Drawings by W. T. Benda Ultimately everything reaches its destination. Everything goes to its own kind, whether to-day or to-morrow, in a thousand or a hundred thousand years, within eternity, drifting, soaring, and chang ing forms innumerable times, until it reaches that place where it belongs. Even the straw that goes into a baked brick does not remain there perma nently. The years will wedge it out. So, no matter how, and no matter when, we always make our goal. Thus man goes about with one ruling passion surging in his veins. And it is by that ruling passion that one rec ognizes the son and the son of his son. Whether the form of the body, the lines of the face, the color of the eye, or the tone of voice, be alike or not, even when there is not one single outward trace of common blood to call one kin, the ruling passion is incrusted upon the soul of kin. For ultimately everything reaches its destination. So that even the straw baked in brick is sought out by the wind, to-morrow or in a thou sand years, within eternity, and sent through space and years where it belongs. Stretching along both sides of the Seret River, which splits the plains of Moldavia its whole length, is the old property of the Stanescus. The domain of pasture-land and pine- wood has been in the family for over four hundred years. It was old George Stanescu, who lived in the seven teenth century, and, freeing it of debt and incumbency, decreed that nothing more be added to the property and that not one hectare ever be parted with. Every Stanescu lived up to that tradition. The river divided the property into two parts. Following tradition, every boyar embarked every Sunday upon a large raft built es pecially for the purpose, and, sur rounded by his favorite band of Tzig- any musicians, he rode slowly down the river, the length of his property, to greet the peasants, his vassals, who came to watch the procession from both shores. Seldom, if ever, had a Stanescu missed his Sunday visit. When a boyar Stanescu died, his body was kept over the first Sunday, so that he could have the last procession through his domain. Of the Stanescu prop erty it was said, "The Seret passes Copyright, 1922, by Tine Centort Co. All righta reserved.
Thought it, and it taken a day on a raft to go from end to end." The old boyars sent their sons to study in foreign countries, to Russia, to France, or to Germany. But in variably, after a few years, the young Stanescus would come home from the foreign land and beg to remain on the property. The voluptuous life of Byzantian Moscow or the riotous life of gay Paris never succeeded in taking permanent hold of the soul of a Stan- escu. And when they returned home, they would explore every nook and corner, roaming through their im mense property, making maps of the lakes, hills, and dales, hunting the bear to his lair and the fox to his den with no desire to kill, but just to know where they were; becoming acquainted with every peasant, dancing with the girls at the inns, and in time dropping all the culture acquired away from their homes. Divesting themselves of the clothes they wore, they donned the simple peasant's garments, wide white trousers, a sleeveless, embroid ered vest, and a shirt of homespun tied at the neck with two red ribbons. The other boyars living in the capi tal of the country, immersed in pleas ure and politics, always referred to the Stanescus as "landed peasants and savages." The daughters of Stanes cus married boyars and noblemen and lived in large cities, but the Stan- escu men always married peasants' daughters. Yet even the best blood runs thin in time. Thus it happened that when Jancu Stanescu's only son, George, died before he was twenty-two, Jancu remained the last of his race, trembling with fear that the end of the Stanescu rule had come, that the river was never to see the Sunday procession of the boyars, and that the several married daughters and their husbands were to come with lawyers and men with measuring-tapes to tear the land apart, desecrating it, parceling it out among themselves, changing the names of the villages and hamlets, and des troying that which many generations had built. On the domain of the Stanescus lived a tribe of Gipsy musicians. Among them was one called Cornel, who played the violin so beautifully that his fame had spread beyond the land of the boyar. Cornel, like all the other Tziganies, although well treated, longed to go away and play at the curtes of the other boyars. Some man had come from the land of the Rus sians and assured him he could have him play at the czar's own palace. But the old boyar would not allow any of his Gipsies to depart from his do main. They were his slaves. Cornel and his band played only at such weddings and funerals as the boyar permitted, and a custom had developed among the young men not to ask their sweethearts, "Will you marry me?" Instead, they would say, "Would you like to hear Cornel play?" For it was well known that many of the girls preferred to marry such men as could have Cornel play at their weddings. The inhabitants of the Stanescu domain divided themselves into two classes, those at whose wed dings Cornel had played and those at whose weddings he had not. For at a wedding where Cornel played the boyar always put in an appearance, and the length of time he spent at a wedding measured the degree of favor and esteem in which he held the host. At one of the weddings the boyar, Jancu Stanescu, had remarked
Tzigany boy of about twelve who was holding a violin beneath his coat and was watching every movement of Cornel. Between dances the boyar saw the little boy retire to a corner to repeat on his own violin that which he had just heard the master play. The rapture, the serious intent of the little Tzigany, as well as the great sorrow at his inability to do as well as he de sired, contorted the dark brown face and brought tears to the large black eyes. Again and again he tried to imitate Cornel's perfect trill. Again and again he tried to obtain that per fect catch from the heel of the bow that was Cornel's forte. Failing to do it as well as he wanted to, the little boy spoke to his fingers, to his bow, to the strings, to the violin, begging them to do better than before. "Who is that boy there?" the boyar asked his host. The host glanced at the little Gipsy, and averting his eye in a rather em barrassed way as he met the lively query of the boyar's gaze, he answered: "I really don't know," and hurried away. The boyar put the same ques tion to a second and a third man. Failing to receive a definite answer, he finally asked Comel himself. "It is a long story, Boyar," Cornel answered, "one that saddens my heart; but the gist of it is: there is Cosinca. She is my brother's daugh ter. She was beautiful. Half a dozen men asked to marry her before she was sixteen. They all loved her, but she said 'Yes' to no one, neither did she say 'No.' One of them was found dead in the river, another's heart was pierced, a third one is in jail for life, a fourth committed suicide. Your son died. The man who married her swears that Tanasi is not his son." The boyar looked at the little Gipsy who was fiddling away in a corner, and his heart leaped with joy. So, after all, there was a possibility that the blood of the Stanescus had not completely run out. What mattered it if it was half-Gipsy as long as it was still Stanescu and male? Had his son been alive, he would of course not have permitted his marriage to a Gipsy girl, for then there would have been hope for other sons. But now he ought to be happy that there was any kind of a Stanescu male, even one from the loins of a Tzigany. He looked at the boy and tried to discover in him a resemblance to the family. Though most of the other Tziganies had some resemblance to the Stanescu boyars, there was no trace of them in little Tanasi. The form of his head, the brow, the sharp nose, the mouth, the blue lips, almost forming half- circles, the brown grain of his skin, were all thoroughly Tzigany, as though no white blood had ever been mixed with it. Still, one could never know. The boyar remembered how some of his thoroughbred horses that had re verted to other types had retained all the fire, all the spirit, of their direct progenitors and all the speed of their sires. If there could only be a sign by which he could recognize whether or not Tanasi was a grandson of his, how gladly would he welcome that boy to the curte! How gladly would he pro nounce him a grandson and make him the ruler of the domain! But there was no sign. He ap proached the boy and talked to him. No resemblance in the timbre of his voice, nothing in the shape of the eyes. That peculiarly shaped lobe of the ear that had been a Stanescu
mark, stamping them for centuries, was totally absent. "What do they call you?" he asked the boy. "Tanasi," he answered. "And who is your mother?" "Cosinca." "What do you want to be?" "A lautar, a violinist. I want to play the violin as well as Cornel and to play at all the weddings." "And if you had food and clothing and a nice house to live in and all the things you wanted, what would you then want to do?" the boyar asked the boy, looking into his eyes. "Play the violin the whole day." There was no hesitation in the boy's answer. The slightest would have given the boyar some hope that blood other than Gipsy's was in his veins. The slightest might have indicated a wedge of Stanescu blood, but little Tanasi answered promptly, affirming himself whole-heartedly a Tzigany of the truest race and type. For a while the boyar allowed him self to be distracted by the dances that were going on. According to custom, he had the first dance with the bride in the center of the locked-arm-in-arm hora dance. But after the new wine had been drunk and the house of the young couple blessed and the dowry of bolts and bolts of homespun cloth and silk and bundles of fur skins had been shown to everybody, after the painted wooden spoons and forks and brown earthen dishes had been blessed and praised by the popa, after the newly wedded couple had been closed up in their room, the key of which was put into the pocket of the father of the groom, the peasants and the band of Gipsy musicians went farther down the forest to sit around a camp- fire and talk and listen to the music made by Cornel. The boyar saw little Tanasi again hiding behind a tree and listening enraptured to the violins. "And what does Cosinca say?" the boyar suddenly asked Cornel. "About what, Boyar?" the Gipsy queried. "About the boy, Cornel." "Nobody has yet heard her say 'Yes' or 'No.' " And while the peasants sang and danced and Cornel played, the boyar stretched himself upon the green moss to dream that his race had not com pletely died out. Oh, if that Tanasi boy carried but the slightest resem blance to a Stanescu! If he but had the peculiarly shaped ear-lobe, it would have been enough. Yet he was a handsome little chap in his own way. The intensity about him was so very pronounced at that early age that it distinguished him from all the other boys. The following morning the boyar sent for Tanasi. "Let 's hear you play," he ordered. "What shall I play?" the boy asked, trembling. "Whatever you wish, son." The boyar stroked his hair. So Tanasi played fragments from the improvisations he had heard the night before. It was far above the ordinary playing. The small tone was intense and vibrating with light and color. Tanasi could do only a few things, but he did them almost perfectly. He had limned his bowing to a velvet finish and smoothed his fingers to marvelous fluidity. Old Stanescu realized that there was great promise in those earnest eyes.
The treaty is the most fundamental document for the knowledge of the medieval political thought or the boyars" (Stănescu: XXV). In fact, they adopted the most important elements of the constitutional order of central Europe: the Pacta et conventa (the "agreed pacts" from the Polish system) or capitulatio caesarea (from Germany and Hungary); the responsibility of the nobles for the government of the country (i.e. the adoption of the aristocratic monarchy) and the permission given only to the naturalized boyars to hold offices (like the Polish and Hungarian Indygenat
Let's assume that Katalin Kún's parents are indeed Miklós Kún do Osdola and Krisztina Rácz shown on the pedigree chart. Continuing analyzing the alleged line of descent stated above, we need to look into the "Rácz de Galgo" family.
I locate a Rácz de Galgó family and indeed there is a Krisztina, who's second husband was a Miklós Kún. The pedigree chart fits perfectly with what was given on the alleged pedigree above. It does show the line of descent to a Zafira Logofét. The entry on the Rácz de Galgó family also gives some information on Zafira; it states: "neje oláh származású volt: Logofét Zafira". This says that Zafira Logofét (surnames are always listed before the given names in Hungary and Transylvania), was originally from Wallachia (Oláh). This seems to continually fit, as Vlad Dracula's family was from Wallachia and Vlad himself was once Voivode of Wallachia.
This is when my research starts to dry up with my Hungarian resources that I have. The resources are primarily for Hungary, not Transylvania. I now go to a trusted source for nobility and royalty information: http://genealogy.euweb.cz/. This website was created by Miroslav Marek and he has a whole page devoted to his sources. The alleged ancestry above from Zamphira Logofat de Szazsebes to Vlad II Dracul is correct, according to his website.. which I do not doubt. The only problem is with "Stanka (Stanca) Basarab of Wallachia". It lists her husband as "Ioan Norocea, Logofat de Pitesti, Great Chancellor of Wallachia", but no children (Zafira) are listed for them or can be found on his website. Also note that the name is "Logofat de Pitesti", not the "Logofat de Szazsebes" listed in the alleged pedigree.
All in all, the line of descent from Queen Elizabeth II to Vlad II Dracul, the father of Vlad "the Impaler", is very possible. The only contradictory facts, that need to be proven, lie with Katalin Kún and Zafira Logofat. Does anyone have any sources to prove or disprove these two remaining pieces of this alleged line of descent? If so, please contact me!
The Stanescu Gypsy family come from the Marriage be Ioan Norocea Logofact de Pitesti the Great Chancellors of Wallachia and Stanka(Stanca) Basarab or Stanka Stanescu who mixed Stanescu Boyar from Maldavia and Rudari Gypsies who settle in Pitesti where the Stanescu Rudari Royal Gypsies come from with B Rh negative Translyvanian Noble blood from Dracula and his Gypsy Witch Mother. There daughter Zamphira was a Gypsy Vampire and direct descendant of Vlad Dracula
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