Transnational Migration in Wallachia during the 1830s: A Difficult Road from Broader Themes to Micro-History

Abstract

This paper studies women’s transnational migration in and out of Wallachia, the principality that in 1859 united with Moldavia to form Romania. The methodological approach to the theme is based on a combination of historical demography and micro-history. Since several years, Romanian historiography has developed its own areas in social history, going beyond previous paradigms that only focused on the elites or class struggle. Migration studies, however, have not kept up the pace with the progress made in studies on, for example, family life or marriage, since the fall of communism. My paper aims at answering some basic exploratory questions: to what extent did women travel across the Wallachian border? For what reasons, and with whom? Finally, I will attempt to trace the social background of these female migrants.

International studies on female migration throughout history have a consolidated history. Migration studies in general have centered around topics such as women’s rights, status, gender relations, female labor, relations between communities of different nationalities, community building, migration regulations, etc. Romanian scholars have largely remained on the fringes of these discussions, but not because they have neglected migration as a field of study. Rather, they have rarely approached migration per se, choosing instead to tackle the problem as a corollary to other themes. One of these is Minority studies. Greeks attracted historians due to their influence in politics (including international relations), cultural transfer, and, in general, because they played important roles as the elite class (Cotovanu 2017; Petrescu 2013), as did, more in general, the people of the Balkans (Siupiur 2009). Works on Jews have focused on persecution, state building, and citizenship, as well as on antisemitism (Ungureanu 2005; Vainer et al. 2013). Another field of studies that has incorporated migration is the study of merchants (Lazăr 2006; Pakucs 2017; Luca 2010). Finally, Romanian historiography already has a longstanding tradition of studying and editing the accounts of foreign travelers, a clear example of which is the collection Călători străini în țările române (1968–1983; 2004–2020), edited by researchers from the Nicolae Iorga Institute of History.

Dealing with migration from these angles has both advantages and disadvantages. One great advantage is that these perspectives can give a clear picture of aspects that are crucial to migration studies: the emergence of different communities, for example, and the political implications of migration. In the case of Jews and Greeks, in-depth studies have enriched our knowledge on how the State viewed its subjects and, later, its citizens, and on how social and international status overlapped (for the last decades of the eighteenth century see the works of Lidia Cotovanu [2017]). However, there are also some disadvantages when adopting such approaches. One of these is that these perspectives consider migratory patterns of only certain population groups, omitting others. Strangely enough, the majority of the population—i.e., the native one—is generally absent in this kind of scholarly literature. While a brief and general overview of external migration patterns is provided in some works, internal migration in nineteenth-century Romania is basically a non-existent field in local historiography. Another disadvantage of the current methodological paradigm is that its framework is often too general, avoiding micro-studies that would shed light on important social interactions. Inevitably, since migration is not the main focus of these studies, it is limited to the grand historical themes: the waves of settlement of various populations, the role of political and cultural figures, the emergence of social conflicts or unrest.

Often communities of migrants are viewed as a whole, the existence of different kinds of relations with the native populations is certainly acknowledged, but examined only superficially. For example, the degree of intermarriages between different ethnicities (regardless of migration patterns) is still an area where historians are left guessing, whereas for Transylvania comprehensive studies have already been made (Bolovan and Bolovan 2005). Close social ties have been analyzed, but only within a framework that tends to be heavily inclined toward members of the elites. Studying migration through the lens of foreign travelers has its rewards in terms of cultural history, but less in social and economic history, where internal sources (at least for the nineteenth century) are more fruitful. Needless to say, other aspects have also been neglected, and, above all, migration has never been incorporated into social history.

Progress will be made if the study of historical migration becomes a specific field of research. Despite the lack of progress, in fact, sources on migration exist and are similar to those available for other contemporaneous European countries: some of these were specifically destined to migrants, or included them as a distinct category (travel permits, lists of travelers, fiscal records, some censuses, civil state records). Other sources give an overview of the general population and can be used, by linking information from other sources, for persons identified as migrants (censuses, court and police records, private documents, etc.).

Objectives

The present research intends to fill the aforementioned gaps and focuses on female migration patterns in Wallachia during the 1830s. I started this research by tackling a source that was designed specifically for travelers: lists of border crossings. In doing so, I have included in the analysis all kinds of mobility, taking into account all women travelers and not just a specific category of migrants. At the same time, my analysis will follow a micro-historical approach, in which I aimed to collect and use information related to migration patterns (gender, occupation, reasons for travel) from the perspective of single individuals, rather than at a more general level (community or region).

However, a micro-historical approach inevitably has its drawbacks which depend on the current state of art. The lack of published sources creates difficulties when attempting to expand any exploratory path. Extending the inquiry to the travelers’ background and their social networks implied taking into account other kinds of sources. To give an example close to my research, in 1838 the principality issued one of the first general population censuses of Eastern Europe (general, in the sense that officers were ordered to record the names of all inhabitants). It survived in most part, some excerpts have been published in paper format.¹ It is only recently that population samples with information on individual level started to be released, a process that is still ongoing, meaning that most material remains inaccessible in digital format (which is obviously more suited for any kind of complex analysis).² In my case, the central piece of documentation that is still missing is relative to Bucharest, the principality’s main migration hub. The five registers of the city record individuals by property (enclosures), regardless if they were owners or tenants, permanent inhabitants or travelers. Those hosted in inns during the compilation of the census were also listed, together with the following information: age, marital status, nationality, social status, and occupation. Unfortunately, these registers are still unpublished, and this makes cross-analysis very hard.

For this reason, while the present study is based on information at an individual level, my analysis has been restricted to a single category of sources. Brief and isolated excerpts from other sources complement the collected information. At the same time, this research is modeled in such a way that it can compensate for the shortcomings in Romanian historiography, while contributing to the international debate. As such, it has two main objectives. First, it documents the relevance and extent of female mobility in this specific region of Europe. In the circumstances described above, even a simple effort at analyzing basic facts is welcome. The main scope of this research is therefore of exploratory nature: I document as much as my sources allow, although only some of the findings will be presented.

Secondly, it investigates the social aspects of travel. I wanted to determine the extent to which women traveled alone, or in company, as well as the nature of these travel groups. It is tempting to use the travel group as a social indicator, especially when discussing the status and power relations, since it shows who interacted with whom during the migration/mobility process. My initial intentions were to analyze this through the idea of agency, but such an approach using travelers’ lists has proved to be unrealistic. Until other contextual elements become available through new sources, social ties can be studied only tentatively, providing general hypotheses on the social relations that travel groups underlined.

Historical Context and Sources

The two principalities of Moldavia and Wallachia existed since the Middle Ages, falling under Ottoman dominance in the fifteenth century, shortly after their formation. Their autonomy got gradually reduced because of Ottoman expansion in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, in turn countered by the rise of the Habsburgs and of tsarist Russia, all striving for control of South-Eastern Europe. By the eighteenth century the territories of the two countries became a battleground for these two powers. The situation improved after international protection was established, first by Russia (following the 1828–1829 Russo-Turkish War), then by Western European powers, after the Crimean War. These events propelled two important processes: the modernization of law and administration starting from the 1830s, and the union of the two principalities that began in 1859, when it was agreed that both would share common laws and the highest executive power (the prince). Separate governments continued to exist for a short while, until the country fully unified and became recognized as Romania.

Wallachia covered a territory of some 77,000 sq.km and in the 1830s had a small population, of approximately 1.5–1.7 million inhabitants, mostly Romanians, who shared some of the characteristics of other Eastern European people. The inhabitants populated mostly the rural areas (some 80–90% of them lived in villages), they were Christian Orthodox, still within the first phase of the demographic transition (with high birth and death rates). From the point of view of marital behaviors, they fitted the patterns proposed by John Hajnal for Eastern Europe (early marriage, slightly higher age at marriage among men, high rate of remarriages and low celibacy). Gypsies also inhabited this territory since the Middle Ages. After settling in the area, they were enslaved, and maintained this status until their formal emancipation thanks to a series of laws issued in 1838, 1847 and 1856.

Like in other European countries, women lacked political rights, but enjoyed some rights that enabled them to act as economic agents. For married women, the situation was extremely similar to that of Italy, as presented by Beatrice Zucca Micheletto (2014). They owned their dowries, even though control over their dotal goods was exercised mostly by the husband. In case of separation, these goods would return to the wife (Vintilă-Ghițulescu 2011; Jianu 2009; Roman 2018). Widows and unmarried girls could also own property (including land), and women in general could also travel alone. During this period, travel authorizations or permits (răvașe de drum) were issued by police authorities (police offices in towns, sub-prefectures in the countryside). These permits were used for both domestic and external travel, much like modern day-passports. In the case of foreign subjects living in Wallachia, consulates would issue such papers.

During the 1828–1834 Russian occupation, that coincided with a wave of reforms, the Wallachian border was organized as in most European countries.³ It consisted of a network of crossing points (equipped with certain establishments) and guard posts. The way in which borders were managed and functioned differed from North to South, according to an interplay of factors such as geopolitics, health concerns, and natural landscape.

The Southern border, where the Danube was a natural barrier, held a higher political stake. During the Russian-Ottoman wars it was the de facto border between the territories controlled by each empire, and securing it was important for sanitary reasons. The spread of bubonic plague and cholera from Ottoman lands was a major concern to Russia, since it was decimating its armies. It was for this reason that all official crossing points along the Danube were equipped with buildings where travelers were forced to quarantine.⁴ Hence, the Danube line fell under three different administrations: The Health Office within the Home Office, the regular administration of the Home Office (police/prefectures), and the newly formed Military.⁵ In addition, the local population was tasked with guard duty at, as well as with maintaining infrastructure.

Spanning mostly across the Carpathians and separating the country from the Habsburg Empire and Moldavia, the northern border fell under two of the above-mentioned authorities: the Military and the Home Office’s regular administration. The latter supervised the building and maintenance of infrastructure (roads and buildings), as well as civil guard duty. In turn, the Military managed and supervised border crossings. These points were under the authority of special commanders, while the rest of the borderline was guarded by regular army units and civilians.⁶

In this context, a new type of administrative record entered routine: lists of travelers compiled by border officers. Since they are not only unpublished, but also largely unexplored, it is very hard to trace their exact origin. Up untill now there is no certainty as to the date of their introduction, and their actual purpose, other than simply to record border traffic. Fiscal reasons might have also come into play, since copies of them were often redirected to the Department of Finance: it is possible that they were used to trace foreign subjects, as they constituted a fiscal category, but once again, the exact bureaucratic purpose is yet to be established. I found such lists in several fonds of the National Archives of Romania (Serviciul Arhivelor Naționale Istorice Centrale): Visteria Țării Românești, Ministerul de Război and Vornicia Dinlăuntru. For the same reasons mentioned above, a complete inventory of the preserved material does not exist, and I could only use a limited sample of what I could find.

I chose the material found in files 74 and 75 (archival year 1837) from Visteria Țării Românești. It consists in lists that the border officers reported each month to the Army’s Central Administration (Dejurstva Oștirilor Românești), and that in turn were redirected to the Department of Finance. Therefore, the material is in chronological order (by months), and then organized by crossing points. The files used here date between the late months of 1836, and the end of 1837, and concern only the northern border. Moreover, not all border crossings are covered by lists in this file, the most noteworthy absence being Focșani, the main border between Wallachia and Moldavia, a town which was split between the two principalities.

The selected lists were designed to contain the following type of information: traveler’s name, nationality, origin, destination, occupation, and purpose of travel.⁷ Information such as age, civil status and ethnicity were purposefully omitted, but can be reconstructed, at least for some travelers. Though there is no specific column specifying the gender of the traveler, this can be made out in several ways. The most obvious is by looking at first names, often clearly identifiable as male or female, but, even more reliable are occupations and nicknames. The patriarchal culture of the age made women easily recognizable in any Romanian population lists, including these ones: commoners were often referred to simply as Women (‘Femeia’), and women in general were often given nicknames according to their husband’s status or occupation. Since these names were feminized (as in the Romanian language nouns are gendered), it makes identifying women extremely easy, especially since Wallachian officials adopted the same registration procedure for locals and foreigners alike. For example, Safta [wife of] Vasili Costandin is labeled as ‘milităreasă’, meaning military woman, from ‘militar’ = soldier. The occupation obviously refers to her husband. There were indeed some ambiguous cases, but these are extremely rare. In order to study female migration, I only extracted individual information available for women travelers and I set up a data set containing information for 624 border crossings that involved women, from November 1836 to November 1837.

Source Quality, Concepts, and Methodology

The sources used for this study present some limits. First, they only cover the northern border, where the largest share of traffic occurred by land, between Wallachia, Transylvania, and Moldavia. For the Southern border, samples might offer different results, given different neighboring countries (the Ottoman Empire and Serbia) and communication means (by water, along the river Danube). Apart from this bias, another problem is the somewhat ambiguous manner in which the distinction between the administrative and physical crossing points was reflected in the Army’s bureaucracy. Border check points were not situated exactly on the border, and some were not even located in the settlements directly neighboring the border. In the case of Câmpina and Văleni, for example, they were quite distant, about 40–50 kilometers away. At Dragoslavele, the distance was smaller (some 20 kilometers). Each checkpoint supervised traffic through one major road and one main physical crossing point: Predeal (Câmpina), Cheia (Văleni), and Rucăr (Dragoslavele). But travelers could enter the country through other places close to these, guarded by smaller posts. Such events were rare, but we should assume that when they occurred, their records might have been centralized along with those of travelers passing through the main points. Thus, the lists reported to the Government were labeled according to border checkpoint, and not to the exact point of entry, with few exceptions. This is why Maps 12.1 and 12.4 (the latter in the appendix) contain dual labels for the three aforementioned points: one indicating the checkpoint and the other the major crossing point associated to it. Given this situation, it should be assumed that, in their case, the records might include travelers who entered the country through other nearby places (within a range of 5–10 kilometers).

Map 12.1

Wallachia compared to present day borders and sampled border crossings

The second set of flaws refers to the nature of information regarding travelers, which can be distorted or missing, mostly because of the lack of uniformity and the approximate manner in which the documents were filled. Thus, the following data are more or less susceptible to inaccuracies:

1) Origin of the traveler. It was understood differently from one officer to another: some referred to their domicile (in a foreign country), others to the last place where they found temporary residence before arriving at the checkpoint.

2) Companions. When people traveled in groups, it often happened that some persons formally protected others and appear as group leaders in the lists. It could have meant that the authorization to cross the border was given to all members of the group, but only one paper was issued, which was then entrusted to the group leader. In most of these instances, the records yield meticulous information on the group leader, while companions were recorded with less precision, left anonymous, only marked according to their position to the group leader (‘wife’, ‘child’, ‘relative’, ‘friend’, ‘servant’, ‘slave’, etc.). Many times, companions are simply referred to as souls (‘suflete’), which has prevented me from establishing the travelers’ gender (this is why Fig. 12.2 contains categories for unknown gender).

3) Social background. For what concerns this particular point, travelers’ lists are rather special, especially in regards to women. In their paper which deals with how sources are more or less transparent on women participation in the labor force and how this (lack of) transparency affects historical research, Jane Humphries and Carmen Sarasúa point to two categories of sources. The first are official records, which, as the authors argue, grossly underestimate women as income earners or distort their occupation, to the point of making them ‘invisible’. This could have happened for a number of reasons: emphasis on men as main taxpayers, property owners and sole military recruits; the (perceived) nature of female occupations (‘seasonal, irregular, interrupted, performed at home, unspecialized and unskilled, and consisted, in part, of subsistence production’ [Humphries and Sarasúa 2012, 45]); not to mention gender and social bias. Enumerators (or census agents) filled forms partially according to their own expectations, assumptions, or reality, and less in the spirit of detail. The second category of sources is those in which the authors were more sensitive toward these realities. Such sources include an 1851 French census, as well as records of charitable institutions (Humphries and Sarasúa 2012, 51). The Wallachian sources fit both categories. The column Occupation was filled like in most European censuses at the time, reducing women to stereotypes, disregarding the idea that women could play active roles in the economy (I explained earlier how women in population lists were often referred simply as ‘woman’ or by the occupation of the husband). However, the column Purpose offers more insight into the social and economic motivations behind their travels. Persons marked as women in occupation, could be recorded as traveling for personal reasons (to visit certain relatives), for professional reasons (to sell goods, to become domestics) or in mixed situations. Table 12.1 provides an example from the winter of 1836/1837, entries through Câmpina-Predeal.

Table 12.1 Extracts from the travelers lists compiled by the commander of border crossing Câmpina

All six travelers are registered as ‘woman’ in the column occupation, as if the meaning of the term had a universal understanding, denoting a lack of individuality (from an administrative and/or economic point of view). However, when required to give details about their dealings in Wallachia—in the column Purpose—the records, short as they may be, are very much in contrast with the label previously used. Morgit and Susanna were involved in commerce, while Maria, Rozi, Stana, and Chiva were aiming to find a job as maids. In this sense, data is more transparent, and, even if it does not give specific information on their social status (only the activity performed at their destination), it is still relevant enough to be used to study the economic implications of female migration.

4) Names. Finally, a piece of information that occasionally proved painstakingly challenging were names. Given the numerous non-Wallachian travelers, names in languages other than Romanian were written down using the native Cyrillic alphabet, following phonetic principles. This makes it difficult to identify the name’s form in the traveler’s tongue. Some can be easily deduced, others not. This made transcription difficult, sometimes impossible and can affect research in two ways. First, it makes it difficult to use names in order to infer ethnicity (which was not required to be recorded). For this reason, in this article, I have avoided to tackle the question of ethnicity. Second, it can impair the identification of the same traveler in multiple border crossings, or in other sources, in a future cross-reference approach. For example, we read that Ilinca Ghiro (written ‘Гиpo’) exited the country on January 28. Half a year later, Ilinca Chiro (‘Киpo’) crosses the border at the same point, originating from the same Transylvanian village as the previous Ilinca (the village of Turcheș). Assuming they are one and the same person, they will have to share the same code in a variable designed for personal identification. However, since the surnames do not match exactly, the coding process could prove erroneous in this case, if done automatically. Given this potential for flaws, I prioritized analysis based on border crossings, instead of travelers. For the sake of simplicity, I will refer to them simply as events. One event is equivalent to one border crossing made by one individual, regardless of how many times they crossed the border, in and out of the country, within the sampled timespan.

In addition, I analyzed the origin of the travelers only from the point of view of those entering the country (which was recorded uniformly), showing in this way travel routes and their destination. Finally, when dealing with the socio-professional background of the travelers, I especially concentrated on their stated ‘purpose’, because it is generally recorded and the information provided is more precise.

A core aspect of my analysis is travel groups. I wanted to measure the degree to which women traveled independently, from a social point of view. The best indicator for social ties that I could extract from the lists is the formal group in which individuals were recorded. By formal, I mean a group of persons listed in a single entry. In the vast majority of cases, I assume they shared the same passport. Of course, relations might have existed between individuals outside these groups, as some are clearly visible in the lists (see Table 12.2 in the appendix—formal groups of similar background traveling on the same day, to the same places and for the same purposes). Using the formal group as a unit of analysis poses certain risks, but it also has certain advantages. The advantages are that a formal group reflects closer ties. It is highly unlikely that a wife, a child, or a servant would have been recorded separately from her husband, parent or master, as the pattern of recording suggests. Therefore, a formal group is likely to correctly pin-point cases of lack of independence. The risk is that it ignores travelers of equal status traveling together, but each with their own passport. They could had been ‘concealed’ in the source as single entries, when, in fact, they were part of travel parties. In such cases, both categories—single individuals and ‘equal’ travelers—can be classified as relatively independent subjects.

Clearly, the primary goal of this analysis is exploratory; it represents a first attempt to classify travel groups, but it cannot be necessarily used to determine status, power, or agency. Indeed, some instances can be interpreted as representative. Women traveling with servants to do business (see the examples in next section) or for leisure (see Table 12.2 in the appendix) can be given as an example of proactive women. The two female slaves that accompanied their mistress, Zinca Ghica (also a woman, see next section), are certainly proof of dependency. However, other instances of group travel are too ambiguous to constitute an indicator of dependency/independence. Individuals who traveled in groups, even as ‘subordinates’, that is in the same formal group, shouldn’t necessarily be viewed as lacking independence. Sometimes people traveled together solely for protection, out of friendship, or because they shared common interests and destinations. From a legal standpoint, women traveling with their husbands were under their protection, but, from an economic point of view, they could participate in managing (even owning) a business, depending on the context. The case of Turin (Zucca Micheletto 2014), and Wallachian legal practices suggest that such instances should be treated with caution. This said, I classified the instances of women travelers on a scale of three tiers, depending on the degree of belonging to a formal group:

• 1. In the first category I grouped instances that reflect a relatively high degree of independence. This classification can be further sub-divided into categories, though we should bear in mind that the following in no way implies a strict hierarchical order:

  • a. Women traveling with subordinates, such as servants or slaves;

  • b. Women traveling alone;

  • c. Women traveling with members of their kin group (children, relatives);

  • d. Women traveling as companions, apparently retaining equal status as their formal protectors.

• 2. Another category groups women who traveled with companions, but whose exact status is unknown (i.e. we cannot ascertain whether they were subordinates or equals to the group leader).

• 3. In the third category I classified cases that suggest a relative lack of independence. This category includes women traveling as companions that were subordinate to their protector: wives, children, servants, slaves, as well as relatives or other persons (other than ‘comrades’) who depended on their protector from a formal point of view.

Wallachia: Women Crossing the Northern Border

The analysis of the Wallachian samples has led to the following findings: first, men traveled far more often than women. Only 3.3% (481 out of 14,427) of the events (border crossings) involved women as passport holders, although it is fair to observe that there are significant differences in the data relative to different crossing points. For what concerns Văleni, for example, I could barely find such events: only 6 out of about 4070 crossings, accounting for less than 1%. Data for Vulcan and Câineni yielded a slightly higher share, 2 and 1% respectively, while for Nămoloasa the share is close to the average (3.5%). Women traveled more frequently through Câmpina and Dragoslavele, with a share of just over 7%. These two points saw the majority of women travelers, totaling 394 events. In fact, Câmpina alone witnessed 320 crossings. This was because transnational travel of women to or from Wallachia was basically one-sided: the travelers were mostly Austrian subjects from Transylvania—of different ethnicities (German, Hungarian, Romanian, Jewish)—who traveled only between certain towns. In fact, the two most populated urban settlements from each side of the border, Bucharest, the capital of Wallachia, and Brașov, in Trasylvania, attracted 66–80% travelers (Map 12.2).

Map 12.2

Origins and destinations of travelers entering Wallachia

Moreover, out of Transylvania’s most important towns, including its capital (Sibiu), Brașov was the closest to Bucharest and to the Wallachian border. This meant that these particular localities were home to more numerous and more important establishments, as well as the economic and political elites, and they were characterized by constant exchange and flow of goods and people. As stated, Bucharest hosted many Austrian subjects who practiced their trades there. More developed markets and stronger ties between transnational communities meant that women could played a more important role in maintaining these connections. It comes to no surprise, therefore, that the data for these two border crossings, both located on the shortest routes between Bucharest and Brașov, yielded the highest numbers of female travelers. Between them were the Wallachian towns of Câmpulung, Curtea de Argeș, Pitești, Târgoviște, as well as the market towns of Filipești, Câmpina, Potlogi, Găești. Very few travelers who entered the country had these settlements as their destination, as the more distant Bucharest appeared to have absorbed the vast majority of incoming female migrants.

There were of course secondary spatial patterns, that can be classified according to distance and communities:

• Bucharest attracted travelers from Brașov’s surroundings as well, from the villages of Săcele, Baciu, Turcheș; but also from Transylvania’s capital, Sibiu;

• Shorter journeys show links between communities closer to the border: Brașov-Ploiești, Brașov-Câmpulung, Sibiu-Râmnic.

• Traffic through the most distant points from Bucharest was mostly local. In Nămoloasa, in the East, the main points of communication were Brăila, Tecuci, Nămoloasa (the Moldavian market town). In the west, the women who crossed the border through Vulcan came from the villages of Northern Dolj, the county that stretched across those mountains.

The vast majority of journeys took place over a distance of 200 kilometers at most, which can be considered a medium range. It is hard to establish how regular these journeys were. The sample reveals a range of different reasons for traveling that are often difficult to classify or disentangle. Some could reflect permanent migration, some were seasonal, and some concern cases of irregular mobility (example: a one-time visit to relatives across the borders; or visits at intermittent intervals). Because of the short time frame analyzed (roughly one year), certain stages of migration might be missing from the sample. Travelers leaving Wallachia at the beginning of our timeframe (end of 1836) could have arrived earlier that year; as those who entered the country in late 1837 (the end of our timeframe) could have returned only a few weeks later. So, temporary migration is most likely underrepresented in my sample. Taken as it is, my results show that 31% of female group leaders crossed the border more than one time, so quite an important share of them were temporary settlers. The actual percentage is likely higher, for the reasons explained above.

Another aspect that can be considered is the timing of travel. In absolute numbers, as well as a share of all journeys, the peak of border crossings by women was reached during summer and early autumn (Figs. 12.2 and 12.3). At Dragoslavele-Rucăr, women made up some 20–31% of all the document holders passing through checkpoints from June to September. At Predeal-Câmpina they were fewer, but still more than during the rest of the year: approximately 10–15%. Therefore, women seemed to plan their travel to coincide with favorable weather, which stands to reason given that they had to travel through the mountain passes. Men, on the other hand, traveled even during winter, with December actually being the second busiest month for them, after March. This pattern was determined by the cycles of pastoral agriculture, which saw shepherds and farmers moving back and forth from Transylvania to the rich grazing plains of Eastern Wallachia (which were also gateways for cattle export). Therefore, the patterns that have been observed are influenced by the fact that men and women crossed the border in very different contexts (rural/urban destinations and occupations; economic cyclicity).

Who were the women crossing the sampled northern border? The vast majority (over 80%) were non-Wallachian subjects (mostly Austrian) and seem to be linked to an urban setting, regardless of their social status. The previous paragraphs explained the particular geographic pattern that linked Brașov to Bucharest; but why was the traffic dominated by Transylvanian women? Put simply, the reason was that the activities they (or their communities) were linked to were considered of high value in Wallachia. During most of the nineteenth century, there was a great demand for skills that in Wallachia were scarce or hard to teach locally. At least in part, this demand was connected to the process of Westernization. A country progressively influenced by Western European culture due to constant contacts, Transylvania was home to tradesmen, artists, physicians, teachers, and others professionals, who found in Wallachia fertile ground for their skills. The exact role that women played in this context will be revealed (at least partially) in the following sections.

As already stated in the section on methodology, their social background is shrouded since most were just registered with the generic label: ‘woman’ (among few others). In those rare cases in which an occupation is provided, this was either theirs, or their husbands. As few as they may seem, these cases point toward urban or non-agricultural background: the travelers belonged to families of merchants, tradesmen, noblemen, those who practiced liberal professions; or were themselves servants in towns (Fig. 12.1).

Fig. 12.1

The number of events by the general reference to social background recorded in the column Occupation

How did women travel from a social point of view? In most events in the sample under scrutiny—530 (63%) out of 843—women traveled in ‘formal groups’ with a group leader who had a passport and received permission on the behalf of all other group members, while in 312 (37%) they traveled alone (again, formally, since this number could include cases of friends or associates traveling each with their own passport). Of course, traveling in a group did not always imply lower social status or less freedom of movement. Indeed, in most cases of formal collective travel, women actually appeared to be group leaders. Moreover, half of those traveling with companions did so while under the protection of another woman. If I further filter data by taking into account social ties, then the resulting picture shows that moving women were proactive: in about three quarters of events, women traveled either alone, as formal group leaders, or as companions that were not subordinated to the group leader from a social point of view. Some of them—although the share is small—traveled with servants and even slaves, a clear sign of status, freedom and possibility of movement. Relatively rarely women traveled in a condition of formal subordination to another person—about a quarter of events. In most cases they were accompanying wives.

Why did they travel? In order to answer this question, I will exploit the information from the column ‘purpose’ of the travelers’ lists. Several patterns can be described.

First, entering Wallachia to visit relatives, and/or returning home afterward, were by far the most frequent stated purposes for travel, amounting to 71% of events. This also underscores the nature of transnational travel: most of the times it was temporary and within already established connections and known communities. Predictably, Bucharest was the focal point: it was recorded as the final destination in 89 out 124 entries in which female document holders stated that they were in the country to visit various relatives. In turn, Brașov was the preferred destination when ‘[returning] home’ (acasă) accounting for 88 out of 110 exits. In light of these statistics, some examples are common, like those registered on August 7, 1837: Maria Mitriță and ‘two souls’, and Chiva wife of Dinu, accompanied by Maria wife of Ion and four children, all entered the country at Predeal. I found two of them—Maria Mitriță and Chiva—on the same route, returning to Brașov on October 9. They were accompanied by two souls and ‘one wife/women with three children’. The latter wife could have been Maria Ion. Safta, wife of Vasile Constantin traveled an even shorter distance. Her journey and some of her family seemed tied to the mountain pass which marked the limits of the Habsburg Empire. Living in Tohanu Vechi, she crossed the border on June 22, and went just across it, to Dragoslavele, to ‘see a daughter of her’. Her occupation was stated as ‘military woman’, meaning that her husband was in the army. He could have been a recruit or even a carrier soldier, part of the units guarding the border. I identified other two women who came from the same surroundings, and who similarly were traveling to visit their kin: Maria wife of priest Ion, and Ioana wife of Ion Mânzatu. They traveled to their relatives in Câmpulung, a town not far from Dragoslavele, but this time in full winter, in December 1836 and January 1837.

Second, women entered Wallachia for professional reasons, even though there were fewer cases of women traveling to work. In this category I classified 62 events (17% of the total). In most of these cases women aimed at being hired as housemaids. The majority (36–9% of all events), as simple servants: servant (‘slujnică’—under Occupation) who traveled to serve (‘să slujască’), to [find/rejoin] a master (‘la stăpân’). Few were reported to offer more specialized services. Maria Gudhart was a governess (‘gubernantă’) from Sibiu, who wanted to teach children (‘să învețe copiii’) in Craiova, while Kati Benko, from Brașov, was a cook (‘bucătăreasă’). This subcategory of events might seem small in number, but my sample only covered one year and only the northern border. When analyzing aggregate data from two decades later, it becomes clear that the migration of foreign female servants continued, especially to Bucharest. The capital city continued to attract the bulk of migration, to such a point that in 1859 foreign servants made up almost half of the female servants in the households of merchants and tradesmen, their absolute number far exceeding that in any other town (Map 12.3).

Map 12.3

Wallachia in 1859. Number of foreign female servants in households of merchants and tradesmen, by urban settlement

Returning to travelers’ lists, another important instance is that of women who apparently traveled as merchants (18 events). Of course, the source does not explain in what capacity they contributed to the business: if, for example, they owned or managed a shop, if they worked in family business along with husbands or fathers, or just took part in supplying or keeping connections with transnational business partners. Women sellers or suppliers were not uncommon in Wallachia. During the census operations of 1859, the government invited agents to present descriptive reports—later published—about social life in their circumscriptions. Referring to gender roles, some noted:

The same can be observed among common women, that they alone care for the household economy, they tend to gardening and produce not only for their family’s need, but they also take and sell vegetables and legumes at the market. (…) All of these objects are sold in marketplaces by the very women who manufacture them, who satisfy many household needs with the money thus earned. Fruits too are sold at the market by women, one cannot see men wasting time selling legumes and gardening products at the market, but only women.

(From a report by V.I. Paraschivescu, census officer for district Muscel, published in Analele Economice, p. 41)

These assessments reflect gender roles in local commerce, but also the involvement of women in the local economy. What the travelers’ lists show, however, is that in nineteenth-century Wallachia women actively took part even in transnational commerce/business by transporting goods across the border. In all but two cases the border agent simply wrote ‘woman’ under occupation. But the stated purpose was along the lines of: with merchandise (‘cu marfă’), with shoes / with shoes to sell (‘cu pantofi’/’cu pantofi să vânză’). The case of Maria Vasiliu provides one example where the occupation merchant women given under Occupation was not simply a reference to her husband’s background. She does indeed seem to have been a (de facto?) merchant, as her recorded purpose was for commerce (‘pentru negoț’). While traveling from Craiova to Brașov via Dragoslavele-Rucăr she was accompanied by one comrade (‘tovarăși’) and one female servant. Similarly, a Moldavian counterpart, Sultana wife of Vasile Eșanu, was a potter woman (female pottery maker) destined for Brăila, with pots (‘cu oale’). All of these cases show that women played a role in, most likely, family businesses, corroborating some of the previously cited studies on women as active participants in local economies (Zucca Micheletto 2014). The case of Ecatirina Rainert is also telling. She left Sibiu for Râmnicu-Vâlcea (see Map 12.2—Rm. Vâlcea), via Câineni, to join her husband. Interestingly, she is mentioned as a woman bricklayer (‘zidăreasă’), and her reason for traveling was to work with her husband.

Another sub-pattern related to professional travel concerns female actors. I found two events where companies of actors that included women entering the country, bound for Bucharest. They first crossed the border in July 1837, lead by Ignatius Fritz, the director of the French theatre in Bucharest. In October a second troupe arrived; it was made up of comedians and lead by Peter Dimart. Ana Mogled, accompanied by eight souls, and Maria were the two female comedians (‘femei comediante’) of the group.

In few events (13) women migrated to work in agriculture in the Eastern Wallachian districts, where they most likely tilled land or assisted shepherds. At least this is what the recorded purpose of to [tend to] sheep (‘la oi’) suggests. The low number of such cases correlates with the timing of female travel, that was different from that of men. The spikes in certain months observable among the general population are determined especially by pastoral cycles that involved crossing the mountains from Transylvania to the fertile plains of Eastern Wallachia. Each year Transylvanian shepherds would enter the country, exit and return, in line with the cyclical phases of pastoral activities.

Finally, women left Wallachia also for tourism and leisure. Although such events were not frequent (15 events—1% of the total), this pattern is dominated by Wallachian women of high status, usually hailing from noble families. Catinca Hagiopolu, Elenca Filitis, Efrusina Gorneanu, Anastasia Văduva (etc.) traveled from Bucharest to Brașov and Arpatak, but also Iuli Matei, the only Austrian subject among them. Elenca Arion, also left from Bucharest to the famous baths of Mehadia, as her destination. In this sub-pattern there were women who traveled from other Wallachian towns as well: Sica Brătianca (to Mehadia), Elenca Popeasca, Luxandra Budișteanca and Marghioala Drugănescu (to Arpatak, near Brașov), all lived in Pitești. Stanca Calfoloaia left Râmnicu-Vâlcea for Sibiu, while Djuna Doftoroae (a doctor), engaged in the longest leisure trip: from Turnu, on the Danube, to Cluj, in the heart of Transylvania. It is in this sub-pattern that we can find the largest travel group headed by a woman. Zinca Ghica was a member of the family that ruled Wallachia in the 1830s. She too traveled to the baths of Arpatak in the same summer, accompanied by her daughter, three servants, and five slaves, two of whom were female.

What should be kept in mind is that all of the above cases were reconstructed from the point of view of border crossing events (1 event = 1 person crossing one time, for a certain purpose). If we prioritize the individuals in our analysis, we see that sometimes purposes overlap, that some women traveled several times but in different circumstances.

Commercial networks were sometimes complemented by social relations. One interesting case is that of Catrina Grin. In February 1837 she entered Wallachia through Câmpina-Predeal, bound for Bucharest, with shoes [to sell]. In April she returned to Brașov, but she was not alone, traveling in her mother’s company. She again traveled to Bucharest in August, this time with the sole recorded purpose of visiting her sister (‘la soră-sa’), while accompanied by a female comrade. So, we can tell that her sister and her mother were living in Bucharest, that she sold or supplied shoes there, but that she also traveled with relatives and friends between Bucharest and Brașov. Something similar seems to have happened with Maria Viber, who traveled on the same route. She entered the country in April with merchandise, exited in May, but returned to Bucharest in July to [visit] relatives. Future research might shed more light on the kind of networks that linked Wallachian and Transylvanian towns, and migrant communities to the native population.

Like the previous examples, the voyage of Maria Terezia in December 1836 is also telling. Her occupation stated her as a female tanner taking the route from Brașov to Câmpulung, via Dragoslavele-Rucăr, in order to receive debt payments (‘ca să scoață niște datorie’). Her cross-border networks implied financial exchanges, in addition to social and economic ties. It would be interesting to better investigate what role she played (if any) in hers or her husband’s business.

Women who traveled as companions, especially as wives, show slightly different patterns. Their travel routes were more diverse and included more long-distance destinations or points of departure. This is indicative of the higher status that men held, that allowed them to move over longer routes with more diverse purposes. The only women bound for England, Saxony, Galicia, or coming from Italy in the dataset—not to mention other farther places within Wallachia or Transylvania—traveled alongside their husbands. Moreover, their background was also more diverse. At the highest end of the social scale we can include the British consul to Wallachia, Robert Colhoun, who returned home with his wife in March 1837. At the opposite side of the scale, four beggars (‘cerșetori’—column Occupation)—Ilie Tudor, Nicolae Bălaș, Toader Alecu, Lazăr Bartoș—traveled with their respective wives and children to Bucharest, or returned home to Brașov. These were the only examples I found of women coming to Wallachia to beg (pentru cerșit—column Purpose). Between these contrasting instances, we can place more common journeys, like those performed for commercial reasons. But even here, the examples are somewhat exotic. Franz Parsot (?), an Italian subject entered Wallachia through Câmpina-Predeal, coming all the way from Italy (unspecified principality), accompanied by his wife (unnamed). He was a dollmaker (‘păpușar’), on his way to Bucharest to sell dolls (‘să vânză păpuși’). Similarly, a Wallachian subject, Mihalache Maca, traveled to Leipzig with his wife Anastasia, for commerce (‘pentru comerț’). To Wallachian merchants, Leipzig was a major connection in Central Europe, and a commercial gateway to the West, so much so that those importing goods from Leipzig had their own guild: that of ‘lipscani’.

Examples can further be cited regarding short distance commerce. Ioan Găină, another Wallachian subject, was based in the village of Râmniceni, close to the border with Moldavia. On March 26, he and his wife left the country for the Moldavian port of Galați, to bring merchandise (‘să aducă marfă’). In these cases, migrant women appear, from the point of view of formal ties, as ‘followers’ of their husbands, according to a consolidated (and stereotypical) image developed in previous literature on the topic. Clearly, only further research, cross reference of different kinds of sources and biographical reconstruction, could help to better underscore their role and their concrete contribution to mobility within the family context.

Conclusions

My research has looked at the women who crossed the Wallachian Northern border for a year beginning from the end of 1836. The major pattern that emerged in the results concerns medium-range journeys that linked the two most populated towns in Wallachia and Transylvania: Bucharest and Brașov. The most common type of traffic in this pattern can be seen as a byproduct of the process of importing skills, goods, and services from Transylvania, a process that coincided with the establishment of Transylvanian communities in Wallachia. Romanian historiography has so far focused on important figures, while my results reflect this process on a micro-level and taking into account individuals traveling for a range of purposes, and hailing from multiple social and professional backgrounds. My research shows that women played a crucial role in these dynamics of exchange. Considering all spatial patterns that are reflected in the sample, women who traveled across the border seem to have been proactive: they journeyed mostly independently or accompanied by children, relatives, or friends. Furthermore, thanks to their mobility, they maintained transnational ties between communities and participated in the economy. A more complete picture will surface once additional sources are cross-researched—in this sense a future social history of migration in Wallachia is a promising field of studies.

Appendix

See Map 12.4, Table 12.2, Figs. 12.2, 12.3, and 12.4.

Map 12.4

Wallachia in 1837. Towns, Market towns, border crossing points and postal roads

Table 12.2 Extracts from travelers lists

Fig. 12.2

Number of events involving women, by the status of women in formal groups

Fig. 12.3

Sampled travelers lists from Wallachia’s Northern border. Number of crossings by month**; double scale. **The month of November was excluded from the analysis because of missing material for the majority of the crossing points

Fig. 12.4

Sampled travelers lists from Wallachia’s Northern border. Percentage of crossings where women were formal group leaders or traveled alone

Notes

• 1. Several publications exist and cover mostly towns: Câmpulung, Cerneți. Pitești, Brăila, Caracal, Ploiești; authors include Spiridon Cristocea, Ion Dedu, Dinică Ciobotea, Emanoil Barbu.

• 2. In 2014 a representative dataset on rural population was published on the MOSAIC database. Similar efforts at digitization are taking place at Nicolae Iorga Institute of History (Romanian Academy) and Sodderstorm University; the databases are set to be published in 2021.

• 3. A constitutional law was introduced, called The Organic Regulation, which constituted the basis of reorganizing the administration and introducing modern branches of government.

• 4. These facilities were called ‘quarantines’ and were maintained after the end of the war, and later integrated into the Wallachian administration (art. 180–211 of the Organic Regulation). Travelers were required to stay there between four and sixteen days, depending on the existence of epidemics South of the Danube.

• 5. In spite it being called Millitia (Miliția), it functioned like a regular army, with a permanent active force and constant recruitment. It was composed of three regiments.

• 6. Villages close to the border had to provide a number of men to guard designated points and routes. In turn, they were partially exempted from taxation.

• 7. The content of lists varies over time, according to the table format that was used. In the late 1850s additional columns were inserted: age, approximate height, eye colour, form of the nose and face—see the lists preserved in the archives of the former War Department (National Archives of Romania, fond Ministerul de Război—Punctul Bechet). However, from unknown reasons, some border officers used a slightly different format than in the others. Among our own sources, those from Nămoloasa also state the means of transport.