Centre for Romanian Studies

Constantin ROMAN: “Blouse Roumaine” Extras (I) – ROMANCE la LONDRA

May 6th, 2006 · Books, Diaspora, PEOPLE

CONFLUENTE CULTURALE ANGLO-ROMANE (I) –
ROMANCELE LA LONDRA

Cand trecea pe la Londra, Hotelul Savoy din Mayfair, era uneori resedinta Martei Bibescu, care consemna in jurnalul ei:

“Regele mi-a intrerupt visarea cu un mesaj de bun-venit – dar refuz sa fiu deranjata”.

Personajul acesta era George al V-lea, varul reginei Maria…Ei, cu o sotie atat de glaciala cum era Queen Mary of Teck, nici nu era de mirare ca monarhul isi cauta destinderea in alte directii. Queen Mary era o nepoata a contesei Claudia de Rhedey, nascuta in Ardealul nostru, la Sangeorgiu de Padure. In 1835 la Viena Claudia s-a casatorit cu printul Alexandru de Wurtenberg, iar zece ani mai tarziu a murit intr-un celebru accident de trasura. Claudia, la randul ei se tragea din Vlad Tepes: oare aceasta sa fi fost filiera prin care genele acestei Queen Mary, regina a Angliei sa fi aparut atat de “intepata”? Consoarta lui George V nu suradea nici odata, ceea ce nu putem spune despre distinsa si fermecatoarea Marta Bibescu, care in plus avea o conversatie si mai ales o prezenta captivanta.

Princess Marthe Bibesco, Romanian Socialite, Francophone Writer and Enchantress

Dar nu numai atat – pretendentii aristocrati isi faceau concurenta la atentia acestei “printese orientale”, care ii fermeca in asa fel incat ii transforma pe toti barbatii intr-un fel de aluat, intr-o masa de plastilina pe care o modela in voia si dupa capriciile ei. Dar sa nu il uitam pe regele Alfonso XIII care o vizita pe Marta la hotelul Savoy sub pseudonimul unui obscur duce spaniol:

“Nu o sa-i uit sarutul lui niciodata – atat de fraged, atat de cast…”

In timpul celui de al doilea razboi, hotelurile de lux din Londra devenisera locuri de cazare temporara pentru aristocratii englezi care isi pierdusera casele in timpul “Blitzului” german: rachetele V-1 si V-2 faceau prapad si doar eforturile pilotilor polonezi refugiati in Anglia dupa 1939, cat si ale pompierilor londonezi au facut ca celebra catedrala St Paul, cladirea iconica a lui Christopher Wren, sa nu dispara complet sub flacarile bombelor incendiare.

La Ritz, in timpul razboiului, venea si o alta celebra mondena – Violet Trefusis, a carei mama, Doamna Keppel, fusese metresa oficiala a regelui Edward VII. Violet o vizitase pe Marta la Mogosoaia si a lasat posteritatii niste pagini cu o imagine idilica despre decorul palatului, despre lacul incarcat cu nuferi si vizitat de zane si mai ales despre printesa locului:

“ Asemenea Ondinei, nimfa apelor, palatul rasarea dintr-un covor de irisi si de nuferi. Un arhitect venetian din secolul 17 l-a construit in stil Lombard. Ca si palatul unui doge, avea acea culoare pala a unei flori de gardenia usor arsa de razele soarelui, sau poate aceea a unei manusi de copil care s-a jucat toata ziua cu mingea: cladirea arata putin vetusta si in acelasi timp imbracata in haine de sarbatoare. Interiorul era decorat cu mozaicuri aurite, cu grile din fier forrjat, piei de leopard, jilturi si divane…. Afara un paun se infoia pe scarile de marmura.” (Violet Trefusis, ‘Prélude to Misadventure’)

Trefusis pomenea de societatea engleza refugiata la Ritz, unde a intalnit si o alta printesa de a noastra, pe Anne-Marie Callimachi, nascuta Vacarescu, vara celebrei scriitoare si diplomate Elena Vacarescu, de la Paris:

“Acestor saloane (de la hotelul Ritz, ale Dnei Keppel, mama lui Violet Trefusis) printesa Callimachi le aducea acea atmosfera de “Orient Express”, care ii lipsea atat de mult” Violetei Trefussis.(Philippe Jullian and John Philips, Violet Trefusis Life and Letters, pp. 106)

Inainte de razboi, Anne-Marie fusese atasata de presa a legatiei noastre din Londra. Asa da! pe atunci legaturile se faceau la nivelul cel mai inalt, iar Romania era pe harta Europei pentru alte motive decat evocarile sordide de azi – ce diferenta astronomica fata de diplomatii academiei “Stefan Gheorghiu”, ce aveau sa isi afiseze ne-stiinta timp de peste cinci decenii, prin capitalele lumii, iar pe unii dintre ei si descendentii lor, ii mai gasim si acum.

Despre anturajul familiei Callimachi ne vorbeste si un alt scriitor englez, Sacheverell Sitwell, (1897-1988), invitat de Carol II in Romania ca sa scrie o carte cu impresii de voiaj: aici apare conacul Mànesti in toata gloria atmosferica dinainte de razboi.

“… porti larg deschise spre un drum de pietris ce ducea la Mànesti. Un taraf de lautari canta in onoarea noastra. Pe margini erau brazdele de canna indica galbene si rosii, inainte ca sa apara conacul. Mànesti este casa primitoare unde ne-a invitat Printesa Callimachi: fusese ridicata pe mosia familiei, cam cu cincizeci sau saizeci de ani in urma de catre bunicul ei. De fapt casa reprezinta in sine un exemplu al vremurilor de atunci si unul care nu se poate lesne schimba. Un pridvor oriental decorat cu un foisor din lemn sculptat te intampina inainte de a patrunde intr-un interior mobilat chiar de furnizorul curtii lui Napoleon III, pastrand asa cum arata sigiliul imperial sub multe din fotolii si canapele. Interiorul casei este in mare parte mobilat in stilul ‘Second Empire’ dar parcul conacului este mult mai vechi: are un elesteu. pe malul caruia sunt salcii batrane printre care se zaresc chioscuri in stil clasic. Totul evoca paginile unor romane de Turgheniev, petrecandu-se in vre-un conac sau chateau unde doamnele il citeau pe Byron sau tocmai il descopereau pe Chopin. Intr-un fel, parca si casa avea un aer putin rusesc amintind de Riviera Crimeii de la Ialta si Alupka, sau de castelul gotic din Blore al printului Vorontov. Ce ramanea intr-adevar reprezentativ Romanesc era insa masa de pranz, gustoasa si bogata in urma careia de abea tarziu dupa amiaza automobilele si-au reluat drumul.” (Sitwell, Sacheverell, “Roumanian Journey”, pp. 33)

In mod curios putem beneficia nu numai de impresiile scriitorului rafinat care era Sitwell, dar chiar si de jurnalul de voiaj tinut de Gertrude Stevenson, bona care o acompania pe Doamna Sitwell in Romania. Scotianca asta simpla, dar cu pretentii literare mulate chiar dupa profilul lui Sitwell – a publicat o carte din care putem beneficia de un unghi de observatie diferit de cel al stapanilor ei: de aici descoperim obiceiurile nu numai de la masa boierilor romani si cele de la bucataria servitorilor tigani de la Mànesti, care mancau icre negre… Scotiencei asa ceva nu ii placea – evident acest rafinament nu patrunsese in toate colturile Insulelor Britanice.

Nici nu merita sa mai ne intrebam, caci ar fi mult prea previzibil si prea trist, ce s-o fi intamplat cu parcul si conacul de la Mànesti, ce fel de staul de vite o fi devenit sub auspiciile ilustrei republici populare? Faptul ca am mai avea un reper de referinta la “ceea ce am fost si de unde venim” o datoram unor calatori straini, iar lor si gazdelor lor trebuie sa le fim recunoscatori. Ce pacat ca paginile lui Sitwell despre Romania sunt atat de putin cunoscute comparat cu acelea ale prost-inspiratei “Trilogii Balcanice”, scrisa de o autoare frustrata sub un unghi, care ii arata pe Romani asa cum ii percepea ea, adica sub prisma prejudiciilor arogante, lipsite de sensibilitate si de o cultura temeinica, tipica unei anumite categorii de pseudo-intelectuali din perioada antebelica.

Constantin ROMAN
Londra, 6 Mai 2006

NOTA de Subsol (2009):
Confluentele Anglo-Romane de mai sus sunt crampeie preluate, sub o forma diferita din “Blouse Roumaine – the Unsung Voices of Romanian Women”, o antologie despre femeile din Romania, o carte in curs aparuta la Londra (Centre for Romanian studies – London, 2009):

Retrospectiva Nicolae Grigorescu, AGEN, Franta (11 Apr. – 14 Aug 2006)

April 26th, 2006 · Art Exhibitions, OPINION, PEOPLE

Grigorescu la Barbizon

Prunele lui Grigorescu
Pe marginea unei expozitii retrospective Romanesti
in orasul Agen
(11 Aprilie – 14 August 2006)

Si vous voulez savoir comment
Nous nous aimâmes pour des prunes,
Je vous le dirai doucement,
Si vous voulez savoir comment.
L’amour vient toujours en dormant,
Chez les bruns comme chez les brunes;
En quelques mots voici comment
Nous nous aimâmes pour des prunes

sau intr-o traducere romaneasca mai libera, versurile de mai sus ar suna cam asa:

Daca ati vrea sa stiti discret
Cum ne-am iubit pentru prune
O sa desvalui un secret
Caci ne-am iubit cum s-ar spune…
Asa, dragostea vine dormind
Atat la blonde cat la brune
Si-ndragostit lulea, fiind
M-am tot iubit pentru prune…

Poezioara aceasta o invatasem in anii copilariei mele din urbea Bucurestilor anilor ’50, in mahalaua podului Serban Voda, de la Doamna Margot Eftimiu, fiica savantului Academician Matei Draghiceanu. Aceasta Doamna din fosta “inalta societate”, acum apusa, era pe atunci cam intre doua varste si dadea lectii de franceza cu patru lei pe ora ca sa supravietuiasca, pentru ca, saraca, fusese jefuita de regimul Stalinist si adusa la sapa de lemn… Versurile de mai sus erau scrise de celebrul Alphonse Daudet (1840-1897) mai mult cunoscut pentru proza decat pentru genul acesta de poezie voit naïva.

Si acum, dragi cititori si cititoare o sa ma intrebati ce ar avea de a face marele nostru Grigorescu cu prunele? sau poate versurile de mai sus ar fi mai degraba o poveste cu nuca din perete!? Asa ceva absurd care s-ar putea intampla doar in anii nesfarsitei Tranzitii Romanesti?
Caci nuca din perete s-ar potrivi perfect la aceasta asociatie de idei. Si acum hai sa lamurim putintel lucrurile:
Nu este nevoie, o sa-mi spuneti ca raspunsul la ghicitoare este mult mai simplu – poate ca Grigorescu o fi pictat o livada cu pruni sau vre-o tarancuta in iie romaneasca si basma rosie, vanzand un cos cu prune… de ce nu? Chiar foarte plauzibil…
Nu, nu ati ghicit: prunele lui Grigorescu nu au de-a face cu arta lui, ci mai degraba cu orasul unde taman s-a deschis reprospectiva celui mai mare pictor Roman cu care ne mandrim.

Ei si? Nu va grabiti sa cautati pe harta unde ar fi orasul AGEN, un fel de Slobozie frantuzeasca pierduta in campiile provinciei Aquitaine, la 120 de kilometri de Bordeaux. AGEN este un oras cunoscut pentru productia de prune… si

Pruneaux d'Agen a l'armagnac

cunoscut chiar mai bine de catre mesenii mai rafinati pentru acele “pruneaux a l’armagnac” – un deliciu al papilelor gustative. Dar de aici pana la Grigorescu mai este o cale de facut! Chiar trebuie sa ne incordam imaginatia ca sa deslegam secretele acestui mister, acestei insolite alegeri a expozitiei.
Nu stiu daca pictorul nostru ar fi gustat in viata lui vre-o singura pruna marinata in armagnac si de sigur nu ar fi pus piciorul (sau sevaletul) prin AGEN – el picta cu precadere prin Normandia sau Bretania, sau pe langa Paris, in padurile Barbizonului sau la Fontainebleau… deci nu mai are sens sa cautam cu lumanarea vre-o legatura docta de idei intre Agen si prune si Grigorescu. Pur si simplu nu exista nici-o legatura asociativa, mai degraba o intamplare fortuita, dar convenabila si circumstantiala!

Cum sa faci o expozitie in Franta, asa netam-nesam, in graba, pentru ca ne-am trezit ca ”intram” buluc in Uniunea cea Europeana si nu ne cunoaste nimeni pe acolo, altfel decat pentru coruptie, pentru orfani, Dracula si prostituatele romance din Soho si de pe bulevardele nocturne ale periferiilor.
Pei de ce sa nu facem in buricul Parisului o retrospectiva in loc de Slobozia Aquitaniei? Bine, bine, dar la asa ceva trebuie sa te gandesti din timp, sa proiectezi, sa planuiesti sa faci lobby si public relations, sa convingi de ce este ideea importanta si ca va face tot Parisul coada la asa ceva, sau cum s-ar spune sa le arati “ceva ce n-a vazut Parisul!” cum se pomenea in anii copilariei din mahalaua Dambovitei mele.

Ori cum sa te astepti ca Romanul sa faca astfel de planuri cu ani inainte? Romanul este celebru pentru “mintea Romanului cea de pe urma” si daca s-o fi trezit prea tarziu, atunci va face expozitia retrospectiva Grigorescu la Agen, pentru ca la Grand Palais si la Petit Palais, la Louvre si la Tuilleries si la Orsay si la Jeu de Paume se duc Rusii, se duc Polonezii, sau Suedezii, iar noi, cei mai destepti si mai Francofoni din Europa, cu pretentiile “Micului Paris” ne ducem cu coada intre picioare printre livezile de pruni dela Agen!
Dar cum, nu ati auzit oare de Muzeul de Arta de la Agen, doamna Theodorescu (circula un zvon ca aceasta Doamna s-ar fi schimbat dela conducerea Muzeului de Arta dela Palat, dar numele domniei sale figureaza inca in catalog, catalog care insa nu a iesit inca de la tipar trei saptamani dupa vernisajul expozitiei – probleme mioritice de imagine – cred ca nici pe vremea lui Grigorescu nu se intampla asa ceva). Dar cum ditamai Madame Theodorescu sa ajunga la asa un nivel de Agen, ca sa nu spun de ageamiu? Domnia sa care pe vremea cand era directoare nu voia sa trateze decat cu Louvre-ul, caci alte muzee de arta mai acatarii in Franta nici nu ii mai ajungeau la nasul domniei sale de isterica de arta? Pei iacata, asa s-a brodit – aveam niste bani, trebuia sa facem un “gest” si gest am facut – n-are importanta in ce fund de provincie cu prune in gura!

Si totusi sa nu fim rautaciosi mai este de fapt o legatura: din motive misterioase, inca greu de descifrat (dar mai facem

Marea retrospectiva Grigorescu aterizata in acest targ de 30.000 de locuitori

sapaturi) la muzeul de arta din Agen se afla de fapt treispreszece panze ale lui Nicolae Grigorescu – vedem pe situl web al expozitiei (in lipsa catalogului care straluceste prin absenta) ca apare si o oala cu un buchet de flori albe si galbene – nu stiu cat de reprezentativa pentru ansamblul operelor maestrului: desigur din “perioada alba”.

Totusi am avut grije sa trimitem la Agen niste panze iconice – fata cu portul din Muscel si capul de fetita cu basmaua rosie, in total cinci zeci de opere. Muzeul propriu zis este intr-un chateau.

Totusi, in mod surprinzator, lucrarile lui Grigorescu sunt expuse in Biserica Jacobinilor din oras, transformata in sala de expozitie pentru acest eveniment: sa speram ca va fi bine inchisa noaptea… In fine se stie ca Biserica Jacobinilor mai vazuse in trecutul ei istoric si car cu boi si chiar boi fara caruta, caci pe vremea Revolutiei Franceze, fusese transformata in grajduri pentru cai.
Vernisajul expozitiei Nicolae Grigorescu s-a facut la 11 Aprilie si iarasi suntem informati ca pana acum nu s-a organizat nci o retrospectiva Grogorescu in Franta – deci a fost intr-un fel o “premiera mondiala” pentru Aeropagul Culturii din Bucuresti. Ar fi cazul, ca sa nu fim desingeniosi, sa facem si noi un gest de reciprocitate – o expozitie de arta post-modernista franceza in “Micul Paris” in cel mai inalt spirit al francofoniei, expunand trei borcane cu prune de Armagnac, sau chiar o piramida de borcane cu pruneaux…

Pentru autocarele cu turisti Romani doritori sa vada expozitia, Agen se afla pe raul Garonna si are 30,000 locuitori (recensamantul din 1999) in caz ca soferul ar trece in viteza mai departe fara sa isI dea seama .

Retrospectiva Grigorescu va functiona intre 11 Aprilie si 14 August 2006. Este deschisa in fiecare zi intre orle 11 si 18 in afara de Marti si de ziua de 1 Mai – – Ziua Mondiala a Proletarilor din Toate Tarile Uniti-va!

Constantin ROMAN,
24 Aprilie 2006

NOTA DE SUBSOL:
***) Da, intre timp am descoperit si legatura lui Grigorescu cu urbea aceasta, Agen… se pare ca pictorul ar fi fost ingrijit de doctorul Louis Brocq (1856-1928) , un celebru specialist in dermatologie (si oftalmologie?) de la spitalul parizian “Saint Louis” (…)- Era vorba de cataracta pictorului (care a declansat de fapt “perioada alba” din creatia lui de sfarsit de viata) si asa cum era obiceiul, Grigorescu platise onorariile doctorului cu tablourile sale, care ulterior fusesera donate de Brocq muzeului din Agen, orasul sau natal.

Se pare, totusi, conform unei comunicari particulare, ca o alta colectie de panze ale lui Grigorescu, aflate la Muzeul de Arte Frumoase din Lyon, nu au fost reunite cu aceasta retrospectiva din Agen: pei de ce nu s-a facut retrospectiva la Lyon? Ar fi fost mult mai vizionata si ar fi avut un ecou infinit mai mare! In fine ar fi o mie si una de motive in favoarea Lyonului fata de Agen si nu ma gandesc neaparat doar la acele gustoase saucisses de Lyon. Orasul are o traditie istorica

Muzeul de Arte Frumoase din Lyon, unde Scoala de pictura romaneasca este bine reprezentata si unde retrospectiva Grigorescu ar fi fost cea mai potrivita, atragand un mare public cunoscator.

de legaturi cu Romania prin acel vasnic si erudit istoric de arta, Henri Focillon (1881-1943), admirator si cunoscator al Romaniei si prieten cu Nicolae Iorga, Oprescu, G. Bals, Jean Cantacuzino, s.a. carturari Romani. Focillon a patronat expozitia de Arta Romaneasca de la Paris de la Jeu de Paume, din 1925 (ACUM 80 DE ANI SE FACEA INTR-ADEVAR CEVA SERIOS LA PARIS!)… dar pe atunci aveam la carma tarii si culturii noastre aristocratii societatii, nu nomenclaturistii scoliti pe la “Acdemia” Stefan Gheorghiu, sau copiii si nepotii acestora, cocotati astazi peste tot in posturi cheie, de control, unde se face totul anapoda si fara responsabilitate civica sau mandrie nationala.
Revenind la Muzeul din Lyon al carui director fusese Focillon acesta este unul dintre cele mai bogate din Franta cu picturi semnificative…. Orasul plin de monumente istorice are o amplasare superba la confluenta a doua fluvii si are o populatie de o jumatate de million de oameni, nu de 30,000 ca Agen-ul, care prin comparatie este un sat. Lyonul se afla la o rascruce de drumuri de civilizatii si de cultura unde o retrospectiva Grigorescu, in afara de a-si fi regasit si tablourile maestrului din colectia muzeului de arta din oras (cat si unele ale altor co-nationali) ar fi gasit un loc de expunere relevant : din pacate aceasta alegere evidenta, care ar fi fost bine primita de Lyonezi, nu s-a reflectat si in imaginatia bipezilor birocrati din Romania.

Si asa, iata ca in loc sa ne patapievicizam in mod inteligent si rafinat, ne pacostepievicizam si ne impiedicizam la infinit si fara mantuire!

———————————————————————————-

Read more about Romanian Painters and Francophone Romanians in:

Blouse Roumaine – The Unsung Voices of Romanian Women

(Centre for Romanian Studies, London, 2009)

(1,100 pages, 160 Biographies, 600 quotations)

http://www.blouseroumaine.com/buy-the-book/index.html

Comments Off on Retrospectiva Nicolae Grigorescu, AGEN, Franta (11 Apr. – 14 Aug 2006)Tags:"art exhibition"·"Nicolae Grigorescu"·Barbizon·expozitie·France·Franta·Grigoresco·Painter·retrospective·Romania

De 17 Martie, Ziua Sf. Patrick , Romania saluta Irlanada

March 15th, 2006 · Diary, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

17 MARTIE – ZIUA SFANTULUI PATRICK
DE ZIUA NATIONALA A IRLANDEI, ROMANIA SALUTA IRLANDA

(Constantin Roman, Londra, Martie 2006)

Patrick este cel mai obisnuit pronume al Irlandezilor cu echivalentul feminin de Patricia, amandoua folosind, acelasi diminutiv – Pat, oarecum confuz pentru identitatea genului. Cel mai vechi text din literatura Irlandeza este chiar documentul scris de catre episcopul Patricius, mai tarziu canonizat.

Acest personaj din secolul V, a carui viata este inca invaluita in mister, care i-a crestinat pe druizii Irlandezi a inteles ca adoptia de catre credinta crestina ale unor simboluri pagane va fi facilitat convertirea: astfel – focul rugurilor a luminat sarbatorile Pastilor, iar soarele a devenit cercul in care este circumscris crucea crestina, cunoscuta sub apelativul de “Irish Cross”.
In mod curios si asa cum stim, crucea Irlandeza exista si in anume cimitire rurale Romanesti, nu cunoscuta ca atare, dar provenita, poate din aceasi dorinta de a ingloba un element solar in noua religie. Coincidenta nu este fortuita, Celtii reprezentand, o componenta etnica si culturala a spatiului Romanesc, asa cum se mai observa si astazi in arta decorativa Romaneasca, sau in unele obiecte arheologice; elemente astrale (soarele, luna, stelele) sunt nelipsite in arta noastra populara: pe cruci, pe smaltul strachinilor de lut din Oboga sau din Radauti, pe icoanele de sticla din Ardeal, pe scoartele Oltenesti, sau portile Maramuresene.

De fapt, am putea spune cu o convingere bine masurata ca peste tari si mari, intre Irlanda si Romania exista o anumita simetrie de trairi, de cautari, de mod de viata, de spirit al umorului si in mod surprinzator chiar de experiente politico sociale. Aceste paralele se pot afirma pe mai multe planuri – mai recent pentru ca ambele natiuni Irlandeze si Romane s-au emancipat, la polurile opuse ale Europei, fiind amandoua nascute din destramarea unor imperii, ca urmare a unor conflagratii militare: Romania castigandu-si independenta in 1877, in urma razboiului impotriva Imperiului Otoman, iar Irlanda o jumatate de secol mai tarziu, in 1922, in urma razboiului civil care i-a permis sa devina o republica desprinsa din sanul Imperiului Britanic.
Dar mostenirea civilizatiei Britanice i-a lasat Irlandei, printre multe altele, si o religie alohtona, pe cea Anglicana, care s-a constituit in varful de lance al colonizarii Hiberniei de catre Anglo-Scotieni, de la Henric al VIII-lea si Elsabeta I, trecand prin carmuirea lui Cromwell si pana la William de Orange. Memoria acestei colonizari si urmele ei se mai gasesc si astazi in conflictele sociale si politice ale Irlandei de Nord, tulburari care au preocupat secole de-a randul parlamentarii din Londra, discutand la nesfarsit despre asa-zisa “Irish Question”… In aceslasi timp, la celalalt colt al Europei, Imperiul Otoman moribund, “The sick man of Europe”, dadea nastere unui alt subiect fierbinte,” the Eastern Question” – era vorba despre presiunea independentista a natiunilor crestine din Imperiul Otoman, incurajate de Rusia, nu fara un obiectiv expansionist si rezistata de imperiile occidentale (Franta, Marea Britanie), care doreau sa mentina nestirbit scutul Otoman impotriva Rusiei si in felul acesta sa isi pastreze drum liber spre coloniile lor din Asia: celebrul “drum al Indiilor”. De altfel, conflictul religios in jurul caruia s-au polarizat elementele politice, sociale si culturale din Irlanda au preocupat nu in mica masura intelighentia Irlandeza, inca din secolele trecute, asa cum si elita Romaneasca contemporana este preocupata, in perioada tranzitiei de aceleasi fenomene economice, culturale si politico-sociale: dilemele au fost si sunt asemanatoare in Irlanda ca si in Romania.

Ca si Romanii exilati, care si-au cautat mai intai libertatea si mai apoi implinirea si inspiratia in spatiul cultural si politic Francez, la fel si Irlandezii au poposit in acelasi Paris al exilului, fie in armata catolica a Regelui Soare, sau in randurile ordinelor monastice (sa nu uitam confesorul Irlandez al reginei Marie Antoinette, Scoala Irlandeza, cu celebra ei biblioteca de la Paris, dar mai ales podgoriile Irlandeze din Bordeaux, ca Chateau Kirwan, Chateau Barton, sau cognacul Delamain, distilat de o familie Hughenota Irlandeza). In timpuri mai recente au urmat pictorii, poetii si dramaturgii Yeats, James Joyce, sau J.M. Synge. Aici, poate prietenia lui Constantin Brancusi cu James Joyce capata o dimensiune aparte daca ne gandim la complicitatile nespuse dintre cei doi – este vorba nu numai de simtul innascut al umorului Romanesc, perfect complementar celui Irlandez, dar si de rezonante afective mai subtile.

Soarta elitelor Romanesti, care au luat drumul exilului dupa 1945, sau care au pierit in inchisori si lagare, isi are imaginea simetrica in istoria Irlandei secolului XVI. Memoria populara Irlandeza pomeneste atunci de acel Flight of the Earls, aidoma zborului pasarilor migratoare explicand chiar expresia “The flight of the geese”. Este vorba despre decizia disperata a sefilor de clan Irlandezi de a parasi, in 1607, tara covarsita de armatele engleze ale reginei Elisabeta I, pentru a putea supravietui pe pamant strain. Corabia fugara i-au adus pe tarmul catolic al Frantei.
Irlanda ca si Romania, (este adevarat, la o distanta in timp de zece generatii), a suferit aceleasi efecte nefaste prin decapitarea tarii de o intreaga clasa conducatoare culturala si politica. La fel, intr-o tara ca si in alta, repercusiunile acestei ghilotinari au fost adanci, iar memoria, ca si efectele, au fost imposibil de sters. Prin aceasta traire comuna de experiente politice si sociale, Romanii inteleg perfect de bine gustul amar al istoriei traite de Irlandezi. La mijlocul secolului trecut, adanc afectate de suferinta poporului Irlandez decimat de acea “Potato Famine” (1846-50), Principatele Romane oferisera in ajutor Irlandei un transport de porumb. Din pacate, mamaliga nu intra in consumul obisnuit al Irlandezilor, dar avand in vedere gestul umanitar, in deceniul urmator, Vasile Alecsandri, intalnindu-l pe Gladstone la Londra, i-a amintit de oferta Romanilor. Aceasta aluzie nu era lipsita de interes pentru ca trimisul Moldovean incerca sa castige sprijinul politic al premierului Britanic fata de recunoasterea actului de Unire a Principatelor, din 1856, un demers diplomatic care a esuat: in mod evident Gladstone nu era poet!

Trecand la o alta paralela, din domeniul artei, suntem frapati de simplitatea dar mai ales asemanarea reprezentarilor antropomorfe, fitomorfe si zoomorfe ale crucilor Celtice Irlandeze comparate cu sculptura in lemn ale portilor Maramuresene – modul lor de inspiratie provenind din acelasi etos Celtic, ceea ce ne readuce la fenomenul istoric:
provenind din aceeasi fantana de gene, este evident ca in timp de asuprire, cand talpa tarii nu mai putea suferi oprimarea si injustitia, razmeritele, ori care ar fi fost ele, de la poalele Carpatilor sau din campiile verzi ale Irlandei, au trecut prin pedeapsa focului simbolurile clasei dominante: aici, poate mai ar fi o paralela intre rebeliunile Irlandeze, timp de trei secole, pana la razboiului civil din 1916 si revolutia lui Horia din 1784, a lui Tudor din 1828, sau razmerita taraneasca din 1907. Dar poate cea mai pregnanta comparatie trebuie sa ramana polarizarea celor doua sisteme opuse de gandire; in Romania jocul oligarhilor Tranzitiei, fata de dorinta legitima de emancipare a restului populatiei Romanesti, si in mod similar, in Irlanda, polarizarea si incrancenarea mostenita pana azi de clasele sociale Irlandeze reprezentate de unele factiuni catolice si protestante. Acest fenomen nu poate fi mai bine conturat decat in Prefata Anglo-Irlandezului William E.H.Lecky (1838-1903) la cele cinci volume de “Istoria Irlandei in secolul XVIII”:

“Atat de profund afectat poate fi scriitorul de animozitatea sectara si partinica, incat ori si cat si-ar da osteneala de a se libera de ori si ce fel de prejudiciu, ca sa faca sa apropie intr-un spirit impartial edictele conflictuale partizane, inca va mai trebui, daca este un om destul de intelept, sa mai pastreze niste indoieli, ca sa reuseasca, cu adevarat, sa redea cu o fideliltate autentica, nuantele delicate ale provocarii, ale paleativului, sau ale vinovatiei. (Prefata la “History of Ireland in the 18th century”; citata in R. F. Foster, “Paddy and Mr. Punch”, 1993, p.9).”

Observatiile de mai sus, gandite in Irlanda sfarsitului de secol al XIX-lea, capata o rezonanta deosebita, patru generatii mai tarziu, in Romania Tranzitiei de la sfarsitul secolului XX si inceputul secolului XXI.

Dar in ciuda acestor conflicte latente, care mocnesc inca sub aspectul normalitatii si prosperitatii (aduse de Uniunea Europeana, de pe urma careia Irlanda s-a propasit economic), putem afirma, cu buna stiinta, ca identatea Irlandeza se regaseste si de o parte si de alta a granitei cu Ulster si chiar mai mult, in Statele Unite si in tarile Commonwealth-ului prin sarbatorirea zilei Sfantului Patrick, atat de catre Anglicani cat si de Catolici.

De 17 Martie, conform traditiei incepute cu 150 de ani in urma de catre Victoria, stra-strabunica Reginei Elizabeth II, aceasta ofera in fiecare an simbolicul buchet de trifoi (shamrock) regimentului ei Irlandez (The Irish Guards). De ce tocmai trifoiul? Pentru ca el reprezinta Sfanta Treime crestina propovaduita de Sfantul Patrick.

17 Martie nu numai ca este ziua nationala a Irlandei, dar Sf. Patrick si trifoiul inmanucheaza chiar identitatea Irlandeza. Traditia este veche de cateva secole, daca ne gandim la cele spuse de Jonathan Swift, preot Anglo-Irlandez si autor al celebrelor “Calatorii ale lui Gulliver”, care consemneaza intr-o scrisoare din 17 Martie, de la Londra:

“De Sf. Patrick, Parlamentul din Westminster este inchis, iar Mall-ul (n.t. bulevardul care duce la Buckingham Palace) este atat de somptuos pavaozat, incat am fi crezut ca intregul glob este populat de Irlandezi”.

Dar cel dintai cortegiu de sarbatorire al Sf. Patrick, a fost la Boston, in 1737, desi cel mai mare ramane cel de la New York, initiat in 1756 la birtul “Thistle Tavern”, ca sa devina, 250 de ani mai tarziu, parada populara de cea mai mare amploare din lume, la care au participat, ultima data, peste 150.000 oameni.
De ziua Sf. Patrick multi straini vin la Dublin sa sarbatoreasca, in timp ce intregul guveren Irlanez, de la Presedinte pana la ultimul ministru, se disperseaza in cele patru colturi ale lumii ca sa reprezinte Irlanda la cel mai inalt nivel.

In felul acesta substratul religios, pastrat si amplificat de traditia laica a devenit un simbol universal, in adevaratul sens al vietii lui Patrick: nascut in Albion, luat ostatec la 16 ani de catre druizii Irlandezi si dus sa pasca oile in Hibernia, scapand ca sa isi regaseasca lilbertatea in Galia, unde a devenit calugar la Auxerre. Sf. Germain i-a recunoscut harul, recomandandu-l papei care l-a uns episcop. In anul 433 Patrick s-a reintors sa crestineze Irlanda.
Bisericile Irlandeze din primele secole ale crestinatatii pastreaza o simplitate de proportii, volum si mister al bisericilor noastre ortodoxe: catedralele lor gotice s-au ridicat mult mai tarziu, construite de Anglicani, caci inainte Irlandezii ca si Romanii nu au avut ragaz sa ridice biserici mari, din cauza vicisitudinilor istoriei si a dispersarii populatiei.

Intr-un fel, poate spiritul Sfantului Patrick nu poate fi mai bine surprins decat in versurile poetului Irlandez Hector McDonnell, nascut nu departe de pasunile unde a pastorit Patrick, pe culmile colinelor Slemish Hill.

Traducandu-l in limba Romana si evocand importanta Zilei Nationale a Sfantului Patrick – Romania intinde o mana Irlandei, asigurand-o de radacinile comune Celtice si Europene: de la Est la Vest Universul este transparent.
Constantin ROMAN (Martie 2006, Londra)

PATRICK
(Hector McDonnell)

Patrick, cine esti Tu?
Te cautam prin versuri latinesti
Bezmetici prin noianul de nestiri

Cuvintele-ti ne scapa printre maini
Iar leaganul nu-ti este nicaieri
Erai in Mayo sau in Slemish Hill?
Si ce uriasi te-au strans la pieptul lor?

Aiurea,
L-ai strigat pe Dumnezeu
Ce-a coborat adanc in trupul tau
Sa-ti dea curaj sa-nvingi la drumuri noi

Care-a fost imparatul
Ce te-a-njosit? Unde-ai plecat?
Te cautam, dar inca nu te stim
Strajerii tai se uita-n varf de munti si-asteapta
Pasul tau.
(traducere din Engleza de Constantin ROMAN)

Nota: Hector McDonnell este istoric si pictor care traieste in Irlanda si la New York
Constantin Roman este cercetator si scriitor, membru al “Society of Authors”, Londra

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Poetry in Translation (XXVI): Hector MCDONNELL (b.1947) – “Sf. Patrick”

February 18th, 2006 · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Cruce Irlandeza contemporana cu Sf. Patrick

Sfantul PATRICK
(Hector McDonnell, Irlanda)

Patrick, cine esti Tu?
Te cautam prin versuri latinesti
Bezmetici prin noianul de nestiri

Cuvintele-ti ne scapa printre maini
Iar leaganul nu-ti este nicaieri
Erai in Mayo sau in Slemish Hill?
Si ce uriasi te-au strans la pieptul lor?

Aiurea,
L-ai strigat pe Dumnezeu
Ce-a coborat adanc in trupul tau
Sa-ti dea curaj sa-nvingi la drumuri noi

Care-a fost imparatul
Ce te-a-njosit? Unde-ai plecat?
Te cautam, dar inca nu te stim
Strajerii tai se uita-n varf de munti si-asteapta
Pasul tau.

(traducere de Constantin ROMAN, Feb. 2006)

——————————————————
Original Poem in English:

PATRICK
(by Hector McDonnell, Ireland)

Who were you, Patrick?
We search along your Latin lines
Fumbling through fewer certainties

The names you give pass deftly through our touch,
Your village lives on no one’s map;
Were you in Mayo or was it Slemish hill
Did burly men press nipples to your lips?

Somewhere
you cried out to your half-known god
And saw him slide within your body’s frame
Talking to soothe and urge you on.

But who was then the emperor?
Who called you vile? Where did you go?
We cannot know, though even now
Your guardians watch within the mountain peaks
and wait.

———————————-

The Hon Hector McDonnell lives in Co. Antrim and the USA.
He is an intrepid traveller and a fine observer of the human nature, which he depicts on huge canvasses, as well as in his books on History. His paintings have been shown in England, Ireland, Germany, the US and elsewhere, where they were acquired by private collectors, public galleries and museums worldwide.
But above all Hector is a polymath and a witt with a great zest for life, a splendid friend and a consumate cordon bleu cook; all in all – the epithome of Ireland at its best.
He was educated at Eton and at the Fine Arts Schools in England and Germany. He speaks several European languages and is the author of several books of Irish interest.
—————-
Hector McDonnell, fiul mezin al contelui de Antrim locuieste in Judetul Antrim (Irlanda de Nord) si in SUA. El este un calator inveterat, dar mai ales un adanc cunoscator al conditiei umane, pe care o prezinta in niste picturi de mari dimensiuni, ca si in paginile cartilor lui de istorie. Picturile lui au facut obiectul unor expozitii personale din Anglia, Irlanda, Germania, Statele Unite si din alte tari, unde au fost achizitionate de colectionari particulari, de galerii si de muzee din intreaga lume.
Dar mai presus de ori si ce, Hector eate un “Om al Renasterii”, un polimat cu un simt al umorului foarte acut, demonstrand o mare “joie de vivre”. El este un amic fidel si un bucatar rafinat – de fapt, prin toate aceste calitati, Hector reprezinta, chintesenta spiritului autentic Irlandez.
Hector a studiat la celebrul colegiu Eton si la scolile de Belle Arte din Anglia si Germania si converseaza, bine inteles, in mai multe limbi europene. El este autorul a mai multor carti de istorie a Irlandei, o tara unde stramosii lui au facut istorie si au influentat chiar istoria de-a lungul unor veacuri zbuciumate al intregului mileniu care a trecut.

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Poetry in Translation (XXV): Marta Petreu, (b. 1955) – “Psalm”

December 1st, 2005 · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Psalm

(Marta Petreu, Poet, Philosopher, Academic)

To forget, I have no respite:
while phosphorous sleepless nights are licking my skin and eyes
with their rough tongue full of saliva
What a voluptuous and violent embrace

And what conceit:
as it is not in the power of God to wipe clean the past
(only to speed up disasters, through fulfilment)
(that is why
I would rather pray to you, instead,
the man to whom I gave myself that October birthday
please do me a small favour
and show a sign of subservience)

There is no anaesthetic, there is no sleep and therefore no forgiveness
I hold in my body the past and face up to the ashen future
There is no sleep, only that sharp transparency
(as we stand, face to face, I and the nothingness)
only this butcher’s tenderness, my blood that has fallen in love
popping up like champagne through the pores of my skin

The claw of which God will pluck me by the scruff of my neck?

O, Domine meo, it is not in your power to wipe clean not even for one night
the past
you cannot give either rest or forgetting
in me the puppies of fear grow
they multiply they strive and reach full maturity
You cannot give either rest or forgetting:
with rough phosphorous tongues they taste my skin my eyes
What a hungry pack and what a wonderful hunting feast
in the making

Rendered in English by Constantin ROMAN
(December 2005)

———————————————————————————

Read more about Marta Petreu and other Poets in:

Blouse Roumaine – The Unsung Voices of Romanian Women

(Centre for Romanian Studies, London, 2009)

(1,100 pages, 160 Biographies, 600 quotations)

http://www.blouseroumaine.com/buy-the-book/index.html

Comments Off on Poetry in Translation (XXV): Marta Petreu, (b. 1955) – “Psalm”Tags:"Ana de Romania"·"Ana Pauker"·"Blouse Roumaine - An Anthology of Romanian Women"·"Blouse Roumaine - the Unsung Voices of Romanian Women"·"Blouse Roumaine"·"Centre for Romanian Studies"·"Constantin Roman"·"Doina CORNEA"·"Elena Ceausescu"·"Elena Lupescu"·"Elisabeta RIZEA"·"Florenta Albu"·"gabriela Melinescu"·"Herta Müller"·"Lauren BACALL"·"Margarita de Romania"·"Marie of ROMANIA"·"Marta Petreu"·"Marthe BIBESCO"·"Monica Lovinescu"·"Nina Cassian"·"Rodica Draghincescu"·"Rodica Iulian"·"sanda Stolojan'·"Silvia Constantinescu"·"Smaranda Braescu"·"Viorica Cortez"·Ana Novac·Anița Nandriș Cudla·Aretia Tàtàrescu·Clara Haskil·Francophonie·Henriette Yvonne Stahl·Mabel Nandris·Madeleine Cancicov·Maria Cebotari·Marie-France Ionesco·poem·poetry·poetry translation·Psalm·“A.lice Steriade Voinescu”·“Adriana Bittel”·“Agnes Kelly Murgoci”·“Alexandra Cantacuzino”·“Alexandra Enescu”·“Alice Cocea”·“Alina Cojocaru”·“Alina Diaconú”·“Alina Mungiu-Pippidi”·“Ana Aslan”·“Ana Blandiana”·“Ana Ipàtescu”·“Anca Diamandy”·“Anca Visdei”·“Angela Gheorghiu”·“Anna de Noailles”·“Anne-Marie Callimachi”·“Annie Samuelli”·“Aurora Fúlgida”·“Bucura Dumbravà”·“Carmen Groza”·“Carmen-Daniela Cràsnaru”·“Catherine Caradja”·“Cecilia Cutzescu-Storck”·“Cella Delavrancea”·“Cornelia Pillat”·“Countess Leopold Starszensky”·“Doina Jela”·“Dora d'Istria”·“Ecaterina Bàlàcioiu-Lovinescu”·“Elena Arnàutoiu”·“Elena Bràtianu- Racottà”·“Elena Bràtianu”·“Elena Caragiani-Stoenescu”·“Elena Stefoi”·“Elena Theodorini”·“Elena Vàcàrescu “Leontina Vàduva “Ana Velescu”·“Elisabeth of Romania”·“Elisabeth Roudinesco”·“Élise Bràtianu”·“Elizabeth Asquith Bibesco”·“Elvira Popescu”·“Eugenia Roman”·“Florica Cristoforeanu “Pss. Elena Cuza”·“Gabriela Adamesteanu”·“Georgeta Cancicov”·“Hariclea Darclée”·“Helen O'Brien”·“Helen of Greece”·“Hélène Chrissoveloni”·“Hensi Matisse”·“Hortense Cornu”·“Hortensia Papadat-Bengescu”·“Ileana Cotrubas”·“Ileana Màlàncioiu”·“Ileana of Romania”·“Ioana A. Marin”·“Ioana Bràtianu”·“Ioana Celibidache”·“Ioana Meitani”·“Ioana Raluca Voicu-Arnàutoiu”·“Ionela Manolesco”·“Irina Codreanu”·“Lady Florence Baker”·“Laurentia Arnàutoiu”·“Lena Constante”·“Letitzia Bucur”·“Lilly Marcou”·“Lizi Florescu·“Lizica Codreanu”·“Lola Bobesco”·“Lucia Hossu-Longin”·“Lucia Negoità”·“Lucretia Jurj”·“Madeleine Lipatti”·“Magdalena Popa”·“Maria Cantacuzino”·“Maria Forescu”·“Maria Golescu”·“Maria Mailat”·“Maria Prodan Bjørnson”·“Maria Rosetti”·“Maria Tànase”·“Mariana Nicolesco”·“Marie Ana Dràgescu”·“Marie-Jeanne Lecca”·“Mariea Plop – Arnàutoiu”·“Marina Stirbey”·“Marioara Ventura”·“Marta Caraion-Blanc”·“Maruca Cantacuzino-Enesco”·“Mica Ertegün”·“Micaela Eleutheriade”·“Milita Pàtrascu”·“Mioara Cremene”·“Mite Kremnitz”·“Monica Theodorescu”·“Nadia Comàneci “Denisa Comànescu”·“Nadia Gray”·“Natalia Dumitrescu”·“Nelly Miricioiu”·“Nicole Valéry-Grossu”·“Nicoleta Franck”·“Nina Arbore”·“Oana Orlea”·“Olga Greceanu”·“Otilia Cazimir”·“Otilia Cosmutzà”·“Pss Georges Ghika”·“Pss Grigore Ghica”·“Ruxandra Racovitzà”·“Sabina Wurmbrand”·“Sandra Cotovu”·“Silvia Marcovici”·“Stella Roman”·“Sylvia Sidney”·“Varinca Diaconú”·“Veronica Micle”·“Veturia Goga”·“Victorine de Bellio”·“Viorica Ursuleac”·“Virginia Andreescu Haret”·“Virginia Zeani”·“Wanda Sachelarie Vladimirescu”·“Yvonne Blondel”·“Zoe Bàlàceanu”·”

Poetry in Translation (XXIV): Ion Caraion – “Seul au Monde” / “Singur pe lume”

November 12th, 2005 · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Alone in the World / Seul au Monde / Singur pe lume (Ion Caraion)
(translated from the Romanian by Constantin ROMAN

Seul au monde
de Ion Caraion. Traduction de Constantin Roman

– Où vous emmènnent-ils, Monsieur?
– Dans le jardin, mon rêve.
– Pour quoi faire, Monsieur?
– Pour me fusiller, mon rêve.
– Parce qu’ils ont des balles, Monsieur?
– Parce qu’ils ont le temps, mon rêve.
– Où vous enterreront-ils, Monsieur?
– Sous la neige, mon rêve.
– Avez-vous peur, Monsieur?
– Je trouve ça révoltant, mon rêve.
– Qui doit-on prévenir, Monsieur?
– Les feux de l’enfer, mon rêve.
– Ça va aller quand même, Monsieur?
– Il fera nuit, mon rêve.
– Qui est votre plus proche parent, Monsieur?
– Je suis seul au monde, mon rêve.
– Voulez-vous boire un verre, Monsieur?
– Qu’est-ce que ça va me coûter, mon rêve?
– Peu importe le prix, Monsieur.
– Le calice est-il empoisonné, mon rêve?
– Vous n’en voulez pas, Monsieur?
– Casse-le en mille morceaux, mon rêve!
– Doit-on vous pleurer, Monsieur?
– Inutile, mon rêve.
– Bonne nuit, Monsieur.
– Dormons ensemble, mon rêve!
– Je dors seul, Monsieur.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alone in the World

by Ion Caraion. Translated by Constantin Roman.

Where are they taking you, sir?
To the garden, my dream.
Why do they take you there, sir?
To shoot me, my dream.
Because they have bullets, sir?
Because they have time to, my dream.
Where shall they bury you, sir?
Under the snow, my dream.
Are you afraid, sir?
I find it revolting, my dream.
Whom shall we tell all this, sir?
Tell the fires of hell, my dream.
Will you be alright, sir?
Night will have come, my dream.
Who is your next of kin, sir?
I am alone in the world, my dream.
Would you care for a drink, sir?
What will it cost me, my dream?
The cost does not matter, sir.
Is the chalice poisoned, my dream?
You seem not want it, sir?
Smash it to pieces, my dream!
Should we mourn you, sir?
That would change nothing, my dream.
Good night to you, sir.
Let us sleep together, my dream.
Sir, I sleep alone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Am Pe Nimeni (Ion Caraion)

– Und’ va duce, domnule ?
– În gradina, somnule.
– Ce sa faceti, domnule ?
– Sa ma-mpuste, somnule.
– Ca au gloante, domnule ?
– Ca au vreme, somnule.
– Und va-ngroapa, domnule ?
– Sub zapada, somnule.
– Va e frica, domnule ?
– Îmi e scîrba somnule.
– Cui sa spunem, domnule ?
– Iadurilor, somnule.
– Va fi bine, domnule ?
– Va fi seara, somnule.
– Aveti rude, domnule ?
– Am pe nimeni, somnule.
– Vreti o cupa, domnule ?
– Cît ma costa, somnule ?
– N-are-a face, domnule.
– De otravuri, somnule…
– Nu vreti cupa, domnule ?
– Sparge-o-n tandari, somnule !
– Sa va plîngem, domnule ?
– N-are-a face, somnule.
– Noapte buna, domnule !
– Dormi cu mine, somnule !
– Eu dorm singur, domnule.

—————————————————————————

Read more about Political prisoners and about Marta Caraion-Blanc in:

Blouse Roumaine – The Unsung Voices of Romanian Women

(Centre for Romanian Studies, London, 2009)

(1,100 pages, 160 Biographies, 600 quotations)

http://www.blouseroumaine.com/buy-the-book/index.html

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MEDICAL CARE DURING DICTATORSHIP (“My Second University” Two Reviews by Ionel Taranu & Constantin ROMAN

October 19th, 2005 · Books, PEOPLE, Reviews

MEDICAL CARE UNDER DICTATORSHIP

Dr. Stanciu Stroia: "My Second University"

(“My Second University” Two Reviews: Ionel TARANU and Constantin ROMAN)

“My Second University – memories from Romanian Communist prisons”

by Dr. Stanciu Stroia and Dr. Dan Dusleag,

(iUniverse Inc., New York, 2005, 271 pages,

Index, illustrations, £10.53 ISBN: 0-595-34639-1)

THREE GENERATIONS OF MEDICAL DOCTORS UNDER DICTATORSHIP:

Dr. Stanciu Stroia was born in rural Transylvania. He was a graduate of Cluj University Medical School, with a doctoral dissertation on the “Radiotherapy in Basedow desease”, submitted in 1928. As a junior doctor he moved over to the Regional Hospital of Fagaras where, in the early 1930’s he established the first department of Internal Medicine. By the age of 41 he became the director of that establishment. This was during WWII and only one year earlier the Soviet armies occupied Romania. With them, on the back of Russian tanks came the fifth columnists, the handful of exiled Romanian communists who were going to impose a new “social order” of Stalinist brand. At this point Dr. Stroia’s high-profile medical position, caused him to be invited to join the ranks of the Communist Party, which he refused. This stance marked him as an “undesirable” by the Communist hierarchy. Once Romania turned into a one-party dictatorship, in 1948, the medical know-how became subsidiary to political allegiance: this is how, in 1949, Dr. Stroia was demoted from his position of hospital director. Two years on he was under pressure to become an informer of the Securitate, the ubiquitous Romanian Secret services. This he rejected outright, because of his personal and professional ethics and so, in 1951, he was arrested for allegedly “helping and not denouncing anti-communist partisans”. He was given a six-years prison sentence on trumped up charges of “favoring the crime of plotting against the Romanian state”. Within 48 hours of his arrest, his wife and two young children were evicted from their private property, his estate was nationalized, the medical practice confiscated and the house eventually demolished. During his long prison years, he was not allowed to receive any correspondence or food and clothes parcels, except on one occasion. On his release, in December 1957, Dr. Stroia was made to sign a declaration undertaking not to disclose his prison experiences, under threat of being re-arrested. He was also forbidden to restart his medical practice in his home town and was relocated instead in a remote province. Nine years after his release and after many failed attempts Dr. Stroia was granted, in unusual circumstances, a “political and judicial rehabilitation”, for a crime he has never committed and which was in private, but never officially acknowledged, of having been a “misguided interpretation of the law”. He retired at the age of 64, when Ceausescu just came to power and thereafter he spent all summers in his native village in Transylvania, where he offered free medical consultations.

The second author is Dr.Dan Liviu Dusleag, the grandson of Dr. Stroia. who, like his grandfather, four decades earlier, he refused to join the Communist Party. Also like his grandfather, a year later, he also rejected the offer of becoming a Securitate informer. These were the darkest years of Ceausescu’s surreal dictatorship and as one could see, some forty years on, how the old Communist practice remained unchanged. As a consequence of his refusal Dan Dusleag was denied a passport to travel abroad. By this time, as a student of Bucharest Medical School, Dusleag participated in the Romanian Revolution of December 1989, and in the mass demonstration and sit-in of the Bucharest University Square in the summer of 1990. These were pivotal political events, which ended in mass murders and carnage. In December 1989 students of Timisoara and Bucharest Universities were shot by unknown snipers and their bodies disappeared. After Ceausescu’s downfall, the student demonstrators of June 1990 were somewhat luckier, as few of them were killed: but many were instead severely beaten up and injured, by an angry mob of miners called upon by the neo-communist Romanian president to “restore order” (communist order that is). Unsurprisingly, there was never a will by the Romanian Government to punish those responsible for such atrocities.
Dr. Dusleag’s hopes of Romania ever becoming a free country were shattered, and in 1990 he decided to emigrate to the USA. He completed his training as a paediatrician at the University of Chicago Medical School and currently he is a Clinical Assistant Professor at the Indiana University School of Medicine.

There is a third contributor to this book: she is Lucia Dusleag, MD, now retired and living in Toronto: she is the daughter of Dr. Stroia, and the mother of Dr. Dan Dusleag. She transcribed and edited the Romanian version of her father’s memoirs and contributed the Epilogue of the book. Here one could discover some amazing details on the survival of a medical student who was herself the daughter of a political prisoner during the communist dictatorship in Romania: these were years of hunger, of deprivation and of fear of being “found out” and expelled from the Cluj University Medical School, for she was, as she describes “the offspring of a political convict with the right academic credentials, but the wrong social background”.

A UNIQUE MEDICAL TESTIMONY OF PRISON PRACTICE:

“My Second University” marks a distinct departure from the angle and content of other similar stories and there are several reasons, which sets it apart:

First one must point out Dr. Stroia’s dogged courage and determination to put pen to paper at a time when he was still under surveillance by the Securitate. He was conscious that he ran a permanent risk of having his house searched and if the manuscript came to light he would have received a new prison sentence. At his advanced age this will certainly have represented a death sentence.

Secondly Dr. Stroia’s manuscript eventually made its way to the West, where, owing to the love and dedication of his grandson, it was translated in English. Both daughter and grandson carefully edited and provided the footnotes and other background information such as extensive illustrations, bibliography and an Index.

Thirdly and most importantly this memoir has an unique quality, in offering an invaluable insight, from a doctor’s point a view (that is of a doctor-prisoner, who was at the receiving end, as an inmate in a political prison) of how medical care was operated behind bars, in Communist Romania and what were the clinical consequences of the prison’s regime on the detainees, how did the food rationing and the torture affected the physical and mental health of the people inside the penitentiaries.

We read in the chapter on the Consequences of Imprisonment (p. 182):

“As a result of my severe and prolonged scurvy, I must have lost fifty per cent of my nerve cells through irremediable atrophy, an insult from which I never recovered. Only a detailed post mortem pathological exam could demonstrate the extent of injuries sustained by a scurvy-affected brain. Many intellectuals I met in Aiud (prison), especially those experiencing generalised dystrophic symptoms, lost their short and long-term memory. Knowing that I was a physician, they would ask me if this loss was reversible. Of course I had to encourage them, even if they told me, for instance, that they could not remember the names of their own grandchildren.”

A FRESCO OF TRANSYLVANIAN SOCIETY:

But beyond these pages on Romanian prisons, “My second University” is also a Social History of the Romanian professional classes, with roots deep among the rural peasantry of Transylvania. In his family Dr. Stroia represented a first generation of University graduates. He was very proud of his origins and felt always close to the people who tilled the land and raised livestock.

Stroia was not politically engaged against the communist dictatorship and he should have had no reason to fear its wrath, except for the arbitrary repression that such regime meted on innocent people: he became one of its victims and spent six and a half years behind bars, from April 1951 to December 1957. These was the long trail of notorious prisons (Sibiu, Jilava, Aiud, Fagaras), the carcer isolation, the torture, the humiliations, the malnutrition and physical degradation – never the moral collapse, as Dr. Stroia’s kept his spine upright and never cowered.

It is not because one may have read about Solzhenytsyn’ gulags that these memoirs may be less poignant, quite the contrary. But the difference here lies in the tone of the narrative, which is neither strident nor bitter – it is instead quietly factual, almost clinical, as the medical eye surveys the human sufferings and frailties, as well as the medical effects, which the prison regime had on the human body. For this prisoner’s enquiring mind this experience became a learning curve, not so much his Golgotha, for he was far too dignified to present it as such, rather something, which he describes metaphorically as his “second university”.

“My second University” introduces into the narrative a broad variety of characters from the Transylvanian landscape, from humble herdsmen, village priests and minor country squierarchy, to Hungarian aristocrats, like Count Bethlen, brother of the Hungarian PM and Orthodox and Uniate Bishops, and Politicians and, inevitably, fellow members of the medical profession, but also prison warders and torturers, communist satraps, not forgetting the informers and Securitate spies of which there were many. In fact the whole gamut of post-war Romanian panorama is present here, unfolding before our eyes, for this is a very ‘Transylvanian’ book, not just for its contents, characters and situations it describes, but especially for the directness and forcefulness of its presentation.

MEDICAL PRACTICE AFTER PRISON RELEASE:

Once out of prison, as a “re-educated member of the society” (sic!) the news of Dr. Stroia’s release reached the countryside and a delegation of elders, came along begging him to be their village GP:

“ Over time, many area residents started to inquire about my whereabouts, even asking for medical assistance; they remembered the many successful years I spent at their service. Then one day in late March 1958 a group of peasants from the nearby villages of Visnea de Jos, Visnea de Sus, Feldioara and Ucea showed up at my door, led by a local mayor, with a petition signed by eight hundred of them. They requested my acceptance for employment in their clinic, recently vacated because of the death of the local doctor under dubious circumstances. The offer sounded very attractive as the area was located a mere twenty-five kilometers South of Fagaras”.

But for any assignment he would have had to obtain the approval of the secret police: in no time at all he was warned by a Securitate officer never to accept such invitation or else he might not be alive:

“Noticing my hesitation and aware of my popularity, he added an open-ended question:
<>
Taken by surprise, I answered cautiously <>.
A reply failed to follow. The expression on the man’s face was self-explanatory.
In all truth the officer did me a great favor, allowing me to avoid suspicious situations leading to more trouble. The incident served as a reminder of the document I signed upon my release from prison.”

Dr. Stroia was redirected instead to a remote region, where he had no previous family roots and where he had no previous contacts. Still he had to remain over-cautious:

“With my colleagues I maintained a strictly professional relationship. No social interaction or house visits ever took place. After all these were the directives I had received from the Securitate and had to comply with upon my release. Occasionally, as I was hearing about ex-political detainees being frivolously fired from their jobs, some well-meaning individuals were compelled to remind me: <> (“Be careful, Doc”).

But in spite of all the care he took Dr. Stroia could not please the all-powerful Communist Party hacks and Securitate stooges. One of them in particular, the First-Secretary of the District Communist Party, publicly labeled him a “cheat”, and a “bandit”, which was the classic jargon for an “enemy of the people’”, or rather for anybody who did not approve of the Communist practice. Ironically, such attitude was soon going to change when the First-Secretary’s only son, an 18-years old, was in a bad way, after a night’s drinking binge:

“The First-Secretary himself requested an appointment at his house, at the suggestion of other concerned local physicians. His 18-year old son had returned from high school graduation party, which included a lot of plum brandy consumption and had failed to wake up after twenty-four hours deep sleep. With an unconscious son, he was requesting the opinion of the <> (the old crook) asking for treatment and a fair prognosis. Aided by my knowledge of toxicology acquired during long night shifts at the University emergency room and following a thorough examination I reassured the First-Secretary that despite a lack of guarantees in Medicine, his son would wake up rather than suffer a post-comatose death. Forty-eight hours of toxic sleep later the young man returned to life.

From that moment on I became the ‘savior’ and the First-Secretary my biggest and most vociferous fan. My presence was acknowledged from a distance and he made sure to shake my hand and congratulate me over again on every social occasion. Shortly thereafter, on June 8, 1966 I obtained my final rehabilitation, as a result of the decision of the regional tribunal.
<> (He is now fully re-educated!), proclaimed the Judge. <>”.

Quite!

“My second University” should be of great interest to the medical and liberal professions in the West to help them realize the extent to which the fellow-medical colleagues in the East suffered under dictatorship. Moreover it is important as a sobering tale to see how lucky we were in the West for having missed such experience, because soon after WWII it might have taken very little for the same political practice to engulf the whole of Western Europe. Churchill knew that we missed this turning by a whisker.

The book is available online from Dr. Dan Dusleag
http://ddusleag.home.insightbb.com/wsb/html/view.cgi-home.html-.html

the publisher’ site

http://www.iuniverse.com/Bookstore/BookSearchResults.aspx?Search=my%20second%20university

and from Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/My-Second-University-Memories-Communist/dp/0595346391/sr=8-1/qid=1160880699/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/104-5773333-2987943?ie=UTF8
—————————————————-

“My Second University – memories from Romanian Communist prisons” by Dr. Stanciu Stroia and Dr. Dan Dusleag, Published by iUniverse Inc., New York, 2005, (paperback, 271 pages with Index and illustrations)

Post-Ceausescu Romania has produced a number of prison memoirs of people who wanted to speak and whose voices were stifled by the Communist regime. More often than not those few gulag survivors had the misfortune of not outliving their Communist captors and if by miracle some of them came out of prison, they lived instead in constant fear of being denounced and re-arrested – that seditious fear to which a Romanian-American author referred to, metaphorically as “people buried deep under a snowlike blanket of fear”.

Romania, which will eventually integrate the EU, is obviously looking ahead, rather than to its recent past, to the point that many think that one lives through a phase of pre-programmed amnesia, by ignoring the sufferings of previous generations, and of the cultural, professional, religious and political elites who perished in prisons to end up in unmarked graves.

There are, however, a few exceptions – survivors who lived to tell the story: they were not from the ranks of the aristocrats or intellectuals: most of these were not strong enough to survive their ordeal as their regime was harshest and most inhumane. Still, there were some survivors from the simple peasantry, like Elisabeta Rizea of Nucsoara (1912-2003), whose eloquence expressed in an unsophisticated vernacular convinced us beyond any doubt about the destructive effect which communism had on the whole of Romanian society. Rizea was not alone to voice these feelings if one thinks of scores of other people of her kind, who gave evidence in interviews taken after 1989: Lucretia Jurj, (1928-2004), Elena Arnautoiu, or Ion Gavrila Ogoranu took to the mountains to fight the communist terror. Sadly, their extraordinary accounts never came to the attention of any film director as they were never translated in a language of international circulation – the one exception are the Memoirs of Nicole Valéry-Grossu, published in French under the title “Bénie sois-tu prison”, which was made into a film, in 2003, by Nicolae Margineanu, under the title “Binecuvantata fii, inchisoare”, which got two prizes at the Montreal Fim Festival.

So, one may well ask, what if anything new did Dr. Stroia’s account bring to the literature of the Romanian communist gulags?
From the outset it is clear to any reader that “My Second University” marks a distinct departure from the angle and content of other similar stories and there are several reasons, which sets it apart.

Dr. Stanciu Stroia (1904-1987) died only a couple of years before Ceausescu was put down in Bucharest and the fact that his memoirs survived is due to unusual circumstances:

First one must point out the author’s dogged courage and determination to put pen to paper at a time when he was still under surveillance by the Securitate, the Romanian Secret Services. He was conscious that he ran a permanent risk of having his house searched and by writing about his prison ordeal if the manuscript came to light he would have received a new prison sentence. At his advanced age this will certainly have represented a death sentence.

Secondly Dr. Stroia’s manuscript eventually made its way to the West, where owing to the love and dedication of his grandson Dr. Dan Dusleag, a paediatrician of Indiana University School of Medicine, aided by his mother, Dr. Lucia Dusleag (née Stroia) of Toronto and author of the book’s Epilogue, “My second University” was translated in English. Both daughter and grandson carefully edited and provided the footnotes and other background information such as extensive illustrations, bibliography and an Index.
Those of the readers familiar with the process of writing and being published would understand that such effort would represent only the tip of the iceberg before finding a sympathetic publisher and seeing that the book reached a wider public through the right distribution, promotion and exposure in review articles. Here again the indefatigable grandson has done his job thoroughly seeing that some eminent scholars voiced their opinion about the book, which now has its own website:

http://ddusleag.home.insightbb.com/wsb/html/view.cgi-home.html-.html

From hence one could read the book’s media coverage, but also have an idea about the structure of the book, its main chapters, a selection of excerpts, thirty-six pages of photographs and a compilation of one thousand names of political detainees of the Fagaras prison.

Thirdly and most importantly this memoir has an unique value in offering an invaluable insight from a doctor’s point a view (that is of a doctor-prisoner, who was at the receiving end, as an inmate in a political prison) of how medical care was operated behind bars in Communist Romania and what were the clinical consequences of the prison’s regime on the detainees, how did the food rationing and the torture affected the physical and mental health of the people inside the penitentiaries.

But beyond these pages of Romanian prisons, “My second University” is a fresco of the Transylvanian society in transition from the dawn of the Habsburg empire to the Soviet occupation of Romania, after WWII. This was the point of entrenchment of the Communist system, which came there to stay for over 40 years, to 1989. The book spans over a period of some hundred and fifty years and seven generations. yet, in spite of it, and perhaps because of it this is not only a family history, it is also a Social History of the Romanian professional classes, with roots deep amongst the rural peasantry of Transylvania. These are the people who formed the backbone of “Greater Romania” (Romania Mare), which came into being after the demise of the Habsburg Empire, in 1919. The authors take us back to the first half of the19th century through the family history in a village of Cacova, near Sibiu, at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains, where the authors’ ancestors were farmers and priests or were raising their flock as shepherds. It is from this rural population that a new class of educated people was raised in modern Romania and Dr. Stroia represented a first generation with a University degree. He was very proud of his origins and felt always close to the people who tilled the land and raised livestock: odd as it may appear to be this was going to contribute to his downfall and imprisonment by the Communists, because of his popularity amongst the simple folk and all people who met him and worked with him in the hospital where he was a director. As a high-profile medical doctor Stroia was not politically engaged against the communist dictatorship and he should have had no reason to fear its wrath except by the arbitrary actions of repression that such regime meted on innocent people: he became one of its victims and spent seven years behind bars, from 1951 to 1958.
Followed the long trail of notorious prisons (Sibiu, Jilava, Aiud, Fagaras), the carcer isolation, the torture, the humiliations, the malnutrition and physical degradation – never the moral collapse, as Dr. Stroia’s kept his spine upright and never cowered.

It is not because we have read about such things before that these memoirs may be less poignant, quite the contrary. But the difference here lies in the tone of the narrative, which is neither strident nor bitter – it is instead quietly factual, almost clinical, as the medical eye surveys the human sufferings and frailties, as well as the medical effects, which the prison regime had on the human body. For this prisoner’s enquiring mind this experience became a learning curve, not so much his Golgotha, for he was far too dignified to present it as such, rather something, which he describes metaphorically as his second university. We read in the chapter on the Consequences of Imprisonment (p. 182):

“As a result of my severe and prolonged scurvy, I must have lost fifty per cent of my nerve cells through irremediable atrophy, an insult from which I never recovered. Only a detailed post mortem pathological exam could demonstrate the extent of injuries sustained by a scurvy-affected brain. Many intellectuals I met in Aiud (prison), especially those experiencing generalised dystrophic symptoms, lost their short and long-term memory. Knowing that I was a physician, they would ask me if this loss was reversible. Of course I had to encourage them, even if they told me, for instance, that they could not remember the names of their own grandchildren.”

Dr. Stroia’s stamina and moral rectitude helped him survive the seven years spent in some of Romania’s most infamous penitentiaries. He proved right one of his friends who exclaimed, whilst seeing him during a chance encounter after his release from prison:

“Nu mor caii cand vor cainii”.

(in literal translation – Horses never die when dogs want it – in this context – when hyenas want it)

He wrote his book for seven years, between 1979 and 1986, during a period of worst communist excesses under Ceausescu’s dictatorship and he finished it when he was 82 years of age. A year later he died and it took a further 18 years before his memoirs were published in the USA: this is proof of a family’s fortitude in the face of adversity. We must be grateful to them, for we become richer and wiser, as we experience a mixture of pride and humility when turning the pages of this book.

As one would expect “My second University” focuses on Dr. Stroia’s seven prison years from 1951 to 1958, under Gheorghiu-Dej, the Communist dictator installed by Stalin to rule with an iron fist. But this is not the whole story. As we mentioned before, the book unfolds in the broader context of the author’s medical career and life span from 1904 to 1987, (with an Epilogue written by his daughter and an introduction and Acknowledgements contributed by his grandson, Dr. Dan Dusleag which bring us to the present day). Beyond this, the memoir encompasses a more extensive period of ‘borrowed memory’ from the earlier direct ancestor – the greatgrandfather Stanciu Stroia of Zavoi, mayor of Cacova in the first half of the 19th c Transylvania. This social backdrop introduces into the narrative a broad variety of characters from the Transylvanian landscape, from humble herdsmen, village priests and minor country squierarchy, to Hungarian aristocrats, like Count Bethlen, brother of the Hungarian PM and Orthodox and Uniate Bishops, and Politicians and inevitably prison warders and torturers, communist satraps, not forgetting the informers and Securitate spies of which there were many. In fact the whole gamut of post-war Romanian panorama is present here, unfolding before our eyes, for this is a very ‘Transylvanian’ book, not just for its contents, characters and situations it describes, but especially for the directness and forcefulness of its presentation. For Stanciu Stroia has very precise views which stem from an early upbringing in the care of a young widowed mother, belonging to ‘Old Transylvania’. Indeed, Dr. Stroia is himself a representative of Old Transylvania, who, half way through his medical career is imprisoned and once freed, seven years later, he has to pick up his fractured existence and adapt, the best he can within the constraints of communist dictatorship, which keeps him on his guard. Still he remains a free spirit to let us know what he thinks.

It is a real blessing to have such book made available to an Anglo-Saxon readership, as accounts of Romanian Communist prisons are very little documented in English (a few titles that come to mind are Annie Samuelli’s “Woman Behind Bars in Romania”, (Frank Cass, 1997), Pastor Wurmbrand’s “If prisons wall could speak”, 1993 and “Tortured for Christ”, 1998, Anita Nandris-Cudla’s “Twenty Years in Siberia”, 1998 and Lena Constante’s “The Silent Escape: Three Thousand Days in Romanian Prisons”, University of California Press, 1995).

“My second University” should be read by everybody young and old, and certainly by the medical and liberal professions in the West to help them realize the extent to which its fellow-medical colleagues in the East suffered under Communist dictatorship: it might have taken very little for the same political practice to engulf the whole of Europe, soon after WWII. Dr. Stroia’s book makes one aware of how very fortunate we were in the West for having missed such an experience.

Constantin ROMAN (London)

——————————————————————————————

Read more about Romanian Political Prisoners in:

Blouse Roumaine – The Unsung Voices of Romanian Women

(Centre for Romanian Studies, London, 2009)

(1,100 pages, 160 Biographies, 600 quotations)

http://www.blouseroumaine.com/buy-the-book/index.html

Comments Off on MEDICAL CARE DURING DICTATORSHIP (“My Second University” Two Reviews by Ionel Taranu & Constantin ROMANTags:"My second University"·book·communism·memoirs·Prisons·review

Letter to Sanda STOLOJAN – A Funeral Oration by Manuel de Diéguez

August 24th, 2005 · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry

Draga Sanda,

Nu visam sa iti scriu in rai. Tu ai intrat acolo fara zgomot. In noaptea desmierdata, poetii confera mortii vocea melancoliei lor. Versurile tale s-au aprins sub cenuse: acum scanteiaza in amintirea noastra. Toate grozaviile pamantului nu vor stinge facliile pe care le-ai aprins. Mormantul tau canta maretia gandirii tale, cutezanta sfidarii, cu elanul inimii tale.

Tu stiai, draga Sanda, ca sfintii purtau un idol in glasul lor. Te-am vazut luptand alaturi de Zeul Justitiei, cel care se consuma pe toate rugurile, cel care geme in adancul tuturor temnitelor si ale carui infrangeri devin tot atatea izbanzi asupra idolilor. Ai iubit o credinta batuta in cuie pe o spanzuratoare, o credinta schingiuita, o credinta sugrumata, o credinta neobisnuita, care a ridicat la toate rascrucile rastignirea pentru renasterea spiritului de dreptate. Este atit de frumos sa iubesti un Dumnezeu evadat din mormant !

Draga Sanda, tu l-ai servit ca interpreta pe generalul De Gaulle, cand a venit in Romania si, fiind in preajma lui, ai vazut cum popoarele isi schimba doar camasa, in functie de izbanda sau infrangerea unui tiran. Desprea aceasta vei vorbi, acolo Sus, cu Cioran si Ionesco, cu prietenii tai, care ca si tine au iubit dreptatea.

Draga Sanda care esti in ceruri, tu ramai poeta crezului care ne aminteste neincetat ca drumul crucii este insemnat cu poeme.

Aud rasunand inima patriei tale natale in toate poemele scrise in limba franceza, pe care le-ai slefuit pentru noi. Prin tine Dumnezeul-din-nefiinta va domni vesnic, pentru ca oda poetului este samanta gliei.

Manuel de Diéguez
Paris, 23 August 2005

Scrisoare trimisa special pentru Centre for Romanian Studies (London) : www.romanianstudies.org

(In romaneste de Constantin ROMAN)

Manuel de Diéguez, (n. 1922) filozof si scriitor francez este printre altele, autorul cartii « Dumnezeu, oare este American ? » (Dieu est-il Americain ?)

Editor’s Note:

Manuel de Diéguez (b. 1922),
http://www.dieguez-philosophe.com
French Writer and Philosopher is the author of several Letters addressed to Sanda Stolojan:

http://perso.wanadoo.fr/aline.dedieguez/tstmagic/1024/tstmagic/defis_europe/roumanie.htm

==============================================================================

EDITOR’S NOTE (2009):

Poetry in Translation (XXII): Sanda STOLOJAN (1919-2005) – “Three Trees”

August 22nd, 2005 · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Three Trees (Trois arbres):

I
“The forest tree
Shakes its harvest
Silently in itself
Then into the outer world.

You too
Welcome winter
and you shall find under the deep snow
The path
the shroud
forever green.

II
The lonely tree
awaits the moment
which comes
and goes
Up there in the mist
Just a single apple
A possible sun.

III
Dying
to the highest
the coldest top
the tree which is thought
burns
seeking for the word
heaven.

(From the collection of poems entitled:
Sur les abîmes verts,
translated into English, from the original French
by Sanda Stolojan, 12 May 2003)

Poem from the volume:

Blouse Roumaine – The Unsung Voices of Romanian Women

(Centre for Romanian Studies, London, 2009)

(1,100 pages, 160 Biographies, 600 quotations)

http://www.blouseroumaine.com/buy-the-book/index.html

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Sanda Stolojan (1919-2005) – In Memoriam

August 20th, 2005 · Uncategorized

Sanda Stolojan, essayst, poet, memorialist, journalist, Interpreter to all French Presidents since de Gaulle and political activist for democracy and human rights in Romania, has died in Paris, at the age of 86.
———————————————————————————–
Extract from the forthcoming Anthology of Romanian Women entitled “Blouse Roumaine”
http://www.blouseroumaine.com/freeexcerpt_p23.html
——————————————————————————-

Sanda Stolojan belongs to a family of Romanian scholars and diplomats and, as such, she was from early childhood in contact with the Western European languages and cultures. Her grandfather was the writer and diplomat Duiliu Zamfirescu (1858 – 1922) and she was a great-niece of the architect Ion Mincu (1852-1912). One would have thought this advantage alone might have been sufficient ground for her career promotion in the People’s Republic, later to become the Socialist Republic of Romania. Quite the contrary: she was declared instead an ‘enemy of the people’ (dusman al poporului) and was lucky enough to have escaped the worst communist prisons, except for a spell at the Uranus Military prison, in Bucharest. Her husband was given, in 1958, an eight-year prison sentence of which he spent four long years in several detention camps, including at the infamous slave-labour gulag, at the Danube-Black Sea Canal.

Given such antecedents, Sanda’s career was sidelined. However, by the early 1960’s, as the bankrupt communist economy was in dire need of hard cash, in the slave trade which ensued, Sanda Stolojan and her husband were bought by a relation in France, for 25,000 dollars and were allowed to leave Romania for the West. Such shameless trafficking in human beings was common practice, as there was a constant flow of exit visas-for-dollars between Romania and Israel, or Romania and West Germany (never East Germany!), a practice that lasted for decades, until the fall of Ceausescu, in 1989. The Stolojans settled in Paris, since 1961.

Ironically, Sanda Stolojan became a Romanian interpreter for the French Presidency for thirty years, a period from de Gaulle to Jacques Chirac. This privileged position allowed her to return to Romania as part of the official French delegations (see Avec de Gaulle en Roumanie). At the same time, in France, she was one of the leaders of the anti-communist exile group, who tried to give Romania a dignified face. This was not without real risk to her own safety, at a time when the communist secret services of Soviet and satellite countries were extremely aggressive against the refugees who chose freedom. This milieu is presented in her recent Memoirs published in Paris and Bucharest (Au balcon de l’exil Roumain a Paris/Nori peste balcoane)

Sanda Stolojan was the president of The League for Human Rights in Romania (1984-1990). She was a constant anti-communist fighter and a close friend of Cioran, Eliade, Ionesco and other Romanian greats whose personality she evoked in her books. She also translated in French Cioran’s opus “Des larmes et des Saints”.

Sanda Stolojan might have still been with us today should it not have been for the negligence and for a long series of professional blunders and incompetence by the French doctors in whose “care” she was in one of the “best and most reputable” Parisian hospitals. She will be remembered by her friends and all people who knew her for her refined quality and immense generosity, a rare representative of the disapearing species of the “vieille Roumanie”
Her literary legacy, which includes a great many articles, is prodigious:

Memoirs:
Stolojan, Sanda, Nori peste balcoane. Jurnal din exilul parizian, Humanitas, Bucharest
—, Avec de Gaulle en Roumanie, Éditions de l’Herne (Mémorables), Paris, 1991
Stolojan Sanda, Ceruri nomade – Jurnal din exilul parizian 1990-1996, Humanitas, Bucarest, 1999
—, Au balcon de l’exil roumain à Paris: avec Cioran, Eugène Ionesco, Mircea Eliade, Vintilà Horia, l’Harmattan, Paris, 1999.
—, La Roumanie revisitée (journal 1990-1996), L’Harmattan, Aujourd’Hui l’Europe Séries, Paris, 2001
—, Maison pour un Mirage, ( une maison à la campagne), Ed. Du Laquet, Collection terre d’Encre, Martel, 2003

Essays and poems published in periodicals:
‘Limite’, ‘Ethos’, ‘Fiinta româneascà’, ‘Revista scriitorilor Români’, ‘Journal de Genève’, ‘Esprit’, ‘Cahiers de L’Est’, ‘Le Monde’, ‘L’Alternative’, ‘Lettre Internationale’, ‘ARA Journal’: ‘Revue de Belles-lettres'(Geneva), ‘Création’, ‘Polyphonies'(Paris).

Poetry:
Stolojan, Sanda, Dans les Brisures, Éditions Rougerie, 1982
—, ‘Sur les abîmes verts (1985),
—, Bruine de nulle part, 1993

In English:
Stolojan, Sanda,
Duiliu Zamfirescu, Monograph, Twaine World Authors, Boston, 1980

Translation credits from Romanian into French:
Stolojan, Sanda, Emil Cioran, Lacrimi si sfinti (Des larmes et des saints), Éditions de l’Herne, Paris, 1986
—, Lucian Blaga, poems in the anthology: L’ étoile la plus triste, Éditions de la Différence, 1992.

———————————————————————————————-

Constantin ROMAN: “Blouse Roumaine” Extras (I) – ROMANCE la LONDRA

May 6th, 2006 · Books, Diaspora, PEOPLE

Retrospectiva Nicolae Grigorescu, AGEN, Franta (11 Apr. – 14 Aug 2006)

April 26th, 2006 · Art Exhibitions, OPINION, PEOPLE

De 17 Martie, Ziua Sf. Patrick , Romania saluta Irlanada

March 15th, 2006 · Diary, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Poetry in Translation (XXVI): Hector MCDONNELL (b.1947) – “Sf. Patrick”

February 18th, 2006 · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Poetry in Translation (XXV): Marta Petreu, (b. 1955) – “Psalm”

December 1st, 2005 · PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Poetry in Translation (XXIV): Ion Caraion – “Seul au Monde” / “Singur pe lume”

November 12th, 2005 · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

MEDICAL CARE DURING DICTATORSHIP (“My Second University” Two Reviews by Ionel Taranu & Constantin ROMAN

October 19th, 2005 · Books, PEOPLE, Reviews

Letter to Sanda STOLOJAN – A Funeral Oration by Manuel de Diéguez

August 24th, 2005 · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry

Poetry in Translation (XXII): Sanda STOLOJAN (1919-2005) – “Three Trees”

August 22nd, 2005 · Diaspora, PEOPLE, Poetry, Translations

Sanda Stolojan (1919-2005) – In Memoriam

August 20th, 2005 · Uncategorized

New Anthology of Romanian Women

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