Not just an Indian domain: Dowry custom in Romania too

‘‘It is the moment to remember what the dowry was in mediaeval times, how important it was for the economy of the family,’’ said Doina Mandru, the museum’s general manager. ‘‘We are showing a tradition that stopped because of Communism.’’

Faded black and white photographs of shy 19th century village brides are juxtaposed with flattering portraits of Romanian aristocrats in flowing wedding gowns.

Everything that would go into a carved or painted wooden dowry chest — intricately woven or embroidered clothes, bed linen and tablecloths — is shown along with the way it was made by the would-be bride and her female friends and family.

Starting by spinning the thread, then weaving, sewing and embroidering, they would produce the richly-decorated goods that would sometimes be laid out on front porches for the neighbours to admire.

‘‘Every bride had a new chest made just for her. The transport of the chest from her house to the groom’s was very ceremonial, crossing the village accompanied by specific songs,’’ Mandru said.

With private property banned by the Communists the colourful but useful custom died out, she said.

‘‘It might be good to revive, it helps stability in the family and good documentation helps matters of Justice. A lot of nasty divorces would be avoided if the couple had proper dowry contracts,’’ she said. According to these rare old documents, aristocracy such as the family of Prince Constantin Brancoveanu who built the idyllic, lake-front palace for his second son, would give their children land, gold, and even Roma (Gypsy) slaves.

‘‘Tzigan (Roma) as in each house from Potlogi (village) go to Constantin,’’ reads a dowry contract drawn up by Brancoveanu for his oldest son and namesake. His sons were given palaces, important land and goods while his daughters received large amounts of jewels, gold and animals along with household objects — the value calculated in ‘‘Taler’’ coins.

The prince and his four sons were beheaded in 1714 by the Ottomans, who feared their growing wealth and power, but his palaces across Romania mark a turning point in the country’s architectural style. Like the Mogosoaia palace, the Brancoveanu style is a mixture of Byzantine, Italian and Romanian classical architecture.

Set on a beautiful lake, the palace is a group of buildings meant for servants, guests and the princely family. ‘‘The Ceausescus wanted to live here but were afraid of some kind of fungus that causes pneumonia so they never did,’’ said museum guide Maria Tudor.

That didn’t stop them from taking the furniture for their own house and closing the palace, then a museum, in the 1970s. (Reuters)