Networks of feminist nationalism in the Habsburg Monarchy

Be it tradwives or right-wing women leaders such as Giorgia Meloni or Marine Le Pen, conservative projects continue to resonate with some women. Alongside “feminist imperialism,”¹ feminist nationalism thrived in the late Habsburg Empire, as demonstrated in the volume edited by Ljubljana-based historian Marta Verginella. In the introduction, Verginella skillfully sets the stage and establishes a solid theoretical grounding. She advocates for a biographical approach to counter sweeping generalizations about national identity. “Under the wing of the nation, women were offered a public space, which in time became an important niche within their sphere of activity,” (p. 5) Verginella argues, emphasizing that this space was not necessarily feminist. One notable example is the advocacy for women’s access to education. Feminists fought for women’s rights to education, while nationalists recognized the importance of mothers in early education and, particularly, in children’s language acquisition. Consequently, educated mothers served the interests of both nationalist and feminist causes. At the same time, nationalist promotion of “national sociability” (p. 7) in multiethnic communities encouraged national endogamy and sought to limit the crossing of ethnic boundaries, such as mixed marriages or women working abroad.

The first part of the volume focuses on collective subjects, such as associations and occupational groups. Irena Selišnik and Marta Verginella examine women national activists in Cisleithania, offering a class-informed perspective on the importance of the “bourgeois culture of sociability” (p. 34) within the German, Slovene, and Italian nation-building projects. Oana-Sorescu-Iudean and Vlad Popovici explore the role of Romanian women in Transylvanian civil society, initially within the traditional confines of charity work and later in nation-centered associations. The authors highlight the often-overlooked smaller associations without an explicit gender focus, such as the Society for a Romanian Theatre Fund, as well as women’s success in fundraising, supported by sponsorships from financial instituions. The inclusion of women followed the logic of “paternalistic integration,”² initially extending to the families of prominent members in the national movement—a phenomenon with relevance well beyond the Romanian context. Natka Badurina underscores the significance of women as “educators of the nation” (p. 88), particularly in the multinational borderland areas. Departing from a collective biography of four women teachers in the Austro-Hungarian Littoral, she argues that “a marginal position (both gender and geographical) could lead to the greater awareness of the complexity of social relations” (p. 97). 

The second part highlights individuals while effectively connecting them to the overall theme. Cristina Cugnata analyses the efforts of Russian teacher and traveler Elizaveta Ivanovna de Vitte to establish a cultural network linking the Russian Empire with Slavic populations within the Habsburg Empire, an endeavor closely observed by Habsburg authorities. She envisioned Slavic schools and courses as the main vehicle for “Slavic reciprocity” and the arena in which women would play crucial roles. 

Tullia Catalan turns to Carolina Coen Luzzatto, a Gorizia-based journalist, children’s author, salonnière, and fervent proponent of Italian nationalism. Catalan demonstrates how anti-Slavic sentiment in Luzzatto’s writing intensified following the antisemitic attacks on her (observant) public figure in Slovenian press, highlighting the intersectional intricacies of power and discrimination. 

The portrait of Lola Montez by Xavier Andreu-Miralles, though very loosely connected to the spatial frame of the volume, is a fascinating study of the Irish-born woman who reinvented herself as a Spanish dancer capitalizing on national stereotyping, and lived an extraordinarily mobile life, becoming an internationally known celebrity. 

Urška Strle and Beti Žerovc offer a class-informed analysis of Slovenian canonical painter Ivana Kobilca’s correspondence and the paramount role of social networks and support, such as her well-situated family, the Habsburg colonial government in Sarajevo, and the Berlin circle of her landlord and public figure Otto Schnock. A mix of class privilege and initiative, these networks secured her livelihood and opened doors to exhibitions and commissions. At the same time, a close reading of her personal correspondence reveals a high level of self-awareness in controlling her public image.

Finally, Katja Mihurko Poniž focuses on Ljubljana-born, Zagreb-based feminist Zofka Kveder and her correspondence, which includes admiration for her role models, exchanges with male friends and colleagues, as well as feminist collaborators from Vienna, Prague, Serbia, and the United States.

Although the genre of the edited volume has been overshadowed by the scholarly article as the most profitable academic currency, this volume demonstrates its advantages, particularly in terms of the freedom it offers. The form is less constrained, allowing for fewer structural restrictions, with fixed sections like the methodology or research overview more organically woven into the text. The thorough coverage of different contexts and personalities, which would not be possible for a single author, makes this approach a fruitful way to address a research topic that requires a command of the languages and perspectives across different Austro-Hungarian projects. 

The volume subtly subverts epistemic hierarchies; the Habsburg Empire in the title consists mostly of its margins and borderlands, as large centers, such as Budapest, Vienna or Prague appear only peripherally, as places where some of the protagonists pass through, not their final destination nor ultimate point of reference. The contributions illustrate what it meant to be “on the periphery, yet […] in the center at the same time”, (15),  showing this dynamic through a variety of networks, (in)formal memberships, correspondence, meetings, and the circulation of readings. At the same time, the critique of “sanctioned ignorance”³ is presented in a way that is accessible and welcoming, even to those unfamiliar with context. The reader is left to savor the richness of examples in the edited volume and eagerly anticipate more further enlightening case studies from other parts of the Empire and underrepresented perspectives, such as antinationalist and working-class women. 

The volume showcases an impressive diversity of women’s social networks, offering in-depth analysis of individuals, women’s associations, and topical studies that extend beyond the biographical focus. The gender dimension and the complex network of privileges, particularly class, are thoroughly examined in each contribution. In contrast, nationalism receives comparatively less analytical attention, to the extent that the term “nation” might suit the title better. 

While the affective dimension of women’s involvement in nationalism is not explicitly tackled, it runs through the contributions; for some, “family time was always a lower priority than time spent working” for the political cause (p. 130). Nationalism was modern in offering women validation and (arguably, limited) space for self-fulfillment, while simultaneously shaping the socially accepted notion of femininity to serve its interests. Understanding the troubling appeal of nationalism—particularly how women who were otherwise nationally indifferent could benefit from it, despite their restricted participation—remains a crucial issue. Shrugging it off in disbelief will not make it disappear, but the past might offer us new tools to address the issue in the present.