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Women in the Ottoman Balkans: Gender, Culture and History

Page 40

by Amila Buturovic


  Mme Reinhard, who endured the deprivations of Balkan life with undisguised

  ill humour, this gesture must have been a comforting reminder of the polished,

  familiar world back home, to which she longed to return.

  One can only speculate about the meanings that women themselves might

  have attached to their adoption of western fashions in early nineteenth-century

  Romania. The absence of personal written testimonies such as intimate letters

  and diaries by women from this period means that we do not know whether they

  were aware of the moral or political connotations of the changes which they

  had initiated almost single-handedly. Was it mere status anxiety and derivative

  fashion awareness based on western models that prompted the shifting patterns of

  elite consumption? Or was it an agenda deliberately adopted by women in order

  to symbolically challenge an Oriental, patriarchal order of society in which they

  could have no other significant contribution to public life? There is no evidence

  that their menfolk resisted their demands and their new sartorial preferences. On

  the contrary, available written evidence points to the largesse with which these

  boyar s opened their purses to please their womenfolk, while continuing to drag

  their heavy kaftan s and kalpak s to court, where their functions took them.

  Europeanization and the Voices of Tradition

  Opposition to the new Europeanizing trends became perceptible after the 1840s,

  when male attire itself started to be drawn into the processes of change so promptly

  and unreservedly embraced by women. The French-educated Moldavian writer

  Alecu Russo (1819–59) did not hesitate to point to the link between changes

  in fashion and political subversion. In his view, the frock-coat and waistcoat—

  the “clothes of equality” as he called them—led to the emancipation of a whole

  generation of Romanians: “[N]ew ideas took our country by storm at the same

  time as the trousers,” he wrote in an unfinished essay published in 1851–52,42

  “and the invasion was worse than the attacks of the Tartars; it took a single spark

  to set on fire everything from the çaksır s and the şlik s [Turkish: başlık] to the mest, the cübbe, and the whole content of our ancestors’ wardrobes. … The change

  in costume signalled the new spirit of awakening. The new ideas and progress

  emerged from the tails of the frock coat and the pocket of the waistcoat.” There

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  Figure 7.4. Mihail Töpler, Portrait of a woman. Oil on canvas, unsigned, undated.

  The National Museum of Art of Romania, Bucharest, 3439.

  The sitter is dressed in a rich and hybrid mix of West-European “Empire” dress and

  Oriental accessories (e.g. the small, flat bonnet adorned with jewels), and with the eyebrows

  joined at the middle, in accordance with the cosmetic conventions of the day.

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  Women in the ottoman Balkans

  was considerable ambiguity in Russo’s attitude to these cultural changes and to

  the disappearance of the Phanariot habits of calculated obsequiousness. While

  Russo the liberal welcomed the emergence of a new, more democratic civic ethos

  at court and in towns, Russo the romantic traditionalist regretted the passing of

  a highly idealized vision of social harmony between boyar s, serfs, and Gypsy

  slaves on the landed estates.

  For more radically conservative observers of the events as they unfolded in the

  early nineteenth century, the changes in the lifestyle of the élites were a sign of

  the collapse of moral order and the loss of traditional values, promptly chastized

  by God’s wrath in the shape of natural disasters. Ioan Dobrescu (1777–1830), a

  humble baker and artisan from a suburb of Bucharest with a strong moral sense

  and an intense Orthodox faith who kept a daily chronicle of events between

  1802 and 1830, reacted with apocalyptic rage (and abysmal grammar) to the

  cosmopolitanism, the new fashions, and consumerist hedonism of the Phanariot

  élites:

  The females with heads uncovered and hair cut short, naked down to their

  waist. The men had discarded their own dress and assumed foreign garments,

  like unbelievers, some German, others Sfrench [ sic], and in other ways,

  some with close-cropped hair, others with curls like the women. And some

  of us, the more gifted, would mix with them and read their books, some in

  Sfrench, others in German, still others Talian [ sic]. And thus entered the

  teachings of that God-forsaken Volter [ sic], whom the pagans hold in such

  esteem, like a God. And we would no longer observe the days of Lent.

  Always meats at table. At church we went as to a promenade, to show off

  our best clothes, the females their devilish ornaments, instead of entering

  the church with fear of God and pray for our sins. In brief, vanity had her

  throne in Bucharest. We no longer believed in God, but only in fine houses,

  and clothes, in cheating, and rich meals, in drunkenness, and especially in

  open whoring.43

  Earthquakes, fires, famine, and the “infidels’ invasions” were all, in Dobrescu’s

  view, just rewards for the widespread decline of morality. One may assume that

  this violent reaction was not an isolated case, especially among the moral and

  God-fearing middling and lower classes—as well as, one may presume, among

  the traditionally conservative Orthodox clergy. Far from the extravagant opulence

  of the court and the boyar s’ households, Dobrescu saw the other side of Phanariot

  society—the slums, poverty, famines, and the natural disasters such as the famous

  plague that still bears the name of the Phanariot ruler Ion Caragea (Greek: Karatzas)

  (1813)—and could not help but vituperate not only against the luxury, but also

  against what he thought was the superfluous quest for cultural sophistication at

  the court of Caragea. He gloated when the first theatre built in Bucharest by the

  prince’s daughter, the well-educated Ralu, burnt down: the “pagan temple of the

  Greek gods” was gone, he announced with undisguised joy.44

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  The fact that Ralu played the piano was considered a “scandal” even by some of

  the native boyar s. Her instrument, probably one of the first of its kind in Romania,

  was, they said, the first step to moral decay.45 The Romanian writer Ion Ghica tells

  the suitably romanticized real-life story, set around the same time (the 1815s), of a

  young Viennese-educated lady who had brought a piano to Bucharest and played

  to the delight of passers-by. Her enraged husband smashed the instrument to pieces

  and the young woman died of chagrin, but not before asking for her coffin to be

  made out of the piano’s wood. Her deathbed wish was not carried out, however,

  as the Orthodox priest objected, saying that the klavier, as the instrument was

  then known under its German name, was the “devil’s instrument” (Romanian:

  instrumentul necuratului). Other piano-haters of the time were simply content to

  store their fruit conserves in theirs.46

  It is impossible at this stage to assess the relative weight in the public arena of

  conservative vs. modernizing opinions for periods prior to 1850. But “awakeni
ng”

  and “progress,” the words used by Alecu Russo to describe the new ethos, were

  no random turns of the pen. They were major key words in the evolving political

  vocabulary of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, as studied by the

  Romanian historian Vlad Georgescu in his aforementioned Mémoires et projets

  de réforme dans les Principautés roumaines (1970–72) and Istoria ideilor politice

  româneşti [A History of Romanian Political Ideas] (1987). The word “Europe”

  itself became, in this era of transition, a key cultural term whereby speakers

  included or dissociated themselves from the “civilized” areas of the continent. As

  Pompiliu Eliade pointed out, when in the early nineteenth century the Romanian

  boyar s started to send their sons off to West European schools and universities,

  the phrase used was that they had been sent “in” or “inside”—a self-deprecating

  way of referring to the “Orient” and the Ottoman-controlled Balkans as being

  “outside” the pale of European civilization.47 Far from being the exclusive

  creation of Enlightenment thinkers and western travellers, the negative view of

  a backward East Europe resulted to a great extent from the natives’ own sense

  of inferiority.48 A cultural Iron Curtain was already operating on the collective

  imagination in lands where a ban on foreign travel had been in force more or less

  efficiently until at least the 1820s.

  Whether “imitation” of the West was welcomed or deplored, the leading role

  of modernizing élites in shaping taste and transforming urban culture in Ottoman-

  controlled Wallachia and Moldavia is now well-established. The surviving written

  evidence shows that élite initiatives in the emergent culture of consumerism

  were embedded within an inbuilt sense of an absolute historical imperative for

  the Romanian Principalities to exit the orbit of the “Orient” and occupy their

  “rightful” place among the European nations.

  Trade, Consumerism, and Europeanization

  The pomp and circumstance of the Phanariot court with the rich ceremonial

  costumes and the ever-present example of Greek and Turkish opulence could

  only encourage a taste for luxury that the native Romanian boyar s appear to have

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  Women in the ottoman Balkans

  already possessed in abundance. As early as the sixteenth century, fabulous sums

  were spent on the acquisition of jewellery and ceremonial accessories. A crown

  made of diamond plates belonging to the Moldavian princely family Movilă cost

  12,000 florins in the early seventeenth century, the equivalent price of 40 villages,

  or 120 pure-bred horses, or 800 Persian rugs.49 Foreign observers often remarked

  on the love of luxury among Greek and Romanian nobles alike at the Phanariot

  courts. “The Moldavians go bankrupt to pay for their fabrics and furs, and when

  they appear in all their finery, they look magnificent and in very good taste,” said

  Count D’Hauterive in his study La Moldavie en 1785.50

  The new Western influences that started to penetrate the Principalities only

  changed the patterns rather than the scale of élite consumption, as the new

  political and economic circumstances created by the Russo-Turkish treaties of the

  late eighteenth century led to the incipient de-marginalization of the Romanian

  markets and the gradual encouragement of trade relations with Europe. Starting

  with the treaty of Küçük Kaynarca (1774), Russo-Turkish negotiations led to a

  gradual weakening of the Ottoman monopoly over Romanian trade. The Austro-

  Turkish commercial treaty of 1784 intensified trade relations between Austria and

  the Romanian Principalities, and the economic “thaw” continued, culminating

  in the Akkerman Convention of 1826 and the treaty of Adrianople of 1829,

  both of which dealt a considerable blow to the Ottoman economic control of

  the Principalities—stipulating the latter’s freedom to trade with other European

  countries and to navigate their own commercial vessels along the Danube.51

  The new conditions favoured the growth of imports from western Europe in

  parallel with continuing exchanges with the Orient. Transylvania was the transit

  area for the penetration of luxury western goods into both Wallachia and Moldova.

  While the precise quantification of the balance of trade during this period remains

  elusive, the demand for such goods from the wealthy élite of both principalities

  suggests shifts in taste and a determined turn towards central and western Europe.

  It also led to a radical alteration in the status of the merchants, the more industrious

  of whom accumulated vast wealth and began to be considered on par with the

  boyar class. Merchant houses such as Hagi Moscu of Bucharest and Hagi Pop

  (or Popp) of Sibiu (Hermannstadt in Transylvania) are the best known of the new

  brand of traders-cum-bankers-cum-entrepreneurs who created the new culture of

  industry and capital in late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century Romania.52

  Hagi Constantin Pop from Sibiu, married to Păuna, a woman from the lesser

  gentry of Oltenia (southern Wallachia), became the favored supplier, banker,

  confidant, and friend of some of the oldest and wealthiest nobles in Wallachia,

  such as the Ştirbei, Bengescu, Dudescu, and Jianu families. Founded by Hagi

  Pop’s father and an Oltenian associate during Oltenia’s occupation by Austria

  (1718–39), the firm—which engaged in import-export as well as banking

  activities—soon created branches in that province and established links with

  foreign trading firms in Buda, Belgrade, Zagreb, Fiume, Trieste, and Venice, as

  well as creating its own branch in Vienna in the late eighteenth century. The fact

  that Hagi Constantin Pop was trusted by the Austrian authorities in Oltenia and

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  219

  had friendly links with the Austrian imperial agent in Bucharest helped create

  the security needed for a prosperous business and for establishing unhindered

  links with a host of hard-to-satisfy customers.53 The well-preserved commercial

  correspondence, invoices, and price and shopping lists of the Hagi Pop house are

  an invaluable source of information on the lifestyle, changing tastes, consumption,

  and mores of the Romanian nobility around 1800. They also offer a rare glimpse

  into the beginning of modern entrepreneurship in what was otherwise at the time

  a backward and mainly agrarian economy.54

  One of Hagi Constantin Pop’s more demanding customers was the formidable

  widow Dumitrana Ştirbei, whose correspondence with Hagi Pop charts the

  evolving “European” lifestyles of the Wallachian nobility.55 Her earliest known

  order (dated January 1778) was a mix of the homely and the flamboyantly exotic:

  cutlery, crystals of sugar, gun pellets for sparrows and rabbits, a man’s shirt and

  long-johns, but also Brussels sprouts and lettuce seeds, and, incongruously, a

  Musk (or Musco, possibly from “Muscovy”) fox fur collar. In June she asked

  for a carriage ( carătă). On 21 January 1781 she requested that a gardener be

  sent to her family estate at Cepturoaia. A seemingly loving mother-in-law to her

  son’s 22-year-old wife Catinca, she ordered two satin-trimmed scarves and sma
ll

  leather gloves for her in April 1782. In a letter dated 5 April 1784, she mentioned

  “Miliort” (“Mylord”), the little dog Hagi Pop had sent, and who, alas, had only

  lived one year; in subsequent letters she described in detail the lapdog she wanted

  as a replacement. The noble, pious, but also avidly consumerist lady must have

  started quite a trend in remote Oltenia at the time, as evidenced by numerous

  orders from Oltenian boyar s for “a small, fluffy dog, the smallest in the whole of

  Europe,” or “a very small, fluffy dog, fit for great ladies” meant as a present for a

  “Mamuzel [i.e. mademoiselle] Zinca Văcăresco.”

  Other posh pets sent to Oltenia as accessories for fashion-conscious boyar s

  were canaries, the detailed specifications for which make sublime reading. On

  9 July 1796, the boyar Constantin Socoteanu, signing in Greek, ordered a canary,

  but “not one which sings on a single note”: “it should know several notes if it is to

  be worthy of the exalted person for whom it is destined as a peşkeş”—a Turkish

  word meaning a gift or a reward for a service rendered. The rest of Hagi Pop’s

  correspondence with other boyar families is replete with orders for an increasing

  number of luxury fashion goods such as shtrimph s (Austrian stockings), carriages

  made in Vienna according to customers’ minute instructions, leather and gloves,

  expensive fabrics, feathers, umbrellas, watches, “apă de obraz” (literally “face

  water,” i.e. eau-de-cologne), fine soap, fine silver tableware, furniture, and even

  wallpaper. One learns also that good quality tobacco was used as moth-killer,

  and that the use of irons for smoothing clothes was not unknown. Orders for

  luxury foods such as charcuterie, pineapple (requested in 1798 on doctor’s orders

  for a young lying-in mother), lemons, and oranges, Frontignac wine, as well as

  for foreign newspapers and foreign domestic staff (gardeners, chambermaids,

  cooks) betray not only the increasingly sophisticated tastes, but also the spending

  power—or, as disapproving others would see it, the extravagance—of the élites.

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  Women in the ottoman Balkans

  Most of these people, especially the men, were still wearing Oriental-style clothes,

 

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