George Manu – a great hero of the Romanian nation

One day I will be transferred somewhere else. Eugen Dragomir is with me. I don’t know anyone in the new cell, but Eugen Dragomir is overjoyed when he meets someone. The two of them hugged when they saw each other. Immediately Eugen Dragomir took me by the hand and introduced me to the person he had hugged. It was Professor George Manu. We shook hands spontaneously and for a long time, expressing our satisfaction at being together. We had both heard about each other. We are now in the same cell. Once the momentary excitement had passed, the eight of us shared the four beds. I will sleep in the same bed as Professor Geroge Manu for as long as we remain in this formation.

The acquaintance I made with him, the conversations we had, the way we lived together, I consider to be the most important, the most fruitful of all my experiences in prison.

I say this from the point of view of the clear-sightedness, the orientation, the power to judge the political situation as a whole, in the present and in the future, which Professor George Manu shared with me; also his intellectual training, the knowledge he possessed in all fields, from history to music, from philosophy to literature, made me consider him a real encyclopedia, especially because of his kindness in sharing with others whatever was asked of him. I noticed his willingness to help anyone who asked him for explanations, clarifications, advice, qualities that I can hardly say I have ever encountered. To all these qualities was added one that was his own, thanks to the formation he had received: modesty, which made him even more respected, esteemed and loved by all those with whom he came into contact.

Although he had lost his freedom in 1948, he had a healthy morality which he shared with those around him. […]

Professor Manu believed that the end could only come through a military confrontation following a coalition capable of assuming full historical responsibility. He did not see this possibility so soon, especially after his conversations with those diplomats. However, he expressed his conviction that the solution would be long term and that we in the prisons should be prepared to resist as long as possible. He ruled out any idea of compromise or surrender to the new order. He preferred a firm return to our original positions rather than capitulation. He referred to a saying that was an ethical guideline to follow: “Rather than win by infamy, it is better to die by walking the path of honour”. He was aware that all the suffering of our generation, as he called it, the “40-ist” generation of the 20th century, would not be in vain. […]

He also said that we were a symbol of Romanian resistance, of Christian spirituality against atheistic materialism. With such satisfaction in our hearts, let us maintain the positions we now occupy. These were his convictions. It was as if he came from another world, from other spheres. […]

After we had separated, each following his own destiny, we were within a few cells of each other. We communicated through the wall and the Morse system on the wire. He was alone, isolated from the rest of the world. He told me something else. He had been summoned to the prison administration and offered immediate release on the condition that he work in nuclear research in Dubno, U.S.S.R. […].

When he heard what was being asked of him, he gave a categorical and unreserved refusal. He didn’t even want to hear about it. Someone had come to Aiud specifically to talk to him. He remained intransigent, uncompromising and dignified.

When he returned to his cell, still alone, he was completely abandoned. He told me later that he was not feeling well. He had lost his appetite. There’s no bed in the cell. So he’s lying on the floor with only his blanket. He asked to see the doctor. No one listens to him. He is completely ignored. He lay there, unable to get up. The militiamen only take him in when they see him curled up in the blanket. He doesn’t even get his food for a while. He has been in this state for a long time.

He no longer answers my calls. His cellmates noticed all this.

Later they told me that he was taken to the infirmary not on his feet but on his blanket.

Later I heard how he was received by the prison doctor, Dr. Balea, seeing his condition, exclaimed: “Oh, Professor, how have you allowed yourself to get into this state?” to which he, barely able to speak, was able to give him the following answer: “I did not allow myself to get like this, but those who let me get like this”.

Next to him, in the last moments of his life, was the architect Nicolae Goga, whom I had met in the mines of Baia Sprie and Cavnic. Professor George Manu had entrusted him with his last thoughts, a kind of moral testament. After some time, Goga is brought to the Zarca. He is my neighbour. It is he who brings us the sad news. But not only that, he also sends me a personal message from the professor, spoken in his last moments. “Tell Nicki (as he used to call me) to tell everyone not to give in to the pressure they will be under. To stand firm, to accept no compromise. To remember everything we both talked about”.

Nicolae Goga promised to pass on this last wish, which he did. It was the architect Nicolae Goga who closed his eyes. […]

This was the great Romanian, a true man of noble birth, a true bone of a gentleman, a descendant of the imperial family of Byzantium, Professor George Manu. […]

If the ordeal of the Romanians under the communist regime is ever written about, if any name is mentioned, that of Professor George Manu will be inscribed in golden letters, in a place of great honour.

I have always honoured him as a great hero of the Romanian people, and I will carry this honour to my grave.

(Nicu Păun – from the Resistance Documents no. 6, A.F.D.P.R., Bucharest, pp. 237-249 apud Multele suferinței, Vol. II)