Alecu Ghica, “the most perfect comrade in suffering”

After a week of living together, one morning my brother was taken away, only to be sent half an hour later to another cell, an ordinary one, without sheets and in a terrible mess. I recognised the Zarca. (…)

The next morning I was taken to the police station, into a cell with Professor Vasile Stoian, Eugen Rațiu and Prince Alecu Ghica. The re-education clubs were organised in this section. We exchanged impressions and information, a little excited, except for Alecu Ghica, who was always perfectly in control. […]

Notice the feverish activity in the corridor of the “section”. We could hear the shuffling of clogs or boots from numerous groups passing to the right and left. I could also hear some murmuring. There seemed to be a crowd. While I was making all sorts of assumptions, Prince Ghica sat down on the Turkish bed and bowed his forehead in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He began his prayers, in which he remained absorbed for about half an hour.

When he rose from the bed, he asked us:

– Have you discovered the secrets? Better pray. Nothing better awaits us than a simulacrum of freedom, and we will probably see our families again, if we find them alive. But let’s see what happens first!

In all the circumstances I have been through, both in Jilava, where I shared a cell with Prince Ghica for almost a year, and afterwards, his refuge has been prayer. Serene and reserved, Alecu Ghica was always the most perfect comrade in suffering, the most modest and balanced. He never accepted to be spared the work of the cell (sweeping, carrying the stakes, washing the scales, etc.) and always carried it out in the most exemplary way. He was never demonstrative or belligerent in his dealings with the prison administration. With the most perfect obedience in form and in the most elegant language, he did not accept any touching of what constituted his moral and spiritual capital. His attitude was always firm, but not ostentatious. He rarely spoke of his ancestors, whose lives were interwoven with the history of the Romanians, and the family was a sacred domain about which he spoke discreetly and rarely. In short, life with Alecu Ghica was a pleasure for the soul.

(Gabriel Bălănescu, From the Kingdom of Death. Pages from the history of the Iron Guard, Gordian Publishing House, Timișoara, 1994, pp. 233-234)