DAMAGE. I finished the book, being in Găgeşti At the fall of Constantinople: May 29, 1453 (French Edition) Kindle Edition, by Maurice and Marilène Chavardès. Based on history that makes great prose, the book ends with a so-called journey of the Great Turk through Constantinople before it became Istanbul for centuries. It is actually a pretext to signal the huge legacy left by Byzantium to the Great Turk, but also the irreparable damage done by the Turks from the steppes and from the tents to an immense legacy of Greco-Roman Europe:
“During the devastation of the City, wonderful works of art, monuments, thousands of paintings and books were destroyed, others damaged. It was a terrible blow to Hellenistic and Christian culture. At the same time, Greek scholars and men of letters who managed to flee and took with them masterpieces and manuscripts stolen from under the noses of the Turks, settled in Italy, thus Western artists and writers were influenced by Byzantine civilization, thus marking the beginning of the Renaissance”.
The end of the book is masterful:
“The historian cannot forget that on May 29, 1453 the West suffered an irreversible blow in its politics, in its culture, in its economy”.
Isn’t that what Princess Bibescu’s grandfather wanted to express years ago when he said: Is the fall of Constantipol a personal misfortune that happened to us last week? Among all the prose invented on this occasion of History, one of the strongest seems to me to be the belief of the Byzantines that God, the Virgin Mary will save them. During the brutal Siege, there is a legend circulating in the city that the Turks will reach the Arch of Theodosius and that there Archangel Gabriel will stand in their way and stop them. When the cry is heard The city is lost! men, women, children, some of them with breasts, gather in Saint Sophia out of the belief that God will not let the Turks enter. The Turks enter, butcher them, take them hostage and desecrate the settlement.
Where is God’s protection?
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Shards. from The history to Eugen Barbu, about which I discovered what I had before I bought it from an Antiquarian, stand out from the poetry of Mihaela Minulescu. “It is the step of the traveler that knocks the news at the window”; “the light remains without questions and answers”; “Through the middle of my house flows Ophelia dead”; The history it is also worth it for Barbu’s talent as a publicist. Alexandru Andriţoiu, director of the magazine Family and thus courted by literary critics, including those from Bucharest, it is thus described: “Abundant poet, using his talent to the point of refusal, unrestrained, clinging to names and circumstances of good mood, Andriţoiu makes verses like a resinous fir tree (…)”. From Barbu’s selection I select: “Woe to me! How does falling light sound”; “With soft winds, said as on a flute/ the hour of the pure evening arrives/ Through ornic time walks more cautiously”; “Autumn more yellow than Palia from Orăștie”; “fat flowers grown in sweet climates”; “Water gets angry”.
NOTE: This editorial is taken in its entirety from cristoiublog.ro
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