For My Legionaries by Corneliu Zelea Codreanu

Author:Corneliu Zelea Codreanu [Codreanu, Corneliu Zelea]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, pdf
Tags: Political Science, Political Ideologies, Fascism & Totalitarianism
ISBN: 9781910881002
Google: WZmDCAAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1910881007
Publisher: Black House Publishing
Published: 2015-04-16T05:00:00+00:00

RETURNING TO IASI

After I thanked several families in Turnul-Severin by visiting them, for the manner they adopted toward me, I boarded the next day a special train for Iasi. The special train was not for me, but for the over 300 Iasians who came to the trial, to which were hooked up the cars of the Focsanians, Barladians and Vasluians. Thousands of people came to the station to see us off and decorate our train with flowers.

The train left. Behind, the multitude fluttered handkerchiefs expressing its love and wish to continue the fight by "hurrahs" that made the air reverberate. From my window I was watching that large crowd of people, none of whom I had known before, but that now parted from us with tears in their eyes as if they had known us for years. Inwardly I prayed, thanking the Lord for the victory He gave US.

It was only now, as I passed from car to car, that I could see again my comrades from Iasi, talking to each and rejoicing together that God made us victorious, saving us from the threat from which all our enemies thought I would not be able to escape.

In one compartment I encountered Professor Cuza, and Professor and Mrs. Sumuleanu. They were contented, being surrounded by our love.

All the compartments were beautifully bedecked with flowers and greenery. And at the first stop out of Tumul-Severin a new mountain of flowers was brought-to our great surprise-by peasants with their priests, by teachers with their school children, all of them dressed in national costumes.

There were many people in each railway station awaiting the arrival of the train. These were not like the cold, official receptions. It was neither duty, nor fear, nor self-interest that brought those people out. I saw old folks at the edges of some crowds who cried.

Wonder why? They knew no one on the train. It seemed that an unknown force compelled them to come, mysteriously whispering to them:

"Go to the depot, for among all the trains that pass by, there is one that goes on the line of Romanian destiny. All the rest run for the interests of those riding them, save this one that runs on the people's course, for the people." Crowds sometimes establish contact with the soul of the people. A moment of vision. Multitudes see the nation, with its dead and all its past; feel all its glorious moments as well as those of defeat. They can feel the future seething. This touch with the whole immortal and collective soul of the nation is feverish, full of trembling. When this happens, crowds cry. This perhaps is the national mystique that some criticize because they do not know what it is and which others cannot define because they cannot experience it.

If Christian mystique aiming at ecstasy is man's contact with God, through a "jump from human nature into the divine one" (Crainic*), national mystique is nothing more than man's contact, or that of the multitude, with the

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