Costea, Simion (1994 UTRECHT study), „Prostitution in Brăila (Rumania) at the end of the nineteenth Century, p. 12-14, in volume Isha Journal. History of Daily Life, vol. 2/1994, UTRECHT - NETHERLANDS, Atalanta Houten, 1994, Editors Bodien Abels and Carine van Rhijn, (Papers of the fifth Isha Conference, Utrecht, The Netherlands, April 4-8, 1994). ISSN 1023-1048. (see Worldcat http: //www. worldcat. org/title/history-of-daily-life-papers-of-the-fifth-isha-conference-utrecht-the-netherlands-april-4-8-1994/oclc/69147637&referer=briefᵣesults) STUDIU VOLUM CONFER - EDITURA STRAINATATE, KVK and Worldcat Abstract This article examines prostitution in Brăila, Romania, at the end of the nineteenth century, based on a medical report by Dr. Butărescu. Using hospital data, administrative records, and personal observations, the report reveals the coexistence of legal and illegal prostitution, poor sanitary conditions, and ethnic and social diversity among sex workers. The study highlights state inaction and contributes to the historiography of public health and social regulation in Eastern Europe. Keywords: Prostitution, Brăila, Romania, Nineteenth century, Public health, Venereal disease, Urban history, Social regulation, Medical history, Eastern Europe Prostitution in Brăila (Romania) at the End of the Nineteenth CenturySimion Costea (Romania) The history of prostitution is a relatively new subject within Romanian historiography. Investigating it requires the study of historical documents to allow for meaningful generalizations. The present paper is an attempt in this direction. Its purpose is to analyze a document that has not yet been interpreted by historians—namely, a case study that offers a cross-sectional view of the issue of prostitution, particularly in relation to venereal diseases in the town of Brăila (Romania) at the end of the nineteenth century. The source used is a contemporary report by Dr. Butărescu, chief physician of the Brăila Hospital, addressed to the Romanian authorities in an effort to urge the implementation of immediate prophylactic measures against venereal disease. In his report, Dr. Butărescu presents a sociological study based on data from hospital records, inquiries made by the local administration, and his own observations. The report is significant because, at the time, there was relatively little scholarly attention paid to this subject. Interest in the state of prostitution in Romania increased during the interwar period. Although Dr. Butărescu's opinion is a personal one, it reflects the spirit of his time and social environment. In this sense, it represents a segment of Romanian public opinion. His report is presented from a realistic, scientific, and elitist perspective. Prostitution legislation in Romania followed the French model of regulation. However, by the end of the nineteenth century, the legal framework lagged far behind the social reality. There were two types of prostitution: regulated prostitution, practiced in licensed brothels, and illegal prostitution, which took place in unlicensed establishments such as illegal brothels, restaurants, and coffeehouses. In Romanian towns, it was uncommon to find prostitutes working individually on the streets, as societal attitudes were strongly opposed to such behavior. The notable exception was Bucharest, the capital, where such cases did occur. Most prostitutes were concentrated in Bucharest and the Danube port cities of Brăila and Galați. This is directly linked to patterns of urban development and the movement of people through these cities. Nearly half of all brothels in Romania (excluding Bucharest) were located in these two ports. On average, Brăila recorded between 120 and 140 legal prostitutes annually, alongside over 100 illegal prostitutes, in a population of approximately 40, 000 inhabitants. This amounts to one prostitute per 166 residents—a figure higher than the average in seven major towns in England. Over the next 25 years, the number of prostitutes increased alongside the population, but the number of brothels declined, and illegal, individual prostitution became more prevalent. Brăila remained one of the major centers of prostitution in Romania. Prostitutes came from all social classes, though the majority were from impoverished backgrounds. Some were underage, some were married, and others engaged in prostitution while holding regular jobs. Generally, they were illiterate, though not alcoholics. From an economic perspective, prostitutes could be divided into several categories. While brothels were the norm, there were significant differences among them. Poor prostitutes were financially dependent on the brothel owners, offered services at low prices, and typically served clients from the lower classes. In contrast, luxury prostitutes were mostly unlicensed and charged high fees. Their clients usually came from the upper classes, and some even supported the prostitutes' living expenses. Regarding the ethnic origins of the brothel owners and prostitutes, most belonged to Jewish, Hungarian, German, Russian, and Polish communities. This ethnic composition does not reflect the demographic makeup of Brăila, which was predominantly Romanian. This indicates that most prostitutes came from outside the city or even from abroad. This phenomenon can be attributed to several factors: recruitment by brothel owners who lured women with job offers, and the forced mobility of prostitutes, as clients demanded a constant rotation of new women. The hygienic conditions of the prostitutes were deplorable. The law required strict sanitary oversight of brothels, including mandatory medical examinations for prostitutes twice a week. In practice, however, these examinations occurred infrequently—only once every five to six weeks. They were carried out superficially, without adequate equipment, and by unqualified personnel. As a result, prostitutes suffering from venereal diseases could continue receiving clients for months. Legal provisions were routinely ignored due to the absence of strict penalties. In the case of illegal prostitution, there was no medical oversight whatsoever. Authorities appeared indifferent to the issue, showing little interest either in supervising and controlling regulated prostitution or in eliminating illegal prostitution. Conclusion Revisiting this study, originally written in 1994 during my time as a student at UBB, speaking at an academic international conference in Utrecht U, I recognize its continuing relevance as a foundational inquiry into the history of prostitution in Brăila at the end of the XIXth century. Grounded in primary documentation, the article sought to uncover how prostitution was regulated, perceived, and managed within institutional and medical frameworks. At the time, the aim was to illuminate a neglected area of Romanian social history—drawing attention to legal contradictions, public health concerns, and the socio-economic realities of women engaged in sex work. This remains an important historical contribution, and one that continues to offer valuable insight into the intersection of urban life, public policy, and social norms. With the benefit of time and expanded perspectives, feminist and gender studies allow us to take an additional step forward: to consider the gendered dimensions of power that shaped these historical realities. The women in Dr. Butărescu’s report were not only subjects of medical examination or regulation—they were also participants in a system marked by social inequality, constrained choices, and institutional control. A gender-sensitive reading draws attention to how their lives were structured by class, ethnicity, and gender expectations, and how their presence in the city’s social fabric reflected deeper tensions about morality, modernity, and the control of female bodies. This additional perspective does not replace the original study, but extends it. Feminist and gender theory invite us to ask new questions—not only about legislation and hygiene, but also about voice, agency, and historical visibility. Returning to this material now, I see it not as a closed narrative, but as an ongoing conversation. The women who appear in these records deserve to be seen not only through the eyes of law and medicine, but also as individuals shaped by—and navigating—the complex structures of their time. By adding this interpretive layer, we enrich our understanding of both the historical subject and the ways we write its history.
Simion COSTEA (Sat,) studied this question.