Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
ACTES DU SYMPOSIUM
INTERNATIONAL
LE LIVRE. LA ROUMANIE.
L’EUROPE.
4ème édition
20 – 23 Septembre 2011
TOME III
Troisième section – LATINITÉ ORIENTALE –
Section 1 :
Frédéric Barbier, Directeur de recherche au CNRS (IHMC/ENS Ulm),
Directeur d’Études, Histoire et civilisation du livre, École Pratique des Hautes
Études, Sorbonne,
Rédacteur en chef de Histoire et civilisation du livre. Revue internationale
(Genève, Librairie Droz)
Section 2 :
Réjean Savard, Dr. – Président de l’ASTED et de l’AIFBD, Professeur de
bibliothéconomie, Université de Montréal
Chantal Stanescu – Directrice adjointe, Bibliothèque Publique Centrale pour la
Région de Bruxelles‑Capitale
Hermina Anghelescu – Professeur Associé, School of Library & Information
Science, Wayne State University, Michigan, USA
Cristina Ion – Conservateur, Chef du service Sciences sociales, département
Philosophie, histoire, sciences de l’homme de la Bibliothèque nationale de
France, Paris, France
Section 3 A :
Martin Hauser, Prof. Dr., Département-Chaire UNESCO d’Étude des Échanges
Interculturele et Interreligieux, Université de Bucarest, Roumanie
Section 3 B :
Ioana Feodorov, Conf. Dr., Institut d’Études Sud‑est Européennes de
l’Académie Roumaine, Bucarest
Section 3 C :
Nicholas Viktor Sekunda, Prof. Dr., Chef du département d’Archéologie
Méditerranéenne, Institute of Archaeology, Gdansk University
Adrian George Dumitru, Dr., Université de Bucarest – Paris IV Sorbonne,
Assistant de recherche, Bibliothèque Métropolitaine de Bucarest
Section III A
Aspects diplomatiques, historiques, économiques et culturels
des relations roumano – helvètes
Diplomatic, historical, economic and cultural aspects
of the Romanian‑Swiss relations
Section III B
Européens et Levantins aux XVIe‑XXe siècles:
histoire, société et culture
Europeans and Levantines in the 16th‑20th centuries:
history, society, and culture
Les relations entre les Pays Roumains et l’Épire au cours des siècles.
Présentation d’ensemble – FLORIN MARINESCU 268
Kurbet among the Albanians in the Ottoman period. Characteristics
and destinations – IVAYLO MARKOV 275
Livres européens anciens pour l’étude des langues classiques et
orientales dans les collections de la Bibliothèque Documentaire de
Zalău – IOAN MARIA OROS 286
th
The Antiochian Greek-Orthodox Patriarchate and Rome in the Late 16 C.
A Polemic Response of the Metropolitan Anastasius Ibn Mujallā to the
Pope – CONSTANTIN PANCHENKO 302
The Greek Political Emigrants in Romania (1948‑1982) –
APOSTOLOS PATELAKIS 316
The Habsburg Empire and printing in languages of the Ottoman
Empire, 16th‑19th Centuries – GEOFFREY ROPER 330
From the Digital Catalogue to the Digital Library –
NIKOLAI SERIKOFF 347
Ottoman Terms in the Rural Economy on the Danube Banks: Arman
and Mera – STELU ŞERBAN 352
L’épigraphiste hagiographe : l’apparition de la légende du saint
archimandrite Coumnènos en Russie – VERA TCHENTSOVA 370
e
Une histoire universelle traduite en roumain au XVIII siècle –
ANDREI TIMOTIN 382
e
Traduire de l’italien au roumain au XVIII siècle. La vie de Skanderbeg
traduite par Vlad Boţulescu – EMANUELA TIMOTIN 389
Aspects balkaniques de l’édification de l’identité culturelle bulgare.
La «filière roumaine» – KIRIL TOPALOV, VESKA TOPALOVA 402
Section III C
Relations militaires, commerciales et culturelles dans les Balkans,
de l’époque classique à la période byzantine
Military, trading and cultural relations in the Balkans,
from classical times to the Byzantine era
– LATINITÉ ORIENTALE –
⁕
– ORIENTAL LATINITY –
Section III A
⁕
Aspects diplomatiques, historiques, économiques
et culturels des relations roumano – helvètes
⁕
Diplomatic, historical, economic and cultural aspects
of the Romanian‑Swiss relations
INTRODUCTION
MARTIN HAUSER
RADU BALTASIU
OVIDIANA BULUMAC
GABRIEL SĂPUNARU
Prolegomena
were receiving high bonuses for bringing more money to the company in
such a manner.
“Their average tenure has declined from ten years in the 1970s to six
years today, and boards are becoming ever more likely to sack bosses if
they get out of line, particularly in Europe. The financial crisis has also
produced a wave of popular fury about over‑paid executives and their
unaccountable ways. In this sort of climate it is not just the paranoid,
but the faceless, who survive” (The Economist, The cult of the faceless
boss, 2009).
A leaderless world
its character stands out all the more clearly the more concentrated,
dependable and agreeable social relations are. Indeed, the general
stability and reliability of cultural interaction influences all the external
aspects of money” (Simmel, 2004, 172).
Thus, the hyper‑rationalization, from a mere instrument became
an end in itself, being centered obsessively on efficiency, calculability
predictability and control establishment (George Ritzer, 2001).
“Suddenly it seemed possible for any financial risk to be measured to
five decimal places, and for expected returns to be adjusted accordingly.
Banks hired hordes of PhD‑wielding “quants” to fine‑tune ever more
complex risk models. The belief took hold that, even as profits were being
boosted by larger balance sheets and greater leverage (borrowing), risk was
being capped by a technological shift” (The Economist, The gods strike
back. Financial risk got ahead of the world’s ability to manage it, 2010).
In these circumstances, the faceless leader in the economic world
easily adapts to the liberal clichés, believes/seeks in nothing else than
the shortest way to achieving profit, and is an expert in technicalities and
quantitative issues. In other words, he is an „instantly forgettable” figure
(The Economist, The cult of the faceless boss, 2009) that determines
a depletion of the social capital existent in a given society/organization
(Baltasiu, 2009, 86).
the “Bolkestein rules”4 which stated that “regulation must be rolled back
if its costs outweigh its benefits”. Today, even simpler economic activities
in education are regulated by special papers; filling out applications for a
grant requires specialized services and “networking” outside the university;
all these are, in fact, consumers of important research “energies”.
Other accelerators of the educational fallacy are: the induction of a
fracture between Knowledge and Science, in the name of freedom of choice
and the consequent abandon of the personality of the student left to build by
his‑her choice. Professors are transformed in providers of pieces of knowledge
in a short timeframe like workers on the assembly line, in the name of
flexibility and compatibility; students are transformed in a “mass clientele”;
education is becoming business, losing the proper interest in citizenship
and knowledge, and young personalities are brought to pieces by the sheer
fragments of knowledge they cannot link with one another; increasing the
secondary costs meaning more limitations to mobility. Taking into account
the flaws of the undergraduate level, the MA programs are inevitably built
on shaky foundations. The secondary higher education is becoming more
and more of an opportunistic substance. Students do not have enough time
to dedicate to knowledge, and due to the life’s expensiveness and losing their
patience, they are (self)directed merely towards a job search in exchange of
a diploma. Neither at this level is knowledge the motor which leads the
relationship between education and society, but opportunism for the sake
of a job idea. Higher education thus becomes a Hobbesian battlefield: only
the very few of fittest reach to the universals of knowledge, i.e. involved in
science, and only the fittest are successful in finding a job.
“Europe” through the voice of Brussels recently drew attention upon a
“lost generation”5. In other words, the problem is not of short‑termed and
“crisis” related, but a structural one. The “statistical voice” of the European
Union, Eurostat says: “high youth unemployment rates do reflect the
difficulties faced by young people in finding jobs”6, a figure that reaches
almost 42% unemployment in the young population nowadays in Europe7.
4
Frederik Bolkestein – Dutch politician, former European Commissioner for
Internal Market and Services between 1999‑2004. See Goliath. Business knowledge
on demand, “Single Market: Bolkestein wants to simplify rules in new policy
areas”, September 14th 2002, http://goliath.ecnext.com/coms2/gi_0199‑2169592/
SINGLE‑MARKET‑BOLKESTEIN‑WANTS‑TO.html, [April 2011].
5
Financial Times, Europe grapples with youth unemployment, February 16th 2011.
6
European Commission. Eurostat, Unemployment statistcs. 1.3 Unemployment
trends, data up to February 2011.
7
News N Economics. Daily analysis of global economic and financial conditions,
Unemployment in Europe: it’s not just Spain, January 2nd, 2010.
Considerations regarding the bilateral relations between countries... 19
Oikonomia or chrematistics?
The etymology of the word economy comes from the Greek term
‘oikonomia’ meaning a ‘household management’ that actually implies a
‘science’ of managing the household. Opposed to this, is the chrematistics,
in Aristotle’s view “the art of making money for the sake of money”
(Vulcănescu, p. 119). The contemporary economy that also suffered the
2008 financial crisis, is somehow opposing oikonomia, by transforming the
money in the actual end of the economic production and changes. Money is
a universal instrument of acquisition that implies no end but the continuous
return to accumulation. Therefore, we start transforming everything into
money and capitalizing everything. Thus, the effect of the money is that we
become ways instead of ends:
„The man stops being a purpose in itself, as Kant wants, he becomes
a way of production, a commodity. […] The morale stops being a life
organizer, but becomes an instrument of ensuring the fulfilment of
commercial obligations. Religion is no more a mean of redemption, but
a way of stimulating productivity.” (Vulcănescu, 2009, p. 71)
The Wall Street paradigm of thought is not highly in contrast with the
above statements. The society is just a field of trading (fairly anything)
in order to obtain personal success (read material success). Here is an
opinion of an American analyst stating that “everyone has become a trader,
no one invests anymore” [on the New York Stock Exchange] (Ziarul
Financiar, Frustrări pe Wall Street: „Dintr‑o dată toţi au devenit traderi,
nimeni nu mai e investitor!” Bursa a închis în scădere cu 1%, 2011). When
the economy detaches from the investment component we have a crisis of the
economic ethos and of the trust in society as well. What is this ethos crisis?
It is the mentality of the economic system. This mentality stated, with the
22 R. BALTASIU, O. BULUMAC, G. SĂPUNARU
neoliberal paradigm, that in the economy there shouldn’t exist any outside
market regulations. And for twenty years, the economy became only more
and more de‑regulated. But the 2008 phenomenon showed the inefficiency
of this paradigm. The failure of self‑regulation attested the ethos crisis.
As we will further see, the perception of money was heavily relating on
new means of obtaining higher and safer profits, with the help of advanced
computer technology and mathematics.
securitization process starts in the early 2000s with the ‘innovation’ of new
financial instruments called derivatives. In this process, the credit buyer
borrows money from the creditor who further sells the loan to investment
banks. These banks buy different kinds of loans (commercial mortgage,
real estate, car loans, etc.) and turn them into complex derivatives called
collateralized debt obligations (CDOs). The CDOs are then sold to investors.
Naturally, an important aspect is the profitability of these obligations and
given that a proper understanding of them would require documentation of
30,000 pages (The Economist, The gods strike back, 2010), rating agencies
take the responsibility of assessing the risk obligations. Of course, the
rating process takes place at the request of investment banks which pay
large sums for the evaluation of these so‑called ‘financial products’. In this
context, many of the bonds received the highest investment rate (AAA),
enjoying widespread confidence of investors.
But what is this risk management and does it withhold the truth?
Each banking institution, when granting a loan, calculates the risk
that the loan will no longer be returned and based on this risk it sets the
interest rate. The calculation is done by a mathematical formula designed
to give precise results. In essence, however, the issue of detail, of precise
accuracy, leads to losing out of sight the overall perspective. And basically
you can never be 100 percent accurate, with a margin of error in calculating
risk. The problem here, explains Nassim Taleb, a well known author
that criticizes risk models, is that unaccounted phenomenon (or ‘Black
Swans’11) have major implications when they happen. Uncertainty can’t
be measured continues Taleb: “[…] almost all ‘social scientists’ who, for
over a century, have operated under the false belief that their tools could
measure uncertainty” (Taleb, 2007, p. xviii). Therefore, the new paradigm
by which the whole economy functioned focuses has both a rational and
moral deficiency – the economy is perceived and managed by the illusion
of accuracy and not by its content of truth – the real economy where work
produces goods (in companies). Worse however is that, at least apparently,
the economic system has not adjusted itself after the financial crisis: “Stock
companies (like AIG) and rating agencies (Fitch, Standard and Poor’s and Moody’s) to
grow at a very high rate.
11
They are unaccounted due to their improbable character, the chances of it
happening is highly unlikely. A Black Swan “is an outlier, as it lies outside the realm of
regular expectations, because nothing in the past can convincingly point to its possibility.
Second, it carries an extreme impact. Third, in spite of its outlier status, human nature
makes us concoct explanations for its occurrence after the fact, making it explainable and
predictable” (Taleb, 2007, p. xvii).
24 R. BALTASIU, O. BULUMAC, G. SĂPUNARU
markets have rebounded sharply. America’s, though still well off their
peaks, are up to 50% overvalued on a historical basis” (The Economist,
Blocking out the Sirens’ song, 2010).
ethics and the social order of labour in the wealthier societies, all at
the level of the university, enterprise and various state institutions.
The logic of European Projects should be shifted from the ideology
of United Europe towards revealing and understanding the logic of
good administration at the level of state, society, enterprise and the
individual. Mobility and grants should focus on knowledge as a
tool for social growth both in theory and practice.
Bibliography
Reuters, SNB’s Jordan: Worse euro crisis may hit Swiss: report, June
19th 2011, available at http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/06/19/
us‑swiss‑snb‑jordan‑idUSTRE75I11420110619
Ritzer, 2003, McDonaldizarea societăţii, Bucharest: Comunicare.ro.
Rostow, Walt Wittman, 1990, Theorists of Economic Growth from David Hume
to the Present, Oxford University Press.
Simmel, Georg, 2004[1907], The Philosophy of Money, London and New York:
Routledge.
Swiss National Science Foundation (SNSF), Scientific co‑operation with Eastern
Europe. A Swiss contribution to the countries in transition, March 2005
available at http://www.snf.ch/SiteCollectionDocuments/int_scopes.pdf
Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation, Programme Document for
Sciex‑NMSch, Scientific Exchange Programme between Switzerland and
the New Member States of the European Union 2009‑2016, January 2011
available at http://uefiscdi.gov.ro/userfiles/file/Acord%20Elvetia‑Romania/
Programme%20Document_burse.pdf
Taleb, Nassim Nicholas, 2007, The Black Swan. The Impact of the highly
improbable, New York: Random House.
The Economist, Between a rock and a living space, 3rd March 2011.
The Economist, Blocking out the sirens’ song, 11th February 2010.
The Economist, Special report: The future of jobs. The great mismatch, 10
September 2011.
The Economist, Taming the Beast, 9th October 2008.
The Economist, The cult of the faceless boss, 12th November 2009.
The Economist, The gods strike back, 11th February 2010.
Vulcănescu, Mircea, 2009, Spre un nou medievalism economic. Scrieri economice,
Bucharest: Compania.
Ziarul Financiar, Frustrări pe Wall Street: „Dintr‑o dată toţi au devenit traderi,
nimeni nu mai e investitor!” Bursa a închis în scădere cu 1%, 9th September
2011.
The Politics of Culture.
The Representation of Roma in Film
ALECSANDRA BOTOŞĂNEANU
The phrase ‘minority rights’ has become so frequent over the past years,
that it has almost begun to lose its significance, especially because so many
countries around the world claim to uphold them, and yet blatantly disregard
their existence. The protection of minorities is codified in the international
legislation, and respecting this principle is one of the conditions imposed
by the European Union to countries that are candidates for accession.
Despite this, there is one European minority, the largest one, which is
still discriminated against, to varying degrees, in all countries: the Roma.
The gravity of the situation is confirmed by the fact that the issue has
gained an increased importance on the EU political agenda, especially after
the inclusion of Romania and Bulgaria, both countries having significant
Roma communities. Although it might seem somewhat ironical that the
Western European countries needed to be faced with an influx of foreign
Roma in order to pay closer attention to those living on their own territory
and defined as their citizens, it is, nonetheless, an important step forward
and certainly one that needed to be taken as soon as possible. In several of
these countries, important parts of the Roma population are sedentary and
largely assimilated, so that those living in close proximity to them do not
even know that they have a different ethnicity, but it is evident that this is
not the case for the entire minority. Prejudices still exist and where Roma
who are easily identifiable as such come into contact with individuals or
groups belonging to the majority group, tensions often flare.
The reason I chose to address the topic of the Roma and not any
other community is that I believe them to be subject to the most severe
discrimination of all minorities and because it seems they are the only
ones whose voice is barely heard in the media. Most other groups who
The Politics of Culture. The Representation of Roma in Film 31
of ‘cultural hegemony’, which posits that the ruling class in capitalism, the
bourgeoisie, controls the working class not only through overt coercion,
but also by cultural domination, that is by disseminating their own values
through culture, and as a result these values become those of society as a
whole. But what this author brought to the debate was the idea that this
hegemony had to be won. And in order to secure it, the different social
groups clash, with popular culture being the arena where this ‘battle’ takes
place, where meaning is negotiated and new ideologies articulated. 2
Structuralism has also left its unmistakable mark on the theory and
the practice of cultural studies, introducing the idea that a useful method
for analysing and decoding texts is that which looks for their underlying
structures, which can provide valuable information about the society and
culture that produced them. This is possible due to the fact that cultural
forms function similarly to language, as described by Ferdinand de
Saussure. Their meanings are not given, ascribed in any way, but they are
produced in the process of interacting with other cultural texts, which is
why deciphering the codes of the system that comprises all these texts is
necessary for a correct interpretation and for uncovering the meanings of
such cultural forms.
The field of cultural studies draws on semiotics, using its methodology
in analysing popular culture, whose products or instances are seen as texts.
Thus, a wide range of objects or phenomena can be the subject of textual
analysis, from television programmes, popular music, fashion or eating
habits. These texts are not, however, approached as privileged objects in
themselves, because, as one author explains, ‘Structuralist influence on the
application of semiotics to popular cultural texts has insisted that analysis
should not limit itself to the structures of individual texts, but should use
such texts as the site for examining the wider structures that produced them –
those of the culture itself.’3 In other words, popular culture products are not
seen as merely the result of one individual’s (or group of individuals, such
as the team working to produce a television show) intentions and actions,
and they do not reflect only their belief system, but rather as a synthesis of
the time and place where those products appeared. But the ideology present
in these texts does not necessarily have to be that of society as a whole; it
can also be that of a sub-group, such as a minority, a subculture, a race, a
gender and so on.
As part of popular culture, cinema can also be understood by applying
2
Graeme Turner, British Cultural Studies. An Introduction, Third edition,
Routledge, London, 2003, p. 54 and pp. 177-181.
3
Graeme Turner, op. cit., p. 17.
The Politics of Culture. The Representation of Roma in Film 33
the method of textual analysis, and this is one focus of the academic
discipline of film studies. One of the debates that shaped the field is that of
formalism vs. realism, the former point of view emphasizing cinema’s status
as an art, and its power to transform the real, not merely mirror it, while
the latter concentrated more on film’s ability to capture reality. Formalists
argue that what generates meaning in a movie is not the content, the topic it
presents, but its form, the selection and combination of images and sound.
Realism, whose most prominent advocate was André Bazin, posits that the
subject of film is reality itself, and that its accurate representation was the
goal of the cinematic endeavour. Once the methods of other disciplines,
such as linguistics, semiotics and psychoanalysis, began to be employed by
film studies scholars, the view of cinema as social practice emerged and it
has maintained its privileged position in the field until today.4
Cinema is inextricably linked to politics, in more ways than one.
Firstly, as products of popular culture, films carry a certain ideological
content: they present, most often inadvertently, specific worldviews, either
those dominant at the time of production, or those of a group or subculture.
These views can include, for instance, the socially acceptable gender roles:
the male as a strong, independent, authoritative figure and the woman as
delicate, vulnerable and inessential, or stereotypes about minorities or sub-
groups. Secondly, films are made within a highly competitive industry
with a business and profit-oriented perspective, and, since their production
is costly, many ideas never make it to the screen because of a selection
process which, itself, is highly political. Studios, as well as individuals, are
reluctant to invest significant amounts of money in films that are unlikely
to become popular and generate a profit. This means that movies dealing
with topics deemed uninteresting or unimportant, or presenting points of
view that are seen as too controversial or touching on sensitive issues, will
be difficult to make because of a lack of financial support. Two authors
describe the process as follows:
‘When a corporation decides to invest $20 million in a film, a chain
of command regulates each step, and no one person is allowed free
rein. Meetings with lawyers, accountants and corporate boards are
what Hollywood films are all about. ... Often [low-budget] films are
eccentric – even extreme – presentations by individuals freely expressing
their imaginations [...] Secondly, they often present unpopular – even
radical – views addressing social, political, racial or sexual inequities,
4
Graeme Turner, Film as Social Practice, Third edition, Routledge, London, 1999,
Chapter 2. From seventh art to social practice – a history of film studies.
34 ALECSANDRA BOTOŞĂNEANU
recognize each other, and Schlomo, the Jewish main character exclaims:
‘There are no Germans! They are Gypsies, our brothers!’ While initially
intent on stealing the train from what they thought were Nazis, the Roma
accept the invitation to join the Jewish people on their train and escape
together. That same evening, they stop to eat outside, in a field, around a
bonfire, with the Jewish and the Roma seated on two opposite sides of the
fire. Soon enough, a musical dialogue begins between the two sides, and
then everyone begins to dance together on a mixture of Gypsy and klezmer
music.
Train de vie makes at least one important contribution to the positive
representation of the Roma in film: it is one of the few works that
acknowledges the fact that they, too, were victims of the Holocaust. The
overwhelming majority of movies dealing with this topic focus exclusively
on the Jewish people, completely ignoring the fact that they were not the
only ones targeted by this mass-extermination project. This state of affairs
reflects the general perception of this moment in history, a perception
which is certainly offensive, since it might be seen as suggesting that a
tragedy is only measured in numbers, and by comparison, and that, because
‘only’ around 250.000 Roma people were killed during the Holocaust16,
they are somehow less important. Several authors, including Ian Hancock,
Isabel Fonseca and Thomas Elsaesser17, have pointed to this situation, and
to the fact that there are internationally renowned films, such as Schindler’s
List, Shoah or, I would add, La vita è bella and The Pianist, all presenting
the dramas of Jewish victims, but only two or three films to date, about
the Roma. A possible explanation is that “the Jews have responded to
persecution and dispersal with a monumental industry of remembrance.
The Gypsies – with their peculiar mixture of fatalism and the spirit, or wit,
to seize the day – have made an art of forgetting.”18 In Radu Mihaileanu’s
film, the two groups are portrayed as ‘brothers in suffering’, in a way,
as empathetic towards each other, since both represent socially excluded
minorities and were now both in danger, facing the same enemy. In the
scene mentioned above, Schlomo tells his people: ‘They are Gypsies, all of
them, Nazis and deportees, like us!’
16
Yosefa Loshitzky, ‘Quintessential Strangers: The Representation of Romanies
and Jews in Some Holocaust Films’, in: Framework, Issue 44 (2), pp. 57-71, p. 2. The
author of the article mentions that the exact number of Roma victims is unknown, estimates
ranging from 200.000 to 1,5 million, especially because many killings were not registered
anywhere, as they took place outside the camp system, in the same place where they were
caught by the Nazis.
17
All these authors are quoted in Loshitzky’s article.
18
Isabel Fonseca, quoted in: Yosefa Loshitzky, op. cit., p. 1.
40 ALECSANDRA BOTOŞĂNEANU
of Romanians who are sitting down to eat or, in the case of the last film in
the list, for those gathered for a wedding. Such scenes are included in so
many movies because they strive to create the illusion of reality, and this
particular stereotype is held by a large percentage of the population. Even
though this is based, in part, on first-hand experience, since the sight of
Roma performers at parties or in restaurants is still quite common (though
decreasingly so), such essentialized representations only serve to further
propagate their Otherness. They are not presented as forming an integral
part of the community, but instead, are reduced to a background role, to de-
individualised, completely replaceable elements of décor.
Despite the shortcomings of Train de vie with regard to the representation
of the Roma and all the conventional views of them which transpire in the
narrative, I would like to conclude by calling attention, once again, to the
unique place this film gained among the hundreds of other works dealing
with the topic of the Holocaust, by including this group and acknowledging
its tragedy.
The aim of this paper was to show, firstly, the close relationship between
cinema and politics, understood in the widest sense, and secondly, how
films can contribute to defining the identity of a minority, particularly from
an outsider’s perspective. The link between this ‘seventh art’ and the realm
of politics ranges from the explicit intentions, transparent in propaganda
films, of persuading an audience of a political system’s justness, to the
insidious pervasiveness of ideology, both political (in the traditional sense
of the word) and social, present in all cultural products, movies included,
and to the notions about nation and minority that can be transmitted by
films in order to convey what one’s ‘correct’ identity should be.
As Gramsci argued, popular culture is the arena where dominant
views are presented, but it is also where they are disputed and negotiated.
Films that have strong female protagonists, for instance, or emphasize the
multicultural realities of a country, reflect precisely these struggles.
For this reason, I believe it is important to discern the subtle statements
a film makes about its characters and the groups they represent. States and
governments may offer official documents asserting their pluralistic and
egalitarian philosophies, about the genuine liberties and rights that all their
citizens enjoy, but if the media and popular culture consistently tell a different
story, either explicitly (like journalism does) or implicitly (like cinema), the
reality should be obvious to anyone with the willingness to see it.
In the case of the Roma community, this contradiction is easily
identifiable. Despite the Romanian declarations made in the country’s
42 ALECSANDRA BOTOŞĂNEANU
the impression that the Roma are radically different from everyone else,
making it impossible for the viewers to empathise with or relate to the
characters. On the contrary, the attitude that this type of film encourages is
one of detached contemplation, amusement, perhaps even admiration, but,
in the end, observation from a distance of a decidedly strange Other, one
who we could not imagine interacting with in our daily lives.
I believe that such schematic representations of the Roma are so
frequent in films because they reflect the social realities of the countries
where they are present and where they are either fully assimilated and no
longer noticeable, or too noticeable, misunderstood and misjudged. But
filmmakers do not need to wait for these realities to change in order to
provide audiences with more accurate depictions through complex, real
characters. The solution for eliminating the majority’s prejudices about
the Roma is not to assimilate them and render them invisible, but to gain
genuine knowledge about who they are.
Bibliography
Newspaper articles:
LILIAN CIACHIR
Comme le dit Anne Bielman dans son article publié dans le «Dictionnaire
historique de la Suisse»:
«C’est à travers les structures de l’Empire romain que le christianisme
s’est propagé dans le territoire de la Suisse actuelle. Au IVe s., une
réforme administrative créa quatre préfectures divisées en diocèses,
eux-mêmes subdivisés en provinces. Le territoire de la Suisse dépendait
de six provinces. Des localités anciennes comme Genève, Sion,
Coire ou Bâle devinrent des civitates (cités) autonomes, ce qui eut
des répercussions pour la création d’églises et de sièges épiscopaux
(Diocèses) dans la seconde moitié du IVe s. Ce territoire étant davantage
romanisé et urbanisé dans sa partie occidentale et méridionale (Plateau,
arc lémanique, Tessin) que dans sa partie orientale, la diffusion du
christianisme ne s’y fit pas de façon linéaire et prit plusieurs siècles.
Nous ne possédons aucun témoignage direct de la présence de
chrétiens en Suisse avant 313, lorsque l’empereur Constantin déclara
le christianisme religion officielle. Toutefois, la tradition légendaire
fait état d’un essor précoce du christianisme en Suisse. Ainsi, selon une
légende datant probablement du VIIIe s., le roi anglais Lucius aurait
converti des païens sur le territoire suisse au temps de l’apôtre Paul.
La légende de saint Béat, présenté comme le premier apôtre du Christ
dans la région de Thoune, est née au XIIIe s. et fut rédigée au XVIe s.
Le récit relatif au massacre de la Légion thébaine, à Agaune (Saint-
Maurice), au cours de la grande persécution de 303-305, fut rédigé au
Ve s. par Eucher, évêque de Lyon. Du IXe au XIIIe s., d’autres martyrs
furent rattachés à ce cycle légendaire: Ours et Victor de Soleure, Félix
et Regula de Zurich, Vérène de Zurzach, enfin Exupérance de Zurich.
Ces textes peuvent être liés à la découverte de tombes romaines, mais
ils ne constituent pas des témoignages historiques fiables sur les débuts
du christianisme en Suisse. En revanche, ils attestent de la volonté de
fonder, dès le IVe s., une identité chrétienne possédant son histoire et ses
lieux de culte. »3
3
http://www.hls-dhs-dss.ch/textes/f/F11507.php (consulte le 14 juillet 2012).
Pour mieux comprendre les origines du christianisme en Suisse je cite ici la suite
de l’article d’Anne Bielman « Une fois le christianisme et l’État romain réconciliés, les
Relations historiques entre la Suisse et la Roumanie... 47
5
Hist. Eccl. III, i, 1-3, disponible en ligne à l’adresse suivante : http://remacle.org/
bloodwolf/historiens/eusebe/histoire3.htm#I (consulté le 14 juillet 2012).
6
Concernant ses preocuppations sur le christianisme en Dobrudja, priere de consulter
l’article de Cristina-Georgeta Alexandrescu, „Arhiepiscopul Raymund Netzhammer şi
problemele antichităţilor dobrogene”, in STUDII ŞI CERCETĂRI DE ISTORIE VECHE
ŞI ARHEOLOGIE (SCIVA) No. 58/3-4 (2007) disponible en ligne à l’adresse suivante:
http://www.scivajournal.ro/pdf/sciva%203-4_2007/03.pdf (consulté le 14 juillet 2012).
50 LILIAN CIACHIR
10
« Nicolas de Flue. Un silence qui fonde la Suisse », Editions du CERF, Paris,
1993, couverture verso.
11
„Ştefan cel Mare şi Daniil Sihastrul. Notă asupra relaţiei dintre prinţ şi omul
sfânt în Ţările Române”, in Sorin Dumitrescu (edit.), „Altfel despre Ştefan cel Mare”,
Relations historiques entre la Suisse et la Roumanie... 53
Ce qu’on observe avec ces deux exemples est le fait que dans les deux
pays, par heureuse coïncidence, il y a un lien étroit entre le pouvoir spirituel
et le pouvoir laïque. Je me permets de forcer la note pour dire qu’une
relation spirituelle a existé dès la christianisation de ces deux peuples et
continue à exister jusqu’au nos jours.
Je vais continuer maintenant avec l’exemple de Johannes Honterus (né
en 1498 à Braşov – mort en 1549, Braşov), le réformateur de Brasov, qui est
important pour notre thème de deux points de vue – activité ecclésiastique
et d’imprimeur :
–– Son activité ecclésiastique vise l’implantation de la Reforme à
Braşov, reforme qui semble être d’origine suisse. Dans ce sens, Edit Szegedi,
se basant sur le travail de Oskar Netoliczka «Die Basler Beziehungen des
Johannes Honterus» dit:
« Johannes Honterus a studiat la Viena şi Cracovia şi a trăit un timp
la Basel. Această şedere la Basel precum şi corespondenţa cu Heinrich
Bullinger, continuatorul lui Zwingli la Zürich, au fost privite de literatura
de specialitate drept dovada pentru sorgintea eleveţiană a Reformei. »12
Et allant dans le même sens, l’Académicien Răzvan Theodorescu dit :
« Bineştiuta activitate a lui Johannes Honterus la Braşov, unde în
1548 era imprimată opera lui Luther «Der kleine Katechismus», apoi
introducerea oficială, în 1550, a luteranismului de către «Universitatea
săsească», într-o variantă mai apropiată, spiritual, de Melanchton – şi în
exact acelaşi timp în care Ungaria era cîştigată pentru calvinismul care
atrăsese şi pe maghiarii din Ardeal – sînt etape cunoscute ce au dus la
triumful confesiunilor reformate în voievodatul, mai apoi în principatul
Transilvaniei. I-a corespuns, acestui triumf, şi un capitol de istorie a
umanismului local de coloratură protestantă, continuînd, nemijlocit, pe
acela catolic al epocii precedente;un umanism dominat, la nivel aulic,
de interesul pentru istorie şi pentru «antichităţi» – aidoma celui ce
dominase curtea episcopală de la Alba Iulia în atmosfera italienizantă
a sfîrşitului de secol XV şi a începutului de secol XVI, prelungit în
mediul italofil al curţii princiare albense în cea de-a doua jumătate
a se-colului al XVI-lea – şi pe care, la nivel orăşenesc, îl vom regăsi
mai cu seamă în efervescenţa culturală deosebită din oraşele săseşti
ale Transilvaniei de sud în prima jumătate a secolului al XVI-lea, unde
3. En guise de conclusion
BIBLIOGRAPHIE :
IOANA FEODOROV1
ses livres surtout que mon père aimait beaucoup : L’Avenir est notre affaire
(1977, Stock), vive condamnation de la « religion de la croissance » que
lui‑même, adepte de la pensée de René Guénon, déplorait aussi ardemment.
Ce livre, mon père désirait ardemment le voir traduit en roumain, car les
idées visionnaires et lucides de Denis de Rougemont concernant la politique
européenne et mondiale lui paraissaient dignes de la plus grande attention.
Denis de Rougemont avait une autre qualité que Virgil Cândea admirait
beaucoup: « le don de l’expression claire », que Paul Valery avait aussi
remarqué, en évoquant « son art de la formulation ». La manière dont
Denis de Rougemont définissait sa démarche lui paraissait ingénieuse: dans
L’Avenir est notre affaire l’auteur, adversaire du nucléaire et du supersonique,
remarque : « On s’était adressé à moi comme ‘philosophe’. Le philosophe
étant celui qui pose des questions simples et naïves, je demande : ‘Concorde,
à quoi est‑ce que ça sert ?’ » (p. 82). Ou un peu après, toujours pour protester
contre la vitesse ahurissante promue par la technologie moderne (p. 84):
« Le luxe suprême de demain, je l’ai défini au lendemain d’Hiroshima : La
lenteur au sein du silence ». Absolument magique, cet aphorisme semblable
à un haiku ! Voilà, figé dans une formule mémorable, l’esprit éblouissant de
Denis de Rougemont que mon père m’a éduquée à apprécier.
Denis de Rougemont dédicaça ainsi à mon père le volume de L’Amour
et l’Occident de 1977, qu’il considérait comme « une édition provisoirement
définitive » : Voilà « un livre dont je ne me libérerai jamais » ... Je peux
conclure en constatant que moi non plus, je ne pourrais jamais m’en libérer !
Denis de Rougemont avec son épouse Nanik, dans leur maison à Ferney.
Multinational Corporations
within a Concentric Circles’ Paradigm
INTRODUCTION
The present paper’s task is to look into the possibility that multinational
corporations might facilitate the integrating of human values capable to
reshape local identities.
To this purpose, a number of questions will have to be answered: Do
transnational corporations fit the model of concentric circles? Is it possible
for them to shape the attitudes and behavior that are required in a certain
community? Can civil society be revived in this way?
Our attention will be focused on the activity of ABB Ltd Romania, in an
attempt to see whether ABB’s brand is built around connecting the different
standpoints of people, to see whether they have made reconciliation central
to their everyday activity. Further on, it is interesting to derive whether this
reconciliation can be embedded in the community’s everyday life.
The method deployed will be analysis based on the conducting of an
organizational survey using a questionnaire.
CULTURAL DIVERSITY
The analysis of the three countries providing the background for the
organizational culture of ABB Romania Ltd offers a contrasting picture.
While Switzerland and Sweden hold all the social correlates of modern
highly‑developed societies, being multicultural and promoting individual
values, Romania is lagging well behind. The success of the Swedish and
Swiss economies can also be accounted for by the focused, pragmatic
political demands of their electorates. By contrast, Romania’s relative
failure to establish an attractive economic framework is illustrative of a
troubling search for identity from the part of its citizens.
I. Assess the following concepts as to how important you feel they are
as guiding principles from the perspective of
II. Group the chosen concepts under the following headings: security,
universalism, stimulation, and achievement.
|[ ]| male |[ ]| female
4. How long have you been working with ABB Ltd Romania?
Personal Values
Legend: Organizational Values
Societal Values
Personal Values
Legend: Organizational Values
Societal Values
Predicted Values
Multinational Corporations within a Concentric Circles’ Paradigm 77
Personal Values
Legend: Organizational Values
Societal Values
Personal Values
Legend: Organizational Values
Societal Values
Predicted Values
As seen in the diagram above, the key values across the organization,
reinforced through their double acknowledgement by employees and
management, are responsibility, initiative, ethics, and competence.
Respect is quite a strong organizational value, since the employees
manifest a personal propensity towards this value. A sense of organizational
Multinational Corporations within a Concentric Circles’ Paradigm 81
Personal Values
Legend: Organizational Values
Societal Values
82 NINA IVĂNESCU OLTEAN
Personal Values
Legend: Organizational Values
Societal Values
Multinational Corporations within a Concentric Circles’ Paradigm 83
Bibliography
NICOLETA NEGOI
a eu lieu d’abord à Iasi, puis à Bucarest et dans les provinces fut aussi
rapide que profonde. Après une année, toutes les dames s’habillaient selon
la mode européenne.
Le souci c’est que, une fois ouverte vers l’Occident, la société roumaine
est tombée dans le chaos. A la fin du XVIIIe siècle, Jean‑Louis Carra, qui
s’occupait de l’éducation des enfants du prince Grégoire Ghika, voyait un
monde où la femme était l’esclave de l’homme. Elle n’était pas éduquée,
elle était ignorante et donc acceptait sa condition sans concevoir une autre.
Tout d’un coup, la femme n’est plus l’esclave de l’homme, elle se prend
des amants, elle apprend à lire, et les hommes acceptent tout cela juste
pour être « à la mode ». La haute société passe par une crise morale, le
libertinage se pratique et entraîne le divorce.
Les aristocrates gaspillaient beaucoup d’argent pour s’assurer une
opulence qui dépassait la richesse affichée par les femmes occidentales.
Mais tout cela pour combler un manque. Un besoin. Le décalage au niveau
de l’éducation entre les roumaines riches et les occidentales était énorme.
Et c’est toujours leur désir d’émancipation qui les pousse encore à dépasser
leur condition : en suivant la nouvelle mode, les femmes apprennent le
français et commencent à lire beaucoup de romans. De telle sorte qu’en
1839 Ecaterina Faca traduit en roumain un des livres de l’institutrice
Jeanne Louise Campan, et elle fait aussi une traduction en roumain pour
« Les méditations » de Lamartine3.
Adela Xenopol, la sœur d’Alexandre Xenopol, avait étudié à Sorbonne
et au Collège de Paris. De retour en Roumanie, elle commence une vraie lutte
pour l’émancipation de la femme en Roumanie. Sofia Nădejde, une autre
féministe de l’époque, n’avait pas fait des études à l’étranger, pourtant, elle
avait étudié au « Pension Glowaska » de Botoşani. Ce qui est intéressant
en ce qui la concerne est son appartenance au mouvement socialiste. Sa
pensée avait été influencée par les idées d’Engels, qui avait publié en 1884
« L’origine de la famille, de la propriété privée et de l’État ».
Pourtant, un changement n’est jamais facile. Cleopatra J. Arca, qui
avait passé par l’École Supérieure de Rome et par le Conservatoire de Paris,
publie en 1887 le « Livre de la décence » 4. Elle dit, à propos des femmes,
qu’elles doivent utiliser seulement des expressions très délicates. Il fallait
3
Suite aux témoignages de Saint Marc Girardin, dans V. Panopol, « Românce
văzute de străini », pp. 126‑127
4
C. J.Arca, « Cartea bunei cuviinţe. Regule dupã care trebuie sã se poarte persoanele
de orice vârstã şi condiţie pentru a evita diferitele greşeli şi necuviinţe în viaţa socialã »,
Bucureşti, Depozitul General H.Steinberg, Librar ‑ anticar, Calea Rahovei, 7, 1887
90 NICOLETA NEGOI
donc éviter de dire « Je n’aime pas telle ou telle chose » parce que, par une
telle expression négative, les femmes pouvaient laisser deviner chez elles
une certaines capacité de prendre des décisions, ce qui n’était pas en accord
avec la faiblesse et la délicatesse de la nature féminine.5
Le communisme a arrêté, à mon avis, le vrai processus d’émancipation
de la femme en Roumanie. A peine ses droits civils reconnus, la femme
et la société elle‑même n’ont pas eu le temps de tout assimiler. D’où la
crise des valeurs qui a marqué, et qui est toujours présente, la période
post‑communiste en Roumanie.
aux hommes et aux femmes : l’éducation des filles était donc fortement
conditionnée par leur destinée de mère et épouse13. Cette situation a mené
à l’apparition des écoles de travail, où les filles apprenaient à manier le fil
et l’aiguille.
En 1895 la Confédération subventionne les écoles d’économie
domestique et d’instruction des femmes. De cette manière, « l’institution
de l’enseignement ménager était en Suisse à la fois la plus officielle, la
plus complète et la plus populaire » . Il ne faut pas alors s’étonner que cette
formation domestique des filles bénéficie du soutient d’hommes politiques
comme Leonhard Usteri, Ferdinand Zehender, Johannes Kettiger ou Franz
Dula, qui soutenaient l’éducation des filles.14
Pendant la période de la première guerre mondiale, la question de
l’enseignement supérieur pour les filles est abandonnée, l’idée d’un
enseignement ménager obligatoire gagnant de plus en plus de terrain.
Après la deuxième guerre mondiale, il était clair que les femmes devaient
commencer à fréquenter une école professionnelle afin de pouvoir accéder
au travail et la question de l’enseignement supérieur est reposée. Les
femmes commencent à avoir accès peu à peu aux disciplines scientifiques,
mais les cours de couture s’y rajoutent obligatoirement. L’enseignement
reste, au moins jusqu’aux années ’70, non‑mixte, sous le prétexte que les
besoins des filles et des garçons ne seraient pas les mêmes.
Depuis les années ’70 en Suisse, le nombre d’élèves/hommes se
formant dans une profession de l’enseignement à baissé chaque année. Pour
les années ’90, la moyenne est de 20,1% pourcentage pour les garçons et
79,9% pour les filles. D’où l’idée que l’enseignement primaire et secondaire
reste dominé en Suisse par les femmes. Par contre, quand on regarde les
statistiques concernant la formation professionnelle supérieure (y compris
les professions de l’enseignement), les résultats sont très parlants. Dans
les années 1977‑1978, on part d’une domination du sexe masculin dans
ce domaine de 76% contre 24% qui représentaient les femmes dans la
formation professionnelle supérieure. Par contre, la tendance est claire en
faveur des femmes, parce que depuis la fin des années ’70, le nombre de
femme dans la formation professionnelle supérieure augmente petit à petit.
En 1998‑1999, on arrive à une représentation de 61,3% pour les hommes et
38,7% pour les femmes. Cette formation reste masculine, mais la tendance
est d’ouverture vers les femmes.
13
R. Rogers, « L’enseignement au féminin », article dans L’Ecole de France, TDC
No 986
14
E. Abetel, « Dictionnaire historique de la Suisse », Hauterive, Editions Gilles
Attinger, 2005, p. 311
96 NICOLETA NEGOI
Conclusions
doivent travailler. Cette idée, ainsi que celle de l’éducation comme agent
de l’aliénation de la femme, rejoint le nouveau mouvement féministe.
Même dans les nouveaux paradigmes, l’éducation garde son rôle
central : vue comme un instrument d’émancipation, ou comme une
« accumulation sélective de connaissances » , à nous d’en faire ce dont on
a besoin, à condition que ce besoin ne soit pas la base d’autres intérêts, qui
n’ont rien à voir avec la vraie révolution spirituelle que l’humanité devrait
chercher au XXIe siècle.
Bibliographie
O. Gréard, « L’éducation des femmes par les femmes », Hachette, Paris, 1907
R. Rogers, « L’enseignement au féminin », article dans L’École de France, TDC
No 986
V. Panopol, Românce văzute de străini, Editura Cartea Românească, Bucureşti,
1943
Les relations internationales
et la collaboration scientifique
de l’Université de Fribourg avec la Roumanie
TUDOR‑AUREL POP
...et interuniversitaires
tisser d’autres liens, peut‑être encore bien plus intenses, entre les pays
occidentaux et les pays communistes, à tel point que les antagonismes
militaire, politique et économique n’ont pas pu prendre le dessus.
Après la chute des régimes communistes au début des années 90, en
plus des relations déjà établies, des contacts beaucoup plus diversifiés au
niveau culturel, scientifique, sportif, mais aussi, bien sûr, économique,
politique et œcuménique sont devenus possibles. Les doctorats honoris
causa roumains des professeurs fribourgeois Christian Giordano et Guido
Vergauwen, recteur de l’Université de Fribourg, se situent certainement
dans la mouvance de ce travail relationnel commencé il y a longtemps.
Pourtant une contribution scientifique, culturelle et politique majeure fut
sans doute le programme initié au début des années 90 par le FNS (Fond
national suisse), avec le soutien de la DDC (Département fédéral des affaires
étrangères). Celui‑ci permettait à des universitaires suisses d’établir des
coopérations scientifiques et institutionnelles avec plusieurs pays d’Europe
de l’Est, dont la Roumanie.
J’ajouterai à la liste des personnalités ayant reçu le doctorat honoris
causa de l’Université Ouest de Timisoara le Prof. Aldo Menichetti,
Professeur à l’Université de Fribourg ainsi que le Dr Martin Nicoulin,
ancien directeur de la Bibliothèque cantonale et universitaire de Fribourg,
en reconnaissance pour ses travaux et son action en faveur des mutations de
la bibliothèque contemporaine, qui doit devenir un centre d’informations et
d’innovations technologiques, un site d’animation culturelle et un carrefour
de la coopération nationale et internationale.
La création du Département‑Chaire UNESCO d’étude des échanges
interculturels et interreligieux à l’Université de Bucarest (en 1999, pour
la Chaire et en 2002 pour le Département), une structure interdisciplinaire
par excellence, reflète bien les possibilités relationnelles entre la Roumanie
et la Suisse. Elle puise ses origines dans les contacts inter‑ecclésiastiques
et a été créée avec l’aide substantielle de théologiens suisses et roumains.
Cette structure, qui se base sur la sociologie et l’administration des affaires,
offre des cours de Master en communication interculturelle, management
interculturel et administration des affaires.
Le fondement de ce Département repose sur la collaboration avec
l’Europe occidentale, notamment avec la Suisse et avec Fribourg en
particulier. En effet, la collaboration avec l’Université de Fribourg a
débuté en 2001 et celle avec la Haute école de gestion (HEGHSW) de
Fribourg, en 2006. Une collaboration au niveau doctoral vient aussi d’être
lancée. Elle implique Institutul National de Cercetari Economice «Costin
C. Kiritescu», Institutul de Sociologie et Centrul European de Studii in
Les relations internationales et la collaboration scientifique... 105
L’Université moderne
Durant les dernières années, le nombre d’étudiants a plus que doublé, pour
franchir à l’automne 2003 le seuil des 10’000, signe concret du dynamisme
de l’Université de Fribourg. 10’000 étudiants et plus de 200 professeurs
venus de près de 100 pays qui étudient, enseignent et font des recherches dans
les cinq facultés ! Des jeunes en provenance de tous les cantons suisses et
de près de 100 pays se croisent dans la seule université réellement bilingue
de Suisse : 45% d’entre eux sont de langue maternelle allemande, 35% de
langue maternelle française et 8% de langue maternelle italienne. Malgré son
important développement, l’Université de Fribourg privilégie le contact avec
les étudiants et conserve son caractère familial et son hospitalité.
Fribourg a le charme incomparable d’une vraie ville universitaire
facilitant les rencontres et les échanges entre scientifiques et étudiants.
Les bâtiments de Miséricorde ont été réalisés par Denis Honegger, élève
du grand architecte mondialement connu « Le Corbusier ». Ils séduisent
par leurs formes pures, une intégration harmonieuse dans un paysage en
pente douce et le choix, révolutionnaire à l’époque, des matériaux utilisés:
béton armé, sans crépi ni peinture.
C’est en 1941, pendant la Deuxième Guerre mondiale, que fut
inauguré le bâtiment principal de l’Université, ses auditoires, ses salles de
travail, ses bibliothèques et ses bureaux ainsi qu’une aula de 800 places.
D’une importance considérable pour l’architecture du 20ème siècle, le site
Miséricorde est désormais classé monument historique protégé.
Pérolles 2, bâtiment remarquable de fonctionnalité, d’élégance et de
confort, répond à l’augmentation rapide du nombre d’étudiants et représente
une étape marquante dans le développement architectural de l’Université de
Fribourg. Mis en service en 2005, le nouveau bâtiment rejoint le complexe
existant de la Faculté des sciences, souvent nommé «Pérolles 1».
Ainsi, le plateau de Pérolles, situé au Sud‑Est de la ville de Fribourg,
est devenu un centre unique pour la formation, la recherche et l’innovation,
centre dans lequel sont regroupés plusieurs hautes écoles et instituts de
formation : la Faculté des sciences économiques et sociales, la Faculté des
sciences, divers instituts et services de l’Université de Fribourg, l’École
d’Ingénieurs et d’Architectes, la Haute École de gestion et différents
ateliers d’apprentissage.
Facultés
Semestres
Théologie Droit Lettres SES Sciences Total université
SH‑1969/1970 1 1
SH‑1970/1971 1 1
SH‑1971/1972 1 1
SH‑1972/1973 1 1
SH‑1982/1983 1 1 2
SH‑1983/1984 1 1 2
SH‑1985/1986 1 1 2
SH‑1986/1987 1 1
SH‑1987/1988 1 1 2
SH‑1988/1989 1 1 1 3
SH‑1990/1991 1 1 2 8 12
SH‑1991/1992 2 1 3 2 5 13
SH‑1992/1993 2 3 4 2 1 12
SH‑1993/1994 3 5 6 1 15
SH‑1994/1995 3 4 7 6 3 23
SH‑1995/1996 3 5 7 4 4 23
SH‑1996/1997 3 5 13 4 5 30
SH‑1997/1998 8 6 19 5 2 40
SH‑1998/1999 11 6 18 6 3 44
SH‑1999/2000 8 7 22 5 3 45
SH‑2000/01 10 8 21 4 2 45
SH‑2001/2002 12 11 37 7 6 73
SH‑2002/03 13 12 44 11 6 86
Les relations internationales et la collaboration scientifique... 111
SH‑2003/04 12 6 46 17 4 85
SH‑2004/05 12 3 47 17 5 84
SH‑2005/06 12 2 39 11 6 70
SH‑2006/07 14 2 35 9 4 64
SA‑2007 14 1 29 9 3 56
SA‑2008 16 1 31 7 7 62
SA‑2009 17 2 29 6 7 61
SA‑2010 21 3 25 6 4 59
Témoignage
Avant 1989 et notamment vers la fin des années 70’, j’ai été moi‑même
l’un des rares étudiants étrangers venus de Roumanie. A l’époque, même
les programmes universitaires devaient être tenus secrets. Cela signifie
112 TUDOR AUREL POP
par nos organes universitaires, nous avons pu continuer cette œuvre en nous
basant dès lors sur des conventions, des statuts‑cadres adaptés à la mobilité
et en pleine connaissance du système universitaire roumain.
Aujourd’hui, je n’ai plus besoin de rédiger des notes explicatives pour
le Rectorat ou pour les officialités cantonales en expliquant la situation
politique, sociale et culturelle dans les pays communistes concernant
chaque cas où une demande d’immatriculation est déposée.
Les relations se sont rapidement développées et j’ai été amené à
conseiller non seulement les étudiants en droit mais aussi ceux des autres
domaines scientifiques. La Bibliothèque cantonale et universitaire m’a
également demandé de m’occuper de deux bibliothécaires scientifiques
arrivés en stage grâce aux contacts liés avec l’Université de Cluj‑Napoca.
Après être passés par tous les secteurs de la Bibliothèque cantonale
et universitaire, ils ont pu mettre en place à Cluj‑Napoca un système
bibliothéconomique moderne et efficace. Dans le même contexte, nous
avons formé des bibliothécaires de l’université de Timisoara Ouest et de la
Faculté de droit de Craiova.
L’Institut de fédéralisme.
Résumé
Conclusion
ANA SELEJAN
De vita Iulii Agricola), c’est‑à‑dire presque 400 pages partagées dans les
chapitres et les séquences établies par les grammaires du XVIIIe siècle et
qui sont restées valables jusqu’à nos jours. Voire plus, le lecteur anonyme –
car le document ne garde aucune signature de propriété à part le sceau du
Musée Brukenthal – devient correcteur là où le typographe ou celui qui a
numéroté les pages, ont laissé l’espace libre, ne comprenant pas le mot, et
aussi là où le texte est obscur ou incorrect; en quelques lignes, il dévoile
cependant son identité par les quelques notes en italien par lesquelles il
exprime sa perplexité devant de telles graves confusions de contenu ou de
forme (inversions de pages ou numérotations incorrectes).
Voilà l’une des curiosités et des belles surprises du livre ancien car,
pour nous, personnes nées et formées dans et pour le siècle de la vitesse, la
patience infinie de ce modeste lecteur anonyme tient de l’impossible. Plus
encore, les informations sur les Roumains (daco‑romanica) augmentent la
valeur bibliophile de l’imprimerie, sachant que Tacite, avec son impartialité
proverbiale (sine ira et studio) enregistre des victoires ou des défaites des
Daces face aux Romains de 14 à 70 après J‑.Christ.4
Une autre rareté bibliophile par les notes de propriété et les informations
daco‑romanica est représentée par le frobénien (Bâle, 1544) contenant
l’œuvre en latin de l’historien juif Flavius Iosephus: Antiquitatum Iudaicarum
et De Bello Iudaico qui se trouve à la Bibliothèque départementale Astra
de Sibiu. Après quelques éditions vénitiennes (1510) et parisiennes (1511,
1513, 1544) de grand succès et circulation, l’intérêt typographique pour cet
auteur se localise à Bâle, les Frobeniens approvisionnant de façon rythmique
(1523, 1524, 1534, 1537, 1541, 1554, 1559, 1567, 1582) le marché littéraire
par de nouvelles éditions flaviennes, soigneusement imprimées en format
in‑folio. Avant de personnaliser cet exemplaire avec des informations
bibliophiles, notons que la Bibliothèque Astra détient 28 livres suisses du
XVIe siècle, appartenant à d’importants typographes et éditeurs.
Les possesseurs successifs de cet élégant in‑folio, retenus dans les
notes de propriété sont deux personnes physiques5 (Franciscus Geiger et
4
Cf. SELEJAN, Anna, Scut la nordul Dunării. Istorie şi bibliofilie în cartea de
patrimoniu [Ecu au nord du Danube. Histoire et bibliophilie dans le livre de patrimoine],
Sibiu, Fundaţia Culturală Fronde, 1996, p. 44‑47.
5
Note ex libris sur la couverture intérieure du livre de Flavi Iosephi, Antiquitati
Iudaicarum libri De Bello Iudaico, libri XVII, Basileae, Froben, 1544: Perillustri ac
Generosus dn. Franciscus Geiger, Sacr.Caes Majestati in Salisfodinam Hagiensi (?)
perceptor, hunc librum ad. humil(issimus) fratris Paschalij Fabnai peces Fratrib. minorib.
de strictiorae observantia Alma Missionaria Pastori Transsylvania, gratis donavit. (...) 23
februarii 1716.
124 ANA SELEJAN
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
CORNEA, Lucian, Cartea străină veche. Sec. XVI‑XVII [Le livre ancien étranger
aux XVI‑XVIII siècles], Sibiu, Bibliothèque Astra, 1978
8
Pour description, voir Olga Şerbănescu, œuvre citée, tome 2, passim
Livres suisses du XVIe siècle dans les collections de Sibiu 127
MIHAI SPĂTĂRELU
before 1989 and after, the same thing could be witnessed by people who
left Switzerland and lived here for quite a while. Four or five years ago
I was in Chisinau and I managed to go to Transnistria, where I visited
some Protestant churches, Lutheran churches. The Lutherans were Polish,
Swiss, German. They came there long ago, in the 19th and 20th century.
This could also be a trace of research for our ecclesiastical ties. My travel
to Chisinau was organised by the World Council of Churches of Churches
, another Geneva based organization in order to establish a similar
ecumenical body in the Republic of Moldova. Now, back to these parishes
I can say there’s a similar process in Switzerland. We have a Romanian
Orthodox parish in Geneva. In the Cold War period unfortunately the same
thing happened as in other Romanian diaspora communities. Part of the
believers went to different jurisdictions. But now there’s a better setting.
We have deaneries in Switzerland and eleven parishes which all belong
to the Metropolitanate of Western Europe, under Metropolitan Iosif, in
France. To show these models and structures which helped a lot these ties
between the Swiss people and the Romanian people I should be speaking,
beside the World Council of Churches, about the Conference of European
Churches which was, by organizing the Basel meeting in 1989, also a good
meeting point between Swiss and Romanian people, between East and
West. It also belongs to the World Council of Churches the Ecumenical
Institute of Bossey and this institution which is also similarly linked to
both the Geneva University and to the World Council of Churches had the
advantage of bringing many Romanian people and students and we also had
the chance to have professors there. For the time being we have Fr. Ioan
Sauca who is the director of Bossey Institute. The status of the Ecumenical
Institute of Bossey was upgraded in relation to the University of Geneva.
We can have all kinds of research done in relation with this University of
Geneva and this part of the university. It had the advantage of being far
away from Geneva, from all these international structures. It was a remote
place where friendship can grow easier, because it was a place not only
for studies but also for ecumenical prayer. His Beatitude Patriarch Daniel
stayed there. I spotted a study on ecumenical prayer in 1982 and I can say
that ten years later in Romania AIDRom managed to publish a booklet for
the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, which was quite an event for the
early nineties. And to see all these links and the input of this activity in the
Cold War period, we should see the results afterwards, after 1989. And I
can say there’s a lot of progress in terms of relations between Churches in
Romania because of this event. To speak about the early nineties, I went
to Transylvania even before being a member of AIDRom staff and I saw
130 MIHAI SPĂTĂRELU
also have to mention another professor , professor Viorel Ionita, who is now
the acting director of the Conference of European Churches. He engaged
in these ecumenical studies starting from Church history studies approach,
which offered him the first millennium of Christian unity as a model. And
then, by going to the second millennium of disunity, it offered a base to
work something out for the third millennium in the same framework. Prof.
Viorel Ionita was, like professor Dumitru Popescu, director of studies in the
Conference of European Churches of Churches (1994-2011). To summarise
this presentation I can say that my essay it’s just an open field of studies
and I hope professor Martin Hauser with some students and postgraduate
students can complete the things lacking from my presentation, specially in
HEKS archive for the communist period.
Bibliography:
⁕
Europeans and Levantines in the 16th‑20th centuries:
history, society, and culture
INTRODUCTION
IOANA FEODOROV
PAUL AUCHTERLONIE
Often known as the Barbary Regencies, these three states were governed
by a Turkish élite, composed of janissaries from the Levant and Anatolia,
supported by the ṭā’ifah of ra’īses, or the confederation of ship captains,
which reflected much more mixed ethnic origins. Together, the janissaries
and the ra’īses formed the dīwān, or ruling council, in each Regency. The
economy of these states was predicated on two elements: firstly, taxing the
Arab, Berber and Jewish inhabitants; and secondly, and of direct relevance
to this paper, on ‘privateering’ (often called ‘corsairing’ or even ‘piracy’).
Algiers, in particular, had a large fleet which attacked European vessels
and raided European coasts from the mid‑16th century until the end of the
Napoleonic wars in 1815. If a European vessel was carrying a valuable
cargo, this was used locally or sold on the open market; if the vessel itself
was substantial and up‑to‑date, it would be converted to naval service and
would become part of the Barbary fleet; however, the most reliable source
of income for the Regencies were the captured Europeans, who were either
ransomed for money or incorporated into the local work force. These
Europeans were either the seamen or passengers from captured European
vessels, or, equally commonly, at least until the 18th century, they were
local inhabitants of the coastal regions of the northern Mediterranean,
particularly Spain, France and Italy. However, once the Algerian fleet
developed broad sail technology and was able to venture far into the
Atlantic, there were well documented attacks as far north as Ireland and
even Iceland. There are varying estimates of how many Europeans were
enslaved during the life of the Regencies, but most scholars seem to have
agreed on at least one million Europeans; many of these captives never
returned to their native countries, and either died as slaves or converted to
Islam – some scholars have estimated that around 8% of the population of
Algiers in the 17th century was composed of renegades, or Christians who
had, in the language of the day, “turned Turk”. However, a great many
captives were ransomed, while others escaped, and captivity narratives are
the published accounts of those slaves who returned home and described
their experiences.
Although there were enslaved Christians in North Africa from almost
every Christian nation ranging from Norway, Iceland and Russia in the
north to America and Brazil in the West, and although more Spaniards
were captured than any other nationality, the most numerous and the most
studied captivity narratives are those published in English, which range
from John Fox’s narrative published in 1589 to Robert Adams’ which
was published in 1816. Between 1589 and 1704, twenty‑seven captivity
narratives written by Englishmen were published in England, ranging
140 PAUL AUCHTERLONIE
from a few pages in length to over 250 pages; in addition there is the
work of the Fleming Emanuel d’Aranda, which was originally published
in French in 1656, but was translated into English ten years later. The
earliest works tell us very little about North Africa, but Francis Knight’s
captivity narrative published in 1640 is a watershed, since it focuses almost
as much on the world of his captors as on himself and how he escaped, and
most subsequent accounts follow this pattern, culminating in the work of
Joseph Pitts, published in 1704, which is the longest, most varied and most
valuable of the early narratives. These captivity accounts differ from the
records of travellers and ambassadors, in that they focus much more on
the mundane life of everyday, rather than the world of high politics and
diplomacy. Moreover, many travellers had enjoyed a classical education
and a large part of their books is often given over to comparisons between
the world they encountered in North Africa and Roman antiquity; in
addition, travellers also rarely knew the languages of the countries they
visited and were reliant on dragomans and native informants. On the other
hand, those captives who stayed any length of time in North Africa learned
Turkish or Arabic, and so could converse with their masters and with fellow
slaves at the very least in lingua franca, which was the standard medium of
communication throughout the Mediterranean ports. Some scholars have
likened captivity narratives to those of 20th century anthropologists, in that
captives “learned indigenous languages and life ways with a proficiency
any ethnographer would envy, and often produced accounts that are indeed
full, rich and accurate by ethnography’s own standards.”2 Nabil Matar, the
most highly respected author of Anglo‑Muslim encounters of the 16th and
17th centuries, has claimed that captives’ “knowledge of the world of Islam
was unparalleled in the early modern period of Europe’s geographical
expansion,”3 and that captivity narratives represent the deepest and most
intimate encounters between European Christians and the world of North
African Islam before the 19th century. This may be an exaggeration, but I
would like now to turn to what the captivity narratives can actually tell us.
Firstly and most obviously, captivity narratives tell us about the
condition of slavery. Once the slaves had landed in the city, and the dey
had taken his pick, then, as Pitts says:
2
Mary Louise Pratt, Fieldwork in common places, in James Clifford and George
E. Marcus (eds.), Writing culture: the poetics and politics of ethnography, Berkeley,
University of California Press, 1986, p. 38.
3
Nabil Matar, Turks, Moors, and Englishmen in the age of discovery, New York,
Columbia University Press, 1999, p. 78.
English captivity narratives as a source of information... 141
They drove us all to the Dey’s, or king’s house, who makes his choice
and takes the Pengick [pencik], i.e. the eighth part of the slaves for the
publick use, and the same part of the cargo. After which we were all
driven from thence to the Battistan, or market‑place, where Christians
are wont to be sold: there we stand from eight of the clock in the
morning, until two in the afternoon (which is the limited time for the
sale of Christians) and have not the least bit of bread allowed us during
our stay there. Many persons are curious to come and take a view of us,
while we stand exposed to sale; and others, who intend to buy, to see
whether we be sound and healthy, and fit for service (Pitts 1731: 8‑9).
Another English slave, William Okeley, explains how prospective
buyers checked the captive’s teeth (“a good, strong entire set of grinders
will advance the price considerably”, Okeley 1676: fol. C2 r), but hands
were particularly important ; Adam Elliot explained that the overseer
coursed me up and down, from one person to another, who called upon
me at pleasure to examine me what trade I was of, and to see what labour
my hands were accustomed to (Elliot 1682: 7)
Once the slaves had been sold off in the market, many slaves were sent
to the galleys, at least until the end of the sixteenth century. Rowing in the
galleys was a very arduous existence and many must not have survived,
if we are to believe the testimony of former galley‑slaves such as Francis
Knight:
For a drop of water, they would pawn their souls and often are
constrained to drink of the salt oceans. Their repast at best but bread and
water and for want of sleep are in continual ecstasies, the strokes of the
oar is dolourous...The scorching heat now penetrates their brains, their
flesh is burned off their bodies, when anon they are much pinched with
cold, strong fetters are their nearest consorts from which they are never
exempted...their repose when they have any is sitting...not having so
much room as to stretch their legs, their sleep when they have any is an
hour in twelve (Knight 1640: 29).
Once galleys were replaced by broad‑sail ships at the beginning of the
17th century, conditions aboard ships improved, but many slaves still had
to undertake hard labour, particularly in the winter, when the corsair fleet
spent much of its time in harbour. Francis Knight explains how “in Algiers
some slaves were set to hailing [hauling] the cart in lew [lieu] of horses
...or to chop the vineyard and others to build houses” (ibidem: 14) and that
the famous slave‑owner Ali Pichilin forced many to work on “sumptuous
142 PAUL AUCHTERLONIE
4
Quoted on p. 18 of Nabil Matar, Introduction: England and Mediterranean
captivity, 1577‑1704, in Daniel Vitkus (ed.), Piracy, slavery and redemption: Barbary
captivity narratives from early modern England, New York, Columbia University Press,
2001.
144 PAUL AUCHTERLONIE
necessity for purification of the body before worship, what the fundamentals
of the Muslim shahādah are, and what rituals are involved in the ḥajj. He
was often struck by the Muslim devotion to prayer:
But as for those who are religious in their way, they’ll not live in the
neglect of performing their Salah or Nomas, i.e. their worship might
they gain ever so much. Nay there are some among them so zealous, that
after they are reformed from their former extravagancies, they labour to
make up what they have run back in the time of youth by their neglect
of Salah, and in order to fetch up their arrears, they’ll be out of their
beds an hour or two before day, and having prepar’d themselves, will be
engag’d in their devotion till they are quite tired (Pitts 1731: 49)
and backed up his remarks with his own memories:
I very well remember my last Patroon [master], who was an ancient
[old] Man, would spend many mornings in this exercise. Whilst I was
a‑bed he would be up, and having wash’d himself as usual, would be
at his devotion. I ask’d him the reason of it. He told me, when he was
young he lived in the omission of his duty; for as for Nomas, he paid no
regard to it; but now he would endeavour to make amends for all past
neglects (ibidem: 50).
Pitts was equally impressed with the Muslims’ devotion to the Qur’an,
and he explained that Muslims took great care of their copies of the Qur’an,
and that even
traders and shopkeepers set themselves a daily task, to recite so much of
the Alcoran without [the] book, as in thirty days to take up [complete]
the whole: and this many continue to do all their life‑time, believing
that they merit much by it. (“I wish that Christians were as diligent in
studying the Holy Scriptures, the Law and the Gospel…) (ibidem: 43).
It would be possible to furnish numerous other examples of how the
complaint that captivity narratives are “of little use” to social and cultural
historians is based on a lack of understanding of the texts. It is true that
captivity narratives help little in establishing dates or political events
(although Pitts does give an inside view of how his second master’s attempt
to oust the dey came to nothing, and gives an eye‑witness account of the
destruction wrought in Algiers by the French bombardment of 1688);
and it is also true that there are some captives who relate stories which
are hard to believe, such as the anonymous T.S. who talks about flying
snakes and people being burnt alive in enormous brass pots in the shape of
a lion; and as a genre, it must be admitted that captivity narratives can be
English captivity narratives as a source of information... 147
Brooks 1693 – Francis Brooks, Barbarian cruelty being a true history of the
distressed condition of the Christian captives under the tyranny of Mully
Ishmael, Emperor of Morocco, and King of Fez and Macqueness, London,
J. Salusbury and H. Newman, 1693.
Cason 1647 – Edmond Cason, A relation of the whole proceedings concerning
the redemption of the captives in Argier and Tunis. With the translates and
copies of the letters from the Bashaw, Duana, Mufty, Caddee, and Shoudes,
unto both the Honourable Houses of Parliament, London, Laurence
Blaikelock,1647.
Coxere 1945 – Edmond Coxere, Adventures by sea of Edward Coxere, E.H.W.
Meyerstein ‑ed.), Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1945.
D’Aranda 1666 – Emanuel D’Aranda, The history of Algiers and its slavery,
London, John Starkey, 1666.
Elliot 1682 – Adam Elliot, A modest vindication of Titus Oates, the
Salamanca‑doctor from perjury, or, An essay to demonstrate him only
forsworn in several instances by Adam Elliot, London, Joseph Hindmarsh,
1682.
Fox 1589 – John Fox, The worthie enterprise of John Foxe, in delivering 266
Christians out of the captivitie of the Turkes at Alexandria, in The principall
148 PAUL AUCHTERLONIE
Vitkus 2001 – Daniel Vitkus (ed.), Piracy, slavery and redemption: Barbary
captivity narratives from early modern England, New York, 2001. [Contains
editions of Fox, Hasleton, Rawlins, Okeley, Phelps & Pitts – 1704 edition]
Webbe 1600 – Edward Webbe, The rare and wonderful things which Edward
Webbe, an Englishman borne, hath seene..., London, Ralph Blower, 1600.
JACQUES BOUCHARD
Il est des mots qui, après avoir soulevé de vives passions en leur temps,
tombent ensuite en désuétude, et même dans l’oubli; ainsi en est‑il du mot
“phanariote” en français. Je n’ai pas encore réussi à dater avec précision
l’apparition initiale de ce néologisme. En revanche, une chose est sûre,
c’est qu’il n’apparaît désormais ni dans le grand Robert, ni dans le Trésor
de la langue française : dictionnaire de la langue du XIXe et du XXe siècle
(1789‑1960)1. Les difficultés ne sont pas moindres lorsqu’on s’avise de
dater la naissance de ce mot en grec. Les dictionnaires grecs, en particulier
celui de Koumanoudis et récemment celui de Babiniotis, restent muets
concernant la date, même approximative, de son apparition2. Quant à la
naturalisation de ce terme en roumain, tout porte à croire que le mot soit
apparu assez tardivement3.
*
Je remercie vivement madame Dorina Măgărin de la Bibliothèque Centrale de
l’Université de l’Ouest de Timişoara pour son aide précieuse dans mes recherches sur les
éditions roumaines.
1
Paris, Éditions du Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1971‑1994.
2
S.Α. Koumanoudis, Συναγωγή νέων λέξεων υπό των λογίων πλασθεισών από
της Αλώσεως μέχρι των καθ’ ημάς χρόνων, Athènes, 1900, rééd. avec introd. de C. Th.
Dimaras, Athènes, Ermis, 1980 ; G. Babiniotis, Λεξικό της νέας ελληνικής γλώσσας,
Athènes, Centre de lexicologie, 2e éd. 2002.
3
Le mot « fanariot » ne figure ni dans I. Bobb, Dictionariu rumanesc, lateinesc, si
unguresc, Clus, 1822‑1823, ni dans le Lexicon Valachico‑Latino‑Hungarico‑Germanicum,
Buda, 1825, ni dans A. Clemens, Walachisch‑deutsch und deutsch‑walachisches
L’apport de Zallony dans la conception grecque et roumaine... 151
lorsqu’un Prince aussi éclairé daigne sourire à ses travaux! » Dans son
ouvrage, Zallony rapporte que « les Grecs du Fanal » qui ont régné en
Moldavie et en Valachie « conservent toujours le noble titre de Fanariote,
et le transmettent à leurs enfants » (Zallony 1809 : 97). Au XVIIIe et au
début du XIXe siècle, on trouve en général les expressions “les Grecs du
Phanar” ou “les Grecs du Fanal”, plutôt que le mot « fanariote »13.
En grec, je retrouve le mot « φαναριώτης » dans un billet daté du 1er
mars 1819, publié dans la livraison du 15 février 1820 du Λόγιος Ερμής.
L’auteur de ce billet mentionne de façon laudative les Phanariotes; il écrit
que « εις των Φαναριωτών τους ευγενείς οίκους ευρίσκονται άνδρες, από
των οποίων την ζωηράν φαντασίαν, και την λεπτήν περί τα καλά αίσθησιν
έχει τις να ελπίση πολλά » [dans les nobles maisons des Phanariotes on
trouve des hommes dont la vive imagination et un sens affiné du beau
permettent d’y fonder de grands espoirs]. Plus bas, parlant d’un auteur,
il utilise l’expression « του ευγενούς τούτου Φαναριώτου » [de ce noble
Phanariote]14. En 1823, Adamante Coray emploie lui aussi le mot dans la
préface de sa traduction de l’ouvrage de Beccaria Dei delitti e delle pene; il
reprend Louis Bignon, un auteur français qui par mégarde avait qualifié de
Phanariotes des mécènes grecs qui n’appartenaient pas à ce groupe15; Coray
ajoute : « δεν κατηγορώ τους Φαναριώτας… πολλούς εξ αυτών εγνώρισα
τιμίους άνδρας » [Je n’en tiens pas rigueur aux Phanariotes… j’ai connu
parmi eux beaucoup d’honnêtes hommes]16.
Mais l’ouvrage qui mettra le mot « Phanariote » à la mode, avec
toutefois une connotation fortement dépréciative, est sans contredit la
fameuse étude de Zallony, publiée en français en 1824, et dont la page de
titre nous renseigne de manière explicite sur la nature de l’ouvrage et sur
l’identité de son auteur. Elle se lit comme suit : Essai sur les Fanariotes
où l’on voit les causes primitives de leur élévation aux hospodariats de
la Valachie et de la Moldavie, leur mode d’administration, et les causes
principales de leur chute; suivi de quelques réflexions sur l’état actuel
de la Grèce. Par Marc‑Philippe Zallony, Docteur en médecine, ancien
médecin de Jussuf‑Pacha (dit le Borgne), grand‑visir, et de son armée, de
plusieurs pachas, muphtis, ulémas, ministres de Sa Hautesse, et de divers
13
Andrei Pippidi, Hommes et idées du Sud‑est européen à l’aube de l’âge moderne,
Bucarest‑Paris, Editura Academiei – Éditions du C.N.R.S., 1980, p. 342.
14
Ερμής ο Λόγιος, tome 10, numéro 4, 15 février 1820, p. 120.
15
M. Bignon, Les cabinets et les peuples, depuis 1815 jusqu’à la fin de 1822, Paris,
Béchet, décembre 1822, p. 269‑270.
16
Βεκκαρίου Περί αδικημάτων και ποινών, μεταφρασμένον από τήν ιταλικήν
γλώσσαν, 2e édition, Paris, Firmin Didot père et fils, 1823, p. ξϛ’ [= LXVI].
154 JACQUES BOUCHARD
en français à Berlin en 1837, tout en soulignant que, selon lui, la vie des
Phanariotes n’était « qu’intrigue, bassesse, avidité et tyrannie »27. De
même, la romancière roumaine Constance de Dunka (1843‑?), dans son
roman intitulé Éléna, Phanariotes et Roumains, publié en français à Paris
en 1862, imagine‑t‑elle une intrigue où s’affrontent, on le devine, de bons
Roumains et de méchants Phanariotes. Vers le milieu de son roman, l’auteur
interrompt sa narration pour brosser à ses lecteurs français le portrait‑robot
de son antihéros :
« Le Phanariote, né dans le faubourg de Constantinople dont il tire le
nom, est un Grec renié par sa patrie, qui cherche à se greffer sur la
première nation venue. Le Phanariote, avant 1820, commençait par
vendre de la limonade dans la ville des Sultans et finissait par monter sur
quelque trône des Principautés danubiennes. […] Le Phanariote, revêtu
de la kuka princière, arrivait avec plusieurs de ses compatriotes aussi
avides que lui. Tous les ministères, toutes les hautes dignités étaient
partagées entre les favoris; chacun cherchait à dépouiller boyards et
villageois indigènes, sachant que sous peu un autre débitant de limonade
arriverait de Constantinople revêtu de la dignité de prince. »28
Dans un style des plus véhéments, le poète national Mihai Eminescu
(1850‑1889), pris d’une sainte colère, fustige ce ramassis de Phanariotes et
de Bulgares, ses compatriotes soi‑disant patriotes, dans son poème intitulé
« Épitre III », publié dans la revue Convorbiri literare de Jassy en mai 1881 :
Toate mutrele acestea sunt pretinse de roman
Toată greco‑bulgărimea e nepoata lui Traian ! [...]
Tot ce e perfid şi lacom, tot Fanarul, toţi iloţii,
Toţi se scurseră aicea şi formează patrioţii. 29
[Toutes ces tronches se prétendent des Romains les descendants !
Et toute la racaille gréco‑bulgare les petits‑fils de Trajan [...]
Tout ce qu’il y a de perfide et rapace, tout le Phanar, tous les ilotes,
Tous ont afflué chez nous et forment les patriotes.]
27
Michel de Kogalnitchan, Histoire de la Valachie, de la Moldavie et des Valaques
transdanubiens, Berlin, B. Behr, 1837, p. 374.
28
Constance de Dunka (Camille D’Alb), Éléna, Phanariotes et Roumains, Paris,
Dentu, 1862, p. 127‑128. Cf. J.A. Vaillant, La Romanie, ou Histoire, langue, littérature,
orographie, statistique des Romans, tome II, Paris, Altus Bertrand, 1844, p. 305, note :
‘limondji’, « marchands de limons, de citrons ; c’est le nom injurieux par lequel les
Valaques désignent les phanariotes auxquels ils rappellent ainsi leur basse extraction ».
29
Mihai Eminescu, Poezii, Bucarest, Editura Minerva, 1975, p. 120.
L’apport de Zallony dans la conception grecque et roumaine... 161
RÉFÉRENCES
TĂNASE BUJDUVEANU
et devenir un témoin de la juste foi. Il est allé aux endroits où Jésus a vécu et
souffert et il prit le voile au monastère de Saint Sava, près de Jérusalem, sous
le nom de Visarion. Après avoir connu le Pays Saint en entier, il se dirige
vers le Mont Athos. Il s’installe au monastère Pakra de Slavonie. Grâce à
son prestige, il est envoyé en 1744 par le métropolite Arsenie Ioanovici
Sacabent de Karlowitz au Banat (ouest de la Roumanie) et ensuite en
Transylvanie, contribuant ainsi au renforcement de l’orthodoxie, menacée
par l’uniatisme. À cause de l’activité déroulée, il est mis en prison où il
meurt comme saint, témoin de l’orthodoxie (Păcurariu 1994 :113‑115).13
Les Lieux Saints ont bénéficié également de la présence des moines
roumains (‘aroumains’) originaires des Balkans. En 1744 on trouve
mentionné le nom de Simeon de Moscopole et en 1820 celui de Teodosie
de Skopje (Beza 1939 : 36). On sait que depuis longtemps le Patriarcat
de Jérusalem organisait en Macédoine des actions pour soutenir le Saint
Sépulcre, actions mentionnées dans les documents de l’archive du Patriarcat
(Beza 1932‑1934 : 208‑209). En 1930, on mentionne à Saint Sava et au
Mont Sinaï l’archimandrite Epifanios, secrétaire général du Patriarcat de
Jérusalem, ainsi que d’autres moines (ibidem : 197). Parmi les moines
installés à jamais dans le Pays Saint on trouve Irinarh Rosetti (1771‑1859).
Il fait partie de la famille des boyards Rosetti de Moldavie. Il prend le
voile au monastère Neamţ et travaille comme imprimeur au monastère,
ainsi qu’à la Métropolie de Bucarest. Après une période à Athos, il dirige le
monastère Horaiţa où il fonde une nouvelle église. Il est attiré par les Lieux
Saints. En 1847, il fonde un petit couvent roumain sur le Mont Thabor.
Après cinq ans passés à Nazareth (1818‑1900), il revient sur le Mont
Thabor avec son apprenti Nectarie Banu. Ils commencent à y fonder un
monastère grâce aux donations des fidèles. En 1859 Irinarh, âgé de 88 ans,
meurt et est enterré dans le pronaos de l’église qu’il avait commencée. Cette
église sera terminée par Nectarie et sanctifiée en 1861, lors de la fête de la
Transfiguration, par le Patriarche Cyrille de Jérusalem. La responsabilité
de cet édifice sera confiée à Nectarie. Après 38 ans passés sur le Mont
Thabor, Nectarie se retire au monastère de Saint Sava de Jérusalem, où il
reste jusqu’au bout de ses jours14.
À la fin du XIXe siècle, on trouve au monastère de Saint Sava le moine
Ananie Vlahul (Ananie le Vlah). Il y a une inscription qui précise son nom
13
V. aussi Ion B. Mureşianu, Sfântul Visarion Mărturisitorul, dans Sfinţi români şi
apărători ai legii strămoşeşti, Bucureşti, 1987, p. 446‑476.
14
V. Viaţa unui călugăr îmbunătăţit român: Irinarh Roset, BOR, XXII, 1898‑1899,
7, p. 603, 632 et 8, p. 770‑791; Eufrasia Sârbu, Un monah român ctitor pe Muntele Tabor,
„Învierea”, Ierusalim, IV, 1976, p. 7‑9.
172 TĂNASE BUJDUVEANU
comme étant « l’un des meilleurs moines que le monastère ait eus dans
cette période ». (Beza 1932‑1934: 3; Păcurariu 1997: 392).
L’archimandrite Ioan Selejan a occupé le même poste, mais pour une brève
période (ibidem : 317).
La communauté monacale de l’édifice roumain de Jérusalem n’a
jamais dépassé le nombre de 7 ou 8 moines, provenant généralement des
monastères roumains. Ils participent à l’activité religieuse et administrative
de la communauté. Toutes ces activités sont dirigées et suivies attentivement
par l’archimandrite Ieronim Creţu (ibidem). Le 5 août 1994, lors de la
commémoration de Saint Jean Jacob l’Hozévite de Neamţ, il a été nommé
Délégué du Patriarcat Roumain aux Lieux Saints et responsable des édifices
de culte roumains de Jérusalem, de Jéricho et du Jourdain. Dans sa nouvelle
qualité, il a continué l’activité de ses prédécesseurs, d’assistance religieuse
et de pèlerinage. Ses initiatives et ses projets ont attiré aux Lieux Saints un
grand nombre de pèlerins roumains et étrangers, de tout le monde chrétien.
Après un effort soutenu, administratif et diplomatique, on fonda un nouvel
édifice roumain de culte aux Lieux Saints, dans la ville de Jéricho, ce qui a
conduit à la décoration de l’archimandrite Jéronime Creţu par le Patriarche
de Constantinople Barthélemy I. Il devenant ainsi “Chevalier de la Sainte
Tombe”. Il a représenté le Patriarcat Orthodoxe Roumain aux messes
officiées par le Patriarcat Orthodoxe de Jérusalem et a maintenu les bonnes
relations avec les autres cultes religieux du Pays Saint. L’archimandrite
Jéronime assure la représentation du peuple roumain au plus haut niveau
aux Lieux Saints.
Veniamin Ploieşteanul, Noile aşezăminte româneşti din Ţara Sfântă, BOR, LXVII,
21
1940, p. 5‑6; Ieronim Creţu, Aşezămintele româneşti la Ierusalim, Iordan şi Ierihon, dans
Românii în Ţara Sfântă la două milenii de creştinism, ed. II, Bucureşti, 2000, p. 301‑312.
176 TĂNASE BUJDUVEANU
RÉFÉRENCES
Beza 1932 – Marcu Beza, Urme româneşti la Muntele Sinai şi Mănăstirea Sf.
Sava, „Boabe de grâu”, 10, Bucureşti, 454, p. 449‑465.
Beza 1932‑1934 – Marcu Beza, Biblioteci mănăstireşti în Palestina, Chipru şi
Muntele Sinai, „Analele Academiei Române. Memoriile Secţiunii Literare”,
III, VI, p. 1‑4.
22
Ioanichie Bălan, Trăitori români la Locurile Sfinte, dans idem, p. 146‑151.
Témoignages de la présence des moines roumains en Terre Sainte... 177
Beza 1937 – Marcu Beza, Urme româneşti în Răsăritul Ortodox, ed. II, Bucureşti,
1937.
Beza 1939 – Urme româneşti la Atena şi Ierusalim, „Analele Academiei Române.
Memorile Secţiunii Literare”, III, IX, 3, Bucureşti, p. 1‑6.
BOR – „Biserica Ortodoxă Română”, Bucureşti, 1882‑
Dicţionarul 1976 – Dicţionarul de istorie veche a României, Bucureşti, 1976.
Păcurariu 1997 – Mircea Păcurariu, Istoria Bisericii Ortodoxe Române, vol. 3,
Bucureşti, 1997.
Păcurariu 1994 – Mircea Păcurariu, Sfinţi daco‑români şi români, Iaşi, 1994.
Vasilescu 2000 – Gheorghe Vasilescu, Superiorii Aşezămintelor româneşti de
la Ierusalim şi Iordan, dans Românii în Ţara Sfântă la două milenii de
creştinism, ed. II, Bucureşti, 2000.
Astrological Translations in Byzantium
CHARLES BURNETT
Dorotheus (first century of the Common Era), but also the Indian elements
of the ninth‑parts of the signs (navamsas in Sanskrit, noupakhrat in Greek),
and the Persian Zoroastrian account of the creation of the world and its
horoscope (akin to the account found in the Bundahishn). Alongside the
texts on astrological theory and practice were star tables, showing the
star positions in 1156 and 1161 and referring to the Arabic tables of Ibn
Yunis and Kushyar ibn Labban. Many Greek, Indian, Persian, and Arabic
authorities are quoted. Just as Masha’allah and his colleagues had cast a
horoscope for the founding of Baghdad, so a certain Demophilus cast a
horoscope for Byzantium, retrospectively, in about 990.
Distinctive of this period of translation are literalness and close following
of the Arabic syntax. Arabic proper names are mentioned sometimes in
transliteration, sometimes with their names translated (so Ibn al‑Khayyat,
the student of Masha’allah, becomes ‘huios tou Raptou’ – the son of the
weaver). Of astrological terms, many are simply transliterations of the
Arabic: eleltesal translates al‑ittisal = application (for which there are also
the Greek words sunaphe ‘touching’, and kollesis, ‘gluing’), or albakhse =
al‑wahshi, when the Moon is not in conjunction, aspect or application to
another planet: the Arabic word means ‘wild’, and so the Greek equivalent,
or calque, is given as theriodes. Persian terms were likewise transliterated,
such as derpezan for darigan (‘decan’).5 The translators from Arabic into
Greek were clearly intelligent men who knew the native Greek astrological
texts. David Pingree draws a particularly interesting example of their
ingenuity in the translation of the title of some astronomical tables ‘al‑Zij
al‑Sindhind’ as ‘Aionia kanonia’: astronomical tables were regularly
known as ‘canons’ or ‘kanonia’. But ‘Sindhind’ – which in Arabic means
‘of the men of Sind (modern Pakistan, the region round the Indus river) and
of India’ – referred to a kind of tables based on a cycle of 4,320,000,000
years (a ‘kalpa’) – and this vast length of time could well be described as
‘aionia’ – eternal (Pingree 1997: 71‑73).
In the thirteenth and fourteenth century further translations were made
from the Arabic, this time with less care for literalness and doctrinal accuracy.
They appear, alongside revisions of earlier material, in manuscripts copied
by John Abramius, and his student Eleutherius Zebelenus of Elis from
Dynasties: see K. Yamamoto and C. Burnett, Abu Ma’šar on Historical Astrology, 2 vols,
Leiden etc.: Brill, 2000, especially Part II, I, pp. 50‑15, II, pp. 33‑101.
5
This transliteration shows the same misreading of Arabic ‘yah’ as ‘ba’ as in that
of the earliest manuscript of the Latin translation of al‑Qabisi’s introduction to astrology
(V. eldarbigen): Al‑Qabisi (Alcabitius), The Introduction to Astrology, ed. and trans.
Charles Burnett, Keiji Yamamoto and Michio Yano, Warburg Institute Studies and Texts
2, London and Turin: Warburg Institute and Nino Aragno Editore, 2004, p. 344, n. 100.
Astrological Translations in Byzantium 181
the 1360s onwards. The latter appears to have assumed the pseudonym of
‘Achmates ho Perses’, under whose name was compiled a compendium
taken mainly from Greek and Arabic sources, but including, in fact, what
may be a translation directly from Persian (the Persian names of the planets
appear: Kaywan, Hurmuzd, Bahram, Mihr, Nahida, Tir and Mah). At
the turn of the thirteenth to fourteenth century George Chioniades was
translating lectures on astronomy and astrological tables from the Persian
of his teacher Shams al‑Din al‑Bukhari.
Among the Greek compendia, interrogations are particularly prominent.
Questions on a whole manner of subjects are arranged according to the 12
divisions of the sky from the Eastern horizon, which are allotted respectively
to matters concerning oneself (I), one’s property (II), siblings (III), parents
(IV), children (V), illness (VI), marriage (VII), death (VIII), travel (IX),
rulership (X), friends (XI), and enemies (XII). In Arabic the answers,
and hence the texts themselves, are called the ‘judgements’ (ahkam or,
more fully, ahkam al‑nujum, ‘judgements of the stars’, since it is the stars
that are giving the judgements rather than man), which in Greek becomes
‘kriseis’. E.g., in the twelfth‑century manuscript, Vaticanus graecus 1056,
a compendium arranges the questions according to the above 12 divisions
and draws on information from the Greeks, Hephaestio, Rhetorius and
Theophilus, and the Arabs, Masha’allah and Abu Ma‘shar, adding in
the margin further citations from Dorotheus, the Indians, Buzurjmihr (a
legendary Persian sage), Sahl ibn Bishr, al‑Kindi, Shadhan and an unknown
Jew called Elenon (Pingree 1997: 69‑70). Thus twelve authorities are given
altogether.
Between the two waves of translation from Arabic into Greek in
Byzantium there lies the period of Frankish rule of Byzantium (1204‑61).
This allows one to bring in another astrological tradition: that of the Arabic
to Latin to Western European vernacular route.
As is well known, in 1204 the Greek Empire of Byzantium fell into
the hands of Latin crusaders on their way to the Holy Land. The rulership
was taken up by the family of Courtenay, of which the first representative
was Baudouin I, who was succeeded respectively by his brother, Henry,
then his sister‑in‑law Yolande, then their son Robert, and finally, in 1217,
by Robert’s younger brother Baudouin, who was born in Byzantium, and
was only 10 when he became Emperor. He saw the fall of Byzantium back
to the Greeks (the Palaeologoi) in 1261, but lived on in France until 1273,
retaining the title of Emperor of Byzantium.
Some time during the latter part of his life an anonymous astrologer
put together a book on astrology for him, in French. The centrepiece of the
182 CHARLES BURNETT
8
MS Vienna 2428, fol. 1v: ‘Celestis enim circuli vis divina et efficacie proprietas
sub ipsius hora questionis ad querentum intelligenciam et mentem quadam similitudine
videtur referri. Querentem, inquam, circuli motus ad interrogandum compellit. Nam et
humana condicio celestium tam siderum quam circulorum affectus ordinem et progressus
debite quasi cuiusdam dilectionis vinculo imitari non cessat’.
9
From the as yet unpublished Greek text edited by David Pingree. For the Arabic
and Latin texts see Abū Ma‘šar al‑Balī, Liber introductorii maioris ad scientiam
iudiciorum astrorum, ed. Richard Lemay, 9 vols, Naples: Istituto Universitario Orientale,
1996‑1997, vol. III, p. 380 (Arabic), vols V, p. 224 and VIII, 101 (two Latin translations)
The Iviron Monastery of Mount Athos in the 15th‑19th C.
History, Pilgrims, and Manuscripts
EKA DUGHASHVILI
Bagrat IV, David the Builder, Queen Tamar. In the 10th‑13th centuries,
and also later, Iviron suffered from time to time the oppression of Greek
monks. First, in 1019‑1029 the Greeks began to outnumber the Georgians.
The danger of losing Iviron appeared. Therefore the Georgians serving at
the Monastery collected old documents and drafted new ones concerning
the belonging of the Monastery to the Georgians, trying to defend their
rights. A document concerning the relations between Georgians and Greeks
on Mt. Athos was drafted, in which it was stressed that the Monastery
belonged to the Georgians, the history of its founding and development
was described, the contribution of the donors to the Monastery was shown
(Menabde 1982: 18; Monuments 1967: 94‑99). Certainly this testament
could not have stopped the Byzantines’ increase in number. The Athonite
Georgians worked actively, the Iviron fathers acted energetically, Georgian
kings, noblemen and outstanding church figures (such as Grigol and Abaz
Bakurianisdzes, Nikoloz Gulaberisdze) granted them a generous support,
but it became difficult to withstand the Greeks’ force. Invasions of enemies
were added to this. All this considerably weakened the Georgian Monastery.
From the end of the 13th c., when the political strength of Georgia
was on the decline and the country could no longer grant assistance to the
Monastery on Mt. Athos, the number of the Georgians at Iviron decreased
considerably. The Greeks, whose number increased in the Monastery, began
to act forcefully and by the decision of the Protos (the Governing Council
of the monasteries of Mt. Athos) and Patriarch Kallistos of Constantinople
(1350‑1363) the main council church was taken away from the Georgians,
they were prohibited to occupy official posts at the Monastery and a small
church was assigned to them ( Menabde 1980: 224). However, this was just
a temporary loss of Iviron.
The history of Iviron developed otherwise after the fall of the Byzantine
Empire and the invasion of the Turks.
After the Turks conquered Byzantium in 1453, in the 15th c. they
also conquered the territory of Greece, occupied Mt. Athos as well and
proclaimed its monasteries as the possession of the Sultan’s mother
(Uspenskij 1845: 177‑178). Iviron too found itself in a difficult situation. It
was obvious that without the support of fellow countrymen the Monastery
could not exist. The Athonite Georgian monks arrived in Georgia in 1492,
they visited Atabag Qvarqvare of Samtskhe (1451‑1498) and informed him
about the trouble of the Monastery. Samtskhe Atabags2 made generous
donations to the Iviron Monastery, and supported it in the subsequent period
2
Samtskhe lies in the South of Georgia, where rich and influential feudal lords
lived. Samtskhe feudal lords were called ‘Atabags’.
The Iviron Monastery of Mount Athos in the 15th‑19th C. ... 187
an exact copy of the icon of the Theotokos was moved to the Monastery of St.
Nicholas in Moscow, and later this monastery was proclaimed a metokhion
of Iviron (Menabde 1980: 228). In 1665 a Russian figure, Arsen Sukhanov,
visited the libraries on Mt. Athos and took back home nearly 500 Greek
manuscripts, among them 156 from the Iviron library. This fact demonstrates
the richness and significance of the Iviron manuscript depository. The study
of these manuscripts brought to light books from the library of the period of
Euthymius the Athonite. It turned out that restoration of manuscripts was
underway in the 17th c (Menabde 1980: 231).
From the 18th c. on, the interest of pilgrims and travellers in the
monasteries of Mt. Athos, and in particular Iviron, increased. These journeys
were of a different character.
Some of them only had a pilgrimage character and aimed at the
veneration of holy relics, especially the miraculous Icon of Portaitissa.
Among the travellers were Russians and Georgians, and their journals
provide interesting information about the situation of Iviron in the 18th c.
Among the foreign travellers, mention should be made of I. Komnin, who
visited Iviron in 1701, and I. Vishnevski, visiting the Georgian Monastery
in 1709. Their records contain information about the foundation of
the Monastery and its donors and the structure of the main church. The
catholicon and the library are described, the abundance and variety of
manuscripts is noted, but the contents of manuscripts are not given. An
article published in Venice in 1713 is noteworthy – The Foundation of the
Georgian Monastery on Mount Athos and the Wonderful Appearance of the
Icon of the Blessed Virgin, Called Portaitissa (see “Georgica” VIII, 1967:
257‑270). It relates the history of the establishment of Iviron Monastery,
the heroic deed of Tornike Eristavi, the translation and the literary work
of Euthymius the Athonite, the history of the Icon of the Theotokos, etc.
Europe got acquainted with the history of Iviron from this source (Menabde
1980: 231).
The famous Russian traveller V. Grigorovič‑Barski visited Mt. Athos
twice, in 1725 and 1744. He devoted a special attention in his records,
after the Great Lavra, to Iviron. On the basis of various sources, he related
the history of the foundation of the Monastery, noted that the Iviron
book depository was one of the richest on Mt. Athos, and also noted the
Georgians’ presence in the Philotheou Monastery.
The information on Iviron offered in the records of the above‑mentioned
travellers is almost identical. In all these sources it is noted that the architecture
of the catholicon is beautiful, the library is rich and significant, etc.
Of the travellers visiting Iviron, the journey to Mt. Athos of the
The Iviron Monastery of Mount Athos in the 15th‑19th C. ... 189
visiting the Monastery created by the ancestors’ labour, from which Georgia
was enlightened by the translation of books, and that at that time there were
no Georgians left there (Menabde 1980: 234).
The oldest autograph manuscript of T. Gabashvili’s Journey is
preserved at the National Centre of Manuscripts – Manuscript H 842. This
is undoubtedly an autograph, as it bears the following note: “I have written
this modest report [on] the Georgians in a cell, during my pilgrimage to
the Holy Mountain”. This manuscript is a very significant source for the
knowledge on Iviron in the 18th c. The manuscript contains an illustration
of Iviron, drawn in Indian ink by T. Gabashvili himself.
The 19th c. proved hard and hopeless for Iviron. At the turn of the century,
the Kingdom of Georgia lost its independence and was annexed to the Russian
Empire. This was a hard blow for the Georgians and therefore the interest
and attention given to Mt. Athos decreased. At that time the situation on Mt.
Athos in general was no less difficult than in Iviron. The Turkish dominance
compelled many Greek monks to leave the Holy Mountain. Few monks
remained at Iviron. Among them were the monks Besarion (Benedikte)
Kitishvili and Ilarion Qanchishvili. The latter was the father confessor of
the last King of Western Georgia, (Imereti) Solomon II (1790‑1815). After
his country lost its independence, the king moved to Trabzon, and his father
confessor accompanied him. After the king’s death Ilarion settled at Iviron.
The existence of the Georgian Monastery in the 19th c., preservation of the
Georgian manuscripts, book binding and various kinds of restoration are
linked to the names of these two figures. Their activity is confirmed by the
notes in manuscripts Ath 20, 39, 60, A 1103, A 1105, 1144 (Benedikte, illustr.
5), Ath 5, Ath 9 (Ilarion). Ilarion copied at Iviron the Teaching of the Fathers
(ms. A 612) and the Teachings of Isaac of Syria (ms. H 1705).
I. Qanchishvili worked quite fruitfully on Georgian manuscripts of
Iviron. A representative of Iviron, Archimandrite Seraphim, commissioned
him from Georgia to compile a catalogue of Georgian manuscripts. Father
Ilarion fulfilled the task honestly, although, as he writes, “many manuscripts
were scattered, worm‑eaten and damaged. The Turks were in the Monastery
for ten years and Greek and Georgian manuscripts were scattered, and many
of them were not legible.” (Menabde 1980: 238). Therefore, the catalogue
compiled by him is not complete. Nevertheless, it is very significant, as it
reflects the state of the Georgian manuscripts in the 19th c. Monk Ilarion
is the first Georgian man of letters who preserved relatively full evidence
concerning the Georgian manuscripts existing at Iviron. In the 1830s the
Greeks finally drove away the Turks and monasteries of Mt. Athos again
passed into the Greeks’ hands. The latter then oppressed again the few
The Iviron Monastery of Mount Athos in the 15th‑19th C. ... 191
Georgians of Iviron and forced them to leave the Monastery. The cell of
Prophet Elijah was assigned to Benedikte and some of his disciples. Monk
Ilarion settled in solitude and continued his literary activity there.
One more traveller and researcher is Bishop Porfirij Uspenski, who
visited the Athos monasteries, including the Monastery of the Georgians,
and described in detail the location of Iviron, its structure, towers, big and
small churches. It is worth noting that the descriptions of T. Gabashvili and
P. Uspenski complement one another and offer a vivid picture of Iviron in
the 18th‑19th c.
I would like to devote a special attention to one more scholar and
publicist, a figure of the 19th c., well‑known in Georgia and Russia: Platon
Ioseliani4 (Illustr. 6). He visited Iviron in 1849 and he described the
situation of Iviron in his travel notes. He worked productively especially in
the depository of manuscripts, he studied Georgian manuscripts, copied the
original hagiographic work The Martyrdom of the Children of Kola (Ms. S
530), unknown before that time, the took with him the Athos Bible for the
purpose of copying and multiplication. It was reproduced in 3 copies for
the large monasteries (Ms. S 422).
Ioseliani was highly esteemed in Russian scholarly circles and with
their help he succeeded in writing to the Russian authorities. Through the
intervention of the Russian Tsar’s court, a greater attention was paid to
the Georgian manuscripts at Iviron (Menabde 1980: 239). Ioseliani was an
initiator of the restoration and the preservation of the collection of Georgian
manuscripts at Mt. Athos. He bound and made covers himself for several
manuscripts. He discovered, copied and brought to Georgia akolouthia (rite
books) from the 18th c. The Greek hymn by Basil, dedicated to Euthymius
the Athonite, was performed at Iviron on the commemoration day of one
of the donors, an outstanding monk of Iviron. This manuscript is preserved
nowadays at the National Centre of Manuscripts in Tbilisi.
4
Platon Ioseliani was educated at the St Petersburg Theological Academy, he then
taught physics and philosophy at the Tbilisi Theological Seminary and later worked in
the office of the Viceroy of the Caucasus. His articles were regularly published in the
Russian and Georgian press. From 1845 to 1856, he edited the Tbilisi‑based periodical
“Zakavkazsky Vestnik”. In 1849 he took a trip to Greece and visited the medieval
Georgian Monastery of Iviron on Mount Athos. He discovered and studied several old
Georgian manuscripts, made substantial researches into the history of the Georgian
Orthodox Church and published texts of medieval and early modern Georgian literature.
Beyond that, Ioseliani was the first scholar to have embarked on a study of the evolution of
urban settlements in Georgia. One of his last major works, concerning the reign of George
XII (1798‑1800), the last king of Georgia, was published posthumously in the Georgian
magazine “Iveria”, in 1880.
192 EKA DUGHASHVILI
In the second half of the 19th c. the Georgians no longer enjoyed any
rights at Iviron. The Georgians were not given the monastic food ration
and no Georgian pilgrims were admitted there. In that period one more
Georgian, Benedikte Barkalaia (Illustr. 7), came to Mt. Athos. He wished
to become a monk on Mt. Athos, but was refused by the Greeks. Having
returned to Georgia, he became a monk there and then together with several
monks returned to Mt. Athos. By the donations collected in his homeland
he established a new monastery near Iviron: the monastery of St. John the
Theologian (Illustr. 8), and gathered there the Georgians that were scattered
on Mt. Athos. He often addressed in writing the authorities of Georgia as
well as those of Russia, requesting assistance for the Georgian monks, and
the Georgian and Russian press permanently published materials about
this matter. In spite of the support of Russia, it proved impossible for the
Georgians to recover Iviron and strengthen their position. Towards the end
of the 19th c. the Georgians finally lost the Monastery.
In spite of this sad ending and unbearable conditions, Georgian
monks such as Father Pimen (Asatiani) copied and multiplied Georgian
manuscripts at the Monastery of St. John the Theologian. He copied the
Ladder by John of Sinai (Ms. A 1271), a collection of works by John
Damascene, Ephiphanios of Cyprus and others (Ms. H 835).
From the 1880s the thorough study of Athos manuscripts began (a
catalogue of Greek manuscripts compiled by S. Lambrosi). A serious
research of the Georgian manuscripts of Iviron was initiated by Al. Tsagareli
(Illustr. 9), who visited Iviron in 1883. He compiled the first complete
catalogue of 86 entries of Georgian manuscripts, which is commonly used
by Georgian scholars as well as foreign Kartvelologists5.
The study of Georgian antiquities of the Iviron Monastery on Mt. Athos
continued in the following century, and it continues to the present day.
In conclusion, I would like to sum up the above‑mentioned. From the 15th
c. to the 19th c. the situation of the Iviron Monastery changed according to
the political situation of Greece and Georgia. After the fall of Byzantium the
cultural and literary significance of the Monastery gradually decreased. In this
period new literature was no longer translated, because the centre of Eastern
Christendom, Byzantium, no longer existed and the cultural‑educational
stream no longer came from there. As demonstrated above, in the 15th‑18th
c. only manuscript copy‑writing took place at Iviron, and most copies were
made of those manuscripts which had survived in single copies and were
5
The Georgian word Kartveli means “Georgian”, while ‘Kartvelology’ (‘Georgian
Studies’) refers to the field of humanities covering Kartvelian (Georgian) history,
language, religion, and culture. In a narrower sense, the term usually refers to the research
activities outside Georgia that focus on these subjects.
The Iviron Monastery of Mount Athos in the 15th‑19th C. ... 193
necessary for the divine service. The only hagiographic work translated
into Georgian in the 17th‑18th c. is the Life of Theodore the Fool‑for‑Christ,
with which the history of Georgian translated hagiography ended. In these
centuries works of other genres might also have been translated, but they have
not survived in the manuscript collection. But this is only an assumption. The
manuscripts copied at the Iviron Monastery on Mt. Athos have survived in
too small numbers, hard times destroyed many handwritten books. Of the 86
entries in the manuscripts collection of the Iviron Monastery, only a limited
number are dated to the 15th‑17th c. These are mostly liturgical collections:
Mss. Menaion Ath 22 (Illustr. 10), Ath 66, Ath 27 (16th‑17th c.), Paraklitike
(15th c.), Ath 26, Triodion (16th‑17th c.), Ath 38, Octoikhos (16th‑17th c.), Ath
50, Heirmologion (15th‑16th c.). Unlike older ones, these manuscripts are
not written on a precious material and are plain in appearance, whilst the
calligraphic hand is no longer discernible in them. All this demonstrates that
these manuscript copies were made only for practical purposes.
The history of Iviron in the 15th‑19th c., records of Georgian and
foreign pilgrims of that period and, what is most important, the preserved
manuscripts show that this Monastery had a greater or a smaller significance
for Georgia even during its hardest years. It should be noted that the study
of the heritage of the Iviron Monastery has not lost its significance in
contemporary days either and it is again urgent for Georgian as well as
foreign scholars interested in this matter.
REFERENCES
MANUSCRIPTS
A 1103, 1105, 1144; H 842, 1705, 835; S 530, 422 – Collection of the Georgian
National Centre of Manuscripts, Tbilisi
Ath 5, 9, 22, 25, 26, 27, 38, 50, 66, 84 – Collection of the Georgian Manuscripts
of the Iviron Monastery on Mount Athos
The Iviron Monastery of Mount Athos in the 15th‑19th C. ... 195
IOANA FEODOROV
2008 il fait l’objet d’un projet que l’Institut d’Études Sud‑est Européennes
de l’Académie Roumaine déroule avec l’Institut des Manuscrits Orientaux
de l’Académie Russe des Sciences, St. Pétersbourg, et l’Institut d’Études
Orientales de l’Académie Nationale de Sciences de l’Ukraine, Kiev. Serge
Frantsouzoff et moi‑même supervisons ce projet qui se propose d’aboutir
à une édition et à une traduction intégrales du manuscrit Arabe 6016 de la
Bibliothèque nationale de France (Paris), la plus riche des copies connues
du journal de Paul d’Alep (311 fols.), après la collation avec deux autres
manuscrits conservés à la British Library de Londres et à l’Institut des
Manuscrits Orientaux de St. Pétersbourg, ainsi qu’avec un fragment édité
par Qusðanðīn al‑Bāëā il y a un siècle1.
Paul avait l’intention, explicite dans certains passages, d’enregistrer des
informations correctes et complètes, autant que possible, pour les transcrire
en langue arabe pour le bénéfice de la communauté chrétienne du Patriarcat
d’Antioche. Ce que les voyageurs désiraient c’était, en tout premier lieu,
connaître la vie religieuse des pays visités, qu’ils comparaient constamment
à celle de Syrie. Des passages importants du journal sont consacrés aux
traditions ecclésiastiques, à la manière dont on célébrait les grandes fêtes,
aux rituels du sacre, du couronnement, des noces, de l’enterrement et
de la commémoration des défunts. L’auteur note la valeur historique de
ses notes, qu’il définit lui‑même comme suit: « À l’aide de Dieu, nous
commençons donc à nous occuper de notre but, c’est‑à‑dire d’écrire cette
chronique à nous » (fol. 11v2). La seule source arabe écrite qu’il consulta,
citée plusieurs fois dans ses notes de voyage3, c’était le journal versifié en
1
Nubat min safrat al‑Bariyark Mākāriyūs al‑alabī bi‑qalam waladi‑hi
al‑šammās Būlu (Extrait du voyage du patriarche Macaire d’Alep relaté par son fils, le
diacre Paul), dans « Al‑Masarra », 3/1912 et 4/1913, version republiée en 1913 à arīā.
Pour une image plus détaillée des éditions et traductions, v. Ioana Feodorov, Un lettré
melkite voyageur aux Pays Roumains: Paul d’Alep, “Kalimat al‑Balamand, Annales de
la Faculté des Lettres et des Sciences Humaines”, Beyrouth, 1996, 4, pp. 55‑62; idem,
Ottoman Authority in the Romanian Principalities as Witnessed by a Christian Arab
Traveller of the 17th Century: Paul of Aleppo, dans B. Michalak‑Pikulska, A. Pikulski (éds.),
Proceedings of the 22nd Congress of L’Union Européenne des Arabisants et Islamisants,
Cracow, Poland, 2004, Leuven, Peeters, 2006, pp. 307‑321; idem, The Monasteries of the
Holy Mount in Paul of Aleppo’s Travels of Makarios, Patriarch of Antioch, dans « Revue
des Études Sud‑est Européennes » (RESEE), XLVIII, 2010, 1‑4, p. 195‑210.
2
Toutes les références sont faites au Ms. Arabe 6016 de la Bibliothèque nationale
de France, Paris.
3
“Bñloî al‑alabī makes passing references to ‘sā’s poem”, d’après Hilary
Kilpatrick (From Literatur to Adab : the literary Renaissance in Aleppo around 1700,
« Journal of Eastern Christian Studies », 58 (3‑4), p. 202, n. 24 ; répété dans idem, Visions
202 IOANA FEODOROV
père le Patriarche Macaire III10, dont il inséra des fragments dans sa propre
chronique.11 Paul évoque aussi un « livre très ancien du Patriarche Michel »
[probablement Michel III Sabbāġ, 1451‑145612], et cite le Kitāb al‑hāwī
al‑kabīr, les Pandectes, par Nicon le Monténégrin, dont il avait une
copie exécutée par le prêtre Benjamin de Damas: c’est probablement le
« manuscrit très ancien, non daté et devenu fragmentaire, qui avait été
restauré et complété par Paul d’Alep en 7168/1659‑1660 », qui fut employé
par le copiste du manuscrit conservé à l’Institut des Manuscrits Orientaux
de St. Pétersbourg13.
Parmi les objets que les voyageurs emmenèrent de leur pays, les
ouvrages manuscrits étaient des plus précieux. En avançant vers Moscou,
le Patriarche garda toujours en réserve des volumes dignes des illustres
personnages qu’il espérait rencontrer.14 Les bibliothèques des pays visités
étaient l’un des points d’intérêt des visiteurs Syriens, toujours en quête
de manuscrits précieux et de livres rares. Les quelques références aux
bibliothèques suggèrent la diffusion des textes manuscrits et imprimés à
travers l’espace post‑byzantin. Les collections évoquées dans le journal
sont soit celles d’institutions ecclésiastiques : du siège patriarcal (kutub
qilāyat al‑baðrakiyat, fol. 2v, 3v ; Ëaznat kutub al‑baðrakiyat, fol. 5v) ou
des couvents (fī qafā al‑haykal al‑ëiml bb Ëaznat li‑l‑kutub, 16v), soit
des collections privées : au Levant, celles des hiérarques de l’Église (fi buyñt
10
Voir le colophon au fol. 3a du ms. C 358 de l’Institut des Manuscrits orientaux à
St. Pétersbourg (facsimilé publié par S. Frantsouzoff dans son article mentionné ci‑dessus).
11
Manuscrits conservés: ms. C 358, Institut des Manuscrits Orientaux, St.
Pétersbourg; mss. des collections de abīb Zayāt et Rizqallāh Basile ; v. Sbath, Fihrist,
1046 et J. Nasrallah, IV, I, p. 222‑223. Le ms. C 358 contient 94 miniatures créés par
le célèbre peintre d’icônes Yñsuf al-Muîawwir (m. vers 1667) : portraits des empereurs
byzantins et des sultans ottomans, de Constantin le Grand jusqu’à Mourad III. V. Catalogue
of the Christian Arabic Manuscripts Preserved at the Institute of Oriental Manuscripts of
the Russian Academy of Sciences, par Val. V. Polosin, Vl. V. Polosin et N. I. Serikoff,
édité par N. I. Serikoff avec le secours de H. Teule, C.-M. Walbiner, H. Kilpatrick et S.
Frantsouzoff (en cours de préparation); Serge Frantsouzoff, Le phénomène des feuillets
embrouillés dans les manuscrits arabes chrétiens de St. Pétersbourg, dans ce volume.
12
V. Basile Radu, Voyage du Patriarche Macaire d’Antioche, texte arabe et
traduction française, dans Patrologia Orientalis, R. Graffin, F. Nau (éds.), Firmin‑Didot
et Cie, Paris, XXII, 1930, fasc. 1, p. 33‑34.
13
Le copiste anonyme du ms. Arab. n. s. 82 de St. Pétersbourg, qui contient la
traduction arabe des Pandectes, affirme dans le colophon (fol. 546b) qu’il exécuta cette
copie en février 1852.
14
On se demande quel fut, parmi les dons faits au tsar Alexis Mihailovič lors de leur
première rencontre au Kremlin, le sort de l’Évangile grec ancien, d’une écriture délicate,
qui provenait d’un waqf fait à la ville d’Antioche (fol. 131r).
Notes sur les livres et l’imprimerie chez Paul d’Alep... 205
chez lui en Moldavie, en valaque, car son peuple ne lisait pas le serbe,
c’est‑à‑dire le russe [le slavon]. Car au pays des Bulgares, des Serbes,
jusqu’en Valachie et Moldavie, plus loin au pays des Cosaques et jusqu’à
Moscou tous lisent le serbe [le slavon] et tous leurs livres sont [écrits] dans
cette langue, tandis que la langue des gens de Moldavie et de Valachie est
le valaque [le roumain], donc ils ne comprennent pas ce qu’ils lisent. Pour
cette raison il leur fit bâtir près de son couvent une grande école en pierre
et il leur imprima des livres dans leur langue. » (Fol. 33v‑34r) L’intérêt de
l’hiérarque arabe s’explique par la similitude avec la situation de Syrie, où
les simples croyants ne pouvaient pas lire le grec, langue de culte depuis
le temps des Apôtres. Ainsi, la culture spirituelle était uniquement à la
portée du clergé, qui n’était non plus suffisamment instruit dans la tradition
byzantine.
La notion d’imprimerie apparaît de façon marginale dans le Récit. Il
faut rappeler que ce fut seulement en 1706 qu’une typographie devint active
au Levant, notamment à Alep, par l’initiative et les efforts du Patriarche
d’Antioche Athanase Dabbās. Les chrétiens syriens étaient toutefois
au courant des exploits des typographes occidentaux par les nombreux
exemplaires de la Bible et d’autres livres de culte envoyés depuis Rome, par
les soins de la « Propaganda Fide », pour être diffusés par les missionnaires
du Saint Siège.15 Certainement, aux Pays Roumains ils virent des livres
imprimés à Bistriţa et Târgovişte qui, même avant le temps du célèbre
Antime l’Ibère, étaient d’une singulière beauté.
Les mots qui se rapportent à l’imprimerie sont assez rares dans le
Récit de Paul d’Alep: le verbe ðaba‘a, dont le sens premier est ‘marquer’,
‘laisser une empreinte’, fut utilisé en arabe pour l’action d’imprimer des
livres après l’avènement de cette technologie. Le verbe ðaba‘a apparaît
dans le Récit dans ce sens 4 fois seulement. C’est évident que la plupart
des livres mentionnés par Paul d’Alep (kutub, tawārīË, nawms ) sont des
manuscrits, maËðñðt. L’absence même de ce dernier mot dans la plupart
des cas indique le fait que le moment n’était pas venu de préciser la forme
du texte – ‘manuscrit’ ou ‘imprimé’, car pour les Syriens orthodoxes il
s’agissait, d’habitude, de livres manuscrits.
Un épisode très intéressant se passa lors du séjour des Syriens au « pays
des Cosaques » (Pologne‑Ukraine). Le prospère couvent de Petcherska,
« des Grottes», qu’il appelle Bākāriskā, situé près des cavernes où se trouvent
15
Voir E. Hanebutt‑Benz, D. Glass, G. Roper, Middle Eastern Languages and the
Print Revolution. A Cross‑Cultural Encounter, Westhofen, WVA‑Verlag Skulima, 2002,
177‑178.
Notes sur les livres et l’imprimerie chez Paul d’Alep... 207
20
Cinquante‑quatre d’après G. Graf, Geschichte der Christlichen arabischen
Literatur, Città del Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, III, 1949, p. 98.
21
Juliette Rassi‑Rihani a présenté une partie des sources de cette œuvre remarquable
du Patriarche Macaire dans son article Sources arabes du « Livre de l’Abeille » (Kitāb
al‑nalah) de Makāriyūs Ibn al‑Za’īm, « Parole de l’Orient », 21, 1996, p. 215‑244. En ce
qui concerne les sources grecques, aussi importantes – sinon plus, le travail reste à faire.
22
En 1701‑1702, en terre roumaine (à Snagov et à Bucarest), le Patriarche
d’Antioche Athanase Dabbās, avec le soutien de l’érudit typographe Antim Ivireanul (‘le
Géorgien’), fit imprimer deux livres en grec et en arabe: un Horologion et un Liturgikon,
en transférant ensuite en Syrie la technique de l’imprimerie. Voir Ioana Feodorov, The
Romanian Contribution to Arabic Printing, dans Impact de l’imprimerie et rayonnement
intellectuel des Pays Roumains, Éd. Biblioteca Bucureştilor, Bucarest, 2009, p. 41‑61.
Le phénomène des feuillets transposés
dans les manuscrits arabes chrétiens de St. Pétersbourg
SERGE A. FRANTSOUZOFF
, ان َيخلص/ اصرخ الى الدعى يقدر اظ َ الي
ٍ لَيس بال َف، القا ِدر ان َيسلمك َ واهتُف
, ولكن بلفظ19ليس بالكالم المت َفسلف َ ، ل ِكن بكل َمات َخا ِمله دليله/، ذ َوات ِحكمه
, متضع وقبل كل شي قول/ لسان َ ارحمني َ // ، قايال
ً مُبتدي َقبل ُكل ال ُو َسايل
" , / صالتك ارحمني يا رب فانى20في َ يا
رب فاني ض ِعيف ا َنا فحيني ٍد تخ ِتير ُقدرة
"18, . تاخد تجربه قوة21 وحينيد، ضعيف وتطرد ال َعديمين ان يُ��ر ُوا بق َوة ال َعلي/
, ِ
العدو الدي ال يري/ العلي وتقهر طر َد َ َ ً
َ ينتها بمعُون ٍة غامضه/ تح َت ِجز معا
.
فالدي/ بالمعونه الخفيه التي ال ترى ملحوظـًا ف ِمن َقد اع َتاد/ ُوري َ قد َعدم ان ي
, عنه22يقاتل هكدى ف َبسرعه يدفع الج َهة س َيبت ِدي ان/ يحارب َعلَي َهذه َ ان
23
فسانيه فموهبه
َ بالصاله ال َن/ االعدا النَ سريعًا/ 24حدها ً طرد اعدَاه ب َنفسه ُوِ َي
. االوله// من اللـّه هى التانيه تعمل َ
ِمن/ الم ُوهبة الثاني ِه مكافاه ِمن اللـه َب ِدل
للعمالين النُ َشاط وبحق / * 25ولي ُ ال َعادة
َ اال
.
18
Psaume 6 : 3 (1ère moitié)
19
Sic, il faut lire المتفلسف. Les deux points au‑dessus du tā’ manquent.
20
Il manque un point au‑dessus du fā’.
21
Dans les deux cas, les deux points au‑dessous du yā’ manquent.
Le phénomène des feuillets transposés dans les manuscrits arabes...
22
(15e degré, § 49 /du milieu à la fin/ – § 50 /début/) relevées dans B 1217
23
Idem.
24
Sic !
25
L’équivalent de l’expression grecque kaˆ dika…wj, « et c’est à bon droit », est omis dans cette version.
213
214 SERGE A. FRANTSOUZOFF
Illustrations
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
S. Giovanni Climaco, Scala Paradisi. I : Gradini 1–15, testo con introduzione, versione
e note del S. Pietro Trevisan (Corona Patrum salesiana. Series graeca, vol. VIII).
Torino, Societa editrice internazionale, 1941.
Georg Graf, Geschichte der christlichen arabischen Literatur, 1. Bd : Die Übersetzungen
(Studi e testi, 118), Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1944.
St. Jean Climaque, L’Échelle Sainte, traduction française par le P. Placide Deseille
(Spiritualité orientale, 24), Bégrolles‑en‑Mauges, Abbaye de Bellefontaine, 1978.
Jacques‑Paul Migne (éd.), Patrologiæ cursus completus… Series græca prior…,
t. LXXXVIII, Lutetiæ Parisiorum : excudebatur et venit apud J.‑P. Migne
editorium, 1860.
Un voyageur roumain au Proche‑Orient
au début du XXe siècle
CONSTANTIN IORDAN
L’étude des écrits concernant les voyages, soit des étrangers à travers
les terres roumaines, soit des Roumains à l’étranger, ont une vieille
tradition dans l’historiographie. Nous n’insistons pas sur cet aspect, qui
mérite toujours une recherche distincte.
Quant à nous, nous avons l’intention d’attirer l’attention sur un
précieux fonds conservé dans les Archives de la Bibliothèque Nationale de
la Roumanie, selon notre connaissance encore ignoré par les spécialistes,
constitué par des manuscrits, des journaux, des notes et des cartes
postales illustrées appartenant à un personnage qui jouit d’une destinée
particulière – Emanuil Lacu. Selon ses propres aveux tirés d’une esquisse
autobiographique, E. Lacu est né dans le village Răşinari de Transylvanie,
le 26 octobre 1873, dans une famille pauvre. Son père était berger et sa
mère s’occupait « d’une sorte de négoce, [elle était] vendeuse de fruits »,
donc « ils gagnaient leur existence avec peine et fatigue. » Ils ont eu huit
enfants, quatre garçons et quatre filles, notre héros étant l’aîné. Pendant
l’enfance il a perdu deux frères, « c’est ainsi que Dieu a soulagé un peu la
maison de mes parents, pour qu’ils puissent gagner et diriger les autres. »
Il a suivi les deux classes primaires, a commencé la troisième, mais il a
fallu abandonner l’école à cause des gros frais. À l’âge de quatorze ans,
« les parents m’ont mis en apprentissage chez un patron » et pendant sept
années il a travaillé chez divers propriétaires d’animaux des environs, parmi
lesquels Bucur Severin, habitant d’un « village saxon proche du nôtre, à
savoir : Cisnădioara. »
Cette étape de sa vie s’est achevée dramatiquement à cause d’une
maladie provoquée, à son avis, par „les maléfices” jetés par deux jeunes
filles bergères auxquelles il a refusé les avances, „moi étant encore très
222 CONSTANTIN IORDAN
jeune, je n’entendais pas leur but.” Après une souffrance de quatre mois et
les tentatives de certains médecins de le guérir, tentatives qui échouèrent,
ses parents ont fait appel à „un sorcier”, „un homme du village Avrig”, qui
lui ont rendu la santé en peu de temps. C’était au printemps de l’année 1895
qu’il décida à partir en Roumanie avec un oncle, Constantin, le frère de sa
mère, et un collègue, Iliuţ Coman. Après avoir obtenu les passeports, tous
les trois sont partis à Bucarest, « vers la Saint‑Georges. » Dans la capitale
de la Roumanie E. Lacu avait quatre tantes, sœurs de son père, où ils ont
habité un certain temps. Comme ils n’ont trouvé aucun emploi, l’oncle et
son collègue sont revenus à la maison, tandis que lui restait à Bucarest. En
1896 il s’est engagé chez un propriétaire d’un jardin de Băile Pucioasa, où
travaillaient encore deux jeunes de son village, mais en août leur patron
a fait faillite. Les trois sont allés, par train, à Târgovişte, où « ils se sont
divertis au Monastère Dealu ». Il réussit à s’engager à un hôtel, mais il est
tombé malade « de fièvre » et il rentra au village natal pour passer l’hiver.
Au printemps 1897 nous le trouvons de nouveau en Roumanie, établi à
Giurgiu pour l’été, travaillant comme vendeur au marché. Une impulsion
plus forte de connaître d’autres mondes le décida en automne de faire le
premier voyage à Roussé, passant « le Danube, dont j’avais lu seulement
dans les livres, et maintenant je me voyais embarqué sur le bateau. »1
Le passager a décrit le voyage au‑delà du fleuve, les formalités
administratives du port bulgare et les premières impressions de la visite en
ville. La conclusion fut qu’il a vu „plusieurs choses et habitudes à Roussé.”2
Selon l’usage, le soir il s’est présenté au Consulat de la Roumanie pour le
visa de retour à Giurgiu. Ce fut le moment où le consul Fotin Ionesco lui a
proposé de l’engager comme „auxiliaire”. Il est resté dans cet emploi jusqu’au
printemps 1898, quand, revenant au port roumain, il a travaillé pendant une
année comme „valet” chez N. Algiu, le président du tribunal local.
Au printemps de 1899 il est revenu à Roussé, où il a travaillé tout l’été
à „une fromagerie”, décidant, en août, de partir à Constantinople. Le jeune
homme de Transylvanie a décrit le chemin par train à Varna, le voyage en
bateau durant douze heures jusqu’aux bouches du Bosphore, puis encore
deux heures jusqu’à la capitale de l’Empire Ottoman. Après un séjour de
deux semaines à Constantinople, il s’est embarqué sur un navire autrichien
pour un voyage à Brăila, où „il descendit chez le tenancier d’un bistro, un
Roumain de Transylvanie.”3
1
Archives de la Bibliothèque Nationale de la Roumanie (cité par la suite ABNR),
Fonds Saint‑Georges, Paquet LXXI, Dossier 5, fol. 1‑3.
2
Ibidem, Dossier 5, fol. 4‑5.
3
Ibidem, Dossier 5, fol. 6 ‑7.
Un voyageur roumain au Proche‑Orient au début du XXe siècle 223
envoyait la lettre sans payer, « à cause de la sûreté, pour qu’elle ne se perde
pas », et aussi pour le fait de l’avoir écrite « avec une plume de roseau. »6
L’arrivée au port de Tripoli lui a permis de remarquer qu’au bord de la
mer se trouvait une forteresse, à une distance de 4 km de la ville, parcourue
sur un boulevard décoré des deux parties avec « des jardins de citronniers
et d’orangers. » Après un séjour de deux jours, il a continué le chemin
jusqu’au pied de la Montagne Blanche. Au sommet de la celle‑ci se trouvait
un monastère avec un séminaire orthodoxe que notre pèlerin visita. Ensuite,
après un demi‑jour de marche, il a rencontré une ruine liée au nom de Saint
Pierre, et plus loin une petite ville appelée Petra, « aménagée depuis peu,
car tous les bâtiments étaient nouveaux. » C’était le lieu où s’élevaient
les Montagnes du Liban. Marchant à leurs pieds il a vu plusieurs villages,
« à l’église et l’école françaises, parce que cette terre était occupée par la
France et ce peuple des Montagnes du Liban était formé seulement par des
Arabes catholiques français, s’occupant davantage de la culture des vers à
soie. » Après peu de temps il arriva à Beyrouth, « un port au bord de la mer,
beau et grand. »
Après trois jours de repos il a continué le chemin vers le sud, rencontrant
les fameux forêts de cèdre, la cité de Saïda, « toujours proche de la mer »,
où vivaient « seulement des Arabes rouges », la ‘cité de Syrie’, « plus
fortifiée que toutes les cités de l’Arabie ; de tous côtés elle est entourée par
des canons et des soldats », avec une seule entrée, et les villes d’Accra et de
Jaffa, où « deux chemins se séparent, l’un va à Nazareth, l’autre à Damas
et à Jaffa. » Le voyageur a opté pour Jaffa, mais il n’a pas pu entrer dans
la ville à cause du choléra (70‑80 victimes par jour). Il fut dirigé vers un
village au pied des Montagnes de Judée, où il pouvait s’informer comment
arriver à Jérusalem. Il est arrivé à la mosquée du village et il a été entouré
par tous les habitants – « des Arabes turcs » – « car ils n’avaient jamais vu
un européen. » Il leur a expliqué qu’il était originaire de l’Autriche, qu’il
vivait en Bulgarie et depuis soixante jours il faisait un voyage pour arriver à
Jérusalem, où il voulait prier au Saint Sépulcre du Seigneur Jésus‑Christ de
Nazareth. Ils ont été très étonnés que le Roumain connaissait Jésus, « car il
fut de notre terre. » E. Lacu leur a expliqué pendant deux heures pourquoi
Jésus « est notre Dieu », leur a parlé du besoin des chrétiens d’aller prier
« aux saintes traces de celui‑ci », de la vie des européens. À cette occasion
il a appris qu’à ce moment‑là il était très difficile d’arriver à Jérusalem,
à cause de l’épidémie de choléra, la voie de la Judée vers Nazareth étant
bloquée par une patrouille très stricte. Finalement il a trouvé un guide, « un
6
Ibidem, Dossier 2, fol. 1‑2.
226 CONSTANTIN IORDAN
son séjour de plus de trois mois dans la grande ville. Ce n’est pas par hasard
qu’il y apparaissent des répétitions et des informations supplémentaires.
Par exemple, il enregistra la visite au monastère Sainte Hélène, près de
Jérusalem, où fonctionnait un grand séminaire, soulignant „que c’est ici
que fut tranché le bois pour la Croix du Seigneur.” Mais il ajouta tout de
suite qu’à l’intérieur de la ville „j’ai vu le Saint Sépulcre, Golgotha, où
fut crucifié le Seigneur, et la grotte où furent trouvés la Sainte Croix et le
pilier par lequel est sortie la Sainte Lumière /.../, à la porte de l’église du
Saint Sépulcre. » Parmi d’autres lieux visités il évoque « la montagne où
Abraham a voulu sacrifier son fils Isaac, les lieux où le Seigneur est tombé
en portant la Sainte Croix et la colonne où a été placée la sentence après le
jugement du Seigneur, /…/ la chaise de Pilate lorsqu’il s’est lavé les mains.”
Les détails sur les temps bibliques ne manquent pas: „Près de la maison
de Pilate et de la Sainte des Saintes, où la Mère de Dieu est restée douze ans,
se trouve aussi l’église de Solomon et la pierre qui reste en l’air; vis‑à‑vis
de la Sainte des Saintes se trouvent les maisons de Joachim et d’Anne,
avec la baignoire des moutons et les cinq galeries extérieures; il y a aussi la
Montagne Sion, où les Juifs ont tué Jacques Zébédée, et l’endroit où l’Apôtre
Pierre a renié le Seigneur, quand le coq a chanté; ici tout près sont les palais
de David et le jardin où il a écrit le Psautier et plusieurs autres ouvrages.”9
L’auteur des notes conclut que ceux‑ci furent les saints lieux vus à
Jérusalem pendant son séjour, du 18 octobre 1902 au 21 janvier 1903. Il est
parti ensuite vers Jaffa, accompagné par le prêtre Ioan Şerboianu, originaire
de la commune Şerboiana près de Costeşti, au département d’Argeş, qu’il
connut en ces parages. Ils ont vu « de merveilleuses forêts d’orangers : tu
pouvais acheter dix‑huit oranges à cinq centimes». Pendant huit jours, le
temps passé dans cette ville de la Mer Méditerranée, ils ont visité l’église
Saint Georges, « où il a fait un miracle avec la galette, le lieu où le Saint
Apôtre Pierre fut ressuscité /…/ et Noé a achevé le bateau avant le Déluge.”
Enfin, ils se sont embarqués sur un navire russe, Mercure, à destination
de Constantinople. Lorsqu’ils sont arrivés à Beyrouth ils ont été obligés d’y
rester quatre jours en quarantaine dans la rade du port. Le dernier jour, des
soldats ont monté au bord et les passagers ont été conduits à la périphérie
de la ville. Ce fut le lieu où « tous les vêtements et les bagages que nous
avions ont été passés par une machine et ils ont été embaumés. » Ils sont
revenus au bateau et après un voyage de huit jours ils sont arrivés dans la
capitale ottomane. Les autorités turques lui ont déclaré qu’il pouvait aller
en Roumanie ou dans n’importe quel autre pays, mais pas en Bulgarie, la
raison étant que les Turcs « avaient un conflit en Bulgarie et c’est ainsi
9
Idem.
Un voyageur roumain au Proche‑Orient au début du XXe siècle 229
10
Idem.
11
Un călător român în Balcani la începutul secolului XX, dans Hommage à Nicolae
Şerban Tanaşoca, Éditions de l’Académie Roumaine, 2012 (sous presse).
The Atabag Court and Georgian Miniature Painting
of the 15th‑16th Centuries
NINO KAVTARIA
are samples of the Black Mountain artistic school of the 11th century,
while the portraits of Evangelists are the work of the painter Anania from
the Court scriptorium. It seems that through the centuries manuscripts
enriched the Atabags’ library and they decided to have the codices adorned
with miniatures. In the manuscript only three portraits of Evangelists are
preserved nowadays: St. Matthew, St. Mark and St. Luke. According to
the colophon, the date of completion is clear : 1474, when the sons of
Qvarqvare the Great, Baadur and Kaikhosro, were still alive.
The portraits of Evangelists observe the established tradition and they
are placed on a separate page of each Gospel. The seated Evangelists are
presented against an architectural background, in the process of working. A
characteristic feature is the red vellums over the buildings; they somehow
repeat the curves of the roll in St. Matthew’s miniature, and follow the
contemporary garment pleats, in St. Mark’s portrait.
Faces are drawn on a reddish basis and duplicated with ochre tone.
In this miniatures sharp ascents are made with red colour details; they are
highlighted on this water‑colour like backgrounds under which the colour
of the parchment is seen, while the method of the painting is based on a
multi‑layer technique. The painter never used gold.
Chronologically, the next manuscript is a Psalter (A‑351). It was
copied in 1495 by the scribe Ambrose. The codex is distinguished by
its small size and lavishly used gold. A single illustration of the book
represents the Biblical King David playing the lyre. One can say that this
miniature repeats the traditional, well established iconographic pattern of
the Prophet‑King. A characteristic feature here is the Greek inscription. On
the background of the lightweight architectural constructions, inspired by
the divine Logos, the king is chanting the Psalms. The golden background
and general lavishness of golden details, the figure of the prophet executed
with calligraphic contour and proportionality, the delicate manner of
writing reveal the master’ skilfulness. Special features of the epoch are the
vellums, which are highlighted in red, alongside with the cushions and the
high boots. The common palette is marked with refined colours. Special
features of the late Palaeologean period are displayed in the proportional
figure and its arrangement, in the precise contour; from this point of
view, the most significant is the face with pink shadows on a dark olive
basis and the soft white strokes under the eyes, on the neck and forehead.
It’s obvious that the dominant place here is given to gold and golden
impression, increased with the light ochre of the royal throne, covered
with golden strokes. Characteristic details of the epoch are given in the
architectural background; an attempt to create spatial ascents is well done
234 NINO KAVTARIA
comprise the portraits of the Virgin, of St. George, and other unknown
saints’ effigies (fol. 33r, 43r, 68r, 94r, 129r, 179r, 192v, and 260r). The
identification of the hand in the colophon and the inscriptions under the
figures showed that both had been executed by Ambrose.
So, at the end of the 15th century in Georgian artistic life Ambrose
was the most skilled calligrapher and illuminator. According to historical
sources, he travelled to the territories of all East Christian Churches, visited
the Georgian monasteries and copied manuscripts.
Manuscript book K‑375, dated at the beginning of the 16th century,
was connected with the name of Kaikhosros’s brother Mzetchabuk. The
Codex preserved at Kutaisi library was commissioned by him. The starting
pages of the manuscript are made of parchment, while the other parts are
made of paper. Traditionally, the miniature program is opened with the
Canon Tables, which occupy seven pages. In this case the Canon Tables
completely lost their architectural essence and became a decorative element,
written in gold. Such a solution differs from the Byzantine influence and
finds close parallels with Oriental miniature paintings. In the Georgian
book art this type of Canon Tables is known only in the 16th‑17th centuries.
This manuscript is the earliest example of the Oriental decorative style in
Georgia.
The Evangelists’ portraits show the usual iconographic types: seated,
working, and dictating to Prochorus. On the reverse side of the Evangelists’
portraits, according to the Byzantine school and the Georgian miniatures
of the 11th‑12th centuries, the New Testament scenes are shown, in the
following sequence: after St. Matthew comes the Nativity, with the figures
of the three Kings and Joseph, in his traditional pose; St. Mark is followed
by the Baptism; St. Luke is accompanied by the Annunciation on a quite
complicated background, in two tiers. The Virgin is sewing; and the last
Evangelist, St. John, is followed by the Resurrection. The iconography of
the composition is quite unique, representing the Christ reaches out to Adam,
behind him Eve and Abel. The Biblical Kings David and Solomon, dressed
in royal garments, are standing behind the Christ. Here, the personification
of Hell is missing.
The manuscript is illustrated in the best tradition of post‑Byzantine
style. Against the architectural backgrounds, the portraits of the Evangelists
are characterized by the expression on their faces. Concentrated with
divine inspiration, John’s face, his glance to the blessing Jesus in Descent,
rendered in light blue strokes, the cave and the rocks, all are influenced by
the late Palaeologean traditions. The iconography of the scenes, the soft
gradation of tones, the face modelling manner also testify to this influence.
236 NINO KAVTARIA
used not only for the background, but for ornamental decorations, golden
faces, as well as Canon tables.
Alongside dated manuscripts, we should mention those without a date.
They also follow already established artistic traditions.
Created according to Oriental artistic traditions, Canon Tables and
frontispieces in the Atabag manuscripts somehow reflect the artistic tastes
of the epoch. Georgian miniatures of the 15th‑16th century continue the
line of post‑Byzantine traditions, and they also show the first stage of the
Oriental influence. We should note that in ecclesiastical book‑illumination
post‑Byzantine traditions prevailed, even in the 18th century, while in
secular books the artistic forms were based only on Oriental traditions
since the 16th century.
REFERENCES
ILLUSTRATIONS
STOYANKA KENDEROVA
waqf en Bulgarie au XIXe siècle, dans Dionisius A. Agius & Ian Richard Netton (éds.),
Across the Mediterranean Frontiers : Trade, Politics and Religion, 650‑1450. Selected
Proceedings of the International Medieval Congress, University of Leeds, 10‑13 July
1995, 8‑11 July 1996, Turnhout, 1997, p. 395‑409.
3
Ismet Binark, Topkapı Sarayı Müzesi Kütüphanesi ve Kütüphane Koleksiyonları
ile Istanbul Kütüphaneleri hakkında Yerli‑yabanci Kaynaklar Bibliyografyası, « Vakiflar
Dergisi », XIII, 1981, p. 717‑743; Hasan Duman, Beyazit Devlet Kütüphanesi 100 yaşında,
Istanbul, 1984.
Le livre du Proche‑Orient. Réception et diffusion dans les Balkans 245
dont les originaux n’existaient plus. Ainsi ont été jetés les fondements de
l’orientalisme européen, dont les premiers représentants se sont consacrés
à l’étude des manuscrits arabes.
Nos recherches sur ce problème nous permettent d’affirmer que vers
le début du dernier quart du XIXe siècle, les grandes Bibliothèque de waqf
balkaniques abritaient dans leurs fonds quelques milliers de volumes en
arabe. Quel itinéraire devait le livre du Proche Orient parcourir avant de
pénétrer la Péninsule balkanique? Quels domaines de la science arabe
médiévale représentaient ces derniers? Quelles branches du savoir étaient
les plus populaires, quels auteurs étaient les plus recherchés? Quelle était
la part des ouvrages rédigés dans d’autres régions du monde musulman et
quelle était celle des ouvrages copiés sur place, dans les terres balkaniques?
Y créait‑on des ouvrages nouveaux en langue arabe? Si ces trois aspects de
l’activité littéraire coexistaient simultanément, quelles sortes de relations
s’instauraient‑elles entre eux?
1014/1605) a été aussi répandu dans les Balkans. Il reste à mentionner que
ces ouvrages servaient de manuels scolaires dans les medrese6.
Les recueils canoniques créés au cours du IXe siècle et reconnus par les
sunnī sont au nombre de six. Deux parmi eux bénéficient d’une considération
particulière: ceux des “deux maîtres” – Muhammad ibn Ismā’īl al‑Buārī
(m. 256/870)7 et Abū l‑Husayn Muslim al‑Nīšābūrī (m. 261/875). Ils ne
recensent que des traditions réputées ‘saines’ ou authentiques (aī), ce
qui leur a valu le nom d’al‑Jāmi‘ al‑aī. L’ouvrage d’al‑Buhārī présente
les diverses parties du droit (fiqh), mais il contient aussi des textes d’autres
domaines: des commentaires du Coran, des hadī sur la Création, le paradis,
l’enfer, etc. Il est toujours considéré comme le livre le plus important après
le Coran.
Le manuscrit le plus ancien connu en Bulgarie, par exemple, est
une copie partiellement conservée de Saī al‑Buārī (Bibliothèque
Nationale de Bulgarie, OR 801). Il a été achevé le 4 mai 1017 par ‘Alī ibn
Muammad al‑Išlimī et était autrefois conservé dans la bibliothèque de
Samokov (Kenderova 1995 : N 29). En général, al‑Buārī trouvait un bon
accueil dans cette ville. Les lecteurs avaient à leur disposition quelques
exemplaires d’al‑Jāmi‘ al‑Saī (parmi lesquels des copies du XVe siècle),
ainsi que ses commentaires les plus célèbres.
Les ‘traditions’ sont une discipline qui occupait une place très importante
dans le système de l’enseignement turc pendant la période ottomane. Avant
de commencer sa leçon le müderris devait lire et commenter un hadī
selectionné d’al‑Jāmi‘ al‑Saī d’al‑Buārī ou de Muslim, d’al‑Masābīh
al‑Sunna ou d’al‑Mašāriq al‑’anwār8. L’étude du recueil d’al‑Buārī
était destinée aux écoliers du niveau plus élevé : on commençait dans les
medrese du type de 50 aqche9 et terminait au niveau suivant, de 60 aqche.
Les bibliothèques balkaniques disposaient d’un fonds suffisamment riche
pour répondre aux besoins du medrese. Les ouvrages étudiés y étaient
parmi les manuscrits les plus répandus dans la ville.
6
Isma‘il Uzunçarşili, Osmanlı devletinin ilmiye teşkilâtı, Ankara, 1988, p. 23.
7
Ismā‘īl ibn Ibrāhīm Al‑Buārī, Al‑Jāmi‘ al-Ṣaḥīḥ. Al‑Juz’ 1‑8, [Istanbul], 1315
[1889]; El‑Bokhari, L’Authentique tradition musulmane. Choix de hadith. Traduction,
introduction et notes par G.H. Bousquet, 2e éd., Paris, 1964.
8
Hüseyin Atay, Osmanlilarda yüksek din eğitimi. Medrese programlari‑
Icazetnameler-Islahat hareketleri, Istanbul, 1983, p. 94‑95; Isma‘il H. Uzunçarşili,
Osmanli devletinin ilmiye teşkilâti, op. cit., p. 19; Yahya Akyuz, Türk eğitim tarihi,
Istanbul, 1994, p. 59.
9
Aqche – monnaie d’argent, aspre, tiers de pāra. 120 aqche font une piastre (ġurūš).
Le livre du Proche‑Orient. Réception et diffusion dans les Balkans 247
Dans cette contribution nous nous sommes concentrés sur le sujet des
principes essentiels et de la méthodologie des ḥadī (’Uṣūl al‑hadī) (voir
le tableau 1). Comme il est évident, dans ce groupe figurent 10 auteurs et
encore 8 ouvrages dont les auteurs restent pour nous inconnus. Huit des
auteurs dont les noms nous sont connus proviennent des pays arabes. Un
autre auteur – al‑Qarī’ al‑Harawī est d’origine de la ville de Herat, mais il
accomplit son hajj à La Mecque, et c’est dans cette ville qu’il créa Šarh
‘alā nubat al‑fikar. Un seul auteur, al‑Birkāwī, est d’origine turque, et son
œuvre provient de la Turquie.
10
Abd al‑Sattar Al‑Halwaji and Habib Allah Azimi, Catalogue of Islamic
Manuscripts in the National Library of Albania, Tirana, London, 1997.
11
La fondation des bibliothèques de waqf en Bulgarie est également liée aux noms
des mécènes locaux ayant obtenu un rang élevé dans la société ottomane et possédant les
moyens nécessaires pour subventionner leur fonctionnement.
12
La bibliothèque a été fondée en 1537 par le substitut turc le plus prestigieux de
Bosnie, Gazi Husrev Beg (vers 1480‑1541), fils de Seljuq Sultan. Une des plus riches
bibliothèques dans les Balkans, elle jouissait d’un très grand renom. Sur les copies
du domaine des ‘traditions’, v. Kasim Dobrača, Katalog arabskih, turskih I persijskih
rukopisa Gazi Husrev‑Begova Biblioteka u Sarajevu, Part I, Sarajevo, 1963.
13
Pour une information sur la production des copistes dans la partie occidentale des
Balkans, v. Muhamed Ždralovič, Bosansko‑Hercegovački prepisivači djela u arabičkim
rukopisama, I‑II, Sarajevo, 1988.
248 STOYANKA KENDEROVA
TABLEAU 1
’Usūl wa‑muṣtalaḥ al‑ḥadīṯ
(Principes essentiels et théorie des traditions)
Ahmad b.
Mu‘asili.…
1719, Shm R
“ “ sakinan fi Choumène
[Istanbul] 581, I
Madrasat
Sulaymaniyya
Ibrahim b.
1721‑22, OR 235,
“ “ Ahmad Samokov
Samokov II
al‑Samaquwi
“ “ 1742‑43 ‑ Sarajevo 1489, V
al‑Hajj Mustafa OR
“ “ 1752‑53 ‑
b. Sha‘ban 1555, II
1756‑57, ‘Uṯman OR
“ “ Samokov
Médine al‑Ardarumi 1991, II
OR
“ “ 18e s., Ier quart ‑ Vidin
2274, I
OR 485,
“ “ 18e s., milieu ‑ ‑
II
“ “ 18e s. ‑ Sarajevo 1945, I
“ “ ? ‑ “ 1418, II
Tawdih
Nubat
al‑fikar 1691, [Tarsus, Ahmad Shm R
“ Choumène
ou Nuzhat Turquie] al‑Tarsusi 64, II
al‑nazar, [Le
Caire]
17e s., fin ou OR1350,
“ “ ‑ Samokov
18e s., début XXXV
“ “ 1704 Hasan Sarajevo 2168, IV
“ “ 1707 ‘Utman “ 1316
Sulayman b.
“ “ 1714‑16 Sha‘ban b. Hasan “ 3058, III
Malkoch
“ “ 1715 ‑ “ 725, V
Ahmad b.
1719, Mu‘asili sakinan Shm R
“ “ Choumène
[Istanbul] fi Madrasat 581, II
Sulaymaniyya
250 STOYANKA KENDEROVA
7. Ibrahim
Hawāshī [1691], Ahmad b.
al‑Madani Shm R
Nubat [Tarsus, Sulayman “
al‑Halabi (m. 64, III
al‑fikar Turquie] al‑Tarsusi
1729 ?)
Shm R
“ “ 17e s. ‑ “
439
18e s., Ière OR
“ “ ‑ Vidin
moitié 2274, VI
Sharh
8. Da’wud
Risālat
al‑Qarsi (m. 1738, Egypte ‑ Sarajevo 1322, III
al‑Birkawi,
1748)
Egypte
1796, [Focha, ‘Utmān
“ “ 3285, I
Bosnie] al‑Fuchawi
Husayn b.
BN An V/49
“ “ 1860‑61 ‘Abd al‑Baqi
d’Albanie E
Mufti‑zada
1876, Mustafa Shm R
“ “ Choumène
[Choumène] al‑Shumnawi 637
9. ‘Umar Murad
Iskilibi, 18e s. Risala fi Bashi‑zada,
(élève d’Ibn taqsīm 1793 mudarris fi Sarajevo 1401, IV
Himmat, m. al‑hadī madrasat ‘Ali
1761) basha Jadid
[Nukhabat
10. al‑Azhari 18e s., dernier OR 258,
al‑tahiyya], ‑ Vidin
al‑Shanawani quart I
[Egypte]
Non [Ramuz OR
1697 ‑ Sofia
identifiés : al‑ahādi] 2456, I
OR
[Ramuz 17e s., fin ou
“ ‑ Samokov 1350,
al‑ahādi] 18e s., début
XXVIII
[Ramuz OR
“ 18e s., Ierquart ‑ Sofia ?
al‑ahādi] 3302, III
Asāmi BN
“ ? ‑ An I/8 F
al‑Rawah d’Albanie
[Anwā’ Shm R
“ 18e s. ‑ Choumene
al‑ahādi] 129, II
Mağmū‘
“ min al‑ayāt 18e s. ‑ Sarajevo 1945, II
wa‑’l‑ ahādī
Le livre du Proche‑Orient. Réception et diffusion dans les Balkans 253
Risālah fi
“ bayān asmā’ 18e ou 19e s. ‑ “ 1045, I
al‑hadī
Aqsām
“ 18e ou 19e s. “ 1045, II
al‑hadī
Ces 10 auteurs ont créé au total 13 ouvrages qui sont représentés dans
69 copies ; 8 autres copies sont des ouvrages dont les auteurs ne sont
pas identifiés. Si les auteurs dont les noms et les ouvrages sont connus
proviennent dans leur grande majorité des pays arabes, la situation est
différente si on analyse l’origine des copies répandues dans les Balkans
(voir le Tableau 2).
TABLEAU 2
Lieux d’exécution des copies
Comme il est évident, pour une très grande partie des manuscrits nous
ne connaissons pas le lieu de l’exécution de la copie – environ 71,4% du
nombre total des copies de cette section.
254 STOYANKA KENDEROVA
Le nombre des copies réalisées dans les pays balkaniques et dans les pays
arabes est le même : 7‑9%. Quatre copies on été achevées à Istanbul et encore
quatre – dans la partie asiatique de la Turquie. Ce résultat montre un certain
intérêt parmi les copistes balkaniques. Cependant, il faut dire que le lieu de
copie de quelques ouvrages a été défini par nous selon la nisba du copiste.
Si on analyse la date de l’exécution des copies, on voit que la majorité
d’entre eux a été faite au cours du 18e siècle (voir le Tableau 3).
TABLEAU 3
Datation des copies
Siècle Nombre
14e s. 3
15e s. 1
17e s. 9
fin 17e s. - début 18e s. 2
18e s. 53
fin 18e s. ‑ début 19e s. 3
19e s. 4
Inconnu 2
Au total 77
plus variés. Ahmed bin Ebū Bekr a fondé également une riche bibliothèque
de waqf. Dans la ville, il était connu comme spécialiste dans le domaine
des sciences coraniques. Un détail de sa vie est très curieux : au mois de
ramadân 1120/novembre‑décembre 1708 il a visité Damas, où il a eu
l’opportunité de rencontrer le célèbre auteur et commentateur de la doctrine
musulmane (surtout du soufisme) ‘Abd al‑Ġanī ibn Ismā‘īl ibn ‘Abd
al‑Ġanī al‑Nābulusī al‑Ša’mī al‑Dimašqī (m. 1143/1731), mudarris dans
la madrasat al‑Salīmiyya (qui se trouvait dans le quartier de Sāliiyya).
El‑Kešfī se rendait dans sa maison, située au sud de la grande Mosquée des
Omeyyades, où ils discutaient tous les deux sur l’importance de la science
des hadīt (Kenderova 1995 : N 140). C’est sur ce sujet qu’il a obtenu une
ijāza15 à Damas. Deux copies identiques de ce diplôme ont été trouvées
parmi les pages de deux manuscrits de Samokov (Bibliothèque nationale
de Bulgarie, OR 1037, fol. IIv‑IIIr, et OR 1618, fol. 175v‑176r).
Il est très probable que, ayant fréquenté le milieu des savants musulmans
dans le monde arabe, Ahmed bin Ebū Bekr ait approfondi considérablement
ses connaissances dans le domaine des sciences religieuses. Plus tard, de
retour dans sa ville, il donnait des leçons sur les tafsīr du Coran. Il dirigea
même la correction (taī) et la collation (muqābala) d’une copie d’Anwār
al‑tanzīl wa‑asrār al‑ta’wīl d’al‑Baydāwī, exécutée le 17 ū l‑qa‘da 1141/15
juin 1729 par Mūsā ibn al‑šay Husayn al‑Baqā’ī al‑Dimašqī al‑Aš‘arī16.
L’information sur cet aspect de son activité nous est fournie par une note en
langue turque, que nous trouvons sur la page de titre du premier volume de
cet ouvrage (OR 1475, fol. 1r). Ceci prouve que son érudition lui donnait
l’audace de retravailler une copie exécutée dans le monde arabe, fait qui, en
général, mettait hors de doute l’excellente qualité de celle‑ci.
15
Pour obtenir une ijāza (ijāzet nāme) dans le domaine des hadī il était obligatoire
de connaître environ 40 livres, parmi lesquels les six grands recueils (al‑ Siā al‑sitta),
Miškāt al‑anwār, al‑Šifā’ al‑šarīf etc. Voir plus en détail Hüseyin Atay, Fatih‑Süleymaniye
medreseleri ders programlari ve icazet‑nameler, Vakiflar Dergisi, XIII, 1981, pp.
171‑235; du même, Osmanlilarda yüksek din, op. cit., p. 101‑130. Voir aussi Jan Just
Witkam, Lists of books in Arabic Manuscripts, in « Manuscripts of the Middle East », 5,
Leiden, 1993, p. 126‑130; idem, The Human Element Between Text And Reader. The Ijāza
in Arabic Manuscripts, dans Yasin Dutton (éd.), The Codicology of Islamic Manuscripts.
Proceedings of the Second Conference of al‑Furqān Islamic Heritage Foundation, 4‑5
December 1993, London, 1995, p. 123‑136.
16
L’explication supplémentaire mawlidan (‘d’après sa naissance’), faite après la
nisba d’al‑Baqā’ī, ainsi que la phrase manša’an wa‑watanan (‘d’après son origine et son lieu
de résidence’), qui suit al‑Dimašqī, nous font penser que le copiste a exécuté le manuscrit
à Damas. L’apposition i‘tiqādan (‘d’après sa conviction’) prouve qu’il appartenait à l’école
juridique des aš‘arites.
256 STOYANKA KENDEROVA
El‑Kešfī Efendi a composé au total dix ouvrages. Trois d’entre eux sont
des compilations constituées de fragments et d’extraits, surtout du domaine
des ‘traditions’ (ḥadīṯs). Les ḥadīṯs qui y sont inclus sont sélectionnés chez
différents auteurs, avec une prédilection pour les œuvres du représentant
des šāfi‘ītes égyptiens Jalāl al‑Dīn al‑Suyūtī (m. 1505).
Ahmed el‑Kešfī est conscient du fait que le thème de la prière, à
cause de son actualité quotidienne, mérite d’être abordé plus en détail: il
choisit 40 autres hadīṯs pour montrer la nécessité de prononcer la ṣalāt
(la principale prière de l’Islam, qui fait partie des obligations cultuelles et
qui est liée à cinq moments du jour) en l’honneur du Prophète. Parmi les
autres collections de 40 traditions il accorde sa préférence à ‘Alī ibn Sultān
al‑Qāri’ (m. 1605) et commente ses deux œuvres ’Aḥādī al‑arba‘īn et
Ahādīṯ al‑arba‘īn al‑qudsiyya. Mais les commentaires les plus importants
qu’il rédigea sont consacrés à la arīqa al‑muammadiyya, l’ouvrage qui
expose la vie conforme à la foi musulmane et qui a pour modèle celle du
Prophète.
17
En effet, vers le milieu du XVIIIe siècle, au temps du sultan Mahmud Ier
(1730‑1754), un mouvement assez important de création de nouvelles bibliothèques se
fait jour. Voir Şemim Emsem, Osmanlı Imparatorlugu devrinde Türkiye kütüphanelerinin
tarihçesi, I, dans Türk Kütüphaneciler dernegi Bülteni, Ankara, VIII, 1969, 1‑2, p. 14‑35.
Sagesse et folie du corps.
Préface à une psychologie des viscères.
Projet de livre de Lizica Codréano
DOÏNA LEMNY
elle ne doit pas avoir conscience que ce mariage va mettre fin à sa passion
pour la danse. Amoureuse du jeune et brillant intellectuel Jean Fontenoy,
elle décide de le suivre dans sa mission diplomatique en Chine. C’est pour
elle l’occasion d’aller à la découverte d’autres horizons et d’autres cultures,
auxquelles elle adhère, vraisemblablement, tout naturellement. Elle y trouve
non seulement un écho de sa propre conception du mouvement, mais aussi
un intérêt pour les diverses méthodes de relaxation et d’entretien du corps.
Les débuts de son mariage sont heureux et le couple voit la naissance,
le 22 avril de l’année suivante, d’un fils, François. Mais, rapidement, Lizica
s’aperçoit que son mari se dévoue autant à sa carrière politique qu’à ses
conquêtes féminines. Dans ce contexte, elle attrape, en outre, la malaria
et en souffre énormément. Ne trouvant plus sa place auprès de son mari,
elle décide de rentrer en France, avec son fils, en mars 1931. Ces trois
ans d’expérience dans l’espace oriental – le couple a beaucoup voyagé en
Chine, au Japon et en Inde – lui ont finalement permis de s’imprégner de
cultures lointaines, mais proches de sa culture d’origine, dont elle conserve
un goût pour les coutumes ancestrales. Nombre d’intellectuels ont d’ailleurs
mis en évidence ce lien entre la Roumanie et l’Inde : « L’Inde, estime
Dominique Fernandez dans son ouvrage Sentiment indien, est très présente
dans l’imaginaire des Roumains. »2 Il rappelle à cet égard l’attention que
porta Brancusi à cet univers, à travers ses lectures et plus particulièrement à
travers son projet de monument non abouti à Indore. L’écrivain Panaït Istrati
rêve d’un voyage dans ces contrées (« le désir d’Inde »), considérant qu’il
constitue un endroit idéal pour méditer sur les maux de l’humanité. Sans
parler de Mircea Eliade, pour qui l’Inde représente le lieu de prédilection
qui nourrira toute sa vie.3 Lizica a sans doute été souvent témoin des
réflexions de Brancusi sur Milarépa, ce moine tibétain qui s’était retiré
pour méditer afin de purifier son âme et son corps et, ainsi, transcender sa
condition humaine et ses péchés.4 Lizica – poussée par son état physique,
la malaria dont elle est atteinte et dont les séquelles lui causent beaucoup
de souffrances, et par un déséquilibre fonctionnel que la médecine moderne
ne pouvait soigner – a certainement recherché un moyen sain de se soigner.
En outre, sa vie, loin de l’atmosphère mouvementée, bouleversante de
la capitale française, l’a certainement incitée à réfléchir sur elle‑même.
Sans compter qu’elle a été conditionnée par la danse, qui lui a inculqué
2
Dominique Fernandez, Sentiment indien, Paris, Grasset, 2005, p. 79.
3
En 1928‑1932 Mircea Eliade séjourne en Inde, où il prépare son doctorat publié
dans l’ouvrage Le Yoga, immortalité et liberté.
4
Brancusi avait comme livre de chevet la traduction de Jacques Bacot, publiée
en 1925, de l’ouvrage autobiographique : Le poète Tibétain Milarépa. Ses crimes – Ses
épreuves – Son Nirvana.
Sagesse et folie du corps. Préface à une psychologie des viscères.... 259
1, 2 : Séquences photographiques du cours de hatha‑yoga dispensé par Lizica qui ont été
publiées dans le numéro d’août 1938 de « Vogue ».
3, 4 : Lizica traite dans son cabinet le chef d’orchestre Charles Munch, en 1949.
Sagesse et folie du corps. Préface à une psychologie des viscères.... 267
FLORIN MARINESCU
Nous allons commencer notre présentation avec l’un des aspects les
plus importants des relations de la Moldavie et de la Valachie avec le
monde orthodoxe, et plus concrètement avec l’Épire. Il s’agit de :
De plus, au cours des siècles les églises des régions suivantes ont
bénéficié également d’aides : Visani, Vradeto, Giromeri, Delvinaki,
Dipalitsa, Ioannina, Konitsa, Copani, Lozetsi, Perivoli, Skamneli.
Parmi les princes régnants qui ont aidé financièrement des institutions
religieuses de l’Épire nous pouvons mentionner : Neagoe Basarab, qui a
accordé 300 thalers au monastère Sosinou, Mihnea (peut‑être Turcitul),
qui a aidé le monastère Molivdoskepastou de la somme de 3000 aspres,
Şerban Cantacuzino, qui a accordé au monastère Brodetsi la somme de 200
lei annuellement, son successeur au règne, le prince martyre Constantin
Brâncoveanu, qui lui a accordé la somme de 9000 bani annuellement.
Des dignitaires ou commerçants grecs qui habitaient en Valachie ont
aidé, comme il était normal, certaines églises épirotes. Parmi ceux‑ci on
peut mentionner Oxotie qui, pendant le première moitié du XVIIe siècle,
a aidé le monastère Giromeri, Zisis Karapanou qui a aidé cinq monastères
situés à côté de Konitsa, les frères Nicolae et Constantin Tsigaras qui ont
contribué à l’élevage de l’église de Vradeto, le célèbre Evanghelos Zappas
qui a rebâti l’église de Tiriboukio.
De plus, d’autres Épirotes, tel le ban Gheorghe de Dipalitsa ou le moine
Ioanichie de Aidonohori, ou le bien connu marchand Pano Pepano, ou
Zisis Karapanou ont aidé financièrement certaines églises de la Roumanie
d’aujourd’hui qui étaient consacrées en tant que métoches à des monastères
épirotes.
6
Au sujet de cet « évergète », ainsi qu’à celui d’autres 17 grands bienfaiteurs
nationaux (Épirotes ou non) qui ont vécu pendant le XIXe siècle, le journal grec
« Ημερησία » a publié, il y a quelques années, des fascicules spéciaux signés par des
chercheurs et professeurs réputés.
7
« Παντρεύτηκε την Πατρίδα και ζει μαζί της ». Ces mots sont dédiés à Petros
Saroglou ou Saroglos.
Kurbet among the Albanians in the Ottoman period.
Characteristics and destinations
IVAYLO MARKOV
INTRODUCTION
During the early years of Ottoman power in the region, the main
occupation in most villages was stock‑breeding. A lot of people enjoyed tax
concessions, because of their status of guarding mountain passes (dervenjii)
or of supporting the army (voinugani) (Gjuzelev 2004: 8). There were
some of the main jelepkeshan centres, which satisfied the requirements
of the Ottoman army in terms of meat, raw materials, and products. These
services for the army of the Empire brought to the local (mainly Christian)
villages tax privileges and some local autonomy, offered by the Ottoman
government.
The destruction of the agrarian system and the profound social crisis
in the Ottoman Empire in the end of the 18th and the beginning of the
19th century, caused by the Kardzalii’s unrest and the weakening of the
centralized power, led to an increase in free manpower – men who, due to
their occupation, knew well the Balkan roads.
At the same time the permanently increasing population in this mountain
region and the lack of enough agricultural land, which had to be divided
among all male heirs, caused an increase in the number of bachelors. Many
families did not have any land. Thus, favourable conditions for labour
mobility accumulated. A part of this manpower turned to unspecialized
labour, other specialized in different crafts and trading activities.
One of the ways in searching for a livelihood was wage labour during
the busy agricultural season – many men worked as mowers, harvesters etc.
Others were occupied as domestic servants and farmhands – the so called
argati, who performed various activities in wealthier houses. Many were
porters and stevedores in town, stone‑cutters, and brick‑makers, or worked
in road construction.
There were a great number of craftsmen who came from mountain
villages in South Albania, Epirus and Macedonia and offered their abilities
or products not only in the nearest town centres but also in more distant
destinations. Builders from this region were particularly famous – there were
Bulgarians, Wallachians, Albanians, etc., who practiced this craft. European
1
Arnauti is the Turkish name for Albanians. The term refers as well to mercenary
soldiers in the Ottoman Empire, who often were of a diverse ethnicity.
Kurbet among Albanians during the Ottoman period... 277
MAIN DESTINATIONS
• Italy
SOME CHARACTERISTICS
male members in the home to take care of the house, agriculture and
stock‑breeding. Men on kurbet spent money only for their basic needs. The
saved money they sent back home to their relatives. It was used for buying
land, building houses, and so on.
In the sphere of folklore the kurbet also had its influence. The
establishment of kurbet practices led to the appearance of specific folklore
patterns, such as këngët e kurbetit (gurbet songs). The topics of these
songs define the most important moments linked to the kurbet. They are
broadly divided into several groups. The first one contains the reasons for
the kurbet, the departure, the mother’s and the beloved one’s anguish. The
second group represents songs about life away from the homeland, the hard
work, longing for home and the family. In the third group there are songs
about the hard life of the family of the man who is away on kurbet, while
raising the children in his absence. The song about the returning home from
kurbet and the family’s happiness is part of the last group. This may also
comprise the story of his bad luck in not gaining enough money or his death
away from home (Konstantinov 1964: 54‑70; Xhagoli 2004: 122‑125).
CONCLUSIONS
Five centuries under Ottoman rule, which ended with the declaration
of independence of Albania in 1912, were accompanied by different types
of migration to even more destinations. Reasons for these migrations were
varied and complex, but they mainly fall into two broad categories: those
characterised by an element of coercion (forced migrations) and those
characterised by a search for work and better living conditions (labour
migrations or gurbet). However, this distinction becomes blurred when one
considers the conditions of extreme poverty, exploitation and misery in
which many Albanians, especially peasants, lived in their areas of origin.
The kurbet model of the Albanians is an important part of the
phenomena that is known as “Balkan gurbet”. During the years a steady
and complex ritual was established and the entire local community that
sent off migrants changed. Moreover, many of the kurbet characteristics
and practices remain vital even today among the populations of the region.
284 IVAYLO MARKOV
REFERENCES:
Bejleri 2008 – Rusana Bejleri, Ekspeditë universitare në fshatin e vetëm shqiptar
në Bulgari Mandrica, 2008; http://www.albanian.dir.bg/studii/kult/
Mandrica.htm.
Belon de Man 1953 – Наблюдения на множество редки и забележителни
неща, видени в Гърция, Азия, Юдея, Египет, Арабия и други чужди
страни от Пиер Белон дю Ман, Прев. Вс. Николаев, Sofia, 1953.
Bobev – Kacori 1998 – Боби Бобев, Тома Кацори, Близката и непозната
Албания, Sofia, 1998.
Braudel 1998 – Фернан Бродел, Средиземно море и Средиземноморският
свят по времето на Филип II, Sofia, 1998.
Cvetkova 1975 – Бистра Цветкова (ed.), Френски пътеписи за Балканите ХV–
ХVIII, Sofia, 1975.
Desnitskaja 1968 – А. В. Десницкая, Албанский язык и его диалекты,
Leningrad, 1968.
Gjuzelev 2004 – Боян Гюзелев, Албанци в източните Балкани, Sofia, 2004.
Giurescu 1966 – Constantin C. Giurescu, Istoria Bucureştilor din cele mai vechi
timpuri pînă în zilele noastre, Bucureşti, 1966.
Hahn 1954 – J. G. Hahn, Albanesische Studien, Bd. 1‑3, Jena, 1854.
Hristov 2004 – Петко Христов, Гурбетчийството/печалбарството в
централната част на Балканите като трансграничен обмен, in
Балканистичен форум (1‑2‑3), Blagoevrad, 2004.
Hristov 2008 – Petko Hristov, Trans‑border Exchange of Seasonal Workers
in the Central Regions of the Balkans, 19th-20th Century, in “Ethnologia
Balkanica”, (12) 2008, p. 215‑230.
Hristov 2009 – Petko Hristov, Gurbet toponymy, in: “Македонски фолклор”, 67,
2009, p. 91‑96.
Konstantinov 1964 – Душко Константинов, Печалбарство, Bitolia, 1964.
Kushkoski 1998 – А. Кушкоски, Печалбарството во Вевчани, Bitolia, 1998.
Muka 2008 – Ali Muka, The Albanian Building Master Under the Ethnologist
Point of View, “Acta Studia Albanica”, 2008 (2), p. 121‑132.
Musliu – Dauti 1996 – Sefer Musliu, Daut Dauti, Shqiptarët e Ukrainës, Shkup,
1996.
Palairet 1988 – Michael Palairet, The Migrant Workers of the Balkans and their
Villages (18th Century – World War II), in Kl. Roth (ed.), Handwerk in
Mittel‑und Sudosteuropa, Munich, 1987.
Pistrich 2008 – Eckehard Pistrich, Migration Memories in the Borderlands: The
Constructions of Regional Identity and Memory in Zagoria (Southern
Albania) through Place and Sound, in “Ethnologia Balkanica”, 12, 2008,
p. 97‑110.
Kurbet among Albanians during the Ottoman period... 285
Tirta 1999 – Mark Tirta, Etnografia Shqiptare 18. Migrime të Shqiptarëve, Tirana,
1999.
Vullnetari 2007 – Jolie Vullnetari, Albanian Migration and Development: State
of the Art Review, in IMISCOE Working Paper, Working Paper No. 18,
2007, http://edoc.bibliothek.uni‑halle.de/servlets/MCRFileNodeServlet/
HALCoRe_derivate_ 00003672/ Albanianmigration.pdf.
Xhaferi – Ibrahimi – Yumeri 2004 – H. Xhaferi, M. Ibrahimi, B. Yumeri,
Emigracioni nga Maqedonia Perëndimore në Rumani, Skopje, 2004.
Xhagoli 2004 – Агрон Џаголи, Печалбарските песни кај албанците во
Македонија, in: Вражиновски, Т. и др. (ред.), Втор мегународен научен
собир „Иселеништвото од Македонија од појавата до денес” –
етничко организирање на иселениците. Струга, 20‑22 ноември 2003
година, Skopje, 2004.
Livres européens anciens pour l’étude des langues
classiques et orientales dans les collections de la
Bibliothèque Documentaire de Zalău
Motto :
Melior est grammaticos esse quam haereticos.
(Isidore de Séville, Sententiae, VIe‑VIIe s.)
RÉFÉRENCES
15
À part les éditions de la Bible en grec et en hébreu, on y trouve l’édition en latin,
Testamenti Veteris Biblia Sacra… et Testamentum Novum, Génève et Francofordi, 1590,
pars I‑VI.
292 IOAN MARIA OROS
ANNEXES
A. LA STRUCTURE DU FOND
I. Éditions de la Bible
22
Karl Gottfried Jacobitz (1807‑1875); spécialiste et éditeur de Lucian de Samosata.
23
Ernst Eduard Seiler (1810‑?), professeur allemand de langues anciennes.
24
Alois Vaniček (1825‑1883), philologue, professeur à Prague.
25
Gustav Eduard Benseler (1806‑1868), philologue allemand.
26
Wilhelm Pape (1807‑1854), savant philologue classique allemand.
27
Theophilus Golius (1528‑1600). Cette copie est décrite par Vergilia STAN,
Carte străină editată în secolul al XVII‑lea la Amsterdam, existentă în fondul Bibliotecii
Documentare ‑ Zalău. Catalog, dans Acta Musei Porolissensis, Zalău, 1987, XI, p. 522.
28
Johann Friedrich Köber (1623‑v. 1688), philologue et musicologue allemand.
29
Sans auteur précisé.
30
Jacob Weller (1602 ‑1664), théologien et orientaliste allemand.
294 IOAN MARIA OROS
Ana Maria van SCHURMANN, Opuscula hebrae gr., Batav [Passau], 1762; No
inventaire : 14976;
Georgius PASOR, Lexicon manuale, Lipsiae, 1766; Cote : 1812;
Johannes SIMON[IS] 51, Lexicon manuale graecorum, Halle, 1766; Cote : 4709;
Johannes SIMONIS, Lexicon manuale hebr., Halle, 1771; Cote : 4711, No
inventaire : 7915 [Fig. 11];
LUBKER, Reallexicon der classischen Alt., Leipzig, 1860; Cote : 1216;
Iwan von MÜLLER (sous la direction de), Handbuch der klassischen
Altertums‑Wissenschaft¸ München, 1890‑1910; Cote II 1.
51
Johann Simonis (1698‑1768), professeur d’histoire de l’église chrétienne et
d’antiquités à Halle.
298 IOAN MARIA OROS
C. ICONOGRAPHIE
Fig. 1 Fig. 2
Fig. 3 Fig. 6
Livres européens anciens pour l’étude des langues classiques... 299
Fig. 4
Fig. 5
300 IOAN MARIA OROS
Fig. 7 Fig. 8
Fig. 9 Fig. 10
Livres européens anciens pour l’étude des langues classiques... 301
Fig. 11
The Antiochian Greek‑Orthodox Patriarchate
and Rome in the late 16th C.
A Polemic Response by the Metropolitan Anastasius
Ibn Mujallā to the Pope1
CONSTANTIN PANCHENKO
All those who are familiar with the history of Arab Christianity in
the Ottoman period know about the so called “Melkite Renaissance”, that
is, the cultural revival of the Greek Orthodox Arabs (the Melkites) in the
17th century, after a long period of decline and stagnation. From my point
of view, this “Renaissance” started already one generation earlier, in the
late 16th century. It was initiated by the literary activities of a group of
nowadays almost forgotten authors, who worked in the Tripoli region and
were connected in different ways with the Antiochian Patriarch Yūwākīm
aw (1581‑1592). The works of the Melkite intellectuals of the late 16th
century were stimulated by various internal and external factors, including
an influence from the Catholic world.
During the reign of Pope Gregory XIII the Catholic Church tried to
compensate the defeats it had to suffer in Northern Europe as a result of the
Reformation by increased political and propagandist activities in the Eastern
Christian world. One can remember such almost simultaneous events as the
Unia of Brest in the Ukraine (1596), the Unia of Diamper which united the
Indian Malabar Christians with Rome (1599) or the Council of Qannūbīn
(1596) which confirmed the adoption of the Gregorian calendar by the
Maronite Church.
1
I am very grateful to Vera Tchentsova for her indispensable help in writing this
paper and as well to Carsten Walbiner (Bonn) for his valuable advice in linguistic and
academic questions. I would like to thank also Hilary Kilpatrick (Lausanne), Sophia
Moisseeva, Pavel Kuzenkov (Moscow), and Sergey Frantsouzoff (St. Petersburg) for their
assistance in providing to me or interpreting the materials that I used in this paper.
The Antiochian Greek Orthodox Patriarchate and Rome... 303
upset by this news. In a letter to Eliano and Bruno (February 1582), the
Cardinal presumed that it would now be even more difficult to come to an
agreement with the Orthodox. “However, it is possible”, he wrote, “that
their disagreement will cause certain good, as it has happened with the
Nestorian nation during the reign of [Pope] Julius” (Monumenta I: 309).
The Cardinal supposed that at least one of the rival patriarchs would be
interested in Roman support.
Nevertheless, at first the patriarchs tried to receive support from the
Phanar and the Sublime Porte. Mikhail went to Istanbul and managed to
get a Sultan’s decree confirming his prerogatives. Still, the Christians
of Damascus bribed the local pasha and he agreed to ignore the decree.
Mikhail had to stay in Aleppo, while Yūwākīm continued to reside in
Damascus (Panchenko 2009: 140).
At the end of 1581 the Pope’s legates, on their way back from a
pilgrimage to Jerusalem, visited Damascus and met with Yūwākīm aw’.
Christian notables of Damascus were also present at the meeting. According
to the missionaries’ report, “it was spoken in the most polite terms about
the desire of the Supreme Pontifex Gregory XIII [to achieve the Unia],
who had sent them to such a distant country for the sake of the salvation of
their [the Orthodox’] souls” (Monumenta I: 377). The missionaries asked
the Patriarch to send a message to the Pope, to express “his filial love and
to recognize the Pontifex as his True Father”. Yūwākīm behaved in a very
polite way. As is mentioned in the report, he “approved what had been said
about the holy desire of Gregory XIII and expressed great respect to him”
(Ibidem).
However, not everybody among the Orthodox who was present at
the meeting had the same infinite tolerance. Some of them reminded the
missionaries about the source of disagreement between the Orthodox and
the Latin Churches – the doctrine about the Procession of the Holy Spirit.
“The Fathers [missionaries] decided that it had been possible to test the
belief of these Greeks” – the report tells – “and to oppose simple logic to
their opinion. They [the Greeks] could not reply to us convincingly. The
Greeks were upset, and the Maronites, who accompanied us, were very
pleased” (Ibidem). Yūwākīm aw’ complied with the missionaries’ wish
and addressed Cardinal Santa Severina with a message full of colourful
oriental‑style compliments. It took the Cardinal several months to think
over his response and future tactic. Only in May of the following year
he wrote to Eliano and Bruno: “I was pleased to receive the message of
the Patriarch, although in this letter nothing was said about the religious
matters, as I would have liked” (Idem: 312). So the Patriarch had got rid
The Antiochian Greek Orthodox Patriarchate and Rome... 305
Mikhail went again to Istanbul, looking for Phanariot and Ottoman support,
however, this time in vain. The Patriarch received the advice to give up his
claims to the Antiochian see. Mikhail returned to Aleppo and retired from
all functions. He died in December 1592 (Panchenko 2009: 51‑52).
Yūwākīm aw’, who had won the struggle for the Patriarchal throne,
was nevertheless in a desperate financial situation. The schism had ruined
the Christians of Syria. It seems that Yūwākīm promised to the pashas of
Damascus and Tripoli, for their support, more money than he was able to
pay. Already in 1583, because of demands for money from the Ottoman
authorities Yūwākīm had to escape Damascus and hide in the Bekaa valley,
out of direct Ottoman political control (Idem: 52‑53).
In spring 1584 Abel went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. During this
travel, sometime in the second half of March, he met Yūwākīm in the
village ‘Ayta in the Bekaa. Most likely their meeting started with emotional
greetings and mutual assurance of love and friendship. The Oriental code of
hospitality always disorientated the western missionaries, who took it too
seriously. Abel delivered messages to the Patriarch from the Pope Gregory
XIII and Cardinal Santa Severina, who offered the Antiochian Melkites to
rejoin the Unia of Florence and to adopt the Gregorian calendar. Yūwākīm
was not interested in a conflict with the Catholic world. The position of
the patriarch, as has been said, was very weak. However, he did not want
to submit to Rome. So the Patriarch tried to manoeuvre. He said that he
had heard nothing about the Council of Florence and that it was necessary
for him to consult with the other Patriarchs and the Christians of Syria
before such an important decision. The Patriarch agreed with Abel about
another meeting in Tripoli for the conclusion of the final agreements. Abel
handed to the Patriarch a copy of the Acts of the Council of Florence and
familiarized him with the reform of the calendar, recently adopted by the
Catholic Church (Cheikho 1906: 359; Monumenta II: 112‑113; Panchenko
2009: 56).
Abel continued thereafter his trip to Jerusalem, where he met with
the Orthodox Patriarch Sophronius and tried to convince him to accept
the Unia. Sophronius behaved in the same evasive way as Yūwākīm. He
alleged that it would be necessary to consult the Patriarch of Alexandria
Silvestrus. Abel could not receive any answer for a long time and had to
leave Jerusalem (Monumenta II: 72, 113).
On his way back the legate learned that another meeting with Yūwākīm
was impossible. The Antiochian Patriarch, trying to avoid the extortions of
the pasha of Tripoli, had fled to Istanbul, hoping for financial aid from the
Constantinopolitan Patriarch (Cheikho 1906: 359‑360).
The Antiochian Greek Orthodox Patriarchate and Rome... 307
After his failure to win over for the Unia the Patriarchs Yūwākīm
and Sophronius, Abel turned in 1585 to the ex‑Patriarch Mikhail. Rome
was ready to treat him as the legitimate Antiochian Patriarch. Mikhail
had nothing to lose and he hated the other Orthodox Patriarchs who had
betrayed him in his competition with Yūwākīm. Thus, the contacts between
the legate and the former patriarch were successful.
According to Abel, Mikhail “voluntary” and “with great joy” presented
to him a written confession of the Catholic faith, confirmed by the Patriarchal
stamp and signature. Mikhail complained about the Orthodox Patriarchs
who had deprived him of the throne without reason. The ex‑Patriarch
described his sufferings from the evil of his people and asked Rome for
support. He handed to Abel messages to Pope Sixtus and Cardinal Santa
Severina (Monumenta II: 113; Nasrallah 1968: 39)4.
Abel delivered these documents to Rome in spring 1586, but strangely
enough, the Vatican did not show any inclination to continue contacts
with Mikhail. It seems that the Cardinals knew too well that Mikhail had
no real power. In addition, for certain reasons, Rome lost interest in the
project of a Unia with the Antiochian church. Sporadic contacts of Catholic
missionaries with the Orthodox clergy of Syria would be resumed only a
quarter of a century later.
As for Patriarch Yūwākīm aw’, he realized soon that his hopes for
financial support from the Constantinopolitan Greeks were groundless. It
is well known that in 1585‑1586 the Patriarch travelled to Moscow, he
was received by the Russian Tsar with great honour and was granted large
alms. In 1587 he returned to Syria, paid the debts of the Patriarchate and
stabilized his power.
Presumably at that time the Patriarch openly declared his attitude
towards the Roman proposals. The response to the messages delivered
by the Papal legates was composed by one of the Patriarchal confidents,
Metropolitan Anastasius ibn Mujallā al‑Marmanītī, who might be regarded
as the leading Christian Arab theologian of that century.
It is curious that the personality and works of Anastasius have almost
completely been ignored by most European scholars. Certainly, Anastasius
was mentioned in the basic works on the Melkite literature of Georg Graf
and Joseph Nasrallah5, however nobody studied him specifically.
It is possible to summarize the available information about this person.
4
See also abīb Al‑Zayāt, Hazā’in al‑kutub fi Dimašq wa awāhi‑hā, Cairo, 1902,
p. 198.
5
G. Graf, Geschichte der christlichen arabischen Literatur, T. III, Città del
Vaticano, 1949, p. 89‑90; Nasrallah 1979: 181‑182.
308 CONSTANTIN PANCHENKO
which means that Anastasius knew Greek and could have been familiar
with the Greek anti‑Latin polemical literature.
According to Joseph Nasrallah, Anastasius’s text survived in 7 copies
which are kept in the Uppsala library, in the Sbath collection, at the Asiatic
Museum of St. Petersburg – now the Institute of Oriental Manuscripts, in
the library of the Oriental Faculty of St. Joseph University in Beirut etc.
(Nasrallah 1979: 182). I succeeded in discovering two more copies of this
text in the catalogue of the manuscript collection of Balamand monastery
(Lebanon)10. One of these copies (n. 181, 1°) is missing the first page
with the title, so the authors of the catalogue could describe the text only
approximately, as “an article against the Council of Florence”. However
the first phrases of the surviving part of the article, which are published
in the catalogue, coincide literally with the text at the Institute of Oriental
Manuscripts of St. Petersburg11.
The title of the text in the St. Petersburg manuscript is: Response
addressed to the Pope of the city of Rome, who sent [a letter] with Batishta,
his Pupil, to the Father Patriarch Kīr Yūwākīm al‑Antākī as‑Sāfitī,
composed by Metropolitan Anastasius from Marmanita, a Melkite, known
as Ibn Mujallā – may the Lord give grace to his soul and have mercy on us
through all the Saints’ prayers, Amen” (Anastasius Response: 85 b). I am
familiar with the headlines of three more manuscripts12: all have a lot of
differences. However, they have a common nucleus and the two first lines
of each title are almost identical, which means that all variants of the title
of the “Response” have a certain common proto‑graph.
All variants of the headline mention the Papal messenger “Batishta”,
that is Giovanni Batista Eliano. As mentioned above, Eliano only had a
conversation with the Patriarch and did not hand the Papal message to him.
No doubts that Eliano is here confused with Leonardo Abel. As the Papal
message mentions the Gregorian calendar adopted by the Catholic Church
only in 1582, the message could not have been delivered by Eliano, who
met with the Antiochian patriarch in 1581.
As for the date of the Response, one can only say with certainty that
it was composed after the meeting of Yūwākīm and Abel in March 1584.
The text could not be published before the Patriarch’s return from Russia to
10
Al‑Makhṭūṭāt al‑‘arabiya fi‑l‑adyīra al‑urthūdūksiya l‑Antakiya fi Lubnān,
[2], Dayr Sayidat al‑Balamand, Beirut, 1994, no. 123, 12°; no. 181, 1°.
11
I am grateful to Carsten Walbiner for the information on one other copy that is
found now in the collection of Saydnāya monastery, see Waṣf li‑l‑kutub wa‑l‑maẖṭūṭāt fi
Dayr Sayyidat Saydnāya al‑batriyarkī, Damascus, 1986, p. 21.
12
See notes 7 and 10.
310 CONSTANTIN PANCHENKO
Damascus in 1587. The terminus ante quem is 1592, the year of Yūwākīm
aw’s death.
The text of the Response in the St. Petersburg manuscript occupies
a little more than 19 folios (38 p.), each page with 13 lines. Anastasius
starts with a deliberately polite rewording of the Papal message, which
called on the Antiochian Christians to enter into a Unia with the Roman
Church (Anastasius Response: 85b‑87a). “And when we learned about it –
Anastasius writes – we rejoiced and we were very glad … And we asked
God to fulfil the wish of the Pope, our Father… to unite us all and to be one
flock of the one shepherd who is our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ibidem: 87a‑87
b). After such a promising beginning, Anastasius started to analyse the
concrete proposals of the Pope concerning the adoption of the Catholic
doctrines and rituals, and to criticize them severely.
No doubt that the main body of the arguments brought forward by
Anastasius was borrowed from the Byzantine anti‑Catholic literature. This
controversy started at the time of Patriarch Photius (9th c.) and became
extremely virulent at the time of the Great Schism and the First Crusade13.
Almost nothing from this corpus of texts was translated into Arabic14.
Therefore, Anastasius can be regarded as the initiator of the genre of
anti‑Catholic polemics in Christian Arabic literature.
A lot of Anastasius’s arguments coincides word‑by‑word with points
made by the Byzantine canonist Nikon of the Black Mountain and Patriarch
Simeon of Jerusalem, the leading anti‑Latin controversialists of the 11th
century. However, this does not mean that Anastasius read their original
texts and not some late post‑Byzantine compilations. Greek polemists of
the Ottoman period automatically repeated the 500 years old arguments of
their predecessors.
But there was a question which could not be answered by Photius and
Nikon. In 1582 the Catholic Church adopted a new calendar and proposed to
the rest of the Christian world to do the same. The problem at once became
13
In the 9th c. Patriarch Photius analyzed the dogmatic differences between the
Eastern and Western Churches, such as the problem of filioque and the Papal primacy.
The polemists of the 11th and 12th centuries primarily discussed liturgical differences, as
the usage of azymes in the Latin Church. See A.V. Barmin, Polemica i Shizma. Istoriya
greko‑latinskih sporov IX‑XII vekov (Polemic and Schism. A History of the Greek‑Latin
Controversies of the 11th and 12th centuries), Мoscow, 2006, p. 60‑64, 271‑290; Stephen
Runciman, Vostochnaya Shizma. Visantiyskaya teokratiya (Russian translation of The
Eastern Schism. Byzantine Theocracy), Moscow, 1998, p. 50‑63, 78‑91.
14
Joseph Nasrallah, Histoire du mouvement littéraire dans l’Église melchite du Ve
e
au XX siècle, t. III/2, Louvain – Paris, 1981, p. 135‑136; t. III/1, Louvain – Paris, 1983, p.
272.
The Antiochian Greek Orthodox Patriarchate and Rome... 311
to the Credo and the use, at liturgy, of unleavened bread (azyme) instead of
bread baked with yeast16.
Among Anastasius’s arguments there are some of definitely Syrian
origins. For example, he wrote: “And they [the Western theologians] said:
‘Indeed we have adopted this rule from Peter the Crown of the Apostles,
who taught in this way when he preached in Rome and Spain and other
Frankish lands.’ And our response is: ‘Indeed, Peter the Crown of the Pure
Ones, before going to Rome, preached in Antioch and Damascus and its
country for about twenty years. And nobody heard that he had introduced
azymes in those years and other [Catholic] innovations of theirs. If [one
supposes] that something from his heritage has been forgotten in our
land, [one should remember] that there are four [Orthodox] Patriarchs and
only one Pope, and it is obvious that evidence from four has more power
than evidence from one’” (Ibidem: 99a‑99b). Although the argument that
the Crown of the Apostles began his mission in Antioch, and only later
moved to Rome, originally belongs to Patriarch Photius, such a statement
undoubtedly appealed to the Orthodox Arabs.
One of Anastasius’s comments concerning the Melkite identity
according to the name of this community is also interesting. “We do not
name ourselves by the name of a certain [heretical] man, who has broken
the holy tradition, and we never followed any blasphemous heretic, like
other communities. Among them are those named after Arius, others –
after Eutychius, others – after Nestorius or Jacob Baradey. Every such
community is labelled according to the name of the head of its heresy.
As for our community – our name is ‘Rūm – Melkites’ [from melek, the
Aramaic word for ‘king’], i.e., ‘those who follow the King of Heaven’, who
is the King of Kings and the Teacher of Teachers” (Ibidem: 100b‑101a).
Needless to say that Anastasius’s etymology is far from the one embraced
by modern scholars. However, the polemist expressed the outlook and
self‑identification of his nation.
Gradually Anastasius began to lose his artificial politeness. Again and
again he blamed the Latin Church severely. According to the Metropolitan,
the Seven Ecumenical councils completed the definition of the Christian
dogmas. The Holy Fathers anathematized everybody who would change
something in the doctrines or would organize a new council. In response
to the European theologians’ rational arguments, Anastasius appealed to
the authority of the Church tradition and to the undoubted fact that the
decisions of the Seven Ecumenical Councils were inspired by the Holy
16
The issue of filioque is discussed on fol. 93b‑96a, the subject of azymes is
surveyed on fol. 96a‑99a.
314 CONSTANTIN PANCHENKO
Spirit. This was proved by miraculous signs and wonders and demonstrated
by the theologian fathers. On the other side, the leaders of the Council
of Florence were unable to prove by miracles their “humble” statements.
The author finished his text by vehemently condemning the Council of
Florence, and asked God to save the Melkites from its adoption and to
strengthen his flock in keeping the heritage of the Holy Apostles and the
Seven Ecumenical Councils (Ibidem:101b‑104b).
Anastasius’s Response was followed by several other Melkite polemical
texts; however, the composition of the Metropolitan of Tripoli remained for
a long time the leading text of Arabic anti‑Latin controversy. The Response
was copied in many places – from the Lebanese mountain monasteries to
the cell of the Metropolitan of Aleppo. The number of surviving copies
itself proves that the text was popular.
The Catholic Church also responded to the accusations of Anastasius
ibn Mujallā, although with a certain delay. Padre Bonaventura de Lude,
the head of the Capuchin mission of Aleppo in the 1630’s, composed a
refutation in Arabic to the Metropolitan’s text (Nasrallah 1979: 183). In the
middle of the 17th century, the Roman Congregation of Propaganda Fide
asked François Picquet, the French consul in Aleppo, to find a copy of this
pamphlet. As one of the Catholic authors wrote, “Picquet’s correspondents
in the Levant managed to obtain the original [text] and also to withdraw
from circulation a certain number of copies of this libel” (Ibidem: 181).
This is another proof of the relatively wide spreading of Anastasius’s text.
Since the last dated copy of the text was finished in 1697, the Response
must have served as the chief Melkite response to the Catholic challenge
for more than a century. Only in the early 18th century, when Catholic
activities in the Middle East reached an unprecedented level, the situation
stimulated a revival of the Arabic anti‑Latin polemic and the composition
of new controversial texts.
REFERENCES
APOSTOLOS PATELAKIS
This paper, the first of its kind, aims to capture certain moments in the
life and work of major Greek political emigrants in over three decades of
compulsory residence in Romania. The studied period is basically a page
in the common history of both peoples, poorly known in both countries.
The arrival and accommodation of nearly 11,500 Greek political
emigrants in Romania is closely related to the crushing of the Greek
partisans’ forces in August 1949, and the relationships and alliances created
in the years 1946‑1949 in South‑East Europe. Romania would become the
second home for these uprooted Greeks, who were welcomed with open
arms by a population which was also suffering from poverty, but was
always ready to help when needed.
Among the young Greeks who arrived without their consent in Romania
were also my parents, whereas I am among the first children born in exile.
The problem of the Greek political emigrants in Romania concerned me all
my life, but now I consider that it is high time, and also my duty, to present,
as objectively as possible, the events of that historic period of hardship for
the Greek people.
This paper is based on the study of specialized bibliography from Greece
and Romania, on the dialogue with many immigrants, on the published
and unpublished memoirs of some immigrants, and on some unpublished
documents from the archives of the Romanian Foreign Ministry and the
National Archives of Romania.
Under German pressure, the Romanian government accepted in 1941
that the German troops pass through Romania into the Balkans, towards
Greece. For the Greek Government this gesture represented a violation of
the Balkan Entente (1934), which made them break diplomatic relations
The Greek Political Emigrants in Romania (1948‑1982) 317
with Romania. The Romanian Consul, Radu Arion, who officially stayed
at the post until 1944, and unofficially until 1947, permanently informed
the government in Bucharest about the tragic situation of Greece during the
German occupation, the birth and the development of a strong anti‑fascist
resistance, the increasing role and power of the Greek Communist Party
(GCP), the divisions between political parties.1
At the end of World War II, as a result of the imperial interests of the
Soviet Union and Great Britain, the two friendly countries in the Balkans
were on opposite sides. Romania would enter the sphere of influence of the
Soviet Union, where gradually the process of communization began, and
Greece in the Anglo‑American sphere of influence, where the establishment
of a Western‑style democracy was attempted.2
In Greece, however, the communist ideas gained ground without direct
support from the Soviets, who had to take into account the agreements
signed with British and American partners without informing the Greek
communists.
The strong social tensions, the political mistrust and antagonism
between the political parties would finally lead to the outbreak of a civil
war in 1946. The two sides that faced each other over the following three
years were well defined: on the one hand the left‑wing forces, headed by the
GCP, on the other, the right‑wing government forces, the pro‑monarchist
ones. Each camp wanted to win power and sought to have external allies.
The right forces had the support of Great Britain and the U.S., and the
GCP addressed the communist parties of the newly created socialist camp,
asking them for moral support and material aid. New systems of alliances in
this troubled area were set up, here was the first clash taking place between
the two ideologies engaged in world leadership: democratic capitalism and
totalitarian communism.
The Greek communists, during 1946‑1948, enjoyed the continued
support of Tito and Dimitrov, whereas after the ‘Red Schism’ between Tito
and Stalin the centre of gravity moved to Bucharest, where the Cominform
had its headquarters starting June 1948. Stalin was aware of all these
actions, but he acted from behind, according to the interests of the Kremlin
in the Balkans, often creating problems for the Greek communists.
In Romania all newspapers and especially “Scînteia” were referring
to the events in Greece, the heroic fight of the Greek partisans against
1
Georgeta Penelea Filitti, România‑Grecia, Relaţii istorice. Documente din arhiva
Legaţiei române din Atena (1941‑1947), Bucureşti, Ed. Demiurg, 1997, p. 18.
2
Steliana Duliu‑Bajdechi, Drumuri sub cenuşă. România şi Grecia între anii
1944‑1949, Constanţa, Ed. Dobrogea, 2009, p. 8.
318 APOSTOLOS PATELAKIS
Greek immigrants came to Romania in three waves. The first wave was
represented by children, the second – by the sick and the wounded, and the
third – by the supporters and the elders. Among them there were the most
prominent leaders of the Communist Party of Greece, who established their
headquarters in Bucharest, carrying out an intense activity in complete
conspiracy. There were many organizational problems that the GCP, in
cooperation with the Romanian authorities (Alexandru Moghioroş, Teohari
8
Vaso Psimouli, “Free Greece”, “The Voice of Greece”. The Illegal radio channel
of the GCP. Archives 1947‑1968 (Βάσω Ψιμούλη, «Ελεύθερη Ελλάδα». «Η Φωνή της
Αλήθειας», Ο παράνομος ραδιοσταθμός του ΚΚΕ. Αρχείο 1947‑1968), Athens, Publishing
House Themelio, 2006, p. 28.
9
Epaminondas Kostoudis, In Exile, 1949‑1982. The Chronicle of the Greek
Political Immigrants’ Life in Romania (Επαμεινώντας Κωστούδης, Στην αναγκαστική
προσφυγιά, 1949‑1982, Χρονικό της ζωής των πολιτικών προσφύγων από την Ελλάδα
στη Ρουμανία), Athens, 2003, p. 17.
320 APOSTOLOS PATELAKIS
In August 1949 a group of 2,030 people came from Albania and settled
in Florica (Ştefăneşti – Piteşti), on the domain of the Brătianu family. The
estate had 12 buildings that were used for various community services. In
July 1950 smaller groups from Bulgaria came, and patients who recovered,
along with 400 children who were to meet with their mothers. The number
of immigrants reached 4,465, almost 80% of the immigrants, Florica being
their Greek metropolis for 4 years. Here they began to work, to found
families, and the first children were born in exile. For the Greeks’ needs,
a nursery, a kindergarten, a school and 20 blocks were built, which still
exist until today. Since their number was very high in 1950, a relocation of
immigrants took place, particularly of those capable of working in various
industrial centres such as Hunedoara, Călan, Cugir, Craiova, Botoşani,
while children were sent to vocational schools in Bucharest, Craiova,
Sibiu, Târgovişte, Satu‑Mare, Bârlad, Roman, and Păltiniş. In July 1950 a
new group of 800 people came from Bulgaria and was sent to Brăila. Other
small groups followed, the number reaching 1,300 people.13
In August 1950 there were 18 Greek communities in Romania (5
colonies of children, 8 centres with vocational schools and 5 centres for
immigrants). Among the immigrants 40% were over 45 years, 95% were
farmers and 963 were wounded and unable to work. In all these centres
party organizations were established, but all the immigrants hoped that it
was a temporary residence and they would shortly return to their homeland.
Romania did all that was possible regarding the moral and material support
to these people, disrupted from their native places. Adapting to the new
conditions was difficult and hard; not knowing the language and culture of
the country often created misunderstandings and problems.
After 1950 the headquarters of the Central Committee of the Greek
Communist Party was established in Bucharest, where the headquarters
of the Cominform and other illegal Communist parties were located. GCP
leaders worked in secret, according to the principles of conspiracy, with
the support of the Romanian Workers’ Party. They lived in covert villas in
the Primăverii Park and they had access to all the goods of the Romanian
nomenclature. In a secret villa in Mogoşoaia there were printing offices of
Greek newspapers and magazines such as “Nea Zoi” (New Life), “I foni
tis ginecas” (The Female Voice), “Neos Kosmos” (New World), and more.
The GCP exercised absolute control and pressure on the immigrants. The
Party wanted everyone to be ready for a new confrontation, for which a
Party school was organized in 1950 in Breaza, where there were activists
preparing for the Party and agents who were sent to work illegally in Greece.
13
E. Kostoudis, op. cit, p. 63‑74.
322 APOSTOLOS PATELAKIS
socks, soap, sugar, marmalade, chocolate, canned food, and cigarettes were
sent to Greece by way of Hungary.18
In 1952, the Central Committee of Greek political emigrants in all
socialist countries was set up in Bucharest (total number of emigrants:
approx. 56,000), while the first president elected was Prof. Petros Kokalis.
The Committee functioned here for a long time.
In 1951‑1952, after a very serious and painful survey, Communist Party
membership cards were handed to everyone who had served devotedly –
a great pride and satisfaction for the owners, but a cause of sadness and
despair for hundreds of fighters who left without a card and without
perspective. The process of checking the membership of the party aimed at
eliminating the opportunistic elements.19
Stalin’s death in March 1953 created confusion among the leaders
of the socialist party, but did not affect the relationship lords – servants.
N. Zachariadis and V. Bartziotas attended the funeral in Moscow. For
Zachariadis this was, of course, a big blow, because his great protector had
disappeared and the new Soviet leadership was going to start gradually
the de‑Stalinization process, creating numerous problems to the Stalinist
leadership of the GCP. In 1953 the abolishment of the Greek colony of
Florica was decided, on the grounds that the Greeks had to go to other
centres where there were jobs. Around 3,000 people left gradually to the
following nine centres: Vâlcele, Măneciu, Nehoi, Galaţi, Moineşti, Oradea,
Braşov, Medgidia and Fălticeni.
Of all the centres, a special place is occupied by the Macedonian and
Greek colony of immigrants at Vâlcele, near Sf. Gheorghe. The Central
Committee of the Romanian Red Cross had the task to organize and
provide the necessary accommodation for 720 people – pensions, medical
treatment, and jobs for those who could work. Many were disabled by
the war or suffering from various illnesses. They were accommodated
in empty villas at the centre. Clothing shops and shoemakers production
centres, rope shops, a hospital, a canteen, a nursery, a games club, a library,
a grocery store, a market, a shop with industrial products were opened,
all with closed circuit, and also improvements were made to the school
building. Vâlcele was a copy of Florica, where the Greek language was
preserved better than in the other centres.
The Greek Communist Party organizations created in 1950 activated
18
National Archives of Romania, dos. 3/1951/f 14 (unpublished).
19
Grigoris Farakos, Testimonies and Reflexes, 1941‑1991. 50 Years of Political
Activity (Γρηγόρης Φαράκος, Μαρτυρίες και στοχασμοί, 1941‑1991, 50 χρόνια πολιτικής
δράσης), Athens, Publishing House Paraskinio, 1993, p. 100.
324 APOSTOLOS PATELAKIS
until 1954, when party members were among the Romanian Workers’
Party, which actually meant full equality with the Romanian citizens,
with the Greeks being able to handle different administrative and military
functions. Following these changes in October, the Greek Political
Immigrant Association in Romania was founded in 1954, to handle all the
problems of the Greek community.
A big problem in this first period was the reunion of families. Almost
60% of the immigrants were involved in this process. Everybody searched
the lists of the local associations to find out in which cities and countries
their children, parents and other close relatives were. In 1953‑1954 there
were serious changes in the number of immigrants. Thus, 3,120 people
left Romania for the Soviet Union and other socialist countries, while 930
people came from other countries.20
In 1954, following requests addressed to the Greek government by many
immigrants, 900 Greeks were repatriated from Romania. They travelled
from Constanţa to Thessaloniki by the Theta boat, reaching the Greek port
on 17 August 1954. The Government, local authorities and city residents
made a special welcome to those who were repatriated after 4‑5 years of
immigration.21 Following these population movements, in September 1954
there still were about 7,000 Greek immigrants in Romania.
In 1952‑1954 many young people among the ones that came in the
period 1948‑1949 graduated from the vocational schools and found a
job. Most Greek children were born between 1951 and 1955, giving their
families joy, hope and strength in that very difficult period.
In 1954‑1955 intense fighting took place within the GCP, while
Gheorghe Gheorghiu‑Dej, general secretary of the RWP at the time, dealt
with the very serious internal situation of the GCP, which he knew very
well. At the Sixth Plenary of the Central Committee of the GCP, held
in Snagov on 11‑12 March 1956 and conducted, by the commission of
Moscow, by Gheorghiu‑Dej himself, Nikos Zachariadis, the little Stalin
of Greece, was excluded from the party.22 Nikos Zachariadis, a prominent
figure of European communism, served as General Secretary for 25 years
(1931‑1956), as the absolute leader of the party. At this plenary he was
accused of many policy mistakes of the party, during the civil war and also
afterwards. Zachariadis’s removal from the office of Secretary was a real
20
E. Kostoudis, op. cit, p. 17.
21
http://mam.avarchive.gr, film: „The welcome of the Greek political immigrants in
the harbor of Thessaloniki”, 17.08.1954.
22
Central Committee of the GCP, Enlarged Fourth Plenary of the GCP, 11‑12
March 1956 (Κεντρική επιτροπή του ΚΚΕ, Η 6η Πλατιά Ολομέλεια της ΚΕ του ΚΚΕ),
Athens, Publishing House Sinhroni Epohi, 2010, p. 5‑6.
The Greek Political Emigrants in Romania (1948‑1982) 325
shock for the immigrants. They formed two groups, one for Zachariadis and
the other against him. People began to speak more freely, and numerous
unresolved complaints and acute problems came to the surface. This blow
was so strong that the radio station “Free Greece” stopped functioning for
two years (1956‑58).23
The rule of the Military dictatorship in Greece since April 1967 made
more difficult the activity of the GCP, which remained illegal.
In February 1968, at the Plenary Assembly of the Twelfth Central
Committee of the GCP, held in Budapest, a violent confrontation occurred
between Kolyannis’s (pro‑Soviet) followers and those of the independent
movement, represented by Mitsos Partsalidis, Panayotis Zisis and
Panayotis Dimitriu. As a result of this disagreement, the Communist Party
of Greece suffered a major split. Some members of the party ‘Politburo’
were excluded, because they did not agree with supporting the absolute
rule of the USSR within the international communist movement.
In those difficult conditions, Nicolae Ceauşescu apparently adopted a
balanced position towards both sides of the Communist Party of Greece,
but actually supported the modernizing anti‑hegemonic line of the GCP,
associated with the group Partsalidis – Zografos – Dimitriu.27
This split had serious consequences in the activities of the Party and the
policies of the Greek Immigrant Associations in Romania. Out of the 1,650
members of the GCP, 1,382 supported the line adopted by the Plenary,
while 268 created a separate group, which was to later form the GCP –
Interior. Out of 7,000 migrants, 700 (i.e., 10%) joined the GCP – Interior,
creating separate associations.28 It was a difficult time for immigrants,
27
Petre Opriş, Poziţia lui Nicolae Ceauşescu faţă de emigranţii politici greci, www.
jurnalul.ro, 23 mai 2009.
28
The Panhellenic Union of the Greek Politic Immigrants. The Editing Commitee,
Chronicle of our Exile in Romania (Πανελλήνια Ένωση Επαναπατρισθέντων Πολιτικών
προσφύγων (ΠΕΕΠΠ), Συντακτική Επιτροπή, Το χρονικό της πολιτικής προσφυγιάς μας
στη Ρουμανία), Athens, 1996, p. 32.
The Greek Political Emigrants in Romania (1948‑1982) 327
many were confused, they did not understand what was happening and the
Party prestige started to decrease gradually.29
In 1968 the Greek community in Vâlcele was dissolved and the
immigrants were sent to other cities, such as Braşov, Piteşti, and Oneşti.
During 1972‑1974 many young Greeks born in Romania, having
studied hard, graduated from various universities and they were offered
jobs according to their field of activity. They were the generation that
learned good Romanian, promoted exams on merit, not because they
were the children of partisans who fought heroically against fascism. The
GCP tried to attract these young people in its ranks, but few agreed to join
the Party. During this period, all actions aimed the fight against military
dictatorship and the return to a democratic regime, where the GCP could
play an active role.
In 1982 there still were about 4,000 immigrants in Romania. That year,
Andreas Papandreou’s Socialist government passed a law recognizing the
contribution of those who took part in the “national anti fascist resistance” –
which basically provided them a pension from the state budget.31 After
this many immigrants, especially the elderly, who received a pension in
Romania, repatriated to Greece.
The Community of Greek political refugees in Romania received
support from the communist authorities in Bucharest until the events of 22
December 1989.
Nowadays there is a small number of Greek political immigrants in
Romania, especially the elderly, and groups that formed mixed families.
They are organized in the Hellenic Union of Romania.
CONCLUSIONS
GEOFFREY ROPER
1783 Gorizia
1783 Lviv
1788 Györ
1789 Bratislava (Pressburg)
1799 Trieste
At the end of the 18th century Viennese Hebrew printing expanded and,
although still in the hands of Christians, it began to cater for the needs
of Jewish readers as well, as a commercial venture. The leading figure
was Anton Schmid, who went to Lviv (Lemberg) to be trained in Hebrew
typography and then returned to Vienna and initiated a massive expansion
of Hebrew book production in the first half of the 19th century. He employed
Jewish editors and correctors, and not only did he print the Torah and the
Talmud, the works of Maimonides and numerous other religious books
(Posner – Ta‑Shema 1975: 144; Menges 2007: 142‑143), but he also
produced secular works of instruction and even Hebrew periodicals and
newspapers, such as Bikure ha‑’itim (“First fruits of the times”), an annual
in Hebrew and Yiddish.
The publications of Schmid and his successors were sent all over the
Empire and many were also exported beyond its borders, finding their way
to Jewish communities in, among other countries, Turkey, Egypt and North
Africa (Wurzbach 1856‑1891, XXX: 211).
*
Syriac was the other ancient Semitic language which attracted the
attention of scholars and publishers. It was thought to have been the
language of Jesus Christ, and Syriac versions of the New Testament were
regarded as of particular importance for Biblical studies. Vienna played
a significant role in this regard, by publishing in 1555 the first edition of
the Syriac New Testament (fig. 1), edited by the great Renaissance scholar
Johann Albrecht Widmanstetter and the Syrian Orthodox priest Moses of
Mardin, whose handwriting provided the model for the type design (Mayer
1883‑1887, I: 70‑71; Smitskamp 1992: 100‑102; Coakley 2006: 31‑34).
Widmanstetter also published a Syriac grammar in the following year.2
Not much was done in the next two centuries, but in the early 19th
century Anton Schmid, already mentioned above as a Hebrew printer,
started producing Syriac texts also (Coakley 2006: 109‑110; Menges 2007:
143). In 1820 he printed an Aramaic and Syriac grammar3, using also his
2
Syriacae linguae…prima elementa, Viennae: Michael Cymbermannus, 1555
(1556 in colophon).
3
Joannis Jahn, Elementa Aramaicae seu Chaldaico‑Syriacae linguae, Viennae:
The Habsburg Empire and printing in languages... 333
(fig. 3). The same block was used twice in the book, with an attempt at
transliteration and interpretation. The author probably introduced this
Arabic formula to display his superior knowledge of the Ottoman enemy.
This book, and others which he published, also contains extensive Turkish
texts, but they are printed in Romanisation only – this serves to confirm
that Arabic types were not available in Vienna at that time. However, it has
made these books an importance source for the phonology of Turkish in
the 16th century (Heffening 1942), as well as indicating their role as prime
sources for European knowledge of the Turkish language in the 16th century
(Yerasimos 1997: 61).
This was followed in 1554 by an Arabic passage, also using a
wood‑block, in a work on the Phoenician and Hebrew languages (fig. 4)
by the roving French Orientalist Guillaume Postel6, at that time resident
in Vienna. It was printed by the notable scholarly printer Michael
Zimmermann (d.1565), who also produced Widmanstetter’s Syriac New
Testament in 1555, which has already been mentioned (Mayer 1883‑1887,
I: 70‑71; Coakley 2006: 31‑34). Widmanstetter was also an Arabic scholar
(Striedl 1952: 203‑219; Smitskamp 1992: 102), but was unable to publish
Arabic texts because types were still not available.
In fact Arabic typography came late to Austria: not until the 1660s
did the Italian scholar Giovanni Battista Podestà, Professor of Oriental
Languages at the University of Vienna, take the initiative in commissioning
Arabic types, which were used by the printer Johann Baptist Hacque in
1669 to print his Assertiones on the relationship between Arabic, Persian
and Turkish.7 He also inserted some curiosities, such as an engraving of
the name ‘[ عليAlī], with the word [ اهللAllāh] (God) inserted into it, and,
transversely, typeset renderings of the Basmala formula and part of the
Islamic creed ( [ شهادةshahāda]), in Arabic and Latin. Several further works
by Podestà were printed by the University Printer Leopold Voigt, using the
same types, in the 1670s (Mayer 1883‑87, I: 296‑299; Durstmüller 1982,
I: 109).
In 1680 the celebrated Oriental scholar and lexicographer Franciscus
8
Muammad Mīr Khvānd, Historia priorum regum Persarum post firmatum
in regno Islamismum = تذكير سالطين ايران بعد االسالم, Viennæ, Typis Josephi Nobilis de
Kurzbeck, 1782.
9
[Bernhard von Jenisch], De fatis linguarum Orientalium, Arabicae nimirum,
Persicae, et Turcicae commentatio, Viennae, typis Iosephi Nobilis de Kurzböck, 1780.
336 GEOFFREY ROPER
10
[Anthimus, Patriarch of Jerusalem], [ الهداية القويمة الى االمانة المستقيمةAl‑Hidāya
al‑qawīma ilā l‑amāna al‑mustaqīma] (Right guidance to the true faith) = Firma
manuductio ad veram fidem, [Vienna, Kurzböck,] 1792.
11
[Anthimus, Patriarch of Jerusalem], [ کتاب تفسير الزبور اإللهي الشريفKitāb Tafsīr
al‑Zabūr al‑Ilāhī al‑Sharīf] (Commentary on the Divine and Noble Psalter), [Vienna,
Kurzböck,] 1792. For a fuller account of this edition, and its background, see Roper 2009.
12
Abdruck der Schriften in der k.k. priv. und n.d. Landschafts‑Buchdruckerey des
Anton Edlen von Schmid, Wien, Schmid, 1827.
The Habsburg Empire and printing in languages... 337
19
Gott erhalte den Kaiser! Vaterländische Volkslied. Metrisch übersetzt in die
slawenische und die serbische Sprache, Karlstadt, 1830.
20
Die von S.M. … Joseph II. ... der ottomanischen Pforte unterthänigen, nicht unierten
Griechen, in Betreff ihres Gottesdienstes in der Kapelle des heiligen Georgius in Steyerhof
allergnädigst ertheilte Freiheit, Wien, Kurzbek, 1783. Cf. Mayer 1883‑87, II: 52.
340 GEOFFREY ROPER
REFERENCES
NIKOLAJ SERIKOFF
The rich metadata was inserted into a special “grid”, thus allowing a
flexible data management and data correction, as well as remote cataloguing.
the launch. The site has various features, of which many have never been
employed before. Among them are:
• Versatile browsing and filtering.
STELU ŞERBAN
Rodopi, and Timok; they also turned welcoming geographical areas, such
as the Danube banks, or the Balkan and the Carpathian Mountains, in areas
of mutual ignorance and enmity (Stahl 2007).
In this paper I argue that the influence of the Ottoman rule in the areas
of both Danube riversides, in Bulgaria and Romania, could be deciphered
at the core of everyday life. Certain Ottoman terms commonly used for
organizing the local economy in the rural settlements of Southern Romania
and Northern Bulgaria are addressed herewith. The outcome of this research
is combined with references to social history and language surveys.
The concept of “cultural area” is the basis of the research as well as the
methodological tool for drawing up the inferences and conclusions in the
final part of the article. The facts that the conclusions rely on are presented
in the first half of the paper.
Terms like tamazluk, merea, arman, and others could be found in the
economic culture of these regions all through the 19th and 20th centuries. On
the one hand, their origin suggests the Ottoman rule penetrated the basic
layers of local society. The time when these terms became widely used is a
meaningful fact, but the simple recording of linguistic maps does not allow
one to highlight the weight of this process. On the other hand, the meanings
and contexts of these terms differ in respect to the geographical areas of
the region. These differences come from the local character of the social
history in different parts of the Danube region. Once again, the simple
mapping of the terms does not push the analysis ahead. This is why in the
second part of the article the frames of the usage of these terms are rebuilt
and interpreted in the perspective of the social history of the region. In
this respect, the common features of the local cultures are outlined. Due to
the Ottoman influence, although not exclusively, and notwithstanding the
differences in the ethnicity of these peoples, the Danube riversides could be
seen as comprising several cross‑border areas.
Despite the limits that the linguistic mapping comprises, this method
helps the analytical approach with high accuracy. In addition, from a
theoretical point of view it retains previous traditions that were widely used
in the Balkan linguistics and which are being revived by the scholars, though
in an explorative way (Mihail 2000). They argue that etymology does not
fully explain the presence of one core term in the local languages. One
has to additionally consider the chronology of the term, its geographical
spread, as well as its capacity to circulate or to be present in different parts
of the studied areas (ibidem: 13‑17).
Following this suggestion, I shall firstly set forth the maps of two of the
common words in the rural economy of the region: arman and merea/mera.
354 STELU ŞERBAN
Both these terms are of Turkish origin and circulate, either dominantly or
in parallel with synonymous terms, in different parts of the region. They
are related to the main domains of agricultural economy: arman to land
cultivation and merea/mera to cattle breeding. To choose these terms, I
have taken into account the important place that land cultivation and
cattle breeding occupied through the centuries in the rural economy of
the Danube region. In this respect, the approach in mapping these terms
differs from the linguistic records that the Bulgarian as well as Romanian
scholars produced. The excellent work that these scholars achieved,
resulting in fine regional linguistic atlases, has to be used cautiously by the
social historians, sociologists, and ethnologists. The latter scholars often
‘manoeuvre’ with basic assumptions that separate the bulk of given terms in
qualitative categories. For instance, terms regarding land ownership, work
organization, or cattle breeding tell them much more about the life of the
individuals and communities than the parts of the plough, terms connected
to the local crafts, or anatomical terms. All these words are not singled out
in linguistic atlases.
As shown below, the spread of these terms is apparently uneven. In
some parts of the concerned regions they were and still are dominantly
used, while in other parts they either function in parallel, or are simply
absent. In order to make this situation clearer, I have also included in the
record the Romanian‑speaking population from Northern Bulgaria and
the Bulgarian‑speaking population from Southern Romania. The use of
the above mentioned terms by these populations differs in comparison
with their lands of origin. This fact might mean that the spreading of the
two Ottoman terms among common people took place later, perhaps in
the beginning of the 19th century, as I will try to argue by evoking certain
circumstances of social history.
Indeed, the social history of the local people grants a prominent profile
to the cultural areas and unites in depth what the mapping can only show
or suggest. Thus, as Paul Stahl points out, in the Balkans several areas
could be seen as culturally coherent, regardless of the ethnic diversity
of the people who live in these areas. The riversides of the Danube are
one such cultural area, Paul Stahl argues, due to the common elements in
everyday lifestyles and local history (Stahl 2007: 104). When scrutinized
closely, facts allow the conclusion that these common elements came
from the existence of self‑regulatory institutions, through which the
local communities organized their life, adapted and recovered through
the centuries. Paul Stahl asserts that these institutions survived until the
political power developed and they were transformed into the state, yet
Ottoman Terms in the Rural Economy on the Danube Banks... 355
steadily withered away once the state turned into a bureaucratic machinery
that subdued the intimate life of the locals. He gives Western examples, such
as the valley village‑confederations in the Pyrenees, the Tyrol, Scotland, as
well as in the Balkans, the Montenegro – Černagora, and Wallachia (Stahl
1995: 61‑62). In the same sense, I intend to argue that the Danube was the
axis of the cultural areas that spread from Dobrudja to the Western parts of
Oltenia and Vidin. The Ottoman power imprinted this area with common
characteristics. Still, the simple common elements are not the ones that
matter, but the way local communities reacted and adapted to the Ottoman
influence, especially in the period of deep social and political changes at
the beginning of the 19th century.
This section of the present article aims to capture the diversity of the two
above mentioned terms, arman and merea, in the geographical area of the
Danube riversides, on the present‑day Bulgaria – Romania state border. It
needs to be mentioned from the very beginning that both words are accepted
as coming from the Turkish language, in Bulgarian and Romanian as well.
One recent dictionary (2002) of Turkish loan‑words in Bulgarian gives for
the terms arman/harman the following definition: 1. “Threshing floor”;
2. “Threshing time”; 3. “Amount of grain for threshing at one time”; 4.
“Tobacco blend of different sorts, prepared in order to get a special aroma”;
5. “Ring”, “circle” / synonym of krug, kolelo” (Grannes et al. 2002: 271).
The same dictionary mentions that merea means 1. “Common pasture”,
“land”; 2. “Property”, “estate of a farmer” (ibidem: 184). The Bulgarian
social historians give the definitions of these terms in a slightly different
manner. In his classical work A History of the Old Bulgarian Law, Stephan
Bobčev, notes about mera the following: „The village, as juridical entity,
had specific common rights over the pastures (mera in Ottoman times),
forests, public places, a. s. o.” (Bobčev 1910: 544). Interesting enough is
the fact that Bobčev included the harmans in a category with common
features, alongside meras (ibidem: 548).
These two Ottoman terms could be found in the territories of Southern
Romania too, as the language scholar Emil Suciu notes in his recent work
(Suciu 2010). The term arman is identified in Suciu’s survey in one area
that covers Northern Dobrudja, Southern Moldavia, and the plain of
Eastern Wallachia. Its meanings diverge, covering the terms of “specific
area for threshing the cereals” or the “threshing” as such, to a wider
significance of “yard area to deposit the hay and/or enclose the cattle”, or
356 STELU ŞERBAN
scholars who have prepared the atlas note, that the term otak, which also
comes from Ottoman Turkish, is older than harman. In the final section of
the article I shall return to this fact3.
In North‑western Bulgaria the term harman/arman was spread in the
Eastern part of the area, in most surveyed points. It needs to be noted that
the pronunciation of the word is arman, and not harman with an initial ‘h’,
like it occurs in North‑eastern Bulgaria, and in Ottoman Turkish as well.
The frequency of arman decreases towards the West. In the central part
of the area it is still present, but it intermingles with the term tok, which
is much more present in North‑western Bulgaria than in the North‑east.
The terms vrah and otak could also be found, but only in few points. Otak,
for instance, is found in two points only. What is really significant is the
replacement of arman by the Bulgarian term gumno, which simply means
“floor” or “surface”.
A similar diversity of spreading could be found for this term among
the Bulgarian population which migrated in Southern Romania (Mladenov
1993). Among the 7 idioms that Maxim Mladenov identified in the
Bulgarian communities in Southern Romania, in the two western idioms,
registered in the Romanian province of Oltenia, arman is not recorded. The
term occurs with the third idiom from the west to the east, where it is present
in parallel with the term guvno, very similar to gumno in North‑western
Bulgaria. The term could be found further afield with the Eastern idioms,
but also mixed with other terms like tok, widely spread in the central part
of North‑western Bulgaria, čerkat with the Catholics, and with the Eastern
idioms, the Ottoman Turkish terms otak and guium. These two last terms
greatly differ from the Eastern Bulgarian idioms in Romania, Mladenov
states (ibidem: 310‑312).
In Southern idioms the term arman is spread within a narrower area.
Dobrudja is by far the region where the term is most frequent. Thus, from
the 31 points where the presence of arman was recorded, either alone or in
parallel with terms of Romanian origin, 25 occur in Dobrudja (ALRR – MD
2001: 49‑50). Over the Danube, in Bărăgan, i.e. in East Wallachia, the
term could be found too, and also in a few points in South Moldavia. The
complexity of the term is also interesting. Thus, besides the common
meaning, arman denotes in Eastern Wallachia the boyar residence, having
as synonym an Ottoman term too: konak (MALR 1938‑1942, P. II, map
3
Ottoman tax records for armans in 17 villages depending of the Rousse sandjak in
the 1870s show that the taxation differed according to the various types of arman: either
they were simple or they had additional improvements, such as hay deposits, gardens,
cattle shelters, etc. (Draganova 1980: 141‑189).
358 STELU ŞERBAN
Mapping the two terms in the Danube area reflects the great diversity
of local economy that challenged the supposedly tyrannical power of
the Ottoman state. The people reacted to the political interference at the
grass‑root level of their communities, forced to cope with choices of
collective strategies. Apparently, the simple recording of language features
does not allow one to consider the area of both banks of the Danube, from
East to West, as a single unit. Still, as I have outlined at the beginning of this
article, the concept of cultural area should cover the aspects of local social
history too. Thus, important facets as, for instance, the intense migration
of Bulgarian‑speakers to South‑east Romania which mainly took place in
the Western half of the researched area provides bridges to unify the area,
regardless of the relative absence of arman and mera.
Further on I shall address the change in the social history of 18th century
Bulgaria, with an emphasis to the Northern part of the country, as the
changes in this part also influenced Southern Romania, mostly Dobrudja
and Eastern Wallachia, but also, subtly, the Western part of the area, by the
agency of trans‑Danubian migration.
The amplitude, extension and significance of the communal
organization and property in Bulgaria were deeply marked by the Ottoman
conquest of the territory that today forms Bulgaria. By the end of the 14th
century all the land of Bulgaria was under the control of the Ottoman
power. After one century of transitional rule, at the beginning of the 16th
century the Ottoman Empire had imposed a system of land organization
and administration known as timar. The legal principle of this system was
the dominium eminens of the Sultan over the land. For the beginning of
the 16th century (1528), it is estimated that 85 % of the Bulgarian land
was at the free‑will of the Sultan (Lampe – Jackson 1982: 24). However,
control over the lands was left in the hands of the sypahis, members of the
Ottoman army cavalry corps. At the same time, out of the 30,000 sypahis
who were located in Bulgaria (the sypahis number dropped at 8,000 in
the middle of the 17th century), 2/3 owned lands in the timar system. In
return, the sypahis’ had military duties, as well as the obligation to pay rent
to the Ottoman administration. The sypahis could choose either to exploit
the land directly or to lease lots to the local people. In this latter case, they
could ask from the tenants a tithe of up to the 10‑20% of the crop value,
as well as a labour contribution of 2‑3 days per year. The sypahis’ domain
could not be inherited, unless the Sultan did not be issue a new property
document.
Ottoman Terms in the Rural Economy on the Danube Banks... 361
In the urban areas the timar system required the crafts and the
commerce to be organized in guilds, esnafi. The twofold purpose of these
guilds was: 1. To assure the close control of the Ottoman administration
over the flow of goods and to prevent any form of private ownership, and
2. To limit the market prices in such a way as to force the sellers to add to
the price not more than 10% of the production cost of the goods. This latter
obligation was known as nart and was in accordance to the letter of the
Qur’an (ibidem: 25; Andreev – Anghelov 1968: 315‑324).
The timar system was suppressed in the first half of the 19th century.
The cavalry’s importance in the Ottoman army had diminished. In addition,
a new group of local notables steadily gained the influent positions. These
are known as ayans and, according to several scholars, they are the main
factors of development in the middle of the 18th century, through the čiflicks,
a kind of ‘pre‑capitalist’ rural enterprises that functioned till the end of the
Ottoman domination in Bulgaria (Lampe – Jackson 1982: 33‑34, 43‑45).
On the one hand, historians agree that commoners and the common
law had little room in this period: “In Bulgarian lands private law came
from the Sultan’s Kanuns. The common law and practice concerning land
ownership simply did not exist” (Andreev – Anghelov 1968: pag. 296). On
the other hand, they claim that pre‑Ottoman communal organizations, such
as the zadruga, resisted especially in mountain and hilly areas. The local
institutions too, like the church and village assembly, obshtina, resumed
and provided a kind of communal autonomy, in spite of certain limitations
and restrictions. The Ottoman administration allowed their functioning to
continue and even used them sometimes. By the end of the 18th century,
for instance, as a consequence of a fiscal reform, the former tax collectors
were replaced with the Bulgarian village representatives, who took upon
themselves to pay to the state a global amount. The state did not intervene
in the ways the amount was collected, as these representatives, who were
the ‘elders’ of the villages, used their authority and the people’s respect
towards them to enforce the tax payment (Lampe – Jackson 1982: 38).
There were also cases when these ‘elders’ had a tapiu, the document issued
by the Sultan’s chancellery that granted the use over the lands, for one
whole village (Ireček – Sarafov 1880, apud Milkova 1970: 194).
In the 1830s social changes speeded up, as the Ottoman power
issued the laws concerning the Tanzimat reforms. The sypahis’s role in
the Ottoman army decreased, so that they gradually lost their privileges
and their prominent social positions (Crampton 1981: 159‑160; Adanir
1989, 140‑148; Dimitrov 1961: 12). Till the middle of the 1840s they were
fully dispossessed and new local leaders took control over the resources,
362 STELU ŞERBAN
especially the land. The Ottoman power made attempts to restore the
previous economic regulations regarding the land, through the agency of
these new favourites. The common people had the right to lease pieces of
land from these new local administrators for no more than 10% of the final
products. Likewise, the corvée was forbidden. These new representatives
of the Ottoman power were local notables. As in some cases they could
be non‑Muslims, the influence of local people increased. The 1858 Land
property law granted to all Ottoman subjects the right to own land, regardless
of their religious belief (Lampe – Jackson 1982: 137). Once again, this
fact strengthened the influence of the local dignitaries. Until the end of the
1860s, much of the land passed in the hands of native Bulgarian owners.
Among the beneficiaries of the Tanzimat reforms were the čorbadzija
who became the highest local representatives of the Ottoman power5.
Unlike the ayans, they were non‑Muslims, but had the trust of the central
government. The change in the taxation system at the end of the 18th century
proved their formal power. Their place still gained weight in the 1830s,
after the administrative reforms increased local autonomy. They took over
the functions of mayor and/or tax‑collector, having the obligation to pay
to the central government every 5 years a certain amount of money. As
supporters of the Ottoman power, the čorbadzija embarked into conflicts
with the urban traders and artisans, as well as with the representatives of
a growing inteligentsia. On the other side, their allies were the church
representatives, priests and other church hierarchs, who depended on the
Patriarchate of Constantinople (Lampe – Jackson 1982: 146).
The political reforms that the Tanzimat brought in Northern Bulgaria
allowed for the non‑Muslims to obtain a higher position in the local and
provincial administration. The right to elect and to be elected, which
was a fundamental principle of the Tanzimat, produced in the province a
bureaucracy made of not only Bulgarians but also Armenians, Jews, Greeks,
and Romanians (Tafrova 2010: 107‑138). Thus, the local non‑Muslim
leaders, such as the čorbadzija, met with good opportunities to recover
their influence. In fact, the core issue is not the ethnicity of this native
‘bureaucracy’, but whether they had as incentives their self interest or they
activated in the public interest.
These effects were uneven in different areas. For instance, the change
in both the rights over the land and the land exploitation provoked a
turmoil whose effects were diverse. While in North‑eastern Bulgaria the
5
Following a brilliant article of Tzvetana Georgieva, Richard Crampton finds the
origin of these notables in the privileged groups of herdsmen who provided the Ottoman
army with cattle and sheep (Crampton 1981: 177).
Ottoman Terms in the Rural Economy on the Danube Banks... 363
such as Western Bulgaria and Macedonia (ibidem, 170 ff.; Adanir 1989:
146‑154; Lampe – Jackson: 1982), while in others – Plovdiv, the Black Sea
coast, North‑eastern Bulgaria – the lands of čifliks reached fairly 5% of the
total agricultural surfaces (Crampton 1981: 173).
The absence of čifliks in North‑eastern Bulgaria intrigues. As Richard
Crampton outlines, the market demands, the economical outputs, as well
as the economical exchanges were similar to those in Western Bulgaria.
However – he adds – what makes the difference and explains the absence
of čifliks in North‑eastern Bulgaria is „the great population movements that
took place in the first three decades of the 19th century” (ibidem).
These tensions, as well as some traditional local patterns as the
important place that zadrugas had in North‑western Bulgaria (Todorova
1992; Lampe – Jackson 1982), impeded on the spreading of Ottoman
influence at grass‑root level. They also explain the absence of Ottoman
terms like arman and merea in this part of the country. On the other hand,
the presence either of native terms on both sides of the Danube in these
western areas, or of older Ottoman terms with embedded meanings, such
as otak, suggests the novelty of arman and merea and their spreading under
the Tanzimat economic, social, and political reforms.
To conclude, I would state that two cultural areas may be circumvented:
the North‑eastern part of Bulgaria shows the most frequent presence of the
term (h)arman and joins the areas with a mixed usage of the term, such as,
in Romania, Northern Dobrudja and Eastern Wallachia, and in Bulgaria,
Tarnovo and Pleven, where (h)arman combines with different terms. The
intense migrations in these areas, starting with the first decades of the
1800s, the smooth spreading of Tanzimat reforms, as well as a relative
de‑ethnicization that was given by the balance of different ethnic groups
are the main common features. All these allow us to infer that the Ottoman
influence was grass‑rooted, a fact that the spread of the term (h)arman
reveals. In Northern Dobrudja, for instance, in spite of a rapid decrease
of the Muslim population immediately after its inclusion in Romania, this
term was common and is still familiar, together with other Turkish words,
like mera/merea.
In the Western cross‑border area of the Danube riversides the term
(h)arman is absent and it is replaced by original terms belonging to the
native population, either Romanian or Bulgarian. Hence, the Ottoman
influence did not penetrate the grass‑root level of society, at least during
the modernizing time of the Tanzimat that began with 1840s. On both
the Romanian and the Bulgarian sides, the subtle resistance of the rural
population that burst sometimes in open riots is striking. As mentioned
Ottoman Terms in the Rural Economy on the Danube Banks... 365
9
Daniel Chirot, Social Change in a Peripheral Society. The Creation of a Balkan
Colony, New York, 1976, p. 150 ff.
366 STELU ŞERBAN
SOURCES
REFERENCES
VERA G. TCHENTSOVA
6
Cf. Hunt 1991 : 73, qui détaille l’histoire de l’établissement du texte latin des dix
hexamètres de l’inscription.
376 VERA TCHENTSOVA
inventaire 3, part. 50, no 25251. Les mesures des fresques et les calques qui en furent
réalisés au XIXe siècle, lors de la restauration de la Cathédrale de l’Annonciation du
Kremlin, se trouvent actuellement sous le no 25251g aux Archives du Kremlin de Moscou.
Selon l’inventaire, parmi ces images se trouvait aussi celle de saint Coumnènos (fol.
12‑13) : « Sur le mur extérieur de l’est, le saint archimandrite Coumnènos se trouve entre
les saints princes Boris et Gleb, les saints princes Vladimir et Alexandre Nevski ».
L’épigraphiste hagiographe : l’apparition de la légende... 379
RÉFÉRENCES
ANDREI TIMOTIN
Les recherches que nous avons menées jusqu’à présent dans les
bibliothèques italiennes, allemandes, autrichiennes et françaises ne nous
ont pas encore permis d’identifier l’original de l’histoire traduite par Vlad
Boţulescu. Contemporaine des grandes entreprises historiques du XVIIIe
siècle et innovatrice par sa structure, l’œuvre traduite par le lettré roumain
n’est pour autant qu’un abrégé dépourvu de toute prétention d’originalité et
des préoccupations herméneutiques comparatives et de critique historique
Une histoire universelle traduite en roumain au XVIIIe siècle 387
qui animaient les grands historiens du XVIIIe siècle. Son œuvre, qui est
de peu postérieure à l’Essai des mœurs de Voltaire (1756), à la synthèse
de Jacques Hardion7 et surtout à la grande entreprise anglaise d’histoire
universelle en 65 tomes, publiée entre 1747 et 1768 sous la direction de
l’orientaliste George Sale, et qui précède de peu les Universalgeschichten
de l’école historique de Göttingen, notamment de Johann Christoph Gatterer
et d’August Schlözer, est une simple, quoique substantielle kurzgefaßte
Universalgeschichte, destinée à l’usage scolaire, un genre d’histoire assez
répandu dans les pays allemands au XVIIIe siècle8. L’histoire traduite
par Vlad Boţulescu de Mălăieşti appartient à ce genre historique dont
elle s’écarte néanmoins par la distribution des matières selon les quatre
continents.
Le travail d’édition nous a permis néanmoins de soulever un problème
que rien ne semblait autoriser : celui de la langue d’origine du texte.
L’affirmation formelle du traducteur dans la préface et dans le titre même
de l’ouvrage semble en effet pouvoir écarter tout soupçon. Et, pourtant,
la lecture du texte incite à chercher un original italien, ce qui ne serait
finalement pas tellement étonnant, étant donné que toutes ses autres
traductions, sans exception, sont faites de l’italien.
Le texte contient, en effet, un nombre non négligeable de calques de
l’italien, non seulement des noms communs, mais aussi des noms propres,
de famille ou de pays. Sans en dresser ici un inventaire complet, on peut
retenir concordia (p. 335) pour « concorde », protestaţie (p. 328) pour
« protestation », reformaţione (p. 324) pour « réforme », congiura (p. 321)
pour « charme », a se ribellarisi (p. 290) pour « se rebeller », fiiu naturale
(p. 251) pour « fils illégitime ». Il est significatif que dans presque tous les
cas où le traducteur utilise de tels mots empruntés à l’italien, il ouvre une
parenthèse pour l’expliquer à l’aide d’une paraphrase, ce qui montre que le
sens du mot n’était pas évident.
Les noms de famille sont encore plus significatifs : Rudolfo de
Habspurg pour Rudolf II (1552‑1612) et Henric Raspone (p. 300) pour
Henri le Raspon (Heinrich Raspe), Ottone pour l’empereur Otton, Carol
Calvo, Carol Craso, Arnolfo, etc. Qui plus est, les Pays Bas sont Paesii
Bassi et la Flandre est Fiandra (p. 223). On peut difficilement imaginer
de telles constructions en roumain dans une traduction faite de l’allemand.
7
Jacques Hardion, Histoire universelle sacrée et profane, t. I‑XVIII, Paris,
1754‑1765.
8
Par exemple la Kurze Einleitung zur allgemeinen weltlichen Historie de Johann
Georg Essich, publiée en 1707 et plusieurs fois republiée au XVIIIe siècle, ou Auszug der
politischen Geschichte von dem Ursprung aller Völker, publié à Francfort en 1754.
388 ANDREI TIMOTIN
9
Carlo Delfini, Compendio della storia universale sacra ecclesiastica, e profana
pubblicata l’anno 1724 in cui si contiene la serie di tutti i potentati del mondo, Rome,
1724.
10
Storia universale dal principio del mondo sino al presente, tradotta dal inglese
in francese e dal francese in italiano, t. I‑XV, Venise, 1734‑1738 ; Jacques B. Bossuet,
Discorso sopra la storia universale, Venise, 1736 ; Louis Ellies Dupin, La Storia profana
dal suo principio fino al presente, Padoue, 1719 ; idem, Storia universale dalla creazione
del mondo sin all’anno di Gesù 1710, Padoue, 1724 ; Augustin Calmet, Il Tesoro delle
antichità sacra e profane, t. I‑VI, Vérone‑Venise, 1741‑1750.
11
Andreas Lazarus von Imhof, Gran teatro storico, o sia Storia universale sacra
e profana dalla creazione del mondo sino al principio del decimo ottavo secolo, t. I‑V,
Venise, 1722 (seconde édition, 1735‑1738).
Traduire de l’italien au roumain au XVIIIe siècle.
La vie de Skanderbeg traduite par Vlad Boţulescu*
EMANUELA TIMOTIN
les Balkans. En 1746, les princes Cantacuzènes ont essayé d’œuvrer contre
les Habsbourg ; leur complot fut découvert et Constantin, ainsi que Vlad
Boţulescu, son secrétaire, furent jetés en prison. Vlad Boţulescu y resta au
moins dix‑huit ans, jusqu’en 1764, quand il acheva deux des manuscrits qui
lui ont survécu.
10. a. andò à ritrovar quel Tartaro, il quale, quassi di lui beffandosi (come
fecè Goliat di David) diceua rincrescergli di combattere con tal
giovane (3r)
au mersu la acel tătar, carele bătându‑ş joc de dânsul (după cum
Goliat îş bătea joc de David), zicea că‑i pare rău a să bate cu un tânăr
ca acesta (7r) ;
b. osseruando i suoi santi precetti, son certo che l’anima mia sarà
salua & non (come tu dici) perduta (14r)
păzind sfintele sale porunci sânt adevărat că sufletul mieu va fi spăsit,
iar nu (dupre cum tu zici) pierdut (25r) ;
11a. chiese di voler audientia dal Signor Skanderbeg (9v)
au cerut să aibă audienţie de la Skanderbeg (adecăte să vorbească
împreună) (17r) ;
11b. la quale chiamata a particolar audientia dal Signor Skanderbeg (17v)
cerând a avea osebită audienţia (ascultare) de la domnul Skanderbeg
(31r).
Les emprunts à l’italien qui désignent des fonctions administratives
ou militaires sont parfois glosés par des mots courants dans le roumain de
l’époque (12). Cette préoccupation pour expliquer les néologismes utilisés
n’est pourtant pas un trait spécifique de la Vie de Skanderbeg ; on retrouve
des gloses similaires dans d’autres écrits de Vlad Boţulescu, notamment
dans le récit sur l’élection de l’empereur romain, où les noms désignant
des fonctions politiques sont rendus surtout par des mots grecs (ms. 68 de
l’Archivio di Stato, f. 1019‑1035).
12. a. fattosi chiamare i suoi colonelli & capitani (15v)
numaicât chemând colonelii (polcovnicii) şi căpitanii săi (27r).
La Vie de Skanderbeg comporte aussi de nombreuses gloses concernant
des toponymes et des anthroponymes, qui sont assez fréquents dans le
texte27. Par exemple, pour désigner la ville fondée par l’empereur Hadrien,
connue sous les noms respectifs d’Adrianople / Andrinople et d’Edirne – le
nom d’Edirne s’est imposé après la conquête ottomane de la ville au XIVe
siècle –, le traducteur roumain opte pour la seconde variante, dont il utilise
à plusieurs reprises la forme roumaine Odriiu (fols. 8v, 17r, 23v). L’autre
désignation n’apparaît que deux fois (fols. 6v, 18v). Malgré cette oscillation,
force est de constater qu’au moment où il retrouve pour la première fois
27
Pour les problèmes de la traduction des noms propres, voir J.‑L. Vaxelaire, Les
noms propres. Une analyse lexicologique et historique, Paris, Honoré Champion, 2005 ;
T. Grass, La traduction comme appropriation : le cas des toponymes étrangers, « Meta »,
51, 2006, p. 660‑670.
Traduire de l’italien au roumain au XVIIIe siècle... 399
KIRIL TOPALOV
VESKA TOPALOVA
celle‑ci a joué dans ce cas, à première vue d’une manière paradoxale, mais
en réalité d’une manière tout à fait logique, un rôle non pas stimulant, mais
entravant, car elle essayait non pas de contribuer à la formation d’une culture
bulgare, mais à imposer de force la domination de la sienne. La période
suivante d’édification réussie de l’identité culturelle bulgare a été rompue
d’une manière fatale, pour cinq siècles, par l’invasion turque en Europe.
Puis, ayant surmonté ce nouveau retard et ayant rattrapé rapidement à bien
des égards le développement européen, elle a été de nouveau victime de
deux guerres balkaniques et deux guerres mondiales, puis d’une nouvelle
entrave de la civilisation, de presque un demi‑siècle, durant la deuxième
moitié du XXe siècle (celle‑ci est appelée par euphémisme « l’expérience
totalitaire »). Aujourd’hui, une fois de plus, l’identité culturelle bulgare se
retrouve placée devant de nombreux défis, dont le principal est, comme
nous le savons tous, la prise de conscience et la récupération accélérées de
ses traits les plus précieux, ayant pris forme au cours des siècles de notre
identité culturelle nationale, et leur harmonisation, une fois de plus, avec
les valeurs européennes.
Section III C
⁕
Relations militaires, commerciales et culturelles
dans les Balkans, de l’époque classique
à la période byzantine
⁕
Military, trading and cultural relations in the Balkans,
from classical times to the Byzantine era
INTRODUCTION
NICHOLAS V. SEKUNDA
OLEG ALEXANDROV
The lower Danube limes constituted a part of the northern border of the
Roman Empire. It had a length of over 500 km within the territory of the
province Moesia Inferior (from the mouth of the river Lom to the outfall
of Danube to the Black Sea). The limes constituted not only a border line,
but a complex border defensive system, including various elements: legion
camps (castra); auxiliary troops camps (castella); observation towers
(turres); military road connecting the numerous installations on the right
river bank1. But it appears that in pursuing a full clarification of the term
„limes”, the scientists often lose sight of the most vital element for the
functioning of the whole system – the army itself.
After AD 167 there were two legions in the province – Legio I Italica and
Legio XI Claudia with a general number of 12 000 soldiers. Assigned to
each legion in the province were auxiliaries with a total of 7,500 soldiers.
Both – legions and auxiliary troops numbered approximately 20,000
soldiers2.
In the next few centuries these legions (and the attached auxiliaries)
played a significant role in the military and cultural history of Lower Moesia.
The Roman army had a significant contribution for the Romanization of the
province, given the population of veterans and the conducted recruitment.
The Roman soldiers differed from the local populace surrounding them,
with their life style, culture and the Latin language they used. Roman army
brought also its religious system into the new lands.
GENERAL PROBLEM
One of the most complex problems related to the Roman army in Lower
Moesia is the ethnical composition of the military personnel.
It is a problem that has interested scientists who formulated many
opinions and hypothesis in the last century3. Though, in most cases one
common characteristic stands to attention, based on hypotheses and
assumptions, without summarizing the data from specific monuments.
In other cases, historical evidence gathered mostly from epigraphic
monuments was being over-interpreted and thus wrong conclusions were
drawn. The difficulty comes from the inability to determine the origin of
military staff using only onomastic data provided by the inscriptions. The
imperial gentilicium enrolled not only the Thracians, who were recently
granted Roman citizenship, but also soldiers from a Greek, eastern or
other background. In the case of common names, conclusions often remain
purely hypothetical.
Several characteristics must be taken into account:
– – The ethnic composition of the Roman army was in a dynamic
state and was constantly changing. In the 1st century BC legions were
recruited solely from Roman citizens who were in most cases natives of the
Italic Peninsula, while during the 3rd-4th century the army personnel was
considerably of barbarian origin;
– – It must be taken into account that even after the mid-2nd century
recruitment from the neighbouring and eastern provinces continued, as
well as from the provinces where vexillationes were temporarily located;
2
For recent general research on this topic see MATEI-POPESCU, 2010.
3
Last fundamental research on this topic is the work of GEROV, 1949 and GEROV,
1950/52.
420 OLEG ALEXANDROV
– – The fact that the preserved epigraphic monuments are only a part of
those actually raised by the Roman soldiers must also be considered;
– – The inconsistent and incomplete investigation into the limes also
holds significance;
– – Therefore all conclusions regarding the ethnic composition of
the Roman army in the province would be purely hypothetical and at
best approximate!
HYPOTHESIS
Modern scientists divide the religions of the Roman army into two large
groups – official and unofficial4. The official religion included those cults
and rites which were compulsory for every soldier. They were shared not
only by the whole military unit (e.g. – an ala or a legion), but also by all the
troops throughout the Roman Empire. The military rites and ceremonies
were strictly regulated and included various holidays, parades, military
oaths, etc. Those actions occurred not as a result of excessive piety, but
rather as act of organized attestation of loyalty to the Emperor and the
government. Archeological evidence remaining from these festivities can
be discovered nowadays in the territory of the whole Roman Empire, such
as altars and pedestals with inscribed dedications to the Roman deities
(predominantly the Capitoline Triad) and to the prosperity of the Emperor.
4
For example see the research of POPESCU, 2004.
Ethnic and Social Composition of the Roman Army... 421
But official religion could not entirely satisfy the spiritual needs of
Roman soldiers, who frequently seek the protection of their native gods.
The unofficial religion was related to the personal religious preferences of
each soldier. One of its particularities is the great variety of worshipped
cults. Religions, infiltrated into the Empire through the newly conquered
territories, were freely professed. Roman, Greek-Roman, Thracian, Celtic,
Eastern and other deities coexisted peacefully. In this system of unofficial
religion there was no unification of cults, strict rules and hierarchy.
The most important characteristic of the unofficial religions is
that the dedications of the soldiers were mostly related to their ethnic
background. Compared to the grave stones, dedications allow us to guess
more accurately the origin of the person mentioned in the inscription.
For example, if there is a dedication to Jupiter from a dedicator with a
common name, then his ethnic origin would remain unknown to us, but if
the dedication is to the local god and a certain epithet is used, then it is very
likely that the dedicators is a native.
There is another significant tendency which should be considered:
In respect to the position they occupied, there were some differences in
the ways of the preferred cults of the soldiers that we may identify today.
These religious preferences were influenced both by the social and ethnic
origin of the dedicators, and some other factors, resulting from their official
duties.
milites, thus paying more attention to the Roman cults. On the other hand,
there are very few monuments dedicated to local cults and the percentage
of Eastern cults stays relatively high.
– – The inscriptions with dedications made by high ranking officers
were erected for the prosperity of the ruling Emperor and they bore an
official meaning.
MILITARY HIERARCHY
Almost all military ranks known in the Roman army are recorded in
the dedications of soldiers from Lower Moesia. On an almost equal footing
is the ratio of monuments erected by common soldiers, non-commissioned
officers and officers. Next come the dedications left by veterans and senior
officers, while the smallest relative part are the dedications built by entire
military units and guardsmen.
The inscriptions by centuriones account for a large portion as a whole,
not just in relation to all monuments, but also proportionally to the number
of soldiers of their rank as a part of the military hierarchy. There were
59 centurions in a legion (less than 1% of all the soldiers in the legion –
6000 individuals), yet they have left 23% of all dedications. On the other
hand, the common soldiers have left only 18% of all inscriptions while they
accounted for 80% of the provincial army.
The demonstrated disproportion in the distribution of the monuments
according to hierarchy in the army is due to a multitude of reasons: social
status of the dedicators, ethnic background, cultural needs, financial means
and others. All these reasons are mutually interrelated though.
(NN 6–29). The Roman cults get a larger distribution along the right bank
of Danube River, in the legions’ and auxiliaries’ camps. In the interior of
the province these cults infiltrated the river valleys in the more strongly
romanized territories of Lower Moesia’s western part and simultaneously
they constitute themselves as evidence for the process of Romanization.
They are found both – near and into the auxiliaries’ camps, and by the main
artery roads. Adepts of these cults were mostly soldiers of western origin.
On the other hand, monuments of the local cults are found at a
considerable distance from the centers of Romanization in the province, i.e.
far from the Roman camps and settlements. The distribution of the Thracian
Asclepius and Silvanus was very similar. There are almost no votive plaques
left by the soldiers in the camps near Danube, except a plaque of Apollo
found near Sexaginta Prista. These cults are not documented also in the
modern day Dobrudzha. The Thracian horseman and his related cults were
mostly spread in the ancient Thracian sanctuaries at the foothills of Balkan
Mountains. We find monuments of these cults in Lilyache, Glava Panega,
Tranchovitsa, Draganovets, Lyublen and in many other places, as single
finds. Their concentration increases simultaneously with the decrease of
Romanization processes from west to east, and from north to south.
The Thracian sanctuaries were situated far from the Roman military
camps, inside the provincial territory. They were also far from the Roman
cities and therefore far from the powerful Romanization processes. In
this region the traditional Thracian culture was left alone, and so was the
worship of Thracian horseman.
Thracian horseman. Approximately 38% of all votive inscriptions
raised by military soldiers were dedicated to this Thracian deity. The
percentage of Thracians on military service, however (in our opinion), was
considerably higher.
The main reason this fact could not be specified with high certainty is the
lower social and cultural level of the military men with local origin. These
soldiers, mostly originating from poor peasant regions, began their service at
the lowest level in the military hierarchy and or rarely promoted as officers
and even non-commissioned officers because of their poor knowledge of
the Roman culture and Latin language. They did not leave many epigraphic
traces, compared to the great amount of dedications as a whole – probably
because the Thracian soldier felt less inclined to make dedications to his (or
alien) deities by setting an inscription along with the votive plaques. This
Ethnic and Social Composition of the Roman Army... 427
explains why in Thracian sanctuaries were found dozens and even hundreds
plaques without any inscription, and those with inscriptions rarely have an
explicit addition saying the dedicators were soldiers.
The preserved dedications testify that military personnel with Thracian
origin were strongly connected to their native traditions. During the service,
they had to pay respect to the official state deities, but outside camps they
continued to look for the protection the native deities had to offer. The
epithets they used, when praying to the main local deity, were typical for
Thracian cultural background and were a sign of loyalty to a tradition,
deeply underlying in their minds. The character and the numbers of the
monuments dedicated to the Thracian horseman show that regardless of the
complicit religious changes which occurred in the Roman province Lower
Moesia, the basis of local beliefs was not disturbed.
Asclepius. Judging by the monuments at our disposition, it becomes
clear that in the sanctuary of Glava Panega, the cult to Asclepius had a
different aspect (not the classical Greek-Roman). Dedications were made
by setting up votive plaques (NN 25–29). Inscriptions are in Latin (NN
25–26) and in Greek (NN 27–29). Asclepius, for dedicators with military
career (the situation is similar with the other sanctuary dedications), was
the first of all κύριος, i.e. a supreme master and patron. Soldiers asked the
god to heal not only their body but also to give them moral strength; he was
the supreme master of the whole world. A specific syncretism between the
Greek-Roman Asclepius and the Thracian horseman was possible in the
sanctuaries, as shown by the complicit iconography of the votive plaques
and the fact the God knew different epithets, which were typical for the
Thracian background. As a result of a common perception of religious
ideas, the deity to which all dedications were made could be called a
“Thracian Asclepius”.
Silvanus. The distribution of the cult of Silvanus was restricted to the
most western part of the province of Lower Moesia, in some sanctuaries –
Lilyache (NN 22–23) and Glava Panega (NN 24–25). Its infiltration into
the army followed the general cult’s distribution in the province, which
was restricted to the same areas, but with more centers. Latin language
was used in all of the dedication inscriptions, but the dedications are all
over votive plaques. The allocation of monuments was determined by the
powerful Romanization in these lands from one hand, and on the other –
by the presence of an old Thracian cult to a deity (deities) with similar
functions. In the remote sanctuary near the village of Lilyache, Silvanus
was connected to the local cult to Thracian horseman and the dedicators
were soldiers with Thracian origin from the Lower Moesia legions. This
428 OLEG ALEXANDROV
was the only sanctuary of Silvanus in Lower Moesia, and deeply connected
to the Thracian religion.
In contrast to this, the sanctuary near Glava Panega was more important,
which explains the differences in the cult. Most of all, it should be noticed
that this sanctuary had attracted also soldiers of western origin who gave
dedications to Silvanus.
Diana and Apollo. The cults of Diana and Apollo were infiltrated
deeply into the interior of the province, far from the camps of Roman
troops (NN 19–21). Diana and Apollo were worshipped by the Thracian
population, but in most cases ancient local deities can be recognized
under their iconography and names. This local influence highly affected
the iconography of the monuments depicting Asclepius and Hygeia, and
Silvanus as Thracian horseman. In the sanctuary of Draganovets, the
convergence of Apollo to the Thracian horseman was full and beyond any
doubt, dedications being addressed to the local Thracian deity, regardless
of the name and image through which he was invoked.
Syncretic phenomenon. As a whole, a great part of the dedications to
Asclepius should be connected to the local Thracian religion (especially
those where the God was represented as a horseman or has Thracian
epithets). Dedications to Apollo were also a part of the Thracian religion,
especially in those cases where he is represented again as a horseman
(for example, from the sanctuary near the village of Draganovets), and
this was the case also for the dedications to Silvanus and Zeus, where the
Roman deities appeared more connected to local religious concepts. The
monuments of these deities, taken together, composed a significant part of
military men dedications, discovered in the province.
knowing the Roman culture, the Thracians remained, in most cases, loyal
to their native deities. However, undoubtedly, joining the Roman army was
a good opportunity for the Thracians coming from the low strata of the
society and, certainly, after returning to their native lands, they differed
from the other compatriots.
GENERAL CONCLUSION
BIBLIOGRAPHY
PETER DELEV
any long lasting effect; the very fact of the continuing efforts to restrain
the barbarians is in itself a proof of their partial and inconclusive character.
During the long stay of the propraetor C. Sentius Saturninus in Macedonia
between 93 and 87 B.C., the northern frontier of the province remained
extremely unstable.11 Julius Obsequens mentions a serious incursion
by the Maedi in Macedonia in 92 B.C.; according to his laconic notice
they cruelly ravaged the whole province, „Medorum in Macedonia gens
provinciam cruente vastavit”.12 The periochae of Livius mention twice new
Thracian incursions in Macedonia in the years of the Social War.13 The
anti-Roman propaganda of Mithridathes Eupator came to add a new factor
to the already critical situation in the region, and the pontic king won to
his cause many of the Thracians.14 A fragment of Cassius Dio mentions
out of context that the Thracians, instigated by Mithridates, had made an
incursion reaching as far as Epirus and the sanctuary at Dodona, where
they sacked the temple of Zeus.15 Paulus Orosius adds more details about
presumably this same invasion; in his version a Thracian king, Sothimus,
invaded Macedonia with a large army and reached Greece, untill in the end
he was repelled by the praetor C. Sentius (Saturninus) and returned to his
own kingdom.16 It has been suggested that Sothimus was the king of the
Maedi, but this remains purely conjectural.17 The passage of Orosius is in
11
BRENNAN 2000, 525.
12
Iul. Obs. 113 (660 a.u.c.): Medorum in Macedonia gens provinciam cruente
vastavit. Cp. Gerov 1961, 171.
13
Per. 74, 76: praeterea incursiones Thracum in Macedonia<m> populationesque
continet.
14
App. Mithr. 57; Dio Cass. Fr. 101.2. The Odrysians however remained true to
their Roman allegiance, ср. Diod. 37.5a (king Cotys). In the battles of Chaeronaea and
Orchomenos in 86, Odrysian cavalry fought on the side of Sulla; it had been sent by the
successor of Cotys, Sadalas, and was commanded by an Odrysian aristocrat, Amadokos
the son of Teres (Holleaux 1919). There is a huge litterature on Mithridates Eupator and the
Mithridatic wars; cf. e. g. MEYER 1878; NIESE 1887; REINACH 1890; ROSTOVTZEFF
1932; GEYER 1932; CASTAGNA 1938; GUGGAN 1959; BENGTSON 1975, 251-
278; МOLEV 1976; GLEW 1977; McGING 1986; HIND 1992; ANTONELLI 1992;
BALLESTEROS PASTOR 1996; STROBEL 1996; De CALLATAŸ 1997; Mastrocinque
1999 (a-b). On the Thracians and Mithridates cf. GAGGERO 1978.
15
Dio Cass. fr. 101.2: ὅτι οἱ Θρᾷκες ἀναπεισθέντες ὑπὸ τοῦ Μιθριδάτου
τήν τε ῎Ηπειρον καὶ τἆλλα τὰ μέχρι τῆς Δωδώνης κατέδραμον, ὥστε καὶ τὸ
τοῦ Διὸς ἱερὸν συλῆσαι. Cf. DANOV 1979, 112, n. 337.
16
Oros. 5.18.30: Isdem temporibus rex Sothimus cum magnis Thracum auxiliis
Graeciam ingressus cunctos Macedoniae fines depopulatus est tandemque a C. Sentio
praetor superatus redire in regnum coactus est.
17
DETSCHEW 1957, 465; GEROV 1961, 172; YORDANOV 1978, 24;
WALBANK 1981, 16; TACHEVA 1997, 67.
434 PETER DELEV
that of the second – the two battles in Boeotia in the summer of 86, the
passing of the Marian army through Macedonia and Thrace and the death
of the consul Valerius Flaccus. It remains however impossible to place
these Thracian attacks in the chronological sequence of the fast changing
events in Macedonia before, during or after its short-lived occupation by
the Mithridatic forces.
Sulla, who wintered in Thessaly, moved to the north presumably early
in 85 B.C. While still in Thessaly, he was delayed for some time in Larissa
by the illness of Archelaus who had become the main mediator in the
peace talks with Mithridates. Then he moved on to Macedonia and while
awaiting there the answer of Mithridates to his conditions for a honorable
capitulation, undertook a retributory operation against some of the restless
barbaric tribes. The perioche of Livy’s book 83 mentions a succession
of battles in which Sulla defeated the Thracians;28 Appian lists as his
adversaries the Eneti, the Dardanians and the Sinti, adding that by ravaging
their lands Sulla not only kept his army in good shape, but also enriched
his soldiers;29 Eutropius gives another list: the Dardanians, the Scordisci,
the Dalmatians (= Dentheleti?) and the Moesians (= Maedi?).30 Plutarch,
in Sulla’s biography, sais the Maedi were his main military objective; after
invading their country and laying it waste, Sulla retreated back to Eastern
Macedonia to meet Archelaus returning from the talks with Mithridates in
Philippi.31 The last detail – the mention of Philippi – gives some support to
Plutarch’s version, for the city is well placed to serve as a base for military
operations on the Middle Strymon.32 Granius Licinianus also points to
Maedica as the main objective of Sulla’s Thracian operation, adding that
the Dardanians and Dentheletae (who had also been invading Macedonia)
surrendered without fight. He adds another interesting detail: during the
meeting of Sulla and Mithridates in Dardanos on the Hellespont, the Sullan
legate Hortensius led a further campaign against the Maedi and Dardanians
whom he routed.33
28
T. Liv. perioch. 83: Sylla compluribus proeliis Thracas cecidit.
29
App. Mithr. 55.
30
Eutrop. brev. 5.7.1: Interim eo tempore Sylla etiam Dardanos, Scordiscos,
Dalmatas [Denseletas?] et Moesos [Maedos?] partim vicit, alios in fidem accepit.
31
Plut. Sulla 23: ἐπὶ τούτοις ἐκπέμψας ἐκεῖνον αὐτὸς εἰς τὴν Μαιδικὴν
ἐνέβαλε, καὶ τὰ πολλὰ διαπορθήσας πάλιν ἀνέστρεψεν εἰς Μακεδονίαν, καὶ
τὸν Ἀρχέλαον ἐδέξατο περὶ Φιλίππους ἀγγέλλοντα καλῶς ἔχειν πάντα.
32
GEROV 1961, 172.
33
Gran. Licinian. 35.78-81: Is ipse Mithridates cum Sulla <ap>u<d> Dardanum
<c>o<m>positis, gratia <P. R.> reconciliata, Ariobardianen ut servum respuit, reliqua
classe in Pontum proficiscitur. Ac dum de condicionibus disceptatur, M<a>edos et
A Roman general on the Danube: L. Scipio and his war... 437
and Piraeus is taken as a terminus post quem for the Thracian invasion of
Delphi.
However, another opinion on this problem has gradually come to
dominate; it is centered on the figure of the Roman general who first
punished the perpetrators in Appian’s version, Lucius Scipio. It has long
been suggested that he should be identified with the consul of 83 B.C., L.
Cornelius Scipio Asiaticus (or Asiagenes), who played an important part
in the civil war and ended his life proscribed by Sulla in exile in Massalia.
He was the great grandson of Lucius Cornelius Scipio Asiaticus, cos. 190,
the brother of the famous Scipio Africanus and victor over Antiochus III
early in the second century, whence the title Asiaticus (or Asiagenus)
which was transmitted in the family. The future cos. 83 was triumvir
monetalis probably in 106 B.C., and pontifex since 88 B.C.; his consulship
however excludes the possibility of his presence in the Balkans in 83
or even late in 84 B.C. Friedrich Münzer in the Realencyclopaedie der
Klassichen Altertumswissenschaft suggested (summing up 19th c. German
scholarship) that Scipio Asiagenus might have been praetor in Macedonia
in 88 B.C., referring to the story of Appian;42 this however contradicts the
explicite indications that the long governorship of C. Sentius Saturninus
lasted into 87 B.C. and probably only ended with the advance of the Pontic
army of Arcathias. Georges Daux and Ernst Badian have each added to
the elucidation of the chronological problems surrounding the sack and
burning of Delphi and the suggested Macedonian promagistracy of Scipio
Asiagenus.43 Following these developments, Robert Broughton in the
second volume of „The Magistrates of the Roman Republic” suggested
an eventual praetorship of Scipio Asiaticus in 86 and his prorogation as
governor of Macedonia as certain in 85 and probable in 84 B.C.; he still
however placed the raid on Delphi „in late 85 or early 84”.44 T. Corey
Brennan in „The Praetorship in the Roman Republic” has recently brought
some additional considerations. According to him Scipio was probably in
the provincia of Macedonia in late 86, and certainly by 85. He suggests
also that it would have been he who recovered Macedonia for the Romans,
ascribing to him the capture of Philipi which brought about, according to
Granius Licinianus (35.70), the retreat of the remaining Pontic garissons
from Abdera and other cities. He further surmises that Scipio would have
left when Sulla marched north in 85, and that he must have returned to Italy
at the latest in 84, to stand for consul of the next year.
42
RE 4, 1484 s.v. Cornelius (338).
43
DAUX 1936, 392-397; BADIAN 1958, 6-7; 1964, 81-82.
44
BROUGHTON 1952, 54, 58, 61; 1960, 20; 1986, 71.
440 PETER DELEV
the Maedi and Dardanians, receiving a bribe from them. The real reason
however could have been other than avarice: the northward march of Sulla
in 85 might not have left to the provinvial governor the time to finish
his campaign and he might have had to withdraw in haste, making an
improvised settlement with the two still unpunished tribes. The fact that
Sulla and his legate Hortensius went on to fight exactly against the Maedi
and Dardanians, as if to finish the unfinished job of Scipio, fits perfectly
into this scenario; they would not have felt obliged by whatever settlement
the Marian governor had reached with these tribes.
What are the implications of dating the governorship of Scipio
Asiagenus to between late in 86 and the first half of 85 for the disputed
chronology of the raid on Delphi? It could have happened during his stay in
the province, provoking his fast retaliation. But if Scipio had enough troops
to later punish the invadors, would he not have been able to stop their march
through Macedonia and way south into Central Greece in the first place? It
thus becomes more probable to suggest that the raid came before the arrival
of Scipio, which could itself have been provoked as a Roman answer to this
new threat. Thus the Delphic raid could be sent to the presumed interval
after the passing of the army of Flaccus through Macedonia and before
the arrival of the new governor Scipio there, presumably sometimes in the
later half of 86 B.C. Or it may have happened even before, in the time after
the bulk of the Pontic army left Macedonia in spring 86 to fight Sulla, and
before the arrival of the Marian army there, so roughly around the time of
the battle at Chaeronea. Both suggestions place the sack and burning of
Delphi by the Scordisci, Maedi and Dardanians either earlier or later in the
same year, 86 B.C.
The campaign of L. Cornelius Scipio Asiagenus against the Scordisci
would then have happened either late in 86 or, rather more probably, early
in 85 B.C. As mentioned at the beginning of this paper, the Romans had
already had a long series of conflicts with this warrior Celtic tribe in the late
second and early first century B.C. Despite the fact that several triumphs
had been given to provincial governors who fought successfully against
them, Scipio seems to have been the first to attack the Scordisci in their
own territory and to inflict a crushing defeat from which they seem to have
never again fully recovered. The text of Appian unfortunately gives too
little details about this campaign: it mentions that the Scordisci received no
help from any of their neighbours, that Scipio utterly destroyed the majority
of them, and that those who escaped „fled to the Danube and settled on the
islands in that river”. The Danube however does not have any substantial
islands in that part of its current; it could be suggested that Scipio evicted
442 PETER DELEV
the Scordisci from the southern bank of the Danube and the Sava, and that
Appian’s „islands” are in fact the lands enclosed between the Danube and
the Sava and Drava, to which they were thus displaced.
Both the expedition of Scipio against the Scordisci and the campaigns
of Sulla and Hortensius against the Maedi and Dardanians receive new
dimensions when viewed as a part of the major conflict of the age, the war
between Rome and Mithridates of Pontus. Disregarding its exact timing, the
Delphic invasian of the Maedi, Scordisci and Dardanians could have been
instigated by Mithridatic agents aiming to provoke a diversive operation
and create havock in the rear of Sulla in Greece, and in any case would
have been taken by the Romans as adverse military action in a time of
war, which automatically ranged the three tribes on the enemy lists. Hence
the severity of the Roman reprisals which put an end to the whole affair,
and which are similar in magnitude and implacability to the punishments
inflicted on other Mithridatic allies.
Bibliography
The sources for this period are those that the historian of the Hellenistic
age is mostly accustomed to – namely Polybius and what one might call
* This article is meant as a part of a broader research on the political history of the
Hellenistic Byzantium which is supposed to find its final shape in an essay which is still
postponed for a later time.
1
T.L. XXXIX, 35, 4
446 ADRIAN GEORGE DUMITRU
his “synoptic” followers (Diodorus, Livy and Appian), to which one should
add some inscriptions2. The tricky thing about this corpus of sources is
that Polybius’ Histories has not made its way towards us in its integrality,
starting with his VIth Book, and thus we have become dependent (if not
addicted) to the work of those who are supposed to have copied him
more or less ad litteram (e.g. Livy, who relied on the Megalopolitan for
more serious information concerning the Hellenistic East, mistrusting the
roman annalists3). Thus, our perception is a bit distorted, for we try to find
Polybius’ words hidden within the layers of Livy’s narrative or Diodorus
and Appian’s fragments and sometimes, while searching for his words, we
lose sight of the facts themselves.
Why is Polybius so important? Because Polybius4 is not only our most
reliable and trustworthy source, but also it is important to bear in mind that
he was an Achaean and a man who lived in Rome (in the famous Scipionic
circle) and thus he didn’t particularly hold the Antigonid kings in much
favor throughout his Histories. He had a certain admiration for Philip V, a
fact that he does not hide in his work. He criticizes him a lot, but still, he
acknowledges that the king possessed many qualities as a general and a
statesman (especially when he followed the advice of Aratus the Achaean –
but that is another matter, which should not concern us, here). For instance,
he praises him for his behavior after the battle of Kynoskephalai, for Philip
did not forget to send someone to destroy the royal archives in Larissa,
which were to fall into the hands of the Romans, “an act worthy of a king
to retain, even in the midst of disaster, a recollection of a necessary duty.
For he knew well enough that, if these papers came into the possession
of the Romans, they would give many handles to the enemy both against
himself and his friends”5, not to mention that he has nothing to hold against
Philip for losing this battle in the first place. Yet, he needs to accuse Philip
of being the one who designed a grand plan for a war against the Romans.
2
One of the most notable being the famous inscription from Delphi bringing to
us the charges against Perseus: S.I.G3 II (1917), 643 = R.D.G.E. no. 40b (for some other
stones from Delphi in this context, see some quite recent views expressed by JACQUEMIN
& LAROCHE 1982; JACQUEMIN, LAROCHE & LEFÈVRE 1995).
3
See WALSH 1961; BRISCOE 2008
4
Among the huge literature on Polybius, see WALBANK 1972; WALBANK
1974; ECKSTEIN 1995; WALBANK 1974.
5
POL. XVIII, 33, 3: „ ποιῶν πρᾶγμα βασιλικὸν τὸ μηδ' ἐν τοῖς δεινοῖς λήθην
ποιεῖσθαι τοῦ καθήκοντος· σαφῶς γὰρ ᾔδει διότι πολλὰς ἀφορμὰς δώσει τοῖς ἐχθροῖς
καὶ καθ' ἑαυτοῦ καὶ κατὰ τῶν φίλων, ἐὰν κρατήσωσι Ῥωμαῖοι τῶν ὑπομνημάτων ”,
engl. transl. by SHUCKBURGH 1889
Some Remarks about Thrace, Thracians and Antigonids... 447
Philip’s plans for a future war against Rome6 fit perfectly within the
polybian system of distinguishing between causes/pretext/outbreak of any
phenomenon (and especially a war), but they also explain the policy of a
king which Polybius several times believed he was inspired by “Madness”.
Let’s listen to the Megalopolitan when he says, expressis verbis,
that the war Perseus fought against the Romans was not Perseus war, but
Philip’s war:
„Just as we say that Philip, the son of Amyntas, contemplated and
determined upon accomplishing the war with Persia, while Alexander
put into execution what he had projected, so in the present instance
we say that Philip son of Demetrius first projected the last war against
Rome, and had all his preparations ready for the execution of his design,
but that after his death Perseus became the agent in carrying out the
undertaking itself.”7
One can easily see how much of Polybius was deeply embedded into
the layers of Livy’s composition by simply taking a look at the following
passage:
“The war with King Perseus and the Macedonians which was threatening
did not arise from the causes which most people assign to it, nor from
Perseus himself: the beginnings had been made by Philip ; and Philip
himself, had he lived longer, would have waged that war.”8
Thus, in the view of the Ancient historians, Philip had had the vision
of the future war, he had designed it and desired it, he had taken all the
necessary measures and he had engineered this war which was to be fought
nobody knows when. As was already stated, the most of the information we
have about the Antigonids (and it is important for us to hold in our minds
6
WALBANK 1940, 231 sqq.; GRUEN 1974
7
POL. XXII 18, 10-11: „ καθάπερ γὰρ εἴπομεν Φίλιππον τὸν Ἀμύντου
διανοηθῆναι καὶ προθέσθαι συντελεῖν τὸν πρὸς τοὺς Πέρσας πόλεμον, Ἀλέξανδρον
δὲ τοῖς ὑπ' ἐκείνου κεκριμένοις (ἐπιγενέσθαι) χειριστὴν τῶν πράξεων, οὕτω καὶ νῦν
Φίλιππον μὲν τὸν Δημητρίου φαμὲν διανοηθῆναι πρότερον πολεμεῖν Ῥωμαίοις τὸν
τελευταῖον πόλεμον καὶ τὰς παρασκευὰς ἑτοίμας πάσας πρὸς ταύτην ἔχειν τὴν
ἐπιβολήν, ἐκείνου δ' ἐκχωρήσαντος Περσέα γενέσθαι χειριστὴν τῶν πράξεων· ”, engl.
transl. by SHUCKBURGH 1889. It has been already pointed out that the parallel with
Philip II and his son Alexander is rather suspect and it meets another polybian parallel,
with the Hannibalic war being designed by Hamilcar and carried out by his son, Hannibal:
POL. III, 10-12. See, most recently, ECKSTEIN 2010, 239 (and n. 63).
8
T.L. XXXIX, 23, 5: „Cum Perseo rege et Macedonibus bellum quod imminebat,
non unde plerique opinantur, nec ab ipso Perseo causas cepit : inchoata initia a Philippo
sunt ; et is ipse, si diutius vixisset, id bellum gessisset.”, engl. tr. E.T. SAGE, in “Livy in
thirteen volumes”, vol. XI, London & Cambridge MS., 1936
448 ADRIAN GEORGE DUMITRU
Accusations
Exposition or defenses
Passage Synopsis
of facts against
accusations
Embassy of Eumenes denouncing Philip’s abuses
in Thrace; Embassy of Philip retorting; the Senate
XXII, 6 X X
decides to appoint a commission to investigate the
facts
Ambassadors in Rome send news to Philip that he
is to evacuate Ainos and Maroneia; the massacre
XXII, 13-14 X X
at Maroneia; Philip answers in front of the Roman
commission;
The commission asks that the perpetrators of the
massacred to be sent to Rome; Philip sends only
Cassandros but not Onomastos; Philip decides
XXII, 14 X X
the revanche against the Romans; Philip decides
to send Demetrius to Rome in order to cover his
intentions; Philip promises help to Byzantium
Analysis of the causes of the third Macedonian
XXII, 18 in comparison to the war of Alexander the Great X
against Persia
9
Of course, this impression holds out especially for Polybius, as this part of his
work has survived in the Excerptae (one being the Excerpta de Legatibus) of Constantinus
Porphirogenitus. Of course, a collection of the passages dealing with the embassies sent
by the Roman Senate or those received by the Roman Senate would be filled especially
with accusations and defenses reflecting a certain amount of rhetoric appropriate to a
diplomatic confrontation.
10
RADITSA 1972 – unfortunately getting older, since new articles and essays
dedicated to this subject have piled up in the last 40 years.
Some Remarks about Thrace, Thracians and Antigonids... 449
The table shows us that out of 15 polybian passages where the inter-
war period is being dealt with, 7 are being connected with accusations
against Philip or Perseus or their defenses against those accusations. In
some cases, Polybius’ rhetoric embeds the speeches into the narrative of
the facts (e.g. – the situation after the massacre at Maroneia, where the
narrative simply metamorphoses into the speech of Philip in front of the
Roman commissioners, with no warning given to the lector).
450 ADRIAN GEORGE DUMITRU
Having established this, I would try to illustrate with one example the
volatility of our information concerning the situation after Kynoskephalai,
which springs out straight from the text of the treaty between Rome and
Philip V. I shall confine myself only with the text of Polybius (since all
the other “synoptic” authors give more or less abridged copies of Polybius,
except for Livy):
“All other Greeks, whether in Asia or Europe, to be free and enjoy their
own laws; but that Philip should hand over to the Romans those at present
under his authority, and all towns in which he had a garrison, before the
Isthmian games; and restore Eurōmus, Pedasa, Bargylia, Iasus, Abydos,
Thasus, Myrina, and Perinthus to freedom, and remove his garrisons
from them. That Flamininus should write to Prusias commanding him
to liberate Cius, in accordance with the decree of the Senate. That
Philip should restore to the Romans within the same period all captives
and deserters; and likewise all decked ships, except three and his one
sixteen-banked vessel; and should pay a thousand talents, half at once,
and half by installments spread over ten years.”11
POL. XVIII, 44, 1-7 : „ἦν δὲ τὰ συνέχοντα τοῦ δόγματος ταῦτα, τοὺς μὲν ἄλλους
11
Ἕλληνας πάντας, τούς τε κατὰ τὴν Ἀσίαν καὶ κατὰ τὴν Εὐρώπην, ἐλευθέρους ὑπάρχειν
Some Remarks about Thrace, Thracians and Antigonids... 451
First of all, I have to point out that this is not the text of the treaty
itself: it is a copy of the senatus consultum of the Roman senate to regulate
the situation in Greece. It probably didn’t differ much from the final act
that was agreed and signed by Philip, Flamininus and the Ten Roman
commissioners, which must have comprised the first text of the treaty,
which was already sworn and ratified and slightly modified by the edict
of the Senate). The text of the treaty itself must have been centered on the
conditions imposed by Flamininus to Philip when a truce was concluded
while the treaty was signed and sworn later on12. Flamininus words were
as follows:
“Therefore the terms which the king asked were granted: namely, that he
should have four months’ suspension of hostilities, paying Flamininus
at once the two hundred talents; delivering his son Demetrius and some
others of his friends as hostages; and sending to Rome to submit the
decision on the whole pacification to the Senate. Flamininus and Philip
then separated, after interchanging mutual pledges of fidelity, on the
understanding that, if the treaty were not confirmed, Flamininus was to
restore to Philip the two hundred talents and the hostages. All the parties
then sent ambassadors to Rome, some to support and others to oppose
the settlement […]”13
καὶ νόμοις χρῆσθαι τοῖς ἰδίοις· τοὺς δὲ ταττομένους ὑπὸ Φίλιππον καὶ τὰς πόλεις τὰς
ἐμφρούρους παραδοῦναι Φίλιππον Ῥωμαίοις πρὸ τῆς τῶν Ἰσθμίων πανηγύρεως,
Εὔρωμον δὲ καὶ Πήδασα καὶ Βαργύλια καὶ τὴν Ἰασέων πόλιν, ὁμοίως Ἄβυδον, Θάσον,
Μύριναν, Πέρινθον, ἐλευθέρας ἀφεῖναι τὰς φρουρὰς ἐξ αὐτῶν μεταστησάμενον· περὶ
δὲ τῆς τῶν Κιανῶν ἐλευθερώσεως Τίτον γράψαι πρὸς Προυσίαν κατὰ τὸ δόγμα τῆς
συγκλήτου· τὰ δ' αἰχμάλωτα καὶ τοὺς αὐτομόλους ἅπαντας ἀποκαταστῆσαι Φίλιππον
Ῥωμαίοις ἐν τοῖς αὐτοῖς χρόνοις, ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ τὰς καταφράκτους ναῦς πλὴν πέντε
σκαφῶν καὶ τῆς ἑκκαιδεκήρους· δοῦναι δὲ καὶ χίλια τάλαντα, τούτων τὰ μὲν ἡμίση
παραυτίκα, τὰ δ' ἡμίση κατὰ φόρους ἐν ἔτεσι δέκα. ”, engl. transl. by SHUCKBURGH
1889. For a comprehensive historical commentary, see WALBANK 1967, 609-612. To
this text, one should add T.L. XXXIII, 30, : „captiuos transfugasque reddere Philippum
Romanis et naues omnes tectas tradere praeter quinque et regiam unam inhabilis prope
magnitudinis, quam sedecim uersus remorum agebant; ne plus quinque milia armatorum
haberet neue elephantum ullum; bellum extra Macedoniae fines ne iniussu senatus gereret;
mille talentum daret populo Romano, dimidium praesens, dimidium pensionibus decem
annorum. ”. This text is intercalated, as we can see, between some of the clauses who are
given by Polybius, as well – but the absence of those two clauses from the polybian text
and their presence in the livian version can be explained by Livy combining Polybius with
some analists (probably Claudius, who has also added that Philip was forbidden to wage
war against Eumenes of Pergamum, T.L. XXXIII, 30).
12
POL. XVIII, 42, 2.
13 POL. XVIII, 39, 5-6: „ διὸ συνεχωρήθη τῷ βασιλεῖ, καθάπερ ἠξίου, λαβόντα
452 ADRIAN GEORGE DUMITRU
What is striking about these two texts is that they only give some
general principles that are to regulate the future peace between Rome and
Philip. So, we find out that Philip is to leave free all the Greek cities in Asia
and Europe, that he is to pay 1000 talents, that he is to give up his fleet, that
he would send hostages to Rome in order to enforce the treaty and that’s
almost all. With a few given exceptions (Eurōmus, Pedasa, Bargylia, Iasus,
Abydos, Thasus, Myrina, and Perinthus), the treaty does not specify which
cities should have been abandoned by the king’s and which should not.
One would have expected very rigid articles to deal on the situation on the
field to clarify the precise border’s of what was left of the king’s sphere of
influence and what was to become the Roman one. Nothing in particular
is said about the cities of Thrace, its cities and, most of all, its peoples.
We would have expected a more serious regulation on the situation of the
borders of the Macedonian kingdom, and especially on its northern parts.
But this is, as we can see, out of question.
Why is it so? Why is this very important treaty so vague? There are
several explanations for this.
One would be to look for a future that no one could contemplate at
that moment, but rather wildly guessed: a war with Antiochus III was
coming and Philip could be a precious ally14. It is possible, but highly
unlikely considering that the senatus consultum came in the moment of
the Proclamation of Corynth, when the Antiochic War was far from being
unavoidable.
One could also imagine that there was a more precise text of the treaty,
which clarified and enlarged the dispositions of the senatus consultum and
that this treaty is now lost (but we could hope that it could be recovered
after a lucky strike of an archaeological excavation). While very tempting,
this hypothesis does not hold when we think at the shape of the treaties of
the Greek cities with Rome that are preserved on stone, complying with a
very strict and rigid standard.
One could also imagine that the treaty was deliberately left so imprecise
and vague, so that it would allow future Roman interventions in the Balkan
τετραμήνους ἀνοχὰς παραχρῆμα μὲν δοῦναι τῷ Τίτῳ τὰ διακόσια τάλαντα καὶ
Δημήτριον τὸν υἱὸν εἰς ὁμηρείαν καί τινας ἑτέρους τῶν φίλων, περὶ δὲ τῶν ὅλων πέμπειν
εἰς τὴν Ῥώμην καὶ διδόναι τῇ συγκλήτῳ τὴν ἐπιτροπήν. καὶ τότε μὲν ἐχωρίσθησαν
πιστωσάμενοι περὶ τῶν ὅλων πρὸς ἀλλήλους, ἐφ' ᾧ Τίτον, ἐὰν μὴ συντελῆται τὰ κατὰ
τὰς διαλύσεις, ἀποδοῦναι Φιλίππῳ τὰ διακόσια τάλαντα καὶ τοὺς ὁμήρους· μετὰ δὲ
ταῦτα πάντες ἔπεμπον εἰς τὴν Ῥώμην, οἱ μὲν συνεργοῦντες, οἱ δ' ἀντιπράττοντες τῇ
διαλύσει ”, for a brief commentary, see WALBANK 1967, 601.
14
This is what HAMMOND & WALBANK 1988, 604 tends to believe, among
other scholars.
Some Remarks about Thrace, Thracians and Antigonids... 453
(without defining what was the nature of his right)20. But Livy informs us
that immediately after the defeat of Antiochus III at Magnesia, the Romans
sent a (very) small squadron of 3 vessels, under the nominal command of
Q. Labeo, to obtain the surrender of the seleucid garrisons in Thrace, thus
freeing Ainos and Maroneia21. If those cities were set free by Labeo, then
wasn’t Philip’s gesture of occupying them an act of hostility against Rome
that he should have rather avoided?
At the end of the day, we have to admit that we don’t know how did
Philip acquire those cities: did the Romans give them to him? Did he occupy
them by force from the Seleucids? Did the Romans allow him at a certain
moment to occupy the cities? Or – and this is a very tempting hypothesis –
Philip was there with this army in 188, helping Labeo’s not very imposing
squadron of 3 ships to obtain the surrender of the Seleucid garrisons of
Ainos and Maroneia and taking possession of the cities after the seleucid
troops left. If this was the case, then the rather complicated legal aspect of
the cities would be easier to explain: from Eumenes point of view, Ainos
and Maroneia were cities which belonged to Antiochus III and were freed
by the Romans while to Philip V the cities were occupied by his troops with
the assistance of the Roman fleet. That this might have been the case, we
hear from the ambassadors of Maroneia, present at the same meeting where
the faith of their city was decided. They said:
“And as to the boundary rights, they [sc. – the ambassadors of Maroneia]
had little new to say : only that Quintus Fabius Labeo, when he had been
in that region, had fixed as the boundary for Philip the ancient royal road
which leads to Paroreia in Thrace, nowhere approaching the sea : Philip
had later laid out a new road which encompassed the cities and lands of
the Maroneans.”22
So, Philip came in the possession of these cities in the context of the
mission of the Q. Labeo, either with his quiet acknowledgement, either by
original state, that the garrisons which w^ere in these cities should be withdrawn.”, engl.
tr. E.T. SAGE, in “Livy in thirteen volumes”, vol. XI, London & Cambridge MS., 1936
20
POL. XXII, 6 and especially T.L. XXXIX, 28
21
T.L. XXXVII, 60, 7: „a Creta Ephesum Fabius redit; inde tribus nauibus in
Thraciae oram missis ab Aeno et Maronia praesidia Antiochi deduci iussit, ut in libertate
eae ciuitates essent. ”
22
T.L. XXXIX, 27, 10: „de iure etiam finium pauca adiecerunt: Q. Fabium
Labeonem, cum in regione ea fuisset, derexisse finem Philippo ueterem uiam regiam, quae
ad Thraciae Paroreian subeat, nusquam ad mare declinantem: Philippum nouam postea
deflexisse uiam, qua Maronitarum urbes agrosque
amplectatur. ”
Some Remarks about Thrace, Thracians and Antigonids... 455
creating a fait accompli in redirecting the road that was supposed to be his
border.
But his maritime Thracian dominion will not last for long, for in
183 Philip is forced to withdraw from Ainos and Maronea, and in this
circumstances, a horrible crime is committed, as Philip’s Thracian troops
slaughtered the citizens of those two poleis, thus creating tht opportunity
for new accusations and new responses23.
The context of these diplomatic quarrels is quite simple to understand,
since the treaty of Apameia put Eumenes in possession of all the cities that
were once subject to the Antiochus III (but this must not have been the
case for the cities of Ainos and Maroneia, which were simply occupied by
seleucid garrisons) thus creating a new European power: the Attalids of
Pergamum, the new rulers of the remains of the Seleucid satrapy of Thrace.
Thrace was just a playground between two powerful dynasties, soon to
become an object of their territorial claims, as it was very well expressed
by the ambassadors of Eumenes:
“They [sc. – the ambassadors of Pergamum] said that Eumenes had in
addition the preliminary opinion of the ten commissioners [sc. – who
were in charge with the treaty of Apamea] on the matter, who, since
they had given him the Chersonesus and Lysimachia, surely gave him
Maronea and Aenus too, which, from their nearness to his country, were
mere appendages to the larger gift.”24
This connects, one way or another, with the situation of the city
of Byzantium, because this polis is promised help by Philip V in 18425
and Polybius tells us exactly that promised this help in order to make
an impression over the Thracian tribes who were order now threatening
Byzantium while Livy goes even further, informing us that Philip helped
the city and defeated and captured the (Thracian) king Amadocos, and this
is how we are also told of his fantastic plan to invade Italy with the help of
the barbarians from the Northern Balkans:
“Meanwhile, setting out under the pretence of bringing aid to the
Byzantines, but in reality in order to inspire the chiefs of the Thracians
with fear, having defeated them in one battle and captured their leader
23
POL. XXII, 13, 1 ; T.L. XXXIX 53, 10
24
T.L. XXXIX, 27, 5: „habere eum praeterea decem legatorum in eam rem
praeiudicium, qui cum Chersonesum Lysimachiamque dederint, Maroneam quoque
atque Aenum profecto dedisse, quae ipsa propinquitate regionis uelut appendices maioris
muneris essent. ” , engl. tr. E.T. SAGE, in “Livy in thirteen volumes”, vol. XI, London &
Cambridge MS., 1936
25
POL. XXII, 14
456 ADRIAN GEORGE DUMITRU
The main corps of the information we have about the actions of the
26
T.L. XXXIX, 35, 4: „interim per speciem auxilii Byzantiis ferendi, re ipsa ad
terrorem regulis Thracum iniciendum profectus, perculsis iis uno proelio et Amadoco
duce capto in Macedoniam rediit, missis ad accolas Histri fluminis barbaros, ut in Italiam
irrumperent ”, engl. tr. E.T. SAGE, in “Livy in thirteen volumes”, vol. XI, London &
Cambridge MS., 1936. We know already that he promised help to the city from POL.
XXII, 14 (but what we have left of Polybius does not tell us if and how this help was
eventually given. One should not exclude the possibility that Livy mixes up passages from
Polybius with passages from the analists, especially on that part with the alleged plan to
invade Italy). See also HAMMOND & WALBANK 1988, 468; ECKSTEIN 2010, 240..
27
APP., Mak., 11, 6-7, “ Βυζαντίοις δὲ καὶ Αἰτωλοῖς καὶ Βοιωτοῖς οὐ καθ' ὑμῶν,
ἀλλὰ καθ' ἑτέρων συνεμάχησεν. καὶ ταῦτα πρῴην ὑμῖν ἡμέτεροι πρέσβεις ἐμήνυον,
καὶ οὐκ ἐμέμφεσθε μέχρι τῆς Εὐμένους διαβολῆς, ἣν οὐκ εἰάσατε τοὺς ἡμετέρους
πρέσβεις ἐς ὄψιν αὐτὸν ἐλέγξαι. ” engl. transl. by WHITE H., dans „Appian.Roman
History. Vol. II”, Cambridge MS & Londres, 2005
28
T.L. XLII, 12, 10 and again APP., Mak. 11, 7
29
HATZOPOULOS 1983, 84, n. 32 considers more likely the date of 174, followed
by LOUKOPOULOU 1987, 63. But 174 would fall to close to the date of the outbreak of
the conflict, and thus would be in contradiction with Appian’s „a long time ago”.
Some Remarks about Thrace, Thracians and Antigonids... 457
GRUEN 1974 = E.S. GRUEN, ‘The Last Years of Philip V’, GRBS 15 (1974), p.
221-246
GRUEN 1975 = E.S. GRUEN, ‘Rome and Rhodes in the Second Century B.C.: A
Historiographical Inquiry’, CQ2 25 (1975), p. 58-81
GRUEN 1982 = E.S. GRUEN, ‘Macedonia and the Settlement of 167 B.C.’, in
W.L. Adams and E.N. BORZA (eds.), Philip II, Alexander the Great and
the Macedonian Heritage, Lanham 1982, p. 257-67.
GRUEN 1984 = E.S. GRUEN, The Hellenistic World and the Coming of Rome, 2
vols., Berkeley & Los Angeles 1984
HAMMOND & WALBANK 1988 = N.G.L. HAMMOND. & F.W. WALBANK,
A History of Macedonia 3, Oxford 1988
HANSEN 1971 = E.V. HANSEN, The Attalids of Pergamum2, Ithaca 1971
HARRIS 1979 = W.V. HARRIS, War and Imperialism in Republican Rome,
Oxford 1979
HATZOPOULOS 1983 = M.G. HATZOPOULOS, « La politique thrace des
derniers Antigonides », Pulpudeva 4 (1983), p. 80-87
HATZOPOULOS 1996 = M.G. HATZOPOULOS, Macedonian Institutions
under the Kings, 2 vols., Athens 1996
HATZOPOULOS 2001 = M.G. HATZOPOULOS, L’organisation de l’armée
macédonienne sous les Antigonides. Problèmes anciens et documents
nouveaux, Athens 2001
HODDINOTT 1987 = R.F. HODDINOTT, The Thracians, London 1987
IAKOVIDOU 2007 = A. IAKOVIDOU(ed.), Thrace in the Graeco-Roman World,
Athens 2007
JACQUEMIN & LAROCHE 1982 = A. JACQUEMIN & D. LAROCHE, ‘Notes
sur trois piliers delphiques’, BCH 106 (1982), pp. 191-218
JACQUEMIN, LAROCHE & LEFÈVRE 1995 = A. JACQUEMIN, D. LAROCHE
& F. LEFÈVRE, ‘Delphes, le roi Persée et les romains’, BCH 119 (1995),
p. 125-36
KAHRSTEDT 1954 = U. KAHRSTEDT, Beiträge zur Geschichte der thrakischen
Chersonesos, Baden-Baden 1954
KAZAROV 1935 = G. KAZAROV, s.v. Sapaioi, R.E. Suppl. 6 (1935), 647-9
LOUKOPOULOU 1987 = L . LOUKOPOULOU, „Provinciae Macedoniae finis
orientalis: the establishment of the eastern frontier”, in L. LOUKOPOULOU
& M.G. HATZOPOULOS, Two studies in macedonian topography, Athens
1987 (Meletemata 3), p. 62-110
McSHANE 1964 = R.B. McSHANE, The Foreign Policy of the Attalids of
Pergamum, Urbana 1964
MELONI 1953 = P. MELONI, Perseo e la fine della monarchia Macedone,
Cagliari 1953
460 ADRIAN GEORGE DUMITRU
DANIJEL DZINO
Background
Roman political interactions with this region existed some time before
the Pannonian war. They can be seen in the sparse record of late Republican
2
FARLATI 1760: 61-62.
3
ZIPPEL 1877: 297-312; PATSCH 1932; SYME 1934; SWOBODA 1937;
MILTNER 1937; MÓCSY 1962: 540-542; WILKES 1965; 1969: 62-65; TÓTH 1977;
NAGY 1991; ŠAŠEL KOS 2011; DOMIĆ KUNIĆ 2006; DZINO 2010: 129-136, etc.
Cassius Dio’s reports: ŠAŠEL KOS 1986: 158-162.
Bellum Pannonicum: The Roman armies and... 463
military actions in the eastern Alpine region and eastern Adriatic coast
with the immediate hinterland. The Roman political arrival in this region
really began with Octavian’s campaigns 35-33 BC. Before this, Roman
possessions in the eastern Adriatic were limited to the Roman clients and
allies on the coast and the islands. They were loosely connected after the
Vatinian law, legislated in 59 BC, providing imperium for Caesar over this
region as an appendix to his imperium in Cisalpine, and later Transalpine
Gaul. In a few campaigns, between 35 and 33 BC, Octavian defeated
the most significant indigenous polities in the immediate hinterland of
the eastern Adriatic, capturing their major settlements. This included,
amongst others, the Iapodes in Lika and Gorski Kotar, the Segestani
(Segesticani) with its chief settlement of Segestica (Roman Siscia, modern
Sisak), and the Delmatae, which dominated the hinterland of Salona.4
These gains enabled the Romans to secure their position on the eastern
Adriatic coast. The consequence of these events was the formation of the
provincial infrastructure of Illyricum in the regions closer to the coast. This
infrastructure was strengthened with the foundation of Roman colonies in
the existing settlements such as Salona, Narona, Lissus and Iader, which
became the strong-points of ideological Romanness in the province. The
exact boundaries of Roman administration in this period are not clear. The
Western point of direct influence might have been the valley of Una, while
in the north, it probably reached the river Sava at Segestica, which became
an important military strongpoint in this period. It seems unlikely that the
provincial administration of Illyricum in this period stretched over the
Požega hills (Mons Claudius).5
The Roman political arrival on the southern edges of the Pannonian
plains must have caused important changes among those indigenous
communities remaining outside the provincial administration of Illyricum
and direct imperial political control. A consequence of the extension of direct
Roman power was the formation of a new imperial frontier-zone in southern
Pannonia, between the Sava and Drava, and today’s regions of Bosnia and
(Bosanska) Krajina.6 The appearance of frontier-zones is characteristic of
imperial powers, such as Rome, and describes the regions, which act as
intermediaries between the direct imperial administration and communities
4
Narratives of these events in English can be found in ŠAŠEL KOS 2005: 29-472;
DZINO 2010: 61-116, while older views are represented in WILKES 1969: 29-61.
5
RADMAN LIVAJA 2008: 160-168; 2010: 182-186, see also ŠAŠEL KOS 2005:
464-471 and DOMIĆ KUNIĆ 2006: 96-100 on the extent of Octavian's conquests.
6
The region around Bihać and Banjaluka, enclosed by the rivers Una, Vrbas and
Sava. It is today referred to as Bosanska Krajina by the Bosniaks and Krajina, without the
prefix, Bosanska (Bosnian) by the Serbs in Bosnia and Herzegovina.
464 DANIJEL DZINO
Octavian claimed that his actions against the Segestani were taken
in preparation for the planned but never realised campaign against the
Dacians.20 Whether this statement was true or was part of Octavian’s
propaganda to justify unprovoked attack on the Segestani, as Dio (49.36.1)
implies, is difficult to say.21 Regardless of Octavian’s real intentions in 35
BC, it is clear that the Roman appearance on the edges of the Pannonian
plains forced the communities of southern Pannonia into the position of
a buffer zone towards the Dacians, the only other serious adversary for
control of Pannonian plains. Powerful Burebista’s kingdom fell apart
after his death, as Strabo (7.3.11) reports, but the presence of the Getae
and Dacians in Roman political discourse of the late Republic and early
Principate shows that the Romans gave, with or without reasons, significant
attention to Burebista’s successors.22
The conflicts
for these rebellions are not elaborated, except for the Dalmatian rebellion
in 10 BC, caused by the exaction of tribute.25 Dio did not care too much
for the reasoning behind these ‘rebellions’ and used them to describe and
justify military Roman intervention. His literary strategy in describing
the conquest of Pannonia appears as part of wider discourse on Roman
ideological justification of conquest, as the way to bring political stability
and civilization to uncivilized ‘barbarians’.26
Another problem with Dio is a chronic lack of details about indigenous
communities involved in these conflicts. He consistently uses the terms
‘Pannonians’ and ‘Dalmatians’. It is a clear example of Roman colonial
narrative, imposing provincial identities which were created only later
by Roman provincial administration to the heterogeneous indigenous
population, which had no sense of common belonging before the Roman
conquest. The boundary line between Pannonia and Dalmatia was drawn
slightly south of the Sava river. To make things more complicated, it is
important to notice that the term Pannonians (Pannonii) was used in a
slightly different context in ancient ethnography of the pre-conquest era.
It was related to the indigenous groups in southern Pannonia between the
Drava and Sava, but also to those in mountainous regions of northern parts
of the future Dalmatian province, in the description of Strabo (7.5.3) that I
have already mentioned and the description given by Appian (Illyr. 22).27
The material sources from this era are not greatly helpful either. There
is an increasing corpus of evidence clearly showing intense Roman military
activities from the later Augustan era in the regions of modern-day eastern
Slovenia and northern Croatia. However, it is rather difficult to date more
precisely these finds of military and logistical bases as well as military
equipment. They could be dated to the time of the Pannonian war, but could
also belong to the period of the Batonian war, only a decade and a half after
the Pannonian war.28
The causes of decisive Roman political and military entrance into
southern Pannonia are debatable, and it is difficult to believe that they will
25
Dio, 54.20.3 (rebellion in Dalmatia, 16 BC), 54.24.3 (rebellion in Pannonia, 14
BC); 54.28.1-2 (Pannonia “eager for war”, 13 BC), 54.31.2 (rebellion in Pannonia, 12
BC); 54.34,3 (rebellions in Dalmatia and Pannonia, 11 BC); 54.36.2 (Dalmatian rebellion
against the exaction of tribute, 10 BC); 55.2.4 (rebellion in Dalmatia and Pannonia, 10
BC).
26
WOOLF 1995; 1998: 48-76; HINGLEY 2005: 62-67.
27
See on this SYME 1971a: 19-21; ŠAŠEL KOS 2005: 375-383; DZINO & DOMIĆ
KUNIĆ, forthcoming.
28
RADMAN LIVAJA 2004: 25-26, 33-40, 50, 57-59, 65-68; MASON 2008;
RADMAN LIVAJA & DIZDAR 2010; ŠAŠEL KOS 2011: 112-115.
Bellum Pannonicum: The Roman armies and... 469
ever be explained with absolute certainty. The once popular idea that was
defined by Syme is that the conquest was conducted primarily for strategic
reasons as the Romans needed a land-link between Italy and Greece.29
While this idea might have sounded reasonable at the time it was developed,
today it is more difficult to accept it, especially knowing that the Romans
had different perceptions of space from us today, and that their imperial
expansion was driven by a mixture of fear, greed and glory, ideological
and civilizing tasks, rather than precisely calculated long-time strategic
aims.30 The Roman sources show no interest in the region after Octavian’s
capture of Segestica until 16 BC. Dio reports (54.20.1-3) that during the
absence of the Illyrian governor, Publius Silius Nerva who intervened in
the Italian Alps as there were no forces available there, some ‘Pannonians’
and ‘Noricans’ apparently entered Istria and pillaged it. Silius Nerva
reacted quickly and brought things under control. At the same time a short-
lived crisis (‘rebellion’) occurred in Dalmatia, while the Dentheletae from
the valley of Struma, near modern-day Sofia, together with the Scordisci,
attack Macedonia, and civil war erupted in Thrace.31 This series of events,
put together in the report of Dio, leads the reader to believe that there was
political unrest in the whole region, but unfortunately, we cannot assess
whether they were unrelated events, or the result of widespread regional
instability. The Romans acted relatively fast. The first action was focused
on the Scordisci in 15 BC, and it is indeed possible that the settlement on
place of today’s Gomolava near Ruma in Vojvodina (Gomolava VIb) was
burned at that time.32 Simultaneously, with the conquest of the Scordisci the
Roman annexation of Noricum occurred as well as operations in the Alps
against the Rhaeti and Vindelici.33
29
SYME 1934, reflected later in WILKES 1965: 13-14; 1969: 46-47; MÓCSY
1974: 33.
30
RICH 1993; MATTINGLY 2011: 15-22, and for case-study of the possible
varying motives for the Roman expansion in Illyricum see DZINO 2010.
31
Silius’ service in Illyricum is confirmed on inscription CIL 3.2973 from Aenona,
see ŠAŠEL KOS 2005: 484; DZINO 2010: 119, 127-128. Different opinion is held by
WILKES 1996: 551-552, who assumes that Silius was in charge for Transpadana, which
would, in his opinion, include Histria and Liburnia.
32
Vell. Pat. 2.39.3; Euseb. Chron 167f. Eusebius stated that Tiberius has been
commander against the Scordisci, which is accepted by some scholars as a possibility
(ŠAŠEL KOS 2005: 508; DUŠANIĆ 2008: 115 n. 87), and disputed by the others (SYME
1971b: 44-73; DZINO 2010: 128-129). For Gomolava see JOVANOVIĆ & JOVANOVIĆ
1988, esp. 92-100 dating the destruction of Gomolava VIb in bellum Pannonicum, while
DUŠANIĆ 2008: 115, n. 87 ascribes it to the Roman conquest of the Scordisci.
33
Vell. Pat. 2.39.3, see ŠAŠEL KOS 2005: 473-488.
470 DANIJEL DZINO
from some of them, and accepting the others as socii et amici or socii.
These relationships with foreign peoples were regulated in Roman law
and from the Roman point of view, the breaking of these relationships
would be regarded as anything but rebellion, and military action would
be fully justified. It seems therefore reasonable to believe that before the
Pannonian war, a number of indigenous communities in northern Dalmatia
and southern Pannonia were bound to Rome in a status similar to the client-
kings and allies, maintaining nominal independence, but being dominated
by Rome.37 The Pannonian war was in that case not a Roman conquest of
independent groups, but rather, an intervention against those who broke their
existing treaties with Rome. Whether these communities were organized in
the provincial administration after 9 BC, or after the Batonian war, does not
seem clear. Augustus in Res Gestae 30 states that under Tiberius’ command,
Roman power was extended over the Pannonian gentes, to which no Roman
army had ever previously come, and that he himself extended the boundaries
of Illyricum to the banks of the Danube. Suetonius (Tib. 16) implies that
extending the boundaries of Illyricum came only after the Batonian war.
It is possible to split hairs about this sentence of the Res Gestae, but in
reality, the Roman power was touching the banks of the Danube in this or
that way after the Pannonian war.38 While indigenous communities were
probably not included within full provincial administration in 9 BC, it is
certain that Roman military presence in southern Pannonia increased. The
military base was established in Sirmium and it is confirmed as early as the
beginning of the Batonian war, as seen in Dio (55.29.3).
While their position might be similar to client-kings, these communities
were very different from the client-kings of the Roman East. The lack of
coherent political institutions amongst indigenous populations in this
region might have resulted in strengthened political competition among and
within the communities. The alliance with Rome, or a challenge to it, could
be used as the way for local elites to justify and manipulate their power and
strenghten their power-base. Some would chose the alliance, some would
oppose Roman influence, but both approaches were, in essence, a negotiation
of political positions in local contexts. The very beginning of the Batonian
war in AD 6 clearly shows the unpredictability of indigenous politics. The
rebellion started when auxiliaries from Dalmatia were gathering because
they were ordered to send a contingent for the forthcoming campaign
37
Classic study of client-kings is BRAUND 1984. See also MATTINGLY 2011: 76-
93 and LICA 2000: 121-144 for analysis of legal relationship with the Dacian kingdoms in
this period
38
TÓTH 1977; RIDLEY 2003: 85-86, 154-157.
Bellum Pannonicum: The Roman armies and... 473
The Conclusions
The Pannonian war was great and terrible, but also perceived to be
dangerously close to Italy, as Velleius Paterculus records (2.96.2). It
resulted in the extension of direct and indirect Roman power in southern
Pannonia. While we will never be able to fully reconstruct and comprehend
these events, this paper presents a somewhat different approach to the
existing narratives of the events. The expedition lead by Octavian in
35-33 BC established a Roman strongpoint in Segestica, on the edge of
Pannonian plains. This resulted in the formation of a frontier-zone in
the regions outside of Roman provincial administration. Although direct
evidence is missing, through experiences from the other regions of the
Empire, and indirect evidence, we can assume that Roman diplomacy was
actively involved in the control of frontier-zones by establishing different
diplomatic relationships and alliances with the indigenous communities.
The Romans considered these diplomatic relationships to be important legal
obligations which maintained their political supremacy. The indigenous
elites might not have viewed the alliance with Rome in the same way.
For them, the relationship with the Romans could be an instrument to be
used in local power-relationships, as justification for their own power and
domination. Thus, the appearance of pro-Roman and anti-Roman factions
amongst those groups was a reflection of local power-struggles, rather than
genuine pro-Roman and anti-Roman feelings.
The Pannonian war and the conflicts before and after it were considered
by the Romans essentially as a rebellion of the allies and those who
surrendered to the Roman power, i.e. who offered deditio to the Romans.
The Romans must have been frustrated with indigenous internal power-
struggles; what they perceived as the unreliability of indigenous elites to
act as allies. When Agrippa’s personal diplomacy involving carrots and
sticks failed after his death, Tiberius imposed tighter control on the region
by force. Such an action was also moved by the ever present Roman fear of
the Dacians, and justified by the fact that indigenous groups were breaking
their existing treaties with Rome. The outcome was a stronger Roman
presence in the region, the replacement of anti-Roman with pro-Roman
elites, and tighter conditions of alliance with the Romans. It is no surprise
that such measures created significant indigenous animosity towards
Roman rule, which soon exploded in the Batonian war.
The assessment of the Pannonian war and the events before and after it
cannot be oversimplified as Roman conquest for strategic reasons, material
benefits, or search for defensible borders. These events existed as several
476 DANIJEL DZINO
Bibliography
CONSTANTINA KATSARI
weapons and fodder were made.8 Regular shipments of coins from Rome
towards Dacia could justify the almost exclusive use of official issues
in this province. At least, this is the reason quoted in most of the current
bibliography with regard to coin circulation in the western provinces.9
Such reasoning used to be especially popular amongst ancient historians
who followed Finley’s ideas on the importance of army payments in the
economy of the Roman empire.10 According to this theory, the presence of
the army in a specific region could greatly alter the economic parameters
in a way that would have also affected the production and distribution of
coinages. The central authorities would have played a pivotal role in that
respect. They would have issued coins specifically for the payment of the
legions and they would have transferred them for this purpose in the area.
Subsequently, the money would have purchased services and goods locally.
This way, they would have entered the wider economy.
On the whole, the army played a significant role in both the urbanisation
and the establishment of new emporia in Dacia. Traditionally, the settlement
pattern of Roman Dacia consists of urban centres (municipia, coloniae) and
rural centres such as villas or villages (vici)11. Archaeologically speaking,
the nature of these settlements is yet to be defined – were they permanent
or temporary? What is certain, though, is the fact that some of these
settlements had a military character. As in the neighbouring Moesia where
many municipia evolved out of vici and canabae12, similar developments
took place in Dacia. The army was responsible for local economic growth
and the eventual rise of military settlements. Specifically, canabae were a
gathering of buildings – tabernae, workshops, warehouses etc. – located
close to legionary and auxilliary camps. Even though these communities
were more or less permanent, they were also unplanned. They were
considered military property and they could disappear if the commander
wished so. Vici were a bit further from army land and of a more permanent
nature. They were legally independent and hosted several merchants as well
as veterans. Some of these places were eventually promoted to coloniae,
and such a development was centrally encouraged especially in Dacia. In
other cases abandoned legionary fortresses were given the status of colonia.
These coloniae turned eventually into major urban centres and emporia.13
8
Van BERCHEM 1997, 331-334; POLLARD 2000, 182.
9
HOBLEY 1998.
10
CRAWFORD 1970, 40-48
11
OLTEAN 2007, 119
12
HANSON, HAYNES 2004, 80.
13
WATKINS 1983, 15-25 (esp. 15-16)
Army and Coins in Roman Dacia 485
BIBLIOGRAPHY
14
WEBSTER 1998, 58-64.
15
Herodian 1.12.4
486 CONSTANTINA KATSARI
KATHERINE LOW
spanning Books 2-4 of the Annals – and so cutting across the conventional
divide between Books 1-3 and 4-6 – that depict Rome and Thrace’s relations
between 19 and 26 AD: other authors mention none of this material.
In sum, in Book 2, Tiberius outwits the client-king Rhescuporis, who
has sought to enlarge his territory by attacking and then murdering his fellow
ruler; in Book 3 a burgeoning Thracian revolt is easily quashed, shortly before
a larger-scale rebellion in Gaul; and in Book 4 a more serious revolt occurs,
which the Romans suppress with legionary troops and Thracian auxiliaries.5
Concurrently, in the Roman sphere, the popular Germanicus dies, as does
Tiberius’ son Drusus, and discontent with the emperor slowly grows. At the
beginning of Book 4 the praetorian prefect, Tiberius’ confidant Sejanus, is
formally introduced, and the harm he will do is foreshadowed. By the end
of the book, Rome seems a very grim place indeed.
Admittedly the Thracian sequence finishes with the Romans
triumphant; what happens has little effect on affairs in Rome, and we
hear no more of Thrace in what survives of the Annals. These passages do
not alter very much in the world of the text, and may indeed seem trivial
when juxtaposed with the darkening of Tiberius’ principate and the rise of
Sejanus. However, I shall argue that the manner in which Tacitus portrays
the Thracians and their interaction with Rome adds an extra dimension to
the Roman narrative. The representation of the Thracians and the effect
that being Roman subjects has on them form a coherent negative sequence
that parallels the situation in Rome.
First, some necessary background. Apparently Thracian auxiliaries
served in Roman armies during the republican period, well before the
events that Tacitus describes and the conversion of Thrace into a province
in 46 AD.6 By Tacitus’ own time, at the beginning of the second century,
there were a large number of Thracian units amongst Roman forces.7
However, despite this sign of apparent integration, and Thrace’s internal
reorganisation under Trajan at the time that Tacitus was writing, unlike
in other western provinces there seems to be little evidence for what has
come to be called ‘Romanisation’ in Thrace. A Thraco-Hellenistic culture
endured. Of course, there is no way of telling to what extent Tacitus was
aware of this and, perhaps more importantly, how he incorporated any such
knowledge within his work. Emulation of his predecessors, ethnographic
stereotypes and a desire to provide an additional angle on the Roman
5
For a full summary and references see Appendix I.
6
SADDINGTON, 1982, 86.
7
For more detail see KRAFT, 1951, 39-40, JARRETT, 1969 and SADDINGTON,
1982,
Tacitus and Thrace: Balkan auxiliaries... 489
I.
have been speciosa verbis, re inania aut subdola (A. 1.81.4). His behaviour is described as
occultum ac subdolum fingendis virtutibus, donec Germanicus ac Drusus superfuere (A.
6.51.3). See also A. 1.10.3 (Augustus’ ‘critical’ obituary), and A. 6.20 (Caligula). The final
use of subdolus is at A. 3.7.1, of the behaviour of Gnaeus Piso – who is not an emperor,
but has strong links to the principate.
10
McCULLOCH, 1984, 91-101.
11
See KRAUS, 1999.
12
McCULLOCH, 1984, 93, 97-8.
492 KATHERINE LOW
II.
III.
an attack from the rebel Thracians, who slaughter them, castigating them
for their treachery and lack of patriotism:
versi in luxum et raptis opulenti omittere statione<s> lascivia epularum,
aut somno et vino procumbere… perfugae et proditores ferre arma ad
suum patriaeque servitium incusabantur (A. 4.48.1‑3).
‘Turning to self‑indulgence and rich from what they had plundered,
they neglected their guard‑posts for fine dining, or reclined in a drunken
sleep...they were censured as turncoats and traitors who bore arms in the
service of their own and their country’s slavery’.
The sequence is complete. We have moved from the personal
wickedness of Rhescuporis, to the anti-Roman protests of both groups of
Thracian rebels, to the clear inferiority of those Thracians with Roman
links. The effect of contact with Rome is devastatingly illustrated.
This conclusion is arguably not radical, although it offers an important
perspective on how Tacitus presents imperialism. The criticisms that he
makes such figures as Civilis, Calgacus and Boudicca articulate – as well
as the Gallic and Thracian rebels – are supplemented by subtle illustration
of how Roman rule affects others, in more abstract and then in concrete
terms. But how does it affect Rome? Two points remain.
After the slaughter of Rome’s allies, actions against the rebels are
intensified. Eventually they are besieged in their stronghold, lacking food
and water. Divisions emerge, as in similar siege-scenarios, like Alesia in
Caesar’s BG; one group surrenders, another commits suicide en masse, and
the remainder decide to stage a break-out. This happens at night, echoing
the flight from Plataea in Thucydides’ Book 321, and the Thracians put up
a good fight. Because of the dark and difficult conditions, the Romans
become confused about who is who:
suorum atque hostium ignoratio et montis anfractu repercussae velut a
tergo voces adeo cuncta miscuerant, ut quaedam munimenta Romani
quasi perrupta omiserint (A. 4.51.2).
‘The inability to distinguish their men and the enemy, and voices that
seemed to come from behind them, echoing off the curved side of the
mountain, had confused everything to such as extent that the Romans
abandoned some fortifications, thinking that they had been overrun’.
This temporary blurring of identities does not impede the eventual
Roman victory, nor is it a trope unique to Tacitus. But in Book 2, when
the Romans were still faring well at home and abroad, Rhescuporis looked
21
See McCULLOCH, 1984, 54-5.
498 KATHERINE LOW
like one of them. Now, briefly, Romans have begun to look like Thracians.
We may wonder too if the civil wars which occurred after Nero’s death are
faintly foreshadowed.
This brief erosion of Roman individuality abroad, along with a sense of
the harshness of Roman rule, is matched with deep domestic trouble. The
events in Thrace are followed by a return to Rome, where there is trouble,
commota principis domo (‘the imperial house being in turmoil, A. 4.51.2).
Tiberius leaves the city for good, and then an amphitheatre at Fidenae
collapses, causing countless deaths. Tacitus describes this in terms that echo
the sack of a city:22 again, it is as if the Romans can no longer distinguish
friends and enemies. Those with links to Germanicus are mercilessly
hounded, including the knight Titius Sabinus, whose horrible entrapment
by so-called friends shows that the Roman tendency to deceive and betray
notable foreigners has come closer to home.23 Then a small revolt amongst
the German Frisians leads to an ignominious defeat for Rome (A. 4.72-3),
in contrast with the success in Thrace. Tiberius suppresses the news, to
avoid having to continue the war, while the senate are too preoccupied by
the domestic situation to care.
None of this is causally related to what has happened in Thrace, of
course. Not telling the Thracian story would not have changed Tacitus’
narrative of affairs in Rome. After the second revolt Thrace’s part in the
Annals seems to be over, although as I mentioned Thrace became a full
province in 46. The resistance Tacitus describes was, in a sense, futile. That
may be one reason why he is the only source for these rebellions. But the
deepening trouble back in Rome in Book 4 can be seen as a corollary to the
final stage in the development of Roman relations with Thrace, as I have
traced them in this paper. I hope to have shown that Tacitus’ presentation of
the Thracians is not merely an optional extra, or an interlude in the historical
text, but adds an extra dimension to Rome’s, and Tiberius’, trajectory in
Annals 1-6. Tacitus constructs an increasingly negative perspective on
imperialism. Those who are subject to it not only resent it, but seem to
change for the worse through it. But this deterioration is also a way of
matching, from an unexpected angle, the descent of Tiberius’ principate
towards its nadir. I am not suggesting that Tacitus thinks that imperialism
led to Rome’s decline under Tiberius – that Sallustian notion was doubtless
in his mind, but an easy explanation like that is too simple for the Annals,
and both processes had in any case begun much earlier. But for him, what
22
See WOODMAN, 1998, 138-41.
23
tectum inter et laquearia tres senatores haud minus turpi latebra quam destestanda
fraude sese abstrudunt, foraminibus et rimis aurem admovent (A. 4.68.1).
Tacitus and Thrace: Balkan auxiliaries... 499
Bibliography
MARIA‑GABRIELLA PARISSAKI
Thrace during the 3rd century BC, Macedonian policy revived during the
last Antigonids and especially during the reign of Philip V and his heir
Perseus. Modern historians have not failed to remark that the first campaign
of Philip V into Thrace occurred in 211 BC, that is just one year after
the abolition of the kingdom of Tylis, and have many times pointed out
that this chronological proximity should not be taken as a coincidence but
as a sign of the importance Macedonian kings still gave to the effective
control of the Thracian hinterland3. Moreover, and notwithstanding the
fact that the Roman stranglehold became all the more pressing as the
Macedonian kingdom approached its demise, no modern historian has
doubted the basically successful character of the last Antigonids’ policy
towards that direction. Ιn two articles published in Pulpudeva of 1983 and
in the 3rd International Congress of Thracology one year later, Miltiades
Hatzopoulos described the stages of the Antigonid expansion to the east and
outlined the basic strategic principles behind their policy: the creation of
two concentric perimetres of security (“deux périmètres concentriques de
sécurité”) along the eastern and northern borders of the kingdom, of which
the first included the territory of Thracian tribes that were incorporated
to Macedonia and the second the territory of allied tribes4. Despite its
schematic and for that reason somehow simplified description, this pattern
effectively describes the essence of Macedonian policy during these last
decades of its life. Moreover, modern scholars outlined the importance of
the diplomatic means put forward in order to foster the results of military
activities: dynastic marriages, gifts and payments, all means were used in
order to effectively implement Macedonian policy in Thrace5.
III. Romans in Thrace from 146 BC to the middle of the 1st century BC
The first region of Thrace to attract Roman interest was the zone along
the north Aegean coast east of the Nestus, where the Via Egnatia was built
just a few years after the conversion of neighbouring Macedonia into a
province of the Roman Empire; taking into account the interests of Roman
foreign policy in the middle of the 2nd century BC, this was a zone of major
strategic importance, since it offered the most immediate land connection
between Europe and Asia Minor, where Rome – and Roman traders – had
vital interests since the very beginning of that century. As explicitly stated
by Diodorus and Titus Livius, the three Greek colonies along this zone –
6
See PAPAZOGLOU, 1979: 311, “la protection de la province des incursions
déprédatrices des peuplades limitrophes qui ne cessaient de violer ses frontières fut, dans
la période présullanienne du moins, la principale préoccupation des gouverneurs de la
Macédoine”.
7
See PICARD, 2008: 489-493.
Thrace under Roman sway (146 BC-46 AD)... 503
is available for the Thracian tribes living in the interior of the Rhodope
mountains; but Sapaioi, if not actually incorporated into the lands of the
first μερίς, certainly remained loyal allies of the Romans. So, judging by the
available evidence on Thrace but also from a general tendency in Roman
foreign policy to initially maintain the status quo during the annexation
of new territories, we could surmise in a general way and at least initially
that the wish of Rome regarding its Thracian policy was to maintain the
situation inherited by the last Antigonids.
However and despite this initial wish, changes were soon to occur;
and these were largely due to Romans themselves, since their continuing
expansion towards the East was bound to provoke opposition and
disruptions in the status quo. The first serious shake occurred of course with
the Mithridatic danger, which in one way or another affected all regions of
Thrace13. The magnitude of the upheaval the Mithridatic wars produced
in Thrace obliged Romans to realize on the one hand the inadequacy of
the protective zone under these new, wider realities and on the other hand
the strategic importance of a second zone along the Istrus river; Lucullus
campaign there in 72 BC is the telling realization of the importance of this
zone14. Still, and despite Rome’s final success in the field, the situation
in Thrace during the first half of the 1st century BC was probably quite
different from the one the Romans wished to have had; despite the handling
of the predatory attacks of northern tribes, despite Roman expeditions in
the interior of Thrace and the gradual incorporation of new territories
into the province of Macedonia, the detailed description of Appian of the
movements of the Roman armies before the battle at Philippoi in 42 BC is
a further proof of the flimsy control Romans had on territory that nominally
belonged to them15. That this zone was still considered theirs, though, is
proved by a passage in the Bellum Civilis (3.4), where Caesar enumerates
the forces of Pompeius; five hundred men were sent to him by Cotys ex
Thracia, under the command of his son Sadalas, while two hundred more
were sent ex Macedonia, under the command of Rhascypolis, who bears
13
For Thracian cities and tribes during the Mithridatic wars, see generally
GAGGERO 1976 and AVRAM and BOUNEGRU, 2006; for the Greek colonies of the
north Aegean coast, see IThrAeg, p. 166 and 327 with further bibliography.
14
For a brief description of this campaign, see DANOV, 1979: 115-116.
15
For the manoeuvres of the Roman troops along the north Aegean coast before the
battle of Philippoi, see Appian, ωμαϊκν μφυλίων 4.11.87-113 and 4.13.105 (and also
below, n. 19), Dio Cassius, ωμαϊκ 47.35 and Plut. Brut. 38; cf. the comment of Cicero
in De provinciis consularibus 2.4 that via illa nostra militaris, quae per Macedoniam est
usque ad Hellespontum militaris, non solum excursionibus barbarorum sit infecta, sed
etiam castris Thraeciis distincta ac notata.
Thrace under Roman sway (146 BC-46 AD)... 505
control the Sapaioi seem to have exercised on the coastal zone east of the
Nestus river and north of the Greek cities of Abdera and Maronea from
the middle of the 1st century BC onwards, as revealed by the description of
Appian mentioned above, but mostly by a series of inscriptions mentioning
the Sapaean dynasts22. This control, which certainly reflects a drastic
change compared to the settlement of Thracian affairs of 146 BC, is usually
interpreted in modern historiography as an acknowledgement from the part
of Rome of its inefficiency in controlling Thracian affairs. But it should be
remembered that in many cases Rome showed no hesitation in abandoning
conquered territory to the control of local dynasts, if this was considered
more expedient to her policy and it is to this ‘abandonment’ that lays the
very raison d’être of many client kingdoms in the East. From the many
examples one could mention, suffice it here to remember the history of the
province of Cilicia, first created in 102 BC to include a region stretching
along the southern coast of Asia Minor, lessened to include only Cilicia
Campestris during Antony and Augustus – when wide domains were
granted to local kings – and then augmented again under Vespasian in 72
AD, when these local dynasties were finally suppressed23.
(c) One last point should be stressed in order to get a better grasp of
the Roman factor in the emergence of this new kingdom of Thrace. The
22
These are basically (from west to east): (a) one inscription from a quarry named
Tzari in the area of Nea Karvali, that is ten kilometres east of Kavala, see BAKALAKIS,
G., “Θρακικ Εχαριστήρια ες τν Δία”, Thrakika 6 (1935) 302-310, fig. 1-2 (=Ονος
σμαρικός. Τιμητικός τόμος γι τν καθηγητ Γ. Μπακαλάκη [Thessaloniki 1990] 19-27); (b) the
inscription IThrAeg E83 of unknown exact origin, but from a place lying west of Abdera;
(c) probably IThrAeg E207 from Maronea; (d) and one more from Perinthos, see SAYAR,
Μ. Η., Perinthos-Herakleia (Marmara Ereglisi) und Umgebung. Geschichte, Testimonien,
griechische-lateinische Inschriften (Vienna 1998) no 5. For the historical conclusions to
be drawn from the presence of these inscriptions within or close to the territory of Greek
cities, see LOUKOPOULOU, 1987: 88-91 and more precisely p. 91 where the author
concludes that these inscriptions “make it sufficiently clear in our opinion that during
the last decades of the pre-Christian era and the early decades of the first century AD
the Thracian coasts of the Aegean and the Propontis fell under the sovereign rule or the
suzerainty of the Thracian kings and, in consequence, were outside the limits of direct
Roman rule and beyond the bounds of provincial administration”.
23
For the quite complicated administrative history of the region, see the concise
summary of SARTRE, M., L’Orient Romain. Provinces et sociétés provinciales en
Méditerranée orientale d’Auguste aux Sévères (31 avant J.-C.-235 après J.-C.), (Paris
1991) 258-260. For these “temporary reversions from provincial land to ‘independent
kingdom’”, see more recently the remarks of Ted Kaizer and Margherita Facella in the
introduction of Kingdoms and Principalities in the Roman Near East, Oriens et Occidens.
Studien zu antiken Kulturkontakten und ihrem Nachleben 19 (Stuttgart 2010) 31-32.
508 MARIA‑GABRIELLA PARISSAKI
initial unification of the two Thracian tribes of the Astoi and Sapaioi
led to a gradual and loose – and for that reason very difficult to define
geographically – political unification of Thrace that lasted all along the
last century of its ‘independent’ history24. Of how unstable and precarious
this unification was, the very history of this kingdom is the telling proof;
but notwithstanding its character, this political unification of Thrace would
not have lasted without the constant support of the Romans. In the most
important crises that the Thracian kings had to face during this last century,
the intervention of Rome seems to have been immediate and effective; this
is explicitly mentioned in the sources for 21 AD, when Rhoemetalces II
was besieged in Philippopolis by the joint forces of the Coelaletae, Odrysae
and Dii (Tac. Ann. 3-38-39) and again a few years later during the revolt of
the Bessoi (Tac. Ann. 4. 46-51)25.
If we accept that Rome was the eminence grise behind the formation of
this new kingdom of Thrace, then one more question should be addressed:
was this initiative finally successful? As underlined above, the history of
the client-kingdom of Thrace seems to have been one of constant instability
and, consequently, a source of recurrent concern for Rome. Dynastic
rivalries among the ruling family were fierce and in two cases they finally
led to the subdivision of the kingdom. But when considering the final goal
behind this Sapaean-Astaean alliance – that is the effective control of the
Thracian tribes and the protection of the Roman province of Macedonia
from their incursions – then this policy should certainly be considered
much more effective than the one pursued during the first period. From the
middle of the 1st century BC to 46 AD the mobilization of the Roman army
due to the incapacity of the client-kingdom to effectively control Thracian
tribes seems to have been necessitated only in a few occasions, basically
during the two revolts mentioned above; and more important still, it seems
that during this same period the province of Macedonia was not seriously
threatened by Thracian incursions. Moreover, it should be remembered that
inner-dynastic quarrels may not have been unpleasant or burdensome to
Rome, since they actually contributed in keeping the Thracian dynast at
charge under Roman check.
To sum up, from 146 BC to 46 AD two periods may be discerned as
far as the handling of Thracian affairs by the Romans is concerned. During
the first one – spanning from the provincialisation of Macedonia in 146 BC
24
For the gradual character of this unification, see also SULLIVAN, 1979: 188, n. 2.
25
For a brief description of the events of these years, see JONES, 1971: 8-10 and
DANOV, 1979: 127-145.
Thrace under Roman sway (146 BC-46 AD)... 509
BIBLIOGRAPHY
NICHOLAS V. SEKUNDA
According to Arrian (Anab. 7.6.1) the name epigonoi was given to this
new phalanx by Alexander himself, and this, together with the fact that
Diodoros (17.108.3) calls the formation an antitagma, shows clearly that
it was the intention of Alexander to use this new formation to replace the
Macedonian phalanx. This was not lost on the Macedonians themselves,
and the arrival of the epigonoi in Susa precipitated a mutiny in Alexander’s
forces (Olbrycht 2008).
The Epigonoi
they were of all races’ (Diod. 19.27.6) and at the later battle of Gabiene
‘those of the other troops who were armed in the Macedonian fashion’
(Diod. 19.40.3). These 5,000 would have included Peukestas’ men and
presumably the balance was drawn from the other satrapal contingents that
made up Eumenes’ army.
At the same time we hear of ‘more than 8,000 troops of mixed origin in
Macedonian equipment’ in the army of Antigonos (Diod. 19.29. 3).
Argyraspides
Also present at the two battles were the regiment called the argyraspides
(Anson 1981). The term argyraspides (‘silver shields’) first appears as an
alternative title for the Macedonian hypaspistai at the battle of Gaugamela in
Diodorus (17.57.2) and Curtius (4.13.27). This appears to be retrospective,
for Justin (12.7.5; cf. Curt. 8.5.4) tells us that before the Indian Campaign
Alexander had the men’s arms overlaid with silver, and he called the army
the argyraspides after their silver shields, so the change in regimental title
came, in fact, later. The official renaming, therefore, seems to have taken
place before the Indian Campaign.
After the death of Alexander the argyraspides are known to have been
commanded by Antigenes and Teutamus (Plut. Eum. 13.2) and are given
the strength of 3,000 (Diod. 18.58.1, 59.3). Antigenes is first mentioned
as a commander of the hypaspistai after the promotions of Sittacene in
331. In 318 BC the 3,000 argyraspides first came under the command
of Eumenes, on the orders of Polyperchon representing Olympias, who
was acting in support of Alexander’s infant heir Alexander IV (Diod.
18.58.1). At the battle of Paraitakenai in 317/6 BC Eumenes drew up the
Macedonian argyraspides, more than 3,000 in number, ‘undefeated troops
the fame of whose exploits caused much fear among the enemy’ (Diod.
19.28.1). Eumenes’ men were victorious in the phalanx battle because of
the valour of the argyraspides. ‘These warriors were already well on in
years, but because of the great number of battles they had fought they were
outstanding in hardihood and skill, so that no one confronting them was
able to withstand their might. Therefore although there were only 3,000 of
them, they had become the main force of the army’ (Diod. 19.30.5-6).
Eumenes drew up the argyraspides in the centre of the line at the battle
of Gabiene as well (Diod. 19.40.3). At this battle, fought in 316 BC, it
is mentioned (Diod. 19.41.2; Plut. Eum. 16.4) that the youngest of the
The ‘Victory’ coinage of Patraos of Paionia 517
argyraspides were about 60 years old, most of the others about 70, and
some even older; ‘but all of them were irresistible because of experience
and strength, such was the skill and daring acquired through the unbroken
series of their battles’. So, if most of the argyraspides were aged 70, they
would have been born about 387 BC, and so aged 43 when the army crossed
over to Asia in 334 BC.
Diodoros (19.43.1) continues in his description of the battle ‘As for the
infantry, the argyraspides in close order (συμφράξαντες) fell those drawn
up against them, killing some of them in hand to hand fighting and forcing
others to flee. They were not to be checked in their charge an engaging the
entire opposing phalanx, showing themselves to be so superior in skill and
strength that of their own men they lost not one, but of those who opposed
them they slew over 5000 and routed the entire force of infantry, whose
numbers were many times their own’.
Although victorious on the battlefield, the other units of Eumenes’
army were not, and ‘the Macedonians (argyraspides) formed themselves
into a square and withdrew safely to the river’ where they were joined by
Eumenes ‘about the time for lighting lamps’ (Diod. 19.43.5). During the
battle Antigonos had captured the baggage train of the argyraspides, and
the latter troops were persuaded to surrender Eumenes up to Antigonos,
following which Eumenes was put to death. Antigonos also seized
Antigenes commander of the argyraspides, put him into a pit, and burned
him alive (Diod. 19.44.2).
After the battle the most turbulent of the argyraspides were assigned to
Sibyrtios the satrap of Arachosia ‘ostensibly that they might be useful in war,
but in reality to ensure their destruction; for he had privately directed the
satrap to send a few at a time on duties in which they were bound to be killed’
(Diod. 19.48.2). The argyraspides eventually ended up in Seleucid service.
I believe that the argyraspides are present on another variant of the
victory coinage of Patraos of Paionia. On one example (Fig. 2) the Paionian
horseman, dressed in different armour to the previous coin, is shown riding
down an infantryman dressed in a style which is purely Macedonian, and
carrying Macedonian weapons. He does not wear trousers, and he wears a
sleeveless tunic falling to the knee, and a kausia on his head. The kausia
(Fig. 3) was a kind of beret made of felt and was the Macedonian national
headdress. The kausia was an evocative symbol of Macedonian national
feeling. In the first rounds of conflict in the wars of the Diadochoi, Plutarch
(Life of Eumenes 6. 1) tells us that if the Macedonians only caught sight
of Krateros’ kausia they would go over to his side. Other examples of the
kausia have a more pronounced headband. The coin could represent any
518 NICHOLAS V. SEKUNDA
Fig: 3 Coin struck by King Antimachos III of Bactria showing the king wearing a kausia
with a royal diadem beneath it (photo: British Museum).
The ‘Victory’ coinage of Patraos of Paionia 519
The Hypaspists
coins of Patraos divide readily into the earlier issues, with dotted border on
the obverse, and the later issues without a border. Many of the later issues
are struck on cast flans’, but I will leave these problems to the numismatists.
Bibliography:
LILIANA SIMEONOVA
the capital a distinct identity of its own, Constantine and his successors
imported antique statuary, relics and sacred objects. The import and re-use
of classical sculpture enabled Constantinople to develop a civic identity –
the identity of a New Rome. Also, in the course of time, the organization of
religious life in Constantinople, the setting and shaping of the processional
liturgy and the import of relics and Christian sacred objects helped the city
become one of the most important spiritual centers of Christendom – a
New Jerusalem.3 In other words, Constantine the Great set in motion the
process by which, in the space of a century or two, Constantinople would
become the capital of the civilized world.4
For centuries to come, Constantinople boasted a collection of antique
statuary and sacred objects that was unrivaled by any city in the medieval
world. One of the chroniclers of the Fourth Crusade (1204), Robert de Clary,
noted that “two-thirds of all the wealth of the world was in Constantinople,
and … the other third was scattered throughout the world”.5
Largely composed of pre-fourth-century antiquities, Constantinople’s
classical art collection was created by bringing statuary from all parts of the
Empire to the new capital: by order of the emperors pagan temples, public
buildings and town squares were being stripped off of their best statues,
reliefs, columns and every other type of ornamentation. Under Constantine
I and his immediate successors, the classical-sculpture gatherings spread
throughout Constantinople’s public spaces. When, in the late fourth and
early fifth centuries, the areas of the Theodosian enlargements were
incorporated into the city, in the new urban spaces additional ensembles of
antique statuary were formed.6 The policy of antique-statuary-gathering was
continued under the fifth-century emperors until the habit of transporting
classical art to Constantinople altogether died out in the reign of Justinian
the Great (527-565).7 But by that time, the city had already turned into a
giant open-air museum.
At present, few monuments of classical art survive in situ in Istanbul:
the most notable among them are the so-called Serpent Column and the
Theodosian (Egyptian) Obelisk. Archaeological excavation has only
provided a handful of antiquities associated with Constantinople’s
3
BALDOVIN 1986, 57-67; DAGRON 1989, 1069-1085.
4
DAGRON 1974 ; ALCHERMES 1998 ( 2002), 13-38.
5
Robert de Clari dans LAUER 1924, cap. 81.
6
On the deployment of classical statuary art in Constantinople, see JANIN 1950.
7
On the reconstruction of the great urban displays of Constantinople by identifying
the individual contents of the antique statuary collection, and by addressing the context in
which individual monuments came to be displayed, see BASSETT 2005.
526 LILIANA SIMEONOVA
globe gleaming with gold leaf; this was immediately struck by a bolt of
the divine fire and therefore removed and replaced by a bronze figure
of a torch, likewise overlaid with gold foil and glowing like a mass of
flame. And subsequent generations have brought over other obelisks, of
which one was set up on the Vatican, another in the gardens of Sallust,
and two at the mausoleum of Augustus.”11
The Egyptian obelisk, which Ammianus Marcellinus writes about, is
what is known today as the Theodosian Obelisk in Istanbul. It was first
shipped to Rome by Constantius II (337-361) and later on to Constantinople
by Theodosius the Great (378-392). Some scholars (such as Sarah Bassett
and Labib Habachi) argue that Constantius II must have shipped not one but
two obelisks down the Nile to Alexandria: from there, one of those obelisks
was taken to Rome to commemorate the emperor’s ventennalia, or 20 years
on the throne, in 357; the second obelisk must have remained in Alexandria
until 390 when Theodosius I had it transported to Constantinople.12 This
hypothesis, however, does not find corroboration in Ammianus Marcellinus
who only mentions one obelisk. The transportation techniques that were
used for the shipment of the giant monolith from Rome to Constantinople
must have been the same as the ones that had been used for its transportation
from Alexandria to Rome.
Constantine’s activities, which focused on the reconstruction and
embelishment of the city of Byzantium, have been described in different
ways by his contemporaries or near-contemporaries. Thus, the fifth- (or
early sixth-) century historian Zosimus, who is known for his strong anti-
Constantinian bias, writes that, having incurred upon himself the hatred of
both the Senate and the people of Rome, Constantine decided to seek
“for another city as large as Rome, where he might build himself a
palace.” At first, he “discovered a convenient site between Troas and
old Ilium [at the Hellespont], he there accordingly laid a foundation,
and built part of a wall to a considerable height”.
But shortly afterward, Constantine changed his mind and moved on to
Byzantium on the Bosphorus “where he admired the situation of the place,
11
AMM. MARCELL. XVII.4 – In: AMMIANUS MARCELLINUS. Roman
History. Trans. by ROLFE, J.C., Vol. I [Loeb Classical Library 300]. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1930. Cf. SEYFARTH, W. (ed.) Ammianus Marcellinus.
Rerum gestarum libri qui supersunt. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1978. See also the English translation
of CROKE, B. The Chronicle of Marcellinus. A Translation and Commentary (with a
Reproduction of Mommsen’s Edition of the Text). Sydney, 1995.
12
GUBERTI BASSETT 1991, 87-96; HABACHI 1985.
The Statuary‑Art‑Gathering Policy... 529
what the people were doing. In the other temple he placed the statue of
the Fortune of Rome. He afterwards built convenient dwellings for the
senators who followed him from Rome.”14
Zosimus undertook the task of describing the events that led to the decline
of the Roman Empire, from a pagan point of view. He is by no means sparing of
the faults of the Christian emperors. His credibility has been fiercely assailed by
several Christian writers: for example, the late sixth‑century author Evagrius
Scholasticus15 attacked Zosimus, on account of his anti‑Christian bias. And
this is what Patriarch Photius (858‑867; 877‑886) has to say about Zosimus:
“It may be said that Zosimus did not himself write the history, but that
he copied that of Eunapius, from which it only differs in brevity and in
being less abusive of Stilicho. In other respects his account is much the
same, especially in the attacks upon the Christian emperors.”16 Zosimus
seems to have pieced together his sources, mainly constructing his history
from contemporary or near‑contemporary sources, such as Olympiodorus
and Eunapius. Similar to the fourth‑century author Eunapius, whose works
are marked by a spirit of bitter hostility to Christianity, Zosimus was an
avowed pagan, not hiding his animosity towards Christianity, the Church,
and Constantine the Great. Yet even Zosimus readily admits that Emperor
Constantine I managed to assemble an impressive collection of classical
sculpture, to adorn his new capital.
As for Constantine’s Christian contemporaries, they too seem to have
encountered a moral problem when describing the emperor’s art-collecting
activity. Their problem stemmed from the fact that Constantine I showed a
weakness for pagan sculpture and erected pagan temples in the new capital.
In his Life of Constantine, Eusebius Pamphilus, the bishop of Caesarea, tells
the story of how classical statuary art was removed from pagan temples by
order of the emperor. Understandably, Constantine did not entrust simple
soldiers with this delicate task but sent out people whom Eusebius refers to
as being friends of the emperor’s:
“For as soon as he [i.e., Constantine I] understood that the ignorant
multitudes were inspired with a vain and childish dread of these bugbears
of error, wrought in gold and silver, he judged it right to remove these
also, like stumbling-stones thrown in the way of men walking in the
14
Ibid.
15
EVAGRIUS. History of the Church in Six Books, from AD 431 to AD 594. A New
Translation from the Greek with an Account of the Author and His Writings. London:
Samuel Bagster & Sons, 1846.
16
PHOTIUS. Bibliotheca, Cod. 98 – In: HENRY, R., (ed.), Photius, Bibliothèque,
T. I‑VIII. Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1959‑1977.
The Statuary‑Art‑Gathering Policy... 531
the Great, to adorn the starting gates at his new Hippodrome. The four
horses remained, undisturbed, on the Hippodrome main gate for almost
nine hundred years. Following the fall of Constantinople to the armies of
the Fourth Crusade (1204), the Doge of Venice claimed the ‘Lysippus’
horses.28 The Venetians carried them off to Venice; there, for at least fifty
years, they were warehoused in the Arsenal, to be protected from metal-
hungry cannon makers. A later Doge, probably Enrico Zanieri, finally put
them up on the logia above the main door of St. Mark’s, as a symbol of
Venetian power.29 There they stayed for another five hundred years, until in
1797 Napoleon carried them off to Paris where they were placed at the top
of the Triumphal Arch of the Carrousel. The Congress of Vienna (1815)
sent most of Napoleon’s loot back to Venice, and the horses, in due time,
were reinstalled on the St. Mark’s logia.
Following the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople (1453), the
Hippodrome taking the Turkish name At Meydani (i.e., Horse Square) was
used to train horses and for the equestrian game of cirit. But in the sixteenth
century the Hippodrome continued to serve as a place of state-sponsored
popular entertainment and political unrest (such as Janissary rebellions).
For example, the Hippodrome was the scene of splendid festivities on
the occasion of the marriage of the sister of Suleiman the Magnificent
(1520‑1566) to the Grand Vizier Ibrahim Pasha in 1524 as well as on the
occasion of the circumcision feast held for Suleiman’s sons in 1530.30
The town squares (fora) of Constantinople were considerably smaller
than those of Rome: this has led some scholars to believe that the public
squares in the new capital were designed to fulfill mostly ceremonial
functions. Other scholars, however, argue that the town squares of
Constantinople were also being used as marketplaces, that is, they fulfilled
commercial as well as ceremonial functions.31 There were four fora in
Late Antique Constantinople: the Forum of Constantine, the Forum of
Arcadius, the Forum of Theodosius, and the so-called Augusteion. They
were adorned with honorific columns, statues, and arches. In Constantine’s
Forum, for example, apart from Constantine’s honorific column,32 there
stood a number of antique sculptures. According to the thirteenth-century
Byzantine historian Niketas Choniates, in Constantine’s Forum there stood
28
MARTIN, 2008, 113-122.
29
PETRARCA. Rerum senillum, V – In: WEISS, R. The Renaissance Discovery of
Classical Antiquity. Oxford: Blackwell, 1973, p. 35.
30
MERRIMAN, R. Suleiman the Magnificent. New York: Cooper Square Publishers,
Inc., 1996.
31
MUNDELL MANGO 2000, 189-207.
32
MANGO, 1984, Constantine’s Column, Study III.
536 LILIANA SIMEONOVA
a thirty feet high statue of the goddess Athena33 and two other female
statues, which the populace referred to as the “Roman woman” and the
“Hungarian woman”.34
An impressive number of statues, reliefs, and inscriptions were
deployed all over the city: on top of the city gates, in front of the Senate
building, on the premises of the palace, in the Milion, which was the
city’s busiest intersection, in the public baths, and on the Xyrolophos (i.e.,
the Dry Hill) where the Mese (i.e., Main Street) ended. In the medieval
period, the populace of Constantinople and the elite shared the folkloristic
belief that certain ancient statues and reliefs were endowed with magical
powers. But in early Constantinople things were different: as has already
been mentioned, the deployment of classical statuary in the public spaces
was an integral part of late antique urbanism, its goal being to underscore
Constantinople’s unique right to urban preeminence in the Empire.
Fourth-century Constantinople could also be viewed as a “New Troy”,
that is, the legendary ancestral home of the Romans in the East, from which
Aeneas fled following its sack by the Greeks. (Some early Byzantine authors
such as Zosimus35 wrote that Constantine’s original plan was to build his
new capital near ancient Troy.) Many of the public statues brought in to
decorate the early city refer specifically to the Trojan legend, such as the
ensemble that decorated the Baths of Zeuxippos at the entrance to the Great
Palace. Byzantine writers claimed that the colossal statue of Constantine as
Apollo-Helios, set at the centre of his Forum, had been brought from Troy
itself. Sarah Bassett argues that early Constantinople was very much an
intellectual creation, one that “grew up around the intersection of history
and myth ... that makes the city the last link in a chain of destiny that
stretched from Troy to Rome”.36 But, as Robert Ousterhout points out,
the success of Constantine’s “invention” may be best judged by the fact
that the myths and legends promulgated by the collections of statues long
outlived the imported works of art. When the city was again “reinvented”
by Mehmed the Conqueror after 1453, most of the statues were gone, but
the associations with Rome and Troy were still vivid – so much so that
33
See Nicetas Choniates Concerning the Statues of Constantinople Destroyed
by the Crusaders – In: MICHAUD, J.F. The History of the Crusades, Vol. 3. Trans. by
ROBSON, W. New York: Armstrong, 1881, 435-441, esp. p. 435. The original of this
fragment is not in the editions of Niketas Choniates.
34
VAN DIETEN, J.-L., (ed.), Niketas Choniates. Historia [Corpus Fontium Historiae
Byzantinae, Vol. 11, pts. 1-2. Series Berolinensis], Berlin, 1975, p. 151. Cf. O City of
Byzantium. Annals of Niketas Choniates. Trans. by MAGOULIAS, H. J. Detroit, 1984, p. 86.
35
See above, notes 13, 14.
36
BASSETT 2005, 75-78.
The Statuary‑Art‑Gathering Policy... 537
Mehmed claimed descent from the Trojans and viewed his conquest of
the Byzantine Empire as vengeance against the Greeks for their injustices
against the Trojans and other Asiatics in centuries past.37
Among Constantine’s successors to the throne, Theodosius I was by
far the most ardent collector of classical art.38 Following his orders, the
Heliopolis obelisk, which Constantius II had transported to Rome, was
shipped to Constantinople, to be set in the Hippodrome on a specially
built base.39 The base is entirely covered with white marble bas-reliefs.
Theodosius and his family, with a cover over them as a mark of their
status, are shown as being separated from the nobles among the spectators
in the imperial box of the Hippodrome. In these reliefs, the naturalism of
traditional Roman art in such scenes gave way to conceptual art, which
focused on the idea of order, decorum, and respective ranking.40 Also, the
Forum Tauri in Constantinople was renamed and redecorated as the Forum
of Theodosius, including a column in his honor. Initially, Theodosius I
voiced his support for the preservation of temples or pagan statues as useful
public buildings or as works of art. For example, an edict directed at the
city of Edessa, dated 382, indicates that the sacrifices should cease but
that the temple should remain open, “for the common use of the people”,
its contents being “measured by the value of their art rather than by their
divinity”.41 In 391, however, he officially sanctioned the destruction of the
most famous temple in the East, the Serapeum at Alexandria.42
The reuse of antique columns, reliefs, and other ornament features
was continued under Theodosius I, Arcadius (395‑408), and Theodosius
II (408‑450), for the dual purpose of keeping the construction costs down
and beautification of the place. Thus, in the Golden Gate complex one
encounters two antique marble columns, pedestals, capitals, and pieces of
antique reliefs – all of them were reused.43 Justinian the Great (527-565)
was no stranger to this practice, either: under his orders, Hellenistic columns
37
OUSTERHOUT 2005, 27 sqq.
38
BASSETT 2005, 79-97.
39
See above, notes 9, 10, and 20.
40
SAFRAN 1993, 409-455.
41
Cod. Theod. 16.10.8 (30 November 382) – In: MOMMSEN, Th.; MEYER, P.M.
(eds.), Theodosiani libri XVI cum Constitutionibus Sirmondianis. Berlin, 1905.
42
SOCRATES, Historia Ecclesiastica 5.16-17 – In: HANSEN, G.C. (ed.), Sokrates:
Kirchengeschichte [Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller ns 1] Berlin:Akademie
Verlag, 1995; SOZOMENUS, Historia Ecclesiastica 7.15 – In: BIDEZ, J.; HANSEN,
G.C. (eds.), Sozomenus: Kirchengeschichte [Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller
50] Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1960.
43
MANGO 2000, 180-182.
538 LILIANA SIMEONOVA
BIBLIOGRAPHY
61
PETRI GYLLII De Topographia Constantinopoleos et de illius antiquitatibus
libri IV. Lyon, 1561.
542 LILIANA SIMEONOVA
IVO TOPALILOV
The role of the Thracians in the Roman navy has been well established
since 1941 when Ch. Starr published his excellent study on the Roman
navy.1 The massive recruitment, especially of Bessi in the fleet based
in Missenum, gave reason to M. Tatcheva to go as far as to propose the
hypothesis that the recruitment of Thracians from this tribe must have
been an attempt of the Roman government to cope with such trouble-
making tribes as the Bessi, since about 70 percents of the soldiers in the
Roman fleet died during their actual military service.2 The Bessi were
recruited mostly for the squadron in Missenum (but also for the Ravennate
one) and according to statistical studies they numbered almost half of
the sailors (especially in the first two centuries)3. It is also proposed in
the literature that after their honorary discharge, the Thracian veterans
returned home.4 If so, and if Philippopolis was actually the capital of
the στρατεγοι Βεσσική as proposed in the literature5, and therefore its
territory overlapped with the administrative territory of the Roman
city6, we should expect abundance of evidence for actual navy veterans’
presence in that city and its area. The aim of this study is to explore that
evidence.
Up to now four veterans are known to originate from Philippopolis
based on military diplomas, given as follows: C. Iulius Bithus, Seuthi
1
STARR 1960 – a study so successful that it has reached the fourth edition, up until
today.
2
TATCHEVA 2000; for the Bessi in the Roman army- see TATSCHEVA 1999,
863-872
3
See STARR 1960, 71-72
4
See recently HAYNES 2011, 8
5
LOZANOV 2002, 291
6
TATCHEVA 2000, 51; TATCHEVA 2004, 48
546 IVO TOPALILOV
that remain unclear so far – the person who is responsible for erecting the
stela – C. Scentius Celer17, and the obscure object which the deceased holds
in his right hand.
Fig. 1
Fig. 2
As might be noticed (see fig. 2), C. Scentius Celer has tria nomina
and belongs to that group of persons of peregrine origin with praenomen
17
Some preliminary notes on C. Scentius Celer – see TOPALILOV 2009.
548 IVO TOPALILOV
where the shield is missing and in this case we might be dealing with
veterans who became magistrates.40 The stela of Aurelius Mucianus could
provide an answer: Aurelius Mucianus was called as (centurioni) de[p]
utato and he has a vitis depicted on the stela (fig. 4).41 He is not wearing
a military outfit and he is holding in his left hand a roll of paper. It is to
be concluded that obviously the veterans in Perinthos were appointed as
magistrates (which is logical), but the roll of paper being depicted on the
soldiers’ stelae shows that it does not constitute a distinguishing mark for
the magisterial office in the capital of the Roman province of Thrace.
Fig. 3 Fig.4
As already mentioned, a vitis is depicted on the Aurelius Mucianus’
stela. It is established that the vine – branch of this type presented here has
nothing to do with the original earlier examples of vitis and obviously by
that time it already lost its initial meaning and was purely a mark of status.
The important thing here is the fact that this stela with vitis is not only
the closest one (from a geographical perspective) to the one of M. Annius
Severus under discussion here, but also the closest chronologically as it is
40
SAYAR 1998, Nr. 87, Taf. 22, 84; Nr. 86, Taf. 22, 83; SLAWISCH 2007, 181,
Taf. 9, 30; 31
41
SAYAR 1998, Nr. 78, Taf, 21, 78; SLAWISCH 2007, 181, Taf. 9, 32
552 IVO TOPALILOV
dated to the first half of III c. A.D.42 It shows how the vitis was depicted at
that time and it gain confirmation in another stela of Rhaidestos dated to
the time of Hadrian-Antonius Pius where a bearded soldier with tunica and
sagum is depicted. In his left hand he holds a roll paper while in his right
hand he holds a vitis (fig. 5).43
This short study on the stelae found so far in Thrace where vitis or
roll paper is depicted allows me to propose that both the interpretations
discussed above should be reconsidered. The object from Philippopolis is
neither close to the vitis examples, nor to the examples of roll of paper
found in the same province having approximately the same date. In fact,
the closest parallel in the matter of shape and handing is the image of
Hermes Psychopompos found in the funeral stela of Ματρώνα and her
mother Μαρκιανή. Hermes holds in his right hand a simple rod (fig. 6).44
The discrepancy between this rod and the object from Philippopolis lies in
the upper end which is a simple one in the stela from Perinthos and oval
in the stela of Philippopolis (fig. 7). This does not allow me to identify the
Philippopolis object as a simple rod which was actually an attribute of a
god and the question would still remain open.
42
SLAWISCH 2007, 84
43
See SLAWISCH 2007, 90; 187; Taf. 17, Rh 2
44
SAYAR 1989, Nr. 141; SLAWISCH 2007, 81, 180, Taf. 7, P 21
Roman Sailors at Philippopolis, Thrace 553
In fact, this upper oval ending may be the key for solution of the problem.
It reminds very much of the upper end of circinus rectus, i. e. circle used in
the construction. The circle itself is depicted in various ways. In some stelae
it was depicted without any ending at all (fig. 8)45, but in most of them it has
the ending shown in fig. 9.46
Fig. 8 Fig. 9
In these latter examples, different types of the circle itself may be
distinguished on the basis of the shapes of their arms. Despite this, it seems
to me that this should be the closest parallel to the object which M. Annius
Severus from Philippopolis is shown holding in his right hand. They only
differ in the position where the circinus rectus was depicted. It was usually
presented on a plane surface and not as a part of the image of the deceased.
In fact, there is one example coming from Thrace that I know of where
the circinus rectus was also depicted, which derives from Perinthos. Here,
according to the Italian tradition, the circinus is present near the image of
the deceased (fig. 10).47 This discrepancy could be easily explained by the
particularities of the relief of the funeral stela of M. Annius Severus, which
was in high relief, as well as the fact that the latter was not executed in a
Roman workshop, but in a Greek one. On the other hand, the main idea of the
stela of M. Annius Severus was to point out to the dignity of deceased, who
stands up dressed in his military outfit (in spite of his status as a veteran).
45
See ZIMMER 1982, 168-169, Nr. 92
46
See ZIMMER1982, 165, Nr. 89; 169, Nr. 93; 170, Nr.Nr. 94-95; 175, Nr. 103;
176, Nr. 104; 179, Nr. 111
47
SAYAR 1998, Nr. 158, Taf. 33, 132; SLAWISCH 2007, 180, Taf. 6, P 17
554 IVO TOPALILOV
Showing such a small tool such as the circinus rectus will ‘break the hole
idea’ of the stela, and thus the artist seems to have found the only way to
cope with the problem – by depicting that tool being held in the right hand
of the deceased.
Fig. 10
If the identification of the object being held by M. Annius Severus
proposed here is correct, it raises the question of whether his duties on
military service were connected with the construction of buildings, as well.
The evidence for this kind of work done by the sailors is very scanty and we
are aware of only a few such examples, as this one from Bougie where the
marines built an aqueduct during the time of Antonius Pius.48 The other one
comes from Britain where some tiles suggest the navy’s presence there.49
As M. Reddé points, however, the study of this phenomenon is impossible,
given the absence of documents. In this line, the stela of M. Annius Severus
also contributes to study of the non-military activities of the sailors, and
especially those who served in the Misene squadron. In fact, this activity
should not be surprising if we bear in mind that construction work was one
of the main duties of the Roman legions and auxiliary units in peace-like
time.
48
See CIL VIII, 2728; REDDÉ 1986, 453
49
Ibid., 281-282, 453
Roman Sailors at Philippopolis, Thrace 555
Jacques Bouchard
Centre d’Études Néo-helléniques de l’Université de Montréal, Canada
jacques.iacchos@gmail.com
Tănase Bujduveanu
Collège « Carol I », Constanţa, Roumanie
bujduveanu@yahoo.com
Ovidiana Raluca Bulumac
Département Chaire UNESCO d’Étude des Échanges Interculturels et
Interreligieux, Université de Bucarest, Roumanie
ovidiana.bulumac@gmail.com
Charles Burnett
The Warburg Institute, University of London, UK
Charles.Burnett@sas.ac.uk
Policarp Chiţulescu
Bibliothèque du Saint Synode-Patriarcat Roumain, Bucarest, Roumanie
perepolycarpe@yahoo.com
Lilian Ciachir
Département-Chaire UNESCO d’Étude des Échanges Interculturels et
Interreligieux, Université de Bucarest, Roumanie
l.ciachir@interculturel.org
lilianciachir@gmail.com
Ioana Costa
Department of Classical Philology, University of Bucharest, Romania
ioanacosta@yahoo.com
Marisa Midori Deaecto
Universidade de São Paulo - Escola de Comunicações e Artes - Depto. de
Jornalismo e Editoração, Av. Prof. Lúcio Martins Rodrigues, 443 - bl. A, São
Paulo (SP) - Brasil - 05508-900
marisamidori@yahoo.com
Peter Delev
University of Sofia “St. Kliment Ohridski”, Sofia, Bulgaria
peter.delev@yahoo.com
Symposium International Le livre. La Roumanie. L’Europe. 2011, 4ème édition 563
Eka Dughashvili
National Centre of Manuscripts, Tbilisi, Georgia
eka_dughashvili@hotmail.com
Lionel Dujol
Médiathèques du Pays de Romans – Romans sur Isère, France
lionel.dujol@pays-romans.org
Adrian Dumitru
Bibliothèque Métropolitaine de Bucarest, Roumanie
seleukosnikator@yahoo.com
Danijel Dzinno
Macquarie University, Sydney, Australia
danijel.dzino@mq.edu.au
Benoît Epron
École nationale supérieure des sciences de l’information et des bibliothèques
(enssib) et Laboratoire ELICO, Université de Lyon, 17-21, Boulevard du 11
novembre 1918, 69623 Villeurbanne Cedex
benoit.epron@enssib.fr
Ioana Feodorov
Institut d’Études Sud-est Européennes de l’Académie Roumaine, Bucarest,
Roumanie
feodorov_i@yahoo.com
Serge Frantsouzoff
Institut des Manuscrits Orientaux, Académie des Sciences de Russie, St.
Pétersbourg
serge.frantsouzoff@yahoo.fr
Milan Grba
British Library, London, UK
milan.grba@bl.uk
Marianne Hartzell
Hartzell-Mika Consulting, Michigan, USA
marianne@hartzell-mikaconsulting.com
564 Symposium International Le livre. La Roumanie. L’Europe. 2011, 4ème édition
Mohamed Hassoun
École nationale supérieure des sciences de l’information et des bibliothèques
(Enssib), 17-21, Boulevard du 11 novembre 1918, 69623 Villeurbanne Cedex
mohamed.hassoun@enssib.fr
Martin Hauser
Département-Chaire UNESCO d’Étude des Échanges Interculturels et
Interreligieux, Université de Bucarest, Roumanie
martin.hauser@unifr.ch
Jacques Hellemans
Université Libre de Bruxelles, Archives et Bibliothèques, 50 avenue F.D.
Roosevelt - CP 181, 1050 Bruxelles
jhellema@ulb.ac.be
Doina Hendre Biro
Bibliothèque Batthyaneum, Filiale de la Bibliothèque Nationale de Roumanie, 1,
Rue Gabriel Bethlen, 2500, Alba Iulia, Roumanie
doina.hendrebiro@bibnat.ro
Cristina Ion
Bibliothèque nationale de France, Quai François Mauriac, 75706 Paris Cedex
13, France
cristina.ion@bnf.fr
Constantin Iordan
Institut d’Études Sud-est Européennes de l’Académie Roumaine, Bucarest,
Roumanie
iordanissee@gmail.com
Jaroslava Kašparová
Bibliothèque du Musée National de Prague, République Tchèque
jaroslava_kasparova@nm.cz
Constantina Katsaris
University of Leicester, UK
ck82@leicester.ac.uk
Nino Kavtaria
National Center of Manuscripts, Tbilisi, Georgia
nino_kav@yahoo.com
Symposium International Le livre. La Roumanie. L’Europe. 2011, 4ème édition 565
Stoyanka Kenderova
Bibliothèque Nationale « Sts Cyrille et Méthode », Sofia, Bulgarie
kenderovastoyanka@yahoo.fr
Leonard Kniffel
American Library Association, Chicago, USA
lkniffel@ala.org
Christine Lebeau
Université de Paris I Panthéon-Sorbonne, France
christine.lebeau@univ-paris1.fr
Doïna Lemny
Musée National d’Art Moderne, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris, France
Doina.Lemny@centrepompidou.fr
Stefan Lemny
Bibliothèque nationale de France, Quai François Mauriac, 75706 Paris Cedex
13, France
http://www.bnf.fr/
stefan.lemny@bnf.fr
Katherine Low
University of Oxford, UK
katie.low@magd.ox.ac.uk
Florin Marinescu
Institut de Recherches Néo-helléniques, Athènes, Grèce
florinmar@ymail.com
Ivaylo Markov
Institute of Ethnology and Folklore Studies – Ethnographic Museum, Sofia,
Bulgaria
ivo.d.mark@gmail.com
Joseph J. Mika
School of Library & Information Science, Wayne State University, Michigan,
USA
aa2500@wayne.edu
566 Symposium International Le livre. La Roumanie. L’Europe. 2011, 4ème édition
Marielle de Miribel
Inspectrice des bibliothèques à la Ville de Paris, France
marielle.demiribel@paris.fr
Istvan Monok
École des Hautes Études Eszterházy, Eger, Université de Szeged, Hongrie
monok@bibl.u-szeged.hu
Raphaële Mouren
Université de Lyon – École nationale supérieure des sciences de l’information
et des bibliothèques, Centre Guillaume Budé, Université Paris-Sorbonne/École
pratique des hautes études, IFLA Rare Books and Manuscripts Section
raphaele.mouren@enssib.fr
Nicoleta Georgiana Negoi
Département-Chaire UNESCO d’Étude des Échanges Interculturels et
Interreligieux, Université de Bucarest, Roumanie
nicoleta.negoi@gmail.com
Michel Netzer
Bibliothèque nationale de France, Quai François Mauriac, 75706 Paris Cedex
13, France
michel.netzer@bnf.fr
Nina Oltean
Département Chaire UNESCO d’Étude des Échanges Interculturels et
Interreligieux, Université de Bucarest, Roumanie
noltean@gmail.com
Ioan-Maria Oros
Musée d’Art de Sălaj, Zalău, Roumanie
ioan_maria_oros@yahoo.fr
Irene Owens
School of Library and Information Science, North Carolina Central University,
USA
iowens@nccu.edu
Symposium International Le livre. La Roumanie. L’Europe. 2011, 4ème édition 567
Rodica Paléologue
Bibliothèque nationale de France, Quai François Mauriac 75706 Paris Cedex 13,
France
rodica.paleologue@bnf.fr
Constantin Panchenko
Moscow State University, Institute of Asian and African Countries, Russia
const969@gmail.com
Maria Gabriela Parissaki
Research Centre for Greek and Roman Antiquity, Athens, Greece
gparis@eie.gr
Andrea de Pasquale
Biblioteca Palatina e del Museo Bodoniano, strada alla Pilotta 3, 43100 Parma,
Italia
andrea.depasquale@beniculturali.it
Apostolos Patelakis
Institute for Balkan Studies, Thessaloniki, Greece
patelakisapostolos@yahoo.com
Radu G. Păun
CNRS, Centre d’Études des Mondes Russe, Caucasien et Centre-Européen
(CERCEC), 44, Rue de l’Amiral Mouchez, 75014 Paris, France
radu.paun@cercec.cnrs.fr
Tudor-Aurel Pop
Bibliothèque de la Faculté de Droit, Université de Fribourg, Suisse
tudor.pop@unifr.ch
Jitka Radimska
Université de Bohême du Sud, Institut des Langues Romanes, République
Tchèque
jitka.radimska@tiscali.cz
Geoffrey Roper
Bibliographical Consultant, London, UK
gjr2@cam.ac.uk
568 Symposium International Le livre. La Roumanie. L’Europe. 2011, 4ème édition
Gabriel Săpunaru
Département Chaire UNESCO d’Étude des Échanges Interculturels et
Interreligieux, Université de Bucarest, Roumanie
sapunaru.gabriel@gmail.com
Daniel Magalhães Porto Saraiva
Université Paris IV Sorbonne, France
danielmpsaraiva@gmail.com
Réjean Savard
Université de Montréal, Canada
rejean.savard@umontreal.ca
Julya Savova
Université des Sciences des Bibliothèques et Technologies de l’Information,
Sofia, Bulgarie
juliya.savova@gmail.com
Nicholas V. Sekunda
University of Gdansk, Poland
sekunda@ug.edu.pl
Ana Selejan
Université “Lucian Blaga”, Sibiu, Roumanie
anaselejan05@yahoo.com
Nikolai Serikoff
Russian Academy of Sciences, Moscow – The Wellcome Library, London
n.serikoff@wellcome.ac.uk
Pascal Siegel
Service Commun de la Documentation – Université d’Artois, 9, rue du Temple,
BP 10665, 62030 Arras Cedex, France
pascal.siegel@univ-artois.fr
Liliana Simeonova
Institute of Balkan Studies & Center of Thracology, Bulgarian Academy of
Sciences, Sofia, Bulgaria
liliana_simeonova@hotmail.com
Symposium International Le livre. La Roumanie. L’Europe. 2011, 4ème édition 569
Mihai Spătărelu
The Ecumenical Association of Churches in Romania-AIDRom
mihaispatarelu@gmail.com
Chantal Stănescu
Bibliothèque Publique Centrale pour la Région de Bruxelles-Capitale, Rue des
Riches Claires, 24 - 1000 Bruxelles, Belgique
chantal.stanescu@brunette.brucity.be
Stelu Şerban
Institut d’Études Sud-est Européennes de l’Académie Roumaine, Bucarest,
Roumanie
steluserban@yahoo.com
Anna Svenbro
Bibliothèque nationale de France, Quai François Mauriac, 75706 Paris Cedex
13, France
anna.svenbro@bnf.fr
Vera Tchentsova
Institut d’Histoire Universelle, Académie des Sciences de Russie, Moscou,
Russie
graougraou@hotmail.com
Andrei Timotin
Institut d’Études Sud-est Européennes de l’Académie Roumaine, Bucarest,
Roumanie
atimotin@yahoo.com
Emanuela Timotin
Institut de Linguistique « Iorgu Iordan – Al. Rosetti » de l’Académie Roumaine,
Bucarest, Roumanie
etimotin@yahoo.com
Ivo Topalilov
The University of Shumen, Bulgaria
itopalilov@yahoo.com
Kiril Topalov
Université de Sofia « Saint Clément d’Ohrid », Sofia, Bulgarie
topalov@abv.bg
570 Symposium International Le livre. La Roumanie. L’Europe. 2011, 4ème édition
Veska Topalova
« Bulgaristika » – Académie de Civilisation Balkanique – NGO, Bulgarie
topalov@abv.bg
Radu Ştefan Vergatti
Université « Valahia » de Târgovişte, Roumanie
rstvergatti@gmail.com
Charles-Éloi Vial
Université Paris-IV Sorbonne, France
charleseloi.vial@gmail.com
Natacha Wallez
Haute École Paul-Henri Spaak, Institut d’Enseignement Supérieur Social des
Sciences de l’Information et de la Documentation, Bruxelles, Belgique
natacha.wallez@gmail.com
Barbro Wigell-Ryynänen
Ministry of Education and Culture Affairs, Helsinki, Finland
barbro.wigell-ryynanen@minedu.fi