DAN BERINDEI, Member of the Romanian Academy

In 1812, an entire people was separated by tearing off more than one third of the Principality of Moldova, which was annexed by the Russian Empire. The dramatic process that occurred two years later – until then, futile hopes had made people believe in a return to normalcy as far as borders were concerned – was properly described by Manolache Drăghici. “Those were the hours of wretchedness”, the chronicler was writing, “of timeless dejection, because people were flocking all along the Prut River, going to and fro and leaving their villages for weeks on end, bidding their parents, brethren and kin farewell, separated for ever from those with whom they had lived to that day” (Manolaki Drăghici, Istoriea Moldovei pe timp de 500 ani până în dzilele noastre, Iaşi, 1857, tome II, p. 94).

This split occurred at a time when a historical process had not yet been concluded and the Romanian people itself was passing from its condition as kinfolk to that of a nation, from kinfolk conscience to national conscience. Consequently, the two parts of the Moldavians were destined to witness parallel developments. Back in the Principality of Moldova, the road to modern unity continued, as the inhabitants came closer and closer to the Romanians living in the other provinces. No wonder that the first stage of the national union unfolded four decades later, laying the groundwork for the Grand Union of 1918, when the entire nation was reunited within the same boundaries. On the other hand, the Moldovans inhabiting the territory bordered by the Prut and Dniester Rivers were isolated for more than a century from the remainder of the modern nation that was pursuing its path of formation. Instead, the Bessarabians were increasingly subjected to a process of Russification, which impacted their evolution and was reflected particularly in the field of culture.

Exclusion and elimination

While the intercultural “communicating vessels” between the Romanians on either side of the Carpathians ensured the uninterrupted flow of the fully-blossoming national culture and at the same time the natural exchanges between them, even though a large share of the Romanians were under foreign domination, a steel wall interrupted the functioning of these “communicating vessels” between the two separated parts of Moldova. The cultural development of Bessarabia was gradually isolated from that unfolding in the rest of the Romanian regions, which eventually led to a complete halt in inter-Romanian cultural relations. The growth of Romanian culture in between the Prut and Dniester Rivers was smothered.

In Walachia and Moldova, the Organic Regulations had a modernizing role and even a national component. Thus, the two Romanian provinces saw the development of higher education at the “Sf. Sava” College and the Michaelian Academy, while Alexandru Ghica took the initiative of setting up a widespread education network in all the villages south of the Milcov River. Transylvania saw the Romanian confessional learning flourish, first and foremost within the Blaj schools, as well as in the newly-created higher academic institution in Braşov. Meanwhile, Romanian learning was ostracized and then even completely banned in the province bordered by the Prut and Dniester Rivers. Starting 1829, despite the censorship imposed by the ruling power, the press witnessed a genuine boom in the Romanian Principalities, helping convey the national message via the actual titles of the major periodicals – Albina românească, Curierul românesc, Dacia literară, Magazin istoric pentru Dacia, etc. Gazeta de Transilvania and Foaia pentru minte, inimă şi literatură started being published in Transylvania. Bessarabia had nothing to brag about in this respect!
The Romanian theater, with a visible presence both in Iaşi and Bucharest, failed to develop as an institution mobilizing the souls between the Prut and Dniester Rivers, although theater companies from Romania did stage several plays there.
Bessarabian national literature managed to surface, although it could hardly avoid paying tribute to the Russian language of the oppressors. The most prominent literary figures included Constantin Stamati, known as “the swan of Bessarabia”, fabulist Ioan Sârbu or the poet Alexandru Nacu and especially the scholar Alexandru Hasdeu, who had been invited to join the Literary Society, but was not allowed to attend its proceedings. However, as a revelation of his innermost feelings, Bogdan Petriceicu Hasdeu’s father wrote to his peers from abroad: “Please receive my heartfelt compliments on behalf of Bessarabia, which looks forward to the future destiny of a united Romania...”. And he added: “I am the same flesh and blood as you are” (Ion Nistor, Istoria Basarabiei, the Stelian Neagoe edition, Bucharest, Humanitas Publishing House, 1991, p. 264). Writers such as Costache Negruzzi, who had close ties with Bessarabia, were able to create and voice their opinions freely within the autonomous states.

Ciceagov proposes, but...

Overall, the very essence of the national culture was stifled and prevented from becoming manifest in the province bordered by the Prut and Dniester Rivers, while also hindering any fraternal ties. The Prut River not only separated the Romanian people in two, but also threw off track the cultural relations that would have otherwise been normal not only between brothers, but also between neighbors. For a century, Bessarabia was forced to veer off its normal path of development.
Admiral Ciceagov had proposed to tsar Alexander I to have consideration for the actual particularities of the new province that Russia annexed pursuant to the Bucharest treaty. Back in 1812, he was writing: “I believe this country will flourish provided Your Majesty shelters it against too many powers and authorities. There is nothing to be done here, unless absolutely necessary, particularly if the local circumstances do not allow it” (ibidem, p. 179). The tsar seemed to be persuaded by the dignitary’s advice. He left the coat of arms intact, appointed the Moldavian boyar Scarlat Sturdza as civilian governor (be it for a short tenure), he conceded that all papers be drafted in the language of the country, while also establishing a commission in 1816 for compiling Moldovan legislation. The resistance put up by the Bessarabians, the boyars and metropolitan bishop Gavril Bănulescu, who had struggled to safeguard their identity, also played a role in this, as they depicted their people – in a memorandum addressed to the tsar – as “descendants of the ancient Roman colonists who had settled in Dacia”.
The bilingual publishing (both in Russian and in Romanian) of the official decree whereby Bessarabia was declared an “oblast” (a type of administrative division in Slavic countries) as well as the visit of Alexander I to Chişinău – on which occasion he vowed to observe the full autonomy of the province, as reconfirmed via a rescript allowing the use of the local language and laws – were as many indications that the promise of non-interference would be kept. However, it turned out to be nothing more than an illusion. Even from the early years after the passing of the aforementioned decree, administrative institutions were gradually transferred under imperial authority, the Moldavian boyars were replaced in office, the high officials of the province were now appointed instead of being elected, while Russian became the second official language and then the only official language of the province.

Slavonic language in churches

In 1828, Vorontsov’s regulation laid the groundwork for the russification process. In 1833, the Moldavian language – or, should we say, Romanian – was banned from all institutions, while the captains acting as prefects in various counties were replaced by Russian officials (nachalniks). As a matter of fact, article 63 of the aforementioned regulation prohibited the use of Romanian in public documents (ibidem, p. 189). Meanwhile, the ethnic composition of the province changed to the detriment of the locals, as newcomers belonging to various ethnic groups were encouraged to settle in Bessarabia by being granted a range of privileges. If we were to take the 1897 and 1912 censuses for granted, the number of Moldavian nationals had witnessed a dramatic slump to 56% and even 48% in total population (ibidem, p. 214). Although these figures did not necessarily reflect a reality, they were an indication of the tribute paid to the invading empire over the past century. Torn off and isolated from its Romanian body, Bessarabia was seriously affected in terms of culture, which also sent ripple effects to its Church. In only a few decades’ time, the hierarchy of the church was subject to Russification. In the early stages, especially thanks to the enthusiasm displayed by metropolitan bishop Gavril Bănulescu, numerous religious books had been printed in Romanian, some with financial support from the right bank of the Prut River. However, this activity lost momentum and was eventually halted altogether in mid-19th century. In December 1882, pursuant to a decision taken by the Synod, the printing works of the Metropolitan Church were closed down “because Slavonic language was introduced in all churches belonging to that eparchy” (Petre Cazacu, Moldova dintre Prut şi Nistru. 1812-1918, Chişinău, Ştiinţa, 1992, p. 178)! Once Bessarabia was transformed into a gubernia, in 1871, it was ordered that all books written in the Moldavian language – or, should we say, Romanian – be collected from all churches and stored at the Metropolitan Church in Chişinău, where they served for no less than seven years as fuel for the winter-time heating of the metropolitan palace (Ion Nistor, op.cit., p. 234)! After these developments in the 19th century, things took a turn for the better towards the end of the century and in the early decades of the 20th century, amidst the first signs of a national awakening.

Illiteracy as a weapon

Learning itself had undoubtedly been at a pretty much developed stage in the annexed province. Within the first decade and a half, the Romanian language was present in the learning process, but it was gradually excluded. The years 1835-1842 marked a deadline for all those involved in the administrative and institutional system to learn Russian. No Romanian teaching book was printed from 1844 to 1861. Until 1873, the Romanian language was an optional subject matter in the high-school inaugurated in Chişinău in 1833 (ibidem, p. 258). At a certain stage, pupils would choose between Romanian and German, then Romanian was taught in parallel to Greek and was not compulsory. In 1867, the study of Romanian was eliminated from public schools altogether (ibidem, p. 257).
Urban areas in Bessarabia were seriously impacted and Russification was overwhelmingly present, but the majority rural areas put up a fierce resistance, as a genuine citadel of national resistance. Paradoxically, illiteracy functioned as a weapon of defense! During the last years of Russian oppression, only 19.1% of school-age children actually went to school, where everything was taught in Russian (Petre Cazacu, op.cit., p. 19), a language that most Bessarabian pupils – particularly those in the countryside – were unfamiliar with. Not knowing the Russian language was tantamount to an obstacle on the path to education. But, paradoxically, this state of affairs also represented a shield for the Moldavian peasants! They lived in the confinement of their villages, which – in terms of their existence – actually meant the protection of their national identity! Ignorance is sometimes a shelter!
The Romanian culture was the first to fall victim to the separation of 1812, which is understandable given its role and significance in safeguarding an identity. By ostracizing and eliminating the language altogether, by hindering Romanian learning, by cutting the roots of national knowledge and brotherhood and instead bringing into the province as many newcomers as possible, the tsarist authorities aimed at severing for good any and all ties between the newly-enslaved people and those that remained across the new border of 1812. But “blood is thicker than water” and, miraculously, the national awakening started from the confined villages, which had preserved the national identity. The struggle of the Bessarabians towards the great undertaking of 1918 gained momentum in the strut and fret of end-19th century and especially in the early decades of the 20th century!