Marginalia.

Architectures of Uncertain Margins 83

Reclaiming a Land of Overlapping Frontiers:

The Romanian Seaside until the 20th Century

Irina Băncescu
PhD, Assistant Professor, “Ion Mincu” University of Architecture and Urbanism, Bucharest, Romania
bancescuirina@gmail.com

KEYWORDS: Romanian seaside; tourism; balneotherapy; Constanța; waterfront; collective imaginary;

city image

This research focuses on the marginal condition of the north-west Black Sea coast, until the
beginning of the 20th century. Remote and uncertain, this piece of land was located at the
extremities of dominant empires and frequently at the centre of political disputes. Bordering
a stormy sea that could bring both friends and enemies into its poorly defended harbours,
completely isolated from the mainland by the Danube and by the hostile and deserted Dobrudja
steppe, this strip of coast struggled to confront its inherent liminal condition. All these
overlapping frontiers and social textures slowly determined a hybrid cultural identity, giving it
layered meanings, among which its marine condition stood out as a defining feature.
What was the role of the sea in shaping the symbolic identity of Constanța? Does its imaginary
have any consequences on the urban fabric? Even if, as Charles King says,1 the images and their
mental associations might not be that obvious, they do exist and this article tries to highlight
the importance of the sea as a defining agent of local history, synthetically exposing the story
of the becoming of the coastal landscape. By framing a cultural perspective on this borderland,
the study retraces the gradual processes of discovery, construction and identification with the
seascape, highlighting social, cultural, economic and politic effects. By alternating objective
analysis with subjective views such as testimonials from travellers and locals with various
professional backgrounds, the text proposes a concise critical reading of both the physical context
of the seaside and the cultural imaginary that impregnated it, from distant contemplation to the
pragmatic invention of beach practices.
A series of economic and political events during the second half of the 19th century turned the
Romanians’ face towards the sea: Dobrudja and the Black Sea officially attracted the attention
of authorities, elites and the entire society. The text focuses on this temporal interval when
significant changes took place on the Black Sea shore, and follows its transformation until the
beginning of World War I. The case study is Constanța,2 as it successfully embodied all the
contrasts and changes taking place during this period.

On the idea of limit between sea and land

The strip between sea and land has always been a frontier. An insecure and hybrid place, a field
belonging either to the sea, or to the land, this collision area is usually dynamic and tense. For
maritime cities, this boundary represents the symbolic place of origin of the idea of urban limit,
a place where the city interrogates its form and its relationship with the territory.3 The waterfront
is a mutable landscape, indicating the extent to which the city–water interface is the meeting
place of permanence and indefiniteness, of artificial and natural, of man and nature – a symbolic

1 Charles King, Marea Neagră. O istorie [The Black Sea. A History] (Timişoara: Brumar, 2005), 24.
2 Depending on the context of the reference, various names of the city will be used throughout the text:
Constanța, Custendje, Chiustenge, Küstendge, etc.
3 Alessandra Forino, Paesaggi sull’acqua [Water Landscapes] (Florence: Alinea, 2003), 11.
84 studies in History & Theory of Architecture

articulation between two worlds.4 But, as Rosario Assunto asserts, the waterfront is “a limit that
rather unites than separates.”5
Initially, cities related to the water only in technological and functional terms, by building
bridges, piers, equipments, reinforcements of the banks; the waterfront had not yet become
an element for defining the urban form. During the 18th century, the limit towards the water
started to become “critical for the urban embellishment, on a symbolic, representative and
political level.”6 The aesthetic characterisation of the waterfront was the sign of a gradual urban
opening towards the natural landscape by articulating the territory to the scale of the city
through architecture. The disappearance of the defensive requirements and the rectification and
regularisation of waterways transformed the walls or the embankments into an urban façade that
visually dominated the natural territory.
The character of the coastal landscape is ambivalent: its physical features prevent it from offering
a clear unequivocal image, because it is an element that fulfils two opposite purposes – limit and
connection. It is a material limit between two incompatible domains, but also a central element
that expresses its articulation role. The coastline may be read in two manners: horizontally, parallel
with the shore, it offers a subtle image that is impossible to control; vertically, perpendicular to
the shore, it offers an immediate, concrete and diverse image. During history, this ambiguity
determined a landscape without a clear image that hardly found support in the social visions and
the mental imaginary.7

The lure of the sea in Western imaginary. The evolution of the seaside landscape

In his recount of the “invention of the sea,” Alain Corbin states that, ever since Antiquity,
geometry was the first tool used in the process of mastering the landscape, by tackling the very
imprecision of the limit between land and water. Sacred texts usually depicted the water expanse
as an image that inspires fear and repulsion: “there is no sea in the garden of Eden.”8 The symbolic
interpretation of the limit between civilisation and wilderness, between the certain and the
undefined is to be found throughout classical culture: everything outside the limit concealed an
unknown order, akin to chaos, incomprehensible and impossible to relate to the human scale.
Later, the Enlightenment provided adequate instruments to measure and to represent this space,
thus delivered from chaos and slowly becoming part of the real world. During the 19th century,
the bourgeois modern society officially opened the city towards the water, a process which was
deemed representative for progress, modern communication and exchanges: water appeared as
the unifying element of this newborn world. Moreover, in this period the panoramic perspective
was favoured, because the space of the belvedere offered a total, synthetic image of the landscape
that could be instantly seen and thus dominated: “the democratic bourgeois receives, as the
king on its throne, the homage of the Nature gathered at his feet.”9 The waterfront dedicated to
public promenade and panoramic contemplation became the privileged scene of both the natural
territory and the social spectacle of modernity.

4 Ibid.
5 Rosario Assunto, Il paesaggio e l’estetica. Natura e storia [The Landscape and Esthetics] (Naples:
Giannini, 1973), 34.
6 Renzo Dubbini, Geografie dello sguardo. Visione e paesaggio in età moderna [Geography of the Gaze:
Urban and Rural Vision in Early Modern Europe] (Torino: Einaudi, 1994), 52.
7 Carmen Carbone, “L’analisi della costa come esperienza estetica” [Analysis of the Coast as an Esthetic
Experience], in La riva perduta. Piano di monitoraggio e di riqualificazione delle fasce costiere italiane [The
Lost Waterfront. Plan of Monitoring and Rehabilitation of the Italian Sea-Coast], ed. Ruberto De Rubertis
(Rome: Officina, 2005), 41-50.
8 Alain Corbin, L’invenzione del mare. L’Occidente e il fascino della spiaggia 1750 – 1840 (Venice: Marsilio,
1990), 12; primary work: Le territorie du vide: L’Occident et le désir de rivage1750 – 1840 [The Territory of
the Void: The Occident and the Lure of the Sea] (Paris: Flammarion, 1990).
9 André Corboz, Ordine sparso. Saggi sull’arte, il metodo, la città e il territorio [Sparse Order. Studies on Art,
Method, City and Territory], ed. Paola Viganò (Milano: Urbanistica Franco Angeli, 1998), 187.
 Marginalia. Architectures of Uncertain Margins 85

The practice of visiting coastal areas for leisure originated sometime in the 18th century. The
evolution of the image that the littoral landscape acquired in the Western world was interpreted
as a “transition towards exoticism,”10 since previously the seaside was seen as an extreme place of
passion and fear. Port cities evoked marine dangers and gathered strangers:
“the sea was for centuries, in the collective imaginary, a space that escaped the human laws.
Consequently, capable of arousing fears and symbolic suggestions that awaken fear and disorder
[…] the collective mentality frequently recognized a strong cultural link between sea and
madness or sin.”11
Luginbühl gives three reasons for the reversal of this image: the public acceptance of the littoral
followed the experience of leisure in rural areas, which was the first step towards the discovery of
the natural spectacle; the development of science; the exploratory journeys that improved maps
and induced the gradual emergence of the desire for the “exotic.”12
The culture and philosophy of the time progressively led to the idea of contemplating infinity,
which was often epitomized by the sea. The seashore became a place of meditation on the
romantic concept of the sublime. In this moment appeared what Corbin defines as “the lure
of the sea,” associated with the romantic desire of self discovery.13 The new perspective of the
littoral also stood out during the 18th century because of the English contributions regarding
the establishment of the practice of sea bathing in a landscape that was appraised for its
health benefits. The spa fashion promoted the therapeutic purpose, but soon that aspect was
overwhelmed by leisure. The sea rituals of Western aristocrats were to be soon emulated by the
middle class bourgeoisie and later be diffused in all other layers of society.

The sea not as limit, but as a link to the world

Historian Charles King proposes a general reading of the evolution of the Black Sea shore not
from the land, but from the sea: his conclusion is that, until the second half of the 19th century,
land administrative categories such as vilayet, region, nation etc. were much less significant than
the viable sea connections.14 These maritime settlements seemed to be much more involved in the
global sea trade network than subordinated to their hinterland, where connections of all kinds
were rather scarce. In these cases, contrary to the usual situation where a port city is fed and
defended by its adjacent territory, the sea didn’t seem to be regarded as the feared medium that
brought unknown illnesses and enemies, but rather as the agent that really infused life and novelty
into these places. During the Ottoman domination, until the end of the 18th century, the Black
Sea was also known as the “Turkish lake,” which softened its stormy fame and eliminated the
possibilities of pirate attacks (as was the case in the Mediterranean Sea). Such a “lake,” controlled
by a powerful empire, might have been a reassuring fact for the ports left at the mercy of history,
without independent governance and without a clear and certain future. The sea became less a
frontier and a limit, and more a distinct space defined by various flows of goods and ideas, the
main support of human interaction and commercial activities. It became the medium that directly
connected people and communities and brought in cultural influences that shaped the social life
of the cities and sometimes their built fabric as well. At this point the ability of adaptation and
assimilation of border communities determined distinct cultural configurations.

10 Yves Luginbühl, “La découverte du paysage littoral ou la transition vers l’exotisme” [The Discovery of
the Seascape or the Transition towards the Exotic], in Le paysage littoral.Cahiers paysages et espaces
urbains, 3 (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 1995), 10-12.
11 Paolo Sorcinelli, Storia sociale dell’acqua. Riti e culture [Social History of the Water. Rites and Cultures]
(Milan: Mondadori, 1998), 21.
12 Luginbühl, “La découverte du paysage littoral,” 9-11.
13 Corbin, L’invenzione del mare, 133.
14 King, Marea Neagră, 23.
86 studies in History & Theory of Architecture

During the 19th century, travellers used the port of Constanța not as a destination in itself, but
rather as a point of departure or arrival from the Central European inland to Odessa, Trebizond
or Constantinople and vice versa. When the Russian empire fleet started to mark its presence into
the Black Sea and the conflict with the Ottoman Empire sharpened, the sea became a possible
gateway for enemies. The city collapsed and resurrected many times, so the impressions of visitors
testified about a city of ruins, poverty and wild inhabitants, but also about Roman antiquities
scattered all around luxuriant local vegetation.15
The 1856 Treaty of Paris laid the foundations of an auspicious political context for the Black Sea
region: neutrality of its territory, free circulation on the Danube under the surveillance of the
Danube European Committee, annexation of southern Bessarabia to Romania and an increased
degree of independence for the Romanian principalities. In these circumstances, the British
Empire was the first to understand the commercial importance of the port of Constanța.16 In
1857, once the sultan leased the construction of the port and the railway between Cernavodă and
Constanța to an English company, the city started to receive more visitors and a relative flourishing
period began. Finally, the unification of Dobrudja with Romania in 1878, the technological
progress and the state’s determination for modernizing this forgotten part of Romania improved
the connection to the land: Constanța became the main hub for travellers between West and East.
Hence for most of the 19th century, the sea and the port directly fed all channels of urban life.
Constanța was seen as a “city of a cosmopolitan port, luxurious, eager for feasts.”17

The lure of the Black Sea.

The seashore and its hinterland in the collective imaginary of the epoch

A 19th century mental map of the image of Constanța would surely put the port area at its
very centre, both as a distinctive physical feature and as a daily source of novelty and vitality.
The promontory of the Peninsula, with its protected natural gulf, was the most important
geographical accent on the monotonous coastline. Therefore, it was the most significant place
in this part of the sea. Everything else seemed ephemeral: the defensive walls fluctuated between
destruction and reconstruction; the few dusty roads were only slightly marked and seemed to
lead nowhere; in the flat hostile desert of Dobrudja the very few inner settlements were either
insignificant or temporary. In spite of its terrible winter climate and political instability, the
Peninsula – which, for a long time, coincided with the entire extent of the city – remained
the reference point that survived in the collective imaginary of the region ever since the city’s
founding by Greek colonists.
The fame of the wilderness and inhospitality of the Black Sea shore and the Dobrudja region
was initiated by Ovid, who called it a land of exile. During the historical periods that followed
until the beginning of the 20th century, both its visitors and its inhabitants testified to these
early negative perceptions, and even deepened them.18 At the beginning of the modern period,
the greatest part of Dobrudja was a geographic periphery, a deserted and uninhabited steppe,
itself an almost insurmountable frontier. The coastline was doubled by large swamps populated
by swarms of mosquitoes that were seen as vehicles of frightening diseases. The small population
was heterogeneous and partly nomad, and the region was often a shelter for thieves and fugitives.

15 For the Western travelers, the magnetism of the intangible and mysterious Orient was also transferred
onto its closer gate, the Balkans; this imaginary is extensively analyzed by Maria Todorova in Imagining the
Balkans (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997).
16 Details in Dumitru Iordănescu and Constantin Georgescu, Construcţii pentru transporturi în România.
Monografie [Constructions for Transportation in Romania. Monography] (Bucharest: CCCF), 1986), vol. I,
47-51 and 54-57; vol. II, 637-640.
17 Kiriak Napadarjan, “Ascultați’l pe Ovidiu!” [Listen to Ovid!], Furnica, 156, 1907, 10 apud Păuleanu, Doina,
Constanţa 1878-1928. Spectacolul modernităţii târzii [Constanța 1878 – 1928. The Spectacle of Late
Modernity] (Constanţa: Arcade, 2005), vol. I, 39-40.
18 Călători străini despre Țările Române în secolul al XIX-lea [Foreign Travellers in Romanian Principalities in
the XIX Century], new series, vol. II (Bucharest, 2005), 372-397.
 Marginalia. Architectures of Uncertain Margins 87

Because of the numerous Russian – Turkish wars, the region had also lost its organic connections
with the other harbours on the Black Sea or on the Mediterranean.
Foreign travellers, such as Héctor de Béarn and Camille Allard, provided the first images of
Constanța from the early modern epoch.19 As a result of the tumultuous recent history, during the
first half of the 19th century the port city offered a stark and bare landscape of ruins, nonetheless
exotic and magnificent with the minaret of the mosque profiled against the endless blue. In these
romantic engravings, from the sea the image of the city seemed ethereal, a white citadel floating
on water. John Wylie proposes the notion of landscape as “both something seen and a particular
way of seeing the world – both the land and the gaze upon it.”20 The cultural geographer argues
that the use of this European landscape form and aesthetics for the representation of an unknown
territory should be understood in the context of exploration, colonialism and imperialism. The
visual structure of conventional landscape representation had the effect of subduing strangeness
and rendered non-European scenes in a distinctively European manner: “this familiarisation can
be understood as a sort of taming.”21 The image of the unknown was thus offered to Western
European public, extending its collective imaginary upon it.
The condition of the city, surrounded by the sea on three sides, amplified the strong north-east
wind which made cold seasons in Constanța almost unbearable; moreover, the absence of the
trees emphasized this phenomenon. Towards the end of the 19th century, with the emergence of
tourism, the economic operators in the city tried to alleviate this bad impression, discouraging
their business. This special position of the city on the promontory attracted various descriptions
ranging from objective to emotional ones: “almost isolated in the middle of the sea;”22 “the city’s
position is one of the most pleasant, washed by the sea in the Black Sea gulf and looking towards
one of the most splendid panoramas;”23 “romantic … around the sea is poetry;”24 “Streets open
to the right, and sometimes they deliver in blue. When you get to their end, you stop full of
gratitude in front of a great beauty.”25
As Charles King mentions, the Crimean War “… literally brought the Black Sea in the
Western salons. […] The closeness was then facilitated by the many documentaries and press
correspondence.”26 After a long period during which the Westerners had seen the Balkans
as a rather inhospitable and primitive world,27 the Black Sea and its surroundings acquired
the reputation of an exotic place that was reachable in comfortable conditions. Moreover,
its attractive places were described in touristic guides and were connected by the rail system.
By publishing a wide variety of writings on the Black Sea, foreign travellers set the tone for
Romanian authors as well. At the time, the seashore was still seen as the romantic ideal of the
savage periphery uncontaminated by modern vices, a borderland which was now safely available
for the great public.

19 Some of the most important travellers who published texts or drawings on Constanța were: Héctor de
Béarn (1828), Helmut von Moltke (1828), James Baillie Fraser (1937), Hans Cristian Andersen (1841),
Alexis de Vallon (1843), Karl Koch (1843-1844), Hommaire de Hell (1846), Ion Ionescu de la Brad (1850),
Robert Bois (1855), Camille Allard (1855), N. Sadoveanu (1856), Andrei Papadopoulos-Vretos (1859)
etc.; Mariana Bălăbănescu, Gabriel Custurea, “Catalogul călătorilor din secolul al XIX-lea în Dobrogea – o
contribuție la bibliografia Dobrogei” [19th Century Travelers in Dobrogea – a Contribution to the Bibliography
of Dobrogea] Analele Dobrogei V-2 (1999), 125-132.
20 John Wylie, Landscape (London and New York: Routledge, 2007), 55.
21 Wylie, Landscape, 131.
22 Camille Allard, Mission medicale dans la Tartarie – Dobroutscha [Medical Mission in Tartaria – Dobrudja]
(Paris, 1857) apud Păuleanu, Constanţa 1878-1928, 11.
23 V. Grozescu, “Unspredece luni în Orient” [Eleven Months into the Orient], Familia XXIII (1887), 4 apud
Păuleanu, Constanţa 1878-1928, 91.
24 Petru Vulcan, “De la Constanța” [From Constanța], Familia XXXIV, 7 (1898), 82 apud Păuleanu, Constanţa
1878-1928, 152.
25 Nicolae Iorga, Drumuri şi oraşe din România [Roads and Towns from Romania] (Bucharest: Minerva,
1904), 386.
26 King, Marea Neagră, 296.
27 See Maria Todorova, “Patterns of Perception until 1900,” in Imagining the Balkans, 89-115.
88 studies in History & Theory of Architecture

Fig. 1. (above and opposite) Views of Kustenge, Héctor de Béarn, 1828

Some important messengers of the ancient and mysterious image of Dobrudja were the collectors
of antiquities and curiosities. The description of Hommaire de Hell was eloquent:
“Custendje equally presents itself by the importance of its own history, attested by the
innumerable antique vestiges, both rich and diverse, which make this settlement a genuine
museum in open air.”28
Among the different studies that saw the light of print, those focusing on the history of the
region were especially significant in raising awareness of the greater Romanian audience over the
importance of this territory for the national identity that was building up during this period.
The railway infrastructure became the modernizing agent of the coastal area and the determining
factor for all port activities. The urban and architectural evolution of the Romanian coast, as well
as its balneary and climateric development depended directly on the accessibility offered by the
road and rail infrastructure. The number of visitors gradually increased in direct relation with
the continuity of the rail system, culminating with the Orient-Express line. This considerably
enlarged the collective imaginary by fostering a faster circulation of images – with their
accompanying stories and associated meanings.
Towards the end of the 19th century, and especially after 1878, the Black Sea also became an
object of intense study for young scientists educated in the Western world.29 For example, around
1900 a group of Romanian marine officers produced the first precise and complex hydrographical
map of the Romanian territorial waters,30 after which the coast seemed controllable in
navigational terms. Along with gathering vital and accurate information about this unknown
piece of new Romanian land, most of these studies were also used for the construction of the

28 Xavier Hommaire de Hell, Voyage en Turquie et en Perse. Executé par ordre du gouvernement francais
pendant les années 1846, 1847 et 1848 [Journey in Turkey and Persia] (Paris: Bertrand, 1854), 175.
29 King, Marea Neagră, 327.
30 ”Map of the Black Sea, the Romanian Coast” (Cătuneanu Map), executed between 1898-1899 and printed
in 1900 in Paris.
 Marginalia. Architectures of Uncertain Margins 89

national identity: famous intellectuals as agronomist Ion Ionescu de la Brad,31 natural historian
Grigore Antipa32 or historian Nicolae Iorga did include the nationalist discourse into their
published works. Entering Constanța in 1904, Iorga asked himself:
“Is it going to be a Turkish little borough, next to which our expensive port is going be
inappropriate, or is it going to be the expression of Oriental extravaganza that high society
journalists write about in newspapers for refined people who spend two months a year here for
their health and leisure? [...] In order to welcome these guests properly, Romania has given this
seaport everything it needs so that it should provide security and defence. [...] The millions spent
here have prepared a future, and from this cement, from this granite, will grow fruits like from
the most fertile plains. And the city understands that it should be worthy of this port, conquered
by hard work and with great sacrifices from the sea. This triumphant Constanța, which will no
longer remind us of the humble Muslim Chiustenge, will be a true Romanian city.”33
Medical publications also had an important contribution to the popularization of the sea in the
collective imaginary. The first place on the Romanian coastline that drew the attention of the
national public was Techirghiol, through the presentation of the therapeutic effects at the Hygiene
Congress in Paris in 1889. The existence of Techirghiol lake determined the founding of Eforie
Nord and Sud balneary resorts, both enjoying a double waterfront to the lake and to the sea:
the first hotel was built in 1891 and the first sanatorium in 1893.34 In Romania, the science of
balneology progressed especially at the beginning of the 20th century, when expert investigations

31 Adrian Rădulescu, Ion Bitoleanu, Istoria românilor dintre Dunăre și Mare [The History of Romanians
between the Danube and the Sea] (Bucharest: Editura Științifică și Enciclopedică, 1979), 237.
32 The nationalist discourse joins the scientific research in Grigore Antipa, Marea Neagră [The Black Sea]
(Bucharest: Academia Română, 1941).
33 Iorga, Drumuri şi oraşe din România, 260, 264-265.
34 Ruxandra Nemţeanu, “S.O.S. - arhitectura de vilegiatură din oraşul Eforie, judeţul Constanţa” [S.O.S. –
Holidays Architecture in the Town of Eforie, Constanţa County], Arhitectura 12 (2012), 97-107.
90 studies in History & Theory of Architecture

were published, explaining curative properties and presenting balneary and climatic resorts.35 As
Constanța was gaining more fame as a balneary destination, a lot of publications, from booklets
to complex medical studies, emerged. They all acted as an advertising medium for the seacoast,
both explaining the medical advantages of the sun and sea bathing, and sometimes acquiring the
status of tourist guides, with pictures and stories about places and various beach habits.36 The
metamorphosis of the character of the place was depicted in 1906 by one of the doctor-authors
that denounced the diversion of the medical purpose of the baths towards a social one:
“[T]odayand everywhere hygiene and therapeutics tend to be substituted by entertainment,
and almost all maritime resorts compete in parties […][I]n most cases friendships and social
relations are reason enough to determine one to go to the seaside […][O]n the other hand,
the luxury, the fashion clothing and the feasts that maritime resorts offer – all deform the true
character of the sea baths, which should be in the first place essentially radical […], the place
and climate of sunbathing; water or beach; air or the marine atmosphere and the sea breezes.”37
Another impulse for the prominence of the sea lure and the consolidation of the seaside’s leisure
identity was the model constantly offered by the royal family. Their residences by the sea and their
frequent visits to Constanța (starting from 1905 to the new resort of Mamaia) were symbolic
references first for the Romanian elite, and then for the great public.
Upon arrival, the first-time tourist was fascinated by the astounding landscape. At the time, a lot
of people would come to Constanța just to look at the sea for the first time in their life, and the
view in itself was worth the whole expensive and tiresome journey:
“We don’t know where to look first: to the city or to the sea? ...All our attention gets absorbed
by the sea. The more we look at it, the more it attracts us, the more it conquers us deeper.
Looking at the sea for the first time, the impression is overwhelming.”38
One of the first guidebooks of the city began its romantic plea by stating that it was the sea that
attracted people to Constanța:
“People come to Constanța for the sake of the sea... The widened boulevard bends along the
sea, like an open balcony, where more and more rows of free and happy people come, talking
about everything, being overwhelmed by the majesty of the sea.”39
The city transferred the solar and fashionable fascination it exerted onto its new streets, hotels,
terraces, coffee shops, restaurants and bath facilities, all placed near the sea.40 The cosmopolitan
charm that most travellers who had visited Constanța would label Oriental, Balkan, or
Mediterranean, was clearly conveyed through the images of the first years of the 20th century.
Thus the sea officially entered Romanian imaginary only towards the end of the 19th century, first
as a curative and healthy environment, and afterwards as an ideal place for seeking relaxation and
pleasure. Due to its isolation and lack of infrastructure, its leisure vocation evolved slowly. It was
only after World War I that the coast would come into fashion, rapidly including the coastline
into a larger Romanian landscape appreciated and contemplated by the elites. Progressively,
the social practice of spending the holidays in the mountains and at the seaside became current
practice for Romanian middle-class families.

35 Al. Șaabner-Tuduri, Apele minerale şi staţiunile climaterice din România [Mineral Waters and Climateric
Resorts in Romania] (Bucharest: Tipografia Curții Regale, 1900 and 1906 editions); Gheorghe Băiulescu,
Hidroterapia medicală [Medical Hydrotherapy] (Bucharest, 1904).
36 In the first decade of the XXth century there were numerous doctors that published, as Sadoveanu 1906,
Mendonidi 1906, Adam 1908, Cernat 1909 etc., see Păuleanu, Constanţa 1878-1928, 146-162.
37 I. Mendonidi, Băile de mare de la Constanța-Mamaia [Sea Baths from Constanța - Mamaia] (Bucharest:
Speranța, 1906).
38 “La Constanța” [To Constanța], Familia XXXIV, 43 (1898), 507 apud Păuleanu, Constanţa 1878-1928, 92.
39 Ioan Adam, Constanţa pitorească cu împrejurimile ei. Călăuză descriptivă cu ilustraţii [Picturesque Constanța
with its Surroundings. Descriptive Guide with Illustrations] (Bucharest: Minerva, 1908), 35, 60.
40 Doina Păuleanu, Constanţa. Aventura unui proiect european [Constanţa. The Adventure of a European
Project] (Constanţa: Ex Ponto, 2003), 80-81.
 Marginalia. Architectures of Uncertain Margins 91

The sea and its port in political discourses on modernization

The main philosophical, cultural and political ideas that violently shook Europe during the
19th century reached Dobrudja’s coast after almost a century, at a time when in the Western
world these ideas were already consolidated in all public agendas. Given the economic and
commercial importance of the area, the national state required the urgent modernization of the
untamed territory between the Danube and the Black Sea.41 For this ambitious purpose, the
latest technologies available were put to work in order to connect this region with the rest of the
country. All these endeavours were mostly concentrated in Constanța, as the town provided the
only natural port on the coast and also because it was the nearest city to the Danube (60km).
At this point, it should be mentioned that the Romanian government was already convinced of
the geopolitical importance of a maritime port, as Constanța was not the first Romanian seaport
to be designed. Before 1878 engineer Charles Hartley envisaged the construction from scratch
of ‘Carol I’ Port on the seaside of Ismail County.42 The efforts culminated with an 1868 bill that
suggestively presented the reasons for which the sea connection was so important:
“... this necessity is all the greater as our situation increasingly feels the tendency to create large
means of development and to enter into a larger sphere of commercial activity. With the return
of the southern part of Bessarabia granted by the Paris Treaty, Romania took possession of a
significant extent of Black Sea shore, insomuch that every Romanian would feel happy to be
able to have direct access to the sea, the universal route of all national trade.”43
After the tense moment of the Berlin Congress of 1878 and after the severe political conflicts in
the Romanian government regarding the annexation of Dobrudja were resolved, developing the
connection with the Black Sea and the port of Constanța was considered a strategic geopolitical
and economic goal for the new Romanian state.44 It was typical for new nation states to
diplomatically negotiate for the inclusion of segments of seashore into their territory. Alongside
the constant and firm support of King Carol I, politician Ion C. Brătianu advocated the most
convincing plea for Dobrudja:
“A territory between the sea and the biggest river in Europe, and you want to abandon it?”45
At the same time, Mihail Kogălniceanu stated:
“We can’t have another sea…do we need the sea only to navigate on it and to breathe its air?
No, we need it to give us life.”46
Their visionary speeches pushed for political consensus and further allocation of a greater budget
for Dobrudja’s modernization: the sea was to become an integrating part of the construction project
of the modern state. The cultural figures of the Romanian society started to discover, highlight or
even invent the maritime vocation of Romanians: poets, writers, artists, doctors, scholars began to
research archives and libraries and publish works about Dobrudja and the Black Sea.
The beginning of the 20th century put powerful political pressure on the coast and, in particular,
on Constanța:

41 Rădulescu, Bitoleanu, Istoria românilor, 285.

42 Details in Toader Popescu, Proiectul feroviar românesc (1842-1916) [The Romanian Railway Project
(1842-1916)] (Bucharest: Simetria, 2014), 49-51.
43 Monitorul Oficial 61 (14/26 March 1868), cited in Iordănescu and Georgescu, Construcţii pentru transporturi
în România, vol. II, 107.
44 Valentin Ciorbea, Portul Constanța 1896 – 1996 [The Constanța Port 1896 – 1996] (Constanța: Editura
Fundației Andrei Șaguna, 1996), 52-55.
45 Stoica Lascu, “Specificul vieții dobrogene după 1878 în viziunea oamenilor de stat și începuturile activității
partidelor politice la Constanța” [The Specificity of Dobrudja Life after 1878 in the Vision of Politicians and
the Incipient Political Activities in Constanța], in Valori ale civilizației românești în Dobrogea [Values of
Romanian Civilisation in Dobrudja] (Constanța: 1993), 291.
46 Mihail Kogălniceanu, “Discurs la proiectul de lege privind răscumpărarea de către statul român a căii ferate
Constanța – Cernavodă, 1882” [Speech for the Bill for the Rebuying by the Romanian State of the Constanța
– Cernavodă Railway, 1882], Opere, vol. V, 1878 – 1891, II (Bucharest: Ed. Academiei, 1986), 333.
92 studies in History & Theory of Architecture

“In all this development of the coast we have only one port, Constanța, towards which all the
efforts of our State are directed.”47
One can argue that at the time the eyes of the Romanian society were focused on this maritime
city in which large sums of money had been invested and which had to function impeccably,
facilitating high scale trade operations and, at the same time, corresponding to the level of
representation to which the young modern state aspired.

Tourism and the public assimilation of the waterfront

Isolation from inland centers was for a long time a part of Constanța’s identity: the main
communication channel was the sea. Until the railway connection between Bucharest and
Constanța had been completed in 1896, travelling to the seashore was a risky adventure. Even if
the railway between Cernavodă and Constanța was functional in 1860, the Danube navigation or
even its crossing were problematic and during wintertime there was no connection whatsoever.48
The regular route for visitors supposed a journey by train from Bucharest to Giurgiu, then
by boat until Cernavodă and then again by railway to Constanța. This lack of accessibility
somehow emphasized the exotic and picturesque character of the place and paved the way for the
reinforcement of its balneary identity in the first phase, before the development of Constanta’s
commercial harbour.
The development of tourism actually corresponded to the discovery of the seashore by the
inhabitants themselves.49 This city that turned its back to the sea (with the obvious exception of
the harbour area) gradually started to praise the space of the shore and the beach precisely because
they appealed to visitors. The educated Romanians and foreigners that moved to Constanța after
1878 also had a striking contribution to this adjustment of perception. Their ideas about the
beauty of the sea, about its sublime character, its aesthetic qualities, about the healthy marine air,
about the curative properties of sea water, about the health benefits stemming from sunbathing
or about the novel trends of tourism and leisure infiltrated – all these slowly sieved into the local
perception and gradually changed the collective attitude towards the sea.50 This entire process was
accelerated by the construction of the transportation system and the railway station temporarily
replaced the port as a main gate for new ideas and mentalities.
1898 may be considered the moment when practicing tourism on the Romanian Black Sea shore
was officially seen as healthy and entertaining. This moment can be explained mostly by the
completion of the transportation network that facilitated the different flows coming from inland.
From this year on, the city hall was to publish constantly advertising materials regarding the city’s
facilities for the tourists.
Towards 1915, the balneary fame of Constanța and its new extension Mamaia was at its peak.
A newspaper from August 1915 notes that the city was packed and there was no more room
in the city.51 By this time, the seashore was assimilated by the great public as the main place of
modernity and of fashionable social practices.52 Constanța’s waterfront and a great part of its
urban fabric were configured according to balneary activities. Consequently, for almost half a
century, during the summer season the city functioned as a resort, until the interwar period when
other more competitive maritime resorts on the Romanian coastline outperformed it.

47 M.D. Ionescu, Dobrogia în pragul veacului al XX-lea [Dobruja at the Beginning of the XX Century]
(Bucharest: Socecu, 1904), 660.
48 Ion Ionescu, Povestiri tehnice [Technical Stories] (Bucharest: Cadmos, 2007), 179.
49 King, Marea Neagră, 300.
50 On that effect, it is also necessary to stress that this change of perspective emerged on a fertile ground, as
sea bathing was occasionally practiced during the Ottoman period too; Păuleanu, Constanţa 1878-1928, 180.
51 Gazeta ilustrată IV, 34 (1915), 9.
52 Carmen Popescu, Spaţiul modernităţii româneşti, 1906-1947 [The Space of Romanian Modernity, 1906-
1947] (Bucharest: Arhitext Design, 2011), 130.
 Marginalia. Architectures of Uncertain Margins 93

Fig. 2. Vincke Plan of Constanța, 1840

The infrastructure of the sea margin

Special infrastructural elements were built in a strait connection with the idea of margin,
emphasizing it and giving it an enhanced physical identity. The margin as the defence against the
enemies coming from the sea was initially embodied in the high fortification walls and donjons
and in the clever use of the natural configuration chosen for the settlement: the peninsula with its
steep cliffs and the naturally protected bay. Defence against potential enemies from the land was
dealt with through a fortification system consisting of walls with loopholes and surrendered by
water moats, a protected gate with a pont-levis entrance and the ancient vallum in the proximity
of the city.
Although the sea didn’t seem such an awful presence for the inhabitants, its shore was
neither praised, nor frequented until the end of the 19th century. After the demolition of the
fortifications, the shores on the three sides of the Peninsula were ignored: the northern one
because of the height and inaccessibility, combined with the frequent landslides, the southern one
because, until 1879, it was the garbage dump site of the city and the south-eastern one because
of the port, which allowed it to be perceived as a strictly functional area, unworthy of public
aesthetic consideration.
The first contact between the city and its shores took place on the southern side which had
a reduced height and seemed more controllable: this part of the waterfront was cleaned and
regularized until it became an actual public place that was soon to correspond to the typology of
the classical maritime promenade.
Following the development of the port, but also a change in mentality, the port started to be
regarded as a subject of contemplation, a living presence that stirred the senses: gazing to this
exotic place and walking to the distant lighthouse became to-do things of urban life.
The sea erosion of the cliff was a permanent geographical characteristic of this coast. The sea had
always endangered whatever man had tried to build on its shores, regardless of the great material
and human costs. Each winter, marine currents and harsh weather conditions destroyed the
artificial structures on the coast, so they had to be built anew at the beginning of the next summer
season. These geomorphologic conditions determined frequent landfalls to the north of the
Peninsula. Every winter the town hall received petitions from citizens that were terrified that their
houses would be engulfed by the sea. The erosion problem was tackled in 1894 by a commission
that inspected the current state of the north-eastern cliff of the Peninsula. Its account provided
useful technical observations and protection procedures53 that were to be the first ones in a series
of memoirs that highlighted the risk of landslide in the very heart of the city. The 1897 plan of
Constanța was used in 1904 by engineer Anghel Saligny to suggest technical solutions for the
eroding cliff, along with the creation of an urban beach towards the north of the Peninsula.
53 National Archives of Constanța County, Constanţa City Hall collection, file no. 6/1894, 10-11.
94 studies in History & Theory of Architecture

In time, the waterfront was to forsake its savage profile and was to be reinforced through an
entire set of infrastructural works. This process of defining the sea limit was gradual. First, the
seashore was explored through temporary devices; their level of impermanence and their position
showed the degree of collective assimilation of the wild waterfront. The seafront promenade, the
belvedere platforms, the gazebo and the casino on the edge of the cliff, were all realized in this
stage. All were further away from the water and allowed for the aesthetic contemplation of the
marine panorama, from the height of the Peninsula. Then, advancing towards the water, came
complicated wooden alleyways, stairs and bath facilities extending right on the sea surface, and
allowing not only sight, but also other senses, to enjoy the marine climate.
The seaside of the first balneary facilities was characterized by impermanence, improvisation,
precariousness and spontaneity. The constructions dedicated to the sun and sea bathing, as well as
those dedicated to rest, were mostly delicate wooden works, designed after well-known European
models. The bathing establishments, the casino or the jetty were representative of the epoch’s
waterfront typology, symbolizing, by their own fragility, the provisionality of the relation between
man and sea. They also constituted points of reference in the creation of the visual identity of the
new harbour city and resort at the beginning of the 20th century.
Progressively, the collective perception of the sea advanced from the need to defend oneself
against the unknown to a creative discovery and finally to a pleasant habit and a social
fashion. The port’s northern breakwater became the favoured promenade area, the structural
reinforcement of the cliff provided the public spatial apparatus towards the beach, the light
timbered pilotis structures on the water delivered easy and direct access into the reclaimed sea
which finally seemed obedient.
The urban regulation from 1890 also provided suggestions regarding the seashore: the clear
delimitation of the balneary area and the rules for its configuration and functioning, as well as the
conditions for the expropriation of land in order to start reinforcement works and the execution
of a maritime boulevard.54 The conditions for the latter were detailed in the 1894 memoir, where
eng. Vladimir Simu envisioned this major urban work: Elisabeta Boulevard was to be enlarged
and extended towards the sea.55 He also imagined the planning of the coast by using a series
of high terraces, with pedestrian ways, houses and gardens from where one would be allowed a
panoramic view of the sea.
The ideas and visions promoted in 1897 by the city’s embellishment committee,56 composed of
Anghel Saligny, Grigore Cerchez and Elie Radu, were to solidly launch the city on the way to
modernisation. Their report summarized the main directions for the expansion of the city. The
urban regulations included aesthetic and ambient prescriptions, but also strict urban rules.57 They
also planned the “improvement of the [between the vineyards] bath establishments,” which was to
be connected to the city through a large boulevard, located “along the seashore and provided with
an electric tramway; between this boulevard and the sea no construction of private building will
be allowed, and the precipice will turn into a garden.”58 This report brought the fresh modernising
vision that included the sea in the general urban design, officially accepting it and making it
54 National Archives of Constanța County, Constanţa City Hall collection, file 6/1890, 25-30.
55 National Archives of Constanța County, Constanţa City Hall collection, file 30/1894, 24-40.
56 The concern for the embellishment of the city came from the organic regulation epoch that would impose
new urban principles for organizing the settlements. The main objective was the public space, which was
aesthetically transformed through the clear delineation of the streets and the squares, the creation of urban
parks, promenades, aligned plantations etc. See more details in Nicolae Lascu, “Epoca regulamentară
şi urbanismul. Câteva observaţii generale” [The Organic Regulation Epoch and Urban Planning. A Few
General Observations], Historia urbana II, 2 (1994).
57 Among the measures: the fixed urban limit, the alignment and dimensioning of the streets, the size of the
allotments, the layout of the seaside boulevard, the connection between future urban hubs, the future
relation with the hinterland and the consequent design of the circulation, the water supply and drainage
system, the main public facilities, the relocation of the railway station, numerous hygienic and architectural
regulations for new buildings etc. Data from the National Archives of Constanța County, Constanţa City Hall
collection, file 48/1896.
58 National Archives of Constanța County, Constanţa City Hall collection, file 48/1896, 14-18.
 Marginalia. Architectures of Uncertain Margins 95

Fig. 3. Constanţa: the Boulevard & the gazebo, the Casino, the landing pier; the urban and Vii sea baths

Fig. 4. Project of the Casino (section), 1886; project of a timbered landing pier, 1894
96 studies in History & Theory of Architecture

Fig. 5. Constanța plans in 1878 and 1896

part of urban life. It also emphasized its presence in the image of the city through complex
infrastructural works and public facilities that mirrored the typological configuration of Western
maritime cities.
During the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century, the tendency to connect the sea
with the city through architecture, by means of a “continuity figure”59 (the seawall, the Boulevard,
the built front, the pier, etc.) became apparent not only in the way the waterfront was developed,
but also in the attitude of the professionals of the time. This generated an architectural limit
which directed the opening of the city towards the landscape and organized its urban façade
towards the sea, giving it a strong and representative identity. This attempt to build a precise
geometrical margin might be explained by the collective desire to cancel the initial unfinished and
impermanent character of the coast in favour of establishing a geometric and measurable place at
a human scale.

National versus local

In the assessment of these apparently two opposite phenomena one should notice a certain
traditionalist refusal of modernity, an inherent resilience of the place. Its marginality only
enhances this predisposition. This is further strengthened by the fact that until its annexation,
Dobrudja was under Ottoman influence and had a majority of Muslim population,60 thus
remaining aloof from European values and Western public laws and rights.
The area of Constanța is an example of the Balkan model of building up a new national and urban
identity towards the end of the 19th century. During this period, the process of modernization,
or, in this case, Westernisation was well under way in the Romanian capital and in a few other
big cities. However, Dobrudja had little or no contact with the ideologies that restructured the
European states during the 19th century. In spite of a mixed and dynamic social environment
where many ethnic groups overlapped, in this area people shared the same cultural and political
views, as a direct consequence of the long Ottoman domination and of the harsh living conditions.
Moreover, the concept of the modern national state was a foreign idea that would be hardly
assimilated in this distant land: it was unexpectedly imposed from the centre and –for the moment
–would only assume a formal appearance. This means that once Dobrudja was united with
Romania in 1878, the Ottoman / Balkan values were not suddenly rejected and, on a general scale,
the existent content only received another name or another apparent form. This continuity can be
noticed in some aspects of the urban fabric from the city scale to architectural or social details.
One significant example might be the continuity of urban design for the extension of the city
as seen in the main plans of Constanța starting from 1857. The first one was an 1857 Turkish
proposal dating from the Tanzimat period, during which the Empire reorganised its vast

59 Bernardo Secchi, Prima lezione de urbanistica [First Lesson of Urban Planning] (Roma–Bari: Laterza,
2000), 153.
60 Doctor Camille Allard mentioned only three Romanian families in Constanța in 1856, Camille Allard,
Mission medicale dans la Tartarie – Dobroutscha (Paris, 1857).
 Marginalia. Architectures of Uncertain Margins 97

Fig. 6. Plan for the expansion of Constanța, eng. J.T. Barkley, 1857-1859
Fig. 7. Plan for the expansion of Constanța, eng. Gheorghe Duca, addenda eng. Anghel Saligny, 1904
98 studies in History & Theory of Architecture

Fig. 8. Great Mosque of Constanta

Fig. 9. Sea bathing facilities for men and for women, Constanța, 1882

territories and tried to catch up with the technological progress of Western Europe.61 This reform
period was also dedicated to the decreasing of local nationalist tendencies through a series of
reforms and the encouragement of Ottoman style and values. The urban model for the extension
was the orthogonal grid, slightly adapted to site conditions, as can be seen in the plans of
extension of many medium and large cities throughout the Empire. The geostrategic importance
of Constanța in the north western part of the Black Sea determined the Empire to invest in its
development from an early stage. Drafted in 1859 in Turkish, the plan clearly indicated the land
that the Ottoman Empire was offering to ”The Danube and Black Sea Railway and Küstendge
Harbour Company” for the works indicated in the contract of concession; the plan was signed
by engineer J.T. Barkley and was the first modern proposal of systematization of the town, even
beyond the granted territory.62
An almost identical urban design is noticeable on the plan drawn under prefect Remus Opreanu in
1879, followed by similar ones in the next years. In 1897 the mayor’s office commissioned engineer
Gheorghe Duca to prepare a new city plan that included the modernising directions mentioned
in the 1897 report by the city’s embellishment committee.63 All culminated at the beginning of
the 20th century in the action initiated by mayor Ion Bănescu to plan and outline a Romanian
neighbourhood as an extension of the historic city.64 At the time Constanța had just been
connected to Romania through elaborate infrastructure works such as Saligny’s bridge over the
Danube (1895) and had been the subject of countless pages of political discourses on the national
importance of the sea and its port city for the Romanian nation. All these national movements
were nurturing the need for some symbolic changes. On the other side, the historical background

61 The Tanzimat period starts in 1839 and aims at building a modern administration according to the
Occidental conception. See details in Pierre Pinon, “L’empire ottoman à la fin du XIXe siècle: modernité et
tradition en architecture et en urbanisme” [The Ottoman Empire at the End of the XIXth Century: Modernity
and Tradition in Architecture and Urban Planning], in Genius Loci, edited by Carmen Popescu and Ioana
Teodorescu (Bucharest: Simetria, 2002), 128-132.
62 Stoyanka Kenderova, Radu Stefan Vergatti, “Deux plans de la ville de Constanta datant de 1859” [Two
Plans of the Town of Constanța dating from 1859]. Revue Roumaine d’histoire L 3-4 (2012), 179-191.
63 National Archives of Constanța County, Constanţa City Hall collection, file 48/1896, 14-18.
64 Gheorghe Brătescu, ”Constanța. Considerații generale pentru sistematizarea orașului” [Constanța. General
Considerations for the Systematisation of the City], Analele Dobrogei X (1929), 241-252.
 Marginalia. Architectures of Uncertain Margins 99

of Constanța had little or no connection to the historical past of Romania, as it had with the
Ottoman world. In these terms, the obvious similarity of the urban principles applied in these
development plans appeared contradictory to the symbolic purposes of these opposed processes:
reinforcing the Ottoman affiliation versus assimilating the Romanian national identity. Here, the
borderland condition continued to persist: the same content appeared with different names.
This continuity is clearly explained by Pierre Pinon.65 One should consider that all urban policies
introduced in the Ottoman Empire during the second half of the 19th century were inspired
from contemporary European urban culture: the grid plan for the urban extensions, the overall
dimensions of public spaces in the new allotments or the main streets alignments. From this point
of view, the 1857-1859 Ottoman project for the extension of Constanța appeared to be a pioneer
work in terms of modern urban planning within the Empire.66 Therefore, to that effect, this
marginal territory was subject to the same process of urban modernization, albeit coming from
two opposite promoters –the West and the East, Constanța and other marginal territories being in
fact the first results of this urban experimentation of Western models.
Another example of this kind of continuity and mixture at the architectural level might be the
Great Mosque of Constanța (named ‘Carol I’ or ‘The Royal Mosque’) in the main square of the
old town. Finished in 1913, its distinctive volume and particularly the vertical profile of the
minaret changed the old Peninsula’s silhouette and enhanced the Oriental flavour of the image
of the city.67 Architect Victor Ştefănescu creatively combined Neo-Romanian and Moorish
architectural elements, while using a reinforced concrete structure – the state of the art European
technology of the time.68 Built under the patronage of King Carol I, who was himself the main
architect of the enlarged Romanian state and of its new national aura, this building with Oriental
appearance became a great factor of attraction and of reinforcement of the local identity.
In the attempt to assess the balance between national/Western values versus local/Balkan ones,
one should also consider the social inertia of the ethnic coloured mosaic of the native-born
population. In an article published in 1878 in Timpul newspaper, Mihai Eminescu had named
Dobrudja “[...] a miniature Orient, with all its mixture of people.” Because control was indirect
under Ottoman rule and Constanța remained remote from the center of political power, a rather
self-governing autonomous community emerged. This also explains why starting from 1878,
when officials and regulations were sent from Bucharest,69 they were first treated reluctantly. Some
people were even outraged, as Petre Grigorescu testifies in 1901:
“Today the new clerks are the tyrants of the region, and Constanța became a simple suburb of
Bucharest, since the bridge over the Danube was built.”70
The same cultural inertia can be observed in some delicious social details as, for example, the
way public bath facilities were organized at the beginning. Although in Western countries which
provided this leisure model both genders used the beach without discrimination, the municipality
of Constanța had persisted in completely separating women from men while bathing in the sea,
providing even an inner covered pool that offered the possibility of bathing safely, far away from
the sight of outsiders.
At the beginning of the 20th century, Oriental morality and habits still lingered: “It feels so good
at Constanța! The Turkish pashas have disappeared, but their way of life had been adopted by the
vacationers: sea baths, food, flirt.”71 It was easier to change the appearance than the mentality.72

65 Pinon, “L’empire ottoman à la fin du XIXe siècle,” 128.

66 “This phenomena starts at mid XIX century with the allotments …,” Ibid., 128.
67 Doina Păuleanu, Moscheea regală «Carol I» din Constanța [The Royal Mosque «Carol I» from Constanța]
(Constanța: Ex Ponto, 2010).
68 The same kind of mixing process is described by Pierre Pinon for the construction of the public buildings in
Istanbul and other towns - “For the public buildings, the orientalism wasn’t neglected,” Ibid., 129 and 131.
69 Rădulescu, Bitoleanu, Istoria românilor, 296-297.
70 Petre Grigorescu, “Odinioară și acum” [Then and Now], Constanța 361 (1901), 2.
71 Napadarjan, “Ascultați’l pe Ovidiu!,” 10.
72 Pinon, “L’empire ottoman à la fin du XIXe siècle,” 128-129.
100 studies in History & Theory of Architecture

Fig. 10. Peninsula, Constanța

Nevertheless, the annexation of Dobrudja was followed by an intense process of Romanian

colonization73 that had a direct negative impact on the status of Turkish and Tartar ethnic groups.
1878 was the starting point of a gradual migration process of the Muslim population that lasted
until mid- 20th century.74 This gradual attenuation of the ethnic mixture also facilitated the
easier implementation of Western models. They were gradually assimilated and inserted into the
urban fabric by adaptation to the existent scale. The inherent Westernization of the way of life
determined taking over some well-known architectural and urban models and the reordering of
the urban space accordingly. The most significant examples were the measures suggested by the
city’s embellishment committee in 1897; their proposed typologies were building up a complex
system of public spaces. Their charm leaned upon including and framing the sea and its specific
places: the maritime boulevard, the public parks and gardens, the squares, the public stairs and
alleys on the cliff, the beach and its bathing pavilions. The picturesque contrast between the
Western looking buildings and public spaces in most of the Peninsula and the Oriental remains
still persisted at the end of the 19th century, expressing the rift between rich and poor. At the same
time, the beginning of the 20th century marked the official recognition of the Neo-Romanian
style that will be used for buildings of all kinds, from public to residential, spreading from the
capital and quickly extended to the periphery. Its romantic aura transformed it into the favourite
architectural style for the elites’ second-homes on the seaside, often adding a local colour to it.75

The resilience of the margin

In spite of all the efforts to include in a coherent way the wild Dobrudja into the Romanian
national body, the resilience of this margin was normal and noticeable until the beginning of the
20th century. In part, it even continued until the interwar period: the region had moved “from
the periphery of the Ottoman Empire and to the periphery of the West,”76 and the seacoast
remained peripheral in both cases. Aside from the areas enjoying railway acces, the inner territory

73 Rădulescu, Bitoleanu, Istoria românilor, 287.

74 Adriana Cupcea, “Introducere,” Turcii și tătarii din Dobrogea [Turks and Tartars from Dobruja] (Cluj-
Napoca: Editura Institutului pentru Studierea Problemelor Minorităților Naționale, 2015), 7.
75 Carmen Popescu, (Dis)continuități. Fragmente de modernitate românească în prima jumătate a secolului
al 20-lea [Discontinuities. Fragments of Romanian Modernity in the First Half of the 20th Century]
(Bucharest: Simetria, 2010), 53.
76 Bogdan Murgescu, România și Europa. Acumularea decalajelor economice (1500 – 2010) [Romania and
Europe. The Building-Up of Economic Disparities (1500 – 2010)] (Bucharest: Polirom, 2010), 107.
 Marginalia. Architectures of Uncertain Margins 101

remained isolated and the rest of the coast was barely accessible. The marginal character of
Dobrudjan shores and its natural frontiers attracted and overlapped different cultural identities
in search of wilderness, pleasure and exoticism: travellers, artists, tourists, intellectuals and
antiquarians, as well as the political and cultural elite. All these actors added on to the cultural
value of the place and enriched the complexity of its frontier identity, emphasizing its marginality.
But, as Nae Ionescu said in 1926, without diminishing the contributions of the poets and the
artists and cherishing its sanitary and aesthetic virtues, the sea still needed to be conquered
by scientists, geographers, biologists and especially sociologists, economists and the great
enterprises.77 This conquest envisioned by the great politician was to be fully accomplished only
during the communist period, in an unfortunate manner. Dobrudja and the sea became resources
put to use by the state, the region was culturally levelled and its exotic character as a borderland
diminished. Only a few fragments remained, scattered in the newly built communist landscape.
If until the end of the 19th century, Constanța was focused on the sea and on the various cultural
influences it brought, afterwards the city consistently turned its face towards the land, which
gradually enclosed it into the Romanian national space and consequently flattened its various
cultural identities. The resistance of the margin was finally defeated and the only frontier that
remained was the natural one, between land and water.
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ARCHIVAL SOURCES

National Archives of Constanța County, Constanţa City Hall collection, files no. 4/1882, 6/1886, 6/1890,
6/1894, 30/1894, 36/1894, 48/1896.
National Archives of Constanța County, the Maritime Navigation Institution collection, file no. 1/1878-1933.

ILLUSTRATION CREDITS

Fig. 1. Héctor de Béarn, Quelques souvenirs d’une Campagne en Turquie, National Library, Paris, 1828, in
George Oprescu, Țările române văzute de artiști francezi (sec. XVII și XIX) (Bucharest: Cultura Națion-
ală, 1926), tables VI, IX.
Fig. 2. Von Vincke, Plan des Thales des Karaβu-Seen und der Donau bei Boghasköi, Monatsberichte über die
Verhandlungen der Gesellshaft für Erdkunde zu Berlin, 1840.
Fig. 3. http://constanta-imagini-vechi.blogspot.ro/; accessed July 12, 2016.
Fig. 4. National Archives of Constanța County, Constanţa City Hall collection, files no. 6/1886, 36/1894.
Fig. 5. National Archives of Constanța County, the Maritime Navigation Institution collection, file no. 1/1878-
1933; Ionescu, Dobrogea în pragul veacului al XX-lea.
Fig. 6. Păuleanu, Doina, Moscheea regală «Carol I»din Constanța (Constanța: Ex Ponto, 2010), 104-105.
Fig. 7. Romanian Accademy Library, maps section, 1896.
Fig. 9. National Archives of Constanța County , Constanţa City Hall collection, file 4/1882.
Fig. 8, 10. Images are credited by the author.