Marriage in Politics,Politics in Marriage: A Transylvanian Parliamentary Representative's Kinship Networks at Political Turning Points

Introduction

In late summer of 1897, having just reached Budapest to attend the works of the Hungarian Parliament, the newly elected Romanian deputy Ion Ciocan received the following letter from his wife, Amalia, who had remained in his native county of Năsăud (Hu. Naszód), in Northern Transylvania.

I have received your letter in which you inform me of your arrival to Budapest. I am however somewhat concerned about your health, as you seem to have developed the same health troubles as last winter, with your ear and your throat. If things are as you describe them, then you should consult a physician and follow his guidance entirely. In case you are not feeling well, or if you should miss me, then let me know and I will immediately come to join you. ¹

Amalia was not worried without cause, as Ciocan would eventually pass away from oesophageal cancer. Ciocan had just won his first member of parliament (MP) mandate following the 1896 elections, as a member of the ruling Hungarian Liberal Party (Hu. Szabadelvű Párt). He had been elected “through the voters’ acclamations,” as he had had no counter-candidate. This would be the first electoral success in the parliamentary career that would only end in 1915, with his passing. ²

His career in parliament involved, among other things, lengthy stays in Budapest away from his wife and other family members, who had all remained in his home county of Năsăud. This situation would facilitate the emergence of a rich epistolary network, which provides a wealth of information on a variety of topics related to the conjunction between kinship, politics, and the nature of the elite's marital ties. The correspondence also allows a glimpse into a rarely visible, and less often studied facet of a political figure's life, namely the “companionate,” essentially cooperative nature of the marriage between Ion Ciocan and Amalia Piciu, bound by the “glue of romantic love.” ³

This paper has a dual purpose: On the one hand, it looks at how kinship networks, and particularly those built through marriage, worked to ensure continued electoral and political success in Transylvania during the existence of the Dual Monarchy. On the other hand, it explores the other facet of marriage and politics, namely the way in which the latter shaped and contributed to the former. Through a close reading of the extensive correspondence kept by the Romanian deputy and his spouse, who remained at home in their small town in Northern Transylvania, the paper offers a glimpse into the domesticity and affection present in the relationship that might have been regarded as a mere pragmatic choice, owing to the fact that it considerably advanced the Romanian politician's career. By chronicling the difficult struggles faced by Amalia Ciocan in dealing with progressing illness, how they were shared in epistolary exchanges, and how they were tackled by both wife and husband, the paper shows how marital solidarity functioned in the case of an elite couple's marriage.

The present study is geared to provide a close reading of how exactly kinship and parliamentary politics intertwined and is framed by recent research into the matter. ⁴ This research signals that while family relations were very important in securing electoral success, they were not the prime reason behind it. ⁵ Recent research has also drawn attention to the fact that, in Hungary and Transylvania, one of the distinguishing characteristics of the political elite was the existence of a long-lasting and dense kinship network between regional elites, from which most of the MPs from this area were recruited. ⁶ More generally, studies focusing on both East-Central and South-Eastern Europe in modernity have emphasized that the relationship between romantic attachment, marital ties, and the social reproduction of elites, be they economic or political in nature, was not as straightforward as one might assume at first glance. ⁷ At the same time, the intertwining between the establishment of kinship ties and upward social and political mobility was undeniable and still a strong characteristic of societies in the area well into the twentieth century. ⁸

Thus, the present study argues that this topic requires more in-depth and qualitative studies to elucidate precisely how kin could contribute to one's political career, and how this type of kin-based network intersected with other newer networks, such as those created by friends and colleagues who shared a professional background, or with more traditional patron–client relationships.

The study has a two-fold structure, corresponding to the two main directions of analysis. Following a brief biographical sketch that aims to capture the major milestones in Ion Ciocan's life and professional pathway, it delves into the event of his marriage to Amalia Ciocan, emphasizing what it meant in terms of social and political advancement. It then explores the meaning of the marital tie and the ensuing kinship relationships for the Romanian deputy, by focusing on the emotional turning point of his wife's passing. The second main section looks at how the kinship network established through marriage strengthened and grew even after losing the main link to his in-laws, their daughter. It offers several conclusions that serve to emphasize the need for more in-depth qualitative studies of how kinship and politics intertwined, to the benefit of both fields, in nineteenth and early twentieth-century Transylvania.

Biographical Milestones: Ion Ciocan, Parliamentary Representative

The study tackles the situation of Ion Ciocan, a Romanian MP who served in the Budapest Parliament from 1896 to 1915 (with only a 2-year gap) and was an adherent of the Hungarian Liberal Party for the entirety of his political career. As such, he went against the broad political current of nationalism espoused by the Romanian National Party in the region, which meant that Romanian historiography which has focused solely on the “national struggle” relegated his political activity to a cone of shadow, anachronistically perpetuating the same image that nineteenth century Romanian press had of such governmental deputies: that they had betrayed the Romanian nation in Hungary by collaborating with the governing parties. ⁹ This makes the study of their activity and of their networks of influence all the more important, as these were balanced between the nation's goals and the Hungarian governments’ plans.

The main sources for this qualitative enquiry into the role of kinship in (parliamentary) politics in Dualist Hungary were the over 200 letters between the deputy Ciocan and his family—namely his wife, his in-laws, and his nephew. These were supplemented by diaries from his electoral campaigns, as well as other articles from contemporary press.

Ciocan's biography was typical for Romanian social and political elites in Dualist Hungary. He was born in a family of the rural intelligentsia in 1850, in Mocod (Hu. Szamosmakód), a village that was part of the Romanian Border Guard Military Regiment of Năsăud. His father was a teacher at the Greek-Catholic village school, while his mother came from a clergy family. They were also small landowners, as most of the rural elites in the region.

Ciocan studied first at the Greek-Catholic Gymnasium in Năsăud (one of only 4 such Romanian secondary schooling institutions in Dualist Hungary), and then pursued university studies in philology in Graz, Vienna, and Budapest. Since 1874, he was the editor of one of the major Romanian gazettes in Hungary (“Albina,” published in Budapest), a teacher (1878) and then a headmaster (1880) of the same Gymnasium which he had graduated from. In 1896 he won his first MP mandate, which he had to renounce 2 years later after he was appointed as professor at the Department for Romanian Language and Literature of Budapest University. In the same year, he managed to regain his mandate, and he remained active as an MP until 1915, with only a short, two-year gap. ¹⁰

Marriage—Entering new Networks

Unfortunately, for the period prior to Ciocan's marriage, there is no correspondence with his bride-to-be, Amalia nee Piciu. Thus, we cannot pinpoint with any certainty what other (political) reasons might have moved the future politician to choose his bride, beyond romantic attachment.

Amalia was the only daughter of one of the county's most influential civil servants, Leon Piciu, who headed the office of the county's property register. This was a very important position in an area dominated by small landowners such as that of the former Border Guard Regiment. Ciocan's father-in-law also owned real estate in Năsăud, several pieces of land, and shares in the local Romanian banks. This placed him very well on the regional social-economic ladder.

Amalia was 11 years younger than her husband (born February 10, 1860). When the two married in 1882, her groom had already reached the peak of his professional pathway at the regional level. At the relatively young age of 32, Ciocan was already headmaster of the Năsăud Gymnasium.

The extensive correspondence between the spouses offers an intimate and revealing gaze into the couples’ relationship. During the nineteenth century, spouses or lovers exchanged letters as a usual way of “bridging the silences with ink and pencil.” Although the Ciocan spouses were apart for lengthy periods of time owing to Ion Ciocan's career, separated by great distances, they nonetheless benefitted from the wide-ranging processes of modernization witnessed by the nineteenth-century; both the general spread of literacy and the expansion and increased reliability of the postal network made it possible for love to be communicated and relationships maintained over time and space much more easily than before. ¹¹ Several issues should be underlined at this point:

On the one hand, their epistolary exchanges betray profound romantic attachment. Thus, the marriage was not concluded in order to increase the groom's social status, even if this might have weighed in his mind as well at the time. However, by marrying Amalia, Ciocan did become the only son-in-law to a very well placed local civil servant. As such, he became part of Leon Piciu's network and could access the resources, information, and individuals his father-in-law already had access to.

Moreover, access to his father-in-law's network would prove to be essential in winning and securing votes in the parliamentary elections: Piciu had direct contact with all landowners in the Bistrița-Năsăud County (Hu. Beszterce-Naszód), the wealthiest of whom formed the bulk of the voters in the elections. Moreover, by virtue of his office in the administration, he also wielded a high degree of influence among this group. Thus, by marrying Amalia, Ciocan could access new networks and consolidate his existing status among his own circles of acquaintances. ¹²

Marriage as “True Consolation” and the Origin of “Happiness Yearned for”—Adding New Ties to the Network

From the perspective of his marriage strategy, Ciocan was not necessarily an exceptional case, if regarded within the wider framework of the Romanian MPs who held pro-governmental views and were elected to the Budapest parliament during the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. A survey of these politicians’ marital options reveals several typologies regarding spousal choice, suggesting that this was largely influenced by one's social provenance. Given most Romanian MPs had been recruited from the ranks of the state civil servants and that secondary school teachers ¹³ , their marital strategies generally targeted the local-level Romanian elite, or, in rarer instances, the regional-level elite. A category apart were the deputies who stemmed from noble families, who displayed a different tendency: they sought to establish kinship ties through marriage to other highly prestigious families of differing ethnic backgrounds. The case of the Baron Duca of Cadăr (Hu. Kádár), who married the daughter of the Baron Fedor Nikolić of Rudna, a relative of the Obrenović Serbian princely family ¹⁴ , is a prime example of this tendency. The same typology of marital choice was also exhibited by the Romanian deputy Petru Mihalyi of Apșa, who, after having wed Luiza Simon, the daughter of Florent Simon, one of the most well-regarded lawyers in Budapest, managed to enter the kinship network of the former Hungarian minister Károly Hieronymi, whose daughter wed Mihalyi's son, Florentin. ¹⁵ However, it should be noted that all of the Romanian pro-governmental deputies’ marriages were exclusively exogamous, although at the time the practice of using endogamous marriage as a means of expanding one's political network was still widely used. ¹⁶

Ciocan's vision of marrying right is revealed in his letters to his nephew (his sister's son), the lawyer Alexa David, who became his ward after being orphaned at the young age of five. As his nephew was searching for a bride to correspond to his personal ambitions of social advancement, he focused his attention on the neighboring county of Maramureș (Hu. Máramaros) after finding o adequate brides in his native county. During this process, he asked his uncle for advice on the matter and received the following reply. Ciocan underlined the need for ‘good understanding’ and ‘complete support’ in married life, which were characteristics of his own marriage.

“Although people are used to giving advice on occasions such as this, I will refrain, as the best advice is generally earned through one's own experiences, and you have already reached that age which provides you with knowledge of living well as a household. I thus only say from my heart what I have wished you until now as well: that God may grant that this matrimony, contracted for life, be auspiciously made, so that you will be able to live together in good understanding, for worse as for better, and that it may provide you with true consolation, complete support, and the happiness you have yearned for.” ¹⁷

However, Ciocan was careful to find out who his nephew was due to wed, as this meant adding new in-laws to his existing family and network.

His nephew's bride-to-be was the daughter of the local Greek Catholic archpriest, which meant the establishment of new ties to the clerical intelligentsia in the region. However, this was not enough: Ciocan endeavored to find out more information and made enquiries through his own political network, namely two MPs who hailed from the same county as the bride's family, which made them good connoisseurs of local elites. The new couple's wedding was witnessed by one of Ciocan's closest collaborators (Ioan Gheție) who succeeded him as headmaster to the Năsăud Gymnasium as well as in his position as MP representing the constituency of Năsăud after 1915. The strategy adopted in this case by the Romanian deputy shows that entering into a relationship of spiritual kinship served not only to strengthen already extant kinship ties but also to establish new connections, a fact which has also been noted for other political actors in various parts of Europe during the nineteenth century. ¹⁸

Thus, his nephew's marriage—who would be his heir, as Ciocan and Amalia had no living offspring—was also a good opportunity to strengthen the friendship and collegial ties between himself and Ioan Gheție by adding the latter to his kinship network as a marriage godparent.

Losing One's Spouse, Consolidating Family Ties

The politician's family would pass through the most tragic moments in Spring 1900. After several years of struggling with sickness, Amalia Ciocan would pass away on May 13, 1900. The several dozens of letters exchanged by the two spouses, which have remained in the deputy's archival collection, reveal the typical image of a wife in Romanian society on the eve of the twentieth century, as shown by a series of recent studies focused on married women's lives in provincial Transylvania at the time. ¹⁹ During Ion Ciocan's lengthy absences from home, Amalia spent her days mainly focusing on the household and its extensive gardens or went to visit the nearby natural spas of Sângeorz (Hu. Oláhszentgyörgy), a small town renowned for its mineral water springs which boasted various healing properties.

Based on the correspondence kept by the couple, it seems that Amalia's state of health was precarious, with a predisposition for digestive illnesses. A gradual evolution for the worse was visible in the epistolary exchanges: while initially, in a letter dated to the Summer of 1887, she would write that “I am not feeling much at all, but I should take care that nothing more serious happens later on,” ²⁰ only a few months prior to her passing the situation had significantly worsened. A letter from this time, likewise directed to her husband, included the mention that she “was doing everything possible to heal” herself, noting that “you who are so good to mine, are doing so much more [for me], but until now with the little result after much suffering and tribulation.” ²¹

Indeed, the deputy had experienced much “suffering and tribulation” during his wife's final years of life. This period had coincided with his spectacular professional and political career during the last years of the nineteenth century, and, consequently, with lengthy stays in Budapest in his capacity as a parliamentary representative. Despite this imposed distance, Ciocan made use of his extensive sphere of influence to mobilize all resources that might have contributed to the recovery of his wife's health.

A few months after Ion Ciocan won his MP mandate, Amalia's letters included the mention that “I have not written to you about my health until now because nothing much has changed, meaning that, since you left, I have felt much the same, chewing either worse or better; today is the first day on which I feel somewhat better and am able to write.”

Growing aware of the fact that his wife's health situation required the attention of physicians in the capital of Hungary, the deputy made efforts to bring her to Budapest. Amalia's travel preparations are revealed by several letters addressed to her husband. In 1896, her newly earned status as a deputy's wife had made it mandatory to order an entirely different wardrobe, as what she had been wearing in the small town of Năsăud in the North of Transylvania was no longer deemed appropriate clothing for the capital of Hungary. Consequently, she asked her husband to ensure that she was sent fabrics from Budapest in order to have blouses and a “fitted coat” made in the nearby city of Bistrița (Hu. Beszterce), a request the deputy was quick to comply with, even adding a set of new handkerchiefs. ²²

Despite the lengthy journey which had caused Amalia to experience “a great fatigue because of the heat and the overlong road,” the deputy's wife managed to be seen by several reputed specialist physicians in Budapest, who recommended that she undergo a “cleanse with Carlsbad waters” ²³ and maintain a diet which included drinking “Geiskübler” water and various wines. ²⁴ All of these remedies, as well as the consultations offered by Budapest physicians, would have likely been inaccessible to a mere Gymnasium headmaster's wife from a small town in Transylvania, but were readily available to the ailing spouse of a member of parliament, and especially to one who had managed to cultivate a strong relationship with the acting Prime Minister Dezső Bánffy. This was only the first of many travels embarked upon by Amalia Ciocan to Budapest, as she would resume her journey to the capital on a yearly basis to obtain up-to-date evaluations of her health status.

In Năsăud, Amalia began the treatment she was prescribed under the careful watch of the county physician Filipan, who “was visiting me on a daily basis.” The physician's extraordinary level of personal care provided was evidence of just how influential the Romanian deputy was at the local level. Filipan could already be counted among the MP's closest circle for several years prior to these events, as the Romanian politician's diaries kept during the electoral campaigns recorded him as being one of Ciocan's faithful supporters, an additional testament to the fact that the local elites had rallied to the aid of their parliamentary representative. Well-trained and highly educated Romanian physicians were an increasingly visible presence in Romanian society in Transylvania ²⁵ , as a result of a consistent policy of elite formation initiated by national elites which targeted this group as well as others, such as lawyers or teachers.

The epistolary exchanges between 1896 and 1900 focus primarily on Amalia's health status, providing information on the numerous containing wines with healing properties, which were shipped by the deputy from Budapest. The shipments often included various types of “waters” that were supposed to aid in Amalia's recovery and, in an attempt to improve her mental state, “humoristic gazettes.”

Despite her ailing health, Amalia Ciocan also attempted to keep her husband informed about important events occurring at local level, displaying her level of involvement in the MP's political life. Thus, her letters mention the meetings of the General Assembly of the local Romanian credit institute “Aurora” (Dawn) from Năsăud—in which Ciocan owned many shares—as well as the social events attended by the deputy's in-laws. The correspondence does not fail to note small matters of local concern that might be framed under the heading of gossip, Amalia's final letter to her husband, written only a month prior to her passing, details her plans for a new trip to Budapest. Despite these plans, the deputy's wife would no longer manage to visit her spouse in the capital, finally succumbing to her long-lasting sickness. The topics discussed in the letters as well as the spouses’ stylistic choices squarely frame their epistolary exchanges in the contemporary, late nineteenth-century correspondence typology, which was characterized by a wide variety of subjects, colloquial address, and a metaphor-infused writing style, which made heavy use of Romantic figures of speech. ²⁶

To honor his spouse's memory, Ion Ciocan established a foundation that he named after her: “The Amalia and Ion Ciocan foundation from Năsăud for the culture of the Romanian people in Hungary.” The purpose of this foundation was to support the cultural development of the Romanians in Dualist Hungary, and as such, it was placed under the administration of the most important association handling this domain, namely the ASTRA from Sibiu (Hu. Nagyszeben). ²⁷ The broadest part of the financial aid provided by the foundation was geared towards helping young individuals who were enrolled in secondary or university education and who distinguished themselves in the fields of philology (22 percent of the entire foundation's capital) or who wished to study agronomy, industry, or commerce (12 percent). An important share of the funds was also directed towards establishing and maintaining a cultural museum of the former border military guard district of Năsăud (4 percent) or granted to the branches of the ASTRA which were functioning in Năsăud and Budapest, as well as to other Romanian cultural societies (5 percent). The societies and associations established by Romanian university students in Vienna, Budapest, and Cluj were granted a further 3 percent of the funds, while the associations of secondary school students in Năsăud and Gherla were awarded 2 percent. Another part of the foundation's capital was awarded to the Greek Catholic church in the Romanian deputy's home village, as a charity, while one quarter was destined to support the blood and affinal kin of his late spouse. ²⁸ Through his endeavor, Ion Ciocan participated in a shared effort of nation-building adhered to by the Romanian elites in the area at the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries, an effort characterized by donating a large share of one's estate in order to support the educational formation of a Romanian elite and thus securing the cultural development of the Romanians in Dualist Hungary. ²⁹

Despite the tragic moments experienced by the deputy, the strength of the kinship ties which bound him to his in-laws only became readily visible after Amalia's passing, as these ties were maintained for the remainder of their lifetimes. After losing their only child, Amalia, Leon and Maria Piciu directed their attention and affection to Ion Ciocan as well as toward their son-in-law's nephew (his sister's son), Alexa David, whom they adopted at a later date. The continuing correspondence between them and the Romanian deputy shows the evolution of the relationship, which became increasingly closer as time went by. Thus, a couple of months after their daughter's passing, they wrote that “your mother-in-law, I, and Alexa are as you left us, each travailing in our own sphere, and offering succour to one another,” ³⁰ more than one year later the letters composed by Ciocan's father-in-law contain reference to “myself and Mummy, [who are] at peace, and give you many kisses and hugs.” Ion Ciocan's decision to refrain from remarrying contributed to this surprising closeness. Although he would not have been an atypical case for Romanian elites in Dualist Hungary ³¹ , the deputy preferred to remain a widower until his passing in 1915. The fact that this option strengthened his tie to his former spouse's parents also considerably weighed in on his later electoral successes during the first decades of the twentieth century. His father-in-law became one of his most active and ardent electoral agents, and a central element of his local-level electoral networks, as will be shown in the following section.

The Kinship Network and its Roles

Ciocan's kinship network was not extensive in numerical terms, but it extended in all the right directions from a political and social perspective. Its closest circle included several family and kin who acted as intermediaries between the deputy and his county-level supporters and dependents. These key-individuals were his father-in-law, Leon Piciu, his nephew, Alexa David, and his nephew's marriage godparent, Ioan Gheție.

The essential role played by these individuals was to maintain the upkeep of “patron-client” relationships during the parliamentary sessions, when Ciocan himself was no longer present in the county, but rather resided in Budapest. This was a two-way relationship: on the one hand, they mediated for local “clients” who had various issues they needed to submit to the “patron's” attention; on the other hand, during the elections, they mobilized the same “clients” in favor of the “patron,” putting into motion an extensive electoral machinery that spanned deep into the county, and which managed to win Ciocan his numerous seats in parliament. Two key moments illustrate very well how this in-law-based network functioned, in both of its directions: the 1901–1903 elections and the First World War.

While the role of the kinship network is visible throughout the parliamentary election campaigns in which Ciocan was involved, the way it functioned is most clearly manifested during the 1901 and 1903 elections. In 1901, Ciocan lost his MP mandate for the first and single time. Two years later, as his counter-candidate became incompatible with the office of MP, Ciocan managed to regain his seat.

During the first years of the twentieth century, the political life of the Romanians in Dualist Hungary was still overshadowed by the dispute between the adherents of the activist and those of the passivist political orientations. The former supported the involvement of the Romanians in Hungary's parliamentary scene, in order to determine the Budapest government to grant them rights as a nation; the latter considered that their abstaining from the electoral process could constitute enough leverage to accomplish the nation's political goals. Despite the fact that in 1887 the Romanian National Party—the only party of the Romanians in Dualist Hungary operating at the beginning of the twentieth century—had decreed passivism as a general political tactic ³² , the Romanian voters constantly took part in parliamentary elections, animated by personal, family or community interests. The activist tendency of a wide share of the Romanian voters in Transleithania was all the more important, as, in some cases, it could come to support the electoral bids made by their own co-nationals. After reaching the benches of the Budapest parliament, these Romanian politicians became efficient intermediaries between the government and the regular voters. By the end of the nineteenth century, the Hungarian governing party's tactic of attracting politicians from non-Hungarian national backgrounds was already well-established. These candidates were then provided with electoral support and in exchange gave their full cooperation during votes for the government's own projects. ³³ Ion Ciocan, as leader of the Romanian deputies with pro-governmental views, found himself precisely in this situation. His excellent ties to the central authorities in Budapest materialized in the full support of the local-level civil service during the electoral campaigns and the elections themselves. Coupled with the support he enjoyed from Romanian local elites, who wielded considerable influence in the constituency, these ties ensured the politician's near-continuous presence in the Budapest parliament. The sole exception was the 1901 elections, when the Hungarian authorities and the Romanian voters displayed contrasting political agendas. ³⁴

The 1901 electoral context was extremely unfavorable to the Romanian politician, for the first time in his career: starting from 1889, his close ally Dezső Bánffy, former Lord Lieutenant of Ciocan's native county and former Hungarian Prime Minister, had been replaced in his office by Kálmán Széll. The new PM did not have a good working relationship with the Romanian deputy precisely because of his close ties to his predecessor. As such, he did not wish to support Ciocan in his bid for a new MP seat, and rather opted to support a new candidate of Jewish descent from Budapest (Marczell Beck). However, at the local level, the Hungarian Liberal Party still lent its support to Ciocan, along with a great number of Romanian voters. This created an unusual situation at the elections: two candidates from the same party were running against each other; one was supported primarily by the authorities and the electoral machinery of the civil servants; the other had the adherence of the voters (liberal professionals, clergy, minor civil servants). At a time when the political influence of the county-level civil service was a decisive factor in securing electoral success, which was visible in elections throughout Dualist Hungary ³⁵ , there could be only one possible outcome. Ciocan lost the elections 328 to 391.

Contemporary Romanian press—opposed to Romanian politicians’ collaboration with the Hungarian government—did not miss the opportunity to criticize Ciocan's actions and the position of the local elite who sided with him. The articles from this period underline the strength of Ciocan's local network consisting in rural educated elites, of which the great majority had sided with their preferred candidate:

“Our Romanians, the intelligentsia in Năsăud and its surroundings (with very few exceptions), who betrayed national solidarity for Ciocan's sake, made fools of themselves to strangers through this defeat.” ³⁶

However, the abuse committed by the counter-candidate's adherents and the close electoral score pushed Ciocan and his supporters to contest the elections’ results.

In order to achieve this, Ciocan mobilized his entire group of supporters, which included the local Gymnasium teachers, his in-law, as well as his nephew, and started an ample campaign to gather evidence through which he could prove that the elections had been defrauded. This points to the fact that the traditional network, based on the key family members, was doubled and reinforced by a more “modern network,” constituted by his former colleagues from the local Gymnasium. Both groups were coordinated from Budapest, where Ciocan was serving as professor at the Department for Romanian Language and Literature at the university. Leon Piciu and Alexa David would be key elements in this action. They mediated the ties with the entire network and kept in touch with the teachers from Năsăud as well as with Ioan Gheție, Ciocan's successor as headmaster and his nephew's marriage godparent. From this level, Ciocan could reach the lowest level in the constituency, of the voters, which comprised diverse social-occupational groups (clergy, teachers, minor civil servants, small landowners). His father-in-law and nephew took on most of the correspondence, which was substantial, thus freeing Ciocan to handle his own work in the Hungarian capital.

These two individuals also received precise instructions, which show that they were empowered, at least unofficially, to act in their patron's place at local level:

Do what you can for the appeal. I am doing my best here (…) However, I don’t have all the voter lists here. I need them to be able to make some arrangements. Please send them to me, as you must have copies available. Also send in any notes about the information collected, so that they might be studied here as well. ³⁷

His father-in-law not only kept him informed about this process, describing with great detail how gathering evidence proceeded at local level, but also traveled with Ciocan's nephew through the constituency's villages, reporting what he was told about the administration's abuses and corruption which had landed his counter candidate's win in the elections.

Finally, Ciocan's dispute of the election's results was deemed unwarranted by the higher authorities and his counter-candidate's mandate was deemed valid. However, in 1903, Ciocan was able to stake his claim once again, as his counter-candidate became incompatible with the office of MP and resigned.

This moment offers a glimpse into the running of networks at higher political levels, which coalesced in Budapest and included Romanian politicians who shared Ciocan's view. Thus, he was visited by two Romanian MPs who were also adherents of the Liberal Party, Iosif Gall and George Szerb. In a letter to his followers, Ciocan recounted that

“due to Beck's resignation, in Budapest they came to the conclusion in the liberal club along with Széll, that I should be the candidate, especially since the constituency wants me, and thus they would have me satisfied; (Széll) even asked dr. Gal and Szerb to encourage me to receive the offer.” ³⁸

Because he wished to leave for Budapest at the beginning of the university term, Ciocan thus asked his collaborators to “take all missing steps” in this direction.

Their actions—and especially those of the local Gymnasium headmaster Gheție—would be sorely criticized by the Romanian press:

“Although Ciocan is agreeable to the government, his adherents, worried that they would fall along with their own candidate, took all precautions to be ‘victorious’ in the elections. (…) the substitute headmaster, Gheție, committed an abuse of power by taking four students from their classes, whom he dispatched to the office of the lawyer Alexa David, Ciocan's nephew, to appeal to voters from there. This action goes directly against the ‘credo’ that Mr. Gheție had recently professed, namely that ‘School will not engage in politics.’ It is a sad state when such teachers of a Romanian institution become electoral agents (corteși) and do not shy away from using young students to handle their political dirty work.” ³⁹

After several meetings with the new PM Kálmán Széll, Ciocan received assurances that he would be the only candidate, with the Hungarian politician notifying him that “minden rendben van” (all shall be well). ⁴⁰ This message rang true, as in February 1903 Ciocan won his mandate through “acclamations,” being the only candidate for the position. ⁴¹

The “patron-client” relationship witnessed interesting ramifications under the duress caused by the outbreak of the First World War. Although Ciocan's parliamentary activity ended after the first year of the war (September 1915), the petitions asking him to intervene on behalf of various former constituents did not stop.

While most of these stem from the county of Bistrița-Năsăud, which he represented as deputy, about one-third come from areas that had not been directly under Ciocan's political influence, namely from other Transylvanian counties. This indicates that the geographical breadth of Ciocan's network spanned more widely than his own native county and constituency by the time his career in politics had ended.

While a considerable part of these petitions was addressed to him directly, a great number were submitted through various intermediaries, likely in the chance of obtaining a better, desired outcome.

Some of these intermediaries were exceptional (priests, teachers, minor civil servants, etc.), who sent him fewer than three letters meaning to seek help for close kin or friends. However, most of the mediated petitions went through the hands of “key” intermediaries—Alexa David, Ciocan's nephew, and Ioan Gheție, the headmaster of the Năsăud Gymnasium. Doubtless that his father-in-law would have also figured in this role, had he not perished some years prior to the outbreak of the war.

Alexa David's privileged position at this stage in Ciocan's life turned him into the perfect intermediary for an entire host of acquaintances. Most petitions concerned the petitioner's wish to escape military mustering or, when this was not possible, to serve as far away from the front lines as possible.

The professional categories which appealed to Alexa David in order to reach the former MP ranged from peasants to other lawyers, who were well-placed in the local social hierarchy. From an ethnic perspective, although most petitioners were Romanians, there were a high number of petitions received from Hungarians in Transylvania as well. These were however mediated by a network that was outside of his own kinship relations.

Conclusions

Being related to the right people and seeking out the most advantageous marriage were certainly of great importance for politicians in Dualist Hungary as in any other nineteenth or early twentieth century country. However, relations established by kinship did not just work automatically, ensuring that if one allied himself to the right individuals then electoral success was guaranteed. Rather, relationships that opened up other networks, to which a groom would not necessarily have had access in his own professional pathway, were more important.

In Ciocan's case the role of Leon Piciu's position at the head of the county property register in an area dominated by small landowners was perhaps of the greatest importance in securing the constituency's loyalty towards him, perhaps equaling if not exceeding the weight of the support he had from the intelligentsia. What is more, the right kin connections brought with them resources and information and became conduits for back-and-forth exchanges.

The 1901 and 1903 elections show very well how much a well-placed ally such as his-father-in-law could achieve by visiting with voters in the villages, obtaining reports, and disseminating information. The same goes for spiritual kin such as the headmaster of the local Gymnasium, a marriage godparent to Ciocan's nephew, who mobilized even students to speak in his favor during his electoral campaign. The establishment of key nodes in the network by kin such as Alexa David, the MP's nephew, allowed it to endure well beyond the end of the parliamentarian's career, as the manifold petitions received after this temporal marker demonstrate. It was clear to those writing that Ciocan still had influence with the right people in power, who could perhaps decide their fates at a time of duress.

Thus, this study displays and discusses the variety of works performed by kinship-based networks in the electoral and political realm, hoping to open up a stronger current of research that aims to examine what precisely it was kinship and kin did for each other in various contexts, and how the networks they each accessed through one another helped them to achieve their goals.

Secondly, the study chronicles the other side of the relationship between marriage and politics, by emphasizing that a marriage undertaken from pragmatic considerations, which aided a politician in building a strong electoral network, was not devoid of affection. By focusing on the difficult journey caused by Amalia Ciocan's precarious state of health, it shows how political and social resources might be mobilized in turn to help one's spouse and one's marriage. Underlining the fact that the kinship network based on the marriage to Amalia Piciu practically grew in intensity and actually began to be put to work in the sphere of politics after his spouse's passing, it suggests that further qualitative research is needed to understand how the spheres of kinship and political influence interacted in practice, aside from the notion that they were, somehow, related.