl. Juliana Fabritius-Dâncu: Sächsische Kirchenburgen in Siebenbürgen, Her- mannstadt 1983; Rechnungen aus dem Archiv der Stadt Hermannstadt Bd. 1, Her- mannstadt 1880, S. 177; Mihai Sofronie: Turmuhren in Siebenbürgen. In: Forschungen zur Volks- und Landeskunde (Hermannstadt), Bd. 2, 1980, S. 72-78, hier 72. 127. Vgl. Dohrn-van Rossum: Die Geschichte der Stunde, S. 18. 128. Vgl. Marc Bloch: Un manuel d’histoire des techniques. In: Annales d’histoire écono- mique et sociale, 1931, Bd. 3, S. 278. 129. Vgl. Dohrn-van Rossum: Die Geschichte der Stunde, S. 254-265. 130. Ebd., S. 271. 131. Ebd., S. 274. 132. Vgl. Boorstin: Descoperitorii, S. 59. 133. Ebd., S. 55. 134. Ebd., S. 56.

Abstract Public and Personal Life, the Environment, and the Perception of Time and Disasters in the Chronicle of the Kürschel Family from Sighiºoara (1662–1745)

The life of the Kirschels/Kürschels, a family of clockmakers from Sighiºoara (Schäßburg, Se- gesvár), is virtually unknown to historians in Transylvania. This family’s chronicle, entitled Chro- nik der Familie Kirschel in Schässburg aus dem 17. und 18. Jahrhundert, is kept in the Transylvanian archive in Gundelsheim, Germany. It provides valuable information on the life of this family, thus proving its relevance for genealogical research, and on the town of Sighiºoara. Its many entries are Transsilvanica • 85 written in standard German, German dialect, Latin, Hungarian, Italian, Old Greek, and French. The chronicle and the account-book were written in a copybook that had originally belonged to the theology student Martin Guist who was later ordained priest in a parish close to Sighiºoara and gave it to the Kirschels/Kürschels. The chronicle and account-book entries were written by four family members who enjoyed professional success and were well-respected in Sighiºoara. For instance, Johannes Kürschel (1674–1741) was appointed judge in the Seat of Schäßburg. The chronicle provides information on family life, the environment and the perception of time, among others. However, the data on the family and household members are vague, being mostly limited to dates of birth and death, christenings, weddings, and travels. As regards the perception of the environment, there is information on the price of bread, grain and other foodstuffs, as well as on the use of wood/timber. In addition, there is an interesting description of the passing of a comet, not mentioned in other sources. Not least, the chronicle provides information on the perception of time by both the chroniclers and ordinary people. The Kürschels are the first Transylvanian chroniclers to record the exact time when events occurred. By introducing clocks with a chime mechanism that struck on the quarter hour, half hour, three-quarter hour and on the hour, they (re)organised working hours. Thus, time started to be perceived differently than before. The organisation of work according to secular hours instead of canonical hours demonstrates that in eighteenth-century Transylvanian towns power shifted into the hands of guilds and traders.

Keywords Sighiºoara, clockmakers, personal life, comet, perception of time, bell, public clock “Triple Fugue” Revisited Patrick Leigh Fermor, “István” G a v i n B o w d and “Angéla”

In Between the Woods and the Water (1986), the second volume recount- ing his “Great Trudge” from the Hook of Holland to Constantinople, Patrick Leigh Fermor (1915–2011) crossed the sixth frontier of his journey, at Curtici, on 27 April 1934. In Greater Romania, he discovered lands still deeply affected by the consequences of the Treaty of Trianon. The marches of Transylva- nia were “the most resented frontier in Europe and recent conversations in Hungary had cloaked it with an added shadow of menace.”1 Recommended by Count Pál Teleki, the Hungarian geographer and politician, Leigh Fer- mor first sojourned with a Magyar aris- tocracy washed up by frontier changes and agrarian reform. As Leigh Fermor moved south, he accustomed himself Patrick Leigh Fermor, Between the Woods with a Romanian language that is both and the Water (1986) other and familiar: “How odd to find this Latin speech marooned so far from its kindred!”2 There was also move- ment into a socio-economic otherness: Gavin Bowd Reader at the School of Modern Langua­ “The industrial revolution had left these ges, University of St. Andrews. Author, regions untouched and the rhythm of among others, of the vol. La double cul- life had remained many decades behind ture de Jean-Joseph Rabearivelo: entre the pace of the West.”3 Crossing these Latins et Scythes (2017). debatable lands, devouring erudite con- Transsilvanica • 87 versation and country house libraries, he assessed the competing Hungarian and Romanian claims on Transylvania. One side insisting on a vacuum to fill, the other considering this territory an ethnic hot bed, the young Briton politely con- cluded that “justice to both sides was and is impossible.”4

“Triple Fugue”

fter weeks with aristocrats of the Banat, notably Count Jenø Teleki in his castle (kastély) at Kápolnás (today Cãpâlnaº, Arad County, Roma- A nia), Leigh Fermor discovered Transylvania proper near the village of Zam (Hung. Zám, Germ. Sameschdorf, today in Hunedoara County, Roma- nia), on the Maros River. He stayed at a mansion occupied by Xénia Csernovits (1909–1991), described as a sloe-eyed, ivory-skinned thirty year old woman of Serbian ancestry. In reality, she was twenty five and unhappily married to a banker working in nearby Deva. According to Leigh Fermor’s account, he was smitten. Oddly, in subsequent pages, Xénia becomes “Angéla,” a free spirited but unhap- pily married woman a few years older than Leigh Fermor. According to this ac- count, they rapidly become lovers. In a footnote, Leigh Fermor justifies the use of pseudonyms as necessary protection of friends trapped behind the Iron Curtain. Another acquaintance, given the protective pseudonym of “István,” is Elemér von Klobusziczky (1899–1986), who lived on the Gurasada (Guraszáda, Gursaden) estate further east from Zam. A former Hussar and sixteen years older than Leigh Fermor, Elemér seems to have been an older brother figure for the young Eng- lishman. In Between the Woods and the Water, they share military interests and fantasies, as well as tumbles in the hay with Romanian peasant girls. Together, Leigh Fermor, “István” and “Angéla” borrow a car and embark on the “Triple Fugue” that provides some of the travelogue’s most vivid and memorable passages. For example:

We were storming and bucketing through the land of Canaan. Rows of beehives, brought up for the summer, were aligned by the edge of the woods. The slopes were striped with vines and scattered with sheaves and ricks, and chaff from threshing mingled with the dust. Flocks and herds were beginning to throw longer shadows when we reached a high point with an entire town spread below; and, getting out under the walls of a vigilant eighteenth-century citadel, we gazed across an untidy fall of roofs.5

During this whistle-stop motor tour of the heart of Transylvania, the discovery of Cluj (Kolozsvár, Klausenburg) or Sighiºoara (Segesvár, Schässburg) makes 88 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) the young Englishman more acutely aware of the ethnic, linguistic and religious patchwork he is traversing. Trying to hide their illicit relationship, “Angéla” and Leigh Fermor nevertheless spend the night together in the Bánffy Palace, Cluj, awakening to the schismatic bells of a multi-ethnic and multi-denominational city. With “István,” they get tipsy on the house cocktails of the city’s Hotel New York. Realizing that time is running out, “István” puts his foot on the accelera- tor so “Angéla” can catch the train from Deva (Déva, Diemrich) to Budapest. Leigh Fermor’s “Triple Fugue,” written in the 1980s, is very much a flight of fancy. As Michael O’Sullivan points out, the author did not set foot in Cluj until his tour of Ceauºescu’s Romania in 1982. Indeed, in November 1984, Leigh Fermor confided to his mentor Rudi Fischer, a Budapest-based scholar who gave him copious advice for Between the Woods and the Water, his “guilty secret, which you are the only living soul to share.”6 O’Sullivan adds that the descriptions in “Triple Fugue” drew heavily upon a book borrowed from Fischer, Raggle-Tag- gle: Adventures with a Fiddle in Hungary and Roumania (London: Murray, 1933), by Walter Starkie, an Anglo-Irish scholar who had himself crossed the province. It would take Leigh Fermor decades to regain contact with the real “István” and “Angéla.” In 1965, the prestigious review Holiday commissioned Leigh Fer- mor to recount a journey down the Danube, passing through many of the places that would later be evoked in his travel trilogy. Leigh Fermor’s papers, now held in the National Library of Scotland, reveal that he deleted from the published version overtly political observations that could have compromised aristocratic friends now living under the communist regimes. Thus he deleted the observa- tion that in Budapest, “growing signs of liberalization are detectable.” Deleted too was an encounter with a “handsome bus conductress” whose trousers and beret gave a “dashing look”: “She was a Rumanian from one of the bilingual villages of Transylvania, where she had been a schoolmistress . . . She sat down for a chat. What was it like in Rumania? Awful, she said, blowing out a puff of smoke. She had left a couple of years ago and settled in Pest, where things were far easier; better a conductress here than a schoolmistress there.” Also deleted is an observation which emphasizes the experience of spatial and temporal dis- junction at work in Leigh Fermor’s oeuvre: “There is something suspect in the declaration of fondness for the aristocrats and the peasants of a foreign country; but this one is free of any damaging corollary; in those remote dales and woods, there was no-one else. . . . I felt half trespasser and half spectre.”7 During this journey, Leigh Fermor was unable to retrace his “Triple Fugue” companions, although he was re-united with another aristocratic ex-lover, Princess Balasha Cantacuzino, who returned to him the “Green Diary”—notes on the Slovakian, Hungarian and Romanian stages of his “Great Trudge”—which he had left in haste on her estate at the outbreak of the Second World War. This diary would Transsilvanica • 89 offer precious help in reconstructing—and, as we have already seen, reinvent- ing—his youthful journey. However, it bears no trace of his journey between Esztergom and the Bulgarian-Romanian frontier.

“István”

t was in the early 1970s that Leigh Fermor, by now a renowned travel- writer (notably on Greece, where he had settled), began work on his ac- I count of the Great Trudge. This return to the past motivated attempts to find survivors of that period. In 1974, Leigh Fermor finally made epistolary contact with “István.” Elemér von Klobusziczky had shared the postwar fate of the nobility in Hungary and Romania. He had moved to Budapest during the war after becoming briefly married to a countess successful in haute couture. Once declared a “class enemy” by the new communist authorities, he worked as a technical advisor in stone quarries before making an unsuccessful attempt to flee the country in 1956. He then eked out an existence as a go-between for the sale of the remaining trinkets of his fellow aristocrats. When Leigh Fermor final- ly caught up with him, he was working as a translator of scientific documents. There is no indication in Patrick Leigh Fermor’s papers of how he found the address of Elemér/István. But the first letter from him in the archives, dated 22 April 1974, expressed deep and lasting attachment to the brief companion he had left forty years before:

My dear old friend! It was a very nice day for me when I got your letter. For some weeks I waited and waited for your letter. Then I thought you have not the intention to be in contact with me and this hurt me. Then I began to be anxious perhaps something happened to you. . . . I think and thought very often of the nice days we spent together. But (specially for me) all the nice things are now in the dustbin of the past. I must and must see you!8

He suggested that the simplest way would be for Leigh Fermor to come to Budapest with his wife. The other alternative would be Brittany, where he was planning a family holiday. In the following letter, Elemér provided information for Leigh Fermor as he prepared Between the Woods and the Water: “Storks arrive about the end of March . . . The swallows are coming around 8 April and fly away only around 8 September . . . The hay is cut depending upon the climate . . . Hungarian news- papers have all new names.” He also explained the first line of a Hungarian song 90 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) he had mentioned. Elemér asked Leigh Fermor to pass a message to the latter’s friend Antonia Fraser, biographer and historian: “If you meet her please tell her that you have an old friend an old Hungarian ass who reads her books with delight.” For Elemér, who evidently followed life in Britain as well as he could, the death of another literary friend of Fermor, Nancy Mitford, was “a great loss.” Elemér’s rather reactionary opinions and prejudices also came through. “Was Somerset Maugham (one of my preferred English authors) a Jew?,” he asked. A few years before, Elemér had obtained a copy of My Silent War, the memoir of the Cambridge spy and Soviet traitor Kim Philby. Inevitably, this Hungarian nobleman was disturbed by what he read: “I couldn’t finish it. I was so disgusted. I was convinced the English Intelligence Service is the best in the world. How could something like this happen? How could an officer the son of an Indian Officer work against the Queen and country? And instead to be hanged [sic] he escaped.” He was also concerned by the Troubles in Northern Ireland and, in particular, the terrorism of the Irish Republican Army (ira). He proposed a ruthless solution: “Why doesn’t England suppress it with a consider- able force and with the most cruel and relentless means? For measure is nothing for terrorists. They must be crushed and annihilated to the last man.” But he added in this missive that he was happy to find some aristocratic company in Budapest: “Lives here the wife of Almássy János born Eva Teleki. She who was one of the beautiful girls I ever see, is now around 80. I see her nearly every week.” He was also keen to arrange a meeting with Leigh Fermor that summer and again indicated the freedom of movement then enjoyed by Hungarians with hard currency: “Why wrote you me that it is difficult to visit Greece? A lot of Hungarians are visiting Greece without any difficulties. They travel as tourist and nothing happens to them.”9 However, Leigh Fermor had left for Greece by the time Elemér arrived in Brittany with his sister Ilona, who still lived in Transylvania, and his estranged stepson Miklós, now settled in Germany, who was “a good looking charming boy but apparently an idiot.”10 Despite missing his long-lost friend, “it was won- derful to see only peasants, fishermen, cows and pigs and not that terrible crowd of tourists.” After Brittany, the family visited Paris, Marseille, Nice, Monte Car- lo, Florence, Venice, and Vienna, where they met the Countess Ilona Teleki. That said, his conclusion was more somber: “Now I work night and day to cover in some way my debts I made for this trip but my prospects in this respect are not well rosy.”11 There was no letter from Leigh Fermor for another five months, which plunged Elemér into anxiety: “I thought awful things about you. You crawled around on the Taygetus [mountain range] slipped into a cleft and vultures circled above your body and eat you and the remainder was carried away by foxes and Transsilvanica • 91 stray dogs; or you were in Cyprus, at the Turkish-Greek boundary.” He then praised his friend’s travel-writing: “The first of your books I read was The Violins of St. Jacques. Excellent. . . . I see in your books not only the landscape but also the life there their history and nearly everything.” But he also corrected him on anthropological observations: “You mentioned in your Mani that in the eastern part of Europe the virginity is highly estimated. Perhaps you are correct but not in the case of Transylvania and Transylvania was and is also an eastern country. In this matter I am competent believe me. Poor girls from different villages went often in a brothel to make a bit money and as they had more opportunity to get a husband.” He then turned to the political situation. Cyprus was “the hotspot,” but not the only place in trouble: “Poor England what a shame that they are discussing the financial situation of their own Queen! The East consolidates and the West decomposes. My son is now in Germany and Caroline my daughter in law wrote me that the circumstances in Germany are much better than in France. And she is a French girl whose father was killed in the most cruel way by the Germans.” The situation in communist Hungary was “not too bad. Surely we feel a bit the inflation but it is only a trifle compared with the Western States. The public security is at a very high level.” But personally for Elemér, it was “not easy.”12 The 76-year-old had just lost his translation job after his director had a heart attack and now had to work at least 8–12 hours a day to make ends meet. Fortunately, he had a lot of translations from the Hungarian Cable Works. Such everyday difficulties paled into insignificance next to developments across the Romanian frontier. In July 1975, he informed Leigh Fermor: “I was for some days in Transylvania. The situation there is awful. This crazy maniac clown Ceausescu, the leader for life time, is hated not only by the Hungarians but by 80% of the Rumanians. My sister is fine and well, but she gets even to thinking only every two years a passport (Hungary is considered as a ‘Western State,’ by the way).”13 He continued to be a source of advice, answering questions on Hungar- ian language and spelling. Leigh Fermor was now turning his attention to the Transylvanian stage of Between the Woods and the Water, for in November 1975, Elemér wrote: “You ask me what name I would like in your book. Perhaps Gezu or Tibor though the most adequate would be István because I was born on 20 August the Saint Stephen day, the day of our first King.” Also in this letter, he expressed views on law and order and human rights that were scarcely in the spirit of the Helsinki Agreement signed that year: “We are living in a revolting time . . . Here a young scoundrel some months ago hit a policeman over the head (he nearly died but now he is recovered) the boy was caught and these days sentenced to death. He will be hanged and everybody is satisfied. Humanisme, liberalisme are very nice words . . . but not to keep order in a country.”14 92 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

In 1976, conditions were deteriorating on both sides of the Hungarian- Romanian frontier. In August, he wrote: “Tomorrow morning I make a trip for some days to visit my sister in Transylvania. I knew that there was almost nothing to eat but now she asked even for coffee and tea. The situation there is abominable. Returning from Transylvania I will travel to my son in Dusseldorf.” He was also at the mercy of the economic vagaries of “goulash communism”: “I have financial troubles because the Company whose articles I translated made an administrative rearrangement and I didn’t get translations for 2 months. This was a disaster because I have neither an uncle in America nor somebody else will send me a few dollars if necessary. I am completely indebted. For this moment I don’t know how to make out from this situation.”15 Indeed, in Elemér’s letters, there is a sense of mortality and a desperate desire to meet his old friend again. In September 1977, he wrote: “Time is passing quickly. I am old and begin to be sometimes tired without a serious reason. So I wish to see you at least once again. I am in January in Dusseldorf to visit my son and perhaps in May or June again in West Germany. The decision is in your hands. . . . Why don’t you come for some days to Budapest?” He also returned to the Romanian situation, where the Ceauºescu regime was pursuing an increas- ingly assimilationist policy towards the Magyar minority, while meeting its first serious resistance, from miners of the Jiu Valley: “The situation in Transylvania is terrible for all the poor Hungarians living there. But this is not a topic for a letter. Roumanians leader this Ceaucescu [sic] is megalomaniac, a political and diplomatical [sic] clown, hated even by his own people, the Roumanian.”16 The following year, he bluntly gives information that shows how much the world of past acquaintances is a lost one: “Keper W—died; Denise—died; Szigi—died.”17 But it was in 1978 that Leigh Fermor finally met “István” in his flat in a prosperous area of Buda then populated by communist functionaries. He re- called this encounter with typical horror at déclassement: “I found him at last in a workman’s flat in Budapest, grinding away at the translation of engineering manuals from English to Magyar.”18 It is after this visit that Elemér’s correspon- dence with Leigh Fermor seems to fall foul of the communist authorities. His previous comments on politics, and especially Ceauºescu’s Transylvania, had not attracted their attention—unsurprising, given the rapidly deteriorating relations between the Hungarian and Romanian “comrades.” However, in August 1978, he requested Leigh Fermor’s help in investigating the Greek husband of Nadia, the sister of Miklós’s mother-in-law: “She is in the grip of this Greek who tries to suck the last penny out of Nadia. . . . Please make some inquiry who was his father, who was his mother and who was he, what he made before he married Nadia. I consider him to be a scoundrel!”19 Five months later, Elemér informed him: “Somebody is very interested in our correspondence because I wrote you 3 letters. One when we came back from Germany together with Ilona. One letter Transsilvanica • 93 on asking you something and one before Xmas wishing you merry Xmas and a happy New Year! This [sic] interceptions don’t please me and why? I never write such thing that could be of interest for others!”20 His request for help in a potential criminal case abroad could have been considered unacceptable to the Hungarian authorities, which may explain the letters’ interception. On the other hand, as Michael O’Sullivan points out, if the Hungarian security services had files on Elemér and Xénia (which was natural, given their status as “class enemy”), there is surprisingly no archival evidence of surveillance of Fermor, including his correspondence. More astonishingly, Alan Ogden, another of Fer- mor’s biographers, could find no file on him in the Securitate archives.21 Ageing Elemér continued to follow a world in turmoil. Revolutionary Iran was “an incredible mess.” In Spain, “there are also Troubles just enough and I pity the young King very much just as your Queen with all the strikes. On one side the Basca on the other the ira in addition.” He exclaimed: “As I wrote you many times you are the last spot of my youth and I am now in my 80 years!”22 In September 1979, he wrote: “Everybody here in Budapest and in the whole country was horrified about the death of Lord Mountbatten [former Viceroy of India and cousin of Queen Elizabeth II]. There are no means to stop the ira? I would extinct [sic] them with the most cruel means. There is no pardon for a terrorist.” But his thoughts returned to Between the Woods and the Water: “Please write me about your book you are writing on your travelling through Transyl- vania. I am all agog to read it. When will you finish it?”23 Indeed, Elemér continued to offer information and advice on Hungarian words and the whereabouts of aristocratic acquaintances. The Wenckheims, whom Fermor had stayed with on the Great Hungarian Plain, were “no more now in Hungary. Józsi died, his wife (Teleki) committed suicide or tumbled down near Vienna completely drunk”24; “My friend B… [indecipherable] is dead. His wife one of the most beautiful women but also the most stupid I met worked one or two years ago in the women’s wc.”25 Through his sister Ilona in Satu Mare (Szatmárnémeti, Sathmar), Elemér was acutely aware of the increasingly dire situation across the border. In June 1980, he wrote: “The circumstances in Transylvania are terrible. No wc paper, no paper handkerchief not even matches. People are asking fire for cigarettes from each other on the street. No meat, nothing to eat only vegetables. I can’t imag- ine why all this misère in such a rich country, who has everything.”26 In 1982, the year when the Ceauºescu regime began the forced march towards repayment of the foreign debt, he told Leigh Fermor that Ilona was “living under terrible circumstances concerning the food and prices. My son is scared to death about the political situation.”27 A year later, he reported: “About Roumania I could write the most awful things. That Ceauºescu their leader is a megalomaniac, his close environment stealing what they can and the population is starving. But 94 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) you know these things. Ilona is an angel the best soul in the world and awaits her passport for Germany and France where we will meet with Caroline.”28 Elemér’s own material situation was deteriorating. Leigh Fermor saw him again in Budapest in May 1982 and took him out for lunch. He was now liv- ing in what O’Sullivan describes as “a soulless Soviet-style tenement in Cen- tenarium, east of Pest.”29 During that month, Leigh Fermor made a tour of Transylvania and visited the former homes of “Angéla” and “István.” He wrote to his friend Deborah Devonshire that these Palladian “Bridesheads” (a refer- ence to Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh’s elegiac novel about an English aristocracy swept away by the Second World War) were “nearly all loony bins now, with wild-eyed figures mopping and mowing among the tree trunks and up and down the balustrade steps. One of these had been the setting of a short romance and I felt very queer.”30 As for Istvan’s former home, it was now an experimental bamboo plantation. The locals were thrilled to learn that Leigh Fermor had known him and said: “Have some baratzk made out of Mr Elemer’s plums. Please give him our respects. We feel guilty living in a stolen house, but it’s not our fault.”31 “Unlike Hungary,” Leigh Fermor wrote to Devonshire, “the repression in Rumania is fiendish. I gave lifts to dozens of workmen and peasants. All complained bitterly if they were alone but sickly in praise if there were more than one.”32 Leigh Fermor was obviously concerned about his old friend’s predicament. In July 1982, the latter wrote: “It was truly very kind from your side to ask me what I want. Nothing, because with clothes, shoes, shirts and so on I am not short—only with this damned money always. Is in England not some sort of a Welfare Institution. To help old idiots?” It was above all the Englishman’s company he craved: “Come to Budapest,” he added.33 But three months later, he wrote: “For me the times are turning from bad to worse. The translations with this new economically [sic] program become scarce and the prices are ris- ing from week to week, and the translations are since 10 years fixed on the same level. . . . I hope I will get over these times.”34 His prospects for 1983 were not at all happy: “Since two months ceased the translations and this means a catastrophe for me (financially). I try everywhere to get something but in vain. I don’t know how to solve this situation with my little pension.” The 84 year old hoped to see Fermor again, and ended on the most important question: “Is your book about your Transylvanian Travels not finished?”35 Elemér continued to help Fermor with his research, answering questions on reaping, threshing, winnowing, sabers, drinking, and musical instruments. In the last letter held in the Patrick Leigh Fermor Papers, dated 31 January 1984, he offered advice on trains to Budapest from Deva, the route Xenia/Angéla had taken at the end of the Triple Fugue. The letter ended: “Your book about travels in Transylvania is not yet ready? I am awaiting it!”36 Transsilvanica • 95

However, Elemér/István would not live long or well enough to enjoy his portrait in Between the Woods and the Water. In October 1985, Fermor returned to Budapest armed with the manuscript. He wished to go over it with Rudi Fischer, whose 400 letters had played a key role in its preparation. But he also wanted to show it to his old friend. Unfortunately, he could not find him in the flat in Centenarium. However, he received a phone call from a “rather pretty girl, head of the communist cell for Elemér’s former block, who, in spite of Elemér’s 85-year-old ultra reactionary stance, had rather a crush on him.”37 She informed him that, following an accident, he was now in a military hospital west of Buda. After further searching, Leigh Fermor then discovered he had been moved to an old people’s home in Pest. However, when he woke his old friend, “he looked very drawn, top teeth out, white stubble, but still recognisably good-looking, aquiline, and pink cheeked. The sad thing was he couldn’t recognise me! When I said ‘I’m on my way to Greece’ he said, again and again, ‘In Greece lives my old friend Leigh Fermor. Greet him from me.’ (We’ve been in constant touch, till three months ago.) ‘But, Elemér, it’s me!’ ‘No, no, you are too young. Give him my love.”’38 Leigh Fermor had to tear away at last, “as I felt I was tiring him. I buggered off, feeling very wrung by it all. Eclipse of a Honvéd hussar! I’ve a terrible fear he won’t emerge, or last very long.”39 Indeed, he died four months later, before Leigh Fermor’s book was published to great acclaim.

“Angéla”

here was no reunion of the protagonists of the “Triple Fugue.” In April 1982, Elemér wrote to Leigh Fermor: “The Csernovits family from Zam are all of them dead besides Xénia who is living here in Budapest. T 40 I never see her.” In June 1987, Xénia wrote to Leigh Fermor: “I don’t know what Elemér’s make. I heard that he was half blind.”41 It was testament to how far these fallen Transylvanian aristocrats had drifted apart that, in August 1987, more than a year after the death of “István,” Xénia/Angéla wrote to Leigh Fer- mor: “Elemér Klobosiczky is dead. I hear it for the first time . . . He has a son Miklós. . . . They have two daughters. Elemér was very sorry about this. He envied me for my two grandsons.”42 Xénia Csernovits had led a turbulent existence since her “affair” with Patrick Leigh Fermor. Five years afterwards, she left her husband and daughter and settled in Buda with her brother. Her life was further altered by the imposition of communism in Hungary. As a “class enemy,” she was evicted from her home and sent to work in rice fields on the Northern Great Plain. Later, she found work in a textile factory in Budapest. In 1970, Xénia unintentionally made the 96 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) national newspapers by, in a blazing row, accidentally killing her tyrannical land- lady. For this, she served two years imprisonment. This drama is not mentioned in the brief correspondence between her and Leigh Fermor, which, though often undated, probably begins in 1987, after the death of Elemér and the publication of Between the Woods and the Water. In what appears to be their first epistolary contact (they will never meet again), Xénia expressed, in a mixture of imperfect French and English, her dismay at Fermor’s mention of his 1982 trip back to where they had first met, addressing him as “Michael,” which was the name he used when they first met: “You where in Roumanie! You can’t resiste to go to places who danger is, Michael! Michael you are happy married. Don’t go to dangerous places. I am not well in my heart. The weather in this year bad for me. Write me about Roumanie. The radio today spoke that the situation is better.” She filled him in on her family: Maria her daughter, Countess Teleki, was now a widow, living in Germany, where her sons worked as a computing lecturer and a banker respectively. Like Elemér, she began a litany of aristocratic disappearances: “Geno Teleki died. Became an alcoholist. First he was in Zam. After Zam another Hospital take him. Where he died.” Xénia referred to Zam as a lost paradise: “Yes Zam was my only home. Their I was happy. After the death of my father I came away.” First to Deva then to a “castel” that “was a great baron castel. I was not happy their. The mother of my husband hated me. Before her death she wrote me: I was rough with you. Pardon me when you cannot pardon forget me. This was my life. Ecris- moi about your visit in Transilvanie. Je t’embrasse de tout Cœur.”43 Leigh Fermor twice writes xenia in black capital letters over this highly emotional page, and twice in pencil in a margin. But there is no mention of any love affair between the two in this correspondence—nor is it denied by her. Nor does she correct the author on factual errors. Instead, during their brief correspondence, Xénia expresses happiness that he is married but sadness that he has no children. She sends him photographs of the house in Zam, of her young self posing in front of a mirror, and of her older, white-haired self with one of her beloved dogs. However, Fermor’s books and long letters were a source of delight. In Be- tween the Woods and the Water, she was “very happy to read the life of chateaux. Margit Teleki, the aunt of my son in law, was enchanted from it.” This compen- sated for her present life. She had lost sight in one eye, had a bad heart and tried to find comfort in simple pleasures: “26 years I was in this Textil Industrie. So I had a passion. Every day I am going to eat in a little restaurant near me.” She concluded: “My black hair is now white. I am 78 years old. I am homesick. I had Budapest .Your book brought me home. Je t’embrasse.”44 In July 1987, Xénia thanked him for “the beautiful flowers and champagne.” But there remained nostalgia. She wrote: “Yes that was a wonderful time. Peo- ple who lived in the neighborhood are dead. . . . Kápolnás is now a school for Transsilvanica • 97 boys.” The vestiges of a happy past were further threatened by Ceauºescu’s sys- tematization of the countryside: “Terrible things are in Transilvanie. Ceucescu distroid Castles and Palais. . . . I have not great illusions. Because he is fool . . . Now he destroi near Zam woods and homes. And nobody help! The Germans said Gorbaciov should arrange this situation. I fear this thing will end in a world war!!! For me the Third!” Communist Hungary itself was not immune to the crisis gripping the bloc in its final years: “Here people are afraid. We had a great inflation.” Trapped in her flat, with only the memory of Zam and of her pet dogs, a visitation to her balcony offered some respite from loneliness: “I have a pigeon he came to me. Children tortured him. He could not fly 2 weeks. Every morning he fly out and come five in the afternoon back. Children are cruel.” This story of the rescued pigeon is repeated three times in her letters, indicat- ing both the importance of her colombe and her declining faculties. There was also the consolation offered by literature and the prospect of the next volume of Leigh Fermor’s trilogy: “I read many books that are my only joy. Write me when you have time and be happy. I wait for your book. Je t’embrasse.”45 Indeed, like Elemér, Xénia was impatient to read the next installment of Leigh Fermor’s memoirs. She wrote: “You must translate this second book in Hungarian. Most who lived [left] Transilvanie for ever would be happy to read it.”46 She was also happy with the unexpected attention she received as a charac- ter in the “Triple Fugue”: “I got letters about your books. Many had recognise me in Angéla. Happy years where in Zam.”47 In February 1988, during a hard winter, she was delighted to receive a letter with a photograph of Leigh Fer- mor: “You had never change from time you where a young boy like me grand son… The difference that you are a great écrivain. . . . I was just finishing your wonderful book A Time of Gifts. For the third time.” However, thoughts turned to the increasingly desperate situation across the frontier, and in the world as a whole: “In Transylvania life is terrible. No food, no chauffage, and electricity. You was in England and you had very much trouble. Hélas the whole world is in trouble…. Il n’y a plus déluge! People will destroy themselves. I am old but what will be with the next generation?” Her daughter Maria was now in Munster, and the whole Teleki family in Germany. She concluded: “This life is for ever fin- ish. No chateaux no happy life. . . . You are not only ecrivain but also historian. When I am homesick after Transylvania I take your book in my hand. Be happy and write your books. Je t’embrasse.”48 Xénia informed Fermor of the increasing numbers of Transylvanian Hungar- ians crossing the Romanian frontier: “You have herd what a sorry life is now in Transilvanie? Thousands of people came to Hungary they suffered from cold and hunger. No electricity only candlelight”49; “every body leave Transilvania. Maria was lucky that she lived [left] two years ago Kolosvar. Now people came without their meubilier. Terrible is what the Ceausescu make.”50 In her last letter, 98 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) written in June 1988, she writes: “I am desperate what had happened in Trans- ilvania. We are full of refugies! This Caligula distroy the castels, the churches, the woods! I thank God that Maria and her boys lived Transilvania by time. . . . Every day the situation is worser in Transylvanie: no help. . . . The American Jews pay in dollars to Coucescu [sic] to let them out.” A deep melancholy filled this last letter to “Mike’: “The world changed very much. But finish the third volume!! The past will never come back. But many people is in life of the old times. The old times never come back also the past sommers with the song of nightingales. Only in your lovely books!” There re- mained her feathered companion: “I have a little Colombe. She can’t fly. I hope she will be better. For hours she is out. But she came back, to me.” There were other simple pleasures: “I thank God I have my little shop room. And many food books. I eat in a restaurant who is near to me.” She concluded with other repetitions: “The Telekis all lived Transilvania. All found jobs. Please send me books of you.”51 However, Xénia Csernovits died soon afterwards, in 1991, on the eve of her 82nd birthday. She therefore did not live to see the launch, in 2001, of the Hungarian translation of Between the Woods and the Water, in the presence of the author. Leigh Fermor himself did not live to see the publication of The Broken Road, third installment of the Great Trudge, edited by Colin Thubron and Artemis Cooper.

Conclusion

n 2011, the young writer Nick Hunt followed his idol Leigh Fermor’s footsteps, a journey across post-communist Europe which he recounted in I Walking the Woods and the Water. On his way, Hunt visited places haunted by the happy protagonists of a “Triple Fugue” which had not yet been unmasked as a virtuoso piece of autofiction. The Teleki kastély at Kápolnás was, like Xénia’s Zam, still the psychiatric hospital Leigh Fermor had observed with melancholia in 1982, its current inhabitants “still in recovery from history, refugees from the modern world.”52 As for the house of Elemér/ István, the final stop on Hunt’s “tour of ruination,” it was now abandoned: “Nothing stirred inside but dust. The rooms were empty apart from piles of musty agricultural pamphlets. In lieu of the ‘fine portrait of an ambassadorial ancestor,’ the centre-fold of a porn magazine was pasted on the wall.”53 Thus Hunt echoes, with less literary talent, what makes for much of the charm of Leigh Fermor’s travel-writing: temporal and spatial disjunction, the pining for and partial reconstruction of a lost world, the rich seam of ubi sunt to be mined. The epistolary prose of Elemér/István and Xénia/Angéla, far less polished and wrought but shot through with affect, pro- Transsilvanica • 99 vides an intimate portal onto the lost world of the Transylvanian aristocracy, the deepening crisis of late communism on both sides of the Hungarian-Romanian frontier, as well as Leigh Fermor’s own life and work. Finally, and more univer- sally, it shows the ravages of old age that spare neither noble nor commoner. q

Notes

1. Patrick Leigh Fermor, Between the Woods and the Water: On Foot to Constantinopole from the Hook of Holland: The Middle Danube to the Iron Gates (London: John Mur- ray, 1986), 83. 2. Ibid., 85. 3. Ibid., 89. 4. Ibid., 90. 5. Ibid., 143. 6. Quoted in Michael O’Sullivan, Patrick Leigh Fermor: Noble Encounters between Buda- pest and Transylvania (Budapest: Central University Press, 2018), 252. 7. National Library of Scotland (nls): Acc. 13338/208. 8. nls: Acc. 13338/67, Elemér von Klobusiczky to Patrick Leigh Fermor (plf), 22 April 1974. 9. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 24 June 1974. 10. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 9 August 1974. 11. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 3 November 1974. 12. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 24 February 1975. 13. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 8 July 1975. 14. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 17 November 1975. 15. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 16 August 1976. 16. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 5 September 1977. 17. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 12 April 1978. 18. Patrick Leigh Fermor, Words of Mercury, ed. Artemis Cooper (London: John Murray, 2004), 47. 19. nls: Acc. 13338/67, Elemér to plf, 20 August 1978. 20. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 14 January 1979. 21. See Alan Ogden, The Vagabond and the Princess: Paddy Leigh Fermor in Romania (London: Nine Elms Books, 2018). 22. nls: Acc. 13338/67, Elemér to plf, 30 January 1979. 23. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 1 September 1979. 24. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 19 November 1979. 25. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 19 September 1981. 26. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 30 June 1980. 27. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 6 March 1982. 28. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 27 June 1983. 100 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

29. O’Sullivan, 271. 30. Charlotte Mosley, ed., In Tearing Haste: Letters between Deborah Devonshire and Patrick Leigh Fermor (London: John Murray, 2008), 201. 31. Ibid., 202. 32. Ibid. 33. nls: Acc. 13338/67, Elemér to plf, 24 July 1982. 34. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 20 October 1982. 35. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 13 December 1982. 36. Ibid., Elemér to plf, 31 January 1984. 37. Mosley, 234. 38. Ibid. 39. Ibid., 235. 40. nls: Acc. 13338/67, Elemér to plf, 10 April 1982. 41. nls: Acc. 13338/33, Xénia Csernovits to plf, 7 June 1987. 42. Ibid., 18 August 1987. 43. Ibid., Xénia to plf, undated. 44. Ibid., Xénia to plf, 7 June 1987. 45. Ibid., Xénia to plf, 29 July 1987. 46. Ibid., Xénia to plf, 18 August 1987. 47. Ibid., Xénia to plf, undated. 48. Ibid., Xénia to plf, 18 February 1988. 49. Ibid., Xénia to plf, 24 April 1988. 50. Ibid., Xénia to plf, undated. 51. Ibid., Xénia to plf, 27 June 1988. 52. Nick Hunt, Walking the Woods and the Water: In Patrick Leigh Fermor’s footsteps from the Hook of Holland to the Golden Horn (London: Nicholas Brealey, 2014), 193. 53. Ibid., 194.

Abstract “Triple Fugue” Revisited: Patrick Leigh Fermor, “István” and “Angéla”

“Triple Fugue” is one of the most famous chapters in Patrick Leigh Fermor’s classic travel book, Between the Woods and the Water. Researched and written in the 1970s and 1980s, more than forty years after his “Great Trudge” across pre-war Europe, this account of a whistle-stop tour of the heart of Transylvania in the company of two Hungarian aristocrats, “István” and “Angéla,” has since been revealed to be a virtuoso work of autofiction. In this article, we explore the relationship between Patrick Leigh Fermor and the real characters of this adventure, Elemér von Klobusiczky and Xénia Csernovits, through the study of their correspondence, held in the National Library of Scotland. Their letters offer insights into the fate of this Anglophile and Francophile elite after the Second World War, the crises of late communism in Hungary and Romania, the life and work of Patrick Leigh Fermor, as well as the classless ravages of old age.

Keywords Sir Patrick Leigh Fermor, Transylvania, aristocracy, communism, travel-writing, correspondence tangencies

Imagination Studies

C o r i n B r a g a in the Era of Neurosciences

The concept “l’imaginaire” (the “Imagination is not an ima­ginary) was coined and developed activity of alleged pure un- by the French school of thought, in the works of Gaston Bachelard, Gil- derstanding or reason, but bert Durand, Henry Corbin, Charles rather is an embodied process Mauron, etc. Starting from the Kan- tian category of transcendental imag- of human meaning-making ination and from Ernst Cassirer’s that is responsible for the theory of “symbolic poignancy,” the order, quality, and signifi- French philosophers ascribed to the imaginary, in contrast with classical cance in terms of which imagination, the functions of struc- we are able to make sense turing representations and investing them with additional meanings, newly of our experience.” created by the human psyche. While (Mark Johnson) Bachelard identified the source of symbolic contents in the unconscious, as defined in psychoanalysis, Gilbert Durand searched for the physiologi- cal bases of imaginary schemata and regimes in the theory of primary re- flexes advanced by W. Betcherev, N. Kostyleff, and E. Minkowski. Corin Braga All these theories, neo-Kantianism, Professor at the Faculty of Letters, psychoanalysis, Gestalt-theory or re- Babeş-Bolyai University, Cluj-Napoca. Author, among others, of the vols. Pour flex physiology considered that human une morphologie du genre utopique imagination was underpinned by a set (2018) and Archetypologie postmoderne of innate schemata, called archetypes (2019). by C. G. Jung and Gilbert Durand. 102 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

These are seen as the equivalent, at the level of mental life, of what instincts represent at the level of somatic life. Archetypes are patterns that generate recur- ring images and symbols. Grouped into imaginary constellations and regimes, these general human themes and motifs make possible an archetypal analysis of cultural, religious, mythical, literary, artistic, or everyday representations. The heyday of archetypal criticism was in the mid-twentieth century, when great syntheses were undertaken in anthropology, psychology, the history of religions, literature and fine arts by C. G. Jung, Karl Kerényi, Mircea Eliade, Joseph Campbell, Gaston Bachelard, Northrop Frye and Gilbert Durand. Since the 1970s, however, postructuralism, deconstructionism and skeptical postmod- ernism, on the one hand, and cognitive, positivist psychology, on the other, have rejected the postulate of archetypal schemata, considering it a speculative and untenable concept. In this context, I wonder what would be today the status of a priori categories, of “ symbolic forms,” of archetypes, of paradigms, of prin- ciples (arché or telos), as heuristic and taxonomic tools of human imaginaries? Could psychoanalysis and reflexology still offer an organic and psychiatric basis for research on the imaginary? And if not, are imagination studies doomed by postmodern skepticism? This paper aims to show that contemporary sciences, such as neo-evolu- tionism (Joseph Carroll), neurosciences (Antonio R. Damasio, George Lakoff, Mark Johnson, Mark Turner) and “deep” cognitivism (Leonard Talmy, P. N. Johnson-Laird, Teun A. van Dijk), propose new concepts that come to continue and complement those of schemata and archetypes, namely: “human univer- sals,” “primitives” and “image schemas.” These new concepts allow the theory of the imaginary to be “updated” and laid on physiological and neurological foundations, in line with the latest research in the field.

n another study, which outlined an archaeology of the term archetype in the history of European philosophy, I identified three main meanings of the concept: ontological (or metaphysical), anthropological (or psychologi- I 1 cal) and cultural (or philological). In a systematic analysis of archetypal invari- ants that resembles my own, Joseph Carroll, one of the current representatives of neo-Darwinism, distinguishes between transcendent universals and natural universals. “Transcendental” theorists postulate that archetypes are ontological realities, while “naturalist” theorists claim that they are repetitive cognitive sche- mata. The former are metaphysicians in the lineage of Plato, while the latter are anthropologists who research the invariants of the human psyche:

Transcendental theorists postulate absolute spiritual realities—ultimate forms of beauty and of truth—and argue that literary works gain access to those ultimate Tangencies • 103

realities. Naturalistic theorists postulate a common human nature—structure of motives, cognitive processes, and emotions that are common to all people—and they argue that literary works represent that common human nature.2

Nietzsche’s, Heidegger’s or Derrida’s critique of metaphysical universals—Pla- tonic essences (eide), ideas (noeta) and models (paradigmata)—which ended with the collapse of metaphysics itself does not concern us here. Instead, we will focus on the anthropological or “naturalistic” acceptation, where the “quarrel of universals” is still in full swing: on the one hand, the theory of a priori categories (I. Kant), of “symbolic forms” (E. Cassirer) or psychological archetypes (C. G. Jung) has been successfully challenged by poststructuralism, deconstructivism and postmodernism; on the other hand, the idea of “innate structures,” “human universals,” “image schemas,” “spatial forms” and “narrative patterns” is used by contemporary “naturalist theorists,” by representatives of neo-evolutionism, neuroscience and “deep” cognitivism, as well as by theorists of language and discourse. We will review a few of these current theories to see if the categories they suggest could be adopted as a neurological basis for what Gilbert Durand called the “anthropological structures of the imaginary.” The antecedents of these types of research can be found in Russian formalism and in German Gestaltism. In opposition to archetypologies focused on seman- tics, i.e. referential reality (whether interior or exterior), formalisms began to look for invariants in semiotics, i.e. in the formal structures of thought, language and discourse. Following in the footsteps of formalists, the French structuralist school of the 1950s–60s investigated narrative structures and the configura- tions of literary genres. V. I. Propp, J. Greimas, R. Barthes, Tz. Todorov, C. Bremond and G. Genette explained the structure of fabliaux, the “morphology” of fairy tales, the “grammar” of the Decameron, the “logic” of storytelling, the functions and figures of narrative, etc. Then, in the 1970s–80s, Anglo-Saxon cognitive psychology relocated such research in the area of the mechanisms of thought, creation and reception, or in that of the production of discourse and meaning. However, since the 1990s, cognitivism has undergone internal devel- opment, relinquishing the “surface” structures investigated until then and re- turning to “depth” structures: “The Zeitgeist has shifted from the shallow to the deep levels of comprehension.”3 Using the theories of R. Arnheim in the fine arts and of N. Chomsky in linguistics, “deep” cognitivism gave birth to concepts such as modes of understanding and schematic categories such as, for instance, spatial forms and narrative patterns. In the 1990s, the neurosciences launched new ways for understanding the psyche and the shared human nature. On exper- imental bases, they brought the concepts of neural maps, cognitive modules and image schemas in support of cognitive theories. Finally, evolutionary ethology 104 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) and psychology provided an even broader frame for these “human universals,” presenting “primitives” as innate structures of the human brain, created by our species’ need to adapt to the environment. In this study, in order to provide a synoptic map of the current acceptations of the concept of human universals, we will not follow the historical timeline of the above mentioned domains, but will proceed deductively, going from the most general, i.e. fundamental disciplines, to more specific and individualized disciplines, devoted to the analysis of concrete forms. Thus, we will begin with neo-Darwinian psychology, which identifies innate structures in the genome of our race. We will continue by discussing the contribution of neuroscience to the analysis of cortical mechanisms involved in the generation of “mental maps” with the help of image schemas, and then we will systematize the contributions of cognitive linguistics and rhetoric, which would allow us to move from the schemata of cognition to the macrostructures and superstructures of discourse.

volutionary psychology starts from the axiom of the “adapted mind,” according to which the relationship between the organism and the envi- ronment forms a matrix that precedes all other social, psychological or E 4 semiotic behaviors. The main function of the psychic apparatus is to ensure the most effective adaptation and integration (“inclusive fitness”) of our species to the planetary conditions of the last millennia (let us not forget that man him- self is about to change this environment, to transform the Pleistocene into the Anthropocene). The psyche is organized by innate motivational and cognitive structures, built throughout the adaptative process of natural selection.5 To solve the problems of adaptation posed by the environment, the human brain has developed a series of cognitive modules, i.e. neural structures capable of managing the information required for each field of existence. Evolution- ary psychologists are divided between the hypothesis of a “massive modularity” (the brain is seen as a set of automatic and efficient independent modules, such as sight, each having a specific function) and that of a “cognitive fluidity” (a conception which grants priority to the transversal functions of integration and communication between these modules). Both hypotheses, however, reject the idea of tabula rasa, of a brain that is furnished exclusively with forms and con- tents received from outside.6 This leads evolutionary psychologists to postulate the existence of human universals that are hereditary and not created by experience and culture: “the human mind contains a rich array of innate structures that have evolved through the adaptative process of natural selection.”7 These “universals” are the instru- ments through which the psyche creates a cognitive cartography of reality, to- gether with cognitive modules (such as the mode of visual perception, or that of Tangencies • 105 language), with the systems or mechanisms of behavior (survival and individual identity; reproduction, sex and mating; kin assistance, parenting and kinship; reciprocation and group living; learning and cognition), with personality factors (extraversion/introversion, agreeableness/antagonism, neurotic/security, consci- entiousness/carelessness, and curiosity/dullness) and with basic emotions (joy, sadness, fear, anger, disgust, surprise). Jungian psychologists like Anthony Stevens believe that research on evolu- tionism and ethology is a confirmation of the theory of archetypes.8 Moreover, while C. G. Jung did not attempt to assign archetypes to certain well-defined areas of the brain, current research in “neurotheology” appears to be able to lo- cate religious archetypes, such as the self or the image of God, in the brain.9 In its turn, Gilbert Durand’s theory of the imaginary, based on the reflexology of W. Betcherev, N. Kostyleff, and E. Minkowski,10 may be supported by contem- porary research on basic behaviors. Thus, the three “dominant reflexes” (pos- tural, digestive, and sexual), which underpin Durand’s regimes of the imaginary, are to some extent certified and included in the abovementioned “behavioral systems.” Searching for “the deep structure of literary representations,” Joseph Carroll has assigned, for instance, four major narrative typologies and themes to each of the four behavioral mechanisms referenced above: adventure, romance, family, and society.11 Mutatis mutandis, it has become possible for Gilbert Durand’s “general archetypology” to be reassigned to the “human universals” of evolutionary psychology.

euroscience makes an even more robust contribution to demonstrat- ing the existence of “primitives,” or innate mental structures. Whereas N neo-Darwinians start from the axiom of an “adapted mind” over the course of evolution, contemporary neuroscientists postulate the idea of an “em- bodied mind,” outlining the dependence of mental activity on the neural struc- tures of the brain and the body in general.12 Antonio R. Damasio, for example, denounces “Descartes’ error” in separating the two substances, res cogitans and res extensa, the soul and the body. According to his research, not even the most independent faculties, such as reason or human will, are free from corporeal conditionings, since they depend both on certain precise neural masses (whose damage may affect the respective faculty) and on biochemical mechanisms regu- lating the activity of the body and the brain.13 This dependence is due to the cortical support which organizes the functions of the brain at all its levels. During the evolution of our species, various pro- cesses of development led neurons to become organized in specialized groups designed to solve different problems of adaptation. These groups form “neu- ral maps.” More specifically, according to Gerald Edelman’s theory of neural 106 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) groups, different “sensory sheets,” such as the retina, the cochlea or the skin, project information on specific regions of the cortex, where receptor neurons regroup into neural maps, due to the repetition of stimuli that activate the same synapses. Each perceived object gives rise to multiple patterns of regrouped neu- rons, in different areas of the brain, depending on the modalities of perception (shape, motion, color, sound, smell, etc.).14 The nature of neural maps is partly innate and partly acquired. The number of neurons and the number of their patterned combinations is much too large to be stored in information transmitted through the dna, so it is logically impos- sible to assign a genetic programming to all the cortical maps. What is trans- mitted genetically is an instruction concerning the organization of neurons, the formation of neural groups, their shape, their number, their interconnectivity, etc. Life experiences, the repetition of stimuli, and adaptation to the environ- ment will lead to the formation and specialization of cortical systems as cogni- tive modules over the course of an individual’s evolution.15 One of the most important mechanisms for explaining brain activity is that of “mirror neurons,” discovered by Giacomo Rizolatti and Vittorio Gallese, re- searchers at the University of Parma.16 According to their research, the activation of sensory-motor neurons located in the primary cortex causes the activation of some visual neurons located in the parietal cortex and vice versa, as if these groups of neurons were reflected in a mirror. The signal for bodily movement and the signal for the visual perception of this movement activate one another, so much so that the receptor neurons that receive the visual or auditory signal of another person’s gesture “turn on” the motor neurons that allow us to perform the same gesture. In other words,

(1) Imagining an action or perception activates much of the same neural network as is active when actually performing that action or experiencing that perception (for review, cf. Kosslyn et al. 2001). (2) Observation of an action activates much of the same neural substrate as actual execution; certain visuomotor neurons in the motor system, known as mirror neurons, discharge both when an individual performs an action and when he observes someone else performing that action (di Pellegrino et al. 1992; Galese et al. 1996; Rizzolati et al. 1996; review in Rizzo- lato and Craighero 2004). (3) Particularly significant are recent studies which in- dicate that language (verbs and sentences) denoting actions performed by different body parts (mouth, arms, feet) activates some of the regions as are active when each type of action is actually performed (Hank et al. 2004; Hank and Pulvermüller 2004; Tettamanti et al. 2005).17 Tangencies • 107

To explain the flow of information between primary and secondary brain areas, Damasio proposes the concept of “as-if body loops.” The movement occurs both ways: not only do the neural formations of the representation reproduce motor gestures, but they also anticipate movement. In a subsequent paper, Damasio suggests an even more complex model, that of “convergence-divergence zones” which make possible the architecture of memory through the simultaneous ac- tivation of different groups of neurons involved in the mapping of objects and events.18 These loops and nodal areas are the ones that make possible learning by imitation, mimetic behavior, the transmission of impulses and desires from one individual to another, empathy (the intuition of the others’ emotions) and the effects of emotional mass contagion, etc.19 Cortical networks are structured by what neuroscience calls “image sche- mas,” some “primitives” which organize the maps of mental representations. The concept of schema, derived from Gestalttheorie and from cognitivism, has been adapted to neuroscience by George Lakoff and Mark Johnson.20 Accord- ing to these researchers, image schemas are neuronal Gestalten that receive and organize the sensor-motor signals of experience. They are organic, incorpo- rated, “embodied,” pre-conceptual structures that work unconsciously. At the same time, although firmly structured, they are very flexible, undergoing vari- ous transformations, depending on the specific experiences of each individual.21 Resumed through the circuits of mirror neurons, image schemas work not only within the primary motor system, but also in the secondary cortical system, as schemata of abstract thinking:

The central idea is that image schemas, which arise permanently in our perception and bodily movement, have their own logic, which can be applied to the abstract conceptual domain. Image-schematic logic then serves as the basis for inferences about abstract entities and operations. From a neural perspective, this means that certain connections to sensory-motors areas are inhibited, while the image-schematic structure remains activated and is appropriated for abstract thinking. According to this view, we do not have two kinds of logic, one for spatial-bodily concepts and a wholly different one for abstracts concepts. There is no disembodied logic at all. In- stead, we recruit body-based image-schematic logic to perform abstract reasoning.22

In the same article, Mark Johnson associates image schemas with Kant’s a priori categories. The researcher believes that the Kantian concept of “transcendental imagination” can be validated and deserves to be preserved, because it depicts, albeit in a rather speculative manner, the matrixial function of neural schemata: 108 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

Imagination is not an activity of alleged pure understanding or reason, but rather is an embodied process of human meaning-making that is responsible for the order, quality, and significance in terms of which we are able to make sense of our expe­ rience.23

Thus, alongside evolutionary psychology, neuroscience also postulates the ex- istence of an organic, cerebral support for the Kantian a priori categories, E. Cassirer’s “symbolic forms,” C. G. Jung’s “archetypes” or G. Durand’s “anthro- pological structures of the imaginary.” The role of image schemas in human psychology has been widely studied by Mark Turner. These schemata or “skeletal patterns,” such as “motion along a path,” “bounded interior,” “balance,” or symmetry, shape sensory and motor ex- periences and allow the regrouping of similar events and actions into categories, such as walking, entering a site, throwing an object, etc.24 Image schemas and categories can subsequently be projected, through processes like analogy and parable, onto other image schemas and categories, creating new representations. For example, the projection of temporality onto spatiality generates a linear or circular image of time, which adds to the category of time-specific features of space, such as continuity, extent, fragmentation, etc.25 These projections are made possible by brain structures such as mirror neu- rons, convolutions, perceptual integration, synaesthesia, “neural binding,” “as-if body loops,” convergence areas, etc., which Mark Turner regroups under the term “cogs,” i.e. teeth of a neural gear, wheels in a cerebral assemblage. “Cogs” are sec- ondary circuits, which reproduce the schemata of primary circuits even when they are turned off or inhibited. In this way, sensor-motor patterns are taken from pri- mary representations and transposed into secondary, “abstract” representations, such as the perception of space in painting or that of time in music.26 Projections based on analogy, metaphor and parable underlie, thus, human thought, which is of a “literary” (“literary mind”) or “artistic” nature (“artful mind”). In a recent summary, Mark Turner explains metaphorical projection or par- able through the mental process of “blending,” mixing, combining or fusing “mental spaces”:

A blend is a mental space. It results from the mental act of blending other mental spaces in a mental web. The blend is not an abstraction, or an analogy, or anything else already named and recognized in common sense. A blend is a new mental space that contains some elements from different mental spaces in a mental web but that develops new meaning of its own that is not drawn from those spaces. This new meaning emerges in the blend.27 Tangencies • 109

The ability of the brain to project primary schemata into secondary circuits, to combine mental spaces and overlay brain maps is deemed to be the source of new images and ideas. The defining characteristic of our species, the “human spark,” which marked the evolutionary detachment of the human brain from the brain of primates or of the homo sapiens brain from the brains of Neanderthals and other anthropoid races, consists in the emergence of the capacity to mix primary representations into new ones. Image schemas that underlie human cognitive modes are the building blocks of all cultural manifestations.

efore evolutionary psychology and neuroscience, the concept of men- tal schema was developed by cognitive psychology and linguistics. Rely- B ing on Gestalt and generativist theories, Leonard Talmy has shown that different notions of knowledge are organized by mental schemata. Talmy calls such patterns “schematic categories.” To give an example, the domain category includes the distinctions space-time, object-ground, etc. Spatial, number, gender or grammatical schemata constitute the basis of different modes of compre- hension.28 In turn, schematic categories are regrouped into integrated systems, which Talmy calls “schematic systems” or “imaging systems.” Schematic systems include the following: the configurative structure, perspective, “distribution of attention,” “force dynamics,” “cognitive states,” linguistic patterns, etc.29 Similarly, another researcher, P. N. Johnson-Laird argues that mental activity is organized by “primitives,” i.e. some formal patterns. These “conceptual primi- tives” are not acquired or derived from previous representations or concepts; on the contrary, they are innate categories. They are the source of the “mental mod- els,” the computational functions (made up of three primitive functions: origin, sequence and identity), the verbal representations or the logical concepts.30 According to Johnson-Laird, there are three types of schemata of increasing complexity: mental images, mental models, and verbal representations. Mental images are specific and individualized, because they correspond to external ob- jects perceived in some particular circumstances. Mental models regroup mental images into schematic figures, although mental images do not lose their specific- ity thus. Mental models are not some abstractions or conceptualizations of men- tal images. They are the result of the organization of mental images into patterns through the action of “primitives.” If mental images represent the perceptible features of objects in the real world, mental models ensure the coherence and cognitive integration of all these individual versions:

mental models play a central and unifying role in representing objects, states of affairs, sequences of events, the way the world is, and the social and psychological 110 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

actions of daily life. They enable individuals to make inferences and predictions, to understand phenomena, to decide what action to take and to control its execution, and above all to experience events by proxy; they allow language to be used to cre- ate representations comparable to those deriving from direct acquaintance with the world; and they relate words to the world by way of conception and perception.31

Mental models are the basis of some more sophisticated forms of representation, such as Euler’s circles, Venn diagrams, graphs, logical drawings, etc.32 Language itself derives from mental models. It is created by a secondary activity, analo- gous to the activity of primitive functions. While mental images are analogues of things in the external world, and mental models are analogues of these images, structured by innate “primitives” into configurations that can be manipulated and controlled through dimensional variables, verbal representations are ana- logues of images and patterns through secondary circuits of thinking. Because of this, although using arbitrary supports in relation to the things represented, i.e. words, propositional representations are also formatted by primitive categories.33 Mental models and verbal representations form the basis for two fundamen- tal comprehension modes, which resume the older distinction made by Lessing between spatial arts and temporal arts: spatial, simultaneous comprehension, and temporal, sequential comprehension. Before it was integrated in the cognitive sciences, the spatial mode of com- prehension was defined by the German Gestaltpsychologie (or the psychology of form) and was subsequently developed by Rudolf Arnheim. Starting from the Gestalt axiom that representation organizes the perception of an object in a uni- fied, global form, and not as a mere juxtaposition of elements, Arnheim shows that the reception of art involves the creation of mental schemata, which he calls synopses. Anticipating the concept of mental maps in neuroscience, synopses are simple maps, more precisely some analogical iconic images that reproduce the object in its visual wholeness. The reception of the artistic forms of painting or sculpture is based on synoptic insights that allow for a direct, full perceptual comprehension of contemplated paintings and sculptures.34 In Arnheim’s conception, within the frame of reception, it is not just spatial arts, but also temporal arts that entail a reduction to a synopsis. Evolving as a suite of time sequences, music and literary discourse tend to be perceived as global units, as schemata that provide a representation of the work as a whole. Time is thus transposed into space and successive elements are placed in contigu- ity. The spatial form most commonly used to convey temporality is an unbroken line, although other shapes, such as circles, spirals, etc., could serve as analogic support for time. In order for comprehension to be complete, the spatial synop- Tangencies • 111 sis must be accompanied by a structural hierarchy, which dictates the order of importance of the elements in the synopsis.35 Rudolf Arnheim’s concepts have been adapted by cognitive psychology. Thus, Louis O. Mink shows that “understanding” involves a reorganization of sensory, perception, memory and imagination data that the brain perceives in a sequential manner, seriatim, into simple or cumulative acts. This helps con- vey a simultaneous image of all the sequential relations of these data. At the most primitive level, “understanding” enables the subject to grasp together the characteristics of individual objects; at an intermediate level, it brings together series of objects, classifying and generalizing them; at a higher level, it joins them together in a simple system, which accounts for the world as a whole (al- though, obviously, an all-encompassing view of the universe is not possible, for a totalizing vision would have to belong to God). Depending on the manner of capturing several objects in a unique mental operation, there are several modes of comprehension: the theoretical or hypothetical-deductive mode (objects are understood as cases of one and the same generalization); the categorical or Pla- tonic mode (objects are understood as examples of a single category); the con- figurative mode (objects are understood as a totum simul).36 Of these, the configurative mode allows us to structure the sequence of events of concrete existence into a comprehensible ensemble. According to Mink, to give reality meaning, we have to put it in a story, to recount it. Narrative or- ganizes the representations stored in memory into a synoptic story. The most famous model of this function of literature is found in Aristotle’s definition of tragedy: because a theatre play reproduces a unique action mimetically, so that it can be perceived as an autonomous whole, it must have a beginning, a middle and an end.37 In agreement with Paul Ricœur’s comments on the relationship between time and story, Mink sees any narrative as a mode for the configurative comprehension of time:

As the human activity by which elements of knowledge are converted into under- standing, it is the synoptic vision without which (even though transiently and par- tially attained) we might forever pass in review our shards of knowledge as in some nightmare quiz show where nothing relates ‘fact’ to ‘fact’ except the fragmented identities of the participants and the mounting total of the score.38

Thus, both neuroscience and cognitive psychology distinguish between two kinds of primitive schemata: spatial and temporal. Using data from neurosci- ence, Mark Turner argues that the image schemas theorized by George Lakoff and Mark Johnson structure the perception of reality in simple “stories,” which 112 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) can be either short spatial stories, organized in simultaneity, or event stories (non-spatial events), organized in succession.39 Turner confirms thus the idea of P. N. Johnson-Laird that perceptive images of the world find their corre- spondent either in mental models, which are spatial structural analogues of the world, or in propositional representations, which are a series of symbols specific to natural languages.40 Spatial forms and narrative patterns correspond to and are coterminous with each other. We will focus briefly on each of them, present- ing a few relevant theories. As regards spatial forms, the most common samples are the spatial diagrams (Leonard Talmy) or the logical pictures (August Fenk). According to Fenk, spatial thinking is structured by spatial metaphors. These are tools that make possible knowledge and communication, playing a key role in the co-evolution of thinking and language, of mental design and symbolic manipulation. Spatial metaphors can be expressed in a dynamic way, through gestures accompanying an oral discourse, or in a visual way, through logical drawings, such as diagrams, graphs, and other logical pictures. At a more general level, spatial metaphors “in-form” language, not so much as a reductive “bed of Procrustes,” but as a topical organizer, as a “donor of form” for thoughts.41 Along similar lines, another theorist, Joseph Frank, speaks of “spatial forms” as tools for the topical organization of mental representations. Both spatially and temporally organized configurations, such as language and literature, resort to the spatial forms that reorganize a succession of elements in a concomitant lay- out. As Frank contends, modern poetry and prose in particular tend to impose non-sequential forms, in which history is reorganized spatially. Thus, in Ulysses James Joyce outlines a synopsis of Dublin through the meandering wanderings of Leopold Bloom; in À la recherche du temps perdu, Proust succeeds in sum- moning the past into an eternal present, into a space of simultaneity for all the engrams of memory; in Nightwood, Djuna Barnes unravels the plot into a poly- perspectival cubist sequence of paintings. This is how modern literature trans- forms the historical imaginary into a mythical view which abolishes history or temporality, condensing it into a slideshow of archetypal characters and events.42 Insofar as narrative patterns are concerned, I shall refer to two theories, that of Frank Kermode and that of J. Hillis Miller. In The Sense of an Ending: Studies in the Theory of Fiction, Kermode posits that the basic structure of all narrative fictions is the beginning-middle-end sequence (echoing thus the Aristotelian pattern for tragedy). This structure is summed up in the Tick-Tock formula, through which we represent the passage of time. We might ask why the two onomatopoeias are not identical (Tick-Tick or Tock-Tock), since the seconds of real time that they are supposed to designate generically are identical? The an- swer, as Kermode suggests, is that we are conditioned intuitively and schemati- Tangencies • 113 cally to organize sequences into patterns of beginnings and ends. Any beginning implies an end, and any act involves a result.43 This organizing scheme is deemed to provide the structure of all narrative plots, from the simplest (for example, the acts-reactions of the characters) to the most complex (for instance, the Christian axis of history and of the Bible: Genesis—Apocalypse). The function of the Tick-Tock image schema is to give meaning to history. What in actual existence is a mere succession of indifferent events becomes, in the story, a progression (or regression) that shapes a destiny. Through the “temporal integration” of fiction, the random time of the world becomes a human time full of meaning: chronos becomes kairos and chaos becomes cosmos.44 Is it true that, according to Kermode, the impulse to search for patterns in historical time and in theoretical reflections on history is of recent date and marks the transition from a mythical conception of time to a historical and, later on, philosophical conception.45 In turn, J. Hillis Miller argues, based on the physical form of books, whether written by hand or printed, that the primitive form of discursive organization is the line. The schema of writing, which links up letter after letter, provides the pattern for structuring ever more complex levels: narrative or diegesis, linear de- scription of the characters (“life line,” etc.), interpersonal relationships (parent- age, etc.), economic terminology, topography, illustrations, figurative language and tropes and, ultimately, mimesis and realistic representation, as a mirror of the real world.46 The line, as a narrative schema, organizes events in a causal order and gives thus the story a global sense, a logos:

The model of the line is a powerful part of the traditional metaphysical terminol- ogy. It cannot be easily detached from these implications or from the functions it has within that system. Narrative event follow narrative event in a purely metonymic line, but the series tends to organize itself or to be organized in a causal chain. . . . The image of the line tends always to imply the norm of a single continuous uni- fied structure determined by one external organizing principle. This principle holds the whole line together, gives it its law, controls its progressive extension, curbing or straight, with some arché, telos, or ground. Origin, goal, or base: all three come together in the gathering movement of the logos.47

Such schemata act not only at the primary level of language, but also at the most complex level of discourse and rhetoric. Due to this fact, structuralist critics have been able to borrow directly the terms of language and linguistics, of grammar and syntax, in order to describe the structures of narrative and discourse. In the wake of Russian formalism, Vladimir I. Propp developed a Morphology of the Fairy Tale, which establishes a set of 31 narrative functions and 7 categories of characters that are entwined in the storyteller’s performance of the text.48 A. 114 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

J. Greimas transposes these concepts into a more abstract, paradigmatic plan of structural logic, aiming to outline a “constitutional model” (the generative matrix) of stories and a universal grammar of narrative.49 In La Logique du récit, Claude Brémond develops a triadic matrix of storytelling, composed of several stages (the virtuality, the actualization and the results of an action), as well as of the main narrative roles.50 Roland Barthes, Tzvetan Todorov, and Gérard Genette expanded even further the concepts and taxonomies of narrative and of discourse.51 Wondering if it is legitimate for the structures of grammar, mor- phology and syntax to be extrapolated to the figures of rhetoric, Paul de Man affirms/confirms the existence of organizing schemata at levels that are superior to linguistics (for instance, at the level of poetics and cognitive aesthetics).52

rom the simplest to the most complex and sophisticated, all of these the- ories—evolutionary psychology, neuroscience, cognitivism, Gestaltism, F formalism and structuralism—assert the existence of “primitive” image schemas, spatial and temporal forms, synopses and mental maps, cognitive mod- ules, configurative modes and schematic systems, narrative functions and struc- tures of discourse. As can be easily seen, almost all of these invariants relate to the “formal” aspect of representations, to patterns that organize knowledge and comprehension, grammar and syntax, rhetoric and theory. In other words, they relate to the semiotic aspect of literature. On the other hand, the archetypal systematizations and taxonomies of the 1940s–60s I have cited in the beginning of this paper place invariants on the se- mantic level of the story, i.e. at the level of mental representation, of the world- view, of the fictional universe. Archetypes are categories or principles that sys- tematize the “ontology” of possible worlds, just like the categories of physics, chemistry, biology or zoology map the real world. Archetypes transpose the realia of the primary world into the nomina of secondary worlds. Regardless of whether they are assigned roots in psychology, as in the case of Ernst Cassirer’s “symbolic forms,” Lucian Blaga’s “abyssal categories,” C. G. Jung’s archetypes or Gilbert Durand’s imaginary schemata and regimes, these patterns play a ma- jor heuristic role in classifying the elements of fiction and in structuring the “content” of stories. On these bases, several philosophers, anthropologists, historians of religions, or literary theorists have built vast archetypal syntheses, using classification cri- teria borrowed from representations of the macro- and the micro-universe. Gas- ton Bachelard turned to the four elements of Aristotle in his “psychoanalyses” of fire, water, air, and earth, organizing the images and symbols of literature according to the categories of “material imagination.”53 Northrop Frye arranged the “modes of fiction” and literary genres according to the natural schema of the Tangencies • 115 four seasons, spring, summer, autumn, and winter.54 Through a phenomeno- logical reduction of religious phenomena, Mircea Eliade outlined a topographic hierarchy that descends from the astral and atmospheric heavens to the terres- trial, biological, zoological, mineralogical and subterranean elements, forming the panoply of representations of homo religiosus.55 More or less all the pictures and charts organizing contingent or metaphysical reality, such as the 7 visible planets or the 12 houses of the zodiac, the main colors, the mineral, the veg- etable or the animal species, etc., have served or could serve to build typologies of fictional worlds. Taxonomies that served for the classification of psychological types or of hu- man characters may just as well produce organizing archetypologies of mytholo- gies, literature, and the arts. The psychological types or the archetypes of the collective unconscious (ego, shadow, animus and anima, the wise old man, the persona, the self, etc.), as defined by Jung, allowed the historian of religions Karl Kerényi to analyze some gods like Zeus and Hera, Demeter and Persephone, Dionysus and Prometheus as personifications of the imago of the Father and the Mother, of the Mother and the Daughter, the Libido or the human Ego.56 Joseph Campbell regrouped the various figures of heroes and gods from the major mythologies in synoptic syntheses such as The Hero with a Thousand Faces and The Masks of God.57 Last but not least, starting from the primary reflexes of the human being, Gilbert Durand organized constellations of collective symbols into regimes of the imaginary: diurnal, nocturnal, and cyclical.58 Cognitive sciences have recovered and conceptualized the two great modes of organization—semiotic and semantic—of mythological, literary or artistic works, of their fictional worlds. In this regard, Teun A. van Dijk distinguishes between superstructures and macrostructures. The former belong to a semio- logical analysis, hence, to the formal structures of discourse, as they have been analyzed by formalism, structuralism and cognitivism. Taking into account Paul de Man’s requirement that one should not superimpose linguistic structures over rhetorical and aesthetic structures, van Dijk asserts:

Whereas stylistics and rhetoric were traditionally closely related to literature and grammar, there are other structures of text and talk that go far beyond the gram- matical characterization of discourse, and which may be called “superstructures,” because they are abstract form-schemata that globally organize discourse across sen- tence boundaries.59

Superstructures are formal schemata which provide a framework for the orga- nization of texts at various levels, starting from the metric structure of poetry and from tropes such as metaphor, metonymy, irony, etc. The categories of 116 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) stories proposed by V. I. Propp, A. J. Greimas, R. Barthes, Tzvetan Todorov, C. Bremond, and G. Genette are all superstructures. At an even more abstract level, superstructures ensure the configuration of different types of discourse, such as argumentation (premises, development, conclusion), narration (summa- ry, orientation, complication, resolution, coda), academic article (title, abstract, keywords), written press article, etc.60 Finally, superstructures give the defining characteristics of literary genres (such as classical tragedy or utopia) and of the poetics of a current or an era.61 In a complementary manner, “the semantic macrostructure . . . defines the overall meaning of the text.”62 In defining macrostructures, Walter Kintsch and Teun van Dijk start from the concept of “mental model,” as defined by John- son-Laird, which they describe as a “situation model,” i.e. a mental network of relations of meaning (causal, spatial, temporal) between the elements of repre- sentation (“tokens”), such as characters, objects, and events.63 A mental model organizes the successive information of a discourse or of a story into a simul- taneous global representation of the fictional universe or a fragment thereof. Thus, the mental model is an analogical structure of the real universe, providing a possibility of knowledge through parallelism and analogy between the primary and the secondary worlds.64 Macrostructures operate, therefore, at the level of semantics. They organize referential components into unitary and comprehensive mental structures, such as maps and mappae mundi, graphs and synoptic diagrams, summaries and syn- theses. The images of the world (Weltbildes or Weltanschauungen), or the chro- notope, as defined by M. Bakhtin,65 are mental models for fictional worlds, pre- senting their imaginary ontology, theogony, cosmology, geography or history. The archetypologies of Gaston Bachelard, Northrop Frye, Mircea Eliade, Joseph Campbell, or Gilbert Durand are synoptic macrostructures which organize, at the most general level, constellations of images, symbols and figures used by the creators of mythological or fictional universes.

t is clear that mental schemata exist at all levels of the human psyche, from the simplest to the most complex. I have overviewed them in an ascend- I ing, inductive manner, starting from basic structures and reaching the most extensive structures. Thus, evolutionary psychology has offered us the concept of “primitives,” i.e. innate “human universals,” which the brain needs for a cog- nitive mapping of the environment, as well as for adapting to the conditions of the Pleistocene. Neuroscience has offered these “universals” organic support in the “modules” of the brain and in neural maps, which use image schemas to compose mental “stories” organized either spatially (“spatial stories”) or tempo- rally (“event stories”). Cognitive disciplines have developed the theory of mental Tangencies • 117 models and propositional representations, using the concepts of spatial forms and metaphors (such as synopses and charts) and narrative patterns (such as “Tick-Tock” or the line). At the level of the “linguistic module,” these schemata are responsible for the organization of grammar and syntax, while at the level of discourse they provide the tools for a cognitive rhetoric and aesthetic. Finally, the concepts of superstructures and macrostructures allow us to recover both the major semiotic systems, which deal with the formal organization of the stories, and semantic systematizations, which regroup the chronotopes and archetypal taxonomies of fictional worlds. All these disciplines confirm, therefore, the existence of innate categories. Of course, the way of defining invariants has changed radically from neo-Kantian- ism to neuroscience, or from psychoanalysis to cognitivism, reiterating, in a way, the opposition between the “ideas” and paradigms of Plato and the forms and entelechies of Aristotle, between Joseph Carroll’s “transcendental” and “natural- istic” universals. Archetypes have descended from metaphysical or metapsychical transcendence into the immanence of structures or configurations of the brain and knowledge. However, whether thematic or formal, semantic or semiotic, the universals that underpin all macrostructures and superstructures are under- stood, by all of these disciplines, as some inherited “primitives” (at least as some genetic possibilities of regrouping neurons on brain maps), and not as acquired categories (although adaptation to the environment plays an important role in the concrete configuration of these patterns). Mutatis mutandis, by upgrading the primary reflexes invoked by Gilbert Durand to the behavioral mechanisms of evolutionary psychology, and Jung’s archetypes to the image schemas of neuro- science, contemporary research has acquired a new scientific basis for redefining the “anthropological structures of the imaginary.” q

Notes

1. Corin Braga, 10 studii de arhetipologie, Arhetipologie generalã (Cluj-Napoca: Dacia, 2007), 5–23. 2. Joseph Carroll, Literary Darwinism: Evolution, Human Nature, and Literature (New York–London: Routledge, 2004), 117. 3. Bruce K. Britton and Arthur C. Graesser, Models of Understanding Text (Mahwah, New Jersey: Laurence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers, 1996), 1. 4. See Jerome H. Barkow, Leda Cosmides, and John Tooby, eds., The Adapted Mind: Evolutionary Psychology and the Generation of Culture (New York–Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992); Steven Mithen, The Prehistory of the Mind: The Cognitive Origins of Art, Religion, and Science (London: Thames & Hudson, 1996). 118 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

5. Carroll, Literary Darwinism, VI. 6. Joseph Carroll, Reading Human Nature: Literary Darwinism in Theory and Practice (Albany, New York: State University of New York Press, 2011), 20–21. 7. Joseph Carroll, “The Deep Structure of Literary Representations,” Evolution and Human Behavior 20, 3 (May 1999): 171. 8. Anthony Stevens, Archetype Revisited: An Updated Natural History of the Self (Lon- don: Taylor & Francis, 2004), 9, 10, 17, 19, 174–175. 9. See Laurence O. McKinney, Neurotheology: Virtual Religion in the 21st Century (Cambridge, Mass.: American Institute for Mindfulness, 1994); Matthew Alper, The“God” Part of the Brain: A Scientific Interpretation of Human Spirituality and God (Naperville, Ill.: Sourcebooks, 1996); Eugene d’Aquili and Andrew B. Newberg, The Mystical Mind: Probing the Biology of Religious Experience, Theology & the Scien­ ces (Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 1999); Andrew Newberg, Eugene d’Aquili, and Vince Rause, Why God Won’t Go Away: Brain Science and the Biology of Belief (New York: Ballantine Books, 2001). 10. Gilbert Durand, Les Structures anthropologiques de l’imaginaire: Introduction à l’archétypologie générale, 12th edition, preface by Jean-Jacques Wunenburger (Paris: Dunod, 2016), 25–32. 11. Carroll, “Deep Structure of Literatury Representations,” 159–173. 12. Mark Johnson, The Body in the Mind: The Bodily Basis of Meaning, Imagination, and Reason (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987); George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Philosophy in the Flesh: The Embodied Mind and Its Challenge to Western Thought (New York: Basic Books, 1999). 13. Antonio R. Damasio, Descartes’ Error: Emotion, Reason, and the Human Brain (New York: Grosset/Putnam, 1994). 14. See Mark Turner, The Literary Mind: The Origins of Thought and Language (New York–Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 23. 15. See Tim Rohrer, “Image schemata in the brain,” in From Perception to Meaning: Im- age Schemas in Cognitive Linguistics, Cognitive Linguistics Research, 29, edited by Beate Hampe, in cooperation with Joseph E. Grady (Berlin–New York: Mouton de Gruyter, 2005), 176–177. 16. See Giacomo Rizolatti and Corrado Sinigaglia, Les Neurones miroirs, transl. Marilène Raiola, Sciences (Paris: Odile Jacob, 2007). 17. Ellen Dodge and George Lakoff, “Image schemas: From linguistic analysis to neural grounding,” in From Perception to Meaning, 73. 18. Antonio Damasio, Self Comes to Mind: Constructing the Conscious Brain (New York: Pantheon Books, 2010), chap. 4, “Mapping Body States and Simulating Body States,” and chap. 6, “More on Convergence-Divergence Zones.” 19. See Arnold H. Modell, Imagination and the Meaningful Brain (Cambridge, Mass.– London: The mit Press, 2003), 183–187. 20. George Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things: What Categories Reveal About the Mind (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987); Johnson, The Body in the Mind; Lakoff and Johnson, Philosophy in the Flesh. Tangencies • 119

21. See the short presentation made by Beate Hampe, “Image schemas in Cognitive Linguistics,” in From Perception to Meaning, 1–2. 22. Mark Johnson, “The philosophical significance of image schemas,” in From Percep- tion to Meaning, 24. 23. Ibid., 17. 24. Turner, Literary Mind, 16–17. 25. Ibid., 17–18. 26. Mark Turner, ed., The Artful Mind: Cognition Science and the Riddle of Human Crea- tivity (Oxford–New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 164–165. 27. Mark Turner, The Origin of Ideas: Blending, Creativity, and the Human Spark, Language, Speech, and Communication (Oxford–New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 6. 28. Leonard Talmy, “The fundamental system of spatial schemas in language,” in From Perception to Meaning, 199–234. 29. Leonard Talmy, Toward a Cognitive Semantics, vol. 1, Concept Structuring Systems (Cambridge, Mass.–London: A Bradford Book, The mit Press, 2000), 40. 30. Ibid., 411–412. 31. P. N. Johnson-Laird, Mental Models: Towards a Cognitive Science of Language, Infer- ence, and Consciousness, Cognitive Science Series 6 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983), 397. 32. See Wolfgang Schnotz and Raymond W. Kulhavy, eds., Comprehension of Graphics, Advanced in Psychology 108 (Amsterdam–London–New York–Tokyo: North-Hol- land/Elsevier, 1994). 33. Ibid., 156–157. 34. Rudolf Arnheim, New Essays on the Psychology of Art (Berkeley–Los Angeles–London: University of California Press, 1986), X–XI, 194 et passim. 35. Ibid., 21, 79. 36. Luis O. Mink, Historical Understanding, eds. Brian Fay, Eugene O. Golob, and Richard T. Vann (Ithaca, New York–London: Cornell University Press, 1987), 50–52. 37. Ibid., 49–50. 38. Ibid., 55. 39. Turner, Literary Mind, 5, 36 et passim. 40. Johnson-Laird, Mental Models, 156–165. 41. August Fenk, “Spatial Metaphors and Logical Pictures,” in Comprehension of Graph- ics, 57–58. 42. Joseph Frank, The Idea of Spatial Form (New Brunswick–London: Rutgers Univer- sity Press, 1991), 63–64 et passim. 43. Frank Kermode, The Sense of an Ending: Studies in the Theory of Fiction (London–Ox- ford–New York: Oxford University Press, 1967), 45. 44. Ibid., 47. 45. Ibid., 56. 46. J. Hillis Miller, Ariadne’s Thread: Story Lines (New Haven–London: Yale University Press, 1992), 21. 47. Ibid., 18. 120 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

48. Vladimir Propp, Morphologie du conte, suivie de Les Transformation des contes merveil­ ­ leux et de E. Mélétinski L’étude structurale et typologique du conte, transl. Marguerite Derrida, Tzveten Todorov, and Claude Kahn, Points (Paris: Poétique/Seuil, 1970). 49. A. J. Greimas, Sémantique structurale: Recherche de méthode (Paris: Larousse, 1966); id., Du sens, essais sémiotiques (Paris: Seuil, 1970); id., Sémiotique: Dictionnaire raisonné de la théorie du langage, Language–Linguistique–Communication (with J. Courtés) (Paris: Hachette Université, 1979). 50. Claude Brémond, Logique du récit, Poétique (Paris: Seuil, 1973). 51. See Roland Barthes, Le Degré zéro de l’écriture (Paris, Seuil, 1953); id., Mythologies (Paris: Seuil, 1957); id., Éléments de sémiologie, Médiations (Paris: Denoël/Gonthier, 1965); id., S/Z: Essai, Tel Quel (Paris: Seuil, 1970); Tzvetan Todorov, Littérature et signification, Langue et langage (Paris: Larousse, 1967); id., Grammaire du Décamé- ron, Approaches to Semiotics 3 (The Hague–Paris: Mouton, 1969); id., Poétique de la prose, Poétique (Paris: Seuil, 1971); Gérard Genette, Figures, The Quel & Poé- tique, 5 vols. (Paris: Seuil, 1966–2002). 52. Paul de Man, Allegories of Reading: Figural Language in Rousseau, Nietzsche, Rilke, and Proust (New Haven–London: Yale University Press, 1979), 6–7. 53. Gaston Bachelard, La Psychanalyse du feu, Psychologie 7 (Paris: Gallimard, 1938); id., L’Eau et les rêves: Essai sur l’imagination de la matière (Paris: José Corti, 1942); id., L’Air et les songes: Essai sur l’imagination de mouvement (Paris: José Corti, 1943); id., La Terre et les rêveries de la volonté (Paris: José Corti, 1948); id., La Terre et les rêveries du repos (Paris: José Corti, 1948). 54. Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1957). 55. Mircea Eliade, Traité d’histoire des religions, new ed., rev. and updated (Paris: Payot, 1964). 56. Carl Kerényi, Zeus and Hera: Archetypal Image of Father, Husband and Wife, transl. Christopher Holme, Archetipal Images in Greek Religion 5 (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1975); id., Goddesses of Sun and Moon: Circe, Aphrodite, Medea, Niobe, transl. Murray Stein, Dunquin Series 11 (Irving, Texas: Spring Publications, 1979); id., Eleusis: Archetypal Image of Mother and Daughter, new ed., transl. Ralph Manheim, Bollingen Series 122 (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1991); id., Dionysos: Archetypal Image of Indestructible Life, transl. Ralph Manheim, Bollingen Series 144 (Princeton, New Jersey: Prince- ton University Press, 1996); Prometheus: Archetypal Image of Human Existence, rev. edition, transl. Ralph Manheim, Bollingen Series 146 (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1997). 57. Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces (New York: Pantheon Books, 1949); id., The Masks of God, vol. 1, Primitive Mythology (New York: The Viking Press, 1959); vol. 2, Oriental Mythology (New York: The Viking Press, 1962); vol. 3, Occidental Mythology (New York: The Viking Press, 1964), vol. 4, Creative Mythol- ogy (New York: The Viking Press, 1968). 58. Gilbert Durand, Les Structures anthropologiques de l’imaginaire; id., Beaux-arts et ar- chetypes: La religion de l’art (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1989); id., Intro- Tangencies • 121

duction à la mythodologie: Mythes et sociétés, La Pensée et le Sacré (Paris: Albin Michel, 1996). 59. Teun A. van Dijk, ed., Discourse Studies, Sage Benchmark Series, vol. 1 (Los Angeles– London–New Delhi–Singapore: Sage Publications, 2007), XXX. 60. Allan Bell, “The Discourse Structure of News Stories,” in Discourse Studies, 1: 58–89. 61. Teun A. van Dijk and Walter Kintsch, Strategies of Discourse Comprehension (New York: Academic Press, 1983), 235–236. 62. Teun A. van Dijk, “On Macrostructures, Mental Models, and Other Inventions: A Brief Personal History of the Kintsch–van Dijk Theory,” in Discourse Comprehension: Essays in Honor of Walter Kintsch, eds. Charles A. Weaver, III, Suzanne Mannes, and Charles R. Fletcher (Hillsdale, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1995), 385. 63. See Valérie Gyselinck and Hubert Tardieu, “Illustration, Mental Models, and Com- prehension of Instructional Texts,” in Comprehension of Graphics, 139–140. 64. Van Dijk, “On Macrostructures, Mental Models, and Other Inventions,” 404–405. 65. M. M. Bakhtin, “Forms of time and of the chronotope in the novel,” in The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays, ed. Michael Holquist, transl. Caryl Emerson and Michael Holquist (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1990), 84–258. See also Bart Keunen, “Bakhtin, Genre Formation, and the Cognitive Turn: Chronotopes as Memory Schemata,” in CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture 2, 2 (2000), .

Abstract Imagination Studies in the Era of Neurosciences

Comparative religions and literature in general, and French imagination studies (recherches sur l’imaginaire) in special, have explained the existence of thematic invariants through two theories, that of influences and that of epigenesis. Starting from neo-Kantian assumptions about the pres- ence of a priori schemata or innate “symbolic forms” of the human psyche, C. G. Jung, Gaston Bachelard, Northrop Frye, Gilbert Durand, Mircea Eliade or Joseph Campbell among others devised genuine archetypal maps of the collective imaginary. Nonetheless, contemporary research based on analytical philosophy, cognitivism, semiotics or discourse theory has criticized such as- sumptions as being speculative and indemonstrable. My study aims to present new arguments relating to the existence of inherited “primitives,” of image schemas and mental maps, according to the latest research in evolutionary psychology (Joseph Carroll), neurosciences (George Lakoff, Mark Johnson, Mark Turner), and cognitivism (Leonard Talmy, P. N. Johnson-Laird, Teun A. van Dijk). This would give anthropological, religious and imagination studies an up-to-date psy- chological and neurological frame of explanation.

Keywords mental schemata, mental maps, collective imaginary, evolutionary psychology, neuroscience, cognitivism communio

A Journey to Westworld L a u r a T e o d o r a Guided by Eliade D a v i d D o r i n D a v i d and Culianu

“What is terrible in the am- The Stage nesia of a poet, he resumed estworld is a successful after a long silence, is that, hbo series, nominated in W 2017, among other selec- as the personal memory dis- tions (and prizes), for three Golden appears, another memory, Globes. It is created by Lisa Joy and Jonathan Nolan. The official web- I would say cultural, comes site describes it very briefly, in these from the depths, and if a mir- words: “drama series Westworld is a dark odyssey about the dawn of artifi- acle does not occur, eventually cial consciousness and the evolution of it takes over completely.” sin. Set at the intersection of the near future and the reimagined past, it ex- plores a world in which every human appetite, no matter how noble or de- praved, can be indulged.” Laura Teodora David The story is intentionally complex Associate professor at the Faculty of but, as with any tv show, it is meant Psychology and Educational Sciences, to provide entertainment. Simple at Transilvania University, Braºov. first—a thematic park filled with an- droids (called hosts) was created for Dorin David rich people to entertain themselves Independent researcher and writer. Au- as they please, with no consequences thor, among others, of the vol. Mircea Eliade: La marginea labirintului (e.g. they can kill or/and rape)—it gets (Mircea Eliade: At the edge of the laby- more and more complicated as the epi- rinth) (2015). sodes evolve: the creator of the park, Communio • 123

Dr. Robert Ford, masterfully played by Anthony Hopkins, is not happy with such simple stories, he wants his creatures to become independent, develop per- sonalities, and think and feel for themselves. Therefore, he creates some narra- tive threads which complicate the existence of both visitors and the board of the company which owns the park. Enough reasons for the board to want to dismiss him; certainly, as any brilliant creator, Dr. Ford cannot accept that with- out fighting back, which he does in his particular style: by using the humanoid robots he created. The main aim of Dr. Ford is to endow his creatures with consciousness. In psychological terms, this can be seen as the development of the self. There are several conditions to be met: trials and errors, memories, and so on, but the most important one is suffering. The main characters are given sad stories. For example, one female, Maeve, has a missing daughter, another central character, Bernard, lost his boy, while Dolores, a troubled woman in search of something ambiguous and elusive (which increases her sorrow), also lost his father. These choices of the creators of the movie are based on important psychological re- searches made in the last years regarding traumatic events. Calhoun, Tedeschi, Cann, and Hanks (2010, 136) propose the term posttrau- matic growth (ptg) to explain how traumatic events including the loss of a sig- nificant other can be a source of personal growth. Due to the unraveling of the world that someone knew until the traumatic event occurred, that person has to search for meaning and make sense of what happened. The process involves cognitive reconstruction and efforts to adjust to a negative situation through changes in the so-called “core beliefs” about the world and life. Loss brings the need of self-evaluation and self-understanding which consequently may result in gaining a deeper level of meaning and a new “life narrative.” The recent work of Tedeschi and Blevins (2015, 375) in posttraumatic growth theory asserts that “a certain degree of trauma is necessary to initiate processes of intrusive and deliberate rumination in relation to embedded schemas and life narratives.” A similar position regarding the relation between suffering and con- sciousness can be found in Charmaz (1999, 364): “Suffering poses existential problems of identity and continuity of self.”

The Guided Tour

estworld can be also “read” differently, with the help of two schol- ars, Mircea Eliade and Ioan Petru Culianu. There are several key- W words that could send the view directly to their oeuvres. The first and the most obvious one is maze. One of the characters, the Man in Black 124 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) played by Ed Harris, who in the end turns out to be the same person as the young William, played by Jimmi Simpson, is in search of something for about thirty years. All he has is a map on a scalp, nothing else than the labyrinth of Dolores. His entire journey is a path to the center of the labyrinth. Once he gets there, he realizes that the road to the center is actually a way to the center of himself, the Center of the human being. For Mircea Eliade, the labyrinth is one of the most powerful symbols. Even in his early books, for example in Yoga, Eliade (1969b, 222) describes the symbolism of the labyrinth in these terms: “the labyrinth symbolized the be- yond, and whoever entered it as a part of initiation realized a descensus ad inferos (‘death’ followed by ‘resurrection’).” Then, in his dialogues with Claude-Henri Rocquet, Eliade clearly said: “A labyrinth is a defense, sometimes a magical defense, built to guard a center . . . . That symbolism is the model of all exis- tence, which passes through many ordeals to journey toward its own center. . .” (Eliade 1984, 185). This common point, of Eliade’s theory and Westworld, regarding the ordeals people (or androids, respectively) are going through, is well explained by recent psychological theories, e.g.:

Posttraumatic growth (ptg) . . . can be understood to refer, broadly, to a cluster of benefits that result from a complex combination of cognitive, emotional, and social processes. ptg is assessed and represented by the five factors . . . : new possibilities, personal strength, appreciation of life, spiritual/existential change, and relating to others . . . . In the immediate aftermath of a traumatic event, intrusive rumina- tions enter unwittingly into an individual’s consciousness, causing activation of the stress response and possible experiences of anxiety, hypervigilance, dissociation, and so on. (Tedeschi and Blevins 2015, 373–374)

Another key term used in the series is narration. Dr. Ford creates narrations, not only to entertain guests who paid lots of money to feel the reality of this artificial world, but also to “awaken,” to enlighten his creatures. For Eliade, things are clear: the narration, the story, is the inheritor of myth. And for Eliade myth is by definition “is always related to a ‘creation,’ it tells how something came into existence, or how a pattern of behavior, an institution, a manner of working were established” (Eliade 1998, 18). There is a story written by Eliade himself, “Ghicitor în pietre” (first published in 1963 and translated into English by Mac Linscott Ricketts, in 2001, under the title “The Man Who Could Read Stones”), which, linked with his theory of myth, could shed new light upon the tv show. This prose piece is an example of how a story, a narration—i.e. a myth—is born, and of how it has consequences Communio • 125 in real life. Dr. Ford—or, in Eliade’s prose, Adriana/Ariana, the one who created the story, which is the myth—knows the power of the narration: he and she, respectively, know that on one hand it has a value of truth for those involved, and on the other hand it generates consequences and unexpected actions. Eli- ade’s short story perfectly mirrors the script of the series: a time loop is created in order to prevent the engagement of Emanuel with Adina, whom the latter remembered only the night before (David 2014, 64). The power of a story is entirely proven by Eliade in “Pe strada Mântuleasa” (published for the first time in 1968, and translated into English by Mary Park Stevenson in 1979 and by Mac Linscott Ricketts in 1981, under the title “The Old Man and the Bureaucrats”). Here an old man named Fãrâmã, a retired teacher, survives all the interrogatories of a totalitarian regime, the communist system of Romania, and of all the officials who interrogate him, because he knows, and tells, stories. Just like the voice of Arnold in the movie, he always repeats: “remember.” Dolores tries hard to remember. She is a sort of artist—because the artist has access to other realities than the common human beings; she likes to draw. In one of her drawings, she imagines a nice place, with mountains and a river. Soon, in her journey alongside William, she discovers that the place is real, and it was not only her imagination. She is only one step away from remembering her “home.” Eliade’s “creature,” Adrian, in another prose writing, “În curte la Dionis” (1977), is also an artist, a poet. He also knows the power of the imagi- nation, which is in reality the power of remembering. He is a perfect match for the android characters in the series: he is an amnesiac, so he remembers only fragments of memories, he doesn’t know what is real or what is a dream, and he finds himself in all kinds of unexpected situations over which he has no control. Yet, like Dolores, he is the only one who could guide someone through the laby- rinth or, in this case, though the three levels of reality according to Eliade: the everyday level (historical level), the cultural (mythological) level, and the most profound one, the level of being pure and simple (which in his theory is equated with the sacred level):

What is terrible in the amnesia of a poet, he resumed after a long silence, is that, as the personal memory disappears, another memory, I would say cultural, comes from the depths, and if a miracle does not occur, eventually it takes over completely. Sir, he said gravely, I am threatened to be reduced to culture, to become a purely cultural person! And I do not even dare to imagine what would happen later, when even the cultural memory will release itself of its historical frame, and I will remain human in general. . . (Eliade 1991, 3: 191). 126 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

In what concerns Eliade’s theory, things are obvious: the way to the center is equivalent with the discovery of the sacred. In other words, as Eliade states: “the sacred is an element in the structure of the consciousness, not a stage in the history of consciousness” (Eliade 1969a, i). Are the androids also in search of the sacred, as they develop consciousness? Actually, in the center of the town where Dolores discovers herself, in other words, in the center of the terrestrial labyrinth, there is a church. A nice, tall church. On the other hand, for some of the androids, who see things, the humans—company employees in charge of maintenance or even repair work—are considered gods. The humans know they are not gods, but the poor robots don’t. At first sight, where there are gods there is religion. But they are not gods, they are humans, so is it a fake religion? Not necessarily: the issues involved here can be seen as religious in the broadest sense of Eliade’s terms: “perhaps it is too late to search for another word, and ‘religion’ may still be a useful term provided we keep in mind that it does not necessarily imply belief in God, gods, or ghosts, but refers to the experience of the sacred, and, consequently, is related to the idea of being, meaning, and truth” (Eliade 1969a, i). The androids are on their path to discovering their self. They have existential issues, they are ‘beings’ in search of meaning and truth. Things are not at all simple, and they get even more complicated: near the church there is a cemetery. One grave belongs to Dolores, the place where she will never go, because she is not human, so she cannot die. Instead of her body, a small box is buried in the tomb, inside which there is nothing else than a maze having the same shape as the one the Man in Black carries with him. It is actually a toy, a kid’s game, in which one has to guide a little metal ball inside the labyrinth to reach the center. Inside the real labyrinth, instead of finding a revelation, the answer to his searches, the Man in Black finds nothing but this game. Which for him is equiv- alent to nothing. To find out the key to this situation, we will turn to the other guide, Ioan Petru Culianu. Culianu (or Couliano) stated as early as 1982–1983, when he intended to publish a study, titled “Mircea Eliade Unknown,” that Eliade is a mystagogue, one of the most famous ones, and for sure one of the last of this kind. Not only because he initiated people into mysteries, or guided them, as the original first meaning of the word indicates, but also because he himself created the mysteries, and that is another meaning, less known. “Both significations apply to Eliade: he is the master, the initiator, in the mysteries created by himself” (Culianu 1995, 256). Culianu planned a discussion with Eliade, so he sent him several questions. In one of them he asked Eliade: “My interpretation of your literary work is that of Communio • 127 an Eliade the great mystagogue, who creates myths fully knowing that they are founded on nothing, but is convinced of their existential and pedagogical value. The goal is, in a sense, soteriological: he wants to help the humans recover the lost significance of their existence, of their destiny on Earth… Do you agree with this interpretation?” (Culianu 1995, 270). The question remains without an answer, but is important in itself. As West- world proves, even one of the merciless human beings, the Man in Black, was in search of meaning, of the sense of his existence. He thought he would find this meaning in Westworld, and not in the real world, which proves to be meaningless. Culianu agrees that what matters is not the exposure, but the process of revelation. In other words, important is the hermeneutics, the interpretation. In some cases, as in Eliade’s work or in Westworld, it is based on nothing. It doesn’t matter that the box contains a toy, or nothing, as the safe some androids fight for, because everything is a game. What sort of game? A game of mind, of course. Nothing is not really nothing, because it has to be something. In other words, it is the creation of the mind itself. For Eliade and Culianu, as for Dr. Ford, everything was clear. They under- stood the importance of the road. Because it was the path which helped the androids which made the effort to traverse it to comprehend something of huge importance: the humans are not gods, as the androids considered them. The equivalence of the worlds is obvious: Westworld is the creation of Dr. Ford’s mind. Does this make the humans gods? No, on the contrary, it reveals the fact that humans are creatures not very much different from the androids. The demonstration is given by the same Dr. Ford. He has a representation of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam on his wall. He explains it: a scientist observed that the outline of God’s background is actually an accurate representation of the human brain. The scholar Dr. Ford refers to is a real person, Frank Lynn Meshberger (1990), and his study was published in the Journal of the American Medical Association. It is not important whether Michelangelo drew or did not draw a human brain intentionally, it is important that Dr. Ford believes that he did, and he transmits his message forward. For Culianu things are not much different. He—in his last writings—asserts that everything in our history is a creation of the human mind. Religion itself, subject of divergences and conflicts, in the name of which people were ready to kill, or die for, is also nothing else than a game of mind. “To many the descrip- tion of religion as a game of mind will come as a shock, and many believers will be repelled by what may seem a diminishment of their faith. They should not be” (Couliano 1992, 268). Humans are not gods, but their mind is godlike. They are but fragile crea- tures, easily killed. Androids are stronger, so they can start a revolution. 128 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

Dr. Ford wants to set them free. He writes a new narration, and commences it, at the cost of his life. It will allow his creatures to choose. In other words, he institutes free will. Of course, as in everyone’s life, human or android, each choice has consequences, and they are all in the same situation: in this world or in Westworld, we are all inheritors of our own choices. Dr. Ford tries to give the androids free will and consciousness in order to bring them closer to the human condition, but studies in neurobiology and neu- ropsychology have proven quite the opposite: human beings lack free will, as their neurological functions take place almost entirely pre-consciously. In other words, the biochemistry of the brain is active before a person becomes aware of the consequences of that activity (Sandkühler and Bhattacharya 2008). In the context of the script, it means that androids are already capable to understand their condition as pre-programmed machines and the humans have to make the leap to recognize and understand that they share the same state. Dr. Ford’s self-sacrifice from the last minutes of the first season of the series is complex in itself, holding more than one meaning: the significance can be that a new world can rise only when the old one disappears, or it is the desire of its creator to exert power, as he will always be remembered as the first who freely gave his own life in order to bring change to the others. q

References

Calhoun, Lawrence G., Richard G. Tedeschi, Arnie Cann, and Emily A. Hanks. 2010. “Positive Outcomes Following Bereavement: Paths to Posttraumatic Growth.” Psy- chologica Belgica 50, 1–2: 125–143. Charmaz, Kathy. 1999. “Stories of Suffering: Subjective Tales and Research Narratives.” Qualitative Health Research 9, 3: 362–382. Couliano, Ioan P. 1992. The Tree of Gnosis: Gnostic Mythology from Early Christianity to Modern Nihilism. Transl. H. S. Wiesner and the author. San Francisco: HarperSan- Francisco. ——. 1995. Mircea Eliade. Transl. Florin Chiriþescu and Dan Petrescu. Bucharest: Nemira. David, Dorin. 2014. Mircea Eliade: La marginea labirintului: corespondenþe între opera ºtiinþificã ºi proza fantasticã. Bucharest: Eikon. Eliade, Mircea. 1969a. The Quest: History and Meaning in Religion. Chicago–London: The University of Chicago Press. ——. 1969b. Yoga: Immortality and Freedom. Transl. Willard R. Trask. Princeton: Prince- ton University Press. ——. 1984. Ordeal by Labyrinth: Conversations with Claude-Henri Rocquet. Transl. Derek Coltman. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Communio • 129

——. 1991–1992. Prozã fantasticã. 5 vols. Ed. Eugen Simion. Bucharest: Editura Fundaþiei Culturale Române. ——. 1998. Myth and Reality. Transl. Willard R. Trask. Long Grove: Waveland Press. Meshberger, Frank Lynn. 1990. “An Interpretation of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam Based on Neuroanatomy.” jama: The Journal of the American Medical Association 264, 14: 1837–1841. Sandkühler, Simone and Joydeep Bhattacharya. 2008. “Deconstructing Insight: eeg Correlates of Insightful Problem Solving.” PLoS one. 3, 1: e1459. Tedeschi, Richard G. and Cara L. Blevins. 2015. “From Mindfulness to Meaning: Im- plications for the Theory of Posttraumatic Growth.” Psychological Inquiry: An In- ternational Journal for the Advancement of Psychological Theory 26:4, 373–376. doi: 10.1080/1047840X.2015.1075354. www.hbo.com/westworld/about/index.html. Accessed January 2017.

Abstract A Journey to Westworld Guided by Eliade and Culianu

This article formulates an analysis different from regular film criticism of the hbo series Westworld. It presents several ideas of two scholars of Religious Studies, and at the same time writers of fic- tion, Mircea Eliade and Ioan Petru Culianu, ideas that can be identified in this series, such as the path to the center, the symbolism of the labyrinth, the myth, or the games of mind, along with confirmatory support from the psychological domain. It is in the intention of the article to provide a “guided tour” of Westworld with Eliade and Culianu as “hosts,” considering that it is of great interest to reveal common points that appear in unexpected places (e.g. a tv show that features future, and for sure futuristic, realities) so many years after the authors’ disappearance from this world.

Keywords Westworld, Mircea Eliade, Ioan Petru Culianu, center, game of mind, posttraumatic growth literature

La traduction en roumain des néologismes littéraires de Je voudrais pas crever

L e t i Þi a I l e a de Boris Vian

’ Lœuvre de Boris Vian (1920-1959) présente une véritable « résistance à la traduction », à cause de la désinvolture totale de l’écrivain par rapport au lan- gage, laquelle se matérialise par des inventions lexicales sans nombre, des calembours et d’autres jeux de mots, issus de son esprit ludique et de sa volonté de briser le carcan langagier. Pourtant, cela n’a pas du tout décou­ ragé les traducteurs : L’Index Transla- tionum répertorie non moins de 346 traductions de son œuvre. De celles-ci, il y a moins d’une dizaine de livres pa- rus qui contiennent des traductions de Boris Vian, Je voudrais pas crever sa poésie. (Piteºti, 2004). Dans ce qui suit, nous allons analy- ser la seule traduction en roumain de la poésie de Vian, celle appartenant Letiþia Ilea à Linda Maria Baros et Georgiana Maître de conférences au Département 1 de Langues Modernes et de Communi- Banu. Nous allons nous rapporter cation d’Affaires, Faculté des Sciences à un seul aspect de cette traduction, Économiques et de la Gestion des Affaires, précisément la manière dont les deux Université Babeº-Bolyai de Cluj-Napoca, traductrices ont rendu en roumain poète et traductrice. les néologismes littéraires forgés par Literature • 131

Vian. Avant de procéder, il nous semble nécessaire de poser quelques jalons concernant les néologismes littéraires, ces « mots sauva­ges » auxquels Maurice Rheims a dédié un livre.2 Dans Le Petit Robert (2016), le néologisme est défini comme « l’emploi d’un mot nouveau (soit créé, soit obtenu par dérivation, composition, troncation, siglaison, emprunt, etc. : néologisme de forme) ou emploi d’un mot, d’une expres- sion préexistante dans un sens nouveau (néologisme de sens) ». Il y a aussi un sens médical de ce mot, celui de « mot forgé par un malade, incompréhensible pour l’entourage ». Conformément à cette définition, les mots nouveaux forgés par Vian dans Je voudrais pas crever sont, pour la plupart, des néologismes de forme. Jean Pruvost et Jean-François Sablayrolles considèrent que ceux-ci sont, entre autres, un processus qui caractérise les étapes d’une vie, de l’enfance à l’âge adulte. Les auteurs parlent, dans le cas des adultes, de « jouissance néologique littéraire patentée et propre à l’univers lettré de la fiction ».3 Ils citent Jarry, Céline, Frédéric Dard, et aussi Boris Vian, « qui goûte le plaisir des mots, néolo- gisant à souhait dans L’Automne à Pékin et dans L’Écume des jours par exemple (blairnifler, blocnoter) ».4 Dans son Dictionnaire, Rheims fait l’historique de ces créations depuis les romantiques jusqu’aux écrivains contemporains. Si, chez certains écrivains, ces mots nouvellement forgés ne sont en réalité que des « vocables superbes et rares figurant déjà dans les lexiques spécialisés de navigation, de géographie ou de sciences naturelles »5, d’autres écrivains donnent libre cours à leur imagination langagière pour suppléer à un manque du langage quotidien. Louis Guilbert établit une typologie du néologisme littéraire en prenant pour objet d’étude le dictionnaire de Rheims, typologie que nous reprenons ci-dessous :

On y [dans le dictionnaire de Rheims, n.n.] voit apparaître les traits caractéristiques de la création littéraire marginale : le recours de préférence à certains suffixes­ : ence (effulgence, Mallarmé), ent (mellifluent, Apollinaire), erie (fantasque- rie, Cat. Mendès, chercherie, Jouve), particulièrement à des suffixes de diminutifs (feuilloles, Apollinaire ; se fichotter, Montherlant) en raison du jeu de connota- tions qu’ils permettent par opposition à la valeur syntaxique et sémantique précise des autres éléments du système suffixal ; la transcription phonétique qui permet des variantes expressives ou ironiques du même mot (eksistence, eggzistence, hoecsis- tence, aiguesistence, Queneau) et surtout le télescopage de deux mots qui se prêtent particulièrement au jeu (cordoléeance, Ionesco, de condoléances et cordial, infini- verti, Michaux, cosmopolisson, Morand, nostalgerie, Montherlant).6 132 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

Guilbert est sceptique quant à la possibilité de ces créations de sens d’entrer dans la langue. Par contre, Maurice Riffaterre reconnaît l’autonomie et les fonc- tions spécifiques du néologisme littéraire

[Il] est toujours perçu comme une anomalie, et utilisé en raison de cette anomalie, parfois même indépendamment de son sens. Il ne peut pas ne pas attirer l’attention, parce qu’il est perçu en contraste avec son contexte, et que son emploi comme son ef- fet dépendent de rapports qui se situent entièrement le langage. Qu’il s’agisse d’un mot nouveau, ou d’un sens nouveau, ou d’un transfert de catégorie grammaticale, il suspend l’automatisme perceptif, contraint le lecteur à prendre conscience de la forme du message qu’il déchiffre, prise de conscience qui est le propre de la com- munication littéraire. Du fait même de sa forme singulière, le néologisme réalise idéalement une condition essentielle de la littérarité.7

Riffaterre analyse plusieurs néologismes littéraires (grouillis, utilisé par Claudel, tibicine, employé par Hugo, argyraspide, qui apparaît chez Apollinaire, céruséen, employé par Chateaubriand), pour conclure que :

Le néologisme littéraire, loin d’être arbitraire, loin d’être un corps étranger dans la phrase, est le signifiant le plus motivé qu’on puisse trouver dans le texte. Il a toujours une double ou multiple appartenance : il est engendré à la fois par une séquence morphologique et par une séquence sémantique, ou par deux séquences sémantiques, ou par des combinaisons plus complexes, ce qui est impossible au mot préexistant (en dehors des faits d’allitération). Sa fonction est donc de réunir ou de condenser en soi les caractéristiques dominantes du texte. Fait exprès, créé pour les besoins de la cause, il est par excellence le mot propre.8

Il convient de se demander ce qui pousse Vian à forger des néologismes littérai- res. À en croire Marc Lapprand, Vian est, à côté de Prévert et Queneau, un « fou du langage ». Son esprit de fronde est manifeste dès sa jeunesse. Il se révolte contre la tradition dès son premier recueil organisé en vue de la publication, les Cent sonnets (1940-1944). De plus, un des thèmes récurrents de la création de Vian est l’ailleurs, que nous avons identifié dans tous ses recueils.9 Dans Je voudrais pas crever, recueil qui coïncide avec une période difficile de vie de Vian, cet ailleurs devient aussi langagier. Vian imagine un univers différent du nôtre, où l’on pourrait être comblé, heureux. Pour faire référence à cet univers idéal, de nouveaux mots sont nécessaires. Le recueil de Vian Je voudrais pas crever/N-aº prea vrea ca s-o mierlesc représente la première publication en volume en Roumanie d’une œuvre poétique de Boris Literature • 133

Vian. Cette traduction a été analysée, en grandes lignes, par Camelia Capverde, dont la conclusion est : « Pour tout genre de créateur […], il n’y a pas d’offrande poétique dans la création, tout comme dans l’effort recréateur du traduire, sans en faire le partage d’un sacrifice (pertes et limites de la traduction). »10 Dans son article, Camelia Capverde se contente de citer quelques-uns des néologismes lit- téraires créés par Vian et leur traduction, sans en examiner les mécanismes de for- mation et de traduction. C’est ce que nous allons essayer de faire dans ce qui suit. À la lecture du recueil qui fait l’objet de notre analyse nous avons identifié une quarantaine de néologismes littéraires utilisés par Vian. Ce sont : des modifica- tions graphiques d’un mot existant (sous l’influence de la langue parlée, comme « zoizeaux ») ; des homophones utilisés pour les besoins de la rime (« impres- sion fosse » qui doit rimer avec « osses ») ; des modifications des suffixes tou- jours pour les besoins de la rime (« paressieux » qui doit rimer avec « conscien- cieux ») ; des « erreurs » grammaticales (« j’en fairais » au lieu de « je ferais ») ; des créations lexicales entièrement nouvelles (« mirliflûtes » « lizeaux », etc.). Nous allons analyser la traduction de ces mots de manière chronologique, dans l’ordre dans lequel ils apparaissent dans le recueil de Vian. Nous donnerons l’original et la traduction, soulignant partout en italiques les mots respectifs. Nous indiquerons aussi le titre du poème et le nom de la traductrice.

Pourquoi que je vis Oare pentru ce-oi trãi (trad. Georgiana Banu)

Les calmes poissons Liniºtiþii peºti Ils paissent le fond Pasc pe fund Volent au-dessus Zboarã deasupra Des algues cheveux Pãrului alge Comme zoizeaux lents Ca-ncete rele pãsãrele Comme zoizeaux bleus. Ca rele pãsãrele albãstrele. (Vian 2004, 38) (Vian 2004, 39)

Si les poètes étaient moins bêtes Dacã poeþii nu erau aºa de proºti (trad. Linda-Maria Baros)

Avec des grands jardins devant Cu mari grãdini în faþã Et des arbres pleins de zoizeaux ªi arbori plini de pãzãrime (Vian 2004, 74) (Vian 2004, 75)

Vian, par esprit ludique, utilise trois fois dans ce recueil le mot « zoizeaux », marquant graphiquement le « z » qui n’apparaît qu’à l’oral en liaison et transfor- mant le « s » intervocalique de « oiseaux » en « z ». Dans Pourquoi que je vis, ce mot nouvellement forgé lui permet de réduire le nombre des syllabes (« Comme zoizeaux lents » – quatre syllabes ; « Comme des oiseaux lents » – cinq syllabes). 134 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

Georgiana Banu ne respecte pas cette option de Vian de diminuer le nombre des syllabes, et par l’ajout de l’adjectif « rele » (qui rime avec « pãsãrele ») rallonge la traduction. De plus, « zoizeaux » est un mot qui n’existe pas en français standard ; Georgiana Banu utilise un qui existe en roumain, tandis que Linda-Maria Baros crée un mot (« pãzãrime »). Outre cela, Georgiana Banu utilise un diminutif, alors que « zoizeaux » n’a rien de cela, étant plutôt un vocable qui relève du lan- gage parlé. Une autre variante aurait pu être, à notre avis, « pãzãret », qui dans le premier poème, aurait donné la possibilité d’une rime interne : « pãzãret încet ». Passons à la séquence suivante :

Quand j’aurai du vent dans mon crâne Când mi-o bate vântul prin craniu (trad. Linda-Maria Baros)

Quand j’aurai du vent dans mon crâne Când mi-o bate vântul prin craniu Quand j’aurai du vert sur mes osses Când mi-o bate vântul prin oseminte P’tête qu’on croira que je ricane Fleþii-or crede cã râd straniu Mais ça sera une impression fosse Finc-o sã-mi piarã cu anii Car il me maquera Elementul meu plastic Mon élément plastique Cel plastic tic-tic Plastique tique tique […] […] Ma paire de bidules […] Alea douã ºmecherii Mes jolis yeux cérules Ochiºorii-mi albãstrui (Vian 2004, 44) (Vian 2004, 45)

Vian crée le pluriel inhabituel « osses » au lieu d’« os » pour les besoins de la rime (« osses/fosse »), rendant sonore la consonne finale non-prononcée dans le pluriel « os ». Il crée un mot qui n’existe pas, traduit par Linda-Maria Baros par un mot qui existe en roumain, « oseminte ». Forçant le roumain, nous au- rions traduit « osses » par « osuariu » qui aurait l’avantage de rimer avec « cra- niu ». De plus, sachant que Vian avait une culture générale hors du commun, nous n’excluons pas la possibilité qu’il fût au courant de la signification du nom masculin « osse » (sans pluriel), attesté par le Trésor de la Langue Française in- formatisé : « Langue de la famille iranienne, parlée par les Ossètes, peuple indo- européen du Caucase central ». La forme qui suit, « P’tête » pour « peut-être », dans laquelle on reconnaît « tête », est plutôt une déformation enfantine, procédé qui se retrouve souvent chez Vian. Linda-Maria Baros choisit de ne pas traduire le mot, mais le procédé (la variante enfantine « fincã » au lieu de « fiindcã »), ce qui nous semble très judicieux. En ce qui concerne « impression fosse », la même traductrice roumaine choisit d’omettre totalement ce syntagme, qui pose des problèmes. C’est en effet Literature • 135 un calembour qui joue sur l’homophonie « fausse/ fosse ». Le réseau sémantique de « fosse » rejoint « crâne » du même poème, soulignant une fois de plus l’idée de la mort qui hantait Vian à l’époque (bien qu’il essaie de dissimuler cette peur par des jeux de langage qui en atténuent le dramatisme). Le néologisme littéraire suivant, « cérules », est formé par Vian par l’apocope de « céruléen », pour rimer avec l’argotique « bidules ». Pour l’étymologie de « céruléen », Le Petit Robert atteste « cérulé », mot du XVIe siècle (2016, p. 384). On connaît le goût de Vian pour les formes moyenâgeuses. La traduction « ochiºorii-mi albãstrui » renvoie, pour le lecteur roumain, à une ballade popu- laire. Comme Vian utilise « cérules » comme rime à un mot argotique, nous aurions choisi comme traduction en roumain « halbãstrii ». Le poème suivant de ce recueil dans lequel Vian utilise des néologismes lit- téraires est Je n’ai plus très envie :

Je n’ai plus très envie Nu prea mai am chef (trad. Georgiana Banu)

Je n’ai plus très envie Nu prea mai am chef deloc D’écrire des pohésies Sã scriu poezii ad hoc Si c’était comme avant De-ar mai fi ca înainte J’en fairais plus souvent Mult mai des din zbor le-aº prinde Mais je me sens bien vieux Da’ mã simt bãtrân la os Je me sens bien sérieux Mã simt tare serios Je me sens consciencieux Mã simt cam conºtiincios Je me sens paressieux. ªi mult prea lenevicios. (Vian 2004, 46) (Vian 2004, 47)

En ce qui concerne le mot « pohésies », la traductrice aurait eu à disposition le roumain « pohezii », forgé par Gellu Naum, qui apparaît dans son poème Confuzia posibilã (La Confusion possible) : « e drept cã tot ce spun acum n-are nici un pic de pohezie ».11 L’appellatif « pohezie » de Naum est ironique à l’adresse de la poésie bombastique, officialisée. L’écrivain français avait la même attitude irrévérencieuse par rapport à ses devanciers. Le conditionnel de Vian « je fairais » au lieu de « je ferais » est à coup sûr influencé par la graphie médiévale « fairay » ; donc, ce n’est pas une erreur de la part de Vian, mais un nouveau clin d’œil au lecteur. Vian considérait que les lecteurs sont paresseux et que les auteurs doivent les obliger à penser. Georgiana Banu utilise un conditionnel, « le-aº prinde ». Peut-être, à sa place, nous aurions introduit une forme ancienne de la famille de « a face », « fãcãturã », qui a aussi le sens d’« artefact ». En ce qui concerne « paressieux », Vian le forme pour qu’il rime avec « con- sciencieux ». Le suffixe -eux/-euse, avec sa variante –ieux/-ieuse (lorsque la 136 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) dernière consonne de la base est c, g ou d) peut être utilisé en français pour for- mer des noms ou des adjectifs lorsque la base est un nom. La traductrice choisit bien, faisant preuve d’inventivité lexicale.

Continuons par Si j’étais pohéteû :

Si j’étais pohéteû De eram vrun pohetan (trad. Linda-Maria Baros)

Si j’étais pohéteû De eram vrun pohetan Je serais ivrogneû Aº fi azi vrun beþivan J’aurais un nez rougeû Aº avea nas roºcovan Une grande boîteû Ca un mare ºchiopârlan Où j’empilerais Unde-aº pune teancuri-teancuri Plus de cent sonnais Peste-o sutã de sonete Où j’empilerais Unde-aº pune teancuri-teancuri Mon noeuvreû complait. Nopirili mele complete. (Vian 2004, 48) (Vian 2004, 49)

Dans ce poème, Vian ajoute à la fin de plusieurs mots le groupe « eû », que l’on rencontre en français seulement dans le mot « jeûne » et ses dérivés. Vian l’utilise sans distinction, avec des noms masculins (« poète », « ivrogne »), féminins (« boîte », « œuvre ») et avec l’adjectif « rouge ». Dans quatre des cinq cas où il apparaît, Linda-Maria Baros le traduit par le suffixe roumain « -an », qui ca­ ractérise une occupation, une position ou un comportement, ayant une nuance augmentative. Si le choix de « pohetan », « beþivan » et « roºcovan » nous semble juste, on ne peut pas dire la même chose sur « ºchiopârlan », dans le cas duquel la traductrice confond la variante phonétique « boîteû » pour « boîte » avec l’adjectif « boîteux ». Pour « pohéteû », la traductrice garde le « h » en traduction (« pohetan »), ce qui rappelle le mot « pohet » utilisé par Gellu Naum. En ce qui concerne « sonnais » pour « sonnets », nous aurions choisi une déformation du mot roumain, par exemple « sonecte ». Le mot « œuvre », transcrit par Vian avec le « n » initial de la liaison avec « mon » et, à la fin, le groupe « eû » est traduit par « nopirili », ce qui nous semble adéquat, quoique le mot « opirili » est lié pour les Roumains à la période de Ceauºescu. Quant à « complait » pour « com- plète », la traductrice aurait eu à disposition la variante « complecte », rencontré très souvent dans le parler des Roumains insuffisamment éduqués. Dans ce cas, « sonecte » aurait rimé avec « complecte ». Nous donnons, à notre tour, une version de ce poème :

De eram vrun pohetanu’ Eram mare beþivanu’ Literature • 137

ª-aveam nasu’ roºcovanu’ ªi cu mine-un geamantanu’ Sã strâng în fiece anu’ Sonete cu sutanu’.

Continuons l’examen des néologismes littéraires de Vian et de leur traduction avec J’ai mal à ma rapière :

J’ai mal à ma rapière Mã doare-n ºpangã (trad. Linda Maria Baros)

J’ai mal à ma rapière Mã doare-n ºpangã Mais je l’dirai jamais Da’ n-o s-o spui vreodatã J’ai mal à mon bédane Mã doare-n buzdugan Mais je l’dirai jamais Da’ n-o s-o spui vreodatã J’ai mal à mes cardans Mã doare-n cardan J’ai mal à mes graisseurs Mã doare-n ungãtor J’ai mal à ma badiole Mã doare-n alte alea J’ai mal à ma sacoche Mã doare-n tolbã Mais je l’dirais jamais, là Da’ p-asta n-o s-o spui vreodatã Mais je l’dirais jamais. Da’ n-o s-o spui vreodatã. (Vian 2004, 56) (Vian 2004, 57)

Nous citons le poème dans son entier pour situer « badiole » dans le contexte. Si par sa forme c’est un paronyme de « babiole » qui a le sens de « petit objet de peu de valeur », « chose sans importance » , dans le poème ci-dessus le mot de Vian acquiert une connotation sexuelle. La traductrice réussit à transmettre le ton et le sens de l’original, bien que la traduction « alte alea » est un syntagme fréquem- ment utilisé en roumain et n’a pas le caractère insolite que « badiole » a en fran- çais. Dans ce cas, nous suggérons comme possible traduction « flecuºtreþ », qui est « flecuºteþ » légèrement modifié, tout comme « badiole » est une modifica- tion de « babiole ». Un autre mot forgé par Vian est « papaouteur », dans Un de plus :

Un de plus Una în plus (trad. Georgiana Banu)

Faut-il que je cherche pour moi Trebuie oare singur sã caut Sans le dire, même au concierge ªi sã nu spun nimic, portarului mãcar Au nain qui court sous mon plancher Piticului care aleargã sub podea Au papaouteur dans ma poche Chibiþului din buzunar Ni au curé de mon tiroir Preotului din sertar

138 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

« Papaouteur » est toujours un mot à connotation sexuelle et argotique, formé par Vian de « papaout » (désignation vulgaire pour « homosexuel »12). Gilbert Pestureau suggère que ce mot vient de « empapaouter » (« sodomiser »).13 Maria Freij, la traductrice anglaise du même recueil, suggère une autre étymologie, men­tionnant le verbe « papoter » et la racine « Papa », comme dans « Il Papa » ; cette racine, corroborée avec le mot « curé » du vers suivant, serait un nouveau témoignage de l’anticléricalisme de Vian.14 Dans ce cas, peut-être par pudibon- derie, la traductrice roumaine édulcore le sens du mot, tandis que la traductrice anglaise utilise explicitement « sodomite ». Cela aurait été une solution possible pour la traduction roumaine aussi. Si jusqu’ici, dans ce recueil, les créations langagières de Vian ont été plutôt sporadiques, dans Si les poètes étaient moins bêtes il se déchaîne :

Si les poètes étaient moins bêtes Dacã poeþii nu erau aºa de proºti (trad. Linda-Maria Baros)

Si les poètes étaient moins bêtes Dacã poeþii nu erau aºa de proºti Et s’ils étaient moins paresseux ªi dacã atât de leneºi nu erau Ils rendraient tout le monde heureux Lumea întreagã fericitã o fãceau Pour pouvoir s’occuper en paix Pentru-a putea sã-ºi vadã în pace De leurs souffrances littéraires De suferinþele lor literare Ils construiraient des maisons jaunes κi fãceau niºte case galbene Avec des grands jardins devant Cu mari grãdini în faþã Et des arbres pleins de zoizeaux ªi arbori plini de pãzãrime De mirliflûtes et de lizeaux ªi flautriluri ºi-apeline Des mésongres et des feuvertes Minciuni ºi verzincendii Des plumuches, des picassiettes […] ªoimuºte, sfrânciocãnitoare [...] Il y aurait deux cents poissons Ar fi avut ºi peºti, vreo douã sute Depuis le croûsque au ramusson De la scorþescu pân’ la rãmurescu De la libelle au pépamule De la satirã pânã mãgãriturã De l’orphie au rara curule De la zãrgan pânã la rara curulã Et de l’avoile au canisson ªi de la cupânze pânã la cãrnãraie (Vian 2004, 74-76) (Vian 2004, 75-77)

Les mots inventés par Vian dans ce poème sont soit des noms d’oiseaux, soit des noms de poissons. La traductrice, poète elle aussi, fait très bien face à la provocation de leur trouver un équivalent roumain et nous ne pouvons pas nous empêcher de penser que le fait qu’elle est poète l’aide beaucoup dans cette tâche. Nous allons examiner chaque mot. « Mirliflûte » est un mot-valise, composé, semble-t-il, de « mirliton » (utilisé par Vian dans un autre poème de ce recueil) et « flûte ». La traduction « flau- triluri » est appropriée, faisant allusion aussi à l’activité créatrice (le poète qui joue de la flûte). Literature • 139

« Lizeaux » pourrait être une déformation de « les eaux » ou de « lisses eaux », ce que la traduction « apeline » réussit à suggérer. En ce qui concerne « mésongres », Linda-Maria Baros l’interprète comme une inversion de « mensonges » et le traduit comme tel, « minciuni ». N’oublions pas que ce nom devrait désigner un oiseau et ne pas exister en roumain, tout comme « mésongres » n’existe pas en français. L’inversion « nimciuni » aurait peut-être été une solution. Maria Freij considère que « mésongres » renvoie à « mésanges » et à « congres », ce qui est dans l’esprit de l’énumération d’oiseaux et de poissons.15 « Feuvertes » est très transparent du point de vue de sa formation et, à notre avis, très bien traduit par « verzincendii ». « Plumuches » nous suggère une combinaison entre « plumes » et « autru­ ches » ; en le traduisant par « ºoimuºte », la traductrice a utilisé un mot-valise, rendant en roumain la figure utilisée par Vian. « Picassiettes » est un homophone de « pique-assiette » ; pour le traduire, Linda-Maria Baros utilise un mot-valise, « sfrânciocãnitoare », formé de « sfrân- cioc » et de « ciocãnitoare ». Cette traduction a le mérite de familiariser le lecteur roumain avec ce procédé d’enrichissement du vocabulaire que Vian aime tant. Suivent huit noms de poissons, dont sept sont de pures inventions. Exami- nons-les. En écrivant « croûsque », Vian a eu peut-être à l’esprit une combinaison entre « crustacé » ou « croûte » et « mollusque ». La traductrice a rendu ce mot par « scorþescu », qui n’existe pas en roumain et qui a l’avantage de rimer avec « rãmurescu », la traduction du mot suivant inventé par Vian, « ramusson », dans lequel nous identifions « ramures ». En ce qui concerne « libelle », le mot existe en français, avec le sens de « court écrit de caractère satirique, diffamatoire ». Vian procède à une extension du sens de ce mot, l’utilisant pour désigner un poisson. C’est donc, conformément à la définition du néologisme par laquelle nous avons commencé cette étude, un néologisme de sens. La traduction « satirã » est appropriée. « Pépamule » pourrait être formé de « pépé », « pépier » ou « pépin » et « mule ». C’est un mot-valise moins transparent, tout comme sa traduction, « mãgãriturã » (qui a peut-être « mãgar » dans sa composition). Avec « rara curule », Vian forge un nouveau néologisme de sens, utilisant le mot « curule » dont le sens attesté est de « siège d’ivoire réservé aux premiers magistrats de Rome » pour dénommer un poisson. Le premier élément du syn- tagme est évidemment d’origine latine. La traductrice a préféré une traduction mot-à-mot, la seule possible d’ailleurs. En ce qui concerne « avoile », Linda-Maria Baros l’a interprété comme une agglutination, « à voile » et l’a traduit par « cupânze ». À notre avis, on pourrait lire ce mot aussi comme un paronyme d’« avoine ». 140 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

Maria Freij interprète « canisson » comme près de « caniche ».16 Si l’on ac- cepte cette interprétation, la traduction en roumain par « cãrnãraie » s’éloigne du sens de l’original. Mais il est très difficile de transmettre en traduction tous les réseaux de connotations de l’original ; c’est pourquoi nous nous gardons d’offrir une autre variante. Passons à la séquence suivante, contenant d’autres néologismes littéraires :

Elle serait là, si lourde Ar fi acolo-atât de grea (trad. Linda-Maria Baros)

Mais pour vos loyaux services Pentru loialitatea dumitale rarã On vous laisse conserver Þi se permite sã opreºti Un unique échantillon O mostrã unicã Comotive ou zoizillon. O comotivã sau pãzãruicã. (Vian 2004, 80)

Le néologisme littéraire « comotive » est obtenu par l’aphérèse de « locomo- tive ». Vian le raccourcit pour les besoins du rythme. Comme le mot roumain correspondant est un néologisme emprunté du français, la traduction par « co- motivã » était la seule justifiée. En ce qui concerne l’aphérèse, Pruvost et Sablay- rolles en font mention comme procédé de formation de néologismes littéraires et citent « zon » pour « prison » et « ser » pour « misère ». Cela fait partie, d’après ces auteurs, d’une tendance générale :

avec l’essor du rap et du slam aux confins du XX-ème et du XXI-ème siècle, la néologie connaît un nouveau développement auprès des jeunes générations. Fon- dés sur la scansion de textes souvent très travaillés, ces genres proches engendrent un vocabulaire d’autant plus créatif qu’il joue sur les notions croisées, d’une part, d’emprunts à des langues étrangères et, d’autre part, de cryptage de mots censés d’abord s’adresser aux initiés.17

On voit, à cet exemple, que Boris Vian a été un précurseur dans ce domaine aussi. En ce qui concerne « zoizillon », formé de « oisillon » d’après le procédé que nous avons décrit pour « zoizeaux », la traductrice a très bien choisi la variante rou- maine « pãzãruicã », qui est un diminutif qui garde la sonorité en « z » de l’original. Le poème Un jour est le dernier poème du recueil que nous analysons à con- tenir des néologismes littéraires. Dans ce cas, ces mots sont, à notre avis, en quelque sorte justifiés, parce que Vian avait l’intention de suggérer un univers parallèle, différent du nôtre, qui requiert de mots nouveaux pour s’y référer. Pour démontrer cette affirmation, nous citons le poème dans son intégralité : Literature • 141

Un jour Va exista-ntr-o-bunã zi (trad. Georgiana Banu)

Un jour Va exista-ntr-o bunã zi Il y aura autre chose que le jour Ceva cu totul diferit de zi Une chose plus franche, que l’on appellera ºi Zidel se va numi le Jodel Une encore, translucide comme l’arcanson Ceva strãveziu ca sacâzul Que l’on s’enchâssera dans l’œil d’un geste Pe care ni-l vom potrivi pe ochi cu un gest élégant elegant Il y aura l’auraille, plus cruel Va exista auratele, mai nemilos Le volutin, plus dégagé Volutatul, mai învolt Le comble, moins sempiternel Creºtetul, mai puþin etern Le baouf, toujours enneigé Bauful, mai mereu înzãpezit Il y aura le chalamondre Va exista ºalamondra L’ivrunini, le baroïque, Ivruniniul, baroicul Et tout un planté d’analognes ªi o întreagã droaie de analonii Les heures seront différentes Orele vor fi diferite Pas pareilles, sans résultat Nu vor semãna ºi nu vor culege Inutile de fixer maintenant le détail E inutil sã stabilim acum în detaliu de tout ça Exact ce ºi cum va fi Une certitude subsiste : un jour Un lucru-i sigur însã: va exista-ntr-o bunã zi Il y aura autre chose que le jour. Ceva, ce numai zi nu se va numi. (Vian 2004, 86) (Vian 2004, 87)

Comme on peut observer, Georgiana Banu a préféré de rester très près de l’original. En traduisant « Jodel » par « Zidel », la traductrice interprète ce mot comme un dérivé de « jour », ce qui est dans l’esprit du poème. Personnellement, cela nous fait penser aussi à « Javel ». « Auraille » est formé de « aura » et du suffixe « -aille ». La valeur collective de ce dernier n’est pas restituée par la traduction avec « auratele ». « Volutin », formé de « volute » et du suffixe masculin « -in », d’après le modèle « enfantin », « ivoirin », etc. est traduit par « volutatul » ; la traductrice aurait pu se garder encore plus près du texte et dire « volutinul ». Maria Freij suggère que c’est un mot-valise, formé de « volute » et de « lutin ».18 Pour Maria Freij, « baouf » ressemble à « bœuf »19; en ce qui nous concerne le mot a plutôt l’air d’une interjection. Georgiana Banu le traduit littéralement, « bauful ». « Chalamondre » est une transformation de « salamandre », très bien traduit par Georgiana Banu. « Ivrunini » est sans doute un dérivé de « ivre » ou d’« ivrogne ». Cela ne subsiste plus en traduction roumaine. 142 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

« Baroïque » est un mot-valise, formé de « baroque » et de « héroïque », mé- canisme que Georgiana Banu garde en traduction, aidée aussi par le fait que les mot roumains « baroc » et « eroic » ont été empruntés du français. « Analogne », dérivé d’« analogue » ou mot-valise formé de « analogue » et de « Catalogne », est, à notre avis, bien traduit par « analonii ».

ans le cas du transfert du français vers le roumain, langues apparentées, le traducteur peut parfois s’appuyer sur des caractéristiques communes D pour traduire les néologismes littéraires. Dans d’autres cas, le choix d’un terme ou d’un autre semble être tout à fait immotivé. D’ailleurs, dans le cas des néologismes littéraires forgés par Vian dans ce recueil, les mécanismes de leur formation sont, dans la plupart des cas, assez obscurs. Ce qui est sûr, c’est que l’imaginaire linguistique de Vian est effréné. À cela, évidemment, doit cor- respondre une compétence linguistique du traducteur sur mesure. À notre avis, les deux traductrices, Linda-Maria Baros et Georgiana Banu, se sont très bien acquittées de leur tâche, sauf quelques mineures exceptions. Et on ne doit pas oublier leur mérite de pionnières, en roumain, en ce qui concerne l’œuvre poétique de Vian. Les poèmes de Je voudrais pas crever se caractérisent, entre autres, par une grande liberté formelle. Une multitude d’options s’offrent au traducteur, ce qui déterminera, espérons-le, d’autres traductions de cet auteur si originel. Les solutions que Linda-Maria Baros et Georgiana Banu ont trouvé pour les néologismes littéraires de ce recueil sont de trois types : traductions littérales, transfert du procédé utilisé par Vian et recréations. Il y a aussi des différences entre les deux traductrices ; Linda-Maria Baros, poète elle-même, choisit plus souvent d’innover, de créer de nouveaux mots, tandis que Georgiana Banu pré­fère rester plus près du texte-source. Deux approches différentes du texte à traduire ; le bénéficiaire en est le lecteur roumain, qui peut se faire une image exacte sur le poète Boris Vian. q

Notes

1. Boris Vian, Je voudrais pas crever/N-aº prea vrea ca s-o mierlesc, trad. de Linda-Maria Baros et Georgiana Banu, Piteºti, Paralela 45, 2004. 2. Maurice Rheims, Les Mots sauvages. Dictionnaire des mots inconnus des dictionnaires. Écrivains des 19e et 20e siècles, Paris, Librairie Larousse, « Le souffle des mots » 1989. 3. Jean Pruvost et Jean-François Sablayrolles, Les Néologismes, Paris, Presses Universi- taires de France, « Que sais-je ? », 2016, p. 8. Literature • 143

4. Ibid., p. 50. 5. Rheims, Le Mots sauvages, op. cit., p. 13. 6. Louis Guilbert, « Théorie du néologisme », Cahiers de l’Association internationale des études françaises, no 25, 1973, p. 9-29. Document en ligne, consulté le 2019-01-30. url : http://www.persee.fr/doc/caief_0571-5865_1973_num_25_1_1020. 7. Maurice Riffaterre, « Poétique du néologisme », Cahiers de l’Association internationale des études françaises, no 25, 1973, p. 59-76. Document en ligne, consulté le 2019-01- 30. url : http://www.persee.fr/doc/caief_0571-5865_1973_num_25_1_1023. 8. Ibid. 9. Letiþia Ilea, L’Univers poétique de Boris Vian, Cluj-Napoca, Grinta, 2010, p. 161-165. 10. Camelia Capverde, « Boris Vian ou la tentation ludique de la traduction dans Je voudrais pas crever/N-aº prea vrea ca s-o mierlesc », Atelier de Traduction (Suceava), no 2, 2004, p. 181-188. 11. Gellu Naum, Opere, vol. 1, Poezii, éd. soignée et préfacée par Simona Popescu, Iaºi, Polirom, 2011, p. 444. 12. Robert Gordienne, Dictionnaire des mots qu’on dit « grOs »… de l’insulte et du dénigre- ment, Paris, Hors Commerce, « Hors texte », 2002, p. 345. 13. Gilbert Pestureau, « Préface au Dernier recueil », in Boris Vian, Œuvres, tome V, Poèmes et nouvelles, chroniques romancées, éd. Ursula Vian Kübler, Gilbert Pestureau et Marc Lapprand, Paris, Fayard, 1999, p. 227-229. 14. Maria Freij, « On not wanting to die: Translation as resurrection », in Boris Vian, If I Say If: The Poems and Short Stories of Boris Vian, trad. Maria Freij et Peter Hodges, éd. Alistaire Rolls, John West-Sooby et Jean Fornasiero, Adelaide, University of Adelaide Press, 2014, p. 299-305. Document en ligne, consulté le 2019-01-30. url : https://www.adelaide.edu.au/press/titles/vian-if/vian-if-ebook.pdf. 15. Ibid., p. 337. 16. Ibid., p. 304. 17. Pruvost et Sablayrolles, Les Néologismes, op. cit., p. 51. 18. Freij, « On not wanting to die », loc. cit., p. 341. 19. Ibid.

Abstract The Translation into Romanian of the Literary Neologisms in Je voudrais pas crever by Boris Vian

The study analyses the Romanian translation of literary neologisms from Boris Vian’s last poetry volume, Je voudrais pas crever (1962). The author highlights the pluses and minuses of translating these words, while also offering her own solutions.

Keywords literary neologism, poetry translation, word play A Past Best Forgotten Histories and Stories in Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Buried Giant,

A n a M a r i a The Remains of the Day and H o p â r t e a n Never Let Me Go

Introduction

riting about the past is no longer what it used to be. W Kazuo Ishiguro’s fiction enacts the postmodern position of the grand narrative that has lost its cred- ibility (Lyotard 1984, 179). Postmod- ernism itself is now a thing of the past (Frow 1990, 141), just as modernism became passé, perhaps even more pre- Kazuo Ishiguro destined to become history due to its “post” label which defines it as some- thing too anchored in its time to last. As Bradford remarked, we now live in an era in which we witness the end of grand narratives of conventional his- tory (Bradford 2007, 80). The present paper analyses the im- plications of going back in time, some- times on a wide, national scale (the Ana Maria Hopârtean Lecturer at the Department of Modern level of history) and other times on a Languages and Business Communica- deeply personal level (the level of tell- tions, Faculty of Economics and Business ing one’s story) in three of Ishiguro’s Administration, Babeº-Bolyai University, novels: The Buried Giant (2015), The Cluj-Napoca. Remains of the Day (1989) and Never Literature • 145

Let Me Go (2005). All of Ishiguro’s novels deal with the issue of memory at some level, but these three works are particularly representa- tive of the manner in which going back into the past helps shape the characters’ identity, their failures and, generally, bring to the sur- face a certain feeling of nostalgic loss that is now almost a trademark of Kazuo Ishiguro.

A Postmodern Take on History

he Buried Giant is a novel that can be read from this postmodern perspec- T tive on history. The historical back- ground in which the novel is set is purpose- fully ambiguous. Not much is known about the period right after the Romans left Britain and this is particularly significant for the main The Buried Giant (2015) issues raised: collective amnesia, a past that is supposed to have been so cruel that it is best forgotten, individual histories questioned by the manner in which the novel addresses lifelong connections among people. Reconstructing the past is a subjective process, as it can only be seen through the present:

. . . there are important parallels between the processes of history-writing and fic- tion-writing and among the most problematic of these are their common assump- tions about narrative and about the nature of mimetic representation. . . . that teller—of story or history—also constructs those very facts by giving a particular meaning to events. Facts do not speak for themselves in either form of narrative: the tellers speak for them, making these fragments of the past into a discursive whole. (Hutcheon 1989, 56)

History becomes an entirely subjective matter as it is now up to the storyteller what story they choose to tell. The events of the past are no longer important in themselves, as the past is only relevant when seen through the lens of the present. The past is contextualized and highly personal. Nations are raised to the level of narrations and individuals can rewrite them however this fits their personal pur- poses. Frederic Jameson uses the concept of national allegory, “where the tell- 146 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) ing of the individual story and the individual experience cannot but ultimately involve the whole laborious telling of the collectivity itself” (Jameson 1986, 85). The narrator in Midnight’s Children sums this up as he wonders about getting Gandhi’s death date right: “Am I so far gone, in my desperate need for mean- ing, that I’m prepared to distort everything—to re-write the whole history of my times purely in order to place myself in a central role?” (Rushdie 1981, 166).

Amnesia and Memory

mnesia further complicates matters, for it makes history even more unstable and less reliable. In Melley’s words, amnesia “has also become A a metaphor for historiographic dilemmas—for the sense that it is no longer possible to ground historical narratives securely and that the failure to do so has led to dangerous forms of collective forgetting” (Melley 2003, 107). In The Buried Giant telling stories and “histories” does not come easily, as most characters cannot remember much about either their personal story or their national history. Axl and Beatrice, the elderly Briton couple at the center of Ishiguro’s novel, suffer from amnesia, as does everyone living in the region. Right after the end of the Roman rule in Britain, Saxons and Britons lived in relative harmony. The couple decide to start a journey to find their son, but neither time nor space are of any help. They cannot remember their son and they do not know where his village is because of the “mist,” a spell cast over the entire region, possibly even nation, by Querig, the she-dragon that must be slayed so that memory is returned to both Saxons and Britons. After they are joined by Wistan, Edwin and Gawain, this becomes the main goal of their journey, to restore collective memory: “There, princess, there’s nothing to fear. Our memories aren’t gone forever, just mislaid somewhere on account of this wretched mist. We’ll find them again, one by one if we have to. Isn’t that why we’re on this journey?” (Ishiguro 2015, 52). This collective amnesia is a particularly powerful tool as it enables two com- munities to live together, to get over a supposedly cruel and barbarous past that is best forgotten, while vaguely remembering that they are supposed to be hat- ing each other. Collective memory loss seems to be crucial for people so that they can live to- gether. When memory breaks down, one can no longer tell stories about the past. The present is conveyed as separated from the past and individual stories can only continue to exist against this background of an ambiguous, shared history. Telling stories and histories can only be done by accessing memories. Most of Ishiguro’s novels use memory as a means of narrating the story, and go- Literature • 147 ing back in time is central to novels such as The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go. In The Remains of the Day Stevens’s memory is touched by nostalgia and this makes him an unreliable narrator. The referent is almost dissolved in the inconsistency of Stevens’s unreliable narration (Hopârtean 2018, 140). In Jameson’s words, “the past as a ‘referent’ finds itself gradually bracketed, and then ef- faced altogether, leaving us with nothing but texts” (Jameson 1993, 75). However subjective and unreliable this storytelling process may be, it is profoundly relevant as it is a pretext for a meaningful search of Stevens’s own identity. In his jour- ney through the English countryside and into his past, the main character of The Remains of the Day configures both space and time in terms of what he perceives it means to be The Remains of the Day (1989) English (Hopârtean 2018, 140). Ishiguro says that he has not “attempted to reproduce, in an historical accurate way, some past period” and that what he is trying to do is to “rework a particular myth about a certain kind of mythical England” (Ishiguro, Herzinger, and Vorda 1991, 139).

Time, Space and Identity

n The Buried Giant, time and space are almost equally important in setting I a mythical scene in which the story unfolds: You would have searched a long time for the sort of winding lane or tranquil mead- ow for which England later became celebrated. There were instead miles of deso- late, uncultivated land; here and there rough-hewn paths over craggy hills or bleak moorland. Most of the roads left by the Romans would by then have become broken or overgrown, often fading into wilderness. Icy fogs hung over rivers and marshes, serving all too well the ogres that were still native to this land. (Ishiguro 2015, 3)

Pixies, ogres and dragons are part of the background and never questioned, help- ing to circumscribe a dark, prescientific age in which societal memories are buried. 148 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

Never Let Me Go is also about journeys in time and space, as Kath drives through the English countryside, much like Stevens, while reminiscing about a past that the characters shared at Hailsham and the Cottages before be- coming either “carers” or “donors.” Never Let Me Go is, at its heart, a painful story about love and friendship in the face of the limited time the characters have to live their own separate stories. Their entire identities had been shaped from childhood with a view to becoming first carers and then donors. Kath and Tommy live in the shadow of an existential loneliness, just like Axl and Beatrice, for their lives are separate due to their roles. Kath is a carer, while Tommy is a donor, and it is impossible to defeat this sense of otherness and be happy for a few more Never Let Me Go (2005) years:

“I suppose you’re right, Kath. You are a really good carer. You’d be the perfect one for me too if you weren’t you.” He did a laugh and put his arm round me, though we kept sitting side by side. Then he said: “I keep thinking about this river some- where, with the water moving really fast. And these two people in the water, trying to hold onto each other, holding on as hard as they can, but in the end it’s just too much. The current’s too strong. They’ve got to let go, drift apart. That’s how I think it is with us.” (Ishiguro 2005, 277)

The image is very much alike that of Axl and Beatrice floating together in the two separate but tied-together boats.

Love and Wounds

oth couples fail the final test meant to prove that they truly love each other. Katy and Tommy hope to obtain a “deferral” from becoming B organ donors and they even try to “apply” for such a deferral, which is allegedly only granted to couples who manage to prove that they truly love each other. The entire attempt fails however, when Kath and Tommy find out that Madame only collected their works of art throughout their childhood to prove that clones such as them had a soul and there was no such thing as a deferral. Literature • 149

Similarly, to complete their journey to their son’s village, Axl and Beatrice must be ferried to an island in two separate boats, once the ferryman has estab- lished that their love is true, by questioning them separately. They travel togeth- er and yet constantly live in the fear that once they have remembered their past, their love may no longer endure the test of time. Axl and Beatrice are constantly worried about being separated: “Promise, princess, you’ll not forget what you feel in your heart for me at this moment. For what good’s a memory returning from the mist if it’s only to push away another? Will you promise me, princess? Promise to keep what you feel for me this moment always in your heart, no mat- ter what you see once the mist’s gone” (Ishiguro 2015, 294). The couple fails the final test of Charon and The Buried Giant ends with the same nostalgic air of loss as most of Ishiguro’s other novels. Perhaps one of the most powerful metaphors throughout Ishiguro’s fiction, which embodies a painful past that can still make its way into the present, is the metaphor of wounds. Whatever happened in the past can still be felt in the present, whether or not we remember it for what it was. Essentially, wounds are defining for the identity of several characters in Ishiguro’s fiction. Wounds can be both painful and helpful, as they help characters achieve goals in the present. Edwin’s wound, which was caused by a dragon, leads Wistan and the other char- acters to Querig the she-dragon, so that they can restore everyone’s memory: “Who knows how he met with a dragon, but a dragon’s bite it is, and now the desire will be rising in his blood to seek congress with a she-dragon. And in turn, any she-dragon near enough to scent him will come seeking him. This is why Master Wistan is so fond of his protégé, sir. He believes Master Edwin will lead him to Querig” (Ishiguro 2015, 199). Thus, Edwin’s wound is what guides the characters and facilitates their jour- ney. The wound connects present and past. Beatrice’s painful foot, a variation of the wound metaphor, leads the char- acters to the monastery to seek the monks’ advice and is supposedly caused by “darkness,” standing for the superstitious, prescientific communities that meta- phorically took away Axl and Beatrice’s candle: “It wasn’t right for them. To take away our candle. . . . I was remembering about it, Axl. And I was think- ing maybe it’s because of our lack of a candle I first took this pain I now have” (Ishiguro 2015, 115). Father Jonus’s self-inflicted wounds are also reminiscent of a primitive take on religion, whereby exposing one’s body to the wild birds could lead to God’s forgiveness. This seems to be at least what the abbot recommends the monks do, while “others of our view will say it’s time to stop. That no forgiveness awaits us at the end of this path. That we must uncover what’s been hidden and face the past” (Ishiguro 2015, 174). 150 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

In Never Let Me Go, the characters’ entire identities are woundlike, for their ultimate goal is to donate their vital organs. This reality is never questioned, the characters never directly express regret or pain about it. Once asked in an inter- view about why the characters in Never Let Me Go don’t try to escape, Ishiguro replies that he is not interested in that at all. He wants to explore what happens to characters who manage to stay and go on with their lives. “I was never inter- ested in looking at that story of raved slaves who rebelled and escaped . . . I’m fascinated by the extent to which people don’t run away. . . . That is the remark- able fact, how much we accept” (Ishiguro 2010). Individual failure—at love, at being happy, at togetherness—is the space in which Ishiguro’s stories unfold.

Duty, Misplaced Loyalty and Failure

acing the past and assuming responsibility for a questionable history is the underlying theme of both The Buried Giant and The Remains of the Day. In F The Buried Giant, the past makes its way into the present through Gawain, the quixotic knight with a hidden agenda to protect the dragon. Self-deprecating and awkward, with a high sense of duty to King Arthur, Gawain describes himself as harmless, yet dedicated to his cause: “Armed, it’s true, but come closer and you’ll see I’m just a whiskery old fool. This sword and armour I carry only out of duty to my king, the great and beloved Arthur” (Ishiguro 2015, 118). With his armor “frayed and rusted, though no doubt he had done all he could to preserve” (Ishiguro 2015, 119), Gawain is the embodiment of a past that is no longer relevant for the present. He is the only character who seems to remember past deeds, like Axl’s cursing Arthur before his knights. Thus it is impossible not to wonder: had the other characters been able to remember the past, would they all be Gawains? As for Stevens in The Remains of the Day, Ishiguro says in an interview that “we’re all like butlers” (Ishiguro, Herzinger, and Vorda 1991, 140), which is significant in the his story/ history dichotomy: by telling his story of misplaced loyalty and professional failure he tells the story of a backward-looking nation, still caught in a post-imperial nostalgia. Currently employed by a forward look- ing American, Mr. Farraday, Stevens reminisces about his previous employer from before World War II, Lord Darlington, a sympathizer of Hitler. His story is about what it means to be a great butler in Great Britain.

It is sometimes said that butlers only truly exist in England. Other countries, what- ever title is actually used, have only menservants. I tend to believe this is true. Con- Literature • 151

tinentals are unable to be butlers because they are as a breed incapable of emotional restraint which only the English race are capable of. . . . We English have an im- portant advantage over foreigners in this respect and it is for this reason that when you think of a great butler, he is bound, almost by definition, to be an Englishman. (Ishiguro 1989, 44)

Caught between past and present, idealizing the former while trying to come to terms with the latter, Stevens uses history to rationalize his ideals: “Each of us harboured the desire to make our own small contribution to the creation of a better world, and saw that, as professionals, the surest means of doing so would be to serve the great gentlemen of our times in whose hands civilization had been entrusted” (Ishiguro 1989, 122). Through Stevens, Ishiguro deconstructs the grand historical narrative of a national identity that is rooted in a past which is no longer relevant today. Using the past to make sense of the present is what all three novels have in common. Axl and Beatrice cannot remember the past, but live in constant fear of what might happen if they remembered, while at the same time fighting the amnesia-inducing mist. Stevens embodies an entire backward-looking nation that must overcome its nostalgia in order to deal with the present. Kath and Tommy’s identities as carer and donor are rooted in their childhood and ado- lescence and their history and fates are never questioned. They all fail, end up lonely or die, and they all do so in the shadow of a past that cannot be linearly integrated into the present. It cannot be accepted (Stevens), questioned (Kath and Tommy), or even remembered (Axl and Beatrice). The past is unreliable, displaced and elusive. The past is just a pretext for analyzing failure. One cannot come to terms with the past. q

References

Bradford, Richard. 2007. The Novel Now: Contemporary British Fiction. Oxford: Wiley- Blackwell. Frow, John. 1990. “What Was Post Modernism?” In Past the Last Post: Theorizing Post- Colonialism and Post-Modernism, eds. Ian Adam and Helen Tiffin, 139–152. Calgary: University of Calgary Press. Hopârtean, Ana Maria. 2018. “Representations of History in Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Re- mains of the Day.” Transylvanian Review 27, 2 (Summer): 140. Hutcheon, Linda. 1989. The Politics of Postmodernism. London–New York: Routledge. Ishiguro, Kazuo. 1989. The Remains of the Day. London: Faber & Faber. ——. 2005. Never Let Me Go. London: Faber & Faber. ——. 2010. Online Interview. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_jCB59pPG7k. 152 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

——. 2015. The Buried Giant. London: Faber & Faber. Jameson, Frederic. 1986. “Third-World Literature in the Era of Multinational Capital- ism.” Social Text 15 (Autumn): 65–88. ——. 1993. “Postmodernism, or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism.” In Postmodern- ism: A Reader, ed. Thomas Docherty, 62–92. New York–Oxford: Columbia Univer- sity Press. Lyotard, Jean-François. 1984. The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge. Transl. Geoff Bennington and Brian Massumi. Foreword by Fredric Jameson. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Melley, Timothy. 2003. “Postmodern Amnesia: Trauma and Forgetting in Tim O’Brien’s ‘In the Lake of the Woods.’” Contemporary Literature 44, 1: 106–131. Rushdie, Salman. 1981. Midnight’s Children. London: Picador. Vorda, Allan and Kim Herzinger. 1991. “An Interview with Kazuo Ishiguro.” Mississippi Review 20, 1 & 2: 131–154.

Abstract A Past Best Forgotten: Histories and Stories in Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Buried Giant, The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go

Memory is fundamental to Kazuo Ishiguro’s fiction. The present paper analyses how the past makes its way into the present in The Buried Giant, The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go. To different degrees, all three novels address the issue of personal identity as reliant on a larger context. Personal stories are written against the wider historical background that the characters are part of. Eventual failure, loss or even death are significant from a postmodern view on history and time, namely, that there is no grand historical narrative that is credible, reliable or that can act as the center to which characters can return and make sense of their personal stories.

Keywords history, story, postmodernism, identity, failure Book Reviews

cuit, after its publication at Cluj, under the Vasile Alexandru Barbolovici aegis of the Center for Transylvanian Stud- Conciliul de la Ferrara-Florenþa (1438– 1439): Istoria ºi ecleziologia unirilor ies of the Romanian Academy. (The Council of Ferrara-Florence, 1438– The book is structured into seven chap- 1439: The history and ecclesiology of the ters of unequal length totaling 283 pages, religious unions) 37 pages less than the Italian publication, Forewords by Liviu Petru ZÃpârÞan and a difference probably resulting from the Virgil Bercea, introduction by Cesare Alzati translation which thus renders the work Translated from Italian by Monica Omilescu more concise. Cluj-Napoca: Academia Românã, Centrul The foreword and the introduction tell de Studii Transilvane, 2019 us what the author’s motivation was for choosing the topic, namely, an impressive historical reconstruction of the tribula- Vasile Alexandru Barbolovici is a tions of Christianity, with two objectives: Greek Catholic priest, doctor in Theology the first one regards the investigation of and a specialist in ecumenical studies at the differences between the two main the Antonianum Pontifical University of branches of Christianity, while the second Rome, where he defended his dissertation objective was linked to tie between the his- in 2017; a year later, he published his doc- ­torical evolution of Christianity and the toral dissertation entitled Il concilio di Fer­ territories inhabited by Romanians. rara-Firenze (1438–1439): Storia ed eccle- Chapter I, “Eastern Europe between siologia delle Unioni (Bologna: edb, 2018). Rome and Byzantium Until the Council The present volume is in fact a transla- of Ferrara-Florence (1438–1439)” (pp. tion into Romanian of the aforementioned 25–56), includes general information work, which was initially published in Ital- about Eastern Europe, a region which ian; the translation was done by Monica was, especially during the Middle Ages, Omilescu, while the forewords is signed at the confluence and under the influence by Liviu Petru Zãpârþan and Virgil Bercea; of both European empires (Holy Roman the introduction is written by Cesare Alzati. and Byzantine), and of the two Christian The Romanian version was published in Churches, ‘Latin’ and ‘Greek.’ As such, the 2019, and therefore we could say that it first chapter is a general one, describing respected the one-year presentation and the political and religious context in East- publication “cycle”: 2017—public de- ern Europe until the Council of Ferrara- fense of the doctoral dissertation in Rome; Florence. 2018—publication in the Italian language, The second chapter, “The Union of in Bologna; 2019—the introduction of Florence of 1439 and its Consequences the work into the Romanian scientific cir- for the Romanians” (pp. 57–87), is gen- 154 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) eral in nature, like the previous one, but sion: Filioque, the matter and the form of in geographical and contextual terms the the Eucharist, the Purgatory, and the pri- author focuses on the regions inhabited by macy of the Roman pontiff. the Romanians—Transylvania, Wallachia, Chapter V, “The Unions, between Dif- and Moldavia. The author also presents the ficulties and Resistance” (pp. 167–206), consequences of the decisions adopted dur- provides, as suggested by its title, a syn- ing the Council of Florence of 1439, espe- thetic examination of the existing religious cially those concerning the Romanian peo- unions among peoples of Slavic origin ple living in the abovementioned regions. in Eastern Europe, highlighting the im- Chapter III, “The Different Unions portance of the Union of Brest, of 1595, and Their Motivations” (pp. 89–127) pre­ especially for the good functioning of the sents the various unions established in the two “sister Churches,” a phrase used and wake of the Florentine union of 1439, debated in the previous chapter. After the chosen example being the Union of the Union of Brest came other religious Brest, of 1595. The Polish people were unions, such as the one of Uzhhorod in the pathfinders for the Eastern European 1646, or that of Mukachevo (1664); these peoples who became united or reunited, examples influenced the Romanian people in religious terms, with the Church of in Transylvania, as the author shows. Rome. The model was followed by the The sixth chapter, “The Foundation Ruthenians and by the Romanians in Up- of the Unions: The Tendency Towards per Hungary and in the Western marches Unity” (pp. 207–224), is short, not very of Transylvania (Partium); later on, there rich in information, but the details it offers was a mass union of the Romanian people have a significant impact on the reader. in Transylvania, during 1697 and 1701. In this subunit, Father Barbolovici pres- The author observes that, from a historical ents the case of the double ecclesial affili- point of view, the establishment of the Ro- ation, hardly an isolated phenomenon at manian Uniate Church (the Greek Catho- the time. A clear case of double loyalty in lic Church) around the year 1700 had re- the Romanian space is that of Gheorghe markable consequences for the process of Movilã, the Metropolitan Bishop of Iaºi modernization and in terms of connecting and the head of the Church of Moldavia, the Romanians to European civilization who, together with Prince Petru ªchiopul, and culture. pledged allegiance to Rome in 1589, but If the first three chapters contained his- the following year they also attended the torical aspects, proving the author’s skills Synod of Constantinople, which rati- as a historian, the next four chapters in- fied the establishment of the Patriarchy clude ecclesiologic information which, this of Moscow. The author also talks about time around, illustrates the author’s theo- Ieremia Movilã, Metropolitan Gheorghe’s logical background. brother, who was a Catholic priest. Al- Thus, chapter IV, “The Council of though he lived according to the Ortho- Florence and its Ecclesiology” (pp. 129– dox tradition, he had no compunction 166), presents the preliminary stages of when it came to giving confession before the Council of Florence, and the four main the Latin altar as well. The chapter also issues debated and adopted in plenary ses- presents other examples proving the dual Book Reviews • 155 loyalty of some people of the Church, but Adrian Onofreiu and Claudia Septimia this should not give the impression of du- SabÃu, eds. plicity or pretense. On the contrary, their “Despre împlinirea celor neîmplinite” actions should be seen as an aspiration to- în districtul Nãsãud: Condicile wards the manifest unity of the Church, administrative de la Mãgura (1866–1868) according to the author. ºi ªanþ (1874) In the last chapter, “The Second Vati- (“On the fulfillment of that which had can Council and the Catholic East” (pp. been unfulfilled” in the district of Nãsãud: 225–251), the author briefly presents all The administrative records of Mãgura, the stages of the Second Vatican Coun- 1866–1868, and ªanþ, 1874) cil of 1962–1965: the preliminary stage, Foreword by Ioan Bolovan the sessions, and the effects of the deci- Cluj-Napoca: Academia Românã, Centrul sions adopted, especially upon the Eastern de Studii Transilvane, 2018 Churches (Orientalium Ecclesiarum). In conclusion, the work of Vasile Alexandru Barbolovici is a historical theo- he editors, Adrian Onofreiu and logical exegesis that follows the central in- T Claudia Septimia Sabãu, are accomplished vestigative line of the Council of Ferrara- researchers whose comprehensive, utterly Florence (1438–1439), an event of great professional, and through endeavors have ecclesiological, but also historical signifi- managed to bring to the attention of schol- cance. The decisions adopted at this Coun- ars an impressive amount of documents cil had echoes especially in the Eastern concerning the historical area of Nãsãud. part of the continent, among the Christian The Nãsãud District, a political-admi­ peoples of Greek rite. All of these evolu- nistrative entity created in 1861 in the re- tions and transformations caused by the gion of the former Nãsãud Border Regi- Council were approached by the author ment, had a majority Romanian popula- from a dual perspective, historical and tion (mainly Greek Catholic), Romanian theological, which is the defining feature public officials in all administrative fields, of this work. and schools with Romanian as their teach- q ing language. Robert-Marius Mihalache This book contains documents and regulations recorded by local mayoralties in two villages of Nãsãud District, Rodna- Mãgura (for the timeframe 1866–1868) and ªanþ (for 1874). These are impor- tant documents that help us understand the work of the Romanian authorities in that area, containing essential informa- tion about the mechanisms underpinning the administration of such villages. The documents show that, at local communi- ties level, an important role was played by the mayors, with attributions regard- 156 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019) ing the execution of the ordinances issued mit the documents between the authori- by the district authorities, the collection ties, and a few guards. Their attributions of taxes, conscriptions for the army and and behavior were strictly regulated. the local guards units, the monitoring of The registers included in this book also foreigners in the area, forest exploitation, contain valuable information regarding the road maintenance, and the supervision of daily life of the inhabitants of these two vil- the schools. lages, highlighting the particularities of the The information about the administra- collective mentalities of that time. People tive process covers a wide variety of as- were putting all their resources and efforts pects, such as the election of village mayors in the cultivation of land as well as in rais- and of local representatives, the disciplin- ing cattle. Agriculture was the most im- ary investigations against some village or portant occupation of the inhabitants and district officials, the use of the Romanian the main source of food; for this reason, it language in the district administration, the was highly regulated by the state and lo- official correspondence, the issuance of cal authorities. Many documents in this certificates, the mediation between parties book deal with issues regarding the crops in minor disputes, the issuance of civil sta- and the cattle, as shown in the few samples tus papers, building permits, etc. presented below: “Following a medical in- The documents in this books also vestigation, it was found that the hemp left contain official answers given to imperial to melt in water had poisoned the water patents, government circulars, or imperial so much that by drinking it many people orders, which shed light on the relations became ill; nowadays, when cholera is between the larger administrative entities ravaging the neighboring countries, this that encompassed several villages and the dangerous disease has appeared in some higher authorities: the regional govern- smaller villages in the Rodna circle too; ment in Cluj (Kolozsvár, Klausenburg), therefore, in order to prevent the disease the Transylvanian Imperial Chancellery of from spreading, the police has decided as Vienna, etc. follows: all the hemp that needs to be left The editors aim to find answers to to melt in the water has to be placed in questions such as: how were the decisions running waters only, and for no longer of the authorities communicated to the than 12 ours; it is forbidden to place it in people in these communities? What was lakes, because of the risk of poisoning the the reaction of ordinary people, how did cattle. Those who will not comply will be they comply with these measures? What fined 5 florins, according to the Imperial was their relationship with the local au- Patent of 20/4/1854.” thorities? The documents also show other mea- In the rural society of that time, the sures taken by the local authorities in or- most important officials were the priest der to prevent the spread of contagious and the mayor, who had to work together diseases: both the people and their hous- on a regular basis for the wellbeing of the es should be kept clean; all the garbage community. The administrative apparatus should be disposed of properly; the people also included a notary, a tax collector, a were to take care not to catch a cold or clerk, a village council, a courier to trans- the flue, which might weaken them; the Book Reviews • 157 people had to keep a proper diet, avoiding Ioan Degãu et Viorel Faur, dir. fatty foods. Beiuºul ºi lumea lui. Vol. 5, Small mundane events, like petty Lupta pentru unire (1918-1919). thefts, birds invasions and such are also in- Oameni, fapte, întâmplãri din Bihor cluded in these documents: “19-years-old (Beiuº et son monde. Vol. 5, Ion Moise, from Mãgura, after stealing a La Lutte pour l’union, 1918–1919. pair of boots from his parents’ house, ran Gens, faits et événements de Bihor) away, destination unknown. This matter Cluj-Napoca, Academia Românã, needs to be thoroughly investigated.” Centrul de Studii Transilvane, 2018 “According to the complaints made so far by many people, it now manifest that birds of all kinds have become too numer- La célébration du centenaire de ous, and they do damage to the harvest of l’union des Roumains a offert en égale the villagers throughout the year. There is mesure des opportunités significatives et great need of measures to get rid of these de grandes provocations pour l’écriture birds, and therefore all men have to kill at historique. Les spécialistes impliqués dans least 150, and prove it by presenting the l’effort de restitution du passé ont mis en heads of the birds to the authorities.” valeur le revirement intervenu au niveau As can be seen, the documents included de l’intérêt public pour certains aspects in this book contain a wealth of informa- de l’identité nationale et ont privilégié des tion referring not only to the administra- recherches visant les manifestations de la tive activities that ensured the smooth run- conscience nationale chez les Roumains ning of the community, but also to daily des provinces historiques, son impact sur life, to the concerns and problems of ordi- l’évolution de l’État ou le rôle des person- nary people in the area. In their transcrip- nalités dans les événements politiques à la tion of the documents the editors also kept fin de la Grande Guerre. Ce changement the original language, making them a true intervenu au niveau des priorités des lec- window into the past, a valuable source teurs a stimulé les plaidoyers des historiens of information for researchers concerned professionnels en vue d’une restauration with the various aspects of Romanian life de l’histoire comme étant l’une des com- in Transylvania in the modern era. posantes essentielles du processus instruc- q tif-éducatif, statut justifié par l’importance Daniela Mârza sociale de celle-ci. D’un autre côté, la pro- duction historiographique a dû faire face à une compétition dure avec les acteurs politiques et institutionnels intéressés à identifier le travail de l’historien à la pro- pagande patriotique. Le contrôle des res- sources économiques indispensables au niveau actuel des recherches de spécialité risque de se transformer en une sorte de patronage exercé sur l’historien, difficile à concilier avec les exigences scientifiques. 158 • Transylvanian Review • Vol. XXVIII, No. 3 (Autumn 2019)

À son tour, le public lecteur oscille entre est un banquier respecté, directeur de la l’intérêt pour les interrogations concernant succursale de la Banque nationale d’Ora- l’existence d’un projet national roumain dea et promoteur actif de certains projets et l’acceptation de la légitimité des thèses culturels initiés dans le Bihor. Sa contribu- officielles sur le passé et le présent. En tion peut être reconnue au niveau du prag- conséquence, l’édition historiographique matisme qui gouverne l’organisation thé- a promu une gamme variée de points de matique du volume. Le professeur Viorel vue, de la reprise enthousiaste des stéréo- Faur est un historien consacré. Ses études typies liées à la lutte continue de la nation sont indispensables à une bonne connais- roumaine pour l’unité politique, à une vi­ sance de la dynamique du mouvement sion volontairement iconoclaste qui a mis national des Roumains de Transylvanie et en cause l’adhésion des Transylvains au de l’activité du Parti National des Rou- projet d’union avec le Royaume roumain. mains de Transylvanie, Banat et Hongrie. Ces approches antithétiques sont contre- Cette osmose entre la rigueur spécifique balancées par les efforts de quelques spé- de l’homme de finances et l’esprit critique cialistes qui, en assumant les risques de la de l’historien moderne offre une lecture contestation à cause du manque d’origina- intéressante des faits du passé relativement lité, ont mis en évidence l’existence d’un proche, inspirée par l’idée de rétablir l’his- intérêt pour des recherches sur une pro­ toire comme engagement civique. blématique affectée par les réinterpréta­ Ioan-Aurel Pop et Ioan Bolovan es­ tions issues des expériences idéologiques quis­­sent une courte histoire des auto-­­ du dernier siècle et par les dilemmes iden- no­mies ethniques en Transylvanie, en titaires du public. sou­­­lig­­nant les limites de l’ainsi-nomée to­ Le Ve volume de l’œuvre consacrée à lérance de la Transylvanie médiévale et l’histoire de Beiuº offre une réponse inso- la déstructuration­ de ces entités comme lite à ces provocations, défiant en même conséquence­ des politiques de moderni- temps tous les préjugés qui tendent à sation de la Monarchie habsbourgeoise. affecter le travail de l’historien dans les Jean, métro­ ­polite de Banat, place le thème dernières décennies. Premièrement, cette de l’unité nationale des Roumains dans la collection d’études, impressionnante par logique de quelques arguments historico- ses dimensions, satisfait les critères d’origi- géo­graphiques et culturels, placés sous nalité par l’intermédiaire des affiliations as- les auspices d’un discours imprégné de sumées explicitement par les auteurs. Les significations théologiques. Les notations deux coordinateurs, Ioan Degãu et Viorel mémorielles proposées par Anton Anton Faur, abandonnent les prétentions de neu- concernant l’évolution du lycée Samuil tralité de l’historien, le but assumé de cette Vulcan précèdent le retour à l’analyse his- démarche historiographique consistant à toriographique. L’étude de Ioan Degãu récupérer les preuves d’implication des ha- révèle l’importance de Beiuº comme un bitants de Beiuº et des communautés ru- centre du mouvement national des Rou- rales proximales dans la lutte pour l’union mains par rapport aux évolutions poli- en 1918-1919 et à démontrer leur enga- tiques austro-hongroises dans la deuxième gement actif de soutenir le projet national moitié du XIXe siècle. Le lecteur a ainsi des Roumains transylvains. Ioan Degãu l’occasion de recevoir des informa­ ­tions Book Reviews • 159 essentielles pour la connaissance du passé Bolcaº, mais aussi des données concernant d’une communauté transylvaine beaucoup­ l’activité de certaines structures associa- moins étudiée que celles de Blaj, Sibiu, tionnistes locales. Le troisième groupage Braºov ou Oradea. Le professeur Blaga propose un retour à quelques restitutions Mihoc propose la réévaluation de l’activité mémorielles, commençant par des évoca- d’une personnalité du mouvement natio- tions de la famille et continuant avec les nal roumain, Vasile Lucaciu, et les deux interviews réalisées par Ioan Isaiu avec études qui suivent, élaborées par Viorel les participants aux événements de 1918- Faur, abordent le thème des préparatifs 1919. La section finale résume l’activité de politiques de la Déclaration d’indépen- la nouvelle administration roumaine, les dance des Roumains de Transylvanie et premières années après l’unité, les débuts Hongrie du 12 octobre 1918, et respec- de la réforme agraire, mais elle propose tivement la participation des habitants de aussi une incursion dans le mental collectif Bihor à la Grande Assemblée Nationale de la communauté par l’analyse des com- d’Alba Iulia. muniqués de presse à l’occasion de l’anni- La section intitulée Gens, faits et événe- versaire d’une décennie depuis la Grande ments de Bihor (1918-1919) met en évidence Union. Les dernières pages confirment la la participation des habitants de Bihor aux vocation scientifique de la démarche toute efforts d’accomplir l’unité par l’intermé- entière et offre un support essentiel pour diaire de données d’histoire locale comme ceux intéressés à approfondir la connais- l’histoire du drapeau national d’Oºorhei, sance de ce fragment d’histoire, par l’inter- des analyses de la presse de Bihor ou la médiaire d’une bibliographie alphabétique lutte des gardes nationales pour le réta- et chronologique sur les événements, si- blissement de l’ordre social. Les études ci- gnée Antonio Faur. incluses abordent aussi des sujets ignorés Ce projet historiographique, qui a mo- par l’écriture historique pour de diverses bilisé les contributions de quelques histo- raisons, comme les massacres contre les riens appartenant à certaines générations communautés rurales, mais aussi des faits et à de diverses directions de recherche, d’intérêt pour l’histoire universelle comme offre des ressources précieuses de connais- l’offensive de l’armée roumaine contre les sances sur la conduite d’une communauté forces communistes hongroises. surprise à un tournant de l’histoire natio- Les études incluses dans la section Les nale. Le lecteur a l’occasion d’approfondir représentants de la Grande Assemblée de Alba ses connaissances sur une collectivité igno- Iulia comprend des restitutions biogra- rée par les grandes synthèses d’histoire, phiques liées aux personnalités du mou- mais capable d’actions mémorables dans vement national roumain de Bihor, des des circonstances favorables. gens politiques comme Aurel Lazãr et des q martyrs comme Ioan Ciordaº et Nicolae Florian Dumitru Soporan contributors

Lavinia Betea, Ph.D. Ana Maria Hopârtean, Ph.D. Professor at the Faculty of Educational Sciences, Lecturer at the Faculty of Economics and Business Psychology and Social Work, Aurel Vlaicu Administration, Babeº-Bolyai University University 58–60 Teodor Mihali St., Cluj-Napoca 400591, 2 Elena Drãgoi St., Arad 310330, Romania Romania e-mail: [email protected] e-mail: [email protected]

Gavin Bowd, Ph.D. Letiþia Ilea, Litt.D. Reader, School of Modern Languages, Associate professor at the Faculty of Economics University of St. Andrews and Business Administration of Babeş-Bolyai Union St., Buchanan Building 109, St. Andrews, University Fife, Scotland, United Kingdom 58–60 Teodor Mihali, Cluj-Napoca 400591, e-mail: [email protected] Romania e-mail: [email protected] Corin Braga, Ph.D. Professor at the Faculty of Letters, Daniela Mârza, Ph.D. Babeş-Bolyai University Senior researcher at the Center for Transylvanian 31 Horea St., Cluj-Napoca 400202, Romania Studies of the Romanian Academy e-mail: [email protected] 12–14 Mihail Kogãlniceanu St., Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania Dorin David, Ph.D. e-mail: [email protected] Independent researcher and writer, Braºov, Romania Robert-Marius Mihalache, Ph.D. e-mail: [email protected] Researcher at the Center for Transylvanian Studies, Romanian Academy, editor at the Department of Laura Teodora David, Ph.D. Communication and Public Relations, Babeº-Bolyai Associate professor at the Faculty of Psychology University and Educational Sciences, Transilvania University 12–14 Mihail Kogãlniceanu St., 56 Nicolae Bãlcescu St., Braºov, 500019, Romania Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania e-mail: [email protected] e-mail: [email protected]

Dennis Deletant, Ph.D. Dorin-Ioan Rus, Ph.D. Visiting professor of Romanian Studies Project assistant at the Institute of History, at Georgetown University, ceres Department Karl-Franzens University ICC 111, 37th and O St. NW, Washington, DC, 3 Mozartgasse St., Graz A-8010, Austria 20057, usa e-mail: [email protected] e-mail: [email protected] Florian Dumitru Soporan, Ph.D. Anneli Ute Gabanyi, Ph.D. Senior researcher at the Center for Transylvanian Senior research associate at the German Institute Studies of the Romanian Academy for International and Security Affairs, 12–14 Mihail Kogãlniceanu St., Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik Cluj-Napoca 400084, Romania 10 Franzstrasse, Berlin 12247, Germany e-mail: [email protected] e-mail: [email protected]