Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania: The Criterion Association 3030201643, 9783030201647

Table of contents :
Foreword: An Archeology of Radical Passions......Page 8
Preface......Page 12
Acknowledgments......Page 18
Contents......Page 20
Cast of Characters......Page 22
Abbreviations......Page 26
List of Figures......Page 27
Chapter 1: Introduction......Page 28
The Young Generation and the Criterion Association......Page 29
The Question and Approaches to an Answer Since 1989......Page 32
Intellectuals and Extremist Ideology......Page 35
Modernism and Fascism: The Romanian Case......Page 38
Inherited Intellectual Traditions......Page 40
Criterion: A Model of Cultural Action......Page 42
Constitutional Monarchy: Faux or Authentic?......Page 43
Greater Romania......Page 44
From Party Politics to Political Extremism......Page 47
Nae Ionescu......Page 52
The Young Generation......Page 59
The Spiritual Itinerary......Page 65
Education Abroad......Page 75
Chapter 3: The Criterion Association of Arts, Literature and Philosophy: Beginnings and Birth in Bucharest, 1932......Page 85
Beginnings......Page 87
The Forum Group......Page 96
The Birth of the Criterion Association......Page 103
Chapter 4: The Criterion Association’s Activity of 1932: ‘Idols’ Symposia, Politics, Culture......Page 111
Criterion’s Cultural Crusade......Page 112
Vladimir Lenin (Russia, 1870–1924)......Page 120
Sigmund Freud (Austria, 1856–1939)......Page 122
Charlie Chaplin (Great Britain and ‘Hollywood,’ 1889–1977)......Page 125
Benito Mussolini (Italy, 1883–1945)......Page 129
André Gide (France, 1869–1951)......Page 132
Politics, the Press and Criterion’s Self-Definition......Page 137
‘Idols’ Symposia Continued......Page 142
Paul Valéry (France, 1871–1945)......Page 143
Henri Bergson (France, 1859–1941)......Page 145
Jiddu Krishnamurti (India, 1895–1986)......Page 147
Greta Garbo (Sweden and ‘Hollywood,’ 1905–1990)......Page 148
Marcel Proust (France, 1871–1922)......Page 149
Oswald Spengler (Germany, 1880–1936)......Page 150
Mahatma Gandhi (India, 1869–1948)......Page 151
Themes......Page 155
‘Contemporary Romanian Culture’ Series......Page 156
Chapter 5: Criterion Activity of 1933–1935: Politics, Exhibition, Symposia, Music and the Publication......Page 159
Trends......Page 161
The Griviţa Apocalypse......Page 164
Major Moments of Music......Page 167
Autumn Symposia......Page 170
Tensions of Fall 1933......Page 173
Criterion......Page 175
Philosophy, Intellectuals and ‘Problématique’......Page 180
Nationalism and Sociology......Page 193
Romanian Literature......Page 196
Internationalism, Foreign Literature, Art and ‘and Some Points of View’......Page 197
Dissolution and Disillusion......Page 203
The Credinţa Scandal......Page 205
Male Friendship......Page 219
Homosexuality in History, in Theory, in Romania......Page 220
Comarnescu’s Ambiguous Sexuality......Page 223
Elitism and Envy......Page 230
The Limits of Free Speech and Censorship......Page 232
Sex, Pornography and Prostitution in Interwar Romania......Page 233
Chapter 7: Rhinocerization: Political Activity and Allegiances of the Young Generation, 1935–1941......Page 236
The Political Backdrop......Page 239
Political Allegiances......Page 241
‘The Time When We Will No Longer Be Free to Do What We Wish’......Page 274
Chapter 8: The Fate of the Young Generation and the Legacy of Criterion......Page 278
WWII Ends, a New Era of Totalitarianism Begins......Page 279
Eliade, Cioran, Ionesco......Page 280
Blaga, Crainic, Vulcănescu, Tudor, Stancu, Sebastian, Comarnescu, Noica, Sadova......Page 285
The Legacy of Criterion......Page 296
The Appeal of Fascism to the Young Generation......Page 299
The Contribution of Criterion......Page 301
Chapter 9: Conclusion......Page 302
1. Manuscript and Archival Sources......Page 305
2. Printed Primary Sources......Page 306
3. Printed Secondary Sources......Page 316
4. Unpublished Sources......Page 327
Index......Page 328

Citation preview

MODERNITY, MEMORY AND IDENTITY IN SOUTH-EAST EUROPE

Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania The Criterion Association

Cristina A. Bejan

Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe Series Editor Catharina Raudvere Department of Cross-Cultural and Regional Studies University of Copenhagen Copenhagen, Denmark

This series explores the relationship between the modern history and present of South-East Europe and the long imperial past of the region. This approach aspires to offer a more nuanced understanding of the concepts of modernity and change in this region, from the nineteenth century to the present day. Titles focus on changes in identity, self-representation and cultural expressions in light of the huge pressures triggered by the interaction between external influences and local and regional practices. The books cover three significant chronological units: the decline of empires and their immediate aftermath, authoritarian governance during the twentieth century, and recent uses of history in changing societies in South-­ East Europe today. More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/15829

Cristina A. Bejan

Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania The Criterion Association

Cristina A. Bejan Duke University Durham, NC, USA

ISSN 2523-7985     ISSN 2523-7993 (electronic) Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe ISBN 978-3-030-20164-7    ISBN 978-3-030-20165-4 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Italics are used if it is a foreign word or phrase, or within a quotation if the author originally employed italics. All translations throughout the book from Romanian and French are my own, unless otherwise stated, or are cited from a previously translated text.

Dedicated to my grandparents, my parents and Veronica

Foreword: An Archeology of Radical Passions

Intellectuals can be proponents or opponents of totalitarian movements and regimes. This story of the seductive appeals of radical ideologies to prominent spiritual figures of the twentieth century is a catalogue of illusions, passions, enthusiasms, and bitter disappointments. The search for a completely new order of things, or rather a convulsive disorder, was rampant in the 1930s. The story of the attraction exerted by political myths on a number of brilliant intellectuals in interwar Romania bears upon all these topics. It is a fascinating narrative about Faustian bargains, charismatic adorations and absolute hopelessness. Cristina A. Bejan’s book is superbly researched and proposes a new perspective on Romania’s (and Eastern Europe’s) interwar major political and cultural tensions. She invites us into an exercise in the archeology of ideas, an in-depth exploration of the genesis, tribulations, inner conflicts, main achievements, as well as the final disillusionment and disintegration of the Criterion group. This was a constellation of brilliantly creative philosophers, sociologists, writers and artists, all convinced that they had a mission to regenerate Romanian culture by iconoclastically positioning themselves in opposition to their predecessors. They hated any form of parochialism, dreamed of turning Bucharest into a vibrant European cultural capital. This illuminating book enlarges and deepens the existing literature of the Generation of 1927. I wrote myself on Romania’s mystical revolutionaries (Mircea Eliade, Emil Cioran, Mihail Polihroniade, Constantin Noica, to name only the most famous). This work further highlights the immensely deleterious effects played by the fascination experienced by the members ix

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of the ‘Generation’ with the nebulously organicist, primordialist and anti-­ democratic ideas professed by philosopher Nae Ionescu. I regard the book as a valuable contribution to a significantly rich body of literature that includes writings by Zigu Ornea, Marta Petreu, Leon Volovici, Irina Livezeanu, the late Matei Calinescu, Constantin Iordachi, Valentin Săndulescu, Marius Turda, Radu Ioanid, Philip Vanhaelemeersch and the late Ilinca Zarifopol Johnston. The circle of friends analyzed by Cristina A. Bejan were young, unhappy with the mediocrity of the Romania status quo, exhilarated by exoticism (Eliade’s fascination with India) and ready to embrace fast forms of experiencing the Absolute. The group was comparable with similar associations of friends in other Central European countries, for example, the Skamander group explored by Marci Shore in her book Caviar and Ashes. Although the Criterion movement/group/association lasted only two years, between 1932 and 1934, its impact on Romanian culture was utterly powerful and enduring. One can even say that the ‘Păltiniş group’ formed around former Criterion member Constantin Noica in the 1970s and 1980s, resurrected the original grandiose aspirations to cultural universalism and spiritual regeneration. The author does a wonderful job in documenting the crucial role played by art historian and philosopher Petru Comarnescu in the Criterionist activities. He was indeed a maverick among his peers: a great admirer of the United States, holding a PhD from the University of Southern California, he was one of the few leading members of Criterion who refused to yield to any form of political sectarianism. Comarnescu was in fact opposed to any radicalism or fundamentalism. He rejected the increasingly magnetizing political religions of the far left and far right. In more than one respect, he is the main hero of this story accompanied by the other dramatis personae: Mircea Eliade, Mihail Sebastian, Emil (later E.M.) Cioran, Eugen Ionescu (Eugène Ionesco), Mircea Vulcănescu, Constantin Noica, Marietta Sadova and, of course, philosopher Nae Ionescu’s Mephisto-like fateful charm. When so many veered to one form of radicalism or another, Comarnescu remained constantly creative and politically democratic. Cristina A. Bejan succeeds in demonstrating the interplay between spiritual and sentimental values in the development and decline of Criterion. She examines the predominantly male universe and the ambivalent status of women (Sorana Ţopa, Floria Capsali, Marietta Sadova). The association was deliberately iconoclastic, refused automatic labels and was proud of its

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contempt for any dogma. I found particularly illuminating the chapter dealing with the complexities of sexual identities in interwar Romania, including the implications of alleged or real homosexual relations. Moreover, I regard as seminal the discussion of the Criterionists’ exaltation of experience, a version of what the Germans called Erlebnis, and the post-WWII French existentialism. This book cannot be more timely. As I write this foreword, the world is plagued with the return of what I call fantasies of salvation. The mass murderer in the two New Zealand mosques claimed to be inspired by undigested Balkan narratives of anti-Ottoman resistance. Cristina A.  Bejan’s study adds significantly to the understanding of the interwar Romanian political culture and the long-term significance of polemics regarding national identity, inclusion, exclusion, anti-Semitism, religiosity and so on. Some of Criterion’s luminaries moved further to the extreme right, Mircea Eliade converted to Guardism and wrote unabashedly in favor of fascism (German, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese). Later, after the war, he decided to stay in the West, where he became a celebrated historian of religions. Eliade maintained an embarrassed silence regarding his early fascist past (but so did for years Mihail Sebastian who remained faithful to Nae Ionescu in spite of the notorious anti-Semitic preface to his novel For Two Thousand Years). Criterion was not a nationwide movement, but rather an elitist Bucharest circle, an urban phenomenon trying to reconcile a certain worshipping of tradition (Romanianness) with an acutely intense modernist sensibility. In fact, one can use in this case Jeffrey Herf’s concept of reactionary modernism. The lectures hosted by Criterion placed the circle beyond Left and Right: to the exasperation of the Orthodox fundamentalists, there were discussions about Freud and psychoanalytical revolution. The Iron Guard and the authorities disapproved (to put it mildly) having a prominent communist, Lucreţiu Pătrăsç anu, lecture about Lenin (at that moment the Communist Party of Romania was banned). Comarnescu himself was essentially a man of the rationalistic, humanist, anti-­totalitarian left. The group, however, seemed more inclined toward political mysticism and philosophical irrationalism. Disgusted with what they perceived as the senility, the sclerosis of the Romanian political system, these intellectuals were in fact advocating the rise of a juventocracy. In this respect, they shared the yearnings of Italian fascism. They abhorred the status quo, despised the philistinism of the older generations and execrated bourgeois values. For the Criterionists, indulging in mere reflection, in philosophical

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speculation, was not enough. They wanted to be involved in and practice vita activa. They wrote about adventure and some of them were ready to engage in political adventures. Polihroniade and Tell were executed for their Guardist activities. We have here a superb investigation of an intellectual nucleus interested in combining, almost mystically, vita contemplativa and vita activa. They were revolutionaries of the spirit. Some came to regret their early arduous fever. After WWII, some chose the path of exile. Other stayed in Romania and suffered political persecution. The spiritus rector of the whole adventure, art historian Petru Comarnescu, became, according to recent archival revelations, an informer for the Securitate. Another one, Constantin Noica, was a permanent target for secret police investigations. Nothing was simple with the Criterion Association, which was engaged in an excruciating search for existential authenticity. This book wonderfully reveals these agonizing complexities. Washington, DC March 18, 2019

Vladimir Tismaneanu

Preface

In 1932, one year before Hitler became Chancellor of Germany and the same time as Stalin’s Ukrainian Famine, a group of progressive, young and curious intellectuals began meeting in Bucharest calling themselves the Criterion Association. Their social media was feuilletons: short articles in a myriad of publications including the eponymous Criterion journal. They also published literary criticism, novels, non-fiction, poetry and theatrical plays. They were all worldly, had studied abroad from the United States to France and India and wanted to pool their intellectual energies to build the new ‘Greater Romania,’ which had become significantly larger after WWI. Criterion’s members were great friends and a close-knit group. Yet, in the course of sharing ideas and experiences, political allegiances began to divide. The Legionary Movement, was one of Romania’s extreme right movements and the most well-known. It made Bucharest its headquarters in 1932–1933 and briefly came to power in 1940. In the 1930s, the constitutional monarchy was disintegrating and the Criterionists represented every future path: communist, democratic and fascist. The association collapsed in part due to the rise of fascism within its ranks. Criterion’s failure exposes just how quickly extremism can emerge from noble efforts aimed to mobilize for a better future. The association provides a compact and complete modernist story of Western educated minds having a love affair with the autocratic East and non-Western political forms. During this brief and brilliant cultural moment, the stage in Romania was set for prosperity, diversity and, yes, democracy. It shows how easy it can be for intellectuals to endorse the xiii

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extreme, to fall for the dictatorial path and have the hubris to demand others fall in line. The unwanted outcomes of extremist ideology, terrorism and authoritarianism need no explanation in the twenty-first century: just think of Russia, China, North Korea, Turkey, Africa (e.g. Boko Haram, Ansar Dine, al-Shabaab), the Middle East (e.g. Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, the Taliban, Al-Qaeda), South Asia (e.g. Sri Lanka’s Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, the authoritarian crackdown of Rajapaksa and the 2019 church terrorist attacks), Latin America (e.g. Venezuela, Nicaragua, Cuba), New Zealand and the rise of the extreme right in India, Ukraine, Germany, Hungary, Poland, Brazil and the United States. Indeed, Maria Bucur argues that this political trend in the United States is reminiscent of Romanian fascism.1 Moreover, in the United States, there is always the threat of mass shootings, some with racial, LGBTQ and anti-Semitic targets. A famous example of an intellectual supporting extremism is Nobel Prize-winning author Gabriel García Márquez and his support for Castro’s and Chavez’s terror. Of course, we cannot address the global instability of the twenty-first century without including Islamic extremism. Jeffrey Herf argues that ‘radical Islam constitutes the third variant of totalitarian ideology politics in modern history.’2 This is the third wave after Nazism and Soviet communism. Islamic extremism is like its predecessor Nazism because of the use of modernizing technology (for Islam, the internet) and the fact that it is largely motivated by anti-Semitism. A similarity between Islamic extremism and Romanian fascism is the importance of religion, in Romania’s case Orthodox Christianity. The hate expressed by the extreme right, the rise of anti-Semitism, the enduring power of authoritarianism and the constant threat of terrorist attacks demonstrate that we are at risk of violent extremism today. The Nazi symbols and the racist invectives hark back to an era when hatred triumphed: the fascist movements of interwar Europe, led by Nazi Germany. Then, hate turned violent; WWII and the Holocaust ensued and Europe was partitioned. The question for today is how could citizens succumb to such hatred and endorse such a program of extremism and

1  Maria Bucur, ‘Remembering Romanian Fascism; Worrying about America,’ Public Seminar, September 3, 2017. 2  Jeffrey Herf, ‘The Totalitarian Present,’ The American Interest, September 1, 2009.

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violence? For Herf, we are in ‘an era of totalitarian politics’ and, he concludes, ‘Ideas, even bad ones, can be powerful indeed.’3 For Madeleine Albright, fascism could not be more of a pressing question. In her recent book Fascism: A Warning she looks at lessons of the past to advise our fight against fascism today. With her Georgetown students, she discusses the dimensions of fascism: nationalist, authoritarian, anti-democratic. Her students suggest that fascism is often linked to particular ethnic or social groups and that fear of fascism’s reach can extend to all levels of society. She suggests that fascism can be viewed as a means for seizing and holding power rather than as a political ideology. In this book, I disagree with her assessment and very much consider fascism as extremist ideology. For Albright and her students, fascist leaders are charismatic, as evidenced by Mussolini, Hitler and Romania’s Codreanu. Fascists control information and rely on the support of the crowd. Ultimately fascism is an extreme form of authoritarian rule.4 I support these points. This question of extremism is for all of us, not only for right-wing protesters and plotters of terrorist attacks across the globe. This book addresses this question by telling the story of interwar Romania and the Legionary Movement. At the start of the war, Romania was an ally of Nazi Germany. During the Holocaust she was a participant in and perpetrator of crimes against humanity. Prior to the success of fascism, Romania was a liberal constitutional monarchy and had the beginnings of a promising free society. What may shock the reader is that in Romania leading intellectuals also supported fascism. This, by the way, was not unique. It happened in other countries, including France, Germany, Ireland and Italy. This book reveals the seductiveness of fascism through the life of the progressive modernist cultural society, the Criterion Association. From 1932 to 1934 this society was a beacon of ideas, from liberal democratic to communist and fascist. This book is a biography of both Criterion as a whole and its key members, and it covers the association’s ultimate demise due to the recruitment of fascists within its membership. In addition to the descent into fascism of many Romanian intellectuals, I show how leading intellectuals were recruited and how some resisted, by focusing on individuals and their political and cultural activity. Criterion was a highly select group, which included Emil Cioran, Petru Comarnescu, 3 4

 Ibid.  Madeleine Albright, Fascism: A Warning, 8–12.

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Mircea Eliade, Eugène Ionesco, Constantin Noica, Marietta Sadova and Mihail Sebastian. The evolution of this group dovetailed with the rise of fascism in Romania. Criterion was initially a democratic concept inspired by Comarnescu’s time in the United States. The organization was arranged democratically and the structure of the symposia (with a pro and a con speaker) guaranteed that both sides of a topic were addressed. The head of Criterion, its founder and director, cultural critic and theater translator Comarnescu was an ardent democrat and later communist. Its collective character was critically important to Criterion. The group constituted a friendship circle and the association operated cooperatively. As Criterion began disintegrating, their friendship group and Criterion fell apart in favor of an alternate collective: the Legionary Movement. Cioran, Eliade, Noica and Sadova became fascists; Comarnescu, Ionesco and Sebastian, who was Jewish, did not. This was a painful period for all. The collective appears again in two instances that represent political extremism in this book: Ionesco’s warning to his generation against the threat of Rhinocerization (conversion to extremism) and collective political thinking, and Sebastian’s lament that Nae Ionescu encourages his students to join the political collective and reject individualism. Sebastian’s De două mii de ani [For Two Thousand Years] (1934), a novel which was translated into English in 2016, documents his experiences of being Jewish during the rise of fascism in 1930s Bucharest and reveals Nae Ionescu’s anti-Semitism in its Preface. As a novel it is also in the form of literature distinctive to the time: experiential literature. In particular, this book exposes the famous historian of religions, Mircea Eliade, for his fascist sympathies and activities. His role is a controversial subject in both Romania and internationally. In the United States, there has been discussion of removing his chair at the University of Chicago because of his political past. Notably, Eliade never apologized for his youthful mistake, whereas Cioran did express regret during his later years in Paris. Many Criterionists succumbed to the treason and betrayal that Julien Benda famously criticized in his 1927 study The Treason of the Intellectuals. The intellectuals, les clercs, strayed from their true unique vocation of thought and, instead, let political passions become part of their mission. With this betrayal, Benda predicts the national particularisms that would become the story of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. He wrote,

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‘I shall point out another characteristic of patriotism in the modern “clerk”: xenophobia.’5 How Benda’s critique played out in the Criterion Association is explored in my book. The book is about fascism, but it is also about much more. Fascism was one aspect of the cultural flourishing during the interwar period. It is also about friendship, culture, being an intellectual, art, gender and identity and religion. Above all, it is about the heights of what Romania could achieve and the depths to which it sank. I explore all this through portraits of key intellectuals in Romania and the untold story of the Criterion Association. How much of this history is forgotten? Some scholars have succumbed to the temptation of omission. Furthermore, the near hero worship of Eliade in post-1989 Romania creates a tendency to whitewash his political past. In many ways, it is an uncomfortable history, but one we need to understand today more than ever, because there is the temptation to forget and repeat it. In telling the story of Criterion, I make the effort not to demonize or pass judgment. Like Marci Shore who wrote of similar circle of intellectuals in Warsaw, ‘I have tried to understand what it meant to live [extremism] as a European, an East European, a Jewish intellectual in the 20th C.’6 I present a fair examination of their cultural association and the key figures’ relationships with extremism and with each other. The significance of the Criterion Association needs to be considered from its pivotal place in twentieth-century European history. I view the twentieth-century dictatorships (fascist and then communist) in Romania as a totalitarian unity. Before and after them, Romania was, and now again is, a functioning democracy. The restrictions imposed by one dictatorship were only increased by the next. Of the five dictatorships, three were fascist (King Carol II, the Legionary Movement’s Horia Sima and Marshall Antonescu) and two communist (Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej and Nicolae Ceauşescu). Nationalism was the core feature of every dictatorial regime in Romania. The collapse of the Criterion Association was the first cultural indicator of the dictatorial wave poised to sweep Romania. Strong-arm national politics silenced the creative and dissident voices within Bucharest’s young  Julien Benda, The Treason of the Intellectuals, 35.  Marci Shore, Caviar and Ashes: A Warsaw Generation’s Life and Death in Marxism, 1918–1968, 6. 5 6

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elite. And Comarnescu’s public shame for his rumored homosexuality was the final note on the demise of this ambitious cultural circle. Though Criterion’s success was short-lived, the association had a lasting impact on the Criterionists in Romania and abroad. Eliade, Cioran and Ionesco, in exile, became world famous. Durham, NC

Cristina A. Bejan

Acknowledgments

This study would not have been possible without the generous support of the Rhodes Trust, the Fulbright Association, the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars and the Romanian Cultural Institute. This book was also made possible (in part) by funds granted to the author through a Yetta and Jacob Gelman Fellowship at the Jack, Joseph and Morton Mandel Center for Advanced Holocaust Studies of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum  (USHMM). The statements made and views expressed, however, are solely the responsibility of the author. I am also grateful to the Emerging Scholars Program at the Mandel Center for Advanced Holocaust Studies for its support in the preparation of the manuscript and of the book proposal. I was fortunate to work with some of the greatest minds in the field and I am most indebted to my DPhil supervisors Regius Professor Robert Evans at Oxford and Ion Raţiu Professor Dennis Deletant of Georgetown University, as well as my mentor Professor Marius Turda of Oxford Brookes University. In Oxford I also wish to thank Roger Griffin, Jane Garnett, Sir Colin Lucas and Chaplain Harriet Harris. At Central European University, I give my thanks to Constantin Iordachi and Balacz Tzereni for early guidance in my research. In the United States, I especially thank Vladimir Tismaneanu, the external examiner for my DPhil and author of this book’s foreword, for his constant guidance and support since 2006. I give my utmost thanks to Radu Ioanid for his insight and help in every moment I have needed it. Also at USHMM, I would like to personally thank Steve Feldman, Jürgen Matthäus, Geoffrey Megargee and the late Joseph Robert White. I am xix

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

grateful to Paula Ganga for reading an early version of the book and providing helpful feedback. I am also forever indebted to Professor  Malachi Hacohen of Duke University for his support, encouragement and constant help over the years. At WWC I thank Christian Ostermann and Blair Ruble who supported my research. Mac Linscott Ricketts has assisted me in numerous ways including lending me materials and answering my endless questions about Eliade. I give my sincerest gratitude to Keith Hitchins of the University of Illinois Urbana-­Champaign, who knew Petru Comarnescu personally and told me where to find his personal archive. In Romania I wish to thank Liviu Antonesei, Bogdan Antoniu, Lazslo Alexandru, Sorin Antohi, Sorin Alexandrescu, Adrian Cioflâncă, Florin Constantiniu, Dorin Dobrincu, Mihai Dinu Gheorghiu, Marius Lazar, Lucian Nastasă, Bogdan Neagota, Andrei Oişteanu, Eugenia Oprescu, Marta Petreu, Alexandru-Florin Platon, Victor Rizescu, Anca Şincan, Michael Shafir, Gabriel Stănescu, Romina Surugiu, Florin Ţurcanu, Cornel Ungureanu, Leon Volovici, Alexandru Zub, Barbara Nelson, Mihai Moroiu and Corina Daniela. I especially thank Valentin Săndulescu, Camelia Crăciun and Cristian Vasile for answering my endless questions. In the United Kingdom, I thank Roland Clark and Smaranda Schiopu for their help. An exhibition about Mircea Eliade displayed in the National Museum of Romanian Literature in the fall of 2008 was divided up into the locations from the trajectory of his life: Bucharest, Rome, Calcutta, London, Lisbon, Paris and finally Chicago. This made me think of my own personal trajectory since my investigation of this story began. My book has seen me from North Carolina to Chicago to Oxford to London to Colombo to Bucharest to Port Vila to Washington DC back to North Carolina  and now to Denver, Colorado. This journey has been an absolute joy and would certainly not have been possible without the friendship and love I received along the way. In this respect I wish to especially thank my family (mom Mary, sister Teresa, brother William, dad Adrian, cousin Alina), my friends across the world and Jess, Maria and Hal Mekeel. My Romanian grandparents, Marioara Ene and Anghel Bejan, were students in interwar Bucharest, where they met at a military ball at Cercul Militar. Both were the first in their families to attend university. This book is dedicated to them, and to my American grandparents, Teresa Andersen and William F. Riordan. It is also dedicated to my parents and my mătuşa Veronica Ene in Galaţi, all of whose photographs and stories made me curious about Romanian history in the first place.

Contents

1 Introduction  1 2 Nae Ionescu, the Young Generation, ‘The Spiritual Itinerary’ and Education Abroad, 1927–1932  25 3 The Criterion Association of Arts, Literature and Philosophy: Beginnings and Birth in Bucharest, 1932  59 4 The Criterion Association’s Activity of 1932: ‘Idols’ Symposia, Politics, Culture 85 5 Criterion Activity of 1933–1935: Politics, Exhibition, Symposia, Music and the Publication133 6 The Dissolution of the Criterion Association, 1934–1935: The Credinţa Scandal, Male Friendship, Sexuality and Freedom of the Press177 7 Rhinocerization: Political Activity and Allegiances of the Young Generation, 1935–1941211

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8 The Fate of the Young Generation and the Legacy of Criterion253 9 Conclusion277 Bibliography

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Index305

Cast of Characters

Petru Comarnescu (1905–1970) the father (Secretary General) of Criterion; literature and art critic, philosopher and theater translator; ardent democrat; studied at the University of Southern California for his PhD in aesthetics; his public shame for his homosexuality led to the breakup of Criterion with the Credinţa scandal; collaborator with the communist regime and informer for the Securitate. Nae Ionescu (1890–1940) professor at the University of Bucharest; philosopher and journalist; preached the philosophy of experience and extreme right politics; editor of Cuvântul; mentor to the Young Generation; sympathized with the Iron Guard; arrested twice for his politics. Mircea Eliade (1907–1986) historian of religions; novelist and journalist; the leader of the Young Generation; studied abroad in India; wrote the first Western book on yoga; member of Criterion; married to Nina Mareş; disciple of Nae Ionescu; sympathized with the Iron Guard; imprisoned once for his politics; escaped Romania during WWII as a diplomat and eventually settled in the United States where he became a professor of the history of religions at the University of Chicago. Mihail Sebastian (1907–1945) novelist and playwright; Jewish; democrat; member of Criterion; disciple of Nae Ionescu; wrote De doua mii de ani for which Nae Ionescu wrote the infamous anti-Semitic preface; felt more and more isolated from his friends during the 1930s and 1940s; after surviving the Romanian Holocaust died in 1945 when hit by a truck as he was crossing the street.

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Cast of Characters

Eugène Ionesco (1909–1994) Romanian-French playwright and essayist; father of the Theatre of the Absurd; ardent democrat; married to Rodica Ionesco; had partial Jewish heritage; fled Romania during WWII to France, where he lived the rest of his life in Marseilles then Paris; member of Criterion. Emil (E.M.) Cioran (1933–1995) nihilist philosopher; studied at the University of Berlin in 1933 and wrote pro-Nazi articles published in Vremea; member of Criterion; held pro-totalitarian views; famous for his extremist Schimbarea la faţă a României (1936); left Romania during WWII and settled in France, where he became a well-known philosopher. Constantin Noica (1909–1987) philosopher; best friend of Petru Comarnescu in their youth; member of Criterion; became a member of the Iron Guard in 1938; stayed in Romania and divorced his English wife Wendy in 1947 (she returned to Britain with their children in 1955); persecuted under communism; victim in the Noica-Pillat trial; creator of dissidence through culture with his Păltiniş School, where he trained young philosophers such as Gabriel Liiceanu and Andrei Pleşu. Marietta Sadova (1897–1981) actress and theater director; vehement anti-­Semite and supporter of the Iron Guard; member of Criterion; first married to Ion Marin Sadoveanu then married Haig Acterian; used the National Theatre for pro-Guardist demonstrations during the Legionary Rebellion in 1941; under communism she was arrested for subversive activity and implicated in the Noica-Pillat trial; after she was released from prison she became a professor at the National University of Theatre Arts and Cinematography. Haig Acterian (1903–1943) Armenian-Romanian theater director and poet; second husband of Marietta Sadova; older brother to lawyer, journalist and writer Arşavir Acterian and theater director Jeni Acterian; studied theater practice and cinema in Berlin and Rome; member of Criterion; first a communist he became an ardent fascist and supporter of the Iron Guard; after Antonescu crushed the Legionary Rebellion, Haig Acterian was arrested and imprisoned; due to the intervention of Sadova and King Mihai he was sent to the Kuban on the Eastern Front where he was killed. Mihail Polihroniade (1906–1939) lawyer and political activist; with Comarnescu, Ionel Jianu and Noica he published Acţiune şi Reacţiune from 1929 to 1930; member of Criterion; initially a communist, he became vehement fascist and supporter of the Legionary Movement; his wife Mary was English; published Axa in 1933; was arrested and killed in 1939 following the assassination of Prime Minister Armand Călinescu.

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Mircea Vulcănescu (1904–1952) economist and philosopher; member of Criterion and secretary for the Philosophy section; one of the main forces behind the Criterion publication; a target in the Credinţa scandal; he served as the undersecretary of state in the Ministry of Finance during the Antonescu government; tried for war crimes after WWII; he was interned in Aiud prison where he died. Alexandru Christian Tell (d.1939) lawyer and writer; member of Criterion and secretary for the Social Sciences section; spearheaded the Criterion publication; a target in the Credinţa scandal. Floria Capsali (1900–1982) ballet dancer and choreographer; in 1926 married the sculptor Mac Constantinescu; one of the founders of Criterion (Administrator General); she ran her own dance studio and offered it to Criterion to hold their meetings; her jealousy of Gabriel Negry’s performance led to the Credinţa scandal. Gabriel Negry—a dancer who discovered classical dance in Floria Capsali’s studio in 1929 and collaborated with Capsali in 1933; danced the infamous dance at the National Opera House in Bucharest in 1934 that Capsali accused of promoting homosexuality and pederasty, which led to the Credinţa scandal. Sandu Tudor (1896–1962) conservative journalist, poet, theologian and Orthodox monk; contributor to Gândirea; listed as a potential speaker at Criterion conferences and collaborator with key members of the Young Generation (the publication Azi); director of the Credinţa newspaper, an Orthodox left-leaning slanderous publication; originally was on good terms with Petru Comarnescu before the scandal and they reached a public peace shortly thereafter; helped to create the mystical ‘Burning Pyre’ religious movement and took orders in 1948; arrested twice by the communist regime; died due to torture in Aiud prison. Zaharia Stancu (1902–1974) leftist writer, novelist, poet and philosopher; listed as a potential speaker at Criterion conferences and collaborator with key members of the Young Generation (the publication Azi); editor of Credinţa; imprisoned for his anti-fascist views during WWII in Târgu Jiu prison; celebrated author under communism; became director of the National Theatre; named a member of the Romanian Academy and the director of the Writer’s Union of Romania. Corneliu Zelea Codreanu (1899–1938) the founder and leader of the fascist and anti-Semitic Legionary Movement (Iron Guard); originally from Bucovina; studied law in Iasi; founded the National Christian Defense League in 1923 with Alexandru C. Cuza; split with Cuza; in 1927 created the Legion of the Archangel Michael; moved headquarters to Bucharest in 1932–1933; the royal dictatorship

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of King Carol II repressed all Guardist activity; imprisoned and executed with the Nicadori and Decemviri death squads in 1938. King Carol II (1893–1953) son of King Ferdinand I and Queen Marie of Romania; known as the ‘Playboy King’; came to power in 1930; had a controversial relationship with his mistress Magda Lupescu who was Jewish; surrounded by a camarilla of trusted advisors including at one point Nae Ionescu; initially sympathetic to the Iron Guard, he did his best to silence them and created his own royal dictatorship in 1938; coerced to abdicate in 1940 and he and Lupescu fled to Mexico, eventually settling in Portugal.

Abbreviations

BAR Ach 17/2001 APPC Biblioteca Academiei Române (BAR) Ach 17/2001 Arhiva personală lui Petru Comarnescu (APPC) [The Library of the Romanian Academy, Personal Archive of Petru Comarnescu] Sala de Manuscrise [Manuscripts Room] Bucharest AMNLR Arhiva Muzeul National al Literaturii Române, [The Archive of the National Museum of Romanian Literature] Bucharest ACSNAS Consiliul Naţional Pentru Studierea Arhivelor Securităti̧ i [The National Council for the Study of the Securitate Archive] Bucharest ACSNAS MS Marietta Sadova Securitate dossier ACNSAS HA Haig Acterian Securitate dossier ACNSAS CN Constantin Noica Securitate dossier USHMM Archive at the Center for Advanced Holocaust Studies, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Washington DC PCJ Petru Comarnescu. Jurnal. 1931–1937. Iaşi: Institutul European, 1994 MEAI Mircea Eliade. Autobiography Vol I: 1907–1937 Journey East, Journey West. Translated by Mac Linscott Ricketts. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1981 MSJ Mihail Sebastian, Journal 1935–1944. Translated by Patrick Camiller. London: Pimlico, 2003

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List of Figures

Fig. 1.1

Fig. 1.2 Fig. 2.1 Fig. 2.2 Fig. 3.1

Fig. 5.1

Fig. 7.1 Fig. 8.1

A trip to the mountains in 1932, including (standing left to right) Mihail Sebastian, Floria Capsali, Mary Polihroniade, Mihail Polihroniade, Marietta Sadova and, seated left to right, Mircea Eliade and Haig Acterian. Courtesy of the National Museum of Romanian Literature, reference number 26625 3 A 1935 map of Greater Romania. Courtesy of the Library of the Romanian Academy, reference number H.3397 18 Mircea Eliade in Calcutta, India in May 1930. Courtesy of the Library of the Romanian Academy, reference number 241219 49 Petru Comarnescu (right) at his University of Southern California graduation in 1931. Courtesy of the Library of the Romanian Academy, reference number 241195 52 Dinner with Criterionists (left to right) Mihail Sebastian, Mihail Polihroniade, Mary Polihroniade, Marietta Sadova, Mircea Eliade and Haig Acterian. Courtesy of the National Museum of Romanian Literature, reference number 5582 62 The publication cover with photos of (left to right) Mircea Vulcănescu, Mircea Eliade, Petru Comarnescu, Constantin Noica and (center) the King Carol I Royal Foundation. Source: Criterion. Courtesy of the Central University Library of Bucharest151 1935 portrait of Marietta Sadova. Courtesy of the Library of the Romanian Academy, reference number 170414 229 Cioran, Ionesco and Eliade at Place du Furstenberg in Paris, 1977 (left to right). Courtesy of the National Museum of Romanian Literature, reference number 16512 258

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CHAPTER 1

Introduction

André Gide was an inspiration for many young minds in interwar Romania and their efforts in this dynamic time amply show how these intellectuals followed Gide’s advice: ‘There are admirable qualities in every being. Convince yourself of your force and your youth. Keep repeating to yourself: “It all depends on me.”’1 Through their own exceptional talents, with the zeal and energy of their youth, generaţia tânără [the Young Generation]2 embarked on a path to realize their ambition to create new forms of culture in their country. Ideology and scandal eclipsed the great intellectual experiment that was the Criterion Association of interwar Bucharest. That creative ambition was aborted because these individuals were agents in their own failure. In some cases they genuinely self-destructed.

 André Gide, Les nouvelles nourritures, 141.  The question of semantics regarding what to call this impressive group of young intellectuals has been ongoing. First it had been the ‘Young Generation,’ as they called themselves, or the ‘New Generation.’ George Călinescu refers to them as the ‘New Generation.’ Dan C. Mihăilescu, Matei Călinescu and Marta Petreu refer to them as ‘Generation 1927,’ derived from the year that Mircea Eliade wrote the manifesto for the group. Occasionally the ‘1930s Generation’ is used. More recently the ‘Criterion Generation’ has come into fashion. See Chap. 3 for the discussion of the necessary distinction between the Young Generation and the Criterion Association. 1 2

© The Author(s) 2019 C. A. Bejan, Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4_1

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The Young Generation and the Criterion Association A photo taken in 1932 shows a group of friends on holiday in the Bucegi Mountains. These young Romanian intellectuals included Mihail Sebastian, Floria Capsali, Mary Polihroniade, Mihail Polihroniade, Marietta Sadova, Mircea Eliade and Haig Acterian. The group was very diverse (Romanian, Jewish, Armenian, Greek, British). Andrei Oişteanu remarks how typical such an assortment of friends was in interwar Romania, especially from Bucharest, ‘a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural and multi-­ confessional city.’3 Ethnically and religiously varied, these old lyceum and university friends already had different experiences from all over the world to share with one another, from California to France to India. They also had diverging political opinions, but in the early 1930s they shared friendship and the desire to advance and improve Romanian cultural life (Fig. 1.1). Mihail Sebastian records an archetypal scene from the Bucharest literary world in his book Cum am devenit huligan (How I Became a Hooligan,  1935). A French critic and friend of Gide and Proust, Léon Pierre-Quint, visits Bucharest in 1933 and meets with a young group of intellectuals within which communists and supporters of A.C. Cuza (a far-­ right politician) are fraternizing jovially. Pierre-Quint expresses his confusion as to the two extremes getting along so well. Sebastian writes, I remember the candid response of the two extremist friends very well. ‘You see, we are just friends and this doesn’t commit us to anything.’4

In a footnote, Sebastian clarifies that the figures represented in this scene were actually Mihail Polihroniade, on the far right, and Belu Silber, supporting the far left. Matei Călinescu claims this kind of friendship was possible because Romania was a country forgotten by the West, a country with a provincial

3  Andrei Oişteanu, ‘Mihail Sebastian şi Mircea Eliade: cronica unei prietenii accidentate,’ Revista 22, December 4–10, 2007, 10–11. Oişteanu cites a similar photo in this article 4  Mihail Sebastian, Cum am devenit huligan, 14. Matei Călinescu also cites this incident in, ‘The 1927 Generation in Romania: Friendships and Ideological Choices (Mihail Sebastian, Mircea Eliade, Nae Ionescu, Eugène Ionesco, E.M.  Cioran),’ East European Politics and Societies, Vol. 15, No. 3 (2002) 650.

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3

Fig. 1.1  A trip to the mountains in 1932, including (standing left to right) Mihail Sebastian, Floria Capsali, Mary Polihroniade, Mihail Polihroniade, Marietta Sadova and, seated left to right, Mircea Eliade and Haig Acterian. Courtesy of the National Museum of Romanian Literature, reference number 26625

culture and an extremely small elite.5 If individuals wanted to be involved with the cultural and intellectual currents of the time, they had to ­compromise their ideological allegiances. The elite may have been small, but that fact  Călinescu, ‘The 1927 Generation in Romania: Friendships and Ideological Choices,’ 651.

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does not necessarily imply that they had to swallow their convictions in order to be involved in the cultural scene of interwar Bucharest. For a while they successfully balanced their social, cultural and intellectual activities and political convictions. This generation did not take the struggle between friendship and ideology lightly, and once individuals chose ideology over friendship, catastrophe occurred. Tangible evidence of such catastrophe was the collapse of the Criterion Association of Arts, Literature and Philosophy (more commonly known as simply ‘Criterion’ or the ‘Criterion Association’), the name of the cultural circle, series of conferences and exhibitions, and publication, which these young Romanian intellectuals participated in years 1932–1935. Founded by philosopher turned art critic, Petru Comarnescu, Criterion included the members of the previously mentioned friendship group, composed of Bucharest’s most prominent young intellectuals of the late 1920s and early 1930s, representing Romania’s distinguished Young Generation. Naturally a number of factors led to the dissolution of Criterion, but a fundamental one was the solidification of extremist political ideological stances. The appeal of fascism to many of these young intellectuals eclipsed the value of the liberalism within which they lived. The Legionary Movement (also known as the Legion, or the Iron Guard [which was technically the paramilitary branch], members were called Legionnaires or Legionaries) founded by Corneliu Zelea Codreanu in 1927 captured the imaginations of many, and more moderate voices were tuned out. After a series of controversial conferences and the assassination of Prime Minister Ion Duca on December 30, 1933, conflicting ideologies became violent. This, among other things, contributed to the dissolution of Criterion by the spring of 1935. Despite its ultimate failure, the brief success of Criterion in the mid-­ 1930s was a unique moment in Romania’s tumultuous interwar period. The cultural circle also has a significant place within the broader struggle for democratic liberalism in Romania, from the liberal and nationalist Wallachian Revolution of 1848 to the installation of communism in 1948. The free exercise of public discussion of a variety of salient cultural and political topics featured discussants from every point of the political spectrum. The topics explored in the Criterion sessions were as diverse as the participants. From Gandhi and Charlie Chaplin to Mussolini and Lenin, provocative contemporary figures were vigorously investigated. In the social sphere of Criterion, the phenomenon Sebastian depicts in Cum am devenit huligan occurred countless times over. Despite political disagreements, friendship, cultural and intellectual activity flourished in the capital city of this constitutional democracy for as long as it could.

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In such a vibrant and exciting environment, key members of Criterion were enormously productive in the early 1930s. Like their idol Gide, most of the Young Generation kept diaries and wrote in the literary style specific to and representative of the time: confessional, autobiographical and experiential literature.6 Novelists, critics and philosophers, these men also wrote feuilletons [foileton] for periodical publications and newspapers on a regular basis, such as Criterion (the corresponding publication to the cultural group), Cuvântul (The Word,  the best known publication), Gândirea  (The Thought), Viaţa Românească (Romanian Life), Revista Fundaţiilor Regale, Axa, Credinţa (The Belief), Revista Buna-Vestire, Vremea, Facla, Universul Literar, Rampa and Părerile Libere, among others. These publications represented all shades of the political spectrum: left, right and social democrat. Even after this youthful success, many from this distinguished, talented group went on to become very accomplished in their respective fields, and in some cases, world-famous. Abroad they became Eugène Ionesco, the absurdist playwright; Mircea Eliade, the professor of history of religions at University of Chicago, and E.M. Cioran, the French philosopher of nihilism. In Romania the philosopher Constantin Noica became the founder of the ‘Păltiniş School’ and promoter of dissidence through culture in the late communist period. Petru Comarnescu however led a life of relative obscurity as an art critic in Bucharest. In unfortunate cases their individual contributions did not continue after World War II (WWII) due to premature death or the purges of communism.

The Question and Approaches to an Answer Since 1989 The memory of the Young Generation has been resurrected in post-­ communist Romania and their youthful involvement in Bucharest’s cultural scene admired and remembered with much fondness and nostalgia. However, discussion of the fascist leanings of leading twentieth-century Romanian intellectuals raises concern, skepticism and even anger on the part of the contemporary Romanian intelligentsia. Various attempts have been made to investigate this topic and find an answer to the following question: 6  See Eugen Lovinescu, Memorii II 1916–1931, 1–7; and Doina Uricariu ‘Postfaţa.’ Jeni Acterian, Jurnalul unei fiinţe greu de mulţumit, 522.

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Why did many of the members of the brilliant 1927 Generation in Romania … feel attracted particularly after 1933, to the extreme nationalism of the Iron Guard, and why did so many of them become active sympathizers or members of that mystical-terrorist organization?7

Norman Manea kicked off the debate in the post-communist world with his presentation of Eliade’s legionary past in his 1991 The New Republic essay, ‘Happy Guilt.’ The discovery and publication of Mihail Sebastian’s diary in 1996 shocked the Romanian public by exposing the horrors a successful, prominent Jewish intellectual experienced due to the rise in popularity of fascism in interwar Romania. Following the publication of Alexandra Laignel-Lavastine’s book Cioran, Eliade, Ionesco L’oubli du fascisme (2002) a heated debate broke out in the Romanian press. Accusations of Laignel-Lavastine’s bias, embellishment, plagiarism and insensitivity abounded.8 Călinescu claims that by approaching the general question, you can only get indirect answers. Thus he attempts to yield some direct answers about the Young Generation through an evaluation of their friendships.9 Florin Ţurcanu approaches the question by focusing on Eliade in his Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire (2003). Through extensive archival research, Ţurcanu demonstrates that Eliade was an active and vocal supporter and sympathizer of the Legionary Movement. Marta Petreu devotes a most comprehensive and helpful study to Cioran’s flirtation with fascism and his Schimbarea la faţă a României (The Transfiguration of Romania) in her book An Infamous Past: E.M. Cioran and the Rise of Fascism in Romania.10 More recently Petreu published the controversial Diavolul şi ucenicul său: Nae Ionescu—Mihail Sebastian (The Devil and His Apprentice,  2009), in which she argues that Sebastian, in his capacity as journalist for Nae Ionescu’s newspaper Cuvântul, was an accomplice to his mentor’s anti-Semitism in the 7  Călinescu, ‘The 1927 Generation in Romania: Friendships and Ideological Choices,’ 650. 8  Laignel-Lavastine’s work is largely discredited due to a series of five articles published by Marta Petreu in Revista 22 accusing her of plagiarism and lack of scholarship. See Marta Petreu, ‘Laignel-Lavastine: metoda “franceză,”’ (1)–(V) Revista 22, July 1–29, 2002. 9  Călinescu, ‘The 1927 Generation in Romania: Friendships and Ideological Choices,’ 650. 10  The original Romanian title is Un trecut deocheat sau ‘Schimbarea la faţă a României.’ ‘Infamous’ is a questionable translation of deocheat: ‘ill-fated,’ ‘accursed,’ or ‘unlucky’ would be a more appropriate translation.

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early 1930s. Bryan Rennie and Philip Ó Ceallaigh have debated the question of Eliade’s anti-Semitism in the Los Angeles Review of Books.11 Most recently Camelia Crăciun examines Jewish writers who wrote in Romanian, including Mihail Sebastian, in her book Scriitori evrei de limbă română: de la rebeli marginali la critici canonici (Jewish Writers of the Romanian Language: From Marginal Rebels to Canonical Critics). The tendency in the post-1989 era has been to condemn and dismiss the political behavior of some of these key intellectuals, which with hindsight, seems abhorrent and contemptible. The contemporary inability Romania has to grapple with this difficult legacy lies in the rewritten history of the communist period. Unlike Italy and Western Germany, due to the historical revisionism of communism, Romania never had the chance to confront this difficult past. This era was forgotten and members of the Young Generation were written out of the history books from 1948 onward. The disciples of Eliade and Noica were more concerned to preserve their mentors’ noble contributions to the Romanian intellectual tradition, rather than dig up the questionable actions of their youth. When one such disciple, Ioan Petru Culianu, did begin to investigate Eliade’s past ties to the Legionary Movement, he may have paid for it with his life in 1991.12 These suspicions and sensitivities remain in Romania and the Romanian diaspora from Canada to Israel today, thus it is of the utmost importance to adopt a more objective, less politically invested, approach to this controversial subject matter. As Sorin Alexandrescu wrote, ‘I can try to understand the criminal, but I don’t have to accept the crime.’13 I intend to produce a more holistic analysis of the Young Generation and to fill in a gap in the literature. In order to do justice to the historical and cultural context in which these figures lived, I have chosen to focus my book on the Criterion Association. The existing literature devoted to the Criterion Association in English is nearly non-existent. Philip Vanhaelemeersch addresses it briefly in his A Generation Without Beliefs. In Romanian the first substantive analysis is an article by Liviu Antonesei.14 Monica Grosu covers the Young Generation and Criterion in her monograph Petru Comarnescu: un neliniştit în secolul 11  Philip Ó Ceallaigh and Bryan Rennie. ‘Mircea Eliade and Antisemitism: An Exchange.’ Los Angeles Review of Books, September 13, 2018. 12  Ted Anton, Eros, Magic and the Murder of Professor Culianu. 13  Sorin Alexandrescu, Paradoxul Român, 19. 14  Liviu Antonesei. ‘Un model de acţiune culturală: Grupul “Criterion.”’ Alexandru Zub, ed. Cultură şi Societate, 367–396. Bucharest: Ştiint ̦ifică şi Enciclopedica, 1991, 367–396.

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său (Petru Comarnescu: A Restless Man in His Century, 2008). In her thorough monograph Grosu overlooks the presence of Marietta Sadova in Criterion and does not provide sufficient discussion of Comarnescu’s sexuality. Constantin Mihai wrote two articles and a recent book about the association, Europenism şi dileme identitare în România interbelică: gruparea Criterion (Europeanism and the Dilemma of Identity in Interwar Romania: The Criterion Group,  2013). My book, the first devoted to Criterion in English, presents a more in-depth, comprehensive and personal analysis of the association, by focusing on the personalities involved, their friendships, creation of culture and political activity. I disagree with Mihai’s thesis that Criterion was a manifestation of Europeanism and the association was reaching for the lost bond with European spirituality. In fact Criterion was a global enterprise. The Criterionists were fascinated by Spengler and Romania was yearning to be a major culture instead of minor. In their conferences, they investigated international personalities such as Gandhi, Krishnamurti, Greta Garbo and Charlie Chaplin. In my book I intend to answer the following question: why did some members of the same intellectual family choose a spiritual and political path of terror while others chose a strictly academic or artistic path to cultural greatness? With a thorough investigation of the success and failure of the short-lived cultural group, the Criterion Association (1932–1935), combined with an in-depth study of its members, conferences, publication and surrounding events, I hope to reach a new understanding about the Young Generation at a time when most cemented their ideological viewpoints and began political activity.

Intellectuals and Extremist Ideology The diversity and talent of the Young Generation may have been an exceptional occurrence, but the phenomenon of intellectuals getting involved politically is not exclusive to this particular community of intellectuals or to Romania in general. Over the course of the twentieth century in Europe, the role and responsibility of intellectuals in society has been a subject of great debate. Whether intellectuals should have a say in politics still remains a contentious issue. Paul Johnson warns us to be wary of any advice given by intellectuals. He writes, ‘Beware of intellectuals!’ because they themselves can promote ideas that are dangerous and destructive to Expanded version of ‘Le moment Criterion. Un modelle d’action culturelle,’ Culture and Society, ed. Alexandru Zub. Iaşi: Editura Academiei R.S.R., 1985, 189–206.

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humankind.15 Jeremy Jennings and Anthony Kemp-Welch deem Johnson’s argument faulty, yet representative of a wider anti-intellectualism in contemporary Britain. Rather they promote the compelling, ideal and attractive portrait of the intellectual given by Julien Benda and Edward Said.16 Benda provided the classic definition of the intellectual: ‘the guardian and possessor of independent judgment owing loyalty to truth alone.’17 Coincidentally Benda’s seminal text La trahison des clercs was first published in 1927, the same year the Young Generation got its name: Generation ’27. In his preface to the Romanian translation of La trahison des clercs, Andrei Pippidi suggests that Julien Benda’s theory of intellectuals has application beyond France and to the Young Generation of interwar Romania.18 Benda himself, quite critical of fascism in France, was an influence on the Criterionists, who were most familiar with the text that made him both infamous and famous in 1927. He had a particular impact on Noica, who wrote two critical articles of him in Ultima Oră, entitled ‘How Julien Benda lied!’ and ‘The accused Julien Benda.’19 Later the young philosopher audited the French sage’s lectures in Paris at which time Noica declared his legionary support. Perhaps it is not ironic that Comarnescu referenced Benda when condemning his friend’s political conversion, calling him a clerc trădător [intellectual traitor].20 Vulcănescu mentioned Benda’s thought in his article ‘Spirituality’ for the Criterion publication. However, Bernard-Henri Lévy’s 1987 book Éloge des Intellectuels laments that intellectuals are no longer the serious thinkers they once were on moral and political issues. Levy accuses French intellectuals of having lost their historic role and worries that they are no longer taken seriously in society. Both positive and negative definitions allow for the intellectual to regard himself as having a cultural and even political responsibility to the society or nation in which he lives. He may feel entitled to spread the correct moral  Paul Johnson, Intellectuals, 342.  Jeremy Jennings and Anthony Kemp-Welch, eds. Intellectuals in Politics: From the Dreyfus Affair to Salman Rushdie, 5. Also see Stefan Collini, Absent Minds: Intellectuals in Britain. 17  Ibid., 1–2. 18   Andrei Pippidi. ‘Benda singuraticul.’ Julien Benda, Trădarea căr turarilor, trans. Gabriela Cretia, 5–30. 19  Ibid., 22–23. 20   AMNLR, Petru Comarnescu, Correspondence, Letters to Constantin Noica. 25.219/1–8; ff. 7–8. December 23, 1938. 15 16

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and political message to the people. Thus intellectuals are self-­appointed messengers of ‘truth.’ But what if their message of ‘truth’ promotes immorality? And what if the search for ‘truth’ is not genuine? Opportunism and moral cowardice are two important factors to consider when condemning fascist intellectuals. In the interwar period across Europe examples abound of prominent intellectuals supporting their nation’s fascist faction. Heidegger’s support of the Nazi regime in Germany is perhaps the most obvious example of this phenomenon. Other German academic philosophers who flirted with fascism include Ernst Kriek, Hans Heyse and Alfred Baeumler, and other German cases include Carl Schmitt and Gottfried Benn. In the Republic of Ireland, the poet William Butler Yeats despised liberalism and had links to the Blue Shirt nationalists. Bulgarian philosopher Yanko Yanev, inspired by Nietzsche and Spengler, saw the future of Bulgaria and the rest of Southeastern Europe in the revival of the traditional European world that was taking place in Nazi Germany.21 In Italy, Julius Evola, an intellectual inspiration to Eliade, and Filippo Marinetti, founder of the Italian Futurist movement, were strong supporters of Mussolini’s fascism. There were multiple extremist and absolutist currents among the intellectuals in interwar France. The principal thinker behind Action Française was monarchist and Catholic advocate, Charles Maurras. Following 1934 his group strongly backed fascism. The consortium known as ‘the non-­ conformists of the 1930s’ included intellectuals from the publication Esprit, the group ‘The New Order’ and ‘The Young Right.’22 They all supported spiritual revolution and experimented with both fascist and communist trends. Inherent in such a discourse was a strong anti-­American sentiment and with Stalin’s announcement of his Five Year Plan, there was a fear that American industrialization would take over the Soviet Union and this despiritualization threatened the rest of Europe.23 Two Americans who became prominent intellectuals in interwar Europe also exhibited fascist tendencies and anti-Semitism: the poets T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound. Canadian-born painter and author Wyndham Lewis (with whom Pound collaborated on the modernist literary journal, Blast) is yet another example. 21  Keith Hitchins. ‘Modernity and Angst between the World Wars: Emil Cioran and Yanko Yanev.’ Alexandru Zub and Adrian Cioflâncă, eds. Cultură politică şi politici culturale în România modernă. Iaşi: Editura Universităt ̦ii ‘Alexandru Ioan Cuza,’ 2005, 151–165. 22  See Jean-Louis Loubet del Bayle, Les non-conformistes des années 30; and Paul Mazgaj, Imagining Fascism: The Cultural Politics of the French Young Right 1930–1945. 23  Mazgaj, Imagining Fascism, 81–82.

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Comparable to Criterion, cultural circles abroad at the start of the twentieth century include: Surrealism and Dada in Switzerland and France, Futurism in Italy, Bauhaus in Germany, the New Culture Movement around Peking University in China and the Bloomsbury Group in the United Kingdom. Bloomsbury was similar to Criterion in that it was a modernist circle of friends who mostly met as university students. It was also a group for art and literature and its members had complicated friendships (many sexual) with each other. Male friendship and homosexuality were features of both groups. A group in Romania that is comparable to Criterion in terms of the importance of friendship and generation is the Sibiu Literary Circle. Created during WWII in Sibiu after the University of Cluj moved there due to  the Hungarian occupation of northern Transylvania, the circle was formed around Lucian Blaga and the liberal, modernist ideas of Eugen Lovinescu. In her book Caviar and Ashes, Marci Shore presents a biography of a similar literary generation in Poland, operating in a cultural scene based in the Warsaw café, Ziemianska, who began as avant-gardists and became convinced Marxists. Shore states that her book is about the ‘complexity of human identity and the extraordinary complexity of human relationships’ and I believe that description also applies to the story I tell of Criterion.24 Both stories, Criterion and Marci Shore’s Warsaw circle, explore ideologies (fascism and communism) of Modernity. They were concerned with making a place in History, and their efforts revealed their ‘idealism and disillusionment.’25

Modernism and Fascism: The Romanian Case To some, this phenomenon of intellectuals supporting fascism may seem paradoxical, or rather there is a contention that such a close relationship between fascism and high culture could only have been an anomaly. The combination of some of Romania’s most brilliant, lucid and creative minds and a violent political ideology can seem incongruous. According to renowned scholar of fascism Roger Griffin’s interpretation of modernism, Eliade would definitely fit the mold of the intellectual modernist. Griffin likens modernism to Carl Gustav Jung’s quest to ‘find the source of transcendent purpose and spirituality that seemed to have been draining from  Shore, Caviar and Ashes, 373.  Ibid., 9.

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the world under the conditions of modern life ever since the nineteenth century.’26 Eliade and his generation wished to fill the void they saw in Romania in the wake of both the horror and success of WWI. The definition of generic fascism has been extremely contested outside the Marxist tradition, but in the last 30 years one approach has established a broad consensus, namely to see fascism as a revolutionary form of ultranationalism, or what Griffin calls ‘palingenetic ultranationalism.’ This approach is particularly useful in the present context because it is based on the testimony of militant activists and theoretical protagonists of radical solutions to the material problems of the nation. The wider spiritual problems of ‘modern civilization’ are based not on international socialism or liberalism but on forms of nationalism that can embrace technocratic, political, social, biological, historical, cultural or religious elements. The Criterion Association’s concern with the crisis of the democratic Romania and Western civilization as a whole predisposed some to be attracted by the palingenetic solutions offered by the Iron Guard. The Legionary Movement emphasized national resurrection, spiritual rebirth and the creation of a new man, all of which are interpreted by Griffin as symptoms of modernism’s quest to find new sources of meaning, agency and transcendence in a culturally bankrupt and decadent age.27 The Young Generation offered Romania a political and spiritual rebirth through culture at a time of acute social malaise and despair. Through the Criterion Association and their own independent efforts in publishing and the arts, members of the Young Generation were a brilliant modernizing force to be reckoned with. Their revolutionary zeal in the intellectual and cultural arena was so terrifying to members of the political status quo (both liberal politicians and King Carol II) that their freedom of speech had to be restricted. The Criterionists believed in the power of their youth and those inclined toward the extreme right promoted philosophical irrationalism and political mysticism. Their move to support the Iron Guard is an example of Jeffrey Herf’s ‘reactionary modernism.’ Those who succumbed were nationalists who embraced technological modernization while rejecting 26  Roger Griffin. ‘Faith in an Age of Isms.’ The Times Higher Education Supplement, July 27, 2007, 16. For more on modernism see Roger Griffin, Modernism and Fascism: The Sense of Beginning under Mussolini and Hitler, Malcolm Bradbury and James McFarlane, ‘Introduction.’ Modernism 1890–1930, and Christopher Wilk. ‘Introduction: What was Modernism?’ Christopher Wilk, ed. Modernism 1914–1939. Designing a New World. 27  Please see Roger Griffin, The Nature of Fascism.

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the Enlightenment and liberal democracy.28 The Criterionists’ rejection of the Enlightenment went hand in hand with a celebration of ‘Romanianness.’ By addressing the dearth of existing literature on the Young Generation within the cultural-historical context of the interwar period, this book sheds new light on the personal, creative and political activities of these influential intellectuals, making them less perplexing, less mysterious and, yes, less paradoxical.

Inherited Intellectual Traditions Different from their predecessors such as the 1848 Generation, which brought liberal, democratic forms and influences from the West, the Young Generation was on a quest for something new that could bring transcendent meaning to their post-WWI world. They wished to remove societal ills resulting from the earlier adoption of imported inauthentic Western forms, which had not suited the authentic Eastern Romanian substance.29 Keith Hitchins divides the debate about national Romanian culture begun in the nineteenth century and continued into the twentieth between the Traditionalists and Europeanists.30 The Traditionalists, also known as autochthonists or indigenists, advocated mystical Christian Orthodoxy (the Church of Romania) and the Europeanists, also known as modernists or Westernizers, preferred rationalist Enlightenment values. By the 1930s this split was highly politicized and is often used by Romanian scholars to analyze the polarization of intellectual and artistic ‘camps.’31 More recently Sorin Alexandrescu presented a nuanced schema, dividing interwar Romanian intellectuals up into ‘ideal types’ in the sense of Max Weber: Liberals, Agrarians, Traditionalists, Anti-Modern and Extreme Right/

 Jeffrey Herf, Reactionary Modernism, 1–2.  See Titu Maiorescu’s theory of ‘forms without content’ discussed in Vlad Georgescu, The Romanians: A History, 183. 30  Keith Hitchins, Romania 1866–1947, 292–334. 31  Katherine Verdery adds an additional category, ‘pro-Orientals’ whilst Irina Livezeanu emphasizes the spiritual nature of the postwar generation. See Katherine Verdery, National Ideology under Socialism: Identity and Cultural Politics in Ceauşescu’s Romania, 46–47. Irina Livezeanu, ‘Generational Politics and the Philosophy of Culture: Lucian Blaga between Tradition and Modernism,’ Austrian History Yearbook, Vol. 33 (2002): 210. 28 29

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Left.32 This interpretation is in strict opposition to Norman Manea who upholds the marked difference in both the ideology behind and the implementation of the distinct totalitarian systems: fascism and communism.33 Practically speaking, some members of the Young Generation did alternate support between communism and fascism during the interwar period and after WWII. The Young Generation is the sixth generation known in the social history of modern Romania. In Criterion Vulcănescu outlines the generations that came before it: generaţia premergătorilor (the generation that rose after the revolution of Tudor Vladimirescu, e.g. Gheorghe Lazăr); generaţia paşoptistă (the generation of the 1848 revolution, the first to study in France, created modern Romania: Ion Brătianu, Golescu, Kogălniceanu, Rosetti, Avram Iancu), generaţia junimistă (Maiorescu, Creangă, Eminescu; there were two moments: one cultural in Iaşi, another political in Bucharest), generaţia socială (‘The Old Generation,’ reacting against the aristocratic and asocial Junimist movement: the sămănătorism (sowerism) of N. Iorga and A.C. Cuza, and the poporanism of Stere) and generaţia de foc (‘The Sacrificed Generation,’ with Nae Ionescu, Lucian Blaga, Nichifor Crainic, Ion Marin Sadoveanu, Mihai Ralea as examples).34 The Criterion Association has its place in a long-standing tradition of cultural circles in modern Romania. A significant literary review that successfully bridged the modernism/traditionalism divide at the start was Gândirea (1921–1944). Fashioning itself against more leftist Eugen Lovinescu’s Sburătorul (1919–1927), and Mihai Ralea’s Viaţa românească (1906–1940), Gândirea’s major contributors included Nichifor Crainic (1889–1972, former priest, founder of Orthodoxism and proponent of autochthonism) and Lucian Blaga (1895–1961, the celebrated poet of Greater Romania and eminent philosopher). In the first decade of its conception Gândirea included the work of extreme modernists such as artists Marcel Iancu and Brancuşi. However, Crainic took over the paper in 1926 and by 1941 had turned it into the signature publication of postwar

32  Sorin Alexandrescu, ‘Modernists and Antimodernists: Enemies or Friends?’ (Paper presented at Modernism and Antimodernism: Theories, Visions, Ideologies, Politics, International Conference in Bucharest, September 19–21, 2008). 33  Norman Manea, ‘Romania: Three Lines with Commentary,’ On Clowns: The Dictator and the Artist, 4–5. 34  Mircea Vulcănescu, ‘Generaţie,’ Criterion Year 1, Nos. 3–4, November 15–December 1, 1934.

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traditionalism and ideological fascism.35 By this point, Blaga split with Crainic and Gândirea in 1941 due to his disapproval of Crainic’s political agenda. Within Romania, this advocacy for a particular, national, spiritual Romanian substance occurred while Vasile Pârvan and others introduced Bergson’s élan vital from France and German Lebensphilosophie to Bucharest in the 1920s. The Romanian interpretation of this was first known as trăire [the act of living] and then experienţa [the philosophy of experience].36 This philosophical current significantly shaped the discussion within the Young Generation in the late 1920s and their discourse in the Criterion Association in the early 1930s.

Criterion: A Model of Cultural Action As an admirer of Noica, Liviu Antonesei’s study of Criterion is optimistic, concentrating more on the group’s merits, rather than its shortcomings. He calls the Criterion Association un model de acţiune culturală [a model of cultural action]37 that strove to create a more umanitate integrală [integrated humanity].38 In his detailed account of the generation’s cultural activities, Antonesei is quick to defend the intellectuals against criticism. In opposition to claims put forth by Dumitru Micu and Zigu Ornea that this generation adopted certain philosophical trends (inherited from Kierkegaard, Nietzsche among others) more out of fashion than substance, Antonesei staunchly disagrees and proceeds to demonstrate how Criterion embarked on a genuine epistemological investigation.39 To prove this, he emphasizes the generation’s intellectual expeditions in trăire and experienţa. Many within Criterion practiced living according to this philosophy of experience and endeavored to understand the philosophy and how it fit into the whole of human knowledge. For the Criterionists experienţa was more than just a spirituality, it was a way of thinking that inspired them to action. Having been introduced to trăire and experienţa by their professor Nae Ionescu, the young people 35  Livezeanu, ‘Generational Politics and the Philosophy of Culture: Lucian Blaga between Tradition and Modernism,’ 211. 36  See Philip Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs and the Idea of Experience in Romania, the authoritative text in English on the philosophy of experienţa in Romania. 37  Antonesei, ‘Un model de acţiune culturală: Grupul “Criterion,”’ 367. 38  Ibid., 386. 39  Ibid., 385.

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took an interesting departure from their mentor on the subject of what role intellectuals should play in society. For Ionescu, intellectuals were merely măr turisitori [confessors], but for the Criterionists, intellectuals were confessors but also creatori de fapte [creators of action].40 In a 1933 article published in Viaţa Românească Comarnescu lamented the pessimism of his contemporaries across Europe (from Oxford and Cambridge to Bucharest) and drew a picture of the ideal young intellectual with literary comparisons. He likened to Hamlet the intellectual who loses himself through thought, while he who loses himself through action is Faust. For Comarnescu, both paths led to tragedy and were incapable of confronting the impending catastrophe sensed by many youths across Europe. Comarnescu emphasized that one cannot feel good by solely thinking (Hamlet) or solely acting (Faust). One must both think and act.41 Comarnescu also wrote in his journal that he considered the members of Criterion to be just such figures of change, optimism and active creators of culture. The Criterion man was ‘a necessary man, an active man.’42 Criterion men and women viewed themselves as just such creators of action. As necessary and active people, they believed they could have a positive impact on Romanian society through the activities of Criterion and also as individuals.

Constitutional Monarchy: Faux or Authentic? The interwar period (1918–1940) in Romania has been idealized and romanticized by many Romanians ever since 1945. An experiment with a parliamentary constitutional monarchy, a vast expansion in territory and a vibrant cultural intellectual scene, contributed to the belief that Romania had finally emerged from her obscure corner of Europe to join the ranks of real history. However, to attribute such success to this small nation at this point would be premature. Romania suffered many social, political and economic ills including extreme poverty, difficulty with industrialization of a mainly agrarian state, political corruption, anti-Semitism and the rise of  Ibid., 387.  Petru Comarnescu, ‘Răul Veacului Nostru: Hamlet 1933,’ Viaţa Românească. Year 25 No. 4, April 1933, 119–122. 42  PCJ, 74. 40 41

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fascism. As Irina Livezeanu argues in her Cultural Politics in Greater Romania, Romania was also struggling with the rise of nationalism from both the mainstream politicians and the extreme right. Though technically a functioning democracy, many considered the interwar Romanian government in Bucharest to be a sham, a constitutional monarchy with only the trappings of parliamentarism. The fragility and robustness of Romania’s interwar constitutional monarchy is a contentious issue. R.J.W. Evans has argued for the weakness of the democracies of the successor states.43 The monarchy itself was also in trouble. The death of King Ferdinand (who ruled from 1914–1927) brought on a crisis, as his successor, his son Carol was not granted the throne. By leaving his wife, Princess Helena of Greece in 1925 for Elena ‘Magda’ Lupescu, Carol had forfeited his kingship to his son, Mihai. But Carol claimed his royal rights in 1930 and was notorious for the rest of the period as the ‘Playboy King’ for his illegal antics, his gambling, disregard for his people and his affair with Lupescu, famous for her Jewish heritage, a factor that did not endear her to many.

Greater Romania Nicolae Iorga (1870–1941) was one of the intellectuals of the ‘Old Generation’ who was considered to be responsible for the realization of Greater Romania. Other members included the philosopher Constantin Rădulescu-Motru (1868–1957) and the politician Iuliu Maniu (1873–1953). On April 9, 1918, Sfatul Țării (the governing council of Bessarabia) voted for union with the Kingdom of Romania. Later that year the Romanian representatives of Bukovina voted for union with the Kingdom of Romania confirmed with the Treaty of St. Germain. As consequence of the Treaty of Trianon (1920) Romania was awarded Transylvania. During the interwar period Bessarabia was under Romanian control.44 The unification of these neighboring provinces with the principalities Wallachia and Moldova expanded Romania’s territory from 137,000 square km to 294,000 square km, thus increasing the population from 7 million to 15.5 million people (Fig. 1.2). The unification of provinces Transylvania, Bessarabia and Bucovina, with the Regat (Wallachia and Moldova) resulted in an increase in minorities  R.J.W. Evans, ‘The Successor States,’ Twisted Paths: Europe 1914–1945, 210–235.  Alberto Basciani, Dificila Unire: Basarabiaşi România Mare 1918–1940.

43 44

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Fig. 1.2  A 1935 map of Greater Romania. Courtesy of the Library of the Romanian Academy, reference number H.3397

(most significantly Hungarians and Jews, and Germans and Russians among others) within Romania’s borders. Thirty percent of the country’s population was not Romanian. Despite decades of pressure from Western powers, Romania refused to grant legal equality and suffrage to Jews until 1923, and then with much reluctance. Then the ‘Jewish problem’ plagued politicians throughout the interwar period and WWII.  All political movements exploited the sentiment of anti-Semitism prevalent in Romania since the nineteenth century. The name Romania’s greatest historian and eventual Prime Minister Nicolae Iorga (serving briefly from 1931 to 1932, at the start of the Criterion experiment) gave his newspaper, Neamul Românesc, signifies the importance of language when considering anti-Semitism, the fear of the non-Romanian ‘other’ and the suspicion of the democratic state apparatus in Romania both before and after WWI. The discussion centered on the concept of neam [people, nation], which differed substantially from

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the stat [state] imposed on Romanians. Victor Neumann claims neam ‘acquired the value-ridden semantic significance of the German das Volk, though it would never reflect the complexity of the latter.’45 Harmonizing Romania’s neam and stat was the ongoing preoccupation for Romanian intellectuals. Debates in interwar public life focused on uncovering the meaning of ‘Romanianness,’ the true essence of the nation, the organic unity of high culture, education, society and the state. Attempts at discovering the authentic collective self and determining Romanians’ specificul naţional [national specificity] were made by means of speculative thought combining many disciplines such as philosophy, theology, mysticism, poetry, psychology, ethnography and scientific methodology. There was an extreme rejection of the ‘rational’ in philosophical circles. The discussion of ‘Romanianness’ romanticized the peasant life as idyllic (also celebrated by the national poet Eminescu) and emphasized the mystic power of Romanian Orthodox Christianity. The philosopher Constantin Rădulescu-­ Motru attempted to uncover the essence of Romanian spirituality.46 Mircea Vulcănescu followed in this tradition with his Dimensiunea românească a existenţei [The Romanian Dimension of Existence]. As a philosopher Lucian Blaga dismissed positivism and created the most systematic and influential philosophy of style and culture to date in Romania, one in which he preserved a place for mystery: the hills of the Romanian countryside [spaţiul mioritic]. This romanticism of the village by the urban elite was certainly connected to a still-existing stark contrast between village and city life. There was a substantial disconnect between the countryside and the cosmopolitan ‘Paris of the East.’ Romania was still an agrarian peasant state, and as late as 1930, 79.9 percent of the population lived in villages and 20.1 percent lived in towns.47 The industrialization process was difficult. Poverty was rampant as most villagers still lived in clay huts and did not have access to medical care or education. In the interwar years, the health care found in Romanian villages was the equivalent to villages in India.48 45  Victor Neumann, Conceptuality Mystified: East-Central Europe Torn Between Ethnicism and Recognition of Multiple Identities, 169. 46  Constantin Rădulescu-Motru, Românismul: catehismul unei noi spiritualităti̧ . 47  Nicholas M.  Nagy-Talavera, The Green Shirts and the Others: A History of Fascism in Hungary and Romania, 51–52. 48  Ibid., 53.

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In a scholastic effort to bridge this gap, Dumitrie Gusti founded his sociological school in Bucharest. The work of the Gusti School (Institutul Social Român, 1925–1948) demonstrates that the intellectual elite had a strong interest in non-elite culture and the preservation and celebration of folklore and peasant traditions. This interaction of village and city culminated in numerous monographs and projects undertaken by Gusti and also younger intellectuals, including Henri H. Stahl, Anton Golopenţia, Mircea Vulcănescu, Traian Herseni, Lena Constante and Petru Comarnescu. Gusti, Victor Ion Popa and Stahl created Bucharest’s Village Museum in 1936. With the creation of Greater Romania, the government wanted to create a strong ethnic Romanian middle class, thus encouraging and drastically increasing enrollment in the universities. Many of the Young Generation were the first of their families to seek higher education. The most popular degrees with students were in law and philosophy49; few pursued degrees in the sciences or engineering. Such choices created an enormous imbalance in the job market and most liberal arts students faced unemployment upon graduation. This fact alone was a significant contributor to the high number of disaffected youth wandering the streets looking for ‘purpose’ and finding that ‘purpose’ in extremist politics. Anti-Semitism was an acute problem at the university level. Since the government awarded full rights to Jews in 1923 (under the pressure of Western powers), Jews enrolled in the universities in large numbers, where they were mocked for their thick accents and better living conditions. (Romanians from the countryside had to endure living in poor quality dormitories, whereas urban Jews could live at home.) These perceived inequalities exacerbated existing prejudices within the enlarged university student body following WWI. Nationalist students called for the installation of a ‘Numerus Clausus.’

From Party Politics to Political Extremism Throughout the 1920s, the two dominant political parties were the Liberal Party of the middle class and what became the National Peasant Party (PNŢ) which was also middle class as well as for agricultural laborers (led by Iuliu Maniu, a merger of the moderate socialist middle class-led Transylvania party and Mihalache’s Peasants’ Party). The left became a  Ibid., 58.

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difficult avenue for intellectuals to pursue after the Brătianu government passed the Mârzescu Law in 1924, outlawing the Communist Party.50 Many perceived the communists to be a Soviet threat as recently gained Bessarabia (which joined Romania following the Bolshevik Revolution) was at risk to be taken by the USSR. There was also a confluence of communism and Jewry, as many outspoken communists in Romania and abroad were Jewish. The internationalism of communism accorded well with the plight of minorities within Greater Romania and was a natural alternative to the discriminatory nationalism of other political groups. Although forced into clandestine operation, communism was still trendy for many young people toward the end of the 1920s and early 1930s as both Polihroniade and Haig Acterian were originally avowed communists and Comarnescu attested that the majority of the wait-staff at the Corso restaurant, where the Young Generation frequented, were communists.51 With the avenue of the extreme left officially closed off, the extreme right flourished. Ioanid is careful to emphasize that the Iron Guard was not the only fascist movement in interwar Romania.52 Preceded by the LANC (the League of National Christian Defence) founded by Alexandru C. Cuza, Corneliu Zelea Codreanu (1899–1938), started out supporting his mentor Cuza, before breaking with him to form his own movement. In 1927 Codreanu founded the ‘Legion of the Archangel Michael’ (often referred to as the Legionary Movement or the Legion), a mystical Romanian Orthodox nationalist anti-Semitic movement and terrorist organization. Codreanu formed the paramilitary branch of the Legion in 1930 and named it the ‘Iron Guard.’ Codreanu, also known as ‘The Captain,’ defined the corrupt behavior of the politicians as Jewish acts and said that all political parties were nothing but a gang of tyrants.53 With localized ‘nests’ all over the country, the Legion had strong support from the peasantry and began many public projects to help rebuild Romania. The Legion promised to purify Romania by eliminating the ‘other’ elements 50  See Vladimir Tismaneanu, Stalinism for All Seasons: A Political History of Romanian Communism, Chapter 2, ‘A Messianic Sect: The Underground Romanian Communist Party, 1921–1944,’ 37–84. 51  PCJ, 73. 52  Radu Ioanid, ‘The Sacralized Politics of the Romanian Iron Guard,’ Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions, Vol. 5, No. 3 (London: Winter 2004): 419. 53  Nagy-Talavera, The Green Shirts and the Others, 370.

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and returning Romania to her village roots and historic Dacian origins. Codreanu encouraged violence as a necessary means to effect change, and the Legion practiced this approach with numerous political assassinations. If one committed a crime, the most honorable legionary response was to willingly accept the punishment and, if necessary, welcome death. In 1933 Codreanu declared his support for Hitler. Valentin Săndulescu claims that the recent innovative development of fascism studies based on works by Griffin, Stanley Payne and George L. Mosse, which focus on the revolutionary and positive program of fascism rather than its role as a reactionary movement, can most adequately and fruitfully be applied to the case of the Romanian Legionary Movement. A core goal of fascism was regeneration (Griffin’s palingenetic myth as previously mentioned). The Legion guaranteed to construct Omul Nou [the New Man] and erect a New Order in Romania.54 Guardist ideology was religious-mystical and the legacies of European anti-Semitism and Orthodoxy were part of its appeal.55 Roland Clark expertly argues for an interpretation of the Guard ‘from below,’ considering the personal significance of fascism for the Legionnaires. Clark’s Holy Legionary Youth has been criticized for not giving sufficient attention to Mircea Eliade and legionary intellectuals. Romanian historians emphasize the messianic nature of the Legion. Both Vladimir Tismaneanu and Lucian Boia present the existence of the Iron Guard in terms of ‘myth.’ Boia argues that Codreanu was perceived by many to be the ‘saviour’ of Romania.56 Tismaneanu frames the appeal of the movement in terms of a ‘fantasy of salvation.’57 Romania needed to be saved from many evils: decadence, the corruption of politicians, harsh conditions for the peasantry, economic problems and foreign occupation. The large number of Jews and other minorities in Romania’s cities were considered to be a threat of foreign control. Although Codreanu greatly admired Hitler and Mussolini, ‘The Captain’ was adamant that the Romanian fascist movement was unique, due to its Romanian Christian Orthodox core. However, the fixation on religious 54  Valentin Săndulescu, ‘Fascism and its Quest for the “New Man:” the case of the Romanian Legionary Movement,’ Studia Hebraica, No. 4. (2004): 349–361. 55  For comprehensive works on the Iron Guard in English see Radu Ioanid’s The Sword of the Archangel: Fascist Ideology in Romania and Roland Clark’s Holy Legionary Youth. 56  Lucian Boia, History and Myth in Romanian Consciousness, 212. 57  Vladimir Tismaneanu, Fantasies of Salvation: Democracy, Nationalism and Myth in PostCommunist Europe, 49.

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orthodoxy should not alone define the Iron Guard (thus casting it in a traditionalist anti-modern light). The Legionary movement was rather a ‘modern revitalization movement based on charismatic politics, one which extensively mythicized Romania’s past and its religion in a bid to create an alternative future.’58 In addition to cultural modernism, social modernism (modernization) was linked to the legionary cause. In fact, supporters of the Iron Guard were actively involved in bio-political currents of the time, promoting racial hygiene and eugenics.59 Additional significant similarities between fascism in Romania, Germany and Italy included the leadership cult, the importance of aesthetics and the triumph of the collective over the individual. In Codreanu, the Romanians had a charismatic masculine leader much like Hitler and Mussolini. The Iron Guard was also aesthetically aware, instead of blue, black or brown shirts, they proudly wore green, symbolizing a return to the earth and to nature. Codreanu eschewed a uniform and dressed in the traditional national Romanian peasant costume. * * * The creation of the Criterion Association occurred at the pinnacle of the liberal modernity experienced by Greater Romania. This period in the early 1930s was the last moment before everything collapsed and made way for authoritarian (King Carol II and Antonescu) and totalitarian (communist) regimes. Given its operation at this crucial moment in the ideological transformation of many of its members and existing concurrent to a drastic shift in the public discourse concerning freedom of speech and association, Criterion warrants a proper investigation and an in-depth analysis and detailed inquiry. The undisputed influence of its reputed membership alone would explain why it merits such an investigation in a comprehensive study of the Romanian intellectual and cultural life of the interwar period, and even of the entirety of the twentieth century. But considering the cultural group’s ambitious program (and how that reflected the intellectual concerns both in Romania and across Europe in the early 1930s), the courage it took to pursue such a cultural project, its  Griffin, Modernism and Fascism, 357.  Maria Bucur, Eugenics and Modernization in Interwar Romania, and Marius Turda. ‘The Nation as Object: Race, Blood and Biopolitics in Interwar Romania,’ Slavic Review, Vol. 66 No. 3 (Fall 2007): 413–441. 58 59

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meteoric rise to popularity in Bucharest, its roaring success and its quite unanticipated premature rupture, disgrace and failure, as well as key members conversion to supporting the Iron Guard during and within the Criterion space, such an inquiry into Criterion’s origins, activities, membership and dissolution is essential.

CHAPTER 2

Nae Ionescu, the Young Generation, ‘The Spiritual Itinerary’ and Education Abroad, 1927–1932

Nae Ionescu Rebelling against the Old Generation (Iorga, Rădulescu-Motru, Maniu), the Young Generation valued the opinion of the generation between Old and Young: the Sacrificed Generation of Blaga, Crainic, Eugen Lovinescu and Nae Ionescu. Blaga did advise and inspire many (Comarnescu, Eliade, Noica) of the Young Generation through his work and correspondence. Even though Lovinescu or Crainic were neither teachers nor direct mentors to the Young Generation, they had an undeniably powerful influence through their own status as high-profile intellectuals as well as through the activities of their respective cultural circles operating in the interwar period, Sburătorul and Gândirea. But undeniably the most important intellectual influence on the Young Generation was Nae Ionescu, who introduced them to ideas ranging from sentiments of xenophobic nationalism (anti-Semitism) to the philosophical (experienţa) and the political (fascism). Ionescu had contact with his disciples as their philosophy professor, as an editor of the newspaper for which Eliade, Sebastian, Vulcănescu and Cioran were regular writers (Cuvântul) and as their friend, confidant and mentor. Nicolae C. (Nae) Ionescu (1890–1940) was born in Brăila where he carried out his primary and secondary school studies. He took his

© The Author(s) 2019 C. A. Bejan, Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4_2

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­ accalaureate exam at the ‘V.  Alecsandri’ lyceum in nearby Galaţi.1 He b passed his licenţă exams at the Faculty of Letters and Philosophy at the University of Bucharest in October 1912 and left for doctoral studies in Germany the following year. He began at the University of Göttingen but transferred to the University of Munich in 1914. He returned to Romania briefly in 1915, married Elena Margareta-Fotino and returned to Munich with his wife. With the onslaught of WWI, Romania entered the side of the Entente in 1916 and was thus an enemy of Germany. Because he had been a reserve officer in the Romanian army, Ionescu was detained in a camp with other intellectuals. This imprisonment was important to his intellectual and spiritual development, as he frequently engaged in religious arguments with other inmates. He was released at the end of 1917. His first son Radu was born while he was in prison and the second son, Răzvan, after his liberation. The family stayed in Germany until Ionescu successfully completed his doctorate.2 Upon his return to Romania he taught math, philosophy and German at the military lyceum at Dealu monastery, Codreanu’s alma mater. He began his Bucharest university career in October 1919 as an assistant for ‘Catedra de Logica si Teoria Cunostinţei’ [the chair of logic and epistemology] Professor Rădulescu-Motru. His inaugural lecture, entitled ‘The epistemological function of love,’ was his first public expression of his ideas. From this point he taught courses in logic, the history of logic and the philosophy of religion at the university. In 1925 Ionescu passed the exam to become a permanent lecturer at the university, and in 1926 he began his work for the newspaper Cuvântul, for which he became the owner in 1928 with the departure of Pamfil Şeicaru (who left with some of the Cuvântul staff and formed another publication Curentul). With the takeover, Ionescu acquired a greater responsibility for the political orientation of the paper. He signed his articles ‘Nae Ionescu.’3 As a lecturer in logic and metaphysics at the Faculty of Philosophy, Ionescu had a dynamic, provocative and unique style that endeared him to his students. His teaching ran counter to the traditional and stiff approach of older faculty members (such as Rădulescu-Motru and Tudor Vianu). 1  Romina Surugiu, Dominante filosofice în publicistica lui Nae Ionescu de la Logos la Cuvântul, 13. 2  Ibid., 14–15. 3  Ibid., 16.

2  NAE IONESCU, THE YOUNG GENERATION, ‘THE SPIRITUAL ITINERARY’… 

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He was more concerned with debate and action than scholarship and documentation. Ricketts notes that: [Ionescu] taught the passion for taking risks and the questioning of all values. Although he published almost nothing his Socratic method of teaching made him the master of thinking of a whole generation of students.4

Using the Socratic method, Ionescu followed in the footsteps of Vasile Pârvan and extolled his concept of trăire. ‘The professor’ introduced his students to the ideas of Spengler, Aristotle, John Locke and Goethe, among many others. He challenged them to look beyond Europe and recent Western history and civilization, and beyond the classroom and the halls of the university. Ionescu confronted his students with questions and provoked them to live the questions themselves, in the face of the fear of no answer, and discover where the pursuit of knowledge would take them. The professor claimed he lived his own teachings and practiced what he preached: It’s not that I am smart, and the others stupid. Everyone is the same. Only I, the passer-by, have walked on a street that others have not taken. I have taken the road of good sense and said: to take things, to see them as they are in reality and to not be scared of what we see.5

Ionescu was a charismatic speaker, with a captivating presence and expressive gestures. His engaging unique approach is what drew both Eliade and Vulcănescu to him after each first heard him lecture. In 1925, his first year at university, attending Ionescu’s seminar in the history of logic on the topic of ‘Faust and the problem of salvation,’ Eliade wrote, ‘When [Ionescu] glanced over the auditorium it seemed like lightning flashed in the hall.’ Eliade noted that Ionescu did not speak to the full lecture hall of students as other professors did. He was neither giving ‘a lesson nor a lecture.’ He presented them with the facts, with a stream of information and then awaited their comments, interpretations and responses. He gave the impression that he spoke directly to each student. Eliade wrote,  MEAI, 330.  Nae Ionescu. Curs de logica, 1927–1928, 190. Cited in Surugiu, Dominante filosofice în publicistica lui Nae Ionescu de la Logos la Cuvântul, 13. 4 5

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You had the impression that the whole lecture was just a part of a continuing dialogue, that each of us was invited to participate in the discussion, to offer his opinions at the end of the hour. You felt that what Nae Ionescu had to say could not be found in any book. It was something new, freshly conceived and organized right there in front of you. It was an original kind of thinking, and if this sort of thought interested you, you knew that you could find it nowhere but here, at its source. The man at the desk was speaking straight to you: opening up problems, teaching you to solve them, and forcing you to think.6

Fifty minutes later, at the end of the lecture, Eliade wondered where the time had flown. He was consumed by the questions Ionescu posed and had barely taken any notes. He remembers that by Christmas, he was only going to the university to attend Ionescu’s lectures. But despite this initial impression, Eliade lacked the courage to form a more intimate friendship with Ionescu until he worked for Cuvântul.7 They were to become quite close friends and collaborators at the newspaper as well as in the academy. Eliade edited the publication of Ionescu’s journalistic writings from 1927 to 1933 under the title Roza vânturilor (Rose of the Winds, 1937) and was his assistant at the Faculty of Letters and Philosophy from 1934 to 1937. Mircea Vulcănescu had a similar awed first impression. In his sixth or seventh year of lyceum he had been attending the courses of Vasile Pârvan at the University of Bucharest. At that point he had never heard of Nae Ionescu and chanced upon one of his lectures as a result of Pârvan canceling his own lecture due to illness. Ionescu’s coherence of thinking impressed Vulcănescu, who became a regular attendant to Ionescu’s courses. Vulcănescu specified that what was particularly special and compelling about Ionescu’s approach was his freshness and newness: He never prepared his courses ahead of time at home. He did not write them down. Sometimes he would come with a note written on a business card, that he took out of his pocket. Other times he would come, sit on a chair and be silent for some time, looking to organize his thoughts of what he would say, and then, eventually begin.8

This approach meant that his thought was there in the auditorium, alive, with the students. They watched a man propose a problem and grapple  MEAI, 102.  Ibid., 102–103. 8  Mircea Vulcănescu, Nae Ionescu: Aşa cum l-am cunoscut, 27. 6 7

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with its many possible solutions. Vulcănescu noted that ‘after every lecture, there remained an open question, sometimes from one course to another, and even from one year to another.’9 Marta Petreu has argued that Ionescu’s lectures are mostly derivative and that he was more of a plagiarist than an original thinker, demonstrating this with the overlap between his and Evelyn Underhill’s thoughts on mysticism.10 Surugiu and Petreu emphasize the difficulty of reconstituting the content of Ionescu’s lectures, given his practice of improvization, rather than reading from a prepared manuscript.11 Though he was principally responsible for the Young Generation’s education at home, Ionescu did encourage them to, as he did, go abroad. To Eliade, Ionescu was ‘a professor who always encouraged us to go to the sources, not to be satisfied with “books about,” but to read, whenever possible, a text in the original.’12 For this reason, Ionescu was extremely supportive of his disciples studying abroad, to go directly to the sources. Due to this, he had a very positive reaction to Eliade’s news of his scholarship to study in India.13 Though loved by his students, Nae Ionescu was a very troubled man, suffering from crippling insecurities and cowardice. He needed desperately to be liked and had difficulty forming meaningful relationships with people, including casual acquaintances, friends, disciples and lovers. Ionescu revealed his insecurity to Sebastian in 1936, when he confessed, Look, I’m finished-a broken-down failure of a man. My life divides into two: before 5 July 1933, and since 5 July 1933. Until that day I was a strong person. Since then I’ve been nothing.14

Sebastian hypothesizes that his professor and editor was referring to the day his love affair ended with Maruca Cantacuzino-Enescu (wife of ­composer George Enescu). Both before and after this divide, Ionescu had a tendency for self-deprecation and for what Sebastian labeled boorishness. 9  Ibid. For a list of his lecture topics until 1931, see Nae Ionescu, Opere II Cursuri de Metafizică, 465. 10  Marta Petreu, ‘Modelul şi oglinda: Evelyn Underhill – Nae Ionescu.’ Iordan Chimet, ed. Momentul Adevărului, 337–382. 11  Surugiu, Dominante filosfice în publicistica lui Nae Ionescu de la Logos la Cuvântul, 29; Surugiu cites Nae Ionescu Prelegeri de filosofia religiei, Marta Petreu, ed., 6. 12  MEAI, 148. 13  Ibid. 14  MSJ, 85, October 22, 1936.

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He was prone to ‘tactless, ostentatious bragging.’15 And as was the case for many of his disciples (including Sebastian), in addition to his colorful public persona, Ionescu had a tumultuous personal life. He gave up his life as family man and had numerous affairs with high-profile women, including Cantacuzino-Enescu, Elena Popovici-Lupa and Cella Delavrancea. The years 1930–1933 represent the moment when Ionescu began his interest in political life, coinciding with the Iron Guard’s meteoric rise to prominence.16 Initially, in 1930 Cuvântul he supported the restoration of the power of the king and presented a theory of royal dictatorship. This enabled Ionescu to become a political counselor of the monarchy and secured him a place in the elite group of courtiers known as the ‘royal camarilla,’ of which Crainic called Ionescu ‘the metaphysical spirit.’17 This situation did not last long, and by the fall of 1933 relations between the newspaper director and the king had cooled, and Ionescu expressed his sympathy for the Iron Guard in Cuvântul.18 Following the assassination of Prime Minister Duca, the royal authorities arrested Ionescu and forced the closure of Cuvântul (suspended from 1933–1938). In addition to power and the mystical allure of the Iron Guard, a generally accepted reason for Ionescu’s conversion to the extreme right was his latent anti-Semitism. This is a difficult and contestable factor. Until 1933 he had in fact been a vocal philo-Semite in many forums. The fermentation and zeal of his anti-Semitism is undeniable following his arrest and further activity with the Guard, coinciding, with writing the preface for Sebastian’s De două mii de ani in 1934. Perhaps surprisingly, Ionescu had a concern and respect for the history and the religion of the Jews. He ventured into Hebraic studies in his investigations of religious philosophy, and confronted questions concerning Judaism early in his journalistic career, writing in Cuvântul in 1926 on ‘The crisis of Judaism,’ examining the purpose of Judaism in the spiritual structure of Europe at the time and contemplating its future. In 1928 and 1929, Ionescu unleashed a campaign in Cuvântul in defense of the rights of Jews, attracting the attention of the Minister of Religions, Al. Lapedatu. He was against the forced conversion (‘baptism’)  Ibid., 109.  Surugiu, Dominante filosofice în publicistica lui Nae Ionescu de la Logos la Cuvântul, 17. 17  Nichifor Crainic, Zile albe, zile negre, Memorii I, 251–252. Cited in Surugiu, Dominante filosofice în publicistica lui Nae Ionescu de la Logos la Cuvântul, 17. 18  Surugiu, Dominante filosofice în publicistica lui Nae Ionescu de la Logos la Cuvântul, 17. 15 16

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of Jews which was the religious solution proposed by Nicolae Iorga and A.C. Cuza. Ionescu argued that such a move would result in a ‘spiritual wreck’ and be a form of ‘sterilization.’ In the 1920s the professor gave lectures on Hebraic subjects, such as a conference in 1927 on Spinoza and in 1928 he was invited by the ‘Association of Jewish Women’ to the Zionist headquarters, where he spoke about spirituality. He received extremely high praise from the Jewish community for these lectures and his advocacy in Cuvântul. One reviewer even suggested that they make Ionescu an honorary citizen of the Jewish people.19 As much as Ionescu gave to the Young Generation, he did envy them some things. One was the special social and intellectual atmosphere that birthed the Criterion Association. Eliade describes Ionescu’s reaction to the formation of the group as such: When I spoke to Nae about our get-togethers and meals, he marveled and expressed envy. In his youth, he said, there had not been such intimacy among artists, journalists, and scholars. What interested him most was the fact that our meetings included painters like Mac Constantinescu and Marcel Iancu, sculptors such as Miliţa Pătraşcu, actresses like Lily Popovici, Sorana Ţopa, Marietta Sadova, Marieta Rareş, and Marioara Voiculescu, as well as writers, philosophers and musicians. ‘You’ll have to invent a new language,’ he said. ‘but since you have Mircea Vulcănescu with you, you’ll succeed!’20

This envy was not a vicious jealousy but rather the happiness of a parent seeing his child have opportunities he never knew. Ionescu delighted in the doors opening to his disciples with nostalgia at the youth he never had. From Chicago in 1970, Eliade wrote that Ionescu’s style signified a rupture in the face of traditional Romanian academia, and in a certain measure even in the face of the European one. First of all, the act of ‘philosophizing’ in newspaper articles, that had only been done until then by Unamuno and Ortega y Gasset. But especially the emancipation in the face of academic jargon (‘I write as a grocer,’ proves that) and the ignoring of the traditional rhetoric proved deadly, [this was] the ‘compromise’ that Nae Ionescu made in the eyes of his colleagues.21

 Dora Mezdrea Nae Ionescu: Biografia, Vol. 3, 347–349.  MEAI, 227–228. 21  Eliade quoted on the back cover of the second edition of Roza Vânturilor from Chicago, February 28, 1970 (originally published in the review Prodomos No. 10). 19 20

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His biographer, Dora Mezdrea, argues that through his ‘paideic’ approach and the influence he had on his disciples, Ionescu’s philosophical activity enabled Romanian thought to be independent, self-sufficient and parthenogenetic (rather than rely on fertilization from France). Prior to his teachings, the intellectual elite was dependent on imported ideas that had dominated the discourse from the nineteenth century.22 His way of learning and tackling problems (encouraging his contemporaries to be agents of their own thought and discovery rather than receptors, collectors and regurgitators of information) empowered his students and Romanian culture to stand on their own two feet.

The Young Generation The majority of the philosophers, novelists, playwrights, poets, art critics and theater directors on which this book focuses were born between 1905 and 1915. They were just young enough to have missed the experience of WWI.  Being too young to fight, they were unable to contribute to the creation of Greater Romania: the unification of all ethnic Romanians under one national roof. In the interwar period the Old Generation was respected and revered in Romania, while the Young Generation was still proving itself. Their self-proclaimed leader was the man who coined its name, Mircea Eliade (1907–1986). Eliade argued that since the dream of Greater Romania had already been realized, their responsibility was to realize Romania’s cultural destiny. They had a spiritual mission for the nation, which Eliade outlined in his ‘Itinerariu Spiritual’ [The Spiritual Itinerary].23 Most prominently, the Young Generation included art critic and philosopher Petru ‘Titel’ Comarnescu (1905–1970), philosopher Emil (E.M.) Cioran (1911–1995), philosopher Constantin ‘Dinu’ Noica (1909–1987), novelist and playwright Mihail Sebastian (1907–1945), Eugène Ionesco (1909–1994),24 economist and philosopher Mircea Vulcănescu (1904–1952), lawyer and political activist Mihail ‘Mişu’ Polihroniade (1906–1939), actress Marietta Sadova (1897–1981), the Dora Mezdrea, Nae Ionescu: Biografia, Vol. 4, 566.  MEAI, 131. 24  Eugen Ionescu is the Romanian spelling. In this book I choose to use the French spelling Eugène Ionesco unless quoting another source that uses the Romanian spelling or referring to a book he wrote while in Romania. 22 23

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ater director and poet Haig Acterian (1903–1943) and his brother Arşavir Acterian (1907–1997). Other figures I investigate in slightly less depth throughout this book include Octav Şuluţiu (1909–1949), lawyer Alexandru Christian Tell, Ion I.  Cantacuzino (1908–1975), Henri H.  Stahl (1901–1991), Anton Golopenţia (1909–1951), Sandu Tudor (1896–1962), Zaharia Stancu (1902–1974), dancer and choreographer Floria Capsali (1900–1982), dancer Gabriel Negry, actress Sorana Ţopa (1898–1986), literary critic Şerban Cioculescu (1902–1988), Belu Silber (1901–1978), Paul Sterian (1904–1984), Ionel ‘Nelly’ Jianu (1905–1993), journalist Richard ‘Ricci’ Hillard (1902–1977), poet Dan Botta (1907–1958) and the Acterians’ sister Eugenia ‘Jeni’ Acterian (1916–1958).25 Of course the above is by no means an exhaustive list of the names that will be mentioned throughout the story, but by providing a sense of the principal and supporting characters at play, I hope to set the stage for what is about to unfold. Vanhaelemeersch wrongly characterizes this postwar generation as the ‘Generation without Beliefs’ and the ‘Lost Generation.’26 He claims that the young intellectuals had nothing to believe in because the dream of Greater Romania had already been realized. In fact, this generation had too much to believe in. Sorin Alexandrescu goes so far to claim that the interwar Romanian intellectual scene was pluralist without realizing it.27 The Young Generation shared the idea that since the national project of Greater Romania had come to fruition Romanians should focus on the development of culture and the fulfillment of Romania’s national destiny. They found their raison d’être in the spiritual and cultural revolution they intended to provide for their country. A distinctly Bucharest phenomenon, the Young Generation inherited and absorbed the ongoing discourse of form versus substance (the concept of literary critic, politician and founder of the Junimea Society Titu Maiorescu), traditionalism versus modernism, anti-Semitism and cosmopolitanism, and irrationalism and rationalism. They embodied this chaotic clash and their impassioned debates illustrated the brilliant modernity Greater Romania was experiencing. During the interwar period there was among the intellectuals a spirit that the world was dead. The Young 25  For more on Jeni Acterian, please see Cristina Bejan ‘The Criterion Association: Friendship, Culture and Fascism in Interwar Bucharest,’ DPhil (PhD) dissertation, University of Oxford, 2010, Bodleian Library. 26  Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 6. 27  Sorin Alexandrescu, ‘Modernists and Antimodernists: Enemies or Friends?’

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Generation opposed the decay and degradation of the Old (both the Generation and its Liberal institutions) and proclaimed the need for a spiritual Renaissance. Eliade described the opportune moment and their collective responsibility thus: But this time, however, it was no longer a question of myself only. I felt a responsibility for the entire ‘young generation,’ which I imagined called to grand destinies: in the first place, I knew that we had the duty of expanding considerably the Romanian cultural horizon and of opening windows toward spiritual universes that until then had been inaccessible. If I had published essays about Milarepa and Asvagosha, about Kierkegaard and Orphism, I had done it on the one hand because such men and problems had not interested the older generations, and on the other hand because I wanted to oppose our cultural dependence on France, a dependence that I regarded as proof of intellectual sloth. I demanded from the ‘provincial,’ as I demanded from myself, a superhuman effort to learn and to do everything that our forebears had not had the leisure to learn or to do. I am still convinced that I was not wrong. Actually our generation had only about ten or twelve years of ‘creative freedom.’ In 1938 the royal dictatorship was established; then came the Second World War; and in 1945 the Russian occupation—and total silence.28

Although they may have presented a united front and shared a vision for their country, the members of the Young Generation were themselves quite diverse in terms of identity, personality, background, ethnicity, religion and perspective. They all demonstrate the plethora of interests within the Young Generation as well as show the delicate unity of friendship within this elite intellectual community. Some were originally from Bucharest and others came from the provinces to the capital, where everything was happening. Some were more artistically inclined, others more scholarly and academic, some were more journalistic and others more politically active, but they all were close friends and created culture in a multitude of ways in Bucharest starting as students in the mid-1920s. Many were already writing novels, poetry, scholarly work, journal articles and collaborating with one another on reviews and newspapers. And although many went to lyceum and studied law and philosophy at the University of Bucharest together, they had many different experiences at  MEAI, 136.

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home and abroad and were constantly learning from each other well into the 1930s and beyond. Eliade identified as an ‘authentic Bucharestian’ and a ‘universal man.’29 Born in Bucharest, Eliade was in the same class of the lyceum, Spiru Haret, as Mihail Polihroniade and Haig Acterian, where the three were close friends. With Polihroniade, Eliade would often walk the same streets home and talk after school.30 Eliade went on to study at the Faculty of Philosophy and Letters at the University of Bucharest from 1925–1928. Very interested in Italian thought, Eliade wrote his undergraduate dissertation on Tommaso Campanella, and also had a passion for the writings of Giovanni Papini and Evola. He pursued his primary research for his undergraduate thesis abroad, in Rome for three months.31 His focus turned from Italy eastward for his doctoral studies, which took him to India. In 1933 he acquired a university post, which was revoked in 1938 due to his function as Nae Ionescu’s assistant. As a student Haig Acterian wrote his first poetry under the pen name Mihail. Following school, Haig enrolled in the University of Bucharest Faculty of Philosophy and the Conservatory of Dramatic Art, where he studied with Lucia Sturdza Bulandra. He completed those courses in 1926 and began his ascent as a prominent theater director. The Armenian-­ Romanian Acterians were originally from Constanţa, where there historically was a large Armenian minority. All three siblings Haig, Arşavir and Jeni were born there. The family relocated to Bucharest by the time Haig attended Spiru Haret. Actress and theater director Marietta Sadova was slightly older than the members of the Young Generation and introduced to their circle through her love affair and subsequent marriage to Haig. Born in Sibiu, Sadova came to Bucharest to study at the Conservatory of Dramatic Arts and pursue a theatrical career. She was first married to the poet, playwright and novelist Ion Marin Sadoveanu, who served as inspector general then in 1933 as director general of Bucharest’s theater and opera.32 Sadova and Haig carried on a clandestine love affair for a time until she obtained a

 Ibid., 257.  Ibid., 149. 31  Ibid., 122. 32  In the communist period Sadoveanu worked as director of Bucharest’s National Theatre, appointed in 1956. 29 30

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divorce. By the time Criterion began, they had moved into an apartment together on Elisabeta Boulevard and eventually married. Although he became a licensed lawyer, Mihail Polihroniade was interested in politics from early on and wrote regular reports on foreign affairs in the conservative newspaper Epoca. It was through Polihroniade that Eliade met Petru Comarnescu and Ionel Jianu (lawyer, Jewish and founder of the Forum Group) in early 1928. Jianu had just returned to Bucharest from studying law in Paris and Comarnescu had already made a name for himself in the capital as a literary and art critic, writing for the weekly Lumea. Jianu and Eliade became friends quickly as they shared an interest in religion and philosophy.33 Jianu shared his passion for art criticism with Comarnescu, an interest they cultivated throughout their lives and later collaborated on a study of the sculpture of Brâncuşi. Born in Iaşi, in northern Moldavia, Comarnescu got a taste of the cultural life he would cultivate in the capital. At a very young age he wrote for reviews and was active in the cultural circle, Buciumul.34 He arrived in Bucharest in 1919 and attended the Saint Sava College from 1919–1924. In 1925 he enrolled in the Faculties of Law and Philosophy at the University of Bucharest and graduated in 1929. As a university student, Comarnescu wrote for Rampa, Politica, Ultimă Ora, Ţiparniţa literară, Adevărul literar, Universul literar, Viaţa românească and Vremea. Polihroniade, Jianu and Comarnescu created a quarterly journal Acţiune şi Reacţiune that intended to address all problems concerning young people in Romania and Western Europe that would ‘take into consideration all the ideologies and currents, both cultural and political, that had become established since the war.’35 Another publication that Comarnescu was centrally involved in was Ultimă Ora. Octav Şuluţiu contributed articles and one evening when he delivered his articles to Comarnescu’s place, Şuluţiu presented a vivid picture of both Comarnescu and his close friend from early on, Noica: ‘[Comarnescu] is the kind of youth who will get fat, he is stupid, cultured and affected. C. Noica was also there, a sympathetic young man, intelligent and quiet.’36

 Ibid., 149.  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. Mapa I Ms. 4 (a–d) handwritten journal, January–March 1924. 35  MEAI, 150. 36  Octav Şuluţiu, Jurnal, 69. February 11, 1929. 33 34

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Philosopher Constantin Noica was two years behind Eliade at Spiru Haret, and at the lyceum at the same time as Arşavir Acterian. He then attended the Faculty of Letters and Philosophy at the University of Bucharest and graduated in 1931 with a thesis on Kant’s concept of the noumenon, that is, the ‘thing-in-itself.’ Acterian graduated from the same faculty and became a licensed lawyer, as well as a practicing journalist, editor and writer. He was an early friend of Octav Şuluţiu and Ionesco, who had befriended each other as university colleagues in 1927. A self-proclaimed Francophile, Eugène Ionesco had a double self-­ identity and, what he considered to be a terrible secret to hide. Born to a French mother and Romanian father in Slatina, Romania, in 1909, Ionesco spent his childhood in France, only to return to Romania in 1922 for his education at the request of his father. His father had abandoned and divorced his mother when Ionesco and his sister were very young and remarried in Bucharest. This certainly influenced Ionesco’s dislike for Romania and preference for France. After an idyllic childhood spent in France with a mother he adored, Ionesco was forced to live in Bucharest with a stepmother and father he despised. Matei Călinescu describes Ionesco as ‘a reluctant Romanian’ and ‘a nostalgic Frenchman.’37 Another reason Ionesco detested his father was the latter’s extremist political views (at first a Guardist, he became a communist sympathizer after WWII). In 1929 Ionesco became a student of French at the University of Bucharest. He reached the height of his literary activity in Romania in 1934 with the publication of Nu (No) an unconventional volume of literary criticism. In Bucharest he made a living teaching French at a Bucharest secondary school, held a position at the Ministry of Education in the International Relations Department, was the editor for the critical section of the Facla and published in other papers, such as Universul Literar, Rampa and Părerile Libere. Mihail Sebastian was born with the name Iosif Hechter in Brăila near the Danube Delta in southeastern Romania. An assimilated Jew, he studied Law and Philosophy at the University of Bucharest. Throughout the 1930s and early 1940s he was a known novelist, playwright and journalist. He also worked as a lawyer and lyceum French teacher. A devoted disciple of Nae Ionescu, working for him at Cuvântul, Sebastian viewed himself as

37  Matei Călinescu, ‘Ionesco and Rhinoceros: Personal and Political Backgrounds,’ East European Politics and Societies, Vol. 9, No. 3 (Fall 1995): 405.

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both ‘Romanian’ and ‘a Jew.’ Studying abroad in France, Sebastian was another open Francophile and a vocal advocate for the French spirit. Emil Cioran was another reluctant Romanian. From the Transylvanian village Răşinari, near Sibiu, his father was a Romanian Orthodox priest. Cioran moved to Bucharest at age 17 to study philosophy at the university. The melancholic insomniac left in 1933 on a scholarship to Berlin. He wrote for various publications including Vremea and published his first work of philosophy Pe culmile disperării (On the Heights of Despair) in 1934 for which he won two literary prizes (the prize for an unpublished young author and the prize from the Young Romanian Writers Society). The members of the Young Generation most interested in sociology were Mircea Vulcănescu, Henri H. Stahl, Anton Golopenţia and Guardist Traian Herseni. Vulcănescu studied law and philosophy at the university where both Dimitrie Gusti (1880–1955) and Nae Ionescu became his mentors. Vulcănescu became an economist, a philosopher and a theorist of Romanianism. Stahl studied law, earned a PhD and began to work with Gusti, with whom he became a close collaborator. Of Swiss and Alsatian origin, Stahl was an avowed Austromarxist. Golopenţia graduated in law and philosophy from the University of Bucharest and received his PhD in Germany. Traian Herseni received his PhD in 1934 in Berlin. A prominent Criterionist, Ion I. Cantacuzino was the son of the Prince Ion Cantacuzino and the actress Maria Filotti. Though he became known for his work in radio and film, Cantacuzino’s education was in medicine. And though he started his studies in Bucharest, he graduated from the Faculty of Sciences and Faculty of Medicine at the University of Paris. Other notable members of the Young Generation were right-leaning Alexandru Christian Tell and communist Belu Silber. Tell, a lawyer and collaborator of Comarnescu at Revista Fundaţiilor Regale, was one of the main defenders of the Criterion Association and an editor of the Criterion publication.

The Spiritual Itinerary The two programs for the Young Generation were ‘The Spiritual Itinerary’ written by Eliade in 1927 and ‘Manifestul Crinului Alb’ [The Manifesto of the White Lily] by Petre Pandrea, Sorin Pavel and Ion Nistor in 1928. With both manifestos, Petreu claims the Young Generation was ­announcing itself as ‘apolitical, “parricidal” (E. Ionescu), autochthonous, anti-­French, orthodox, opposed to the 1848 revolution, anti-canonical, i.e. anti-

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Junimist.’38 She emphasizes the importance of the members’ own experience, saying the generation ‘counted on the existentialist adventure, on culture understood as spirituality.’ The generation itself was ‘founded enthusiastically, in a frenzy and creating a frantic rhythm.’39 For the purposes of my investigation, I focus on the first work as not only was Eliade an active member of Criterion, the ideas explored therein were both the first expression of the ambitions of the Young Generation, as well as the foundation for the debates that took place in Criterion. Eliade wrote ‘The Spiritual Itinerary’ in 12 installments (likely with the Christian symbolic significance of the 12 apostles) printed in Cuvântul in the fall of 1927.40 The passionate manifesto bears the mark of Nae Ionescu, as inspiration on many levels. The first four articles were written in and sent from Geneva, the fifth from Château de Vesignien in France and the final seven do not list a location, implying that Eliade had returned to Romania by that point. Somewhat ironically ‘The Spiritual Itinerary’ is anything but a promotion of Western values, the milieu in which Eliade started writing it. In the itinerary, Eliade attempts to clarify his generation’s position on a number of issues (culture, spirituality, art, literature, scholarship) and asserts the primacy of their experience as individuals and Romanians and claims their future path will move them closer toward a mystical Orthodox Christianity. In his introductory piece, ‘Lines of Orientation,’ he describes his project as ‘reflections’ and ‘monologues about our generation,’ to serve as a ‘future map of the soul of the generation.’ He uses the war to illustrate how his generation singularizes itself, dubbing it ‘a crisis with catastrophic proportions’ and specifies that with respect to the Young Generation he is talking about an elite. Eliade asserts that only the Young Generation has the right to analyze itself, for no one else knows their spirit, pains and hope. For them the religious crisis was much more powerful than it was for the previous generations, before the war. The confusion committed by the previous generation, and Eliade carefully specifies that this confusion was committed then in 1927 by his university professors, would not be committed by the Young Generation. The younger intel38  Marta Petreu, ‘The Generation Of ’27, Between The Holocaust and The Gulag,’ EURESIS: Cahiers Roumains d’Etudes Litteraires. Translated by Lucrina Ştefănescu and Ioana Zirra. Nos. 3–4 (Fall–Winter 2007), 7. 39  Ibid. 40  These can be found in the original issues of Cuvântul and reprinted in Mircea Eliade. Itinerariu spiritual: scrieri de tineret ̦e, 1927. Mircea Handoca, ed., 263–362.

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lectuals would avoid it because they ‘knew a more complete life,’ they passed through ‘experiences which led them to rationality, to art, to mysticism.’ Eliade clarifies that the ‘spirit’ the Young Generation is concerned with is not in the Hegelian sense, nor is it an ‘ideal’ of youthful sentimentalism.41 From the first article, Eliade cries out for his generation to be taken seriously and states that not only are they different from the Old Generation, they are more equipped to fill the cultural void they perceive to be plaguing their newly enhanced country. Two things Eliade is most critical of in the itinerary are superficial dilettantism and the specialization of science. He devotes the second and third articles to a critique of such superficiality and argues for a more authentic dilettantism, a dilettantism that is more relevant to the contemporary spirit. In the second article, ‘A Critique of Dilettantism,’ Eliade defines a dilettante as someone with superficial knowledge, yet who is not an encyclopedia of knowledge. Eliade argues that a dilettante is not a lover of the arts, but an authentic dilettantism implies having a cultural and artistic sensibility. He states that a dilettante has the temperament of a Don Juan. This leads him into a discussion of passion and Eliade’s own sympathy for the irrational and for emotion is revealed when he says that ‘only hate and love—thus passion—can be the seeds to finding the essential truths.’ He asserts that ‘the only salvation, the only possibilities of transcending the plan of this life—are love, hate and passion.’42 In his third article ‘Towards a New Dilettantism,’ Eliade clarifies his notion of ‘authentic dilettantism’ and the kind of ‘dilettantism’ the Young Generation feels close to. This new wave of dilettantism is authentic and constructive. He classifies their common (both the Young Generation and the new dilettantism) work as ‘the same ordeal of synthesis … comprehensive and courageous.’ The authentic dilettante ‘sees,’ will never be a ‘pure philosopher,’ but is much nearer to the philosophy of history and of culture. Examples Eliade gives of this kind of dilettante are Montesquieu, Vico, Gobineau, Marx, Chamberlain and Spengler. They always sympathized with and understood history and ‘saw, above the material, the ­concepts: race, class, culture, etc.’ This new dilettantism has the courage to synthesize infor-

41  Mircea Eliade. ‘Linii de orientare,’ 263–267. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 857, September 6, 1927, 1–2. 42  Mircea Eliade, ‘Critica diletantismului,’ 267–272. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 860, September 9, 1927, 1–2.

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mation and is no longer satisfied with the fragmented knowledge resulting from scientific knowledge and pursuit. Eliade writes, The insufficience of science for the consciousness of the elite accentuates the tragedy of recent years … the imperative of the times is synthesis … we will not go back to being, any would say ‘specialist savants.’43

Eliade explicitly calls upon his generation to be capable of synthesis, to see the big picture, to use concepts, rather than become narrow-minded specialists with superficial knowledge as in the previous generation. In many ways the members of the Young Generation were just such authentic dilettantes, rather than specialist savants. Their advancements in scholarship and love of the arts become some of many aspects they could synthesize in broader discussions of ideas and the larger more general, universal, project of cultural creation. In the next (fourth) installment, ‘Between the chair of a university department [catedra] and the laboratory,’ Eliade again denounces the specialization of science, which ‘perverts the equilibrium of consciousness,’ and is critical of the instructors at the University of Bucharest. Eliade himself gets even more specific by differentiating between the Romanian savant and the man of science, as they are often confused. For Eliade the savant is more connected to culture than the scientist. For the savant, a frenzied passion is still essential. They have mentalities like maniacs and those in love, with their obsession with a single, aspect, problem or interpretation. Eliade argues that for the past 20 years, Romanian intellectuals only believed in the primacy of science. They had believed that culture derived from science. For them, the Young Generation, science could only be an element of culture (not its only source) because ‘science does not satisfy the communal consciousness.’ Eliade writes: ‘the specialist cannot appreciate the distances in culture and can no longer distinguish between specific landscapes.’ Basically the specialist scientist of the previous era is not familiar with the diversity and extent of the Romanian cultural terrain. According to Eliade, the Young Generation is obsessed with equilibrium and synthesis.44 43  Mircea Eliade. ‘Către un nou diletantism,’ 272–275. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 862, September 11, 1927, 1–2. 44  Mircea Eliade, ‘Între catedra şi laborator,’ 284–288. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 867, September 16, 1927, 1–2.

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Of course, ‘The Spiritual Itinerary’ would have to address the importance of experienţa to the Young Generation, and the necessity of experience to the creation of culture. Eliade did just that in the fifth article entitled ‘The Experiences.’ He claims that his generation is ‘the richest in experience.’ The initial experiences (of the war, of withdrawal, of occupation) formed the ‘fibre’ of their spirit. Eliade asserts that every new experience presents a new way of thinking, a new vision and new values, even those experiences that seem absurd, risky or compromising. (For examples of the latter, he mentions Futurism, Cubism, anti-Semitism and even algebra and Christian Science.) Eliade argues that culture itself depends on experience: ‘Even culture cannot communicate itself, could not exist except in a society connected through an identity of experience.’ Just as experiences and individuals are diverse, Eliade’s conception of his generation allows for internal differences: ‘even in a generation, consciousnesses are not identical,’ and this consciousness itself ‘vibrates’ and ‘convulses’ in experiences. But the generation is not supposed to cull their experiences, but rather gain control and nurture their individual selves. Eliade writes: ‘The consciousness of the elite, that will not discipline the experiences, will end always with the victory of an internal discipline, profoundly anchored and animated.’45 In his sixth essay, aptly titled ‘Culture,’ Eliade initially presents a summary of his program as written so far. Having already identified cultures with experiences, Eliade’s ensuing analysis of culture addresses the distinction between an individual and a people (an ethnic interpretation of a uniform group of individuals). Eliade claims his assertion (about the primacy of experience for culture) is true for both individuals and for peoples: ‘a culture is a living spiritual universe, sprung forth from experiences.’ Part of the synthesis that happens in culture is of an ethnic character, thus Eliade asserts that culture will always have an ethnic dimension and an individual nuance. He explains how history proves that cultures have been formed on an ethnic base and gives the Chinese, Indian, Greek and Latin cultures as examples. For Eliade, ancient Greece was not a culture, but rather a civilization, ‘a continuation of economic and material values,’ referencing Spengler in his argument. Eliade connects a culture to an organism, in that it has similar functions: such as ideals, beliefs and laws. He likens giving oneself over to culture to giving oneself over to a spiritual 45  Mircea Eliade, ‘Experienţele,’ 289–292. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 874, September 23, 1927, 1–2.

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belief. This causes him to conclude that lack of belief impedes the development of cultures. Eliade explains how diverse individuals over the course of many generations develop a coherent culture with the following statement: ‘A specific intellectual work will develop, through a plurality of consciousnesses and a continuity of generations, the same spiritual position. It will create an organic cultural medium.’ Eliade blames Romania’s lack of a national (and thus, an ethnic) culture on the fact that the Romanians did not know how to develop spiritual positions, and this inability is due to the history of the Romanian state. Foreign occupation and rule (Eliade mentions the Byzantine Empire and the Phanariot system) and imported ideas left Romanian culture with no ‘point of departure.’ This lack of unity is why Romania only has a dubious civilization, which exalts foreign imported elements, corrupts the political system and torments the elite. Eliade then asks who can create the authentic Romanian culture the country desperately needs and suggests the Young Generation.46 In his next piece, Eliade investigates what many would consider an inherent aspect of any culture: literature. But Eliade’s views about literature are contrarian and curious when we consider how prolific he was as a novelist. However, part of his goal with the itinerary was to define terms, so his need to distinguish between literature, art and poetry is no surprise. Eliade claims that for the Young Generation art and poetry are each ‘a synthesis with specific spiritual elements, in a specific plan—having its own structure and functions—that could be named a universe.’ Literature, on the other hand, is ‘an impure, insufficient synthesis.’ While art is an actual synthesis, a creation of culture, literature is merely an aspect of culture. Art is ‘a spiritual plan to which consciousness only arrives through creation or the contemplation of creation,’ while literature is a critique or exaltation of recent experiences. Art is pure because it is synthesized as a single plan, and literature is impure because it is a conglomeration of different things resulting from diverse plans. This discussion about literature demonstrates how Eliade is, in general when it comes to culture, concerned with ­totalities and not with specificities. He acknowledges that they can never escape literature, it will always be there, but implies that now they have a higher calling. Eliade concludes: ‘The primacy of literatures—as specific

46  Mircea Eliade, ‘Cultură,’ 304–308. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 885, October 4, 1927, 1–2.

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personalities of Romanian culture have accepted and will still accept—is, for us, a position naturally in the past.’47 At this point, Eliade turns his focus directly toward spirituality and religion for he believes that religious experience is an element of the unity of culture. In the eighth piece, Eliade examines the subject of theosophy, a belief system that holds that all religions are equally in pursuit of the same truth. He undertakes the difficult task of clarifying the difference between theosophy and the Theosophical Society, the organization formed around the belief system of theosophy that was founded in 1875  in New  York City. Eliade’s account is a biting and harsh criticism of the Society. Eliade holds that theosophy itself is pure, a mystical attitude found in all times and eras, and that true theosophism was perverted and compromised by the Theosophical Society, that introduced the evolutionary spirit, positivism and biology, into the discourse. His reason for devoting an article of the itinerary to theosophy becomes apparent in his conclusion: ‘This trend of vague and hybrid mysticism that trespassed against the European spirit: it furthered the distance between Christian consciousnesses of experiences, it broke the axis of belief and prayer, it compromised old theosophy, it threw away the introduction of the Asian spiritual methods, it confounded religion with science and philosophy.’ Yet despite these negatives, Eliade acknowledges that ‘it aroused the interest of the greater public in the Orient and metaphysics, and it strengthened, through reaction, the unity and offensive front of the Catholic Church.’48 Eliade’s analysis demonstrates his own early interest in the Eastern, non-Christian world. He mentions Mahatma Gandhi’s own connection with the theosophical movement, and of course his own reverence for Gandhi was strengthened when Eliade was in India. The next segment, on mysticism, naturally follows both Eliade’s discussion of religion in the theosophy piece and his general denunciation of science as an avenue toward truth and an authentic source of culture. To start the discussion he claims that knowing is not the same thing as ­understanding. For mysticism you have to know it, not ‘understand’ it, and it can only be known through experience. Eliade defines the mystical experience as ‘a transcending of the consciousness into another plane.’ To 47  Mircea Eliade, ‘Insuficienţa Literaturii,’ 308–312. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 889, October 8, 1927, 1–2. 48  Mircea Eliade, ‘Teozofie,’ 327–331. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 903, October 22, 1927, 1–2.

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answer the question of how this is produced, Eliade asserts that religion would claim God produces the mystical experience while psychology would say it is the subconscious. Eliade claims this however is nothing new to psychology because St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross knew it long before, thus science did not discover the ‘cause’ of the mystical experience. Eliade is concerned with determining his generation’s position in the face of mysticism and concludes that it is not unique. ‘Some have found it, others are still looking. In and of itself, mysticism is reduced to looking for and finding God.’ Some have lied to themselves with ‘mystical surrogates’ such as Tolstoyism and theosophy. The Young Generation had not yet crystallized in a religious sense: ‘But we know that we have one [a position on spirituality], that does not fit us, and that, soon, passing through the time of experiences, we will need to stop and hold a position.’49 In the previous article, Eliade mentions that the Young Generation is gravitating toward two religious positions. The subsequent articles suggest those possible positions are Protestantism (investigated in the tenth article) and Orthodoxy (in the eleventh).50 In his presentation of Protestantism, Eliade addresses the question of ‘What will those young people do, unknowing and indifferent in the face of the Church—but at the same time, feeling the need of actualizing the religious experience?’51 Eliade concludes that anthroposophy is the only discipline that he can recommend to those who have not yet found the Church.52 It is interesting that Eliade proposes the ideology founded by a former member of the Theosophical Society as his solution to those lost souls still in search of a mystical experience. Eliade’s own orientation toward the East is revealed here (and despite his strict strong advocacy for Orthodoxy, explained ­subsequently) in his promotion of anthroposophy and what he writes in his post-script of the article: ‘In the retyping of this text developments and discussions (the influence of Arab Sufism, the Basque origin of St. Ignatius, 49  Mircea Eliade, ‘Misticismul,’ 342–346. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 911, October 30, 1927, 1–2. 50  Mircea Eliade, ‘Între Luther şi Ignatiu de Loyola,’ 349–352. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 915, November 3, 1927, 1–2. Mircea Eliade, ‘Ortodoxia,’ 357–360. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 924, November 12, 1927, 1–2. 51  Eliade, ‘Între Luther şi Ignatiu de Loyola,’ 349. 52  Ibid., 352. Anthroposophy is a spiritual philosophy started by Rudolf Steiner, that believes that the world can be intellectually and objectively understood. In 1907 Steiner split with the Theosophical Society, as it was too focused on Indian philosophy (and around Krishnamurti) and he wanted to integrate Christianity into his teachings.

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the theism of anthroposophy, etc.)—had to be eliminated from this feuilleton.’53 Eliade makes no secret of the direction in which he believes the Young Generation will find their mystical experience: Christian Orthodoxy. Of the superiority of Orthodoxy, he states, ‘Sunsets are born in Catholicism. Sunrises arrive in Orthodoxy.’ Confidently, Eliade claims that there is no need to have a discussion about ‘conversion,’ for the arrival at Orthodoxy will simply, inevitably happen ‘just as trees bloom—when the soul will be enriched enough, suffering enough.’ Eliade explains that Orthodoxy is, for the Young Generation, the authentic Christianity. Being Christian, one has access to life’s purpose: ‘Christianity illuminates for us a central axis in the Universe and within ourselves.’ Eliade even points to Jesus Christ to illustrate his point, claiming that ‘Christ proves transcendental reality and the possibility of arriving at a religious experience. Man is no longer alone with fate.’ Eliade clearly views the Christian believer as a superior man, with such statements as ‘He who knows (loves) Christ—is a man with a whole marrow in his spine.’54 He reserves other such sweeping compliments for the Christian man, such as his assertion that the Christian is the only type of man who can have a true personality, which Eliade defines as the dualism of body and spirit, which  for him means ‘the equilibrium in an original synthesis of those two tendencies [body and spirit].’ The Christian life means the security of spiritual values and the permanence of these values: optimism, belief, the right way and growth. But as much praise as he has for Orthodox Christianity, Eliade asserts that still in 1927 not just anyone can become Orthodox, as there are many causes that could impede encountering the Christian Truth. Still Eliade maintains that the Young Generation will arrive at being Orthodox, although he admits it does not matter when. None of them will miss the experience to taste the metaphysical sense of life. Eliade stresses that at that moment they have not yet arrived, but they will, and they are not scared of failure because they know that a ‘right way’ exists for which they are destined. What is beautiful for them is the act of searching, suffering as they search—for that which others are thankful to be given by the priests. Eliade does not have any moral standard for his conception of the Orthodox man, he claims he can be either an esthete or a sinner, because the religious experience (defined here as ‘love of Christ’)  Ibid.  Eliade, ‘Ortodoxia,’ 357–358.

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remains the same. His conclusion is that whichever road one chooses, the contemporary consciousness will arrive at Christian Orthodoxy eventually and this search will lead them all to being authentic personalities.55 In the final (twelfth) article, Eliade attempts to summarize his overall effort: to clarify the conclusions and discover the restlessness of this spirit of the Young Generation, ‘the generation whose body and spirit are still a mystery.’ Eliade concludes that his entire investigation reveals an impatience: ‘Impatience to see in action the forces crystallized now in consciousness.’ He ends the itinerary with a sort of call to arms, claiming that he awaits those heroes who, through renouncing everything, will prove themselves more masculine than us all and will gather from the depths of their spiritual life lessons that will be gifts and lights for us.56

His last statement reveals his reverence for leaders, a reverence that can be found in his admiration for both Nae Ionescu and Codreanu, and also in his own self-conception as a leader. Eliade’s project in ‘The Spiritual Itinerary’ was to define what culture is, whether or not Romania did or could have an original national and ethnic culture, and how the Young Generation could approach producing that culture. He argues that the previous generation put the cart before the horse, by deriving culture from science and imported ideas. Eliade’s attempt to set out the Romanian cultural project entails the renunciation of specialization, and the dominance of scientific and rational inquiry. He instead proposes the importance of experience, passion and non-scientific, irrational, mystical, religious and alternate modes of knowledge that would, in turn, produce a more authentic culture. He calls upon the Young Generation to be authentic dilletantes and search for mystical experience. Of course, this cry for Orthodoxy and irrationality could lead to the political extremism that ensued. Petreu claims that it is no coincidence that Eliade required his generation in 1927 to live and create as if the ­present year were the last year of their lives. She summarizes their mission

 Ibid., 358–360.  Eliade, ‘Final,’ 360. Originally published in Cuvântul, Year 3, No. 928, November 16, 1927, 1–2. 55 56

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by saying that their obsession from the start was ‘to draw Romanian culture out of provincialism and make it exist universally.’57

Education Abroad The intellectual elite of Romania was no stranger to seeking higher education elsewhere. The Young Generation followed in this esteemed tradition, but their travels took them even further than Western Europe. For this reason I will devote most of my attention to those who left the continent for their studies, Eliade and Comarnescu, taking them in complete polar opposite directions: India and the United States; as well as provide a brief exploration of one who stayed on the continent, Cioran in Germany. Many other Criterionists pursued advanced study abroad in Europe. Vulcănescu studied in Paris in 1925. Haig Acterian spent time in Berlin in 1930 and in Rome in 1933 to study theater directing and cinema. Ionesco was in Paris from 1938 to 1940 completing his doctoral thesis. Noica traveled to France and Germany later in the 1930s to pursue his research on Kant, for a dissertation he was writing under the supervision of Nae Ionescu. In 1930, while studying law in France, Sebastian initially struggled with bouts of melancholia and developing his confidence using the French language.58 Despite this, he was reluctant to return to Romania, writing to Camil Baltazar on November 12, 1930, I think of my return home with fear—and it is difficult for me to explain to you why. (Perhaps the fact is that the life of my first youth is definitively ending and I will [soon] work among serious people.)59

This quote captures the precise sentiment of the moment in the lives of the Young Generation. Their education abroad, for each of them when  Petreu, ‘Generation of ’27: Between the Holocaust and the Gulag,’ 7–8.  For a vivid presentation and comprehensive analysis of Sebastian’s travels and impressions during this time, see Diana Georgescu. ‘Excursions into National Specificity and European Identity: Mihail Sebastian’s Travel Reportage.’ Under Eastern Eyes: A Comparative Introduction to East European Travel Writing on Europe. Wendy Bracewell and Alex DraceFrancis, eds., 293–324. 59  AMNLR, Mihail Sebastian, Correspondence, Letters to Camil Baltazar. 101/III/10, 192/1–2, from Paris Wednesday November 12, 1930. Published in Hortensia PapadatBengescu, et al. Scrisori către Camil Baltazar, 131. 57 58

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Fig. 2.1  Mircea Eliade in Calcutta, India in May 1930. Courtesy of the Library of the Romanian Academy, reference number 241219

and wherever it occurred, served as a transition period into adulthood. They came back taking themselves seriously and poised to create and shape the discourse of their time. In 1929 Eliade was given a scholarship by the wealthy benefactor, the Maharaja of Kasimbazar to fund doctoral studies on Indian philosophy and Sanksrit in India, and left for education eastward.60 He studied under the tutelage of famous Cambridge-educated historian of Indian philosophy, Surendranath Dasgupta from 1929 to 1931. Not knowing any English before he departed, Eliade managed to write the original version of his PhD thesis in English, as well as learn Sanskrit and Bengali while in India (Fig. 2.1). Eliade first landed in Colombo, Ceylon [Sri Lanka] and traveled north through the island before crossing to India from the Jaffna port. After a journey up the east coast of India, Eliade settled in Calcutta, where he  MEAI, 145–146.

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absorbed an education, culture and perspective completely unknown to Romanians. He first lived in a guesthouse surrounded by the expatriate community and then was hosted by the Dasgupta family. Eliade immersed himself in his academic work and educated himself about the ongoing political turmoil in India. He shared his experiences through diary entries he sent for publication in Cuvântul, as well as in novels he wrote based on his life in India, such as Isabel şi apele diavolului (Isabel and the Waters of the Devil)  and Maitreyi. After transcribing his work from English into Romanian, Eliade earned his doctorate in 1933 from the Faculty of Philosophy of the University of Bucharest. Three years later his dissertation was published in French, entitled Yoga: Essai sur les origines de la mystique Indienne, which is the first Western book to be published about yoga. Eliade maintained that the West might learn from India’s approach because it allows for mystery. He held that for Western philosophy, the goal of knowledge is the fruitless search for the first and historical causes of the human condition, the temporality of the human being. By evaluating what India thinks of the multiple ‘conditionings’ of man, and how it has approached the problems of temporality and historicity, the West might learn what solution India has found for the anxiety and despair that inevitably follows consciousness of temporality.61 According to Eliade, one of India’s greatest discoveries is the importance of absolute freedom: the consciousness of ‘liberated’ man and perfect spontaneity. Unlike Western philosophy, Indian philosophy is not concerned with the possession of ‘truth’ but rather with liberation: the conquest of absolute freedom. For the Indian sage, liberation is the supreme end. This absolute freedom constitutes a rebirth into a non-conditioned mode of being. Knowledge of one’s self only results from revelation, from liberation. Otherwise the cause and origin of the association between the spirit and earthly experience exceeds the present capacity for human understanding. Eliade’s novel, Maitreyi (1933) is a fictionalized version of his affair with Dasgupta’s daughter, Maitreyi, when Eliade was staying in the Dasgupta house. Maitreyi was an instant success in Bucharest and catapulted Eliade’s literary career. In the novel, Eliade describes his life in India in detail, including his own (real and imagined) sexual exploits. Such artistic daring did not go without harsh consequences. The tragedy ­resulting from the writing and publication of Maitreyi was that Eliade 61  Mircea Eliade, Yoga: Immortality and Freedom, trans. Willard R. Trask, xvi. This text is the expanded version of the research and analysis Eliade began in India in 1929.

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sacrificed any future study or experience in India. This was devastating for the young Eliade, who harbored hopes of returning. Dasgupta was disgraced by the deception and betrayal of his student (to claim to have carried on an affair with the professor’s young daughter, while profiting from the professor’s hospitality and tutelage, living in their house) and ended all ties with Eliade. Maitreyi denied the affair but later wrote her own version of the story in a memoir, claiming feelings did exist between them but they shared no physical relationship.62 Shaped by his experience in India as well as the European culture of his homeland, Eliade viewed himself as a human bridge between East and West. He felt that the Romanian people (himself certainly included) could ‘fulfill a definite role in the coming dialogue between the two or three worlds: the West, Asia and cultures of archaic folk type.’ He claimed to have reached these conclusions in the spring and summer of 1931, while still in India, and consequently, ‘a good part of [his] activity in Romania between 1932–1940 found its point of departure in these intuitions and observations.’ It was useless to repeat Western clichés but dangerous to take a stand on traditionalism. Man should actually be aiming for ‘universalism.’ According to Eliade there were common elements in Indian, Balkan and Mediterranean folk cultures and therein existed the organic universalism which was the result of a common history, which he called the ‘history of peasant cultures’ and not an abstract concept in the least.63 Once back in Bucharest, Eliade recalled that it was particularly Vulcănescu and Nae Ionescu who were curious and passionate to discuss Indian philosophy with him.64 Also recently returned from abroad, Comarnescu insisted to Eliade that they speak English to each other, as he was determined not to lose the language. Comarnescu had received a scholarship from the Rockefeller Foundation to pursue doctoral study in the United States and moved to Los Angeles to study philosophy at the University of Southern California in 1929. (The Rockefeller Foundation funded a lot of projects in interwar Romania, including Institutul Social Român.) Comarnescu obtained a PhD on May 31, 1931 for his dissertation entitled, ‘The Nature of Beauty and its Relation to Goodness’ (Fig. 2.2).

 Maitreyi Devi, It Does Not Die.  MEAI, 204. 64  Ibid., 220. 62 63

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Fig. 2.2  Petru Comarnescu (right) at his University of Southern California graduation in 1931. Courtesy of the Library of the Romanian Academy, reference number 241195

The Romanian attitude toward the United States was in marked contrast to the sentiment held by many intellectuals in Western Europe. In France, Thierry Maulnier was particularly provocative in his anti-American declarations, condemning the nation’s economic power, productionism, consequent consumerism and Hollywood. Jean de Fabregue criticized the country for her lack of an intelligentsia.65 Romania was the exception because the new nation was indebted to the United States for the active American role at Versailles (thus helping to realize the dream of ‘Greater Romania’) and the fact that Romanian peasants could buy their own land due to money earned as immigrant workers in the United States. In fact, the 1933 ‘Telephone Tower’ (although standing only ten-stories high) built on Bucharest’s Calea Victoriei was meant to resemble an American skyscraper and certainly stood out in Bucharest’s ‘Paris of the East’ skyline.66 Queen Marie visited New  York, Washington D.C. and the Pacific Northwest in 1926. Nicolae Iorga made a famous trip to the United States  Masgaj Imagining Fascism, 82–83.  Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 284–285.

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in 1930. After Comarnescu returned from his studies in 1931, he published two best-selling books about his experiences abroad. Comarnescu could be considered the Romanian de Tocqueville because for many people he remains the first Romanian who truly discovered the United States.67 His personal writings about the United States represented the first of its kind ever in Romania, and the first in twentieth-century Europe.68 In America Comarnescu discovered a new approach to life that he thought could be a potential solution to Romania’s ills: optimism. In this nascent country, optimism pervaded all spheres of life: economic, academic, political and social. Comarnescu introduced the Romanian readership to the United States beyond Hollywood through his eyes as a foreign student immersing himself in the field like an anthropologist or a sociologist of the Gusti School. In Homo Americanus each chapter was a portrait through description and dialogue of different ‘representative types’ of American. These types included the businessman, the American club woman, the priest, the professor, the student, the sportsman, the modern girl and the intellectual. One chapter was devoted to both the policeman and the bandit. The final chapter was devoted to the black man, the Jew and the immigrant. It is notable that Comarnescu observed the similarities between these minority groups and their common struggle and reveals a remarkable empathy toward and understanding of each in his descriptions. The experience of a ‘college campus’ for the American student was fundamentally different from the university life known to European students. The campus environment created a collective life in addition to the students’ rich individual lives. Comarnescu remarked that the American style of learning was the student interacting with the various texts and questions posed by professors. The American students’ essays were ‘full of personal observations, sincere confessions and naïve aspirations.’ Comarnescu was impressed by the existence of an ‘honor code’ discouraging cheating and also by how generations remained tied to their university through a robust network of ‘alumni’ and the ongoing relationship the student had with his ‘Alma Mater.’69 With an abundant array of extra-­ curricular activities (including competitive collegiate sports), Comarnescu  Traian Filip ‘Cuvînt Inainte,’ Petru Comarnescu Chipurile şi Priveliştile Americii.  Ibid., 19. 69  Petru Comarnescu, Homo Americanus, 112–113. Vanhaelemeersch presents a comprehensive account of Comarnescu’s works on the United States in A Generation Without Beliefs, 280–295. 67 68

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marveled at how the individual student was also part of a vibrant community. This vitality eliminated melancholia, so typical of Europe. In his concluding chapter of Homo Americanus, ‘The American man of today and tomorrow,’ Comarnescu likens the United States to youth itself. He says that for the youth every road is open, everything is new, and presents translated quotes from the poetry of Walt Whitman and Carl Sandburg to demonstrate this distinctly American spirit.70 While Homo Americanus (1933) dealt with the American society, Comarnescu’s second book, America văzută de un tânăr de azi (America As Seen By a Youth of Today, 1934), focused on the author himself. He reconstructed his journey overseas from Romania to America, and across the American continent. Also the author’s youth, as mentioned even in the book’s title, was of crucial importance to his project. Comarnescu’s journey began in 1929 when he boarded the ship ‘Alésia,’ which brought him from Constant ̦a to ‘Constantinople,’ then Athens (where he climbed the Acropolis), Naples, Algiers, Madeira, Providence and finally to New York. He describes these stopovers as stages in his escape from stale, old Europe into a new, untouched America. New York City (‘the metropolis of power’) overwhelmed him. Comarnescu claimed that in New York, nothing appears natural, and praised the city for her skyscrapers, which he described as ‘impressive with their solidity, with their geographical perfection and their good taste is not hindered by useless elements.’71 And Comarnescu observed that just as New  York had skyscraper buildings, the city had skyscraper people. Next to the Americans and lost in their architecture, Comarnescu felt he lost all sense of proportion, and was a Gulliver in a country of giants.72 In a much more spacious Washington D.C. (which he named ‘the unreal city’) Comarnescu was extremely impressed when he toured the buildings of the US Capitol and the Library of Congress and saw the White House and national monuments. While in Chicago, Comarnescu claimed he lived in the atmosphere of a detective novel in Al Capone’s city where the gangster is the hero and without the police there would be utter chaos.73 He named Chicago ‘the blackened heart’ of America, for it was the industrial capital with smoke-­ filled air and smut-covered buildings. Comarnescu praised the two universities in Chicago, the University of Chicago and Northwestern University,  Ibid., 208.  Petru Comarnescu. America văzută de un tânăr de azi, 83. 72  Ibid., 84. 73  Ibid., 164. 70 71

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for developing a large program in penology and social and juridic reform, teaching their students to help the city youth with education and financial incentives.74 From Chicago, he headed West by train through the Midwest (‘of the urbanized farmers’) New Mexico, Arizona and finally to Los Angeles. In California, Comarnescu found ‘the land of promise and disappointment.’ Since California remained the same climate year-round, feeling youthful was much easier than in a place like Romania. He claimed that when the seasons change, one has the feeling of death in fall and rebirth in spring. Comarnescu wrote, ‘In Los Angeles, I lived with a sense of endless youth, never thinking of aging, death or nothingness.’75 When he returned to Europe, he confronted the pessimism he had left. Cioran embodied precisely that preoccupation with death and despair Comarnescu was trying to combat. Already an expert on Nietzsche’s nihilism (although more compelled by Georg Simmel) and fascinated by Spengler, Cioran presented on Bergson in the first Criterion Idols series in the fall of 1932. Shortly thereafter he left for Berlin to study German philosophy from 1933–1935 with the help of a Humboldt scholarship, at that time considered to be of the same prestige as a Rhodes scholarship to Oxford.76 At the University of Berlin, Cioran studied with the philosopher Ludwig Klages, who reminded Cioran of Nae Ionescu.77 Cioran was initially unimpressed with his experience and wrote to his friend, Ecaterina Săndulescu, in January 1934, about his lazy student life there and how all the students he met and spent time with, of an international variety, were universally despicable. I am totally bored when I notice the differences between peoples, the specific characteristics. I am forced to have daily meals with a group of foreign students, beginning with a Japanese man and ending with an American. I wouldn’t have the curiosity to travel the world. People are dull and uninteresting across the globe. So far my disappointment in Berlin is that I met only normal and healthy people.78

 Ibid., 171.  Ibid., 229–230. 76  Ilinca Zarifopol-Johnston, Searching for Cioran, 82. 77  Emil Cioran, ‘Prin Universitatea din Berlin,’ Vremea 6, No. 316, December 3, 1933, 9. Cited in Marta Petreu, An Infamous Past, 9. 78  AMNLR, Emil Cioran, Correspondence, Letters to Ecaterina Săndulescu. 134/III/4, 14.066/1–2 January 29, 1934. 74 75

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Eventually someone did spark his interest and excite him: Hitler. Of all his friends, Cioran was the first to advocate far right extremism for Romania. In January 1933 he criticized the Young Generation for not wanting to be involved in Romanian politics. After his time in Germany, he urged the Romanian youth to join the political struggle.79 While in Berlin, Cioran witnessed the ascent of Nazism firsthand and became impressed by the personality and program of the dictator. He wrote a series of enthusiastic articles for Vremea applauding the political situation in Germany. Cioran was in awe that all Germans thought they lived in the greatest nation, while Romanians considered their country to be ‘the lousiest country in the world.’80 He confessed that what compelled him about Hitlerism was ‘the cult of the irrational, the exultation of pure vitality, the virile expression of strength, without any critical spirit, restraint or control.’81 Cioran’s most infamous Vremea piece was his apology for Hitler after the Night of the Long Knives (June 30–July 2, 1934, Hitler’s purge of Ernst Röhm and the Sturmabteilung). Cioran’s reaction to the mass-­ murder was: ‘Of all politicians today, Hitler is the one I like and admire most.’82 A month later, in response to criticism of Hitler’s actions, Cioran published an even more extreme apology on behalf of Hitler: Humanitarianism is but self-delusion, and pacifism is sheer intellectual masturbation … They say: you shall not take the life of another! Any human being is valuable in itself, etc., etc. But then I ask: What did mankind have to lose with the death of a few idiots?83

Cioran defined a human being as ‘an animal that grows ideals instead of fur,’ and asserted that ‘not everyone deserves to be free.’ He justified Hitler’s actions with the conclusion:

 Petreu, An Infamous Past, 9–10.  Emil Cioran, ‘Aspecte germane,’ Vremea 6, No. 314, November 19, 1933, 9. Cited in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 8–9. 81  Emil Cioran, ‘Germania şi Franţa sau iluzia păcii,’ Vremea 6, No. 318, Christmas 1933. Cited in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 9. 82  Emil Cioran, ‘Impresii din Munchen. Hitler în conştiinţa germană,’ Vremea 7, No. 346, July 15, 1934, 3. Cited in Petreu An Infamous Past, 11. 83  Emil Cioran, ‘Scrisori din Germania. Revolta sătuilor,’ Vremea 7, No. 349, August 5, 1934, 2. Cited in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 11–12. 79 80

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For the triumph of the cause to which he has dedicated his entire life, a dictator has the right to eliminate a few creatures who prevent the rise of a movement … Before it could call itself a serious movement, national-­ socialism needed blood.84

Openly condoning the violence in Hitler’s Germany, Cioran wished such an elimination of democracy and installation of dictatorship for Romania. He began to formulate ideas he would later develop in his Schimbarea la faţă a României and one of his initial suggestions was to set up a concentration camp for Romanian politicians.85 Yet despite his discovery of what fascist elements he believed could help his own country’s political and spiritual predicament, in 1935 Cioran confessed to Săndulescu that he dreaded his imminent return to Romania and was filled with thoughts of death.86 * * * Influenced and inspired by Nae Ionescu’s unique approach to education and answering Eliade’s call to arms in ‘The Spiritual Itinerary,’ the Young Generation was poised to realize their collective responsibility and make their own cultural contribution to Romania. After observing Gandhi’s activities and the unstoppable force of Indian nationalism (to be discussed in Chap. 4), Eliade returned to Bucharest in 1932 to advocate mystical political extremism and Eastern spirituality. During his time in southern California, Comarnescu became convinced that Romanians should adopt a more optimistic stance toward both life and their struggling democracy. And it was in Berlin, during most of Criterion’s activity, that Cioran became infatuated with Hitler and began to formulate his own program for a modern and fascist Romania. With the creation of the Criterion Association, the Young Generation embarked on a serious professional effort to share their ideas and experiences with each other and the Romanian public.

 Ibid.  Emil Cioran, ‘Despre o altă Românie,’ Vremea 8, No. 376, February 17, 1935, 3. Cited in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 13. 86  AMNLR, Emil Cioran, Correspondence, Letters to Ecaterina Săndulescu. 134/III/5, 14.067/1–3, July 11, 1935. 84 85

CHAPTER 3

The Criterion Association of Arts, Literature and Philosophy: Beginnings and Birth in Bucharest, 1932

Eliade called the Criterion Association: The most original and significant manifestation of the ‘young generation.’ (I believe that we could still consider ourselves young: the average age of the responsible nucleus of the group was at that time twenty-eight.)1

Criterion was a cultural group that held conferences, symposia, artistic events and exhibitions in Bucharest from 1932 to 1934. The Criterion Association was not the only such cultural group in Bucharest at the time but attracted the most attention.2 In fact such independent conferences, these live manifestations of ideas had a very important role in the interwar intellectual scene. There was a sentiment that theory alone was not enough, such as speaking at the university. A degree of civic action was required. There was a widespread commitment to the idea that ‘culture’ must leave the halls of the university into the streets. Although its membership comprised many of the most promising minds of the Young Generation, the Criterion Association was not limited to the Young Generation and therefore these two groups are not

1 2

 MEAI, 228.  Mac Linscott Ricketts, Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Roots, Vol. 1, 551.

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i­nterchangeable, as they so often mistakenly are taken to be.3 The Young Generation and the definition of its identity and spiritual mission long preceded the formation of the Criterion Association. The association was a fruition of the Young Generation’s cultural ambition. For clarity’s sake, I choose not to equate the terms the Young Generation and the Criterion Association, and rather treat them as two distinct phenomena. The members of the Young Generation are also sometimes referred to as ‘Criterionists.’ Such a label works for individual members of the Young Generation, if they were in fact members of Criterion. Membership of the Criterion Association was not automatic and, to add to the confusion, even members of the Young Generation and Criterion used the terms interchangeably. An excellent example is Ionesco in his famous letter to Tudor Vianu in 1945, in which he refers to the intellectual approach adopted by Criterion as ‘Criterionism,’ members as ‘Criterionist’ and even his whole friendship and peer group as the ‘Criterion Generation.’4 In such cases, the terminology is used to refer to the core group of friends and intellectuals, with which my book is concerned. I do use the word ‘Criterionist’ to refer to specific personalities, where appropriate. The most prominent members of the Young Generation were involved in the Forum lecture series that preceded Criterion’s establishment. Whereas the Forum was a group of 20 friends, the Criterion Association was a network of approximately 100 writers, artists, dancers, composers, actors and journalists.5 Many distinguished members of the ‘Old Generation’ (such as Constantin Rădulescu-Motru and Dimitrie Gusti) and members of the ‘Sacrificed Generation’ (e.g. Alice Voinescu) took part in Criterion’s activities, as well as independent artists who did not identify with any generation in particular: such as painters Max Hermann Maxy (1895–1971), Victor Brauner (1903–1966) and even the dancer Gabriel Negry.

3  Constantin Mihai makes this common mistake in Europenism şi dileme identitare în România interbelică: gruparea Criterion. 4  Letter from Eugène Ionesco to Tudor Vianu, September 19, 1945, Paris from Eugen Ionescu, Scrisori către Tudor Vianu, Vol. 2 (1936–1949), 274–275. 5  Ionel Jianu, ‘In Exclusivitate: Amintiri despre Criterion,’ Criterion Seria Nouă, Year 1 No. 2, 1990, 1.

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Beginnings In order to understand the growth of Criterion, we must first investigate the atmosphere in Bucharest. What started out as a small, elite group of young friends mushroomed into an all-encompassing, ambitious and comprehensive cultural program with lectures, music, drama, dance and visual arts. It is generally considered that the Forum Group developed and evolved into the Criterion Association. In fact the explanation for the origins of Criterion is much more complicated and nuanced. This assumption of the Forum’s importance has validity if we consider the following factors: (1) the main members of the Forum Group became Criterionists, (2) the Forum immediately preceded the formation of Criterion, (3) Criterion’s first symposia were held in the Royal Foundation where the Forum Group had their lectures and (4) the first topic of the Criterion series was an idea adopted from a future Forum series that never took place: ‘Personalities of our time.’6 The first two points are of course obvious and uncontestable. The third point is not specific to the Forum Group, as many other conference series were taking place in the Royal Foundation at that time. The ‘Carol I’ Royal Foundation [Fundaţia Regele ‘Carol I’] itself was a hotbed of both student and young intellectual activity, and a clear choice for such conferences. However, the Royal Foundation was not the only choice, as Comarnescu first considered having the Criterion conferences at Dalles Foundation [Fundaţia Dalles],7 where later the second round of Criterion activities (with a more artistic, less politically salient bent) would take place. As for the centrality of the Royal Foundation in the minds of the Young Generation, Vulcănescu wrote, ‘There, at the Royal Foundation, we would go in the mornings, when we did not have courses, to read. Occasionally in the reserved student rooms, which were warmed up with gas, in which we would read very well on the large and isolated benches and desks.’8 In terms of the fourth factor, the subject matter of the Forum series that never took place actually indicates a clear disconnect between  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, #18–19.  PCJ, 49–51, Fundat i̧ a Dalles was a popular cultural center for conferences, exhibitions and lectures, established in 1932 by Elena Dalles in central Bucharest. 8  Mircea Vulcănescu, ‘Fundaţia,’ ‘Tânăra Generaţie,’ Marin Diaconu, ed., 211. The Royal Foundation [Fundaţia Regală] was the amphitheater for the ‘Carol I’ University Royal Foundation, across from the Royal Palace, where the majority of the Criterion symposia were held. 6 7

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Criterion and the Forum and a motive for an argument that ensued between Jianu and Comarnescu. The Forum, clearly a precedent, was not the only inspiration for Criterion. What follows is an attempt to explore other influences. The social atmosphere surrounding the various symposia and meetings all over the city was conducive to artistic exchange and intellectual discussion. Though whether the friendship group encompassed by the Criterion Association was indeed so united at the time is itself entirely contestable. These figures were both antagonistic toward and supportive of each other. While encouraging and inspiring one another, there was also a prevailing spirit of competition. Many developed a relationship that I describe as: friend/enemy. Long before the issue of friendship became so complicated for political, religious and ideological reasons, members of this elite friendship group were vetting each other for quite different reasons: mainly the strength and dimensions of their intellect. Here I will discuss positive atmosphere, negative atmosphere and how friendship was implicated in each of them. The positive side of the social atmosphere is what the Criterion epoch is famous for and demonstrates the collective nature of the association  (Fig. 3.1). Drinking, dancing, eating and discussing the pressing

Fig. 3.1  Dinner with Criterionists (left to right) Mihail Sebastian, Mihail Polihroniade, Mary Polihroniade, Marietta Sadova, Mircea Eliade and Haig Acterian. Courtesy of the National Museum of Romanian Literature, reference number 5582

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problems of the day till the wee hours of the morning at friends’ houses, in friends’ gardens, in the cafés Capşa or Corso, in the Caru cu Bere beer hall and restaurants Gambrinus, Terminus, Lido and promenading up and down Calea Victoriei or through the lanes of Cişmigiu park. Comarnescu captures a particularly splendid example of such a social episode in his diary. After he presented his talk on ‘Americanism and Europeanism in Culture’ (as part of the series put on by the Friends of the United States Society) at the Royal Foundation on Friday, February 12, 1932, to a room and balcony full, he received a unanimous positive reception. Unlike his Forum talk, this time he spoke with ‘verve, joking.’ Afterwards he went to the Gambrinus restaurant with Eliade, Sebastian, Vulcănescu and his wife, Jianu and his wife and others. Following that some went to a location named Lopez. Comarnescu writes, There we hesitated to remain, but we stayed like ‘enfants terribles’9: a society à la Paul Morand in discussions; a group of children escaped from parental control, in action. Dynamized by the conference, disposed to success, full of vanity I danced, boxed with Vulcănescu with overshoes on my hands; Demayo on the back of Vulcănescu as if he were his coat … Eliade, barrage. Magic …. After we went singing exaggerated songs waking up all the houses on Rechinoaia and after that towards Letta and Vera,—we ended the night trite, brutal … on … Brezoianu … I had not laughed like that for, maybe, two years.10

Despite the guilt that Comarnescu felt in the following days (for getting so drunk and needing to spend the next day being unproductive and recovering), the enjoyment experienced on that evening aptly displays the camaraderie within the group. Giza Tătărescu (the daughter of Nina Eliade from a previous marriage) captures the equivalent atmosphere of the nascent Criterion moment, which she observed as a young child: ‘Everyone met often in the house of Mac Constantinescu and Floria Capsali (…) They spent the Sundays in an atmosphere full of discussion, witticism, music and even dance.’11 By May 1932, the friends spent Sunday afternoons at Floria and Mac’s and in the

 This is clearly a reference to Jean Cocteau’s 1929 novel Les enfants terribles.  PCJ, 32. 11  Giza Tătărescu, ‘Amintiri despre Mircea.’ Vatra 6–7, 105. 9

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evenings went together to have dinner at a tavern in the neighborhood. Eliade describes the scene as such: They had an old house in the Crucea-de-Piatră neighborhood, with a garden as large as an orchard. In a section of the garden Mac had made a volleyball court. A number of people came regularly, arriving early enough to play volleyball: the Polihroniades, the Vulcănescus, and the Sterians, along with Dan Botta, Petru Comarnescu, Mihail Sebastian, Haig Acterian, and Marietta Sadova. Every Sunday new faces would appear: Marioara Voiculescu and her son the magistrate, Lily Popovici, Harry Brauer, Sylvia Capsali, Gabriel and Adrian Negreanu, and many others. Another frequent attendant was Nina Mareş …. And because we came from related, though different, worlds—the theater, graphic arts, dance, journalism, literature, philosophy—we got along very well together.12

The hostess of these get-togethers, Floria Capsali was a dancer, collaborative artist, professor and choreographer of dance who loved being the center of action and attention. Capsali’s student Ioan Tugearu claimed she could be called the ‘Lady of Romanian Dance, in capital letters,’ a ‘woman of culture,’ and that she had ‘an overwhelming personality.’13 Following education at the Conservatory for Drama in Bucharest, she moved to Paris for nine years where she studied with the dancers Enrico Cecchetti and Nicolas Legat and took classes in art history at the Sorbonne. Upon Capsali’s return to Romania, she married the sculptor Mac Constantinescu in 1926 and collaborated with him artistically on many projects. Her private dance studio was one of several in 1930s Bucharest but in hers ‘a special atmosphere reigned.’14 Greatly inspired by Romanian rural folk culture and other forms of exotic dance (particularly Indian dance), she traveled with a team from Dimitrie Gusti’s monographic school of sociology all over Romania collecting folklore in 1927 and was involved with his research team for an extended period. Another student, Oleg Danovski, recalled in his memoirs the unique energy present at ‘Casa Capsali’: ‘imbued with warmth and equanimity, artistic [excellence]; the general climate was one of ideas, quests and sanctuary answers.’ Complete  MEAI, 227–228.  Silvia Ciurescu ‘Interview with Ioan Tugearu about Floria Capsali.’ Plural Magazine, Nos. 15–16 (2002). 14  Oleg Danovski, ‘Vivat Profesores!—Through the Looking Glass of Time.’ Plural Magazine, Nos. 15–16 (2002). An excerpt from his memoirs. 12 13

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with an impressive library, the house was ‘charged with dialogues, ideas, new social acquaintances.’15 The negative side to what is easily romanticized is often lost or never discussed, especially as those who write memoirs, are the figures lionized and remembered. There certainly was an atmosphere of camaraderie and debate but this was not always happy, positive, invigorating, dynamic nor fun. In fact, Comarnescu often notes when he met with ‘friends’ and it was boring and a waste of his time. For example, Comarnescu writes, ‘I was at Capşa where I did not find V. Arion, but rather Şerban Cioculescu, Eugen Ionescu, Fantaneru, Sebastian. [They] bored me with their very pretentious, yet futile preoccupations.’16 Then later in his journal, he reveals how he was getting sick of such socializing. At Polihroniade’s with Eliade, Letta Stark (Jianu’s sister) and Vera Anderson (Letta’s close friend), they had ‘banal discussions.’ Comarnescu laments, ‘We don’t have anything more to say. We see each other too often.’17 This happened on February 21, 1932. A friend/enemy for Comarnescu from the beginning was Polihroniade. They had numerous conflicts before, during and after Criterion, yet remained always ‘friends.’ Never agreeing on anything, he often found Polihroniade to be hostile toward him. Comarnescu eventually concluded that he simply disagreed with Polihroniade on a very fundamental level: I refused to participate in the reunion at Polihroniade’s. Curious, after they always gossip and speak ill about me, saying that I am an amateur revolutionary, an amateur general etc. … He has the need to pester me, to undo me with his intellectual sadism. He was sad, rejected that I did not go to his place. More and more it seems to me that I have nothing in common with him, rather the opposite, we are exact opposite, in ideas and in sensibilities.18

Apart from his organic dislike of Polihroniade (both ideas and personality) that grew over time, Comarnescu vetted his other friends based on their intelligence. His initial friendship with Noica demonstrates this mutual admiration of intellect, and his friendship with Eliade reflects the same fascination:  Ibid.  PCJ, 26. Sunday, January 31, 1932. 17  Ibid., 34. 18  Ibid., 48. 15 16

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I love Eliade more and more. I am sorry that I can’t tell him many favorable things [regarding] only my differences and reservations towards him and especially towards Nae. … I think he also needs to have understanding, though he seems to me to be a great man.19

But in Sebastian, Comarnescu initially spots something he distrusts, ‘a shifty man, about whom I do not know what to believe.’20 But not too much later, after spending more time with Sebastian, Comarnescu comments on an evening spent at Gambrinus after a conference put on by Societatea de politică externă (The Foreign Policy Society, initiated by Polihroniade). He writes, ‘Walked home to the last house with Marcel Avramescu and M.  Sebastian. Sebastian’s confessions. Discussed Nae. Went to bed at 4½.’21 The case of Ionesco is more complicated as he was consciously an outsider of Criterion, although he did nostalgically remember it later. Comarnescu’s vetting of Ionesco’s friendship is documented in entries from February 1 and 2, 1932. Ionesco had hurried after Comarnescu on the street: ‘E.I. rushed, inhibited, eager for success from any angle. Although I was probably just like that, now I detest that mode of being. I don’t think this boy could have character.’22 Then the next day Ionesco visited Comarnescu offering him his first volume of poetry, Elegii pentru fiinţe mici (Elegies for Small Beings,  1931).23 Eventually Ionesco and Comarnescu would consider themselves close friends. Acknowledged by all (his contemporaries and historians) to be the father of Criterion, Comarnescu was an enigmatic figure. One element of his personal story that I believe to be fundamental to his drive and initiative behind Criterion was his feelings of inadequacy and despair following his return from America, facing the realities of professional life back in his homeland. A trained philosopher, an avid reader, journalist, art appreciator and critic, Comarnescu found it difficult adjusting to day-to-day life in a law office (referred to as ‘the Tribunal’ in his diary) and longed for an intellectual challenge and to be valued and understood for his own intellectual contributions. The fact that he formed his own friendships based on intellect can both be considered snobby (in fact ‘snobbism’ was a topic Comarnescu and others wrote on and discussed), elitist (which the  Ibid., 18.  Ibid., 30. 21  Ibid., 44. 22  Ibid., 27. 23  Ibid., 28. 19 20

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Criterionists were eventually accused of being), and perfectly understandable given his own personal cultural ambitions. As I will discuss in the upcoming section on the Forum, Comarnescu was not very impressed with the Forum lectures themselves, or with the group as a whole. After Şerban Cioculescu’s Forum lecture, Comarnescu confesses his own frustrations with himself and his place within this friendship circle of intellectuals. Cioculescu cited Comarnescu in his talk and Comarnescu writes that he was flattered. But I do not need flattery, rather understanding. I also need love, and hate which would either bring me down or lift me up. My mediocrity and the petty dissolution of my existence is driving me crazy. I am nervous, ungrateful, without ambition. Everything is indifferent to me.24

Comarnescu needed a higher purpose. He felt that in the environment of lawyers, he was going ‘stupid’ and that he was not used where he could be, in a cultural and intellectual capacity.25 Comarnescu had a natural leadership ability that was rewarded prior to Criterion. Very involved in the activities of Gruparea Universitară pentru Naţiunile Unite [The University Group for the United Nations], he was nominated and elected ‘Secretary’ of that group.26 In October 1932, when Criterion’s first season was under way, Comarnescu embraced his role as organizer in a discussion of his passion for and the omnipresent theme of youth: Refusing to get older, I remain truly sooner and closer to childhood than to death but not as a good-for-nothing but as a man of life, always changing, always in transformation. My activism, my spirit as an animator and organizer explains that.27

It can be hypothesized that his willingness to organize, animate and lead had a direct correlation to success and cultural impact. As Criterion started to leave its indelible mark on the cultural scene of Bucharest, Comarnescu proudly carried out the role that would be the defining characteristic of his own cultural legacy.  Ibid., 25.  Ibid., 26. 26  Ibid., 39, 48. 27  Ibid., 63. 24 25

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There was an array of organizations that held events in the same spirit as Criterion, in which members of the Young Generation also participated. ‘Poesis’ was a series organized and led by Ion Marin Sadoveanu and Alexandru Badauta from 1926 to 1930, held in the Royal Foundation with Sadova, Lily Popovici and others reciting and interpreting theatrical scenes.28 Other groups included: ‘The University Group for the United Nations,’ ‘Friends of the United States Society’ (founded in 1923), ‘The Circle of the Romanian Annals’ [Cercul Analelor Române, or ‘Anale’ for short] or the Forum Group in the winter and spring of 1932 and a series in the beginning of 1934, symposia organized by the literary journal Convorbiri Literare.29 Comarnescu spoke at many such conferences and kept a log of his public appearances such as ‘Romanian Characteristics in Culture’ presented by ‘The University Group for the United Nations.’30 Other societies with regular meetings and events included Idei europeane, the Philosophical Society, the Sociological Society, the Patronage Society, and Societatea de politică externă which  organized a weekly conference series entitled ‘The problems of European politics.’31 On January 26, 1932, Comarnescu wrote in his journal, ‘In the evenings I go out too much. There are too many conferences.’32 On March 19, 1932, at the Royal Foundation, Cercul Analelor Române presented a symposium entitled ‘The Utilization of the American Spirit.’ The architect G.M. Cantacuzino presided over the debate and the following intellectuals (both Forum speakers and Criterionists) participated: Eliade on ‘Asia versus America,’ Vulcănescu on ‘Europe versus America,’ Sebastian on ‘France versus America,’ Paul Sterian on ‘Romania versus America’ and Comarnescu on ‘America versus itself.’ Comarnescu wrote glowingly of this event in his journal and deemed it ‘a great success.’33

28  Arşavir Acterian, ‘Cîte ceva despre Asociaţia Criterion,’ Criterion Serie Nouă, Year 1, No. 1, March 1990, 1. 29  Mircea Vulcănescu, De la Nae Ionescu la Criterion, 404. 30  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 12. 31  ‘Societatea de politică externă,’ Adevărul, November 13, 1932. See PCJ, 23. 32  PCJ, 24. 33  Ibid., 45.

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On a note on Criterion stationery in his personal archive, Comarnescu writes next to his notation of this ‘Anale’-sponsored event (in a list of conferences at which he has spoken) ‘our first symposium?’34 The Forum already had its first symposium on January 14, 1932 at the Royal Foundation entitled ‘Centre de Interes Mondial’ [The Center of World Interest] (for which Comarnescu spoke). It can be hypothesized that Comarnescu considered the ‘Anale’ event to be more like a Criterion symposium in terms of the set-up of the evening, while each Forum event had only one speaker. This ‘Anale’ event had several speakers all representing distinctly different points of view, in this case, covering the globe with their perspectives. A cycle of conferences (operating concurrently to that of the Forum Group in the winter of 1932) put on by the Friends of the United States Society mirrored the structure of the Forum Group and culminated with a discussion quite similar to those put on by the Criterion Association. The shape and structure of this series was as follows. Held for two months, proposed to be every Saturday evening (but ended up being held on Friday evenings) from January 16, until March 5, 1932, at 9 pm in the Royal Foundation, the cycle of conferences was entitled ‘Americanism and Europeanism.’ The speakers and topics included, in chronological order: M.  Manoilescu on ‘The Economic Aspects of Europe and America,’ A.  Corteanu on ‘The Press of these two worlds,’ Prof. N.  Petrescu on ‘Social life in Europe and America,’ Ion Gheorghe Duca (the future prime minister) on ‘The Debut of Youth in America and Europe’ (29 January), Comarnescu on ‘Americanism and Europeanism in Culture’ (12 February), Prof. Dr. Gr. Popa on ‘The Scientific Spirit in Europe and America’ and Prof. Virgil Bărbat on ‘America and the World of the Other World.’ This conference series closed with a symposium in early March in the form of discuţia controversată [a controversial discussion, a discussion featuring different, opposite points of view] featuring Vulcănescu, Sebastian and Comarnescu concerning the topic ‘The Utilization of American Values.’35 This distinction between conference (a lecture typically featuring one speaker) and symposium (a platform devoted to the sharing and discussion of differing viewpoints) is illustrated very well by this particular series. And this formula was adapted for Criterion.

 BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 12.  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, f. 51.

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The Forum Group Indeed the group comprising the Forum consolidated the core members of the Criterion Association. However, moving from one to the other was neither a smooth nor an easy path. And although Forum was the preceding association to Criterion, the two are not interchangeable. Founded by Jianu, the nuclear members of the Forum Group were also Eliade, Vulcănescu, Polihroniade, Sebastian, Noica and Comarnescu.36 In his newspaper article lauding the Forum Group, Polihroniade described the road the Young Generation had taken from their 1927 ideals to the 1932 era. He argued that four years before, there was a homogenization of ideology and opinion, the acceptance of the same value system, but now their opinions vastly differed. This was why the group chose ‘Forum’ as a name, to give each member the opportunity to freely express his point of view about a subject, without being restricted by the others. Polihroniade writes, ‘The importance of this group is that it constitutes a united front of young men with different ideologies, which is a phenomenon manifesting for the first time in Romania.’ The second meaning of the Forum group was that through this series of public conferences, they succeeded in ‘training the youth of the university, which until then lay low in a dream-­ state.’37 While the group only had 20 members (from among the most unrecognized and unacknowledged of the Young Generation), ‘owing to friendship’ its ‘intention [was] to slowly group around this nucleus all the valuable elements of our intellectual youth.’38 The cycle of conferences of the Forum Group took place on Tuesdays at 9 pm and Thursdays at 6 pm (although not every week) from January 14 to March 3, 1932, at the Royal Foundation with the title ‘The Explanation of Our Times.’ Entrance cost 20 and 10 lei, depending on the seating. Sebastian’s article in Cuvântul marking the cycle’s end captures the nature of the ambitious series: ‘Yesterday afternoon at the Royal Foundation, a cycle of eleven conferences closed which were only a little presumptious but with many good intentions.’39 A brief investigation into 36  Ricketts, Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Roots, Vol. 1, 554, and BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 3. 37  Mihail Polihroniade, ‘Forum,’ Calendarul, February 22, 1932, in BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI imprimate 1, f. 109. 38  Ibid. 39  Mihail Sebastian, ‘Forum,’ Cuvântul, March 5, 1932. Also in BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI imprimate 1, f. 110.

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the themes explored by the Forum series, the personalities involved and the group’s ultimate disintegration, will serve as an excellent platform from which to launch into a fuller investigation of Criterion. I choose to devote a lot of attention to Comarnescu’s interpretation of events, as he was the father of Criterion: by concentrating on his point of view, we discover that the link between the Forum and Criterion was not so obvious, automatic and clear as has always previously been assumed. Comarnescu presented the first lecture entitled ‘The Centre of World Interest,’ on 14 January. Leading up to the lecture, he worked hard on his presentation, the posters and invitations for the Forum Group.40 He had presented his views on the topic before and received mixed (but overall positive) feedback from a large number of his friends and intellectual acquaintances in Capşa. Comarnescu notes, Therefore, in general everyone was favorable, but for different motives. The persuasion of the relativity of human opinions wins again. I feel, however, special, a stranger among the ‘experientialists.’ My idealism seems innocent in Romania. No one believes in Geneva as the future center of world interest.41

Comarnescu, with his belief in the League of Nations, his American optimism and ‘Moldavian sentimentalism,’42 certainly appeared foolish and unrealistic to his friends who were on the brink of gravitating toward more extreme politics, and a more nationalist and revolutionary approach. There were a variety of criticisms of the talk, no two audience-members agreed with each other.43 It seemed a solid beginning for the Forum series. The January 19 lecture given by the engineer Sergiu Condrea on ‘The Car,’ Comarnescu described as ‘dead and banal, but scientifically accurate.’44 The issue of the automobile was a pressing one in the interwar period, and not just in the United States, where the Ford assembly line  PCJ, 16–19.  Ibid., 17. 42  On the evening of January 20, 1932, at Ionel Jianu’s house, Comarnescu, Jianu, Eliade and others were involved in a wild discussion surrounding the conflicts from the ‘Forum.’ Comarnescu writes, ‘Eliade attacked me for my Moldavian sentimentalism. I believe I responded, Fine. I asked to continue our friendship as formality, that it wasn’t sentimentalism, but rather closer to skepticism for a man as idealistic as I am.’ PCJ, 22. 43  Ibid., 20–21. 44  Ibid., 22. 40 41

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mass-produced the predecessor to the commercial car. At that point the streets of Bucharest were full of a mixed assortment of people (city folk promenading, peasants selling their fruits and flowers, newspaper stands filled to the brim with press), trams and trolley-cars, the very occasional black automobile and of course, horse-drawn carriages. Comarnescu observed this ‘wave’ of the future himself during his time in the United States, was very interested in this topic, and wrote an article for Azi newspaper entitled ‘An essay about automobilism.’45 The next Forum lecture took place on Thursday, January 21, with Ion Cantacuzino speaking on ‘Sport,’ which Comarnescu reported as the ‘ideas were easy, but directly explained.’46 The concept of ‘sport’ was also a hot topic of the time, Comarnescu devoted a chapter to the American ‘sportsman’ in Homo Americanus. Sport was a new, modern aspect of life that many in the Young Generation attempted to integrate into their own lives. The days he succeeded in doing calisthenic exercise Comarnescu recorded in his journal. In his pre-America Bucharest life, he noted in his diary when he did some boxing.47 Popular sports included volleyball, which the group of friends frequently played at Floria and Mac’s house. On January 26, Haig Acterian presented on ‘The Theater Performance,’ which Comarnescu considered mediocre. The conference itself earned 2020 lei.48 He notes that the newspaper Rampa deemed it scandalous. But Comarnescu considered the images and the expressions unsuccessful.49 Şerban Cioculescu spoke about ‘The Essay and Literature,’ on January 28, during lunchtime, earning 1600 lei. Comarnescu noted, ‘With the exception of [my conference], the evening conferences earned more money than those that took place during the daytime.’50 According to Comarnescu, Cioculescu was very spiritual but not very systematic, nor precise, nor scientific. He presented some essential ideas in the ‘French spirit.’ Cioculescu flattered Comarnescu in his talk, by citing him as ‘the one who rehabilitated American generosity and Soviet rigor.’51 Aurel (Relu) D. Broşteanu’s February 2 presentation entitled ‘Towards a New Humanism in Art’ Comarnescu deemed too academic and ­moralistic,  Ibid., 33.  Ibid., 22. 47  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. Ms. 5a, f. 20. 48  PCJ, 25. 49  Ibid., 24. 50  Ibid., 25. 51  Ibid., 24. 45 46

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but rich in information and value.52 Then on February 4, Sebastian gave a talk entitled ‘Between the Individual and the Collective,’ arguing that essentially the two notions were incompatible. According to Comarnescu, Sebastian was a skilled speaker but was superficial in form and the content was weak. He presented as if he were imitating Nae Ionescu’s style.53 On February 9, Mircea Grigorescu gave a Forum lecture on ‘The Community and the Press,’ which Comarnescu described as detestable and full of things commonly said.54 The relationship between the community and the press was salient and contested at the time. Many editors of publications assumed personal responsibility for the salvation of their readership. Comarnescu gave a more positive report of the lecture given by Jianu, ‘The Crisis of the Soul,’ on February 11. Comarnescu noted that Jianu’s talk was ‘full of prestige and stateliness, interesting for the public but for [Comarnescu] superficial and already known.’55 Of all the Forum presenters to that date, Comarnescu was much more complimentary of Vulcănescu, whom he described as ‘a force of culture.’ Envying this force, it impressed upon Comarnescu the idea of ‘heroism.’56 Vulcănescu’s February 18 lecture was entitled ‘Towards a New Economic Medievalism.’ The penultimate lecture in the Forum series provoked Comarnescu to the exact opposite extreme. On Thursday, February 25, Polihroniade spoke on the topic ‘Between Communism and Reaction.’ Polihroniade gave a conference that ‘revolted [Comarnescu] at first; disheartened [him] after.’57 Comarnescu wrote, ‘I regret that I was agitated during the conference, speaking with my neighbors. I am not a good friend, but his ideas revolt me.’58 Later at the Gambrinus ale-house Comarnescu gave a heated criticism of Polihroniade’s lecture. He received biting criticism from both Eliade and Polihroniade, both hurtful, causing him to suffer and reconsider his activity with the Forum group. At one point Eliade said, ‘See, when Comarnescu speaks seriously, nobody realizes it.’59 Polihroniade ­interpreted  Ibid., 28.  Ibid., 29. 54  Ibid., 31. Mircea Grigorescu and Comarnescu were high school classmates. 55  PCJ, 31. 56  Ibid., 34. 57  Ibid., 35. 58  Ibid., 36. 59  Ibid. 52 53

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this as a blow to Comarnescu. This incident was indicative of a larger one: Comarnescu didn’t know what to believe regarding Eliade’s attitudes toward him and was uncomfortable with Polihroniade’s constant animosity. The next day at the Tribunal, Polihroniade attacked Comarnescu for not being a good friend.60 There was another conflict leading up to the final conference in the Forum series. This involved the new literary publication Azi, which was just gearing up for its first edition. Its collaborators included Comarnescu, Zaharia Stancu, Eliade and Sebastian, among others. Comarnescu hoped for the first issue to be done in early March 1932 and put in a request for it to be announced at the Thursday March 3 Forum conference given by Eliade.61 Both Polihroniade (‘out of lack of generosity and the spirit of a clique’) and Haig Acterian opposed this request, but Eliade did not in principle oppose the idea of announcing future public events.62 Eliade gave the final lecture in the Forum series entitled ‘Between the Orient and Occident.’ This conference earned the most out of the entire Forum cycle, making 2620 lei. The review of Eliade’s lecture in Calendarul summed up his approach: ‘Europeans have the liberty of personal instinct, for the Asiatic, the instincts are suppressed, in a natural mode, through the intermediary of a transcendental collective.’63 Ricketts brings to our attention that Eliade began developing these ideas four years earlier, for a project entitled ‘Modern European Superstitions’ that was never published.64 Comarnescu considered it to be full of consistent ideas, very scientific, in fact the most scientific of, and the largest contribution to the Forum, however it was not the fullest or the clearest.65 Comarnescu was not allowed to announce Azi after all. After Eliade’s conference Comarnescu tried to talk with both Eliade and Sebastian about the Forum’s failure to announce the first publication of the paper Azi. Sebastian was rushing to get ready for a trip home to Brăila, and Eliade was busy. Comarnescu promptly left with the other intellectuals involved in Azi and discussed Polihroniade’s and the others’ initial refusal and why  Ibid.  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, ff. 18–19. Title of the note: ‘Activities that I wanted to announce at the last meeting of Forum but I was rejected.’ 62  PCJ, 37. 63  ‘Conferinţa: Între Orient şi Occident,’ Calendarul, March 6, 1932. Cited in Ricketts, Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Roots, Vol. 1, 554. 64  Ibid. 65  PCJ, 38. 60 61

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they still hesitated to make such announcements.66 Following that discussion, Comarnescu went to talk with Sandu Tudor regarding the publication Floarea de Foc. This demonstrates Comarnescu’s early close association professionally and socially with both Zaharia Stancu (editor of Azi) and Sandu Tudor, the two men who would attempt to ruin him later with the Credinţa scandal. The intricacies of these friendships are crucial when exploring the nuances of the cultural developments of interwar Romanian intellectual life. The collapse of Forum and then Criterion are two clear examples. Now I turn to Jianu’s role in this friendship group. Jianu and his wife Magda often socialized with Comarnescu, Eliade, Polihroniade and so on, independent of the Forum’s activities. A telling entry can be found in Comarnescu’s journal from February 21, 1932, in which, discussing with Letta Stark and Vera Anderson, he reveals the fact that they (along with Polihroniade and Eliade and others) neglect Jianu, that ‘little by little Mişu is excluding Jianu from us.’67 Comarnescu judges Eliade to be ‘a “whore” in friendship, in the sense that he comports himself with indifference, preferring who will prefer him, that Eliade doesn’t know how to be a good friend because he is too ego-centric.’68 Comarnescu promises Letta and Vera he will encourage Jianu.69 The Forum’s activities were meant to continue. On April 9, 1932, Comarnescu met with Jianu to discuss coordinating the group’s efforts into a corresponding publication.70 The Forum Group announced a new series of 12 conferences to take place in the fall (starting in October) of 1932 under the heading ‘Trends’ with a complete list of topics and speakers in the middle of June. The conferences were concerned with orientations in politics, the economy, the novel, cinema, theater, painting, visual arts, science, philosophy and religion. Eliade was meant to speak on James Joyce. This series never took place and the last announcement appeared on September 10, with a slightly amended program. The disappearance of Forum coincided with the appearance of Criterion. Though separate entities, Criterion hijacked, borrowed or took many ideas from Forum’s plans  Ibid.  Ibid., 34. 68  Ibid., 34. 69  This episode illustrates the fickleness of friendship then. Jianu was the last to walk Eliade to the train station on his way to India in 1928, but by 1932 was marginalized by Eliade and Polihroniade. 70  Ibid., 45. 66 67

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for the future. The initial Forum series topic for fall 1932 was ‘Personalities of our time,’ a subject Criterion adopted for their ‘Idols’ series. Then the revised Forum fall program, the ‘Trends’ series, was a theme used for Criterion’s 1933 cycle of symposia.71 While the initial plans for Criterion were underway, the end of Forum was caused by a fight between friends. Jianu and Paul Sterian were fighting over the summer, due to some negative reviews of an exhibition of the artwork by Margareta Sterian, Paul’s wife.72 Paul Sterian retaliated by cursing at Jianu in a busy street, and this provoked Jianu to challenge Sterian to a duel.73 Sterian refused and pursued a passionate polemic in the press regarding the legitimacy of this duel. Jianu’s wife became ill and was hospitalized in September and Jianu spent most of that month by her side. He returned to public life, at the end of the month, only to discover that the Forum had dissolved and Criterion had seemingly replaced it. He accused Sterian of being the instigator. As a direct result, Jianu cut immediate ties with those friends and did not speak to Eliade or the others until the next year. Jianu’s name does not appear as either a participant in the symposia or the group program of Criterion for 1932.74 But it cannot be the case that Jianu was altogether unaware of Criterion’s nascent existence in the summer of 1932. The same day Comarnescu wrote of a Criterion meeting, he met up with Jianu, who was ‘fighting with the crazy and funny Paul Sterian,’ and who was also angry with Comarnescu.75 Shortly thereafter Comarnescu tried to see Jianu again, who was still angry with him, ‘although unfairly,’ and concluded that he won’t enter Jianu’s house until he asks Comarnescu’s forgiveness.76 Why Jianu was also upset with Comarnescu, he does not reveal. However, we can hypothesize that Jianu was upset with Criterion’s early activity that he might have viewed as a threat. But nonetheless this entry illustrates that Jianu cannot claim to be completely removed from public life so as to have  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 13.  The marriage between Paul and Margareta Sterian actually dissolved, due to a mutual desire to paint. Paul enjoyed painting but gave it up because in the words of Margareta ‘We copied each other unintentially.’ After he quit, Paul rented a room and painted in secret. Her discovery of this led to the breakup of their marriage. See MEAI, 226. 73  Duels were common among the literary and political elite of turn-of-the-century and interwar Romania. Challenges to a duel were central to the Credinţa scandal. See Chap. 6. 74  Ricketts, Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Roots, Vol. 1, 555. 75  PCJ, 49. 76  Ibid., 50. 71 72

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been unaware of Criterion’s birth and beginnings. Criterion (initial members included Comarnescu, Floria Capsali, Eliade, Vulcănescu, Cioran, Noica, Tell, Ion Cantacuzino and Stahl, among others)77 was careful to not replace Forum, and at a meeting on June 17, 1932, membership of the two associations was not considered mutually exclusive.78 Comarnescu had every intention to invite Jianu to join the Philosophy Section.79 Jianu later confessed that he refused to join the Association until they also accepted Sadova and Nina Rareş as members.80 This melodramatic shift from the Forum Group to Criterion is curious, when we consider Jianu’s reminiscences 60  years later, when he speaks glowingly and nostalgically of the association, and does identify as a member of Criterion.81 Jianu was much more positive after these friendships were repaired and Criterion had gained a renowned reputation.

The Birth of the Criterion Association As seen, the idea for Criterion was being generated in the winter of 1932 amidst a flurry of activity with the Forum Group, other conferences and the atmosphere of friendship and camaraderie, discussing ideas and socializing at cafés, bars, restaurants and each other’s homes and collaborating on various journalistic endeavors. Among Comarnescu’s personal papers, I found a handwritten note that appears to be the nascent Criterion concept: To do a rival [series] (Cercul Analelor Române, the scope (objective) of the symposium, a journal); to be syndicated so we will not be exploited, reading club meetings (socials) with readings by young poets.82

This note aligns with Comarnescu’s account of the beginning of Criterion in his journal. Writing on ‘another day in April 1932’ Comarnescu records how his friends would like to form a syndicated association, a trade union, for intellectuals:  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 29.  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC.  XVIII Varia 16, ff. 11–13. The minutes of the planning meeting for June 17, 1932. 79  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, f. 25. 80  Ionel Jianu, Ionel Jianu şi Opera lui, 151. 81  Jianu, ‘In Exclusivitate: Amintiri despre Criterion,’ 1. 82  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20 f. 2. No date, a list of conferences given by Comarnescu since his return from America, probably from the end of 1932. 77 78

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Colleagues and friends would like to set up an intellectual trade union. We are still losing much time with discussions about different organizations of this kind. Many discussions, and [they are] sterile: Vulcănescu, Sterian, Dan Botta, Mac Constantinescu, Margareta Sterian, Floria Capsali. Vulcănescu, absurd, Sterian subjective and arbitrary. We discussed for two hours what title to give the union—what will be even sooner an association of philosophy, art, literature—Daphne, The Argonauts, Criterion, etc. I see how to establish a spirit of an exclusive clique. At these occasions, I am the most democratic, (in the sense that I would like to be in collaboration with all the forces coming from the younger generations). I want a large selection, freedom, generosity and solidarity.83

Comarnescu provides a much more specific interpretation of events than Eliade does in his memoirs. Eliade’s romanticized version relies much more on the social atmosphere of the time but still credits Comarnescu with Criterion’s birth: But although we all showed enthusiasm for it, the project might not have been carried out for several months—perhaps not even till fall—had not Petru Comarnescu taken it upon himself to rent the auditorium at the King Carol I Foundation, and to concern himself with the compilation of the programs and the printing and distribution of advertisements. He asked us each for 1000 lei in order to pay the deposit on the auditorium … Without realizing it, the Criterion group had come into being … And certainly no one could have imagined the tremendous response our undertaking was to receive. We hoped to attract an audience large enough to cover our expenses. We never suspected that we would be forced to repeat certain symposia as many as two or three times!84

For a taste of the Criterion moment, consider the delightfully elegant note dated simply ‘Sunday at lunchtime’ from Vulcănescu addressed to ‘Mr. Titel Comarnescu, Philosopher, Animator, Lawyer, and the most often Secretary General’: Dear Titel Comarnescu, We are at Floria’s, where a part of “Criterion” has been playing volleyball since this morning. If you want, you should also come; if not, then be good and go next door to Mama and call the number 3-36/06 on the telephone,  PCJ, 46–47. This entry is from a day between April 9 and April 22, 1932.  MEAI, 228–229.

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the house of the sculptor Mac Constantinescu, and tell me you are coming. It’s not far. With love. Eliade is here as well. Mircea Vulcănescu85

In previous discussions of Criterion, little to no attention has been given to the operation of the association. The Criterion Association was a sophisticated system both in terms of logistical and financial organization. Comarnescu’s personal archive is full of receipts from paying to advertise lectures in newspapers, to renting the space in which they held the series, to hiring transport (a receipt paying for Rădulescu-Motru’s car ride to and from Ploieşti) and renting equipment for the events. Comarnescu kept a detailed log of all such accounts, as well as track of who had paid their membership fees. The elaborate organization of Criterion is important to acknowledge as it indicates that the cultural group was most certainly not haphazardly thrown together but rather was carefully planned out, down to the very last detail. Even membership was very deliberate as Comarnescu wrote numerous lists of names, crossed some names off and added new ones. This meticulous treatment of its operation is an important factor to remember when we consider just how suddenly and spontaneously the association was ordered to cease activity and how immersed in scandal some of its members became. It did not collapse for any fault on the side of production, which was very much intact, robust and extremely accountable. In addition to organizational concerns Comarnescu carefully kept newspaper clippings concerning Criterion (advertisements, reviews, etc.). Leading up to the first official meeting of Criterion on July 1, 1932, there were informal meetings. Such a meeting took place on April 21, 1932, among the initiators of Criterion in which they determined the scope of the association. There was a discussion of the organization’s structure, functions, the financial side, a membership list and the appointment of Comarnescu as Secretary General and Floria Capsali as Administrator General.86 The next time Comarnescu mentions Criterion in his journal is the next month in the entry for May 25, 1932: ‘Thursday evening at Criterion, our new association of arts, literature and

85   AMNLR, Petru Comarnescu, Correspondence, Letter from Mircea Vulcănescu, 25.182/1–2. 86  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, ff. 47–49.

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philosophy.’87 The next reference to Criterion in Comarnescu’s diary is: ‘Tuesday, 31 May, I prepared a seminar of the philosophy section of Criterion, at which Vulcănescu, Al. Vianu, Codin Mironescu, C.  Floru, Mircea Grigorescu, R. Hillard and others will participate.’88 Membership dues were 50 lei per month.89 Criterion was divided up into different branches of membership, representing the different specializations of its members. As of July 10, 1932, these included: Visual Arts [Plastică], Theater, Literature, Music, Criticism, Philosophy, Social Science [Socială] and Economics.90 People were invited to accept membership in the specific sections. Each had a certain degree of autonomy and its own secretary. For example, Vulcănescu was the secretary for the Philosophy section and Tell the secretary for the Social Science section.91 Criterion was a collective with each member contributing his/her expertise. Initial membership for some sections was as follows, but each section grew over time, as more candidates were evaluated and invited.92 In the Criticism section, Ion Cantacuzino, Şerban Cioculescu, I.M. Sadoveanu and G. Călinescu were among the members. Members of the Philosophy section included Comarnescu, Mircea Vulcănescu, Mrs. Vulcănescu, Eliade, Blaga, Cioran, Noica, Traian Herseni, Alice Voinescu, M.  Avramescu and Golopenţia. For the Social Science section, Tell, R. Hillard, Alexandru Vianu, M. Polihroniade, M. Ralea and H.H. Stahl, were among the members.93 Candidates for the more artistic sections, who were eventually accepted included Haig Acterian, Sadova, Emil Botta and Ion Victor Voijen for Theater,94 Letta Stark and Vera Andersen for Architecture,95 for Literature Cicerone Theodorescu was invited, for Sculpture, Nina Arboro and Olga Greceanu were invited to join,96 and

 PCJ, 49.  Ibid., 50. 89  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 23. 90  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16 ff. 35–36. 91  Ibid., XV Varia 20 f. 29. 92  In an attempt to streamline the discussion, in the lists of members, I include only the names relevant to the discussion and analysis. There were many more members, of lesser cultural note and historical longevity. To include their names here would be excessive and confusing. 93  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20 f. 29. 94  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, no number, ½ sheet between f. 23 and f. 24. 95  Ibid., f. 24. 96  Ibid., f. 27 and f. 28. 87 88

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for Criticism Ionesco, Şuluţiu, Felix Aderca, Arşavir Acterian and Alexandru Sahia were invited for membership.97 When Arşavir Acterian was invited to join, he was shocked and unsure as to why he was chosen, doubting his own intellectual abilities. On November 25, 1932, Arşavir wrote, It has happened that I have been selected for Criterion. I wonder why? Kindness? I am, of course, flattered. I try to imagine what happened at Criterion, during my selection. What was thought about me, who hadn’t heard of my name, my existence.98

For Acterian, as it was for many, membership in Criterion was perceived to be a compliment and an invitation to effect social change. However, being selected as a member of the Criterion Association was not necessarily perceived to be an honor. There were frustrations, even early on, and the resignations of Mrs. Mille, G. Gussi and Dina Cocea are good examples. They actually left for professional reasons, perceiving Criterion to not be as serious as they had initially assumed. They gave their resignation to Comarnescu citing their reason as ‘Maxy, Sterian and H.  Daniel [were] impossible [in meetings], they [would come] there and only make trivial objections and jokes.’99 Membership was carefully considered and in addition to excellence, a prevailing concern for the association was preserving diversity of opinion and approach. This aim is precisely expressed in a note about the requirements for membership to the Philosophy section, The scope of this association being aesthetic and philosophical manifestations, I find that trends of regionalism formed by some members of the Association can only be a disadvantage to the universal and essentialist spirit which of course subsists in the natural manifestations towards which we endeavor. Without forgetting that we are Romanian, I believe that Romaniazation is not the objective of this association, but rather aesthetic spiritualization, to put it on a scientific foundation and make it more noble. And in this sense we come back upon admitted things, like for instance the heterogeneity of the beliefs of our members.100  Ibid., 16 f. 26.  Arşavir Acterian, Jurnal 1929–1945/1958–1990, 119. 99  PCJ, 52. 100  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, ff. 45–46. 97 98

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So the care to represent all points of view on a universal, all-encompassing platform was ensured by Criterion’s conception and diverse membership, a variety that played out in the structure of their events. In this sense they were echoing the philosophy behind the Forum Group, as articulated by Polihroniade, by ensuring a united front of different perspectives, experiences and approaches.101 It is also helpful to consider the early ideas explored in Criterion meetings, to appreciate the wide-ranging program of the association’s ambition. On notes, Comarnescu jotted down some ideas of possible conference topics. This is a brief list of themes that are relevant to both Criterion’s eventual activity and also the modernist current of the times throughout Europe and traditionalism in Romania: Nudism, ‘Gandhian,’ the Romanian specific, women in the modern world, Homosexuality, Modern Art, the Problem of Europe, Absolutism versus Relativism and Youth.102 A revealing notation can be found on another of Comarnescu’s notes. In another list of ideas and important themes (this time, including ‘new points of view about the natural physical world’ [the Eddington Years]), he includes Pansexualism in the modern world (he crosses this out as an idea after writing it), Psychoanalysis, Neoclassicism as a lifestyle and in art, the moralization of politics, idealism in politics, pacifism, Leninism, Trotskyism, Stalinism, Neo-Thomism, economics diverging from the national plan, nonviolent coercion (M.  Eliade), Gide (M.  Sebastian), Orthodoxism and finally ‘technically what makes things internationalized [moving towards, resulting in] a formula of internationalism.’103 Comarnescu indicated that the diverse topics explored by Criterion should themselves lead to such a formula of internationalism. The working of the group was democratic and they chose the topics and people involved in their events in these meetings, through open discussion and a voting system. The minutes of the plenary meeting of Criterion from June 17 indicate that plans for the 1932 fall program were being made and how extensive the association’s program was intended to be. The plan was to have a series of ten conferences with illustrations, projections and artistic applications to be entitled ‘Presentations of Current Romanian Culture.’ The second group of manifestations would be the symposia (with ‘contradictory discussions’) about ‘Idols’ (‘personalities of  Mihail Polihroniade, ‘Forum,’ Calendarul, February 22, 1932.  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 1. 103  Ibid., f. 2. 101 102

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the times’), Romanian and foreign. At that point they also intended to have events specific to the sections, as well as a regular series of public discussions and also a cycle about professions. At this plenary session, there was also discussion about membership activity. With respect to the problem of those who were still members of Forum, they arrived at the solution that these two artistic associations would work completely independently and without any obligation for members of Criterion to modify their activity. This meeting confirmed and assured the constitutive principles of Criterion’s freedom of action outside of existing associations.104 A week later there was another meeting where they discussed administrative matters and the association’s activities to date. The program of the meeting went as follows. First, an administrative portion included the presentation of the minutes of the previous meeting, read by the Secretary General. Second, he gave a report of the activity of the sections and coordination efforts of their secretaries from the previous Thursday evening meeting. There was also a discussion and vote (toward ratification) concerning the decisions taken by the sections, questions and discussion about the two cycles of manifestations, and the problem of the statute of the association. The third portion was comprised of proposals, interpretations and voting. Topics included the proposal of new members and for all old and new members of Criterion to be invited to the future plenary meeting.105 Official meetings were held at Floria Capsali’s dance studio on Str. Brezoianu, between Cişmigiu Park and the Royal Palace in central Bucharest, less than a ten-minute walk away from the Royal Foundation. This location would become their de facto office and headquarters and served as the address on the Criterion letterhead. An invitation for membership (which is also a good description of the initial philosophy behind the association) read as follows: Dear Sir, The association of arts, philosophy and literature ‘Criterion’ in their planning meeting on 1 July selected you as a member and asks you to communicate by writing to their office at Str. Brezoianu nr. 51 (the Floria Capsali studio) if you understand and will participate in their activities, which will begin in the autumn with a series of public and private manifestations, of

104  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC.  XVIII Varia 16, #11–13. Verbal process from planning meeting on June 17, 1932. 105  Ibid., #10. Order of the Day for meeting on June 24, 1932.

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conferences, concerts, symposia, artistic shows, painting exhibitions, sculpture, and design, editions of books and journals, etc. For information about the scope and constitutive criteria of this association which endeavors, to a certain extent, to organize events with young intellectuals and Romanian artists but at the same time to put our public on the path towards an authentic spirituality in every cultural domain,—you may find the secretary general of this association, as well as its members, who will be meeting Friday evenings at 9.30 at Floria Capsali’s studio. Together with the secretary general you may organize events in which you would like to participate. Please accept our special consideration with assurance. THE SECRETARY GENERAL Petru Comarnescu (signature)106

To give an example of what was discussed in an early specific section meeting, I will consider the case of the sections Visual Arts and Architecture. An invitation for a meeting to take place on Saturday, July 16, at 9.30 pm at Mr. Schonberg’s house on Blvd. Ferdinand #24 states that the following topics would be discussed (1) what constituted the section of architecture (2) how the sections will work, (3) choosing two conferences that will be presented in the series ‘Current Romanian Culture’ that will be organized by the Association in the fall, (4) professional questions, exhibitions, international exchange of exhibitions and so on.107 On July 19, Comarnescu commented on how things with Criterion were going much better and Maxy offered to present his art in the fall.108 After laying the groundwork for Criterion’s autumn activities, Comarnescu left by train on July 23, 1932, for Geneva where he spent the summer participating in the summer course for the International University Groups for the League of Nations. The miracle of Criterion was about to come into full fruition upon Comarnescu’s return to Bucharest.

106  AMNLR, Petru Comarnescu, Correspondence, Invitation to Criterion meeting, 10/ III/447, 20, 790. 107  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, ff. 31–32. 108  PCJ, 53.

CHAPTER 4

The Criterion Association’s Activity of 1932: ‘Idols’ Symposia, Politics, Culture

The name that was chosen for the organization itself, ‘Criterion,’ reveals the cultural model’s principal purpose.1 In English ‘criterion’ refers to a standard on which a judgment is made or a characterizing mark.2 However, if we consider the French meaning of the equivalent, we arrive at a much richer explanation. The French critère means ‘test’ or ‘criticism.’ The Greek root is krinien, which means to form a critical judgment.3 This is precisely what the Criterion Association intended to do in the Romanian interwar cultural space: test out by objectively presenting and critically analyzing an array of new ideas in politics, economics, music, art, culture, philosophy, architecture, literature and more, from within and outside Romania. The following is a list, a timeline of Criterion’s events. Some dates were hard to verify, as cross-referencing from Comarnescu’s personal archive, press, diary accounts and secondary sources, often yielded

1  ‘Criterion’ itself is not a word in Romanian. The Romanian is criteriu. Clearly the association chose the English version, with a cosmopolitan pretense, symbolically showing the association’s intention to reach beyond the Romanian language and traditionalist paradigm, in its effort to engage in global ideas but also in its effort to launch this project of ‘major culture’ proportions. 2  I have found no mention of a specific English influence for choosing the name, but the Criterionists must have been aware of the literary review T.S.  Eliot edited, The Criterion (1922–1939). 3  Mihai Europenism şi dileme identitare în România interbelică: gruparea Criterion, 131.

© The Author(s) 2019 C. A. Bejan, Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4_4

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­ ifferent dates.4 This period was also the beginning of political conversion d of Criterionists to the right. When and how the conversion began is placed in its proper context and time within the Criterion group and space.

Criterion’s Cultural Crusade The Criterion Association had more than just a cultural function and intellectual purpose. Through their alternative approach to educating the Bucharest public (particularly students), the Criterionists harbored an ambitious hope that their findings might ignite some meaningful social, political, economic and cultural change. Though founded, organized and operated by Romanian citizens, Criterion was not strictly a ‘Romanian’ manifestation. This cosmopolitanism present within the group (in addition to the international ideas they explored) provided one reason they were suspected of advocating a political agenda subversive to the Romanian state. In an early planning note, Comarnescu wrote that their target groups were the members and attendees of the Forum conferences, Salonul Independenţilor,5 Communists and ‘Young People.’ It is notable that they wished to attract communists from the start. The Criterion creation of culture was geared toward the educated, the elite, but not limited to it. Their appeal across socio-economic lines will be addressed shortly. For the lack of clarity of their mission and apparent abandonment of authentically Romanian values and cultural products, Nichifor Crainic accused them of ‘confused cosmopolitanism.’6 Thematically the nascent Criterion Association was greatly influenced by ideas discussed during the precedent Forum group. A brief presentation of some initial ideas for topics proposed during the Forum (during these early brainstorming sessions) demonstrates the pressing nature of some overarching questions plaguing the minds of the Criterionists. Gleaning from some early notes in Comarnescu’s personal archive, the principal concern for the members of Criterion was exploring the 4  Many of the dates were taken from BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 12, which is a very useful list of conferences Comarnescu participated in himself since returning from America. Useful lists from secondary sources include Mihai Europenism şi dileme identitare în România interbelică: gruparea Criterion, 81–86 and Mezdrea Nae Ionescu. Biografia Vol. 3, 390. All further references to Mezdrea in this chapter are from this volume and page. 5  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20 ‘Comunic le Criterion.’ f. 27 #3. A meeting club, most likely the Romanian equivalent of the Parisien ‘Salon des Indépendants.’ 6  Nichifor Crainic, ‘Fort ̦a trecutului,’ Calendarul, November 2, 1932.

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i­ntellectual and cultural currents of the day: the most pressing and influential topics and figures from within and outside Romania. They were all preoccupied with the general themes: modernity, the modern man, revolution, new approaches to life, modernization, democracy and alternate modes of government, the individual versus the community, spirituality, ethics and morality. We can learn a lot from their early plans and intentions, glean what they intended to accomplish, what their intellectual concerns were and determine their direction of inquiry. Preliminary plans for Forum’s next series included figures that did not make the final cut of Criterion’s 1932 Idols cycle. Their consideration is important, as it further illustrates the diversity of personalities considered, as well as the nature of the topics being explored. A proposed list of ‘Personalities of our time’ included Einstein, Picasso, Stravinsky, Woodrow Wilson, Gordon Craig, Maritain, Briand, Cocteau, Bernard Shaw, Joyce, Fritz von Unruh, Alfred Döblin, Thomas Mann, Rainer Maria Rilke and Max Scheler. This cycle of personalities of the time was meant to take place within a program entitled ‘The Idealism of Our Time.’ An alternate list has the program including Bertrand Russell, Henry Ford and Rabindranath Tagore. On another list, the Chinese revolutionary Sun Yat-sen’s name appears.7 Titulescu, Pirandello and Lindbergh,8 as well as Nicolae Iorga and Tudor Arghezi, were also considered to be prominent personalities of the day.9 In another provisional plan for the Forum series ‘Ideas of our Time,’ proposed lecture topics were ‘A Global Government’; ‘Neoclassicism in Art’; ‘a New Ethic’; ‘a New Religious Way’; ‘Humanitarianism’; ‘The Democratic Idea (Aristocracy of the Masses)’; ‘Non-violent Coercion’; ‘Birth-Control’ and ‘The Anonymous and the Collective (the Idea of the Unrecognized Hero).’ This plan illustrates that the Young Generation was not just concerned with the extreme alternatives (e.g. communism, fascism) but also with critically analyzing democracy itself. The non-violent coercion was inspired by the movement for Indian emancipation and independence and demonstrates a search for an alternative way of political change (as opposed to violence, that they in Europe in the aftermath of the Great War were all too familiar with).  The topic of ‘Birth-Control’  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20. f. 5–7.  Ibid., f. 26. 9  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16 ff. 10–13 ‘Proces Verbal al şedint ̦ei plenare din 17 iunie 1932 Asociati̦ ei Criterion.’ 7 8

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demonstrates the advances of science, an increasingly more liberal approach to sex, and the emancipation of women. Such scientific advancements also paved the way for eugenic experiments and the possibility of scientifically controlling the future of the human race. In a note on the back of an invitation from the ‘Friends of the United States Society’ for a conference given by I.G. Duca on Friday, January 29, 1932, about ‘The Debut of the Youth in America and Europe,’ Comarnescu wrote: ‘To live before the great revolution means a social function, The Institution and the Individual.’10 Four concepts were up for investigation: (1) The true individual; (2) Family; (3) Morality and (4) the Scientific Process.11 In a subsequent note in which he describes Nae Ionescu as ‘an affected fake,’ Comarnescu wrote the following ideas: ‘The car destroys the idea of property,’ ‘The War dissolved the family’ and ‘The American city does not encourage the individual to live.’12 Relating to revolution and the varying approaches to the individual and collective utilized by different countries, Comarnescu outlined the difference between Russia and France. Under the heading ‘The Individual has died,’ he suggests that the Russian revolution was collectivist, while the French individualist. Within the Russian revolution, Trotsky advocated for  the individual and Stalin represented the triumph of the collective. As for France, ‘Freeing it from History, France makes politics of the individual.’13 The preoccupation with the liberty of the individual being sacrificed at the hands of the interventionist state is captured in Octav Şuluţiu’s diary, the month before Criterion’s public activity began, The state is an abstract monster, one that no one can fight against. So tied up is this network of laws and regulations, that you get the conviction that it is made in order to impede the liberty of the individual, to deliver him handcuffed to the hands of the state.14

Revolution was a major preoccupation for the Criterionists and there was the sense that it was on the horizon in Romania. Eliade described the era as ‘pre-revolutionary’15 and Polihroniade referred to the wave of ­nationalist  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 5.  Ibid. 12  Ibid., f. 6. 13  Ibid., f. 7. 14  Şuluţiu, Jurnal, 238. September 21, 1932. 15  Mircea Eliade, ‘Epoca pre-revolut ̦ionară,’ Cuvântul, October 4, 1933. 10 11

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movements as if the Young Generation was ‘living before the big revolution.’16 They were reacting to and observing what arose in the wake of WWI, which according to Comarnescu dissolved individualism.17 He noted that heroism had also perished due to modernity.18 From the beginning of its activity, Criterion had a monumental significance for its members and the educated public of Bucharest. In a promotional feuilleton written for Cuvântul, Eliade articulated why the association was such an achievement for the Young Generation. The significance lay in their act of coordinating their efforts, of collaborating and sharing their expertise for the development and genesis of Romanian culture. Previously the members of the Young Generation had been preoccupied with independent contributions. According to Eliade, ‘The great temptation of every young person is to want to create something.’ No matter how brilliant and important, the results of such independent and uncoordinated efforts were ‘sporadic, isolated and discontinuous.’19 This union and working together within and through the Criterion Association proves the desire of the Young Generation to ‘pool their efforts’ in the ‘creation of a culture.’20 Eliade considers this fact alone an important achievement, regardless of what sort of public response Criterion might receive. Criterion did receive dynamic reactions and successfully reached out to and attracted audiences from all levels of society, though it was initially geared toward a university audience. The public response to Criterion was much greater than anyone could have anticipated and some symposia had to be repeated multiple times. A Facla reviewer praised what the cultural society had initiated: the fact that important contemporary issues had been raised and were being discussed in symposia and also that all sectors of society were represented in the audiences. This mix of social classes meant that ‘simple workers’ were sitting alongside university professors.21 The reviewer wrote, ‘What dozens of cultural societies and government institutes have not done, after devouring millions of lei in subventions, has 16  Mihail Polihroniade, ‘Generaţia tânără şi ritmul mondial,’ Azi, 1, 1933. Cited in Florin Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 186. 17  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 9, reverse. 18  Ibid., f. 8. 19  Mircea Eliade, ‘Tinerii la lucru,’ Cuvântul, October 14, 1932. Quoted in Ricketts, Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Roots, Vol. 1, 555. 20  Ricketts. Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Roots, Vol. 1, 555. 21  Ibid., 559.

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been accomplished by a group not especially predisposed to philosophical speculation and academic discussion.’22 This positive response to Criterion exhibited itself in the fact that the words ‘Criterion’ and ‘symposium’ themselves took on popular currency.23 Criterion member Dan Botta was particularly concerned with the effect the symposia had on the public and the association’s responsibility toward its audience. He was most vocal not during the symposia, but after when the Criterionists would retire to Café Corso and continue the debate begun at the Royal Foundation until late. According to Eliade, For him [Botta], this meant above all the duty to lift the public, not up to our level, but beyond, to our ideals. Dan believed that Criterion could effect, in the minds of the more intelligent members of the audience, an operation of Platonic anamnesis. In attending our symposia, where many points of view were presented and debated, the public actually was witnessing a new type of Socratic dialogue. The goal we were pursuing was not only to inform people; above all, we were seeking to ‘awaken’ the audience, to confront them with ideas, and ultimately to modify their mode of being in the world.24

What Eliade referred to as the ‘Criterion spirit’ of dialogue transpired in both the symposia and social sphere. The debates begun at the Royal Foundation continued on to the second floor corner of Corso till long after midnight.25 Criterion was deliberately structured to be a home for dynamic democratic timely debate. The format for a Criterion symposium comprised 5–6 discussants (members of the Criterion Association) representing both sides of the debate, presided over and moderated by a more senior authority figure, ‘a distinguished personality.’ Comarnescu explained the decision to invite an older, established speaker as follows: ‘So that it is not said that we, the youth, wish to break with the Old Generation, we have taken the effort to have every symposium presided over by a personality of the Old Generation.’26 These included Rădulescu-Motru, Simion Mehedint ̦i, 22  Sandu Eliad, ‘O experienţă,’ Facla, October 30, 1932. Quoted in Ricketts, Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Roots, Vol. 1, 559. 23  PCJ, 79. 24  MEAI, 237. 25  Ibid., 236. 26  PCJ, 73.

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Gusti, Tudor Vianu, Mihai Ralea and Ion Petrovici.27 The audience had the chance to ask questions of the speakers following the presentations and debate. Eliade articulated the Criterion approach was to be ‘objective’: audiatur et  altera pars.28 Arşavir Acterian described the Criterion approach as employing the two Latin formulas: concordia discors and discordia concors. The Criterionists oscillated ‘between contradictory visions, with the desire to illuminate a spiritual cosmos through the integration of the contradictions between them.’29 Their goal was that through dialogue, they would inspire discovery. Criterion successfully organized two cycles of public events for the fall of 1932: a series of symposia on the topic of ‘Contemporary Idols’ and a cycle of presentations on the topic of ‘Contemporary Romanian Culture.’ Operating concurrently, both were responsible for Criterion gaining a respected reputation and a recognizable name. In a preliminary plan drawn up for the first series, ‘Idols,’ the list of people to participate included Haig Acterian, Dan Botta, A. Broşteanu, I. Brucăr, A. Calistrat, I. Cantacuzino, şerban Cioculescu, Comarnescu, Dr. Dimolescu, Eliade, C. Enescu, C. Floru, Mircea Grigorescu, R. Hillard, Apriliana Medianu, C.  Mironescu, Polihroniade, Sadova, Sebastian, Stahl, Zaharia Stancu, Sabba Ștef ănescu Sr., Paul Sterian, Tell, Sandu Tudor, Sorana Ţopa, Al. Vianu, P. Viforeanu and Vulcănescu.30 A series initially considered by Criterion addressed ‘profession.’ Professions to be explored in these sessions were (with the corresponding speakers in parentheses): Lawyer (Istrate Miceru, Hillard, Manolescu); Magistrate Judge (Andrei Rădulescu, Tell); The Politician (Dr. Lupp, Polihroniade, Hillard); The Novelist (Cezar Petrescu, Ionel Sadoveanu); the Man of Science (F.  Marinescu); the Poet (Arghezi, Botta); The Director (Sorez, Sose, Acterian); the Musician; the Diplomat (Titulescu); the Philosopher (Rădulescu-Motru, Petrovici, Noica).31 And finally, in addition, there were plans to hold ‘popular discussions’ on the following topics (1) ‘Constitutionalism or Dictatorship?’ (2) ‘The Orient or Occident?’ and (3) ‘The Party or Corporations?’32  Acterian, ‘Cîte ceva despre Asociaţia Criterion,’ 1.  MEAI, 235. 29  Acterian, ‘Cîte ceva despre Asociaţia Criterion,’ 1. 30  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20 f. 63. 31  Ibid., f. 26 ‘Vocat ̦ia.’ 32  Ibid., reverse. 27 28

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In contrast with  the organized, constructive debate arranged at the symposia, the less formal meetings at Corso or Capşa and the Criterionists’ homes became unregulated, unrestrained free-for-alls. Arşavir Acterian captures such an episode in his diary when many retired to Eliade’s, following a meeting of the philosophy circle at Corso, led by Rădulescu-­ Motru. The discussion that followed was full of ‘fury’ and ‘hatred,’ ‘an exchange of crude, brutal sincerity’ mainly involving Sorana Ţopa, Comarnescu and Cioran, but eventually encompassing the whole group (Brucar, Vulcănescu, Noica, Ionesco, Costica Fântâneru), only ending at four in the morning.33 Such volatile disagreements reveal the fine line between friend and enemy, as well as collaborator and competitor. With the preoccupation with Romania being a minor culture, the Young Generation viewed the Criterion Association as an effort to overcome their inferiority complex. Eliade wrote, We said that, in a major culture, all currents of thought can be presented. We felt strong enough not to be afraid of confrontations with ideologies and systems contrary to our own beliefs. Likewise, we felt that we could not get beyond cultural provincialism except by annulling the inferiority complexes and infantile defense mechanisms inherent in any minor culture.34

The Criterionists clearly viewed themselves in relation to and on par with their cultural counterparts abroad. Take for example when Octav Şuluţiu was admitted for membership, an event he notes in his diary on July 2, 1933. Şuluţiu describes the proceedings as such, Petru Comarnescu did the honors, presenting Paul Zarifopol … our Voltaire(!) … Dan Botta …. as our little Valéry! … and bestowing [membership to] Sebastian and me … as the representatives from France.35

In fact, whether or not Romania was in general a mere colony of French culture was a topic of much debate in the interwar Romanian space. A survey was sent out by the newspaper Vremea to the greatest minds representative of all generations and every political and religious bent (including Crainic, Blaga, Eugen Lovinescu, Polihroniade and Haig Acterian, among

 Acterian, Jurnal 1929–1945/1958–1990, 123–124.  MEAI, 235. 35  Şuluţiu, Jurnal, 255–256. September 21, 1932. 33 34

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many others), asking precisely this question ‘Are we or are we not a colony of French Culture?’36 The decision to present and discuss ‘Idols’ of the day, a diverse group (considering both professional and political orientation, language and geography) of influential individuals, is remarkable and also notable that not a single ‘Idol’ came from Romania (Lenin, Freud, Chaplin, Bergson, Gide, Mussolini, Krishnamurthi, Gandhi, Greta Garbo, Valéry, Proust). This list also represented all sides of the political spectrum. In an initial list, Nicolae Iorga (the most representative of a Renaissance and cosmopolitan man) and the poet Tudor Arghezi were included, but their names did not make it to the final program.37 In an environment where individual versus collective action and importance was a subject of heated debate, it is noteworthy that the Criterionists were specifically investigating these figures as both individuals (considering their personal biographies and personalities) as well as their collective impact and importance for their own nations and in History. The Criterionists shared a sense of impatience to push the envelope and realize their cultural mission. In a prophetic passage from Ş uluţiu’s diary, the critic claims, ‘Our Generation suffers from rushing. It wants to do everything fast and well. And that is the source of many troubles. We don’t know how to wait.’38 This sense of urgency, to experiment with new ideas, to expose the Romanian public to new influences, to grapple with the latest trends in modernism (literary) and  modernization (in science, the economy and politics), this need for action and for results shared by the young agents of culture is captured in the memories of Eliade: Having come to believe in the creative possibilities of the Romanian genius—as the majority of us did, although for different reasons—we no longer feared ‘evil influences’ or ‘subversive ideas.’ On the other hand, we considered ourselves adults; we were unwilling to have people shout at us, ‘don’t play with fire!’—because we knew very well that we were not playing.39

Such creation of cultural products became inherently political, no matter how noble and what Criterion’s nonpartisan and objective intentions  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, ff. 31–32.  Ibid., 10–13 ‘Proces Verbal al şedinţei plenare din 17 junie 1932 Asociaţiei Criterion.’ 38  Şuluţiu, Jurnal, 239. 39  MEAI, 235. 36 37

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were. The ‘Idols’ symposia initially provoked near-violent altercations, fierce criticism from students of the extreme right and intervention by the government.

‘Idols’ Symposia (First Five) Vladimir Lenin (Russia, 1870–1924)40 The first event in the ‘Idols’ series took place on Thursday, October 13, 1932, on the subject of Lenin with distinguished philosopher Professor Rădulescu-Motru presiding. Eliade recalls that Criterion invited Belu Silber and Lucreţiu Pătrăşcanu (a well-known communist, elected to the Central Committee at the 5th Party Congress in 1931) to present an argument for the Marxist-Leninist thesis, while Vulcănescu and Polihroniade prepared the antithetical argument: criticizing communism in favor of democracy and nationalism.41 The original line-up for the event differed quite significantly from Eliade’s clear delineation between pro and anti-­ Marxist positions. The most notable point of this difference is that neither Pătrăşcanu nor Belu Silber were initially on the program. (They were not advertised as such.) When this changed is unclear. Perhaps they did not confirm their attendance until the last minute, but such a query, at this point, is mere speculation. Regardless it was their participation (particularly that of Pătrăşcanu) that ignited such fury on the part of the government. As outlined in the initial plan (in chronological order) Vulcănescu was to present on the ‘Leninist Thesis’; Petre Viforeanu on the ‘Bourgeois Thesis’; Stahl on the ‘Social-Democratic Thesis’; Constantin Enescu on the ‘Peasant Thesis’ and Polihroniade on the ‘Political Tactics Thesis.’42 Rădulescu-Motru presided over the discussion. In his notes for his portion of the presentation, Vulcănescu outlined his talk. Therein he clarified that he not only would expound on the Leninist thesis but also speak about the life of Lenin. Vulcănescu outlined three ways to view Lenin in the face of history: ‘Lenin the Hero,’ ‘Lenin the Representative Man’ and ‘Lenin the 40  For the Criterion series, the topics were announced by the Idol’s last name only, I include the first name, country of origin and life-time in an effort to show how diverse the chosen subjects were. 41  MEAI, 234–235. 42  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 61.

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Monster.’ Vulcănescu wished to consider three faces of Lenin: the myth cultivated by the proletariat; the bourgeoisie’s view of him as an apocalyptic monster of morality and the peasantry’s picture of Lenin as an oppressive landowner forcing them into serfdom. Vulcănescu insisted that they must first investigate the man and the doctrine that stood at his base.43 Vulcănescu’s presentation on Lenin illustrates the Criterion approach: an investigation of these figures’ creative lives and intellectual contributions (theory); as individuals (their personal biography); the impact they had on the world (all communities, e.g. the myth of Lenin) and how these figures stood in the face of History (with a capital H). At the time Lenin’s political message was particularly dangerous in Romania, which shared a border with the Soviet Union. Influenced by the philosophy of revolutionary violence of Georges Sorel, Lenin was a voice of revolution and a symbol of destruction. Vulcănescu investigated the source of Lenin’s revolutionary zeal in his psychology, considering him as a madman: Others, still, speculating the contradiction between his doctrinal fanaticism and his tactical-opportunistic doctrine, between his courage in action and his courage in writing and in discussion, the hereditary syphilis and attacks of paralysis, they gave the ‘revolutionary genius’ a medical diagnosis: schizophrenia.44

Eliade was very impressed with the calm and intent approach of Pătrăşcanu who was not bothered by the interruptions from the crowd and waited for them to quiet down before speaking again. In contrast, the students interrupted Polihroniade with applause every time he spoke of the necessity of a nationalistic revolution. And when he referred to the expression of Lenin’s that the bourgeois state is a cadaver that will topple at a single blow, he was applauded as much by the nationalistic students as by the groups of Communist sympathizers who had been drawn to the Foundation by the scheduled appearance of Pătrăşcanu.45

43  Vulcănescu, De la Nae Ionescu la Criterion, 410. At this time Mircea Vulcănescu was serving as the Assistant of Ethics for Professor Gusti; for the text of ‘Idolul’ Lenin see 272–295. 44  Ibid., 276. 45  MEAI, 235.

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The Royal Foundation was located directly opposite the Royal Palace. Any altercations, assemblies of people or perceived political ­demonstrations taking place outside or within the Royal Foundation certainly could not go unnoticed by the police. Prior to the initial symposium on Lenin, a large number of communists and youths gathered outside the Foundation and the police were called in. Comarnescu explained to them that it was better to let the symposium take place than to cancel it, for surely the latter would provoke a demonstration, protests and riots. The police consented, allowed the symposium to be held, and Comarnescu remarked that the room in the Royal Foundation was fuller than he had ever seen it before, including the communist waiters from Corso.46 Comarnescu later received a warning from the Inspector General of the police, that clearly indicated the government viewed Criterion as a dangerous communist menace.47 Eliade hypothesized that it was Criterion’s ‘audacity’ to invite Pătrăşcanu to speak at the symposium that caused the government’s security forces to misconstrue Criterion’s operation as ‘crypto-communist,’ for in fact Criterion’s only communist member was Belu Silber.48 Such a large crowd came that the symposium needed to be repeated the following Tuesday, October 18. The repeated symposium was also full but did not overflow to the balcony. Comarnescu noted it as uniquely successful in the series.49 This time Constantin Enescu was replaced by Mircea Grigorescu, who spoke on ‘Lenin in the world of propaganda,’ in the program. In addition to being repeated the following week, the symposium appeared on December 15, 1932, chaired by Simion Mehendint ̦i. This time the discussants included Stahl, Polihroniade, Richard Hillard, Constantin Enescu, Petre Viforeanu, Alexandru Vianu, Paul Sterian and Eliade.50 Sigmund Freud (Austria, 1856–1939) The second symposium in the series on the subject of ‘Freud’ was presented on Thursday, October 20, 1932, at the Royal Foundation. According to Eliade, this time the room was also overflowing with audience and  PCJ, 73.  Ibid., 77. 48  MEAI, 235. 49  PCJ, 73. 50  Acterian, ‘Cîte ceva despre Asociaţia Criterion,’ 1. 46 47

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Comarnescu had to announce that it would also be repeated in a few days time in order to begin. (After repeating it twice they then ­presented it in numerous provincial cities.)51 Comarnescu had a different interpretation of the rocky beginning of this symposium. Apparently, unbeknownst to the leaders of Criterion, the symposium had actually been banned in ‘a strange way.’52 When the crowds arrived at the Foundation that evening, policemen told them that the symposium had been postponed. Comarnescu and some of his colleagues immediately went to the office of the undersecretary of the Interior, Armand Călinescu, and protested to the director of the cabinet. The director told them that there was not a ban on the symposium, he was in the office, by chance and so was the writer and newspaperman Ion Vinea, who came to their help. Due to Comarnescu and team’s insistence, he called the police and at 9.30 they were able to begin the symposium. At this point (as the event was scheduled to begin at 9 and much of the crowd had been deterred by the police) only a few latecomers and the Criterionists remained. Comarnescu learned later that the banning measure was taken by Călinescu, following the scheme of Pamfil Şeicaru, who was probably set up by Romulus Dianu, the editor of his newspaper, Curentul.53 This symposium was chaired by Ion Petrovici and the speakers included Eliade, Vulcănescu, Paul Sterian,54 Professor Parhon, Professor Doctor Radovici, Doctor Popescu Sibiu, Calistrat Hogaş, Ion I.  Cantacuzino, H.H.  Stahl and Alexandru Mironescu.55 This symposium enabled the Criterionists to investigate the cutting edge of Western medicine (note the number of speakers who were medical doctors) and the founder of psychoanalysis. Freud redefined the way that humanity looks at itself and its sexuality. Eliade provided the most information on the Freud symposium. Although no text of his talk survives, Eliade recounted the substance of his presentation in his autobiography: I had agreed to speak about Freud because I thought I could decipher in his work a final phase in the desacralization of the Old Testament monotheism and propheticism. Freud’s certainty that he had found a unique and universal meaning for psychomental life and human creativity, that he had forged  MEAI, 233.  PCJ, 77. 53  Ibid. 54  MEAI, 232. 55  Acterian, ‘Cîte ceva despre Asociaţia Criterion,’ 1. 51 52

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the magic key that would unlock all enigmas from dreams and actes manqués to the origin of religion, morals, and civilization—this certainty, I said, betrayed the monotheistic fervor of the Hebraic genius. In the same way, the passion expended by Freud in promoting, imposing, and defending psychoanalysis from any ‘heresy’ is reminiscent of the intolerance and frenzy of Old Testament prophets. In a certain sense, Freud believed that his discoveries were destined to transform mankind, to ‘save’ it. Psychoanalysis satisfied the thirst for the absolute, characteristic of the Judaic genius, the belief that there is a single royal road to the Spirit, and it betrays the specifically Hebraic revulsion against pluralism, polytheism, and idolatry.56

Eliade never liked Freud, which he made clear in his writings of 1932–1933. Ţ urcanu suggests this is due to not knowing Freud’s work very well.57 Eliade did not consider Freud to be an example of the ‘Hebraic genius’ but rather ‘a grave example of Judaic spirituality, meaning the transfer from a unique value and the secularization of the Absolute.’58 Psychoanalysis is therefore, above all, a product of ascendant modernity. Freud is to the twentieth century what Hegel was to the nineteenth century.59 Eliade found a much more compelling and authentic approach to the Absolute in his studies in yoga and Indian philosophy. Eliade opposed the Freudian interpretation of the subconscious in his doctoral thesis. As opposed to psychoanalysis, ‘yoga believes that the subconscious may be controlled through the aesthetic discipline, through the culture of virtue, through a morality and that man may choose his own destiny.’60 A central element to the understanding of both yoga and psychoanalysis is sexuality. In India, yoga is a form of ‘experimental mysticism,’ being the best of ‘personal, concrete and irrational experience.’61 The accumulation of the abilities in yoga is traditionally associated with the practice of aestheticism, notably sexual aestheticism, for which the patron God is Shiva. This practice is geared toward uncovering, unleashing, reaching a certain spontaneity, a boundless freedom. Rather than being a fundamental and necessary part of pursuing the path toward the Absolute, Eliade found in  MEAI, 233.  Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 203. 58  Mircea Eliade. Océanographie, 143, n. 1. Quoted in Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 203. 59  Ibid., 232–233. Quoted in Ţurcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 203. 60  Mircea Eliade, Yoga. Essai sur les origins de la mystique indienne, 74. Quoted in Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 204. 61  Ibid., 13, n. 2. Quoted in Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 133. 56 57

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Freudian psychoanalysis an unfortunate suspension and ­demonization of sexuality, inherent in historic and contemporary European religious approaches: Most peoples and civilizations do not see in sex what the Europeans see—a source of sensual pleasure and a moral problem—but only its fundamental principal function: procreation. This is why they are integrated naturally amongst the big roots of life, next to thirst and hunger, and they imply, in reality and allegorically, that everywhere there is a question of life, of vital energy, of creation of regeneration.62

For Eliade, sexuality was always associated with the idea of generation where this renaissance of man has a new spiritual life. He urged Europeans to not let ‘sex in religion scandalize us’ nor be a ‘taboo’ issue.63 As for how Eliade fared in his talk in the symposium, he recalled that he received loud applause, like the other participants. Apparently Cioran was so impressed that he attended the symposium again when it was repeated.64 Charlie Chaplin (Great Britain and ‘Hollywood,’ 1889–1977) The third symposium took place on October 27, 1932, with the following speakers: Cantacuzino, Comarnescu, Sebastian, Paul Sterian, Ion Călugăru, chaired by Ion Marin Sadoveanu.65 An iconic figure and pioneer of the cinema as an art form, Charlie Chaplin defined the beginning of Hollywood as the star of countless silent movies, and more socially relevant, talkie pictures. In addition to being avid readers and appreciators of art, all members of the Young Generation were enjoying the fruits of the modern cinema as movie halls became just as ubiquitous as live theaters in Bucharest. Newspapers of the time were full of adverts for and reviews of movies, and personal diaries checkered with notes of films seen, in addition to lists of books read, concerts attended and theater productions enjoyed. Elisabeta

 Mircea Eliade. Océanographie, 115. Quoted in Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 115. 63  Ibid. 64  Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 233. 65  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20; f. 36. 62

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Boulevard, known as the ‘Romanian Hollywood’ was lined with cinemas and people would often enter a cinema hall after having just exited another.66 Just like the other Idols, the Criterionists wished to consider Charlie Chaplin in his multiple dimensions from many perspectives, as more than just a movie star. This will be revealed by the ensuing analysis of Comarnescu’s presentation on ‘The Ethic of Chaplin’ and Sebastian’s spontaneous and moving account of Chaplin, as a Jew. But principally, as an individual, Chaplin had a personal philosophy very much akin to the members of the Young Generation. As for the link between optimism and youth (bearing a stark resemblance to the naïveté of Criterion), Chaplin wrote much later in his autobiography: However, a most formidable element in optimism is youth, for it instinctively feels that adversity is pro tem and that a continual run of ill luck is just as implausible as the straight and narrow path of righteousness. Both eventually must deviate.67

Chaplin’s later words are prophetic when we consider the optimism of the Young Generation and the ill luck later experienced by the Criterion Association. Chaplin, the man himself, was extremely self-aware and embraced his own individuality and treasured his personal experiences, another aspect that reveals his similar life philosophy to the Young Generation. Consider the quote: Like everyone else I am what I am: an individual, unique and different, with a lineal history of ancestral promptings and urgings, a history of dreams, desires and of special experiences, of all of which I am the sum total.68

Comarnescu’s portion of the symposium was devoted to revealing what they (intellectuals and the bourgeois elite of Criterion) could learn from this ‘man on the street’ (ordinary person) [om de pe stradă] and the characters he depicted in his films.69 This talk proves yet again the degree to which Comarnescu was preoccupied with the necessity of finding a balance between thought and action. Comarnescu was moved by Chaplin’s humanism, his humor, his passion and his stunning example of how to live  Ioana Pârvulescu, Intoarcere în Bucharestul interbelic, 132.  Charles Chaplin, My Autobiography, 99. 68  Ibid., 271. 69  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 18–22 (1–5). 66 67

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authentically. Comarnescu constructed Chaplin’s ethic (here understood as a mode of living, system of morality) in contrast to those who write books of philosophy and novels. ‘His ethic is lived, not thought.’70 This ethic was a balance of spirit and action and intricately bound up with ‘English humor,’ which Comarnescu described as ‘interior,’ self-aware and self-depricating, that ‘man can laugh at himself, not at reality.’ Comarnescu concluded that Chaplin’s ethic results from: this sorrowful and active humor: to make good while laughing in the face of obstacles, contradictions, destinies, to laugh, to smile but also to do something, what you can do to make [the situation] better.71

He cites the two films: The Kid and Gold Rush as examples. Comarnescu also referred to Chaplin as ‘the man of all time’ [om de totdeauna] for whom a central factor in his ethic was ‘heart.’ What the audience interpreted as exterior comedy for Chaplin was in fact his interior humor.72 Comarnescu claimed that ‘Chaplin humanized the rascal’ [canalia] creating ‘a type of man who was simple but also authentic who is always being put in the complicated life situations of the day.’73 He then described Chaplin’s ethic as ‘the knowledge of tragedy and ridiculousness that is always resolved through action, through deeds.’74 Comarnescu concluded by challenging the audience using the image of ‘the man on the street’ and his heart, to move them to introspection, action, the courage to look tragedy in the face, acknowledge their own authenticity and laugh at themselves. Comarnescu asked his listeners what did they, ‘intellectuals with their minds full of formulas,’ ‘dissatisfied bourgeois’ and the ‘civilized man who is at the same time a barbarian,’ truly know of him [Comarnescu] ‘his ideals and heart that he will never lose on the street, while his audience lose themselves in their comfort and indolence.’75 The reaction that Comarnescu received paled by far in comparison to that endured by Sebastian. When he took the podium, one of the many Cuzists (supporters of LANC) in the audience shouted, ‘A Jew speaking  Ibid., f. 18.  Ibid., f. 20. 72  Ibid. 73  Ibid., f. 21. 74  Ibid. 75  Ibid., f. 22. 70 71

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about another Jew!’ (The far-right students accused anyone they did not like of being a communist or Jewish, or both: Judeo-Bolshevik. Chaplin was in fact not Jewish, though there was a rumor that he was.) Shocked, Sebastian made an instantaneous decision to speak on behalf of their shared Jewishness, rather than deliver his prepared speech.76 In his spontaneity, he ripped up the papers containing his notes for his talk and began, ‘I had planned to speak about a certain aspect of Chaplin’s acting,’ he said, ‘but someone out there has called attention to our Jewishness. So I shall speak as a Jew about the Jew, Charlie Chaplin.’77

The audience reacted with overwhelming applause. Eliade called the 20-minute lecture ‘one of the most moving and intelligent’ he had ever heard and explained that Sebastian presented a picture of Chaplin only someone from Eastern Europe could comprehend. He likened the loneliness of man in Chaplin’s films to the loneliness of the ghetto. When Sebastian finished, he received a partial standing ovation and resounding applause.78 Eliade interpreted this as a victory for Criterion, as if they had successfully delivered their enlightened message to the Bucharest studentship. He recalls, ‘We had won a battle, and we knew it. In the office that connected with the speaker’s box, there was exultation. For joy, Nina Mareş began to dance and hug us one after another.’79 Whereas Comarnescu’s targeted audience in his speech were fellow intellectuals, whom he wished to enlighten with his interpretation of Chaplin’s ‘man on the street’ approach, Sebastian spoke in direct response to a personal attack coming from young activist (and potentially violent and dangerous) students. This juxtaposition illustrates differing approaches and how Criterion really did reach out to a diverse range of people. The fact that his speech was so moving as to elicit a positive response from the Cuzists is incredible, given the prevalence of anti-Semitism and the outright hostility toward any threats to the extreme right, both religious and political. Comarnescu recalled that the entire evening was checkered by audience interruptions  MEAI, 232.  Ibid., 234. 78  Ibid. 79  Ibid. 76 77

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accusing Chaplin of being a Jew,80 derogatorily calling Chaplin ‘Charlot’ and that even Ion Călugăr u’s talk was disrupted by anti-Semitic outbursts.81 Călugăr u was also Jewish. Eliade and others naïvely and prematurely interpreted this to be a victory for Criterion. It may have been a momentary triumph, but what it resulted from precisely proves why Criterion could not sustain itself. The systematic program of presenting numerous viewpoints with a view to have a democratic discussion collapsed in the face of the chaos of the Cuzist student audience and Sebastian had to rely on his intelligence, dynamism and courage to deliver an oratory salvaging the evening. It was a victory in that Sebastian’s ode to being Jewish silenced the anti-Semitic attacks of the Cuzists, but this silencing was only extremely temporary. Benito Mussolini (Italy, 1883–1945) The initial Criterion symposium held on the subject of Mussolini was on November 3, 1932 (it was later to take place again on December 4  in Ploieşti).82 The Criterionists viewed Mussolini as a man grappling with the revolutionary questions they too were concerned with, a man of letters (a qualified school teacher, journalist who had read many of the same philosophers they too admired), a charismatic leader and a savvy politician. The choice of Mussolini also illustrates that natural kinship of the extremist views of the era. The anti-communism of Mussolini, considered in the same series as the Leninist doctrine (both admirers of Sorel and compelled by his argument of violent revolution), illustrates the intellectual affinity of the two: the far left and far right. This fascination confirms and demonstrates the growing disillusionment with democracy and the Criterionists’ investigation (an honest intellectual investigation) of alternate potential political routes and possible, feasible, successful paths taken by great European nations. Presided over by Mihail Manolescu, the line-up and sub-topics for the evening at the Royal Foundation were as follows: Polihroniade spoke on ‘From the Man to the Idol’; Stahl on ‘From the Idol to the Man’; Alexandru-Christian Tell on ‘The Creator’; C. Enescu on ‘The Destroyer’;

 PCJ, 77.  Ibid., 78. 82  Mezdrea writes that Mussolini took place on November 10. 80 81

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and R.  Hillard on ‘The Anti-Democrat.’83 Vulcănescu wrote a comprehensive summary of the evening, outlining both the pro and contra approaches presented on that night.84 The following, drawn from his summary, demonstrates Criterion’s effort to present thoughtful critical analysis, and also gives a good sense of the structure of a Criterion symposium. Polihroniade explained the political state of Italy following WWI as an anarchy resulting from a combination of disappointment following the nation’s military victory, a socialist movement and the inherent weaknesses of the democratic system. It was in this atmosphere that it was ‘a triple reaction of the former fighters of defeatism and youth against socialism and anarchy in the name of order and nationalism.’85 Polihroniade gave a brief history of the consolidation of fascist power: after extinguishing the communist violence on the street and the conquering of the syndicalist movement, fascism destroyed the Masonic organizations, and achieved power of the state. This all culminated in 1926. Polihroniade concluded that Mussolini had success on both the internal and external fronts. Within Italy, he established order and equilibrium; and exterior to Italy he resolved the Roman question and reconstituted the equilibrium of Europe in favor of Italy. Additional accolades included Mussolini’s economic successes (e.g. stabilizing the lira) and his development of public projects (e.g. public transportation).86 H.H. Stahl presented a sociological analysis of the situation in Italy, from which fascism emerged as a desperate attempt of the bourgeoisie to cope with the dissolution of the bourgeois state. He gave a scathing indictment of Mussolini’s government and the method of strong-armed politics. Stahl emphasized the importance and impact of Mussolini’s fascism on the Italian state in the economic sphere. In social life, in general, economic realities were more pressing and relevant than political intentions. A major concern for Stahl was the decline in birthrate in Italian cities and the fascist government’s inability to resolve this problem. Mussolini’s regime inherited a poverty-stricken country, overpopulated and existing in a mixed agrarian-capitalist economic system. Mussolini’s failure to tackle these economic issues (to fight against the economic crises and bring the budget to equilibrium) was alone proof of his political system’s ­impotence.  Vulcănescu, De la Nae Ionescu la Criterion, 410–411.  Ibid., 296–299, 410. 85  Ibid., 296. 86  Ibid. 83 84

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Stahl concluded with a most probing and salient question: ‘If things stand otherwise, on what could we justify—ethically—the rape of liberty, the only good thing that constitutes us as human beings?’87 In his portion of the evening, Tell gave an analysis of the fascist doctrine as the solution to a general problem: the crisis of organization of the contemporary state. Rather than look at Mussolini’s fascism in response to particular Italian woes (as did Stahl when he considered fascism from the vantage point of the Italian economy), Tell considered the political movement with a much wider lens and theoretical approach. He began by stating that the Mussolinian idea of ‘the state’ eliminated the democratic opposition between individual and the state and affirmed the individual’s submission to the state, literally ‘falling under’ the state.88 This thesis unfolded in four principal ideas: the national idea (evident in Italian nationalism); the idea of the strong state (fascist dictatorship); the idea of the corporate state (organizing the state not through opinions but through business guilds) and the idea of economic discipline (organizing the rapport between different factories and productions). Tell concluded that for Mussolini the most important thing was a strong state (in opposition to a weak democratic state), and that his ‘nationalism, corporatism and economic discipline [were] only mid-points along the way to realizing the strengthening of the state.’89 Presenting himself as a ‘disappointed fascist,’ C. Enescu was critical of Mussolini’s doctrine.90 Also like Stahl, Enescu emphasized the importance of social considerations (not only the political angle) and argued that when considered from this angle fascism was, in reality, not ‘a new form of social organization, but rather a changing of the bourgeois regime that is passing through a phase of liberalism to a phase of monopolism.’91 Enescu identified two important ideas that fell under the umbrella of Mussolini’s fascism, which for Enescu operated independently. These were corporatism and dictatorship. He likened this dichotomy to one found under the heading of ‘nationalism’ under which two understandings could be discerned: (1) imperialism (formal and aggressive) and (2) the defense of national ­ utually values. Enescu argued that corporatism and dictatorship were not m  Ibid., 297.  Ibid. 89  Ibid. 90  Ibid., 298. 91  Ibid. 87 88

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exclusive. If corporatism was the essential idea, and this was ­compatible with a liberal democratic regime, from whence was dictatorship justified? And if corporatism was not the essential idea, but rather authority and the power of the state were, on what exactly could they justify the state? Stahl concluded that with regard to fascism the essential fact was the dictatorship of the party, installed by force. The single effective success of Mussolini’s politics was that he managed to stay in power.92 The final speaker, Richard Hillard, made the distinction between fascism as Italian fascism and fascism as a universal political phenomenon. With regard to Italian fascism, Hillard was careful to place Mussolini in the distinguished tradition of great Italian politicians. He identified Mussolini as the fulcrum in Italian history responsible for leading the movement toward modern Italy. Hillard claimed that imperialism, corporatism and dictatorship all have their roots in the oldest traditions of Italian life, and identified these roots to be Romanism, the medieval tradition and Renaissance Machiavellianism. Following this assertion that Mussolini was the natural culmination of Italian political history, Hillard turned to a consideration of the man himself, calling him ‘a providential political man who activated a country, and put in front of him the clear objectives of tomorrow.’93 He praised Mussolini as a leader for his ‘clear vision’ and ‘courage.’94 After lauding Mussolini, Hillard turned to fascism, considered generally as being a universal political phenomenon. In this context, Hillard described fascism as ‘nothing but a form of reaction against democracy.’95 He echoed again the opposition between the state and the individual. He contrasted the corporate government with the government of opinions and parties; as well as the directed economy as opposed to the free market system. Mihail Manolescu brought the debate to a close and summarized the essential ideas of fascism and the role of Mussolini before opening up the floor to discussion. André Gide (France, 1869–1951) André Gide was an obvious Idols choice due to his popularity among the Young Generation. However, he was an extremely controversial figure of  Ibid.  Ibid. 94  Ibid., 298. 95  Ibid. 92 93

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the era, particularly in Romania, given his (then) support of the Soviet Union and his defense of homosexuality.96 Holding a symposium on Gide would certainly contribute to the government’s suspicious attitude toward Criterion. The Criterionists were well aware of the risk and feared incidents would arise.97 Given these risks, why was it so important for Criterion to choose Gide as one of their ‘Idols’ and to follow through with the symposium? In an unpublished text written between 1925 and 1928  in Paris, Vulcănescu argued that Gide still influenced the most intelligent and most sensitive of the postwar generation (Vulcănescu’s generation) and that his influence lived on beyond his impact on his own prewar generation. He wrote this in response to Massis’ argument that Gide’s influence was limited strictly to the author’s own generation.98 Gide also addresses Massis’ criticism of him in his journal.99 Octav Şuluţiu demonstrated to what degree Gide spoke to him personally in his own journal in an entry written on September 8, 1932, just before the start to the ‘Idols’ Criterion cycle. I am reading in Nouvelle Revue Franc¸aise from August 1932, André Gide: Pages de journal. It is incredible what Gide is saying there. It is a tragedy, and yet, at the same time, a true tragedy. If I would discover that I am one of those people, there would be nothing left for me but to kill myself. Because I cannot conceive of living if I don’t have something personally original, honest within myself.100

Gide began his career as part of the symbolist movement, and between the wars became part of the anti-colonialist movement, the more he spent time in North Africa. His principal preoccupation was the discovery of self (a theme explored in his autobiographical and fictional writings), the 96  Gide’s defense of homosexuality was revealed in his publication of Corydon (1925), which he considered to be his most important work. Gide became a communist sympathizer in the early 1930s but retracted his support for communism following a state-sponsored visit to the USSR in 1936. Eliade remembers this incorrectly, claiming that Gide had visited the USSR before the 1932 Criterion symposium. ‘Just as we feared, the symposium on Gide gave rise to incidents. André Gide had visited Soviet Russia a short while before and was considered a Communist.’ MEAI, 233. 97  MEAI, 233–234. 98  Vulcănescu, De la Nae Ionescu la Criterion, 233 ‘Asupra influent ̦ei actuale a lui Gide’; Notes on this. 401–402. 99  André Gide, Pages de Journal (1929–1932), 189. 100  Şuluţiu, Jurnal, 237.

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r­econciliation of one’s true self (authentic self) with one’s values (moral ­system and constraints imposed by society) through his continuous effort to achieve intellectual honesty.101 This was an approach greatly admired and respected by the Criterionists, who attempted to emulate it. The Criterion Association is an excellent example of an individual and group effort to achieve intellectual honesty. Gide’s sympathy for communism began in the early 1930s, when his concerns in his writing turned more from the literary to the political events of the period: the Spanish revolution, the Vatican’s fight against fascism, the financial crisis in the Weimar Republic and elsewhere, and ‘above all the extraordinary effort of Russia’ … all of this distracted him from literature.102 His initial admiration for the political philosophy of socialism was (unsurprisingly) purely intellectual, and he saw no contradiction with his own individualism. Gide was hopeful for the success of the vision of the Soviet Union, and in that effort visited the country on a state-sponsored trip in 1936. It was on this trip that his idealistic purely intellectual understanding of the socialist project was destroyed by the widespread poverty, government censorship and terror he witnessed. But clearly this occurred after the Criterion conference, whereas at that time he was writing prolifically in support of communism. The other controversial aspect of Gide was his investigation of sexuality’s connection to identity and his admitted experimentation and preference for homosexuality. Due to this apology for homosexuality, Arşavir Acterian wrote Gide had a ‘large notoriety’ in literary life of the time.103 The Young Generation also had a curiosity about  homosexuality and a penchant for pushing the boundaries (both literary and actual) of the sexual. In an early note in Comarnescu’s personal archive, outlining possible themes for Criterion conferences ‘homosexuality’ is listed as a potential discussion topic, under a symposium entitled ‘Sense of the soul.’104 This interest in sexuality was also evidenced by holding a symposium on Freud, the second in the Criterion ‘Idols’ series. The Criterion symposium on Gide’ (the fifth in the series) took place on November 10, presided over by Mihail Ralea, including speakers Şerban Cioculescu and Emil Gulian, among others.105 The scheduled  See Michael Lucey, Gide’s Bent: Sexuality, Politics and Writing, 3.  Gide, Pages de Journal (1929–1932), 114–115. 103  Acterian. ‘Cîte ceva despre Asociaţia Criterion,’ 7. 104  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 1. 105  PCJ, 77–78. There is a discrepancy here, Comarnescu says it was on November 3, and forgot to mention the Mussolini symposium altogether. As a result of cross-referencing, Mussolini must have been on November 3 and Gide on November 10. 101 102

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speakers and topics covered reveal Gide’s various dimensions Criterion wished to examine. These included (still with Professor Mihail Ralea presiding) Şerban Cioculescu (‘Gide and the Young Generations’), Pompiliu Constantinescu (‘Gide the Critic’), Emil Gulian (‘The Act of Creation’), Alexandru Vianu (‘The Moralist’), Vulcănescu (‘The Master of the Interior Life’), Sebastian (‘The Corruptor’) and Ion Cantacuzino (‘The Overfulfilled Idol’).106 The sub-topics and themes proposed for the Gide symposium illustrate the variety of aspects the Criterionists thought pertinent, from his literary prowess (‘Gide as Critic’), his role as the voice to their generation and their counterparts across Europe, in France and elsewhere (‘Gide and the Young Generations’), his relationship to morality (given his strict religious upbringing), to his interior life and to the extremist views (both political and sexual) that made him the ‘corruptor’ of society. The nationalist, fascist and ‘chauvinistic’ press viciously attacked Criterion particularly for the symposia on Chaplin and Gide.107 Comarnescu recalls that either the day before or the day of the Gide symposia, Nichifor Crainic’s newspaper Calendarul urged and incited anti-Gide sentiment and instigated the debate accusing Gide of being a Jew.108 The evening of the symposium, the hall was filled to the brim with audience. Arşavir Acterian attested to only standing room remaining.109 Eliade recalled that ‘the hall was charged with electricity.’110 When the symposium had already begun, the Criterionists learned that a large crowd of about 100111 ‘nationalist’ (specified by Comarnescu to be Cuzist and Legionnaire) students112 had gathered and was rallying outside the Foundation, singing and making a lot of noise.113 When Comarnescu learned of this, he and Ion Cantacuzino went to close and secure all entrances to the Foundation. After a while a large number of young  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1, f. 103.  PCJ, 77. 108  Ibid., 78. The derogatory term jidan was used. Gide was not in fact Jewish and in his own writing is not guilt-free of anti-Semitism, but his left-leaning politics no doubt contributed to this rumor. 109  Acterian, ‘Cîte ceva despre Asociaţia Criterion,’ 1. 110  MEAI, 233–234. 111  Ibid., 233. 112  PCJ, 78. 113  MEAI, 233. 106 107

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­ eople requested to be let into the conference hall, and Comarnescu and p Ion Cantacuzino went outside to reason with them. The students claimed they had not come to protest but only wished to ensure no apology for communism was made.114 Comarnescu and Cantacuzino explained that the hall was full and there was no room for them,115 and this discussion went on for over an hour.116 Comarnescu blamed what then transpired on the weakness and also political leanings of Cantacuzino who gave them permission to enter the hall after being guaranteed by the students’ leadership that they would keep order and quiet. As soon as the doors were opened, the horde burst into the hall, immediately producing disorder, starting a panic and interrupting the speaker at that moment (either Şerban Cioculescu or Emil Gulian, Comarnescu could not remember exactly which). Comarnescu told one of them (one of the students he had seen outside) that they were not keeping their word. One of these ‘hooligans’ (as he refers to him in his journal) hit Comarnescu (who at this point was up next to the podium in the front next to Ralea, in the place where he would normally speak at the table, or assist speakers). Comarnescu jumped at him and others jumped up to separate them. In the midst of the scuffle (which included chaos and blows being exchanged), Ralea attempted to regain order, but did not succeed.117 He abruptly closed the session ‘with a few ironic, sarcastic remarks that were lost in the tumult.’118 The symposium was stopped in its tracks, and thus marked the end of Criterion’s initial experiment with enlightening the studentship of Bucharest and engaging with salient political topics. From that point on, the only people coming to Criterion symposia were the courageous ones,119 in much smaller numbers than the crowds that had descended on the Royal Foundation for the first five symposia. Arşavir Acterian in fact remembers that after this incident, ‘The Criterion Association’s days were near the end.’120

 Ibid., 234.  PCJ, 78. 116  MEAI, 234. 117  PCJ, 78. 118  MEAI, 234. 119  PCJ, 78. 120  Acterian, ‘Cîte ceva despre Asociaţia Criterion,’ 7. 114 115

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Politics, the Press and Criterion’s Self-Definition On the eve of the Gide symposium, Nichifor Crainic attacked Criterion, suggesting that the correct path taken by the young intellectual generation should not be that of ‘cosmopolitanism’ but rather nationalist political engagement. He wrote: Our youth is regrouping itself in intellectual associations for debate in the public about the ideas of Lenin, the ineptitudes of Krishnamurti and the skirts of Greta Garbo. A dilettantism deprived of all criticism and a confused cosmopolitanism.121

Crainic claimed that this distraction from the genuine path of their generation bore a psychology ‘perfectly prepared for welcoming the internationalist communist utopia of tomorrow.’122 Clearly he feared Lenin, as potentially introducing internationalist communist ideas into the Romanian space. Given the location of the Royal Foundation, the controversial nature of topics chosen for the ‘Idols’ series, and the initial unanticipated overwhelming success, police intervention became necessary, government suspicion inevitable and criticism by the press, a matter of course. The presence of police became necessary to control the chaos of the crowds, as a half-hour ahead of the early symposia the hall of the Royal Foundation would be completely full. Eliade credited Criterion’s success with disturbing the Minister of the Interior, Armand Călinescu, and suggested that the criticism they received in the press was due to ‘all sorts of envy and jealousy.’123 Following the conference on Gide, Criterion’s activity at the Royal Foundation was suspended.124 The association was accused of distributing subversive propaganda and told that they would have to find another room to convene in.125 This first suspension was only temporary, and two weeks later they were successfully back in the Royal Foundation with the  Crainic, ‘Forţa trecutului.’  Ibid. 123  MEAI, 233. 124  ‘De la Criterion,’ Adevărul, November 13, 1932 ‘short note suspending activity of Criterion in the Royal Foundation but insist they will continue in another room.’ BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1, f. 82. 125  ‘Asociaţa Criterion şi manifestaţiile studenteşti’ Cuvântul, November 14, 1932. Also found in BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 f. 98. 121 122

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sixth symposium on Valéry, conspicuously not on the typical Thursday, but instead held on a Saturday.126 Not all the press saw the risk of the Gide event as Criterion being a communist menace. The aggression at the Foundation was also described as ‘Swastika versus Swastika.’127 In the wake of the mayhem at the Gide conference, concern for the education of the young university minds of Bucharest was pressing. Paul Sterian defended Criterion’s relationship with students in Cuvântul.128 Prof. G. Tasca wrote an open letter to the director of the Royal Foundation in which he claimed, ‘I don’t believe that our enlightened students could fall into the same sin of intolerance.’129 His letter was meant as a defense of Criterion, arguing that their activity should be able to continue. He could not believe that Bucharest students were capable of such intolerance. But his words also illustrate the unfolding danger in holding such conferences, given their potential to ignite the flame of intolerance in the young student population, and the risk of that flame becoming a fire of violence. Early on Criterion acquired the derogatory nickname ‘Cretinion.’ Octav Şuluţiu credited Ion Barbu with the term’s invention.130 Eliade responded to this mudslinging in Cuvântul in an article bearing the name, ‘Cretinion,’131 recognizing that ‘a number of people think it is a joke to change the name Criterion into Cretinion.’ With a combination of irony and idealism, he referred to himself and his fellow Criterionists as cretins themselves, idiots and stupid people. In doing so, he looked the naysayers in the eye, using their own language, and illustrated the good will and genuine hope behind the Criterion mission, as well as their continued optimism in the face of growing adversity. Eliade claimed, ‘Only a group of cretins would believe that freedom and spiritual generosity could last long in a public space.’ He also wrote, 126  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 f. 2. ‘Paul Valéry şi Poezia Pură, program pentru al şaselea symposion al asociaţiei Criterion ţinut la Fundaţia Carol I în seara de sâmbătă 26. XI. 1932.’ 127  ‘Svastică împotriva svastică’ Adevărul, November 13, 1932. 128  Paul Sterian, ‘Studenţii şi “Criterion,”’ Cuvântul, November 12, 1932. BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 f. 81. 129  Prof. G. Tasca, ‘Student ̦imea luminată  – să nu cadă în păcatul intoleranţei,’ Adevărul, November 12, 1932. BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 f. 97. 130  Şuluţiu, Jurnal, 24. October 29, 1932. 131  Mircea Eliade, ‘Cretinion,’ Cuvântul, November 25, 1932. Also found in BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1, f. 104.

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These stupid people believed that they could change something in this country, only that they could give a good example. These cretins believed in culture, in art, in thought—when they could only believe half in politics. These naïve people had an ideal … They believed they could work and they needed to work. They believed.132

Eliade’s words illustrate that Criterion had a strictly intellectual and cultural agenda and from the beginning did not wish to be implicated or involved in the political sphere. His sarcasm is also of note, for he uses the words ‘naïve’ and ‘ideal’ with the earnest confident attitude that Criterion would succeed. The Cretin motif continued in a scathing article by Nicolae Roşu in Viaţa Literară, which started a polemic between him and Ion I. Cantacuzino. In the initial attack, Roşu wrote ‘Cretinion expresses the intellectual climate of a generation—of the degeneration of today, very well.’133 It is in this article that Roşu asked what relevance André Gide and Paul Valéry have for today. As for the alleged communist agenda of Criterion, Roşu argued that ‘communism in a bourgeois state cannot be considered critically in a free discussion, it is only possible to adopt an attitude against it.’134 In a follow-up article, Roşu outright accused Criterion of communist leanings and asserts that the association was destined to evolve into a position to the left of the political spectrum.135 Roşu determined communism to be ‘a political phenomenon, exclusivist, which tends to the collapse of civilization and European culture.’136 He argued that Criterion would inevitably adopt a socialist position because up to that point they had not explored nor adopted a single idea held by the national government, while they were allowed to operate under its protective wing.137 Roşu connected the emergence of Criterion with the ban on communism, surmising, ‘When, Criterion, with or without courage, officially joins those whom

 Ibid.  Nicolae Roşu, ‘Să ni se răspundă,’ Viaţa Literară, December 20, 1932. Found in BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 f. 95. 134  Ibid. 135  Nicolae Roşu. ‘Dextrofobie: sau oscilaţie de oportunitate?’ Viaţa Literară, January 1–30, 1933. BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1, f. 96. 136  Ibid. 137  Ibid. 132 133

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they tolerated [the communists], or simply integrate smoothly into a left wing democracy or socialism, then, we will take a stand.’138 In response to Roşu’s attack, Criterionist Ion I. Cantacuzino initially asked the question of Roşu, ‘What is useful with a fight against communism?’139 He then accused Roşu of arguing from a fascist perspective, forgetting that the Romanian state was not yet in fact a fascist one.140 Cantacuzino claimed that they (Criterion) affirmed and proved this (that the Romanian state is not yet fascist) through their activity: ‘they integrated and sustained one of the highest values of an autochthonous state: its culture.’141 Cantacuzino then challenged Roşu, that if he wanted to fight against them (the Criterionists), he would have to do so in the name of fascism, and if he pursued that path, he would have to have courage, and admit (confess!) that he (Roşu) would in fact be the one fighting the form of the contemporary Romanian state and its culture.142 As the polemic grew, both Sebastian (writing for Cuvântul) and Polihroniade (writing for Azi) got involved defending Criterion.143 As evidenced by the above polemic, these accusations of Criterion promoting a communist agenda and desiring to corrupt the studentship of Bucharest carried on well into 1933. In response to the criticism and political crackdown, the association itself had to clarify and clearly define its purpose, mission and role in the Romanian intellectual and political space. To this end, they put together the following statement: We hold: The Association of Arts, Letters and Philosophy ‘Criterion,’ with respect to the accusation that in their symposia they are making subversive propaganda, and this impedes the unfolding of their program, protest with their last breath against these accusations. ‘Criterion’ is an association of intellectuals grouped on a terrain exclusively cultural and without a political character.

 Ibid.  Ion I. Cantacuzino, ‘Pe marginea unui articol “dextrofil,”’ România Literară, January 14, 1933. BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 f. 102 and f. 100; quote here on f. 102. 140  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 f. 100. 141  Ibid. 142  Ibid. 143  Nicolae Roşu. ‘Polemizăm …’ Viaţa Literară, February 28, 1933. BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. f. 101. Roşu retorted to all three: Cantacuzino, Sebastian and Polihroniade in this article. 138 139

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The contradictory discussion of ‘Idols’ at a given time, does not imply the adhesion of the association to those ideas, but rather their obligation to present objective and complete the critical information for its [Criterion’s] public. Showing the Romanian studentship what the true character of the unfolding activities is, the Criterion Association hopes the youth can arrive at an understanding of the clean cultural sphere outside of any fanaticism. The youth’s essential function is culture and they are the people who are looked after by Criterion, and for whom these manifestations are intended. Therefore, ‘Criterion’ will not call the intervention of the authorities, whose burden it is to keep order in the state, and in time nourishes the hope that those who possess the honor of the student leadership will not remain deaf in the face of those who constitute the actual substance of [Criterion’s] manifestations.144

The ensuing incidents between Arşavir Acterian and Polihroniade over the course of the subsequent symposia illustrate how political conversion was happening in the Criterion space and it was not on the programmatic level that the government suspected, but rather on the personal, social level, within the friendship group between the Criterionists themselves. By the time Criterion began its public activity, Polihroniade (himself greatly influenced by Sorel and Maurras) and the actor Ion Victor Vojen had officially joined the Iron Guard. Their first mission was to recruit amidst the intellectuals of the Young Generation. This was facilitated by the sympathy for the extreme right held by many members of Criterion. Ţurcanu notes that Ionesco and Arşavir Acterian resisted. Acterian actually refused a meeting with Codreanu that Polihroniade proposed.145 The distribution of legionary propaganda in Polihroniade’s immediate circle was a central part of his responsibilities to the Iron Guard. The nascent Criterion moment coincided with his desire for his generation to adhere to the ‘world rhythm’ of ‘the nationalist revolutions.’146 In addition to individual conversions Polihroniade embarked on this effort through the grander scale of founding a fortnightly newspaper whose sole purpose was to attract intellectuals to the Iron Guard.

 BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, f. 23.  Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 186. 146  Mihail Polihroniade, ‘Generaţia tânără şi ritmul mondial,’ Azi. 1, 1933. Cited in Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 186. 144 145

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In October 1932 Polihroniade and Vojen founded Axa, collaborating with other members of Criterion. Initially the newspaper positioned itself to represent the ‘Young Generation’ but quickly veered to the right. It is no coincidence that this turning point came in December 1932, with the interruption of Criterion’s public activity. Within the Iron Guard itself, starting from 1933, the name Axa referred to the ‘nest’ of ‘legionary intellectuals.’147 As for Criterionists involved, Ionesco ceased his activity with the paper once Axa had made clear its political allegiance.148 Noica maintained an ambiguous collaboration, focusing more on spiritualizing the ‘ethnic collectivism’ than the ‘political militancy.’149 Comarnescu expressed his frustration to Arşavir Acterian about these nationalist ‘bashi-bazouks [undisciplined bandits] who are looking for trouble in this country wanting dictatorship.’150 And he wrote in his diary, One can sense already in the heart of the association that there will be a clear rupture and I wonder if it can survive, when the social and political conflicts become more powerful and exclusivist every day. We separate ourselves from the hooligans, the intolerants, the obscurantists, even if these people will be joined by some of the men of true value, who prefer darkness, hatred, bestiality and fascist dictatorship.151

‘Idols’ Symposia Continued Comarnescu recalls that the remaining symposia in November and December particularly on Krishnamurti, Greta Garbo, Gandhi and Paul Valéry had a much calmer discussion and less politically controversial nature than those at the start of the cycle.152 This recollection is curious when we consider that Ricketts claimed that these lectures in fact never took place.153 A feasible explanation for this discrepancy is that the typical large-scale public manifestations could no longer occur, so the symposia did continue at the Royal Foundation as much quieter affairs, composed  Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 187.  Eugen Ionescu, Război cu toată lumea, Vol. 2, 70. Cited in Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 187. 149  Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 187. 150  Acterian, Jurnal 1929–1945/1958–1990, 112. November 18, 1932. 151  PCJ, 80. Dated ‘towards the end of the year 1932.’ 152  Ibid., 79. 153  Ricketts, Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Root, Vol. 1, 555. 147 148

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mainly of Criterion members and thus had far less publicity and exposure. In addition to the remaining ‘Idols’ Valéry, Bergson, Krishnamurthi, Garbo and Gandhi, the program was expanded to include Proust, Spengler and Picasso. Paul Valéry (France, 1871–1945) The political and cultural symbol of the French nation, poet, philosopher, essayist and aphorist, Valéry, was highly valued by a great many Romanian intellectuals. A correspondent of other Idols Gide and Bergson, Valéry also wrote a daily journal in the style practiced by Gide and the Young Generation. Similar to the Criterionists, he was a man of many hats and interests. Despite his literary contributions, he also had an earnest interest and lifelong fascination with science, being an early proponent of constructivism. In addition to his own intellectual pursuits (both self-initiated and commissioned), he was active as a public speaker representing France (as a cultural correspondent) at the League Nations and other important international political forums. The interest in Valéry in both the public sphere and personal musings of the Young Generation began before the Criterion conference dedicated to him. He was investigated in a previous conference held by ‘Anale’ (January 20, 1930), at which Ion Pillat spoke on the topic ‘Valéry, Rilke and pure poetry.’154 While at the summer school in Geneva before the 1932 fall series of Criterion, Comarnescu wrote in his journal at length about Valéry.155 Comarnescu was concerned with being able to frame his own aesthetic philosophical system in Valéry’s terms: the method of ‘narcissism and rationalism.’156 The Criterion symposium on Valéry took place on November 26, 1932.157 A preliminary list of speakers included (with Tudor Vianu presiding), Dan Botta speaking on ‘Valéry’s poetry,’ Anton Holban on ‘Valéry and literary technique,’ Alexandru Vianu (the younger brother of Tudor), Ion Cantacuzino ‘A conference on pure poetry,’ Comarnescu on ‘Valéry

 PCJ, 26.  Ibid., 59. 156  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20 f. 16. 157  According to Mezdrea it took place on 15 December. 154 155

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and knowledge,’ Şerban Cioculescu ‘Valéry and nationalism,’ and Paul Sterian.158 According to Arşavir Acterian, Comarnescu delivered his presentation pretty well.159 In his talk he attempted to answer the question: ‘What is Paul Valéry’s attitude concerning knowledge and how does he validate the two kinds of knowing: imagination and thought?’160 Before he tackled the issue of Valéry’s approach, Comarnescu outlined the differences between the two modes of knowledge. In terms of imagination, he suggested that the artist distinguishes himself from the ordinary man through the fact that his (the artist’s) imagination is richer, more variant, more alive. This mode of knowledge, the aesthetic mode, the imagination, operates through perception, dreams or art. Comarnescu proposed that Narcissus symbolizes imagination and ‘hidden in this imagination, is the experience of the charm and the limiting of the aesthetic life of man.’ In fact it is the tragic destiny of Narcissus that shows what man would be if he lived without reason, unable to foresee his own acts and not being able to foresee his own deeds and the general sense of the truth. As for thought, Comarnescu argued that it is ‘through the act of judgement, that the contemporary spirit understood the fact that it cannot arrive at perfect knowledge.’ Comarnescu considered Valéry not just as a poet, but also as a thinker, a visionary and a mathematician, therefore he had access to both modes of knowledge. (Whereas typically poets are more moved by imagination and scientists, more by thought.) He argued that Valéry’s approach was both classical and modern. He was a classicist in that he did not search for truth in the obscure sense, but rather wanted logical lucidity, looking for what was more typical and persistent in the appearances present in the world. For Comarnescu, Valéry was modern ‘because he realized the character of constructive mathematics of reason.’ He concluded that ‘gnawed by the serpent of doubt, [Valéry] loved the light, truth revealed in moments of objective vigil,’ and invoked the dichotomy outlined by Nietzsche when he concluded that this approach to knowledge is through Apollo and not through Dionysus.161

 BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20 f. 47. ‘Paul Valéry.’  Acterian, Jurnal 1929–1945/1958–1990, 121. 160  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16 ff. 20–22. 161  Ibid. 158 159

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Arşavir Acterian recalled that a lot of known personalities were present at the Valéry symposium.162 His analysis of the performances of the other speakers was as follows: Holban, Cantacuzino, Cioculescu were tiring; Sterian was lively but unsustained; Botta was a classical romantic, majestic and impressive, but boring in language. In contrast, Vianu was unexpectedly good, impetuous, clear and full of communicative energy. Acterian’s overall impression of the evening was that it was ‘monotonous’ and only saved ‘at the end through a reflux of manliness: Dan Botta and Vianu.’163 What happened afterwards is very telling about the place of personal politics within the Criterion space. Rather than transpire due to the probing questions in the debates or the intellectual analysis of the speakers, the political conversion of Criterion members happened socially, around the Criterion symposia. An excellent example followed the Valéry symposium when Polihroniade invited Arşavir Acterian to Corso. This evening Arşavir recalled that he wavered, accepted, then refused. Arşavir eventually did go and noted that Eliade and Noica were at Corso with Polihroniade.164 The Valéry symposium was repeated in Ploieşti on December 18, 1932 and Comarnescu spoke again on ‘Valéry and Knowledge.’165 Henri Bergson (France, 1859–1941) In a sense, the father of elan vital (German Lebensphilosophie, Romanian trăire and experienţa) requires little introduction. The French philosopher’s influence on the Young Generation was paramount, evident in their academic work, feuilletons, personal lives and creative literature. The Criterion symposium on Bergson took place on November 29, 1932, chaired by Rădulescu-Motru.166 The topics spoken on include (in the order of their intended delivery) ‘The Man and his Philosophy’ by Comarnescu; ‘Intuition’ (Bergson the Intuitionist) by Nicolae Bagdasar; ‘The Beginning’ by Constantin Floru; ‘Psychology’ by Al. Popescu; ‘Rationalism and Bergson’ by Şerban Cioculescu; ‘Bergson and Arts’ by

 Acterian, Jurnal 1929–1945/1958–1990, 121.  Ibid. 164  Ibid. 165  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 12. 166  Ibid., f. 39. According to Mezdrea it took place on November 17. 162 163

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Dan Botta; ‘Bergson and the Philosophy of Life’ by Cioran; ‘Metaphysics, Ethics and Religion’ by I.I. Brucar.167 Arşavir Acterian recalled that known people and friends were present in the audience and that these conferenciers ‘wanted to be liked by the public’ but appeared ill at ease.168 They didn’t feel in their place. The public came to the conference to amuse themselves and admire one another while the Criterionists presented themselves didactically, pretentiously and removed from their audience. Arşavir understood that for the Criterionists: To have fun meant you had to have annoyed fun, devaluing the superficiality of the listeners, just as Cioran did, who was … saying interesting things, as Floru did (who spoke on the topic ‘About Becoming’). The other speakers were boring, not even ridiculous.169

Acterian’s observations illustrate to what degree Criterion could be out of touch with its public and not connecting, nor instigating any genuine discussion or debate. After this conference more conversion was attempted on a private, individual friend level when Polihroniade invited Arşavir Acterian to a legionary reunion that would also be attended by Codreanu. Acterian evaded the invitation. In the same journal entry, he mused: A man of the right? Of the left? Labels that say nothing to me. Any kind of politics. It is so easy to fall, to forget and to ignore the complexity and sincerity, to chop away at divergent tendencies and to activate, attaching yourself to the right or the left. I have decided that I am not a man of action. Instead, and in addition, I am apolitical. I call myself, with self-deprecation, a man of nothing. You find me to be one. MP [Polihroniade]. Sahia [communist], is also trying to corrupt me, they both are, from different directions, and I wonder why I refuse to enroll?170

167  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 41. A timed breakdown also indicates that Aurel Vlaicu might speak for 15 minutes; and f. 40: in another note, indicates that M. Djuvara was meant to preside and C. Floru and C. Noica were reserve speakers. 168  Acterian, Jurnal 1929–1945/1958–1990, 123. 169  Ibid. 170  Ibid., 122–123. November 29, 1932.

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Jiddu Krishnamurti (India, 1895–1986) Promoting individualism and eschewing any and all particular religious doctrines, Krishnamurti was a trendy philosophical and spiritual figure, popular public speaker who traveled an international circuit. As an adolescent in India, the leaders of the Theosophical Society, Annie Besant and C.W.  Leadbeater, identified him as the Messiah, adopted, educated and groomed him to become the cosmopolitan leader of their new religion. However, in 1929 at the annual ‘Star Camp’ in Ommen, the Netherlands, at age 34, Krishnamurti denounced this privileged status and role completely by dissolving the ‘Order of the Stars,’ and breaking away from the Theosophical Society. He spurned all organized religion and any follower-­ worshipper relationship. After this moment he proceeded to give talks all over the world, holding dialogues, publishing his thought, in an effort to prove that the path to Truth evades all systems of human construction. The most discussion in first-person accounts of the time can be found in Eliade’s autobiography, when he recounted his relationship with the actress and fellow Criterionist, Sorana Ţ opa, during the Criterion years, and her ‘spiritualistic, Krishnamurtian monologues.’171 Ţ opa had met Krishnamurti in the summer of 1932 in Ommen and returned to Romania fascinated by and convinced of the superiority of his personal philosophy. Pronouncing Life ‘with a capital letter,’ according to Eliade, Ţ opa believed that Krishnamurti alone understood it. She spoke of nothing else: the miracle of ‘Life’ and the crimes we commit daily, every one of us, against ourselves and ‘Life’ by refusing to live simply, spontaneously—sterilizing ourselves with clichés, formulas, and systems.172

Her pretentious jargon and dramatic delivery exhausted him. Eliade felt that he constantly had to be his best, his sharpest, around her, ‘spontaneous.’ For her, Love was a constant ‘burning at white heat.’173 The following summer (of 1933) Ţ opa again went to Ommen to hear Krishnamurti speak and failed to convince Eliade to accompany her. His explanation to her, as to why Krishnamurti did not interest him, reveals that the Young Generation could look critically at all products coming out of the East, while at the same time carry on a genuine intellectual ­investigation  MEAI, 231.  Ibid., 230. 173  Ibid., 237. 171 172

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combined with earnest curiosity. Indeed, there was a romanticism and a mythic fascination with India. Although Eliade admired him for his break with the Theosophical Society, Eliade approached Krishnamurti’s writings and lectures with a combination of skepticism and realism, and a staunch unwillingness to get swept up in any wave of à la mode (ultimately empty) mystical absolutism. Acknowledging that Krishnamurti was an intelligent and honest man, who helped many people, Eliade said simply, ‘I realized I had nothing to learn from him.’174 For the symposium, scheduled to take place on November 24, 1932,175 the speakers were as follows: Alice Voinescu, Sandu Tudor, Eliade, Sorana Ţ opa, Zaharia Stancu and Paul Sterian.176 This group of speakers differed quite drastically from other symposia, including the older philosopher and theater professor, Alice Voinescu. Given the previous discussion of Sorana Ţ opa and Eliade, their involvement serves as no surprise. However, to include Sandu Tudor and Zaharia Stancu on the list is certainly notable, given that these initial collaborators with Criterion in two years time became bent on the association’s destruction. Perhaps this subsequent campaign of libel can be linked to early feelings of being slighted and rejected by Forum and Criterion (if the Krishnamurti conference did not indeed receive a public appearance). But for now this is only conjecture. Greta Garbo (Sweden and ‘Hollywood,’ 1905–1990) Screen legend Garbo, originally from Sweden, was one of the few actresses who successfully made the transition from silent film to the ‘talkies.’ This transition to sound occurred in the United States from 1926 to 1931. The importance of the cinema and Hollywood to Bucharest was addressed briefly in the Charlie Chaplin discussion. Whereas Chaplin was a male comedian, Garbo was a captivatingly beautiful screen siren, adept at all genres, and remembered for her arresting screen presence. The choice to investigate her, a female cinematic beauty, alongside Chaplin illustrates to what degree the Criterionists were also concerned with popular culture and cinema as a developing art form. Garbo was also a rumored bisexual and started her first lesbian affair in 1931 with Mercedes de Acosta,  Ibid., 253.  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 63. 176  Ibid., f. 36, and f. 39. 174 175

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although it is doubtful the Criterionists could have been aware of this in 1932. Still, Garbo was an unconventional figure in her own right and a risky choice, and notable in that she was the only woman on the ‘Idols’ list (both preliminary and final versions). Given Sadova’s own cinematographic aspirations and Haig Acterian’s interest in film as a director, the source of the interest in Greta Garbo is clear. The conference was scheduled to take place on December 1.177 The provisional list of speakers for the symposium included: Sadova, Haig Acterian, M. Grigorescu, Apriliana Medianu, M. Voiculescu and Dragoş Orvi.178 An alternate list suggests the speakers were: Dr. Protopescu, M.  Sadova, R.  Boureanu, M.  Vulcănescu, I.  Cantacuzino, H.  Acterian, M. Grigorescu and Apriliana Medianu.179 Marcel Proust (France, 1871–1922) An added symposium on Proust took place in Bucharest on December 3, 1932. It appears that the conference was repeated four days later in Ploieşti, on December 7. Comarnescu presented on ‘Proust’s snobbism.’180 Another investigated topic was ‘Proustian impressionism’ as a ‘literary technique.’181 Known for his epic masterpiece, À la recherche du temps perdu, Marcel Proust was a French modernist writer of autobiographical fiction, an open homosexual and the son of a wealthy Jewish aristocratic mother. However, none of these objectionable qualities provoked unrest, and in fact Proust appears to be an additional topic sanctioned by the authorities (suggesting that Proust and Spengler replaced Krishnamurti and Garbo as Idols, following the Gide controversy). Based on notes in Comarnescu’s personal archive, it appears that Criterion attempted to solve their problem with the Ministry of the Interior by in fact involving Armand Călinescu himself. On a to-do list, Comarnescu wrote Armand Călinescu’s name next to ‘Bergson, Valéry, Gandhi, Spengler and Proust.’182 Similarly on the back of a note breaking down the Valéry speakers, Comarnescu wrote various older members of authority they needed to speak with: ‘[Golopenţia needed to approach]  Ibid., f. 63.  Ibid. 179  Ibid., f. 39. 180  Ibid., f. 12. 181  Ibid., ff. 11–12. 182  Ibid., f. 46. 177 178

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Gusti, Aurel Ion Popescu, Ioan M.  Enescu and Armand Călinescu.’183 Clearly their solution in the aftermath of the trouble was to involve him rather than appear to be subversive; they reached out to the authorities and even (apparently) amended their agenda and clarified their purpose. Although why Proust and Spengler would be less objectionable than Krishnamurti and Garbo still warrants investigation. Oswald Spengler (Germany, 1880–1936) The additional conference on Spengler was scheduled for the Royal Foundation on December 7, 1932. The influence of the philosopher of history Oswald Spengler on the Young Generation was major and his work was imparted to them first through the lectures of Nae Ionescu. Spengler was concerned with ‘cultures’ and an organic view of history that rejected the notion that Western Civilization at the start of the twentieth century was the grand culmination of human achievement. Given Spengler’s controversial conclusions in his own time, their influence was felt across Europe, as an organic active view of history seemed a legitimate foundation on which fascist-leaning intellectuals could build their argument against the Enlightenment and rationality, and the decadence and corruption of democracy and capitalism. It is from Spengler that the Young Generation got the vernacular of ‘cultures’ and ‘peoples’ and spoke of these communities as organic and particular. Spengler presented—what was at the time—a revolutionary view of history as his seminal text, Decline of the West (1918–1922) was published at the end of WWI. His main argument was that his contemporaries’ Western-centric approach to history neglected to account for the importance of other histories, other eras, other cultures and parts of the world. Spengler warned his reader that he should be careful starting with his own religious, political and social convictions. For the ‘Age of Reason’ humanity had its own criteria with which to judge the relative success of other eras of history: the greatest enlightenment, economic progress, national freedom, the scientific conquest of nature and  world peace. Spengler criticized ‘Age of Reason’-Man for concluding that other historical cultures were ignorant of the ‘true path’ in that they failed to follow it; when that, the fact was that simply their will and purposes were not the same as our own ‘Western’ values.184  Ibid., f. 47.  Oswald Spengler, The Decline of the West: Vol. I. Form and Actuality, 20.

183 184

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It was in fact a much shorter work (though published the following year 1933), The Hour of Decision: Germany and the World Historical Revolution, that would have the largest impact on the Young Generation in the subsequent years of the 1930s. Spengler believed, ‘Every living nation must rise to greatness or go under.’185 For Spengler, being a man of action was not enough, the agent of History also had to be an ‘historical expert.’ His analysis is compelling, if we consider Comarnescu’s dichotomy between man of thought and man of action, and the scope of the Criterion project, in the Spenglerian sense: ‘to understand the facts of his [the historical expert’s] time and through them to envisage, interpret, and delineate the future.’186 Spengler believed, ‘An epoch conscious of itself as the present is impossible of comprehension without creative, anticipating, warning, leading criticism.’187 Criterion was trying to provide just such a leading criticism. As for the conflict between the individual and the collective, Spengler questioned what path ultimately leads to greatness. ‘The individual’s life is of importance to none besides himself: the point is whether he wishes to escape from history or give his life for it.’188 And Spengler was openly critical of parliamentary democracy: What we recognize as ‘order’ today, and express in ‘Liberal’ constitutions, is nothing but anarchy become a habit. We call it democracy, parliamentarism, national self-government, but in fact it is the mere non-existence of a conscious responsible authority, a government—that is a true State.189

Mahatma Gandhi (India, 1869–1948) A conference on Gandhi followed naturally from the investigation in the Spengler symposium. Spengler advocated the importance of other parts of the world, civilizations and cataclysmic events, and Gandhi (not the only representative of a non-Western place, e.g. Krishnamurti) was an individual who abandoned all personal individual consideration in the name of the emancipation of the Indian people and universal rights. His approach 185

 Oswald Spengler, The Hour of Decision: Germany and the World Historical Revolution,

ix.  Ibid., x.  Spengler, The Decline of the West: Vol. I. Form and Actuality, 20. 188  Ibid., 21. 189  Ibid., 34. 186 187

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stood in stark contrast to the violent revolution advocated by Lenin and Mussolini and explored earlier in the Criterion ‘Idols’ series. The symposium on Gandhi took place on December 10, the program was as follows: H.H. Stahl introduced the evening; Enescu spoke on ‘Gandhi the man’; Polihroniade on ‘Tactics’; Viforeanu ‘European’; Hillard ‘English’ and Eliade ‘India.’190 There is no doubt that Gandhi was chosen as a topic because Eliade had just returned from India (less than a year before the symposium), where he had witnessed first-hand the Indian struggle for independence from the British Empire. Eliade believed that with Gandhi, the geopolitical map of the world would change entirely. This was a major reason he was so adamant to understand Indian spirituality and Asian culture in his own scholastic pursuits: I knew that Indian independence was imminent, and that very shortly the whole of Asia would reenter history. On the other hand, in the not-so distant future a number of archaic peoples would take their places on the stage of world politics.191

Having witnessed imperialism and domination in India by the British Raj, and Gandhi’s efforts to liberate his people, Eliade became very impressed by revolutionary political action. The Indian national poet Rabindranath Tagore gave Gandhi the honorary title ‘mahatma’ [great soul] but disagreed with Gandhi’s approach of satyagraha [nonviolent resistance].192 The Indian National Congress adopted satyagraha as their policy of opposition to British rule, in early 1930 and appointed Gandhi as the leader. At that point Gandhi became a messianic figure for millions of Indians.193 The first act in the campaign of civil disobedience began on March 12, 1930, with the ‘Salt March’ across the country to Dandi, led by Gandhi, who was arrested at the end, on May 5. This campaign led Indians across the country to acts of civil disobedience against the salt laws and consequently 60,000–80,000 Indians were 190  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 47. According to Mezdrea it took place on December 8. 191  MEAI, 204. 192  Tagore heavily influenced the Criterionists and was initially considered as an idol to present in the first Criterion series. Eliade discussed his poetry during his Forum lecture, and Maitreyi Devi studied with the renowned poet. 193  Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 153.

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jailed. Eliade was greatly moved and affected by what he observed and wrote dramatically of these episodes and the rumors he heard throughout Calcutta of the ‘civil revolution.’ His dismay with the Muslim population in Bengal grew to hostility due to their violence toward the Hindus and their refusal to join the effort of civil disobedience.194 Eliade had the opportunity to see Gandhi in 1928 and wrote about this experience for Cuvântul. He recounted how on March 25, 1928, he attended the trial of Gandhi (represented by his lawyer San Gupta) for inciting the burning of imported English clothes in a park, 20 days prior. Eliade described how the scene was packed with the press, Englishmen and women and Gandhi’s supporters [‘swarajists’]. Pandit Nehru was also there, who Eliade described as ‘a kind of brown tiger.’ Gandhi appeared in his white robe, wearing sandals with a bare head. His face was tortured and wrinkled, his eyes small. He looked old and exhausted. His supporters would whisper to each other and applaud. Gandhi’s reserved and silent presence left quite an impression on the young Eliade: It was a strange emotion, backward, which covered me. His eyes at that moment looked so far ahead, so that if you didn’t know, it would seem as if he were blind. His eyes were like a mummified cadaver, fixed, metallic.195

The debates themselves, during the trial, were uninteresting according to Eliade. Leaving the courtroom, Gandhi was assaulted by journalists. He refused to grant anyone an interview. Eliade closes his article by remarking about Gandhi’s symbolic punishment: ‘Mahatma Gandhi was sentenced to pay one rupee.’196 Gandhi’s exhaustive and restless journey, quiet resolve and dedication made him, in Eliade’s mind, a remarkable force of a leader. Through his life in Calcutta, the young foreign student was able to see that the movement Gandhi had created was more than one man’s dream, and rather in fact the desperate cry of an oppressed people in search of honor, dignity and autonomy.

 Ibid.  Mircea Eliade, ‘Gandhi, după Ramazan şi Holi.’ Cuvântul, Year 5, No. 1337, January 11, 1929, 1–2. Reprinted in Mircea Eliade India—Biblioteca maharajahului—şantier, 233–237. Eliade wrote the article in Calcutta on March 28, 1928, and the article was published the next year, the month following the Calcutta Congress, at which Gandhi called for independence or they would embark on a new campaign of non-cooperation. 196  Ibid. 194 195

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Eliade was in fact supportive of Indian independence before the repression.197 Philosophically compelled by swaraj [self-rule], Eliade explains its focus on the individual and its universal meaning in an unpublished passage of his journal: Swaraj is a vedantine idea, which supposes an independence won through your own resources, not ‘good-government’ but through ‘self-government.’ For an Indian, the liberation, independence, swaraj (mukti in the metaphysical and the moral) cannot be granted by anyone, not a relative, or by a stranger. It is a personal question, conditioned through a karmic equation from the individual or the race […] I doubt Mahatma is consciously the profound character of the Indian people in his campaign. He is most interested in its universal, human, Christian aspect.198

For Eliade the meaning of swaraj is not political, but rather metaphysical, spiritual and aesthetic. He wrote: ‘Politics in India is not politics. Our fight for independence, for swaraj, is the necessary conclusion of our metaphysics.’199 He interpreted Indian nationalism to be ‘the vast reproduction of a new collective of “mystical” and “aesthetic” experiences: “The right of liberty is not a political right but a metaphysical reality.”’200 Affirming Indian nationalism, Eliade concluded that the mediator of this liberty was Gandhi himself: ‘We arrive at liberty as Mahatma says, through purification, through the individual renouncing through non-violence, through the agony.’201 His early interpretation of swaraj is very telling, when we consider his own later fall into the support of the messianism and radicalism of the Iron Guard. Eliade’s own romanticism of the success of the mystical and abandonment of the political is evident from early on. Eliade wrote of the opposing forces (the white British race and the Indian civilization they barbarically dominated, Eliade was clear that it was not just an issue of nationalism but one of racism as well):  Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 154.  Mircea Eliade, Erotica mistică în Bengal, 176. Cited in Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 155. 199  Mircea Eliade, L’Inde, 241. Cited in Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 155. 200  Mircea Eliade, ‘Gandhi ante mortem,’ Cuvântul, September 19, 1932. Cited in Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 155. 201  Mircea Eliade, Le Journal des Indes, 134. Cited in Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 155. 197 198

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From this tension a new world is born. What is extraordinary, this madness, this folly of India—exiting disarmed in front of the European shellfire and tanks. And they triumph, just as I wish with all my heart, a new stage is opening (will open) in history.202

I agree with Ţ urcanu that a connection is clearly perceptible from his conclusions in India to his later Guardist convictions, for it was in India that Eliade acquired the belief that ‘all revolution is spiritual.’203 Pablo Picasso (Spain, 1881–1973) Modernist painter, sculptor and a founder of Cubism, Pablo Picasso’s work was greatly admired in Bucharest. An added symposium was held about him on Wednesday, November 30, at which apparently Aurel Broşteanu spoke on ‘The presentation of abstract fine arts.’204 There was a profound interest in Cubism within Criterion, as Max Hermann Maxy was a member of the association and his work was later exhibited in the Criterion Fine Arts Exhibition in February 1933. Something Maxy and Picasso shared was a later support of communism. Other visual artists active in Criterion included Victor Brauner and Marcel Iancu. Maxy, Brauner and Iancu were pioneers of the avant-garde in Romanian painting, and all three were Jewish.

Themes As for the figures chosen for the contemporary ‘Idols’ series, they demonstrate the Criterionists looking both East and West for new paradigms to introduce into the Romanian space. The list not only includes figures from Western European ‘major’ cultures but also representatives from India, the United States (Hollywood) and Russia. The discussion was not meant to just be political but also spiritual, philosophical and artistic. The selection of idols demonstrates that the Criterionists intentionally chose ­representatives of all possible extremes of the overarching themes and questions of the day. These general themes all point to a kind of modernity they wished for Romania: the State versus the Nation; the Collective  Ibid.  Ţ urcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 156. 204  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 45. 202 203

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v­ ersus the Individual; Modernization; Modernism; Reason (Rationality) versus Emotion (Experience); Machine versus Spirituality; Revolution and History. As for the historic ‘form versus substance’ debate in the Romanian intellectual tradition, they looked for situations abroad of imperialism versus native authenticity and investigated anti-colonialism in the symposia on Gide and Gandhi. The Criterionists explored both violent (Lenin, Mussolini) and non-violent (Gandhi) measures to enact revolution. And finally they did not avoid the controversial topics of communism, Judaism and homosexuality.

‘Contemporary Romanian Culture’ Series The more artistic cycle of events entitled ‘Contemporary Romanian Culture’ was, according to Comarnescu, not so political nor politicized.205 Topics explored were Poetry, The Novel, Theater, Criticism and Essay, Journalism, Graphic Arts, Music and Dance, Architecture, Philosophy, Ideological Currents, Romanian Music and Dance. On October 15, the first event in this series was ‘Poetry’ by Paul Sterian. The artistic examples (lectures and recitations) for this were given by Sorana Ţ opa, Sadova, D. Al. Pop-Martian and Haig Acterian.206 At the conference on October 22, given by Sebastian and Vulcănescu on the topic of ‘The Romanian Novel Today,’ Sadova, Lily Popovici and Apriliana Medianu performed artistic readings of sample texts.207 Eliade used this particular symposium to give an example of ‘The Criterion Spirit’ of spontaneous debate. In the symposium about the contemporary Romanian novel, Mihail Sebastian executed Cezar Petrescu con molto brio, and he was extremely hard on Ionel Teodoreanu, the most popular novelist of the day—reserving all his plaudits for Hortensia Papadat-Bengescu, Camil Petrescu, and Matei Caragiale. But Vulcănescu showed in what sense Cezar Petrescu’s novels are integrated into a Romanian literary tradition and are significant even if they are not artistically valuable.208

The novel was popularized during the interwar period and experienced a boom in production. Of course, Eliade’s Maitreyi and Sebastian’s De două mii de ani are great examples.  PCJ, 79.  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 61. 207  Acterian, ‘Cîte ceva despre Asociaţia Criterion,’ 7. 208  MEAI, 236. 205 206

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The conference on theater was given by Haig Acterian, entitled ‘The Theater of Tomorrow’ on October 29. In a letter addressed to the Secretary General of the Romanian Academy, the Theater section of the association requested the conference to be held from 10 in the morning lasting until 1 in the afternoon, on Tuesday, December 6, in Sala Dalles. The program illustrates to what degree each conference was a group effort and collaboration for both the spoken portion of the evening (the lecture) and the theatrical improvisation that followed. The text for the conference was to be written by Eliade and Paul Sterian. The framework (set design, direction, organization) was prepared by Ion Marin Sadoveanu and the dramatic interpretation and performance given by the women Sorana Ţ opa, Lili Popovici, Sadova, Marietta Rareş, Floria Capsali and Dida Solomon Calimachi, and the men, Sandu Eliad, Mihail Popescu, Gabriel Negry and Emil Botta.209 The rest of the cultural series proceeded as follows: ‘Romanian Philosophy’ (I. Brucar) on November 3; ‘Criticism and The Essay’ (Al. Vianu) on November 5; ‘Romanian Journalism’ (M.  Grigorescu) on November 24210; ‘Architecture’ (Oscar Walter Cisek) on November 26211; ‘Romanian Fine Arts’ (Comarnescu) on December 8212; ‘Romanian Ideological Currents’ (Ion Cantacuzino) on December 15213 and ‘Music and Dance’ (Constantin Brăiloiu) on December 17. For the final event Floria Capsali contributed musical and dance examples.214 Another Criterion conference that took place at the end of 1932 was dedicated to America vis-à-vis the European West and the Far East, in which Sebastian was engaged in polemics with Comarnescu.215 * * *  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, f. 62, Letter dated November 1, 1932.  According to Mezdrea, R. Dianu spoke and the conference took place on November 12. 211  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 25. Cisek was slated to present. According to Mezdrea, H. Schoenberg spoke. 212  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, f. 137 and f. 133. In the original plan, Stefan Nenit ̦escu was meant to speak. According to Mezdrea, the event took place November 19. 213  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16. f. 133. According to Mezdrea event took place December 10. 214  Unless otherwise stated, the list for ‘the rest of the cultural series’ comes from: BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC.  XVIII Varia 16, f. 63, July 13, 1932, proposal to the Dalles Foundation, and BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC.  XVIII Varia 16, ff. 10–13 ‘Proces Verbal al sedinţei plenare din 17 junie 1932 Asociaţiei Criterion.’ 215  Mihai, Europenism şi dileme identitare în România interbelică: gruparea Criterion, 83. 209 210

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These two series comprised Criterion’s public activity of 1932. The first year of Criterion demonstrates that the Criterionists were both naïve and optimistic in a number of regards. The conception and birth of the association came in the wake of a diversity of cosmopolitan experiences and education abroad. The Criterionists overestimated how ready the Romanian public and political administration were to receive their message, and debate and engage with ideas on the level that its members were. Overconfident, they felt poised to achieve their initial aims, to create their own vision of modernity, to effect positive change in Romanian society through this alternative form of education and ‘model of cultural action.’ But there were too many factors working against them: jealousy and envy from other intellectuals (e.g. Nichifor Crainic), threats from the authorities (e.g. King Carol II, Armand Călinescu), the saliency and controversial nature of the themes and topics they addressed, the rift between Criterionists and their audience, the start of internal frictions due to political and personal differences and the very real recruitment of Guardists taking place within the elite Criterion circle itself. At this stage, the external threat of government crackdown loomed largest. Based on this challenging beginning, it was an uphill battle for Criterion starting in 1933.

CHAPTER 5

Criterion Activity of 1933–1935: Politics, Exhibition, Symposia, Music and the Publication

Despite the upheavals that occurred in the fall of 1932, Comarnescu meticulously planned for a full upcoming season of Criterion’s activities. Embarking on the 1933 program, as far as Comarnescu was concerned, he and Criterion had settled their differences with the government. It was only after an explanation to Mihalache that Criterion was able to carry on with its activity. Some members of the association went to the Minister of the Interior, Ion Mihalache, and explained to him that we are a scientific platform, a free platform of the Criterion Association where we confront current ideas and doctrines … We assured him that we are not communists, not fascists, but intellectuals in the confrontation with ideas. It is through discussing them in contradiction that we seek to enlighten ourselves.1

Comarnescu thanked Ion Cantacuzino, Constantin Enescu, Petre Vifereanu, Polihroniade, Eliade, Vulcănescu, Stahl and Paul Sterian who spoke and went with the students supporting Criterion to the authorities to request and guarantee that Criterion could still hold symposia at the Royal Foundation. Comarnescu credited their efforts for:

1

 PCJ, 80. Entry entitled ‘Towards the end of 1932.’

© The Author(s) 2019 C. A. Bejan, Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4_5

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not letting this institution become a victim of misunderstanding, envy and bad beliefs, against which Criterion had to and still has to fight if it wants to continue its works of public education for which it was started.2

Comarnescu had also enlisted the continued support of distinguished older intellectuals who were keen to help them. In a letter written to Blaga (then stationed in Vienna) Comarnescu sent him a program of the ‘Idols’ series, telling Blaga of Criterion’s successful symposia on Freud and Lenin, noting specifically that Petrovici and Rădulescu-Motru had presided. He finished with, ‘We await for you to come and hold conferences, to give us suggestions.’3 The plans were to carry on as usual following Christmas 1932. Criterion’s outreach to the provinces was maintained through symposia and other events held at the amphitheater of the ‘Petru and Pavel’ lyceum in Ploieşti and at the lyceum in Buftea, just outside Bucharest.4 On January 21, 1933, Floria Capsali was scheduled to give a workshop on ‘Music and Dance from Brăila.’5 They also planned to hold two organ concerts (including works by Pachelbel and Marchand) following the December 14 concert given by Victor Bieckerich playing Bach, at which Queen Marie was in the audience.6 Other preoccupations for Criterion following Christmas were the issue of new membership, the internal activity of the sections and setting up a committee for the Criterion publication.7 A cycle of conferences in cooperation with the university’s philosophy students was held from January 19 until April 6, 1933, including Criterionists Vulcănescu, Golopenţia and Stahl.8 A large fine arts exhibition of Criterionists’ work was held during February 5–28, 1933, at Sala Dalles displaying the artwork of Marcel Iancu, Corneliu Michailescu, M.H.  Maxy, Henry Daniel, Margareta Sterian, Corneliu Bebis, Micaela Eleutheriade, Cornelia Baic, Gheorghe  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC, XVIII Varia 16 f. 29.  AMNLR, Petru Comarnescu, Correspondence, Letters to Lucian Blaga 10/IV/197, 20.796, no date. 4  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVI Varia 1 ‘Chitanţe, Facturi, Bonuri legate de activitatea Asociaţiei “Criterion”, 1932–1933’ ff. 15–37; BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1, f. 122. 5  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20 f. 43. 6  Ibid., f. 59; BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 ff. 62–63. 7  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20 f. 43. 8  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 f. 121. 2 3

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Ionescu Sin, Henri Catargi, Yor Petre Iorgulescu and sculptress Miliţa Pătraşcu.9 Ornea’s list of the same event includes the artists: Lucia Bălăcescu, C.  Babie Daniel, Mac Constantinescu, Corneliu Mitrachescu and P. Iorgulescu.10 As for symposia on political, economic and social topics, initially Criterion planned to continue in the vein of their ‘Idols’ series. Comarnescu wrote, After Christmas, we will probably have, outside of our Bieckerich concerts, a cycle of symposia, being in continuation of ‘Idols and Personalities’ such as Ford, Papini, Spengler, Husserl, Cocteau, Derain, Hitler, Thomas Mann, Fritz von Unruh … or maybe the illustrious deceased with whom the spirit of the times has a lot in common, such as Nietzsche, Dostoyevsky, etc. and a cycle probably named Trends.11

Eventually they abandoned the plan to carry on with personalities and instead chose to concentrate on ideas in the next series.

Trends The ‘cycle of public contradictory discussions’ entitled Tendinţe (Trends) was meant to be held over the course of three months at the Royal Foundation. The series’ schedule was printed in the February 5, 1933, issue of Cuvântul. The first symposium ‘Spiritual Directions of the New Generation’ was scheduled to take place on February 8 and the last, ‘The Romanian State’ on April 12.12 It was presided over by Nae Ionescu, covering the following topics with the corresponding speakers: ‘Authenticity’ (Eliade); ‘Agony’ (Petru Manoliu); ‘Orthodoxy’ (Paul Sterian); ‘Neoclassicism’ (Comarnescu) and ‘The History of Resignation’ (Noica). Other planned conferences with corresponding speakers included the  Ibid., f. 131.  Zigu Ornea, The Romanian Extreme Right. The Nineteen Thirties, 138. 11  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC., XV Varia 20, f. 60. 12  Cuvântul, Year 9 No. 2796, February 5, 1933, 2. Cited in Vanhaelemeersch. A Generation Without Beliefs, 33–34. Constantin Mihai presents different dates with the first conference being held on January 25 and the last on April 5. For a list of conferences see Manuscriptum, nr. 1–2(102–103)/1996, Year XXVII, Mircea Vulcănescu Special Issue, 231–234 cited in Mihai, Europenism şi dileme identitare în România interbelică: gruparea Criterion, 84–86. 9

10

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following. On February 1, the conference entitled ‘Political Directions of the New Generation’ was scheduled and planned to be presided over by Simion Mehendint i̧ . The topics to be discussed included Integral Nationalism (Octavian Neamtu̧ ); Anti-Semitism (Dr. N.  Trifu); Corporatism (Toma Vlădescu); The Reaction (Alexander Christian Tell); Dictatorship (Polihroniade); Autochthonism (Henri H.  Stahl); Individualist Democracy (Richard Hillard); Social-Democracy (Mircea Grigorescu); Peasantism/Peasant Life (Constantin Enescu) and Integral Socialism (Petre Pandea). The third conference ‘Immediate Economic Directions: Monetary Solutions’ was scheduled for February 8 and was to be presided over by G.  Taşcă. The following topics were to be investigated: Stabilization (Mircea Durma); Restabilization (Constantin Pandele) and Double Circulation (Corneliu Rudescu). On February 15, the conference on ‘Literary Topics’ was scheduled, presided over by Eugen Lovinescu, and was on Sincerity (Ionel Jianu); Subjectivism (Eliade); Objectivism (Sebastian), Literary Technique (Șerban Cioculescu) and Literature of the Proletariate (Petre Pandrea). The February 22 conference was on philosophy entitled ‘Trends in Philosophy: Metaphysics or Positive Science.’ Presided over by Constantin Rădulescu-Motru, the following topics were to be addressed: Scientist Positivism (Al. Popescu); Criticism (Noica); Empirio-criticism (I.  Brucăr); Pragmatism (Cioran); Phenomenology (Constantin Floru); Neoidealism (Comarnescu); Neorealism (Vulcănescu); Metaphysics, an irreducible attitude (Eliade) and Theology (Paul Sterian). The sixth conference was meant to take place on March 1, entitled ‘Trends in External Politics.’ It was to be presided over by I.G. Duca and featured the following topics: Imperialism (Eugen Titeanu); General Disarmament (Comarnescu); Military Peace and the System of Alliances (Polihroniade); Pacts and Security (Sebastian Șerbescu); Obligatory Arbitration and the International Army (M. Antonescu) and Society of the Nations and the Global Federation (R. Hillard). On March 8, 1933, the conference on ‘Cultural Topics’ was planned, to be presided over by Tudor Vianu covering the following topics: Individualist Culture (Cioran); Culture of Class (Petre Pandrea); Cultural Nationalism (Al. Dima); Humanism (Comarnescu); Universalism (Eliade); Transcendentalism (Dan Botta) and Theological Culture (Paul Sterian). The next conference was entitled ‘Current Trends in Physics: the Problem of Matter’ and scheduled for March 15. It was to be presided over by G. Ț it ̦eica and planned to investigate the following topics: Statistical

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Mechanics [Schrödiger] (Octav Onicescu); Symbolic Mechanics [Dirac] (Sabba Ștef ănescu); Wave Mechanics [De Broglie] (Sergiu Condrea) and Indeterminate Mechanics [Heisenberg]. The ninth conference, ‘Trends in Contemporary Art’ was scheduled for March 22 and further details were to be determined. This was followed by the conference entitled ‘General Economic Directions’ meant to take place on March 30 and to be presided over by Virgil Madgearu. The topics to be addressed included: Liberal Individualism (G.  Strat); Neoliberalism (Constantin Pandele); The Coopartive Movement (Mircea Pienescu); Syndicalism (G.  VlădescuRăcoasa); Corporatism (Grigore Manoilescu) and State Socialism, Communism (Mircea Grigorescu). The final conference scheduled for April 5 was entitled ‘Trends in Domestic Politics: the Romanian State’ and was to be presided over by Nae Ionescu covering the following topics: The Deficiencies of the Current State (Polihroniade); The Explanation of the Current State (Henri H.  Stahl); The Bourgeois State (Petre Viforeanu); The Proletarian State (Petre Pandrea); The Corporate State (Toma Vlădescu); The Peasant State (Constantin Enescu) and The National State (Octavian Neant ̦u).13 ‘Following a state of emergency’ (the Grivița riots) the authorities forced Criterion to cancel the February 8 (their first) symposium.14 It was later held on March 6 but prohibited from being open to the public, so Criterion had to hold it as a private gathering.15 This took place at the Corso restaurant and Comarnescu described it as a ‘Criterion closed-­ circle,’ presumably the name given to such public symposia once they had been relegated to the private sphere.16 At this event Comarnescu spoke on ‘Neoclassicism’ and addressed the subject of Hamlet. His arti13  Mihai, Europenism şi dileme identitare în România interbelică: gruparea Criterion, 84–86. 14  Ornea, The Romanian Extreme Right, 138: ‘I have found a note in the Journal Dreapta which announced that, following state of emergency the February 8, 1933 symposium on Spiritual Orientation of the New Generation had been cancelled.’ Note that Ornea has the same date for this conference as Vanhaelemeersch, not Mihai. 15  Cuvântul, Year 9 No. 2824, March 5, 1933, 2. Cited in Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 34. 16  There are two dates for this: Comarnescu claims it occurred on March 5 in BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20 f. 13 ‘5.III. Cerc restrins Criterion (Corso)’: Neo-classicism (Hamlet 1933) in ‘symposimul despre active spirituale al tin. Generat ̦ie’; Vanhaelemeersch claims it occurred on March 6 in A Generation Without Beliefs, 34, citing Cuvântul, Year 9 No. 2824, March 5, 1933, 2. I defer to Comarnescu’s account.

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cle ‘Răul Veacului Nostru: Hamlet 1933’ (‘The Ills of our Century: Hamlet 1933) about the topic appeared in Viaţa românească the following month. The instability both outside and within Criterion grew. Comarnescu observed, Our generation is separating itself into two polar opposite directions and a bitter struggle. I don’t want to become politically active, and will remain in my intellectual position, devoting myself to culture. Whether or not I will succeed remains to be seen.17

Throughout 1933 the lack of unity within the association became more apparent as political differences and personal life issues (friendship factors, various social, career and personal obligations) interfered. By the end of the year Comarnescu lamented, ‘Of my friends, I no longer see anyone.’18 He was referring to his friends and fellow Criterionists who only a year before were at each other’s homes or cafés, dining, drinking and strolling through Cişmigiu Park on a daily basis.

The Griviţa Apocalypse The true threat of anyone questioning the ‘status quo’ became apparent as the peak of the Criterion moment itself coincided with the anarchy and ‘dramatic events of February 1933 and the apocalyptic atmosphere they cast over Bucharest.’19 Though the Criterionists themselves could not have predicted what would occur, the devastation that transpired demonstrated that the government had cause to be cautious and suspicious of them or anyone else for communist activity. Later the Romanian Communist Party (RCP) propaganda machine claimed the Griviţa riot was one of the first anti-fascist actions in Europe.20 Toward the end of January 1933, communists helped incite protests amongst the workers of the Romanian Rail Service (Căile Ferate Române, CFR, whose workshops were located on Griviţa Road [Calea Griviţei]) in Bucharest, and employees of the Ploieşti oil refineries in Prahova Valley. The catalyst for the strikes was the economic crisis of 1929–1933. The  PCJ, 81, January 1933.  PCJ, 101. Sunday, December 3, 1933. 19  Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 33. 20  Vladimir Tismaneanu, Stalinism for All Seasons, 78. 17 18

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government reduced wages by 10 to 12.5 percent on January 17, 1933, when Alexandru Vaida-Voevod, Minister of Industry and Commerce, implemented ‘the so-called third sacrificial curve.’21 This led to demonstrations in major industrial areas throughout the country. The CFR workers at Griviţa went on strike on February 2, demanding a 40 percent wage increase, and that the management suspend firing employees and rehire those who had been laid off. The CFR workers called off their strike on February 1, due to pressure from the authorities, who guaranteed to repay their salaries. As a result of the workers’ easy acquiescence to the government, avowed communists closed down their workplaces and demanded they establish a ‘committee’ (soviet) that would liaise directly with CFR’s management.22 The government perceived this as a direct political threat with potential links to the Soviet Union and took decisive action. Martial law was installed on February 3 and the government proclaimed a state of emergency, arresting approximately 1600 strikers.23 Martial law had been abolished in 1928. Parliament voted almost unanimously on the night of February 3 for martial law that forbade all clandestine groups and introduced censorship on books. The day that Monitorul Oficial published the royal decree declaring martial law was the same day that Criterion published the schedule for their symposia series starting with ‘Spiritual Directions of the New Generation.’24 Shortly following Criterion’s rescheduled conference bearing that name, Congress passed ‘The Law for the Preservation of Public Peace and Order.’25 The Criterionists were dealing with a situation increasingly less accepting of free speech and the exploration of radical ideas. Criterion’s public activity at the Royal Foundation was suspended altogether on February 10, 1933, as a result of the communist riots and rail worker strikes on Griviţa Road.26  Ibid., 81–82.  Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 31. 23  Tismaneanu, Stalinism for All Seasons, 82. 24  Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 32–33. 25  Ibid., 34. This was an expanded version of ‘Law Mârzescu’ initially adopted by the Liberal government in 1924. Critics in the press and within the National Peasant Party majority pointed out the irony of the situation. Vanhaelemeersch writes: ‘Ironically enough, the National Peasant Party, which owed its success in the 1920s to its being a broad front against the “anti-democratic” Liberal Party, now needed the Liberal measures for its own survival.’ 26  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 f. 76: ‘O descindere a parchetului militar—conferinţe interzise. Nu rupeţi afişele,’ Cuvântul, February 10, 1933, and f. 78: ‘Criterion îşi suspendă activitatea,’ Cuvântul, February 10, 1933. 21 22

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The location for the Criterion symposia had to be moved. The final lectures were given at the lecture room of the Commercial Academy.27 In retaliation for the February 2 arrests and also in response to the installation of martial law the Griviţa workshops went on strike on February 15. Pamphlets were distributed all over Bucharest calling for a general strike on February 18.28 Chaos ensued and private citizens were taking advantage of the disorder by looting and setting fire to buildings.29 On February 16, the authorities decided to occupy the Griviţa workshops. Army troops attacked and three workers were killed and 16 seriously wounded.30 Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej was among the CFR employees who organized the strike. He was arrested and sentenced to 12  years forced labor.31 Following the events at Griviţa and the government’s response, Eliade suspected that his book Întoarcerea din Rai (Return from Paradise) would be censored. With an anxious heart, I deposited several copies of the novel at the office of the Censor. I remembered many passages that might result in the book’s being banned: above all, the description of the strike at the Griviţa Shops, and allusions to the brutalities of the military police and army officers.32

As Eliade feared, Întoarcerea din Rai was vetoed by the censors on February 4, 1934, and only three weeks later released for publication.33 However, what happened at Griviţa did not entirely paralyze nor stunt Criterion’s activity. Criterionists still approached politicians for support. Polihroniade had tried to win sympathy from politicians of the right,

27  ‘Criterion îşi suspendă activitatea,’ Cuvântul, February 10, 1933. BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1 f. 78. 28  ‘O nouă mişcare la CFR,’ Lupta, Year 12 No. 3390, February 16, 1933, 4. Cited in Vanhaelemeersch 33. 29  Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 33. 30  Tismaneanu, Stalinism for All Seasons, 82. 31  In 1944 Dej escaped and became the General Secretary of the Romanian Communist Party after the installation of the communist regime in 1948. Dej ruled until his death in 1965, when Nicolae Ceauşescu became Romania’s second communist dictator. See Dennis Deletant, Communist terror in Romania: Gheorghiu-Dej and the police state, 1948–1965 and Ceauşescu and the Securitate: Coercion and Dissent in Romania, 1965–1989. 32  MEAI, 280. 33  Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 271.

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including Argetoianu.34 The association organized a full political and cultural program for the autumn. In September 1933 Comarnescu described ‘giving Criterion a crazy development,’ and that with the new efforts he had the chance to exercise his versatility and collaborate with everybody, ‘to be useful and develop something authentic.’35

Major Moments of Music The Criterion committee itself did not function so efficiently just before its fall 1933 season. Comarnescu recalled with horror how a meeting of theirs was complete anarchy and impossible to have a serious discussion.36 Criterion pulled off the two series that fall, due to the hard work of Comarnescu. The more cultural series (weekly, featuring both a conference component and a corresponding musical performance) took place in the hall of the Dalles Foundation, entitled, ‘The Cycle of Major Moments of Music.’ Concurrently, during October, Comarnescu organized some conferences under the title ‘Hot,’ which were very successful but also provoked severe criticism. Criterionists R. Hillard, Al. Tell and Al. Vianu all harshly criticized Comarnescu.37 A dance series entitled, ‘The History and Aesthetic of Dance in Four Conferences with Examples,’ featuring Floria Capsali and Gabriel Negry, was also scheduled for the Criterion autumn program. The lecture titles for the conferences and speakers were as follows: ‘Indian and Exotic Dance’ (Eliade); ‘Ancient Dance’ (Comarnescu); ‘Romantic Dance’ (Alice Voinescu) and ‘Contemporary Dance (Cubist, etc.)’ (St. Nenit ̦escu).38 The first event in the music series took place on September 30 (and was presented again on October 22) when Comarnescu spoke on the topic of ‘Jazz, an expression of our time.’ Following his speech, Elly Roman and Barbu Catargi Ghinda gave a concert of musical examples.39 Roman conducted a 16-person small orchestra, performing works by Gershwin, Grofe, Youmans, Duke Ellington and Henderson as well as the famous

 PCJ, 81.  Ibid. 36  Ibid., 91. September 5, 1933. 37  Ibid., 96. October 29, 1933. 38  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XVIII Varia 16, f. 30. 39  PCJ, 96. 34 35

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numbers ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ and ‘Louisiana Suite.’40 Eliade recalled that the selection represented the best jazz music at the time in the capital.41 The next Criterion event in the music series took place on October 7 on the topic of ‘Expressionism and Neoclassicism,’ at which Paul Sterian spoke.42 The evening about ‘French Impressionism’ took place on October 14 and the program included ‘Preludes’ by Debussy and Ravel (interpreted by Filionescu), a lesser-known sonata for violin and piano by Fauré and a sonata for the harp, flute and viola by Debussy.43 The following events in the series were ‘Romanticism’ (October 21); ‘The Olympians’ (referring to Mozart and Beethoven; October 28); ‘Magic and Origins of Music’ (November 11); and ‘Romanian Music: Popular and Cult’ also called ‘The Romanian Specific’ (November 18).44 It would seem that during the conference on ‘Romanian Music,’ I.D. Petrescu (who earned his PhD in Theology in Paris) spoke on ‘The Byzantine Gregorian Chant.’ Among the performances given, Miss M. Cocorăscu played the last part of a piano suite by Enescu.45 The remaining speakers of the series (apart from those already mentioned) included G. Breazul, D. Cuclin, Par. Petrescu and Dan Botta. Eliade gave an in-depth account of his contribution to the series in his memoirs. He spoke on what he described as ‘Asian and primitive music’ taking part in the ‘Magic and origins of music’ evening. His involvement illustrates the degree to which the Criterionists themselves were responsible for the content of their events (including those with a more cultural and artistic bent). Eliade was given the responsibility to find as many representative recordings and printed materials as possible. He had brought a few with him from India: ‘I possessed only a few essays of Bengalese folk and religious music, plus a very few examples of Balinese melodies.’46  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1, f. 106.  MEAI, 277. Eliade incorrectly remembers the dates and claims Comarnescu closed the series, when he in fact opened it. 42  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1, f. 14. 43  Radu Georgescu, ‘Cronica Muzicală,’ Revista Fundatiilor Regale, Year I No. 1, 1934, 220–222. 44  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1, ff. 47–53. 45  It would appear that this had two şedinţe [sessions], though I have been able to recover only the second date and also find the exact date of when Byzantine chant was examined. Radu Georgescu covers it in his Revista Fundaţiilor Regale review, lauding M. Cocorascu’s execution. 46  MEAI, 278. 40 41

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Musicians offered to adapt the music to the instruments they had access to in Bucharest and to improvise a chorus that would attempt to reproduce both equatorial African rhythms and melancholic Indonesian monotones. The performance enjoyed an extraordinary success. I spoke for ten or fifteen minutes on Indian music, and then withdrew … in the auditorium of the Dalles Foundation, perhaps for the first time in Romania, arias from Travancore and Puri resounded. I reappeared and attempted to evoke the mythologies and religious spirit of certain archaic peoples; ritual songs, Melanesian chanting, and the syncopated shouting of some Australian tribe.47

This series was quite successful and was enthusiastically received by the public. The audience grew larger with each performance.48 To the evening on ‘French impressionism,’ Comarnescu invited a woman he was flirting with (before he got to know Gina  Manolescu-Strunga), Lucie Alioth-­ Karadja, whom he ‘admired for her intellect.’49 The same evening the Marquis d’ Ormesson, the Minister of France, his wife and Gusti (who was Minister of Education at the time) were in attendance due to Comarnescu’s personal invitation.50 Criterion received very positive reviews and coverage for this series. In his review of the evening on ‘Expressionism and a New Musical Classicism,’ in Cronica Musicală Botta described Comarnescu as working with ‘a frenzy and facility much more than that of an American.’51 As for the music explored that evening, Botta wrote that Stravinsky’s career was in parallel with that of Picasso’s in painting, in that both were symbols of creation concordant with the spirit of their times.52 Radu Georgescu gave the series an extremely complimentary review in the first issue of Revista Fundaţiilor Regale saying that ‘the conferences and performances constituted more than a success: a victory of teaching which the Music section of the association will certainly use.’53 Georgescu deemed the evening

 Ibid.  Ibid. 49  PCJ, 97. 50  Ibid. 51  Dan Botta, ‘Cronica Muzicală: Expresionism şi nou clasicism musical,’ Calendarul, October 14, 1933. Found in BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XXXI Imprimate 1, f. 107. 52  Ibid. 53  Radu Georgescu, ‘Cronica Muzicală,’ Revista Fundatiilor Regale, Year I No. 1, 1934, 221. 47 48

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of ‘French Impressionism’ particularly noteworthy describing it as ‘a balanced program, representative of the moment.’54

Autumn Symposia Criterion’s political series of autumn 1933 apparently took place at the Royal Foundation. By this point Comarnescu had procured a job as ‘the central secretary of the section for conferences at the Royal Foundation.’55 The first symposium ‘Solutions to the Economic Crisis’ was presided over by Professor G. Tasca, and those who spoke included M. Vulcănescu, the engineer St. Beldie and engineer Mavrocordat.56 Another symposium was on the topic of ‘War’ and was presided over by Grigore Gafencu. The speaker line-up and corresponding topic were as follows: Ion Victor Vojen spoke on ‘Germany and the European Balance’; Petre Viforeanu on ‘France and the Peace of Europe’; M. Polihroniade on ‘Japan, China and the Pacific’; Constantin Enescu on ‘The Neo-Imperialism of Europe.’57 The symposium entitled ‘The Meaning of Life in Contemporary Literature’ (October 26, 1933) included five speakers. Two works presented were Louis-Ferdinand Céline’s Voyage au bout de la nuit and Malraux’s La condition humaine.58 Comarnescu was the last speaker and delivered a lecture about Erich Kaestner’s book Fabian, and claimed the event was a success.59 Vulcănescu spoke on Jean Cocteau at the November 11 symposium on ‘Neoclassicism.’60 Comarnescu spoke at the final three symposia he mentions. At the symposium on ‘Classicism’ Eugene O’Neill was investigated.61 On November 30, a symposium entitled ‘Civilization’ was held, addressing the global cultural crisis. The final one, entitled ‘Race,’ was held on December 7, and the topics and speakers included ‘The Biological  Ibid.  PCJ, 93. October 30, 1933. 56  Ornea, The Romanian Extreme Right, 137. 57  Ibid. Ornea claimed he was unable to reconstitute the rest of the symposia, what follows is my own attempt but surely there are still some details missing needing to be filled in by future scholars. 58  Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 276. 59  PCJ, 96. 60  Mircea Vulcănescu, Dimensiunea românească a existenţei, Vol. 2, Chipuri spiritual, 254. Cited in Matei. Europenism şi dileme identitare în România interbelică: gruparea Criterion, 106. 61  It is very possible that the ‘Neoclassicism’ and ‘Classicism’ conferences were the same conference as the date I found for ‘Classicism’ is also November 11. 54 55

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Conception of Race’ (C.  Georgescu); ‘The Spiritual Structure of Race’ (Paul Kostin Deleanu); and ‘Race, Culture, Morality’ (Comarnescu).62 Comarnescu noted that Gina and Mrs. Pincas assisted with this symposium.63 The topics chosen for the 1933 symposia aptly demonstrate the overwhelming sense felt by the Criterionists that Romania, Europe and even the world were in a state of crisis; that war was imminent and that this threshold on which they stood was a bridge to a new modernity and potentially a new civilization. There was a concern to maintain the balance of nations and peace in both Europe and beyond (reaching as far as the Pacific). A central element in this discussion was the issue of race, to which Criterion devoted an entire symposium. At a time of rapid advancement in the scientific field of eugenics, public debate about birth control (abortion was illegal) and the harsh discrimination against the minorities within Greater Romania’s borders, race was not only a pressing topic in Germany but was a hot topic of discussion in interwar Romania. Eugenics in interwar Romania was not only a question of race but a matter of the advancement of science and improving the quality of life for all mankind.64 In a 1931 article published in Gusti’s quarterly review and translated into Romanian by Comarnescu, the English eugenicist F.C.S. Schiller explains that the debate in eugenics at that time divided into two branches: negative and positive. Negative eugenics aimed at eliminating the degenerate ‘weeds’ that were bringing society down, while positive eugenics looked to improving human life. His article is a call to arms to meet what he perceives to be the challenge of progress and advancement: If we want improvement, progress, the creation of superior types of humanity, the realization of ideals, we must look to positive eugenics, which sets itself to inquire by what means the human race be rendered intrinsically better, higher, stronger, healthier, more capable, so that human life might become happier and more worth living.65

62  ‘De la Criterion’ Credinţa, Year I No. 4, December 6, 1933, 2. Advertising Criterion’s symposium on ‘Race.’ 63  PCJ, 100. 64  See Marius Turda, Modernism and Eugenics. 65  F.S.C.  Schiller, ‘Eugenics as a Moral Idea: The Beginning of Progressive Reform.’ Arhiva pentru ştiință şi reformă socială, Year 4 No. 4 1931. Translated by Petru Comarnescu for Cronica on 636. Quote from 489.

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With respect to race, despite the extreme racism toward minorities in Romania, many of the Criterionists themselves had a liberal and enlightened approach. Of course, they themselves were of mixed ethnic backgrounds, but it was Comarnescu (who claimed to be totally Romanian) who exhibited the most tolerant and progressive attitude of all. Comarnescu’s own thoughts on the minority issue reveal to what degree the village and the city were still very separate entities in interwar Romania, as well as how out of touch ordinary Romanians were with the concerns (and daily lives, even) of the minorities living within their borders. In August 1933, just before Criterion’s fall events began, Gusti asked Comarnescu to accompany a group of English ethnographers and geographers to the local community of Borsec (a town in north-eastern Transylvania, in Harghita County of eastern Transylvania, famous for the surrounding natural beauty and mineral water). He had previously led a similar trip for Gusti, of American tourists coming to explore Romanian village life. After these experiences, Comarnescu considered that he had the potential to become a ‘cultural diplomat.’ In Borsec Comarnescu had many interesting conversations with the local people (who were mostly Hungarian) and observed, ‘I found some interesting types and some revolting situations. We do not know how to behave with the minorities.’66 Following a particularly nasty incident on the last day of the trip, Comarnescu noted that he felt ashamed of his fellow Romanians. He wrote, I became a communist again. Wanting to end once and for all this inequality and chauvinistic discrimination, that ends with the police and professional politics [politicianismul], with this hateful and horrid militarism. The abuse towards the local people is not only executed by the colonels, but also by the policemen. The corporals and the majors are sometimes harsher than the higher officers. We need more civic education, more instruction, and especially [more] humane kindness. The civilized in the city believe that they are the most suitable to lead, not the peasants and the pseudo-civilized. Golopenţia, with whom I am now a true friend, sees things as in Plato’s republic, with hierarchies that no longer work today.67

Comarnescu not only expressed his progressive views in the Romanian context. Something that both impressed and appalled him during his time in America was the contradiction between legal and practical equality of  PCJ, 83.  Ibid., 84.

66 67

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the people including Jews and women (on the one hand) and the persisting inherent racism toward African-Americans even in New York City (on the other).

Tensions of Fall 1933 By the end of 1933 things were not going so well for the Criterion Association. Comarnescu lamented the association losing money.68 In October Sebastian felt the need to assert again the genuine apolitical nature of the association: ‘The function of this group of writers and thinkers was only a function of the intellectual order, not one of agitation.’69 There were also substantial changes on the personal level, Comarnescu’s relationship with Gina Manolescu-Strunga had started and escalated quickly to become serious.70 Zaharia Stancu was also already exhibiting his zeal of attacking public figures in the press, with his polemic against Gusti.71 Following the events at Grivit ̦a, despite more government crackdown and surveillance, Criterion did manage to rally and carry on with a vibrant program of activity, a more mild showing in spring 1933 but a full-scale effort in the autumn. However, by the end of that year Criterion’s public activity was officially over. The second year of Criterion’s activity was a year of political upheaval in Romania involving authoritarian measures from the King and parliament in response to extremist threats. It was the year that the tables turned. Early in 1933, in February the threat came from the Left. By the end of it, the major menace came from the Right. In 1932–1933 Codreanu based his operation in Bucharest (from Iaşi) in an effort to be a national movement. A significant portion of this effort involved attracting intellectuals to support the Iron Guard. Ţurcanu concludes that Polihroniade’s effort to recruit Eliade to the Guardist publication Axa must have failed because his name does not appear as a collaborator on the review. Although he may not have collaborated with Axa ideologically and officially, Eliade’s name did appear a year later alongside Nichifor Crainic, N.  Crevedia, Ion Dimitrescu, Ovidiu Papadima, Dragoş Protopopescu and Nicolae Roşu’s in a series on ‘A Few  PCJ, 100.  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC., XXXI Imprimate 1, 91) ‘Criterion,’ October 22, 1933, by Mihail Sebastian, most likely in Cuvântul. 70  PCJ, 102. January 2, 1934. ‘My relationship with Gina has intensified.’ 71  Ibid., 92. ‘Zaharia Stancu’s attack on Gusti disgusts me horribly.’ Mentioned again on 97. 68 69

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Opinions about the Development of the Iron Guard.’ Eliade’s piece was critical of the measures the Legionnaires were taking, noteworthy for he published it in Axa, at a time when it was considered the official legionary mouthpiece for the intelligentsia and also that Polihroniade agreed to publish it. This reveals that on December 25, 1933, Eliade was not lured by the initial recruitment to the Iron Guard. The development of the Iron Guard is a political fact … but the way they have realized that development, the barbarism exercised in such an exasperated and stupid fashion—on the youth who do not have another way than [the Guard] …—I abhor it. I don’t know if this is politics or not. I only know that it is something barbaric and inhumane.72

Violence was a central tenet of the Iron Guard and the government retaliated accordingly. King Carol II requested National Liberal politician Ion G. Duca serve as Prime Minister in November 1933, in preparation for the upcoming December elections. In this position, Duca was vigilant in his efforts to suppress Codreanu’s growing movement. One of these measures was officially outlawing the political arm of the Legion. Accusing them of being an outpost of the Nazi Party in the fall of 1933, the Liberal government arrested many Legionnaires just before the elections and the authorities killed many. In retaliation, the legionary ‘Nicadori’ death squad fatally shot the Prime Minister on the platform at the Sinaia train station on December 29. The three guilty Guardists were immediately arrested and were sentenced to hard labor for life. Codreanu went into hiding. The assassination of Prime Minister Ion G. Duca by Iron Guardists was a cataclysmic event that had direct consequences for Criterion, Criterionists, those close to their circle and the stability of the Romanian constitutional monarchy. Eliade described the month of December for his group as one of tensions. Nae Ionescu became outspokenly critical of the measures taken by King Carol II and his government (which he deemed illegal and unnecessary) in their effort to curb the power and influence of the Iron Guard.73 In Cuvântul Ionescu wrote a number of articles criticizing the Duca government. He thought there were greater dangers in dissolving the Legion 72  Mircea Eliade, ‘Dizolvarea Gărzii de Fier,’ Axa, December 25, 1933, 1. Found at USHMM. 73  MEAI, 280.

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than letting Codreanu’s movement thrive. Ionescu argued that if the movement were merely artificial (‘without roots in the life of the Romanian population’) then such a government ban was entirely unnecessary; if on the other hand it was an authentic movement, it would be impossible for the government to ‘annihilate it by means of a ministerial decision.’74 Ionescu had met Codreanu earlier that autumn. Eliade recalled a later meeting between the two at Casa Verde (the Green House, one of the legionary headquarters in Bucharest).75 Ionescu was impressed that Codreanu had made something (a house) and when Codreanu replied that Ionescu had himself made things, Ionescu disagreed: No, all I’ve ‘made’ up till now are two sons. It’s not much, but it’s something. For the rest, I’ve made nothing; in politics I’m only a gardener: I’ve watered the trees, flowers and vegetables. But I haven’t made the fruits. I’ve just helped them to grow—protected them from the cockleburs.76

As a result of his gardening, Nae Ionescu and Cuvântul (the garden, theoretically) were hit hard in the aftermath of Duca’s assassination. Ionescu was arrested, in addition to other Legionnaires (including Criterionists Polihroniade and Tell) and unaffiliated Guardist sympathizers. Held at the Cotroceni barracks, Ionescu was interrogated by a military prosecutor and released in March 1934. Cuvântul was suspended.77 Activity and circulation of the paper was not resumed until 1938 and even then it only survived briefly. The right-leaning Gândirea was also temporarily suspended.

Criterion While its activity was dwindling as an association for symposia, lectures, events and exhibitions, some members of Criterion created the publication. Criterion: revista de arte, litere şi filosofie (October 1934–February 1935) was the last effort of this cultural circle to keep its presence alive  Ibid.  Casa Verde was under construction in 1933–1934 and inaugurated in 1936. The initial headquarters was at Gutenberg 3, the house of Cantacuzino-Graniceru, a rich supporter of the Iron Guard. 76  MEAI, 280. 77  Ibid. 74 75

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against too many odds. On October 15, 1934, Tell set up the journal Criterion. The editorial staff included Comarnescu, I. Cantacuzino, Stahl, Eliade, Tell and Vulcănescu, and they planned for a bimonthly release. Seven issues appeared; two of which were double-issues.78 Ornea claims the publication itself bore no connection to the pre-existing cultural and intellectual association. He clearly arrives at this conclusion from the disclaimer in the first issue printed above the publication’s correspondence address, conspicuously not Floria Capsali’s studio, but rather Tell’s personal address on Calea Victoriei: The Criterion publication does not represent the association of arts, literature and philosophy of the same name. The title of this publication is a result of the fact that its editors, all members of the Criterion Association, have an understanding to continue the ideas on the basis of which they worked inside the association. The responsibility of this publication is exclusively shared by Ion Cantacuzino, Petru Comarnescu, Mircea Eliade, Constantin Noica, Henri H.  Stahl, Alexandru Cristian Tell and Mircea Vulcănescu, who run it.79

The cover of the publication demonstrates a clear connection between the association and the publication. Photos of key Criterionists such as Vulcănescu, Eliade, Comarnescu and Noica are featured with the heart of the cover being the Royal Foundation, the home of Criterion’s conferences and the association’s most notable activity (Fig. 5.1). From this it is evident that Ornea’s conclusion is not entirely accurate. Though it did not represent the entire association (membership, activities and ideas), the publication did bear a very strong connection to the cultural association from which it drew its name. All its editors and writers were Criterionists. They were not the exact same entity as the association, certainly, but strictly speaking the publication articulated the difference between the two and their exact relationship in its own pages. The publication emphasized that many ideas explored therein were in fact a continuation of the respective debates begun in the Criterion symposia. This is explicitly stated in the introductory note before the articles ‘Experience’ and ‘Spirituality.’

 Ornea, The Romanian Extreme Right, 139.  The lower right corner of page 5 of Criterion, Year I No. 1, October 15, 1934.

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Fig. 5.1  The publication cover with photos of (left to right) Mircea Vulcănescu, Mircea Eliade, Petru Comarnescu, Constantin Noica and (center) the King Carol I Royal Foundation. Source: Criterion. Courtesy of the Central University Library of Bucharest In a more succinct form, the present dictionary therefore proposes to itself continue the activity of elucidating ideas begun in the symposia of the Criterion Association.80 80  ‘Notă introductivă pentru rubrică “O Ideie,”’ unsigned. Before Mircea Vulcănescu ‘Spiritualitate,’ Criterion, Year I No. I, October 15, 1934, 3. And Petru Comarnescu ‘Experienţa,’ Criterion Year I No. 2, November 1, 1934, 3.

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Vulcănescu further clarified the relationship between the two in the second issue of the publication, explaining that although they were separate entities, they had the same values and were fighting the same fight. He wrote, The connection between the Criterion Association and the publication is more than sharing a title, but this title expresses the same ideal of selection of values, which some members of the association tried to realize there [in the association], and which they now continue to try to realize here [in the publication].81

Vulcănescu described the Criterion association as a ‘tribunal’ and a ‘communal manifestation of the Young Generation’ rather than a ‘doctrine’ or a ‘trend.’ This tribunal was a place for young people to express and listen to ideas of all stripes and respect differences of opinion and this respect for different opinions was the ‘single condition the association asked for.’82 In this piece, Vulcănescu repeatedly refers to the Criterion Association as the ‘former association.’ This implies that by the appearance of the publication in October 1934 and the dance performance of Gabriel Negry of the same month, the association was already considered by key members as being something of the past. Vulcănescu blamed the intervention of politics for causing the public activity of the Criterion association to cease, claiming that ‘what was possible in 1932 is no longer possible in 1934.’ According to Vulcănescu ‘the end of the Criterion Association’ was when ‘people refused to talk to each other.’ Due to condescension and lack of respect for each other’s opinions, intellectual collaboration became impossible. But although the association was at an end, this was not the end of the activity of people who persisted in believing in the primacy of the spiritual.83 Clearly here Vulcănescu is referring to the editors of the publication. Vulcănescu’s words are notable also for they reveal a self-awareness that the political had interceded in their friendship group and hindered the association’s activity. He explained the transition from the focus on the association to that of the publication. He wrote, ‘Some members of the 81  M.V. ‘…Ş i cîteva puncte de vedere,’ Criterion, Year I No. 2, November 1, 1934, 6. Reprinted under the  title ‘Grupul Criterion,’ in Mircea Vulcănescu, ‘Tânăra Generaţie,’ Marin Diaconu, ed., 189–191. 82  Ibid. 83  Ibid.

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former association thought to transform the tribunal into a publication.’ The publication did not represent the entirety of the Young Generation, or a result of a communal effort, but rather represented the personal opinions and views of its editors. Vulcănescu explicitly stated, The Criterion Publication therefore is not a publication of a group with a communal ideology, but rather of a group remaining in their old positions, which believes that for the illumination of all problems, the principal instrument is discussion, reflexive thought, a conscious confrontation of facts and pretenses. The Criterion publication therefore represents nothing more than a method. Not one of the collaborators speaks in the name of the group, but each one in his own name. If it took the name of the former association and wears the clothes of the former ‘Idei europeane’, they did so, as an homage, for the two directions in which they would like to continue.84

Ornea’s primary criticism of the publication is that due to its limited run (seven issues) the Criterion journal itself ‘can hardly be marked as an event.’85 He admits that the topics explored in its pages and contributing signatories were of course interesting, but ultimately the publication was merely ‘the last throb of a splendid group.’86 Naturally I agree with Ornea that the Criterion publication was just such a ‘last throb’ of core members of both Criterion and the Young Generation, but I contest the ease with which he dismisses the journal’s appearance. The themes investigated, questions asked, fields covered, personalities involved and intellectual bravery it took to pursue such a publication during a time of increasing censorship represents a noble cultural achievement and a genuine intellectual investigation. The Criterion publication was the natural culmination of many questions members of the Young Generation had been asking since ‘The Spiritual Itinerary.’ Relevant themes investigated include: experienţa, spirituality, generation, the New Man, the active role of the intellectual, nationalism, the Romanian village, internationalism and cosmopolitanism. What appears in its pages should be taken seriously, examined critically and considered in the wider cultural, political and personal contexts in which it appeared. And in addition to all the above listed merits, two widely con Ibid.  Ornea, The Romanian Extreme Right, 139. 86  Ibid. 84 85

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tested literary works of the period are examined in Criterion’s pages: Sebastian’s De două mii de ani and Ionesco’s Nu. What I can and will present here will be an overview of the material covered in the publication and demonstrate the core themes and subjects the Criterionists were concerned with at the end of 1934. The Content of Criterion The content explored in Criterion was just as diverse as that investigated by the association. Multiple disciplines were represented such as philosophy, literature, sociology, politics (national and international) and art. Even a brief consideration of the format (using rubrics unique to Criterion) provides a sense of the wide array of subject matter covered in an issue: ‘a problem,’ ‘a book,’ ‘a man,’ ‘three positions,’ ‘an essay,’ ‘an idea,’ ‘a work of art’ and always ending with ‘and some points of view.’ The publication team itself illustrated the diversity of points of view and fields of interest present. From centrist left-leaning Comarnescu to right-leaning Tell and Eliade to sociologists Stahl and Golopenţia and literary critic Ion Cantacuzino, the publication itself was a product of the philosophy behind the Criterion Association. The members certainly did not agree with each other but respected everyone’s right to disagree. And in speaking in each of their names independently Criterion kept a promise that few journals of the day did: each article was signed by its author, never using a pseudonym. Philosophy, Intellectuals and ‘Problématique’ The Criterion publication directly addressed and comprehensively presented problems concerning the Young Generation. Under the rubric ‘An Idea’, the quintessential concepts ‘Experienţa,’ ‘Spirituality’ and ‘Generation’ were investigated. In the three articles, Comarnescu and Vulcănescu endeavored to define the terms, explain their respective histories and implications specific to and relevance for the Young Generation. Vanhaelemeersch claims that by the time Criterion came out, experienţa was a dead concept, which had long gone out of fashion.87 Comarnescu provides a detailed and informative study of the concept and its applicability to Romania and individual members of the Young Generation.88  Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 278.  Petru Comarnescu, ‘Experienta̧ ,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 2, November 1, 1934, 3–4.

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As for the implications of experienţa in the political sphere, Comarnescu explains that democracy is associated with a critical naturalist experience that is proven to be rationalist and individualist. Nationalists are closer to vitalist collectivist experience. And completely opposed to any kind of experientialism were Marxists, and the two representative Romanians Comarnescu offers are authors of ‘Manifesto of the White Lily,’ Petre Pandrea and Sorin Pavel. Comarnescu concludes, ‘Generally, with some exceptions, all of the youth of today agrees with the special attention given to the concept of experienţa.’89 In Vulcănescu’s presentation of ‘Spirituality’ he approaches it in just as systematic a fashion as Comarnescu. ‘Spirituality’ for Vulcănescu is wrapped up with the notion of experienţa and authenticity of living. For Vulcănescu ‘spirituality’ means exactly ‘the state of the spirit’ and to live every moment of life with value and meaning. He presents three principal realms in which it is used: (1) interior life; (2) culture and (3) confessional life. For the second understanding, Vulcănescu presents the following personalities as ‘contemporary sources’—it is notable that many of these figures were examined in the Idols series: Benda, Berdiaeff, Dilthey, Freyer, Gandhi, Gide, Hartmann, Kautsky, Keyserling, Klages, Lenin, de Man, Maritain, Masaryk, Massis, Maurras, Mussolini, Ortega y Gasset, Rathenau, Scheler, Spengler, Tagore, Valéry and Unamuno. Vulcănescu credits Vasile Pârvan and Nae Ionescu and their courses at the university with the impetus for the Romanian cultural preoccupation with spirituality following WWI and explains the resistance encountered by members of the Old and Sacrificed Generations.90 As Comarnescu did for experienţa, Vulcănescu concludes with an outline of where various intellectuals of the Young Generation fall on the spectrum of support for and belief in the idea of ‘spirituality.’ The four possible political ideological manifestations of the idea Vulcănescu considers to be: (1) Marxism (which puts the emphasis on class, e.g. Petre Pandrea and M. Ralea), (2) Integral Nationalism (which puts the emphasis on the neam, e.g. Golopenţia and Polihroniade), (3) Neoclassic humanism (puts the emphasis on man in general, e.g. Comarnescu, Sebastian and Noica) and (4) Spiritualism (which puts the accent on the absolute, e.g. Lucian Blaga and Stelian Mateescu). Vulcănescu then presents another category, which is possibly most applicable to writers of the  Ibid., 4.  Mircea Vulcănescu, ‘Spiritualitate,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934, 3–4.

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day, agreeing with Eliade, oscillating in their search for a new revolutionary spirituality (both interior and cultural) and ‘at the same time opposed to the dogmatism of orthodoxy, the historical materialism of Marxism, the particularistic doctrine of nationalism and the round and definite character of neoclassicism.’ Vulcănescu claims that the characteristics of their agony are lucidity, negation and the tragedy of doubt that wants to realize a ‘new man’ who has not appeared yet. In this category he includes Cioran, I. Dobridor, Ionesco, Mihail Ilovici and Petru Manoliu.91 Just as there was an interrelation between experienţa and ‘spirituality,’ there is an overlap between Vulcănescu’s piece on spirituality and his ensuing mammoth article on ‘Generation.’92 In this investigation, his main concern is, predictably, the identity and purpose of the Young Generation. He starts the article stating that ‘during the past ten years no word has had more value in Romanian journalism than generation.’93 He outlines seven principal meanings of ‘generation’: the biological sense, the sociological sense, the statistical sense, the historical sense, the psychological sense, the cultural and political sense and the economic sense. In his explanation of the cultural and political sense, Vulcănescu writes, ‘in any epoch a dominant spiritual structure exists in a society’ and that each generation has a plan of ‘unity of a dominant interest,’ a unity due to being concerned with the same problems and ideas of the time.94 Vulcănescu explains that the Young Generation has passed through two crucial moments in Romanian history: the spiritual moment and the non-­ spiritual [nespiritual] moment. The spiritual moment (1925–1929) was the moment when the Young Generation discovered itself and naïvely enthusiastically believed they had the power to shape the destiny of Romania. The non-spiritual moment (1929–1932) is when this dream collapsed, spirituality fell and the Young Generation found itself useless and in disharmony with society. Between the two moments there was the realization of real divergences inside the generation and the economic crisis (1929–1932). Proof of the first moment was ‘The Spiritual Itinerary’ and ‘The Manifesto of the White Lily’. For literary proof of the non-­  Ibid.  Ibid. 93  Mircea Vulcănescu, ‘Generat ̧ie,’ Criterion Year 1 Nos. 3–4, November 15–December 1, 1934. 94  Ibid. 91 92

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spiritual moment, Vulcănescu offers Eliade’s Întoarcerea din Rai, Ionesco’s Nu and Cioran’s Pe culmile disperării. For Vulcănescu, the Young Generation had the unique privilege to live through the moment of rupture. He asserts that going back to before this ‘burning of the bridges’ would be impossible.95 Vulcănescu explains that the Young Generation can be characterized by its thirst for experience, for adventure; by its authenticity, its spirituality and its dramatic tension (this tragedy, this crisis ‘constitutes the crucial point of lived experience shared by the Young Generation’). The trends of the Young Generation fall into two categories: spiritual and political. Vulcănescu determines that in the spiritual domain, the Young Generation can be divided into four groups: Orthodox mysticism, Neoclassicist humanism, Agony and Negativism. For politics, he provides three options the youth have gravitated toward: (1) Integral Nationalism; (2) Marxist Communism and (3) the Centre, participating in the government’s political parties. Vulcănescu clearly articulates that the antagonisms, which halted the Criterion association’s activity, not only had a political dimension but a spiritual one as well. Vulcănescu claims the Young Generation has a threefold mission in this historic moment in Romanian society: (a) to assure the unity of the Romanian people; (b) to express in universal ways this Romanian spirit, and (c) to prepare for the difficult times ahead. Vulcănescu claims that for some, this generation has (in addition) a universal mission: to prepare for the dawn of the new man (‘to integrate in the universal rhythm of human creation and to contribute to the preparation for the man of tomorrow’).96 He concludes by addressing an accusation the Young Generation had often heard: that the Young Generation was ambitious, presumptuous, that they liked to talk about themselves, to talk themselves up, when in fact they had not done or accomplished anything. Vulcănescu affirms that this accusation is illegitimate and that when the Young Generation is represented in all the domains of creation, their impact will be felt. At that point, in 1934, they had not yet reached their maturity. (These are ­prophetic words when we consider the future output and legacy of members of the generation.) But Vulcănescu does not need to rely on the future for redemption for his generation. He writes,

 Ibid.  Ibid.

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And even if the definitive work [of the Young Generation] has not been realized yet, they have realized something much more. For the first time in the history of Romanian culture, they created a medium for diffusing ideas, a reciprocal interest in the endeavors of others.97

Elsewhere in the publication, philosophical issues are further explored, but all through the lens of their relevance to the Young Generation in Romania at that moment. A page in the first issue under the heading ‘Three Positions’ presents three different interpretations of the Young Generation’s interpretation of ‘the man of tomorrow.’ Noica, in ‘The Death of the Man of Tomorrow’ sarcastically and pessimistically concludes that they are making a mockery of this life.98 They are working for the man of tomorrow not to be thirsty or hungry, not to want for anything, preparing the ground for a better society in the future. But the man of tomorrow will never be satisfied and this effort will never end. Noica mocks technological advancement and the improvements of modernity by implying that electric light and the radio do not make the man of tomorrow feel better. Noica dramatically concludes, ‘What if [the man of tomorrow] never manages to think? Our planet one day hits another one? What if man’s spirit dies? If this man will die geologically or astronomically, instead of his dying at least spiritually.’99 Tell is also skeptical about the fight for the man of tomorrow. He claims that people are neither living for the man of tomorrow, nor for the man of today. Due to feeling empty and alone, the man of today needs a purpose. Fighting for the man of tomorrow brings him peace and constitutes his happiness. ‘Compromise is no longer satisfactory, the organic necessity of certainty transforms itself into the thirst for the absolute.’100 Tell identifies this behavior with people aligning with extremist doctrines: The man who creates an ideal of happiness from equilibrium cannot find peace except in definite extremist positions. Reason is replaced by instinct. And instinct does not tolerate restrictions. Look at the people today who

 Ibid.  Constantin Noica, ‘Moartea omului de mâine,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934, 5. 99  Ibid. 100  Alexandru-Christian Tell, ‘Viat ̧a omului de mâine,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934, 35. 97 98

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transform their lives without justification, popular beliefs are formed on a mystical foundation. See this exaltation and frenzy in which the people of my time live.101

Tell concludes by proclaiming that his contemporaries are making a grave mistake.102 But Eliade turns the discussion into an entirely different direction, arguing that what ultimately matters for the life and culture of a country is neither ‘today’ nor ‘tomorrow’ but rather ‘the day after tomorrow’ [poimâine]. In this piece Eliade critically evaluates the role of the intellectual in Romanian society (a theme in his Criterion writings, that will be further addressed), and presents Nae Ionescu’s interpretation and influence, while arguing for his own interpretation of how the intellectual can shape the world of the day after tomorrow. ‘Poimâine’ is a cry for action and an article with hints of extremism. Eliade argues that the life and culture of a country cannot be measured by today or tomorrow, but rather by the decades and ages that pass. He asserts that what matters for ‘people today’ is the fear of tomorrow, ‘this second day after something happens.’103 If the man of today is preparing for revolution tomorrow, then what ultimately matters for him is what happens after the revolution. Worse than the ‘revolution’ is the hour when the revolution consumes itself and history begins to create new forms. More important than a victory is the first day of lucidity after the victory. And these hours and days belong to the people so falsely named ‘intellectuals,’ who are left to understand what are abstract, schematic, without contact with the realities of life and [who are] incapable of ‘actions.’

Eliade makes a distinction between ‘practical people’ (repeaters of action, robots) and ‘the authentic intellectual’ (creators of action). The authentic intellectual experiences life directly, and lives actions with an immediacy unknown to the ‘practical people.’ Within daily life the ­authentic intellectual understands the play of subterranean forces, which prepare the history of ‘the day after tomorrow’ and knows how to intervene in it.104  Ibid.  Ibid. 103  Mircea Eliade, ‘Poimâine,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934, 5. 104  Ibid. 101 102

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Eliade urges the intellectual to take an interest in and act to change these political forces shaping the future of their country. Of course, he does not mean this in the sense of participating in the democratic system of political parties. His argument is addressing the subterranean level, indeed stoking the fire, which will overturn the current system of government (deemed inadequate) and provide the theories and forms, which will be of use in the post-revolutionary space. His argument fits into his overall theory of history and the intellectual’s place in it and in society: Today is without a doubt history—but it is history that consumes itself … what happens today are only actions whose kinetic nucleus was created a long time ago. But tomorrow? Why do certain intellectuals hesitate to collaborate in body and mind with these political forces, which are on the road to realization? Why do they not integrate themselves in the messianism, the popular and national trends which shake the true forms of life of a country, seeing other purposes and other hierarchies? This however is not only a history that consumes itself, it also is a history that makes itself … But even the day after tomorrow is a consumption, all a realization of what the creators of action have sown—with thought, with writing, with speaking or only with their presence many years in advance. It is without a doubt a new life.105

It is notable here that Eliade would use the term ‘new life’ for the title of his autobiographical novel he wrote during the WWII years, Viaţa Nouă, meant to be third in a trilogy after Întoarcerea din Rai and Huliganii. Eliade then examines the case of Nae Ionescu, just such an intellectual who is from a political point of view one step ahead of shaping history. He states that Ionescu was experimenting with the Romanian peasant state at a time when the whole world was convinced of the fertility and possible success of the liberal state. Then Ionescu saw and experimented with the nationalist state (in a revolutionary way) when the whole world believed in the peasant state. Eliade demonstrates how Ionescu is just such an intellectual who creates action. His university lectures on logic and metaphysics in 1923–1924 about ‘the concert’ and ‘love as an instrument of knowledge’ did not appear revolutionary or ‘un-philosophical’ at the time, but today (1934) these ideas are appearing as material in feuilletons in journals in the provinces. Eliade argues that intellectuals such as Ionescu create action, make history and therefore are in direct contact not only  Eliade, ‘Poimâine.’

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with the typical daily happenings (ahistorical moments) but also see and experiment, try, and experience revelatory happenings, to choke them back as well as to promote them.106 However, Ionescu himself does not interpret the vision that intellectuals have as one of creation but rather of confession: ‘We [the intellectuals] do nothing, [rather] we say what should be done [by others].’ The act of seeing and confessing, ‘an act of promotion’ earns a historical value of creation. Some intellectuals are just creators of values, which are never successfully integrated, whose theories are never applied or used. Eliade claims, ‘It is not just a question of riff-raff, not of cerebral people, not of erudite people, not of journalists—but of clear-visionaries, creators of values and actions.’107 And he concludes that it is no wonder or surprise if intellectuals remain always ahead, in front of the rest of the population. In contrast to the practical people (robots) who live controlled by external stimuli, these intellectuals (creators of thought and action) create history and the future simply by existing: ‘They create because they are.’ Eliade ends the article with a Spenglerian reference, claiming that the practical people of today and tomorrow do not move well in an unformulated world, ‘in whose power they will stand in the hour of decision after the victory.’108 It seems Eliade is arguing for the crucial importance of the existence of his version of intellectuals, who will not only lay the groundwork for the day after tomorrow, but who will be there to guide the robots in the chaos following the revolution. Eliade’s sharp advocacy of a specific interpretation of intellectual (the intellectual concerned and active in Romanian politics and society) continues in an article entitled ‘Why are intellectuals cowards?’109 He deplores apolitical intellectuals (intellectuals entirely detached from the political life of Romania and the future of their country) and claims that they only seek contact with a social and political moment out of fear and cowardice. He describes this behavior in terms of the recent rise and success of the Iron 106  This is precisely why it is regrettable and also incomplete that in his comprehensive investigation of the philosophy of experience, Vanhaelemeersch failed to address the political implications of experienţa. The philosophy also, as demonstrated by this article by Eliade, encompassed the meaning and sense to ‘experiment’ with political theories, ideas and forms that could be integrated in and activated in history. 107  Eliade, ‘Poimâine.’ 108  Ibid. 109  Mircea Eliade, ‘De ce sunt intelectualii laşi?’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 2, November 1, 1934, 2.

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Guard and gives a specific example of a novelist he met the evening of the Grivit ̦a insurrection. As for the Guard, Eliade asserts that intellectuals began to support it not because they supported the Guardist program, but rather because they were scared of being subjects of suspicion and persecution after the eventual Guardist victory.110

Just learning of the tumultuous events, the novelist Eliade met on the evening of the Grivit ̦a riots, immediately opened his latest novel to show Eliade that he himself (the novelist) had promoted the social and anti-­ bourgeois revolution occurring. Eliade argues that the novelist in fact knew nothing and merely rushed to make a connection between his work and the events around him out of fear. Such intellectuals are after the fact, too late, not on the frontier of History. The intellectuals who have the courage to engage with the political realities of the moment and critically evaluate and promote (through thought and action) what would be better for the future (the day after tomorrow) of Romania are in fact the people who will make Romania endure through all eternity. The forces that move through eternity, the forces that sustain the history of a country and nourish the nation’s mission, have nothing to do with politics, economics or social life, but rather are exalted and carried only by those intellectuals of a country, of the avant-garde which alone, on the frontiers of time, fights against nothingness.111

The cowardly apolitical intellectuals reject their responsibility to shape a nation’s destiny and ensure the nourishing of culture and the possible achievement of greatness. Eliade argues that the ideas of an intellectual or group of intellectuals are the roots that precede and are necessary for the growth of any political movement. The cowardly intellectual joins the movement after the fact, seeking to find a parallel in his own work. The courageous intellectual created the movement in the first place. Eliade clearly believes that it is the courageous intellectual alone who is capable of guaranteeing Romania a place in History and a continued presence in eternity (rather than falling to nothingness).  Ibid.  Ibid.

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In an article highly critical of the Romanian state, Eliade asks his readers to consider if the great intellectuals of history, such as Klages, Prinzhorn, Heidegger or Häberlein, had lived in Romania. Eliade argues that they would have been considered crazy people, and would not even be able to achieve a university position and their philosophical works would be dismissed as ‘vague lyricism.’112 Other figures that would not be taken seriously in the Romanian context and would be satirized in the press would be Masaryk, Unamuno, Hamsun, Maritain and Aldous Huxley. He gives the example of Rădulescu-Motru, the esteemed and accomplished intellectual of their day, and maintains he could never become a minister of the Romanian state. Eliade blames this on the corruption and inadequacy of Romanian politicians: Anyone who wants to lift himself up in this country, needs to be dirty from head to toe. The mentality of Romanian politics cannot accept pure whole people.113

Eliade concludes that it is with this human material that Romania is supposed to make ‘a New Man.’ But he urges his readers not to despair, claiming, ‘It is that much more passionately our mission, with the number of Romanians who are the smartest. And they are terribly smart and terribly independent.’114 Clearly Eliade is including himself in this number, not only joining the ranks of the great minds that would be considered ‘crazy’ in Romanian society but also those responsible for creating the ‘New Man’ of Romania’s future. Just because the intellectual, as Eliade understands him, is discounted and powerless in the context of the Romanian liberal state does not mean they should abandon their mission. As becomes clear, they just need to find an alternative way to make their voices heard. In the front-page article in the first issue of Criterion, Comarnescu lays out what he believes to be ‘the discord between the truth of the spirit and the phenomena of the present.’ He argues that the thinking samaritan, when facing the irrationality of contemporary life, must rely on his own thought. Comarnescu concludes that,

 Mircea Eliade, ‘Să ne inchipium că…,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 5, December 15, 1934, 2.  Ibid. 114  Ibid. 112 113

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only criteria and ideas which could save the world at some point in time and could give it a superior sense, are something real and which [will have an impact] on the consciousnesses of those who will come in decades and centuries.115

In his piece, ‘The Situation of Romanian Intellectuals,’ Golopenţia responds to the discussion started by Comarnescu and urges his fellow Romanian intellectuals not to give up in the face of these discordant times full of tension, drama and doubt.116 Golopenţia states that Comarnescu responds to conflict faced by the well-meaning intellectual [voitor de bine], which is cloaked in the formula of ‘thought or action’ and ‘interior thought or collective action.’ Comarnescu objected that acts do not accord with concepts. Golopenţia acknowledges that the intellectual in their time across Europe faces difficult problems. In fact, ‘the situation of the intellectual is a general problem inherent in the American-European culture of the present.’117 Then Golopenţia asks if the conflict as viewed by Comarnescu is a problem for the Romanian intellectual. After examining the cases of Italy, Germany and Russia, Golopenţia looks at how the problem manifests itself in Romania. Following WWI, there were slow efforts of ‘civilization’ and major currents of intense active homogenization (in fact, Romanianization) across the country: ‘The Romanian intellectuals of today can dream of a culture for all Romanians.’ Golopenţia concludes: ‘The situation of us intellectuals does not become “tragic and futile” unless we allow ourselves to be overcome by foreign complications.’118 A word that reappears in the discussion is the ‘problématique’ [problematica]119 confronting intellectuals of a certain generation at a ­specific moment in history. Noica devotes an article to this exact concept under the rubric of ‘an idea.’120 He contrasts the dogma of the nineteenth century to the question of the twentieth century: the acknowledgment 115  Petru Comarnescu, ‘Dezacordul dintre adevărurile spiritului şi fenomenele prezentului,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934, 1. 116  Anton Golopenţia, ‘Situaţia intelectualilor români,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 3–4, November 15–December 1, 1934, 1–2. 117  Ibid. 118  Ibid. 119  In Romanian: problematica. In English: a ‘research question,’ with the belief that of applying rigorous analysis in order to arrive at an answer to the question. 120  Constantin Noica, ‘Problematica,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 5, December 15, 1934, 3.

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that there is not just one truth about a certain thing. Discussion has replaced blind belief, and thus the problématique of a question means the ‘assembling of the mysteries which comprise it.’ Here Noica says that Romanian culture should be thankful that they have in their midst a man who thinks of the idea of mystery, the philosopher Lucian Blaga. Noica then defines ‘men of problématique’ as ‘uneasy men with uncertainties.’ Although he claims that the problématique of the man of today is more justified to be dramatic than of a man from another time, Noica, as ever, is skeptical. He doubts that the men of today can successfully lift themselves to confront the ideas of the time. He proclaims, ‘We are not men of problématique, because we do not understand enough yet.’121 Noica employs the concept of problématique again in relation to the philosophy of Blaga in an article in Revista Fundaţiilor Regale, to which Vulcănescu responds in Criterion. Noica maintains that Blaga cannot be compared to other contemporary philosophers of the time, that he has his own ‘free and unique’ problématique. In three books published in the early 1930s: The Dogmatic Aeon (1931); Luciferian Knowledge (1933) and Transcendental Censorship (1934) Blaga develops a system of knowledge that accounts for the existence of mystery. In fact, in his last book, he examines the relationship between knowledge and mystery from the point of view of mystery itself ‘discovering the existence of a profound and anonymous ontological initiative.’122 However, in contrast to Noica’s interpretation, Vulcănescu presents that of I. Brucăr as first published in the holiday edition of Gândirea. Brucăr attempts to integrate Blaga into the contemporary philosophical problématique and interprets the latter’s philosophy of mystery as a continuation in the positivist continental tradition. This need to preserve a place for mystery coincided with the desire to preserve spirituality, a clear victim of modernization and other advances. In his article ‘The Rehabilitation of Spirituality’ Eliade contrasts spirituality and freedom with materialistic determinism and examines the question of what it takes to make the ‘New Man’ [Omul Nou].123 He also argues that spirituality makes history, and again asserts the importance of  Ibid.  Mircea Vulcănescu, ‘In jurul filosfului Blaga,’Criterion, Year 1 No. 5, December 15, 1934, 4. 123  Mircea Eliade, ‘Reabilitarea Spiritualităt i̧ i,’ Criterion, Year 2 Nos. 6–7, January– February 1935, 1. 121 122

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experienţa. The article itself is in response to an article of the same title written by the philosopher (and member of the Old Generation) Constantin Rădulescu-Motru in Revista Fundaţiilor Regale. Eliade credits Rădulescu-Motru with making a distinction between that which is concrete and grounded in reality versus abstract schemes and mediocre thoughts. He advocates what he identifies as ‘the autonomy of the spiritual.’ Reality does not just apply to that which is in the physical and organic world: there is also a spiritual reality. There are two understandings of the ‘New Man’ and they are considerably different from each other: the ‘New Man’ searched for and experienced by the contemporary spirituality versus the ‘New Man’ of Marxist societies. Eliade illustrates the integration of experienţa into this discussion with the following passage: A good part of the intellectuals of this time refuse Marxism not because they would be distanced from reality and history, lost in abstractions—but also because they are thirsty for reality, for the concrete. The epoch we live in now is characterized by a tendency towards the concrete, in all the orders of existence and of reflection. What is named ‘experience,’ ‘authenticity,’ and ‘adventure’—are not only the attempts at a direct knowledge of reality; a reality of the spirit until now, but [also attempts to] follow a natural tendency towards the knowledge of objective reality.124

Eliade maintains that it is freedom and the right of creation that are the spiritual axis of any nation. A people [neam] grows and survives not only through what it creates. But also an organic creation is not possible unless through liberty and through the autonomous consciousness of the act of the spirit.125

The ‘New Man’ according to the contemporary spirituality is realized through a decisive experience. Eliade gives the example of converting to Christianity as just such an experience. The experience is from within and cannot be imposed from the outside. And in such experiences only ­freedom and creation play a role, and these experiences need to be ‘deep’ and ‘real.’126

 Ibid.  Ibid. 126  Ibid. 124 125

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More advocacy of the philosophy of experience is evident in Dan Botta’s article on the ‘Power of the word.’ Botta applies Bergson’s élan vital to how people name ideas and abstractions. Bergson believed, according to Botta, that the discontinuation and homogeneity of the world and the notions of geometric space and time are illusions and abstractions created by words. For Bergson, words stand between the material and the spirit, between the world and ideas. The philosophy of élan vital is manifested in the creation of the words and once they are created, they earn an absolute value indifferent to the conditions they were created in. The word itself has a ‘bipolar spirit’ by participating simultaneously in the realm of ideas and the world of substance. Botta describes poetry as magic and argues that the power of words is still wild.127 Comarnescu elaborates more on the dangers of abstract ideas (a risk alluded to by Eliade and his critical approach to the lack of concrete reality in Marxism; and a notion introduced by Botta above in his exploration of the power of words) in his article ‘The Tyranny of Rigid Formulas.’128 Comarnescu warns of getting swept up in the big ideas and formulas of the time and again emphasizes the discord between the forms and the concrete reality. He is especially cautious to his readers for he believes that in Romania the majority of people have still not reached the point of being ‘authentic intellectuals.’ He acknowledges that they live in an epoch in which opposing forces and beliefs, solutions and ideals coexist and collide with an intensity rarely seen before. Comarnescu maintains that one of the biggest mistakes of their time is the speculation that occurs based solely on trusting big labels and formulas rather than focusing on experience.129 Nationalism and Sociology Many Criterionists deemed the road of integral nationalism to be the most ‘concrete’ avenue for the political future of Romania. Correspondingly there are a number of articles in support of Romanian nationalism and looking toward national heroes. The discussion of Lucian Blaga’s philoso Dan Botta, ‘Puterea Cuvântului,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 5, December 15, 1934, 1.  Petru Comarnescu, ‘Tirania formulelor—capcane,’ Criterion Year 2 Nos. 6–7, January– February 1935, 5. 129  Ibid. 127 128

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phy has already been mentioned; another figure lauded in Criterion’s pages is the historian Gheorghe Popovici (1863–1905).130 From Bucovina, Popovici wrote studies for Convorbiri Literare and was a member of the Romanian Academy.131 Stahl claims that there had never been a man of their contemporary culture, who had the gifts of Popovici, which is why he had such a posthumous cult following. This brief investigation into nationalism leads us to a discussion of the articles of a sociological nature published in Criterion. The presentations of nationalism and sociology in Criterion address the following central debates of the Romanian interwar era: the delicate issue of minority populations within the borders of Greater Romania; the continued divide between the village and city; forms of Western modernization versus the authentic Romanian substance; and what it means to be Romanian. Stahl investigates what constitutes a ‘national culture’ in his article, ‘An occasion for doubt—at a crossroads of paths: towards a rural, provincial and a “national” style.’132 Stahl presents a conflict of two cultures that interwar Romania was undergoing in her struggle to determine her own national culture. These two sources align with the distinction between East and West, and village and city. What Stahl calls the action of ‘culturalization’ resembles bringing Western forms to the Romanian substance. This is what causes every city intellectual indifferent of political orientation to, as Stahl says, ‘dress like the politician Mihalache.’ In the village, the organic culture is maintained and kept by the old people and tradition. But Stahl observes that there used to be more harmony between these two opposing cultural forces: there was a time when a part of the Romanian urban elite, though speaking French, would wear traditional peasant dress to balls. But he maintains this no longer happens due to a strong trend of snobbism. Stahl laments this loss and wonders what the national style will become in the future, what the national costume might be. Stahl continues to advocate the need to understand the reality of Romanian village life in his article ‘The Village.’133 He holds that the vil Henri H. Stahl, ‘Gheorghe Popovici,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934, 4.  Ibid. 132  Henri H. Stahl, ‘Prilej de îndoială,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 2, November 1, 1934, 1. 133  Henri H. Stahl, ‘Satul,’ Criterion, Year 2 Nos. 6–7, January–February 1935, 3–4. 130 131

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lage is the characteristic form of life for the Romanian people. Stahl argues that urban Romanians can have direct and critical knowledge of village life and that the study of village life helps Romanians better understand the Romanian consciousness. The sociological study of village life can bridge the gap between village and city, an endeavor that will unify the Romanian consciousness. Stahl proclaims this to be a problem to be tackled by the Young Generation: Which is why the village [peasant] problem seems to me one of the problems that is unique for the young generation, [it is] a problem of cross-­ roads: I want those my age to focus their full attention on it, and I want [our generation] to demonstrate its full working power on this issue.134

Ion I.  Cantacuzino laments that 16  years after Versailles there is still such a lack of nationalist elements in Romanian poetry. He was reacting to a conference held by Octavian Goga at the Royal Foundation on December 1, 1934, celebrating the Great Union with the presentation of poems written supposedly inspired by the event. Cantacuzino concludes that the sole consolation is to maintain the belief that a new national ideal is still on the road to crystallization. The latent forces of the people have not yet reached an equilibrium in order to manifest themselves in the lyrical concrete state of nationalistic poetry.135 The question of language is a major concern for Octav Şuluţiu when discussing the grave minority problem in Romania’s provinces.136 His solution is simple: everyone within Romania’s borders should speak Romanian and ethnic Romanians in Hungarian dominated areas should refuse to speak Hungarian. Şuluţiu calls these Romanians who speak Hungarian cowards. He argues that Article 19 of the Trianon Treaty, which guarantees minorities the right to manifest their culture, is misinterpreted when Hungarians demand primary schools in their language. Şuluţiu maintains that school is not a manifestation of culture, but rather one of citizenship, and that every Romanian citizen should speak the Romanian language perfectly.

 Ibid., 4.  Ion I. Cantacuzino, ‘Ceva despre lirica naţionalistă,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 5, December 15, 1934, 2. 136  Octav Şuluţiu, ‘Limba românească în Ardeal,’ Criterion, Year 2 Nos. 6–7, January– February 1935, 2 and 4. 134 135

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Romanian Literature Ion I. Cantacuzino gives Sebastian’s De două mii de ani a very positive review but harshly criticizes Nae Ionescu for his preface. Cantacuzino accuses Ionescu of failing to view the book as a work of literature and that his preface was responsible for the widespread misunderstanding in the public of the content and worth of the 300-page novel. Ionescu imposed his own complexes on the novel, and Cantacuzino urges readers to read it without the preface. In the novel itself, Cantacuzino sees an earnest investigation of the problem of living and the difficulties of the human condition. A large part of that is the importance of the theme of family. The narrator, himself a self-reflective individual, struggles with wanting to integrate into the Jewish collective. He confronts the struggle commonly experienced by the youth of the day: that between individuality and collective. The narrator, being ‘a Jewish hero,’ embodies both the collective race and the concept of the Cartesian individual. Cantacuzino does not see the protagonist’s struggle as one against anti-Semitism but rather as a man persecuted due to ignorance. ‘It is the suffering of a man misunderstood, a man persecuted.’137 Later in that issue of Criterion, lip service is given to Ionescu’s preface under the rubric ‘and some points of view’ by reprinting Petru Manoliu’s review of the preface in Credinţa. Manoliu wrote that this debate is the first of its kind in Romania, as until that moment no one had discussed the problem of theology in the context of Romanian contemporary and modern culture, and that correspondingly the Orthodox Church does not have a literature dealing with and addressing this problem.138 Eugène Ionesco’s first substantial work also appeared in 1934. In January of that year his unconventional collection of essays of literary criticism, Nu, came out. Comarnescu noted this occasion in his journal.139 Part of the book’s exposure was due to the enthusiasm and efforts of Vulcănescu who lauded the work in Familia and voted for its publication, as a member of the seven-person committee for the premiering of  Ion I. Cantacuzino, ‘De două mii de ani,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934, 2.  Reprint of quote from ‘Tintar’ from Petru Manoliu’s review of Nae Ionescu’s preface to Sebastian’s De două mii de ani published in Credinţa, September 28, 1934 in ‘Tintar’ section; found in M.V. [Mircea Vulcănescu] ‘…Şi cîteva puncte de vedere,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934, 6. 139  PCJ, 107. 137

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­ npublished young writers.140 The book included studies on poets Tudor u Arghezi and Ion Barbu, as well as journal entries by Ionesco, in addition to other essays.141 In his review of the book in Criterion, Cantacuzino, being a literary critic himself, is not as complimentary of Ionescu as he was with his review of Sebastian. His principal criticism is that the extremely pessimistic Ionesco falls into the trap of ego-centrism and fails to entirely subordinate himself to the discipline of literary criticism. However, he concludes that Ionesco’s work does have worth in that it is representative of a member of the Young Generation grappling with the problems of the time, in the style indicative of the time: confessional literature.142 Internationalism, Foreign Literature, Art and ‘and Some Points of View’ Despite the nationalist overtones present in many of the Criterion articles mentioned so far, the journal certainly had an interest in internationalism, cosmopolitanism and events abroad. And this coverage was more than merely mentioning alternative political systems (e.g. Italy, Germany or Russia) or discussing preceding philosophical debates in history (from the Ancient Greeks to Kant). The first category in which such an internationalist presence is found is literary: in a pair of articles under the heading: ‘The Two Italian Commentaries.’ The second place is in the variety of artworks chosen to replicate (include visual copies of) and analyzed by the Criterionists. And the third place where international references abound is under the rubric ‘Some points of view,’ to be presented subsequently. The first Italian commentary addresses the playwright, novelist and short story writer, Luigi Pirandello (1867–1936) winning the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1934.143 Acknowledging that the Nobel Prize was given to a writer representative of the specific trends of the epoch, Ion I. Cantacuzino briefly considers the other esteemed writers he considers to 140  Mircea Vulcănescu, ‘Pentru Eugène Ionesco,’ Familia, Year 2 Nos. 5–6, September– October 1934, 94–101. Republished in Mircea Vulcănescu, Dimensiunea românească a existenţei, Vol. 2, Chipuri spirituale, 148–154. 141  Eugen Ionescu, Nu. The first part of the book includes studies on Tudor Arghezi, Ion Barbu and Camil Petrescu. The second part is more introspective, entitled ‘A False Critical Itinerary’ [Fals Itinerar Critic]. 142  Ion I. Cantacuzino, ‘Nu,’ Criterion, Year I No. 2, November 1, 1934, 2. 143  Ion I.  Cantacuzino, ‘Premiul Nobel: Luigi Pirandello,’ Criterion, Year 1 Nos. 3–4, November 15–December 1, 1934, 7.

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also be representative: Francis Jammes, Paul Valéry, Miguel de Unamuno, Theodor Dreiser and Gabriele D’Annunzio. Cantacuzino concludes that the author of the play Six Characters in Search of an Author did have the right to win and his work was in fact representative of the times due to the way in which his mastery captures the authenticity of man’s existence: Pirandello places in the center of modern literature one of the most worrisome accents regarding the authenticity of human life. He therefore belongs among those who guide literature toward a greater consideration of the limits and values of human existence, bringing down literature from the realm of gratuity and giving it a strong character of expressiveness of the most dramatic problems of living.144

Cantacuzino fails to elaborate on another way that Pirandello was representative of the times: the author’s collaboration with Mussolini. In the second article entitled ‘Two Italian Books,’ Eliade reviews two books promoting fascism and Italian nationalism.145 The first, Legione Decima (The Tenth Legion) by Alfredo Panzini, has a strictly political approach. Eliade dismisses it as ‘simply mediocre literature and rhetorical prose.’ The second book Taccuino di Arno Borghi (The Notebook of Arno Borghi) by Ardengo Soffici has a spiritual significance. Soffici speaks of ‘Italianness’ and the ‘civil and European value of modern Rome.’ Eliade applauds Soffici’s apparent satisfaction with being Italian, rather than thirsting for change, describing him as ‘a citizen who loves his country and is finished with fighting for civilization and for Mediterranean values.’ Soffici is a man who does not hear the call of politics. His refusal to subordinate himself to the political realm takes a symbolic value. In his consciousness he knows he participates in the great Italian tradition and European culture and civilization. This brings Eliade to a conclusion that clearly has implications for the Romanian case: Everywhere today tradition and victory are appropriated in favor of the political regime. When in fact tradition and the New Man of the Future have nothing to do with politics—but belong fully to that which is created or they will create: they are craftsmen of the spirit.146  Ibid.  Mircea Eliade, ‘Două căr ţi italieneşti,’ Criterion, Year 1 Nos. 3–4, November 15– December 1, 1934, 7. 146  Ibid. 144 145

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The art reproduced in Criterion represents a variety of media and diversity of artists. There is an image on the front page of each issue. The first issue exhibits ‘A Drawing’ of Aristotle.147 The second issue features ‘A Mask’ most likely from the village Nerej with a commentary written by Stahl.148 The third and fourth dual edition features ‘A Drawing’ by Brâncuşi, with a review written by Comarnescu.149 In his commentary Comarnescu proclaims that Brâncuşi and the composer Enescu are the only Romanian artists recognized by universal art, whose origins can be found in their homeland. Brâncuşi works are classics due to the successful achievement of equilibrium between the ‘Romanian specific’ and possibility for universalism. The fifth issue features ‘A Statue’ by Michelangelo, with a commentary by Dan Botta. Botta claims that in the stone from which emerges the figure of a man Michelangelo inscribed something of an idea of destiny. ‘Michelangelo is the one who created for himself in suffering, in the feeling of that unreachable destiny, a mysterious principle of happiness.’150 And finally for the dual sixth and seventh issue, Ion Cantacuzino comments on ‘An Engraving’ by Francesco Jose de Goya y Lucientes. The image is from Goya’s cycle entitled ‘Proverbios’ and is of an extended family (or group of people huddled in blankets) sitting atop a massive tree branch. Cantacuzino considers it representative of the master’s qualities.151 And finally, the extremely brief entries published under the rubric specific to Criterion ‘and some points of view’ at the end of each issue, demonstrate the wide range of topics covered (both international and national) and the indeed diverse points of view held by the Criterionists themselves. As previously discussed, Vulcănescu presented his interpretation of the relationship between the Criterion Association and Criterion here in these pages, in the second issue. What follows is a brief overview to demonstrate this diversity and give the reader an overarching idea of the subjects addressed.152 The first issue  Mircea Vulcănescu, ‘Un desen,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934, 4.  Henri H. Stahl, ‘O mască,’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 2, November 1, 1934, 4. 149  Petru Comarnescu, ‘Un desen [de Brâncuşi],’ Year I Nos. 3–4, November 15– December 1, 1934, 2. 150  Dan Botta, ‘O Statuie [de Michelangelo],’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 5, December 15, 1934, 2. 151  Ion I.  Cantacuzino, ‘O gravură [de Goya],’ Criterion, Year 2 Nos. 6–7, January– February 1935, 5. 152  For the sake of space I do not cite each entry individually and encourage the reader to consult the comprehensive index printed with the republication of Criterion in 1991, edited by Marin Diaconu. 147 148

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included: ‘The eighth international philosophy conference, held in Prague,’ ‘Romanian books in an exhibition held at the international philosophy conference in Prague’ (including a book by Blaga); ‘The annual Industrial Exhibition’ in its third decade having been started in 1906; an announcement that after one year the publication Gândirea would reappear, after having been banned; a commentary on Dan Botta’s poetry, particularly the poem ‘Carmion,’ likening his work to that of the pure poetry of Valéry; and the economic inequality in the United States. The ‘some points of view’ of the second issue includes an homage to the recently deceased scientist, Ramon y Cajal; a discussion of the Romanian contribution (exemplified by a recent study by Stahl and Traian Herseni) to the upcoming XIIth Congress of the International Institute of Sociology to be held in 1936; and a visit to Romania by the Swedish Ballet composer and founder of the International Archive of Dance, Rolf de Mare, who wished to organize a Romanian section in his archive and museum in Paris (about de Mare, Comarnescu writes: ‘Here is a man who does more for our country than a hundred foreign journalists and ten diplomats’). Cantacuzino presents an argument as to why the new genre of theater called ‘Happy Theatre’ that put on ‘stupid operettas’ and vaudeville acts was destroying the authenticity and realism of the Bucharest theater scene. He calls ‘Happy Theatre’ a departure from true art and considers the last refuge of true art to be the National Theatre. The section also includes a commentary on a lecture series inaugurated by Rădulescu-Motru at the Royal Foundation addressing the irrationalism present in contemporary culture; an argument for French neo-spiritualism presented by Ion Petrovici (the Romanian representative, who Comarnescu describes as a Thomist, at the international philosophy conference in Prague); a promotion by Eliade of Iorga’s recent book Oamenii cari au fost; a piece on the historical and contemporary disconnect between external politics and the state’s commercial interest; and an entry in which Vulcănescu calls for a controlled Romanian national economic program of unity. The third and fourth combined issue includes an obituary for Gerhard von Mutius, the philosopher and former German minister to Romania; an explanation of why Iorga is no longer of interest to the youth (claiming that before WWI his work was nationalist and after the war he wrote more about world history); a review of a book by Em. Ciomac comprising his series of conferences sponsored by the National Opera about ‘The Life and Work of Richard Wagner’; a review of the infamous dance recital of

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Gabriel Negry described as ‘an example of the mutual stimulation and collaboration between artists and ideologues’ (to be discussed in the next chapter); a review by Eliade of a recent study entitled A doua operă  lui Eminescu  (The second work of Eminescu)  by Alexandru Cioranescu; an inquiry into the mode of protection of Romanian works citing the recent law which appeared in Monitorul Oficial No. 161 on July 16, 1934, requiring that 50  percent of employees in any governmental position (administrators, technical staff, skilled or unskilled workers) had to be ethnically Romanian; a discussion of how Ploieş̧ti is becoming a suburb of Bucharest; and a criticism of the monthly publication Meridian. In the fifth issue, topics addressed include a eulogy for the literary talent Cincinat Pavelescu; a reminder of the important role Iuliu Maniu played in the ‘Romanian Revolution of Transylvania’; a review of Iorga’s recent work The History of Modern Romanian Literature; a brief analysis of the problem of the Romanian bourgeoisie and the divide between the village and the city (emphasizing that Romania is a country whose rural population makes up 80  percent); a glowing review of Maria Holban’s translation into French of a volume of popular Romanian folk songs entitled Florilège de chansons populaires roumaines; and a response to negative press by an anonymous writer in Viaţa românească (in the October– November 1934 issue, suspected to be written by Mihai Ralea or I. Dobridor) accusing Criterion of being ‘not useful, presumptuous, lacking in good faith, lacking in originality, and seeking societal advancement and promoting fascism.’ Vulcănescu’s response to this attack is that the few people who value democracy will understand that without a decent human medium for confronting ideas, there could not be talk of freedom of opinion, but only the manifestation of forces.

The final series of ‘some points of view’ in the sixth and seventh dual issue continues in the practice of presenting an eclectic mix of ideas and subjects. This issue contains a piece about translating Romanian into other languages and Eliade urges authors to first find a good publisher. Tell gives a review of the new student paper The Student Word. Cantacuzino applauds Rădulescu-Motru’s initiative for the publication of the first volume of The Annals of Psychology from the Romanian Society for Psychological Research; Eliade encourages readers to look at Romanian language publications coming out of Transylvania: Gând Românesc (Cluj); Familia (Oradea) and Pagini Literare (Turda); a note that the cultural group

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Poesis (which Comarnescu calls a group of ‘higher intellectualism’) will be having a series of conferences on ‘books for children as seen by their elders’ with such topics and speakers as ‘Gulliver’ (Tudor Vianu), ‘Robinson Crusoe’ (Ion Pillat), ‘Till Eulenspiegel’ (Ion San Giorgiu), ‘Cuore’ (Al. Marcu) and ‘Books of fairy tales’ (Ion Marin Sadoveanu). Cantacuzino reviews a new publication entitled Tânăra Generaţie and deems it extremely weak and poorly written, and finally Vulcănescu again addresses the attacks in Viaţa românească ending with the point that no articles in Criterion are anonymous, unlike their attackers. * * * In 1933 and 1934 Criterion collided head-on with a political reality that threatened its very existence. The Grivit ̦a riots, the rapid growth of the Iron Guard and Prime Minister Duca’s assassination, combined with the fermentation of individual political allegiances within the association itself, eventually made it impossible for the group to carry on with its collective mission. However, during this time Criterion did make a valiant effort to carry on both its public and private activity. In the wake of this, the short-­ lived publication was born, in which key Criterionists attempted to critically engage with the problématique of their day in a direct manner. The final issue of the publication cemented Criterion’s end. Comarnescu described the New Year of 1935 as one of the worst months through which he had ever lived.153

 PCJ, 135. Entry from 31 January 1935.

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CHAPTER 6

The Dissolution of the Criterion Association, 1934–1935: The Credinţa Scandal, Male Friendship, Sexuality and Freedom of the Press

Dissolution and Disillusion Despite its initial success, Criterion dissolved quite abruptly in 1935. The popular explanation for this (and one enforced by Ricketts, Vanhaelemeersch, Jianu, Arşavir Acterian and Vulcănescu, among others) is the solidification of divergent political and spiritual ideological stances among the Criterionists. The Criterion experiment was destroyed by the collapse of Eliade’s ideal of the ‘primacy of the spiritual’ in favor of the practical reality of the immediate: extreme political allegiances and activity.1 The Iron Guard posed a threat to Criterion from two angles: internal and external. Within the Criterion space Polihroniade was actively recruiting intellectuals to the cause. This created a political split that prevented the likes of Polihroniade and Tell from discussing certain problems in public with certain people.2 Thus Criterionist Guardist supporters refused to participate in symposia with centrist or left-leaning Criterionists.3 Externally, King Carol fearing the extremist politics of Bucharest’s youth 1  Ricketts, Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Roots. Vol. 1, 564. Eliade’s ideal of the ‘primacy of the spiritual’ was an ordering of priorities that minimized the role of political beliefs and activities. 2  Ţurcanu, Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire, 187. 3  Ornea, The Romanian Extreme Right, 138.

© The Author(s) 2019 C. A. Bejan, Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4_6

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and the shocking rise of popularity for the Guard in 1933 cracked down on free association and freedom of speech. In addition to political threats, there were other factors contributing to Criterion’s dissolution. Another reason was that many Criterionists had grown disenchanted with the association. This disillusion is nowhere better expressed than in Eliade’s own words: I confess I am tired of seeing everybody doing the same thing. You produce ‘spirituality,’ someone else does ‘authenticity’ someone brings about mysticism and the other skepticism, one exasperates everybody around him with India and the other one with America, five of them scream about agony and other five about orthodoxy, a smart one writes the apology of barbarism and a smarter one jumps in the pit after him—for the illusion of experiencing the void. We reproduce old forms, sir, and we reproduce them up until we reach nausea … I can’t tell you how thirsty I am for something else, something completely different from what we are doing right now.4

Ionesco expressed a similar sentiment in a 1933 interview. The skeptic harshly criticized both the Young Generation and Criterion. Ionesco said, ‘The young generation, precisely like all the young generations that have preceded it, is conceited and narcissistic.’ As for Criterion, Ionesco described the cultural manifestation as merely: An association of jolly good fellows, congenial types, dandies, boozers; they drink beer at the Corso with the air of college students who’ve run off from school …. I believe [Criterion] is a society too ambitious for its powers. I don’t deny there are several lively, humorous, clever men in it—but that’s all they are.5

Criterion’s main problem, for Ionesco, was that it had ‘no genuine personalities, no individuals of real talent.’6 As much as Eliade and Ionesco romanticized Criterion in their later years, at that moment they were no

4  Mircea Eliade, ‘Momentul nespiritual,’ from the series ‘Scrisori către un provincial,’ published in Cuvântul, June 3, 1933. Quote translated by Laura Pavel and previously published in her article ‘Eliade and His Generation—Metaphysical Fervor and Tragic Destiny.’ Published in the series ‘Remembering Mircea Eliade,’ JSRI, No. 15 (Winter 2006): 5–19. 5  Panaitescu, ‘Azi ne vorbeste: d. Eugen Ionescu.’ Facla, October 12, 1933, 2. Cited in Ricketts, Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Roots, Vol. I, 563–564. 6  Ibid.

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longer committed to the idea that the Criterion Association was able to achieve the cultural mission of the Young Generation.

The Credinta̧ Scandal There is potentially a much more powerful explanation as to why and how Criterion collapsed that is difficult to find in the existing literature on Criterion. This is the scandal involving a Criterion event featuring the dancer Gabriel Negry, and the newspaper Credinţa’s accusation that key Criterionists promoted homosexuality. Zigu Ornea, ever comprehensive and thorough, explains the juxtaposition of the popular explanation and the truth in his Anii Treizeci. Ornea writes, Journalists or memorialists have accredited the idea that the association was dissolved after a symposium hooted by Iron Guardists, following which all the members joined the Iron Guard. The truth is quite different. The end of Criterion was caused by a foul press scandal.7

Eliade also acknowledged the Credinţa scandal’s primary role in his memoirs, crediting it with shattering ‘the unity of Criterion’ and maintained that ‘the political tensions of 1935 to 1939 only served to deepen the rift.’8 Although other factors had contributed to Criterion’s dissolution, the Credinţa scandal was the final nail in the coffin of the legendary association. The effects of the Credinţa scandal were not only felt by the Criterionists but also by the whole of Romanian society. This uncomfortable episode criminalized the social stigma of homosexuality, by initiating the first act of harsh sexual legislation that plagued Romania until 2005. Homosexuality had in fact been an issue open to discussion and intellectual investigation prior to the events of 1934–1936. ‘Idols’ symposia on Proust and Gide, as well as Comarnescu’s early lists including homosexuality and sexuality as potential themes to address in the Criterion space, illustrate this. The Credinţa scandal also crossed political divides and illustrated the allure of anti-liberalism while at the same time showing the delicate nature of the freedom of speech. The staff of Credinţa accused anyone who disagreed 7  Ornea, The Romanian Extreme Right, I slightly amended the above English translation, 138. 8  MEAI, 285.

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with the paper of being against the freedom of speech and thus against democracy. Eliade speculated in his memoirs that the Ministry of the Interior was encouraging Credinţa because it had a vested interest in closing down Criterion’s activities.9 Credinţa called itself ‘ziar independent de lupta politică şi spirituală’ [independent newspaper for the political and spiritual fight]. In truth it was a moralistic, Orthodox and slanderous tabloid publication. The central agents of the ongoing attack on Criterion, Sandu Tudor (the pseudonym for Alexandru Teodorescu) and Zaharia Stancu, had themselves been Criterionists and collaborators with the key figures of the Young Generation.10 Both were listed as speakers in the initial advertising for the 1932 ‘Idols’ series.11 Their names appeared in preliminary lists for the program for the symposium on Krishnamurti, alongside Alice Voinescu, Eliade, Paul Sterian and Sorana Ţopa.12 In fact an initial list outlining who Criterion wanted to attract to its audience included Sandu Tudor’s name.13 Tudor had been an early friend of the group and collaborated with Vulcănescu and Eliade on a publication Duh şi Slova that never came to fruition.14 Criterionists (such as Comarnescu, Eliade, Sebastian, Ionesco, Haig Acterian, Dan Botta and Sandu Tudor) also collaborated with Stancu and Tudor on the publication Azi, making its debut in spring 1932, which also planned to have a series of literary meetings.15 The failure to announce Azi’s activities at the final Forum conference was an early hiccup that had established a divide between the Azi crowd and the Forum Group. Another potential divide was that Sandu Tudor had initially wanted Credinţa to serve as the much-needed voice of the Young Generation and approached Eliade with this idea when he started the newspaper in 1933. Eliade was unenthusiastic and agreed to contribute to the paper only under the pseudonym ‘Ion Plăeşu.’16 The next year Criterion appeared in  Ibid., 284.  Though united in their efforts to slander Criterion, these two men held diametrically opposed political positions and consequently had divergent fates. Stancu, a leftist, was a celebrated author under communism, whilst Tudor, a conservative, perished in Aiud prison, the same prison in which Vulcănescu died. 11  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. XV Varia 20, f. 63. 12  Ibid., f. 36 and f. 39. 13  Ibid., f. 27. 14  MEAI, 149. Notably, Tudor adopted the name for a section of Credinţa. 15  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC.  XVIII Varia 16  ff. 18–19: ‘Activităti̧ pe care am vrut să anunţă la Forum, în ultimă şedinţa.’ 16  MEAI, 282. 9

10

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which Eliade proudly showcased his own name. Criterion itself is a potential source of envy. If Sandu Tudor considered his paper Credinţa to be the voice of the Young Generation, no doubt he resented the appearance of Criterion in October 1934. But still Credinţa promoted Criterion’s events and efforts right up until Negry’s dance performance.17 The newspaper was also not hostile toward Comarnescu until then and advertised his America văzută de un tânăr de azi in February 1934.18 At 9 pm on Friday, November 23, 1934, a very successful dance performance took place at the National Opera House in Bucharest. Performed by Gabriel Negry and his dance ensemble (Mimi Tutunaru-Chirculescu, Silvia Enescu, Alexandrine von Silbernagel and V. Cornea) the program included Debussy (Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune), Stravinsky, Singalia, Gaertner, Beethoven, Wagner, Milhaud and also two Romanian compositions in the Byzantine style, the pieces named ‘The Mystery of the Lily’ and ‘Exorcism before Death.’ Credinţa in fact advertised the event on both October 10, 193419 and the day of the performance.20 The printed program of the show included texts by Criterionists Comarnescu, Tell and Vulcănescu. Jealous, the famous ballet dancer and founding member of Criterion, Floria Capsali, suggested to a group of reporters assembled during intermission that Negry’s interpretation suggested homosexuality and promoted pederasty. Soon Credinţa led by Sandu Tudor, the director, and Zaharia Stancu, the editor, accused Negry, Comarnescu, Tell and Vulcănescu of practicing homosexuality. This accusation did not stop at one negative review of the dance performance but rather carried on, spiraled out of control, and mushroomed into a full-blown public scandal that lasted for six months. The results of it were so humiliating and devastating that Comarnescu refused to lecture in public ever again, Criterion’s program of live events ceased, and Credinţa’s circulation soared. Becoming one of the most popular afternoon gazettes, Credinţa’s circulation increased tenfold. The scandal was a useful distraction for the government. The Minister of the Interior wished  Credinţa, Year 1 No. 4, Decembrie 6, 1933, 4, advertised Criterion’s symposium on ‘Race.’ Credinţa printed a positive review of Vulcănescu’s article on ‘Generation’ in Criterion, the month after the dance recital, on November 29, 1934 written by ‘Tintar.’ 18  Credinţa, Year 2 No. 61, February 17, 1934, little announcement by ‘Tintar.’ 19  Credinţa, October 10, 1934, 4. 20  Credinţa, November 23, 1934, 4. 17

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to halt the activity of Criterion, which he viewed as a ‘suspicious group of intellectuals, whose growing popularity was making them even more dangerous.’21 In the public sphere Comarnescu was disgraced. Eliade claimed, ‘His limitless potential for being a cultural entertainer remained from that time onward neutralized.’ Comarnescu’s private life was destroyed as well. Gabriel Negry suffered a nervous breakdown, traveled to Western Europe in 1936–1937, eventually returning to the Bucharest choreography and dance circuit. Though Negry’s reputation might have been rehabilitated eventually, the Credinţa scandal had disastrous consequences, including the breaking of both old and new friendships.22 An essential cause of the scandal was the fact that Comarnescu married the daughter of the liberal politician Ion Manolescu-Strunga. The politician held a number of government posts throughout the 1930s including undersecretary of the Ministry of Agriculture (1933–1934), Minister of Industry and Commerce (October 5, 1934–August 1, 1935) and Secretary of State (November 17–December 28, 1937). His wife, Irina, was from the Filotti family. They were a high-profile and aristocratic pair and their daughter’s choice of husband was destined to receive public scrutiny. Zaharia Stancu had carried on a press campaign against Manolescu-­ Strunga and Comarnescu had mocked him for doing so. Stancu retaliated by accusing Comarnescu in Naţiunea Română of being a homosexual, and a polemic between the two began. In June 1934 Stancu challenged Comarnescu to a duel and he refused.23 It appears that neither Zaharia Stancu nor Sandu Tudor themselves (nor any other of the Credinţa staff) saw the dance performance.24 The first article in what became a torrential series attacking the Criterionists came in the form of a letter written by two Credinţa staff, Victor Medrea and Nicolae Roşu, to their editor Zaharia Stancu (addressing him as ‘Dear Friend’) on Saturday, December 15, 1934, entitled ‘Through a Question of Honor.’25 Stancu had requested they serve as his witnesses in a provocation to a duel he recently received from Comarnescu, in retaliation for his  MEAI, 284.  Ibid., 285. 23  Ornea, The Romanian Extreme Right, 138. 24  Zaharia Stancu, ‘Nu am fost la recitatul de dans al d-lui Gabriel Negry,’ Credinţa November 30, 1934, 4. 25  Victor Medrea and Nicolae Roşu, ‘Într’o chestie de onoare.’ Credinţa. December 15, 1934, 4. The article also references two articles from Naţionalul Nou: ‘Nu-l înjuraţi pe d. Gabriel Negry’ (December 2, 1934) and ‘Tovărăşii literare şi artistice, năravuri şi moravuri’ (December 12, 1934) written by Zaharia Stancu. 21 22

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December 12 article, ‘Literary and Artistic Comrades, Vices and Customs’ in Naţionalul Nou.26 Medrea and Roşu claimed that Comarnescu challenged Stancu in an abnormal fashion and that his witnesses, the two Criterionists Tell and Hillard, approached Stancu in Corso, when it was full of customers. They claimed that such demands should have been delivered privately at Stancu’s home and not in public: that approach itself violated the generally accepted appropriate ‘code of honor.’ Eventually they did meet on Wednesday (the witnesses of both parties) at 7 pm at the Jockey Club to discuss the matter. There Comarnescu’s witnesses expressed their offense at Stancu’s derogatory article. In this discussion Medrea and Roşu reminded the Criterionists that Comarnescu was incapable of prevailing in the necessary capacity (if provoked to a duel) implying that he was a coward. They gave the example of the way Comarnescu had behaved earlier, in the summer of 1934, which reveals that the previous antagonism with Stancu predated the Credinţa Scandal. Credinţa republished the initial provocation by Stancu from June 17, 1934, in Naţional entitled ‘For Mr. Petru Comarnescu,’ in which Stancu listed a number of incidents he believed exposed the true weak character of Comarnescu and why he was challenging him to duel. These included: (1) Comarnescu was hit at least twice in public without retaliating or defending himself, (2) Comarnescu had intervened with his future in-laws (‘respectable people of high status’) to arrange Stancu’s removal from both his government position as well as to have him fired from this paper (Naţional) and (3) Comarnescu arranged through collaborators at Azi (for which Stancu was the director) to refuse Stancu’s manuscripts. Stancu wrote that he knew that Comarnescu had arrived at a nice material situation and accused Comarnescu of using this position to climb the social ladder. Thus ‘We invite you to appear, as a man, face to face, not from behind as you are accustomed, and to sue us.’27 Following this reprint Medrea and Roşu acknowledged that immediately after the piece’s initial publication, rather than accept the challenge to duel, Comarnescu begged Stancu’s forgiveness saying, ‘Forgive me, leave me alone, do not pay any more attention to me, or what happens

26  Ibid. Although Eliade claims it was Tell who challenged Sandu Tudor to a duel, MEAI, 284. 27  Medrea and Roşu, ‘Într’o chestie de onoare.’

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with my father-in-law and thus spoil my wedding!’28 They argued that this, along with Comarnescu’s recent cowardly behavior, demonstrated his incapacity to adhere to a ‘code of honor.’ Clearly Stancu’s newest attacks were revenge on Comarnescu for his wrongs during the summer of 1934. Initially defending Criterion and Gabriel Negry’s honor, Comarnescu unexpectedly found himself the main target of these slanderous accusations, even accused of being involved in a love affair with Negry. In the same December 15 issue of Credinţa appeared an article documenting Vulcănescu’s rage.29 Vulcănescu, upset by the unfounded humiliating accusations toward himself, Negry, Comarnescu and Tell, went to the newspaper offices to slap Stancu, who was not there. Instead Sandu Tudor responded to Vulcănescu’s request to have a word with the director. A fight ensued. The police came and interrogated Vulcănescu and the Credinţa staff until 2 am when finally Vulcănescu was evacuated from the building. Credinţa was keen to clarify the facts that Vulcănescu came to their paper in response to an article that appeared in another publication altogether (Naţionalul Nou) and up until that point the Credinţa staff had not printed an injurious word addressing the names of Criterionists (the paper referred to them, at this point, as inverts, another word for homosexual). Following this incident Credinţa launched a violent, relentless and underhanded campaign against the Criterionists. This was the beginning of the sensational onslaught, which Eliade described as ‘detestable, because it had been launched by a few journalists and writers against other writers and actors, in the full knowledge that the charges were unfounded.’30 Sandu Tudor started his personal assault in the December 16 issue of Credinţa with an article entitled ‘The Criterion Generation,’31 following this he became the main initiator against the Criterionists in Credinţa’s pages. Tudor accused the Young Generation of being ‘a generation without paternity and without masculinity … completely lacking in character.’ He accused this ‘elite’ of the capital of being made up of inverts and good-­ for-­nothings, of having ‘nothing good in their heart,’ ‘no generosity, no mental equilibrium, no kindliness.’ For Tudor, this inverted behavior was  Ibid.  ‘Mircea Vulcănescu, filosoful boxeur sau moralist bătut…’ Credinţa, December 15, 1934, 6. 30  MEAI, 284. 31  Sandu Tudor, ‘Generaţie Criterion,’ Credinţa, December 16, 1934, 3. It is notable that in his attack Tudor conflates the two labels: the Young Generation and the Criterion Association. 28 29

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the equivalent of masturbation in that they were obsessed with themselves and their own activities and ideas. Tudor asked the Criterionists, Until today have you been to an event that you haven’t promised yourselves, achieved yourselves, exploited yourselves? With what do you justify yourselves? Through the fact that you assemble in the circle of corruption, of illegal practices.

Here Tudor criticized them for carrying on activity despite being prohibited from holding public manifestations by the state. He explicitly stated the problem with Negry’s dance performance: ‘Your Criterion put on a pedestal a dancing homosexual.’ Tudor concluded by stating that at least there was still a youth in Romania: ‘the true generation of tomorrow’ who could pursue the healthy moral path and threatened Criterion that they did not have much more time and they would meet the newest generation (implying they were no longer the Young Generation themselves).32 Victor Medrea, in his article ‘The Offensive of the Inverts’33 described Comarnescu as ‘American by profession and pederast by vocation’ and references the fact that he had been hit two times in public. Stancu’s contribution to the same issue of Credinţa lowered the bar even further with an article entitled ‘Honour between Buttocks’ [Onoarea dintre fese]34 in which he described the Criterionists as ‘American essayists and apologists for generosity and pacifism,’ demonstrating the anti-American sentiment prevalent throughout most of Europe as well as the anti-pacifism tide, going against Comarnescu’s activity and support of the League of Nations, again implying that internationalism and cosmopolitanism were threatening to Romanian orthodoxy. In the same issue, an article chronicled an aggression that transpired against Sandu Tudor in Corso.35 When he was sitting at a table with (among others) Liviu Rebreanu, Şerban Cioculescu and Camil Baltazar, Tell came up behind Tudor, asking to speak with him and then struck him in the spine. Credinţa was clear to specify that Tell had hit Tudor ‘from behind,’ proving that the Criterionists lacked the courage to abide by the code of honor.36  Ibid.  Victor Medrea, ‘Ofensiva invertiţilor,’ Credinţa, December 16, 1934, 3. 34  Zaharia Stancu, ‘Onoarea dintre fese,’ Credinţa, December 16, 1934, 4. 35  ‘Încă unul din slechta invertiţilor sexual cari atacă o nouă agresiune, lamentabil eşuată, împotriva d-lui Sandu Tudor,’ Credinţa, December 16, 1934, 7. 36  Ibid. 32 33

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In the New Year of 1935, Credinţa’s approach became even more crude and explicit, and previous cultural contributors (prominent members of the Young Generation and Criterionists themselves) such as Noica, Ionesco and Eliade (writing under the pseudonym Ion Plăeşu) became noticeably absent from the newspaper’s pages. Despite this, a very complimentary series of articles about and by Nae Ionescu appeared in February of 1935, most likely in response to the clashes between students and police outside one of his conferences.37 Kicked off by an article entitled ‘The Traffic of Male Meat from the Bucharest Elite’38 (whose title was adopted for an ongoing series: ‘The Traffic of Male Meat’), the ensuing articles in Credinţa employed scathing sarcasm and used diminutive and insulting names to depict Negry and Comarnescu, often accompanied by photos and drawings of each in effeminate emasculated poses. Names for Negry included ‘Fesalina’ (a female diminutive invented from fes [buttock]), ‘Mireasa’ [bride] and the feminine ‘Gavrila’ and ‘Gabriela.’ Comarnescu was dubbed ‘Titela’ (feminizing his nickname ‘Titel’) and ‘Hommo Curlandus’ [sic] (poking fun at his own book Homo Americanus).39 This is in reference to the Teutonic Knights of Courland, Credinţa mockingly called the Criterion group ‘Cavalerii de Curlanda.’ A later article referred to Comarnescu as ‘the chameleon from Los Angeles.’40 The Criterionists in question (Negry, Comarnescu, Vulcănescu and Tell) were all collectively referred to as ‘curlandists,’ ‘knights’ [cavaleri, also translated as bachelors or gallants], ‘inverts,’ the ‘mafia of the homosexuals,’ and ‘the homosexuals of the Bucharest elite.’ The terms ‘parasites’ and ‘gypsies’ [ţigani] were also used.41 These ‘degenerates’ were responsible for causing a ‘moral infection’ in Romanian society.42 Sandu

37  Credinţa, Year 3, No. 359, February 17, 1935, 3–5, including ‘Un trezitor de conştiinte: profesorul Nae Ionescu,’ by Sandu Tudor; ‘Faust şi cultura românească,’ a fragment from Nae Ionescu’s lecture on metaphysics; ‘Prietenul tinerilor şi profesorul de tineret ̧e,’ by Cicerone Theodorescu, and ‘Gânduri pentru profesorul Nae Ionescu,’ by Petru Manoliu. 38  ‘Traficul de carne bărbatească din elita bucureşteană,’ Credinţa, January 9, 1935, 1. 39  A photo of Negry with the title ‘Fesalina’ and a drawing of Comarnescu labeled ‘Hommo Curlandus’ appear in Credinţa, January 10, 1935, 1. 40  ‘De unde purcede,’ signed Credinţa. Credinţa, Year 3 No. 371, February 24, 1935, 3. 41  ‘Desgust!’ signed Credinţa, Credinţa, Year 3, No. 370, February 23, 1935, 3; ‘Astăzi începe procesul cavalerilor de Curlanda,’ Credinţa Year 3 No. 352, January 10, 1935, in the ‘Traficul de carne bărbatească’ series, 1, and continued on 4-a. 42  X.Y.Z., ‘Senatus consultus şi mafia Petru Comarnitki,’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 364, February 16, 1935, 5.

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Tudor referred to them as ‘lecherous snakes.’43 Credinţa did not just slander these core individuals, the attacks expanded to cover the entire Criterion Association itself deeming it ‘an institute of curlandist culture.’44 They were also called ‘the nest of male meat’ or ‘the nest of sexual inverts.’ The term ‘nest’ is particularly noteworthy because it was used also by the Legionary Movement to describe their grassroots group political formations. For a polemic which started off debating a ‘question of honor,’ it is remarkable that so many of the articles published in Credinţa were anonymous with no signatory or signed by ‘Credinţa,’ ‘Tintar’ or simply ‘X.Y.Z.’ Eliade claimed that the anonymous articles were written by either Stancu or Petru Manoliu.45 According to Ornea, Petru Manoliu was the author of ‘Tintar.’46 In a three-part series entitled ‘About Sodomy,’47 Tudor endeavored to enlighten the Bucharest public as to the meaning of the terms sodomy, sexual inversion, pederasty and homosexuality in general. He urged the government to enact a law criminalizing homosexual activity and claimed that ‘their fight will not end until the evil has been liquidated.’48 Stancu then compared homosexuality to prostitution, claiming that at least with prostitution there was system of surveillance set up, whereas homosexuality had been tolerated among Romanians for far too long.49 He explained that authors and artists were more likely to be inverts, proclaimed that Criterion was a name of disgrace, of shame, and that its members were guilty of ‘a type of pretentious dilettantism.’ This ‘confused atmosphere of the adolescent mentality’ made them put a homosexual in their ‘Idols’ series, André Gide. Stancu concluded that Criterion arrived at this scandal because although they originally were ‘a large organization to vulgarize and educate the Romanian people’ they became ‘a closed and esoteric circle, that even excluded women, who were not allowed to enter unless initiated.’50  Sandu Tudor, ‘Şarpele depravării,’ Credinţa Year 3 No. 346, January 26, 1935.  ‘Astăzi începe procesul cavalerilor de Curlanda,’ 4-a. 45  MEAI, 284. 46  Ornea, The Romanian Extreme Right, 139. 47  Sandu Tudor, ‘Despre Sodomie 1 Prolog,’ Credinţa, Year 3, No. 352, January 9, 1935, 3. 48  Sandu Tudor, ‘Despre Sodomie II Făta̧ ̆rnicia Cavalerilor’ Credinţa Year 3 No. 333, January 10, 1935, 3. 49  Ibid. 50  Sandu Tudor, ‘Despre Sodomie III Istoric şi diagnostic criterionist,’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 334, January 11, 1935, 3. 43 44

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Credinţa reminded their readers of two prominent historical public figures who had gone to trial and were condemned: Socrates (for corrupting the youth) and Oscar Wilde (for homosexuality).51 A later article mentioned Marcel Proust in an explanation of homosexuality.52 This same piece asked the question: ‘Who is more guilty: homosexuals or normal people who allow it and explain it?’53 Comarnescu and Freud were given as examples of each type of person. Tudor argued that they could not separate the intimate life from the public life.54 For the moral purity of the future of the Romanian people, a righteous private life was demanded. This demand, necessary for the future, also extended to the past. And Comarnescu’s own legacy and heritage as a good Romanian came into question, and consequently under fire. An anonymous reader (signed ‘an old Moldavian boyer’) wrote into Credinţa clarifying that Comarnescu’s ancestry was not Moldavian, aristocratic or boyer, but in fact Polish.55 The name Comarnescu was a Romanianized version of the name Komarnitzky.56 He based this assertion on claiming to have found the name ‘Kiril Komarnitsky’ (1830–1895) in old local records from Iaşi. Curiously, the Credinţa team also acknowledged that the name would have changed in a similar way that Corneliu Zelea Codreanu’s did: from Zelinski to ‘Zelea.’57 From that point Credinţa referred to Comarnescu as Komarnitzky and inquired even further into his origins. After extensive ‘research,’ Teodor Rascanu demonstrated that if Comarnescu had indeed descended from Kiril Komarnitzky, it would have had to be through the feminine line, as Komarnitzky only had one daughter. Then Rascanu challenged Comarnescu to present proof of his lineage.58

 ‘Astăzi începe procesul cavalerilor de Curlanda,’ 1.  ‘Pentru lamurirea “nelămurit ̧ilor” în cazul Petru Comarnitki’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 344, January 25, 1935, 5. 53  Ibid. 54  Sandu Tudor, ‘Viaţa intimă şi viaţa publică,’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 343, January 22, 1935, 2. 55  ‘Cuibul de carne bărbatească: Petru Comarnescu,’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 337, January 15, 1935, 5. 56  ‘Viaţa romantaţă a spătarului Petru Komarnitki,’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 343, January 22, 1935, 2. Appeared in the ‘Traficul de carne bărbatească’ series. 57  Teodor Răşcanu, ‘Cine a fost Kiril Komarnitzky,’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 355, February 6, 1935, 3. 58  Ibid. 51 52

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Suspicion of Comarnescu of not being truly Romanian was due to both his cosmopolitan views and approach, his education and experience in America, as well as the high level of society to which he had risen through his marriage to Gina Manolescu-Strunga. The attempt to sabotage and destroy Comarnescu even extended to his professional life. Credinţa wrote a plea to the Minister of Arts and Ion Marin Sadoveanu (the former husband of Sadova and who was serving as the director general of theaters and opera since 1933). In this article they referred to him as ‘a young adventurer, an American, and a pederast’ as well as a ‘brave imbecile,’ ‘the idiot’ and the feminine ‘Comarneasca.’ They urged them ‘to immediately liquidate Comarnescu, to take him out of public life.’59 The attacks on Comarnescu went so far as to call for the death of his father in-law, Manolescu-Strunga.60 The Credinţa staff was eager to assure their readers that public opinion was on their side, and they were convinced that the public scandal they had created was ultimately a good thing, that would lead to the moral purification of the Romanian people and a ‘more authentic culture and civilization.’61 In their effort to have homosexuality criminalized in the Penal Code, the writers for Credinţa were keen to define ‘crime’ and demonstrate that the Criterionists were in fact guilty of crimes against Romanian society, due to their moral degeneracy. They defined crime as ‘every act that results in the termination (elimination, negation) of the human in any form.’ Giving murder by pistol and abortion as examples of crimes, homosexuality also qualified as criminal because it was ‘(1) against nature; (2) against society.’62 As punishment Credinţa suggested that the Criterionists be put either in prison or a sanatorium.63 Repeatedly claiming that public opinion aligned with Credinţa’s point of view, the newspaper even printed letters of support (supposedly) from sympathetic readers.64 Credinţa repeatedly stated that the freedom of the press was the single source of truth. The suspicion of the stability and legitimacy of democracy was evident by Credinţa’s skepticism of politicians and the newspaper’s 59  ‘In atentia d-lui ministru al Artelor şi a d-lui Ion Marin Sadoveanu,’ Credinţa, Year 3, No. 340, January 29, 1935, 7 (under new heading ‘Presa despre Cavalerii de Curlanda’). 60  ‘De Unde Percede,’ signed Credinţa, Credinţa, Year 3 No. 371, February 24, 1934, 3. 61  Sandu Tudor, ‘Şarpele depravării,’ 3. 62  ‘Mafia Homosexualilor: Arhim Şeriban; Petru Comarnescu, Alexandru Christian Tell şi Mircea Vulcănescu,’ signed X.Y.Z., Credinţa, Year 3, No. 346, January 26, 1935, 5. 63  Ibid. 64  ‘Mârşava înscenare contra d-lui Sandu Tudor,’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 372, February 26, 1935, 1.

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assertion that those in the government operated by their own set of rules. The only thing that held politicians accountable was the free press, which made Credinţa’s mission even more important. In an article entitled, ‘Politicians, bargain-makers and the free press,’ Stancu asserted, ‘No one likes the truth.’65 Though their attacks might have been underhanded and debased, and the newspaper may be considered somewhat of a tabloid publication, Credinţa’s efforts do expose what the Criterionists intended to achieve and how they failed. An article asking whether or not the members of Criterion were the true representatives of the Young Generation, suggested that the Young Generation needed to find new leadership, since the elite of Criterion had drifted so far astray from the original aims and ambitions of their generation.66 Here Credinţa republished an article from Deşteptarea on January 24 that praised Credinţa’s efforts and that this intellectual elite of Criterion did ‘not have the last word in Romanian culture.’67 Despite the claims that the entirety of public opinion sided with Credinţa, other press from the period was quite critical of the newspaper and its desire for scandal. Newspapers that came out in support of the Criterionists were Universul and Acţiunea Studenţească. An article entitled ‘Against pornographic press’ did not even stoop low enough to name the newspaper it was criticizing, nor those who wrote for it. This article suggests a different more specific readership rapt with the scandalous nature of the Credinţa series: It has been told to me that the sales of this newspaper [Credinţa] have grown considerably during the time of this scandalous campaign and that the newspaper sellers have been accosted by elementary and lyceum students … proving the state of moral decay to which the reading public has fallen.68

Universul dubbed Credinţa’s practice pornographic and also indecent.69 Acţiunea Studenţească, while at the same time supportive of implementing 65  Zaharia Stancu, ‘Politicianii, invertiţii, samsarii şi presa liberă,’ Credinţa, Year 3, No. 371. February 24, 1935, 3. 66  Al. Predescu, ‘Reprezentanţi de Generaţie?’ Credinţa, January 30, 1935, 7, in same series ‘Presa despre “Cavalerii de Curlanda.”’ 67  Ibid. 68  ‘Împotriva presei pornografice,’ Universul, Year 52 No. 44, February 14, 1935, 10. 69  ‘Împotriva presei deşănţate şi pornografice,’ Universul, Year 52 No. 46, February 16, 1935.

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a ‘numerus clausus’70 and the ideas of Corneliu Zelea Codreanu,71 denounced the actions of Credinţa. A young writer named Badea Slatioreanu claimed that the campaign was done ‘in the name of an inexplicable messianism of national and moral degeneracy’ and that its ‘style, tone, practice, [and] sensationalism’ were identical to the ‘trivialities of the slums and ghettoes.’72 He pled with Tudor and his staff to stop. Vasile Daia, urging for moral salvation, reminded the student readers that ‘the newspaper was an indirect educator’ of the citizen.73 In an article entitled ‘Enough! Gentlemen, Sandu Tudor,’ Alexandru Olteanu claimed that Tudor’s sentiments and actions were abhorred ‘even among nationalists.’74 In a subsequent issue of Acţiunea Studenţească, Credinţa was called a ‘pornographic dictionary and dirty venom.’ The paper asked who Tudor and company had not criticized (giving the example of their assault on Nichifor Crainic as well) and stated that it was unacceptable for the paper to use unknown pseudonyms such as ‘Tintar.’75 But one thing that both press camps agreed on (both pro- and anti-Credinţa) was that the Romanian youth was confronting a moral crisis. Having to suffer such character defamation, the aggrieved parties sought justice. Tell, Comarnescu and Vulcănescu succeeded in recruiting two senators to their side: Miclescu (also editor of Epoca) and Vasiliu. This combined with the fact that the venomous words published in Credinţa did not go unnoticed or unpunished by the authorities contributed to the arrest of Sandu Tudor and two other editors on February 23, 1935. They were told to be quiet and offered 200,000 lei to do so.76 Tudor was released the next day. Related to the scandal, in March of 1935, at the Ilfov court (the same court that tried the Credinţa case), publicist Ilariu Dobridor was sentenced (in absentia) to one month in jail and a fine for writing articles in the press with content harming Comarnescu’s

 ‘Numerus Clausus,’ Acţiunea Studenţească, Year 2 No. 2, February 10, 1935, 3.  Actiunea Studentească, Year 2 No. 1, January 21, 1935, 1 and 4. 72  Badea Slatioreanu, ‘Greşala Credinţei,’ Acţiunea Studenţească, Year 2 No. 2, February 10, 1935, 2 continued on 4. 73  Vasile Daia, ‘Salvaţi morală! Domnilor,’ Acţiunea Studenţească, Year 2 No. 2, February 10, 1935, 2. 74  Alexandru Olteanu. ‘Ajunge! Domnule, Sandu Tudor,’ Acţiunea Studenţească, Year 2 No. 2, February 10, 1935, 3. 75  ‘Infamii,’ Acţiunea Studenţească, Year 2 No. 1, January 21, 1935, 2. 76  ‘Şantajul ziarului “Credinţa,”’ Universul, Year 52 No. 53, February 23, 1935, 11. 70 71

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r­ eputation.77 During the trial, Credinţa accused Comarnescu of manipulating his political connections in an effort to help the Criterionists’ case. In reporting this, Zaharia Stancu revealed his personal envy, I am not the son of a general. I am not the son-in-law of a minister and a banker … and the Minister of the Interior did not come to my wedding, not even a police agent. I am not even at the mercy of a sociologist.78

The Credinţa trial went on for much longer, only to officially end in June.79 Comarnescu, Vulcănescu and Tell won their case. Credinţa and Sandu Tudor were both found guilty in the slander suit. Part of Credinţa’s punishment was to publish the final court decision in its pages. But few people heard of the decision because newspapers purposefully published the news in obscure parts of their pages. Tudor appealed the suit, taking the case to higher courts, eventually only being sentenced to a symbolic charge of 1 leu. By this time the scandal had been forgotten.80 The final anti-Criterionist Credinţa article appeared on June 19, 1935.81 Devastatingly this scandal succeeded in terminating Criterion’s public activities, but it also had debilitating consequences on the personal level. Former work colleagues and friends discontinued their friendships. For example, Petru Manoliu, author of the column ‘Tintar’ in Credinţa sided with the newspaper. Tell was asked to leave the law association of which he was a member. And not only did Comarnescu lose his courage to continue lecturing, he eventually lost his marriage. The legacy of Comarnescu’s sexuality remains a mystery and unfortunately the Credinţa scandal tarred his reputation for the rest of his life. He never remarried and the historical consensus is that Comarnescu was a homosexual. I believe this conclusion warrants more investigation. Long before he was engaged to be married, he frequented Cişmigiu Park to flirt with the ladies. Comarnescu was one of the few Criterionists who survived and flourished in the communist period in Romania. One could speculate that the Credinţa scandal contributed to his willingness to collaborate  Universul, No. 68, March 10, 1935, 2.  Zaharia Stancu, ‘Cavalerii, justiţia şi puterile nevăzute,’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 340, January 29, 1935. 79  ‘Procesul “Credinţei” se judecă la tribunal,’ Universul Year 52 No. 150, June 3, 1935, 10. 80  MEAI, 284. 81  ‘Cunoscutul Cavaler…’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 462, June 19, 1935, 1. 77 78

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with the Securitate [Romanian Secret Police]. After his will to be a cultural adventurer, an intellectual revolutionary, an Americano-phile, had been demolished in one clean public sweep, perhaps Comarnescu no longer wished to fight battles he knew he could never win. He is certainly an enigmatic figure, unique among the Criterionists (indeed the father of Criterion), and a better understanding of him is essential to writing the history of the Criterion Association. It would be a shame if one of the reasons he has been neglected in this rediscovery of the Young Generation in the post-1989 period is the legacy of his alleged homosexuality. In this respect Monica Grosu’s monograph is a great contribution.82

Male Friendship What bound this close circle of friends together was a very special kind of friendship. Initially this friendship transcended political disagreements, romantic interest and difference in literary and philosophical style and preference. Many of these individuals went to lyceum and university together and spent a good portion of every day together whether in the cafés Corso or Capşa or strolling the lanes of Cişmigiu or enjoying visits to each other’s homes. Such closeness could take many forms: the relationship of mentor and mentee; homoerotic friendship; homosexual ‘relationship’ as we understand it today; simple platonic friendship and public friendship for the sake of appearances. There were serious consequences for maintaining the stability of these friendships. Although women were heavily involved in the Criterion circle (Sadova, Floria Capsali, etc.) they did not qualify for this special kind of friendship shared by men. Masculinity was not only a central component of fascist ideology, it was also a subject the Criterionists thought about extensively themselves. The difference between the genders was one they felt was very strong and tangible, and hinges on the quality they so highly valued: intelligence. Octav Şuluţiu described this difference as such on October 20, 1934, What a disaster it would be if women were intelligent! There would be no respite for intelligent men. Because, if women were intelligent, they would look for, surely, only intelligent men and these men would no longer have time to occupy themselves with intelligence, with creation, but only with women.83  Monica Grosu, Petru Comarnescu: un neliniştit în secolul său.  Şuluţiu, Jurnal, 260. October 20, 1934.

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Homosexuality in History, in Theory, in Romania A brief investigation into the history of homosexuality will aid us in our attempt to understand how the Criterionists’ friendships could so easily be misconstrued as homosexual. Homosexuality itself is a modern concept. Foucault in his History of Sexuality specifies that the terms ‘homosexuality’ and ‘homosexual’ originate in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.84 He attributes this to modern society’s creation of a new class of deviants, rather than being the invention of a new term to replace earlier ones.85 Arthur Gilbert explains that traditionally there have been two methods of writing the  history of homosexuality: biography and the approach of studying the act of labeling people as homosexuals. He notes that throughout history newspaper accounts occasionally would record a homosexual scandal, especially if it involved someone of prominence.86 The criminalization of homosexuality involved a high degree of spectacle. The trials of Oscar Wilde and the Credinţa scandal are both excellent examples. In his investigation Klaus Theweleit laments ‘how fraught with prejudice the problem of homosexuality remains, even among the “enlightened.”’87 Jonathan Ned Katz makes a useful distinction between ‘a sphere of spiritual feeling’ and ‘the universe of sensual desire.’88 In the days of Criterion, they were debating Freud and sexuality was a pressing topic of discussion and one explored in literature and philosophy. However, is it not possible to imagine that their male friendship (that threatened the likes of Stancu and Tudor so fiercely) was one only existing in the realm of spiritual feeling? I believe it is, that this friendship they shared based on intellect inhabited the spiritual sphere and did not necessarily expand into a homoerotic sensual physical space. Gilbert attributes homosexual activity to societal lack of contact between the sexes.89 This applies in part to the Criterion group. The  Quoted in Arthur N. Gilbert ‘Conceptions of Homosexuality and Sodomy in Western History.’ Historical Perspectives on Homosexuality. Salvatore J. Licata and Robert Petersen, eds., 61. 85  Ibid., 61. 86  Ibid., 58. 87  Klaus Theweleit, Male Fantasies, Vol. 1, 56. 88  Jonathan Ned Katz, Love Stories: Sex Between Men before Homosexuality, 8. 89  Gilbert, ‘Conceptions of Homosexuality and Sodomy in Western History,’ 58. 84

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women who were part of their inner circle were either married or attached in relationships to Criterionists. For example, Sorana Ţopa eventually fell by the wayside when it was clear that Eliade had ended his love affair with her.90 Marriage was a disruptive factor to close male friendships. Men could view marriage to women as a betrayal and an act of distancing themselves from their close friends. And in turn, it was only after a woman was safely married or engaged that friendship with her was possible. Before Criterion male coupling was present in the sense that Cole describes (likening such a relationship to that shared between Vladimir and Estragon in Beckett’s Waiting for Godot).91 Such examples include Noica and Comarnescu; Sebastian and Eliade; Arşavir Acterian and Octav Şuluţiu. The crucial moment of Criterion coincided with a wave of weddings of Criterionists: the primacy of male friendship was replaced by the pairing off with wives and settling down. Eliade fell in love with Nina Mareş in 1933 and they married in 1934.92 Comarnescu’s wedding was in the summer of 1934. Vulcănescu (wed in 1930), Polihroniade, Noica and Jianu were already married by the time Criterion started activity. During Criterion Sadova and Haig Acterian were in the process of emerging from secrecy into the public eye as a couple. Ionesco married Rodica Burileanu in 1936. The start of the persecution of homosexuals began in Germany during the Criterion Association’s activity. In the fall of 1933 in the Third Reich, homosexuals and pimps became a new category of prisoner deported to Fuhlsbuettel concentration camp.93 In fact, the twentieth century’s most extreme anti-homosexual repression occurred in the German Third Reich from 1933 to 1945.94 The Credinţa campaign began six months after the Night of the Long Knives (Röhm-putsch) from June 30 to July 2, 1934. Ernst Röhm, SA co-founder and commander, was an open homosexual as were many SA members. Hitler used homosexuality as an excuse for the  MEAI, 265.  Sarah Cole, Modernism, Male Friendship and the First World War, 1–5. 92  Eliade wrote that Sebastian could only forgive them if the dynamic could remain the same between him, Eliade and Nina, once his relationship with her had been made official. MEAI, 243. 93  Rüdiger Lautmann, ‘The Pink Triangle: The Persecution of Homosexual Males in Concentration Camps in Nazi Germany,’ Historical Perspectives on Homosexuality, Salvatore J. Licata and Robert Petersen, eds., 143. 94  Ibid., 141. 90 91

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purge. This need to cleanse moral corruption and deviancy is a strong precedent to what Tudor and Stancu attempted to do with Criterion. Although they did not have explicit fascist ambitions linked to the program of the Iron Guard, the Credinţa authors were concerned with traditional orthodoxy and putting an end to the decadent state in which such frivolity and indecency could take place. Despite the fact that preserving the masculinity of fascism was also crucial in its Romanian incarnation, homosexuals were never targeted by the Iron Guard, nor were they victims of the Holocaust in Romania. When the Credinţa scandal was happening, there were no legal repercussions the Criterionists would face for promoting pederasty or practicing homosexuality. It was only in 1936 that the Romanian Penal Code enacted a law (Article 431) entitled, ‘Crimes against good morals,’ which penalized ‘acts of sexual inversion committed between men or between women, if provoking public scandal.’95 Public scandal could include ‘acts of imprudence and negligence in [not] taking measures necessary to conceal these relations.’96 Whether the Credinţa Scandal itself was a direct cause of the development and passing of this law is unclear, but the timing was right because their request for legislation was certainly answered. This illustrates the increasing moral consciousness of the society and the turn toward traditionalism and religious orthodoxy. This, combined with the additional legal crackdown on ‘liberal’ and ‘progressive’ discourse and behavior (see the subsequent discussion of the accusation of Bogza and Eliade of pornography), demonstrates that Romanian society was getting increasingly more conservative, as the far right rose in popularity and this went hand-in-hand with the end of freedom of speech. Comarnescu was not the only public intellectual in Romania at this time rumored to be a practicing homosexual. The prominent diplomat and politician Nicolae Titulescu (1882–1941) was the subject of ­numerous slander campaigns in the press. Titulescu was one of the politicians most hated by the entire Romanian extreme right. His political life and achievements were compelling for the Criterionists, and Titulescu’s name did 95  Monica Macovei and Adrian Coman, ‘Implications of HIV/AIDS of Laws Affecting Men who have Sex with Men in Romania.’ Research paper conducted for ACCEPT Bucharest Acceptance Group. 96  Ibid.

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appear on early lists of consideration for the ‘Idols’ series. His case, alongside that of Comarnescu, illustrates a clear ideological distinction between what was considered ‘morally’ acceptable for Romanians versus what was morally contemptible. Titulescu and Comarnescu both were active in and strong supporters of the League of Nations, champions of cosmopolitanism and refused to support any extremist political variation in Romania. Their internationalist perspective was deemed as failing to endorse the values of the true Romanian nation (Christian orthodox, etc.). Cosmopolitanism was aligned with moral deviancy, with weakness and therefore with homosexuality. Traditionalist nationalism, on the other hand, was associated with moral purity, with strength, traditional gender roles and therefore with heterosexuality.

Comarnescu’s Ambiguous Sexuality Why is it necessary to inquire deeper into the nature of Comarnescu’s sexuality? The Credinţa Scandal hinged on the accusation of Criterionists promoting pederasty and called the group ‘The Mafia of the Homosexuals.’ Although Vulcănescu, Tell and Negry were also accused, Comarnescu was the main target. And given that this nasty press scandal was the main reason for the dissolution of a cultural association that had resisted collapse due to other grave factors (the disillusion of members, the solidification of political allegiances of members, being banned from public activity by the king, a socio-political context rapidly clamping down on free speech and hostile toward foreign, progressive or ‘subversive’ ideas) and was still capable of putting together and organizing more cultural and artistic events (as demonstrated by the dance performance by Gabriel Negry), the accusation must be investigated. A look at Comarnescu’s close relationships with other men and women will also reveal the nature of friendship shared by members of the Young Generation, before both politics and personal lives (marriages and other commitments) intervened.97 In fact when Comarnescu first moved to Bucharest as a young student in 1925, Sandu Tudor was one of his first friends and they did meet socially until Comarnescu left for America in 1929.98 Upon his return Comarnescu 97   Grosu does not devote sufficient attention to Comarnescu’s sexuality in Petru Comarnescu: un neliniştit în secolul său. 98  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC.MAPA 1, Manuscript 5a. f. 35; Manuscript 6a. f. 43. Manuscript 8.

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dated and flirted with various women only to form a committed relationship with Gina Manolescu-Strunga, whom he married in the summer of 1934. Their relationship was complicated to say the least. Gina was still in love with writer and director of the journal Reporter, N.D. Cocea. The public disgrace of her husband only served to deepen the existing rift between the couple. The end of their union came in the fall of 1935. Comarnescu filed for divorce after Gina became impregnated most likely by Cocea (the exact paternity of the child was unclear) and she was put in an asylum by her parents. Comarnescu noticed that the attacks in the press stopped when his connection to the famous politician’s family ended: Now I am no longer the son-in-law of a minister and man with a political perspective (as they see themselves [referring to the journalists]). I am no longer dangerous and there is no point to attack me. There is a logic here which also holds a light up over the events of the past.99

Though he never remarried, Comarnescu’s relationship with Gina is not the only evidence of his heterosexual practices. During his travels in Western Europe he recorded two sexual experiences, one with an American woman, another with an Italian woman which he reveals in the following passage recorded on September 6, 1937, in Milan: I had huge success with an Italian girl, with a beautiful face, but young with a splendid body who made love out of sympathy. Thus I’ve only succeeded to make love for free with foreigners in Paris. An American, an Italian, but not a Frenchwoman. I took her home at three in the morning, after we danced passionately … Love for money is painful, then you don’t feel anything. It was a moment of contentment, of real satisfaction.100

This passage is also telling for it reveals that Comarnescu had experienced visiting prostitutes and found that to be an unfulfilling experience. A key element of this unfulfillment was quite possibly Comarnescu’s necessity to make a more genuine friendship or connection with the woman, in order to enjoy the physical connection. Even if he could not achieve the degree  PCJ, 154–155.  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. Mapa II Ms. 3 ‘Jurnal,’ 1937, January 4–September 26, 1937, ff. 28–29. Published in PCJ, 181. 99

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of intellectual satisfaction that he could with a man, he needed the intellectual stimulus. Comarnescu enjoyed flirting with and having conversations with intelligent women.101 But Comarnescu making the effort to record this information (and not cross or cut it out) after the fact could have been an effort to prove his heterosexuality, in the aftermath of the mess made by Credinţa. It could quite possibly be an attempt to vindicate his name: a concerted effort to go down in history as not being a homosexual. The question as to why parts of the manuscript of his journal in his personal archive are visibly cut out certainly warrants a much deeper investigation. At the moment it is mere speculation that such an effort of self-­ censorship might reveal something substantial about the true character of Comarnescu’s personal life. What is clear from ample diary notes in Comarnescu’s personal archive is that the father of Criterion was madly and passionately in love with Constantin ‘Dinu’ Noica, in 1929, before he left for the University of Southern California. The authenticity and nature of their friendship is well worth exploring: the substance of their intellectual and spiritual connection as well as the form that their physical intimacy could and did take. In 1929 Noica, Comarnescu, Jianu and Polihroniade founded the journal Acţiune şi Reacţiune. Comarnescu described the dynamic between the four of them as follows: A solemn meeting of the four from Acţiune şi Reacţiune: serious discussions. With Nelly, Mişu and Dinu … tense discussions. Conflict, Dinu [was] the diplomat and mediator. A horrible scene.102

At this time Noica was also writing for Timpa. While Comarnescu’s friendship with Noica was developing, at the same time his friendship with Polihroniade was already difficult and unpleasant. Sorin Lavric emphasizes the closeness, similarity and affinity shared between Polihroniade and Noica, a result of how much they had in common: English wives (Mary and Wendy) and nationalist right-leaning political sympathies.103 But if we consider Comarnescu’s untapped perspective we get a more nuanced, 101  Ibid., f. 30. September 6, 1937, in Cannes: ‘I flirted a lot with an Austrian lady, a French woman, but nothing. I got to know, at the same time, an extremely intelligent Estonian with whom I had a very instructive conversation.’ Published in PCJ, 182–183. 102  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. Arch. I.; MS. 9a) original red 1929 agenda, 9b) typed, citations from 9b) f. 32; June 16, 1929. 103  Sorin Lavric, Noica şi Mişcarea Legionară, 63–66.

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complicated story, and one that indicates that it was in fact Comarnescu who was a much closer and more important friend to Noica. A day after having hostile discussions with Polihroniade, Comarnescu had a conversation with Bebe Noica (Dinu’s cousin, with whom Comarnescu was also friends) about how Noica had just broken up with a girlfriend due to ‘the problem of intellectual satisfaction.’104 A few days later, sick in bed with the flu, Comarnescu read The Sexual Instinct by Romanian doctor and psychoanalyst, Iosif Westfried, and noted that he thought of Noica.105 This illustrates that at this early juncture Comarnescu was already thinking critically about sexuality and related this investigation to his feelings for Noica. In April of 1929 Comarnescu recorded how he had had ‘vulgar’ discussions with Noica.106 Throughout the spring of 1929 the seriousness of their friendship deepened due to the increase in time spent together and lengthy conversations about philosophy (especially that of Kant) and their friendship. Comarnescu described it as ‘a great and unique friendship for me.’107 During these days of growing friendship with Noica, both men still would flirt openly and publicly with women, and Noica became engaged to Wendy Muston, his future wife. As Comarnescu’s departure for America approached, their feelings intensified. They had long, painful, careful discussions about their friendship and what changes might occur.108 Noica confessed to Comarnescu, ‘I feel that something will also happen to me through your leaving,’ and ‘I’ll move in with you, Titel.’109 But at the same time, Comarnescu noted that Noica ‘cannot make the declaration.’110 I presume he meant that Noica was unable to make his own declaration of love for Comarnescu, who described his friendship with Noica as ‘greater than true love’111 and ‘a great love.’112 He credited Noica for teaching him Kant’s Critique of Judgement and described what they shared as ‘a great and useful intellec BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. Arch. I.; MS. 9b. f. 12, March 9, 1929.  Ibid., f. 13. The book referenced is Iosif Westfried Instinctul sexual (1928) had a substantial preface written by Freud; Comarnescu notes he thought of Noica in particular whilst reading pages 4–8. 106  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. Arch. I.; MS. 9b. f. 20. April 10, 1929. 107  Ibid., f. 27. June 19, 1929. 108  Ibid., f. 37. June 30, 1929. 109  Ibid., f. 35. June 20, 1929. 110  Ibid., f. 35. June 20, 1929. 111  Ibid., f. 41. 112  Ibid., f. 41. July 17, 1929. 104 105

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tual friendship’ and even referenced Kant’s concept of ‘the Sublime’ (presented in that critique) to describe the friendship.113 Comarnescu even referred to Noica, Kant and himself as three friends. But in spite of this great intellectual fellowship acknowledged and shared by both parties, it appears that Comarnescu longed for more, for their connection to have physical and sentimental fruition. This desire gained urgency as the date of his departure grew nearer. He noted that the most ‘sentimental’ week he spent with Noica lacked the ‘union of intellect and sentiment.’114 Comarnescu recorded their physical interactions and it is apparent that he desired more and Noica refused. Comarnescu wrote, Dinu, whom I cannot kiss, how I adore him, who understands me. Yesterday evening he told me: ‘Why are we so happy?’ I told him maybe because he would probably have to prevent me from leaving for America.115

Nearly two weeks later, Comarnescu went to Noica’s residence where they had a difficult discussion that ended without a resolution. The philosophical portion of the discussion (concerning Schopenhauer) went very well, so the intellectual portion of the pleasure was satiated. But the sentimental side of Comarnescu remained frustrated. He wrote, ‘Dinu refused the unity, the purity, admitting his childishness and his weakness. This left me sad and broken.’116 Nine days later, during a walk in the mountains near Braşov, Comarnescu and Noica had a discussion about ‘the grand act of friendship’ [marele act de prietenie] and Comarnescu’s request that Noica ‘should carry out fully (completely) his sacrifice, without commenting or making light of the fact.’117 Comarnescu’s efforts to experience the grand act of friendship, this ‘purity’ and ‘unity’ of intellect and sentiment coincided with the engagement of Noica to Wendy Muston, which he confessed to Comarnescu three days after the failed discussion about the ‘grand act of friendship.’ Comarnescu was, understandably, very emotional to hear this news.118 They went together to Coroana (most likely a restaurant). After confessions about Noica’s hypothetical sincerity, Comarnescu kissed Noica on  Ibid., f. 36.  Ibid., f. 35. June 20, 1929. 115  Ibid., f. 37. June 29, 1929. 116  Ibid., f. 40. July 11, 1929. 117  Ibid., f. 42. July 20, 1929. 118  Ibid., July 23, 1929. 113 114

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the head.119 It would seem that two days later Noica did deliver his declaration of love to Comarnescu and that perhaps the ‘grand act of friendship’ did occur. Comarnescu wrote, ‘Dinu’s declarations. Went to bed at 11. A scene about Wendy. Much intimacy and pure happiness.’120 They appeared to spend a substantial amount of time together in the following days, as Comarnescu eventually had to send him home to read Kant and ‘not waste time with me.’121 Yet in the aftermath of their intimacy the situation became difficult for the two friends. They began confessing to Wendy concerning ‘the lack of conformity of the concept of intellectual friendship.’122 This implies that perhaps they did confess their act to Wendy. Comarnescu could not stop crying and continued to have many difficult conversations with Noica, as they became more and more aware of his departure.123 Back in Bucharest at Capşa, Comarnescu felt frozen out of his friendship group and Noica asked him to not create inequality between friends (presumably this inequality had been felt by others, because Comarnescu considered Noica his closest friend). Comarnescu responded, ‘No,’ and hugged Noica three to four times and left crying. Shortly thereafter when on the boat en route to America, sailing through the Adriatic Sea, he read L’-âme et la danse by Paul Valéry and contemplated the concept of friendship and particularly his with Noica.124 However, just because Comarnescu and Noica shared an intense spiritual and even romantic (from Comarnescu’s perspective) connection and even may have been involved intimately briefly at ages 23 and 20 in the pre-Criterion era, this does not imply nor indicate that it was a homosexual relationship. It merely illustrates the ambiguous nature of attraction, the privileged friendship status shared between men and the naïve infatuation of two youths navigating new and exciting terrain of social interaction: one that prized intellectual ability as the highest virtue. Following Noica’s marriage and Comarnescu’s doctoral studies in America, Comarnescu continued to care deeply for Noica and Noica continued to highly value their friendship. They still spent time together. Following Comarnescu’s return to Romania, on December 18, 1931, Noica spent the night at  Ibid., f. 43. July 25, 1929.  Ibid., July 27, 1929. 121  Ibid., f. 44. July 29, 1929. 122  Ibid., July 30, 1929. 123  Ibid., f. 49. August 18, 1929. 124  Ibid., f. 51. August 16, 1929. 119 120

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Comarnescu’s125; on December 23, Noica and Comarnescu took a stroll through the city126 and on December 26, 1931, Noica went over to Comarnescu’s to discuss his PhD thesis, which Comarnescu had just completed at the University of Southern California.127 A curious thing occurred on December 27 of that year and brings into question both the true nature of their relationship and Comarnescu’s self-censorship. In his diary, Comarnescu wrote, ‘Dinu indirectly communicated to me rumours …’ with the following words visibly crossed out.128 Whether these rumors concerned their friendship or something else, at this point is mere conjecture. Comarnescu clearly viewed his friendship with Noica to be superior, and the only other friend who matched that status was Eric Jackson, the Oxford student he met at the League of Nations summer program in Geneva in 1932.129 And Comarnescu was not the only one to recognize Noica’s exceptional intellectual abilities. Şuluţiu wrote in 1932, ‘C. Noica is the only man who intimidates me and makes an impression on me. He has a sincerity and a sureness of intellect that is disconcerting.’130 In addition to intellect, Comarnescu always valued youth (Noica was two years younger than the majority of the Young Generation, born July 12, 1909) and took a special interest in 23 year-old Ion Omescu in 1948 and attempted to make him Noica’s disciple.131 Perhaps this obsession with youth and his carrying on close friendships with young men (based on intellectual affinity and challenge) throughout his life contributed to his reputation of being a homosexual, in addition of course to the extremely public defamation of his character that occurred as a result of the Credinţa scandal. During the communist years, Comarnescu lived with the reputation of being a homosexual but was not threatened, persecuted or harassed by the government. This was due to his collaboration with the Securitate132  and the simple fact that homosexuality was

 BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. I. Ms. 11 (a–c) ‘Jurnal’ 1931, f. 180. December 9, 1931.  Ibid., f. 183. December 23, 1931. 127  Ibid., f. 184. December 25, 1931. 128  Ibid., f. 185. December 27, 1931. 129  PCJ, 65–68. 130  Şuluţiu, Jurnal, 238. September 8, 1932. 131  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC. MAPA II Ms 12 ‘Jurnal’ 1948, f. 13. 132  For proof of Comarnescu’s collaboration with the Securitate see excerpts from his CNSAS file published in Lucian Boia Dosarele Secrete ale Agentului Anton: Petru Comarnescu în Arhivele Securităti̧ i. 125 126

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only made officially illegal in 1969 (Article 200) a year before Comarnescu’s death.133

Elitism and Envy The Credinţa scandal reveals how members of the Young Generation and the Criterionists were perceived by other intellectuals at the time. In Eliade’s words: ‘All the envy and jealousy provoked by our unprecedented success could now avenge itself.’134 In order for there to be such a willing audience for the fictional accounts of sodomy among this group, we can assume that many people were willing to think negatively of them and believe the worst rumors spread. This makes sense when you consider that  the various Credinţa attacks referred to the Criterionists as ‘an elite.’ For many in Bucharest, Criterion presented itself as knowing better than they did, as possessing more knowledge and culture than others, as having the key to the best cultural path for the future of Romania. Naturally some intellectuals might have felt slighted, as they were not part of this intimate elite club. Born in 1896, Sandu Tudor was ten years older than the leaders of the Young Generation and this in part explains to what degree he was out of touch with their concerns. Eliade referred to him as an ‘old man’ at that time, in contrast to the Criterionists who were ‘young people.’135 Despite the age difference initially Tudor was friends with them and even a member of Criterion himself. When Comarnescu moved to Bucharest from Iaşi, Tudor was one of his first friends and did frequent social gatherings held at Comarnescu’s place of residence. In this social network, envy of the intellect was linked to friendship envy, and Comarnescu made it clear that he was only friends with people who were on his intellectual level. No doubt Sandu Tudor took it as a personal insult that he had been excluded from the in-group comprising the heart of Criterion. His own intellectual inadequacy is apparent in his journalistic activities, given that Credinţa itself became no better than a tabloid publication. 133  Macovei and Coman: ‘The 1969 Penal Code imposed a complete ban on homosexual activity, whether or not it might involve “public scandal.”’ According to Article 200, any ‘sexual relations between persons of the same sex’ were punishable by up to five years’ imprisonment, even if they took place in private between consenting adults. From then on, same sex relations took place in circumstances of secrecy, fear and mistrust.’ This law was revoked in 2005, due to pressure from the European Union, which Romania joined in 2007. 134  MEAI, 26. 135  Ibid., 27.

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The friend/enemy dichotomy shared by Tudor and Comarnescu is evidenced even after the Credinţa scandal, when Sebastian noted how shocked and appalled he was to find out that Comarnescu had made peace with Stancu, only three months after the attacks in the press ended: Comarnescu told me something, which, if I were feeling less skeptical at the moment, would strike me as quite monstrous. He has made peace overtures to Credinţa! He has had lunch with Stancu! I should say that he is unspeakable. But I shall content myself with observing once more how naïve I am. I fell out with the Credinţa people over that business; I refused to shake hands with Sandu Tudor.—All that to end up now with such a capitulation. When will I stop getting carried away in my relations with other people? To be disinterested and neutral, never indignant or approbatory: that is the best of attitudes. I am old enough to have learned that at least.136

Disapproving of sexuality in general (homosexual or heterosexual practice) aligned with the traditionalism and morality of religious orthodoxy that Sandu Tudor promoted. At one point in time he was also the leader of the Christian Students’ Association. This liberal attitude (toward sex, new ideas, new forms of art, new methods of discourse) threatened Tudor and in turn he claimed that it threatened the mores of the Romanian nation. Another clear source of envy was that of power: Comarnescu was linked to the political elite through his relationship with Gina Manolescu-Strunga. Yet what instigated the accusation of pederasty in the first place was Criterionist Floria Capsali’s jealousy and her remarks to the press that night. There could be many sources of Capsali’s jealousy that would explain why she would make such a debased accusation concerning a Criterion event. Perhaps her comment was sparked by the absence of her artistic contribution in any way to the program of that evening, and also quite possibly the fact that her own student Gabriel Negry (trained in her dance studio) was the star of the performance. Another potential source of envy sparking the Credinţa incident could be gender-based. Capsali was the only central member of Criterion (founding member, Comarnescu was Secretary General and she was the Administrative General) who was female, all the other Criterion women either were invited later or had supporting roles as wives or girlfriends. This explanation would also add cre MSJ, 21. September 7, 1935.

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dence to the more general perception by the public of the Criterion Association as an all-boys club. Another potential factor (although I find this one less plausible) could be youth envy. Capsali was seven years older than the Young Generation, and of course older than her pupil, Gabriel Negry. Combining a number of these factors, it is possible to conclude that Floria Capsali herself felt excluded from the inner circle of Criterionists: due to diva, gender, friendship and age factors. Though political motives themselves do not appear to be a source of Capsali’s envy (she never aligned herself with the Iron Guard and had a vibrant career under communism) and the exact type of cultural production also should not have been a problem for her (with her education and exposure to French, Russian, Romanian and a variety of other cultural influences in her choreography), a couple of other potential sources remain to be explored: the internal framework of Criterion and the division of responsibility. When the cultural role of the association necessarily eclipsed the more political and intellectual function (due to King Carol II outlawing them from holding any more public manifestations), Capsali could have felt that her territory, her domain, was being invaded. Comarnescu and Capsali were the two original heads of Criterion. Given the cultural activity that took place in 1933 and into 1934, Capsali could have perceived Comarnescu as coopting her place in not just Criterion but even the greater Bucharest cultural space. It is important to remember that Criterion’s conception occurred in the vibrant social atmosphere of afternoons of volleyball, drinks and conversation at ‘Floria and Mac’s’ house. Her student Danovski described the original Criterion hostess as having ‘a subtle imagination, doubled by intellectual refinement.’137 The exact same woman and pillar of Romanian culture in her own right, who helped conceive Criterion in its nascent beginnings, instigated the association’s abortion.

The Limits of Free Speech and Censorship The dissolution of Criterion demonstrates just what the limits of artistic expression at the time were: a foul press scandal equating intellectual and artistic bravery with moral corruption succeeded in destroying Bucharest’s most experimental, democratic, intellectual and cultural society. The Criterion Association succeeded in hosting a number of events, from the  Danovski. ‘Vivat Profesores!—Through the Looking Glass of Time.’

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visual arts to live-reading performance to lectures, and the dance performance of Gabriel Negry was the first event to spark such a venomous cruel attack. When personal vendettas got involved, there was no efficient machine to curb the malice and put an efficient halt to the injustice. In this sense perhaps the artistic scene in interwar Bucharest was so free that the participants were unsure themselves just what the limits were and had to learn by trial and error. Censorship was alive and well at this time and targets included aspects threatening traditional Romanian orthodoxy and the security of the state. The same day Sandu Tudor was arrested, a Hungarian man was sentenced for writing irredentist poetry.138 Another article in Universul lamented the arbitrary nature of the censorship imposed by the government: ‘It is sad— extremely sad—that the same lines that have been typed today in a newspaper could be censored, but tomorrow could still be used.’139 Another prime target for the censors was literature that they deemed pornographic.

Sex, Pornography and Prostitution in Interwar Romania The Credinţa scandal sheds light on the situation in interwar Bucharest concerning Romanian society’s attitude toward sex, pornography and prostitution. The staff at Credinţa appointed themselves the moral saviors of Bucharest to rescue everyone from the culture of sodomy being promoted by this elite homosexual mafia of Criterion. However, the intellectual circles of Bucharest were quite comfortable with heterosexual literary topics. Most of Eliade’s fictional writing of the period was highly sexual, as was his lifestyle. To read both Eliade and Sebastian’s journals, we get a sense of how sexually liberated some members of the Young Generation were: living an experiential, non-exclusive lifestyle; dating multiple people at the same time, breaking hearts, and having their hearts broken. Yet, despite this highly sexualized existence, being accused of pornography was a very real problem that any young writer could face. The most famous example of this is the surrealist and avant-garde poet and journalist, Geo Bogza (1908–1993). A lifelong supporter of the political left, he became a propagandist for the communist regime, though later practiced Aesopic criticism of the excesses of the Ceauşescu regime. 138 139

 Universul, Year 52 No. 53, February 23, 1935, 11.  ‘Libertatea presei,’ Universul, Year 52 No. 44, February 14, 1935.

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He protested anti-intellectual actions but did not formulate any critique of the communist regime. Bogza was in fact critical of Criterion calling them guilty of ‘ridicule and opportunism.’140 His disapproval of the association demonstrates that they were victims of criticism from both the left and the right. Bogza was first arrested for pornography in 1930 for his ‘Sex Diary’ and was temporarily held at Văcăreşti prison. He was acquitted on November 28, 1932, represented by Jianu. Bogza was then arrested twice (in 1933 and 1937) for another poem called ‘Offensive Poem’ and had to serve six days in prison. Iorga and Octavian Goga were particularly vocal and enthusiastic that Bogza be punished. Eminent cultural figure and poet Tudor Arghezi was also accused of pornography in this period. In 1936 Eliade was accused of pornography for his books Domnişoara Christina and Isabel şi apele diavolului (Isabel and the Waters of the Devil). The character of Domnişoara [Miss] Christina was a highly eroticized figure and Eliade included some detailed scenes of the sexual life among expatriates living in India in Isabel şi apele diavolului. In 1937 Constantin Kirit ̧escu, Director General of the Ministry of Public Instruction, stripped Eliade of his university position as Nae Ionescu’s assistant. Eliade then sued the Ministry of Education to retrieve it and Rădulescu-Motru came to Eliade’s defense. Eliade won the trial and regained his position. Thus the intellectuals were walking a tightrope between the demand for highly sexualized literature and creative expression and authorities acting arbitrarily as a moral police for the nation, as Romania became more authoritarian throughout the 1930s. Many people of Bucharest were open and liberal about heterosexual sex in general, many had multiple partners, and many visited prostitutes. None of these practices were illegal. A prominent example is King Carol II himself and his scandalous affair and subsequent relationship with Lupescu. Fidelity was not strictly practiced nor imposed. The reason Geo Bogza’s poem, ‘Offensive Poem’ was banned was not because it depicted adultery between Bogza and a servant gypsy girl, but rather the sexually explicit way in which he described the encounter. This liberal attitude toward heterosexual sex included prostitution. Floria and Mac’s house, where the initial social gatherings of Criterion took place, was located in the ‘red light district’ of Bucharest named ‘Crucea de Piatra.’ Even members of the Young Generation themselves were open and accepting of visiting prostitutes. In the previously discussed citation of Comarnescu’s experiences 140  Mircea Popa, ‘Geo Bogza, insurgentul,’ Familia, Vol. 5, Nos. 11–12 (480–481), November–December 2005.

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with women in 1937 Paris, he implied he knew how it felt to pay for sex. Sebastian confessed to Camil Baltazar in a letter from 1930 that he was suffering depression whilst on his legal studies in Paris. In a list of many things attempted to alleviate his suffering, he included, ‘I read from Montaigne, and I’ve been to the whores. I’ve stayed locked indoors and I’ve walked through the streets.’141 Nothing seemed to ease his suffering. * * * Criterion ended abruptly and in disgrace. Accusations regarding elements of the Criterionists’ personal lives occupied them more than their public responsibility to create culture. They became consumed with vindicating their names and honor, and consequently no longer had the time, energy, resources or will power to fight the cultural battle that in 1932 they had set out to win. It is in this way that Criterion aborted the very modernity that enabled them to create culture in the first place. Criterionists themselves (first Floria Capsali, then Tudor and Stancu, and finally Comarnescu, Vulcănescu and Tell) became agents in the association’s destruction. Also other Criterionists were conspicuously absent from the fight, preferring instead to focus on their own projects, efforts and battles, in a sense reverting to the pre-Forum and pre-Criterion dynamic of making individual cultural contributions. Criterion’s abortion was also a result of the central members’ conception of their mission and their inability to genuinely connect with the Romanian public. The Criterionists were guilty of thinking that what was pressing, fascinating, challenging and interesting for them should therefore be so for everyone else. They believed that their activity would thereby incite an intellectual and cultural revolution in the Romanian interwar space. And this arrogant attitude aided and abetted the slanderous activity of Credinţa. Yet the very youth Credinţa was trying to save seemed in support of Criterion: The occasion of [Criterion’s] closing was a student demonstration, which the Prefecture Police tried to disperse—after letting it assume its full size— by bringing to the Carol Foundation a company of military police.142 141  AMNLR, Mihail Sebastian correspondence, Letters to Camil Baltazar. 101/III/10, 192/1+2 + envelope, Paris, November 12, 1930 ‘Am cetit din Montaigne şi m’am dus la curve.’ Hortensia Papadat-Bengescu, et al. Scrisori către Camil Baltazar, 129. 142  MEAI, 284–285.

CHAPTER 7

Rhinocerization: Political Activity and Allegiances of the Young Generation, 1935–1941

Ionesco’s play, Rhinoceros (1959) displays the slippery slope between individuals creating an ideology, which has no room for intellectual or critical inquiry, and falling into that collective herd-like mentality and anti-­ intellectual space themselves.1 Rhinoceros was a reaction to and a depiction of the events Ionesco experienced in 1930s Romania. Eliade, Cioran and Vulcănescu are all represented in his drama, while Ionesco himself is represented by the ‘every man,’ the main character Bérenger. Men (and women) who were so important to Ionesco’s literary success in Bucharest; men who were all members of Criterion; men who were part of the same community of writers, artists and thinkers; and men who were each other’s very close friends, one by one defected to the herd of the Iron Guard. The play is an excellent portrayal of Bérenger’s bewilderment as ‘rhinocerization’ takes over everyone in his town, his closest friends and eventually his girlfriend. Ionesco documented the origins of his play in his journal of the period. Therein he equated the legionary ‘New Man’ to a rhinoceros long before he captured the concept in the play. Ionesco distinguished between two Human Races: man and New Man and proclaimed, ‘I am not a New Man. I am a man. Imagine one fine morning rhinoceroses will take power.’2 1  Călinescu, ‘Ionesco and Rhinoceros: Personal and Political Backgrounds,’ 430. See Eugène Ionesco, Rhinoceros and Other Plays. 2  Eugène Ionesco, Present Past Past Present, 67.

© The Author(s) 2019 C. A. Bejan, Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4_7

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At that same time he equated the police, judges and the armies already fighting WWII with rhinoceroses. He wrote, ‘It is somewhat of a sin not to be a rhinoceros.’ He declared that even soldiers of just causes, holy wars, justice and revolution were rhinoceroses: for all were bearers of collective thinking and disciples of ideologies. According to Ionesco there was a slogan for the ‘New Man,’ the rhinoceros: ‘Everything for the State, Everything for the Nation, Everything for the Race.’ For the rhinoceros, the state has become God; a necessary abstraction; ‘a justice-machine.’ For Ionesco, the ‘State,’ ‘Nation’ and ‘Society’ were all dehumanizing abstractions. He concluded that for the ‘New Man,’ for the rhinoceros, ‘humanity does not exist.’3 By believing in the Society and the State, the New Man gives up ‘men’ and ‘friends.’ Thus the New Man could live in the impersonal, in the phantom collective of the State. In his journal Sebastian also offers a glimpse of the animalism of man who succumbs to such ideology. In 1935 reacting to anti-Semitic riots organized by student members of LANC, the Iron Guard and the Vlad Ţ epeş League, Sebastian wrote, ‘I saw some appalling things in the street. Wild animals.’4 Thus both Sebastian and Ionesco viewed the rise in popularity of fascism as a stampede of wild animals and a terrifying loss of humanity. The metamorphosis of people into rhinoceroses symbolizes the decline and death of humanism, and the victory of extremist ideology (fascism, communism, totalitarianism). Although Ionesco himself did not succumb, his play gives us a sense of how others did join the stampede of rhinoceroses. Rhinoceros focuses on ‘the moment of conversion,’ and demonstrates how few succeeded in avoiding the stampede of the Iron Guard beast. This chapter is about that moment for many Criterionists: the moment of conversion. In part, it was the rise and success of these ideologies (both fascism and communism) that killed Criterion. After a while, due to the solidification of various political allegiances, Criterionists were no longer able to talk to each other and share in a fruitful discussion and debate purely on an abstract intellectual level. The herd-like mentality made the free-forum of Criterion impossible. They aborted their own cosmopolitan modern cultural circle by becoming so attached to ideas and a fascist program, which eclipsed their long-standing friendships and the initial shared desire and dream to create culture. Thus rather than be seen as a breeding 3 4

 Ibid., 77–78.  MSJ, 11.

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ground for Guardists, Criterion should be seen as a healthy alternative rejected and destroyed by them, and scapegoated later in the communist period. Rhinocerization came on the heels of ‘hooliganism.’ This atmosphere, in which the strength of the Iron Guard was growing, is depicted in Eliade’s Întoarcerea din rai and the aptly titled Huliganii and also in Sebastian’s De două mii de ani and Cum am devenit huligan. A ‘hooligan’ referred to young people of approximately Eliade and Sebastian’s age, recently graduated from university, unemployed and roaming the streets of Bucharest. Disenchanted with life and politics, lacking in purpose both personal and national, these young people provided solid support for extremists. According to Eliade, becoming a hooligan occurred in the grand moment when all external bounds are smashed and broken, of the denial of all values, of blind belief in your youthfulness, your strength, your destiny, … a belief which, in your own eyes, justifies every crime and every form of violence.5

There was a general sense of crisis as the hooligans roamed the streets of Bucharest wreaking destruction and the intellectuals embarked on a quest for absolute values. Though the Criterionists distanced themselves from the hooligans, they romanticized their behavior. Not only was the literature of hooliganism (in true experientialist form) inspired by real events, it also served as a prophecy that fiction would become fact. Violence increased as both the Iron Guard increased their efforts and the government lashed out in retaliation, fearing for its own survival. Octav Şuluţiu cried out in his journal entry from June 24, 1936: The falling of darkness! A moral darkness! Soon we will no longer be able to write freely here either. We will arrive in the tragic situation of Germany! Soon we will have to be quiet, to live in the dark. And who will lead? An imbecile or two swindlers! Codreanu, Stelian Popescu or Ilie Rădulescu. The epoch of barbarism is nearing. It has begun in Bucharest with the sound of the revolver and the spilling of blood so that the bludgeon whistles and the blood comes out in jets.6 5  Eliade quoted from ‘D. Mircea Eliade ne vorbeşte despre “Huliganii,”’ in Rampa, Year 18 No. 5372, December 7, 1935, 1. Cited in Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 270–271. 6  Şuluţiu, Jurnal, 380. June 24, 1936.

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The Political Backdrop In response to a ban on paramilitary groups, in 1935 the Legion created their political party ‘Totul Pentru Ţ ară’ [Everything for the Country]. Codreanu agreed to establishing a permanent death squad and on July 16, 1936, the ‘Decemviri’ death squad killed former Guardist, Mihai Stelescu for betraying Codreanu. Ion Moţa (the legionary vice-president) and Vasile Marin had gone to Spain and volunteered to fight on the side of Franco in the Spanish Civil War. In February 1937 their fallen bodies were paraded around Romania in arguably one of the most spectacular funeral processions in Romanian history.7 They were buried in a mausoleum at Casa Verde. The Guardist processions were so effective that many Romanians joined the Iron Guard just in time for the elections. For the 1937 elections ‘Totul Pentru Ţ ară’ and the PNŢ formed a political alliance and thus an unlikely temporary partnership between Corneliu Codreanu and Iuliu Maniu. Thus the Iron Guard gained the most support in their history in an electoral victory in 1937 with 15.5 percent of the vote, becoming the third largest party in Romania. Fearing this growing popularity, King Carol II intervened and formed a government led by the National Christian Party with Octavian Goga as Prime Minister and A.C. Cuza as Minister of State. The government passed a number of Semitic reforms and ruthless oppression began. Jewish businesses anti-­ were closed, hundreds of thousands of Jews lost their citizenship and Jews were dismissed from their professions.8 In February 1938 Carol dismissed the Goga-Cuza government, dissolved all political parties and proclaimed a royal dictatorship, calling it Frontul Renaşterii Naţionale [the Front of National Rebirth]. All politicians, except for Maniu and Mihalache, conformed to the new system. By refusing to wear the new FRN uniforms, the leaders of the PNŢ were denied admittance to the Senate.9 Carol then went forward with plans to destroy the Iron Guard through mass arrests and executions. In April 1938 Codreanu, Nae Ionescu, Tell, Polihroniade (by that point known as the Legion’s foreign policy expert and called the Romanian Goebbels)10 and other Legionnaires were 7  Valentin Săndulescu, ‘Sacralized Politics in Action: The 1937 Burial of Romanian Legionary Leaders Ion Mot ̦a and Vasile Marin,’ Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions, Vol. 8. No. 2 (June 2007): 259–269. 8  Nagy-Talavera, The Green Shirts and the Others, 413. 9  Ibid., 422. 10  Ibid., 425.

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i­mprisoned. On July 14, 1938, Eliade was arrested and imprisoned at Miercurea Ciuc and released a few months later. Despite Codreanu’s orders to Horia Sima (who was hiding in Germany) to stop Guardist violence toward the establishment, the Guard ‘went on a vicious rampage, coordinating it as if as a challenge, with Carol’s visit with Hitler.’ (The King had a delicate balancing act between wooing Germany and quelling the terrorist grassroots fascist upsurge in his own country, a balancing act he clearly failed to maintain.) The violence extended to more than the usual Jewish targets (synagogues and shops) and Guardists murdered Professor F. Ştefănescu-­Goangă (the anti-Guardist rector of Cluj University), Colonel Cristescu (a high official in Cernăut ̦i) and a relative of Armand Călinescu.11 Five days later, the night of November 29/30, 1938, Codreanu and the members of ‘Nicadori’ and ‘Decemviri’ were executed by royal decree in retaliation for the attacks. It was reported that the men had been ‘shot while trying to escape,’ which was far from the truth. In fact they were tied up with ropes and loaded into a truck that stopped on a deserted road where they were strangled to death then shot.12 Consequently Horia Sima became the new leader of the Legion. On March 7, 1939, King Carol II appointed Armand Călinescu Prime Minister, who confidently believed that with the death of Codreanu, the Iron Guard was an old story. Yet ‘the flame of resistance flickered on’ and the Iron Guard carried out isolated terrorist attacks planned from nests across the country.13 On September 21, 1939, Călinescu was assassinated by another death squad ‘Răzbunători,’ avenging Codreanu’s death. They were immediately executed. The next day the government ordered mass executions of imprisoned Legionnaires throughout the country. Both Polihroniade and Tell were victims of this purge. Once released from Miercurea Ciuc, Nae Ionescu’s health rapidly deteriorated and he died on March 15, 1940. The political situation changed in 1940 when Carol attempted to collaborate with the Iron Guard in order to gain Nazi favor. His efforts failed and the Iron Guard staged demonstrations which forced Carol to abdicate. Two days before the abdication, General Antonescu had been named Prime Minister. Carol gave the throne to his young son, Michael. Antonescu formed a tactical alliance with Horia Sima. In September 1940  Ibid., 421.  Ibid. 13  Ibid., 423. 11 12

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the country legally became the National Legionary State, with the Iron Guard as the official party. The Legion set out on a campaign of pogroms and were rumored to be plotting against Antonescu himself. In November the same year Legionnaires assassinated Nicolae Iorga. Hitler refused to back the Iron Guard and gave Antonescu permission to liquidate them in 1941, which he did. The National Legionary State lasted from September 14, 1940–February 14, 1941, when, due to the unsuccessful Legionary Rebellion, General Antonescu took control of the government and formed a military dictatorship.14 In June 1941 Romania entered WWII on the side of Germany in order to regain Soviet-occupied Bessarabia on the Eastern Front. The death toll of the Holocaust in Romania was considerable. Between 280,000 and 380,000 Romanian and Ukrainian Jews, were murdered or died in Romania and Romanian-occupied territory; 25,000 Roma were deported to Transnistria, where approximately 11,000 perished.15

Political Allegiances Whether or not the Criterionists or Nae Ionescu could possibly have conceived of the full-scale of tragedy and loss of life that would befall Europe as a result of experimenting with and endorsing revolutionary, totalitarian, anti-liberal, anti-democratic and absolutist ideas, is doubtful. It is impossible to cover each member of the Young Generation in equal depth, therefore I will focus on four Guardist sympathizers (Eliade, Cioran, Noica and Sadova) and three figures who maintained their neutrality (Comarnescu, Sebastian and Ionesco). To say that they were sympathetic does not necessarily imply they enlisted in the Legion. Of the four sympathizers investigated here, Noica and Sadova enlisted. Other sympathizers include (of course) Nae Ionescu, Polihroniade, Tell, and Haig and Arşavir Acterian. Each figure in their own right demonstrates the supreme complexity of the situation and why it is so difficult to arrive at a coherent easy catch-all answer as to why fascism appealed to the Young Generation.

14  See Dennis Deletant, Hitler’s Forgotten Ally: Ion Antonescu and His Regime, Romania 1940–44, 52–69. 15  Elie Wiesel (chairman) ‘Final Report of the International Commission on the Holocaust in Romania.’ ‘Executive Summary,’ 2. See Radu Ioanid, The Holocaust in Romania and Geoffrey P. Megargee, ed., The Encyclopedia of Camps and Ghettos Vol. 3.

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Mircea Eliade Spirituality and the supreme redemption of the nation

Eliade considered himself to be both an authentic ‘Bucharestian’ and a ‘universal man.’16 Despite this supposed universality, as someone born and raised in Bucharest, Eliade was, politically speaking, in the words of Sebastian, a ‘man of the right.’17 Whether Eliade was a self-proclaimed ‘Iron Guardist’ depends on which point in time one investigates. In 1933 Eliade was merely writing about ‘religious rebirth’ and ‘cosmic Christianity’ with no reference to the Legion.18 Eliade offered open support to the Legion in 1937–1938. By then Eliade considered the mystical Christian spirit and the cult of death and salvation promoted by the Legion as the very essence of the true spirit that would revolutionize and redeem the Romanian destiny.19 This spiritual revolution would produce a new man and a new type of life in Europe.20 In 1937 he declared that all non-Guardists were traitors and that the reason he joined the Iron Guard was that he always believed in the ‘primacy of the spirit.’21 Eliade described the specific spiritual nature of Romanian fascism in his now infamous and oft-cited 1937 article, ‘Why I believe in the victory of the Legionary Movement.’ The Legionary movement has a spiritual and Christian meaning. If all the contemporary revolutions set as their goal the conquest of power by a social class or by a man, the legionary revolution aims, on the contrary, at the supreme redemption of the nation, the reconciliation of the Romanian nation with God, as ‘The Captain’ said.22

 MEAI, 257.  MSJ, 78. 18  Leon Volovici, Nationalist Ideology and Anti-Semitism, 83. 19  Ibid. 20  Ibid., 85. 21  MSJ, 114. It is curious that Sebastian records this episode of conversion as such, because Eliade never officially enlisted in the Guard, despite his active legionary support. 22  Mircea Eliade, ‘De ce cred în biruinţa Mişcării Legionare?’ Buna Vestire, No. 244, December 17, 1937. This translation is from Constantin Iordachi, ‘Charisma, Politics and Violence: The Legion of the “Archangel Michael” in Inter-War Romania,’ Trondheim Studies on East European Cultures and Societies (December 2004): 57–62. Eliade denied writing this article. Volovici claims there are reasons to doubt this. See Volovici, Nationalist Ideology and Anti-Semitism, 126. 16 17

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This article was actually one in a series, Eliade was responding to a question asked of many journalists. Eliade intended to cast off the inadequate non-functional embarrassing democratic state apparatus with a revolution (the legionary revolution being the most appropriate in the case of Romania) for the sake of the absolute redemption of the Romanian nation. This article was also published three days before the elections, which is unsurprising as Eliade was deeply involved in the electoral campaign of the Legion.23 The next year Julius Evola (who since Eliade’s undergraduate studies in Rome had become his friend and correspondent) visited Bucharest. Eliade arranged for Evola to meet Codreanu in Bucharest in March 1938 at Casa Verde.24 Four months later Eliade was arrested due to legionary journalistic activity and his assistantship to Nae Ionescu. Even after his incarceration, Eliade did not consider himself to be an Iron Guardist. In fact, after his release from prison, Eliade called on the director of the Royal Foundations, Alexandru Rosetti, to tell Rosetti that he remained a writer and a man of science, rather than a man of politics. Sebastian recorded him calmly saying, ‘I prefer a little Romania, with some of its provinces lost but with its bourgeoisie and elite saved, rather than a proletarian Greater Romania.’25 He also said, ‘I believe in the future of the Romanian people. But the Romanian state should disappear.’26 As Eliade tragically feared, the communist takeover did destroy precisely what he would have saved in Romania: the intellectual and cultural elite of the Romanian people. And this elimination in turn destroyed their ability to create culture in Romania in the way that they had been so accustomed to and ultimately took for granted. A controversial legionary theatrical manifestation took the form of a play written by Eliade, at that time working as a cultural attaché in London. The play Iphigenia, based on the Greek myth in which Iphigenia is the daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, premiered on February 12, 1941, at the National Theatre, due to the efforts of Haig  Acterian. Somewhat curiously and confusingly the staging occurred after the Legionary Rebellion and the imprisonment of Haig. Many viewed it as a tribute to the Iron Guard.  MSJ, 132. December 7, 1937, and Volovici, Nationalist Ideology and Anti-Semitism, 126.  Horst Junginger, ed., The Study of Religion Under the Impact of Fascism, 40. 25  MSJ, 87. 26  Ibid., 243. 23

24

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Sebastian, before seeing the show, described it as a ‘kind of legionary reunion.’27 Nina Eliade’s daughter Giza reported to Sebastian that the show was a great success but professed worry that it might be banned. Sebastian, convinced that despite the fall of the National Legionary State, the Antonescu regime would let the performances continue, assured her that it would not be banned. Despite the legionary allusions he recognized when he read the text, Sebastian concluded it would be difficult to ban a modern interpretation of a classical story, a Greek myth. He noted that the play might otherwise be called ‘Iphigenia, or the Legionary Sacrifice’ and concluded that ‘after five months of being at the helm [the Iron Guard being in control of the government] and three days of revolt, after so much killing, arson, and pillage, you can’t say it is not relevant.’28 However, Vanhaelemeersch argues that the play is not an example of Guardist thought.29 It is indeed ambiguous whether Eliade intended it to be a piece of legionary propaganda. Both Sebastian and Comarnescu believed it to be such. Even if the play was not propaganda, it certainly was an attempt to aestheticize the mystical movement. But if it was propaganda, why did the authorities allow the show to go on? And the question remains, why did Eliade dedicate the script to Sebastian and Haig Acterian in the published version of 1951: two of his four friends who read the script in advance. After Sebastian saw the play on March 6, 1941, he had a less violently opposed opinion of the piece. Apparently, Giza assumed success too soon. Sebastian observed that the show was ‘one of the National’s worst flops’ and that it was ‘much more interesting’ than he had remembered when he initially read the text one year previously. Despite terrible acting (which he claimed to be a Romanian phenomenon) the text was really beautiful and he only noticed occasional legionary allusions.30 Emil Cioran The anomaly of his generation and Romania’s ‘transfiguration’

Upon his return to Romania from Berlin, Cioran wrote to his friend Ecaterina Săndulescu,  Ibid., 322.  Ibid., 323. 29  Vanhaelemeersch, A Generation Without Beliefs, 15–16. 30  MSJ, 328. 27 28

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I would be insincere if I didn’t confess to you that I am passing through a quasi-religious crisis. I can’t be a believer, but without religious preoccupations I would be lost. Only religion can respond to the cry of help! … Rilke cannot, nor Baudelaire resolve anything. The poets are lost, but if they did not exist I would be ashamed even of religion…31

In Berlin Cioran became impressed by Hitler, even more influenced by the thinkings and writings of Spengler, and formulated a vision for Romania’s future based on a crippling inferiority complex with respect to the great nations of Europe.32 He wrote this new vision in his 1936 text Schimbarea la faţă a României, a text he later denounced calling it the result of the delirious passion of his youth. The volume Cioran approved for publishing in 1990 omitted the strongly anti-Semitic chapter and parts of the final chapter, including a vitriolic diatribe against Hungarians. Cioran was indeed the anomaly of his generation in that although he was seduced by Hitler and Codreanu, his vision for Romania’s future not only included elements from the fascist right but also Marxist elements such as  rapid industrialization, inspired by the situation in the Soviet Union. He wove together facets of both extremes in his program. Despite his personal shame of being Romanian, a core facet of Cioran’s plan for Romania’s transfiguration was an attitude of intolerance directed toward the non-Romanian minority groups living with the borders of Greater Romania (principally the Jews and the Hungarians). Unlike his contemporary nationalists, Cioran refused to glorify Romania for any reason, thus rejecting nativism. He hated the Romanian village, folklore, Orthodox religion and non-existent (as far as he was concerned) history. Instead, unlike many of his Romanian intellectual counterparts, he blamed the Romanians themselves for their problems, pointing to Orthodoxy and backwardness as the source for this new, small, irrelevant country’s inferiority complex.33 But Cioran believed that in order to succeed as an individual, you had to be part of a successful nation. For him the individual was entirely subsumed by the community, in Romania’s case, the ‘minor culture’ of which he was part. In order to drag Romania

31  AMNLR, Emil Cioran, Correspondence, Letters to Ecaterina Săndulescu. 134/III/6, 14069/1–2 December 27, 1935. 32  Petreu, An Infamous Past, 187. 33  Hitchins, ‘Modernity and Angst between the World Wars: Emil Cioran and Yanko Yanev,’ 7.

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out of her trench of irrelevance, Cioran advocated industrialization, modernization and urban development. He wished to bring Romania up to par with Western Europe and the Soviet Union both economically and politically. In order to do this, he saw nothing wrong with popular dictatorship that eliminated individual freedom. He wrote, ‘Romania will have to find its own way somewhere between Berlin and Moscow.’34 Cioran saw potential greatness in the Iron Guard and wanted desperately for Codreanu to accept Schimbarea la faţă a României. To Belu Silber, Cioran said, ‘The Legion wipes its arse with this country.’35 And he was devastated when ‘The Captain’ did not give the book a more positive response. Codreanu’s reluctance to embrace the text as an expression of legionary ideology was certainly due to the leftist and socialist elements of Cioran’s views. And, yet, within this small culture, Cioran (like all of his Criterion counterparts) perceived himself to be a rational, lucid mind. He writes, To realize that you can only become successful once your nation becomes successful, and to have no guarantee of that ever happening! Here lies the key to all Romanian uncertainties. And this is the tragedy of the lucid individual in a minor culture.36

Cioran does not suggest that lucid individuals can create a great nation, rather he resigns himself to the fact that it will take much longer than his lifetime for Romania to emerge from its blackhole in the corner of Europe. Cioran wrote Schimbarea la faţă a României during the two-year hiatus between his time in Berlin and his departure for France, while teaching at a lyceum in Braşov. Cioran’s recent biographer Ilinca Johnston claims that at the heart of Schimbarea la faţă a Zarifopol-­ României ‘lies Cioran’s cry of despair and wounded pride.’ She interprets the ‘plot’ of the text to be his ‘quixotic quest … for a reformed nation that would suit his sense of himself.’37 Petreu claims there is nothing new or outrageous about the anti-Semitism in Cioran’s text. Rather what is unusual in his work is his mixture of admiration for and rejection of the Jews. He never uses the derogatory word jidan [kike] often used in  Petreu, An Infamous Past, 165.  MSJ, 311. January 25, 1941. Also cited in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 177. 36  Emil Cioran, ‘Între conştiinţa europeană şi cea nat ̦ională,’ Vremea, Year 10 No. 518, December 25, 1937. Cited in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 187. 37  Ilinca Zarifopol-Johnston, Searching for Cioran, 93. 34 35

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interwar Romania and instead referred to them always as evrei [Jews]. The Jews deserved to be envied for their ‘messianism and prophetic vision. It allows them to project a constant and historic goal.’38 Petreu claims that Cioran ‘hates the envy, the admiration, the fear they inspire in him.’39 However, the Jews were traitors to every nation because their transnational identity transcended national boundaries. Their internationalism made them traitors to every national movement.40 Petreu also maintains that for Cioran the Jews were still a superior people, when compared to the inferior Romanian people.41 Yet, despite Petreu’s assertion, many of Cioran’s statements in the omitted chapter seem quite anti-Semitic. He suggests that the concept of universal humanity cannot bring them to mutual understanding with the statement: On the human level we cannot get close to them, seeing that a Jew is first a Jew, and a man second. The phenomenon occurs in their conscience, just as it does in ours.42

He called the Jewish problem ‘as complicated as that of the existence of God.’ They were responsible for conflicts due to their vampirism and aggressivity, and even at historic moments had been ‘traitors in a fatalistic way.’43 Cioran also complained that Jews were the single people who did not feel linked to the landscape, even Roma Gypsies were infinitely closer to nature than the Jews. And finally, Cioran’s infamous line in which he links the Jewish identity with the necessity of suicide: In everything, the Jews are unique; they don’t have a match in the world, [they are] under a curse for which only God is responsible. If I were a Jew I would commit suicide right here.44

 Petreu, An Infamous Past, 124–125.  Ibid., 134. 40  Ibid., 128. 41  Ibid., 124. 42  Emil Cioran, Schimbarea la faţă a României. Edition reproduced from the 1936 Vremea complete edition. Norcross, GA: Criterion Publishing, 2002, 110–111. This edition includes the portions later omitted by Cioran for the Humanitas edition. The quotations cited here are from the omitted chapter. 43  Ibid., 111. 44  Ibid., 112. 38 39

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Despite his reservations about Jews, Cioran thought much less highly of Hungarians. For him, originally from Transylvania, the Hungarian people were both oppressors (responsible for the humiliation and shame suffered by the Romanian people) and a backward race. During their 1000-year rule the Hungarians had failed to produce ‘anything original in culture or philosophy.’45 Cioran blamed the Romanian inability for economic reform in Transylvania on the revisionism of the former Hungarian tyrants. Petreu notes that with this conclusion Cioran was thinking similarly to Iuliu Maniu (whom he actually detested) who believed that the claims of national minorities would become irrelevant with economic development as a universal equalizer.46 Cioran, for all his bombastic machismo and pessimistic nihilism, had close friendships with women. Sorana Ţ opa confided first in him when Eliade left her for Nina Mareş. Cioran had a long and fruitful friendship with Jeni Acterian. Of Jeni’s reaction to Schimbarea and Cioran’s seduction by the Iron Guard, he wrote: ‘Making history’ was the most recurrent phrase, the code word. As to the incredible statements you have discovered in Schimbarea … The idea of making history put me in a sort of trance.47

However, unlike her brothers Haig and Arşavir, Sadova and a number of her contemporaries, Jeni remained immune to the allure of the Iron Guard. A clue as to why can be found in a journal confession. Her wisdom beyond her years and in spite of her time, is revealed in her declaration that she will ‘not speak unless it is strictly necessary. Because whatever your ideals may be, good or bad, they will always be misinterpreted.’48 Her resistance to the legionary spell is also documented by Cioran. He writes, [Jeni] told me the foolishness as early as 1936. She thought it absurd and ridiculous to keep talking about History—by then the holiest of Holies. She was right but I was young, proud and utterly mad, sharing in the delirium of so many others.49  Petreu, An Infamous Past, 140.  Ibid., 141. 47  Emil Cioran quoted in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 244. Chapter 11 entitled ‘The Wandering Sophist’ contains a manufactured confession (240–247) constructed by Petreu. She explains her sources for the confession in footnote (46) for Chapter 11 on page 312. 48  Jeni Acterian, Jurnalul unei fiinţe greu de mulţumit, 60. 49  Emil Cioran quoted in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 244. 45 46

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With Cioran, Jeni had a particularly close friendship, and she wondered if she was in love with him.50 She felt that they were the same, that they shared the same ‘structure.’51 This similar structure, built on an intellectual affinity, evidently did not extend to the political sphere. Another meaningful relationship he had with a woman was his ongoing friendship with Mrs. Ecaterina Săndulescu, a teacher at the all-girls school in Sibiu. His correspondence with her demonstrates his care for her. I never realized that you were that wholly sad. I believed that you were sad in inspiration, not in existence … I even believe that you are too much of a poet, because you appreciate unique moments when sadness becomes knowledge … Women are able to come closer to absolute perfection … Without angel-like pre-sentiments (having the feeling that something will happen) one cannot live anymore.52

Clearly Cioran was a man capable of sensitivity and understanding on the individual level, even at the time of his ‘quasi-religious crisis’ when he started writing Schimbarea la faţă a României, in 1935. Constantin Noica The conversion of Romania’s philosopher-king

Noica made the conscious decision to focus his efforts and talents in the direction of philosophy and viewed these efforts as a specialist as his contribution to Romania. Noica did not have the inclination nor ability to be a Renaissance Man like other Criterionists (and even other men of Romanian culture, e.g. Blaga or Iorga) and did everything within his power to achieve the highest expertise in philosophy. He wrote to Comarnescu in 1936: I have still decided to remain a man of specialty, and believe that I do well to proceed thus. Honestly believe me when I tell you that I see your, Eliade’s and Vulcănescu’s (and less, my friend, Cantacuzino’s) ability to assimilate and internalize everything. My only excuse is to remain devoted to a single

 Acterian, Jurnalul unei fiinţe greu de mulţumit, 184, December 16, 1937.  Ibid., December 14, 1937. 52  AMNLR, Emil Cioran, Correspondence, Letters to Ecaterina Săndulescu. 134/III/6, 14069/1–2 December 27, 1935. 50 51

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thing. It is true that any man, even the specialist, would do well to … deepen the image of Tudor Vladimirescu and, in general, the country’s history.53

Noica openly admired and commended his friends for their contributions. His privileged friendship with Comarnescu continued. In 1936 Noica told him, ‘I find again a man of culture in you,’ and ‘I believe all arts have a lot of reason to thank you.’54 Although he embarked on a personal program of dedicated study, it is notable that Noica was willing to compromise his professional career as a scholar in the name of his legionary conversion. This was a sacrifice that Eliade was not willing to make. Following the execution of Codreanu in 1938, Eliade emphasized his academic ties and contributions, thus explicitly distancing himself from what was clearly becoming more and more of a suicide mission. Noica’s reaction to Codreanu’s execution stands in stark contrast. Knowing he would forsake a university post by doing so, Noica joined the Legion.55 Shortly following his conversion, Noica and Wendy left for Paris and then Berlin for Noica to pursue doctoral study. Noica’s political decision to enlist in the Legionary Movement devastated Comarnescu, who urged his friend that such a path led to illusion and idolatry and accused Noica of being un clerc trădător [an intellectual traitor].56 On December 23, 1938, he wrote: Personally, as your friend and as an intellectual, and as a modest colleague of yours in the realms of philosophy and art, I think you are making a huge mistake with your new attitude, especially because you are not a fighter and not a politician … But that does not impede me from suffering … Maybe if you had lived for a year in France, and had lived longer in a humanist, universalist [environment] generous to scientific domains, it would be d ­ ifferent. I could be mistaken, but I sincerely believe that’s what would have happened.57

53  AMNLR, Constantin Noica (and occasionally Wendy Noica), Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu. 242/III/1, 25201/1–44; 25201/28–33 f. 30, November 7, 1936, Sinaia. Tudor Vladimirescu was a revolutionary hero for Romania and the leader of the Wallachian uprising of 1821. 54  Ibid., 25201/34–35, f. 43, December 1, 1936, Sinaia. 55  MSJ, 192. 56  See the discussion on Julien Benda in the Preface, Chapter 1 and Conclusion. 57   AMNLR, Petru Comarnescu, Correspondence, Letters to Constantin Noica. 25.219/1–8; ff. 7–8. December 23, 1938.

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Comarnescu wrote that he knew that Romania was missing a superior culture and true intelligentsia but begged Noica to ‘think of Nae Ionescu.’58 Noica’s friend asserted that the older philosophy professor left reality: his ideas were ‘constructed in wind’ and he ‘lived in illusion.’59 Comarnescu ended his letter of desperate pleas with: The Christianity and philosophy in you are lost the instant you fall into idolatry. And I need to tell you honestly: you are an ideologue. I wish you a peaceful holidays, inspiration and hard work in your philosophical meditations. To Wendy, your good comrade-ess, I wish happiness, complete happiness, through which she can see her husband realize himself in the sense of his true vocation.60

Noica’s response to this plea of Comarnescu is curious. He was seemingly unaware of the full extent of Comarnescu’s warnings and differentiated himself from Ionescu and Eliade. Noica wrote, ‘I don’t know the nature of Nae and Mircea’s conversion,’ but specified that the nature of his own conversion had nothing to do with ‘the café lexicon of any kind of idolatry and/or “terrorist” action’61 but rather was ‘the exact opposite of both,’ a personal pursuit of ‘strong interior perfection.’62 Noica’s political fermentation coincided with the meltdown of his marriage. Whilst in Paris, immersed in his studies and ignoring his personal life, his wife Wendy cried out to Comarnescu, who was deeply concerned for both of them. On January 18, 1939, Wendy wrote that Noica was crazily occupied, working like a mule, going to conferences and courses, and that they were not understanding each other anymore. Despite their unhappiness in their relationship, they were happy that the Vulcănescus were also in Paris at the same time. They went to the Romanian Orthodox Church together and the theater. Wendy confessed how sad she was and concluded the only thing she could do was accept the changes in Noica’s behavior.63 Just days later, oblivious to his wife’s troubles and nostalgic for his friendship with Comarnescu Noica wrote:  Ibid.  Ibid. 60  Ibid. 61  Referring to the vocabulary employed and topics discussed by the Young Generation at cafés Capşa and Corso. 62  AMNLR, Constantin Noica (and occasionally Wendy Noica) Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu. 242/III/1, 25201/ff. 36–37. December 28, 1938, Paris. 63  Ibid., 25201/4–5, January 18, 1939, Paris. 58 59

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I am wondering, susceptible as I am to do sometimes—if my new unrest has caused me to lose your friendship, this chapter which is unique in my youth.64

Preoccupied with his work and thoughts on totalitarianism and the impending political conflicts in Europe, and again indifferent to the suffering of his spouse, Noica confessed to Comarnescu: France is not that exclusivist, and not that democratic, nor that rationalist as those who would swear by her, in the first instance the Jews … I’ve audited some conferences on Mauriac, Maritain and Benda. Their position did not surprise me … but their obsession with respect to totalitarianism and the way in which they put problems so impersonally. I wonder who is more to be condemned: the ideas that are carried out, imposed through the orders of the totalitarian state, or the finished idea in the space of the community, or of the free states … If you came to Paris, it would be a summer of happiness for us, but it seems that this summer much more will change in Europe.65

His political observations and ruminations on friendship continued. Noica wrote to Comarnescu, ‘You, on the other hand, confessed that you don’t know who is a good man or who is a bad man, that everything is relative … I can’t adopt the same ethic.’ And Noica used the recent developments in Czechoslovakia (the Sudentenland being annexed by Germany and the rest occupied or hived off as a puppet Slovak state) to illustrate where friendship and politics intersect, recalling something Polihroniade had said to them, ‘About the prediction of Mişu, the example of Czechoslovakia comes precisely to their [the Guardists’] support, because the lucidity of our friend said: to not be their [the Nazis] friend too late.’66 Aspiring to become like the great philosophers he studied and referred to, perhaps Noica’s belief that ‘those who know better than the rest could construct a better society for everyone’ could be attributed to a ­self-­conception of Plato’s philosopher-king. In addition to Plato, Aristotle and Kant, Noica had a profound admiration for Romania’s own Blaga and for Heidegger. Like many of the Young Generation he had a long-term personal correspondence with Blaga. Noica made the effort to write to Blaga from Heidegger’s city, Freiburg, where he was auditing the philosopher’s courses alongside Cioran. Noica wrote to Comarnescu, ‘I regret  Ibid., 25201/12–13, January 25, 1939, Paris.  Ibid., 25201/6–7, February 10, 1939, Paris. 66  Ibid., 25201/8–9, May 22, 1939, Paris. 64 65

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that you are not here to discuss the Heidegger case with us.’67 Noica’s study of Heidegger became a lifetime project and of central importance during his later years at Păltiniş. Marietta Sadova Theater and Fascism, the Romanian Leni Riefenstahl

In her interrogation recorded in her ACNSAS file, Sadova cites her involvement in Criterion as the moment of her ideological conversion to the Iron Guard.68 Becoming a convinced and active Legionnaire Sadova was more than just a supporter or sympathizer of Codreanu. By the early 1940s she was a full-flung, impassioned activist for the fascist cause. Sadova’s case reveals the drama of the period in many facets: the state of Romanian theater, the interpersonal drama amidst the Young Generation and the theatricality and performative nature of the Iron Guard. Film and stage actress, director and theater professor, Sadova devoted her life to both theater and the Legionary Movement. According to Vera Molea, ‘[Sadova] was a woman divided between her theater work and her political beliefs, victorious in the first and defeated in the second.’69 Married to Haig Acterian, sister-in-law to Jeni and Arşavir Acterian and close friend to Eliade, Sebastian and others, Sadova provides us with the opportunity to explore the relationships and friendships between men and women in the interwar Bucharest cultural space. Prior to this point in the book the focus has been given mainly to male friendship and interaction. The case of Sadova gives us a window into the Criterion female experience. This investigation also exposes to what degree the National Theatre was being used as a propaganda tool and how theater artists contributed to or were affected by the cataclysmic political events surrounding them before and during WWII (Fig. 7.1). By the crucial moment in 1934–1935, Sadova’s political views were fermenting, and solidifying in support of the Iron Guard. This however did not prevent her from writing to Haig of her concern for Sebastian in the wake of the publication of De două mii de ani and Ionescu’s infamous

67   AMNLR, Constantin Noica, Correspondence, Post-cards to Petru Comarnescu, 242/0/2, 25202/1–14, f. 6, March 20, 1941, Freiburg. 68  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 2, f. 2. 69  Vera Molea, Marietta Sadova sau Arta de a trăi prin teatru, 7.

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Fig. 7.1  1935 portrait of Marietta Sadova. Courtesy of the Library of the Romanian Academy, reference number 170414

anti-Semitic preface. Evidently Sebastian confided in Sadova that he intended to take his own life. Haig’s response from Rome offered hope: I’ve thought a lot about what you tell me of Sebastian. I wrote him congratulations. I wonder how the thought of suicide can spring from the soul. I hope it’s a childishness that will pass. Whoever believes in God cannot commit suicide.70

This quote reveals two main points. The first is that Sadova and Haig were very close to Sebastian and concerned for the well-being of their dear friend, regardless of whether they agreed with Ionescu’s approach in the preface. The second is that Haig was a very religious man. His faith grew even stronger during his time abroad. He claimed, ‘Rome gave me God.’71 This faith sustained and invigorated him. He constantly encouraged his 70  AMNLR, Haig Acterian, Correspondence, Letters to Marietta Sadova, 229/IV/34 26585, December 23, 1934. 71  Ibid., 229/IV/49 26600, Postmarked January 22, 1935.

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wife to turn to God in moments of despair. And it was precisely his devout faith that gave Haig such resolved hope and optimism for the future: writing in the same letter about Sebastian, ‘I am sure that as I write this God is preparing good days for us,’72 and later ‘I have in my confidence the certainty that in 1935 it will be better for us.’73 It is unsurprising that Haig’s growth of faith coincided with his legionary conversion. From 1934–1935 Haig Acterian studied filmmaking at the Cinecitta in Rome with the financial support of Aristide Blank.74 In Haig’s impassioned love letters from Rome he repeatedly asks how their dear friends Sebastian and Eliade are doing and about their work. When Eliade received his post at the university in 1934, Haig writes, ‘Tell Mircea that I congratulate him on his victory at the University.’75 He asks Sadova to send him books (such as Eliade’s Oceanografie) and publications, including Criterion, for which he wrote an article on the English director Edward Gordon Craig, which never made it into the journal.76 He also often asks Sadova how her own theater work is going, including congratulating her on the premiere of ‘Trica,’77 and comments on their theater community, complaining of the internal politics of the theater, saying ‘there are too many people around the National Theatre.’78 As for the political, Haig does not refrain from comment. His musings reveal how an educated cosmopolitan intellectual dismisses the nationalism abounding in petty politics (‘professional politics’) and how the mystical nationalism and apocalyptic ascent of the Iron Guard do not fall into such a category. This diplomatic world is pretty mediocre. Only politics is discussed and I have had enough of this need for hate and lack of understanding between people. Misunderstandings arising from stupidity, vanity and nationalism. (Stendhal: ‘nationalism, this sentiment is against nature!’)79

 Ibid., 229/IV/34 26585, December 23, 1934.  Ibid., 229/IV/48 26.599, December 21, 1935. 74  Aristide Blank (1883–1960) was a Jewish banker, financier and theater patron who funded many artistic and cultural ventures in interwar Bucharest. 75  AMNLR, Haig Acterian, Correspondence, Letters to Marietta Sadova, 229/IV/32 26, 583, Postmarked November 15, 1934. 76  Ibid., 229/IV/9 26.557, October 23, 1934. 77  Ibid., 229/IV/51 26605, January 24, 1935. 78  Ibid., 229/IV/52 26.606, January 29, 1935. 79  Ibid., 229/IV/1936 26.587, December 21, 1934. 72 73

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His comments are curious, given the future of his political activity. They reveal how his interpretation of the Guard transcended the banter and misunderstandings of diplomacy. These words confirm an interpretation of the Legionary Movement as just that, a ‘movement,’ rather than a political organization. Faith-based and grassroots, the Iron Guard was not part of the ‘diplomatic world’ Haig encountered disapprovingly in Rome. The Iron Guard was following a natural course, rather than being against nature as in Stendhal’s interpretation of nationalism. In addition to the publication and subsequent fallout surrounding Sebastian’s De două mii de ani, the crucial moment of 1934 included Cioran’s philosophy studies in Berlin, the solidification of political allegiances and the final public manifestations of Criterion’s activity. In her interrogation in her Securitate file, Sadova credits her involvement in Criterion with her entrance into legionary ideology. Her words demonstrate that conversion was happening socially, within the circle of Criterion but not as a result of the cultural association’s program. She confesses, [Starting the year] 1933–1934, when I was participating in the Criterion Association in Bucharest, I entered into the circle of legionnaires and legionary sympathizers, such as: Mihail Polihroniade; Mircea Vulcănescu; Petrişor Viforeanu; Belgea; Mircea Eliade; Constantin Noica; Emil Cioran; Haig Acterian and others. This circle exercised over me a national-chauvinist influence and in a short time I accepted the legionary doctrine, I remained definitively connected to the legionary ideology.80

Sadova enlisted in the Legionary Movement in 1934.81 Sadova and Haig’s first meeting with ‘The Captain’ occurred at the house of Mihail and Mary Polihroniade on October 21, 1936, which they described as a ‘colossal’ day.82 Sebastian recorded this episode in his diary and remarked on the humor of it. Eliade had relayed the story to him. Sadova brought a copy of Codreanu’s book, Pentru Legionari (For Legionnaires), and asked him to sign it. When Codreanu asked her name, she told him, expecting him to recognize that she was a famous actress. When he did not, she clarified that she was with the National Theatre and then he treated her just as if it were the ‘Day of the Book,’ following the usual line of questions, was she ‘Miss’ or ‘Mrs’? Sebastian writes, ‘I think  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 2, f. 2 and reverse.  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 1, f. 94. 82  MSJ, 85. 80 81

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it was a bit of a blow for poor little Marietta.’ Sebastian observed that the smile that Sadova gave Codreanu was the same she gave to Aristide Blank. He concludes that this does not make her a hypocrite, but rather ‘a strange mixture of harsh practicality and openhanded sincerity.’83 Then Haig presented Codreanu with his entire oeuvre of poetry and essays, signed with a special dedication to ‘The Captain.’ In response to this incident, Sebastian recalls that ‘in 1932 Haig was a communist.’ It can only be assumed that a factor in Haig’s legionary conversion was his close relationship with Sadova, who was the first of the two to declare her support for the Guard. Sadova had a close and complicated personal and professional relationship with Sebastian. In his journal, Sebastian presents us with a vivid portrait of Sadova as friend, venomous anti-Semite and calculating individual. Following the deaths of Moţa and Marin in Spain, Sebastian notes on January 15, 1937, that Sadova has ‘been having an attack of anti-­Semitism’ in which she shouted, The yids are to blame … They take the bread from our mouths they exploit and smother us. They should get out of here. This is our country not theirs. Romania is for Romanians!84

The next year, when Eliade was imprisoned at Miercurea Ciuc, Sebastian stopped by Sadova and Haig’s home, to see if they had news of their friend. This time, on August 22, 1938, Sebastian described her as ‘unrestrained’ and ‘choking with anti-Semitism.’ She ranted and raged ‘against the potbellied Jews and their bloated, bejeweled women—though she did make exception for about a hundred thousand “decent” Jews, probably including myself since I have neither a potbelly nor a bloated wife.’85 Their complicated relationship also existed on a professional level, working together in the theater. In 1936 Sebastian wrote Jocul de-a vacanţa (The Vacation Game) for his unrequited love Leni Caler but eventually cast Sadova to ensure it would get performed. They had multiple readings of the script in an effort to find sponsors, but the plan fell through. Eventually the show was produced and performed at the Comedia Theatre, premiering on September 14, 1938, starring Leni Caler, and was a roaring success. The anti-Semitic legislation initially installed in 1937 went through  Ibid.  MSJ, 106. 85  Ibid., 172. 83 84

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varying stages of severity and the fact that a play written by a Jewish writer was performed indicates that this particular time was more permissive. Unfortunately, that was not the case during the war, when Sebastian had great difficulty getting his play Steaua fără nume (The Star Without a Name) performed. It was eventually performed at the Comedia Theatre in 1944 due to Ştefan Enescu signing as the author of the play, using the pseudonym ‘Ştefan Micu.’86 Though a friend and temporary artistic collaborator, Sebastian came to see Sadova for what she truly was: a calculating and intolerant individual. Hearing a story about Sadova from Harry Brauner on December 2, 1937, ‘[challenged] everything [Sebastian] knew about her.’87 While working on a play with Lucia Demetrius, Sadova received 30,000 lei from the National Theatre and 20,000 from the promoters and shared none of it with Demetrius. Sadova also sent the play to Germany, under her name, excluding Demetrius claiming that if they submitted it with both their names, the script would not be accepted because Demetrius was ‘Jewish.’ Sebastian, shocked at this story writes, ‘On this occasion, I learned that Lucia D’s mother actually is Jewish. What good methods of investigation our Marietta has! And what timely use she can make of them!’88 The first legionary meeting involving Criterionists took place at the Polihroniade home the following year, 1937. In addition to Haig, Sadova and Mary and Mihail Polihroniade, Nina and Mircea Eliade, Anton Hoitaş and Codreanu participated. Sadova describes, In this meeting we discussed a series of problems related to legionary activity, including dispossessing Jews of their assets and the propaganda for the electoral campaign connected to PNŢ.89

Beginning with this initial session, a series of regular legionary meetings started to take place at the Eliade, Polihroniade and Acterian homes. In these meetings the following individuals participated (in addition to those already mentioned): Vulcănescu, Tell, Ion Belgia, and the legionary commanders, Emil Bulbuc, Anton Hoitaş, Horia Cosmovici and his brother, Constantin Ionescu, and Petrişor Viforeanu.90 In this series of  Ibid., 616. Sebastian’s final plays Ultimă oră and Insula premiered after his 1945 death.  Ibid., 131. 88  Ibid. 89  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol.2, f. 2 reverse. 90  Ibid. 86 87

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meetings, Sadova reports they discussed problems of the legionary doctrine, commented on the actions of King Carol II, and remembered the arrested and executed Legionnaires. They also decided who would write pro-legionary propaganda in the future, discussed the measures needed to be taken against the Jews, slandered the activity of the Romanian Communist Party and sometimes sang legionary songs.91 Passionately playing the role of activist, Sadova viewed herself as a bridge between her elite cultural community (of theater and film) and the Legionary Movement. Her activity was specifically geared toward attracting people of influence in the theater and her intellectual circle to the legionary cause.92 One cultural manifestation of her xenophobic nationalism came in the form of her advocacy for exclusively Romanian language performance. On December 16, 1936, Sebastian recalls an evening at the house of Constantin Vişoianu, when ‘Marietta called for a legal ban on all foreign films.’ Her outburst, Sebastian described as violent and emotional. (‘She seemed about to burst into tears.’) She verbalized her rationale for the ban, ‘We are in Romania, and they should speak Romanian.’ And Sebastian tried to put an end to the discussion with irony, telling her, ‘Marietta, my dear, you are in the most disturbing phase of nationalism.’93 This ‘phase’ followed closely on the heels of her activity a few days before, on Friday, December 11, 1936, when she recited poetry at a festival for the Iron Guard ‘under the spiritual patronage of the legionaries fighting Marxism in Spain.’ The festival was an effort to raise money for Casa Verde. Sebastian observes that ‘the poor girl can’t hope for anything better [than the Iron Guard] under the present regime,’ a fact that applied to many who sympathized. It is here, in this particular journal entry that Sebastian wonders if ‘there would be room for a Leni Riefenstahl in a state run by Codreanu,’ and notes that, ‘Marietta has put herself forward.’94 Following the assassination of Armand Călinescu on September 21, 1939, Sadova raised money for the Legionnaires arrested and for their family members with the help of Nina Eliade, Mary Polihroniade and Domnica Negruţi. In this activity she was supported by Petre Ţ uţea and  Ibid.  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 1. f. 94. 93  MSJ, 95. 94  Ibid., 95–96. 91 92

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the Legionnaire Marioara Ionescu.95 Sadova’s use of the National Theatre for legionary efforts included organizing a legionary wedding celebration for Corina Constantinescu that took place on the premises of the National Theatre. Liviu Rebreanu was the godfather of Constantinescu.96 During the National Legionary State, Sadova confessed to have organized her own ‘nest’ along with the following other women: Mary Polihroniade, Clatilda Hoitaş, Marioara Ionescu, Nina Eliade, Maria Iordache and Bobi Marin. They worked together to spread legionary propaganda, by distributing legionary aid. In this capacity they ‘went from house to house, created a canteen and a legionary medical unit, organized a “Christmas Tree” at the legionary lodgings at Casasovici as well as other legionary actions.’97 Coinciding with the National Legionary State, Haig Acterian became the director of the National Theatre. Acterian served in that capacity until the Legionary Rebellion. With Acterian at the head, Sadova was allowed direct access into the operation of the theater ‘transforming it from a place of culture into a headquarters of manifestations of legionary ideology.’98 Thus began the persecution of Jews and ‘those of the left’ [celor de stînga]. Under the guidance of Sadova, a legionary ceremony was introduced before rehearsals and performances. She also worked assiduously to attract the young students from the Conservatory of Dramatic Arts toward the Legion. During this period Sadova wrote a manual about the speaking technique required to teach at the theater conservatory and used examples from legionary and mystical ideology.99 In addition to Horia Sima and Vasile Iaşinschi,100 Sadova was in direct contact with Radu Gyr who instructed her to attract new members to the Legion from the artists at the National Theatre, which she succeeded in doing in large numbers.101 The violence and events surrounding the Legionary Rebellion (January 21–23, 1941) were the result of the Iron Guard’s desire to take complete control of the government. The Bucharest Pogrom, which ran concurrently with the Rebellion, was responsible for the murder of Bucharest Jews, the destruction and pillage of Jewish property and homes and the  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 2, f. 2 reverse.  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol.1, f. 95. 97  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol.2, f. 3. 98  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 1, f. 95. 99  Ibid. 100  Ibid., f. 1. 101  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 2, f. 2. 95 96

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burning of synagogues. Both Sadova and Haig were extremely involved in the rebellion. Haig allowed pro-Guard speeches to be made with a megaphone from the National Theatre’s balcony.102 Sadova was seen wearing the legionary uniform, a green shirt.103 Alongside Dimitriu Toma (employed by the National Theatre) and Rady Gyr, Sadova conducted the occupation of the theater by the Legionary Committee for Art.104 In the same report Sadova is said to have ‘crossed the theater balcony with a revolver.’105 In another report, George Miculescu (the director of the office in the National Theatre) testified with a written statement that though he did not hear it himself, other employees heard Sadova say during the days of the rebellion, ‘If I had a revolver, I would shoot General Antonescu.’106 This statement of course is in conflict with the previous report, which placed her on the balcony with a revolver.107 In her personal account of events, she states, When the Legionary Rebellion was declared, I personally went to the National Theatre, where many Legionnaires gathered, together with Radu Gyr. I went on the balcony where Gyr was speaking to the crowd of Legionnaires, instigating the rebellion.108

An incident with a colleague at the theater further reveals Sadova’s capacity to carry on personal relationships with individuals of Jewish heritage (such as Sebastian and Aristide Blank) and at the same time the uncompromising lengths to which she was willing to go to achieve the legionary aims. At the time of the Rebellion, Ion Tălianu (an artist at the National Theatre) was gravely injured on the street by a band of Legionnaires under the pretext that he was jidan. He went to the theater and reported the incident to Sadova, whose response was simply:

 Ibid., 318.  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 1, f. 1. 104  Ibid., f. 95. 105  Ibid. 106  Ibid., 133. 107  This incongruity illustrates how the ACNSAS files, though rich with previously unseen information, often have conflicting reports or misinformation. 108  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol.2, f. 3. 102 103

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What do you want, dear Tălianu, don’t you see that the communists are looking for trouble in broad daylight? We have our measures. Do not get angry if more mistakes are made.109

During the Rebellion, Haig was arrested and condemned to 12 years in prison. Following the Rebellion, Sadova was also briefly arrested.110 From 1941 to 1943 Haig was imprisoned in Lugoj and wrote a monograph about Molière, which was his last work. Jeni reacted with shock and distress to the imprisonment of her brother, which she thought absolutely absurd because Haig was certainly innocent. Childlike and naïve, her eldest brother was only interested in the theater. Jeni believed he would be released quickly because no accusation could stick.111 Also optimistic for an early release of Haig, Sebastian reacted with empathy toward and hope for the future of his friend. ‘Frankly I think it will be sorted out, and there is no way Haig will be made a martyr. Nor would I want him to be.’112 Sadova embarked on an effort to liberate her husband, collecting signatures for a petition in support of Haig. Though, according to actress Margareta Papagoga, there was little sympathy left for him at the National Theatre. It was impossible to collect signatures.113 Sadova persevered. One of her arguments was that all the other arrested conspirators in the rebellion had been released.114 She requested Haig be released and work for the government’s propaganda team.115 Through constant pleas to the Antonescu government, she succeeded in gaining the support from the young King Michael and Haig was released from prison. Instead of liberation however, Haig was sent to the front line of battle on the Eastern Front. This was most likely due to the fact that he himself requested to be mobilized in the military rather than sit in a prison cell.116 Haig was

 ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol.1, f. 95.  Molea, Maritta Sadova sau Arta de a trăi prin teatru, 7. 111  Acterian, Jurnalul unei fiinţe greu de mulţumit, 329. 112  MSJ, 318, February 4, 1941. 113  Ibid. 114  ACNSAS HA Fond I 21201 Dosar Nr. 54892 Vol.1. f. 74, dated August 18, 1943. 115  Ibid., f. 74, f. 73. 116  Ibid., ff. 41–42, f. 111, dated October 27, 1942. 109 110

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declared missing during the battles in the Kuban, and died circa August 8, 1943, due to a Russian bombardment 8 kilometers west of Krymskaya.117 In the aftermath of the Rebellion and throughout WWII, Sadova never gave up her efforts to find her husband (she ceaselessly searched for him and demanded answers from the government) nor did she stray from her legionary mission. Like Haig, she also endured imprisonment, though slightly later and for a much shorter period. Immediately after the Rebellion, for the months of February and March, Sadova continued to meet with Mary Polihroniade, Domnica Negruţi, Maria Rareş, Marioara Ionescu, Costina Constantinescu and Ion Isaia to discuss legionary issues. According to Sadova, it was for this reason that she and Costina Constantinescu were imprisoned in March 1941 and interned at Târgul Jiu prison.118 Both were liberated on July 15, 1941, due to the intervention of legionary leaders.119 Upon her release, Sadova was engaged in secret anti-Antonescu support for the Legion. She resumed her connections with Ion Isaia, Petre Ţ uţea, Arşavir Acterian, Mary Polihroniade, Clatilda Hoitaş, George Penciuiescu and George Demetrescu. They held regular meetings, organized aid and raised money for arrested Legionnaires and their family members.120 Within the framework of the National Theatre, Sadova drew up a ‘black list’ of actors who did not sympathize with the Legionnaires. This included others who did not work at the National Theatre, such as the director at that time of the C. Nottara Theatre, Chiril Economu.121 Petru Comarnescu The extreme egalitarianism of the father of Criterion

Comarnescu remained a philosopher of history, logic, erudition and aesthetics, never of the social and political stripe. Comarnescu was known for his enthusiastic optimism, admiration for American values such as equal rights for all and democracy, and desire to personally stay out of the political arena. The word he used to describe his political leanings was ‘socialist,’ although in the 1930s he had no contact with communist  Ibid., f. 70; Florin Faifer. ‘Mirare şi minune’ in Acterian, Jurnal 1929–1945/1958–1990, 18.  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 2, f. 3. 119  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 1, f. 95. 120  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 2, f. 3. 121  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 1, f. 96. 117

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f­actions. Comarnescu’s socialism can be interpreted to go hand in hand with his internationalism and cosmopolitanism, his support of and advocacy for global government and involvement in the student society for the League of Nations. In 1932 he wrote, ‘Even now I rush to enlist in the Socialists, because I am, in principle, a socialist.’122 His egalitarianism for all peoples also explains his firm belief in the rights of the minorities within Greater Romania’s borders and his distaste for racism and discrimination. Golopenţia knew he would have an accepting ear in 1935, after a visit to Transylvania where he enjoyed his time with Hungarians, when he wrote to Comarnescu, ‘We need to understand our neighbors better.’123 As demonstrated by his attempt to convince Noica not to enlist in the Iron Guard, Comarnescu had a strong interest in being a good friend throughout this period of rhinocerization. But contact did lapse between Comarnescu (not nearly to the extremes it did for Sebastian or Ionesco) and Criterionist Guardist sympathizers. His friendship with Cioran is a case in point. Initially things between them were very warm. Writing from Sibiu in 1933, Cioran told Comarnescu, Inside of you exists a spirit so pure, your enthusiasm and naïveté are divine gifts. You are the only man who embodies it … There is a kind of generosity in you, which I’ve met in another form with Vulcănescu and Eliade.124

This admiration and near idealization cooled following Cioran’s time in Germany, the publication of Schimbarea la faţă a României and his time in Romania throughout the 1930s. From Vichy, France in 1941, Cioran wrote to Comarnescu, Just now in Romania, when I rediscovered you, it seemed not right that … [there has been] a pause of some years in our friendship. I believe that … [the lack of our friendship is] an emptiness of which I am not the only one guilty.125

 PCJ, 41.   AMNLR, Anton Golopenţia, Correspondence, Post-cards to Petru Comarnescu. 25.258/6, f. 6, August 5, 1935 Leipzig. 124  AMNLR Emil Cioran, Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu, 134/IV/15, 25.142/1–11, ff. 1–2, April 21, 1933 Sibiu. 125  Ibid., f. 8, Vichy, March 1, 1941. 122 123

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Both staunch individualists, Comarnescu and Sebastian were never particularly close and treated each other more as acquaintances than friends. Based on their journals they actually were not all that fond of one another. Comarnescu thought that Sebastian was ambitious and calculating, and even used the word ‘shark’ [rechin] to describe him.126 Clearly Comarnescu was intimidated and scared of him. Sebastian, on the other hand, thought that Comarnescu was spineless, as indicated by his previously noted reaction to Comarnescu making public peace with the Credinţa group so quickly.127 A friendship that never came to full fruition demonstrates that political conviction does not necessarily imply the formation of friendship. Mihail Sebastian Romanian and Jew

Sebastian was one of many urbane assimilated Jews in Romania and did not strongly identify with his Jewish roots. He changed his name early on from the overtly Jewish ‘Iosif Hechter’ to the Romanianized ‘Mihail Sebastian.’ However, most people knew of Sebastian’s Jewish origins. He explicitly addressed them in De două mii de ani and for anyone who did not comprehend the experientialist and autobiographical nature of the story, Nae Ionescu ousted him in his notorious preface by asking, ‘Are you, Iosef Hechter, a man from the Danube of Brăila? No. You are a Jew from the Danube of Brăila.’128 Ionescu considered himself just such a man from Brăila that Sebastian could never be, due to his Judaism.129 Ionescu was also represented in the novel under the literary alias Ghiţă Blidaru. Initially, Sebastian considered himself first and foremost a Romanian, and his friends, most notably novelist and poet, Camil Petrescu and Sadova did not refrain from uttering anti-Semitic remarks in his presence. Such friendships were also illustrative of the common friend/enemy dynamic present among the ranks of Criterion. Such a dynamic is also present in the extremely complicated and much-­ disputed mentor–mentee relationship between Nae Ionescu and Sebastian. At first the two were close but their relationship grew to enmity by the end  PCJ, 24.  MSJ, 21. 128  Nae Ionescu, ‘Prefaţa,’ Mihail Sebastian, De două mii de ani, 10. 129  Petreu, An Infamous Past, 126. Petreu asserts this distinction for Nae Ionescu between human being and Jew. 126 127

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of the 1930s. Petreu controversially claims that while at Cuvântul Sebastian was more than an employee for Ionescu. She labels him the ‘devil’s apprentice’ and argues that through his own journalistic writings for the paper the young Sebastian in fact aided in advancing Ionescu’s far right views.130 The most obvious conflict was between Sebastian’s Jewish heritage and his mentor’s increasing anti-Semitism. Another thing that disturbed Sebastian was the older philosopher and journalist’s complete rejection of the individual in the name of the collective. In a 1935 description of his mentor Sebastian wrote, His whole heresy stems from a wild and terrifying abstraction: the collective. It is colder, more insubstantial, more artificial than the abstraction of the individual. He forgets he is speaking of human beings; that they have passions, and—whatever one many say—an instinct for freedom, an awareness of their own individual existence.131

In Ionescu’s inaugural lecture in his ‘political logic’ course at the university in 1935, he said that now was the hour of politics, not of books. At that point the political generation was replacing the ‘bookish’ generation. ‘Politics means actions, life, reality, contact with resistance.’ Sebastian described the introduction as ‘a little testament of the Iron Guard faith.’132 For Ionescu, joining the collective was an escape from being alone. The older philosophy professor confessed to his former student, ‘You don’t understand, my theory of collectives is an escape from solitude, a tragic attempt to break out of loneliness.’133 Sebastian responded to this in his journal by writing, ‘I do understand. But then let him stop speaking of the absolute rights of the collective and insist on the absolute importance of the individual.’134 By the later 1930s, with the installation of the Goga-Cuza government by King Carol II in 1937, anti-Semitic legislation increased and Sebastian’s life was directly affected. This was the first time jidan was used for ‘Jew’ in  Marta Petreu, Diavolul şi ucenicul său: Nae Ionesco-Mihail Sebastian.  MSJ, 9. 132  Ibid., 28–29. 133  Ibid., 41. 134  Ibid. 130 131

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the press.135 Jews were forbidden to be journalists,136 then Sebastian’s train pass was revoked137 and then all Jewish names were deleted from the official list of the Writers Association.138 Like almost half of Romanian Jewry, Sebastian remained alive until 1944 only because the Romanian authorities switched their tactics and changed their position on the ‘Jewish problem.’139 As a result of the escalating anti-Semitic governmental legislation, Sebastian rediscovered his Jewish identity. Joanne Roberts calls this identity ‘a Jewishness of his own creation,’ one which he adopted ‘to show solidarity with a people persecuted by the Romanian state.’140 In Sebastian’s journal, he records his recognition of his Jewish identity in the late 1930s out of necessity, with both pride and reluctance. In 1936, Sebastian wrote that he was tempted to ask Dragoş Protopopescu (a right-­ wing journalist sympathetic to the Iron Guard), ‘Are you an Iron Guardist or aren’t you?’ but refrained because Protopopescu would have been entitled to respond, ‘Are you a Jew or aren’t you?’ To this Sebastian concluded that there should be more rigidity to his own life; he was too ‘supple,’ too ‘accommodating.’141 A man should be all or nothing, and not shake hands with the enemy, another instance of the friend/enemy dynamic. Sebastian felt that he had perhaps betrayed himself by sitting next to Protopopescu in the front of the latter’s car. In 1938 Sebastian wrote, ‘I suddenly remember Jesus was a Jew—which forces me to think again about our terrible destiny.’142 That terrible destiny became all the more real by 1940, when news of work deportations of Jews reached Bucharest. Once again Sebastian revealed his raw humanity with his interpretation of this devastating development: Everything is bearable until you start feeling acted on not as a soldier, not as a citizen, but as a Jew. Thousands, tens of thousands of Jews have been called up to lug stones, and dig trenches in Bessarabia and Dobrogea. That too is a form of slavery.143  Ibid., 137.  Ibid., 138. 137  Ibid., 141. 138  Ibid., 197. 139  Radu Ioanid, ‘Introduction’ MSJ, ix. 140   Joanne Roberts, ‘Romanian—Intellectual—Jew: Mihail Sebastian in Bucharest, 1935–1944,’ Central Europe, Vol. 4. No. 1 (May 2006): 42. 141  MSJ, 56. 142  Ibid., 156. 143  Ibid., 266. 135 136

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Sebastian longed for the survival of himself and his family and desired to write and find peace. Whilst his outward freedom was stripped away, Sebastian cultivated his inner creativity. In this way his voice was never silenced. The institutionalized anti-Semitism carried into his creative life, as being Jewish could prevent his work from being published and his plays from being performed. Thus he considered writing a play and allowing Nicuşor Constantinescu to put his name on it.144 Nevertheless, despite these roadblocks, he carried on writing. He also took up teaching at a Jewish lyceum to make ends meet. His intellectual curiosity and creative drive never disappeared, despite the dehumanizing conditions in which he was forced to live. Actually in this alienation art, culture, literature and music were Sebastian’s only salvation. Over the course of his diary, he taught himself English, read Shakespeare and translated Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice into Romanian. He regularly listened to radio broadcasts from Moscow, Paris, Vienna, Berlin and Bucharest. In 1939, Sebastian wrote, ‘Music is my only drug.’145 Another feature of Sebastian’s identity was his admiration for French culture and history and with that came a love for French democracy. In 1936, whilst reading Jules Renard’s diary, it occurred to Sebastian to write a book in which he could explain through Renard his love of France. He stated, ‘Renard’s radicalism has peasant roots. That reassures me about the fate of French democracy. It will never die.’146 His diary reveals his hope for French resistance, his devastation at French defeat and his anguish due to the fact that his older brother Poldy was in France, fighting for the Allies. In 1939, following the bombing of Warsaw, while writing a letter to Poldy, Sebastian burst into tears.147 He wished for Poldy to survive the war, so that the valiance and courage of his life could make up for the failure of Sebastian’s.148 In 1940 Sebastian wondered, ‘Will the French resist? Somewhere deep inside me I still have hope and wait.’149 Then when he learned of the French defeat, he wrote, ‘French surrender is like the death of someone very close.’150 Yet unlike Ionesco, his Francophilia did not  Ibid., 462.  Ibid., 238. 146  Ibid., 45. 147  Ibid., 233. 148  Ibid., 245. 149  Ibid., 295. 150  Ibid., 297. 144 145

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eclipse his own Romanianness, demonstrated by his choice to stay in the country and his wonder that he never considered leaving, as Ionesco did. Sebastian noted, ‘Strange that I have never thought about running away.’151 A casualty of the growth in strength and popularity of the Iron Guard was the friendship between Eliade and Sebastian. The latter recorded his distress at the loss of Eliade’s friendship, whilst Eliade’s memoir exposed some regret at never setting the record straight with Sebastian. These men shared a special bond that went beyond writing for Cuvântul and being disciples of Nae Ionescu. They also shared a deep friendship and admiration for the same woman, Nina Mareş, whom Eliade then married in 1934. Mareş was first a dear friend of Sebastian. She worked as a secretary and she typed up his indecipherable manuscripts. Through Sebastian Eliade met Mareş and fell in love with her. Eliade’s family and friends considered it a scandal when they decided to marry, for Nina was an older divorcée with a young daughter from her previous marriage. Sebastian was the only one to approve, but only after he made them promise their friendship would remain the same.152 He then vowed that Eliade could not have made a better choice.153 Sebastian’s diary presents a devastating account of Eliade’s betrayal of his friend in the late 1930s. Although he wrote of such bewilderment in 1936, Sebastian still vowed to keep Eliade as a friend, I should like to eliminate any political reference from our discussions, but is that possible? … I can feel the breach between us. Will I lose Mircea for no more reason than that? Can I forget everything that is exceptional, his generosity, his vital strength, his humanity … Nevertheless I shall do everything possible to keep him.154

Despite this steadfast optimism to retain the friendship, subsequent events would prove to make that more and more difficult. From a ‘painful political discussion with Mircea’155 to concluding that his friend was ‘neither a charlatan nor a madman, he is just naïve,’156 Sebastian slowly came to the realization that their friendship might be ending. With horror, Sebastian  Ibid., 304.  MEAI, 243. 153  Ibid., 275. 154  MSJ, 79. 155  Ibid., 84. 156  Ibid., 141. 151 152

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recorded passages from Eliade’s 1937 publication, ‘Why I believe in the Victory of the Legionary Movement’ in his diary, including: ‘Can the Romanian people end its days … wasted in poverty and syphilis, invaded by Jews and torn apart by foreigners?’157 With the increase of anti-Semitic legislation and Eliade’s Iron Guard advocacy, the two men saw each other less and less. In 1938, after two months had passed since he had seen Eliade, Sebastian wondered, ‘Should I let things unravel by themselves? … Our friendship lasted for years.’158 And shortly thereafter he concluded, ‘I visited Mircea today, clearly all is over between us.’159 But with the arrests of prominent Iron Guardists in 1938, the situation between Sebastian and Eliade changed slightly for the better. Following news of the arrests, Sebastian worried about both Eliade and Nina. He went to see Eliade and wished to tell them that the Goga-Cuza regime was also dictatorship, which is what the Legionnaires wanted. Sebastian concluded that ‘one day [he] will settle accounts without sentimentality,’160 that one day he would set the record straight. Days later, Nae Ionescu was arrested and sent to Miercurea Ciuc,161 followed shortly thereafter by Eliade’s deportation.162 Sebastian’s reaction to his friend’s situation was sorrow. He felt it was a result of ‘half farce, half ambition.’163 For Sebastian the situation was an absurd consequence of his friend’s unrealistic political and cultural aspirations. The first time Sebastian saw Eliade after his release from internment, Eliade embraced his Jewish friend, much to Sebastian’s surprise. Sebastian wondered whether it was, ‘A reflex gesture? Old memories stronger than recent events?’164 Then both Eliade and Nina came round to Sebastian’s flat, for the first time since Ciuc, and acted as if nothing had happened. But their friendship was not fully repaired, and in 1939 Sebastian lamented that Eliade was more pro-German, anti-French and anti-Semitic than ever. Comarnescu related to Sebastian a conversation he had with Eliade:

 Ibid., 133.  Ibid., 145. 159  Ibid., 146. 160  Ibid., 157. 161  Ibid., 159. 162  Ibid., 171. 163  Ibid., 175. 164  Ibid., 192. 157 158

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‘The Poles’ resistance in Warsaw,’ says Mircea, ‘is a Jewish resistance. Only yids are capable of the blackmail of putting women and children in the front line, to take advantage of the Germans’ sense of scruple. The Germans have no interest in the destruction of Romania. Only a pro-German government can save us. A George Brătianu/Nae Ionescu government is the only solution. The Soviets are no longer a danger, both because they have abandoned communism—and we shouldn’t forget that communism is not identical with Marxism, nor necessarily Judaic—and because they (the Soviets) have given up on Europe and turned their eyes exclusively to Asia. What is happening on the frontier with Bukovina is a scandal, because new waves of Jews are flooding into the country. Rather than a Romania again invaded by kikes, it would be better to have a German protectorate.’165

Sebastian was horrified, and wrote in response: ‘Just look at what he thinks, your ex-friend Mircea Eliade.’166 Following the execution of their mutual friend Polihroniade in 1939, Nina despaired that Eliade would face a similar fate. Sebastian’s internal response was, ‘I think I am morally more entitled to feel distressed than he is.’167 While his friendship with Eliade unraveled, a new friendship was born, as Sebastian grew closer to Ionesco in the early 1940s. Indeed, they shared a Jewish heritage. But they also bonded over their liberal values and their mutual distaste for extremist politics. They both had a disgust for the ‘poison fed to the multiples.’ Ionesco recorded how Sebastian said to him, ‘Look at all these people in the streets, they don’t have brains anymore, what they have in their place is the mud of propaganda.’168 Although they provided each other with some comfort, their friendship was brief due to Ionesco’s success at obtaining the necessary papers to return to France in 1942. This left Sebastian a social pariah, as his friends abandoned him one by one. He was forced to move in with his elderly mother and younger brother, Benu, as Jewish property was increasingly appropriated by the government. The wartime conditions were dire for Sebastian and his family, and the polar opposite of his cosmopolitan interwar Bucharest life of cafés, theaters and concert halls. Once a man at the hub of a vibrant social circle, he became completely alienated and alone.

 Ibid., 238.  Ibid., 238–239. 167  Ibid., 242. 168  Ionesco, Present Past Past Present, 141. 165 166

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Sebastian was never affiliated with a political party. As he stated in his journal in 1939, ‘I can’t judge this drama politically, I am horrified as a human being.’169 It is in fact Sebastian’s humanity that is most revealed in all accounts from this period. If Eliade aspired to be a universal man with the responsibility of developing ‘culture,’ Sebastian was a very normal man who just wanted to find personal happiness. This is revealed in his journal with his occasional existential musings on hope and despair, such as: ‘Am I happy?’170; ‘Will I ever be able to do anything without some passion?’171; and ‘The truth is—no matter how unhappy I am—I wish with all my heart that I will live to see the collapse of Hitlerism.’172 The last comment, written in 1940, was largely in response to something which Sebastian was only just coming to identify with: his Jewish background. He worried that he might not live to see the fall of Nazism, precisely because he might be killed for being Jewish. Eugène Ionesco The ultimate individualist

Also a Francophile, Ionesco was, unlike Sebastian, a ‘reluctant Romanian.’173 He also did not necessarily identify with the Young Generation of which he was technically a member and was critical of youth, in general: ‘I always detested the young, particularly when I was young myself.’174 As for his clear mind capable of critical thinking, Ionesco wrote: ‘I believe I have always been lucid … on the whole I see things straight.’175 Ionesco claimed to be an individualist from an early age and believed that he had never compromised his essence or ideals: I believe I have been perfectly loyal to myself. I have not changed … I learned to be alone very early, because I did not think what others thought. My deepest nature prevented me. But solitude is a shield, which can defend my liberty, which allows me to keep a cool head in spite of the fiery furnace

 Ibid., 242.  Ibid., 63. 171  Ibid., 121. 172  Ibid., 282. 173  Călinescu, ‘Ionesco and Rhinoceros: Personal and Political Backgrounds,’ 405. 174  Eugène Ionesco, Fragments of a Journal, 76. 175  Ibid., 103. 169 170

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into which I am hurled by my rages, my repulsions, my terrors. I still communicate with others across the barrier, as far as is possible.176

In addition to his self-identification as an individual, pessimist and non-­ conformist, Ionesco did have a secret he wished to hide, which caused him much anxiety in the interwar period and the wartime years. He confessed this to Sebastian and grappled with it in his own writings. Ionesco had Jewish blood on his mother’s side, but he only openly recognized this much later in his life. He certainly did not self-identify as being Jewish in the interwar period. But his pedigree did put him at extreme risk. With the escalating anti-Semitic legislation, Ionesco grew desperate. When he and his wife were finally able to leave Romania, he wrote, ‘A miracle has happened … I will be in France, in Lyon, Wednesday.’177 Before this good news, Ionesco confessed his deepest fears to Sebastian. In January of 1941, he visited Sebastian in a panic, very anxious to leave the country. At the end of that year, Ionesco exposed his Jewish ‘secret’ one night while drinking with Sebastian. The following quotation demonstrates the different relationship each man had with his Jewish identity: while Sebastian had reconciled himself with his own conception of ‘Jewishness,’ Ionesco was bereft and terrified. Sebastian wrote, Eugène Ionesco, who doesn’t take long to get drunk, talks about his mother, ‘spills the beans’ with a sigh of relief, she was Jewish from Craiova—went on to speak about [Romanian] Jews who were not known as such Paul Sterian, Radu Gyr, Ignatescu, with a certain spite, as if he wanted to revenge himself on them or lose himself in their great number. Poor Eugène Ionesco! What fretting, what torment, what secrets for such a simple matter! I would say how fond I was growing of him—but he was too drunk for me to start being sentimental.178

Certainly, a significant contributor to Ionesco’s immunity from personal rhinocerization was his double self-identity as both French and Romanian. But this cannot be the only reason, as Matei Călinescu seems to suggest. He was a staunch individual from a very young age and his  Ibid., 107.  Ionesco, Present Past Past Present, 192. 178  Ibid., 321. 176 177

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personality was that of a free-thinker ready to criticize anyone, including himself. Ionesco was an admitted liberal-democrat and approached the Iron Guard problem with open eyes and a critical mind. Ionesco accused the new ideological movement of being ‘pseudo-spiritual’ and ‘pseudo-­ mystic.’179 The Iron Guard did advocate the formation of a ‘New Man’ that would recreate and purify the new Romanian nation. Ionesco’s response to the idea of purification was that it may be man’s excuse to rhinocerize but ultimately ‘purity is a hoax.’180

‘The Time When We Will No Longer Be Free to Do What We Wish’ Due to rhinocerization, what Eliade named ‘the time when we will no longer be free to do what we wish’ had arrived. He recalled, I sensed that we were on the verge of entering upon the period that I had foreseen and feared ever since my student years, the era that I named inwardly ‘the time when we will no longer be free to do what we wish.’ It was not a matter of an anarchic, antisocial liberty, but of the freedom to create in accordance with our callings and potentialities. Fundamentally, it was the freedom to ‘make culture’ the only thing that for the time being seemed to be decisive for us Romanians.181

With the installation of the royal dictatorship, the crackdown on freedom of speech, the liquidation of opposition (e.g. the mass arrests and executions of Iron Guardists in 1938) and the adoption of anti-Semitic legislation, the Romanian liberal democratic state no longer existed. Romania entered WWII on the side of the Axis powers. Political calculation and sheer luck enabled Eliade to go abroad as a cultural attaché for the Legionary state. Vulcănescu and Noica had returned to Romania by 1940 from their time in Paris and Berlin. Comarnescu remained seemingly untouched by the war effort, working steadfastly as an editor for Revista Fundaţiilor Regale, on the Romanian translation of his doctoral thesis and his responsibilities in the theater community. Sebastian was simply trapped, as the circles he traveled in in Bucharest became ­increasingly  Călinescu, ‘Ionesco and Rhinoceros: Personal and Political Backgrounds,’ 427–428.  Ibid., 403. 181  MEAI, 324. 179 180

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smaller. And Ionesco barely managed to get out with his wife, Rodica, to start a new life in France. The ultimate breakdown of friendship occurred between Eliade and Sebastian. With Eliade’s appointment as cultural attaché in London, he escaped the terror of wartime Bucharest. Right before he left, when asked how long he would be gone, Eliade responded, ‘Two or three years.’ Sebastian jumped in to correct, saying, ‘He’s leaving for ten years.’182 However, Eliade did return, very briefly in the summer of 1942. Sebastian was aware that his old friend, Nina, was in Bucharest and felt very hurt that she never made the effort to contact him. This plagued Eliade’s conscience for the rest of his life. On May 29, 1945, Eliade learned of Sebastian’s tragic untimely death. In his memoir, Eliade explained that, Sebastian would never know the reasons why I avoided meeting him … I am sure he would have understood if we had met again and resumed our old friendship but destiny had decided otherwise.183

Even in his memoir, Eliade neglected to explain those reasons. Thus their friendship ended on a sour note, the exact source of which is still unknown. The origins of its demise lay in Eliade’s right-wing politics. Sebastian provided an account of this same event in his diary: although he only knew that Nina was in Bucharest of the summer of 1942. He admitted that neither Nina nor himself tried to get in touch with the other, writing on the May 27, ‘I don’t know what I could say to her.’184 When Sebastian discovered Nina’s presence, he also learned that Eliade’s cultural attaché post would move him to Rome (a move that actually never took place), which confirmed that Eliade was ‘more of a Legionary than ever.’185 But Sebastian still felt resentment and envy due to Eliade’s success and prosperity compared to his life of squalor, humiliation and failure: While he lives the ‘new order’ to the fullest, I am stuck here with a wretched prisoner’s existence … Nothing can excuse failure. Successes, even when resulting from moral infamy, remain successes.186

 Mircea Eliade, Autobiography Volume II: 1937–1960 Exile’s Odyssey, 5.  Ibid., 108. 184  MSJ, 489–490. 185  Ibid., 490. 186  Ibid. 182 183

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According to Sebastian, Eliade sacrificed friendship, and with that his own moral code, for the new order. Eliade’s failure to seek out his dear friend in this clear time of need is made even more devastating or confusing by his effort to see Comarnescu at that exact same time. His correspondence to Comarnescu the following year exudes a still existing and vibrant warmth of friendship. He ends the letter with the affectionate phrase: ‘I hug you with much longing and love.’187 Eliade also expresses sincere disappointment that they were not able to meet this time in Bucharest. Eliade wrote to his friend from Lisbon on August 15, 1943: ‘Last July and August when I was on holiday in Bucharest, I couldn’t find you. They told me that you were sick, somewhere in the mountains.’188 Following this lament Eliade provides some observations of the geopolitical atmosphere of Europe, the future of History and affirms his steadfast belief in the Absolute. He also appears to be predicting a cataclysmic change of paradigm resulting from the events and outcome of the war: From Vladivostok to Lisbon they will be looking for other songs and will consecrate other symbols different than those with which we have been comfortable to decipher for those three to four thousand years of European culture. I am happy for Cioran because he can be present (he can witness) the apocalypse about which he was dreaming during his nights of nervous anxiety … The time of our end is hidden until the penultimate moment of agony. We will not feel the intuition of finality. Of all this catastrophe I have a single comforting thought: as we have seen before in India. When we do not fall into illusions of history and culture, and live close to the final essence. This realist vision (but all the diverse optimisms that scour Europe are illusions) does not make friends. This is the destiny of man. In history we do not have any exits except for work and creation.189

Eliade’s ongoing concern for the philosophy of culture and preoccupation with the Absolute led him to ignore one friend in a time of life-threatening need, whilst reaching out to another. This does not serve as an explanation, per se, but merely a suggestion of a justification. War had covered 187  AMNLR, Mircea Eliade, Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu. 66/III/18, 25.155/1–15, f. 11, August 15, 1943, Lisbon. 188  Ibid. 189  Ibid.

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Europe and parts of the rest of the globe, shattering accepted social norms and moral codes, including the laws of friendship. Rhinocerization trumped previous existing individual loyalties, and their recovery, for some such as Sebastian, tragically happened too late. Those who could (including Eliade, Cioran and Ionesco), exited history through their own work and creations. Those who could not, fell victims to the history that the Young Generation had, in a sense, a hand in shaping.

CHAPTER 8

The Fate of the Young Generation and the Legacy of Criterion

There is no better way to start this chapter than with the oft-cited letter from Eugène Ionesco to Tudor Vianu, written in Paris in 1945. Here I present a more complete excerpt, in my own translation: The ‘Criterion’ Generation, the conceited ‘Young Generation’ that ten to fifteen years ago disintegrated, perished. Not one of us is yet forty years old—and we are finished. Others, just dead. Your generation was much luckier. And much more solid than we were. We were some madmen, some unlucky guys. From what I know, I cannot reproach myself for being a fascist. But all the others can be reproached for this. Mihail Sebastian kept a lucid mind and an authentic humanity. It is a shame he is no longer with us. Cioran is here, in exile. He admits he made a mistake in his youth. It’s hard for me to forgive him. Mircea Eliade has come these days: for him, all is lost, since ‘communism has won.’ He is truly guilty. But him, and Cioran, and that imbecile Noica, and the fat Vulcănescu, and all the others (Haig Acterian, Mihail Polihroniade) are victims of that odious defunct Nae Ionescu. If there had not been Nae Ionescu (and if he had not fought with the king) we would have had today, a generation of valuable leaders, between 35–40 years old. Because of him, all became fascists. He created a stupid, horrendous and reactionary Romania. The second most guilty person is Eliade who at one point in time was considering adopting the position of the left. Fifteen years ago Haig Acterian and Mihail Polihroniade were communists. They died because of their stupidity and incapacities. Eliade himself recruited some of ‘his generation colleagues’ and all of the intellectual © The Author(s) 2019 C. A. Bejan, Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4_8

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youth. Nae Ionescu, Mircea Eliade were appalling to listen to. What would have happened if these people had been good leaders! Next to them, Crainic doesn’t matter. Because of Nae Ionescu, Haig Acterian and Polihroniade died … And the other imbeciles are out of commission: the knave Paul Sterian (is he still in Turkey?), the bloated Vulcănescu, the dry imbecile Ion Cantacuzino, the conceited, the stupid, bombastic Dan Botta, the affected, hypocrite Constantin Noica, the good-for-nothing Petru Manoliu. Some dead from their idiocy, others fugitives in Europe, from happiness, mute— the whole ‘Criterion’ generation is destroyed. The fatality follows everyone—even those who did not fall to stupidity and insanity, and for those who remained lucid. Absurd or mysterious accidents appeared, and through them they were thrown beyond [life]: an injury claimed Alexandru Vianu, a drunk driver claimed Sebastian. They are integrated in the common destiny, they are secret soldiers. The only one who remains is Petru Comarnescu, but he was only the impresario, the organizer of ‘Criterion,’ ‘the animator’; he no longer has anyone to animate or organize.1

Exodus, Exile, Extermination and Collaboration WWII Ends, a New Era of Totalitarianism Begins In the European theater of WWII, Romania was the subject of multiple Allied bombing raids. The first major campaign was in August 1943 when the American ‘Operation Tidal Wave’ hit Ploieşti in an attempt to destroy Romania’s oil refineries. The second such operation was the Allied Bombardment on Bucharest and surrounding areas (the Danube, Craiova) from April to August 1944. On August 23, 1944, King Michael led a successful coup, removing Antonescu from power, switching Romania’s support to the Allies. This meant that power in Romania was suddenly divided and the German Luftwaffe based at Otopeni (north of central Bucharest) launched two consecutive nights of attacks on Bucharest. The bombings of August 23/24 and 24/25, 1944, of Bucharest destroyed the National Theatre on Calea Victoriei, as well as severely damaged the Athenaeum concert hall and the Royal Palace. Romania ended WWII alongside the Soviet Army, liberating Budapest and Prague.

1  Letter from Eugène Ionesco to Tudor Vianu, September 19, 1945, Paris. From Eugen Ionescu, Scrisori către Tudor Vianu, II (1936–1949), 274–275. A portion of the letter is also cited in English in Ioanid, ‘Introduction,’ MSJ, xvi.

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On June 1, 1946, General Antonescu was executed at Jilava prison, found guilty by the Bucharest Peoples’ Tribunal for crimes perpetrated against the Romanian people for the benefits of Nazi Germany. He was held responsible for ‘the disaster that befell the country’ and for war crimes. The 1947 Treaty of Paris confirmed Romania’s sovereignty over Transylvania but returned the portion of Bessarabia taken by the Soviets in 1941 to the USSR. Greater Romania also lost a part of southern Dobrogea to Bulgaria. The Soviet presence in Bucharest following the war facilitated the rise and popularity of the Communist Party. This presence was condoned and enforced with the decision at Yalta (February 1945) between the heads of the Allied nations: Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin, when Romania, Bulgaria and the expanded USSR were designated to fall under the USSR’s supervision and sphere of influence. With a gun virtually held to his back, King Michael was forced to abdicate the throne in December 1947. The single-party Romanian People’s Republic was declared. In June 1948 all banks and businesses were nationalized and by the end of the year Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej became the leader of communist Romania until his death in 1965. His competitors for that position, Ana Pauker and Lucreţiu Pătrăşcanu, were purged, with the support and backing of Stalin.2 Pătrăşcanu was tried in April 1954, a year after Stalin’s death.

Abroad Eliade, Cioran, Ionesco Eliade first served as a cultural attaché in London, where he was suspected of fascist activity, which forced him to relocate to Portugal. A diplomat in Lisbon, Eliade revealed his contempt for the Allies in 1942 when he wrote, ‘The new Anglo-Soviet world will not accept men like me in their midst.’3 After his brief visit to Bucharest in 1943 he never returned to Romania. His wife Nina died of cancer in November 1944. Eliade and Nina’s daughter Giza moved to Paris in 1945, sensing that Romania would fall under communist influence. In Paris Eliade attempted an academic career but faced many difficulties and financial hardship. He was denied a permanent post teaching at the École des Hautes Etudes because the Romanian 2  See Dennis Deletant, Communist Terror in Romania: Gheorghiu-Dej and the Police State, 1948–1965. 3  Eliade, Jurnalul Portughez şi alte scrieri Vol. I. 137, September 23, 1942.

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Minister, Simion Stoilov, reported to the French Minister of Instruction that Eliade had been ‘the doctrinarian of the Iron Guard.’4 Left-leaning Sorbonne students reacted negatively to his brief lectureship, in fact posting graffiti of swastikas in the margins of the poster announcing his class.5 It was in Paris that Eliade met his second wife, another Romanian exile, Christinel Costescu. In 1956 Eliade moved to the United States, having earlier been invited by Joachim Wach to give a series of lectures at the University of Chicago, where he eventually became a full professor. It was from Chicago that Eliade cemented his reputation as the foremost expert in the world on the history of religions. Despite his postwar exile to France and then the United States, Eliade did not resent being removed from his home country. He could still be what he desired most: a man of ideas, a man aspiring to win the Nobel Prize (which he never achieved). Yet he longed to be recognized in his homeland and appreciated in his native language. This was especially important because he wrote his fiction in Romanian and did not have a receptive audience in the United States. Eliade and Noica’s friendship flourished despite the distance. They were in correspondence about working to get Eliade’s fiction published again (for it was outlawed in communist Romania) as well as establishing an institute and library for Oriental Studies.6 Noica was also reported to be working on a book about Eliade’s life and work.7 Eliade saw his own fate transcend the unfortunate fate of his small country of origin due to its post-WWII Sovietization. Eliade’s questionable political follies of his youth did not come to the fore internationally until late. Eliade’s autobiography is purposely vague about his legionary activity and involvement. The past began to be uncovered due to probing questions from Ioan Petru Culianu, a new young Romanian professor at the University of Chicago, for whom Eliade was an idol and a mentor. Relations between the two began to frost as a result. It was a topic unaddressed and unresolved until Eliade’s 1986 death. After returning to Romania from Berlin and facing rejection of his Schimbarea la faţă a României, Cioran left for Paris in 1937 with the sup4  Mac Linscott Ricketts, ‘Eliade’s First 500 Days in Exile,’ INTER LITTERAS ET TERRAS, Vol. 2. 162. 5  Ibid., 161. 6  ACNSAS CN Fond I 1515612, Dosar Nr. 205407 Vol. 2, f. 15. 7  Ibid.

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port of a scholarship from the French Institute in Bucharest. A brief return to Romania in 1940–1941 would be his final trip home. In Paris he established himself as one of the preeminent nihilist continental philosophers of the twentieth century, in the tradition of Nietzsche and Sartre. Throughout the rest of his life he kept close friendships with both Eliade and Ionesco. When he was acknowledged for his literary and philosophical prowess, Cioran rejected French awards: the Prix Roger Nimier and the Grand Prix Paul-Morand. Cioran died June 20, 1995, and is buried in Montparnasse Cemetery. Unlike Eliade, Cioran did repent for his youthful political sympathies in his later years and appeared to suffer immense guilt. He even went as far to censor the offensive portions of Schimbarea la faţă a României. Yet, again unlike Eliade, Cioran never wrote again in Romanian and had no desire to return. Though the philosopher eventually developed an appreciation for democracy, he never became a fan of tolerance. He gave tribute to age for his conversion to liberalism, yet still maintained the fanaticism of his youth: I will not tell you about the torment I felt and how I managed to put all that behind me, for it would take too long …. But no matter how devastating that torment, it was by no means the only cause of my reformation. There was another factor, more natural and more saddening: age, with its clear symptoms—I was becoming increasingly tolerant … I was feeling the lure of wisdom. Was I completely finished? Because that’s what you have to be before you become a sincere democrat. To my immense happiness, I realized I wasn’t there yet, that there was some lingering fanaticism in me, some traces of my youth. I made no concession with regard to my new principles, I was an intolerant liberal. I still am. The only value I believe in is freedom.8

Petreu brings up a salient point when considering what could make Cioran, a philosopher, a self-investigative and reflective man, and a socialist in many ways, write articles praising Hitler or a book in which he cried for the elimination of Jews and Hungarians from within Romania’s ­borders.9 Petreu suggests it has less to do with ideology, that Cioran was persuaded by the actual doctrine of the National Socialists he met in Berlin, but rather it was his personal disposition, his physiology, his tendency to behave in a mad manner and fall into depression. Perhaps we can 8 9

 Cioran quoted in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 245–246.  Petreu, An Infamous Past, 133.

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attribute Cioran’s vitriolic outbursts to his ‘neurotic character,’ and a ‘Dionysian temperament.’10 Upon mature and elderly reflection, the Parisian sage realized the harm of his passionate actions and repented. But still, then, after decades, Cioran refused to write or speak in Romanian. Even in old age, he could not reclaim the humiliating inferior culture, which was the source of such youthful outrage. He lamented, ‘How stupid we were! Regardless of the personal destiny of each and every one of us, all in all we were a tragic generation.’ (Fig. 8.1)11 Ionesco left Romania briefly in 1938 with a fellowship for doctoral studies in France but returned much to his regret. He succeeded in leaving again during the Antonescu regime and settled in Paris. There he became one of the fathers of the Theatre of the Absurd and was made a member of the French Academy in 1970. Ionesco owed the spark at the beginning of his theatrical career to his friend and fellow Romanian exile, Monica Lovinescu (1923–2008, daughter of Eugen), who promoted his play The

Fig. 8.1  Cioran, Ionesco and Eliade at Place du Furstenberg in Paris, 1977 (left to right). Courtesy of the National Museum of Romanian Literature, reference number 16512  Ibid., 185.  Cioran quoted in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 244.

10 11

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Bald Soprano. (Lovinescu was arguably the most notable female member of the Romanian diaspora, known for her role with Radio Free Europe.) He died in 1994, and like his friend Cioran, is buried in Montparnasse Cemetery. A staunch individualist (considering this to be a very important part to his identity), Ionesco had a natural distaste for collective political thinking. Throughout his life Ionesco openly hated the ‘fascist and communist cosmos.’12 As for his resistance to ideology, he wrote in 1967, One must look at things from a great height, one must not let oneself get caught in the trap of ideologies … it is necessary to be above all that, to soar above one’s time … ideologies are only waves that are destined to disappear.13

In his journals, Ionesco was concerned to make it clear that he was an independent free-thinker and fiercely proud of being so. The following statements illustrate how he conceived of his own free mind: ‘I have a tendency, almost always, to be against my time, to be swimming against the stream’14; and ‘I am less of a dupe than everybody else. I don’t let myself be blindly taken in by clichés …. Blind people think they can see.’15 Ionesco’s extreme individuality is a likely explanation for his immunity to the plague of the Iron Guard. This identity was a retrospective self-­ definition. Although its origins lay in journalistic musings of the early 1940s, Ionesco carefully constructed this appearance of himself for the public in his autobiographical publications of the late 1960s. This image was also clearly a good one for the promotion of his artistic reputation. He identified himself as a man who was not blind, who would not join the herd, who looked critically at the world around him. He considered himself to be an artist, which he defined as ‘The man who is conscious, the man of ideas; “superior” to the average man.’16 By 1967, Ionesco had come to terms with his Jewish heritage and identity, and in his journals wrote favorably (and with a degree of pride) about the Jews. While writing the other half of Present Past Past Present during the Seven Day War in a climate of extreme anti-Israeli sentiment in France (when he witnessed another instance of rhinocerization from the left), he stated, ‘I believe in the Jews, I believe they exist.’17 He wrote of  Ionesco, Present Past Past Present, 45.  Ibid., 42–43. 14  Ibid., 51. 15  Ibid., 65. 16  Ionesco, Fragments of a Journal, 72. 17  Ionesco, Present Past Past Present, 38. 12 13

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his ­admiration for the ‘Great Jews,’ Franz Kafka and Sigmund Freud in his Fragments of a Journal. Ionesco recalled that Christ was a Jew (as did Sebastian) when he wrote Kafka (like Christ) ‘took the guilt of the world upon him.’ And Freud was a ‘great rabbi’ as well as ‘doctor of the soul.’ Following these two examples, Ionesco concluded, ‘The Jews invented love …. That’s the reason why they have been accused of hatred.’18 Despite his youthful terror at being Jewish, in late adulthood Ionesco was very open about his respect for the Jewish people. Of course, the political climate had changed significantly from 1940s Romania to 1960s France, which enabled his eventual acceptance of his Jewish background and his support of the state of Israel (which, of course, only came into being in 1948).

In Romania Blaga, Crainic, Vulcănescu, Tudor, Stancu, Sebastian, Comarnescu, Noica, Sadova While some Criterionists did leave Romania, before the communist regime, and established names for themselves abroad, others remained, trapped, suffering and, since, forgotten by the West. These include Sebastian, Comarnescu, Noica, Vulcănescu and Sadova. Of the preceding Sacrificed Generation Blaga became an intellectual martyr under communism. Appointed as professor of cultural philosophy at University of Cluj in 1939, he lost his university chair when he refused to support the communists in 1948. He spent the rest of his life as a librarian at the University of Cluj, forbidden to publish anything but translations. Crainic served as Minister of Propaganda under Antonescu and was convicted of war crimes in the 1945 People’s Tribunal.19 He was imprisoned under the communist regime for 15 years in Văcăreşti and Aiud prisons. Upon his release he collaborated with the regime as an informant and worked as the editor of the communist propaganda magazine Glasul Patriei (The Voice of the Motherland) from 1962 to 1968. While those who left Romania might have achieved international success, their works were banned in their homeland. Those who stayed in Romania had a variety of fates and their continued contributions to  Ionesco, Fragments of a Journal, 93.  Alexandru Climescu, ‘Law, Justice, and Holocaust Memory in Romania,’ Alexandru Florian, ed., Holocaust Public Memory in Postcommunist Romania, 93. 18 19

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Romanian culture depended on their checkered pasts, their intellectual ambitions and their proactive (or lack of) collaboration with the regime. A central part of the installation of communism in Romania was a mass-­ purging of the intellectual and educated ‘elite.’ It was to be a workers’ country, so those who had received higher education were sent to prisons and camps for ‘re-education,’ or simply marginalized.20 Particularly targeted were those who had any links to the Iron Guard, or right-leaning politics in general, which included the Antonescu government. In addition to Crainic, Vulcănescu was just such a  case. Having worked as the undersecretary of state for the Minister of Finance under Antonescu (from 1941–1944), Vulcănescu played an active role in the government’s Romanianization program, anti-Semitic measures and unconditional support of Nazi Germany.21 Arrested and tried under Law 312/1945, Vulcănescu was found guilty of ‘the country’s disaster,’ war crimes and ‘his presence in the government and for his actions as a member of a government that was hostile to the Allies.’22 He was sentenced to eight years imprisonment in Aiud prison for war crimes. Vulcănescu perished there in 1952. The two minds behind Credinţa had opposite fates from one another. Sandu Tudor helped to create the ‘Burning Pyre’ religious movement and took orders in 1948. He was arrested twice by the communist regime and died due to torture in Aiud prison in 1962. On the other hand Zaharia Stancu was imprisoned for his anti-fascist views during WWII in Târgu Jiu prison. He became a celebrated author under communism. He served as the director of the National Theatre in 1946. Stancu became a member of the Romanian Academy and president of the Writer’s Union of Romania (1966–1974). He died in 1974. Whether falling to being a victim of the new regime or turning to compromise, Sebastian avoided both fates. Though he miraculously survived the war, he was instantly killed when a truck hit him as he rushed to cross the street in central Bucharest on May 29, 1945. His legacy lived on in 20  Well-known communist prisons for intellectuals were the Sighet, Gherla and Aiud prisons and the Poarta Albă labour camp where prisoners constructed a canal between the Danube and the Black Sea. 21  For a comprehensive analysis of Vulcănescu’s wartime activity and legacy, please see Alexandru Florian, ‘Mircea Vulcănescu, a Controversial Case,’ Alexandru Florian, ed., Holocaust Public Memory in Postcommunist Romania, 175–207. 22  Ibid., 192. ‘The criminal investigation … began in April 1945. The trial lasted two years (September 1946 to October 1948).’

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communist Romania and his plays continued to be performed. Books were written about him and his work, which stealthily avoided the political nature of the interwar years and his relationship with Nae Ionescu. The year immediately following his death, Ultima oră (Breaking News) was performed by the company of the National Theatre. Alexandru Rosetti and Aristide Blank sent an invitation out to the ‘friends of Mihail Sebastian,’ inviting them to a reception to thank the director and artists for making Ultima oră a success. This reception was held on March 30, 1946.23 Another aspect of Sebastian’s legacy was that a lyceum was named after him. Comarnescu was invited to a commemoration for Sebastian at that school held on May 29, 1947.24 Immediately after the war, Comarnescu was still considered the ‘father of Criterion’ and the hub of the Young Generation, as letters from Noica and Ionesco suggest. In 1949 Noica wrote to Comarnescu regarding a book about the Young Generation that Comarnescu always wanted to write. Noica encouraged him to write it then, even though they were all around 40 years old: ‘We are still that youth, are still, ready, at the beginning of life.’25 Comarnescu never did write the biography of his generation. From Paris in 1946, Ionesco missed Comarnescu and Criterion dearly. Unlike Noica who considered the Criterionists still ‘young,’ Ionesco was appalled that they had become 40 years old, yet still viewed Comarnescu as the head of their generation and had a good deal of admiration and affection for him: I really miss you as the last ‘representative’ of my youth and of the ‘young generation’ and of ‘Criterion’ in which I also took part. Of us, you alone still live. I read you from time to time. You are, as you were, in so many places at the same time … We all are dead … or absent: you are plural, young … you are a platonist and radiant, you are with Kalokagathon, the party which seems, eventually, that will conquer the darkness, the evil, the hate … It’s been more than four years since I’ve seen you and I am appalled. I am appalled that ‘the young generation’ has evolved to be around forty years of age (and that seems to me to be an insult) but most do not evolve in any kind of age, the unmoving as they are, at the bottom in the ‘underground’ of Hell … I can’t see Eliade and Cioran. They ‘no longer are Legionnaires’  BAR Ach. 17/2001 PCPA, XXXIV Imprimate 1 f. 61.  Ibid., f. 54. 25   AMNLR, Constantin Noica, Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu, 25201/10–11, November 21, 1949. 23 24

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(as they say), they can’t break from the pledge that they took, once for Eternity, and remain Legionnaires without feeling that it is because of that the nation appears to me to be a hyena (and I alone, for them, appear the true hyena: we are hyenas for each other)—and that, is more and more clear, how much more hysteria there will be, and after. Only you are an optimist. And maybe only you have a pure heart.26

Comarnescu and his work continued to be appreciated by other leaders of the Young Generation. Petre Pandea, wrote Comarnescu on September 6, 1946, congratulating him on America văzută de un tânăr de azi, which he had recently re-read. Extremely complimentary on ‘this work of his youth,’ Pandea suggests it should be translated into some other European language.27 In a letter from 1947 Ionesco described Comarnescu as ‘a humanist internationalist,’28 a title that would also apply to the father of Criterion’s communist future. The secret to Comarnescu’s survival during the communist period can be found in his personal archive. Having failed to leave for the United States, as he intended to do,29 the resolved liberalthinker was confronted with a choice following the war. He chose survival and actively ensured his safe fate. The ‘survival technique’ was a method practiced by many who compromised themselves during the communist regime, regardless of political stripe. Comarnescu was the man who likened himself to ‘a cat that always falls on its feet.’30 Falling back on the internationalism and socialist tendencies of his younger years, it was not hard for him to mold himself into a supporter of the People’s Republic of Romania. In 1947 Comarnescu was invited to events sponsored by the ‘Long-live the Romanian-Soviet Friendship!’ Society, the Institute for Romano-­ Soviet Studies and ‘The National Committee for the Celebration of Romanian-Soviet Friendship for the week of Romanian-Soviet Friendship in honor of the 30th anniversary of the great Socialist October 26  AMNLR, Eugène Ionesco, Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu, 290/II/8, 25121/1–16, ff. 6–9, January 7, 1946, Paris. 27  AMNLR, Petre Pandea, Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu, 291/III/3, 25210, September 6, 1946, Poiana-Tapului. 28  AMNLR, Eugène Ionesco, Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu, 290/II/8, 25121/1–16, ff. 12–14, July 2, 1947, Paris. 29  AMNLR, Mircea Eliade, Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu, 66/III/18, 25.155/1–15, f. 1, October 15, 1946, Paris, ‘It is such a shame you didn’t succeed in leaving for the States, where you would have been of great use.’ And ‘I regret enormously that you didn’t leave for America.’ 30  PCJ, 13–14 [pisica elastică].

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Revolution.’31 Comarnescu attended the gala on November 6, 1947, held at the Athenaeum in honor of the ‘week of Romanian-Soviet Friendship.’ On the back of his program, he wrote the following names under the heading ‘praesidium’: Maria Rosetti, Ana Pauker, M. Sadoveanu, Gh. Dej, L.  Pătrăşcanu, Apostol and Vera Inber.32 The communists ousted King Michael the following month. Comarnescu’s magnum opus Kalokagathon failed to establish his reputation as a Romanian philosopher.33 With the coming of communism and no one left to animate and no free cultural forum to animate in, Comarnescu did his best to work within the new communist system and became known mainly as an art critic. He often wrote under the pseudonym ‘Anton Coman.’ Comarnescu continued to utilize his abilities in English by extensively translating English texts into Romanian (such as the dramatic works of Eugene O’Neill and Bernard Shaw). Comarnescu dedicated monographs to the study of many great Romanian artists, including Constantin Brâncuşi, Nicolae Grigorescu, Ştefan Luchian, Theodor Pallady and Ion Ţuculescu. Comarnescu was awarded the Medal of Honor at the 19th Congress of the International Association of Art Criticism. He was able to travel abroad, making trips to the Soviet Union and Western Europe. From July 8 to 19, 1966, Comarnescu went to Rome, Venice and Paris in the capacity of the general commissioner for the Romanian Pavilion at the Venice Biennale. In Paris he met with many Romanian artists and writers and wrote at length about his conversations with Ionesco and Cioran for his required report for the Securitate.34 Compared to his friends, he died an early natural death in Bucharest on November 27, 1970. Noica chose to stay in Romania. During the communist period he possessed both rebel and survival tendencies. In 1947 Noica and Wendy  BAR Ach. 17/2001 APPC., XXXIV Imprimate 1, f. 28 (an invitation to an event in honor of Pushkin, by society ‘Trăiasca prietenia romano-sovietică!’); f. 31, f. 35, f. 36, f. 39 (the full program for the week of the festivities, at the end, a reading of a telegram from Stalin). 32  Ibid., f. 35. 33  Comarnescu’s PhD dissertation was translated into Romanian from English, expanded, published in 1946 and re-titled Kalokagathon. It did not receive the popular reception for which he had hoped, though it was praised by his close friends. Noica’s praise can be found in AMNLR Constantin Noica, Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu, 25.201/26–27, June 18, 1946 Bucharest. 34  Petru Comarnescu, ‘Retrospective: Petru Comarnescu despre diaspora românească la 1966,’ Bucovina literară, 1–2/2005. Nicolae Cârlan, ed., 38–40. 31

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divorced and she moved to Britain with their daughter and son in 1955.35 They settled in London and Wendy worked for the Romanian section of the BBC.36 In 1949 Noica was subjected to forced domicile in Câmpulung-­ Muscel, where he met his second wife, Mariana, whose parents lived there.37 In 1960, as a result of the Noica-Pillat trial, Noica was sentenced to 25 years of hard labor (the maximum sentence given) at Jilava prison and all of his possessions were confiscated. Noica was not the only intellectual targeted at this time. Twenty-three renowned intellectuals were arrested between December 1958 and January 1960, all accused of trying to destabilize the government by promoting the reading of forbidden literature. This group included Marietta Sadova, Dinu Pillat, Nicolae Steinhardt and Arşavir Acterian. Noica was arrested on December 11, 1958, the first in the group. The trial, the last of its kind (a Stalinist show-trial in communist Romania), lasted two weeks in February 1960. All accused were given different sentences, for example Nicolae Steinhardt was sentenced to 12 years. All were released in 1964.38 Noica returned to Bucharest, where he worked as a reader at the Romanian Academy until 1975 when he retired to a cabin in a Transylvanian mountain village, Păltiniş, near Sibiu. In 1978, he traveled abroad to France and England, due to the persistence of his children (Alexandra Richardson and Răzvan Noica), who pleaded with Ceauşescu to see their father again.39 In Paris, Noica saw Cioran and Ionesco. After the meeting, Noica wrote Eliade that the two French-Romanians had become ‘emasculated men,’ a message that Eliade then relayed to Ionesco and Cioran. In retaliation, Ionesco wrote Noica an angry letter calling him a ‘domesticated miss’ [o domnişoara domesticită].40 Unlike Noica, Cioran lamented that he never made peace with Romania: Luckier than me, you [Constantin Noica] have made peace with your native land; … no one was more skeptical of the superstitions of ‘democracy’ [than

 Gabriel Liiceanu, Păltiniş Diary: A Paideic Model in Humanist Culture, 211.  ACNSAS CN Fond I 4664; Dosar Nr. 85321, f. 1. 37  Liiceanu, Păltiniş Diary, 210. 38  For the most comprehensive account of the Noica-Pillat trial, see Stelian Tănase. Anatomia mistificării. Procesul Noica-Pillat. 39  ACNSAS CN Fond I 1515612 Dosar Nr. 205407 Vol. 2, f. 116. Letter dated January 17, 1972. 40  ACNSAS CN Fond I 1515612 Dosar Nr. 205407 Vol. 1, f. 28. ‘Nota’ from September 4, 1978. 35 36

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you]. True, there was a time when I hated them just as much as you did, or even more.41

The peace Noica did make exhibited a unique intellectual resistance to communism toward the end of his life. His school at Păltiniş of the 1970s and early 1980s exhibited again the importance of the mentor and mentee relationship, and, in Romania, provided the only forum for intellectual dissidence: the creation of culture through the free study of philosophy. In his unofficial school for philosophy in Păltiniş, Noica educated promising young minds. There, removed from the oppressive communist regime that had expelled Plato, Kant, Heidegger and Noica from the Faculty of Philosophy at the University of Bucharest in favor of an entirely Marxist program, the Criterionist became a mentor for young men who have since become distinguished, successful intellectuals in contemporary post-communist Romania. These include Gabriel Liiceanu (philosopher and director of Humanitas Publishing House), Andrei Pleşu (philosopher, founder and rector of New Europe College, former Minister of Culture and former Minister of Foreign Affairs), Mihai Şora (essayist and philosopher) and Andrei Cornea (essayist, art historian, classicist and philosopher). The Securitate monitored all the events related to Noica’s Păltiniş School and the participants’ dissidence through culture. An operative wrote that Noica was working on developing ‘a culture of achievement,’ a youthful intellectual collective for action named ‘Platon’ including young intellectuals ages 25–30.42 Noica solicited Liviu Antonesei to look for qualified young people to form this ‘culture of achievement.’43 Later in the file, the informer refers to Antonesei as ‘another from Iaşi, who recently [completed] a study on the Criterion Association, which had members such as Mircea Eliade, Emil Cioran and Eugène Ionesco.’44 This particular file also includes a hostile review by a Securitate agent of Gabriel Liiceanu’s Păltiniş Diary, first published in 1983.45 Liiceanu’s book is an autobiographical account of a student’s conversations and studies of philosophy with Noica at Păltiniş. Noica’s unofficial school at Păltiniş is

 Cioran quoted in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 245.  ACNSAS CN Fond I 4664; Dosar Nr. 85321, ff. 73–85. 43  Ibid., f. 73. 44  Ibid., f. 102 (no. 2). 45  Ibid., f. 161. 41 42

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c­ onsidered the next cultural circle of the Romanian intellectual elite, following Criterion. Sadova and other legionary sympathizers were forced to leave the ranks of the National Theatre following the change of government that came with the royal coup of August 23, 1944. Due to the retaliatory Luftwaffe aerial bombardment of Bucharest the following day, the National Theatre itself was destroyed. Only the façade remained. This delayed Sadova’s legionary activism briefly, though that fall, the actor Ion Victor Vojen was seen frequenting Sadova’s residence, indicated by a report on November 6, 1944.46 In 1945, they once again organized a series of legionary meetings at the home of the widows: Sadova and Mary Polihroniade. In addition to addressing all topics of discussion previously mentioned, they started to discuss Legionnaires who had fled abroad and comment negatively on the installation of the new government.47 Immediately after her displacement from the National Theatre, Sadova worked in film and shortly thereafter became the Director of the C. Nottara Theatre.48 Her continued legionary activity was greatly impeded by the establishment of the communist regime in 1947 (whose initial victims were intellectuals and fascists) though her group of friends still maintained contact with one another.49 When Arşavir Acterian, Petre Ţuţea and George Penciulescu were arrested in 1949, Sadova regularly gave them aid through their relatives, until their release in 1953.50 She continued to provide Petre Ţuţea with help until his second arrest in 1957. She was spotted often handing him money in front of the Athenaeum.51 At the request of Ion Isaia, Sadova helped the widowed or abandoned wife of the Legionnaire named Tase from Ploieşti until 1956–1957, when Sadova lost contact with her.52 Sadova’s continued battle for the ideals of the Iron Guard combined with her own need for survival within the new regime reveal a woman still dedicated to an old cause and bound by old friendships, who utilized her calculating nature and ruthless ambition in order to succeed within the new landscape of communist Romania. No better example can be given of  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 1, f. 154.  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 2, f. 3. 48  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 1, f. 96. 49  Ibid. 50  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 2, f. 3. 51  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 1, f. 2. 52  Ibid., f. 3, reverse. 46 47

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this than her involvement with the National Theatre troupe tour to Paris in June 1956, and the accusation of treason that ensued upon her return to Bucharest. The picture we get of Sadova through these events and through Eliade’s reaction to them and his memories of the actress show her to be a giving, loyal friend who compromised herself and ideals to advance her artistic career. She pursued her personal ideals privately but had a public persona towing the line of the communist regime. When these were mixed up, she risked being permanently silenced. Similar to Noica and Comarnescu, Sadova did what many of her generation did in order to simply ‘survive.’ At a time of lesser restrictions (just before the 1956 uprising in Budapest October 23–November 11, 1956), the Romanian government sent a delegation to Paris to perform two plays: O scrisoare pierdută (A Lost Letter) by Caragiale and Ultimă ora by Sebastian.53 Both were comedies, the first written by the greatest Romanian playwright of all time, and the second by a relative unknown, who had in fact been persecuted by the Romanian government when writing it. It is certainly significant that such a program enabled Sadova to reunite with other close members of her friendship group 11 years after Sebastian’s death. Before leaving, she discussed her trip with Petre Ţuţea and the fact that many relevant legionary expatriates would be in Paris. Ţuţea gave Marietta a letter to give to Eliade. Noica and Marieta Rareş also spoke with Sadova before her departure, also with an interest to make contact with the Romanian legionary diaspora in Paris.54 While abroad on the tour, she succeeded in meeting with Eliade and Cioran, as well as Monica Lovinescu.55 She successfully delivered Ţuţea’s letter to Eliade and had extensive discussions with Eliade and Cioran of a ‘nationalist’ and ‘enemy’ nature toward the People’s Republic of Romania (RPR). With Eliade, Sadova discussed the situation of Legionnaires both in and outside Romania. The names within Romania included Arşavir Acterian, George Penciulescu and Clatilda Hoitaş. As for the legionary diaspora, names Sadova mentioned were Alexandru Ionescu and Mariana Ionescu.56 With regard to the deceased Mihail Polihroniade, Sadova 53  For more on the 1956 tour see Vladimir Tismaneanu and Cristian Vasile, ‘Turneul Teatrului Naţional la Paris din 1956: Secţia de Relaţii Externe, exilul şi raporturile culturale româno-franceze,’ Studii şi Materiale de Istorie Contemporană, serie nouă, Vol. 8 (2009): 193–206. 54  Ibid. 55  Ibid., ff. 97–101. 56  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 2, f. 3 reverse.

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brought Eliade news from Polihroniade’s mother. This news concerned Anton Hoitaş (spouse of Clatilda) who had fled Romania.57 Both Eliade and Cioran gave Sadova various writings to take back to Romania and distribute among their intellectual circle. Eliade gave her some copies of his book Noaptea de Sânziene (The Forbidden Forest), The Myth of the Eternal Return and Images and Symbols. Cioran sent ten copies of his La tentation d’exister. Upon her return, she distributed these writings to Noica, Petre Pandrea, Petre Ţuţea, Emil Botta, Maria Rareş, Radu Cioculescu, George Surciu, Coca Casasovici, Tincu Bucur, Nicolae Balag and others.58 The works were discussed in secret meetings organized by Noica, who was seen by two of Sadova’s students from the Theatre Institute visiting her apartment to acquire the materials in July 1957.59 Under the pretext of distributing anti-communist propaganda, Sadova was arrested on October 15, 1959. A portion of the evidence against her was her intention to introduce foreign ideas in the country through certain reading circles [cenacluri] in which they discussed the contents of the writings. This action was labeled ‘legionary activity’ by the Communist Secret Police.60 Her confession in her ACNSAS file, was taken before she stood trial while she was imprisoned, on November 5, 1959, in Bucharest, starting at 17.00 lasting until 22.15.61 Sadova was included in the Noica-­ Pillat trial for treason (specifically for distributing anti-communist propaganda). Sadova was sentenced to eight years and confiscation of all her assets. In August 1964, she was released from prison.62 When Eliade learned of Sadova and Noica’s imprisonments and verdicts, he recalled his 1956 meeting with Sadova in Paris. Before seeing her, he met with Mihail Şora, who gave him some answers as to why and how Sadova had been able to leave the country and carry on her public professional life in Romania since 1948, given her legionary past. Şora told Eliade that Sadova was, in fact, a declared communist, writing for the state newspaper Scânteia, and that she was detested by her colleagues.

 ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 1, f. 2.  Ibid., f. 98. 59  Ibid., f. 99. 60  Ibid., f. 3. 61  ACNSAS MS Fond I 209489 Vol. 2, ff. 2–3. 62  According to Molea, Marietta Sadova sau Arta de a trăi prin teatru, 7, Sadova only served three years in prison. 57 58

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Eliade ‘knew what to understand from that.’63 Her acquiescence and collaboration with the regime enabled her to go to Paris in the first place, at which point she was able to proceed with her own clandestine personal political efforts. Eliade concludes, ‘She couldn’t have survived (the wife of Haig Acterian!) if it hadn’t been a collaboration from the beginning.’64 This prompts Eliade to devote his next journal entry to remembering Sadova: I always think of Marietta Sadova. I remember her as I first met her, in the University, when she was already in love with Haig, but not yet divorced from Ion Marin Sadoveanu. Blonde, tall, and nothing like the ‘good girls’ we wanted then.65

Such a woman that did qualify as ‘good girl’ (girl of high society) was Leni Caler, the longtime tortured love of Sebastian.66 At that time, writing from Chicago, Eliade pledged to write more about Sadova in his memoirs, which he did. He recalls: Only after we became friends did I realize how much kindness, intelligence, imagination and energy resided in that woman who … lived exclusively for others … apart from her great passion for the theater, her life was nourished by the pleasure she gave to other people.67

Even Eliade’s picture of his lifelong friend presents her as complicated: conniving and compromising on the one hand; whilst devoted to her friends and ideals on the other. This picture accords with Sebastian’s early impression that Marietta was a ‘strange mixture of harsh practicality and openhanded sincerity.’68 After her 1964 prison release, Marietta reentered public life and continued her distinguished career as an actress and theater director. Involved in a very long list of productions, she performed in such shows as Shaw’s Mrs. Warren’s Profession and Ibsen’s Ghosts; and directed Chekhov’s The 63  Mircea Eliade, ‘Unpublished Journal.’ ff. 1208–1209. Manuscript on microfilm lent to me by Mac Linscott Ricketts, who ordered it from the University of Chicago Library. 64  Ibid. 65  Ibid., 1211. 66  MSJ, 14. Sebastian refers to Leni as ‘a good girl.’ 67  MEAI, 216–217. 68  MSJ, 85.

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Seagull at the Bulandra Theatre in 1969. Marietta also succeeded in becoming university professor at the National Institute for Theatre and Cinematography where she taught until she passed away on July 17, 1981. She never remarried, and never had children.

The Legacy of Criterion The Criterion Association grew to symbolize the once-golden era of Romania’s interwar democracy due to the fond memories its members shared of the cultural circle, as well as the simple fact that all study of it and related topics were forbidden during the communist regime. The Criterionists remembered the society fondly in their letters and memoirs, with a nostalgia for a better time and a bitter disdain for how difficult they had been with their freedoms at the time, expressing their later awareness that they had taken them for granted. With the fall of communism, there was an outpour of publishing of previously forbidden literature by Criterionists, which was soaked up by the virgin Romanian readership. The Young Generation and their cultural creation, Criterion, quickly mounted a pedestal of greatness. Among the Criterionists there was a unanimous sentiment that Criterion was something special for themselves, in history, for Romania and in the world. Eliade wrote to Comarnescu that the association was a precursor to the French cultural circle surrounding existentialism.69 In 1946 Eliade noted in his diary that the Criterionists were on par with J.P. Sartre, Camus and Simone de Beauvoir. He considered early 1930s central Bucharest to be the equivalent to the Left Bank of Paris, in terms of the diverse range of cultural output and the direct contact between intellectuals and the public, especially the youth. The only difference was that Criterion lacked a philosophical ‘system’ such as that provided by Sartre for the existentialists. But Eliade maintained that the Criterionists were in fact existentialists without realizing it. If Criterion’s mode of expression had not been the Romanian language (and instead a language representative of a ‘major’ culture), Eliade believed that it would be considered the most important predecessor to French Existentialism.70 69  AMNLR, Mircea Eliade, Correspondence. Letters to Petru Comarnescu. 66/III/18 25.155/1–15, f. 15, November 7, no year specified, Paris. 70  Ricketts, Mircea Eliade: The Romanian Roots, Vol. 1, 551–552.

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Writing to Comarnescu in 1940, Ionesco laments, Dear Titel, I am overwhelmed by an immense longing for the admirable times of Criterion, which we were cursing [at the time],—and to which we will never return. I am just as I was at age 30. I haven’t done anything great and I don’t believe that I could still do something now. After ten years, it’s too late. I stroll through a Paris, more and more beautiful and more sad (is it agony?)— but in the evening, frightening without light. How I would like to be in South America, where they create for a new culture, in which they believe and where ‘Criterions’ and cultural appetites develop for possible achievements.71

Whilst escaping a dire fate in war-torn Romania, Ionesco found solace in his memories of Criterion. Though angry at politics for destroying his generation and friends, he delighted in what they created together. The ever-pessimist found something to be happy about and rejoice in by writing to Comarnescu about Criterion in this moment of extreme uncertainty and fear. But the question still remains: was the Criterion Association a success or a failure? Having only lasted two years (two and a half if you include the publication), what tangible impact did this intellectual circle have on interwar Romanian life? Many pressing topics and themes under discussion, both leading up to Criterion and during its activity, found their public expression and investigation in Criterion’s symposia, meetings, exhibitions and publication. Also, many prominent members of the Young Generation were integral to Criterion’s activity and their collaboration on projects marked a distinct departure from the tradition of intellectuals merely making cultural contributions individually. Criterion enabled them to pool their efforts. The fact that the association posed such a threat to King Carol II, other intellectuals and the moral purity of the Romanian people (according to Credinţa, at least) demonstrates that their impact was salient and potentially dangerous. Another sign of Criterion’s success is the romanticized memory and the brilliant legacy the association has in the Romanian consciousness. Though the full extent of Criterion’s contribution to Romanian culture remains a controversial issue (Antonesei likened Criterion to the 71  AMNLR, Eugène Ionesco, Correspondence, Letters to Petru Comarnescu. 290/II/8, 25121/1–16, f. 4, February 2, 1940, Paris. In 1940 the South American nations were neutral in WWII. There was an abounding sense of potential and promise for the continent. In 1929 Argentina was one of the world’s ten wealthiest nations and in the 1930s, similar to Bucharest, Buenos Aires was known as ‘the Paris of South America.’

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­nineteenth-century Junimea Literary Society, and for this was harshly criticized by Ornea), the fact remains that all Criterionists and many others from the period remembered Criterion fondly. Still its legacy is confused in a sense, because the divide between Young Generation and the Criterion Association is so often blurred and only the positive aspects of its activity are discussed or written about. Many other groups were holding lectures on various topics of the day. What distinguished the Criterionists was their revolutionary approach to the structure of the symposia, as well as their effort to be a more wide-ranging intellectual association of ‘literature, philosophy and art.’ But it is through Criterion’s failure that we can learn what was really at stake for young intellectuals in interwar Bucharest on the political, personal, public, private, spiritual and moral levels. The brief period of its activity coincided with a crucial moment in the Romanian political sphere when King Carol II’s power started to wane and the Iron Guard began to get a stronghold in Bucharest and slowly successfully recruited members of the Young Generation. Its annihilation also demonstrated the limits of free speech during this time, how the government sought to curb dissent, what voices were silenced and what the targets of censorship really were. The dissolution of Criterion illustrates precisely what the political stakes of the time were. Criterion was also a failure in that rather than create a ‘more integrated humanity’ it only widened the gap between this elite intellectual circle and the greater Romanian public. There was a concern that Criterion’s approach to the crises of the times was misdirected and ultimately fruitless. Though the Credinţa scandal itself might appear to have been fabricated out of thin air by Tudor and Stancu, the drama that ensued was a product of the times. From this ugly humiliating episode, we can see the importance of the interwar press, the prevalence of the reading of newspapers, and the fact that the tabloids were more far-reaching than Criterion’s activities. The Credinţa scandal itself can be interpreted to be a test of the limits of freedom of expression. Perhaps Stancu and Tudor too were intimidated by and fearful of the experienţa explored and erudition employed by the Criterionists and needed to revert to traditional orthodox morality and unabashed jealousy, self-righteous revenge, debased mudslinging and slander. While the Criterionists were concerned with global and national political, economic and social crises, the Credinţa team insisted the nation focus on the moral crisis resulting from the Criterionists’ behavior.

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The Appeal of Fascism to the Young Generation Despite their differences, the members of the Young Generation shared much in common as part of the young Bucharest educated elite. With vastly different identities and ‘callings,’ the members of the Young Generation all expressed themselves in a way developed in and unique to the Romanian interwar period: experiential writing. All enjoyed the luxury of the freedom to create art and provided different perspectives on this freedom being taken away. Friendships were destroyed and altered forever due to the increasing appeal of the Iron Guard to many members of this community of writers, academics and dramatists, who were all part of the same intellectual and cultural family: the Criterion Association. Others resisted the temptation of ideology, refused to sacrifice their own creativity and rejected rhinocerization. But what separated the two? Why did some intellectuals succumb to fascism while others resisted? Specific reasons and motivations behind each individual case have been explored throughout this book, including anti-liberalism, anti-Semitism and anti-communism. Ionesco suggested a few general reasons his friends succumbed to rhinocerization in a letter to an unidentifiable recipient, written in French: nationalism, sadism, belief in rebirth and ‘moronic pride.’72 His play Rhinoceros suggests another answer, according to Matei Călinescu. It is because of the promise of power that people give up their individuality and join the herd of rhinoceroses.73 According to Ionesco, ‘There has never been such a will to power than in our era.’74 The free man does not need power. As Ionesco wrote, ‘Free men are not dominated and do not dominate.’75 With such freedom, the individual man protects and preserves his creativity. If the promise of power is a potential ‘why,’ Ionesco also provides a potential ‘how’ with the below quoted passage. In Rhinoceros the playwright emphasizes the role of rationalization. This notion perhaps lies between reason and rationality. His characters rationalize their conversion to being rhinoceroses, just as Cioran and Eliade rationalized their support of the Iron Guard. This rationalization was not in the least rational but  AMNLR, Eugène Ionesco, Correspondence, 290/II/8, 25121/1–16, f. 10. April 6, 1947, Paris, unknown recipient, letter written in French. 73  Călinescu, ‘Ionesco and Rhinoceros: Personal and Political Backgrounds,’ 397. 74  Ibid., 145. 75  Ibid., 53. 72

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represents a case of men capable of reason (‘lucid individuals’ of extensive and vast education and exposure, fluent in multiple languages, possessing superior intellects with  diverse experiences both inside and outside Romania) succumbing to the irrational and justifying consequently their fascist actions. A way that this rationalization is possible is the distorted use of language: In fact, rhinoceroses have deliberately distorted, deliberately diverted the meaning of words, which is the same for them, which they understand but which they corrupted for propaganda purposes. It is not a new sort of thought, not a new language, but a clever manipulation of terms so as to create confusion in the minds of their adversaries, or to get those who are undecided on their side.76

Cioran later stated that they were ‘existing in Madness. Living on the fringes of Europe, despised or ignored by the whole world, [they] wanted to make [themselves] known.’77 But these men and women were not ‘mad’ during the 1930s. Though Wolin would say they were seduced by ‘unreason,’78 the Criterionists always considered themselves individuals capable of employing reason, and clearly of rationalizing their actions and decisions. Though lucid, they had a distaste for the rational and for tolerating points of view that did not match theirs. This is a factor inherent in the totalitarian mindset, and also a belief held by many intellectuals, regardless of political bent: intellectual arrogance. A possible distinction between Guardists and non-Guardists is the difference between masculinity and sensitivity. Fascism was the masculine, strong, active decision. The liberal approach was the defunct and weak alternative. Contrasting with the active political advocacy of the Guardist sympathizers, the non-­ Guardist Criterionists were conspicuously absent from political life and activity. Ultimately Petreu puts the blame on the extremist intellectuals’ earnest belief and well-meaning for Romania and all of mankind: ‘the fact that they were all sincere and well-meaning with good intentions paved the way to the Holocaust and the Gulag—and that is all.’79  Ionesco, Present Past Past Present, 67–68.  Cioran quoted in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 243. 78  Richard Wolin, The Seduction of Unreason. 79  Petreu, ‘Generation ’27 Between Holocaust and Gulag,’ 24. 76 77

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The Contribution of Criterion Criterion has the reputation for being the final free platform for the expression and exploration of contradictory ideas in operation during Romania’s last breath of democracy. In the words of Jianu, the disintegration of Criterion inaugurated ‘a violent, passionate, intolerant era that brought on a series of terrible dictatorships.’80 Criterion was expressly non-­political, although it explored and debated many pressing and controversial political topics and figures of the era. In the words of Ricketts, ‘The prevailing spirit of Criterion was a democratic one, but it was unable to maintain itself against the nationalistic, anti-democratic tide then sweeping Europe.’81 But to conclude that Criterion’s activity was silenced by this external wave is only partly true. Members of Criterion joined the Guardist tide as it swept Bucharest and decided that Criterion was no longer worth their efforts in 1933. They (e.g. Polihroniade, Tell, Sadova) silenced themselves from within the association with their conversion to the right. When the association could no longer continue for this reason, the publication was born in 1934. Then more Criterionists (e.g. Capsali, Tudor, Stancu, Comarnescu) ensured the end of both the association and the publication through jealousy, character assassination, personal attacks in the press, challenges to a duel and lawsuits from 1934 to 1935. With boundless confidence in their intellect, good intentions, pride and self-delusion, those Criterionists who remained (e.g. Eliade, Cioran, Noica and Sadova) opted to bring their ideas onto the streets in a different way: through the Iron Guard. The Criterion legacy was forbidden under communism and as Romania rediscovers this outstanding generation and their cultural circle, she can see that as brilliant as the members were, their secrets are complicated, and according to Cioran, ‘must be carefully understood.’82 To that end, a fuller understanding of Criterion itself can be a contribution. In the words of Comarnescu: The story of Criterion is long and I can only write a little of it here …. If I were to write a book about the merits and infamies of my generation, so endowed intellectually and at the same time so uneven and contradictory, the activity from the autumn of 1932 of the Criterion Association of Arts, Literature and Philosophy would merit many chapters.83  Jianu, ‘In Exclusivitate: Amintiri despre Criterion,’ 1.  Mac Linscott Ricketts, Former Friends and Forgotten Facts, 145. 82  Cioran quoted in Petreu, An Infamous Past, 247. 83  PCJ, 77. 80 81

CHAPTER 9

Conclusion

The Criterion Association was brilliant in its efforts to put Romania on the world map. Though only existing for two years, Criterion had an ambitious program. I have attempted to provide a sense of the scope of Criterion’s efforts by writing the first prosopography of the organization as well as shorter biographies of its key members. Beginning with the state of Romania following WWI and an investigation of the Young Generation, I trace the intellectuals’ studies abroad and the creation of Criterion. In particular I pay attention to Comarnescu, the father of Criterion, as much of my research was derived from his papers in his personal archive. By providing a description of the association’s and the corresponding friendship circle’s activity, I delve deep into the operation of this unique association. I also address the key publications—The Spiritual Itinerary and the self-titled Criterion. With the rise of fascism in Romania, I demonstrate how political allegiances arose within the Criterion space and led to its demise and how ultimately it would take an ugly press scandal led by Credinţa, in which Comarnescu and others were accused of homosexuality, to officially kill Criterion. I provide a look into the politics of key Criterionists: those who supported the Iron Guard and those who did not. I present the first English study on the fascist actress Marietta Sadova, and I finish the book by following the fates of the Criterionists across the world and in communist Romania. © The Author(s) 2019 C. A. Bejan, Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4_9

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The rise and fall of Criterion reminds us of Benda’s 1927 warning of the danger posed by intellectuals. Consider the 50 years of darkness that eclipsed half of Europe on the heels of many Criterionists’ betrayal. The Criterion Association was the last cultural entity allowed to breathe freely in Bucharest, to grow and push the boundaries from traditionalism to modernism in a country on the cusp of establishing itself in Europe. Interwar Romania was attempting democracy. She was dynamic and economically booming. Criterion was the last cultural and artistic cry of freedom in the country. The Criterionists were active agents in creating the veil of violent extremism, restraints on free speech and the darkness that ruled Romania for 40  years after the war. The mid-1930s onslaught of the totalitarian wave in turn choked Romania’s artistic and intellectual elite, forcing them to flee abroad or collaborate with the subsequent regimes. The wave saw key Criterionists in fascist and communist prisons, including Eliade and Nae Ionescu in 1937 under Carol II, and Noica and Sadova in the 1950s and 1960s under communism. When discussing the great minds of twentieth-century Romania, there are those who feel these intellectuals were caught up in events beyond their control and others who argue they bear responsibility. In my book I have attempted an objective analysis of the seduction and rejection of fascism by the Criterionists. According to Hannah Arendt there is a difficulty in passing judgment on those engulfed in the ‘intellectual storms of the 20th Century.’ Tismaneanu agrees with her and writes, ‘What appear to us today as crystal-clear choices were, especially during the interwar period, maddeningly complex reactions to the crisis of liberalism and democracy.’1 The Criterionists were propagators of ideas, and those who embrace them should be aware that those ideas could be dangerous and have deadly consequences. As Paul Johnson wrote, ‘Beware of intellectuals!’2 The story of Criterion is more relevant than ever when we consider the growing popularity of fascism globally, the spread of anti-Semitism, racial clashes, the rise of Islamic extremism, the promotion of violence, the destruction of cultural objects and places of historic memory, censorship, ethnic discrimination and the use of religion to justify horrific crimes against humanity. 1  Vladimir Tismaneanu, ‘A Faustian Pact: Marta Petreu Diavolul şi ucenicul său Nae Ionescu—Mihail Sebastian.’ TLS, January 1, 2010. 2  Johnson, Intellectuals, 342.

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Norman Manea, who famously denounced Eliade’s politics in ‘Happy Guilt,’ was asked upon his return to Romania whether he thought ‘Eliade’s Legionnaire-inspired writings undermine his literary or scholarly works?’ He replied that he never made any public statements about them, that ‘neither literature nor scholarship can be judged by moral criteria.’ Do we condemn the man and his contributions for youthful folly? Manea who holds Eliade accountable for his political actions suggests that his oeuvre be considered at face value and appreciated on its own. It is possible to consider the cultural output of the man divorced from moral judgment.3 Whether in exile or at home, the Criterionists lived their lives singing their individual songs and making a name for Romania. It is important to remember the positive contributions of the Criterionists and the Criterion Association itself. These intellectuals bequeathed to us a vast trove of sophisticated literature, philosophy and scholarship. They were a democratically inspired and organized society at the height of Romania’s attempt at liberal democracy. They publicly investigated topics as diverse as Lenin, Mussolini, Gide, Charlie Chaplin and Gandhi. They were ambitious, prolific and, for a time, dedicated to one another as close friends. Believing in the strength of their youth, the Young Generation and the Criterion Association attempted to revolutionize culture in their emerging European nation. It was only when the Criterionists’ focus shifted to the political and spiritual that the Legionary Movement eclipsed their friendship circle and the modernist progressive cultural association they cared so dearly to create and nurture in 1930s Bucharest. The rise of fascism aided in the destruction of one of Romania’s most important intellectual and cultural experiments.

3

 Norman Manea, The Hooligan’s Return: A Memoir, 352.



Bibliography

1. Manuscript and Archival Sources Archive at the Center for Advanced Holocaust Studies, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, USHMM, Washington, DC, USA Inventory Nr. 2247; Ministerul de Interne—Diverse [the Romanian Ministry of the Interior—Diverse] Years 1910–1956 Arhiva Consiliul Naţional Pentru Studierea Arhivelor Securităti̧ i, ACNSAS [The National Council for the Study of the Securitate Archives] Bucharest, Romania Arşavir-Nazaret Acterian, R41665 Arşavir Acterian, I203607 Haig Acterian, I21201 2/1 Dosar Nr. 54892/1–2 Mircea Eliade, SiE 167/1 Dosar Nr. 6814 (1–3) Constantin Noica, I4664; Dosar Nr. 85321 (1981–1987) Constantin Noica, I15156/1–3 Dosar Nr. 205407/1–3 Marietta Sadova, I209489/1–4 Zaharia Stancu, I73549/1–2 Arhiva Muzeul Naţional al Literaturii Române, AMNLR [National Museum of Romanian Literature] Bucharest, Romania © The Author(s) 2019 C. A. Bejan, Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4

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Correspondence of Haig Acterian, Emil Cioran, Petru Comarnescu, Mircea Eliade, Eugen Ionescu, Constantin Noica and Mihail Sebastian Arhivele Statului [State Archives] Bucharest, Romania Sala de studiu fonduri personale şi familie [Room for the study of personal and family files] File #1824: Acterian Family, Years 1904–1973 Biblioteca Academiei Române, BAR [Library of the Romanian Academy] Sala de manuscrise, arhiva personală lui Petru Comarnescu [Manuscripts Room, personal archive of Petru Comarnescu] Ach. 17/2001 APPC The University of Chicago Library Mircea Eliade Papers 1926–1998, unpublished journal 2. Printed Primary Sources1 Acterian, Arşavir. ‘Cîte ceva despre Asociat ̦ia Criterion.’ Criterion Seria Nouă, Year 1, Vol. 1, March 1990. Acterian, Arşavir. Jurnal 1929–1945/1958–1990. Bucharest: Humanitas, 2008. Acterian, Jeni. Jurnalul unei fiinţe greu de mulţumit. Bucharest: Humanitas, 2007. (∗) ‘Asociaţa Criterion şi manifestaţiile studenteşti.’ Cuvântul, November 14, 1932, (∗) ‘Astăzi începe procesul cavalerilor de Curlanda.’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 352, January 10, 1935. Benda, Julien. The Treason of the Intellectuals. Abingdon and New  York: Routledge, 2017. Blaga, Lucian. Zalmoxis: Obscure Pagan. Translated by Doris Plantus-Runey. Iaşi, Oxford, Portland: The Center for Romanian Studies, 2001. Botta, Dan. ‘Cronica Muzicală: Expresionism şi nou clasicism musical.’ Calendarul, October 14, 1933. Botta, Dan. ‘Puterea Cuvântului.’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 5, December 15, 1934, 1. Botta, Dan. ‘O Statuie [de Michelangelo].’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 5, December 15, 1934. Cantacuzino, Ion I. and Petru Comarnescu, Mircea Eliade, Constantin Noica, Henri H.  Stahl, Alexandru Cristian Tell, Mircea Vulcănescu, eds. Criterion: 1

 (∗) indicates anonymous articles, which are placed alphabetically according to first word.

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Revista de arta, litere şi filosofie, Bucharest: Vremea, Year 1 No. 1 (October 15, 1934)–Year 2 Nos. 6–7 (January–February 1935) Reprinted in ‘the complete collection in the anastatic edition,’ Edited by Marin Diaconu. Bucharest: Roza Vînturilor, 1990. Cantacuzino, Ion I. ‘Ceva despre lirica nat ̦ionalistă.’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 5, December 15, 1934. Cantacuzino, Ion I. ‘De două mii de ani.’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934. Cantacuzino, Ion I. ‘Nu.’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 2, November 1, 1934. Cantacuzino, Ion I. ‘Pe marginea unui articol “dextrofil.”’ România Literară, January 14, 1933. Cantacuzino, Ion I. ‘Premiul Nobel: Luigi Pirandello.’ Criterion, Year 1 Nos. 3–4, November 15–December 1, 1934. Cantacuzino Ion I. ‘O gravură [de Goya]’ Criterion, Year 2 Nos. 6–7, January– February 1935. Chaplin, Charles. My Autobiography. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1964. Cioran, Emil. ‘Aspecte germane.’ Vremea, Year 6 No. 314, November 19, 1933. Cioran, Emil. ‘Despre o altă Românie.’ Vremea, Year 8 No. 376, February 17, 1935. Cioran, Emil. ‘Germania şi Franţa sau iluzia păcii.’ Vremea, Year 6 No. 318, Christmas 1933. Cioran, Emil. ‘Impresii din Muenchen. Hitler în conştiinţa germana.’ Vremea, Year 7 No. 346, July 15, 1934. Cioran, Emil. ‘Între conştiinţa europeană şi cea nat ̦ională.’ Vremea, Year 10 No. 518, December 25, 1937. Cioran, Emil. Le Neant roumain: un entretien/Neantul românescu: o convorbire. Edited by Luca Piţu and Sorin Antohi. Bucharest: Polirom, 2009. Cioran, Emil. Pe culmile disperării. Bucharest: Humanitas, 1990. Cioran, Emil. Schimbarea la faţă a României. Bucharest: Humanitas, 2006. Cioran, Emil. Schimbarea la faţă a României. Edition reproduced from the 1936 Vremea complete edition. Norcross, GA: Criterion Publishing, 2002. Cioran, Emil. ‘Scrisori din Germania. Revolta satuilor.’ Vremea, Year 7 No. 349, August 5, 1934. Cioran, E.M. Oeuvres. Paris: Gallimard, 1995. (∗) ‘Cuibul de carne bărbatească: Petru Comarnescu.’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 337, January 15, 1935. Ciurescu, Silvia. ‘Interview with Ioan Tugearu about Floria Capsali.’ Plural Magazine, Nos. 15–16 (2002). Cocteau, Jean. Les enfants terribles. Paris: Editions Bernard Grasset, 1929. Codreanu, Corneliu Zelea. Pentru Legionari. Sibiu: Editura ‘Totul Pentru Țară,’ 1936. Comarnescu, Petru. America văzută de un tânăr de azi. Bucharest: Editura Adeverul S.A., 1934.

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Comarnescu, Petru. Chipurile şi Priveliştile al Americii. Bucharest: Cugetarea – Georgescu Delafras, 1940. Comarnescu, Petru. ‘Coodonatele Creat ̦ieie lui Eugene O’Neill.’ Eugene O’Neill Teatru Vol. I. Bucharest: Editura pentru Literatura Universală, 1968. Comarnescu, Petru. ‘Un desen [de Brâncuşi].’ Year 1 Nos. 3–4, November 15– December 1, 1934. Comarnescu, Petru. ‘Dezacordul dintre adevărurile spiritului şi fenomenele prezentului.’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934. Comarnescu, Petru. ‘Experienţa.’ Criterion, Year 1 No. 1, October 15, 1934. Comarnescu, Petru. Homo Americanus. Colect ̦ia Criterion, Bucharest: Editura Vremea, 1933. Comarnescu, Petru. Jurnal. 1931–1937. Iaşi: Institutul European, 1994. Comarnescu, Petru. Kalokagathon. Bucharest: Fundat ̦ia Regală pentru Literatură şi Artă, 1946. Comarnescu, Petru. ‘Răul Veacului Nostru: Hamlet 1933.’ Viaţa Românească, Year 25 No. 4, April 1933. Comarnescu, Petru. ‘Retrospective: Petru Comarnescu despre diaspora românească la 1966.’ Bucovina literară, 1–2/2005. Edited by Nicolae Cârlan. Comarnescu, Petru. ‘The Rumanian and Universal in Brâncuşi’s Work.’ Rumanian Studies: An International Annual of the Humanities and Social Sciences Vol. I. Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1970, 144–145. Comarnescu, Petru. ‘Tirania formulelor – capcane.’ Criterion, Year 2 Nos. 6–7, January–February 1935. Crainic, Nichifor. ‘Forţa trecutului.’ Calendarul, November 2, 1932. Crainic, Nichifor. Zile albe, zile negre, Memorii I. Bucharest: Casa Editoriala “Gândirea,” 1991. Credinţa. ‘De unde purcede.’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 371, February 24, 1935. Credinţa. ‘Desgust!’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 370, February 23, 1935. (∗) ‘Criterion işi suspendă activitatea.’ Cuvântul, February 10, 1933. (∗) ‘Cunoscutul Cavaler….’ Credinţa, Year 3 No. 462, June 19, 1935. Daia, Vasile. ‘Salvaţi morală! Domnilor.’ Actiunea Studentească, Year 2 Nr. 2, February 10, 1935. Danielopol, D.G. Jurnal Londonez. Iaşi: Institutul European, 1995. Danovski, Oleg. ‘Vivat Profesores! – Through the Looking Glass of Time.’ Plural Magazine, Nos. 15–16 (2002). (∗) ‘De la Criterion.’ Adevărul, November 13, 1932. Delvrancea, Cella. Dintr-un secol de viață. Bucharest: Editura Eminescu, 1988. (∗) ‘De la Criterion.’ Credinţa, Year 1 No. 4, December 6, 1933. (∗)‘O descindere a parchetului militar  – conferinţe interzise. Nu rupeţi afişele.’ Cuvântul, February 10, 1933. Devi, Maitreyi. It Does Not Die. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976. Eliad, Sandu. ‘O experient ̧ă.’ Facla, October 30, 1932.

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Index

A ‘Accused Julien Benda, The’ (article by Noica), 9 Acosta, Mercedes de, 122 Acterian, Arşavir Bergson symposium, 120 biographical sketch of, 33, 37 Criterion Association and, 81, 91 Gide symposium, 108, 110 imprisonment of, 267 Iron Guard and, 115 Valéry symposium, 118, 119 Acterian, Eugenia ‘Jeni,’ 33 Acterian, Haig biographical sketch of, xxiv, 33, 35 Contemporary Romanian Culture symposium, 131 death of, 237–238 education abroad of, 48, 230–231 Forum Group presentation, 72 imprisonment of, 237–238 marriage of, 228 National Theatre and, 235 photograph of, 2

Acterian, Jeni, 223–224 Action Française, 10 Acţiune şi Reacţiune, 36 Acţiunea Student ̦ească, 190 À la recherche du temps perdu (Proust), 123 Albright, Madeleine, xv Alexandrescu, Sorin, 7, 13, 33 Alioth-Karadja, Lucie, 143 America văzută de un tânăr de azi (Comarnescu), 54–55, 263 American industrialization, 10 ‘Americanism and Europeanism’ conferences, 73 Anale, see Circle of the Romanian Annals (Cercul Analelor Române) Anderson, Vera, 75 Anii Treizeci (Ornea), 179 Anti-American sentiment, 10, 52 Anti-Semitism after the realization of Greater Romania, 18 of Carol, 214–216 Chaplin symposium, 102–103

© The Author(s) 2019 C. A. Bejan, Intellectuals and Fascism in Interwar Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20165-4

305

306 

INDEX

Anti-Semitism (cont.) of Cioran, 222–223 of Ionescu, 240–241 Ionescu and, 30 riots, 212 of Sadova, 233–236 at the university level, 20 Antonescu, General, 215–216, 254–255 Antonesei, Liviu, 7, 15, 266–267 Arendt, Hannah, 278 Arghezi, Tudor, 171, 208 Art, 43–44, 173 Automobiles, 71–72 Axa, 5, 116, 147–148 Azi, 72, 74–75 B Badauta, Alexandru, 68 Baeumler, Alfred, 10 Bagdasar, Nicolae, 119 Baic, Cornelia, 134 Bald Soprano, The (Ionesco), 258 Baltazar, Camil, 209 Bărbat, Virgil, 69 Barbu, Ion, 112, 171 Bauhaus, 11 Bebis, Corneliu, 134 Benda, Julien influence of, 9 theory of intellectuals, 8–9 Treason of the Intellectuals, The (Benda), xvi Benn, Gottfried, 10 Bergson, Henri, 119–120 Besant, Annie, 121 Bessarabia, 21 Bieckerich, Victor, 134 Birth control, 145 Blaga, Lucian, 11, 14, 19, 25, 134, 227–228, 260

Blank, Aristide, 262 Bloomsbury Group, 11 Bogza, Geo, 207–209 Boia, Lucian, 22 Borsec, Transylvania, 146 Botta, Dan Bergson symposium, 120 biographical sketch of, 33 on the Criterion Association, 90 on Michelangelo, 173 philosophy of, 167 review of ‘Cycle of Major Moments of Music’ series, 143 Valéry symposium, 117 Brancuşi, 14 Brătianu, Ion, 14 Brauner, Harry, 233 Brauner, Victor, 60, 129 Broşteanu, Aurel (Relu) D., 72–73, 129 Bucharest Pogrom, 235 Bucur, Maria, xiv Burileanu, Rodica, 195 ‘Burning Pyre’ religious movement, 261 C Căile Ferate Române (CFR), 138 Calendarul, 74, 109 Caler, Leni, 232, 270 Călinescu, Armand, 96–97, 111, 123, 214–215 Călinescu, Matei, 2, 6, 37, 248, 274 Călugăru, Ion, 99, 103 Camaraderie, 62–65, 193, 194 Campanella, Tommaso, 35 Campus environment, 53–54 Cantacuzino, G.M., 68 Cantacuzino, Ion I. on art, 173 biographical sketch of, 33, 38 Forum Group presentation, 72 Gide symposium, 109–110

 INDEX 

on literature, 170–171 on nationalism, 169 Roşu and, 113–114 Valéry symposium, 117 Cantacuzino, Ion. I., Freud symposium, 97 Cantacuzino-Enescu, Maruca, 29–30 Capsali, Floria biographical sketch of, xxv, 33 Contemporary Romanian Culture symposium, 131 Credinţa scandal and, 181 Criterion Association and, 63–65 ‘History and Aesthetic of Dance in Four Conferences with Examples’ series, 141 jealousy of, 205–206 ‘Music and Dance from Brăila’ workshop, 134 photograph of, 2 Caragiale, 268 Carol II (king of Romania) biographical sketch of, xxvi free speech and, 177 Frontul Renaşterii Naţionale [the Front of National Rebirth], 214–216 infidelity of, 208–209 rule of, 17, 148 Cars, 71–77 Catargi, Henri, 135 Caviar and Ashes (Shore), x, 11 Ceallaigh, Philip Ó, 7 Cecchetti, Enrico, 64 Censorship, 206 See also Free speech Chaplin, Charlie, 99–103, 122 Chicago, IL, 54–55 Christianity, 46–47 Cinema, 99–100, 122 Cioculescu, Şerban Bergson symposium, 119

307

biographical sketch of, 33 on Comarnescu, 67 Forum Group presentation, 72, 73 Gide symposium, 108 Valéry symposium, 118 Cioran, Emil (E.M.) Bergson symposium, 120 biographical sketch of, xxiv, 32, 38 education abroad of, 54–55 friendship with Comarnescu, 239 legacy of, 5 liberalism of, 257 Nazism and, 55–57 personal disposition of, 257–258 photograph of, 257 political allegiances of, 219–224 Schimbarea la faţă a României, 56–57, 219–222 Schimbarea la faţă a României [The Transfiguration of Romania], 6 Circle of the Romanian Annals (Cercul Analelor Române), 68, 117 ‘Civilization’ symposium, 144 Clark, Roland, 22 ‘Classicism’ symposium, 144 Cocea, N.D., 198 Codreanu, Corneliu Zelea biographical sketch of, xxv Credinţa scandal and, 191 death squads and, 214 execution of, 215, 225 founding of the Legionary Movement, 4, 21–23 imprisonment of, 214–215 rule of, 147–149 Sadova and Haig’s meeting with, 231–232 Schimbarea la faţă a României (Cioran) and, 221 Collective, 241

308 

INDEX

Comarnescu, Petru ‘Titel’ America văzută de un tânăr de azi, 263 ‘Americanism and Europeanism’ conferences, 69 ancestry of, 188–189 Azi, 78–79 Bergson symposium, 119 biographical sketch of, x, xxiii, 32, 36, 197–199 Borsec trip, 146 Chaplin symposium, 100–101 Credinţa scandal and, 179–192, 197 on the Criterion Association, 276 Criterion Association and, 77–78 ‘Cycle of Major Moments of Music’ series, 141–144 death of, 204, 264 education abroad of, 51–55 Forum Group and, 70–72 Freud symposium, 97 friendship with Cioran, 239 friendship with Noica, 199–203, 224–227 friendship with Sebastian, 240 Gide symposium, 109–110 ‘History and Aesthetic of Dance in Four Conferences with Examples’ series, 141 Homo Americanus, 53–54 influence of Benda on, 9 Iron Guard and, 116 Kalokagathon, 264 leadership of, 67 legacy of, 5, 262–264 Lenin symposium, 96 marriage of, 182, 189, 195, 198 on the members of Criterion, 16 ‘Nature of Beauty and its Relation to Goodness, The,’ 51 needs of, 66–67 notes of, 88 optimism and, 53

photograph of, 159 political allegiances of, 238–240 Proust symposium, 123–124 public appearances of, 68 ‘Răul Veacului Nostru: Hamlet 1933,’ 137–138 relationships with other members of the Criterion Association, 65–66 role of, xvi on the role of the intellectual, 163–164 Royal Foundation and, 133, 144 sexuality of, 192, 196–204 on the social atmosphere within the Criterion Association, 62–63 ‘Spiritual Directions of the New Generation’ symposium, 137–138 Stancu and, 205 student work of, 20 ‘Tyranny of Form-Traps’ article, 167 ‘Utilization of the American Spirit’ symposium, 68, 69 Valéry symposium, 117, 118 Commercial Academy, 140 Communism and the Communist Party Criterion Association and, 114 Gide’s sympathy for, 108 installation of, 4, 260–261 prohibition of, 20–21 Roşu and, 113 Condrea, Sergiu, 71–77 Conferences, 68–69 Constante, Lena, 20 Constantinescu, Costina, 238 Constantinescu, Mac, 63, 64 Constantinescu, Nicuşor, 243 Constitutional monarchy, 16–17 ‘Contemporary Idols’ symposium, 91, 135 Contemporary Romanian Culture’ symposium, 91, 130–131 Convorbiri Literare, 168

 INDEX 

Cornea, Andrei, 266 Corteanu, A., 69 Cosmopolitanism, 171–176 Costescu, Christinel, 256 Countryside, 19 Craig, Edward Gordon, 230 Crainic, Nichifor, 14, 86, 109, 111, 260 Credinţa, 5, 170, 179–192, 197, 273 Cristescu, Colonel, 215 Criterion (publication) art reproduced in, 173 content of, 154–167, 173–176 cover photo, 159 creation of, 149–154 criticism of, 175 end of publication, 176 feuilletons in, 5 internationalism in, 171–176 literary criticism in, 170–171 presentations of nationalism in, 168–169 ‘Rehabilitation of Spirituality’ article, 165–166 themes explored by, 153–154 ‘Two Italian Books’ article, 172 ‘Two Italian Commentaries’ article, 171–172 ‘Tyranny of Form-Traps’ article, 167 ‘Village’ article, 169 Vulcănescu’s contributions, 152–153 Young Generation and, 162–163 Criterion Association and the Criterionists activity of, 5, 59, 82, 134–135 artistic sections, 80 camaraderie within, 193, 194 ‘Civilization’ symposium, 144 ‘Classicism’ symposium, 144 communist agenda, 114 conflicts within, 65–66 ‘Contemporary Idols’ symposium, 91, 135 ‘Contemporary Romanian Culture’ symposium, 91, 130–131

309

contributions of, 276 Credinţa scandal and, 179–192 Cretin motif and, 112–113 criticism of, 109–116 Criticism section, 80 ‘Cycle of Major Moments of Music’ series, 141–144 dissolution of, 4, 177–179, 209 Forum Group, 60 Griviţa riots, 137, 140–141 ‘History and Aesthetic of Dance in Four Conferences with Examples’ series, 141 history of, xiii influence of Benda on, 9 informal meetings of, 79–81, 92 instability of, 138, 147 Iron Guard and, 177–178 legacy of, 271–273 literature on, 7–8 ‘Meaning of Life in Contemporary Literature’ symposium, 144 membership of, 59–60, 62, 77, 80–84 Mihai’s thesis on, 8 mission of, 85–94 name of, 85–86 ‘Neoclassicism’ symposium, 144 official meetings of, 83 operation of, 79 organization of, xvi, 4, 82–83 origins of, 23–24, 31, 61, 77–84 outreach to the provinces, 134 Philosophy section, 80 political series, 144–145 public response to, 89, 120, 143–144, 190 ‘Race’ symposium, 144 resignations from, 81 self-identity of, 92 Social Science section, 80 ‘Solutions to the Economic Crisis’ symposium, 144 success of, 4

310 

INDEX

Criterion Association (cont.) symposium format, 90–91 Tendint ̦e (Trends) series, 135–138 themes explored by, 129–130 views of, 16 ‘War’ symposium, 144 women and, 193–195, 205 Young Generation and, 59–60, 89 Cronica Musicală, 143 Cubism, 129 Culianu, Ioan Petru, 7, 256 Culturalization, 168 Cultural Politics in Greater Romania (Livezeanu), 17 ‘Cultural Topics’ conference, 136 Culture, 42–43, 89, 91, 93–94, 130–131 Cum am devenit huligan (Sebastian), 2, 213 Curentul, 97 ‘Current trends in Physics: the Problem of Matter’ conference, 136–137 Cuvântul Cioran’s contributions, 25 Eliade’s contributions, 50 Ionescu’s contributions, 148–149 publication of, 5 Sebastian’s contributions, 6, 70 Spiritual Itinerary, 39 suspension of, 149 Vulcănescu’s contributions, 25 Cuza, Alexandru C., 21, 31, 214 Cuzists, 101 ‘Cycle of Major Moments of Music’ series, 141–144 Czechoslovakia, 239 D Dada, 11 Daia, Vasile, 191 Dalles Foundation, 141

Daniel, Henry, 134 D’Annunzio, Gabriele, 172 Danovski, Oleg, 64 Dasgupta, Surendranath, 49 Death squads, 214 Decline of the West (Spengler), 124 De două mii de ani [For Two Thousand Years] (Sebastian), xvi, 30, 170, 213, 240 Delavrancea, Cella, 30 Demetrius, Lucia, 233 Dianu, Romulus, 97 Diavolul şi ucenicul său: Nae Ionescu – Mihail Sebastian (Petreu), 6 Dictatorships, in Romania, xvii Dilettantism, 40–41 Dimensiunea românească a existenţei (The Romanian Dimension of Existence) (Vulcănescu), 19 Discovery of self, 107 Discuţia controversată, 69 Dobridor, Ilariu, 191 Domnişoara Christina (Eliade), 208 Dreiser, Theodor, 172 Duca, Ion Gheorghe, 4, 69, 88, 136, 148 E Eastern philosophy, 50 Economu, Chiril, 238 Education abroad, 48–49, 57 1848 Generation, 13 Eleutheriade, Micaela, 134 Eliade, Mircea accusation of pornography, 208 anti-Semitism of, 7 biographical sketch of, xxiii, 35 Chaplin symposium, 102–103 Contemporary Romanian Culture symposium, 130 on the Criterion Association, 59, 77–78, 89, 90, 92, 93, 178 on criticism, 112–113

 INDEX 

‘Cycle of Major Moments of Music’ series, 142–143 education abroad of, 49–51 ‘Few Opinions about the Development of the Iron Guard, A’ series, 147–148 Forum Group and, 74 Forum Group presentation, 74–75 Freud symposium, 97–99 friendship with Noica, 256 friendship with Sadova, 244, 250–251, 268–270 friendship with Sebastian, 244–246 Gandhi symposium, 126–129 Gide symposium, 109 Guardism and, xi imprisonment of, 218, 245 Întoarcerea din Rai (Return from Paradise), 140–141 on Ionescu, 160–161 Iphigenia, 218–219 on the Iron Guard, 161–162 Krishnamurti and, 121–122 legacy of, 5 Lenin symposium, 95 Maitreyi, 50 marriage of, 195, 244 modernism and, 11–12 philosophy of, 52 photograph of, 257 political allegiances of, 217–219 post-war exile of, 255–256 ‘Rehabilitation of Spirituality’ article, 165–167 on the responsibility of the Young Generation, 34 on the role of the intellectual, 159–163 role of, xvi, 32 Spiritual Itinerary, 38–48 as a student of Ionescu, 27 ‘time when we will no longer be free to do what we wish,’ 249–252 ‘Two Italian Books’ article, 172

311

‘Utilization of the American Spirit’ symposium, 68 Viaţa Nouă, 160 ‘Why I believe in the victory of the Legionary Movement’ article, 217–218 worship of, xvii Eliade, Nina, 235 Eliot, T.S., 10 Elisabeta Boulevard, 100 Elitism, 204 Eloge des Intellectuels (Lévy), 9–10 Eminescu, 14 Enescu, C., 105–106 Envy, 205–206 ‘Epistemological function of love, The’ (lecture by Ionescu), 26 Esprit, 10 Eugenics, 145 Europeanists, 13 Europenism şi dileme identitare în România interbelică: gruparea Criterion (Mihai), 8 Evans, R.J.W., 17 Evola, Julius, 10, 35, 218 Existentialism, 271 Experience (experienţa), xi, 15, 42, 155 Experiential literature, xvi Extremism, rise of, xiii–xiv F Fabregue, Jean de, 52 Facla, 5, 37 Fascism appeal of, 4, 274–275 defined, 12 goals of, 22 historical context of, 278–279 intellectuals and, 10 intellectual support of, xv in Italy, 103–106 modernism and, 11–13

312 

INDEX

Fascism: A Warning (Albright), xv Ferdinand (king of Romania), 17 Feuilletons, xiii, 89 ‘Few Opinions about the Development of the Iron Guard, A’ series, 147–148 Floarea de Foc, 75 Floru, Constantin, Bergson symposium, 119 Foreign literature, 171–172 See also Literature Forum Group, 60, 70–77 Foucault, Michel, 194 Fragments of a Journal (Ionesco), 260 France, 243–244 Free speech, 139, 189, 206 Freud, Sigmund, 96–99 Friends of the United States Society, 68, 69, 88 Friendship, 193, 194, 205 Frontul Renaşterii Naţionale [the Front of National Rebirth], 214 Fuhlsbuettel concentration camp, 195 Futurism, 11 G Gafencu, Grigore, 144 Gandhi, Mahatma, 125–129 Gândirea, 5, 14–15, 25, 149 Garbo, Greta, 122–123 García Márquez, Gabriel, xiv, 8 ‘General Economic Directions’ conference, 136–137 Generaţia tânără [the Young Generation], see Young Generation Generation ’27, 9 Generation Without Beliefs, A (Vanhaelemeersch), 7

Generations in the social history of modern Romania, 14, 156–158 Georgescu, Radu, 143–144 Gheorghiu-Dej, Gheorghe, 140, 255 Ghinda, Barbu Catargi, 141 Gide, André, 1, 106–110 Gilbert, Arthur, 194 Glasul Patriei (The Voice of the Motherland), 260 Goga, Octavian, 169, 214 Golescu, 14 Golopenţia, Anton biographical sketch of, 33 interests of, 38 on the role of the intellectual, 164 work of, 20 Goya y Lucientes, Francesco Jose de, 173 Greater Romania, xiii See also Romania Griffin, Roger, 11, 12, 22 Grigorescu, Mircea, 73, 96 Griviţa riots, 137–141 Grosu, Monica, 7, 193 Guardism, xi Gulian, Emil, 108 Gusti School and Dumitrie Gusti, 20, 60, 91 Gyr, Radu, 235 H ‘Happy Guilt’ (essay by Manea), 6, 279 Hechter, Iosif, see Sebastian, Mihail Heidegger, Martin, 10 Helena (princess of Greece), 17 Herf, Jeffrey on extremism, xiv, xv reactionary modernism of, xi, 12 Herseni, Traian interests of, 38 work of, 20

 INDEX 

Heyse, Hans, 10 Hillard, Richard ‘Ricci, 33, 106 Historical revisionism, 7 ‘History and Aesthetic of Dance in Four Conferences with Examples’ series, 141 History of Sexuality (Foucault), 194 History, Eliade’s theory of, 160 Hitchins, Keith, 13 Hitler, Adolf Carol’s visit with, 215 Cioran’s interest in, 58 homosexuality and, 195 Hogaş, Calistrat, 97 Hoitaş, Clatilda, 235 Holban, Anton, 117 Hollywood, 99–100, 122 Holocaust in Romania, 215–216 Holy Legionary Youth (Clark), 22 Homo Americanus (Comarnescu), 72 Homosexuality concept of, 194 Credinţa scandal and, 179–180 Garbo and, 122–123 Gide and, 108 male friendship and, 11 persecution of, 187, 195 in Romania, 196 Hooliganism, 213 Hour of Decision: Germany and the World Historical Revolution, The (Spengler), 125 ‘How Julien Benda lied!’ (article by Noica), 9 Huliganii (Eliade), 213 Hungarian people, 223 I Iancu, Avram, 14 Iancu, Marcel, 14, 129, 134 Iaşinschi, Vasile, 235

313

Idei europeane (European Ideas), 68 ‘Idols’ symposium, organization of, 91 Imagination, 118 ‘Immediate Economic Directions: Monetary Solutions conference, 144 Impatience, 47 Individuals, 241 Infamous Past, An: E.M. Cioran and the Rise of Fascism in Romania (Petreu), 6 Integral Nationalism, 155 Intellectuals defined, 9 imprisonment of, 265 role and responsibility of, 8–9 role of, 159–167 Internationalism, 171–176 Întoarcerea din Rai [Return from Paradise] (Eliade), 140–141, 213 Ionesco, Eugène Bald Soprano, The, 259 biographical sketch of, xxiv, 32, 37 on Comarnescu, 262–263 on the Criterion Association, 178–179, 272 criticism of, 170–171 education abroad of, 48 Fragments of a Journal, 260 friendship with Sebastian, 246–248 Iron Guard and, 115 Jewish identity of, 248, 259–260 legacy of, 5 letter to Vianu, 60, 253–254 marriage of, 195 photograph of, 257 political allegiances of, 247–249 post-war exile of, 258–260 Present Past Past Present, 259 relationships with other members of the Criterion Association, 66 Ionescu, Marioara, 235

314 

INDEX

Ionescu, Nicolae C. (Nae) academic career of, 26–29 anti-Semitism of, xvi, 6, 30, 240–241 biographical sketch of, xxiii, 25–26, 37 criticism of, 170 death of, 215 Eliade on, 160–161 imprisonment of, 214–215, 245 insecurity of, 29–30 mentor-mentee relationship with Sebastian, 240–241 politics and, 30–31, 148–149 Spengler and, 124 style of, 32 Tendint ̦e (Trends) series, 135–137 trăire and experienţa and, 15–16 ‘Trends in Domestic Politics: the Romanian State’ conference, 136–137 Young Generation and, 31 Iordache, Maria, 235 Iorga, Nicolae, 17, 18, 31, 52, 216 Iorgulescu, Yor Petre, 135 Iphigenia (Eliade), 230 Iron Guard aesthetics of, 22–23 anti-Semitism riots, 212 Axa, 116, 147–148 Carol II and, 226 Criterion Association and, 177–178 Eliade and, 147–148, 161–167, 217–219 formation of, 21 Ionescu’s support of, 30–31 National Legionary State and, 216 Polihroniade and, 115–116 See also Legionary Movement Isabel şi apele diavolului (Eliade), 208 Italy, fascism in, 103–106 Itinerariu Spiritual, see Spiritual Itinerary, The [Itinerariu Spiritual]

J Jackson, Eric, 203 Jammes, Francis, 172 Jealousy, 205–206 Jennings, Jeremy, 9 Jewish population, 17–18 Jianu, Ionel ‘Nelly’ biographical sketch of, 33, 36 on the Criterion Association, 276 Forum Group and, 70, 75–77 Jocul de-a vacanţa (Sebastian), 232 Johnson, Paul, 8, 278 Jung, Carl Gustav, 11 Junimea Society, 33 K Kalokagathon (Comarnescu), 264 Katz, Jonathan Ned, 194 Kemp-Welch, Anthony, 9 Kirit ̦escu, Constantin, 208 Klages, Ludwig, 55 Kogălniceanu, 14 Kriek, Ernst, 10 Krishnamurti, Jiddu, 121–122 L Laignel-Lavastine, Alexandra, 6 LANC (the League of National Christian Defence), 21 Language, 169 Lapedatu, Al., 30 Lavric, Sorin, 199 Lazăr, Gheorghe, 14 Leadbeater, C.W., 121 League of National Christian Defence (LANC), 101, 212 Legat, Nicolas, 64 Legion of the Archangel Michael, see Legionary Movement Legionary Movement

 INDEX 

appeal of, 6 criticism of, 147–149 founding of, 4 history of, xiii, xvi modernism and, 12 nature of, 22 Noica’s enlistment in, 225 ‘Totul Pentru Ţară’ [Everything for the Country] politcal party, 214 See also Iron Guard Legionary Rebellion, 235–237 Legione Decima [The Tenth Legion] (Panzini), 172 Lenin, Vladimir, 94–96 Lévy, Bernard, 9–10 Lewis, Wyndham, 10 Liberal Party, 20 Liiceanu, Gabriel, 266 Literary style, 5 ‘Literary Topics’ conference, 136 Literature, 43–44, 170–172 Livezeanu, Irina, 17 Los Angeles Review of Books, 7 Lost Generation, 33 Lovinescu, Eugen, 11, 14, 25, 136 Lovinescu, Monica, 258 Lumea, 36 Lupescu, Elena ‘Magda,’ 17 M Madgearu, Virgil, 136–137 Maiorescu, Titu, 33 Maitreyi (Eliade), 50 Male friendship, 11, 193, 194 Manea, Norman, 6, 14, 279 ‘Manifestul Crinului Alb’ [The Manifesto of the White Lily], 38 Maniu, Iuliu, 20, 214 Manolescu, Mihail, 69, 103, 106 Manolescu-Strunga, Gina, 147, 189, 198 Manolescu-Strunga, Ion, 182

315

Manoliu, Petru, 170 Mareş, Nina, 102, 195, 244, 245 Margareta-Fotino, Elena, 26 Marie (queen of Romania), 52, 134 Marin, Bobi, 235 Marin, Vasile, 214 Marinetti, Filippo, 10 Martial law, 139–140 Marxism, 155 Mârzescu Law, 21 Masculinity, 193 Massis, 107 Maulnier, Thierry, 52 Maurras, Charles, 10 Maxy, Max Hermann, 60, 129, 134 ‘Meaning of Life in Contemporary Literature’ symposium, 144–147 Medrea, Victor, 182–183, 185 Mehedint ̦i, Simion, 90, 96, 136 Mezdrea, Dora, 32 Michael (king of Romania), 254–255 Michailescu, Corneliu, 134 Michelangelo, 173 Micu, Dumitru, 15 Miculescu, George, 236 Mihai, Constantin, 8 Mihalache, Ion, 133 Minority issue, 144–147 Mircea Eliade: Le prisonnier de l’histoire (Ţurcanu), 6 Mironescu, Alexandru, 97 Modernism, fascism and, 11–13 Moldova, 17 Molea, Vera, 228 Monitorul Oficial, 139 Mosse, George L., 22 Moţa, Ion, 214 Mussolini, Benito, 103–106 Muston, Wendy, 200–202 Mysticism, 44

316 

INDEX

N Narcissus, 118 Nationalism forms of, 12 presentations in Criterion, 168–169 Vulcănescu on, 156 National Legionary State, 216 National Peasant Party (PNŢ), 20, 214 National Theatre, 235, 261, 262, 267 ‘Nature of Beauty and its Relation to Goodness, The’ (Comarnescu), 51 Nazism, 195 Neam [people, nation], 18 Neamul Românesc, 18 Negry, Gabriel biographical sketch of, xxv, 33 Capsali and, 205 Credinţa scandal and, 179, 181–182, 186–187 Criterion Association and, 60 ‘History and Aesthetic of Dance in Four Conferences with Examples’ series, 141 Nehru, Pandit, 127 Neoclassic humanism, 155 Neoclassicism’ symposium, 144 Neumann, Victor, 19 New Culture Movement, 11 The New Republic, 6 Newspapers, 5 New York, NY, 54–55 ‘Nicadori’ death squad, 148 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 55 Night of the Long Knives, 195 Nihilism, 55 Nistor, Ion, 38 Noica, Bebe, 200 Noica, Constantin ‘Dinu’ biographical sketch of, xxiv, 32, 37 on Comarnescu, 36 education abroad of, 48 Forum Group and, 70 friendship with Comarnescu, 199–203, 224–227

friendship with Eliade, 256 imprisonment of, 265 influence of Benda on, 9 Iron Guard and, 116 legacy of, 5, 264–267 marriage of, 200–202, 227–228 Păltiniş group, x Păltiniş School, 266–267 photograph of, 159 political allegiances of, 224–228 on the role of the intellectual, 164–165 Non-spiritual moment, 156–157 Nu (Ionesco), 37, 170–171 O Oișteanu, Andrei, 2 Old Generation (generaţia socială), 14, 17, 90 Olteanu, Alexandru, 191 Omescu, Ion, 203 Optimism, 100 Ornea, Zigu, 15, 149–150, 153, 179 Orthodoxy, 45–47 O scrisoare pierdută (Caragiale), 268 P Palingenetic ultranationalism, 12 Păltiniş group, x Păltiniş School, 5, 266–267 Pandrea, Petre, 38, 263 Panzini, Alfredo, 172 Papagoga, Margareta, 237 Papini, Giovanni, 35 Părerile Libere, 5, 37 Pârvan, Vasile, 15, 27 Passion, 40 Pătrăşcanu, Lucreţiu, xi, 94, 255 Pătraşcu, Miliţa, 135 Patronage Society, 68 Pauker, Ana, 255 Pavel, Sorin, 38

 INDEX 

Payne, Stanley, 22 Peasants’ Party, 20 Pe culmile disperării [On the Heights of Despair] (Cioran), 38 Penciulescu, George, 267 People’s Republic of Romania (RPR), 268 Petrescu, Camil, 240 Petrescu, N., 69 Petreu, Marta, 6–7, 29, 47, 221–222, 240–241, 275 Petrovici, Ion, 91, 97 Petru Comarnescu: un neliniştit în secolul său [Petru Comarnescu: A Restless Man in His Century] (Grosu), 7 Philosophical Society, 68 Picasso, Pablo, 129 Pierre-Quint, Léon (fictional character), 2 Pillat, Ion, 117 Pippidi, Andrei, 9 Pirandello, Luigi, 171–172 Pleşu, Andrei, 266 Ploieşti oil refineries, 138 Poesis, 68 Poetry, 43, 207 Polihroniade, Mary, 2, 235 photograph of, 2 Polihroniade, Mihail ‘Mişu’ biographical sketch of, xxiv, 32, 35, 36 execution of, 215 Forum Group and, 70 Forum Group presentation, 73–74 imprisonment of, 214–215 Iron Guard and, 115–116 Lenin symposium, 94–95 literary reference to, 2 Mussolini symposium, 104 photograph of, 2 relationships with other members of the Criterion Association, 65

317

Societatea de politică externă (Foreign Policy Society), 68 Political allegiances, 216 See also specific individuals ‘Political Directions of the New Generation’ conference, 135–136 Political parties, 20–23 Politics, 241 Popa, Gr., 69 Popa, Victor Ion, 20 Popescu, Al., 125 Pop-Martian, D. Al., 130 Poporanism, 14 Popovici, Gheorghe, 167–168 Popovici, Lily, 68 Popovici-Lupa, Elena, 30 Pornography, 207 Pound, Ezra, 10 Practical people, 159 Present Past Past Present (Ionesco), 259 Press, 73, 109–110, 242 Professions, 91 Prostitution, 187, 198, 208 Protestantism, 45–46 Protopopescu, Dragoş, 242 Proust, Marcel, 123–124 Psychoanalysis, 98–99 Psychology, 45 R Race, 144–147 ‘Race’ symposium, 144 Rădulescu-Motru, Constantin Bergson symposium, 119 Lenin symposium, 94 Old Generation (generaţia socială) and, 17, 60, 90 spirituality and religion and, 19 ‘Trends in Philosophy: Metaphysics or Positive Science’ conference, 136 Ralea, Mihai, 91, 108

318 

INDEX

Rampa, 5, 37, 72 Rareş, Nina, 77 Rationalization, 274–275 Reactionary modernism, xi, 12 Regeneration, 22 Renard, Jules, 243 Rennie, Bryan, 7 Reporter, 198 Revisionism, 7 Revista Buna-Vestire, 5 Revista Fundaţiilor Regale, 5, 143–144 Revolution, 88–89, 159–167 Rhinocerization, Ionesco’s warning against, xvi Rhinoceros (Ionesco) historical context of, 214–216 message of, 274 origins of, 211–212 Ricketts, 74 Roberts, Joanne, 242 Röhm, Ernst, 195 Roman, Elly, 141 Romania Borsec, 146 celebration of, 13 communism in, 260–261 constitutional monarchy of, 16–17 dictatorships in, xvii, 214–216 difficult past of, 7 education in, 20 elite in, 3 Griviţa riots, 137–141 history of, xv, 7 Holocaust in, 215–216 homosexuality in, 194, 196, 203–204 interwar period of, 168, 207 map of, 17 martial law, 139–140 political upheaval in, 147–148 population of, 17–18 realization of Greater Romania, 17–20

‘Romanianness,’ 19 Treaty of Trianon, 17, 169 Romanian Academy, 168, 261 Romanian Communist Party (RCP), 138 Romanian Orthodox Christianity, 19, 21, 22 Rosetti, Alexandru, 218, 262 Roşu, Nicolae, 113–114, 182–183 Royal Foundation differences with Criterion Association, 133 location of, 96, 111–112 symposia at, 61–62, 68, 144 Russian revolution, 88 S Sacrificed Generation (generaţia de foc) members of, 14 Young Generation and, 25, 60 Sadova, Marietta biographical sketch of, xxiv, 32, 35–36 Contemporary Romanian Culture symposium, 130 Criterion Association and, 8, 77 death of, 267–271 friendship with Eliade, 268–270 friendship with Sebastian, 232–234 imprisonment of, 237, 238, 269 legacy of, 267–271 marriage of, 228 photograph of, 2, 228 Poesis, 68 political allegiances of, 227–238 Sadoveanu, Ion Marin, 35, 68, 99, 189 Said, Edward, 9 Salonul Independenţilor, 86 Sămănătorism (sowerism), 14 Sandburg, Carl, 54 Săndulescu, Ecaterina, 55, 219, 224 Săndulescu, Valentin, 22

 INDEX 

Savants, 41 Sburătorul, 14, 25 Scânteia, 269 Schiller, F.C.S., 145 Schmitt, Carl, 10 Scientific knowledge and specialization, 41 Sebastian, Mihail ‘Americanism and Europeanism’ conferences, 69 on the animalism of man, 211–212 biographical sketch of, xxiii, 32, 37 Chaplin symposium, 101–102 Contemporary Romanian Culture symposium, 130 on the Criterion Association, 147 Cum am devenit huligan, 2 death of, 261 De două mii de ani [For Two Thousand Years], xvi, 170, 240 diary of, 6 education abroad of, 48 Forum Group and, 70 Forum Group presentation, 77 friendship with Comarnescu, 240 friendship with Eliade, 250–251 friendship with Ionesco, 246–248 friendship with Sadova, 232–234 Jewish identity of, 240, 247 Jocul de-a vacanţa, 232 legacy of, 261–262 mentor-mentee relationship with Ionescu, 240–241 photograph of, 2 political allegiances of, 240–247 relationships with other members of the Criterion Association, 65–66 Steaua fără nume, 233 as a student of Ionescu, 29–30 Ultimă Ora, 262, 268 ‘Utilization of the American Spirit’ symposium, 68 Şeicaru, Pamfil, 26, 97

319

Sexual Instinct, The (Westfried), 200 Sexuality of Comarnescu, 196–204 Credinţa scandal and, 179–180 Garbo and, 122–123 Gide and, 108 during the interwar period, 207 persecution of homosexuality, 187 understanding of, 98–99, 194 Sfatul Ț ării, 17 Shore, Marci, x, xvii Sibiu, Popescu, 97 Sibiu Literary Circle, 11 Silber, Belu, 2, 33, 94, 221 Sima, Horia, 215, 235 Simmel, Georg, 57 Sin, Gheorghe Ionescu, 135 Six Characters in Search of an Author (Pirandello), 171–172 Skamander group, x Slatioreanu, Badea, 191 Socialism, 108, 238–239 Societatea de politică externă (Foreign Policy Society), 68 Sociological Society, 68 Sociology, 168–169 Socrates, 188 Sodomy, 187 Soffici, Ardengo, 172 ‘Solutions to the Economic Crisis’ symposium, 144 Șora, Mihail, 266, 269–270 Sorel, Georges, 95 Soviet Union, 21 Spengler, Oswald, 124–125 ‘Spiritual Directions of the New Generation’ symposium, 135–137, 139 Spiritual Itinerary, The [Itinerariu Spiritual], 32, 39–40 ‘Spirituality’ (article by Vulcănescu), 9 Spirituality and religion, 19, 44–47, 155–156

320 

INDEX

Sports, 72 Stahl, Henri H. biographical sketch of, 33 Freud symposium, 97 interests of, 38 Mussolini symposium, 104–105 on nationalism, 168–169 work of, 20 Stancu, Zaharia attacks on the Criterion Association, 147, 180 biographical sketch of, xxv, 33 Comarnescu and, 75, 182–184, 205 imprisonment of, 261 Krishnamurti conference, 122 Stark, Letta, 75 Stat [state], 19 Steaua fără nume (Sebastian), 233 Ştefănescu-Goangă, F., 215 Steinhardt, Nicolae, 265 Stelescu, Mihai, 214 Sterian, Margareta, 76, 134 Sterian, Paul biographical sketch of, 35 Contemporary Romanian Culture symposium, 130 Criterion Association and, 112 ‘Cycle of Major Moments of Music’ series, 142 Jianu and, 76–77 ‘Utilization of the American Spirit’ symposium, 68 Valéry symposium, 118 Stoilov, Simion, 256 Strikes, 138–139 Şuluţiu, Octav biographical sketch of, 33, 37 on the Criterion Association, 112 diary of, 88, 92, 93 on Gide, 107 on language, 169 on violence, 213

on women, 193 work of, 36 Surrealism, 11 Symposium formula, 69 Synthesis, 41 T Taccuino di Arno Borghi [The Notebook of Arno Borghi] (Soffici), 172 Tălianu, Ion, 236 Taşcă, G., 112, 136, 144 Tătărescu, Giza, 63–64 Telephone Tower, 52 Tell, Alexandru Christian biographical sketch of, xxv, 33, 38 Credinţa scandal and, 185 execution of, 215 and the fight for the man of tomorrow, 158–159 imprisonment of, 214–215 Mussolini symposium, 105 Tendințe (Trends) series ‘Cultural Topics’ conference, 136 ‘Current trends in Physics: the Problem of Matter’ conference, 136–137 ‘General Economic Directions’ conference, 136–137 ‘Immediate Economic Directions: Monetary Solutions’ conference, 136 ‘Literary Topics’ conference, 136 ‘Political Directions of the New Generation’ conference, 135–136 ‘Spiritual Directions of the New Generation’ symposium, 135–137, 139 ‘Trends in Contemporary Art’ conference, 137

 INDEX 

‘Trends in Domestic Politics: the Romanian State’ conference, 136–137 ‘Trends in External Politics’ conference, 136 ‘Trends in Philosophy: Metaphysics or Positive Science’ conference, 136 Teodorescu, Alexandru, see Tudor, Sandu (Alexandru Teodorescu) Theatre, 234–237 Theosophy and the Theosophical Society, 44, 121 Theweleit, Klaus, 194 Third Reich, 195 Third sacrificial curve, 139 ‘Time when we will no longer be free to do what we wish,’ 249 Timpa, 199 Tismăneanu, Vladimir, 22, 278 Țit ̦eica, G., 136–137 Titulescu, Nicolae, 196–197 Toma, Dimitriu, 236 Ţopa, Sorana biographical sketch of, 33 Contemporary Romanian Culture symposium, 130 Criterion Association and, 92, 195 friendship with Cioran, 223 Krishnamurti and, 121–122 ‘Totul Pentru Ţară’ [Everything for the Country] politcal party, 214 Traditionalists, 13 ‘Traffic of Male Meat’ series, 186 Trăire, 15, 27 Transylvania, 17, 20, 146 Treason of the Intellectuals, The [La trahison des clercs] (Benda), xvi, 9 Treaty of Trianon, 17, 169 ‘Trends in Contemporary Art’ conference, 137 ‘Trends in Domestic Politics: the Romanian State’ conference, 136–137

321

‘Trends in External Politics’ conference, 136 ‘Trends in Philosophy: Metaphysics or Positive Science’ conference, 136 Trianon Treaty, 17, 169 Truth, intellectuals and, 10 Tudor, Sandu (Alexandru Teodorescu), 33 biographical sketch of, xxv, 204 Credinţa scandal and, 179–192 Floarea de Foc, 75 imprisonment of, 261 Krishnamurti conference, 122 Tugearu, Ioan, 64 Ţ urcanu, Florin, xxv, 6, 98, 129, 147 Ţ uţea, Petre, 267, 268 ‘Two Italian Books’ article, 172 ‘Two Italian Commentaries’ article, 171–172 U Ultimă Ora (Sebastian), 9, 36, 262, 268 Ultranationalism, 12 Unamuno, Miguel de, 172 Underhill, Evelyn, 29 United States, 52 Universalism, 51 University Group for the United Nations, 68 University of Chicago, xvi Universul, 190 Universul Literar, 5, 37, 207 USSR, 21 ‘Utilization of the American Spirit’ symposium, 68 V Vaida-Voevod, Alexandru, 139 Valéry, Paul, 117–119, 172 Vanhaelemeersch, Philip, 7, 33, 219 Vianu, Alexandru, 117

322 

INDEX

Vianu, Tudor, 60, 91, 117, 136, 253–254 Viaţa Literară, 113 Viaţa Nouă (Eliade), 160 Viaţa Românească, 5, 138 Viforeanu, Petre, 94, 144 Village life, 19 Village Museum, 20 Vinea, Ion, 97 Violence, 213 Vlad Ţepeş League, 212 Voinescu, Alice, 60, 122 Vojen, Ion Victor, 115–116, 267–271 Vremea, 5, 56–57 Vulcănescu, Mircea ‘Americanism and Europeanism’ conferences, 69 biographical sketch of, xxv, 6, 32 Contemporary Romanian Culture symposium, 130 Credinţa scandal and, 184 on the Criterion Association, 152–153 Dimensiunea românească a existenţei [The Romanian Dimension of Existence], 19 education abroad of, 48 Forum Group and, 70 Forum Group presentation, 73 Gide symposium, 107 imprisonment of, 261 influence of Benda on, 9 interests of, 38 Lenin symposium, 94–95 marriage of, 195 Mussolini symposium, 104 note to Comarnescu, 78–79 photograph of, 159 Royal Foundation and, 65 on the social history of modern Romania, 14 spirituality and, 155–156

as a student of Ionescu, 28–29 student work of, 20 ‘Utilization of the American Spirit’ symposium, 68 W Wach, Joachim, 256 Wallachia, 17 Wallachian Revolution, 4 ‘War’ symposium, 144 Washington, DC, 54 Western philosophy, 50 Westfried, Iosif, 200 Whitman, Walt, 54 ‘Why I believe in the victory of the Legionary Movement’ (Eliade), 229–230 Wilde, Oscar, 188 Wolin, 275 Women Cioran and, 223–224 Comarnescu and, 198–199 Criterion Association and, x, 193–195, 205 World War I, 26 World War II (WWII), 254–255 Writers Association, 242 Writer’s Union of Romania, 261 Y Yanev, Yanko, 10 Yeats, William Butler, 10 Yoga, 98–99 Yoga: Essai sur les origines de la mystique Indienne (Eliade), 50 Young Generation Chaplin and, 100 Criterion Association and, 59–60, 89 discourse of, 33–34

 INDEX 

dismissal of, 7 education abroad of, 50, 59 fascist leanings of, 5, 274–275 Generation ’27 name, 9 historical context of, 14 homosexuality and, 108 influence of, 12 intentions of, 33 Ionescu and, 33

membership of, 34–35, 60 Sacrificed Generation and, 25 Spiritual Itinerary, 41–42 Vulcănescu on, 162 Z Zarifopol-Johnston, Ilinca, 221

323