Debtors, Creditors, and their Networks

German Historical Institute London Bulletin
Supplement No. 3
GENERAL EDITOR: Andreas GestrichDebtors, Creditors,
and their Networks:
Social Dimensions of Monetary
Dependence from the Seventeenth to theTwentieth Century

EDITED BY

ANDREAS GESTRICH
AND

MARTIN STARKGERMAN HISTORICAL INSTITUTE LONDON© German Historical Institute London, 2015

Published by the German Historical Institute London
17 Bloomsbury Square, London WC1A 2NJ, UK
2015
ISSN 0269-8552

FOREWORD
The present volume is the outcome of a workshop on ‘Networks ofPaupers and Debtors: Qualitative and Quantitative Approaches toForms of Monetary Dependence in the Modern Period’, which washeld at the German Historical Institute London on 24–26 February
2011 and was organized by the GHIL and the Research Cluster ‘Social
Dependencies and Social Networks’, jointly conducted by the Johann
Gutenberg University Mainz and Trier University. The workshop
focused on the importance of social networks for gaining access tocredit and material support at times of hardship and in situations ofmaterial and social dependence. Conversely, it also investigated thefunction of networks for the creditors, in particular, for gathering
information on the trustworthiness of their debtors.
Over the past decades, network analysis has developed into oneof the most interesting and complex tools of analysis in the social sciences. Because historical data is often too heterogeneous to provide
an adequate basis for long-term data series, historians have beenreluctant to adopt rigorous quantitative forms of network analysis
and generally prefer a more metaphorical use of the term. Historical
network analysis is not impossible, however, and quantitative methods can be applied in social history and combined with qualitative
research in a number of ways. This volume brings together a broad
spectrum of such research in the specific field of debt and credit relationships from the sixteenth to the twentieth century.
In the process of preparing this book for publication the editors
have incurred many debts. Apart from the authors who revised theiressays for this publication, we would like to thank all the other participants in the workshop for their contributions and comments. We
would also like to thank the authors for their patience in bearing withus through the slow process of editing this volume. Our special
thanks, however, go to Jane Rafferty who translated and edited theessays, and Angela Davies who typeset the volume. Both from theGerman Historical Institute, their experience and help proved invaluable at all stages of the production of this volume.

Hamburg and London

Martin Stark and Andreas Gestrich

CONTENTS
1.

Introduction
ANDREAS GESTRICH and MARTIN STARK

1The History of ‘Relational Science’ and Social Network
Analysis
MARKUS GAMPER

11

Part I: Network Analysis: Theoretical and Methodological Aspects
2.

3.

Historical Network Research: Taking Stock
MATTHIAS BIXLER

43

Credit, Trust, and Social Networks: Mortgage Credit in
the Industrializing Town of Esslingen (Württemberg,
Germany)
ANNA-CAROLINA VOGEL

71

Part II: Social Networks and Mortgage Lending

4.

5.
6.

Networks of Lenders and Borrowers: A Rural Credit
Market in the Nineteenth Century
MARTIN STARK

Credit Markets in the Nineteenth-Century Countryside:
A Comparative Study in a Rural Border Region
DANIEL REUPKE

99
119

Part III: The Role of Agents, Trust, and Knowledge in Networks of
Credit and Support

7.

The Emperor as Debtor: The Prague Coinage Consortium
1622–3. Monetary and Social Dependence in Financing
the Early Thirty Years War
STEFFEN LEINS
147

8.

9.

10.

CONTENTS

Social Support Strategies in the Family: Women’s Networks.
German Families in the Baltic Area (Late Nineteenth and
Early Twentieth Centuries)
ANJA WILHELMI
171

Relational Decision-Making: Rural Society, Credit
Markets, and the Nazi State in German-Annexed
Austria, 1938
ERNST LANGTHALER

Falliment: The Social Life of a Legal Category.
Knowledge and Morals in Bankruptcy Proceedings(Basel, 1840s)
MISCHA SUTER

Notes on Editors and Contributors

189

217
253

viii

1
Introduction

AndreAs GestrIch and MArtIn stArk
As a result of the worldwide financial crisis and its enduring socioeconomic repercussions, the topic of debt has once again become thefocus of public attention. In their book This Time is Different, to takejust one example from the vast number of analyses of the recent
financial meltdown of large banks and whole economies, economists
carmen reinhart and kenneth rogoff show the role played byindebtedness, especially state indebtedness, in the emergence offinancial crises.1 then again, according to the social and financial
anthropologist david Gräber the entire history of humanity can beperceived as a history of debt.2 debt is, in fact, ubiquitous in humansocieties. Questions of debt and indebtedness affect not only statesand financial institutions, but also individuals, regardless of theirsocial status. thus, just as public debt has become a major area of economic research, private debt and the economic and social ‘mechanisms’ and consequences of private borrowing and lending should
constitute an important field of analysis in social history.
this is, in fact, increasingly the case, and much of this new
research has also proved to be methodologically and theoreticallyinnovative. the practices of borrowing and lending are as much connected to the quality of social ties, to kinship, gender, and especiallytrust as the result of the availability of capital. the topic of debt therefore frequently takes historians into areas which constitute emerging
fields of interdisciplinary inquiry, such as the history of emotions
and historical anthropology.3 debt is also closely linked to the histo1 carmen M. reinhart and kenneth rogoff, This Time is Different: Eight Centuries of Financial Folly (Princeton, 2009).
2 david r. Graeber, Debt: The First 5000 Years (Brooklyn, nY, 2011).
3 William chester Jordan, Women and Credit in Preindustrial and Developing
Societies (Philadelphia, 1993); Marie eileen Francois, A Culture of Everyday
Credit: Housekeeping, Pawnbroking, and Governance in Mexico City, 1750–1920

1AndreAs GestrIch and MArtIn stArk

ry of consumption and the rising field of material history and the history of objects,4 and it forms an important part of the renewed interest in the history of poverty and the economies of makeshift of thepoor.5 the historical analysis of social networks as a basis of borrowing and lending is a relevant aspect in almost all of these approaches. In western european countries such as Britain,6 France,7 andswitzerland,8 in particular, historical research picked up the topic of
non-institutionalized forms of lending and indebtedness amongst
private individuals well before the crisis of 2008, and inquired into
these social and anthropological dimensions of borrowing and lend-(Lincoln, nebr., 2006); Gabriela signori (ed.), Prekäre Ökonomien: Schulden in
Spätmittelalter und Früher Neuzeit (constance, 2014); Gabriele Jancke anddaniel schläppi (eds.), Die Ökonomie sozialer Beziehungen: Ressourcenbewirtschaftung als Geben, Nehmen, Investieren, Verschwenden, Haushalten, Horten,
Vererben, Schulden (stuttgart, 2015).
4 clare haru crowston, Credit, Fashion, Sex: Economies of Regard in Old Regime
France (durham, nc, 2013); Andreas hirseland, Schulden in der Konsumgesellschaft: Eine soziologische Analyse (Amsterdam 1999).
5 kenneth hudson, Pawnbroking: An aspect of British Social History (London,
1982); Melanie tebbutt, Making Ends Meet: Pawnbroking and Working-Class
Credit (London, 1984); cheryl L. danieri, Credit Where Credit is Due: The Montde-Piété of Paris, 1777–1851 (new York, 1991); Alannah tomkins, The Experience of Urban Poverty, 1723–82: Parish, Charity and Credit (Manchester, 2006);
sean O’connell, Credit and Community: Working-Class Debt in the UK since1880 (new York, 2009); sylvestre clap and delphine Brihat, Du Mont-de-Piétéau Crédit Municipal Avignon 1610–2010: Quatre Cents Ans d’une Histoire
Exceptionnelle (Avignon, 2010).
6 craig Muldrew, The Economy of Obligation: The Culture of Credit and Social
Relations in Early Modern England (houndmills, 1998); Margot c. Finn, The
Character of Credit: Personal Debt in English Culture, 1740–1914 (cambridge,2003).
7 Philip t. hoffman, Gilles Postel-Vinay, and Jean-Laurent rosenthal, Priceless Markets: The Political Economy of Credit in Paris, 1660–1870 (chicago, 2000);
Laurence Fontaine, ‘Antonio and shylock: credit and trust in France,c.1680–c.1780’, Economic History Review, 54 (2001), 39–57.
8 Ulrich Pfister, ‘Le petit crédit rural en suisse aux XVIe au XVIIIe siècle’,
Annales (1994), 1339–57; hans-Jörg Gilomen, ‘L’endettement paysan et laquestion du crédit dans les pays d’empireau moyen âge’, Endettement Paysan
et Crédit Rural dans l’Europe médiévale et moderne, Toulouse 1998(Actes des
XVIIes Journées Internationales d’Histoire de l’Abbaye de Flaran, Septembre 1995),
99–137.

2

Introduction

ing. In the German-language area the focus longer remained on the
traditional intermediary lending institutions such as banks, building
societies, and the co-operative system as agencies of social reform or
self-help.9
this restricted approach sometimes resulted in a distorted view of
early modern and nineteenth-century money markets, and the practices of lending and borrowing money in Germany. thus, forinstance, in the kingdom of Württemberg in south-west Germany
there was not a general lack of capital, as some researchers maintained. It was simply that until well into the second half of the nineteenth century the banking system was underdeveloped.10 the private market for borrowing for private investment and short-term
consumption needs at times of crisis, however, hardly came into thefocus of historical research. especially in rural areas, anyone wanting
to borrow money had to resort to private loans, the limited funds of
local religious and secular foundations, or private connections withlenders in nearby towns. In contrast to the anonymous capital markets, these loans were based on personal acquaintance between
lenders and borrowers, with greater opportunities for acquiring information and control on both sides. Lending money, therefore, was
not a purely economic transaction between lender and borrower. It
also created a social relationship between the persons involved.
credit networks formed in this way were based on communication networks which they simultaneously structured. Along with thetransfer of resources, these networks also facilitated the exchange of
information. Loans were granted on the basis not only of means, inthis case, the ability of the potential borrower to provide property as
collateral, but also of the borrower’s reputation.11 expanding on this,Margot c. Finn’s research, for example, looks at the major signifi-

9 Gabriele B. clemens, ‘einleitung: die Omnipräsenz von westeuropäischen
kreditbeziehungen in Mittelalter und neuzeit’, in ead. (ed.), Schuldenlast und
Schuldenwert: Kreditnetzwerke in der europäischen Geschichte 1300–1800 (trier,2008), 10–11. For this research tradition see also Frauke schlütz, Ländlicher
Kredit: Kreditgenossenschaften in der Rheinprovinz (1889–1914) (stuttgart, 2015).
10 knut Borchardt, ‘Zur Frage des kapitalmangels in der ersten hälfte des 19.
Jahrhunderts in deutschland’, Jahrbücher für Nationalökonomie und Statistik,
173 (1961), 402–21.
11 Anke sczesny, Zwischen Kontinuität und Wandel: Ländliches Gewerbe undländliche Gesellschaft im Ostschwaben des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts (tübingen,3AndreAs GestrIch and MArtIn stArk

cance mechanisms such as trust and reputation still had even in thenineteenth and early twentieth centuries.12 Far-reaching social
aspects determined the processes of granting and obtaining credit.
‘Good’ borrowers, that is, those known to be reliable in paying
money back, and citizens with a good reputation as frugal householders, were more likely to be granted loans. In rural face-to-facesocieties this was common knowledge; long-distance traders frequently used local agents and informants to gather information on
their business partners. In this way lenders gave themselves additional security. this was expensive, however, and economically
viable only if larger sums were being invested. For this very reason
pre-industrial credit markets were often restricted to specific regions,which made the mutual exchange of information easier.13
In recent years, increased interest in the various forms of private
credit and general issues of indebtedness have coincided with greater
sensitivity towards the network-type organization of debt relationships.14 social networks facilitated access to credit and also played an
important part in overcoming material dependence resulting from(over-)indebtedness.15 Access to credit, the availability of materialand social support, even access to communal and state support areembedded in social relations that can be described as social networks. As a first approach to the topic, a social network can be
described, drawing on James clyde Mitchell’s influential definition,in the broadest sense as a ‘specific set of linkages among a defined setof persons, with the additional property that the characteristics ofthese linkages as a whole may be used to interpret the social behav2002), 326–7; craig Muldrew, ‘Zur Anthropologie des kapitalismus: kredit,
Vertrauen, tausch und die Geschichte des Marktes in england 1500–1750’,
Historische Anthropologie, 6 (1998), 167–99.
12 Finn, The Character of Credit.
13 sczesny, Zwischen Kontinuität und Wandel, 326–7; Muldrew ‘Anthropologie
des kapitalismus’, 194.
14 klaus-Joachim Lorenzen-schmidt (ed.), Geld und Kredit in der Geschichte
Norddeutschlands (neumünster, 2006); Jürgen schlumbohm (ed.), Soziale
Praxis des Kredites: 16.–20. Jahrhundert (hanover, 2007); Gabriele B. clemens(ed.), Schuldenlast und Schuldenwert: Kreditnetzwerke in der europäischen
Geschichte 1300–1800 (trier, 2008).
15 curt Wolfgang hergenröder (ed.), Gläubiger, Schuldner, Arme: Netzwerke
und die Rolle des Vertrauens (Wiesbaden, 2010).

4

Introduction

ior of the persons involved’.16 On the one hand, credit itself can constitute such linkages and form the basis of social networks. On theother, different types of social networks, such as those constituted bykinship, neighbourhood relations, or other types of regular social
interaction, can be analysed and used as a tool for understanding
who is likely to be asked for credit, and who is prepared to grant it.
It is the aim of this volume to explore the complexity of such social
networks, how they support credit relations and are simultaneously
shaped by this financial link.
About this Volume

this volume is based on contributions to a workshop,17 whose aim
was to examine, theoretically and empirically, the concept of network
formation as a strategy for overcoming situations of economic orsocial difficulty which resulted in financial credit being sought andgranted. the scholarly analysis of such complex situations and strategies mostly requires a multi-method approach, which would ideallycombine quantitative and qualitative aspects. the inconsistency andheterogeneity of available sources (personal statements, letters, legal
sources, inventories, mortgage documents), however, means thatsuch a combination is mostly impossible to achieve with the necessary consistency in historical projects. this also becomes clear in thisvolume, which represents a variety of approaches and attempts tocope with such problems posed by the sources. It discusses method16 James clyde Mitchell, Social Networks in Urban Situations: Analysis of Personal Relationships in Central African Towns (Manchester, 1969).
17 the workshop ‘networks of Paupers and debtors: Qantitative andQualitative Approaches to Forms of Monetary dependency in the Modern
Period’ was convened by the German historical Institute London and thenow discontinued research cluster at the universities of trier and Mainz on‘social dependencies and social networks’. the conference papers havebeen supplemented by a few selected essays by additional authors. For the
conference programme see <http://www.ghil.ac.uk/events_and_conferences/conferences_and_workshops/2011/networks_of_paupers.html>,
accessed 25 June 2015. For more information on the trier and Mainz researchcluster see <http://www.netzwerk-exzellenz.uni-trier.de/>, accessed 25
June 2015.

5

AndreAs GestrIch and MArtIn stArk

ological difficulties and possible inroads into the analysis of networkbuilding in the context of poverty, indebtedness, and credit ineurope from the early modern period to the twentieth century.
the volume is structured as follows: the first two essays reflect on
the state of network research in terms of methodology and theory. In
an introductory essay Markus Gamper (cologne) presents a broad
historical overview of how the interdisciplinary field of relational sciences and social network analysis has developed up to the present.
Matthias Bixler (Bremen) then presents the most recent developments in the sphere of historical research towards historical
network Analysis or, indeed, historical network research (hnr),
and asks whether a common basis is already emerging for this network-oriented historical research.
In the second section three essays focus on the influence of social
networks on mortgage lending in the nineteenth century. First Annacarolina Vogel (Göttingen) looks from a cultural anthropology perspective at the connection between lending, social practices, trust,and social networks in the Württemberg town of esslingen in the second half of the nineteenth century. expanding on this, Martin stark(hamburg) uses the example of the Württemberg village of Ohmenhausen, near reutlingen, to examine from the perspective of economic history the interplay between changes in rural lending institutions and the change in credit networks. daniel reupke’s (saarbrücken) essay widens this question geographically by presenting
the results of his study on rural credit markets and lending practices
in the border region between Germany, Luxembourg, and France inthe nineteenth century.
In the third section various social and monetary support networks, the role of agents and brokers within these networks, and theimportance of knowledge and trust are presented along with different methodological quantitative and qualitative approaches to these
phenomena. First steffen Leins (tübingen) analyses the attempt by
the German emperor Ferdinand II, who was heavily in debt, toacquire the funds needed to finance the war through the Prague coinconsortium of 1622–3. he reveals the not inconsiderable socio-economic repercussions of this enterprise, which ultimately failed. Anja
Wilhelmi (hamburg) then demonstrates the importance of women’s
networks, in particular, those of single women, for strategies of social
support within the family. she draws on the example of German fam6

Introduction

ilies in the Baltic area in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. these networks transcended purely monetary considerations
and expectations and thus opened up an additional perspective onsocial networks. ernst Langthaler (Vienna) then shows how ideas
and methods relating to network analysis can be innovative andfruitful for complex analyses of twentieth-century socio-politicalmeasures by examining the influence of social networks on the decision-making processes of over-indebted farmers in German-annexed
Austria during the second World War. Finally, the complex of topics
on over-indebtedness and the resultant dangers for the economic andsocial status of the debtor is examined by Mischa suter (Basel) looking at knowledge production in insolvency procedures. Using switzerland as an example, suter analyses how judgements were enforced in nineteenth-century liberal capitalism.
All in all, this volume offers a broad spectrum of recent and innovative research exploring the potential of the concept of social networks and the methodology of quantitative and qualitative network
analysis in historical research. the wide field of credit relations provides an interesting field for such an inquiry, revealing the complexity and ambivalence of social networks as forms of social integrationand support as well as social control.

7

PART I
Network Analysis:
Theoretical and Methodological Aspects

2
The History of ‘Relational Science’and Social Network Analysis
MARKUS GAMPER

In Castells’ view the modern world, more than ever before, is characterized by global interrelations and dependences that determine
and change social behaviour, the economy, and also communication
between social units—such as people and institutions.1 Even if,
according to Castells, society is determined ever more strongly by
networks, the question arises as to what extent this is a new phenomenon. In philosophy and social anthropology it is assumed thatin humans lack of natural instincts has always led to social dependence and thus has constructed social networks.2 Accordingly, fromthe moment of birth the human relies on a social environment to satisfy his basic needs and to learn the cultural codes (for example, language, behaviour, norms and values). This is the only way that hecan integrate into society and become capable of survival. The significance of networks for actors, the effects they bring about and similar
issues are the focal point of so-called ‘relational science’ that hasdeveloped since the late nineteenth century. It does not deal primarily with social units, but conceives of them ‘pre-relationally’. Actors
are only constituted by the social relationships that exist between
them and should be understood as ‘terms of relations, and as such
can never be “given” in isolation but only in ideal community witheach other’.3 The relationship as such is the focus and becomes ‘the
1 Manuel Castells, The Rise of the Network Society. The Information Age: Economy, Society and Culture, vol. i (Cambridge, 1996).
2 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Emile: Oder über die Erziehung (Stuttgart, 1998; 1stpub. 1762); Arnold Gehlen, Anthropologische Forschung: Zur Selbstbegegnung
und Selbstentdeckung des Menschen (Reinbek bei Hamburg, 1961).
3 Ernst Cassirer, Substance and Function and Einstein’s Theory of Relativity (NewYork, 1953), i. 36.

11

MARKUS GAMPER

primary unit of analysis rather than the constituent elements themselves’.4 So the relational approach concentrates on the actors’
embeddedness in their environment.5 Environment is understood as
the structures formed by relationships that offer or restrict behavioural options and, beyond that, influence the way in which theactors perceive themselves. According to the ‘radically constructivist’
definition of the relational paradigm, culture, identity, and sense arealso created in relationships and thus constitute the starting point forthat social identity from which society emerges in the first place.6 The
research fields in which the relational approach can be applied are
therefore manifold. Relationships can, for instance, be examined asregards reciprocity or behaviour in small groups (for example, family or work relations). Processes of socialization and diffusion (forexample, knowledge, illnesses, luck) can be looked at just as much asprocesses of migration or cultural exchange, economic relations andsocial movements. In mathematics, historical science, information
technology, and physics, too, (social) relations are modulated withthe aid of graph theory (for example, swarm behaviour). The focus ison social relationships of all sorts and the structures deriving fromthem, which are examined with the aid of so-called network analysis.
How are networks to be understood against the backdrop of relational science, and what sorts of analyses do social scientists andhumanities scholars have at their disposal? In general networks canbe defined ‘as a specific set of linkages among a defined set of persons [actors], with the additional property that the characteristics ofthese linkages as a whole may be used to interpret the social behaviour of the persons [actors] involved’.7 Historically, two ideal types of
network analysis have developed: ‘whole networks’ and ‘egocentric
networks’.8 The analysis of whole networks seeks to establish all
4 Mustafa Emirbayer, ‘Manifesto for a Relational Sociology’, American Journalof Sociology, 103/2 (1997), 281–317, at 287.
5 Mark S. Granovetter, ‘The Strength of Weak Ties’, American Journal of
Sociology, 78/6 (1973), 1360–80.
6 Harrison White, Identity and Control: A Structural Theory of Social Action(Princeton, 1992).
7 James C. Mitchell, Social Networks in Urban Situations: Analyses of Personal
Relationships in Central African Towns (Manchester, 1969), i. 2.
8 Roland S. Burt, ‘Models of Network Structure’, Annual Review of Sociology,
6 (1980), 79–141.

12‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

existing interior relations of a set of actors. These form part of adelimited system (for example, school class). The focus of inquiry lieson whether and in what way the members within the defined boundary are linked up. Relations to actors outside are not taken into
account. So the focus of interest lies on the global structure of the network and the interactive patterns it contains.9 The focus of egocentric
network10 analysis lies on the relations of an actor (ego) (for example,
persons, organizations) and the social environment (alteri). By thismethod, ego’s network is established from his or her subjective pointof view. Questions touching on ego’s partners (‘actors/name generators’) in everyday life are posed to identify ego’s contacts (alteri) towhom a defined relation is maintained; this is then shown using connecting lines (edges). Further personal and socio-demographic datasuch as age, sex, contact frequency, and level of education are subsequently gathered using so-called ‘actor/name interpreters’. Ego-networks represent an individual’s overall pattern of relationships. The
focus lies on the embeddedness of single actors in their social environment. Egocentric network analysis is put to work in cases where
the group under investigation is hard to delineate or the sheer size of
the whole suggests the study of individual cases.11 Networks can beestablished quantitatively or qualitatively.12 Quantitative network
analysis focuses on calculating formal aspects of network structure,
9 Stanley Wasserman and Katherine Faust, Social Network Analysis: Methods

and Applications (New York, 1994).

10 There are authors who still distinguish between personal networks andegocentric networks: Marinda J. Lubbers, Jose L. Molina, and Christopher
McCarty, ‘Personal Networks and Ethnic Identifications’, International
Sociology, 22 (2007), 721–41.
11 Claude S. Fischer, Robert M. Jackson, Ann C. Stueve, Kathleen Gerson,
Lynne M. Jones, and Mark Baldassare, Networks and Places: Social Relations in
the Urban Setting (New York, 1977); Barry Wellman, ‘The Community
Question: The Intimate Networks of East Yorkers’, American Journal of
Sociology, 84 (1979), 1201–31; Marinda J. Lubbers, Jose L. Molina, andChristopher McCarty, ‘Personal Networks and Ethnic Identifications’, International Sociology, 22 (2007), 721–41.
12 Markus Gamper, Michael Schönhuth, and Michael Kronenwett, ‘Bringing
Qualitative and Quantitative Data Together: Collecting Network Data with
the Help of the Software Tool VennMaker’, in Maytham Safar and Khaled A.
Mahdi (eds.), Social Networking and Community Behavior Modeling: Qualitative

13

MARKUS GAMPER

that is, standardized data on the basis of which structural units ofmeasurement like density, centrality, or actors’ prestige, cutpoints
between sub-networks (cliques) and density can be calculated.13 The
focus of qualitative network analysis lies not solely in the mere existence of relations in a social network but their quality too. What is
important is the actor’s view of the network, in order to comprehendand analyse their dynamics and the subjective meanings and stories
of relations.14
In this essay the historical development of network research will
be outlined. The most influential lines of development and their representatives from the humanities and the social sciences, from thenineteenth century until today, will be presented here as examples,and it will be demonstrated that a relational science has developed.
To start with the theoretical origins, mainly deriving from sociology,
will be briefly presented (I), then the most important empirical beginnings from the educational sciences and psychology, for example,
Child Studies (II). Linking up with this the focus is on industrial sociology and urban and anthropological community research studies
from the USA and Manchester (III). I will then go on to show how
network research has developed since the 1970s into an importantbranch of research in various disciplines (IV).
I. Theoretical Roots

The first theoretical roots of social relations originate at the beginningand particularly in the second half of the nineteenth century. The significance of social structures is to be found especially in the work ofEuropean sociologists such as Karl Marx, Emile Durkheim, Nobertand Quantitative Measures (Kuwait, 2011), 193–213; Nicole E. Coviello, ‘Integrating Qualitative and Quantitative Techniques in Network Analysis: Qualitative Market Research’, An International Journal, 8/1 (2005), 39–60.
13 Wasserman and Faust, Social Network Analysis.
14 Rainer Diaz-Bone has written a critical article about qualitative network
analysis, ‘Does Qualitative Network Analysis Exist?’ (2007), online at<http://www.qualitative-research.net/index php/fqs/article/viewArticle /224/493>, accessed 21 Nov. 2010; Gamper, Schönhuth, and Kronenwett,‘Bringing Qualitative and Quantitative Data Together’.

14

‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

Elias, Alfred Schütz, Georg Simmel, and Leopold von Wiese. ‘[A]lltried to specify the different kinds of social ties that link individuals
in different forms of social collectivities.’15 Karl Marx, for instance,
proposed that the social structure and position of the individuals inthis are constructed from the relationships between the various
groups—in this case, the expropriated and the expropriators. Even
though Marx’s theory focuses on capital and its distribution, for him
the structures of distributing the means of production play a key role:‘Society does not consist of individuals, but expresses the sum of therelationships that exist between them.’16 Amongst the classical writers, however, it was mainly the Germans, Simmel (1908) and vonWiese (1924), who recognized the importance of social structure foranalysing human behaviour and society.
Simmel maintains that forces of attraction exist between points
and that individuals combine in networks. In his view the only way
that society becomes possible at all is ‘that the individuality of theindividual finds a place in the structure of the generality, indeed thatright from the start this structure, despite the incalculability of theindividuality, is geared towards this and its achievement’.17 Against
the backdrop of this interaction Simmel talks explicitly of networks.18
The sociologist assumed an interlocking of various social circles inwhich individuals share. So everyone is in various forms of mutual
relationship with everyone else, which advances the process ofsocialization. What is remarkable about Simmel’s theoretical ideas isthat it is only the form of relationships that provides insight into
cohesion processes and tendencies towards individualization. At thesame time they can also be called upon to explain why norms are followed or changed.19 What should be emphasized particularly here isthat numerous structural characteristics of social relations used in
network literature today (e.g. homophily, number of people) were
15 Linton C. Freeman, The Development of Social Network Analysis: A Study in

the Sociology of Science (Vancouver, 2004), i. 15.

16 Karl Marx, Grundrisse der Kritik der politischen Ökonomie (Berlin, 1953; 1stpub. 1857–9), 176.

17 Georg Simmel, Soziologie: Untersuchungen über die Formen der Vergesell-schaftung (Berlin, 1908), i. 30.

18 Ibid. 30.

19 Ibid. 20–30.

15MARKUS GAMPER

already dealt with by Simmel,20 and the significance of triads, as used
today in the balance theory, already posited.21
If Simmel was the one who provided theoretical underpinning forthe significance of networks, it was Leopold von Wiese who took theidea forward and further systematized the types of relations. Here hedistinguishes between social processes in which social units either
become closer or more distanced. Various distances between social
units—that can be measured empirically—the social space in which
the processes of networking play out, and the social edifices that are
constituted from the linked relations of the social units. Here vonWiese emphasizes the importance of dynamics and change in therelational network.22
Even though the theoretical approaches mainly played a significant role in German-speaking sociology, the first important academic studies of relations between humans,23 and the structures emerging from them were largely produced in other disciplines—psychology, educational sciences, and anthropology.
II. Network Analysis in Psychology and Educational Science

Some of the first empirical studies on the path towards Social
Network Analysis arose in educational science and psychology. Mostof them can be subsumed under the concept of Child Studies. Theirroots can be traced back to the end of the nineteenth century. Research
into social relations was largely conducted in schools. By using participatory observation, and quantitative and qualitative interviews,
relations between school children were analysed. Here the studies of
20 Bettina Hollstein, ‘Strukturen, Akteure, Wechselwirkungen: Georg Simmels Beiträge zur Netzwerkforschung’, in Christian Stegbauer (ed.), Netzwerkanalyse und Netzwerktheorie: Ein Neues Paradigma in den Sozialwissenschaften(Wiesbaden, 2008), 91–103.
21 Simmel, Soziologie, 80–2.
22 Leopold Wiese, System der Allgemeinen Soziologie (Berlin, 1924).
23 The first attempts at raising data systematically regarding non-humanrelations date back to 1810 and the Swiss biologist Pierre Huber. He examined the interactions amongst ants and amongst bees. Freeman, The
Development of Social Network Analysis, i. 16.

16‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

whole networks by Johannes Delitisch should be mentioned,24 as wellas the one by Will Monroe,25 which must be the first egocentric study.
Some of the first research by the pedagogue Johannes Delitisch,which is both innovative and detailed, represents, in fact, the start ofsystematic research on relations. In his analysis of friendship networks of 1880–1 Delitsch used a mixture of methods—observation,interviews with school children and parents, and analysis of pupils’
essays. In order to understand how friendships are formed and how
youngsters develop in their identity, he examined the whole networkof 53 boys in class 4 of a secondary school. Here he was already using
an adjacency matrix to record the relations between the pupils. He
recorded both offered friendships (rows = ‘I’) and attempts at friendship (columns = ‘I’). At the same time he noted reciprocal relations, inother words, actual frendships (+) (see Figure 1). Based on his data wewere able to demonstrate, for instance, that older boys who wererepeating a class were generally very popular with their younger
classmates.26 Monroe produces similar findings (1898).27 He was alsointerested in friendship networks between adolescents. Unlike
Delitsch he used a purely quantitative approach and a kind of egocentric network analysis. He asked 1,068 boys and 1,268 girls aged
between 7 and 16: ‘What kind of chum do you like the best?’ Like
Delitsch he also found that the children he asked liked to have friends
who were older than them or at least of the same age. He was also able
to show that the pupils tended towards gender homophily. During
this time other studies emerged that dealt with the same topics,28 for
instance, Terman (1904), Almack (1922), Reinigen (1924), and Bott
(1928).29

Johannes Delitsch, ‘Über Schülerfreundschaften in einer Volksschulklasse’, Zeitschrift für Kinderforschung, 5/4 (1900), 150–63.
25 Will S. Monroe, ‘Social Consciousness in Children’, Psychological Review, 5(1898), 68–70.
26 Richard Heidler, Markus Gamper, Andreas Herz, and Florian Eßer,‘Relationship Patterns in the Nineteenth Century: The Friendship Network
in a German Boys’ School Class from 1880 to 1881 Revisited’, Social Networks,
37 (2014), 1–13.
27 Monroe, ‘Social Consciousness in Children’.
28 For a summary of the English studies see Lincoln C. Freeman, ‘Some Antecedents of Social Network Analysis’, Connections, 19 (1996), 39–42.
29 Lewis M. Terman, ‘A Preliminary Study of the Psychology and Pedagogy
of Leadership’, Journal of Genetic Psychology, 11 (1904), 413–51; John C.
24

17

MARKUS GAMPER

Figure 1: Adjacency matrix of 53 boys in a 4th Class.

The senders of ties are written in the columns, and the receivers in therows.

Source: Johannes Delitsch, ‘Über Schülerfreundschaften in einer Volksschulklasse’, Zeitschrift für Kinderforschung, 5/4 (1900), 160–1.

18‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

The same research interest, but a different way of presenting networks, was developed in the 1930s by the very extrovert psychiatrist
Jakob Moreno with the help of his colleague, the psychologist Hellen
Jennings: namely, the sociogram.30 The ‘inventor’ of sociometry andpsychodrama had already been examining the emergence of small
groups and the processes that occurred within them since the 1920s.
Like his predecessors, his focus was on the processes of inclusion andexclusion in children and young adolescents.31 Using data raised
through discussions, observations, role-playing (psychodramas), andquestionnaires he put together so-called sociograms. Here he entered
the people (node) and joined them up with lines (edges), until a network emerged (see Figure 2). The allusion to Darwin’s selection theory in what must be his most well-known book Who Shall survive?
(1934), in which he presents the principles of his theory, is certainly
no coincidence. In his view, the procedure he used represented indetail the process of natural selection in social groups and showedthat it is possible to influence the selection process. The aim was tochange society in a positive sense.32
The question about individuals’ relationships with one anotherand how their attitudes to one another can change was also of interest to Fritz Heider. Drawing on Wolfgang Köhler’s Gestalttheorie,33
and Kurt Lewin’s Field Theory,34 he developed the Balance Theory
and examined the interplay between people’s social relations andattitudes in small groups. Heider describes his basic assumption as
follows: ‘Attitudes towards persons and causal unit formations influence each other. An attitude towards an event can alter the attitude
towards the person who caused the event, and, if the attitudes toAlmack, ’The Influence of Intelligence on the Selection of Associates’, School
and Society, 16 (1922), 529–30; Karl Reininger, Über soziale Verhaltungsweisen inder Vorpubertät (Vienna, 1924); Helen Bott, ‘Observation of Play Activities ina Nursery School’, Genetic Psychology Monographs, 4 (1928), 44–88.
30 First attempts at sociogram research had already been made at an earlier
stage, e.g. Rudolf Lochner, ‘Das Soziogramm der Schulklasse’, Zeitschrift für
Pädagogische Psychologie, 28 (1927), 177–205.
31 Jakob L. Moreno, Who Shall Survive? (Washington, 1934), i. 104, 129.
32 Ibid. i. 7.
33 Wolfgang Köhler, Intelligenzprüfungen an Menschenaffen (Berlin, 1921).
34 Kurt Lewin, ‘Field Theory and Experiment in Social Psychology: Concepts
and Methods’, American Journal of Sociology, (1939), 868–96.

19

MARKUS GAMPER

Figure 2: Sociogram of an 8th Class.

Source: Jakob L. Moreno, Who Shall Survive? (Washington, 1934), 161.
wards a person and an event are similar, the event is easily ascribedto the person. A balanced configuration exists if the attitudes towards
the parts of a causal unit are similar.’35 The triad formed by this constellation consists of three units: the node P (person), the = node O(other), and the node X (object of attitude).
The balance theory is still highly regarded in network analysis
today.36 In network research the object of attitude X is often defined
35 Fritz Heider, ‘Attitudes and Cognitive Organization’, Journal of Psychology,
21 (1946), 107–12, at 107.
36 e.g. Jürgen Lerner, Ulrik Brandes, Patrick Kenis, and Denise van Raaij,‘Modeling Open Web-based Collaboration Networks: The Case of Wikipedia’, in Markus Gamper, Linda Reschke, and Michael Schönhuth (eds.),
Knoten und Kanten 2.0: Netzwerkanalyse in Medienforschung und Kulturanthropologie (Bielefeld, 2012), 139–60.

20‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

as the ‘Third Person’. The relations are examined here on the basisthat an individual (unconsciously) seeks to balance out his relations.
A triad is balanced if all three relations are positive or two relations
are negative and one is positive. Balance can be said to exist in a network if, for instance, node P has a positive relationship with node X
and at the same time sympathy exists between node O and the person X. To put this over-simply: my friend’s friend is also my friend.
While the assessments were mostly just restricted to frequency orsimple calculations of homophily, and the visualization of thesociogram had not yet been standardized, in the 1940s and 1950s astrong mathematical branch developed in psychology. One of themain reasons for this development was dissatisfaction with theoptions for representation that existed at that time, which, in spite of
everything, were only suited to structuring networks in a limited
way, as well as the difficulties in interpreting a large number of cases.
Thus the edges in a sociogram could be placed without any specificrules, the result being that any given network could be depicted invarious different ways. So in many cases it was impossible to compare several sociograms/networks. Interpretation of the image wasalso hindered by a large number of nodes and edges. In order to remedy this, research was done into determining structural co-efficientsthat could be interpreted independently of graphs and which form
the basis of quantitative network analysis today.
So psychologists returned to the ideas of Child Studies, forinstance, Moreno (1934),37 Bott (1928),38 and the social psychologist
Lewin (1936),39 in order to analyse social relations mathematically,
and thus comparatively. Mary Northway (1940) and Lloyd A. Cook
(1945)40 create an easy way to visualize social network data. To
achieve this Northway worked with concentric circles to portray theacceptance of individuals and the preferred relations between people
within social groups. Here the circles represented degrees of acceptance, varying by one-quarter, into which the group members could
37 Moreno, Who Shall Survive?
38 Bott, ‘Observation of Play’.

39 Kurt Lewin, ‘A Dynamic Theory of Personality: Selected Papers’, Journal of

Nervous and Mental Disease, 84/5 (1936), 612–13.
40 Lloyd A. Cook, ‘An Experimental Sociographic Study of a Stratified Tenth
Grade Class’, American Sociological Review, 10 (1945), 250–61.

21

MARKUS GAMPER

be categorized (see Figure 3). The collected data was visualized inthese circles. In the 1980s, Kahn and Antonucci used nearly the same
concept to collect network data visually.41 Figure 4 shows an example of a ‘convoy’ with the corresponding roles of the alteri. Ego ispositioned in the middle, represented by a ‘P’. Moving outwards
from the innermost circle the importance in terms of providing support diminishes for ego. In the outermost circle are the people who
provide ego with the least support.42 The so-called Social Convoy
Model was taken up again in particular by the so-called ‘new’
Qualitative Network Analysis or Visual Network Analysis.43
If the first mathematical steps were still fairly rudimentary, Alex
Bavelas (1947) went beyond ‘simple forms’ of representation. This
psychologist dealt with communication within networks and developed mathematically conveyable parameters capable of providing
information, for instance, centrality. Using this value the importanceof an actor for the whole network can be assessed. In the early 1950s
at the MIT Bavelas examined the influence of key actors on the work
achievement and ways of functioning within groups.44
The experiment carried out by Stanley Milgram in the late 1960son the so-called Small World Problem was also based on mathematical problems that had already cropped up in the 1950s. Ithiel de Sola
Pool and the mathematician Manfred Kochen had looked at howsocial networks function and tried to tease out the mathematical
41 Robert L. Kahn and Toni C. Antonucci, ‘Convoys over the Life Course:
Attachment, Roles, and Social Support’, in Paul B. Baltes and Olim G. Brim(eds.), Life-span Development and Behavior (New York, 1980), i. 383–405.
42 Ibid.
43 Markus Gamper and Michael Kronenwett, ‘Visuelle Erhebung von egozentrierten Netzwerken mit Hilfe digitaler Netzwerkkarten’, in Sabrina
Kulin, Keno Frank, Detlef Fickermann, and Knut Schwippert (eds.), Soziale
Netzwerkanalyse: Theorie—Methoden—Praxis (Münster, 2012), i. 151–66;
Michael Schönhuth, Markus Gamper, Michael Kronenwett, and Martin Stark(eds.), Visuelle Netzwerkforschung: Qualitative, quantitative und partizipative Zugänge (Bielefeld, 2013).
44 Alexander Bavelas, ‘Communication Patterns in Task-Oriented Groups’,
Journal of the Acoustical Society of America, 22 (1950), 723–30; Alexander Bavelas
and Dermot Barrett, ‘An Experimental Approach to Organizational Communication’, Personnel, 27 (1951), 366–71.

22

‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

Figure 3: Northway’s Target-Sociogram.

Source: M. L. Northway, ‘A Method for Depicting
Social Relationships Obtained by Sociometric Testing’,
Sociometry, 3 (1940), 144–50.

Figure 4: Social Convoy Model and Concentric
Circles by Kahn and Antonucci.

Source: Robert L. Kahn and Toni C. Antonucci, ‘Convoys
over the Life Course: Attachment, Roles, and Social
Support’, in Paul B. Baltes and Olim G. Brim (eds.), LifeSpan Development and Behavior (New York, 1980), i. 383–405.

23

MARKUS GAMPER

implications.45 The main feature here was the degree to which theactors were linked together, or which nodes could be reached via acertain number of edges.46 Milgram now set about testing the legendary assertion, ‘My, it’s a small world!’ to see whether it was actually true.47 To do so, he got people on the West coast of the USA to
send a packet to an otherwise unknown person in Boston. The condition was that they had to get the packet to the selected recipient via
contact people.48 The result of the experiment was that on average 6.4
intermediaries were required to get the packet to the unknown
addressee. However, the study was not without its critics. They
pointed to the low success rate in sending the packets, since of 300
only about 30 per cent reached their destination. Milgram’s findings
were therefore reminted as the Six Degrees of Separation thesis.49
At almost the same time (1940s) as Bavlas, Leon Festinger, head of
the Centre for Group Dynamics at the University of Michigan,50 andhis colleagues Ducan Luce and Albert Perry focused on the factor ofclique formation within networks.51 Festinger established that:

The more cohesive the group, that is, the more friendship ties
there are within the group, and the more active the process ofcommunication which goes on within the group, the greater
will be the effect of the process of communication in producing uniformity of attitudes, opinions, and behaviour, and the

45 Even though they had been working on this phenomenon since the 1950s
they did not publish a paper in this period because they thought they could
not really describe it. Manfred Kochen (ed.), The Small World (Norwood, NJ,
1989).
46 The article on this topic, however, was not published until the late 1970s.
Ithiel de Sola Pool and Manfred Kochen, ‘Contacts and Influence’, Social Networks, 1/1 (1978), 5–51.
47 Stanley Milgram, ‘The Small World Problem’, Psychology Today, 5 (1967),
60–7, at 61.
48 Judith S. Kleinfeld, ‘The Small World Problem’, Society, 39/2 (2002), 61–66.
49 Sebastian Schnettler, ‘A Structured Overview of Fifty Years of SmallWorld Research’, Social Networks, 31 (2009), 165–78, at 166.
50 Leon Festinger, ‘The Analysis of Sociograms Using Matrix Algebra’, Human
Relations, 2 (1949), 153–8, at 153.
51 R. Duncan Luce and Albert Perry, ‘A Method of Matrix Analysis of Group
Structure’, Psychometrika, 14 (1949), 95–116.

24

‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

stronger will be the resulting group standard, as indicated by
the degree of uniformity among members of the group and theamount of deviation from group standard allowed in members.52

So in a similar way to Fritz Heider (see above) the research group recognized a connection between friendship relations and matching attitudes and modes of behaviour within a group. Their findings werethat the stronger the links between the members, the more they
resemble one another and the more they are expected to adopt thisgroup standard. The measured values taken into account here arethus network density and homophily.53
III. Network Analysis in Anthropology and Organizational Sociology

In a related discipline, anthropology, a structural-functionalist scientific thread developed in the late 1930s in the USA and Britain thatwas independent of psychology and can be traced back to the Britishsocial anthropologist Alfred R. Radcliffe-Brown. This co-founder of
the Functional School of Social Anthropology, which was carried on
by Parsons, distances himself from abstractly formulated research
objects. According to him it was not possible to observe objects suchas ‘culture’ or ‘norm’. But, he said, it was different with social relations: ‘[H]uman beings are connected by a complex network of social
relations.’54 These, he went on, are arranged according to a specificpattern so that the concept of social structure should include all social
relations from person to person, within which the individuals are differentiated according to positions and social roles.55 Even if he was
52 Leon Festinger, Stanley Schachter, and Kurt W. Back, Social Pressures inInformal Groups: A Study of Human Factors in Housing (Palo Alto, Calif., 1950),
i. 175.
53 Miller McPherson, Lynn Smith-Lovin, and James M. Cook, ‘Homophily is
the Principle that a Contact between Similar People Occurs at a Higher Rate
than Among Dissimilar People’, Annual Review of Sociology, 27/1 (2001), 415–
44, at 416.
54 Alfred R. Radcliffe-Brown, ‘On Social Structure’, Journal of the Royal
Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, 70/1 (1940), 1–12, at 3.
55 Ibid.

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MARKUS GAMPER

not the first to talk of networks in the context of the links betweensocial units, his ideas influenced the research of Warner and Mayo as
well as the Manchester School. Both developmental strands will bepresented in more detail in the following sections.

1. Research on Organizations and Communities
In the USA network-orientated research into industry, towns, andcommunities developed around the psychologist Elton May and theanthropologist Lloyd Warner, who had studied with RadcliffeBrown in England. Three studies in particular were of great importance in terms of methodology and content.
In the classical Hawthorne Study Elton Mayo, Lloyd Warner, andtheir colleagues not only traced the Hawthorne Effect, but also
looked at group behaviour and dynamics within groups of industrial workers. Between 1924 and 1932 the researchers conducted participatory observations and semi-structured interviews with workers at
the Hawthorne Electrical Works of the Western Electric Company
near Chicago.56 A room specially set up for the experiment has become well-known as the ‘bank wiring room’. One of the most important findings of the experiment was that in the works it was mainlysocial relations that affected work efficiency.57 Likewise the informal
relations that were crucial here obviated the formal paths of the management organigram.58 Roethlisberger and Dickson illustrated partsof their findings in a kind of sociogram. Just like in network analysis
the workers were depicted as nodes and the various types of relations(for example, support or friendship relations) as columns (edges) inorder to visualize the ways of communication observed (see Figure 5).
In the so-called Yankee City Study by Loyd Warner and his colleagues, the research group examined, amongst other things, how thecitizens of the small town of Newburyport (Massachusetts) lived
together. The methods they used here were participatory observation, qualitative interviews, and document analysis. With reference
to Simmel (see above), Warner posed the question of individuals’
56 Fritz J. Roethlisberger and William J. Dickson, Management and the Worker(Cambridge, 1939).
57 Elton Mayo, ‘Hawthorne and the Western Electric Company: Some Further
Comments on the Interview Experiment’, in id. (ed.), The Social Problems of an
Industrial Civilisation (London, 1975; 1st pub. 1949), 60–76.
58 Roethlisberger and Dickson, Management and the Worker, ii. 500.

26

‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

Figure 5: Participation of Workers in the Discussion on ‘Window
Open or Closed’.

The key to the actors is as follows: W is for wireman, I for inspector,
and S for solderman.
Source: Fritz J. Roethlisberger and William J. Dickson, Management
and the Worker (Cambridge, 1939), 503.
integration in the society (for example, in classes, families, friendships) and discovered that the community he examined, beyond family and formal structures, was strongly permeated by informal relations. The cliques that emerged as a result of this linkage could also
overlap.59 In another study Warner’s colleagues examined the social
structure and customs of Afro-Americans and white American citizens in the Deep South, in the town of Old City. As in the Yankee
Study the focus was on the connection between clique formation andclass membership.60 Because of the large number of objects examined, they went back to simple matrixes for their analysis—unlike in
the Hawthorne Study or in the case of Moreno—as had already beenused by Delitsch (see above); here the participation of women in individual social events was depicted. In a two-mode matrix the name of
the woman questioned was entered in the bar and the event in which
59 W. Lloyd Warner and Paul S. Lunt, The Social life of a Modern Community(New Haven, 1941).
60 Allison Davis, Burleigh B. Gardner, and Mary R. Gardner, Deep South: A
Social Anthropological Study of Caste and Class (Chicago, 1941).

27

Source: Allison Davis, Burleigh B. Gardner, and Mary R. Gardner, Deep South: A
Social Anthropological Study of Caste and Class (Chicago, 1941), 148.

Figure 6: Frequency with which Women Take Part in Social Events and theCliques they Belong to.

MARKUS GAMPER

28

‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

she took part in the column (see Figure 6). However, the interpretation did not yield a great deal. In the 1950s the sociologist Georg C.
Homans re-assessed this data and rearranged the matrix, which latergave him a more meaningful structural image.
Homans tried to summarize the individual members of the community and the cliques they belonged to by changing the bars andcolumns into blocks, so that the structures could be more differentiated.61 Even if this procedure was carried out ‘by hand’, in otherwords, without recourse to mathematical methods, it led to a restructuring and paved the way for what is known today as block modelling, introduced by Harrison White in the 1970s.62
2. The Manchester School
In the 1950s the so-called Manchester School emerged in Englandaround the ethnologist Max Gluckman, whose work reflected thestructural approach of Radcliffe-Brown. The Manchester School canbe seen as a counter-movement to Parsons’ social science theory of
structural functionalism that was dominant in the 1950s and 1960s.
According to Gluckmann behaviour cannot be explained by theinternalization of pan-social values, but by the location of the individual in a structure.63 So what is of interest here are concrete behaviour, concrete relations, and the power gaps and conflicts realized inthem. Accordingly an approach based distinctively on field research
was characteristic of the Manchester School. Apart from Gluckman
the most well-known representatives of this network research areJohn Barnes, Elisabeth Bott, Siegfried Nadel, and Clyde Mitchell.
In his community study Barnes examined the linkages between
the circa 4,600 inhabitants of the Norwegian island of Bremnes. Herehe discovered three categories of social field:64 relatively stable regional and formal organizations (for example, church congregations);
61 George C. Homans, The Human Group (New York, 1950).

62 John Scott, Social Network Analysis: A Handbook (London, 1997), i. 24.
63 Ibid. ii. 27.

64 The concept of the ‘social field’ is not understood in Bourdieu’s sense here

since it is not about pre-structured social fields which only permit certain
behaviours to which the actors must subject themselves and which therefore
actively influence the habitus, and with it, behaviour.

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MARKUS GAMPER

unstable fishing associations; and inter-personal relations thatformed into a social network. Even if everyday-life relations seem themost open here, the study also points to class effects, since the relations here were mostly between social units from the same class. In
this context Barnes talks explicitly of networks: ‘I find it convenient
to talk of a social field of this kind as a network. The image I have isof a set of points some of which are joined by lines. The points of theimage are people, or sometimes groups, and the lines indicate whichpeople interact with each other.’65
While Barnes looked at whole communities, the psychologist andethnologist Elisabeth Bott focused on egocentric family networks.
She examined the extent to which social relations affected the division of roles and work within a household. She established that: ‘The
degree of segregation in the role-relationship of husband and wife
varies directly with the connectedness of the family’s social network.
The more connected the network, the greater the degree of segregation between the roles of husband and wife. The less connected the
network, the smaller the degree of segregation between the roles ofhusband and wife.’66 She examined the individuals’ view of theirsubjective network (egocentric network), for which she used a very
complicated qualitative approach.
In his theoretical procedure the psychologist and social anthropologist Siegfried Nadel concretizes the concepts of role, relation,and social structure and separates them from one another. Nadel
assumes that although relations have a general character, they consistof different visible ways of acting. He illustrates this using the example of friendship: ‘Thus we take “friendship” to be evidenced by avariety of mutual ways of acting, perhaps visible on different occasions, such as help in economic or emotional re-responses.’ And hegoes on: ‘Thus, in identifying any relationship we already abstractfrom the qualitatively varying modes of behaviour an invariant relation aspect—the linkage between people they signify.’67 Thus relationships link people who play different roles relative to one another
65 John A. Barnes, ‘Class and Committees in a Norwegian Island Parish’,
Human Relations, 39 (1954), 39–58, at 43.
66 Elisabeth Bott, Family and Social Network: Roles, Norms and External
Relationships in Ordinary Urban Families (London, 1957), i. 60.
67 Siegfried F. Nadel, The Theory of Social Structure (Glencoe, 1957), i. 9.

30‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis(for example, father and son). However, these role structures only
become recognizable through the abstraction of relational behaviour
that can actually be observed. And this does not just happen bychance. There is an overall structure that is reflected in the regularities of these relationships within society. ‘The definition of social
structure which we made our starting point stipulated the orderedarrangement, system or network of social relationships obtaining
between individuals‚ in their capacity of playing roles relative to one
another. We therefore regarded the role system of any society, with
its given coherence, as the matrix of social structure.’68 Along theselines Nadel came to a relational concept of social structure.
In the late 1960s Mitchell, an ethnologist, continued with the ideasof Barnes and Bott (see above), and included in his analysis structural coefficients in particular. Like the psychological movement of the
1940s in America he has recourse to sociometry and graph theory toillustrate, for instance, the density, accessibility, reciprocity, andintensity.69 As far as Mitchell is concerned, it is communication
processes (for example, passing on information) and instrumental
behaviour (for example, exchange of goods, providing a service) thatcreate social networks. So Mitchell’s definition of networks diverges
from pure metaphor and focuses on networks as whole structures.
Thus a network is: ‘A specific set of linkages among a defined set of
persons, with the additional property that the characteristics of theselinkages as a whole [author’s emphasis] may be used to interpret thesocial behavior of the persons involved.’70
As has already been shown, the roots of network analysis can be
distinguished according to the following aspects. First, it is, above all,disciplines such as sociology, psychology, and anthropology thatlook to relations as an explanation for social processes. Secondly, in
the Anglo-American scientific world great interest in the method of
network analysis is apparent. German literature, on the other hand—
be it theoretical or methodological approaches—attracted hardly any
international attention. Thirdly, it was initially a visually orientatedapproach that characterized network analysis and made it wellknown, until in the 1950s, especially in psychology, mathematical
68 Ibid. 97.

69 Mitchell, Social Networks in Urban Situations, iii. 16.
70 Ibid. 2.

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MARKUS GAMPER

types of analysis started to emerge. To sum up: different ideas andapproaches existed that were separated not only by geographicalspaces but also by scientific disciplines.
IV. From a Fragmentary Scientific Approach to a Network Science with
Many Weak Ties

Network analysis did not become established, thereby ending the‘Dark Age’,71 until the 1970s and there are various reasons for this.
First, the Harvard structuralists around the physicist Harrison C.
White returned to the sociologists’ approaches and combined thesewith mathematical methods that had started in the 1940s. This
process, secondly, was underpinned by nascent networking amongst
scientists themselves, the institutionalization of this research branch
by scientific periodicals, and the rapid development of computer programmes. Thirdly, network analysis became of interest to survey
research as well, and thus came to the attention of a broader public.

1. Structure and Identity: The Merging of Theory and Mathematics
White criticized the fact that the concept of social structure within thesocial science analysis of society lacked theoretical grounding:‘[L]argely categorical descriptions of social structure have no solid
theoretical grounding; furthermore, network concepts may provide
the only way to construct a theory of social structure.’72 Here headopts Nadel’s (see above) notion of social structure as regular relational patterns which, in aggregate, can be presented as a network. In
this context the group around the Harvard structuralists developed amathematical procedure, block model analysis, which allows analysis of these aggregates in the form of role or position patterns in networks.73 By processes of matrix permutation structurally similar
positions are added together, that is, actors that demonstrate equiva71 Freeman, Development of Social Network Analysis.

72 Harrison C. White, Scott A. Boorman, and Ronald L. Breiger, ‘Social

Structure from Multiple Networks: I. Blockmodels of Roles and Positions’,
American Journal of Sociology, 81/4 (1976), 730–80, at 732.
73 Ibid.; John F. Padgett and Christopher K. Ansell, ‘Robust Action and theRise of the Medici, 1400–1434’, American Journal of Sociology (1993), 1259–319.

32‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

lent relationships are brought together in blocks. It is completely
irrelevant here whether or not the actors themselves are linked to one
another. The block model produced in this way is thus an image ofthe social structure.74
White’s theoretical concept of actors, however, does not derivefrom people, but from visible identities that come into relation to one
another via stories (subjective desriptions of the relationships). Their
motive for this is a certain insecurity (contingency) which the identities have to control and overcome. But they never manage to do thiscompletely.75 ‘Identity is produced by contingency to which it
responds as intervention in possible processes to come. The rush andjars of daily living are contingencies, as are ill health and contentionsof other identities. Control is both anticipation of and response toeruptions in environing process. Seeking control is not some optionof choice, it comes out of the way identities get triggered and keep
going.’76 So striving for stability and control permanently accompanies identities and plays a crucial role in the construction of social
realities. Through stories relationships are created between identities—permanently—through them life becomes more predictable
and insecurity is minimized. White ultimately describes such relations as networks: ‘Stories express perceptions of social process andstructure, but stories also can conceal projects of control.’77 Here thesocial construction of personal identity is just as dependent on theactors’ internal processes of considering and deciding as it is on thepositional structures within the networks that emerge in this way.78
2. Social Networking, Institutionalization, and Software Programmes
Even though White’s work gave network research new impetus,
Freeman has shown that at the time the research landscape was still
74 Katherine Faust and Stanley Wasserman, ‘Blockmodels: Interpretation and

Evaluation’, Social Networks, 14 (1992), 5–61.
75 White, Identity and Control, 102.
76 Ibid. i. 9.
77 Ibid. 13.
78 Boris Holzer, ‘Vom Graphen zur Gesellschaft: Analyse und Theorie
Sozialer Netzwerke’, in Markus Gamper and Linda Reschke (eds.), Knoten
und Kante: Soziale Netzwerkanalyse in Wirtschafts- und Migrationsforschung(Bielefeld, 2010), 77–94.

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MARKUS GAMPER

very fragmented, and that there was virtually no exchange between
researchers. This he attributed to the widespread use of mathematical methods in research since the 1950s.79 From the 1970s, however,some sort of networking, however tentative, began to develop
amongst network researchers in the various disciplines and researchstrands. Over time, from the ‘fragments’ of network research a network developed with many weak ties whose members were able toestablish Social Network Research as an independent research paradigm in American sociology and to carry it beyond the boundaries of
the Anglo-American world.
The main reason for the increasing mutual recognition that led tothe sharing and exchange of ideas and concepts, and thus to the further development of network analysis, was the growing mobility
within the scientific community. Not only did researchers change
universities more often than before, they also showed greater interest
in inter-disciplinary exchange. Harrison White himself can serve as aprominent example of this. He did a Ph.D. in theoretical physics at
MIT, where Alexander Bavelas was working, and in sociology at
Princeton, and while working on his thesis was already teaching sociology at the Carnegie Insitute of Technology, Chicago. In addition,
his research was greatly influenced by the time he spent at the Center
for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences of Stanford
University, Calfornia. Eventually, from 1963 to 1988 he was Professorof Sociology at Harvard University. As he moved around these various posts he was not only interested in the work of his colleagues andother branches of science such as anthropology and economics.
During this time what characterized him above all was the successful
combination of his disciplinary competences.80
This new openness manifested itself increasingly in interdisciplinary conferences where there was a lively exchange about the various areas of the discipline and the ‘schools’ that already existed. At
first these were still quite small events, accessible only to a small
number of scientists from a few universities, but this changed in themid 1970s. The first major conference that was both interdisciplinary
79 Freeman, Development of Social Network Analysis, i. 131.

80 Alair MacLean and Andy Olds, Interview with Harrison White, 16 Apr.

2001, online at <http://www.ssc.wisc.edu/theoryatmadison/papers/ivw
White.pdf>.

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‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

and international took place at Dartmouth University in summer
1975.81 And eventually, with the Sunbelt Social Networks Conferencein 1981, a forum was created that quickly developed into an international platform and led to the establishment of a research community. This conference initiated by Russ Bernard and Al Wolfe takes
place every year, alternating between Europe and Central/North
America. Not only do network researchers from all over the world
meet here, but they exchange research results from different disciplines.
Another reason for the growing links between researchers was thecomputer-based communication system Electronic Information
Exchange System (EIES) that was tested in 1979 and was an early
form of today’s Newsgroup. The project financed by the US National
Science Foundation was to examine the effects of computer-based
communication on a group of scientists from various disciplines whoshared common research interests. Apart from individual results on
inter-personal linkages, for instance, between Barry Wellman, one ofWhite’s pupils and Linton C. Freeman, the analysis brought to light,
first, the structural problems within the community of network
researchers. Before the introduction of EIES sociologists, anthropologists, mathematicians, statisticians, and psychologists were all relatively unconnected to one another.82 Secondly, however, it indicateda way in which this situation could be overcome: electronic communication, which made contact possible between places a long way
apart, led not only to the disintegration of the former stratification in
the community, but also to better connections between the participating scientists.83
Above all, the founding of the International Network for Social
Network Analysis (INSNA) by Barry Wellman in 1977 marked a significant step in linking up the network researchers. The aim of thissociologist was to create a loose organization that would form a platform for transatlantic dialogue between European and North
American network researchers:
81 Freeman, Development of Social Network Analysis, ii. 144.

82 Linton C. Freeman and Sue C. Freeman, ‘A Semi-visible College: Structural
Effects on a Social Networks Group’, in Madeline M. Henderson and Marcia
J. MacNaughton (eds.), Electronic Communication: Technology and Impacts(Boulder, Col., 1980), 77–85.
83 Wasserman and Faust, Social Network Analysis, iii. 63.

35

MARKUS GAMPER
I decided the best way to start something was to actually startsomething. I asked many of my North American andEuropean connections to form a legitimating, recruiting
Advisory Board, with a balance between American and nonAmerican scholars and between disciplines. . . . I tried to keep
things loose and informal: I called it a ‘Network‘ (instead of a‘Society’ or ‘Association’), I styled myself ‘Coordinator’ rather
than ‘President’ or ‘Chairman’.84

Today the INSNA is an organization with more than 1,000 members
from all over the world.
Wellman, however, did not simply coordinate the INSNA. With
his students he founded Connections, an expert periodical for network
research which, along with Social Networks, became one of the leading periodicals for Social Network Research in North America. Since
then, Connections has been published two or three times a year and to
this day retains the character of a newsletter.85 Instigated by Linton
C. Freeman Social Networks was published for the first time in August
1978 and is today certainly the most renowned periodical in thewhole field of network analysis. It contains articles from various disciplines and constantly helps to make the net of network researchers
denser. Publications in this field are drawn together in four volumes
per year, each devoted to a specific theme. The scientists take theopportunity to present their research results to a specific broad public and to exchange ideas with one another. It should be noted however that in Social Networks mainly methodological–empirical articles
are published, almost exclusively quantitative studies and less often
theoretical or qualitative pieces. By 1990 the periodical had alreadybecome one of the most influential in the field of sociology.86
Apart from methodological developments, the growing links
between scientists, as well as the founding of periodicals and regularconferences, advances in computer technology, and the concomitant
84 Barry Wellman, ‘Networking Network Analysts: How INSNA (the Inter-national Network for Social Network Analysis) Came to Be’, Connections,23/1 (2000), 20–31, at 21.
85 Ibid. 24; Freeman, Development of Social Network Analysis, i. 149.
86 Ibid. ii. 149.

36

‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

development of computer programmes for analysing social networks
certainly did much to make network analysis more professional. We
can assume that otherwise Social Network Analysis certainly would
not have spread so quickly.
In the 1960s these were still quite simple programmes that could
only calculate individual measured values, but this changed in the
1980s. Henceforth programmes such as SONIS and UCINET weredeveloped that were capable of calculating various network measured values and analysing large case statistics.87 Ultimately, differentiation of the programmes means that a whole range of software solutions is available to the community, from which the researcher canselect the programme most appropriate to his interests. The main differences in application are in the sphere of data retrieval, the techniques of visualization, and the analysis routines used to calculate
network values. Huisman and Van Duijn distinguish here between(1) the descriptive method that calculates network values such as
centrality or transitivity; (2) analysis on the basis of complex, iterativealgorithms (for example, for cluster analysis); and (3) stochastic models based on the distribution of probability.88
Apart from these quantitative aspects, programmes for network
analysis increasingly take account of qualitative issues as well (forexample, stories about relationships, dynamics or subjective experiences). Since software development is constantly moving forward,
however, any overview of what is available can only be cursory andincomplete. Here is just as a selection of the current programmes:
Gephi, VISIONE, UCINET, EGONET, PAJEK, VennMaker, and
SIENA, by which innumerable measured values and endlessamounts of data, both qualitative and quantitative, can be assessedand visualized quickly and precisely.
Finally, one more step towards establishing network analysis canbe traced back to James S. Coleman.89 In 1958 this sociologist was
87 Linton C. Freeman, ‘Computer Programs in Social Network Analysis’,

Connections, 11 (1988), 26–31.
88 Mark Huisman and Marijtje A. J. Van Duijn, ‘Software for Social Network
Analysis’, in Peter J. Carrington, John Scott, and Stanley Wasserman (eds.),
Models and Methods in Social Network Analysis (New York, 2005), 270–316, at
275.
89 Rainer Diaz-Bone, Ego-zentrierte Netzwerkanalyse und Familiale Beziehungssysteme (Wiesbaden, 1997), i. 20.

37

MARKUS GAMPER

already criticizing the fact that survey research focused on the individual and on largely psychological issues.90 This approach, he maintained, required an atomistic understanding of the respondent.
Because the answers in the interview were self-referential and could
only be analysed in the context of the given interview, the individual
appeared to be independent of his social environment. An importantfactor in explaining social phenomena, namely networks of friends,
colleagues, and relatives—ultimately, the social embeddedness—
was thus phased out. In order to remedy this Coleman called for relational aspects to be included in survey research because he assumed
the existence of a ‘larger (overall) structure’:
The break from the atomistic concerns of ordinary survey
analysis requires taking a different perspective toward theindividual interview. In usual survey research and statisticalanalysis, this interview is regarded as independent of others,
as an entity in itself. All cross-tabulations and analyses relate
one item in that questionnaire to another item in the samequestionnaire. But, in this different approach an individualinterview is seen as a part of some larger structure in which the
respondent finds himself: his network of friends, the shop or
office where he works, the bowling team he belongs to, and soon. Thus, as a part of a larger structure, the individual is nottreated independently. The analysis must somehow tie together and interrelate the attributes of these different parts of thestructure.91

One of the first large questionnaires with several hundred respondents which asked about relations between people, the characteristics of these relations, and the attributes of people originated in the
1970s or 1980s. The best-known studies are the Detroit Area Study by

90 It is not possible here to examine the extent to which survey research deals

with relational data as understood by Emirbayer. Emirbayer, ‘Manifesto fora Relational Sociology’.
91 James S. Coleman, ‘Relational Analysis: The Study of Social Organizations
with Survey Methods’, in Norman Denzin (ed.), Sociological Methods: A
Sourcebook. Methodological Perspectives (New Jersey, 2006; 1st pub. 1958),
115–26, at 117.

38

‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

Edward Laumann (1973),92 the East York Study by Wellman (1979),93
the Northern California Community Study by Claude S. Fischer(1982),94 and the General Social Survey.95

3. Relational Science and Social Network Analysis Today
To sum up, it can be said that for the development of Social Network
Analysis until today four mutually determining processes have been
crucial, some of which were initiated by the personal engagement of
individual scientists.96 These are:(1) the increasing mobility and accessibility of scientists because ofdigital means of communication; these allowed communicationand networking over long distances, and led to greater awareness of neighbouring and other disciplines and the founding ofinterdisciplinary forums,(2) the founding of expert periodicals dealing explicitly with thetheory and methodology of network analysis,(3) advances in computer technology and the development of special programmes capable for the first time of analysing and visually representing large amounts of data, and(4) the further development of survey research including aspects of
network analysis.

Another factor was that network research offered new access toresearch on social phenomena previously not available in this form.
This meant that network research was recognized beyond the AngloAmerican scientific world and spread worldwide. It largely became
established in research paradigms that ranged over several disciplines, from which various research fields emerged. First, the theoretical approaches of network analysis should be mentioned, where
92 Edward O. Laumann, Bonds of Pluralism: The Form and Substance of Urban

Social Networks (New York, 1973).
93 Barry Wellman, ‘The Community Question: The Intimate Networks of East
Yorkers’, American Journal of Sociology, 84 (1979), 1201–31.
94 Claude S. Fischer, To Dwell among Friends: Personal Networks in Town andCity (Chicago, 1982).
95 Ronald S. Burt, ‘Network Items and the General Social Survey’, Social Networks, 6 (1984), 293–339.
96 e.g. Freeman, Development of Social Network Analysis, i. 136.

39

MARKUS GAMPER

a distinction can be made between mid-range theories,97 and a morecomprehensive relational social theory.98 A second developmental
strand was the advance of mathematical methods. On the one hand,
it had hitherto been mainly quantitative procedures and measured
values that were at the heart of network analysis.99 They help, firstly,
to answer ‘classical’ questions, for instance, about centrality and its
significance within social networks,100 but also to develop procedures for modelling networks as well as dynamic concepts,101 In
recent years Exponential Random Graph Models (ERGMs) have beendeveloped. This relatively new approach allows hypotheses to betested and proves statistics models.102 On the other hand, there is alsoa discernible trend towards qualitative, actor-orientated approaches.103 As was the case with White in 1992, the focus of research here
97 e.g. Mark S. Granovetter, ‘The Strength of Weak Ties’, American Journal of

Sociology, 78/6 (1973), 1360–80; R. S. Burt, ‘Structural Holes: The Social
Structure of Competition’ (Cambridge, Mass., 1992); Brian Uzzi, ‘Embeddedness and the Economic Performance of Organizations: The Network Effect’,American Sociological Review, 61 (1996), 674–98.
98 Nadel, Theory of Social Structure; White, Identity and Control; id., Identity andControl: How Social Formations Emerge (Princeton, 2008); Holzer, ‘Vom
Graphen zur Gesellschaft’; Emirbayer, ‘Manifesto for a Relational Sociology’.
99 Wasserman and Faust, Social Network Analysis; Scott, Social Network
Analysis; Stephen P. Borgatti, Martin G. Everett, and Jeffrey C. Johnson,
Analyzing Social Networks (London, 2013); Marina Hennig, Ulrik Brandes,
Jürgen Pfeffer, and Ines Mergel, Studying Social Networks: A Guide to Empirical
Research (Frankfurt, 2012).
100 Stephen P. Borgatti, ‘Centrality and Network Flow’, Social Networks, 27/1
(2005), 55–71. Ulrik Brandes, ‘A Faster Algorithm for Betweenness Centrality’, Journal of Mathematical Sociology, 25/2 (2001), 163–77.
101 Tom A. B. Snijders, ‘Stochastic Actor-Oriented Models for Network
Change’, Journal of Mathematical Sociology, 21 (1996), 149–72; and id., ‘The
Statistical Evaluation of Social Network Dynamics’, Sociological Methodology,
30 (2001), 361–95.
102 Carolyn J. Anderson, Stanley Wasserman, and Bradley Crouch, ‘A P*
Primer: Logit Models for Social Networks’, Social Networks, 21/1 (1999),
37–66; G. Robins, P. Pattison, Y. Kalish, and D. Lusher, ‘An Introduction to
Exponential Random Graph P* Models for Social Networks’, Social Networks,
29 (2007), 173–91.
103 Florian Straus, Netzwerkanalysen: Gemeindepsychologische Perspektiven fürForschung und Praxis (Wiesbaden, 2002); Bettina Hollstein and Florian Straus,40‘Relational Science’ and Social Network Analysis

is on the actors’ stories and the networks that emerge from them.
What is striking is that the two approaches generally tend to oppose
one another and are apparently irreconcilable. The third point, closely linked to the mathematical procedure, relates to attempts to createa clear visualization of networks. The main endeavours here are to do
justice to the relational data and, indeed, the attributes of the knots
by developing algorithms that make it possible to integrate this information into the presentation.104
Since the 1990s physicists in particular have discovered network
analysis, above all Watts,105 and Barabási and Albert.106 Physicists
examine the structure of very large social, biological, and technicalnetworks using simulation processes. In the early days the social scientists and natural scientists ignored one another, but for some time
now there have been signs of that they are coming together: ‘All thatis required now is that the social network analysts relax their claim ofownership of the field. The physicists are making important contributions to what could easily end up as a collective effort.’107
Summing up, it can be said that since the late nineteenth century
a relational science has developed that is composed of various disciplines. It does not deal exclusively with the actors, but rather with thestructure of the relationships that form between them. The question
is posed as to how networks emerge and what effects these have on
the social units. In the process network analysis has evolved as a
Qualitative Netzwerkanalyse: Konzepte, Methoden, Anwendungen (Wiesbaden,2006); Gamper, Schönhuth, and Kronenwett, ‘Bringing Qualitative and Quantitative Data Together’.
104 Linton C. Freeman, ‘Visualizing Social Networks’, Journal of Social
Structure, 1 (2000), Online at <http://www.cmu.edu/joss/content/articles/
volume1/Freeman.html>, accessed 20 Apr. 2015; Ulrik Brandes, ‘Social Network Analysis and Visualization’, IEEE Signal Processing Magazine, 25/6
(2008), 147–51; Lothar Krempel, Visualisierung komplexer Strukturen: Grundlagen der Darstellung Mehrdimensionaler Netzwerke (Frankfurt, 2005).
105 Duncan J. Watts, ‘Networks, Dynamics, and the Small-World Phenomenon 1’, American Journal of Sociology, 105/2 (1999), 493–527.
106 Albert-László Barabási and Albert Réka, ‘Emergence of Scaling in
Random Networks’, Science, 286/5439 (1999), 509–12.
107 Linton C. Freeman, ‘The Development of Social Network Analysis: Withan Emphasis on Recent Events’, in J. Scott and P. J. Carrington (eds.), The Sage
Handbook of Social Network Analysis (London, 2011), i. 36.

41

MARKUS GAMPER

method and theory. With the aid of egocentric analysis or analysis ofentire networks, both quantitative and qualitative, attempts are being
made to trace the structures and, where appropriate, to visualize
them.

42

3
Historical Network Research: Taking Stock
MATTHIAS BIXLER
I. Introduction

During the last decade social network analysis (SNA) has developed
from a rather marginal feature in the social sciences into an interdisciplinary phenomenon. If in the beginning it was primarily sociology
and anthropology that operated with network concepts, for a few
years now SNA has started to forge a path into a wide range of academic disciplines.1 Nor has history remained untouched by thistrend. In recent years, in fact, historians have shown a particular andgrowing interest in network research in the broadest sense.2 Yet it is
not only historians, but also social, political and communications scientists who have already attempted to apply SNA to objects of historical research. Actually, compared to other disciplines it was taken up
by historical research at an early stage.
By the end of the 1970s, when the modern network paradigm had
not yet been fully formulated even in the social sciences, first attempts
were already being made, under the umbrella concept of Verflechtungsanalyse to transfer SNA to historical research.3 Some of the best1 The various forms of usage outside natural science are described e.g. in

Heiner Fangerau and Thorsten Halling (eds.), Netzwerke: Allgemeine Theorieoder Universalmetapher in den Wissenschaften? Ein transdisziplinärer Überblick(Bielefeld, 2009); and Christian Stegbauer and Roger Häußling (eds.), Handbuch Netzwerkforschung (Wiesbaden, 2010), 571–770.
2 Cf. Marten Düring and Linda von Keyserlingk, ‘Netzwerkanalyse in denGeschichtswissenschaften: Historische Netzwerkanalyse als Methode für die
Erforschung von Historischen Prozessen’, in Rainer Schützeichel and Stefan
Jordan (eds.), Prozesse: Formen, Dynamiken, Erklärungen (forthcoming).
3 The much-quoted pioneering work is by Wolfgang Reinhard, Freunde undKreaturen: ‘Verflechtung’ als Konzept zur Erforschung historischer Führungsgruppen. Römische Oligarchie um 1600 (Munich, 1979).

43

Historical Network Research

known social network analyses came from Historical Sociology in themid 1990s.4 Since then it has been more a case of individual voices
stressing the great potential of network research in historicalresearch,5 without any consistent research programme being followed. It is only recently that this has changed.
In the last few years in many places, independent of one another,
the idea of historical networks has become very popular.6 Various
research projects and also individual researchers of all epochs suddenly seem to have recognized the benefits that can go along with
network approaches and have applied them to their own field of
research. There is no discernible common motivation for this. In fact,
it seems to be more a case of re-importing the analytical instrumentarium from various neighbouring disciplines, above all sociology,
but also ethnology and others. This is resulting in a heterogeneous

4 Cf. e.g. Bonnie H. Erickson, ‘Social Networks and History: A Review Essay’,
Historical Methods, 30 (1997), 149–57; and Roger V. Gould, ‘Uses of Network
Tools in Comparative Historical Research’, in James Mahoney and Dietrich
Rueschemeyer (eds.), Comparative Historical Analysis in the Social Sciences(Cambridge, 2003), 241–69.
5 Cf. Michael L. White, ‘Social Networks: Theoretical Orientation and Historical Applications’, Semeia: An Experimental Journal for Biblical Criticism, 56(1992), 23–38; Barry Wellman and Charles Wetherell, ‘Social Network
Analysis of Historical Communities: Some Questions from the Present for
the Past’, History of the Family, 1 (1996), 97–121.
6 Cf. e.g. Christoph Boyer, ‘Netzwerke und Geschichte: Netzwerktheorien
und Geschichtswissenschaften’, in Berthold Unfried (ed.), Transnationale Netzwerke im 20. Jahrhundert: Historische Erkundungen zu Ideen und Praktiken,
Individuen und Organisationen (Leipzig, 2008), 47–58; Wolfgang Neurath andLothar Krempel, ‘Geschichtswissenschaft und Netzwerkanalyse: Potentiale
und Beispiele’, in Berthold Unfried (ed.), Transnationale Netzwerke im 20. Jahrhundert: Historische Erkundungen zu Ideen und Praktiken, Individuen und Organisationen (Leipzig, 2008), 59–79; Wolfgang Neurath, ‘Neue Perspektiven
für die Geschichtswissenschaft durch Soziale Netzwerkanalyse (SNA)’,Österreichische Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft, 19 (2008), 140–53; Morten
Reitmayer and Christian Marx, ‘Netzwerkansätze in der Geschichtswissenschaft’, in Christian Stegbauer and Roger Häußling (eds.), Handbuch Netzwerkforschung (Wiesbaden, 2010), 869–80; Marten Düring and Martin Stark,‘Historical Network Analysis’, in George A. Barnett (ed.), Encyclopedia of
Social Networks (London, 2011), 593–5; Düring and Keyserlingk, ‘Netzwerkanalyse in den Geschichtswissenschaften’ (forthcoming); see also <http://
historicalnetworkresearch.org/>, accessed 8 May 2015.

44

MATTHIAS BIXLER

and fragmented research landscape that is almost impossible to keep
track of completely. What is more, for a long time almost no exchange
took place between those historians interested in networks, and this
only served to reinforce these tendencies.7
Quite recently discernible attempts have been made to counteract
this situation. Small but constantly growing groups of historians aremaking successful attempts at co-ordination. At international conferences and workshops they are taking the opportunity to exchange
ideas about problems and results and to discuss most recent developments on a regular basis.8 The participants come from various
research contexts. Thus they have different levels of empirical training and in practice each of them has to deal with slightly different
problems. Their common basis is the attempt to transfer network
approaches to historical research and, by applying them successfully, to add something of value to their work. The still small, but very
promising field of research that seems to be emerging from these
efforts has achieved some initial success, which coincides with somenascent external effect. This is evidenced by the fact that specialist
periodicals are already devoting special issues to the new topic.9
For all these efforts, the study of historical networks is still in its
infancy, so there is still some uncertainty about the limits, the internal composition, and, above all, the direction in which this field ismoving. For historians in particular combining their own heuristics
with a procedure essentially quantitative like SNA presents special
7 Michel Bertrand and Claire Lemercier, ‘Introduction: Où en est l’analyse deréseaux en histoire?’, Redes: Revista Hispana para el Análisis de Redes Sociales,
21 (2011), 12–23, at 14.
8 Cf. the workshop series ‘Historische Netzwerkforschung’ that has takenplace twice a year since 2009 <http://historicalnetworkresearch.org/index.
php/workshop-series>, accessed 8 May 2015; ‘Tagungsbericht Netzwerkanalyse und Geschichte: Ansätze, Instrumente, Probleme. 25.02.2010–27.02.
2010, Lausanne’, H-Soz-u-Kult, 27 May 2010 <http://hsozkult. geschichte.
hu-berlin.de/tagungsberichte/id=3114>, accessed 8 May 2015; and, ofcourse, the conference ‘Networks of Paupers and Debtors’, on which this volume is based.
9 Claire Lemercier, Sandro Guzzi-Heeb, and Michel Bertrand (eds.), Análisis
de Redes e Historia: Herramientas, Aproximaciones, Problemas (Barcelona, 2011);
and Albert Müller and Wolfgang Neurath (eds.), Historische Netzwerkanalysen(Innsbruck, 2012).

45

Historical Network Research

problems, which will have to be solved step by step. So far there isneither consensus about a methodological canon that can be transferred without difficulties nor any up-to-date introduction designed
to meet the needs of historians interested in the subject.10 Apart from
historical research, Historical Sociology is the only discipline that
regularly applies network analysis to historical material. Studies
from other disciplines are generally case studies, which stand forthemselves.
For some years now this has also been apparent in the increasing
number of articles which have made it their aim to present the current state of research.11 Practically all of them draw different boundaries to define the field and use different categories to systematize itinternally. So far most have proceeded from content-categories,
whereby a wide range of methodological approaches have been mixed together. It is very rare that a clear and consistent division is madebetween social science studies using historical data, historical studies
with a metaphorical reference to networks, and historical studies thatimport and actually apply theoretical concepts and methods from
SNA.12 At the same time research is hardly bound at all to spatial,
chronological, or thematic focal points.
So far studies from various disciplines and diverse analytical
approaches have been pulled together under generic terms such as‘Historical Network Analysis’ and ‘Historical Network Research’(HNR). In the German-speaking area at least the latter is becoming
dominant. Given the present state of methodological development it
still seems virtually impossible to define its boundaries precisely.13
10 In the German-speaking area at least, Reinhard, Freunde und Kreaturen(1979) is still the only work that deals in detail with methodological questions from the perspective of historical science. Given the technical andmethodological progress made in the last three decades it can now be regarded as outdated. A modern introduction to the analysis of historical networks
will soon be provided by Marten Düring, Ulrich Eumann, and Martin Stark(eds.), Historische Netzwerkforschung (forthcoming).
11 See above, n. 6.
12 Particularly marked in Reitmayer and Marx, ‘Netzwerkanalyse’, e.g. 869.
13 Daniel Reupke and Claudia Volk, ‘Von der Akte zum Netzwerk: Erfahrungsberichte aus der Werkstatt des Historikers’, in Michael Schönhuth,
Markus Gamper, Michael Kronenwett, et al. (eds.), Visuelle Netzwerkforschung(Bielefeld, 2013), 297–316, at 297.

46

MATTHIAS BIXLER

The transitions between what are basically purely heuristic andquantitative studies and diverse degrees in the level of adapting formal methods are fluid and often difficult to distinguish from one
another. It is questionable whether any sort of occupation with historical networks also provides a real contribution to network researchby deepening our understanding of form and functioning of social
networks. Given the high degree of fragmentation and the still relatively low degree of interdisciplinary communication in particular, iteven seems justified to ask whether we can talk of one research fieldat all, or whether these are not in fact different trends, independentof one another, the only thing they have in common being that they
deal with historical data.
This essay will address the question of whether there is a common
basis for HNR. First the thesis will be presented that in its present
form occupation with historical networks is characterized by a transdisciplinary and overarching interest in knowledge (section two).
Then approaches used thus far will be identified and compared with
one another. The question here will be about the type of additional
benefit to be derived from import of network theoretical concepts(section three) and quantitative methods (section four). In this way
an attempt shall be made to ring-fence HNR as an up-and-coming
field of research, yet without aiming at a general overview of
research. In the light of all this, the studies referred to should be
regarded as representative of their type. There is no claim to completeness as regards the literature cited.
II. Potential and Interest of SNA for Historical Research

In most articles providing summaries of HNR, advantages or potentials are mentioned that can be derived from adapting SNA for historical research. What are generally subsumed under these concepts
are those of its characteristics that are distinguished from traditional
historical approaches by providing extra knowledge. This resultsfrom a change to a relational point of view without which it would
be impossible or inordinately more difficult to achieve. Despite opinions about historical networks diverging on other aspects, on thispoint there seems to be a greater degree of consensus. Some of thearguments put forward by historians overlap to a large extent with47

Historical Network Researchthose by social network analysts in the early phase of SNA against
structural functionalism that was dominant at the time.14
Anyone seeking to analyse the structure of populations effectively should concentrate on the relationships between their members
instead of treating them as atomistic individuals. Network research
has shown that the behaviour of social actors is geared towards thesocial environment in which they are embedded.15 In this respect
SNA makes it possible to tackle a different kind of research question
than classical statistical methods, because the latter categorize structures based on the attributes of their members, not according to theiractual organization.16 For a long time now historians were able tostudy their actors’ social relations, without applying empirical methods at all. This, however, can only be achieved exhaustively for relatively small groups.
SNA is able to reveal and analyse entire networks as structures ona sort of meso-level between the micro-level of individual behaviour
and a highly aggregated macro-level in which individuals disappear
completely.17 As regards the type of actors and relations, or the sizeand form of the structure, it is not subject to any a-priori restrictions,and can therefore be applied very broadly. By linking actors to one
another instead of merging them, it is possible to analyse structures asa whole, but also to observe individual actors and their actions against
the background of their social environment, which makes it mostvaluable for historical research.18
14 Cf. Barry Wellman, ‘Structural Analysis: From Method and Metaphor to
Theory and Substance’, in id. and Stephen D. Berkowitz (eds.), Social
Structures: A Network Approach (Cambridge, 1988), 19–61.
15 For the concept of embeddedness see Mark Granovetter, ‘Economic Action
and the Problem of Embeddedness’, American Journal of Sociology, 91 (1985),
481–510.
16 Reinhard, Freunde und Kreaturen, 19.
17 Düring und Keyserlingk talk here of a dualism between intentional behaviour and surrounding structure. See Düring and Keyserlingk, ‘Netzwerkanalyse in den Geschichtswissenschaften’ (forthcoming).
18 In this context social network research talks of ‘agency’. See Mustafa
Emirbayer and Jeff Goodwin, ‘Network Analysis, Culture, and the Problem
of Agency’, American Journal of Sociology, 99 (1994), 1411–54; Mustafa Emirbayer and Ann Mische, ‘What is Agency?’, American Journal of Sociology, 103(1998), 962–1023.

48

MATTHIAS BIXLER

For historians it is particularly important to be able to include
qualitative methods in structural analysis. This makes it possible toinclude ideas about structural characteristics already worked out
when interpreting sources, or to integrate the historical context into thestructural analysis of a network. A combination of this sort produces
findings suitable for contrasting established historical theses, that is,calling them into question, to enrich them by adding new facets, or,indeed, to substantiate them. A historical controversy that has come toa standstill can be given new impetus by empirical findings.19
SNA draws the researcher’s attention away from acting individuals, who since its very beginning have taken up a very large space inhistorical research, and shifts it to the relations that link them together
and the structures that derive from this. It is the real-life equivalentsof these structures in which political, economic, and social reality wascreated and passed on in action, communication, and symbolism.
Looking at behaviour embedded in these interwoven relations froma relational point of view is a means of implementing the history of
events into social history thereby giving it a significance that goesbeyond merely establishing the fact.
The combination of quantitative and qualitative methods justdescribed is not, as is sometimes suggested, a genuine characteristicof SNA, but applies to every form of quantitative analysis in historical research. Numerical indicators of whatever sort do not standalone but always require interpretation against a background (in thiscase historical) if they are to state anything meaningful. In thisrespect structural measures are no exception. This also applies tovisualizations of networks insofar as their elements are ordered bymathematical algorithms according to structural aspects, that is, arethe results of complex calculations and thus graphic representationsof relational data and the numerical values attributed to them.20
A series of characteristics of HNR, or advantages that could bederived from it, was often formulated, though even from the historical side there has so far been a reluctance to make clear statements
about what can be discovered from historical networks. The positions expressed are diverse, even though not diametrically opposed.
19 Gould, ‘Uses of Network Tools’, 252.

20 Stanley Wasserman and Katherine Faust, Social Network Analysis: Methods

and Applications (Cambridge, 1994), 93.

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Wolfgang Reinhard’s understanding of network analysis in historical research was still closely related to traditional heuristics.
According to him, anyone dealing with rule as an association of individuals was often doing nothing other than SNA, but without using
clearly distinguishable concepts.21 Christoph Boyer’s main concern is
to explain where and how networks emerged historically, developed,
and ended. He regards social networks, as in economics, as a form ofsocial organization on a scale between market and hierarchy, which
emerge when they are able to reduce transaction costs for those
involved.22 Wolfgang Neurath and Lothar Krempel focus on flows of
information and resources within networks, by means of which structural dynamics can be reconstructed.23 Morten Reitmayer andChristian Marx identify two overlapping research interests in instrumentalization and strategic implementation of network relations on
the one hand, and the embedding of historical actors and their resultant ability to mobilize resources on the other.24 Daniel Reupke andClaudia Volk see the main purpose of SNA in historical research as
the visual ordering of the source material and historical circumstances.25 Marten Düring and Linda von Keyserlingk describe it as atool that should be integrated into the research process. In their view,it can provide hints and possible approaches as part of source criticism, which have to be interpreted along with the findings of traditional heuristics.26
All these assessments are certainly appropriate aspects of theways in which network approaches have been applied so far in historical research, yet none of them is sufficient in itself to form thebasis of an overall HNR. The network paradigm in general and its
historical applications in particular are so manifold that it seems necessary to formulate its purpose in more general terms.
There are two respects above all in which looking at historical networks may enhance traditional historical research. Firstly, hitherto
21 Reinhard, Freunde und Kreaturen, 32.

22 Boyer, ‘Netzwerke und Geschichte’, 52–3.

23 Neurath, ‘Neue Perspektiven’; Neurath and Krempel, ‘Geschichtswissenschaft und Netzwerkanalyse’, 68–9.
24 Reitmayer and Marx, ‘Netzwerkansätze’, 870.
25 Reupke and Volk, ‘Von der Akte zum Netzwerk’, 310.
26 Düring and Keyserlingk, ‘Netzwerkanalyse in den Geschichtswissenschaften’ (forthcoming).

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unrecognized structures and structural characteristics can berevealed, which are amenable to purely qualitative approaches dueto their size and complexity. Networks raised by historians are notimages of social realities that can be experienced directly. This
becomes particularly clear where it is not people who are connectedwith people, but people with events or even places with other placesor things. Thus under certain circumstances networks can be raised
and analysed which neither historical research nor the (social) actors
they contain were fully aware of, yet which had very real repercussions. So the learning process of researchers can be facilitated, if they
initially distance themselves from sources and modern historical theses and observe a structure in itself, in order to avoid predispositions
that might distort the relational perspective acquired. In this way
structural characteristics that do not correspond intuitively to what
the sources say or to modern theses become even more evident.27
Secondly, historical network analysis is a search for network
effects, which at the moment primarily means interdependences between network, structure, and behaviour. However illuminating analysis and description of a structure previously unknown might be,
the greatest potential for historians lies in re-thinking actual processes and events from a structural perspective. This does not necessarily have to happen through an analytical leap onto the behavioural level of individual actors. Internal or external influences and theireffect on the network structure can just as easily be the focus of attention. Likewise, on a higher level of abstraction it is possible to look at
the behavioural level in aggregate, to tease out hidden social logics.
Attempts to make structures visible and to demonstrate network
effects in the broadest sense seem to be the over-riding interest of
those studies that operate at present with SNA as a theoretical concept or formal method in historiography. This is where the potential
benefit of a relational perspective in historical research is to be found,as it directs historians to new findings and makes it possible to checkestablished theses. In this respect historical network studies do notdiffer fundamentally from network analyses in Historical Sociology.28
27 Cf. also Düring and Keyserlingk, ‘Netzwerkanalyse in den Geschichtswissenschaften’ (forthcoming).
28 The distinction mentioned is also addressed explicitly by Boyer, ‘Netzwerke und Geschichte’, 51; it is also the implicit basis of the remarks in Claire51

Historical Network Research
III. Import of Theoretical Network Concepts as an Aid to Analysis in
Historical Research

So far the various ways of dealing with historical networks cover thewhole spectrum from arbitrary use of network terms via reception ofsocial network theory, right up to adoption of its formal methods.
Since the field is still extremely heterogeneous and those researchers
applying network concepts on historical material are still rather isolated from one another, the transitions are often fluid and not every
study can be allocated a clear position in the field. So at the moment
when historians talk about HNR, what they generally mean is something still extremely unspecific, whose boundaries are drawn differently depending on the perspective taken.
The overwhelming majority of historical studies relating to networks do so without explicitly referring to SNA methodology. Although more and more historians have been operating with network
concepts since its discovery for historical research, formal analyses ofhistorical provenance are still a marginal phenomenon.29 Quite a few
articles that in recent years have called for formal network analysis tobe applied to historical material did so in distinction from those generally subsumed under the heading ‘metaphorical use of network
terms’.30 Indeed a purely arbitrary use of network terms without substantial reference to SNA produces nothing of extra value from a relational point of view. Pointing out that social networks are importantorganizational forms of human life is no contribution to our understanding of how they work.
What is to be distinguished from purely metaphorical studies arethose informal ones that take network theoretical concepts as theirinspiration. This gives them the opportunity to operate deliberately
with its meta-theories (for example, Small World, Brokerage and Closure, and so on) and to use these as the main thrust of their studies.31
Lemercier, ‘Formale Methoden der Netzwerkanalyse in den Geschichtswissenschaften: Warum und Wie?’, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaften, 23 (2012), 16–41.
29 Bertrand and Lemercier, ‘Introduction’, 12.
30 Lemercier, ‘Formale Methoden’, 16–41.
31 This is seldom pointed out as explicitly as in John K. Chow, Patronage andPower: Studies on Social Networks in Corinth (Sheffield, 1992).

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MATTHIAS BIXLER

It is the particular conditions of historical research and its differences from those of the social sciences that make this way of dealing
with historical networks possible at all. In most cases historians haveto cope with sources that are fragmented to a greater or lesser degree.
Above all when it is a question of raising relational data this results insketchy information or at least a high degree of uncertainty regarding
the level of completeness of the data.32 The further we go back in time,
the less often we come across closed bodies of sources from which network data can be systematically acquired. It is not until the nineteenth
century that process-produced serial sources (for example, church
books, tax lists, and so on), that provide sufficient relational information to take them for an approximately complete representation of aclosed system (for example, a kinship network) are to be found in considerable numbers.33 In antiquity, the Middle Ages, and even in theearly modern period, such things are a complete exception.34
The network paradigm can be separated into two componentsthat largely developed parallel to one another just as it was starting
to be formed in sociology, in other words, even before the Harvard
Breakthrough of the 1970s. These two strands are, on the one hand,
the methodology of formal analysis and visualization of structures in
network graphs, and on the other the sociological theories that seek
to explain the interplay between the structural and behavioural levels. Even today these two spheres can be uncoupled from one another relatively easily, more so than in other branches of research. This
fact makes it easy for historians to adopt network theory detachedfrom its methodology and may also do much to explain why the network paradigm has been able to spread so quickly in general.35

32 The fragmentary state of the sources is often discussed in HNR, but there isno patent solution for dealing with this. See e.g. Düring and Keyserlingk,‘Netzwerkanalyse in den Geschichtswissenschaften’ (forthcoming). Lemercier, ‘Formale Methoden’, 31 does not regard their fragmentary nature as a
general restriction on the use of historical sources for network analysis.
33 This is particularly useful in researching rural areas. See e.g. Christine
Fertig, Familie, Verwandtschaftliche Netzwerke und Klassenbildung im Ländlichen
Westfalen (1750–1874) (Stuttgart, 2012).
34 For instance, the data in Giovanni Ruffini, Social Networks in Byzantine
Egypt (Cambridge, 2008) is based on an administrative archive from late
antiquity that is still largely extant.
35 Rainer Diaz-Bone, ‘Gibt es eine Qualitative Netzwerkanalyse?’, Historical
Social Research, 33 (2008), 311–43, at 313–14; generally on the development of53

Historical Network Research

In order to be able to talk about networks at all without extensive
data acquisition, studies that follow an informal approach tend to
postulate either implicitly or explicitly the existence of a network
structure. On this basis information which in the sources indicatesform and performance of a network is usually examined narratively.
Thus, for example, indicators of both formal and informal relations
can be linked to those concerning the flow of resources or the grantof social support, in order to draw conclusions about the function ofcertain types of relations. Proceeding in this way often results in a
deep qualitative analysis of individual relations or interconnections
within manageable small groups which serve as examples for larger
contexts. Via this diversion social dynamics and processes are basically worked out by means of traditional heuristics.
Where systematic data acquisition is not possible, the use of formal methods does not make sense, and neither do visualizations
except for illustrative purposes. Even though the exact form of a network is unknown, a theory-led procedure gives the researcher theopportunity to form an idea of certain general characteristics of astructure, its function, and even some consequences for individual
behaviour. The results of such studies can quite well give the impression of reflecting the network described fairly exactly. Theoryled studies are searching, in their own way, for network effects, but
on an analytical level different from quantitative ones. To some extent they manage to convey a reasonably accurate impression of thefunction and form of a network, at least of those parts of it containedin the sources, but they are unable to back up their results empirically by means of visualizations and structural measures.
Most of the studies that derive from Wolfgang Reinhard’s Verflechtungsanalyse mentioned above follow such an informal approach.
Although the original intention was to make SNA fruitful for historical research by analysing structures, very soon they returned to traditional historical heuristics.36 Relational data was systematically acsocial network analysis see Linton C. Freeman, The Development of Social
Network Analysis: A Study in the Sociology of Science (Vancouver, 2004).
36 Wolfgang Reinhard, ‘Oligarchische Verflechtung und Konfession in Oberdeutschen Städten’, in Antoni Maczak (ed.), Klientelsysteme im Europa derFrühen Neuzeit (Munich, 1988), 47–62, at 61 already remarks that the findings
were based far more on suggested evidence than he had originally assumed;
Mark Häberlein, ‘Netzwerkanalyse und Historische Elitenforschung: Proble-

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quired for a series of studies; ultimately it was examined selectively
without making use of structural measures, and rarely with the aid ofvisualizations. Nonetheless, by including a relational perspective,
important contributions were made to understanding the functionality of rule in early modern towns or the early modern Papal States.37
There is no unanimous opinion as to how the sole use of network
theory should be assessed. Very often it is subsumed indiscriminately under network approaches in historical research. Historian Claire
Lemercier, however, makes a passionate call for network concepts tobe taken seriously, for which, she says, formal methods are to be
applied.38 Roger Gould, a sociologist well known for his analyses ofsocial upheavals in the nineteenth century,39 did not categoricallyreject historical network studies of an informal character. He emphasized, however, that compared to empirical studies it is much moredifficult for them to generate added value for research.40
Even in the social sciences there were those who, during thedevelopment phase of the network paradigm, stressed the structural
aspect of network analysis with varying degrees of intensity. Since
the early 1990s the form of structural analysis dominant in the 1970s
and 1980s has been accused of an inappropriately strong structural
determinism. Since then numerous attempts have been made tome, Erfahrungen und Ergebnisse am Beispiel der Reichsstadt Augsburg’, inRegina Dauser, Stefan Hächler, Michael Kempe, et al. (eds.), Wissen im Netz:
Botanik und Pflanzentransfer in europäischen Korrespondenznetzen des 18. Jahrhunderts (Berlin, 2008), 315–28, at 324 confirmed that due to a lack of computers Verflechtungsanalyse still had to use prosopographical methods.
37 Looking back, Nicole Reinhardt, ‘“Verflechtung”: Ein Blick Zurück nach
Vorn’, in Peter Burschel, Mark Häberlein, Volker Reinhardt, et al. (eds.),
Historische Anstöße: Festschrift für Wolfgang Reinhard zum 65. Geburtstag am 10.
April 2002 (Berlin, 2002), 235–62; and Häberlein, ‘Netzwerkanalyse undHistorische Elitenforschung’, with bibliography.
38 Lemercier, ‘Formale Methoden’, 32.
39 Cf. Roger V. Gould, ‘Multiple Networks and Mobilization in the Paris
Commune 1871’, American Sociological Revue, 56 (1991), 716–29; Roger V.
Gould, Insurgent Identities: Class Commune and Protest in Paris from 1848 to theCommune (Chicago, 1995); id., ‘Patron–Client Ties, State Centralization, and
the Whiskey Rebellion’, American Journal of Sociology, 102 (1996), 400–29.
40 Gould, ‘Uses of Network Tools’, 242.

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expand SNA by giving it a cultural turn.41 In the meantime, particularly as regards agency, network research has been opened up toqualitative means of access to such a degree that the possible existence of a qualitative network analysis can now be discussed.42 In thecontext of historical research questions there was also talk of a strong
and a weak version of the network–structural position.43
If, taking a strong structural position, we want to assume that networks are more than the sum of their individual relations and alsothat every relation, according to form and content, must be regarded
as dependent on its network environment, then a purely qualitativedescription and analysis of relations and parts of networks is no satisfactory solution. However, given the particular circumstances ofhistorical research, what must be taken into account is that historicalstudies have actually managed to recognize network effects and todescribe networks at least in part without detailed knowledge ofwhole networks. Thus by means of source analysis conclusions could
be drawn about the existence and activity of brokers, the way inwhich patronage systems worked,44 and the grant of social support
could be revealed.45 Likewise it is possible, to a limited degree, to

41 Harrison C. White himself provided the impetus with his Identity andControl: A Structural Theory of Social Action (Princeton, 1992); see also the texts
by Emirbayer and Goodwin which have now become classics: ‘Network
Analysis, Culture, and the Problem of Agency’, and ‘What is Agency?’; a good
overview of further developments with bibliography is given by Ann Mische,‘Relational Sociology, Culture, and Agency’, in John Scott and Peter J.
Carrington (eds.), SAGE Handbook of Social Network Analysis (Los Angeles,
2011), 80–97; and Sophie Mützel and Jan Fuhse, ‘Einleitung: Zur Relationalen
Soziologie: Grundgedanken, Entwicklungslinien und Transatlantische
Brückenschläge’, in Jan A. Fuhse (ed.), Relationale Soziologie: Zur Kulturellen
Wende der Netzwerkforschung, (Wiesbaden, 2010), 7–35.
42 See the extensive discussion in Diaz-Bone, ‘Gibt es eine qualitative Netzwerkanalyse?’.
43 Gould, ‘Uses of Network Tools’, 244.
44 Sharon Kettering, Patrons, Brokers, and Clients in Seventeenth-Century France(New York, 1986); Andrew Wallace-Hadrill, ‘Patronage in Roman Society:
From Republic to Empire’, in Andrew Wallace-Hadrill (ed.), Patronage in
Ancient Society (London, 1989), 63–87; Nicole Reinhardt, Macht und Ohnmacht
der Verflechtung: Rom und Bologna unter Paul V. (Tübingen, 2000).
45 See e.g. the remarks on the role played by foreign noblemen during theAugsburg calendar dispute in Peter Steuer, Die Außenverflechtung der Augs-

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MATTHIAS BIXLER

assess the behaviour of individual and collective actors as embeddedin their social environment. In so doing, conclusions were drawn
about phenomena such as the formation of rural class structures,46 or
the role of various types of relations for the success or failure of enterprises during industrialization.47
The possibility of generalizing these findings, and thus also theircomparability, is restricted since they are not anchored in an empirical basis. If source analysis is to produce indicators of network
effects, then reasons of plausibility must be used in the argumentation, as is the case with historical research in general. If a network
position like that of a broker is identified, this points more to theactivity of an actor as contained in the sources than to his actual position in a network structure. Although it is possible to suggest the latter quite plausibly, it cannot be underpinned by data. The possibilityof relying on network theory is a peculiarity of HNR. It is possible
and advisable where the sources do not contain sufficient data to create an interpretable structure but do contain, both qualitatively andquantitatively, sufficient information about the effect of one or moretypes of social relations, or the effect of external factors on social relations. It was and is used also by historians who, though they haveadequate source material, do not have the necessary methodologicaland technical means to carry out a quantitative analysis.
Social networks are omnipresent and their discernible phenomena are some of the elementary organizational forms of living together. For this reason the terminology of social network analysis relating
to them also has its equivalents in everyday language. Historical network studies that clearly attribute themselves to network theory arerare compared to those that make implicit use of its concepts. But
their social competence permits historians who are not trained in
SNA to describe certain phenomena in detail. The added value thatsocial history can acquire from informal descriptions of social networks varies widely. It is worthwhile examining it critically, in order
to increase one’s own awareness as well. As regards identifying network effects more can generally be expected from a deliberately theburger Oligarchie von 1500–1620: Studien zur Sozialen Verflechtung der Politischen Führungsschicht der Reichsstadt Augsburg (Augsburg, 1988), 147–85.
46 David W. Sabean, Kinship in Neckarhausen, 1700–1870 (Cambridge, 1998).
47 Adelheid von Saldern, Netzwerkökonomie im Frühen 19. Jahrhundert: Das
Beispiel der Schoeller-Häuser (Stuttgart, 2009).

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ory-led procedure. Yet it is not necessarily out of the question for
intuitively-led studies.
IV. Structural Measures and Visualizations in Historical Research

If historians’ interest in social networks was initially rather informal
in nature, in recent years the number of studies in which formal network analysis is applied has increased massively. SNA offers a broad
spectrum of methods for quantitative structural analysis, and even insocial science studies only some of these are used, depending on approach and research questions.48 So here, too, there are gradations
and transitions in the intensity with which this methodologicalinstrumentarium is transferred to historical research. Nonethelessallocation of the approaches used has become easier, particularly
because in more recent historical works on social networks there is
far more discussion of methods and their application.
The diversity of analytical methods potentially available, varying
in complexity, offers the historian the opportunity to make a selection that seems appropriate to the object of his research and not least
his level of empirical training. Just as not every issue in the social sciences is suitable for a structural approach, so in historical research
the amount of information and the quality of the sources must also
be taken into account. Most network analyses of historical provenance restrict themselves to parts of SNA methodology which, compared to those generally used in current sociological analyses, arecharacterized by rather low-level mathematics.49 Network visualizations occupy a prominent place here.50 They are extraordinarily pop48 Methodological approaches and further developments in Wasserman and

Faust, Social Network Analysis; Peter J. Carrington, John Scott, and Stanley
Wasserman (eds.), Models and Methods in Social Network Analysis (Cambridge,2005); Scott and Carrington (eds.), SAGE Handbook of Social Network Analysis.
49 Reinhard, Freunde und Kreaturen, 23 was already convinced that the structure of whole networks can be characterized with modest mathematicaleffort.
50 On network visualizations see in detail Lothar Krempel, Visualisierung
Komplexer Strukturen: Grundlagen der Darstellung Mehrdimensionaler Netzwerke(Frankfurt am Main, 2005); for the use of network visualizations in historicalresearch see e.g. Düring and Keyserlingk, ‘Netzwerkanalyse in den Ge-

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ular with historians interested in social networks so that there ishardly any historical network analysis that does not use them. Whatis more, a not inconsiderable number of historians use the visual
examination of network graphs as their only analytical approach.51
For HNR it can be regarded as the minimum standard for applying
formal methods.
Network graphs seem to be predestined for use in historicalresearch since in themselves they do not make any great demands onthe data base. Even when little information is available in the sources
a visualization provides a quick and effective overview of the data.52
Nowadays the software needed for this is user-friendly to anyone ofaverage experience.53 Likewise the choice of possible representational forms is constantly growing. There is, for instance, special software
for producing Venn diagrams.54 First bridges are also starting to be
schichtswissenschaften’ (forthcoming); Katja Mayer, ‘Netzwerkvisualisierungen: Anmerkungen zur Visuellen Kultur der Historischen Netzwerkforschung’, in Marten Düring, Ulrich Eumann, Linda von Keyserlingk, et al.
(eds.), Historische Netzwerkforschung (forthcoming).
51 Martin Stuber, Stefan Hächler, Lothar Krempel, and Marion Maria
Ruisinger, ‘Exploration von Netzwerken durch Visualisierung: Die Korrespondenznetze von Banks, Haller, Heister, Linné, Rousseau, Trew und derOekonomischen Gesellschaft Bern’, in Regina Dauser et al. (eds.), Wissen im
Netz: Botanik und Pflanzentransfer in Europäischen Korrespondenznetzen des 18.
Jahrhunderts (Berlin, 2008), 347–74; Carola Lipp and Lothar Krempel,‘Petitions and the Social Context of Political Mobilization in the Revolution of
1848/49: A Microhistorical Actor Centered Network Analysis’, International
Review for Social History, 46 (2001), 151–69; Gerald Grommes, ‘Netzwerke undGeschäftsstrukturen Kastilischer Messebankiers im 16. Jahrhundert’, inGabriele B. Clemens (ed.), Schuldenlast und Schuldenwert: Kreditnetzwerke in derEuropäischen Geschichte, 1300–1900 (Trier, 2008), 85–107.
52 Both Düring and Keyserlingk, ‘Netzwerkanalyse in den Geschichtswissenschaften’ (forthcoming), and Reupke and Volk, ‘Von der Akte zum Netzwerk’, at 310 stress this aspect.
53 See e.g. Netdraw contained in UCINET, cf. <https://sites.google.com/
site/ucinetsoftware/home>, accessed 1 May 2015, and the freely accessible
programmes Pajek cf. <http://pajek.imfm.si/doku.php>, accessed 1 May
2015 and Visone, cf. <http://visone.info/>, accessed 1 May 2015.
54 <http://www.vennmaker.com/en/>. Examples of historical applicationin Marten Düring, Matthias Bixler, Michael Kronenwett, and Martin Stark,‘Vennmaker for Historians: Sources, Social Networks and Software’, Revista

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Historical Network Researchbuilt towards other disciplines, so that some new software can also,
for example, process geopositional data.55 Thus, even where the levelof empirical and mathematical understanding is low it can, in many
respects, be used for assessing structures.
Visualizations provide a way of conveying information that is different from narrative descriptions or structural measures. Structures,in particular, become much clearer when their specific characteristics
are made visible. Visualized they lose some of the abstract modelcharacter that is inherent in relational data by apparently becoming
accessible to the observer at first glance. This applies equally to both
the recipients of a study and its author. So visual exploration is amethod much favoured by historians and provides a good point ofentry into analysis in that, depending on the type of visualization,
concentrations of actors, attributes, and relations, or lack of them incertain regions of a network graph can be recognized with little
effort. Historians, who generally already have concrete ideas about
their object of research, quickly find initial points of orientation andcan make actors and connections they already know the starting
point of their exploration and check their conceptions from a relational perspective.
Network graphs do not only offer opportunities to structuralists,
but also permit access to the network environment of both individualand collective actors in terms of the effect of social embeddedness ontheir scope for action in certain situations.56 In this way network
graphs, up to a certain level of structural complexity, allow a complete explorative analysis, directly linking up with qualitative information from sources or expert literature. Empirically testable
assumptions and working hypotheses, essential to numerical indicators, are, under such conditions, not essential and can be substituted
for the general formula that networks do matter. This gives historians the opportunity to combine work on source material and SNA—in other words, qualitative and quantitative methods—without limHispana para el Analisis de Redes Sociales, 21 (2011), 421–52; and Reupke andVolk, ‘Von der Akte zum Netzwerk’.
55 Also the likewise freely accessible programme Gephi, cf. <https://gephi.
org/>, accessed 11 May 2015.
56 See e.g. thoughts on the embeddedness of Iullus Antonius in the Augustan kinship network in Düring et al., ‘Vennmaker for Historians’, 425–35.

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iting the interpretative freedom they are used to from working withsources.
Many studies whose line of investigation is based on visualizations completely forego structural measures. In this way, points ofconnection with historical research can be created more easily than in
the case of excessive formalization. In historical research it isabsolutely legitimate to use network graphs only descriptively, or to
use them to clarify historical contexts. However, both researchers
and recipients should always bear in mind that networks are not reified by illustrations. Network graphs are nothing more than graphic
representations of relational data, which at best represent parts of thesocial reality in question but can never capture it in its entirety. They
should not under any circumstances be regarded as entities.
Starting with visual exploration, historical network analyses candraw from the great pool of structural measures that SNA has tooffer. At the other end of the formal scale are studies that focus on
quantitative methods, which often forego visualization altogether.
They were, and still are, mainly produced by social scientists. The
proportion of historians who have approached the new matter withgreat curiosity has shot up in leaps and bounds in recent years. But
there still seems to be a long way to go until at least some historians
have bridged the gap between them and specifically trained social
network analysts.57
Just recently historical sociologists once again stressed the factualunity of historical and social research. The reasons for differences
between the two, it was maintained, are not essential, but a matter ofthe history of science itself.58 In the case of HNR the fact that they
make use of the same methodology means that they have a considerable amount in common; this forms the basis for fruitful exchange.
Certainly sociology approaches historical data with genuinely sociological research interests. Unlike historical research sociology is far
more interested in forming theories than in understanding individual historical phenomena. The focus is often on social dynamics such
57 Meanwhile, however, in individual cases multivariate statistical procedures are also being applied, as in Fertig, Familie, verwandtschaftliche Netzwerke.
58 Rainer Schützeichel, ‘Neue Historische Soziologie’, in Georg Kneer andMarkus Schroer (eds.), Handbuch Soziologische Theorien (Wiesbaden, 2009),
277–98, at 277.

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Historical Network Researchas social upheavals and power struggles, or based on other presentday research issues. Here, too, comparison that goes beyond epochs
and cultural boundaries, common in Historical Sociology, is used.59
High-quality quantitative analyses are generally characterized bya high degree of complexity and abstraction. Explanatory models areformed from relational data, which presents great challenges to boththe quality of the data and the methodological competence of theresearcher. Block-modelling as a mathematically highly complex,
multivariate method, was used relatively often in network studies ofHistorical Sociology.60 Block-modelling groups actors in structurally
equivalent positions to so-called blocks. By systematically reducing
complexity in this way, underlying structures of social roles and positions can be revealed, which otherwise could not be discovered. Inorder to be able to apply a procedure like this effectively and to interpret the findings correctly the researcher, for his part, must have thenecessary methodological competence and also exact knowledge ofthe nature of his data and the historical background against which
they emerged.
In general, great caution is advisable when dealing with mathematical network models. With computer assistance information once
quantified can be processed over and over again without great effort.
Without considerable reflection on methodology and corresponding
theory, mathematical transformations of whatever sort run the risk offorming empirical artefacts. In this respect warning voices have beenraised even amongst sociologists. Thus Roberto Franzosi made a passionate plea for deep thought when dealing with historical information in general. The question as to the ‘why’ of a quantitative method
59 Cf. Naomi Rosenthal, Meryl Fingrutd, Michele Ethier, Roberta Karant, andDavid McDonald, ‘Social Movements and Network Analysis: A Case Studyof Nineteenth-Century Women’s Reform in New York State’, American
Journal of Sociology, 90 (1985), 1022–54; Wellman and Wetherell, ‘Social
Network Analysis of Historical Communities’, 97–121.
60 Peter S. Bearman, Relations into Rhetorics: Local Elite Social Structure in
Norfolk, England 1540–1640 (New Brunswick, NJ, 1993); John F. Padgett andChristopher K. Ansell, ‘Robust Action and the Rise of the Medici, 1400–
1434’, American Journal of Sociology, 98 (1993), 1259–319; Karen Barkey andRonan Van Rossem, ‘Networks of Contention: Villages and Regional Structure in the Seventeenth-Century Ottoman Empire’, American Journal of Sociology, 102 (1997), 1345–82.

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MATTHIAS BIXLER

was more important, he maintained, than the question of how it canbe implemented. History, he said, should not be used by sociologists
simply as a warehouse for data.61
Roger Gould followed much the same line when he called fortraining in structural thinking for researchers of both disciplines,
specifically when carrying out network analyses on historical data.
Both sociologists and historians should be highly sensitive to theunderlying theories to which they were implicitly committing themselves when applying SNA methods to historical data. The more
abstract the mathematical modelling, the more one should be awareof theoretical presumptions going along with it, in order not to force
data into a model that leads to misinterpretation.62
So, in a similar way to Wolfgang Reinhard in the late 1970s,63Franzosi and Gould are also calling for mathematical methods to be
restricted to a level that does not over-tax historical data. Even if
methodologically skilled researchers are tempted to work on themwith the full range of statistical methods, it is often more suitable torestrict themselves to more simple mathematical procedures, in order
to avoid, right from the start, the danger of distorting historical reality by analysis.
Social network analyses using historical data are more than justthe simple descriptive statistics applied in quantitative historiography, abstract models of a past social reality whose structural conditions we cannot any longer exactly reproduce. However enlighteningsome studies might be, their findings cannot be validated. Even network effects cannot be found as causalities; regardless of whether
findings are sought on the micro-level of individual behaviour or elsein terms of the repercussions of external or internal circumstances on
the structure as a whole. By analytical combination of qualitative
information with analysis of a network structure, only correlations
can be established whose plausibility can at best be confirmed by thesources. With the right amount of reflection social history can benefit
greatly from both the expertise of Historical Sociology and also applications of SNA in present-day social sciences. The studies already produced provide ample evidence of the useful insights that can be
61 Roberto Franzosi, ‘A Sociologist Meets History: Critical Reflections upon
Practice’, Journal of Historical Sociology, 9 (1996), 354–92, at 384.
62 Gould, ‘Uses of Network Tools’, 266.
63 See n. 48.

63

Historical Network Researchgained by looking at known objects of research from a relational pointof view.
The on-going discussion about a sensible way of transferring
methods from SNA makes it clear that they cannot be adopted by thehistorical research process just like that.64 On the contrary: in practice, huge difficulties sometimes arise resulting from the nature ofhistorical records. So if SNA must be ‘adapted’ in the full sense of theword for historical research, then the question arises as to the relationship of HNR to current social network research. Linton Freemansees the latter as having four fundamental characteristics: ‘Social network analysis is motivated by a structural intuition based on ties
linking social actors, it is grounded in systematic empirical data, it
draws heavily on graphic imagery, and it relies on the use of mathematical and/or computational models.’65
Superficially Freeman’s definition seems to lean heavily on structural analysis. Many historical network analyses do not fulfil all ofthese categories. But all in all far greater weight is given to combining quantitative and qualitative aspects. In this respect HNR goes far
beyond a structural analysis in two ways. The acquisition of relational data from historical sources requires paying greater attention
to source criticism. In social sciences qualitative aspects are often
taken to include the actor’s perspective to draw conclusions about his
capacity for action and interpretation, as well as analysis of culturalformations in networks. These should not been seen as an alternative
to structural analysis, but as a means of enhancing it.66 This could bea future way to link historical research to relational sociology.
Historical research still deals in a very unspecific way with SNA
and its distinctive features as a method. For this reason the question
about the way in which a relational perspective should be integrated
into one’s own research is particularly important. Do we want to subordinate it to the historical research process by perceiving it only as ameans of source criticism or do we mainly conduct SNA with historical data? Both extremes leave valuable potential untapped. The
answer to the question whether and to what extent we should regard
64 Düring and Keyserlingk, ‘Netzwerkanalyse in den Geschichtswissenschaften’ (forthcoming).
65 Freeman, Development of Social Network Analysis, 3.
66 Diaz-Bone, ‘Gibt es eine Qualitative Netzwerkanalyse?’, 336–7.

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MATTHIAS BIXLER

SNA as an auxiliary to historical research, or how much we accept it
as an independent paradigm worthy of consideration, has far-reaching consequences for the direction in which HNR develops further
regarding methodology. From this point of view dealing with historical networks can be regarded as a further opening of SNA which, by
source criticism and contextualization raises the qualitative aspectsof its analysis to a new level.
V. Conclusion

It has become clear that the way in which SNA has so far been transferred to historical research is difficult to determine from a methodological point of view. From the purely arbitrary metaphorical use of
network terms right up to highly quantitative analyses, historians,social scientists, and individual representatives of various neighbouring disciplines made many efforts to examine historical social
networks. What historical research has to gain from dealing withsocial networks generally lies in shifting its view to a relational perspective which allows network structures to be revealed and permits
conclusions to be drawn about network effects.
Various approaches to tackling HNR questions contain diverse
possibilities for drawing conclusions about network structures andeffects. An arbitrary metaphorical use of the network concept does
not facilitate any added value by importing the network paradigm,
yet merely recognizes the premise that human beings are sociallyembedded. Under these circumstances no real contribution can bemade to an understanding of past social networks. The boundary todeliberate use of social network theory seems to be fluid. Because of
the preconditions of their field of research, historical studies are able
to describe parts of networks and discover network effects, without
being necessarily dependent on acquiring data systematically andcomprehensively. Due to the limits of historical records and the lackof quantitative methods in historical training, the use of network theoretical concepts as the main thrust of a study very often is the only
reasonable way to talk about historical social networks at all.
Obviously quantitative studies come along with a higher degree of
explanatory power than theory-led ones. Nonetheless they havealready delivered important insights and made major contributions
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Historical Network Research

to the qualitative understanding of the functioning of social relations.
They will continue to play an important role, not least by helping further to sensitize historians to the potential that goes along with theconcept of historical networks. Quantitative studies, from visualizations right up to complex mathematical models, have the potential
not only to visualize network structures, but also to reveal network
effects.
Given the plurality of approaches, the number of disciplines thathave been involved so far, and the fact that links with the historicalmainstream are still weak, some people may doubt whether it isappropriate at all to talk of HNR as an up-and-coming research field,that it might, in fact, just be an artificial construct. It is more thandebatable whether all historians, and particularly representatives of
the neighbouring disciplines working with network approaches,regard themselves as part of a programmatic HNR.67 Yet there aresigns of a coming together, which coincide with growing mutual
recognition. The most recent advances of historians interested in network analysis are making the research landscape converge more andmore. In the last couple of years sessions on historical network analyses have been run as part of conferences on social networks, andsocial scientists and historians are starting to publish their papers inspecial issues on historical network analysis.68
If HNR is to be established in the long run, then this interdisciplinary cooperation has to be continued. The merging of historicalresearch and SNA has to go along with a mutual exchange of ideas.
For this it is just as necessary for historians to engage with social scientific explanatory models as it is for social scientists to take the manifold problems of historical records seriously. One-sided assimilation
is at the cost of validity and applicability of findings. Without criticalreflection on each other’s methods it is hardly possible to fully exploit
the potential of historical network data.
Despite all progress, HNR is still in its infancy and there are still
various obstacles to be overcome. However, the effort is also justified
because of the contribution it can make to the network paradigm.
History offers access to network dynamics over long periods of time.
67 While this may be true for large parts of European HNR, especially thosemuch cited studies conducted by historical sociologists are genuinely social
science studies based on historical data.
68 Lemercier et al. (eds.), Análisis de Redes e Historia.

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MATTHIAS BIXLER

The structure and function of historical networks form a contrast to
research on the present, a contrast that can help to complete ourunderstanding of social networks and their development, to namejust two. It is advantageous for both sides to focus on interdisciplinary collaboration, so that HNR can really be established between thedisciplines.

67

PART II
Social Networks and Mortgage Lending

4
Credit, Trust, and Social Networks: Mortgage Credit in
the Industrializing Town of Esslingen(Württemberg, Germany)
ANNA-CAROLINA VOGEL
I. Credit as Social Practice

Credit is not just an economic instrument but also a very complex
social phenomenon.1 This finding owes a great deal to the intensified
dialogue between cultural history, economic history, New Institutional Economics, and New Economic Sociology.2 While the history
1 See e.g. Carola Lipp, ‘Aspekte der mikrohistorischen und kulturanthropol-

ogischen Kreditforschung’, in Jürgen Schlumbohm (ed.), Soziale Praxis desKredits: 16.–20. Jahrhundert (Hanover, 2007), 15–36; Mark Häberlein, ‘Kreditbeziehungen und Kapitalmärkte vom 16. bis zum 19. Jahrhundert’, ibid. 37–
52; Herman van der Wee, ‘Forschungen zur Geschichte des privaten Kredits:
Ein methodologischer Überblick’, in Michael North (ed.), Kredit im spätmittelalterlichen und frühneuzeitlichen Europa (Cologne, 1991), 215–19; Beverly
Lemire, ‘Introduction: Women, Credit and the Creation of Opportunity: A
Historical Overview’, in ead., Ruth Parsons, and Gail Campbell (eds.),
Women and Credit: Researching the Past, Refiguring the Future (Oxford, 2002);
Gabriele Clemens, ‘Einleitung: Die Omnipräsenz von westeuropäischen
Kreditbeziehungen in Mittelalter und Neuzeit’, in ead. (ed.), Schuldenlast und
Schuldenwert: Kreditnetzwerke in der europäischen Geschichte 1300–1900 (Trier,2008).
2 See Hartmut Berghoff and Jakob Vogel, ‘Wirtschaftsgeschichte als Kulturgeschichte: Ansätze zur Bergung transdisziplinärer Synergiepotentiale’, ineid. (eds.), Wirtschaftsgeschichte als Kulturgeschichte: Dimensionen eines Perspektivenwechsels (Frankfurt am Main, 2004), 9–42; Susanne Hilger and Achim
Landwehr, ‘Zur Einführung: Wirtschaft—Kultur—Geschichte. Stationen
einer Annäherung’, in eid. (eds.), Wirtschaft—Kultur—Geschichte: Positionen
und Perspektiven (Stuttgart, 2011), 7–26; Mark Granovetter, ‘A Theoretical
Agenda for Economic Sociology’, in Mauro F. Guillen et al. (eds.), The New
Economic Sociology: Developments in an Emerging Field (New York, 2001), 35–60;
Jakob Tanner, ‘ “Kultur” in den Wirtschaftswissenschaften und kulturwissen-

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of credit previously tended to mean bank history, and concentrated
on explaining economic growth, nowadays it operates with a plurality of credit sources and is understood as part of a larger ‘history of
economic behaviour’.3 Formalistic or neo-classical approaches thatargue within the frame of an under-socialized homo oeconomicus arelargely being revised. Financial behaviour does not take place in the‘vacuums’ of universally valid economic theories, but in the context of
discourses, institutions, and social practices which have to be regarded as dynamic and in relation to one another. Above all here the factthat economic action is socially embedded4 has come to the attentionof credit research. Questions are asked about the influences of social
relationships on granting credit, about credit itself as a social relation,and indeed about the cultural codes that are negotiated in these interactions. Consequently the functions and significance of market relations cannot be reduced to the logic of financially efficient behaviour
but have to be seen in their social and cultural multiplicity.
For my dissertation, on which this essay is based, I am examining
the construction of a private credit market in transition to the socalled ‘modern age’.5 This study is part of a project, funded by the
DFG,6 that is concerned with the social and political implications ofcredit relations.7 The main subject is the granting of mortgage credits

schaftliche Interpretationen ökonomischen Handelns’, in Friedrich Jaeger and
Jörn Rüsen (eds.), Handbuch der Kulturwissenschaften: Themen und Tendenzen, 3vols. (Stuttgart, 2004), iii. 195–224; Clemens Wischermann, ‘Von der “Natur”
zur “Kultur”: Die Neue Institutionen Ökonomik in der geschichts- und kulturwissenschaftlichen Erweiterung’, in Karl-Peter Ellerbrock and Clemens
Wischermann (eds.), Die Wirtschaftsgeschichte vor der Herausforderung durch die
New Institutional Economics (Dortmund, 2004), 17–30.
3 Häberlein, ‘Kreditbeziehungen’, 48.
4 Mark Granovetter, ‘Economic Action and Social Structure: The Problem ofEmbeddedness’, American Journal of Sociology, 91 (1985), 481–510. See also id.,
‘The Nature of Economic Relationships’, in Richard Swedberg (ed.), Explorations in Economic Sociology (New York, 1993), 3–42.
5 This is my on-going dissertation project, ‘Kredit als soziale Praxis’ (Credit
as Social Practice).
6 Research funding by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG) is gratefully acknowledged.
7 The research project ‘Civil Society zwischen Patronage, primordialer (familiärer) Verpflichtung und ökonomischer Rationalität’ is based at the University of Göttingen and led by Prof. Dr. Carola Lipp.

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Credit, Trust, and Social Networks

in the Württemberg town of Esslingen at the time of industrialization. During the nineteenth century Esslingen underwent a phase of
rapid change, involving the formation of capitalist production
modes, the transformation of social structures, and the emergence of
civil society associations. Developments in product and factor markets brought about reforms and innovations (for example, financial
institutions) that were designed to make credit available and secure.
In historiography these processes are linked to key caesuras and it isagainst this background that I want to examine the embeddedness oftransactions down to the micro-level of social configurations.
It seems to be essential here that the focus is not restricted to thecredit relations themselves but also includes the conditions of credit
and how credit was used. To analyse these interdependent factors anapproach was chosen that draws upon theories of networks,8 andpractice.9 These emphasize a dialectic between structure and humanagency by concentrating on the structured as well as structuring practices and interactions of the actors. According to this, condition is
everything that shapes structured behavioural options,10 but which
only gains meaning and generates effects through the actors, throughbeing appropriated by them. Such a concept also takes into accountthe entanglement of relational networks and objective relations (forexample, social inequality). So in this essay I am assuming that the
8 Seen from the perspective of a social network the actors’ scope for action is

crucially influenced by their level of social involvement and their roles insocial networks. Relations here have equal potential either to restrict or facilitate. Cf. Mustafa Emirbayer and Jeff Goodwin, ‘Network Analysis, Culture,and the Problem of Agency’, American Journal of Sociology, 99/6 (1994), 1411–
54; Carola Lipp, ‘Struktur, Interaktion, räumliche Muster: Netzwerkanalyse
als analytische Methode und Darstellungsmittel sozialer Komplexität’, inSilke Göttsch and Christel Köhle-Hezinger (eds.), Komplexe Welt: Kulturelle
Ordnungssysteme als Orientierung (Münster, 2003), 49–63.
9 See e.g. Andreas Reckwitz, ‘Toward a Theory of Social Practices: A Development in Culturalist Theorizing’, European Journal of Social Theory, 5/2(2002), 243–63; Sven Reichardt, ‘Praxeologische Geschichtswissenschaft: Eine
Diskussionsanregung’, Sozial.Geschichte, 22/3 (2007), 43–65; Bettina Fley,‘Wirtschaft und wirtschaftliches Handeln als Ökonomie der Praxis’, in Andrea Maurer (ed.), Handbuch Wirtschaftssoziologie (Wiesbaden, 2008), 161–84.
10 Cf. also Gadi Algazi, ‘Kulturkult und die Rekonstruktion von Handlungsrepertoires’, L’Homme: Zeitschrift für feministische Geschichtswissenschaft, 11/1
(2000), 105–19, at 114.

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ANNA-CAROLINA VOGEL

credit relations I can observe in my sources reflect patterns of knowledge and behaviour that are specific to certain groups and are basedon shared dispositions and a field-specific practical logic.11
II. Conditions of Credit and Social Embeddedness

If conditions shape areas of possibility related to practice, then as
regards credit they contain three levels, all of which overlap with one
another.
(a) The availability of suitable credit instruments and thedegree to which they are institutionally anchored.
(b) The motivations for taking or granting credit, including
alternative courses of action. Why credit transactions arise isdetermined by structural constraints as well as individual orcollective interests. How they are attained is also influenced by
the experience and practical know-how of the actors.
(c) The pool of suitable credit partners. This is defined by thequantity and quality of social relations that are both alreadyavailable and are still aspired to. Here the behavioural expectations of the actors become relevant.

In particular the third level illustrates how complex the significance of personal networks is for credit: they are, indeed, both thecontext for action and themselves the result of it. So the granting ofcredit can build upon relations that already exist, but can also, for its
part, generate relations. As a result many of the credit relations are
multiplex, in other words, for the actors they have several functions
and meanings. Moreover, what they achieve is bound to subjective
ascriptions or institutional guarantees,12 and they can develop theirown unpredictable dynamics either through external influences or ofthemselves. This characteristic of contingency makes credit relations
11 With reference to Pierre Bourdieu, Sozialer Sinn: Kritik der theoretischen
Vernunft (Frankfurt am Main, 1993), esp. 97–121.
12 Cf. Pierre Bourdieu, ‘Ökonomisches Kapital, kulturelles Kapital, soziales
Kapital’, in Reinhard Kreckel (ed.), Soziale Ungleichheiten (Göttingen, 1983),
183–98, at 192.

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potentially liable to conflict and thus risky in a dual sense,13 for thetime that stretches between delivery (of money, goods, work, and soon) and repayment represents not only a social risk but also a financial one. It therefore seems obvious that the existence of trust should
be regarded as an essential precondition for credit.
Its key importance is also demonstrated by the way in which theword credit is used in discourse and its origin. Credit derives from theLatin verb credere, which can be translated as to trust in or to believe.
This meaning has largely been retained in the English-speaking
world. In German-speaking areas the synonymous use of credit andtrust is generally only present in historical sources. Thus, for example, economic literature of the nineteenth century describes credit notprimarily as a technique, but as a quality. As such it expresses ‘thetrust or belief that permeates a person as soon as he gives someone
else goods or money without immediate or cash payment’.14 So while
one person gave credit and was trustful, the other person had it. This
relationship was, however, based on reciprocity since the credit-giver
was also expected to behave in a certain way, according to which heshould stick to agreements and not behave inconsiderately, greedily,
let alone dishonestly.15 Trust was placed not only in the other person’s ability to deliver, but also in his good will or moral character,16
while willingness to trust could be considerably increased by ‘good
laws’ and a stable currency.17 If one or other of the parties did
nonetheless not live up to expectations the relationship was threatened. In the worst case legal proceedings were possible and (no lesssignificant) loss of public credit in the form of public opinion.18
13 In detail also Carola Lipp, ‘Aspekte’, 17–24.

14 J. R. MacCulloch, Handbuch für Kaufleute oder Übersicht der wichtigsten

Gegenstände des Handels- und Manufakturwesens, der Schifffahrt und der Bankgeschäfte, mit steter Beziehung auf Nationalökonomie und Finanzen, 2 vols. (Stuttgart, 1834), i. 429.
15 Cf. Beate Sturm, ‘Wat ich schuldich war’: Privatkredit im Frühneuzeitlichen
Hannover (1550–1759), 218–49; Jonathan Sperber, Property and Civil Society inSouth-Western Germany, 1820–1914 (Oxford, 2005), 107–17.
16 Samuel Oppenheimer, Die Natur des Capitals und des Credits, 2 vols. (Mainz,1868), i. 66.
17 Ibid. 66.
18 See ibid. 65, where a metaphor by James Steuart is cited in this context:‘The cause of Confidence has had nothing in it but opinion, and when this is75

ANNA-CAROLINA VOGEL

Hence, there was a subtle interplay between economic and moral
credit, which needed to be carefully protected as honour, or good
reputation.
III. A Theoretical Perspective on Trust

The (historical) semantics of credit already illustrate quite clearly
how trust, relations, and credit are connected to one another. So credit is always linked to trust, and trust relates to meeting reciprocal
expectations. Trust here fulfils quite specific functions by generating
relations, bridging risks, and opening up opportunities. Thus it is not
surprising that following New Institutional Economics and New
Economic Sociology, economic history has recently (re)discovered
trust as a key influence on economic behaviour too.19 It is regarded asa culturally formed medium of economic exchange processes thatthe case, credit is nothing but a shadow which may be dissipated by thesmallest breath of wind.’ Cf. Sir James Steuart, An Inquiry into the Principles of
Political Economy: Being an Essay on the Science of Domestic Policy in Free
Nations, 2 vols. (Dublin, 1770), ii. 312. Loss of creditworthiness could seriously restrict the individual’s scope for action. In the case of over-indebtedness where the individual was to blame, Württemberg legislation even foresaw withdrawal of marriage and suffrage rights.
19 Richard Tilly, ‘Introduction’, Jahrbuch für Wirtschaftsgeschichte/Economic
History Yearbook (2005/1), 9–14. See also, however, Clemens Wischermann,‘Vom Gedächtnis und den Institutionen: Ein Plädoyer für die Einheit vonKultur und Wirtschaft’, in Eckart Schremmer (ed.), Wirtschafts- und Sozialgeschichte: Gegenstand und Methode (Stuttgart, 1998), 21–33, at 29; Sheilagh
Ogilvie, ‘The Use and Abuse of Trust: Social Capital and its Deployment by
Early Modern Guilds’, Jahrbuch für Wirtschaftsgeschichte/Economic History
Yearbook (2005/1), 15–52; Hartmut Berghoff, ‘Vertrauen als ökonomische
Schlüsselvariable: Zur Theorie des Vertrauens und der Geschichte seiner privatwirtschaftlichen Produktion’, in Karl-Peter Ellerbrock and Clemens
Wischermann (eds.), Die Wirtschaftsgeschichte vor der Herausforderung durch die
New Institutional Economics (Dortmund, 2004), 58–74. Nevertheless, its popularity in economic and social theory, the explanatory power of trust regarding economic behaviour, has not been undisputed, see e.g. Timothy W.
Guinnane, ‘Trust: A Concept Too Many’, Jahrbuch für Wirtschaftsgeschichte(2005/1), 77–92; Oliver E. Williamson, ‘Calculativeness, Trust, and Economic
Organization’, Journal of Law and Economics, 36/1 (1993), 453–86.

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fosters cooperation by reducing complexity and minimizing transaction costs.20 Yet, whom one is prepared to trust, and what the basis ofmutual trust is, can vary widely.21a) In the case of cooperation between parties unknown to one
another a generalized trust is important that is not based on
people but on institutions such as impartial norms, mechanisms, and instruments, often legitimized by a legal system.22b) If the transaction partners know one another, even indirectly, then their social and symbolic capital comes into play.23

20 New Institutional Economics understands transaction costs as the effort
that has to be made in a transaction ex ante (information, bargaining, anddecision costs) but also ex post (policing and enforcement costs) to minimize
the risk of opportunist behaviour. For a good introduction see Eirik G.
Furubotn and Rudolf Richter, Institutions and Economic Theory: The Contribution of The New Institutional Economics (Ann Arbor, 2000).
21 Cf. also Bruce G. Carruthers, ‘Trust and Credit’, in Karen S. Cook, Margaret
Levi, and Russel Hardin (eds.), Whom Can We Trust? How Groups, Networks
and Institutions Make Trust Possible (New York, 2009), 219–48; Stefan Gorißen,‘Der Preis des Vertrauens: Unsicherheit, Institutionen und Rationalität im
vorindustriellen Fernhandel’, in Ute Frevert (ed.), Vertrauen: Historische
Annäherungen (Göttingen, 2003), 90–118.
22 Niklas Luhmann defines this type of trust as ‘trust in systems’. Cf. Niklas
Luhmann, Vertrauen: Ein Mechanismus der Reduktion sozialer Komplexität(Stuttgart, 2000), 92. Anthony Giddens also distinguishes between ‘trust in
systems’ as ‘a form of faceless commitment’ and ‘trust in persons’ thatinvolves ‘facework commitments, in which indicators of the integrity of others (within given arenas of action) are sought’. See Anthony Giddens, The
Consequences of Modernity (Stanford, Calif., 1990), 88.
23 Use of the terms ‘social’ and ‘symbolic’ capital is based on theoretical outlines by Bourdieu. He stresses the (individual) symbolic and material profitsthat derive from belonging to a group, or from mutual recognition and derecognition. See Bourdieu, ‘Ökonomisches Kapital’, 192. On the other hand,James Coleman’s related concept of social capital largely leaves out attributions arising from the representation of a group. In this case social capital isbased on exchange processes within the group (for instance, network relations that lead to the acquisition of information). Cf. James Coleman, ‘Social
Capital in the Creation of Human Capital’, American Journal of Sociology, 94(1988), 95–121. For an overview of the concepts along with their spheres ofapplication and further development see Alejandro Portes, Economic Socio-

77

ANNA-CAROLINA VOGELc) In the case of close relationships (like family members, love,friendship) the trust is more likely to be based on personalcommitment (e.g. in the sense of familiarity or being familiarwith).24

The difference between these types of trust lies in the assumptions
made about the behavioural orientations of the actors involved. Fromthe perspective of practice theory they can be read as different, socially conventionalized complexes of motives and emotions that follow
a practical logic of knowing how.25 Consequently, their behaviour isabove all orientated towards what the actors, based on their knowledge and habitual dispositions, conceive to be appropriate or justifiable in the context.
IV. Credit, Trust and Social Networks: A Story of ‘Modernization’

Many of the classical modernization theories posit a dichotomy
between a ‘pre-industrial’ or ‘pre-capitalist’ mode of economic
behaviour based on communal needs and values, and a ‘modern’profit-orientated and self-interested mode of market behaviour.26 For
the time of the so-called industrial revolution they state the emergence of a free market for money, land, and work that no longer fol-

logy: A Systematic Inquiry (Princeton, 2010), 27–47; Nan Lin, ‘Building a Network Theory of Social Capital’, Connections, 22/1 (1999), 28–51.
24 Cf. Ute Frevert, ‘Vertrauen: Eine historische Spurensuche’, in ead. (ed.),
Vertrauen: Historische Annäherungen (Göttingen, 2003), 7–66, at 48 ff.;ead.,’Vertrauen: Historische Annäherung an eine Gefühlshaltung’, in Claudia
Benthien, Anne Fleig, and Ingrid Kasten (eds.), Emotionalität: Zur Geschichte
der Gefühle (Cologne, 2000), 178–97.
25 With reference to Andreas Reckwitz, ‘Grundelemente einer Theorie sozialer Praktiken: Eine sozialtheoretische Perspektive’, Zeitschrift für Soziologie,
32/4 (2003), 282–301 at 293.
26 Among them (though with very different implications) Emile Durkheim,
De la division de travail social (Paris, 1893); Max Weber, Die Protestantische Ethik
und der Geist des Kapitalismus (Tübingen, 1904); Georg Simmel, Über soziale
Differenzierung: Soziologische und psychologische Untersuchungen (Leipzig,1890); Georg Simmel, Philosophie des Geldes (Berlin, 1900), 297–386; Karl
Polanyi, The Great Transformation: The Political and Economic Origins of Our
Time (Boston, 1944).

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lowed obligations arising from social relations but regulated itself via
market mechanisms. Even though the radicality of such shifts has
meanwhile been seriously challenged, more recent versions of social
theory still associate the transition to a capitalist market economy
with a decline in the forces of social cohesion. Personal trust is considered to have been largely replaced by institutional trust,27 while
the importance of primordial ties for forms of social organization,28
and economic transactions,29 diminished. Similarly, credit historians
also see the expansion of the cash nexus as correlating with growing
impersonality between credit partners.30 As they have shown, practices of borrowing and lending were already widespread in preindustrial Europe, but credit remained tied to intensive social relations or was brokered by (semi-)professionals.31 In eighteenth-century Paris, for instance, notaries, due to their profession, could
acquire an expert knowledge that allowed them to operate very efficiently as brokers.32 From a new institutionalist point of view, these
personalization strategies prove that the deficient administrative,
27 Cf. Luhmann, Vertrauen, 85–92; Giddens, Consequences, 79–150.

28 E.g. James S. Coleman, ‘The Rational Reconstruction of Society: 1992

Presidential Address’, American Sociological Review, 58/1 (1993), 1–15.
29 Martin Fiedler, ‘Vertrauen ist gut Kontrolle ist teuer: Vertrauen als Schlüsselkategorie wirtschaftlichen Handelns’, Geschichte und Gesellschaft, 27 (2001),
576–92; Geoffrey Ingham, ‘Money is a Social Relation’, Review of Social
Economy, 54/4 (1996), 507–29; Sven Reichardt, ‘Soziales Kapital im “Zeitaltermaterieller Interessen”: Konzeptionelle Überlegungen zum Vertrauen in derZivil- und Marktgesellschaft des langen 19. Jahrhunderts (1780–1914), WZB
Discussion Paper no. SP IV 03–503, pp. 1–20.
30 Craig Muldrew, ‘ “Hard Food for Midas”: Cash and its Social Value in
Early Modern England’, Past and Present, 170 (2001), 78–120.
31 Cf. id., ‘Interpreting the Market: The Ethics of Credit and Community
Relations in Early Modern England’, Social History, 18 (1993), 163–83;
Gorißen, ‘Der Preis des Vertrauens’.
32 Cf. Philip T. Hoffman, Gilles Postel-Vinay, and Jean Laurent-Rosenthal,Priceless Markets: The Political Economy of Credit in Paris, 1660–1870 (Chicago,2000). For the importance of notaries as lenders and brokers in the Saarregion in the nineteenth century see Gabriele B. Clemens and Daniel Reupke,‘Der Notar als Broker: Das Management des privaten Kreditmarkts’, Zeitschrift für Verbraucher- und Privatinsolvenzrecht, 8 (2009), 16–22. Apart fromnotaries, however, writers, lawyers, and bankers were also active as brokers.
Cf. Larry Neal, ‘The Finance of Business during the Industrial Revolution’, in79

ANNA-CAROLINA VOGEL

legal, and financial system of the ancien régime was not yet capable ofgiving the credit market adequate support and that it was only in thecontext of industrialization that this changed. The key driver is seenas the formation of liberal ‘institutional arrangements’, under which
property rights were redefined and contract enforcement facilitated.33 Along with this went the emergence of new financial instruments and institutions. Both developments created financial incentives and at the same time reduced problems of trust, which is why
they are deemed to have played a crucial part in consolidating thecompetitive capitalist economy. Subsequently, transactions are supposed to have been mediated through legal and market frameworks,
commercial guardians of trust (for example, banks, rating agencies)and credit unions,34 whereby the dense mesh of economic and social
relations that had a firm place in the pre-industrial ‘economy of obligation’,35 disappeared in favour of new individualistic strategies.
As regards the claim to general relevance of such narratives oftransition written from the macro-perspective, one key task of microstudies may be seen as checking them against rich empirical evidence
and expanding them by adding local perspectives of inequalities orRoderick Floud and Deirdre McCloskey, The Economic History of Britain since
1700, 2 vols. (Cambridge, 1994), i. 151–81.
33 Clemens Wischermann and Anne Nieberding, Die institutionelle Revolution:
Eine Einführung in die deutsche Wirtschaftsgeschichte des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts(Stuttgart, 2004), 283. See also, however, Douglass C. North, Institutions,
Institutional Change and Economic Performance (Cambridge, 1990).
34 Reichardt, ‘Soziales Kapital’; Hartmut Berghoff, ‘Die Zähmung des entfesselten Prometheus? Die Generierung von Vertrauenskapital und die
Konstruktion des Marktes im Industrialisierungs- und Globalisierungsprozess des 19. Jahrhunderts’, in id. and Jakob Vogel, Wirtschaftsgeschichte als
Kulturgeschichte: Dimensionen eines Perspektivenwechsels (Frankfurt am Main,
2004), 143–68; Hartmut Berghoff, ‘Markterschließung und Risikomanagment:
Die Rolle der Kreditauskunfteien und Rating-Agenturen im Industrialisierungs- und Globalisierungsprozess des 19. Jahrhunderts’, Vierteljahresschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 92 (2005), 141–62; id., ‘Vertrauen alsökonomische Schlüsselvariable: Zur Theorie des Vertrauens und der Geschichte seiner privatwirtschaftlichen Produktion’, in Karl-Peter Ellerbrockand Clemens Wischermann (eds.), Die Wirtschaftsgeschichte vor der Herausforderung durch die New Institutional Economics (Dortmund, 2004), 58–74.
35 Craig Muldrew, The Economy of Obligation: The Culture of Credit and Social
Relations in Early Modern England (New York, 1998).

80

Credit, Trust, and Social Networks

inherent dynamism. Accordingly various studies have already evidenced an ongoing inter-relation of private networks and market
institutions for the nineteenth century.36 For the German area, however, most of them are restricted to agrarian societies,37 or to particular trading firms and family enterprises.38 For this reason my dissertation addresses a current research gap. The question is what effects
the economic, institutional, and socio-cultural structures of an industrializing town had on the credit market and how they contributed toa diversification of interests and options for various actors. Using
Unterpfandsbücher (mortgage registers) which cover hypothecations
for a large part of the nineteenth century (1828–90), the credit behaviour of the Esslingen population is to be systematically reconstructed.
So far twenty-eight volumes of mortgage registers from Esslingen
town itself (without outlying villages) have been fed into a sourceorientated database. Furthermore, additional data is available fromearlier projects,39 which provides a wide contextualization of credit

36 E.g. Pat Hudson, ‘Capital and Credit in the West Riding Wool Textile
Industry c. 1750–1850’, in ead. (ed.), Regions and Industries: A Perspective on the
Industrial Revolution in Britain (Cambridge, 1989), 69–99; Margot C. Finn, The
Character of Credit: Personal Debt in English Culture, 1740–1914 (Cambridge,2003).
37 E.g. Christine Fertig, ‘Kreditmärkte und Kreditbeziehungen im ländlichen
Westfalen (19. Jh): Soziale Netzwerke und städtisches Kapital’, in Gabriele B.
Clemens (ed.), Schuldenlast und Schuldenwert: Kreditnetzwerke in der europäischen Geschichte (Trier, 2008), 161–76; Gabriele B. Clemens and Daniel Reupke,‘Kreditvergabe im 19. Jahrhundert zwischen privaten Netzwerken und institutioneller Geldleihe’, in eid. (ed.), Schuldenlast und Schuldenwert: Kreditnetzwerke in der europäischen Geschichte (Trier, 2008), 211–38; Werner K. Blessing,‘Ökonom und Geld: Zum bäuerlichen Kredit im Bayern des 19. Jahrhunderts’,
Zeitschrift für Bayerische Landesgeschichte, 60 (1997), 861–88; Reinhard Johler,‘Bäuerliches Kreditwesen im Alpenraum: Vorbemerkungen zu einer “economic anthropology”’, Historische Anthropologie, 7 (1999), 146–53. Specificallyon Württemberg: David Sabean, Property, Production, and Family in Neckarhausen, 1700–1870 (Cambridge, 1990); Andreas Gestrich and Martin Stark,‘Überschuldung im ländlichen Kreditwesen im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert’, Zeitschrift für Verbraucher- und Privatinsolvenzrecht, 8 (2009), 23–6; Sperber,
Property.
38 E.g. Adelheid von Saldern, Netzwerkökonomie im frühen 19. Jahrhundert: Das
Beispiel der Schoeller-Häuser (Stuttgart, 2009).
39 The database complex used integrates more than 300 databases from various historical sources on the town of Esslingen via actor-centred Nominal

81

ANNA-CAROLINA VOGEL

activity. By linking up personal data we so far have retrievable information for two-thirds of the credit actors, on their kinship ties, theiroccupations and social status, their places of residence (including
their actual address), their activities in clubs, their engagement incommunal boards, and much more.
V. Private Credit in the Town of Esslingen

In this section an attempt will be made to turn the ideas already presented into empirically useful evidence for the credit study of
Esslingen.40 The main focus is on working out typical behavioural
patterns and the significance here of social relations and the actors’
trust. The role of administrative and legal means will be examined, of
personal reputation, but also that of social networks such as civic
associations or family. By describing how the market was constructed I should first like to explain its setting and institutional organization before returning, finally, to the motives and relations of theactors.
Record Linkage, also including a complete family reconstruction. For information on data linkage and sources see e.g. Carola Lipp, ‘Symbolic Dimensions of Serial Sources: Hermeneutical Problems of Reconstructing Political
Biographies Based on Computerized Record Linkage’, Historical Social
Research, 15 (1990), 30–40; Jürgen Nemitz, ‘Datenvernetzung in einem historischen Forschungsprojekt’, in EDV-Tage Theuern: Tagungsband (Kümmersbrück, 2001), 38–47. For details of where this database complex has been
applied see also the numerous publications arising from previously completed research projects, including (in English) Carola Lipp and Lothar Krempel,‘Petitions and the Social Context of Political Mobilization in the Revolution of
1848/49: A Microhistorical Actor Centered Network Analysis’, International
Review of Social History, 46 (2001), 151–69; Carola Lipp, ‘Kinship Networks,
Local Government, and Elections in a Town in Southwest Germany, 1800–
1850’, Journal of Family History, 30/4 (2005), 347–65; eid., ‘Corporate
Birthmarks of Civil Society: Kinship and Kinship Networks in Voluntary
Associations, 1800–1848’, in Jürgen Nautz, Paul Ginsborg, and Ton Nijhuis(eds.), The Golden Chain: Family, Civil Society and the State (New York, 2013).
40 My grateful thanks to the enthusiastic and competent project team who
took crucial steps with me in raising and processing the data.

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Credit, Trust, and Social Networks

The Market and its Local Context
In 1802 the former imperial city of Esslingen was annexed by
Württemberg and became the seat of an Oberamt (district) as well as
the Kreisgericht (regional court). Up until the middle of the century
Esslingen developed into one of the most progressive industrial andtrading centres in the kingdom.41 Industrialization brought with it anenormous growth in population, which took the number of inhabitants from 7,000 around the turn of the century to almost 13,000 in
1849. The state of Württemberg, a constitutional monarchy, pursued
an intensive policy of promoting business. By 1828 compulsory membership of guilds had been relaxed (yet not suspended) so that the
only remaining restriction on local competition was the Bürger- undNiederlassungsrecht (Citizenship and Settlement Law).42 In the same
year Württemberg joined the South German Customs Union, whichin 1834 became the German Customs Union. Initially the textile
industry expanded in Esslingen, and once it was linked to the Stuttgart–Ulm railway line in 1845 the machine industry also became
established. The Maschinenfabrik Esslingen (Esslingen machine factory), founded in 1846, a technically very modern outfit that produced locomotives and railway wagons, prepared the way for the
town to become highly industrialized. By 1850, 21 per cent of households already lived from industry, 40 per cent from crafts and almost
5 per cent from trade. A further 12 per cent of household heads were
41 The economic and social history of Esslingen is well researched. From thewealth of publications a few selected monographs: Sylvia Schraut, Sozialer
Wandel im Industrialisierungsprozeß: Esslingen 1800–1870 (Esslingen, 1989);
Wolfgang Kaschuba and Carola Lipp, 1848—Provinz und Revolution: Kultureller Wandel und soziale Bewegung im Königreich Württemberg (Tübingen, 1979);
Otto Borst, Geschichte der Stadt Esslingen am Neckar (Esslingen, 1977); Peter
Borscheid, Textilarbeiterschaft in der Industrialisierung: soziale Lage und Mobilität
in Württemberg, 19. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1978); Heilwig Schomerus, die
Arbeiter der Maschinenfabrik Esslingen: Forschungen zur Lage der Arbeiterschaft im
19. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1977).
42 The Gewerbeordnung (trade regulations) of 1828 sought to mediate between
industrial production and the guilds’ constitution. Thirteen guilds were completely abolished, but on the other hand forty-four were retained with morerelaxed admittance requirements. Henceforth the founding of wholesale andindustrial companies was only dependent on state concession. Cf. Manfred
Hettling, Reform ohne Revolution: Bürgertum, Bürokratie und kommunale Selbstverwaltung in Württemberg von 1800–1850 (Göttingen, 1990), 88–9.

83

ANNA-CAROLINA VOGEL

municipal employees or worked for the courts situated in the town
and nearly 9 per cent were vintagers and small landholders.43 Alongwith the growing number of Esslingen industrial workers there wasa broad urban middle class consisting of craftsmen, vintagers, andtradesmen. The city’s bourgeois elite drew more and more fromwealthy entrepreneurs and artisans instead of the old academicallyand legally trained patrician families. Like the growing number of
immigrant Württembergian academics, these upper-class groups had
substantial funds at their disposal. At the same time the local population was also characterized by people of mixed occupation who
lived on or around subsistence level.
As a former imperial city, in the nineteenth century Esslingen had
a long tradition of communal legal and financial administration, eventhough the state of the official book-keeping was found to be chaotic
when Württemberg took over, and gave rise to a forced clean-up
imposed by the state. Mortgage registers were already included inimperial directives. However, along with the rights of lien entered
there, these directives also foresaw so-called ‘silent’ rights of creditors preferred by law, which were considered as valid without being
entered. To start with, little changed under Württemberg rule. It was
only from the 1810s onwards, when many debtors declared themselves bankrupt and caused the private creditors and communes
enormous losses, that legislation on securities became the focus ofpolitical debate.44 During the years that followed wide-ranging revisions of the law of pledging, mortgage, and bankruptcy took place. In
1825,45 debt documentation was heavily regulated and formalized;
every transaction was monitored by the Unterpfandsbehörde (securities authority), a sub-division of the city council. For the first time

43 Calculated from data in the Esslingen residents’ register and expandedfrom other sources. Cf. also Carola Lipp, ‘Zum Zusammenhang von lokaler
Politik, Vereinswesen und Petitionsbewegung in der Revolution 1848/49:
Eine Mikrostudie zu politischen Netzwerken und Formen der Massenmobilisierung in der politischen Kultur der Revolutionsjahre’, Esslinger Studien, 36(1997), 211–69, at 249.
44 For legal history cf. Arndt Kiehnle, Der Erwerb kraft öffentlichen Glaubens inder württembergischen Pfandgesetzgebung 1825/1828 und im Bürgerlichen
Gesetzbuch (Berlin, 2004), 26–67.
45 The relevant laws are of 15 Apr. 1825 and are printed in Regierungs-Blattfür das Königreich Württemberg, 17 (1825), 193–364.

84

Credit, Trust, and Social Networks

legislation offered comprehensive protection for creditors. It did
away with the co-existence of rights of lien that were both recorded
and not recorded in the books—a practice so impenetrable it had
encouraged private over-indebtedness. Now that an entry in public
registers was obligatory, the real security value of a property was
clearly visible and taking out a mortgage before the official public
clerk relatively uncomplicated. The new arrangements were, however, very costly for the communities and were therefore not readily
implemented in Esslingen until the end of 1827.46 The fact that henceforth a mortgage could only be taken out if entered in the book, andalso that from 1828 wives’ property was potentially liable as well,47
considerably increased the population’s willingness to grant credit.
Apart from mortgages, there were, of course, other instruments ofcredit that were made very good use of in Esslingen.48 For instance, aloan could be taken out using movables as security, or personal credit could be attained by making a certified obligation or guarantee. In
the case of consumer or business credits, permitted within a fixed circle of clients, even purely verbal agreements were common, whichallowed for deferment of payment or mutual payment in kind.49
46 Hauptstaatsarchiv Stuttgart (HStAS), E 305/2 Nr. 10.

47 ‘Gesetz, die vollständige Entwicklung des neuen Pfand-Systems betref-

fend’, Regierungs-Blatt für das Königreich Württemberg, 34 (1828), 361–92. This
law included the abolition of the gender tutela and was strategically aimed
at mobilizing female property and assets for the growing credit markets. See
Sabean, Property, 208–22; id., ‘Allianzen und Listen: Die Geschlechtsvormundschaft im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert’, in Ute Gerhard (ed.), Frauen in derGeschichte des Rechts: Von der Frühen Neuzeit bis zur Gegenwart (Munich, 1997),
460–79.
48 The relative importance of these types of credit is evidenced by a sample
of inventaries left by Esslingen town councillors that was assessed for thispurpose.
49 For the practice of informal small loans see Lipp, ‘Aspekte’; Maria
Manuela Rocha, ‘Credit Networks in an Urban Context: Lisbon 1775–1830’,
in Laurence Fontaine et al. (eds.), Des personnes aux institutions: Reseaux et culture du crédit du XVIe au XXe siécle en Europe (Louvain-la-Neuve, 1997), 227–44; Ira Spieker, Ein Dorf und sein Laden: Warenangebot, Konsumgewohnheiten
und soziale Beziehungen um die Jahrhundertwende (Münster, 2000); Daniel
Vickers, ‘Errors Expected: The Culture of Credit in Rural New England,
1750–1800’, Economic History Review, 63/4 (2010), 1032–57. That a clear distinction was made between strangers and people known personally is

85

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Even so, because mortgage creditors had priority under bankruptcy and inheritance laws, for longer-term credits and for larger
sums mortgages were preferred. Such agreements, apart from contractual enforceability, also had the advantage of not having to rely
solely on the debtor’s credit; above all repayment was assured inmaterial form, namely the real estate offered as collateral that had
been officially valued by the authorities.50 Accordingly, the contemporary Finanzreferendär (financial clerk) E. Ch. Dinkel, in his treatise‘on the credit situation of peasants in Württemberg’, no longer defined the creditworthiness of the rural population by their ‘moral character’, but by their ownership of land that could be used as security.51
Since Württembergian credit law prohibited interest rates over 5 per
cent, collateral was even more important.52 Due to this ceiling, interest rates could not be adjusted to risks of lending and risky borrowers tended to be barred or forced to seek loans on the black market.53
Given these preconditions, credit should in theory largely be
granted regardless of the differential immaterial resources or personalities of the credit partners. In today’s financial system banks aresupposed to create similar conditions. Until the second half of thenineteenth century, however, the banking sector in Württemberg
developed very slowly.54 Although there was already an announce-

demonstrated by Michaela Fenske, Marktkultur in der Frühen Neuzeit:
Wirtschaft, Macht und Unterhaltung auf einem städtischen Jahr- und Viehmarkt(Cologne, 2006), 184–243.
50 So here it was not so much knowledge about the borrower that was of key
importance, but rather the collateral object as knowledge object. Cf. also
Mischa Suter, ‘Jenseits des “cash nexus”: Sozialgeschichte des Kredits zwischen kulturanthropologischen und informationsökonomischen Zugängen’,Werkstatt Geschichte, 53 (2009), 89–99, at 97–8.
51 E. Ch. Dinkel, ‘Über die bäuerlichen Credit-Verhältnisse in Württemberg’,Zeitschrift für die gesamte Staatswissenschaft, 12 (1856), 536–636, at 589.
52 After 1836 it was only permitted by law to take 6 per cent in individual
cases of merchant credit. On legislation see August Ludwig Reyscher, Dasgesammte württembergische Privatrecht (Tübingen, 1843), ii. 225–9.
53 Cf. Sheilagh Ogilvie, Markus Küpker, and Janine Maegraith, ‘Household
Debt in Early Modern Germany: Evidence from Personal Inventories’,
Journal of Economic History, 72/1 (2012), 134–67, at 138; Lipp, ‘Aspekte’, 32.
54 For the history of the Württemberg banking sector see Matthias Bergner,
Das württembergische Bankenwesen: Entstehung, Ausbau und struktureller Wandel
des regionalen Bankenwesens bis 1923 (St Katharinen, 1993).

86Credit, Trust, and Social Networks

ment in 1824 requiring the Oberämter (districts) and communities toestablish loan funds,55 this had little effect.56 If the Esslingen residents
did turn to establishments for credit, then it was generally to the
Stuttgart loan institutions (for example, the Württembergischer Kreditverein already founded in 1826) or to traditional community lenders
such as the Esslinger Stadt- und Stiftungspflege, which felt obliged tooffer loans not only for financial reasons but also as a means of providing economic relief. It was not until the 1840s that two industrial
and private lending banks were founded in the town itself, which,supported partly by capital from the municipal funds, gave bridging
loans to less well-off craftspeople.57 Finally, in 1849, the Esslinger Oberamtssparkasse (Esslingen Savings Bank) started business and granted,
along with smaller loans, larger mortgage credits. Yet even in the last
third of the nineteenth century, when commercial lending institutions
and credit cooperatives were already relatively well established, thepractice of inter-personal lending declined only slowly (see Figure 1).
As opposed to banks private sources of credit had the crucial
advantage that they offered far more room for negotiation as regards
repayment terms, security value, and interest arrangements.58 For
loans only a mutual cancellation period was stipulated. Yet, thedebtor rarely had to fear that the money would be called in unseasonably because, if necessary, the creditor could as well sell his promissory note instead of possibly causing conflict. At the same time thesecondary market offered the opportunity of deliberately buying into
contracts with profitable conditions or with selected debtors. Besides
being tradable the rights under a mortgage could also devolve due todeath, bankruptcy, or the disposition of property. Accordingly, 30
per cent of all transferable claims59 were passed on at least once and55 Cf. Rudolf Kaulla, Die Organisation des Bankwesens im Königreich Württemberg in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung (Stuttgart 1908), 7–8.
56 In the 1820s and 1830s public lending and savings banks emerged in only
six Württemberg towns and Esslingen was not one of them.
57 Stadtarchiv Esslingen (StAE), Bestand Stadtschultheissenamt X 3 Bü 3 andVIII 3 Bü 3.
58 Banks and credit institutions generally required fixed replayment plans,
usually in the form of annual annuities. They also required higher levels of
security.
59 Not every secured claim was transferable. Some exceptions, for instance,
were prior claims within the family to inheritance or property.

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ANNA-CAROLINA VOGEL

Figure 1: Proportion of Institutions in Property-Based Loans (in %).

Source: Stadtarchiv Esslingen (StAE), Unterpfandsbücher.
usually to several new creditors (see Table 1).60 Flexibility in terms oftransfers, thus, made each credit relationship in itself less fragile andthe credit partners more independent of one another.

Circumstances of Credit
Credit was connected with financial decision-making processes thatare difficult to reconstruct from the sources. Only the type of usage
gives a clue as to the motivation or need that gave rise to a credit relationship. As listed in the sources, hypothecation was required forquite different reasons (see Figure 2). Almost half of all hypothecations did, in fact, involve cash lending while a further 39 per centresulted from buying land, buildings, or housings on credit (Kaufschillinge).61 The small proportion left consisted of inheritance-related
claims between family members, accounts payable or debts incurredby others, and security deposits for holding a public office or having
communal property on lease. But in the following I will only address
the two predominant types of credit activity, namely, cash loans andcredit purchases of real estate.
The amount owed was usually between 300 and 2000 Gulden andwas paid back at standard rates of interest from 4 to 5 per cent. While
60 Thus almost 40 per cent of creditors cited in the mortgage registers were
third party creditors.
61 See Hauptstaatsarchiv Stuttgart (HStAS), E150 Bü 1722.

88Credit, Trust, and Social Networks

Table 1: Transfers of Claims per Mortgage Recorded.
All

Transferable
Claims

N 7835

6873

%

100.0

0

1

Number of Transfers

2

3

69.1 22.9 4.9

2.14750 1571 340 142

4

45

0.7

5

6

8

9

10

0.2

0.1 <0.1 <0.1

0

<0.1

14

6

7
2

Source: Stadtarchiv Esslingen (StAE), Unterpfandsbücher.

2

0

1

the acquisition of property was in itself a powerful motor of indebtedness, borrowing happened most often to refinance other debts. Of
all the cash loans where the purpose is stated more than two-thirds
cite the payment of existing liabilities as the motive. The remaining
loans were obtained to invest again in real estate, in building works,
or the business.
From the lender’s point of view the interest profit was crucial.
Certainly a personal loan on Esslingen’s informal credit market could
attract two or three times more interest than the legally approved
maximum of 5 per cent,62 but the risks involved were far greater.
Figure 2: Reasons for Requiring Collateral.

Source: Stadtarchiv Esslingen (StAE), Unterpfandsbücher.
62 Carola Lipp, ‘Dunkle Andeutungen, anonyme Anschuldigungen, persön-

liche Beleidigungen: Die Erzeugung von Alterität in einem publizistischen

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Other access to financial decision-making factors is offered byanalyses of life and family cycles.63 Thus, for instance, the debt careerof the Esslingers often began shortly after their first marriage.
Because the partible inheritance system led to the fragmentation ofholdings and because intergenerational transmission took place instages, a great deal of money had to be invested in additional purchases.64 This wealth-creating strategy was particularly vital for thefamilies of vintagers and artisans, since in their case buildings andarable lands played a decisive part for economic subsistence.65 With
very little start-up capital, taking on debts and buying property could
be unavoidable. In any case investing in real estate was a good option
because ultimately owning it gave option to being granted further
credit. Thus people did not stop buying and borrowing until quite
late in life. As they eventually grew older more and more peoplechanged from being a debtor to being a creditor. Depending on theirsocial position, lending money, selling property, or transmitting
assets became their main activities.
So via credit property, money and debts flowed relatively systematically from old to young because the life and family cycles
brought forth typical constellations that made credit seem necessary

Konflikt über Wucherzinsen’, in Brigitta Schmidt-Lauber and Gudrun
Schwibbe (eds.), Alterität: Erzählen vom Anderssein (Göttingen, 2010), 63–84, at
69.
63 See also Johannes Bracht and Georg Fertig, ‘Wann sich verschulden, wannsparen? Vermögensstrategien und Lebenslauf im ländlichen Westfalen des
19. Jahrhunderts’, in Gabriele B. Clemens (ed.), Schuldenlast und Schuldenwert:
Kreditnetzwerke in der europäischen Geschichte (Trier, 2008), 177–91; Johannes
Bracht and Georg Fertig, ‘Lebenszyklus, Alterssparen und Familie in der liberalen Marktgesellschaft des 19. Jahrhunderts: Ein ländliches Beispiel’, inThomas Sokoll (ed.), Soziale Sicherungssysteme und demographische Wechsellagen: Historisch-vergleichende Perspektiven, 1500–2000 (Berlin, 2011), 198–220;
Philip T. Hoffman, Gilles Postel-Vinay, and Jean Laurent Rosenthal, ‘Private
Credit Markets (1690–1840)’, Journal of Economic History, 52 (1992), 293–306,
at 300 ff.
64 David Sabean, ‘Devolution of Property in Southwest Germany around
1800’, in Hannes Grandits and Patrick Heady (eds.), Distinct Inheritances:
Property Family and Community in a Changing Europe (Münster, 2003), 115–24.
65 Dennis A. Frey, Jr., ‘Industrious Households: Survival Strategies of Artisans in a Southwest German Town during the Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries’, International Review of Social History, 45 (2000), 115–35.

90Credit, Trust, and Social Networks

or profitable. Thus, seen from this perspective a person’s own financial interests were almost always expressions of family interests aswell.66

The Creation of Credit Relations
But how did borrower and lender interrelate? And who was it, infact, who engaged in mortgage credit? Given the lack of institutional
intermediaries, the credit market needed the Esslingers themselves tocoordinate supply and demand. For one thing the newspapers regularly advertised credit facilities. In the Esslinger Wochenblatt or the
Esslinger Schnellpost loans were offered publicly by means of whichfoundations, guardianships, or private persons could invest theirmoney to gain interest. Apart from that, those seeking credit could
obtain a certificate from the securities authority which confirmed theavailability of property for use as collateral, and thus creditworthiness, in black and white. Despite these measures that promoted contact
and trust, personal acquaintance continued to play a significant role.
This is confirmed by the remarkable number of credit relations thatwere repeated, around 14 per cent. Compared to the Paris credit market where virtually no credit relations are repeated, this is quite a significant percentage.67 Further indicators emerge from the fact that thecredit partners lived in spatial proximity. Not only did 90 per cent ofcreditors come from the town itself, going by the Esslingen address
books for 1848 and 1850 at least 12 per cent actually lived in the same
street as their debtors.
Besides spatial proximity, however, activities in associations alsofavoured the granting of credit. This was particularly true of large
associations such as the Esslingen Bürgergesellschaft and the choral
66 A seminal piece on that topic is Peter Laslett, ‘Familiale Unabhängigkeit im
Spannungsfeld zwischen Familien- und Einzelinteressen’, in Peter Borscheid(ed.), Liebe, Ehe, Tod: Zum Wandel der Familie, der Geschlechts- und Generationenbeziehungen in der Neuzeit (Münster, 1983), 151–69.
67 In Paris, on the other hand, certain notaries were preferred as intermediaries. There trust was not so much focused on the person of the borrower oron legal means, but on the person of the notary. Cf. Philip T. Hoffman, Gilles
Postel-Vinay, and Jean Laurent Rosenthal, ‘Information and Economic History: How the Credit Market in Old Regime Paris Forces us to Rethink theTransition to Capitalism’, American Historical Review, 104/1 (1999), 69–94, at
84.

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association Liederkranz. After petit-bourgeois members had broken
away the Liederkranz became a much-frequented contact zone for theliberal economic and educated bourgeoisie. Here many of the richestand most well-connected inhabitants of the town entertained themselves by singing,68 a quarter of whom were linked by credit. Anotherof the larger associations was the liberal Bürgergesellschaft (civic society), in which as many as almost half the members had some sort ofcredit relationship. Apart from being a gathering-place for socializing the Esslingen Bürgergesellschaft was also a framework for politics.
In this semi-official setting questions about general local welfare
were raised and the clients represented, especially as regards theinterests of the middle and upper class business people.69 Associations such as the Bürgergesellschaft and the Liederkranz could mobilize credit in two ways simultaneously. For one thing they generated
a new horizontal trust between citizens, bringing together people
from different social milieux in a self-organized way.70 For some of
the members they were actually the main institutions of their sociability, for instance, for the self-employed and jurists, who were onlyin the town temporarily and consequently had few kin there.71 So
associations meant first and foremost social capital which could
make it easier to initiate credit relations. For another thing, they werealso the bourgeois society’s central arenas for getting oneself known.
Proving oneself here, by showing common spirit, establishing contacts, and making a good name, were all extremely important for getting on in life.72
But who, in general, engaged as debtors and who as creditors? In
Esslingen the overwhelming majority of debtors were either artisans

68 Carola Lipp, ‘Eine Mikroanalyse sozialpolitischer Differenzierungen undverwandtschaftlicher Substrukturen in württembergischen Gesangsvereinen
des Vormärz und der Revolution 1848/49’, in Hans Erich Bödeker andPatrice Veit (eds.), Les sociétés de musique en Europe 1700–1920: Structures, pratiques musicales, sociabilités (Berlin, 2007), 431–54.
69 Cf. Lipp, ‘Zum Zusammenhang’; ead., ‘Kinship Networks’.
70 Frevert (ed.), Vertrauen: Historische Annäherungen.
71 Carola Lipp, ‘Verwandtschaft: Ein negiertes Element in der politischen
Kultur des 19. Jahrhunderts’, Historische Zeitschrift, 283 (2006), 31–77, at 71.
72 Cf. ead., ‘Zur sozialen Reproduktion des Honoratiorensystems in den offenen Wahlen des Vormärz: Warum Jakob Levi seine Stimme Gotthilf
Schumann gab’, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Geschichte, 9/4 (1998), 496–524.

92

Credit, Trust, and Social Networks(61.5 per cent) or vintagers (21.5 per cent). This is not particularly surprising since these were central economic groups in the town, who at
the same time had a comparatively great need for credit. Yet, withrespect to the configuration of debtors and their creditors an astonishing structural pattern emerges: the interlocked markets for cash
lending and real estate implied separate allocation practices.
Property sales were more and most frequently made to people ofthe same social status. This symmetry can largely be explained by thefact that in terms of suitability the object of the sale had to fulfil certain preconditions (for example, concerning facilities, location, orowner’s rights). Thus, artisans preferred buying from colleagues
working in the same branch, and vintagers, for instance, who lived
on the edge of the town, were generally not interested in the same
sort of properties as the Esslingen industrialists or merchants.
With respect to cash loans, however, different criteria mattered.
They were usually granted according to the extent of the need andthe availability of material securities. So in these relations the social
composition of debtors and creditors was basically more heterogeneous. An extreme example of this is the credit behaviour of theEsslingen vintagers. While they largely arranged purchases and sales
between themselves, they took on loans exclusively outside theirsocial group. The workers in town, on the other hand, despite theirgrowing number and economic hardships, were clearly underrepresented (7.4 per cent), because only a few of them could put up thenecessary security. If they did, nonetheless, take on loans they overproportionally did so amongst themselves, which also highlights thehindering fact that as a social group they were not well integrated
into the urban society.73
The main lenders in Esslingen were artisans, restaurant owners
and merchants, many of them part of the urban upper class. It was
precisely the top third of tax-payers and thus the most well-to-do
people in the town who acted as multiple lenders and generated highvolumes of credit. However, it is not enough to explain the disposition to lend money simply by the availability of surplus capital.
Economic potency was certainly important. But what was likewise
crucial was having a certain presence or having a high social profile.
This combination of attributes applied particularly to people promi73 See Schraut, Sozialer Wandel, 305–35; Lipp, ‘Provinzgesellschaft’, 101–17.

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ANNA-CAROLINA VOGEL

nent in the city’s public life as their status was based on being omnipresent in social networks such as associations, city boards, committees, or citizens’ initiatives.74 Consequently Esslingen notables, who
occupied offices of trust in the community, were active as creditors
more than most other people. Among these were town councillors or
Oberamtsgeschworene (district jurors) who had been elected by the citizens to represent them in political and legal matters.
Another criterion was how well the lender was informed about
the borrowers’ credit behaviour and about the availability and effectof legal means. This sort of expert knowledge was held, for instance,by administrative and legal officers who were extensively involvedin the credit business. Just like the town councillors, who as membersof the securities authority were directly involved in supervisingmortgages, they were well able to assess who needed a loan and who
was likely to be able to pay it back.
Between these circles of creditors many of them belonged to morethan one, which meant that competences and opportunities wereaugmented. The people most likely to lend money were those who
embodied representative function, wealth, and knowledge all at
once. So the logic behind making loans largely followed specificopportunities to convert social, economic, and cultural capitals.75 In
their recognized form as symbolic capital they created a reputation
for competence and respectability, and were therefore highly effective in the fields of economy and politics.76
This also had useful side-effects for borrowers. Taking credit formed links with local elites who were regarded as trustworthy and were
not interested in endangering their reputation by opportunism. In
this way advantageous relations were created on both sides, which at
74 Carola Lipp, ‘Die Erzeugung männlicher Bedeutsamkeit als interaktiver
und strukturbildender Prozeß: Einige ethnomethodologische Beobachtungenund historische Beispiele’, in Christel Köhle-Hezinger, Martin Scharfe, andRolf Wilhelm Brednich (eds.), Männlich-Weiblich: Zur Bedeutung der Kategorie
Geschlecht in der Kultur (Münster, 1999), 147–59, at 158.
75 Bourdieu, ‘Ökonomisches Kapital’.
76 Just how closely these two levels had become intertwined is illustrated by
the voting behaviour of the vintagers. In elections to the town council they
did not nominate from within their own group but rather those from whomthey also took loans. Cf. Lipp, ‘Zur sozialen Reproduktion’, 512.

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Credit, Trust, and Social Networks

the same time also underpinned power positions and (re)producedsocial order.
It is important not to forget here, however, that many loans were
not made along the lines of the social hierarchy, but in a sociallyhomologous way. In this regard the importance of family networks,
cited in research as the paragon of support relationships based on
moral obligation, is particularly interesting.77 In early theories of modern society these are generally systematically faded out. The bourgeois thinkers of the nineteenth century already regarded the intertwining of kinship and economic organization as a regrettable relic ofpre-modern times. Such primordial attachments were seen as incompatible with capitalist principles and those of the civil society which
focused on a sphere between (bourgeois) family and state.78 In theliberal discourse they were stylized into cliques (Seilschaften) who
represented the negative of progressive, that is, more voluntary andegalitarian forms of cooperation. Nonetheless, and microstudies have
proved this convincingly, family connections certainly did retain apowerful effect on financial behaviour. They catalysed material interests and channelled property and wealth by adapting flexibly to institutional changes.79 Furthermore, family and kin provided a certain

77 Cf. e.g. Laurence Fontaine, ‘Die Bauern und die Mechanismen der Kreditvergabe’, in Gabriele B. Clemens (ed.), Schuldenlast und Schuldenwert:
Kreditnetzwerke in der europäischen Geschichte 1300–1900 (Trier, 2008), 109–30,
at 112.
78 Carola Lipp, ‘Verwandtschaft: Ein negiertes Element in der politischen Kultur des 19. Jahrhunderts’, Historische Zeitschrift, 283 (2006), 31–77; Sven
Reichardt, ‘Civil Society: A Concept for Comparative Historical Research’, inAnette Zimmer and Eckhard Priller (eds.), Future of Civil Society: Making Central European Nonprofit-Organizations Work (Wiesbaden, 2004), 36–55, at 37 ff.
79 E.g. David Sabean, Property and Kinship in Neckarhausen, 1700–1870 (Cambridge, 1998); Giovanni Levi, Das immaterielle Erbe: Eine bäuerliche Welt an der
Schwelle zur Moderne (Berlin, 1985); Hans Medick and Jürgen Schlumbohm(eds.), Emotionen und materielle Interessen: Sozialanthropologische und historische
Beiträge zur Familienforschung (Göttingen, 1984). For an initial overview: Heidi
Rosenbaum, ‘Verwandtschaft in historischer Perspektive’, in Michael Wagnerand Yvonne Schütze (eds.), Verwandtschaft: Sozialwissenschaftliche Beiträge zu
einem vernachlässigten Thema (Stuttgart, 1998), 17–33; David Sabean and Simon
Teuscher, ‘Kinship in Europe: A New Approach to Long Term Development’,in eid. and Jon Mathieu (eds.), Kinship in Europe: A New Approach to Long Term
Development, 1300–1900 (New York, 2007), 1–32.

95

ANNA-CAROLINA VOGEL‘reputation’, which could either help or hinder financial opportunities.80
Notwithstanding the above, only few investigations on credit
markets involve systematic kinship analysis so far. Studies on rural
Westphalia, for instance, show that kinship networks were used complementary to relations based on impersonal markets.81 On the other
hand Hoffman, Postel, and Vinay found hardly any credit transactions between family members or relatives in early modern and nineteenth-century Paris (3.1 per cent).82 It is also possible, however, thatas regards inner-familial credit there is a bias in the sources sinceagreements were possibly less often formalized or because debts
were taken into account retroactively as part of sales contracts or the
distribution of inheritance.83
As far as we can tell so far, in Esslingen only about 5 per cent ofloans were made amongst relatives. Of these the majority went toclose blood relatives, but some were also related by marriage or bymore distant kinship. Moreover, these contracts did not involve
lower interest rates or even none at all, as has been shown for the
North German Krempermarsch or the villages of the French Dauphiné.84 If we consider that on average Esslingen vintagers had fortyseven relatives in the town, and artisans at least nineteen, then thenumber of loans between relatives actually seems quite small.85
Although what we have here is only a mere genealogical category the
80 See e.g. Saldern, ‘Netzwerkökonomie’, 209–44.

81 Georg Fertig, ‘Zwischen Xenophobie und Freundschaftspreis: Landmarkt
und familiäre Beziehungen in Westfalen, 1830–1866’, Jahrbuch für Wirtschaftsgeschichte (2005/1), 53–76; id., Äcker, Wirte, Gaben: Ländlicher Bodenmarkt undliberale Eigentumsordnung im Westfalen des 19. Jahrhunderts (Berlin, 2007), 141–
56; Fertig, ‘Kreditmärkte’, 172–3.
82 Hoffman, Postel-Vinay, and Rosenthal, ‘Private Credit Markets’, 300.
83 Levi, ‘Das immaterielle Erbe’, 100–1; Margareth Lanzinger, Das gesicherte
Erbe: Heirat in lokalen und familialen Kontexten (Vienna, 2003), 295 ff.; Sabean,
Property, 285–7; Fontaine, ‘Die Bauern’, 112–13.
84 Klaus-Joachim Lorenzen-Schmidt, ‘Bäuerliches Kreditverhalten in der
Krempermarsch im 19. Jahrhundert’, in id. (ed.), Geld und Kredit in der Geschichte Norddeutschlands (Neumünster, 2006), 261–76; Laurence Fontaine,‘Antonio and Shylock: Credit and Trust in France, c.1680–c.1780’, Economic
History Review, 54/1 (2001), 39–57.
85 Calculated on the basis of the family reconstitution for Esslingen.

96Credit, Trust, and Social Networks

impression emerges that for and via credit relations Esslingers deliberately sought other partners. One major advantage of behaving inthis way would be to obviate prominent fields of conflict since thecommitment sustained by strong ties is also directly proportional tothe consequences of possible disappointment.
While as regards giving loans, relatives hardly played any role,
they certainly did for the purchase transactions. However, it was not
so much norms of reciprocity that came into play here, but forms of
inner-familial (re)allocation and redistribution. So first and foremost
dozens of contracts exist in which wives and children buy back land
from the estate of their bankrupt or deceased relatives.

Conclusion
Esslingen, in the mid nineteenth century already a thriving industrial town, had a credit market that was in lively use, strictly administered, and formalized; it linked an ensemble of actors who in social
terms were comparatively heterogeneous.86 Here they moved
around in numerous social conventions that integrated family interests, and behavioural orientations governed by status and financial
needs. As regards credit relations personal acquaintance was undoubtedly essential though it did not entail any real personal commitment or moral obligation. For the creditors’ part, it was trust in
the effectiveness of legal means and in the validity of informationentered into the public registers that mattered most. In the case of theborrowers, trust was placed above all in the financial and political
reputation of the lender, which promised the advantage of a stable
and mutually beneficial relationship. For loans were not just a medium for financial exchange (sought to yield liquidity or profit) but also
for social contact, and the opportunity of contact was, in turn, crucial
for granting loans. Here the proliferation of public life within the
town facilitated a new form of social capital that went beyond groups
and status and was used as a supplement to traditional network
resources such as guilds, neighbours, family, and kin.

86 Thus e.g. on the Paris credit market well-situated elites were mainly linked
together. Cf. Hoffman, Postel-Vinay, and Rosenthal, ‘Private Credit Markets’, 298.

97

5
Networks of Lenders and Borrowers:
A Rural Credit Market in the Nineteenth Century
MARtiN StARk
i. Introduction

this essay will look at the rural credit market in the Württemberg village of Ohmenhausen as a social network of lenders and borrowers.1
this relatively poor community, near the former imperial City of
Reutlingen, was chosen as an example because its development in
the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries can be regarded as typical of a Swabian village that has already been well researched in several social-historical studies.2 Ohmenhausen was a relatively small
and poor village of farmers and artisans. it was part of the territoryof the Free imperial City of Reutlingen, and thus had various administrative, economic, and social connections with the neighbouringcity. When the city was transferred to the kingdom of Württemberg
in 1803, the village became part of the newly founded District of
Reutlingen. the examination of the Ohmenhausen credit market that
follows takes a predominantly visual, explorative, and comparative

1 Martin Stark, Soziale Einbettung eines ländlichen Kreditmarktes im 19. Jahrhundert(trier, 2014), online at <http://ubt.opus.hbz-nrw.de/volltexte/2014/839/>,
accessed 11 June 2015.
2 Paul Schwarz, Ortsgeschichte des Reutlinger Stadtbezirks Ohmenhausen (Reutlingen, 1975); Ulrich Herrmann, Andreas Gestrich, and Susanne Mutschler,‘kindheit, Jugendalter und Familienleben in einem schwäbischen Dorf im 19.
Jahrhundert und 20. Jahrhundert (bis zum Ersten Weltkrieg)’, in Peter Borscheid and Hans J. teuteberg (eds.), Ehe, Liebe, Tod: Zum Wandel der Familie, derGeschlechts- und Generationsbeziehungen in der Neuzeit (Münster, 1983), 66–79;
Andreas Gestrich, Traditionelle Jugendkultur und Industrialisierung: Sozialgeschichte der Jugend in einer ländlichen Arbeitergemeinde Württembergs, 1800–1920(Göttingen, 1986); Susanne Mutschler, Ländliche Kindheit in Lebenserinnerungen: Familien- und Kinderleben in einem württembergischen Arbeiterbauerndorf
an der Wende vom 19. zum 20. Jahrhundert (tübingen, 1985).

99MARtiN StARk

network approach.3 it should demonstrate that the use of network
visualization offers significant potential for historical research. thisenables large quantities of statistical data to be made manageable andgenerates new questions in the research process.4 What should beascertained specifically is whether structural changes to the rural
credit market in Ohmenhausen occurred following the reform of thelending laws in 1825/28. in order to do so the regional market in thesample years 1825 and 1850 will be compared. For 1825 there are two
types of mortgage: private loans that were not centrally registered andloans that were entered into the public securities book (Unterpfandsbuch) of the Ohmenhausen community. Compared to the securedloans the private loans consistently reveal less information here. in thecase of private loans generally only the name of the lender and borrower, the lender’s place of origin and possibly the professions of thecontracting parties, and the amount of the loan are recorded. in somecases there are also details of the interest rate, the value of the land
used as security, and the time the loan was taken out. in the case of
the officially secured loans all this information is recorded systematically. By contrast there were no clear firm legal guidelines for documenting private loans. the general level of information therefore varied according to who the lender was, whereby institutional lenders
with large loans generally provided more information than private
persons making smaller loans. the reason for this may be the lenders’varying degrees of professionalization. in order to conduct the examination both types of mortgage loans will be analysed despite the disparity in information, since before the reform of the lending laws in
1825/28 they were equal in the eyes of the law. the network visualizations were produced by the software programme Netdraw,5 which
3 Lothar krempel, Visualisierung komplexer Strukturen: Grundlagen der Darstel-lung mehrdimensionaler Netzwerke (Frankfurt am Main, 2005).

4 Martin Stuber, Stefan Hächler, Lothar krempel, and Marion Maria Ruisin-ger, ‘Exploration von Netzwerken durch Visualisierung: Die korrespondenznetze von Banks, Haller, Heister, Linné, Rousseau, trew und der Oekonomischen Gesellschaft Bern’, in Regina Dauser, Stefan Hächler, Michael
kempe, and Frank Mauelshagen (eds.), Wissen im Netz: Botanik und Pflanzentransfer in europäischen Korrespondenznetzen des 18. Jahrhunderts (Berlin, 2008),
373.
5 S. P. Borgatti, M. G. Everett, and L. C. Freeman, Ucinet for Windows: Software
for Social Network Analysis (Harvard, Mass., 2002).

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Networks of Lenders and Borrowers

is integrated into Ucinet; the statistical assessments were carried out
with the programme SPSS.6 Both these tools can be regarded as standard in their spheres of application, which is why they were chosen
for this project. in the first section the lenders in the two sample years
are examined, then the borrowers as actors in the rural credit market
of Ohmenhausen. in conclusion the results of the examination will bedrawn together.
Figure 1: Credit Market of 1825. Lenders.

ii. Lenders

Figure 1 shows the network of the mortgage credit market in the Ohmenhausen community for the sample year 1825. Altogether 88
lenders could be identified. these made 354 mortgage loans to
6 Felix Brosius, SPSS 16 für Dummies (2nd updated edn. Weinheim, 2008); id.,
SPSS 16 (Bonn, 2008).

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MARtiN StARk

Ohmenhausen, on average 4 per borrower; 236 (67.6 per cent) of theseloans were registered private secured loans, 113 (32.4 per cent) wereentered in the public securities book. On the other side, 184 Ohmenhausen citizens took out loans, on average 1.9 loans per borrower. thetotal volume of loans in the sample year was 56,928 guilders, the average size of loan around 161 guilders. the average interest rate was
5.02 per cent. this corresponded almost exactly to the usual interest
rate of 5 per cent prescribed by regional law, which was only rarely
undercut or exceeded.7 As a bimodal network the loan market contains two classes of actors (lenders and borrowers), who are connected to one another via loans.8 Aided by the inclusion of appropriate
attributes this section will visualize the network from the perspectiveof the lender. Private persons as lenders are represented by circles,
institutional lenders by squares. the size of each lender’s symbol
shows the lender’s total volume of loans in the network in guilders.
Colour coding illustrates the lender’s geographical origin. Dark grey
represents the village of Ohmenhausen, black the city of Reutlingen,grey the rest of the District of Reutlingen, and light grey the remainder of the kingdom of Württemberg. in order to separate them visually from the lenders, the borrowers remain in white. At first glancea strong centre–periphery structure in the network is already clear.
Just a few major lenders from Reutlingen dominate the network fromthe centre outwards, both as regards the number of loans made andthe loan volumes. So there did not seem to be any point in adding ageographical map to the presentation of the network.
7 Andreas Maisch, Notdürftiger Unterhalt und gehörige Schranken: Lebensbedingungen und Lebensstile in württembergischen Dörfern der frühen Neuzeit (Stuttgart, 1992), 180; Gabtriele B. Clemens and Daniel Reupke, ‘kreditvergabe im
19. Jahrhundert zwischen privaten Netzwerken und institutioneller Geldleihe’, in Gabriele B. Clemens (ed.), Schuldenwert und Schuldenlast: Kreditnetzwerke in der europäischen Geschichte 1300–1900 (trier, 2008), 230; Anne Mauch,
Ländliches Darlehenswesen in wirtschaftlichen Krisenzeiten: Eine Untersuchung am
Beispiel der Beurener Unterpfandsbücher und -protokolle (1846–1854) (tübingen,2009), 29–33.
8 Alexander Rausch, ‘Bimodale Netzwerke’, in Christian Stegbauer and Roger
Häußling (eds.), Handbuch Netzwerkforschung (Wiesbaden, 2010), 421–32;
Stephen P. Borgatti and Martin G. Everett, ‘Network analysis of 2-mode data’,
Social Networks, 19 (1997), 243–69.

102

Networks of Lenders and Borrowers

the most significant lender was Maria Elisabetha Ellwert (b.
1765), widow of the village pastor Phillip Eberhard Ellwert (G11)
who died in 1816. She was the daughter of Phillip karl Bitsche, theformer pastor of the village of Wannweil, which was likewise part of
Reutlingen. Her late husband came from an old and wealthy Reutlingen family. His father, Johann Gottfried Ellwert, had also been
pastor of Wannweil and Ohmenhausen. After her husband’s deathshe moved back to Reutlingen, where she died in 1830. in 1825
widow Ellwert had made 87 loans altogether, amounting in all to
12,954 guilders. She predominantly made private secured loans. it ispossible that since she had lived in the place for a long time due toher husband’s profession she had better knowledge of the borrowers’
creditworthiness than other lenders, and therefore needed no further
formal security. Given her already advanced age in this sample year
it should not be assumed that she was still actively involved in making loans, but rather that she was administering what remained ofher husband’s former credit network.
the local power of the Schultheiß (head of a village) or the influence of pastor on his congregation depended, among other things, on
his financial ability to make loans. Other citizens could also give loans
in order to make their fellow citizens indebted to them. the sums
involved here, however, were mainly small or medium-sized loans.9
Other studies on credit history or micro-history explicitly point to thelack of a village king of this sort.10 Even these studies, however, seemat least to have expected such a dominant person as an essential characteristic of a local rural credit market in the pre-modern period. By
contrast the central structural position of the village pastor or his
widow within the credit network of Ohmenhausen in this sample
year is indisputable. What is also striking is that where credit was concerned there was hardly any overlapping of personnel with lenders
from the other three villages that originally belonged to the Free
9 Maisch, Notdürftiger Unterhalt, 185–6.

10 See Anke Sczesny, Zwischen Kontinuität und Wandel: Ländliches Gewerbe undländliche Gesellschaft im Ostschwaben des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts (tübingen,2002), 313; Andreas ineichen, ‘Bäuerliche Verschuldung im Ancien Regime:
Das Beispiel Ebikon (bei Luzern) um 1990’, Schweizerische Zeitschrift fürGeschichte, 4 (1992), 81; Reinhard Johler, ‘Bäuerliches kreditwesen im Alpenraum: Vorbemerkungen zu einer “economic anthropology”’, Historische Anthropologie, 7 (1999), 151.

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MARtiN StARk

imperial City. Due to the state of the sources, however, the question
must remain unanswered as to whether local patrons retained geographically separate spheres of influence that were mutually respected, or whether it was simply that the Ohmenhausen citizens had noneed to seek loans outside their own area because of the dominantlending activity of their village pastor.
the next biggest lender was the Reutlingen Hospital (G76). thisinstitution made 45 loans to Ohmenhausen, amounting to 7,702
guilders. As was the case with the pastor’s widow, special factors
came into play in terms of the significance of the hospital for the local
credit market. the Reutlingen Hospital owned considerable amountsof land locally; the hospital’s proportion of all the village’s agricultural land was around 85 per cent in 1750. As a consequence many
Ohmenhausen citizens were tenants of the hospital. the ownership
structure created by the hospital since the late Middle Ages with ten
large farms, which were then split up in the course of time in linewith inheritance cases and the constantly growing population, continued to characterize landownership in the village into the nineteenth century.11 Here, too, it can be assumed that many and various
mutual relations of dependence and information existed between thehospital and the Ohmenhausen citizens, more than can be represented by the formal model of the credit networks. After all, the city was
only an hour’s walk away and any creditor from Reutlingen could
easily have come to Ohmenhausen in person to see his debtor’s good
behaviour for himself.
table 1 shows the whole volumes of mortgage credit given
according to region of origin and type of lenders in guilders for the
sample year 1825. What is striking here above all is the marked significance of the city of Reutlingen, 5 km from Ohmenhausen, for giving credit. Of a total amount of 56,389 guilders given in credit, 44,758
guilders (79.42 per cent) was from Reutlingen. Within Ohmenhausenloans of 3,536 Gulden (6.26 per cent) were made. Lenders from therest of the District of Reutlingen played hardly any role; only 328
came from them. Creditors from the rest of the kingdom of Württemberg were responsible for loans amounting to 7,767 guilders. Of par11 Markus Bauer, ‘Ohmenhausen’, in Landesarchivdirektion Baden-Württemberg/Landkreis Reutlingen (ed.), Der Landkreis Reutlingen (Siegmaringen,1997), ii. 429–36.

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Networks of Lenders and Borrowers

table 1: Mortgage volume according to region of origin and type ofLender 1825 (in Guilders)aMortgages in
Guilders

Origin Lender

Ohmenhausen

Private Person

institution

total

1,550

1,986

3,536

328

—

Reutlingen

34,806

kingdom of
Württemberg

District of
Reutlingen
total

Lenders

9,952

44,758

6,331

1,436

7,767

43,015

13,37456,389a Five unidentified cases (539 guilders).

328

ticular importance here was the city of tübingen, 13 km from
Reutlingen. tübingen alone provided the village with loans amounting to 5,801 guilders (10.27 per cent). So almost 96 per cent of the totalloans came from these three places in the sample year 1825. What is
also interesting is the relative dominance of private persons as creditors as opposed to institutions. it was only within Ohmenhausen thatloans from institutions prevailed over those from private persons. it
appears that in a poor village like Ohmenhausen it was only the local
institutions that could accumulate sufficient funds to function as
creditors to any significant degree. As historical credit research has
already established, it was precisely this regional restriction of lending and the dominance of lenders from the neighbouring towns that
constituted the dominant structural characteristics of the rural credit
market in the pre-modern period.12
Figure 2 presents the mortgage credit market network of the Ohmenhausen community for the sample year 1850. the same graphical12 See Sczesny, Zwischen Kontinuität und Wandel, 326–7; Mauch, Ländliches Darlehenswesen, 86–8.

105MARtiN StARk

Figure 2: Credit Market of 1850. Lenders.

notations are used here as for 1825. For 1850, 166 lenders could be
identified. they made a total of 325 mortgage loans, on averagealmost 2 loans per lender. Compared to the average of almost 4 loans
per lender in 1825, this was clearly fewer and points to the fact thatthe market power of just a few dominant lenders was declining. Even
if we ignore the two major lenders in 1825, pastor Ellwert’s widow
and the Reutlingen Hospital, the average was still 2.6 loans perlender, so the decline in the average number of loans is clear. Conversely, the 201 borrowers identified in Ohmenhausen for this year
took out an average of 1.6 loans, which is not substantially fewer thatthe 1.9 average for the first sample year. in the second sample year
the total volume of the Ohmenhausen credit market was 98,634
guilders. Compared to 56,298 guilders in the first sample year thisrepresents what can only be called a dramatic increase. the average
size of loan in 1850 was 331 guilders, more than double the 161
guilders in 1825. it appears that the greater legal security brought
about by the change to the lending laws made it worthwhile forlenders to make fewer loans, but of larger amounts. it was only theaverage interest rate that did not appear to change very much: it was
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Networks of Lenders and Borrowers

4.85 per cent and thus continued to be around the 5 per cent generally regarded as normal. the main difference in the network structurecompared to 1825 was that prominent major lenders similar to pastor
Ellwert’s widow or the Reutlingen Hospital, who had previously
connected up the credit market network, no longer existed. they
were replaced by numerous smaller and medium-sized lenders. thetable 2: Mortgage Volume According to Region of Origin and typeof Lender, 1850 (in guilders)aMortgages in
Guilders

Origin Lenders
Ohmenhausen
Reutlingen

District of
Reutlingen
kingdom of
Württemberg
total

Lenders

Private Person

institution

total

800

7,171

7,971

6,190

2,025

38,18733,60278,779a Seven unidentified cases (1,769 guilders).

3,185

41,372

3,925

37,527

16,30695,0858,215

credit market network gives the impression of being far more balanced, with far less empowerment. there are only very few major
lenders with high volumes of loans. the disintegration of the key
centre–periphery structure and the general trend towards greater
equality on the part of the lenders in the capital market network
meant that in 1850 institutional lenders from Ohmenhausen assumed
a far more prominent role than in 1825.
table 2 shows the volume of mortgage credit given according toregion of origin and type of lender for the sample year 1850. the total
for this year was 95,085 Guilders. Of this, 41,372 guilders (43.51 percent) is attributable to lenders from the town of Reutlingen; in 1825
this had been 44,798 guilders (79.42 per cent). So in absolute terms the107MARtiN StARk

city’s (administrative town’s) credit volume had not decreased verymuch. But since the overall market volume had increased rapidly, thesignificance of Reutlingen as a source of money had declined in relative terms. it almost seems as if, having compensated for the disappearance of pastor Ellwert’s widow and the Reutlingen Hospital, themeans available to the former imperial City for servicing Ohmenhausen’s credit needs had been exhausted. Lenders from other places
now had to step into the breach. Lenders from the Reutlingen region
gave mortgages to the value of 8,215 guilders to the village, whereas
in the first sample year it was only 328 guilders. So it seems to be particularly plausible here that the shifting pattern in loans made fromthe rest of the Reutlingen district is directly related to the lack of adominant local lender such as Pastor Ellwert or his widow. As aresult either potential lenders who had previously been excluded
pushed their way into the local credit market, or else, due to the general socio-economic misery, including failed harvests between 1846
and 1848, villagers in need of loans had to look for new lenders
because their traditional sources of credit had dried up. the dramatic increase in loans from the rest of the kingdom of Württemberg canalso be seen in this context: if a mere 7,767 guilders were lent toOhmenhausen in 1825, this figure had already risen to 37,527 Guidersby 1850. the importance of tübingen as a source of loans also increased considerably; loans amounting to 19,653 guilders (20.28 percent) came from there. in the first sample year the amount had been
5,801 guilders (10.2 per cent). From nearby Eningen came loans of
4,200 guilders, and even 7,715 (8.11 per cent) from far-off Stuttgart.
the relative dominance of private persons as lenders over institutions increased even more compared to 1825: private persons from
Reutlingen gave loans of 38,187 guilders, institutions of only 3,185
guilders. in the first sample year this relationship had been 34,806
guilders to 9,952 guilders. in the District of Reutlingen the relationship was 6,190 guilders to 2,025 guilders. Private persons from therest of the kingdom of Württemberg made loans to Ohmenhausen of
33,602 guilders, but institutions only 3,925 guilders; in 1825 it had
been 6,331 guilders to 1,436 guilders. it was only inside Ohmenhausen that institutional lenders not only continued to dominate,from 800 to 7,171 guilders compared to 1,550 to 1,986 guilders in thefirst sample year, but were actually able to extend their position evenfurther. But this was hardly surprising in a poor farming village
108

Networks of Lenders and Borrowers

Figure 3: Credit Market of 1825. Borrowers.

whose inhabitants had hardly any cash to lend and which had been
in a quasi-permanent economic crisis for more than 30 years.
iii. Borrowers

Figure 3 shows the mortgage credit market network of the Ohmenhausen community for the first sample year 1825 from the perspective of the borrowers. A total of 184 borrowers could be identified.
the circles represent the borrowers. Using the tax records of theOhmenhausen community for the years 1825/26 the borrowers weredivided into four classes.13 Of the 184 borrowers from Ohmenhausen
78 (42.39 per cent) could be identified in the tax list. those borrowers
put into the first class were those who paid 11 guilders or more in
13 Gestrich,Traditionelle Jugendkultur, 183–9.

109MARtiN StARk

land tax. this corresponded to owning land of at least six hectares oran entire farm. these borrowers were able to live from agriculture
alone and thus constituted the economic elite in Ohmenhausen,
which tended to be poor. those put into the second class were borrowers who paid land tax of 5.5 guilders or more. this tax classowned at least three hectares of land and were also largely involvedin agriculture. the third tax class paid two and a half or moreguilders in land tax. they owned between one and three hectares ofland. these borrowers were generally better-off artisans. Here agriculture represented more of a sideline or subsistence economy. thefourth and final tax class contained borrowers who paid up to two
and a half guilders in tax. this was less than the taxable value of ahectare of normal land. So these borrowers, poor artisans or daylabourers, were largely dependent on acquisition labour. the colour
coding shows which of the four tax classes the borrowers were in.
Black is for the first class, dark grey for the second, grey for the thirdand light grey for the fourth. White colouring indicates that the borrower could not be clearly identified on the tax list. the lenders arealso all in white. the size of the borrower’s symbol represents thesum total of their debt in guilders, with several loans added together
where appropriate. Based on the data a clear visual correlation
emerges between the amount paid in ground tax and the averageamount of debt; those who owned more land could take out higher
loans, and did so. Visually the loans taken out by Ohmenhausen borrowers in the highest tax class (dark green) stand out. Almost all ofthem borrowed larger amounts, though they took loans from various
lenders, even from several major lenders at the same time. if we
accept the thesis that the lenders were attempting to create a networkof clients, then the behaviour of the borrowers in the highest tax classlooks like an attempt to avoid financial dependence on one single
patron, and to some extent to play off the major Reutlingen lenders
against one another.14 Fifteen borrowers from the highest tax class
could be identified from the tax list. that is 19.23 per cent of all identified borrowers. the average amount they borrowed was c.654
guilders per person, clearly more than the general average of 310
guilders. Some 2.67 loans per person were taken out. However, sincethese persons clearly owned more land, their mortgage potential was
14 Sczesny, Zwischen Kontinutät und Wandel, 326–7.

110

Networks of Lenders and Borrowers

obviously greater than that of those in other tax classes. the 23 borrowers in the second-highest tax class, again largely involved in agriculture, had average debts of 287 guilders. this is considerably lessthan in the first tax class and is somewhat surprising since there is notmuch difference between the average size of the mortgages in the
two tax classes. the reason, however, is that with 1.35 loans they only
took out half as many as the borrowers in the first tax class On theother hand the 17 (21.8 per cent) borrowers in the third tax class, predominantly artisans who did not own much land, generally took onlarger debts, around 330 guilders, and clearly took out more loans,
2.3 per person. it could be that because they largely lived from tradeand had far less of their own agricultural activities than those in thefirst two classes they suffered more in times of economic crisis andtherefore had to take on greater debts. Again, the 23 borrowers fromthe lowest tax class generally took out fewer loans, around 1.8 perperson. their average amount of debt was about 185 guilders perperson, but because they only owned a minimal amount of land theirmortgage potential was also very small.
table 3 shows the distribution of mortgage loans in the sample
year 1825 classed according to the amount of land tax paid by thetable 3: Distribution of Mortgage Loans Classed According to Paid
Land taxes by Borrowers, 1825.aClassedland taxes
1
2
3
4

total

Number ofmortgages

absolute

in %

31

20.5

40
39
41

151

Amount ofland taxes

26.5

in %

absolute

in %

26.3

6,597

26.2

52.7

25.8

15.7

27.2

5.3

100.0

Loan amount

100.0

9,186
5,168
4,257

25,208

36.4
20.5
16.9

100.0

a Not identified: 202 mortgages (31,272 guilders), 49.16 per cent of land taxes.

111MARtiN StARk

borrowers. An additional source of data here was the Ohmenhausen
community’s tax receipt book for 1825/26. Loans that could not beclearly allocated were marked accordingly in the table. Even though
only some of the mortgages could be allocated there is no reason toassume that this caused any systematic distortion of the data. thedistribution presented in the table should therefore be regarded ascapable of sensible interpretation. All this shows are the general difficulties that can arise when systematically linking up different serial
sources available in their entirety. in the case of the private securedloans in particular all that is recorded is the name of the borrower.
this is generally not sufficient without additional information suchas occupation or wife’s name to identify each borrower on the tax list.
Successful linkage of data that is in itself complete, in this case allocating the loans to the various land tax classes, therefore remains
incomplete. However, we should still work with this data because it
is by linking different sources that new information can often be generated. in the highest tax class 49 loans (26.5 per cent) were taken out,
amounting to 9,186 guilders in all (36.4 per cent). So the averageamount of debt in this class was around 230 guilders. in the second
tax class 31 loans (20.5 per cent) loans were taken out, amounting to6,597 guilders, an average of 213 guilders per loan. the third tax
group took out 39 loans (25.8 per cent), amounting to 5,168 guilders
in all. the average loan was around 133 guilders. in the fourth andlast tax class 41 loans (27.2 per cent) were taken out, amounting to4,257 guilders in all; the average loan was around 104 guilders. thus
a picture emerges of a social cascade as regards the indebtedness of
the Ohmenhausen citizens; although the difference in size of loans
between the ‘major land owners’ of little Ohmenhausen in the firsttax class and those in the second class, likewise involved in agriculture, was not very big: 230 to 213 guilders.
Figure 4 shows the mortgage credit market network of the Ohmenhausen Municipality for the sample year 1850 from the perspective of
the borrowers. Here, too, the same graphic notations are used as for1825. For the second sample year 145 of the 201 Ohmenhausen borrowers (72.14 per cent) could be identified on the tax list. For 1825 thepercentage was 42.39. So the quality of the data has clearly improved
compared to the first sample year. Figure 4 makes it immediately
apparent that the relatively clear correlation between size of debt andamount of land tax paid has disintegrated. it was the indebtedness of112

Networks of Lenders and Borrowers

Figure 4: Credit Market of 1850. Borrowers.

persons in the third and fourth tax classes that increased rapidly.
Only two persons (some 1.4 per cent of all identified borrowers) were
now in the highest tax class. in the first sample year there were 15.
these two persons both had debts of 700 guilders. Although this waswell above the general average of 419 guilders, compared to theindebtedness of borrowers in this tax class in 1825, 654 guilders, thiswas not a very great increase. Likewise the average number of loans,
2.5 per borrower, remained constant compared to 1825. the 17 borrowers (11.74 per cent) in the second-highest tax class—compared to
23 in the first sample year—had average debts of 534 guilders. thus
the level of debt in this tax class had clearly increased compared to
287 guilders in 1825. Although the number of loans rose, 1.824 compared to the original 1.35 per borrower, it still remained below thenumber of loans in the first tax class. the 26 borrowers (17.93 percent) in the third tax class, largely artisans who did not own muchland—in 1825 there were only 17 of them—generally had debts of113

MARtiN StARk

about 616 guilders compared to 330 guilders in 1825, clearly a drastic
increase, while the percentage increase in debt in the second andthird tax classes remained almost the same (86.1 per cent to 86.54 percent). With 1.46 loans per person they took out fewer loans, but formuch higher amounts. For 1850, 100 borrowers (69 per cent) could beallocated to the lowest tax class. Compared to the 23 borrowers inthis class in 1825 this is a massive increase. Borrowers in this tax class
took out 1.33 loans per person compared to 1.8 in 1825, but the sizeof these loans was much greater. Members of this tax class borrowed
an average of 354 guilders per person. Compared to 185 guilders perperson in 1825 this was an extreme increase of 91.26 per cent.
table 4: Distribution of Mortgage Loans Classed According to Paid
Land taxes by Borrowers, 1850.a
Classedland taxes

Number ofmortgages

absolute

in %

2

31

15.0

4

133

64.3

1

3

total

5

38

207

Amount ofland taxes

2.4

in %

absolute

in %

40.6

9,075

14.7

35,396

57.2

15.1

18.4

1,400

20.1

16,028100.0

61,899

24.2

100.0

Loan amount

2.3

25.9

100.0

a Not identified: 110 mortgages (34,955 guilders), 44.95 per cent of land taxes.

table 4 shows the distribution of mortgage loans for 1850 classed
according to the amount of land tax paid by the borrower. An additional source of data here was the tax receipt book of the Ohmenhausen Municipality for 1850/51. in the highest tax class there were
now only five loans (2.4 per cent), amounting to 1,400 guilders (2.3
per cent). in the first sample year borrowers in this first tax class took
114

Networks of Lenders and Borrowers

out 40 loans amounting to 9,186 guilders. the average size of loan
taken out by borrowers in this tax class was 280 guilders, clearly
below the general average size of loan, around 331 guilders. in 1825
the average size of loan in this tax class was 230 guilders, still much
more than the general average at that time, 161 guilders. in the second sample year 41 loans (15 per cent) were taken out in the second
tax class, amounting to 9,075 guilders, on average 293 guilders perloan. So the number of loans was just as high as in the first sample
year, but the total volume, compared to 6,597 in 1825, increased considerably. thus compared to 213 guilders in 1825 the average size ofloan in this year was much higher. in 1850 the third tax class took out
38 loans (18.4 per cent), compared to 39 loans in 1825. the volume ofloans, 16,028 guilders (25.9 per cent), rose more than threefold compared to 5,168 guilders in the first sample year. the average size ofloan was around 422 guilders; in 1825 it was 133 guilders. in the
fourth and lowest tax class 133 loans (63.4 per cent) were taken out,
amounting to 35,396 guilders, with an average loan of 266 guilders.
in the first sample year there were 41 loans amounting to 4,257
guilders in the lowest tax class, an average of 104 guilders per loan.
So compared to the first sample year there was a shift in the numberof loans per tax class. Here too there was a dramatic increase in indebtedness compared to the first sample year. A strong imbalance
emerges in the distribution of loans. in the highest tax class there
were now only 5 loans, but in the lowest there were 133. So a relatively equal distribution of loans no longer exists. Borrowers from thesecond and third tax classes did not take out a particularly larger
number of loans; it remained much the same as in 1825. But at thesame time the average size of loans taken out in the third tax classincreased massively. Conversely the average size of loan in the firstand second tax groups hardly changed, 280 to 293 guilders. So it was
mainly members of the third and fourth tax classes who had to takeout loans. this caused the increase in the volume of loans in this sample year, thus reversing, to some extent, the loans cascade. thisdevelopment towards increased indebtedness, however, was certainly facilitated by the fact that borrowers’ ability to take out more andhigher loans was considerably improved by the reform of the lending laws of 1825/28. the average security for loans in the form ofland ownership was reduced from three times the value to twice thevalue between the two sample years and this gave borrowers greater
115MARtiN StARk

scope for taking out further loans.15 in addition, the abolition of theso-called Kriegsvogt (the legal guardian of a wife and her fortune
whose job was to prevent its embezzlement by the husband), in the1820s meant that borrowers could more easily use the land brought
to the marriage by their wives as security for loans.16 So what was theborrowed money used for?
Due to the state of the sources little can be said directly about the
motives for taking out loans. in the securities books nothing is usually said about what the loans were to be used for.17 However, basedon the size of the individual loans it can be assumed that this was nota question of consumer credit to cover daily needs. these werealways smaller sums, as can be seen by going through the inventoriesof the Ohmenhausen Municipality, which were used to supplement
the current study. thus in the crisis year of 1848 farmer Johann Georg
kemmler owed his son-in-law 1.5 guilders for salt. in the same year
the day-labourer Johannes Weber owed Schultheiß Walz 3 guilders
for fruit. Slightly higher sums, but still far below the mortgage loans,
were taken out as business credit. in 1845 coach-maker Jacob Walz
owed merchant kümmerlin from Reutlingen 10 guilders for iron or
the master cobbler Georg Renz almost 6 guilders for wood. So theassumption is that, along with the re-financing of possible older debts,
these were primarily investment loans. in her study on Langenneufnach, Anke Sczesny demonstrates that there almost three-quarters of debt was attributable to acquiring and maintaining possessions and to loan rescheduling.18 in this study the concept of investment includes maintaining or extending house and grounds, as wellas acquiring land useful for agriculture such as pastures and the cattle to go with them. Acquiring and working land could have been astrategy for the poorer artisans and day-labourers in the third andfourth tax classes to secure their own subsistence in times of economic crises after the failed harvests of 1815–16 and 1846–8. theseattempts at investments, driven by the crisis, substantially increased

15 karl Georg von Wächter, Geschichte, Quellen und Literatur des Württembergisch-en Privatrechts (Frankfurt am Main, 1985; reprint of Stuttgart 1842 edn.), ii. 988.

16 David Sabean, ‘Allianzen und Listen: Die Geschlechtsvormundschaft im 18.

und 19. Jahrhundert’, in Ute Gerhard (ed.), Frauen in der Geschichte des Rechtsvon der Frühen Neuzeit bis zur Gegenwart (Munich, 1997), 460–79.
17 Mauch, Ländliches Darlehenswesen, 39.
18 Sczesny, Zwischen Kontinutität und Wandel, 316–20.

116

Networks of Lenders and Borrowers

indebtedness of the less well-off villagers in the lower tax classes
when comparing the two sample years. Another possible interpretation of the growing indebtedness of the less well-off citizens ofOhmenhausen could be connected to the wave of emigration after thefailed harvests of 1846–8 and the economic crises connected withthem. it is possible that family members of the emigrants, largely
belonging to the poorer classes, acquired their property so that it
could be kept in the family. But they could only do this by taking out
more loans. there can, however, be no definitive answer to thisbecause the question cannot be satisfactorily answered by means of
the sources employed for this research project.
iV. Conclusion

in conclusion, the essential developments should be summed up
once again. taken as a whole the comparison of credit volumes between the two sample years reveals clear tendencies towards geographical differentiation as regards the origin of the lenders and, connected with this, the disempowerment of rural lending. While almost
96 per cent of loans were made by lenders from Ohmenhausen,
Reutlingen, and tübingen in 1825, by 1850 this had fallen to around72.6 per cent. if loans from tübingen had not increased sharply in thesecond sample year the relative decline of these three places would
have been even more marked. At the same time another trend was
the decreased significance of institutional lenders; more private individuals were clearly willing and able to provide capital and to
become active lenders on the rural credit market. After the reform of
the lending laws of 1825/28 there was a certain geographical expansion in terms of lenders’ origin. it was institutional lenders here thatlost significance compared to private lenders. in essence, however,the standard geographical model whereby lending was restricted toa radius of about 20 km remained intact. the relative geographicalexpansion of rural lending went hand in hand with a dramaticincrease in the total volume of credit, though the total number ofloans decreased slightly. Comparing the two sample years the number of lenders almost doubled, and the average size of loan more thandoubled. More lenders made on average fewer loans per person, buteach loan was for a higher sum. it seems plausible here to see a con117

MARtiN StARk

nection with the improved legal transparency brought about by thereform of the lending laws and the greater degree of protection for
lenders this entailed. For potential lenders making loans became
more worthwhile because the inconvenience of checking out borrowers, sometimes living some distance away, was reduced by the
improved legal security. So lenders from further away and fromother administrative districts now came forward offering loans on
the Ohmenhausen credit market. Comparing the two sample years ahuge expansion of indebtedness amongst Ohmenhausen households
becomes clear as a result. Above all the poorer artisans and daylabourers living in Ohmenhausen took out more loans and for obviously higher amounts. Most of the loans taken out by Ohmenhausenborrowers were probably investment loans for the acquisition ofland. in the crisis years buying land was possibly an emergency strategy, particularly amongst these poorer groups, for securing theirsubsistence. Or it was a question of keeping in the family land
belonging to relatives who were emigrating because of the economiccrisis, though this was only possible if the family members whostayed behind took on more debts. this is precisely what the reformof the lending laws facilitated in both cases.

118

6
Credit Markets in the Nineteenth-Century Countryside:
A Comparative Study in a Rural Border Region
DANiel Reupkei. State of Research

Historical research on the development of credit markets has become
an interesting field for the application of approaches based on network theory and analysis. The methodologically most advanced
studies1 on credit markets in recent years have been conducted in
France by social and economic historians Gilles postel-Vinay andlaurence Fontaine.2 By gathering and evaluating random samples ofnotarial documents from all over France, postel-Vinay has shown in
his microhistorical pilot study La terre et l’argent how local credit markets were organized and how important the reputation of the debtor
and the creditor as well as the transparency of creditworthiness were.
1 For the current state of research see Carola lipp, ‘Aspekte der mikrohis-

torischen und kulturanthropologischen kreditforschung’, in Jürgen Schlumbohm (ed.), Soziale Praxis des Kredits 16.–20. Jahrhundert (Hanover, 2007),
15–36; Mark Häberlein, ‘kreditbeziehungen und kapitalmärkte vom 16. biszum 19. Jahrhundert’, ibid. 37–53. up-to-date trends are shown in Gabriele
B. Clemens (ed.), Schuldenwert und Schuldenlast: Kreditnetzwerke in der europäischen Geschichte 1300-1900 (Trier, 2008); phillipp R. Schofield and Thijs
lambrecht (eds.), Credit and the Rural Economy in North-Western Europe,c.1200-c.1850 (Turnhout, 2009).
2 philip T. Hoffman, Gilles postel-Vinay, and Jean-laurent Rosenthal (eds.),
Priceless Markets: The Political Economy of Credit in Paris, 1660–1870 (Chicago,2000); Gilles postel-Vinay, La terre et l’argent: l’agriculture et le crédit en France
du XVIIIe au début du XXe siècle (paris, 1998); laurence Fontaine et al. (eds.),
Des personnes aux institutions: réseaux et culture du crédit du XVIe au XXe siècle
en Europe (louvain-la-Neuve, 1997); laurence Fontaine, ‘Antonio and Shylock: Credit and Trust in France, c.1680–c.1780’, Economic History Review,
54/1 (2001), 39–57.

119

DANiel Reupke

He was able to demonstrate the significance of so-called strong ties,
which refer to relations between relatives or clients, but he also considered weak ties, such as those between neighbours. postel-Vinayalso noticed that large sums were granted in transregional market
places through intermediaries. His colleague laurence Fontaine
maintained in Des personnes aux institutions that the credit market wasorganized as a network system in which network relations were
essential for debtors to gain the creditors’ trust. For england, Craig
Muldrew has identified a serial socialization of credit relations thatgenerated trust.3 in Germany, the research group ländliches
Westfalen, represented by scholars such as pfister, Bracht, and Fertig
is examining, amongst other things, cash flows and resources.4
Questions concerning credit and migration are also a current focal
point of italian research.5
in the nineteenth century in particular, when there were no banks
in rural areas,6 money was borrowed and lent between private individuals.7 Networks coordinated the actions of the people involved by
3 Craig Muldrew, The Economy of Obligation: The Culture of Credit and Social

Relations in Early Modern England (Basingstoke, 1998).
4 e.g. Christine Fertig and Georg Fertig, ‘ “Wenn zwey Menschen eine Stellesehen”: Heirat, Besitztransfer und lebenslauf im ländlichen Westfalen des
19. Jahrhunderts’, in Christophe Duhamelle and Jürgen Schlumbohm (eds.),
Eheschließungen im Europa des 18. und 19. Jahrhunderts: Muster und Strategien(Göttingen, 2003), 93–124; ulrich pfister, ‘le petit crédit rural en Suisse aux
XVie-XViiie siècles’, Annales HSS, 49 (1994), 1339–57. See also the ph.D. thesis by Johannes Bracht, Geldlose Zeiten und überfüllte Kassen: Sparen, Leihen undVererben in der ländlichen Gesellschaft Westfalens (1830–1866) (Stuttgart, 2013),
ch. 4.
5 Angelina Arru, ‘Networks and logics of Migration: The Circulation ofCredit among immigrants in Nineteenth-Century italy’, in Annemarie Steidl
et al. (eds.), European Mobility: Internal, International, and Transatlantic Movesin the Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries (Göttingen, 2009), 19–38.
6 Concerning banks in the nineteenth century see karl erich Born, Geld undBanken im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1977); paul Thomes, Die Kreissparkasse Saarbrücken: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der öffentlichen Sparkassen
Preußens (Frankfurt am Main, 1985); Clemens Zimmermann, 150 Jahre Sparkasse Merzig-Wadern (Merzig, 2007).
7 Gabriele B. Clemens and Daniel Reupke, ‘kreditvergabe im 19. Jahrhundert
zwischen privaten Netzwerken und institutioneller Geldleihe’, in Clemens(ed.), Schuldenwert und Schuldenlast, 193–220.

120

Credit Markets

regulating the capital and resource flows (including information andmoney) between a central ego and peripheral alteri.8 Mutual relations
can take the form of strong ties, meaning close relations, or weak ties,
meaning loose relations. According to pierre Bourdieu, they generatesocial capital,9 which, in turn, generates trust. Belonging to a network
means more security with respect to other members and reduces thecomplexity of the loan-granting process. According to Niklas luhmann,10 trust is the conditio sine qua non for financial transactions.
ii. Research Design

Against this background historians can develop interesting questions, but sources are not always adequate to provide answers.
Fortunately, however, research in the Sarre-Moselle region is notaffected by this problem. Our research focuses on a geographic quadrangle with luxembourg, Trier, Saarbrücken, and Metz as its corner
points.11 As a consequence of the French Revolution and the Revolutionary Wars, the Loi Ventôse came into force in the Departements
8 As an introduction see Bettina Höllstein and Florian Strauss (eds.), Qualitative Netzwerkanalyse: Konzepte, Methoden, Anwendungen (Wiesbaden, 2006);
Dorothea Jansen, Eine Einführung in die Netzwerkanalyse: Grundlagen, Methoden, Anwendungen, (3rd edn. Wiesbaden, 2006).
9 pierre Bourdieu, ‘Ökonomisches kapital-kulturelles kapital-Soziales kapital’, in Reinhard kreckel (ed.), Soziale Ungleichheiten (Göttingen, 1983), 183–
98.
10 As an introduction see Niklas luhmann, Vertrauen: Ein Mechanismus der
Reduktion sozialer Komplexität (Stuttgart, 1989); as regards a historical point ofview see Stefan Gorissen, ‘Der preis des Vertrauens: unsicherheit, institutionen und Rationalität im vorindustriellen Fernhandel’, in ute Frevert (ed.),
Vertrauen, Historische Annäherungen (Göttingen, 2003), 90–118.
11 This paper is part of a broader research project entitled ‘kreditvergabe im
19. Jahrhundert: Geldleihe in privaten Netzwerken’ that was launched at
Saarland university in 2005 under the direction of Gabriele B. Clemens andlater funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (German Research
Foundation). it investigates the mechanisms of lending in rural areas during
the nineteenth century. See <http://us.aachtec.de/index.cgi?index=4&
view=kreditvergabe_im_19__jahrhundert__geldleihe_in_privaten_netzwerken>, accessed 22 Apr. 2015.

121

DANiel Reupkeof Moselle, Forêts, and Sarre in 1803.12 Thanks to this regulation, we
have a virtually complete account of loan agreements certified bynotaries, which were necessary for mortgage registration, datingback to the early nineteenth century. Our research project analyses
them for selected cities in a comparative perspective.13 The threeplaces selected are canton capitals, each with a local court and hence
at least one public notary: the former Amtsstadt of Merzig, Remich inluxembourg, and the French town of Sierck-les-Bains. All three areroughly 20 kilometres from one another, the distance postulated bypostel-Vinay as the radius of a credit market.
Merzig14 was the centre of a mainly rural region that was increasingly industrialized during the nineteenth century. One of the mostprominent examples of industrialisation was the china and stonewaremanufacturer Villeroy & Boch,15 whose founder was of Francoluxembourgian origin. This will be compared with Sierck,16 with its
agriculture-based economy and Remich,17 that was strongly influenced by viticulture. While in the case of Remich it is especially interesting to see the extent to which the wine boom at the end of the nineteenth century influenced the credit sector, Sierck, because of its location, can give us some idea of networking in the border area.

12 Cf. Alain Moreau, Le notariat français à partir de sa codification: Essai sur lanature et l’évolution de la fonction notariale 1788-1980 (paris, 1984); Wilhelm
Weisweiler, Geschichte des rheinpreußischen Notariates, 2 vols. (essen, 1916–25).
13 Heinz-Gerhard Haupt and Jürgen kocka, ‘Historischer Vergleich: Methoden, Aufgaben, probleme, eine einleitung’, in eid. (eds.), Geschichte und Vergleich (Frankfurt am Main, 1996), 9–45.
14 Johann Heinrich kell, Geschichte der Stadt Merzig und des Merziger Landes(Merzig, 1958). The city of Merzig had 4,000 inhabitants in 1864; the districthad 42,000 inhabitants in 1843.
15 Cf. Thérèse Thomas, Die Rolle der beiden Familien Boch und Villeroy im 18.
und 19. Jahrhundert: Die Entstehung des Unternehmens Villeroy & Boch (Saarbrücken, 1974).
16 Images du patrimoine, vol. xxvi: Lorraine: Canton de Sierck-les-Bains, Moselle(Metz, 1987). The city of Sierck had 800 inhabitants in 1850, the district nearly
14,000 inhabitants in 1868. Dictionaire topographique, vol. xxiii: Moselle (paris,
1868).
17 Gustav Schmit, Onst Land, vol. i: Der Kanton Remich: ein Heimatbuch undtouristischer Führer für luxemburger Volks-, Kunst- und Kulturkunde (n.p., 1937).
The city of Remich had 2,242 inhabitants in 1864, the district 15,000. Henri
Sivering, Statistique du Grand-Duché de Luxembourg (luxembourg, 1865).

122Credit Markets

The loan agreements certified by notaries18 will be analysed manually and the data entered on standardized forms. The next step will
be to evaluate them using kleiO,19 a computer programme that was
especially developed for historical computer science. With this data,
the networks of each city will be reconstructed and illustrated using
the software VennMaker.20
To measure the degree of interdependence social network analysis
will be applied in a way that is partly sociological. However, thisnovel approach in historiography, used for the first time by John F.
padgett and Christopher Ansell in their study of the Medici bankers,21 is not without its difficulties. in contrast to sociologists, most
historians analyse sources which are fragmentary and in need ofinterpretation. Our quantitative network research will therefore be
supplemented by qualitative data.22 This consists, on the one hand, offamily reconstructions using local family registers,23 and on the other18 Concerning Merzig: landesarchiv des Saarlandes (hereafter lAS) Notariat

Merzig 587–28; concerning Remich: Archives Nationales Grand Ducal (hereafter ANGD) MCN Remich; concerning Sierck: Archives Departémental de laMoselle (hereafter AD57) e38. in the case of Merzig we have to count 7,300
loan agreements out of an overall volume of 36,500 passed certificates. The
complete database consists of 12,500 heterogeneous sources.
19 Matthew Woollard and peter Denley, Source-Oriented Data Processing for
Historians: a Tutorial for Κλειω (St katharinen, 1993).
20 VennMaker was recently developed by a group of expert sociologists andhistorians at Trier university and was specially designed to answer these
sorts of questions. See <http://www.netzwerk-exzellenz.uni-trier.de/?site_id=108&proj_id=b7464e29d0da7fa229dbcecdd6d7622a&sitename=Startseite>, accessed 22 Apr. 2015. Furthermore cf. Matthias Bixler et al., ‘VennMaker for Historians: Sources, Social Networks and Software’, REDESRevista hispana para el análisis de redes sociales, 21/8 (2011), 421–52, online at<http://revista-redes.rediris.es/pdf-vol21/vol21_8e.pdf>, accessed 22 Apr.
2015.
21 John F. padgett and Christopher Ansell, ‘Robust Action and the Rise of theMedici’, American Journal of Sociology, 98/6 (1993), 1259–319.
22 Cf. karola Franke and Andreas Wald, ‘Möglichkeiten der Triangulation
quantitativer und qualitativer Methoden in der Netzwerkanalyse’, in Höllstein and Strauss (eds.), Qualitative Netzwerkanalyse, 153–75.
23 Werner Verburg, Die Einwohner von Merzig 1670–1870 (Saarlouis, 2001).
There is a CD-Rom on which the data is navigated via a browser window. in
the following marginal figures (Rz.) are used, which can also be found in the123

DANiel Reupkeof materials from the respective city archives. This means that Historical Network Research, though it covers more aspects than the analysis of social networks, answers fewer sociological questions.
Historical Network Research can and must adapt itself to the historian’s particular ways and conditions of working, in order to makewhat it offers more fruitful for historiography; this is why there is so
far no ultimate definition.24
Furthermore, there is a lack of research on credit networks fromthe perspective of cultural anthropology.25 We will analyse what role
factors such as social reputation, trust, and legal securities played in
the particular networks. embedded in a market structure,26 participants in the market can be influenced by cultural norms and psychological factors such as trust or mistrust.27 These are the categories usedin the theory of New institutional economics.28 eventually we hope totwo-volume printed version of the work. prosper kayser and Roger kayser,
Familienchronik Stadt Remich (luxembourg, 2000). There is no family register
for Sierck.
24 Cf. the first approaches by Marten Düring and Martin Stark, ‘Historical
Network Analysis’, in Georg A. Barnett and J. Geoffrey Golson (eds.),
Encyclopedia of Social Networks (london, 2011), 593–5; Marten Düring andlinda keyserlingk, ‘Netzwerkanalyse in den Geschichtswissenschaften:
Historische Netzwerkanalyse als Methode für die erforschung von historischen prozessen’, in Rainer Schützeichel and Stefan Jordan (eds.), Prozesse:
Formen, Dynamiken, Erklärungen (Wiesbaden, 2015); Morten Reitmayer andChristian Marx, ‘Netzwerkansätze in der Geschichtswissenschaft’, in
Christian Stegbauer and Roger Häußling (eds.), Handbuch Netzwerkforschung(Wiesbaden, 2010), 869–80.
25 in terms of a sociocultural historiography, cf. Richard van Dülmen, ‘Historische Anthropologie in der deutschen Geschichtsschreibung’, Geschichte in
Wissenschaft und Unterricht, 42 (1991), 692–709.
26 Marc Granovetter, ‘economic Action and Social Structure: The problem of
embeddedness’, American Journal of Sociology, 91/3 (1985), 481–510.
27 Cf. the approaches of Hartmut Berghoff and Jakob Vogel (eds.), Wirtschaftsgeschichte als Kulturgeschichte: Dimensionen eines Perspektivenwechsels(Frankfurt am Main, 2004) and the miscellaneous essays by Margrit Grabas,
Hartmut Berghoff, Mark Spoerer, and Christoph Boyer on ‘kultur in der
Wirtschaftsgeschichte’, in Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte,
94 (2007), 173–88.
28 As an introduction to New institutional economics on the basis of examples from economic history see Clemens Wischermann and Anne Nieber-

124Credit Markets

understand which mechanisms, including the networks, facilitatedloan agreements. i shall now present some initial findings in order toillustrate my theoretical ideas with some concrete examples.
iii. Results

Conditions
The results for Merzig, as shown in Figure 1, should be similar to theones estimated for the other research sites. Between 1800 and 1900,
7,320 loan agreements were executed with an overall volume of
3,884,807 thalers,29 averaging 531 thalers per certificate and 72,500
thalers per year. On average, 39 agreements were certified per yearwith heavy fluctuations. The century itself is split into two halves.
until the late 1850s the amounts certified per year increased slowly
and never exceeded 10,000 thalers. The number of loan agreements
oscillated around 45. Dips in the table indicate crises such as theyears of war and revolution, for example 1809, 1814–15 and 1847–8.
They also reflect famines caused by severe climate changes and subsequent crop failures in the 1840s, and especially in the 1820s with thecoldest winter on record in 1829.30
industrialization took off in Merzig when the city was connectedto the railway system in 1856. Simultaneously the number of loan
agreements tripled. According to Reinhard Spree, railway construction, industrial revolution, and economic cycles were strongly interding, Die institutionelle Revolution: Eine Einführung in die Wirtschaftsgeschichte
des 19. und frühen 20. Jahrhunderts (Stuttgart, 2004).
29 The exchange rate of franken, thaler, mark etc. follows Johann Christian
Nelkenbrecher, Taschenbuch der Münz-, Maaß- und Gewichtskunde für Kaufleute(8th edn. Berlin, 1803); l. von lünen, Reductions-Tabellen der deutschen Reichsmark in die Währungen von Preussen resp. Norddeutschland, Süddeutschland undder Franken, sowie aus jeder dieser Währungen in die drei anderen von einem Pfennig (Kreuzer, Centime) bis 100.000 Mark, Thaler, Gulden und Franken, nebst einem
Anhange, enthaltend die Reduction der deutschen Reichsmark in die FeingehaltWährung der Franken (Metz, 1874); exchange rate according to our sources:
3.75 franken = 1 thaler = 3 mark. For greater clarity in the graphs all amounts
have been converted into thaler.
30 Cf. Rüdiger Glaser, Klimageschichte Mitteleuropas: 1000 Jahre Wetter, Klima,
Katastrophen, mit Prognosen für das 21. Jahrhundert (2nd edn. Darmstadt, 2008).

125

Figure 1: loan Agreements Merzig 1800–1900; quantity and volume per year.

DANiel Reupke126Credit Markets

connected.31 Following stagnation after the Franco-prussian War thecredit market emerged in the Gründerzeit (Gilded Age), especiallyafter 1890. in this period the economic revival led to many companies
being founded,32 and a construction boom.33 The number of certificates rose to 250 per year with an annual volume of 250,000 thalers.
This trend lasted until 1914.
in the nineteenth century the main loan type was the annuitycredit. its specifics were that creditors lent money without a term of
payment. The credit was reimbursed several days or months after
redemption. Accordingly, three-quarters of loan agreements weredrawn up for an indefinite period. interest was to be paid once a
year, generally on 1 January or 11 November (St Martin’s Day). As
regards credits without terms of payment, repayment was due ‘auf
erste Anfrage’ (upon first request) or ‘binnen dreier Monate nach
Aufkündigung’ (within three months of termination). Time-limited
credit had to be paid by monthly or annual instalments within a few
years. The duration of loans was below ten years in 90 per cent of thecases, and below five years in 45 per cent; 156 loan agreements stipulated a precise pay-back date. These findings contrast with the resultsthat postel-Vinay produced for France. Here credit was regularly
granted for a period of less than five years, though high amounts
could easily exceed ten years.34
As regards the development of interest rates i established an average of 4.94 per cent throughout the 100 years analysed. in 80 per centof the cases the usual interest rate was ‘fünf von Hundert’ (5 per cent),
known as the Ländlicher Zins. Applied since the Renaissance itremained unchanged until the new German Civil Code came into
force in 1900. in combination with the interest policy of the local sav31 Reinhard Spree, Die Wachstumszyklen der deutschen Wirtschaft von 1840 bis

1880: Mit einem konjunkturstatistischen Anhang (Berlin, 1978), ch. 4.

32 Magrit Grabas, ‘Der vergessene Mittelstand: entwicklung und Bedeutung

kleiner und mittelgroßer unternehmen an der Saar in der Zeit des krisenhaften Strukturwandels 1873 bis 1894/95’, Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- undWirtschaftsgeschichte, 89/1 (2002), 41–71.
33 Zimmermann, Sparkasse, 19–21.
34 Hoffman, postel-Vinay, and Rosenthal (eds.), Priceless Markets, ch. 1.2.3 B,
esp. 156–60.

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DANiel Reupke

ings bank the interest rate decreased to 4.5 per cent. However, postelVinay revealed an interest level of 5 per cent in general.35
looking at collateral securities it seems that only land-owners hadaccess to credit and, vice versa, people without property never had achance to obtain a loan. The usual collateral was one of the small fields
that surrounded Merzig and the other villages. Farmsteads were also
used as collateral, though less often forges and mills. in the second
half of the century guarantors appeared. So far there has been no
study on loan security in the nineteenth century. However, our study
revealed a high quota of family-members such as parents, siblings,
and in-laws as well as a high percentage of close neighbours playing
this role. As regards the new industrial workers, co-workers andforemen also served as guarantors. The sensitive business of standing
as guarantor occurred only in relationships marked by strong ties thatwere reinforced by mutual trust.

Creditor–Debtor Relations
There are two phenomena within the network that deserve closer
attention. As far as professional classification of debtors and creditors
were concerned, the results remain insignificant. it can be assumed,
however, that the wealthy people lent to the deprived ones. The maingroup of creditors consisted of merchants (one-third) followed bylandowners living on an annuity derived from their property. Someof them were former merchants, others wealthy widows. in addition,
two more groups are noticeable: artisans (hatters, bakers, tanners)
and, around 1900, some Bildungsbürger (priests, doctors, notaries).
The main groups of debtors, on the other hand, were farmers(1,955), workers (1,538), and day-labourers (538). There were also
simple craftsmen and the unemployed (‘ohne Gewerbe’). in thelower segment some merchants and people living on annuities also
appeared, which shows that indebtedness could occur more or lessanywhere.
At the same time institutional creditors emerged: in the first halfof the century monasteries (market share of overall volume 7.25 percent) and in the second half regional savings banks (market share ofoverall volume 30 per cent) as well as the pension fund of Villeroy &35 Hoffman, postel-Vinay, and Rosenthal (eds.), Priceless Markets, 15–19.

128

Credit Markets

Boch (market share of overall volume 10 per cent). However, they did
not enter the marketplace until the 1880s, by which time theyaccounted for nearly two-thirds of all loan agreements. in particular,
the pension funds of the regional industry lent to their workers. The
company could be sure that the loans would be repaid and it helped
to improve employer–employee relations. Such a patriarchal social
policy is characteristic of the Saar region.36 in the late nineteenth century debtors required fixed repayment terms which the Kreissparkasse
provided. According to Niklas luhmann this was when the conceptof trust changed:37 trust in individuals decreased, to be replaced bytrust in institutions.
This now leads to the question as to whether this institutionalization made the credit networks into robust structures. We also need toestablish whether these new structures should be regarded as an institution in themselves. However, research on institutional evolution,
especially in the credit market, is still in its early stages.38 if we extend
the concept of the institution in line with the New economics ofinstitutions, then private persons acting in a professional capacity
should also be included here. Alfred Bauer, for example, presents a
farmer–banker in the Hunsrück in the nineteenth century, whose
main business was money-lending.39 in Merzig there were merchants
who increasingly became bankers. An excellent example of this follows.

Mechanisms
The network of Georg Jacob Bernasco (1776–1843),40 a descendent ofitalian immigrants living in Trier, shows the mechanisms of lending.
Bernasco’s wealth amounted to more than 17,460 thalers and he wasalso politically very influential. As an ironmonger he had achieved

36 Ralf Banken, ‘Saararabien und königreich Stumm: Die Saarregion als
Musterland einer patriarchalischen betrieblichen Sozialpolitik?’, Zeitschrift für
die Geschichte der Saargegend, 49 (2001), 111–47.
37 luhmann, Vertrauen, ch. 9.
38 Georg Fertig (ed.), Social Networks, Political Institutions, and Rural Societies(Turnhout, forthcoming).
39 Alfred Bauer, Ländliche Gesellschaft und Agrarwirtschaft im Hunsrück zwischen Tradition und Innovation (1870–1914) (Trier, 2009).
40 Verburg, Merzig, Rz. 475.

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DANiel Reupke

middle-class affluence (‘médiocre’),41 and as City Council and Mayorhe held important public offices. He was also the treasurer of theparish church in Merzig, in whose name he lent 140 thalers to the tailor Johann kiefer,42 in 1808.43 Obviously, the creditor did not want tobear the risk for such a large sum of money lent to an average tailor (aday-labourer earned only one franc a day), so Bernasco arranged aloan through the church. Correspondingly, these two men werelinked by weak ties. By contrast, in 1818 Bernasco lent 1,500 thalers to
his brother-in-law, Mathias emmerich, at his own risk.44 While thistransaction within the family was probably influenced by strong ties,
in the following case weak ties were crucial: as a representative of his
late uncle’s community of heirs, the debtor in the process mentioned
before, Mathias emmerich, lent 303 francs to the proprietor Jacob
Jacobs in 1809.45 Once again his brother-in-law, Georg Jacob Bernasco,
appeared in the contract, this time as a witness, which in turn implies
that he brokered the loan to his well-situated relative.
in the early nineteenth century, Bernasco was also the central figure in the credit market of his town, shown by the visualization of his
ego-network (see Figure 2). This finding can be demonstrated
through analysis of his inventory:46 on his death in 1843 he left his
family 31,000 thalers. Apart from that, the document shows that thebonds certified by notaries so far included in this project do not suffice to reveal the real dimensions of the credit market. When
Bernasco died, he left 265 claims. Only six were within his own family, visualized by the inner circle. According to his inventory, local
notaries had, by means of mortgage loans, issued bond contracts
worth 8,500 thalers. Another 180 certificates of debt were issued
informally. in half of these cases Bernasco was the creditor; hefavoured farmers (black circles) and craftsmen (dark grey circles). in
the white sector 144 thalers are recorded, which he was entitled to asa result of eight court verdicts, and the round sum of 2,100 thalers
referring to outstanding debts as a consequence of notary acts of pur41 lAS, Stadt Merzig, 100 i, chart dated 20 July 1807.
42 Verburg, Merzig, Rz. 2740.
43 lAS, 587-28-312-76.
44 lAS, 587-28-21-89.

45 lAS, 587-28-313-40.

46 lAS, 587-28-443-450-354.

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Credit Markets

Figure 2: ego-network of Georg
Jacob Bernasco.

131

DANiel Reupkechase and auctions; this means that properties or commodities hesold had not been paid for. in 43 cases Bernasco himself was a debtor.
These small amounts resulted from his business and from the funeral costs.
Quantitative and qualitative data emphasizes Bernasco’s central
position again; it also sheds light on the mechanisms of personalloans. The sociologist Mark Granovetter has put forward the thesis of
the strength of weak ties.47 According to him, networks of people who
do not know each other that well are clearly more effective in providing financial support or a better job because they do not involve muchprivate resentment, unlike in the family, which spends so much time
together. At the same time they facilitate a far higher number of contacts, and thus a far quicker acquisition of resources that are further
away, such as information. Consequently, while strong ties were atwork within Bernasco’s family, weak ties were predominant beyond it.
in both cases, however, intermediaries were involved. Were they necessary?

Intermediaries
in order to bridge the lack of information between creditor anddebtor intermediaries were needed.48 laurence Fontaine and Gilles
postel-Vinay have identified public notary as such intermediaries.49
Throughout their professional life they acquired information, andcoming from the regional Notabeln, they enjoyed publicity, reputation,and trust.50 The following case is one of the rare examples that help us
to understand the mechanisms of lending in detail (see Figure 3).51 in
1895, the day-labourer peter Barbier asked the Mayor of Merzig, ernstThiel, if he would grant him a loan of 2,000 marks through the capi47 Mark Granovetter, ‘The Strength of Weak Ties’, American Journal of Socio-

logy, 78/6 (1973), 1360–80.
48 luhmann, Vertrauen, 30, 32, 38, 40.
49 Hoffman, postel-Vinay and Rosenthal (eds.), Priceless Markets, ch. 6, esp.
117–26; postel-Vinay, La terre, ch. 1.2.2.
50 Cf. Gabriele B. Clemens and Daniel Reupke, ‘Der Notar als Broker: Das
Management des privaten kreditmarktes’, Zeitschrift für Verbraucher- undPrivat-Insolvenzrecht 8/12 (2009), 16–22.
51 lAS, Stadt Merzig, 176, letters dated 22 Jan., 24 Jan., 30 Jan., 12 Feb., and13 Feb. 1895.

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Credit Markets

Figure 3: Network of the peter Barbier Case.

tal funds of a communal hospital over which Thiel presided.52 He
then asked the public notary Falkenbach,53 who was also a memberof the hospital’s administrative board, how Mr Barbier was situatedfinancially. Two days later, Falkenbach answered that Barbier had ahouse bought at auction which was worth 6,450 marks, half of which
could be borrowed against. Apart from that, Barbier owned land
worth 585 marks. Two weeks later, Thiel asked the public notary to
issue the debt contract in the name of the administrative board; it was
signed one day later. it must have been easy for the notary to inspect
the land register and to find the auction, which he had probably conducted himself. Without giving the details of network parameterssuch as density, centrality, as well as in- and outdegree, it can be said
that Mayor Thiel was the network’s centre, while notary Falkenbach
was responsible for the resource flows at its periphery. This also
shows the triangulation of quantitative data (network calculation)and of qualitative data (from the archive).
52 Verburg, Merzig, Rz. 233.

53 Verburg, Merzig, Rz. 1244; he lived from 1831 to 1916.

133

DANiel Reupke

Geographical Dimension
Another example, now crossing state boundaries, is that of a Frenchmerchant from Metz, Jean pierre Braun, who lent money to Merzig
by selling two bonds. in 1812 the trader Johannes Herber and the proprietor Theobald Schamboni were lent, in total, 642 francs; the repayment dates had been fixed.54 in 1817 the tradesman pese was granted
1,200 francs that had to be paid back within one year.55 pierre Braun
was never present at certification; he was represented by the notary.
At the moment, nothing more can be said about the creditor.
However, it seems clear that notary Artois (1771–1852),56 was charged
with Braun’s transactions. it seems natural then that Braun called on
Artois in order to lend these considerable sums to financially well-off
customers. He might have even done this through a notary from
Metz, who in turn knew his colleague and approached him. This sortof collaboration between notaries was quite common in France at thattime, as postel-Vinay explains in Des marches sans prix.57 it remains
unclear, however, whether the debtor asked notary Artois if he would
broker the loans, or whether he was so familiar with the local situation that he already knew that the gentlemen needed money andwould definitely pay it back. A proper social network analysis also
shows by outdegree and high centrality that notary Artois was theorganizational centre of this little network. it now seems clear that
Braun did not know the parties he was to contract with. Hence, thiscase is very interesting, because it illustrates how business relationships were maintained in the Napoleonic empire even after the geographical separation that occurred because of the new Francoprussian border.
paul Thomes58 has stated for the research area of Saarland, lorraine, and luxembourg that various forms of economic ties existed.
54 lAS, 587-28-14-19.
55 lAS, 587-28-21-24.

56 Verburg, Merzig, Rz. 96.

57 Hoffman, postel-Vinay, and Rosenthal (eds.), Priceless Markets, ch. 6, esp.
145–6.
58 paul Thomes, ‘Der begehrliche Blick: eine wirtschaftsräumliche Analyse’, inlieselotte kugler (ed.), grenzenLos: Lebenswelten in der deutsch-französischen
Region an Saar und Mosel seit 1840 (Saarbrücken, 1998), 184–208; paul Thomes,‘Wirtschaftliche Verflechtungen in einer Grenzregion: Die industrieland-

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Credit Markets

Cross-border financial participation between companies did not only
exist in the region’s leading industrial sectors. Within the region,
money circulated without any restrictions. up to the mid century, theFrench franc was accepted as a means of payment in the prussian Saarregion. The same positive aspects applied to the merchandise trade in
the region. in such an open space for commerce and communication
trust became a necessity for mutual transactions. Social interdependency is a dimension which defines an area. According to Ralph
Banken social networks and economic ties were constitutive for theentire region.59
Despite some cross-border relations, the main area of lending waswithin a radius of 20 kilometres around a central place; this distancecorresponded to a three-hour carriage journey.60 This is fully in linewith international research results. Analysis of the documents of the
public notary peter Joseph Marx (1765–1831)61 from the first half ofthe century (see Figure 4),62 shows a credit market extending to Trierin the north and to the villages of the Schwarzwälder Hochwald in
the east, not including the next canton city Wadern. Furthermore, tothe south it reached the area around Saarlouis and in the west it
crossed the Saar River and the state border, reaching the French townof Waldwisse. This is worth mentioning since it had a large Jewish
community, one of the main lenders in that region.63 The hypothesis
schaft Saar-lor-lux im 19. Jahrhundert’, Jahrbuch für westdeutsche Landesgeschichte 14 (1988), 181–98.
59 Ralf Banken, ‘Die industriezweige der Saarregion im 19. Jahrhundert:
Wirtschaftliche interdependenzen verschiedener Branchen während der industrialisierung’, in René leboutte and Jean-paul lehners (eds.), Passé etAvenir des Bassins Industriel en Europe (luxembourg, 1995), 39–60, at 58.
60 kell, Stadt, 18–23; Maria Croon, ‘Die letzte postkutschenfahrt Merzig–
losheim–Wadern vor 80 Jahren’, Jahrbuch für Heimatkunde im Kreis MerzigWadern, 12 (1983), 100–2. The journey of 26 kilometres took 3 hours and 48
minutes.
61 Verburg, Merzig, Rz. 3660.
62 lAS 587-28-301 to 587-28-365.
63 Cf. Frank Hirsch, ‘Netzwerke in der neueren Geschichte’, in Curt Wolfgang Hergenröder (ed.), Gläubiger, Schuldner, Arme: Netzwerke und die Rolle
des Vertrauens (Wiesbaden, 2010), 133–42. in the context of the DFG project‘kreditvergabe im 19. Jahrhundert’, Frank Hirsch focuses on the topic of Jews
in the countryside.

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DANiel Reupke

Figure 4: Range of the Credit Market, First Half of the NineteenthCentury. edited detail from the map ‘Charte des königlich preuss.
Regierungsbezirk Trier’, 1826, Das Werden des Saarlandes, 169.

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Credit Markets

that cities lent money to rural areas,64 especially advocated by the
research group ländliches Westfalen and already proven to be true,also applies to the city of Merzig. Debtors and creditors regularlycame from the same rural towns. it was mostly monasteries that gave
credit (for example, in St Gangolph), though Merzig and the small
town of losheim were the centre of the region’s credit market. incomparison, an analysis of the documents of the public notary
Heinrich Falkenbach65 from the second half of the century (see Figure5), shows that losheim had lost its importance. While debtors stillcame from the rural areas, the creditors mainly came from places close
to the travel route along the Saar River, where industrialization had
expanded. in Mettlach and Beckingen the workers of Villeroy & Bochor of the machine factory karcher mainly obtained credit from theirbusiness’s pension fund. Nevertheless, some workers from the steel
and coal industry around Saarbrücken and Völklingen appeared as
debtors, former farmers now working in the emerging industries.

Crisisi have assumed that the institutionalization of the credit market, andthe reinforcement of the network structures around people or institutions, led to robust structures that supplied the market place withresources. These structures needed to be both flexible, and at thesame time solid enough to function even in times of crisis. Hence, themechanisms of lending in the rural border region became particularly obvious when a crisis occurred. in the nineteenth century a ruralcommunity was less affected by an economic crisis than by natural
disasters or belligerent incidents.66 Two examples follow.

64 e.g. Johannes Bracht, ‘Reform auf kredit: Grundlastenablösungen in Westfalen und ihre Finanzierung, durch Rentenbank, Sparkassen und privaten
kredit (1830–1866)’, Zeitschrift für Agrargeschichte und Agrarsoziologie, 1 (2006),
55–76, at 63.
65 lAS 587-28-Falkenbach 1873 to 587-28-Falkenbach 1900.
66 Cf. Daniel Reupke, ‘Finanzkrise historisch: kreditnetzwerke in der Saarlorlux-Region während der krisenszenarien des 19. Jahrhunderts’, in Curt
Wolfgang Hergenröder (ed.), Krisen und Schulden: Historische Analysen undgegenwärtige Herausforderungen (Wiesbaden, 2011), 165–89.

137

DANiel Reupke

Figure 5: Range of the Credit Market, Second Half of the NineteenthCentury. edited detail from the map ‘elsass-lothringen undBayerische pfalz’, 1891, Andrees Weltatlas, 24.

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Credit Markets

How did the credit market in Remich react to a natural disasterlike the famous vine pest?67 postel-Vinay has demonstrated this forlanguedoc, where the credit market crashed as a result of the phylloxera plague. it was only when acquisition of new vine stocks
became necessary that the market stabilized again.68 A comparisonof the number of loan contracts per 1,000 inhabitants in the cantons
of Merzig and Remich reveals interesting facts (see Figure 6). For
three-quarters of the nineteenth century the curves run more or lessparallel. From about 1875 onwards, they drift apart and Remich
approaches zero while in Merzig capital demand was booming. A
wine-growing town like Remich in the nineteenth century is worth
particular attention. in the middle of the century, the vine pest haddevastating consequences for such a monostructural region. Remich,however, escaped the infestation,69 and profited from the wine pricewhich had increased due to the scarcity of grapes. This fact alone
shows that the mechanisms of loan-granting in Remich were different from those in other places.
Figure 6: loan Agreements in the Districts Merzig and Remich 1805–1914 in Comparison. Quantity per thousand inhabitants and per year.

67 Gilbert Garrier, Le phylloxéra: une guerre de trente ans; 1870–1900 (paris,1989).

68 postel-Vinay, La terre, 318–38.

69 For the vine pest in luxembourg see Joseph A. Massard, ‘Vor hundert
Jahren: Die Reblaus ist da! ein ungebetener Gast aus Amerika bringt den
luxemburger Weinbau in Gefahr’, Lëtzebuerger Journal, 143 (2007), 19–21.

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DANiel Reupke

How did the credit market in Sierck-les-Bains react to the consequences of war? After Franco-prussian tensions over the succession
to the Spanish throne in 1870 and Bismarck’s notorious ems Telegram, France declared war on prussia and also on its German allies
on 19 July 1870. On 2 August the Dauphin of France started an artillery attack on Saarbrücken and on 6 August prussian troops expelled
the French from the heights above the Saar River; both sides suffered
severe casualties. On 2 September the French main army surrenderedat Sedan, where emperor Napoleon iii was captured. With the occupation of paris, the uprising of the commune and the French defeat in
the Battle of St Quentin, the Germans had virtually won the war.
After the establishment of the German empire in the Hall of Mirrors
in the palace of Versailles on 14 January 1871, the victory was sealedby the Treaty of Frankfurt on 10 May.70 in accordance with the termsof the peace treaty, Alsace and lorraine became part of the German
empire. Sierck went from being the main town in a French canton to
the equivalent in a German district. The years following 1871 brought
considerable modernization to the place (railway connection, post
office), but also a sizeable drop in population as sections of theFrench-speaking population emigrated and were not fully replacedby immigrants from the rest of the empire. The iron and coal boom in
the region around Thionville led to internal migration towards workplaces, while the area around Sierck remained agricultural as
before.71
in 1870 and 1871 the region’s credit market collapsed from a very
high level.72 Table 1, which illustrates the number of loan agreements
for the sample years 1867 and 1885, shows how, under the changed
70 Cf. Jan Ganschow, Olaf Haselhorst, and Maik Ohnezeit, Der Deutsch-Fran-zösische Krieg 1870/71: Vorgeschichte, Verlauf, Folgen (Graz, 2009); François
Roth, La guerre de 1870 (paris, 1990); David Wetzel, A Duel of Giants: Bismarck,
Napoleon III, and the Origins of the Franco-Prussian War (Madison Wis., 2001);
very interesting, particularly for Saarbrücken, is Albert Ruppersberg,
Saarbrücker Kriegschronik: Ereignisse in und bei Saarbrücken und St. Johann sowie
am Spicherer Berg 1870 (Saarbrücken, 1895), though it does have a nationalslant.
71 Elsass-Lothringischer Atlas (Frankfurt am Main, 1931), 14, 27, 39.
72 Assessment of notarial obligations from the incomplete holding AD57
38e36.

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Table 1: loan Agreements in Sierck-les-Bains, 1867 and 1885, according to the Registre des Recettes.

Year

1867

1885

1867

1885

Quantity

151

17

151

17

45

10

Sierck City 31

3

Craftsmen 40

3

80

14

Merchants 62SierckDistrict

outside Sp

100

Officers01Outside F

30

0

Others50

1Farmers

50Sierck City 10

1

Craftsmen 11

1

120

11

Merchants 15

2

SierckDistrict

outside Sp

21

2

Officers

54

4Outside F

03

Others66

9

Debtors

Creditors

Farmers

conditions, the market only partially recovered.73 it was not only the
number of people involved that had changed. Although the credit
market was still dominated by local notables such as merchants, civil
servants, well-situated pensioners, and large landowners (grouped

73 unusually, this comparison is not based on notarial records, which for thisperiod are largely incomplete or lost, but on the Registre des Recettes. These141

DANiel Reupke

together here under ‘others’), far fewer people now belonged to thisgroup than before the war, and these were no longer predominantly
civil servants and merchants, but also, and primarily, wealthy artisans and farmers. These now came in equal proportions from France
or the prussian Saarregion, and no longer predominantly from
France. While some of the prussians had already had economic relations with Sierck before the war, some of the French were migrants
who were leaving the districts that had become German. The networks seem to have been extremely flexible and in the medium term,even under changed conditions, were able to generate trust in thecredit market.
iV. Conclusions

i can concur with the results provided by David Warren Sabean fromhis research on Neckarhausen.74 He hypothesized that social relations probably existed and facilitated mutual lending. in the following years, French researchers presented microstudies documenting
the history of lending in the nineteenth century. Now we have shown
the first trends for Germany: access to credit was provided by various forms of familial, neighbourly, or economic networks. i canassume an omnipresence of credit-relationships, which did not only
involve paupers. in addition we can also see a trend towards theinstitutionalization of the credit market by professional lenders, orindeed savings banks. it has to be said that robust structures in credit markets, such as networks, do much to improve rural society. They
help to overcome crises, but this institutional evolution has not yet
been adequately researched. Furthermore, not only personal networks but also the importance of outstanding creditors and questionsof religion and migration arise. These findings have implications forlists, preserved in their entirety, show every contract concluded before anotary or other state authority, in order to calculate the fees payable and tocontrol their payment. They were introduced following the French
Revolution and were retained after the German annexation. The lists for 1867
and 1885 can be found in AD57, 3Q28 166 to 169 and 3Q28 214 to 217.
74 David Warren Sabean, Property, Production, and Family in Neckarhausen,
1700–1870 (Cambridge, 1990), 370; id., Kinship in Neckarhausen 1700–1870(Cambridge, 1997), 298.

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our present-day situation: if we understand how historical loan networks were organized, we will be able to explain some of the present-day mechanisms as well as future trends. in this context, theglobal financial crisis of credit markets, which are globally interconnected, can serve as a striking example.
To be sure, as postel-Vinay wrote: ‘No single historian recounts
this story in its entirety’,75 but with our research we hope to contribute
an important theme that can lead to a better understanding of thebroader picture. Microhistorical research offers the only way of reconstructing the networks and thus the mechanisms of credit markets.
The main desideratum is therefore to encourage microhistorical comparisons for other regions of europe. Attempting to identify theGordian structures of credit markets leads us to a broader combination of methods. it seems that social network analysis might be a
viable approach, if it is adapted to the historical methods. This mightmeet the challenge of analysing socio-cultural interdependency andits embeddedness in superordinated relations.

75 philip T. Hoffman, Gilles postel-Vinay, and Jean-laurent Rosenthal,‘information and economic History: How the Credit Market in Old Regime
paris Forces us to Rethink the Transformation to Capitalism’, American
Historical Review, 104 (1999), 69–94, at 69.

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PART III
The Role of Agents, Trust, and Knowledge in
Networks of Credit and Support

7
The Emperor as Debtor: The Prague Coinage
Consortium 1622–3. Monetary and Social Dependence inFinancing the Early Thirty Years War
STEFFEn LEinSAt the beginning of the Thirty Years War Emperor Ferdinand ii wasfacing a financial crisis. in 1620 he had defeated the rebellious
Protestant nobles of the Confœderatio Bohemica in the Battle of White
Mountain before the gates of Prague. This had required signficant
financial, and partly also military support from Bavaria, Saxony,
Spain, and the Pope. now mercenaries had to be discharged in orderto prevent them from mutinying. But the emperor’s coffers were
empty and the usual means of financing seemed to have been exhausted. So Ferdinand felt compelled to resort to a network of intelligent financiers. As a result, a remarkable secret contract was signed
in January 1622, which in many respects was an innovation in termsof financing war.
So far this process and its wider implications have not been adequately researched. Almost three decades ago an expert on the material stated that: ‘it was a dramatic and ruthless profit-making scheme,of which neither the details nor the economic consequences havebeen explained.’1 in 2001 a dissertation concluded that ‘in historicalresearch the Bohemian coinage consortium has gained the reputationof being a slightly dubious and somewhat secretive business’.2 The
aim of this essay is to close the gap just mentioned and, above all, to
1 Volker Press, ‘Das Haus Liechtenstein in der europäischen Geschichte’, inid. and Dietmar Willoweit (eds.), Liechtenstein: Fürstliches Haus und staatliche
Ordnung. Geschichtliche Grundlagen und moderne Perspektiven (Vaduz, 1987),
15–86, at 47.
2 Ulrich Rosseaux, Die Kipper und Wipper als publizistisches Ereignis (1620–
1626): Eine Studie zu den Strukturen öffentlicher Kommunikation im Zeitalter desDreißigjährigen Krieges (Berlin, 2001), 400.

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present as concisely as possible new findings on the basis of archival
research.3 The main question here will be whether, and to what
extent, Ferdinand ii succeeded in resolving his financial crisis within
the confines of the monetary dependencies by which even he, as
emperor, was constrained. So to start with, the network that formed
the consortium will be revealed, then its way of functioning
explained, and, finally, its powerful effects portrayed.
i

From the emperor’s point of view, after his victory in the Battle ofWhite Mountain the main objectives were to be seen to punish therebellion, to subjugate Bohemia, and at the same time to acquiremoney to discharge mercenaries. in June 1621 the leaders of therebellion were publicly decapitated on the Altstädter Ring in Prague,
an act of great symbolic significance. This gruesome event was overseen by Prince Karl von Liechtenstein as Ferdinand ii’s representative.4 However, in order to implement the planned anti-reformatory
policy, what was needed above all was enormous amounts of money
which neither the emperor himself nor his treasury (Hofkammer) had
3 The following remarks are based on my Master’s thesis, now published asa monograph: Steffen Leins, Das Prager Münzkonsortium 1622/23: Ein Kapitalgeschäft im Dreißigjährigen Krieg am Rand der Katastrophe (Münster, 2012). A
recently published dissertation by a senior Austrian economist, written independently of this work, comes to different conclusions. The coinage consortium is dealt with correctly, but not incorporated into the broader context
of the Thirty Years War, the Bohemian uprising, or pre-modern financing ofwar. Although the far-reaching conseqeuences of the consortium are touched
upon, the network of nobles and loans that stood behind it is not describedin any detail. Peter Trawnicek, Münzjuden unter Ferdinand II. nach den Akten
des Hofkammerarchivs in Wien (Kiel, 2010).
4 For the pre-history and Karl von Liechtenstein’s role see his correspondence with the emperor, in Christian Ritter d’Elvert, Weitere Beiträge zur Geschichte der böhmischen Länder im siebzehnten Jahrhunderte, i: Die Bestrafung derböhmischen Rebellion, insbesondere die Correspondenz Ferdinand II. mit dem
Fürsten Liechtenstein (Brno, 1868), 1–89. For the phase after the Battle of White
Mountain in general see Robert J. Evans, ‘The Habsburg Monarchy andBohemia, 1526–1848’, in Mark Greengrass (ed.), Conquest and Coalescence: The
Shaping of the State in Early Modern Europe (London, 1991), 134–54, at 142.

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at their disposal. Furthermore, some attempt at least had to be madeto pay off a very high war debt.5 The territories won back from the
Habsburg perspective paid hardly any taxes; and the rebels’ estates,
which were to be confiscated, were encumbered with high mortgages
because of the war. The credit facilities otherwise available from Jews
who dealt with the court or potent aristocracts, or indeed raisingtaxes and customs duties were out of the question for the Bohemianlands that were already plagued by war. Spanish subsidies often
failed to materialize and even the Pope’s contributions did not help
much.6 in addition, the emperor was in a fairly unfavourable geopolitical position, encircled by arch-enemies such as France and the
Ottoman Empire,7 and more recently by the Protestant imperial
princes as well. At the end of 1621 he did at least manage to conclude
peace with Prince Gábor Bethlen; but even after this Bethlen nevergave up his claim to the Hungarian throne and maintained contact
with his Calvinist fellow-believer, the defeated Bohemian WinterKing Friedrich von der Pfalz.8

5 By the end of June 1619 this was already more than 4.3 million guilders. in
1623 the Bohemian treasury alone had more than 8 million guilders of debt.
Cf. Karl Oberleitner, ‘Beiträge zur Geschichte des Dreissigjährigen Krieges
mit besonderer Berücksichtigung des österreichischen Finanz- und Kriegswesens nach den Quellen des k. k. Finanz-Ministerial-Archivs vom Jahre
1618–1634’, Archiv für Kunde österreichischer Geschichts-Quellen, 19 (1858), 1–48,
at 6 and 15.
6 For details see Dieter Albrecht, ‘Zur Finanzierung des Dreißigjährigen
Krieges: Die Subsidien der Kurie für Kaiser und Liga 1618–1635’, Zeitschrift
für bayerische Landesgeschichte, 19 (1956), 534–67. According to Johannes
Kunisch, from 1621 to 1623 the papal subsidies only amounted to 1.9 million
guilders, of which around one-third was inflationary money. Johannes
Kunisch, ‘Wallenstein als Kriegsunternehmer: Auf dem Wege zum absolutistischen Steuerstaat’, in Uwe Schultz (ed.), Mit dem Zehnten fing es an: Eine
Kulturgeschichte der Steuer (Munich, 1986), 153–61, at 156.
7 For the threat from the Turks see Johann Philipp Abelin, Theatrum Europaeum, vol. i (Frankfurt am Main, 1635; 3rd edn. 1662), 682–6, 715; Franz
Christoph von Khevenhiller, Annales Ferdinandei, vol. ix (Leipzig, 1724), cols.
1584, 1843–8; and Josef Matuz, Das Osmanische Reich: Grundlinien seiner Geschichte (Darmstadt, 1985), 167.
8 Maja Depner, Das Fürstentum Siebenbürgen im Kampf gegen Habsburg:
Untersuchungen über die Politik Siebenbürgens während des Dreißigjährigen
Krieges (Stuttgart, 1938), 90–4; Katalin Péter, ‘Die Blütezeit des Fürstentums

149

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Barely two weeks after the peace treaty with Gábor Bethlen had
been ratified, on 17 and 18 January 1622, Ferdinand ii reorganized
the political system in Bohemia. Karl von Liechtenstein was appointed as his unrestricted civilian governor, Wallenstein as the militaryequivalent. Both set about confiscating the estates of the rebellious
aristocrats in order to get hold of the money so urgently needed as
quickly as possible. And the contract was signed which founded thecoinage consortium. This was formed out of a network of aristocrats
who had already been involved in financing the war for the emperor, and who demonstrated remarkable similarities as regards background, education, religion, and relatives.
Most of the aristocratic members of the coinage consortium wereborn in the early 1570s in Lower Austria and had studied law in italy.
Around the turn of the century they had converted to the old faith,and had then risen in the service of the Habsburg Empire under theconditions of the Counter-Reformation.9 For them the change of faith
was largely a pragmatic decision. Catholicism was the emperor’sfaith and in the meantime had again become that of the court. Let me
give a few examples: Johann Ulrich von Eggenberg converted in
1598, entered court service, and in the same year received a baronet-(1606–1660)’, in Gábor Bata and istván Bóna (eds.), Kurze Geschichte Siebenbürgens (Budapest, 1990), 302–404, at 320–4; Márta Fata, Ungarn, das Reich derStephanskrone, im Zeitalter der Reformation und Konfessionalisierung: Multiethnizität, Land und Konfession 1500 bis 1700 (Münster, 2000), 189–91; Andrea
Schmidt-Rösler, ‘Princeps Transilvaniae—Rex Hungariae? Gabriel Bethlens
Außenpolitik zwischen Krieg und Frieden’, in Heinz Duchhardt and MartinPeters (eds.), Kalkül—Transfer—Symbol: Europäische Friedensverträge derModerne (Mainz, 2006), 80–98.
9 Thomas Winkelbauer, ‘Karrieristen oder fromme Männer? Adelige Konvertiten in den böhmischen und österreichischen Ländern um 1600’, in Bronislav
Chocholáéc (ed.), Nový Mars Moravicus: Aneb Sborník příspĕvků, jež veňovaliProf. Dr. Josefu Válkoví jeho žáci a přátelé k sedmdesátinám (Brno, 1999), 431–52,
at 432. Thus they fitted the image of the typical war entrepreneur in the seventeenth-century empire: they were mostly brought up as Protestants but later
converted to Catholicism. See Fritz Redlich, The German Military Enterpriserand His Work Force: A Study in European Economic and Social History, vol. i(Wiesbaden, 1964), 166. So, too, Volker Press, who identifies an ‘increased
attraction of a renewed Catholicism’. Volker Press, ‘Patronat und Klientel im
Heiligen Römischen Reich’, in Antoni Mączak (ed.), Klientelsysteme im Europa
der Frühen Neuzeit (Munich, 1988), 17–46, at 43.

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cy.10 Wolf Siegmund von Losenstein converted and thereafter performed duties at the court in Vienna. Likewise Leonhard Helfriedvon Meggau entered the service of Habsburg courts after his conversion.11 Wallenstein grew up with the Bohemian Brothers, converted
to Catholicism, and entered imperial service.12 Karl von Liechtenstein
was born into a Protestant baronial family,13 and converted in 1599.14
All the biographical parallels are striking, but in particular the aristocrats reinforced their network through marriage. in 1622 a nephew
of Wallenstein took to the altar a woman whose father, Duke Karlvon Harrach, later belonged to the consortium.15 Wallenstein’s second wife Katharina isabella was also one of Harrach’s daughters. She
gave him indirect access to the emperor’s Privy Council.16 Meggau’smother was Karl von Harrach’s sister. in 1620 one of Harrach’s sonsmarried Maria Franziska, Eggenberg’s daughter.17 So for aspiring
converts marriage with the old nobility, who were also old-Catholic,seemed attractive. The house of Harrach, positioned close to theemperor, seemed to combine these two advantages in the most excellent way. But other relational networks can also be discerned. Thus,
for example, Liechtenstein’s great-neice was married to Wolf Sieg10 Walther Ernst Heydendorff, Die Fürsten und Freiherren zu Eggenberg undihre Vorfahren (Graz, 1965), 145.

11 ingrid Matschinegg, Österreicher als Universitätsbesucher in Italien (1500–

1630): Regionale und soziale Herkunft—Karrieren—Prosopographie (Graz, 1999),
nos. 819, 1552, 1590, 1640.
12 Hermann Hallwich, Fünf Bücher Geschichte Wallensteins, vol. i (Leipzig,1910), 10; Hellmut Diwald, Wallenstein: Biographie (Esslingen, 1969), 38–40;
Klaus Malettke, ‘Wallenstein: général, prince d’Empire et homme politiquedans la guerre de Trente Ans’, Francia, 20/2 (1993), 21–33, at 23–4.
13 An older American historian was quite right when he said: ‘Of all thestatesmen who served the House of Habsburg in the first quarter of the seventeenth century, the career of none is more interesting nor . . . more important than that of Karl von Liechtenstein . . . it is, therefore, unfortunate that
Liechtenstein has never been made the subject of an adequate biographicalstudy.’ Henry F. Schwarz, The Imperial Privy Council in the Seventeenth Century(Cambridge, Mass., 1943), 281.
14 Thomas Winkelbauer, Fürst und Fürstendiener: Gundaker von Liechtenstein,ein österreichischer Aristokrat des konfessionellen Zeitalters (Vienna, 1999), 91.
15 Khevenhiller, Annales Ferdinandei, ix. col. 1598.
16 Malettke, Wallenstein, 26.
17 Franz Christoph von Khevenhiller, Conterfet Kupferstich (Leipzig, 1722), 60.

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mund von Losenstein, who was also involved in the consortium.18
Even more examples of this complicated network of relations could
be given; but what is most important is the fact that Wallenstein,
Eggenberg, Harrach, Losenstein, and Meggau were closely related to
one another. So these noblemen formed a career network, indeed averitable faction, at the imperial court in Vienna. They were willingto advance together as favourites of the monarch and to create an oligarchic structure that occupied the most important offices at the
court.
Furthermore, these gentlemen were experienced in financing
wars, some of them even cooperated in it. For instance, Wallensteinand Liechtenstein both came to Emperor Matthias’s mind immediately in 1618 when he was thinking about how to raise money tofinance the army in the light of the Bohemian unrest.19 in 1622–3,
when the coinage consortium was active, Wallenstein, Karl vonLiechtenstein and his brothers Gundaker and Maximilian acted as
the emperor’s most important war financiers, in that between them
they maintained and supplied eight regiments.20 And Duke Karl vonHarrach and von Polheim, resident of the court treasury, both ofwhom were later members of the coinage consortium, were involved
in financing imperial troops in 1619.21 Due to his financial experienceand merits Eggenberg—incidently, closely related to the Fuggers, abusiness family of bourgeois origin—was appointed treasurer toArchduke Ferdinand von Steiermark, the future Emperor Ferdinandii to whom he advanced considerable sums. By 1619 he had alreadylent Wallenstein 40,000 guilders to set up a cavalry regiment.22
18 For the genealogical connections in the coinage consortium see the tablesin Schwarz, The Imperial Privy Council, 414–16; and Oswald von Gschiesser,
Der Reichshofrat: Bedeutung und Verfassung, Schicksal und Besetzung einer obersten Reichsbehörde von 1559 bis 1806 (Vienna, 1942; reprinted nendeln, 1970),
199–200.
19 Josef Polišenský (ed.), Der Beginn des Dreißigjährigen Krieges: Der Kampf um
Böhmen. Quellen zur Geschichte des Dreißigjährigen Krieges 1618–1621 (Vienna,1972), 54, no. 69.
20 Redlich, The German Military Enterpriser, 224.
21 Polišenský, Der Beginn des Dreißigjährigen Krieges, 98, no. 228; 138, no. 382.
22 Karl Eder, ‘Johann Ulrich von Eggenberg’, Neue Deutsche Biographie 4 (1959),
331–2; Hans von Zwiedineck-Südenhorst, Hans Ulrich Fürst von Eggenberg:
Freund und Erster Minister Kaiser Ferdinand II. (Vienna, 1880), 7, 27–8, 50–3, 84.

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So the aristocrats mentioned founded a court party, with Eggenberg, as chairman of the Privy Council, as its leader. They found acommon opponent in the fervent counter-reformer Cardinal Franzvon Dietrichstein, who was a personal enemy of Liechtenstein andWallenstein in particular. These gentlemen were the emperor’sfavourites, but in return for their advice and support they expectedsuitable remuneration, privileges, and social advancement. This was
all about the circle of experts responsible for financing imperial wars,
and thus for a project such as the coinage consortium.
A letter written by Liechtenstein to Eggenberg at the beginning of
May 1621 suggests that it was Liechtenstein who had the idea of thecoinage constortium.23 Even before this he had already undertaken
coinage manipulations with a Prague court Jew called Jakob Bassevi.
in July 1621 Liechtenstein promised the emperor a profit of 50,000
guilders a week if he would lease him the monetary system inAustria, Moravia, and Bohemia.24 A note accompanying the negotiations about the coinage consortium contract makes it evident that
Liechtenstein was regarded as the most important conference partnerof the emperor, who was personally present.25 Although the court
treasury expressed sound legal reservations about the project,26 clearly the councillors were quickly convinced that they would have ashare in the anticipated profit. So warnings from the Moravian coinage minister Balthasar Zwirner about the damage that might be doneby almost certain inflation could be swept aside.27 Business was concluded by signing the contract that we shall now discuss. But what
was it actually like?

23 ibid. 159–60.

24 Anton Gindely, Waldstein während seines ersten Generalats im Lichte der gle-ichzeitigen Quellen 1625–1630, vol. i (Prague, 1886), 25.
Österreichisches Staatsarchiv Wien, Finanz- und Hofkammerarchiv,
niederösterreichisches Münz- und Bergwesen, Faszikel 15, 1622/23, Vienna,
13 Jan. 1623, fos. 8–13.
26 ibid. Vienna, 28 Jan. 1622, fos. 29–32.
27 ibid. Vienna, 11 Dec. 1621 [sic!].
25

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STEFFEn LEinSii

The text of the contract,28 which is formulated very coherently, survives intact and is full of information. On 18 January 1622 in Vienna
the court treasury, representing the Emperor and King of Bohemia,
Ferdinand ii, and Hans de Witte, representing his unnamed accomplices, signed a written agreement that founded a consortium, that is,a society of people who freely joined together for the purposes ofmaking monetary profit.29 not all members of the consortium signed
the contract, just the said Hans de Witte and four treasury councillors, namely, Vinzenz Muschinger von Gumpendorf, Hans Unterholzer von Kranichberg, Hans Christoph Teuffel von Zeilberg, andtreasury president Gundaker Freiherr von Polheim. But the fact thatthe other persons around Hans de Witte did not sign sheds significant light on the business, into which only a select group was initiated. The text, as is shown by the draft contracts mentioned, was readto the emperor and presented to him. He gave his explicit approval,even though he personally did not sign.
Essentially the contract had three main conditions. The participants were given a monopoly on minting coins, supplemented by asole right to buy silver. in return for these prerogatives, which actually belonged to the king, those taking the contract had to make alarge lease payment to the emperor or his treasury in Vienna. For one
year the entire coinage system of Bohemia, Lower Austria, andMoravia was transferred to the consortium. However, although theconsortium had an exclusive coinage privilege, it was by no means
permitted to act as it liked, let alone in an arbitrary way, when it hadcoins minted. Silver had to be minted with an exact proportion ofnoble metal. Henceforth every mark of silver, a weight unit ofbetween 250 and 280 grammes, was to be minted into 79 guilders.
Thus the agreement expressly determined at least a threefold reduction in the usual fine weight,30 in other words, demanded of the participants a dramatic reduction in the value of the coinage, eventhough it was per se limited and there could be no deceit or manipu28 ibid. Vienna, 18 Jan. 1622. The following remarks are based on this docu-

ment. An edition of the text in Leins, Das Prager Münzkonsortium.
29 Johann Ulrich Zedler, Universallexicon, vol. 21 (Halle, 1739), cols. 537–8;
and vol. 53, (1747), cols. 1475–6.
30 Cf. Gindely, Waldstein während seines ersten Generalats, 26.

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lation. According to the documents regarding the contract conferences with Emperor Ferdinand ii it nonetheless seems to have been
implied to him that only 25 per cent of the coins were minted with thenew, clearly lower percentage of fine metal.31 At this point the suspicion arises that the emperor was deceived.
The way in which the value of coins was to be reduced becomes
clear when 400 centner of copper was made available to the consortium free of charge, in order to get started, so to speak. The silver
guilder was supposed to be alloyed and thinned with this less costly
metal. Along with this, the consortium was given a general monopolyon the silver trade: silver objects, silver coins, silver fragments andeven gold coins were to be taken to the Bohemian, Moravian, andLower Austrian mints. With the emperor’s approval, all the silver tobe found in the contract area was to be reminted, in a way that was
not as good. in order to finance the war the emperor deliberately had
recourse to the precious metal reserves of his subject people. His aim
was to make his stash of coins financially profitable via inflation.
it is not surprising that in a business that promised the participants
themselves such profit they were required to make an extremely large
lease payment. For the contract period of one year, this was 6 million
guilders. This was many times more than the budget of large territories. At the time, for instance, Bohemia yielded only about a million
guilders per year, yet was still one of the Austrian Habsburgs’ fiscally most profitable possessions.32 So this consortium had massive
dimensions. How the coinage consortium actually functioned is now
difficult to reconstruct since Hans de Witte’s account books must be
regarded as lost, and only a few fragments from them have been preserved via third parties.33 nonetheless it is possible to say something

31 Finanz- und Hofkammerarchiv, niederösterreichisches Münz- und Bergwesen, Faszikel 15, 1622/23, Vienna, 13 Jan. 1622, fos. 11 r.–v.
32 Diwald, Wallenstein, 189; Fritz Redlich, Die deutsche Inflation des frühen
Siebzehnten Jahrhunderts in der zeitgenössischen Literatur: Die Kipper und Wipper(Cologne, 1972), 10; Rosseaux, Die Kipper und Wipper, 399.
33 Despite an intensive search making use of numerous contacts for years, deWitte’s biographer was unable to find his account books: Anton Ernstberger,
Hans de Witte: Finanzmann Wallensteins (Wiesbaden, 1954), 97, 118. What ismore, all the Prague documents relating to the Bohemian treasury for thisinteresting period were lost in the Second World War. For more on the difficulty with sources see Leins, Das Prager Münzkonsortium.

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about the roles and tasks of the participants. The oldest member of
the Prague Jewish community, Jakob Bassevi, and the said signatory
to the coinage consortium contract, the Prague court merchant of
Dutch origin, Hans de Witte, a Calvinist, were, so to speak, the managers or executive officers of the consortium. Both had already dealt
with monetary affairs before and, given their marginal position inreligious or confessional terms, were prepared to take on the sort ofwork that a class-conscious Catholic would never have been able to
do openly without permanently endangering his prestige. What ismore, they both brought with them the technical financial know-how
necessary to conduct early capitalist speculative transactions of themagnitude of the Prague coinage consortium in a way that had aprospect of success.
Bassevi kept the business going largely in Bohemia itself. He
bought up around 145,000 marks of silver and took it to the mints.
This was the equivalent of 36 tons of pure silver. For this he received
6.7 million guilders from the consortium’s coffers.34 Furthermore, via
other Jewish middlemen he purchased agrarian products so that thenew, sub-standard coins could be put into circulation without difficulty.35 He is also supposed to have directed silver confiscated fromthe Bohemian rebels to the mints.36 in any case what must be stressedis that the contract for the coinage consortium, whatever it was like,
was to remain a secret from the public in all the countries so that theconsortium, via agents of Bassevi and de Witte, could buy as muchsilver as possible from the population in the form of silver fragments
or good, old coins for sub-standard money.37 After just two monthsof the contract 30 million guilders of new coins had already beenminted. in the remaining ten months only about 12 million were

34 Since Bassevi’s and de Witte’s commercial documents are lost, we have toresort to an extract by the privy secretary to the Bohemian treasury of theGerman expedition, Daniel Freißleben von Buschenhöfen. Freißleben was
married to one of the sisters of de Witte’s wife, and took excerpts from deWitte’s account books around 1660. Ernstberger, Hans de Witte, 119–22.
35 Josef Polišenský and Josef Kollmann, Valdštejn: Ani císař, ani kral (Prague,1995), 68.
36 Josef Janáček, Valdštejn a jeho doba (Prague, 1978), 244.
37 Diwald, Wallenstein, 174 deceives himself when he claims that the coinage
consortium ‘was nothing like a secret society’. Trawnicek, Münzjuden unter
Ferdinand II., 189, makes a similar misjudgement.

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pressed, so most of the business had already been carried out before
the subject population in the Bohemian lands could learn anything
about the way in which the consortium worked.38
The only person who played an even greater part in the operations than Bassevi was de Witte.39 He took the project well beyond
Habsburg or imperial borders; it assumed grand European proportions as he called upon his network of business relations extending
over the continent.40 Being a Calvinist, he could appear without difficulty on the Dutch financial floors that were world-leaders. Apartfrom that he had links to other Flemish exiles. in this way he could
extend his personal network even further for the consortium. His
agents, at de Witte’s insistence equipped with an imperial letter ofpassage, travelled across central Europe and bought up silver, preferably in Stettin, nuremberg, Genoa, and Milan.41 His buyers and respresentatives thus formed a complex network.42 newspaper announce38 Gindely, Waldstein während seines ersten Generalats, 29; and id., Geschichte
der Gegenreformation in Böhmen (Leipzig, 1894), 336.
39 not without reason is Wallenstein described in his most brilliant biography as ‘Bohemia’s richest financier’. Golo Mann, Wallenstein: Sein Leben
erzählt (Frankfurt am Main, 1974; 7th edn. 2006), 197.
40 On the other hand, Trawnicek thinks that the coinage consortium onlybought up silver in the contract area. See Trawnicek, Münzjuden unter Ferdinand II., 230.
41 Ernstberger, Hans de Witte, 103; Paul W. Roth, ‘Die Kipper- und Wipperzeit
in den Habsburgischen Ländern 1620 bis 1623’, in Eckart Schremmer (ed.),Geld und Währung vom 16. Jahrhundert bis zur Gegenwart (Stuttgart, 1993),
85–103, at 92; Günther Probszt, Österreichische Münz- und Geldgeschichte: Von
den Anfängen bis 1918 (3rd edn. Vienna, 1994), 432. A Latin Paß- und Geleitbrief(letter of safe conduct) made out for Hans de Witte and his fellow membersby treasurer Teuffel, also a member, for purchasing silver in Hungary can befound in Finanz- und Hofkammerarchiv, niederösterreichisches Münz- undBergwesen, Faszikel 15, 1622/23, Vienna, 4 Mar. 1622. For italy and Hungary
see ibid. Hoffinanz, Faszikel 184, July–Sept. 1622, n.p., July 1622. There are
more details here on the problems of buying broken silver.
42 Ernstberger, Hans de Witte, 216–24. Via de Witte, Wallenstein soon
financed imperial armies of over 100,000 men. Since the days of the coinage
consortium, de Witte had also been involved in the armaments business. See
the dissertation by Julia Zunckel, Rüstungsgeschäfte im Dreißigjährigen Krieg:
Unternehmerkräfte, Militärgüter und Marktstrategien im Handel zwischen Genua,
Amsterdam und Hamburg (Berlin, 1997).

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ments demonstrate that de Witte had agents whose secondary silver
dealers bought circulating money from the population, and then had
it reminted at a lower value in Lower Austria, Moravia, andBohemia.43 in this way de Witte funnelled into the mints more than
three quarters of the melted silver, and thus of the raw material forthe consortium’s business, 403,000 marks—this was over a hundred
tons of fine silver. For his brilliant skill, and his excellent competence
in dealing with capital he received as recompense 31.3 million
guilders from the consortium’s coffers, a virtually unimaginable sumat that time.44
Aristocratic representatives made the undertaking untouchable
from the outside. it had, after all, been instigated by that court factionof war financiers. Liechtenstein issued patents which forbade theexport of coins so that the old, good money could be melted down
and replaced by new, bad coins—while soaking up the profits. Apartfrom that, in accordance with the contract, he forebade the circulationof any foreign coins. He forced uncooperative coin masters out of
office,45 implemented the monopoly on the silver trade, and fixed theprices for silver.46 The export of old coins, and hording them, were
punishable by death.47 When the inflation caused by this massive
juggling with money eventually had a full impact on the population,and the subjects started to run their businesses using only the oldcoins, a patent of Liechtenstein’s in early January 1623 ordered that
all the old coins be handed in immediately, failure to do so incurring
severe punishment.48 The councillors in the court treasury also gave
the consortium their full backing. Committed to making weekly lease
payments to pay off the imperial mercenaries, they kept complaints
about the nascent inflation away from the emperor. in any case, inFebruary 1622 the imperial treasury naively advised that larger quan43 Rosseaux, Die Kipper und Wipper, 401.
44 Ernstberger, Hans de Witte, 120.

45 Johann newald, ‘Die lange Münze in Oesterreich. Ein Beitrag zur österreichischen Münz- und Finanzgeschichte’, Numismatische Zeitschrift, 13(1881), 88–132, at 107.
46 Antonín Kostlán, ‘Dlouhá mince v Čechách’, Acta Universitatis Carolinae:
Studia historica, 34 (1989), 101–27, at 116.
47 Richard Gaettens, Inflationen: Das Drama der Geldentwertungen vom Altertum
bis zur Gegenwart (Munich, 1955), 86.
48 Gindely, Geschichte der Gegenreformation, 335.

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tities of small coins with a higher proportion of copper should be
minted in order to prevent further complaints from the population.49
The participants were recompensed in a hierarchical way, in otherwords, according to their status. While de Witte and Bassevi acquired
enormous quantities of silver, higher aristocrats such as Liechtenstein only brought a few hundred marks of silver into the mints. The
latter, however, received over 450,000 guilders, in fact, a healthy 569
guilders per mark. Wallenstein, at that time still a simple baron,bought the most silver after de Witte and Bassevi, namely, 5,000
marks, and was given 123 guilders per mark.50 There is no way thatthe the members of the consortium can have acted according to theterms of the contract here. not only did they fail to adhere to the prescribed proportion of fine metal, that is to say, they manipulated thecoins, they also, quite unscrupulously, drove their own profit tounimaginable heights and were running around with enormous
amounts of capital. How could the higher-ranking members of theconsortium receive several hundred guilders per mark when, according to the contract, only 79 guilders per mark were supposed to beminted? How could de Witte, the participant with the greatest
turnover, receive 78 guilders per mark when the mark was minted
for only one guilder more? Given the running costs involved, thiswas certainly not in line with the contract. What is also striking is that
Bassevi and de Witte ultimately paid 85 guilders per mark and more
to private silver-sellers.51
A note by de Witte of July 1622, dealing mainly with the everincreasing difficulties of buying silver—even in italy and Hungary,
where silver was being bought up on a massive scale, the population
appeared to have seen through the wheeling and dealing—records
minting of an unbelievable 180 to 200 guilders per mark. That thiscompletely contravened the contract de Witte wrote down with his
own hand.52 So it is hardly surprising that in 1622 the court treasury,
49 Finanz- und Hofkammerarchiv, niederösterreichisches Münz- und Bergwesen, Faszikel 15, 1622/23, Vienna, 11 Feb. 1622, fo. 47.
50 Figures taken from Ernstberger, Hans de Witte, 119–22.
51 Gindely, Waldstein während seines ersten Generalats, 29; and id., Geschichte
der Gegenreformation in Böhmen, 337–8.
52 Finanz- und Hofkammerarchiv, Hoffinanz, Faszikel 187, July–Sept. 1622,
n.p., July 1622.

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some members of which were personally participating, accused theconsortium of illegally minting 117 to 163 guilders per mark.53 it may
well be that the consortium went so far as to mint coins containing
only one-tenth of silver and the rest completely of copper.54 Whatthey could not do, however, is mint coins made purely of copper.55
By november 1622 de Witte was denounced to the emperor
because of the consortium’s manipulations. Afraid and agitated hewrote to Liechtenstein asking for protection.56 Everything, he said,
was correct and in accordance with the contract. if anyone wereguilty, apparently it was unreliable coin masters. Yet by the end of
April 1622 Cardinal Franz von Dietrichstein had already complained
to the emperor, saying that there had been uproar and looting
because of the sub-standard coins. Apart from that, he pointed out
the economic damage and starvation that threatened if the coinage
consortium carried on with its activities.57 But even then nothing
happened. So it is no surprise that the consequences of the consortium could eventually become really catastropic.
iii

initially the members of the consortium profited from the fact that
Prince Karl von Liechtenstein, as unrestricted governor of Bohemia
on the day the contract was signed, 18 January 1622, was also
appointed chairman of the committee that was to confiscate theestates of the rebellious aristocrats in Bohemia.58 As head of the committee Liechtenstein was entitled to take hold of two-thirds ofBohemia’s territory. He ultimately decided before the emperor which
Bohemian aristocrats should be punished by having their estates con-

53 ibid. niederösterreichisches Münz- und Bergwesen, Faszikel 15, 1622–3,
n.p., n.d.
54 Josef O. Opel, ‘Deutsche Finanznot beim Beginn des dreißigjährigen
Krieges’, Historische Zeitschrift, 16 (1866), 212–68, at 223.
55 This is wrongly asserted by Redlich, Die deutsche Inflation, 11.
56 Finanz- und Hofkammerarchiv, niederösterreichisches Münz- und Bergwesen, Faszikel 15, 1622–3, n.p., 17 nov. 1622.
57 ibid. nikolsburg, 29 Apr. 1622.
58 Jacob von Falke, Geschichte des fürstlichen Hauses Liechtenstein, vol. ii(Vienna, 1877), 217.

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fiscated. Furthermore, he also decided at what price and to whom
this property should be sold on. Liechtenstein not only used this surfeit of power to the advantage of his business partners, but also profited from it himself. in addition, the crown’s financial crisis and theinflation caused by the coinage consortium meant that the rebels’estates were offered for sale at favourable prices. Liechenstein andWallenstein worked hand in hand: the latter announced interest in acertain object, while the former conveyed this purchase request to theemperor. He then consulted with his advisers as to how much security Wallenstein should raise. Liechtenstein raised these loans andassigned the estates to Wallenstein. in this way Wallenstein gained
security on many estates. He managed to acquire a closed complex innorth-east Bohemia, which in 1624 the emperor elevated to the Duchyof Friedland. in two years he spent nearly 7 million guilders on it.59
Significantly, at the meetings of the Privy Council which approved
this, Eggenberg, Meggau, and Liechtenstein as well as two of the fourtreasury councillors who had signed the consortium contract werealways present, namely Teuffel von Zeilberg and Unterholzer von
Kranichberg.60 This is further strong evidence that the consortiumand the sale of confiscated estates were mutually dependent, insofar
as the same people were always involved. So, in grand style, themembers of the consortium provided one another with valuable
land.
in november 1622 Prince Karl von Liechtenstein bought from
Wallenstein the former Smiřický estates near Prague, for 600,000‘Schock meißnisch’ and parts of his profit from the coinage consortium: Černý Kostelec, Auřinoves, and Škvorec. in the summer heacquired Lanškroun, Lanšperk, and Trnava. in addition, Emperor
Ferdinand ii rewarded him with the northern Moravian estates ofTřebová, Šumperk, and Zábřeh as well as the cities of nové Město,Metují, and Šumperk, and also the estates of Kolštejn and Jezeří.61 in
59 Thomas Bílek, Beiträge zur Geschichte Waldstein’s (Prague, 1886), 124.

60 Reports by the Privy Council contain the following interesting marginal

notes: ‘praesentibus D[omino] ab Eggenberg, D. a Meggau, Trautm, D. Lichtenstein, D. Teuffl, D. Vnderholzer.’ Cited from Hallwich, Geschichte Wallensteins,
64 n. 131.
61 Josef Polišenský (ed.), Der Kampf des Hauses Habsburg gegen die Niederlande
und ihre Verbündeten: Quellen zur Geschichte des Pfälzisch–Niederländisch–Ungarischen Krieges 1621–1625 (Vienna, 1976), 111 no. 317.

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1623 he also bought the Rostok estate,62 after the emperor had enfeoffed him with the Silesian duchy Opavské knížectví in March 1622.
in 1624 he acquired Petrovec from Wallenstein, and also Spamberg
and Lipava. Liechtenstein managed to put together a mass of estates
which, in 1719, was ultimately to see his house elevated to the statusof the imperial princes with seat and vote in the imperial Diet.63
All in all, the members of the coinage consortium gained the mostfrom the confiscation of estates and their redistribution in Bohemia
after the battle of White Mountain. Yet not only men of the rank justbelow them, but even Bassevi and de Witte started acquiring prestigious land and invested their profits from the consortium in property. After all, accumulating property and land, which had to be enteredin the Bohemian land register, was the most important precondition
for elevation to the nobility, that is, for social advancement. Acquisition of estates did, indeed, go hand in hand with massive social
climbing. At Liechtenstein’s suggestion Jakob Bessevi was the first
Jew in the empire to be made a baron—precisely at the time when the
consortium contract was agreed.64 And de Witte, too, the Calvinist
merchant and ‘richest banker in central Europe’,65 was enobled—again at Liechtenstein’s request to the emperor. The fact that de Witteand Bassevi could experience such social advancement instead of having to emigrate like others of different faiths owes a great deal to theirwork as the coinage consortium’s business organizers. Basically,
because of their services as war financiers to the emperor who wasdependent on them, they had become indispensable.

62 Ritter d’Elvert, Correspondenz Ferdinand II. mit dem Fürsten Liechtenstein,

231–59.

63 Volker Press, ‘Die Entstehung des Fürstentums Liechtenstein’, in Wolfgang

Müller (ed.), Das Fürstentum Liechtenstein: Ein landeskundliches Portrait (Bühl,
1981), 63–91, at 79; and Thomas Klein, ‘Die Erhebungen in den Reichsfürstenstand 1550–1806’, Blätter für deutsche Landesgeschichte, 122 (1986), 137–92, at
140–3.
64 M. Popper, ‘Les Juifs de Prague pendant la guerre de Trente Ans’, Revuedes études juives, 29 (1894), 127–41, at 138; Heinrich Schnee, ‘Bassevi von
Treuenberg’, Neue Deutsche Biographie, 1 (1953), 625; Barbara Staudinger,‘Auß sonderbaren khayserlichen Gnaden. Die Privilegien der Wiener Hofjuden
im 16. und 17. Jahrhundert’, Frühneuzeit-Info, 12/1 (2001), 21–39, at 26 n. 61.
65 Regina Schulte, ‘Rüstung, Zins und Frömmigkeit: niederländische Calvinisten als Finanziers des Dreißigjährigen Krieges’, Bohemia, 35 (1994), 45–62,
at 49. Cf. Ernstberger, Hans de Witte, 146–8.

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Even those who were already aristocrats advanced further. For
instance, in 1624 Oberhofmeister Losenstein (head of the emperor’shousehold) was promoted to Ferdinand ii’s Hofmarschall (the administrative official in charge of the emperor’s court).66 in September
1622 Freiherr von Wallenstein received the honour of a Comes
Palatinus, with numerous rights and privileges.67 in September 1623
he became imperial Prince of Friedland and Reichenberg,68 thereby
advancing socially with extraordinary speed. Even the rank of thehigh aristocrats in the consortium was raised. For example, like
Liechtenstein, Eggenberg was accepted into the Order of the Golden
Fleece, the exclusive Habsburg house order. This made his proximity to the court clearly visible to the outside as well. in 1623 the emperor personally elevated him again and made him an imperial prince.69
By the conferment of such titles and the sale of confiscated estatesthat was tied up with the consortium’s business the Bohemian nobility was fundamentally restructured in the second half of the 1620s.70
Henceforth relations with the emperor’s court were crucial, and thesethe members of the coinage consortium cultivated these with particular intensity. Foreign Catholic members of the high nobility whowere loyal to the emperor, like Liechtenstein and Eggenberg, orindeed Bucquoy and Schwarzenberg, formed the new elite, while
many of the indigenous, non-Catholic nobles were forced to leave thecountry.71 The fact that it could come to such a pass had much to dowith the coinage consortium and its consequences.
On the other hand, the subject population in the affected areas
had to put up with galloping inflation; it became so severe that the
66 Matschinegg, Österreicher als Universitätsbesucher in Italien, no. 1590.
67 Hallwich, Geschichte Wallensteins, 66.

68 Gottfried Lorenz (ed.), Quellen zur Geschichte Wallensteins (Darmstadt,

1987), 57–61.

69 Zwiedineck-Südenhorst, Hans Ulrich Fürst von Eggenberg, 70; and Heyden-

dorff, Die Fürsten und Freiherren zu Eggenberg, 91.

70 For Moravia and beyond see the Habilitation by Tomáš Knoz, Pobĕlohorské

konfiskace: Moravský průbĕh, středoevropské souvislosti, obecué aspekty (Brno,2006).
71 Petr Matá, ‘Der Adel aus den böhmischen Ländern am Kaiserhof 1620–
1740: Versuch, eine falsche Frage richtig zu lösen’, in Vaclav Bůžek and Pavel
Král (eds.), Šlechta v habsburské monarchii a císařský dvůr (1526–1740) (Budweis, 2003), 191–223, at 191–6.

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emperor was forced to declare the state bankrupt. The mechanisms ofthe market could not be avoided; the population, who were bearing
the brunt of all this, refused to accept the worthless money and went
over to an exchange economy. Liechtenstein reacted nervously withpatents threatening the subjects with harsh penalties if they did not
use the new coins.72 Yet he himself did not learn a lesson. in fact, herefused to admit that the secret coinage consortium was the maincause of these negative developments. in mid December 1622 he wasstill urgently advising the emperor to continue the consortium’s business despite the adverse circumstances, so that the the soldiers could
be paid.73 in spring 1623, when the consortium contract expired,
Liechtenstein negotiated with the emperor at a conference of theElectors and Princes in Regensburg, summoned because of the theinflation that was also rampant in the empire. First of all the membersof the coinage consortium discussed amongst themselves, without
consulting the imperial princes, whether their business should perhaps continue. However, the emperor no longer relied solely on thejudgement of his closest advisers on matters of war finance, the members of the consortium, but asked the imperial princes for help. in
response the princes outlined to the emperor the path that he waslater to take: that of devaluation.74 They even suggested that heshould think about implementing such a devaluation in his hereditary lands, thus indirectly recommending that he disband thecoinage consortium.75 in mid 1622 the emperor had already tried invain, via the Elector of Mainz, to make the inflationary coins valid in
the empire as a whole, but, understandably, such a measure wasrejected by the imperial treasurer.76 Though with great hesitation, in
1623 Emperor Ferdinand ii accepted the advice he had been given by
the imperial princes. in August the resolution was passed for a returnto the old imperial coinage. On 14 December, for Bohemia on 28 De72 Bílek, Beiträge zur Geschichte Waldstein’s, 303–4.

73 Finanz- und Hofkammerarchiv, Hoffinanz, Faszikel 187, July–Sept. 1622,
n.p., 14 Dec. [sic!] 1622.
74 Michael Caspar Luntorp, Acta Publica (Frankfurt am Main, 1627), 1067,
1080. Cf. similarly Abelin, Theatrum Europaeum, 715–16.
75 ibid. 723–4.
76 Finanz- und Hofkammerarchiv, niederösterreichisches Münz- und Bergwesen, Faszikel 15, 1622/23, 20 June 1622.

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cember, Ferdinand ii issued his imperial decrees which declared thestate bankrupt and recommended a devaluation of the silver guilder
to less than one-eighth of its face value.77
With the coinage consortium, however, the emperor had contravened the Augsburg imperial Coinage Order of 1559. in 1566 and1570 at the Reichtstag in Speyer this had been extended and reinforced virtually twofold.78 its regulations forbade the leasing of coinage as well as trade in coins and silver. According to this, the actual
business principle of the Prague coinage consortium was illegal. However, there were many princes who did not adhere to the imperial
Coinage Order. As ever, notions from the Middle Ages were circulating, according to which the value of money should be fixed by theruler, ‘ad beneplacitum Principis’.79 A prince could decide on the relation between the face falue and fineness of his coins as he liked, without taking account of the economic situation—or so it was assumed.
What they did not seem to be aware of was that this undermined the
population’s abstract faith in the valency of money. There were,
nonetheless, some words of warning from contemporaries about thecoinage consortium.
in mid 1624 its opponents clearly started to fight back. it is possible that Jesuits were behind this, conceivably Ferdinand ii’s confessor, Lamormaini, who was a firm adversary of Eggenberg and Wal77 Emanuela nohejlová-Prátová, ‘Dlouhá mince v Čechác v létech 1621–1623,
Numismatické listy, 1 (1946), 29–35, at 34; and Antonín Rumpl, ‘Moravské
vládní mince za třicetileté války’, Numismatický sborník, 6 (1960), 207–301, at
240.
78 Josef Leeb (ed.), Der Kurfürstentag zu Frankfurt 1558 und der Reichstag zu
Augsburg 1559, vol. iii (Göttingen, 1999), 1984; Maximilian Lanzinner andDietmar Heil (eds.), Der Reichstag zu Augsburg 1566, vol. ii (Munich, 2002),
1156; Maximilian Lanzinner (ed.), Der Reichstag zu Speyer 1570, vol. ii(Göttingen, 1988), 1245.
79 Cf. Sigismundi Scacciae I. C. Romani Tractatus de Commerciis et Cambio, Cap. ii,
Glossa iii, para. 80–1: ‘posset moneta cudi in materia et pondere pro valore et pretio
ad beneplacitum Principis quia esset idem ac si cuderetur cum omnibus requisitis etqualitatibus . . . nam licet usus monetarum sit de jure gentium, tamen valor et materia monetae est de jure mere positivo.’ Cited from Arnold Luschin von Ebengreuth, ‘Das lange Geld oder die Kipperzeit in Steiermark’, Mittheilungen deshistorischen Vereines für Steiermark, 38 (1890), 26–56, at 55.

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lenstein.80 it was probably people connected with Duke Maximilian ofBavaria, Cardinal Franz von Dietrichstein, and the Societas Jesu,
Counter-Reformatory enemies of the converts in the consortium,81 theologi not actually named, who attacked the coinage consortium,
Liechtenstein, and the emperor in a long report written in Latin.82 itstated that with this project Ferdinand ii had opened every door tonumerous deceits, which had led to the collapse of trade: ‘aperitur
via infinitis fraudibus, & commerciorum perturbationi.’ Although
the profit as such was large ‘enorme est lucrum’, it was draining
away in murky channels, ‘occultis modis fugitur’. And it went on to
say that the business as such was highly criminal and should, therefore, be condemned: it was an ‘injustitia . . . quæ jure divino & naturali damnatur’. To exploit the poor on the one hand and for the consortium to profit from the war on the other, it was enough ‘per istum
modum onerantur maxime pauperes’: ‘lucrum, quod . . . Ministrifaciunt ex eo negotiatione’. The emperor, it said, had behaved like atyrant, had acted ‘despotice’, but his subjects had seen through this:‘populus intelligat.’ Behind this stood the terrible accusation that,
ultimately, the emperor was even more ignorant than his people, andhad let himself be deceived. There was no lack of references to his
contravention of the imperial Coinage Order, indeed this rhetorically brilliant report indirectly claimed that the emperor was incapableof governing in matters of currency. in October 1623 the Vienna court
treasury (of all things), which had been involved both institutionallyand with personnel in creating the contract, turned against Karl vonLiechtenstein, who was held responsible for minting low-quality
money.83 A treasury report accused the members of the consortiumof minting a mark of silver into 117, 163, and eventually 320 guil80 Robert Bireley, Religion and Politics in the Age of Counterreformation: Emperor
Ferdinand II, William Lamormaini, S. J., and the Formation of Imperial Policy(Chapel Hill, nC, 1981), 18, 23, 41, 47, 165.
81 Dieter Albrecht, Maximilian I. von Bayern 1573–1651 (Munich, 1998), 676;
and Holger Mannigel, Wallenstein in Weimar, Wien und Berlin: Das Urteil überAlbrecht von Wallenstein in der deutschen Historiographie von Schiller bis Leopold
von Ranke (Husum, 2003), 499 n. 263.
82 Khevenhiller, Annales Ferdinandei, vol. x, cols. 528–76. Here also all otherdirect citations.
83 newald, Die lange Münze in Oesterreich, 124.

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ders.84 The proceedings against the house of Liechtenstein continued
under Emperor Ferdinand iii. A commission demanded from Karl
Eusebius, Karl von Liechtenstein’s son, heir, and successor, a fantastic 10.8 million guilders compensation. in 1655 he reached a settlement with the court treasury by paying one million guilders; buteven this was not enough. Emperor Leopold i initiated a proper caseagainst Liechtenstein. it was not until May 1665 that the head of state,again in return for the payment of several hundred thousand
guilders, granted the prince a General-Absolutorium, which brought
an end to the legal process against Liechtenstein and the coinage consortium that had been going on for decades.85
The house of Liechtenstein came out of it all better than the subject population. inflation had been set in train, as the Moravian–Bohemian minor noble Mikuláš Dačický z Heslova could report inhis chronicle.86 As a result, the people in Bohemia must have been indire straits until long after 1625. Pavel Skála ze Zhoře reports that
because of the price rises the subjects could no longer afford evenbasic foodstuffs such as bread and beer, and were starving.87 The
inflation did, indeed, lead to considerable price increases, and asevere shortage of goods and food. The mass of the civilian population were left to their own devices in dealing with the consequencesof the enterprise. They had to experience at first hand something that
had initially been going on in secret.88 What is more, quantitative
research from the 1960s confirms the extremely unfavourable influence of the coinage consortium not only on the currencies of theempire, but also on those of large sections of the continent.89

84 Finanz- und Hofkammerarchiv, niederösterreichisches Münz- und Bergwesen, Faszikel 15, 1622/23, n.p., n.d.
85 Herbert Haupt, Fürst Karl Eusebius von Liechtenstein, 1611–1684: Erbe und
Bewahrer in schwerer Zeit (Munich, 2007), 144.
86 Janáček, Valdštejn, 245.
87 Kostlán, Dlouhá mince, 118.
88 Josef Polišenský, The Thirty Years War (London, 1971), 138, 142.
89 See the statistics in Fernand Braudel and Frank C. Spooner, ‘Prices in
Europe from 1450 to 1750’, in Edwin E. Rich and Charles H. Wilson (eds.),
The Cambridge Economic History of Europe, iv: The Economy of Expanding Europe
in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (Cambridge, 1967), 374–486, at
460–84; cf. Ronald G. Asch, The Thirty Years War: The Holy Roman Empire andEurope, 1618–48 (Basingstoke, 1997), 156; on the other hand, Peter H. Wilson,
Europe’s Tragedy: A History of the Thirty Years War (London, 2009), 797.

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STEFFEn LEinSThe consortium had far-reaching consequences for Bohemia. it
did not even achieve its original objective, the orderly demobilizationof troops. Mercenaries who were supposed to retire to the empire
remained in place and mutinied, since they realized that their pay
was hardly worth anything.90 The coinage consortium had achieved
nothing, while the demobilization and financial crisis had expanded
into a social and starvation crisis. On the other hand, it is unlikelythat the coinage consortium deliberately threw Bohemian financial
life into chaos, in order to subjugate the country brutally.91 The members of the consortium were simply not aware of the full implicationsof their actitives, even though it certainly was their aim to make themselves rich, and at the same time gain the emperor’s favour. nonetheless, the expropriation of the nobilty, the change in the Bohemian
elites, and the inflation caused by the consortium, all of which werelinked together, did ultimately help to bring about the subjugation of
the Bohemian lands.
in the long run, the Verneuerte Landesordnung (new Land Ordinance) of 1627,92 a constitutional document which the aging Prince
Liechtenstein was still able to work on during his lifetime, subjected
Bohemia to the early absolutism of the princely Habsburg state, andbrought about a harsh implementation of the incipient CounterReformation. Ferdinand ii passed this new law without any agreement from the estates. The old estates were no longer mentioned atall, the new order only recognized Catholic subjects–apart from the
new lords who had sworn allegiance to the emperor–whom the kingcommanded. The regulations in the Landesordnung certainly did justice to the Austrian house of Habsburg’s thoroughly repressive claim
to power.93

90 Otto Oliva, ‘Finanční následky kalady: Podle pramenů z archivu dvorské
komory z r. 1624’, Numismatický écasopis éceskoslovensky, 4 (1928), 25–9.
91 Arnošt Klíma, ‘inflation in Bohemia in the Early Stage of the SeventeenthCentury’, in id., Economy, Industry, and Society in Bohemia in the Seventeeth toNineteenth Centuries (Prague, 1991), 51–60; and Polišenský, The Thirty Years
War, 137–42.
92 Hermenegild Jireček (ed.), Die verneuerte Landes-Ordnung des Erb-Königreiches Böhmen: Constitutiones regni Bohemiae anno 1627 reformatae (Prague,1888).
93 Lutz Rentzow, Die Entstehungs- und Wirkungsgeschichte der Vernewerten Landesordnung für das Königreich Böhmen 1627 (Frankfurt am Main, 1998); Hans-

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Emperor as Debtor
Conclusion

The Prague coinage consortium was a unique, early capitalist venture for financing the wars of the indebted Emperor Ferdinand ii andhis aristocratic favourites. The emperor appeared to be far morefinancially dependent on the consortium than its members were on
the emperor in social terms, and this is what they profited from. The
enterprise took on previously unknown dimensions and is an example of the far-reaching consequences that an intensive and short-term
capitalization of war can have. At the same time it marked the highpoint of the phase of inflation at the beginning of the Thirty Years
War and had very far-reaching social, economic, and political consequences. Clearly not a success for the emperor, it paved the way forthe rise of Wallenstein, Liechtenstein, and Eggenberg. Their social
advance was essentially due to the fact that in the contract for thecoinage consortium no concrete plans were laid down for paying its
members. Since the members of the consortium were also the emperor’s closest and only financial advisers it was easy for them to deceive
him. So, in practice, the consortium could distance itself from its original clear objective of financing the war and become a source of hugepersonal wealth for a few war profiteers. Apart from that it can also
be assumed that this enterprise cast large sections of the populationin the Bohemian lands into poverty: first the subjects sold their valuable silver for worthless inflationary money, then they experienced aprice explosion, and eventually had to bear the brunt of devaluation
and, ultimately, also of the emperor’s debts.

Wolfgang Bergerhausen, ‘Die “Verneuerte Landesordnung” in Böhmen 1627:
Ein Grunddokument des habsburgischen Absolutismus’, Historische Zeitschrift, 272 (2001), 325–51; Marta Kadlecová, ‘Verneuerte Landesordnungen in
Böhmen und Mähren (1627/1628): Das prozessuale Vorverfahren’, Zeitschrift
der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte. Germanistische Abteilung, 120 (2003),
150–79.

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8Social Support Strategies in the Family:
Women’s Networks. German Families in the Baltic Area
(Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries)
ANJA WILHELMI‘Support strategies in the family’ could be understood to mean planned action within the social network of the family, between individual family or network members. But what brings about this collaboration between family members, what drives the family actors to
behave as they do, and what sort of support are we talking about
here?
The focal point of this essay are the ‘support strategies’ of femalefamily members. Using the German upper class population of Estonia
and Latvia, that is, the Baltic provinces of the Russian empire, as an
example, family network structures will be filtered out and the questions raised at the beginning addressed. The time-span of the study
is the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, because this iswhere ruptures in family structures can be discerned. In particular,
economic hardship caused by political and social changes brought
about restructuring during these decades, leading to re-installation of
the female networks to be examined here.
Even though economic factors were the main reason why female
networks intensified, the form of ‘support’ to be examined here is not
so much economic; rather the support functions of the networks inquestion are based mainly on providing education for female family
members.
A Brief Introduction to the Historical BackgroundFor centuries the German population dominated the politics, culture,society, and economy of the Baltic provinces of the Russian empire,even though in numerical terms they were a minority: in Latvia c.11
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ANJA WILHELMI

per cent of the whole population in 1885, falling to 3 per cent by 1935;
in Estonia c.5 per cent in 1881 and a mere 1.5 per cent by 1934. In thelast third of the nineteenth century efforts at modernization and centralization by the central Russian government brought instability tothis power structure. As had already happened earlier in large sections of Europe, a phase of upheaval set in, in which the demographic
and social changes were not without consequences for the economically dominant upper class of the German population. Eventually,
with the proclamation of the independent states of Estonia andLatvia in 1918, the Germans lost their leading position in the politicalpower structure. Although statistically they had always been a minority, they now became a de facto and officially recognized minority.1
The economic decline of the Germans towards the end of the nineteenth century is also apparent in the lives of this population group.
The direct repercussions are most evident in family life. As a life-unit,
and indeed in its function as a support-unit, the family could nolonger continue in its traditional structure. Along with financial provision for all family members, already mentioned, by accessing theresource ‘education’ it is possible to verify how closely this was linked to the economic situation.
In times of financial uncertainty providing education (school oruniversity) for sons so that they could gain a professional qualification became a key element for maintaining the family, and an
absolute must in family policy. On the other hand, school education,
let alone professional training for daughters was secondary to that ofsons.2 In order to give girls access to school education as well, intimes of economic need a solution was sought amongst close family
and other relations, and found by building or activating social networks. Single female family members were included in this process.3
In the sphere of education they took on a key role as actors in the
1 For the history of the Germans in the Baltic see e.g. Georg Rauch, Geschichte

der baltischen Staaten (Hanover, 1977), still regarded as a standard work.
2 Cf. Monika Kubrova, Vom guten Leben: Adelige Frauen im 19. Jahrhundert(Berlin, 2011), 101–8.
3 The approach follows Karl Kaser, ‘Familie und Verwandtschaft in Bulgarien’, in Ulf Brunnbauer and Karl Kaser (eds.), Vom Nutzen der Verwandten:
Soziale Netzwerke in Bulgarien (19. und 20. Jahrhundert) (Vienna, 2001), 14, who
examines the activation of complex and invisible networks of relatives andfriends in times of economic crisis.

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female support networks. Now is perhaps the time for a short excursus on network theory to introduce the methodology of this study.
Methodological Considerations, in Particular, the Use of Social Network
TheoryThe definition of networks used here is based on the approach of Karl
Kaser who sees them as ‘connected sets of exchange relations’, bywhich relations between people and interactions should be understood.4 Searching for traces of these specific relations is a key aspectof this essay, in which networks are examined above all as regards
female family members. Apart from the main question as to why networks emerge, the structures of networks and how they function will
be analysed, and beyond that a closer look taken at the women who
sustained these networks, the network people.5
Assuming that family network connections are defined by generative as well as gender-related factors, this essay will focus on theinteraction of family members from these points of view and assess
their relevance for the family. What will be included here above all
are aspects of social support,6 in other words, that form of supportand interaction understood as an exchange relationship, and referring back to this, if possible, also aspects of ‘intergenerational solidarity’,7 the connection between the generations. In support researchthese are specifically the questions raised, the connections between
network structures, the forms of social exchange, its reciprocity, andthe forms of social integration,8 in other words, questions which areparticularly relevant to the study of family support structures.
4 Cf. Rainer Diaz-Bone, Ego-zentrierte Netzwerkanalyse und familiale Beziehungs-

systeme (Wiesbaden, 1997), 128; Frank Nestmann, ‘Familie als soziales Netzwerk und Familie im sozialen Netzwerk’, in Lothar Böhnisch and Karl Lenz
(eds.), Familien: Eine interdisziplinäre Einführung (Weinheim, 1997), 213.
5 Following Baas, Soziale Netzwerke, 166.
6 For the concept of social support cf. Shumaker and Brownell, cited fromDiaz-Bone, Ego-zentrierte Netzwerkanalyse, 1.
7 Johannes Huinink and Dirk Konietzka, Familiensoziologie: Eine Einführung(Frankfurt, 2007), 209.
8 Ibid. 129.

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ANJA WILHELMI

In trying to dissect network structures, autobiographical writing
mostly by aristocratic German women in the region under examination is analysed.9 Due to the state of the sources, there is no point inlooking at this matter from a quantifying point of view, since theautobiographical pieces still intact have no claim to be complete or
representative of aristocratic network structures, and quantifying
data would therefore only have a limited amount to say.
So the main focus is on qualifying network structures. Furthermore the choice of Qualitative Network Research proves to be
extremely useful because it means that network structures and network people can be given equal attention. The family as a social system is understood as an economic and life unit and in this essay isregarded as a whole network. Within this frame of reference unmarried family members are included as part of the family, as people in
the family network.10
Since the main characteristic of the network structures to be
demonstrated here is the provision of education, the first step is tooutline the most important stages in the education system for girls in
the Baltic provinces of the Russian empire.
Essential Elements of the Girls’ School System

The school system for girls started to develop in the 1830s when privately run schools emerged in the towns. At these schools, often
small boarding schools, girls could take the ‘small exam’, the qualification as a private tutor. Over the years the size of these establishments increased, as did the number of classes (from two to seven), sothat from the 1870s the ‘major exam’, the qualification as a teacher ina girls’ school, could be taken.11 Parallel to the growing supply and

9 Part of the sample used was compiled by Anja Wilhelmi, Lebenswelten vonFrauen der deutschen Oberschicht im Baltikum (1800–1939): Eine Untersuchunganhand von Autobiografien (Wiesbaden, 2008). The vast majority of the autobiographies are by aristocratic women; just a few are attributable to ‘bourgeois’
women.
10 Cf. Friedrich K. Barabas and Michal Erler, Die Familie: Lehr- und Arbeitsbuch
für Familiensoziologie und Familienrecht (2nd edn. Weinheim, 2001), 77.
11 Mary von Haken, ‘Sechs Briefe über Mädchenerziehung’, Rigasche Hausfrauen-Zeitung, 1 July 1887, vol. 4, no. 30, p. 119.

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Social Support Strategies in the Family

simultaneous increase in demand for girls’ schools, a state system ofgirls’ schools developed.
According to the statute for private teaching institutions of 1868,in both the private and the state system of girls’ schools a three-stepprocess was envisaged: firstly the Elementarschule (elementary
school), then the Töchterschule (school for daughters), and, finally, the
Höhere Töchterschule (higher school for daughters). Building on basic
knowledge acquired in the elementary school in reading, writing,counting, religion, and ‘morals’, teaching was extended in the Töchterschule to include history, geography, arithmetic, nature study,
physics, German, Russian, French, singing, handwork, and drawing;
then in the Höhere Töchterschule these subjects were studied more
intensively.12
Parallel to the Höhere Töchterschulen, in the two large urban centres, Riga and Reval, two Russian-speaking state girls’ grammar
schools were founded on the initiative of the central Russian government. Even though they offered a direct path to the Abitur, theseschools were boycotted by the German population due to social-ethical reservations about the Estonian, Latvian, and partly also Russian
pupils and the fact that the teaching was in Russian.13
What was far more deep-rooted than the institutional education
just mentioned was home tuition. This was widespread amongst theGerman population, who mainly lived in rural areas until the turn ofthe century, and only started to decline in the twentieth century. The
new statute on private schools of 1868 not only standardized the subjects to be taught, but also made the school systems more equal. The
inclusion of the home tuition system under the same control as thegeneral school system can also be seen as part of these attempts tomake things more egalitarian and centralized. The key innovations inthis standardized school system were that the teachers had to register with the next authority, the local director of schools, and provide
12 Cf. Allan Liim, ‘Unterricht, Erziehung, Bildung: Über deutsche Schulen in

Dorpat im 19. Jahrhundert’, in Helmut Piirimäe and Klaus Sommerhage(eds.), Zur Geschichte der Deutschen in Dorpat (Tartu, 1998), 163–96, esp.
167–73.
13 Cf. Wilhelmi, Lebenswelten von Frauen, 83–105; and ead., ‘Wissenserhalt und
Minderheitenpolitik’, in Burghart Schmidt (ed.), Wissenstransfer und Innovationen rumd um das Mare Balticum (Hamburg, 2007), 86 ff.

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activity reports, and that there were predefined qualifications required for employing female teachers.14
In all types of schools tuition had to be paid for, although the actual amounts payable varied from place to place. Thus home tuition
also incurred considerable costs, since at least one, and often several
teachers (for various subjects and ages) had to be integrated into thefamily household, catered for, and paid. In the case of school tuition,
money had to be found, in some cases, for boarding fees and meals,
as well as tuition fees.
Family Structures‘Family’ is understood as an open concept that can be differentiatedand changed according to time and region.15 The starting point is aconstellation relating to people, in which personal relations acquireparticular significance.16
In the complex of relations between generations the sphere of
education is particularly important because it plays a crucial role in
the family’s economic security as well as the security of the family’s
identity. Again, education is largely defined by the intentions of theparent generation—and this is where the educational chain continues—who themselves look back to the educational traditions of theirown parents.17 Apart from these family educational traditions, theplans for schooling are also determined by social and economic
claims, which for their part can be disrupted by contemporary factors. What is more, they are linked to notions of educational content
and form that are gender-specific, and are thus formed by contemporary trends. An essential basis of the family’s educational requirements was to pass on its social position to the next generation, in
14 Cf. Schulwesen (as in n. 6), 433.

15 Robert G. Moeller, ‘Unbenannt und allgegenwärtig: Die Familie in der
Zeitgeschichtsschreibung’, in Karen Hagemann and Jean H. Quataert (eds.),
Geschichte und Geschlechter: Revisionen der neueren deutschen Geschichte(Frankfurt, 2008), 320.
16 Cf. François de Singly, Die Familie der Moderne: Eine soziologische Einführung(Constance, 1994), 29.
17 Böhnisch and Lenz (eds.), Familien, 28.

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other words, its ‘reproductive function’.18 For the German nobility,
traditionally positioned in the upper class, this reproduction represented a key element in securing the family’s roots, and, at the sametime, created identity.
In seeking to classify ‘the’ German noble family schematically in
the Baltic provinces, applying the model of the so-called nuclear family seems useful. Along with the nuclear family predefined by social
science, consisting of mother, father and children, the family circle
could be extended in the structure under examination here by theaddition of other close relatives such as single women, the sisters ofeither the mother or the father, and, less frequently, unmarried brothers.19 Until well into the nineteenth century this ‘extended’ nuclear
family was still the usual model for the German nobility in the Baltic
provinces, in which unmarried women were included in the family
household.20 It was these single women in particular who performedsocial duties, but above all took on educational functions.
From the mid nineteenth century signs of the disintegration of thefamily as an economic and life unit become apparent. The close link
between family or household structures and the family’s economic
security became clearly visible here. It is therefore no surprise that
economic shifts had repercussions for family constellations. The
structural change in the family inevitably also involved a ‘change inthe lived relations’.21
After 1870 the economic deterioration of large sections of theGerman population also clearly affected the German upper class, thenobility, as well; it also meant that the social security of the family
members was reduced. The first to be directly hit were the single
18 de Singly, Die Familie der Moderne.

19 Cf. Hans J. Teuteberg, ‘Zur Genese und Entwicklung historisch-sozialwissenschaftlicher Familienforschung in Deutschland’, in Peter Barscheid andHans J. Teuteberg (eds.), Ehe, Liebe, Tod: Zum Wandel der Familie, derGeschlechts- und Generationsbeziehungen in der Neuzeit (Münster, 1983), 18. No
distinction is made here between ‘extended’ and ‘multiple’ households.
20 So far no quantification has been done. For the basic problems in assessing
household sizes, cf. Hans Bertram, ‘Die verborgenen familiären Beziehungenin Deutschland: Die multilokale Mehrgenerationenfamilie’, in Martin Kohli
and Marc Szydlik (eds.), Generationen in Familie und Gesellschaft (Opladen,
2000), 96–7.
21 Ibid. 98.

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ANJA WILHELMI

family members, those on the periphery of the family, because they
could no longer be accommodated under the roof of the ‘extended’
family. At the time single-person households or, as we would say
today, ‘flats for singles’ were virtually non-existent on the housing
market. In addition, the ability to finance single accommodation
assumed financial autonomy, which single family members did nothave. And quite apart from that, ‘social’ codes existed that did notenvisage living arrangements such as these. So henceforth single
women in a family, sisters and aunts, either single, widowed, or
divorced, came together in households outside the family. These‘house-shares’ were founded on the basis of financial independence
that could be achieved though inheritance, personal financial means,or by earning a living.22
One precondition for the transition from the previously fixed
lifestyle model of the ‘extended’ nuclear family to different types ofhouseholds and lifestyles was the expansion of educational opportunities for women that set in at the same time and allowed women togain a professional qualification, leading to financial independence.
If we look back at the family with mother, father, children, however, we still cannot talk of a ‘modern nuclear family’ in the sense
used by Talcott Parsons,23 even though the family model certainly
started to come close to this. For the characteristics of the nuclear
family, such as less solidarity and economic independence as regards
other relatives, cannot be established, as will be evidenced in what
follows.24 Then again, the ‘multi-locational family of several generations’, as described by Hans Bertem in 2000,25 cannot be transferredto the late nineteenth century either.26 In the last third of the nine22 Cf. Ingeborg von Buxhoeveden, Sommer und Winter: Lebenserinnerungen

1920–1953 (Cologne, 1990), 34–5.

23 Talcott Parsons, Family, Socialization and Interaction Process (New York,1964); id., The Social System (New York, 1964).
24 Cited from Diaz-Bone, Netzwerkanalyse, 90. Modern nuclear familiy: system of nuclear families connected to one another, not a system that is basedon broader relational links.
25 Bertram, ‘Die verborgenen familiären Beziehungen in Deutschland’,
97–121.
26 Stephan Baas, ‘Soziale Netzwerke verschiedene Lebensformen im Längsschnitt: Kontinuität oder Wandel?’, in Walter Bien and Jan H. Marbach (eds.),

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Social Support Strategies in the Familyteenth century the nobility found themselves—to oversimplify—in atransitional phase in which only a reduction in the size of households
could set in train the process of shedding individual family members.
The single women who now got together in house-sharing andmoney-sharing communities are spoken of in autobiographies by theyounger generation of nieces and nephews as ‘aunts’; and these
women, who belonged to the older generation, accepted this appellation and applied it to themselves. So the designation ‘aunt’, used by
the person herself and by others, should briefly be explored here.
Aunts as Network People

In the network ‘family’, the aunt took on a fixed position, and thiswas independent of the family structure which, as we have seen, wasundergoing modifications during the period under examination.
In the widespread family model of the extended nuclear family ofthe early nineteenth century single women functioned as part of thefamily’s social and educational network within the family household.
Their sphere of responsibilities included upbringing and educationon the generative level of the parents’ generation, to which they
themselves belonged. In the contemporary conception of ‘femininity’, as women, they were particularly suited to passing on ‘female’
educational content to the future generation of nieces. The symbiotic
nature of the network envisaged that, in return, the woman would
enjoy social protection and be taken care of financially.27 So, for theeducational sphere we can assume generative support, while social
support on the horizontal level was given by the woman’s own generation, within her circle of sisters.
As the family as a support institution began to disintegrate at theend of the nineteenth century, and at the same time educational andeven professional opportunities for women of all classes increased,
the connection between single women and the family shifted from a
Familiale Beziehungen, Familienalltag und soziale Netzwerke: Ergebnisse der drei
Wellen des Familiensurvey (Wiesbaden, 2008), 148.
27 Cf. Sirje Kivimäe, ‘Deutsche Frauenbildung im Nordosten’, in Robert
Schweitzer and Waltraud Bastman-Bühner (eds.), Der finnische Meerbusen als
Brennpunkt: Wandern und Wirken deutschsprachiger Menschen im europäischen
Nordosten (Helsinki, 1998), 119–215 esp. 200–4.

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family household to a new, external, self-created household, that of
the single women.
However, this physical separation from the family household did
not mean that they became detached from the family. In the sphereof education in particular, the key sphere of influence for single
women in the ‘traditional’ family household, the gender allocationand the division of tasks connected with it carried on. Upbringing
and education by female relatives continued to be a field in whichfemale family members were and should be allowed to remain active
even outside the family framework. In this way the family network
went through a purely spatial expansion or multi-locality.
This sort of support was regarded as part of the family’s networktasks, designed to maintain the family. In this way single womenmanaged to gain social recognition and economic autarchy in their
new lifestyle, even without being directly tied into the family.
In the following, the development and modification of family
structures and their repercussions for female family members will beillustrated by looking at autobiographical extracts. The relational
structures between female family members, especially between aunt
and niece, based on conveying education, will be examined here on
the basis of a few case studies. The examples will be presented inchronological order which should make it possible to follow developments on the temporal level. This procedure should by no means
imply, however, that all family structures were subject to linear andsimultaneous changes.
In 1835, for reasons connected with her family’s educational tradition, Sophie Strümpell,28 in accordance with her mother’s wishes,joined the household of her aunt who ran a small boarding school.
Here she was following her mother’s educational tradition; after aphase of home tuition she had been sent by her own mother to thesame boarding school: ‘Here, where my mother was one of the first
boarders, I was to be the last.’29 With Sophie the educational traditionof the female family members ended since small boarding schools
were generally run as family businesses and their existence came toan end when their principal left to take up a profession.
28 Sophie Strümpell, born 1823 in Mitau, Kurland, today Latvia, and died1893 in Königsluther, daughter of pastor Gottfried Bielenstein and of thearistrocratic Emilie von Klebeck, married to the teacher Albert Strümpell.
29 Sophie Strümpell, Jugenderinnerungen aus Kurland, i. 46 (CSG-Archiv).

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Sophie’s biography is a strong reflection of the expansion of thegirls’ school system that set in after the 1830s, which, in its turn, could
only emerge due to a growing demand for girls’ education. Anotherprecondition was an adequate number of female teachers. Single
women such as Sophie’s aunt could, as teachers, pursue a sociallyrecognized ‘female’ occupation and at the same time fulfil family
obligations, even outside the family household. Thus the professionalization of the teaching profession for women made a substantial
contribution to the multi-locality of female network relations in thethe family and meant that the task of education and upbringing bygenerative female family networks could continue.
From the perspective of the young girls, characterizing the aunt
with the words: ‘She was a woman just born to be a teacher’,30 was
restricted to her professional and implicitly ‘feminine’ abilities.
Along with her task of providing education the aunt was loved andrespected by her niece because of her kindness and dedication, whichwere also manifested in the care she gave in cases of illness. All in all
Sophie’s affectionate description of her relationship with her aunt
makes it sound like a mother–child relationship. A relationship of
this sort, built on trust, is hardly surprising since the choice of theaunt already suggests a close, often sisterly relationship between
mother and aunt. So this step did not involve building a relationshipwith a stranger but, in fact, underscored an already existing relational structure. As the following examples will show, mothers occupy
an intermediary position in the family’s female network. They initiate or activate networks by giving content to generative network
structures. From the point of view of education we can even say thatthe mother’s network position and function are transferred to the sister/aunt.
The next example also reveals a relational structure that alreadyexisted in the parent generation. Here, however, another component,
an economic one, also comes into play. Like almost all her contemporaries, Isalie von Maydell31 had her first experience of teaching in
the form of home tuition. Initially female home tutors were employed to teach her and her sisters. After her father’s death, this expensive educational phase came to an end. The place of the home
30 Ibid.

31 Isalie von Maydell: born after 1914, daughter of engineer Walter Baron vonMaydell-Wiegandshof and the aristocratic Ellinor von Buddenbrock.

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tutor was taken by one of Isalie’s sisters. However, this did not turnout to be satisfactory and Isalie herself asked to be allowed to go to aschool. She had imagined that she would be sent to a certain boarding school which her friends already attended, but in fact her mother sent her to live with her great-aunts, who lived near a girls’ school.
Aunt Julie and Aunt Louise were sisters. They shared a householdwith two other single women, though these do not appear to havebeen relatives.32 This move meant that Isalie found herself in an
unknown household, an alternative to the family that consisted onlyof women. Because this household was near a girls’ school Isalie
could pursue her education at far less expense than if she had goneto a boarding school. Isalie gives only economic reasons for the
choice of this ‘aunts’ household’. Another likely motive, however, andhardly suitable for Isalie’s ears, is that here Isalie, as a young femalefamily member, could pursue her further education under the protection of relatives while upholding the family tradition. This example
from the early twentieth century shows that single relatives were particularly included in the family’s plans if they had their own household. The network relationship became all the more relevant becauseof the spatial separation, even long distance, from the family home.
The educational ambitions of the Gabler family were somewhat
different. They, too, were unable to provide their female children
with education, though in this case because the father’s job moved toa different location, and they also sought alternatives amongst theirfemale relatives. A solution was found in the form of a single sisterfrom the parent generation. At the end of the nineteenth century thiswoman, whom the niece called Aunt Elise, was running a small girls’
school in Estonia. Elisabeth Gabler was sent there by her motherwhen her husband’s job was transferred and the family had to moveto southern Russia. Elisabeth, who was meant to remain in her
German-speaking environment and receive a German education,
stayed in the Baltic province. Elisabeth Gabler talked of her aunt,
with whom she was to spend her school years, as her ‘second mother’. Although the great-niece much appreciated the relationship, shelamented that her aunt could not pay her more attention, due to her
financial worries.
32 Isalie von Maydell, Der Geist jener Zeit (Ottawa, 1991), unpublished type-script, pp. 90–2.

182Social Support Strategies in the Family

The reforms to the girls’ education system of the 1880, which
made Russian-language teaching compulsory, led to strong rejection
on the part of the German population. Private institutions only existed because German parents wanted German-language teaching fortheir daughters, and this was what was needed for a qualification asa teacher. One of the reasons why the Gabler family sent Elisabeth toher aunt, or educational establishment, was that lessons continued tobe conducted in German there. And the aunt did, indeed, do everything possible to keep her German-speaking school going. On the
one hand there was a cultural-national interest in maintaining German-speaking education for girls, since the continued existence ofthe school guaranteed Aunt Elise a living. Ultimately Aunt Elise’s
professional reputation and her connections with the school administration helped her to find legal exceptions for her school.
The relational structure between Aunt Elise and Elisabeth wasnot, as also in the case of the aunt–niece relationship described earlier, restricted simply to imparting education. All nieces also fulfilled
other social functions of the relationship. Apart from the care alreadymention, Elisabeth stresses a further component in her aunt’s educational canon, by which she acquired social competence in dealing
with strangers or related people. Thus the aunt accompanied herniece on all excursions, social duties, and visits to relatives. In thisway the aunt undertook essential elements of the ‘female’ educational programme of the parent generation, which would, in fact, havebeen part of the mother’s responsibilities. Upholding the family tradition and bearing in mind its social position the girl was given
insights into the social behaviour that was of great importance to a
German population group keen to retain its values and traditions.
When Elisabeth’s time at school was over the relationship between aunt and niece initially broke up because Elisabeth, against her
will, returned to her parents’ home in order to teach her sisters. Aftera while, however, Elisabeth, unhappy with her situation, asked her
aunt for help, upon which she received the financial means necessary
to return to her aunt’s household.
Despite the distance between them the network between aunt andniece proved to be robust and strong.33 Even though both parties
33 Granovetter’s stong/weak ties model is avoided here since various rela-tional levels are assumed whose unique characteristic does not lie in theirintensity. Cf. the discussion in Christian Stegbauer, ‘Weak und Strong Ties:

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ANJA WILHELMI

regarded the ‘educational contract’ between them as finished, thenetwork relationship continued as a social support network —eventhough inactive—and was re-activated by the call for help made by
one of the network people. The mother, originally the intermediary
between niece and aunt, had given up her function. Once the network based on education had come to and end, she was excluded
from the new relationship.
Elisabeth Kersten34 was ten years old when her mother, in the turmoil of the First World War, decided to entrust her oldest daughter
into the care of her aunt, the mother’s single sister who was working
as a school teacher. Elisabeth was first taught in her aunt’s home,then later went to school. The initiative for the new educational setting came, as in all the examples seen so far, from the mother. In
Elisabeth’s case the key reasons were straitened circumstances andher mother’s view that she could neither educate her daughter adequately nor afford to pay for her tuition.35 Her support was an advantage not only to the young girls but to the whole family. As someone
providing support she acquired or adopted a function that gave her
meaning and identity as a family member and as a woman. The aunt’s
reaction makes it clear that the relational network did not work exclusively in one direction, but was based on reciprocity between the network people: support and recognition can visibly be filtered out here
as the pillars supporting family networks.
In the course of time the aunt took in more and more girls to givethem an education: during the war, girls who were her relatives werejoined by other children whom she knew. It can be assumed that thisAunt Anna had some savings and keen financial knowledge sincesome of the girls were orphans, others came from impoverished families where the father was at war and the mother, like Elisabeth’s, wason the run with the youngest children. So there was unlikely to be
any financial recompense for the support she provided.
Freundschaft aus netzwerktheoretischer Perspektive’, in id. (ed.), Netzwerkanalyse und Netzwerktheorie: Ein neues Paradigma in den Sozialwissenschaften(2nd edn. Wiesbaden, 2010), 105–19.
34 Elisabeth Kersten: born 1907 in Talsen, Kurland, today Latvia, daughter ofthe Latvian Karl Irbe and the German Milda Mengel.
35 Elisabeth Kersten, Rückblende: Erlebnisse zwischen Kurland und Kap (Münster,1997), 113–17.

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Social Support Strategies in the Family

In Elisabeth’s case the agreement between aunt and mother did
not come to an end when the war was over or when she had finishedschool. Since the aunt’s economic situation was far more stable thanthat of the parents, Elisabeth remained in her care. The network
between Elisabeth and Aunt Anna is a good example of the potential
interchangeability of functions or the multi-functionality of social
networks.
So family networks between single relatives and members of thenuclear family by no means only emerged in the sphere of educationtransfer. The generative aspect of family networks was particularly
favourable to the formation of networks not based primarily on people of the same gender. Amongst the relatives of Karola von
Hoyningen-Huene,36 born in 1911, there were also aunts, single sistersof her maternal grandfather: ‘They were a centrepiece for all nieces,nephews, great-nieces, and great-nephews.’ These were the threemuch-loved aunts whose only aim in life was to make their fellow
human beings happy.37 These ‘beloved aunts’, actually two greataunts and a single cousin of the writer,38 had joined together after theland reform in Estonia in 1919 and in Latvia in 1920 and ran the
manor house of their now expropriated family estate. In this way, as
members of the parent or grandparent generation, they brought all
the generations together and created a communicative space in which
the network ‘family’ could be maintained. Family membership could
be secured here by anchoring family traditions, lifestyles, cultural definitions, and the family’s social position.
Generative networks with single people as the key figures in the
network emerged where family networks in ‘closed’ households
were fragile, or where traditional network members such as grandparents were missing. The local nature and size of households could
36 Karola von Hoyningen-Huene: born 1911 in Strutele, Kurland, today

Latvia.
37 Karola von Hoyningen-Huene, ‘Mein Leben für meine Kinder niedergeschrieben, pt. 1: 1911–1945’, unpublished manuscript, 1980, Archiv der CarlSchirren-Gesellschaft, p. 32; cf. also Eva Kreissl, Die Tante: Eine Frau mit Eigenschaften. Untersuchung eines Phänomens (Vienna, 1996), 14, who perceives the‘aunt’ as a concept that is ‘feminine . . . and based on relations with an older
generation’.
38 Ina and Hilde Drachenfels and Emma Stromberg. Unfortunately there isno further information about them.

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ANJA WILHELMI

determine the knots in networks, especially when networks were
geared towards continuity and communication in an internal space.
The functional significance of the aunt as a network person andher position within the family network was therefore primarily
determined by her economic situation and her living arrangements.
As central figures in the family network of three generations, aunts,
if they wanted to be the ‘control centre’ for family communication,
had to have the appropriate space and financial means.
Summary

Starting with Hans Bertram’s theory that the change in household
and family structures brought with it a change in the relational network of the family,39 in the ‘real relations’, the example of single
women has been used to examine the nature of this change.
Throughout the period in question, the nineteenth and earlytwentieth centuries, single women remained closely linked to thefamily. This link was based on a social network geared towards providing social support for younger female family members.
The task of those women who maintained the network was
defined by their gender. The gender concept of the time meant thatupbringing and education in particular were regarded as thewoman’s domain. Whether in the family home or in that of the single
women, the network between ‘aunt’ and ‘niece’ was primarily
designed to provide support in the sphere of education and upbringing.
An essential component in forming the network was to upholdthe family and its traditions. Via the aunt, the conveyor of education,
educational values, content, and forms were passed on to the younger female generation. One of these ‘classical’ educational aspects was
how to conduct oneself socially, in other words, maintain the family’s social position. The reciprocity of the network can be seen on various levels here: as regards the individual network people, in the caseof the young woman she could acquire a relatively inexpensive education in a family environment; for the older woman it meant that she
was directly involved with the family and, as a woman, could fulfil a
39 Bertram, ‘Die verborgenen familiären Beziehungen in Deutschland’, 98.

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Social Support Strategies in the Familysocially recognized function, thereby establishing her feminine identity beyond the socially idealized role of the mother. What is more,
the emotional level of the network led to new experiences in the emotional life of both the young and the older woman, and to strong feelings such as love and trust on both sides.
The mother of the girl receiving education could, in her network
position as mediator, have recourse to educational resources which
she regarded as perpetuating family educational traditions.
If this network in the ‘original family model’ was always available
to all those family members living in the same household, then the
network in the family model living separately (bi-local) first had to be
activated. This happened especially when the family found itself insome sort of emergency situation, as illustrated by the examples of
war events, economic hardship, and changes of location.
The support function of networks could be varied and multi-functional. From the perspective of the younger woman it was not confined simply to education, but could, for a limited period of time,offer an alternative lifestyle outside the parental home.
The support services provided by single female family members
underpin the assumption (based on present-day sociological studies)that ‘responsibility towards other generations, willingness to provide
support and a common shared family history as important preconditions for family solidarity’ were also possible in separate households,
and still are today.40 In these cases family relations were and are tiedto generations and based on family support services and solidarity
within the family, despite and perhaps because of their multi-locality.
The multi-functionality of network structures (from emotions,
upbringing, education, right up to financial support) has shown thatstructural changes in the sphere of structural density could also bedemonstrated. The factors for these network changes are mainly to befound in political, economic, and social restructuring which had an
implicit effect on the family as a social network.
Finally, looking as present-day social science studies the question
arises to what extent an analysis of a historical society shows parallels with research findings on present-day social structures, orwhether processes can be traced. One common finding is the ‘durability’ of trans-generational relations, in which periods of latency can
40 Cf. ibid. 103.

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ANJA WILHELMI

be bridged. On both temporal levels, too, formalized family gatherings represent a constant major factor in the web of relations.41
Particularly in relation to current debates about single households, which the media like to characterize as a social danger and theresult of increasing individualization, looking back at the history of
the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries can lead to new
insights.42 Just like 100 years ago, families today are not to be regarded as fixed social units. Family concepts and structures are always
subject to a process of change. Single women outside the family
household were already securely anchored in the social structures of
the nineteenth century. But unlike today, primarily due to a lack offinancial autarchy, their path towards founding a single-personhousehold was blocked.

41 Cf. Stegbauer, ‘Weak und Strong Ties’, 111.

42 Cf. the discussion in Bertram, ‘Die verborgenen familiären Beziehungen in

Deutschland’, 98.

188

9Relational Decision-Making:
Rural Society, Credit Markets, and the Nazi State inGerman-Annexed Austria, 1938
ERNST LANGTHALER

Introduction: A Pathbreaking Decision

In the late winter of 1936 the mountain farm of Oberhofstatt in
Frankenfels, 900 metres above sea level, burned down to its foundations. Since the property was not insured, the family, with its many
children, was facing ‘the abyss’. By working laboriously the people ofOberhofstatt, with the help of relatives and neighbours, managed torebuild the living quarters and the farm area. By autumn 1939 thefamily and its animals were able to move back in; but they were seriously in debt. Soon, however, a solution to the debt problem emerged:1 the ‘debt relief and construction’ scheme introduced by the Nazi
regime shortly after the Anschluss in 1938 and which, in a quasi-religious way, seemed to the Oberhofstatt family like a ‘blessing’, salvation from the heavy burden of debt. From the experience of past misfortune, the fire that was still oppressing them both physically andpsychologically, hope for the future was suddenly opening up.
In the historical situation of 1938, what to this day is still regarded as a ‘blessing’ in the family’s memory first needed the decision to
apply for the ‘debt relief and construction’ scheme; and the OberhofThis essay results from my Habilitation project funded by the APART prize of
the Austrian Academy of Sciences 2005 to 2008: Ernst Langthaler, Schlachtfelder: Alltägliches Wirtschaften in der nationalsozialistischen Agragesellschaft(Vienna, 2015). Preliminary versions have been presented at workshops at the
University of Münster (2007), the University of Trier (2010), and the German
Historical Institute London (2011); I would like to thank the discussants aswell as Ulrich Schwarz for their valuable suggestions.
1 See <http://www.obere-hofstatt.at/feuer.html> (accessed 6 July 2011).

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ERNST LANGTHALER

statt farm owner was one of the first in his community to reach thisdecision. According to an order of 5 May 1938 owners of agricultural, forestry, and also gardening concerns, who were ‘in need of debt
relief’, and were ‘capable’ and ‘worthy’ of it, could, up to 31 December 1938, apply for ‘debt relief’ and, if required, ‘construction’.2 Until
the process was complete the applicants were protected by law.3 On
a four-page form they had to give precise details about their holding
and household, as well as the extent and nature of their debts.4 The
forms were usually passed on to the appropriate authority, the Landstelle, by the local farmers’ leaders, who often added a statement to theapplication. In German-annexed Austria in 1938 the Landstellen were
specially created as offices of the Reich in order to carry out the ‘debt
relief and construction’ scheme; the office responsible for the provinces of Niederdonau and Vienna was based in Vienna.5
The place and time of the farm-owner’s decision to make an application are documented in the files; this gives us an insight into theotherwise hidden area of farm management: the way in which a decision was reached that set the points for future developmental paths.
The starting point of this case study is recognition of the fact that crucial decisions of this sort are rarely an individual act of will; they are
generally negotiated collectively and are embedded in relations thattake effect pre-consciously.6 In short, decision-making is relational.
Taking the Nazi policy of ‘debt relief’ for farm owners in four different Austrian villages as examples, the essay explores the potentialof Social Network Analysis (SNA) for the study of the diffusion of
2 See ‘Verordnung über die Entschuldung der Landwirtschaft im LandeÖsterreich (Österreichische Entschuldungsverordnung) vom 5.5.1938’, Reichsgesetzblatt (hereafter RGBl.) I (1938), 502; August Lombar, Entschuldung und
Aufbau der österreichischen Landwirtschaft (Klagenfurt, 1953), 33–34.
3 See ‘Verordnung über den Vollstreckungsschutz während eines landwirtschaftlichen Entschuldungsverfahrens im Lande Österreich vom 27.6.1938’,
RGBl. I (1938), 783.
4 The application form is reproduced in Hans Heinrich, Die landwirtschaftliche
Entschuldung in der Ostmark nach der Österreichischen Entschuldungsverordnungvom 5. Mai 1938 (Berlin, 1939), Appendix.
5 See Lombar, Entschuldung, 13.
6 See Christian Etzrodt, Sozialwissenschaftliche Handlungstheorien: Eine Einführung (Constance, 2003).

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Relational Decision-Making

innovations in rural communities in German-annexed Austria in
1938. Multi-functional networks between family farms affect the diffusion of the application for the state’s ‘debt relief and construction’scheme. The potential of SNA is enhanced by combination withmethods deriving from field and discourse theory. Thereby, additional drivers are highlighted: first, diffusion-promoting milieux
based upon material, social, and symbolic features of the farming
families; and, second, diffusion-promoting subject positions of discourses mediated by the agrarian press and local functionaries. As aresult, SNA turns out to be a valuable but limited method for studying the diffusion of innovations; epistemological added value can begained by combination of SNA with other quantitative and qualitative methods, therefore meeting with the multi-relational character ofeveryday decision-making.
I. Relational Decision-Making in the Network

How new ways of thinking and acting become widespread in a society is the subject of social science diffusion theories.7 Since the mid
twentieth century research on the diffusion of innovations has been carried out in sociological, ethnological, geographical, and communications contexts;8 its central theme, the dissemination of an innovation
via inter-personal relations, comes from epidemiology.9 A pioneering
study from the 1940s offered the diffusion theory an empirical basis;
it showed that US farmers decided to use hybrid maize seeds not somuch for economic or cultural reasons, but for social ones—the interaction between more or less ‘innovative’ actors.10 In the1950s, 1960s,
and 1970s a series of individual analyses orientated towards basis
and application followed, which Everett M. Rogers synthesized in an
7 As an introduction see Veronika Karnowski, Diffusionstheorien (BadenBaden, 2011).
8 See Everett M. Rogers, Diffusion of Innovations (5th edn. New York, 2003),
39–101; Karnowski, Diffusionstheorien, 33–48.
9 See M. Morris, ‘Epidemiology and Social Networks: Modelling Structured
Diffusion’, Sociological Methods and Research, 22 (1993), 99–126.
10 See R. Ryan and N. Gross, ‘The Diffusion of Hybrid Seed Corn in Two
Iowa Communities’, Rural Sociology, 8 (1943), 15–24.

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ERNST LANGTHALER

exemplary way in various stages.11 Since the 1980s approaches using
network theory and analysis, based on earlier pioneering work,12 areincreasingly becoming part of research on the diffusion of innovations.13
From the point of view of network theory, the diffusion of an
innovation is the business of brokerage, or, more precisely, a series ofbrokerages. The decision to adopt a new way of thinking or acting—buying a machine, applying for promotion, accepting a job, and soon—is conveyed step by step via the brokers’ interpersonal relations;in this way it spreads ‘like an epidemic’ within the network of people.14 Dissemination takes a characteristic course: at first only a few‘innovative’ actors who are prepared to take risks due to their aboveaverage property and educational status accept the innovation (innovators, about 2.5 per cent); via the direct (early adopters, around 13.5
per cent) and indirect relations of the innovator (early majority,
around 34 per cent) the number of adopters grows quickly; as a resultof increased confidence in the innovation most of the remainder
accept it (late majority, about 34 per cent); eventually the late adopters (laggards, about 16 per cent) bow to the growing pressure andaccept it too. The diffusion curve, the illustration of how the numberof adopters grows cumulatively over time, is S-shaped: slow growthand gentle increase at the beginning, accelerated growth and amarked increase around the middle, slower growth and levelling-off
at the end.15 What can be used to measure the efficacy of the interpersonal relations in the network (exposure) is the proportion of
adopters amongst all an actor’s neighbours at a given point in time;
this level at the time when the actor adopts is characterized as the

11 See Rogers, Diffusion. The first edition was published in 1962; further editions followed in 1971, 1983, 1995, and 2003.
12 See J. S. Coleman, E. Katz, and H. Menzel, ‘The Diffusion of an Innovation
among Physicians’, Sociometry, 20 (1957), 253–70.
13 See R. Burt, ‘Social Contagion and Innovation: Cohesion Versus Structural
Equivalence’, American Journal of Sociology, 92 (1987), 1287–335; Thomas W.
Valente, Network Models of the Diffusion of Innovations (Cresskill, NJ, 1995); id.,
‘Network Models and Methods for Studying the Diffusion of Innovations’, inPeter J. Carrington, John Scott, and Stanley Wasserman (eds.), Models andMethods in Social Network Analysis (Cambridge, 2005), 98–116.
14 See Valente, Models, 101–4.
15 See Rogers, Diffusion, 282–7.

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Relational Decision-Making

threshold. Thresholds close to the minimum 0 manifest innovative
behaviour; values near to the maximum 1 are regarded as signs oflacking innovativeness.16
Instead of theorizing about the strengths and weaknesses of thismodel,17 this essay will try to establish empirically whether it is viable. Using four focus communities in the former province of Niederdonau—Auersthal in the flat and hilly land to the east, Frankenfels
on the slopes of the Alps, Heidenreichstein in the northern highlands,
and St Leonhard am Forst in the hilly land south of the river
Danube—the diffusion of the decision to apply for ‘debt relief andconstruction’ in the rural society of the second half of 1938 will be
examined. The diffusion curve of all the 209 applicants diverges
widely from the S-shaped model. This is hardly surprising; after all
what is missing is a central presumption of the model: the interpersonal connectedness of all adopters. For this reason we will look at
the diffusion curves for each community separately; a broad spectrum becomes apparent here, with Frankenfels and Heidenreichsteinat each end (Figure 1). The S-shaped characteristic of network-driven
diffusions is not perceptible for Auersthal, St Leonhard am Forst, andHeidenreichstein: the initial growth breaks off too quickly, theincreases at the end seem too abrupt. The flat second half of the diffusion curve for Frankenfels also deviates from this model; it is actually the first half that is more like an S-shape, which could point to an‘epidemic’ network effect—after all three-quarters of the applicants
took part. Consequently the interpersonal relations of the applicants
deserve more attention.
Comparison of the guarantor and private credit relations in thefour focus communities reveals that formal and informal relations
surrounding anything to do with money did not represent an opposition, but stood alongside one another—even determined one another.18 In the communities examined, generally speaking guarantees for
personal credits at savings and loan associations, as well as private
16 See Wouter de Nooy, Andrej Mrvar, and Vladimir Batagelj, Exploratory
Social Network Analysis with Pajek (Cambridge, 2005), 167–70.
17 As a criticism see Karnowski, Diffusionstheorien, 69–73.
18 See Bruce G. Carruthers, ‘The Sociology of Money and Credit’, in Neil J.
Smelser and Richard Swedberg (eds.), The Handbook of Economic Sociology(2nd edn. Princeton, 2005), 355–78.

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ERNST LANGTHALER

Figure 1: Diffusion of Applications for ‘Debt Relief’ by Community,
1938.

Source: own calculations (N=209) based on Provincial Archives of Lower
Austria (Niederösterreichisches Landesarchiv, hereafter NÖLA), Amt
NÖLReg, L.A. VI/12, Entschuldungsakten, AZ 263 (Auersthal), AZ 337(Heidenreichstein), AZ 909 (St Leonhard am Forst, KG Aichbach), AZ (St
Leonhard am Forst, KG Grimmegg), AZ (St Leonhard am Forst, KG
Pöllendorf), AZ 928 (St Leonhard am Forst, KG Ritzengrub), AZ 931 (StLeonhard am Forst, KG Markt), AZ 1378 (Frankenfels).

loans, were largely arranged amongst relatives or near neighbours,
especially in Frankenfels and Heidenreichstein.19 The exception is
Auersthal: most of the guarantee arrangements there were indeed
embedded in familial or neighbourhood relations; but the private
creditors—some of them lawyers, traders, or businessmen from theregion, others credit-providers from near-by Vienna—hardly ever
had this sort of close relationship with their debtors (Table 1).
Guaranteeing personal credit for another person or lending themmoney was, in the crisis years of the 1920s and 1930s, a risky business. However, the risk of taking on someone else’s debts or of having to write off the money lent, complete with interest, could be
reduced by mutual trust between the two parties. Clearly being

19 See Walter Lechler, Kreditgrundlagen der bäuerlichen Betriebe in der Ostmark(Berlin, 1941), 57.

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Relational Decision-Making

neighbours or relatives served as social capital that formed trust; andthis was convertible into monetary values—guarantees for personalcredit at regional savings and loan associations, as well as personalcredit.
The diffusion network for the community of Frankenfels shows
the neighbourhood and guarantor relations between the applicantswith the corresponding thresholds at the time each application was
Table 1: Multifunctional Monetary Relations of the Applicants in
Auersthal, Frankenfels, Heidenreichstein, and St Leonhard am Forst,
1938.
sort ofrelation

Auersthal(N=39)

Frankenfels(N=58)

cases

%

cases

%

guarantees for
personal credits

21

100.0

78

-kinship andneighbourhood

6

28.6

-neighbourhood
only

6-kinship only

Heidenreichstein St Leonhard/F.
(N=39)(N=69)
cases

%

cases

%

100.0

30

100.0

38

100.0

17

21.8

1

3.3

3

7.9

28.6

26

33.3

12

40.0

17

44.7

5

23.8

10

12.8

3

10.0

–

–

-other relations

4

19.0

25

32.1

14

46.7

18

47.4

private credits

25

100.0

41

100.0

29

100.0

36

100.0

-kinship andneighbourhood

–

–

1

2.4

–

–

1

2.8

-neighbourhood
only

–

–

8

19.5

10

34.5

4

11.1

-kinship only

4

16.0

16

39.0

8

27.6

11

30.6

-other relations

21

84.0

16

39.0

11

37.9

20

55.6

Source: see Figure 1 (N=205).

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ERNST LANGTHALER

made (Figure 2). What can be seen immediately are the two sectionsof the diffusion curve: S-shaped and strong growth from the beginning of July to the end of August, linear and weak growth from the
beginning of September to the end of December. Remarkably, thefirst two applicants at the beginning of July were not connected withthose who followed. These were two farm owners beyond the normof the farming milieu: an owner of a medium-sized farm who wasregarded as an odd-ball because of his passion for reading (no. 7),20
and a female farm-owner who dominated her husband (no. 10).21 It
was the thirteen farm owners (nos. 3, 6, 8 etc.) in the following week
who set off the ‘epidemic’ dissemination of making applications in
the community. The large number of applications made simultaneously leads to the conclusion that the farm-owners, spurred on by the
public announcement of ‘debt relief and construction’, had alreadybeen waiting for quite some time. Linked closely to one another,which we can see from the rising thresholds, in the following weeks
other farm owners also decided to fill out the application form: fiveand then nine as early as July, three, four, three and finally anotherthree in August. The local farmers’ leader (no. 20) signed his own
form at the end of August, at the turning point of the wave of applications with the maximum threshold; that means that all his networkneighbours had already made their applications. Possibly he delayed
his application so that he could wait and see how the local farm owners reacted to the scheme; now he jumped on the bandwagon.
However crucial the guarantee network may have been for accessto the credit market, it obviously did not play any great role in thedecision to take part in the state ‘debt relief and construction’ scheme.
It was precisely those farm owners who were connected with earlier
applicants by one-sided or mutual guarantees (nos. 19, 29, 31, 34, 36,
and 48) who made their decision at a very late stage. What proved to
be far more important for the ‘epidemic’ dissemination of the decision to apply were neighbour relations. Thus, for example, in the fol20 See Provincial Archives of Lower Austria (Niederösterreichisches Landes-

archiv, hereafter NÖLA), Amt NÖLReg, L.A. VI/12, Entschuldungsakten,
AZ 1378–12; as a case study see Ernst Langthaler, ‘Die Erfindung des Gebirgsbauern: Identitätsdiskurse zwischen NS-System und voralpiner Lebenswelt’, in id. and Reinhard Sieder (eds.), Über die Dörfer: Ländliche Lebenswelten
in der Moderne (Vienna, 2000), 87–142.
21 See NÖLA, Amt NÖLReg, L.A. VI/12, Entschuldungsakten, AZ 1378–15.

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Figure 2: Diffusion of the Applications in the Network of Neighbourhood and Guarantee Relations in Frankenfels, 1938.

Source: own calculations (Social Network Analysis with PAJEK, N=58) based
on NÖLA, Amt NÖLReg, L.A. VI/12, Entschuldungsakten, AZ 1378 (Frankenfels).

lowing weeks, along with the Oberhofstatt farm owner no. 53 otherneighbours (nos. 18, 22, 37, and 38), including one credit guarantor,
decided to apply. Neighbour relations between farming families
were extremely important in a region where there were hardly any
smallholders as a flexible labour reserve and the far-flung individual
farmsteads were far removed from the settlements where possible
farm-workers lived. In the high season labourers were exchanged
between neighbouring farms; individual visits and family celebrations underpinned these exchange relations in a ritual way.22 The ex22 See Ernst Langthaler, ‘Agrarwende in den Bergen: Eine Region in den niederösterreichischen Voralpen (1880–2000)’, in Ernst Bruckmüller, Ernst
Hanisch, and Roman Sandgruber (eds.), Geschichte der österreichischen Landund Forstwirtschaft im 20. Jahrhundert, vol. ii: Regionen, Betriebe, Mensche(Vienna, 2003), 563–650, at 621; Gertraud Seiser, ‘“I woaß es nu guat, zwöif
oda vierzehn Sengstn samma gwen.” Soziale Stratifikation und höfeübergreifende Arbeitsorganisation im Unteren Mühlviertel (1920–1980)’, in Rita
Garstenauer, Erich Landsteiner, and Ernst Langthaler (eds.), Land-Arbeit:

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change of labourers between cooperating farms made neighbour
relations into the capillary network of village communication; during
the high season in summer, when there was an abundance of work,
these were able to channel the flow of information, opinion-forming,and the decision-making in favour of the ‘debt relief and construction’ scheme.
The multifunctional neighbourhood relations between the farming households, intensified during the high season, favoured thewave of applications in July and August 1938 in Frankenfels. So why
was this network effect missing elsewhere, for instance, in Heidenreichstein, the polar opposite, where by the beginning of December
1938 no significant number of applications had been made (Figure 3)?
Of course, neighbour relations existed here as well; but unlike inFrankenfels, here the applicants were divided into different zones:
the small town itself, the village of Kleinpertholz, and two small farflung settlements, Edelau and Wielandsberg. What happened at theend of July and beginning of August in Wielandsberg, where there
were not many farms—the dissemination of the idea to make anapplication via neighbours (nos. 1, 4, and 5)—failed to materialize inthe other communities. Even the two earlier applications in
Kleinpertholz—the first from a poverty-stricken widow (no. 3),23 thesecond from the wife of the local farmers’ leader who had a mediumsized farm (no. 2)24—got little response from the neighbours. The
local farmers’ leader and his wife were quick off the mark with theirapplication in July, but the rest of the landowners were initiallyreserved. There was just as little effect when a craftsman from thetown of Heidenreichstein made his application at the end of October;he owned several hectares of land and mistakenly imagined that hecould set off his business debts via the ‘debt relief’ scheme (no. 6).25
The reason why there was no ‘epidemic’ dissemination of applications in Heidenreichstein was obviously the lack of pioneers who
could take the rest of the community with them. The smallholder’swidow and the craftsman clearly did not have sufficient prestige in
Arbeitsbeziehungen in ländlichen Gesellschaften Europas (17. bis 20. Jahrhundert)(Innsbruck, 2010), 173–97.
23 See NÖLA, Amt NÖLReg, L.A. VI/12, Entschuldungsakten, AZ 337-3.
24 Ibid. AZ 337-2.
25 Ibid. AZ 337-6.

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Figure 3: Diffusion of the Applications in the Network of Neighbourhood and Guarantee Relations in Heidenreichstein, 1938.

Source: own calculations (Social Network Analysis with PAJEK, N=39) based
on NÖLA, Amt NÖLReg, L.A. VI/12, Entschuldungsakten, AZ 337 (Heidenreichstein).

the farming community; even the local farmers’ leader of Kleinpertholz, who did not even appear in the land register as a landowner
and apart from that worked as a cash-in-hand labourer in the transport service, had little influence in this respect.26 Furthermore, theexchange of labourers played a smaller role here than in Frankenfels;
the largely closed village and small-town settlements in Heidenreichstein with numerous smallholder families had a more flexible reserveof labour—and thus the diffusion channel was less significant.
So let us sum up the findings of this empirical experiment conducted on the basis of network theory: the most significant ‘epidemic’ dissemination of the decision to make an application, as is characteristic of network-driven diffusion, took place in Frankenfels in themonths of July and August. This network effect manifested itself inconstantly rising threshold averages, which had already reached the
26 See NÖLA, Amt NÖLReg, L.A. VI/12, Entschuldungsakten, AZ 337-2.

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maximum 1 by the end of September; according to this, neighbours
who had already made an application must, as a ‘critical mass’,27
have exerted ever-increasing influence on the decision of the actors tomake an application. The polar opposite, Heidenreichstein, shows no
network effect—evident from average thresholds which did notexceed 0.5 before the end of December and in October sank back to
the minimum value 0 (Figure 4). In short: networks of people, especially in neighbour relations so vital for the farming economy, had aprovable influence on the decision of the farm-owners to make anapplication, but this influence was limited in both space and time.
This interim conclusion provokes the question as to additional factors relevant to the decision, for instance, characteristics of the applicants making them more likely to be either for or against. In order toanswer this, we need to go through it all again from a different perspective.

Figure 4: Adoption Thresholds of the Applicants in the Network of
Neighbourhood and Guarantee Relations in Frankenfels and Heidenreichstein, 1938.

Source: see Figures 2 and 3 (N=97).
27 On the importance of a ‘critical mass’ in a diffusion process see de Nooy,

Mrvar, and Batagelj, Network Analysis, 173–6.

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II: Relational Decision-Making in the Field

Like network theory, Pierre Bourdieu’s field theory is based on a relational notion of society;28 but it represents a different concept of relations. A field29 comprises an area of relations—a ‘net’30—between
positions that vary according to the composition and extent of thecapital (economic, social, cultural, and so on) available to the actors
involved.31 Unlike network theory, field theory does not conceive ofrelations as interpersonal, but as structural (dis-)similarities regarding the locations of the actors in the space. The actors only start tointeract under certain conditions, and, in struggles for classification,
form themselves from a theoretical or ‘objective’ (that is, structurally
located in the social space) class into one that is practical or ‘subjective’ (that is, interactively networked in the symbolic space).32 The
pre-reflexive dispositions in terms of perception, thought, andbehaviour (that is, the internalized structures of the ‘habitus’) adapted to each position (that is, the external structures of the field) guidethe actors’ practical decisions without fully determining them.33 As amethod for raising the interrelations of the field positions correspondence analysis is very suitable;34 it is able to arrange the cases (that is,

28 As an introduction see Markus Schwingel, Bourdieu zur Einführung (Hamburg, 1995).
29 See Pierre Bourdieu, Soziologische Fragen (Frankfurt am Main, 1993),
107–14; id. and Loïc J. D. Wacquant, Reflexive Anthropologie (Frankfurt am
Main, 1996), 124–47; Pierre Bourdieu, Praktische Vernunft: Zur Theorie desHandelns (Frankfurt am Main, 1998), 13–27.
30 Bourdieu and Wacquant, Anthropologie, 127.
31 See Pierre Bourdieu, ‘Ökonomisches Kapital, soziales Kapital, kulturelles
Kapital’, in Reinhard Kreckel (ed.), Soziale Ungleichheiten (Göttingen, 1983),
183–98.
32 See Pierre Bourdieu, ‘Sozialer Raum, symbolischer Raum’, in Jörg Dünne
and Stephan Günzel (eds.), Raumtheorie: Grundlagentexte aus Philosophie undKulturwissenschaften (Frankfurt am Main, 2006), 354–68; Pierre Bourdieu,
Sozialer Raum und ‘Klassen’: Leçon sur la leçon. Zwei Vorlesungen (Frankfurt am
Main, 1995), 7–46.
33 See Bourdieu and Wacquant, Anthropologie, 147–75.
34 Correspondence Analysis is applied in Distinction, Homo Academicus andother studies; it is conceived as a ‘Technik, die in Relationen “denkt”, genau
wie ich das mit dem Begriff Feld versuche’. However, Bourdieu rejects any

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actors) according to the (dis)simililarity of their characteristics (thatis, the sorts of capital) geometrically in a multi-dimensional space(that is, field).35
By means of correspondence analysis we can assign the 205 applicants from the four focus communities in terms of characteristics evidenced in the sources (geographical location, landownership, sex,age, type and size of the debt, as well as assessment by official referees) in a multi-dimensional space; for now, the time when the application was made is not taken into account. The first three dimensions,which together cover 53 per cent of the whole variation, indicate theessential factors of difference amongst the farm-owners as a whole.
The first dimension (21 per cent of the whole variation) measures thelevel of land capital combined with the official evaluations of thelandowners. The proper (mountain) peasants are characterized by owning medium-sized to large farmlands in the mountains, and are officially assessed as ‘diligent’, ‘orderly’, and ‘progressive’. The poor
farms are characterized by owning small properties in the foothills
and are not acknowledged by official referees. The second dimension(20 per cent of the whole variation) measures the whole indebtednessof medium-sized farms. Highly indebted medium-sized farms have debts
above 5,000 RM, between 5 and 20 hectares of land, are located in thefoothills of the Alps, and pay few taxes. The designation moderately
indebted medium-sized farms takes in debts of up to 2,000 RM, between
20 and 50 hectares, mountain location, and high taxes. On the third
dimension (12 per cent of the whole variation) indebtedness per
hectare and age are significant. The old farmers with middling indebtedness per hectare are characterized by 200 to 500 RM debts per hectare,large loans, five to 20 hectares of land, aged over 60, and located in
the foothills of the Alps or the highlands. The young farmers withextreme indebtedness per hectare are characterized by low per hectare
debts on properties between 20 and 50 hectares, or high per hectare
debts on smallholdings of under two hectares, small loans, aged
between 30 and 45, and mountain location. The three dimensions
methodological ‘monotheism’. See Bourdieu and Wacquant, Anthropologie,
126, 260.
35 See Michael J. Greenacre, Theory and Applications of Correspondence Analysis(London, 1989); Jörg Blasius, Korrespondenzanalyse (Munich, 2001); Brigitte Le
Roux and Henry Rouhanet, Geometric Data Analysis: From Correspondence
Analysis to Structured Data Analysis (Dortrecht, 2004).

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designate firstly the volume of land capital (converted into symbolic
capital), secondly the volume of (‘negative’) monetary capital, andthirdly the relationship of monetary to land capital (combined withthe human capital of the owners). Clearly these types of capital are atstake in the field of the ‘debt relief and construction’ scheme.
If these dimensions are combined, a three-dimensional space
emerges that represents the ‘debt relief and construction’ scheme(Figure 5). Here the applicants occupy certain positions. Their locational relations describe structural (dis)similarities in the field; thenearer they are, the more similar they are, and vice versa. For example, the Oberhofstatt farm owner from Frankenfels occupies position
0.25 on the first spatial dimension, 0.56 on the second, and 0.22 on thethird. By means of cluster analysis three field-specific milieux ofneighbouring, and therefore structurally similar, applicants can beascertained.36 The corners of the space can, with Max Weber, be interpreted as ‘ideal types’, the agglomeration of actors in the milieux as‘real types’.37 Whether this field structure and the practice of making
applications are connected can be determined by projecting the adoption categories into the three-dimensional space.38 If there were noconnection, then all adoption categories would lie close to the origin,the ‘average position’; but this is not the case. The striking dissemination of the early adopters (the first 16 per cent), the early majority(the following 34 per cent), the late majority (the following 34 percent), and the late adopters (the last 16 per cent) points to the fact thatthe decision-making practice (as explanandum) depends on the fieldstructure (as explanans). To put it crudely, land wealth, low level ofdebt, and extreme debt per hectare accelerated the application; land
poverty, high level of debt, and medium debt per hectare caused theapplicants to hesitate. In order to refine these findings, let us compare
the diffusion of the applications according to field-specific milieux

36 Hierarchical Cluster Analysis deals with the main coordinates of the caseson the first, second, and third dimension, calculated with the aid of Multiple
Correspondence Analysis. Accordingly, three classes are appropriate.
37 See Uta Gerhardt, Idealtypus: Zur methodischen Begründung der modernen Soziologie (Frankfurt am Main, 2001), 223–76.
38 The subsequent projection positions the variable values in the space of(dis)similarities while not including them in the spatial construction (which
is based exclusively on the ‘active’ variables); thus, these variables are labelled ‘passive’.

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Figure 5: The Field of the ‘Debt Relief and Construction’ Scheme,
1938.
Figure 5aa) Front view (D1 x D2)

Figure 5bb) Side view (D3 x D2)

Figure 5cc) Top view (D1 x D3)

Note: The adopter category has been
projected subsequently as a passive
variable; in contrast to the active
variables, it does not affect the construction of the space.
Source: see Figure 1 (Multiple Correspondence Analysis and Hierarchical
Cluster Analysis with XLSTAT, N=205).

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Figure 6: Diffusion of the Applications by Field-Specific Milieux,
1938.

Source: see Figure 1 (N=205).

(Figure 6). Here there are clear differences: a diffusion-inhibiting milieu
in which the proportion of applicants does not rise until shortly
before the deadline; a diffusion-neutral milieu, whose diffusion curveis similar to that of the whole; and a diffusion-promoting milieu, inwhich applications spread ‘like an epidemic’ soon after the introduction of the ‘debt relief and construction’ scheme, following the pattern of the S-curve.
So far the three field-specific milieux have been regarded as blackboxes; let us open these in order to reveal the connection between
field structure and decision-making practice so that we can explain
and understand it better. Comparison of the milieux’ profiles composed by their features—location, gender, age, property ownership,level and type of debt, and official assessment—reveals the milieuspecific peculiarities (Figure 7).39 In the diffusion-prohibiting milieu
the locations of Auersthal and Heidenreichstein, female management, owners over 60, very small or small-holdings, small overall
debt, high debt per hectare, and a high level of private and bankloans occur comparatively often. The diffusion-neutral milieu is char39 Milieu-specific peculiarities refer to variable values with a correlation rateof more than 0.15.

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acterized by the location St Leonhard am Forst, owners under 30 orover 60, medium-sized concerns, the highest overall debt, medium
debt per hectare, medium proportion of private loans and medium tohigh bank loans, low or high proportions of business debts, low to
medium inherited debts and tax liabilities, and assessment as ‘progressive’, ‘diligent’, or ‘orderly’. In the diffusion-promoting milieu
the emphasis is on the location of Frankenfels, an age between 30 and
45 years, medium to large farm property, small to medium overall
debt, small debt per hectare, small private and bank loans, high tax
liability, and an extremely positive assessment of the owners by theauthorities.

Figure 7: Features of the Field-Specific Milieux, 1938.

Source: see Figure 1 (N=205).

Note: The correlation rate calculates the relative deviation of the measured
from the expected frequency. Values less than zero indicate frequencies‘below-average’, values more than zero indicate frequencies ‘above-average’.
Example: the value 1.5 shows that the measured frequency (e.g. ten cases) is
1.5 times higher than expected (e.g. four cases). Variable values with lessthan five cases in total were not considered.

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If we compare the profile factors of the diffusion-inhibiting anddiffusion-promoting milieux we can see a polarity whose extremes
correspond in an opposite way to the Nazi politico-economic agrosystem. The factors accentuated in the diffusion-inhibiting milieu—
female, over-age, highly indebted, smallholdings, and small farms—
contradicted the Nazi ideal of the ‘peasant’ (Bauer) that propagatedthe medium to large ‘hereditary farm’ (Erbhof), run by one maleowner.40 By contrast, the diffusion-promoting milieu seems like a
hot-bed of the species of ‘rural people’ (Landvolk) most ‘worthy ofdebt relief’ in the Nazi sense, and this was also expressed in the official assessments. In short, the diffusion-inhibiting milieu proves to beheterologous, the diffusion-promoting milieu as homologous to the Nazi
moral economy41 of ‘debt relief and construction’. What is more, thestructural proximity between the Nazi ideal and everyday farming
reality in the diffusion-promoting milieu correlates to a high degreewith the spatial, and thus also interpersonal, proximity of the actors
belonging to that milieu: 47 of 53 applicants ran their farms in thelocation of Frankenfels. The favourable location, along with the network effect mentioned earlier, must have done much to promote thediffusion of the decision to make an application.
This (interim) answer leads us to another question. In structural
terms the diffusion-promoting and the diffusion-neutral milieux did
not constitute contrary worlds as far as the ‘debt relief and construction’ scheme was concerned; this is demonstrated, for instance, bythat fact that in both cases there were medium-sized farms, and both
received favourable official assessments. Why did identity with the
Nazi agrarian project have such a strong effect in the first case, but
hardly any in the second? One part of the answer to this question isprovided by the effect of the neighbour-network in the location of
40 See Ernst Langthaler, ‘Wer ist (k)ein “Bauer”? Inklusion und Exklusion

durch Erbhofgerichtsverfahren (1938–1945)’, in Garstenauer, Landsteiner,and Langthaler (eds.), Land-Arbeit, 255–80.
41 My understanding of ‘moral economy’ is wider than Edward P. Thompson’s narrower pre-capitalist notion.: Edward P. Thompson, Plebeische Kultur
und moralische Ökonomie: Aufsätze zur englischen Sozialgeschichte des 18. und 19.
Jahrhunderts (Frankfurt am Main, 1980). On the contrary, each economy, be it
capitalist or not, involves implicit and explicit moral orientations. See
Andrew Sayer, Moral Economy <http://www.comp.lancs.ac.uk/sociology/papers/sayer-moral-economy.pdf>, accessed 6 July 2011.

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ERNST LANGTHALERFrankenfels; the other part will be revealed by looking at things froma different point of view—that of the communication via mass media
between the Nazi regime and the farming community in the discourse of the agrarian press.
III: Relational Decision-Making in the Discourse

As Pierre Bourdieu does for the field concept, so Michael Foucault
constantly looks for network metaphors for the concept of the discourse,42 for instance, the book as a ‘knot in a net’.43 Consequently adiscourse can be understood as a regulated, exclusive, and inclusive
formation of statements—as a ‘space of expression’ in which a ‘net ofdiffering positions unfolds’.44 The knots in this net are formed by subject positions—standpoints for speakers, from which the discourse inquestion generates sense.45 Like Bourdieu’s field, Foucault’s discourse seems to be a facilitating and restricting space of structural
relations, though in this case not between social, but symbolic (‘discursive’) positions. The overlapping of discourse and society is manifested, amongst other things, in the way in which individual and collective actors make themselves the subjects of a discourse either byidentifying with certain subject positions, or else by disagreeing withthem, or being indifferent to them, for instance, because they haveabsolutely nothing to do with them. By taking these attitudes (either
consciously or pre-consciously) they are not only determined by discourses, but present themselves as self-aware ‘individuals’ and ‘collectives’.46 In discourse theory this corresponds to the step frombeing an ‘objective’ to a ‘subjective’ class in field theory. The inter-discourse,47 as a hybrid of special and everyday discourses, as it can be

42 As an introduction see Achim Landwehr, Historische Diskursanalyse (Frankfurt am Main, 2008).
43 Michel Foucault, Archäologie des Wissens (Frankfurt am Main, 1973), 36.
44 Ibid. 82.
45 See Michael Foucault, Die Ordnung des Diskurses (Munich, 1974).
46 See Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe, Hegemonie und radikale Demokratie:
Zur Dekonstruktion des Marxismus (Vienna, 2006), 152–61; Stuart Hall, ‘The
Work of Representation’, in id. (ed.), Representation: Cultural Representationand Signifying Practices (London, 1997), 13–74.
47 See Jürgen Link, Versuch über den Normalismus: Wie Normalität produziert

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perceived, for instance, in mass media, school teaching, or celebratory rituals, is an arena for creating relations of identity and difference.
Looking at the Wochenblatt der Landesbauernschaft Donauland, theofficial paper of the Reich Food Estate (Reichsnährstand), several associational strands of the inter-discourse on ‘debt relief and construction’ can be identified. In the forefront the authors of the articles supported the view of the Reich Food Estate. But in the background ofthese statements were certain views of the ‘rural people’, to which
the writing agrarian elite referred. The demand made of the Wochenblatt by the regional farmers’ leader Anton Reinthaller, that it should
be both the ‘mouthpiece of the leaders’ and also ‘mediator’ of the‘rural people’,48 arose from the notion of a levelling of interests in the‘people’s community’ (Volksgemeinschaft).49 This view, geared towards social harmony, concealed the conflicts of interest between
various social groups; but at the same time it pointed to a strategy bywhich such conflicts of interest, though not completely resolved,
could at least be damped down: the acquisition of symbolic power.50
Even in dictatorial regimes like National Socialism the ‘leaders’ could
not impose their claim to hegemony in the long run simply by threatening and using violence; this required gentle force too, a certain
degree of recognition on the part of the (rural) people, all the more sosince in the months after the Anschluss the Nazi leaders were attempting to assert their own legitimacy against that of the Catholic–wird (Opladen, 1997), 50; Siegfried Jäger, Kritische Diskursanalyse: Eine Einführung (Duisburg, 2004), 131–2.
48 See Wochenblatt der Bauernschaft für Niederösterreich, Wien und Burgenland, 1(1938), 2.
49 See Peter Reichel, Der schöne Schein des Dritten Reiches: Faszination und Gewalt des Faschismus (Frankfurt am Main, 1993), 114; as a criticism of the overemphasis of the suggestive power of Nazi propaganda see Klaus-Michael
Mallmann and Gerhard Paul, ‘Alles nur “schöner Schein” im deutschen
Faschismus? Propaganda, ästhetische Inszenierung und Sozialpolitik in der
Perspektive regionaler NS-Forschung’, Sowi: Sozialwissenschaftliche Informationen, 21 (1992), 125–31.
50 In this context, Pierre Bourdieu refers to ‘symbolic power’. See Gerhard
Wayand, ‘Pierre Bourdieu: Das Schweigen der Doxa aufbrechen’, in Peter
Imbusch (ed.), Macht und Herrschaft: Sozialwissenschaftliche Konzeptionen undTheorien (Opladen, 1988), 221–37.

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conservative elites which was still particularly strong in Lower
Austria.51
In a leader in the first edition of the Wochenblatt in May 1938
Anton Reinthaller already announced, along with other innovations,the ‘debt relief of Austrian agriculture’.52 Here debts of various sorts
are calculated: to start with it gives symbolic relief to the farms withmaterial debts by making the ‘system’ of the Austrian governments
before 1938 responsible for the farming families’ misery. After that itliberates the farm holders from material dependence by ‘debt relief’,in fact, a re-allocation of debt from several individual creditors to theGerman Reich as the only guarantor. And then, as a quid pro quo forthe material gift of ‘debt relief and construction’, it demands a symbolic counter-gift from the farm owners. In short, the farm holders
were caught in a debt spiral, in which the Nazi state took the place of
their former guarantors. From the indebtedness of the former ‘system’ and ‘debt relief’ for the farm holders the Nazi state accumulated symbolic capital, which, in turn, served to accumulate material
capital in terms of the state-led production campaign.
In the months that followed, the discourse in the Wochenblatt
about ‘debt relief and construction’ was characterized by a dual strategy. On the one hand Anton Reinthaller’s announcement of May was
repeated several times, underpinned and expanded upon, partly insober legal jargon, partly in heated rhetoric. On the other hand various standpoints of the ‘rural people’ were expressed as either positive or negative subject positions.53 Whatever the differences, what
the articles between May and October had in common was that they
pointed up a series of horizontal and vertical disagreements, bothwithin the rural community and also between the ‘rural people’ andthe ‘leaders’. These debates partly centred on farm owners’ economic strategies in terms of the ‘debt relief and construction’ scheme: the51 See Ernst Hanisch, ‘Bäuerliches Milieu und Arbeitermilieu in den Alpen-

gauen: Ein historischer Vergleich’, in Rudolf G. Ardelt and Hans Hautmann(eds.), Arbeiterschaft und Nationalsozialismus in Österreich (Vienna, 1990),
583–98.
52 See Wochenblatt der Bauernschaft für Niederösterreich, Wien und Burgenland, 1(1938), 1.
53 Wochenblatt der Bauernschaft für Niederösterreich, Wien und Burgenland 2/1938,
p. 45; Wochenblatt der Landesbauernschaft Donauland 5/1938; ibid. 9/1938, 306;
ibid. 22/1938, 770.

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hope of being freed of debt with the help of the state; the concern that‘bad farm managers’ could abuse state support; the temptation toabuse auction protection at the expense of the guarantors. Partly,
however, the domination strategies of the policy-makers were also
given expression: the complaint about subjects described negatively—the ‘naive ignoramus’, ‘bad manager’, ‘unscrupulous egoist’—served to put off potential applicants, thereby restricting the number
of applications actually made. Clearly the policy-makers in the agrarian apparatus were initially surprised by the flood of applications.54
However, the strategy of restricting applications that went on formonths took an unexpected turn just before the deadline for submission. In December 1938, a week before this deadline, a full-page illustrated article was published with the title ‘Ridiculous Rumours about
the Debt Relief’. With this the leaders of the Reich Food Estate weresignalling a strategic change of direction: if, up until now, it had beena question of restricting the number of applications, this now became
the duty of ‘every farm owner whose situation required clearance ofdebts and whose business was in need of help’.55 One the one hand,
failure to fulfil this duty was linked to serious penalties. Farm owners were threatened with compulsory auction and those who were
protected from this by the Reich Hereditary Farm law (Reichserbhofgesetz) were threatened with compulsory control by the Reich Food
Estate. On the other hand the authors showed understanding for theapplicants’ hesitation:
The application must be made by 31 December 1938. Now
many think that they should not make it because there is something humiliating, perhaps dishonourable, about it, especiallysince, when the process starts, it is made publicly known. Doesa factory owner whose business had ceased production when
the new regime took over need to feel ashamed if he can behelped by state means in the form of by contracts and job-creation measures? Does a peasant or farmer who has been driven to the abyss by an alien system need to feel ashamed if he isgiven help? It is quite understandable that some people are
reluctant to make the application, since the peasant’s greatest

54 See Lechler, Kreditgrundlagen, 14.

55 Wochenblatt des Landesbauernschaft Donauland 33/1938, 1167.

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source of pride has always been that he can help himself andovecome all fate’s blows on his own. But at the moment inmany cases, despite all the individual’s efforts, this self-help is
not possible and that is why the debt-regulation law was created.56

This opposition between subject positions designated positively
and negatively leads us to one of the contraditions in the ‘colonization’57 of the farming world by the Nazi system. The ‘peasant’s
pride’, especially that of the medium-sized and large farm owner,
was, on the one hand, enhanced by the Nazi ‘blood and soil’ (Blutund-Boden) ideology; on the other hand the peasant families’ claim toautonomy in their daily lives collided with the incentives and impositions of the Nazi regime that were aimed at subordination.58 In thecase being discussed here the peasants’ concept of honour was directed against regulation by the Nazi state of the rural credit markets
embedded in multi-functional relational nets. When a farm-owner
decided for or against making an application, economic and moral
factors, calculation and emotion, were all involved. Paternalistic‘farm lords’, as were characteristic of the Alpine foothills with theirstriking quadrangular farmyards, saw themselves, in the logic of
their own moral economy, as givers, to whom the takers—servants,
smallholders, day-labourers—owed something in return.59 The logicof the Nazi moral economy now demoted them to the status ofclients, of takers, who, by means of the ‘debt relief and construction’application, put themselves into a debt relationship with the giver,
56 Wochenblatt der Landesbauernschaft Donauland 33/1938, 1167.

57 See Jürgen Habermas, Theorie des kommunikativen Handelns (Frankfurt am
Main, 1981), ii. 522.
58 On the dialectic of peasant autonomy and subordination see Jan Douwevan der Ploeg, ‘The peasantries of the twenty-first century: the commoditisation debate revisited’, The Journal of Peasant Studies 37 (2010), 1–30.
59 See Norbert Ortmayr, ‘Ländliches Gesinde in Oberösterreich 1918-1938’, inJosef Ehmer and Michael Mitterauer (eds.), Familienstruktur und Arbeitsorganisation in ländlichen Gesellschaften (Vienna, Cologne, and Graz, 1986), 325–416;
Karl Stocker, ‘Landwirtschaft zwischen “Rückständigkeit” und “Fortschritt”.
Notizen zur Industrialisierung des Agrarbereichs in der NS-Zeit am Beispiel
der Oststeiermark’, Zeitschrift für Agrargeschichte und Agrarsoziologie 38 (1990),
62–86.

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the paternalistic Nazi state and its Führer, thereby also putting theirhonour at stake. The threatened reversal of the hierarchical patron–
client relationship, the shift from farming autonomy to politico-economic subordination, pushed at the mental boundaries of the legendary ‘peasant’s pride’.
At the last minute, so to speak, the press campaign tried to discredit the ‘peasant’s pride’, in order to generate acceptance of state
aid for over-indebted farming concerns. Even before the article
appeared, this discourse had certainly found its way verbally into
every last village, and had become a subject of dispute between the‘old’ Catholic–conservative and the ‘new’ Nazi elites. To what extent
these mass media and interpersonal discourses were likely to influence farm-owners who were hesitant about applying is suggested by
the milieu-specific diffusion curves. In the diffusion-promoting
milieu, where the potential for mobilization had already been largely exhausted and the farm holders already had a strong client mentality,60 the effect remained small. But in the other milieu, including
the diffusion-neutral milieu of the Alpine foothills with its marked
paternalism, the campaign, designed specifically for the discourse
subject of the ‘farm lord’, still had considerable influence shortly
before the end of 1938. It was only the discourse effect of the Reich
Food Estate’s mass media campaign combined with the network andfield effects that was able to provide sufficient grounds for the decision to take part in the ‘debt relief and construction’ scheme.
Conclusion: Interconnecting Field, Network, and Discourse

This empirical case study, unfolded in several stages, on the farm
holders’ decision to take part in the ‘debt relief and construction’scheme in the four communities of the former province of Niederdonau in 1938, aimed to explore the viability of the diffusion model
inspired by network theory. The first stage, orientated to network
theory, discovered multi-functional neighbour networks, intensified
in the high season, in a settlement of individual mountain farms as
catalysts for the diffusion of applications; by contrast, the other communities do not show network effects of this sort. The second stage,
60 See Langthaler, Erfindung.

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orientated to field theory, recognized that the diffusion-promoting
milieu largely matched the ideal of the Nazi moral economy, that is,medium-sized and large farms, and also that this was a factor that
promoted diffusion. The third stage, orientated to discourse theory,
proved that the negotiations, conducted in the mass media and person-to-person, about the subject position of the ‘peasant’s pride’ wasa driver for making applications shortly before the deadline, especially in those communities barely touched by network or field
effects. To sum up, we can say that in this case the network-theory
approach has proved to be only partially viable; here it needs to besupplemented by field-theory and discourse-theory approaches inorder to explain and understand adequately the empirical findings,
as decisions that are relational in various ways.
In this way the case study offers an empirical argument for considering field, network, and discourse not as alternative theoretical
approaches, but as complementary ones (Table 2).61 What theseapproaches have in common is that they have a relational concept of
their sphere of objects—attributes, social relations, and statements;
yet they differ from one another in the nature of the relations: fields
and discourses are linked by structural relations between social positions (‘locations’) in the first case, and between symbolic (dis-)positions (‘standpoints’) in the other. How the elements are positioned ineach relational space depends on resources (natural, economic, cultural, etc. capital) in the field, and on how they are assessed (symbolic
capital) in the discourse. By contrast, social networks consist of interpersonal relations, constantly updated by interaction; if these serveas channels for the flow of resources between actors, they becomesocial capital. Social networks play a key conveyor role between(field and discourse) structures and actors’ practices. According totheir habitus interacting actors fight for their positions in the fieldand can, in certain circumstances, mobilize ‘objective’ into ‘subjective’ classes. Moreover, they identify with discursive subject positions or else oppose them, and in addition they give validity in one
way or another to more or less powerful (inter-)discourses in everyday life. In short, social networks (re-)produce fields and discourses;
61 As a step in this direction see Wouter de Nooy, ‘Fields and Networks:

Correspondence Analysis and Social Network Analysis in the Framework of
Field Theory’, Poetics 31 (2003), 305–27.

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Table 2: Field, Network, and Discourse as Complementary Research
Perspectives.
sourcemethodrelationfield

network

discourse

statistics (e.g.
correspondence
analysis)

network analysis(‘quantitative’and ‘qualitative’)discourse andcontent analysis

social capital(resource flows)

symbolic capital(resource evaluation)

attributes

social positions

sort of capital natural, economic,
cultural etc. capital(resource stock)
spatial level
effect mode

(appropriated)material and social
space

property structure(as a condition andeffect of practice)

Source: design by the author.

social relations

expressions

thought and action symbolicby actors(dis)positionssocial spaceinteraction(as a structured
and structuring
practice)(appropriated)
symbolic andsocial space

Regulatory
structure (as acondition andeffect of practice)

but at the same time they are (re-)produced by fields and discourses.
Thinking about field, network and discourse in this way, as one context, also requires synergetic combination of the methods of each (statistical analysis, network analysis, discourse analysis, and so on). It
would certainly be a worthwhile task to examine more precisely how
field, network, and discourse perspectives are inter-connected andcomplement one another.

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10
Falliment: The Social Life of a Legal Category.
Knowledge and Morals in Bankruptcy Proceedings(Basel, 1840s)
MISCHA SUTER

I. The Condition of Falliment‘Six years have already passed since I quit a most respectable trading
house, and, shortly after, was thrown into deepest misery’, wrote
Rudolf Hunziker, a 36-year-old day-labourer and father of three children, to the mayor and council of Basel in 1854. ‘Then came the lossof my civil rights and honour, following my Falliment.’ In his letter,
Hunziker petitioned for rehabilitation from his Falliment, as the legal
situation of insolvency was called.1 Hunziker continued: ‘More thanThis paper has a long history. For suggestions and criticism I would like tothank the participants in the conference ‘Networks of Paupers and Debtors’
held at the German Historical Institute London in February 2011, in workshops held at Tel Aviv University and the University of Michigan in
February and March 2012, and Erika Vause and Jacqueline Larios. I cannot
take all my commentators’ valuable suggestions into consideration in thispaper. However, I do address some of the issues in broader scope and in
more detail in my dissertation, of which this paper presents a few preliminary findings. The errors remain my own.
1 A remark on terminology: ‘insolvency’ and ‘bankruptcy’ are used interchangeably throughout the text, although this does not reflect nineteenthcentury Swiss usage of the terms. Falliment (or German Konkurs) was not apunishable crime and the cases considered in this chapter all fell under private law, but the fraudulent Bankrott was a criminal act, and distinguishing
between the two was never easy. During the nineteenth century, the English
term ‘bankruptcy’ came to be colloquially used interchangeably with thebroader term ‘insolvency’ in the United States and Britain, and is used thisway in most present-day English-language historiography. ‘Bankruptcy’ wasin many European countries and the USA related to statutorily defined occupational groups, such as merchants, yet in Basel Falliment could occur to any-217

MISCHA SUTER

four months without any bread [brodlos], without any hope or expectation for any apt employment, I decided, in order to provide myfamily with the most basic necessities—and in order not to let them
get into other hands, to prevent this with work, whatever it may be,
as long as it was an honest one.’ Having worked as a packer in a large
store and having gained ‘the confidence and the esteem’ of his superiors, Hunziker claimed to have ‘satisfied and paid’ his creditors.
‘Now then, my most esteemed mayor and most honoured gentlemen’, he continued, ‘there remains just one stain adhering to me that
affects me to the inmost and is a great obstacle for my future—namely, the loss of my civil rights.’2
This chapter is concerned with the experiences of bankruptcy law
in Basel in the 1840s, a period marked by economic and politicalcrises. Basel was a canton confined to a small, yet fast-growing townwith roughly 23,000 inhabitants by 1840, and 38,000 in 1860.3

body, not only to merchants. For the early modern French terms, see Julie
Hardwick, ‘Banqueroute: la faillite, le crime et la transition vers le capitalisme dans la France moderne’, Histoire, Economie & Société, 30 (2011), 79–93;
for England, see Julian Hoppit, Risk and Failure in English Business, 1700–1800(Cambridge, 1987), chs. 2, 3 and V. Markham Lester, Victorian Insolvency:
Bankruptcy, Imprisonment for Debt, and Company Winding-Up in NineteenthCentury England (Oxford, 1995), 37–9; for the USA, see Bruce H. Mann,
Republic of Debtors: Insolvency in the Age of American Independence (Cambridge,
Mass., 2003), 45–6 and Scott Sandage, Born Losers: A History of Failure in
America (Cambridge, Mass., 2005), 30–1; for Germany and Austria, see the thematic issue by Peter Eigner, Erich Landsteiner, and Peter Melichar, ‘Bankrott’,Österreichische Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaften, 19 (2008), esp. ‘Einleitung’, 5–9; for a study which embraces the full range of debt enforcement
in a wider context of credit relationships, see Ira Spieker and Elke Schlendrich, ‘Im Soll: Kredite, Schuldklagen und Zwangsvollstreckungen. LändlicheÖkonomien im (vor)modernen Sachsen als Spiegel sozialer Praxen’, Volkskunde in Sachsen, 19 (2007), 9–40.
2 Staatsarchiv Basel-Stadt (STABS) Justiz J6, Einzelne Rehabilitationen 1846–
56, request for rehabilitation by Rudolf Hunziker, 10 Oct. 1854, emphasis inoriginal.
3 The estimated numbers are based on Die Bevölkerungsaufnahme von BaselStadttheil am 25. Jenner 1837: Bericht an den E. E. Kleinen Rath (Basel, 1838),
table 1; Bevölkerungs-Aufnahme von Basel-Stadttheil am 3. Februar 1847: Bericht
an den E. E. Kleinen Rath (Basel, 1848), table 1; Bevölkerungs-Aufnahme vonBasel-Stadttheil am 10. December 1860: Bericht an den E. E. Kleinen Rath (Basel,
1861), table 1.

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Economically, it was marked by a dual regime of an export-led, rapidly industrializing silk-ribbon weaving sector (though cottage
industry remained important), and an artisanal and trade sector stilllargely structured by the guilds.4 The economic emergency of the
mid and late 1840s was mirrored in a peak of insolvencies. Whilebankruptcy in the 1840s still was a rare, exceptional event whichmarked a pivotal low point of social agency for an insolvent, in relative terms the numbers increased significantly. The median numberof bankruptcies in Basel was 24 per year between 1840 and 1860, andpeaks appeared in 1847 (41 cases) or 1849 (45), and again in 1854(52).5 Or, to put it differently: whereas in 1843 only 0.21 per cent of allhouseholds in Basel went bankrupt, the number rose to 0.88 per centof all households in 1849.6 In the same period, in 1848, the Swiss federal state was founded. In the early days of the nation-state, questions of male suffrage and citizenship came to the fore.7 The related
issues of civil rights and social order were interwoven with the situation of Falliment, as I will detail towards the end of this chapter.
Falliment was a legal term, but its meanings exceeded its narrowly defined legal application. Contemporaries spoke of Falliment, or ofbeing a Fallit, as an ‘estate’ (Fallitstand), thereby evoking a concept ofsocial order (the ‘estates’), or of a ‘situation’ (Fallimentszustand). They
alluded to being put into a certain social condition. For men, this condition meant a publicly announced loss of civil rights: they could not
vote or take office, they were excluded from military service, they
could no longer carry a weapon, and they were not allowed to sign

4 Philipp Sarasin, Stadt der Bürger: Bürgerliche Macht und städtische Gesellschaft.
Basel 1846–1914 (2nd rev. edn. Göttingen, 1997), ch. 2; id., ‘Sittlichkeit, Nationalgefühl und frühe Ängste vor dem Proletariat: Untersuchungen zu Politik,
Weltanschauung und Ideologie des Basler Bürgertums in der Verfassungskrise von 1846/47’, Basler Zeitschrift für Geschichte und Altertumskunde, 84(1984), 51–127.
5 STABS DS BS8, Verwaltungs-Bericht[e] des Kleinen Raths an den Großen
Rath des Kantons Basel-Stadttheil, 1840–60.
6 The numbers are based on ‘Bevölkerungsaufnahme’ of 1837, 1847 and 1870,
which counted the number of hearths in the town in order to determine thenumber of households.
7 On citizenship and the Swiss nation-state see Regula Argast, Staatsbürgerschaft und Nation: Ausschliessung und Integration in der Schweiz 1848–1933(Göttingen, 2007).

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contracts. For married women it entailed a shift from their husbands’
legal control over their property to a form of tutelage which wasmanaged by the town’s guilds. Those who were not citizens ofBasel—roughly two thirds of the inhabitants in the period underreview—risked losing their residence permit.8 The local civil courts
were charged with investigating the reasons for insolvency andwrote a report for each Falliment to the minor city council. In manycases the council advised the police to question the insolvent, that is,whenever there was the slightest possibility that a criminal investigation might become necessary or when a residence permit was on
the line.9 A Fallit could request rehabilitation only after he had
proved that he had paid all his creditors. However, many insolventswere never able to repay their debts. Some, like Rudolf Hunziker,
expressed a deep desire to repay their debtors and to have their civilrights reinstated. Others, as will become apparent, did not bothermuch about being deprived of their civil rights at all. In what follows,
the variety of experiences, and the inconsistent legal situations inwhich insolvents manoeuvred, will be examined.
In the letter quoted at the beginning, Rudolf Hunziker spoke of a‘stain adhering to me, which affects me to the inmost’ (ein Makel mir
anklebend, der mir bis in das Innerste geht). He referred, on the one
hand, to how he was regarded by others (a ‘stain adhering’), and on
the other to his inner existence. This interplay of social standing andinner life serves as a starting point for analysing the experience ofFalliment. A decade prior to Rudolf Hunziker’s petition, an interested
observer of economic issues reflected on the themes of debt, credit,and money by using a similar opposition of inside/outside, the private individual and the social individual.
Commenting on James Mill’s Elements of Political Economy in 1844,
Karl Marx wrote that, with credit, ‘[t]he substance, the body clothing
the spirit of money is not money, but instead it is my personal existence, my flesh and blood, my social worth and status’.10 According
8 Regina Wecker, ‘1833 bis 1910: Die Entwicklung zur Grossstadt’, in Georg

Kreis (ed.), Basel: Geschichte einer städtischen Gesellschaft (Basel, 2000), 196–224,
at 199.
9 Der Statt Basel Statuta und Gerichts-Ordnung . . . (Basel, 1849), § 274.
10 Karl Marx, ‘Excerpts from James Mill’s Elements of Political Economy (1844)’,
in id., Early Writings, intro. Lucio Colletti, trans. Rodney Livingstone andGregor Benton (New York, 1975), 259–78, 264, emphasis in original.

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to Marx, credit supposedly escaped the abstraction money entailed
since, without having recourse to a medium of exchange, it placed
people in direct relation to one another.11 In a credit relationship,money was bypassed; it was no longer numerical values that were
exchanged but ‘[h]uman individuality, human morality’.12 Yet ‘thisreturn of man to himself and thus to other men’ which the credit relationship engendered was, according to the young Marx, only an ‘illusion’: a ‘self-estrangement, dehumanization, all the more infamous andextreme because its elements are no longer a commodity, metal or
paper, but the moral existence, the social existence [das gesellige
Dasein], the very heart of man [das Innere der menschlichen Brust selbst], and because under the guise of mutual trust between men it isreally the greatest distrust and a total estrangement.’ Marx argued in
the context of his concept of estrangement, the Hegelian concept hehad recently begun to explore. With credit (as opposed to money),
estrangement came full circle since it transfigured people themselvesin terms of money: ‘We should reflect on the immorality implicit in
the evaluation [Schätzung] of a man in terms of money, such as we findin the credit system.’13 For the purposes of this chapter, however, thefocus will be on Marx’s remarks on ‘social existence’, ‘moral existence’, ‘individuality’, ‘evaluation’, and (dis)trust, and not on his concept of estrangement.
Marx’s ideas can be taken as a contemporary reflection on indebtedness in the 1840s.14 Recent writing on the social and cultural history of debt has claimed in a similar way that the cultural aspects of

11 For a philosophical discussion of this ‘very Nietzschean Marx’, see
Maurizio Lazzarato, La fabrique de l’homme endetté: Essai sur la condition néolibérale (Paris, 2011), 44–8.
12 Marx, ‘Excerpts’, 264, emphasis in original.

13 Ibid. emphasis in original. For the inserted German terms see Institut für

Marxismus-Leninismus beim Zentralkomitee der Kommunistischen Partei
der Sowjetunion (ed.), Marx Engels Gesamtausgabe (MEGA), 4 Divisions,
Division 4, vol. ii: Exzerpte und Notizen 1843 bis Januar 1845 (Berlin, 1981), 450.
14 Not least because Marx himself, and probably still more so Jenny vonWestphalen, his wife, were constantly struggling with household debts. On
Marx’s own personal indebtedness and his silence on this everyday experience in Capital, see Peter Stallybrass, ‘Marx’ Coat’, in Patricia Spyer (ed.),Border Fetishisms: Material Objects in Unstable Spaces (New York, 1998),
183–207.

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social recognition and esteem lay at the heart of early modern andnineteenth-century credit relationships alike.15 As Margot Finn has
written in her study on credit and consumption: ‘Creditors sought
constantly and unsuccessfully to read debtors’ personal worth andcharacter from their clothing, their marital relations, their spending
patterns and their perceived social status.’16 Further, as Laurence
Fontaine notes, insolvency is an ideal case for the study of the cultural mechanisms in the social construction of trust, since in times ofcrisis insolvency hit first and foremost those who were less embedded in mutual webs of obligation.17
Evaluation (that is, ‘reading’ somebody’s status), I argue, was not
limited to the ex ante assessment of creditworthiness but became ofpivotal importance in the case of insolvency as well. Court officials
had to enquire into the worth of insolvents, and they faced complications in gathering this knowledge. Building upon Finn’s andFontaine’s assertions, I want to emphasize the problematics ofknowledge in dealing with insolvency. This prompts the broad question about the workings of cultural practices in the process of knowledge-production: how were techniques of examination and qualification culturally formatted? How did the assigning of an individual
case in the context of classification work? If we extend Marx’s observation and take trust in this context as a certain way of coping withlack of knowledge, and distrust as essentially an urge for information, ‘evaluation’—the quest for knowledge and the uncertainty it
was based upon—appears as a procedure in which moral attitudes
and cognitive operations were intertwined. For morals play a central
role in the sources under review. This chapter proposes to take moral
judgement as imbricated with cognitive practices: moral judgement
framed the authorities’ assessment and provided a way of classifying
people.
15 Laurence Fontaine, L’économie morale: Pauvreté, crédit et confiance dansl’Europe préindustrielle (Paris, 2008); Margot Finn, The Character of Credit:
Personal Debt in English Culture, 1740–1914 (Cambridge, 2003); Craig Muldrew, The Economy of Obligation: The Culture of Credit and Social Relation in Early
Modern England (Basingstoke, 1998); Jonathan Sperber, Property and Civil
Society in South-Western Germany 1820–1914 (Oxford, 2005), 104–27.
16 Finn, Character, 21.
17 Fontaine, Économie, 291.

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In order to deal with these questions, this chapter draws on concepts from the history and sociology of knowledge. The term ‘encoding’, borrowed here from the history of statistical thinking, points tomethods of assigning a singular case to a group while abstractingfrom some individual circumstances.18 When authorities examined
an individual bankruptcy case they ‘encoded’ it according to a certain script, thereby drawing on techniques of both cognitive andsymbolic evaluation. This assessment was a social process not isolated from, and sometimes in conflict with, other registers of legitimacy
in society. Sociologist Luc Boltanski’s notion of ‘operations of qualification’ is useful here, which conceptualizes a process of assigning,
documenting, and denominating worth in a given situation.
According to Boltanski, actors in social space move through different
societal domains of worth, while employing different modes of justification for their behaviour.19 Some historians of knowledge pay particular attention to the material conditions of knowledge-production,
the mediality involved in techniques of documentation.20 Much of
the knowledge-production in Basel’s bankruptcy cases, however,was bound to varying rhetorics and modes of narration, rather thanto modes of writing, although lists, tables, inventories, and questionnaires played an important role as well.21
In historiography the link between morals, knowledge, and credit has been explored in works on credit-rating agencies, which firstbecame established in the United States in the 1840s and which
engaged in the trade of assessing the creditworthiness of potential
business partners. As Josh Lauer and Hartmut Berghoff observe,
18 Alain Desrosières, The Politics of Large Numbers: A History of Statistical Rea-soning, trans. Camille Nash (1st edn. 1993; Princeton, 1998;), ch. 8.
19 Luc Boltanski, On Critique: A Sociology of Emancipation, trans. Gregory
Elliott (1st edn. 2010; Cambridge, 2011). Boltanski has elaborated much of his
programme in collaboration with the economist and statistician Laurent
Thévenot. See Luc Boltanski and Laurent Thévenot, On Justification:
Economies of Worth, trans. Catherine Porter (1st edn. 1991; Princeton, 2006).
20 Cornelia Vismann, Files: Law and Media Technology, trans. Geoffrey
Winthrop-Young (1st edn. 2000; Stanford, Calif., 2008).
21 For a call to develop a poetics of bureaucratic rhetoric and practices, seePeter Becker and William Clark, ‘Introduction’, in eid. (eds.), Little Tools of
Knowledge: Historical Essays on Academic and Bureaucratic Practices (Ann Arbor,2001), 1–33.

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these agencies, which collected and sold information to entrepreneurs, first employed a moral ‘character rating’.22 Lauer and Berghoff
focus on the agencies’ filing techniques and their economies of scaleand do not further examine the nature of the morality at stake.
Certainly, the anticipatory information in credit reporting was different from the kinds of knowledge-gathering in the case of bankruptcy. Yet in both cases information and knowledge were at stake andlinked to moral questions.
The classifications and moral outlooks as well as the attitudes,
perceptions, and explanations which these classifications encountered formed the social phenomenon of Falliment—they did so in acontradictory, contested way, as will be argued in what follows. This
chapter utilizes 260 short reports on bankrupts issued by the civil
courts between 1841 and 1851. In addition, the sources include 73
minutes of police interrogation with bankrupts between 1840 and
1850, as well as the 38 petitions bankrupts wrote between 1846 and1856 to request rehabilitation. Over 90 per cent of the reported insolvents were male. The next section deals with the reasons authorities
gave for the insolvencies, followed by an analysis of the bankrupts’versions of their story in section three. Section four is devoted to theissue of the female marriage portion, which proved to be the mostdifficult asset to delineate in a bankruptcy process. The fifth section
examines the petitions for rehabilitation, like Rudolf Hunziker’s
mentioned at the beginning.
II. Accounting for Failure: The Grammar of Moral Judgement

In their reports to the mayor and the city council, the civil court officials stated who the bankrupts were and what, in their view, hadcaused the insolvency. These authorities thus defined and scrutinized a very heterogeneous social group. To link financial failures tospecific occupational groups is problematic, because many of the
22 Josh Lauer, ‘From Rumor to Written Record: Credit Reporting and theInvention of Financial Identity in Nineteenth-Century America’, Technology
and Culture, 49 (2008), 301–24; Hartmut Berghoff, ‘Markterschliessung und
Risikomanagement: Die Rolle der Kreditauskunfteien und Rating-Agenturen
im Industrialisierungs- und Globalisierungsprozess des 19. Jahrhunderts’,
Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 92 (2005), 141–62.

224

Fallimentinterrogated insolvents told a story of shifting and varying occupations, whereas the officials’ reports recorded only one profession foreach insolvent. However, it appears that craftsmen and tradespeople
such as bakers, butchers, grocery dealers, tailors, and shoemakers
were strongly represented. But in this very diverse group one also
finds silk weavers, day-labourers, office clerks, coachmen, washerwomen, merchants, and one sketch-drawer in a ribbon factory. Manyof the insolvents could be termed ‘people in between’. Some werelower middle-class tradespeople or artisans who had yet to establish
themselves and had to build up a reputation first, partly because they
were new in town or because they could not rely on family ties. These
people were caught in a middle position between customers whobought on credit and suppliers who at some point cut their credit
short and insisted on cash payment.23 In the event of financial distress they were not able to balance their simultaneous roles as
debtors and creditors. The baker Jakob Henz who failed to pay ameal bill is a good example: ‘In the year of 1838, when I was carrying
on my profession as a baker’, he wrote requesting rehabilitation, ‘I
could not—as I also had to sell on credit [creditieren]—satisfy a creditor as fast as he wished; I was therefore not only enforced, but—asthe respective creditor was strict—enforced until the very end and
got into the situation of Falliment [Fallimentszustand] and several of
my creditors sustained losses.’24
Financial failure was not necessarily equivalent to being a pauper.
Indeed, in about 50 of the 260 cases the officials reported that theinsolvents were simply too poor to repay their debts, or lacked any
assets. But many, especially those who were interrogated by thepolice, were implicated in substantial financial dealings that often
involved real estate.25 The court officials further noted that some

23 Barbara Keller, Von Speziererinnen, Wegglibuben und Metzgern: Lebensmittel-

handwerk und -handel in Basel 1850–1914 (Zurich, 2001), 229–30; Geoffrey
Crossick and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt, The Petite Bourgeoisie in Europe
1780–1914: Enterprise, Family and Independence (London, 1995), 183–6.
24 STABS Justiz J6, Einzelne Rehabilitationen 1846–56, request for rehabilitation by Jakob Henz, 9 Aug. 1847.
25 In this context, the civil court officials at one point in the crisis of late 1847
suggested suggested to the city council to implement general restrictions on
the purchase of real estate. STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen der Stadt 1840–51,
report, 13 Jan. 1848.

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bankrupts had opened an inn shortly before becoming insolvent.
This indicates that they intended to enter a business of precarious
self-employment which some managed to start with low initial funding, if credit from suppliers could be obtained.26 Often, though, theopposite occurred, as was the case with the tailor Carl Wassermann,
who had ‘accelerated his Falliment by taking over the licence of aninn, which is often done by these people as a last resort’.27 The last
quotation also illustrates the officials’ perception and bias, for theofficials quickly associated innkeeping with a notion of carelessness;
in fact, less than 10 per cent of the insolvents under consideration
opened up a tavern or a boarding house.
The authorities’ knowledge was always partial and uncertain. The
information they acquired relied on hearsay and denunciations. One
reason for this lack of solid information was that in a quarter of thecases the insolvents were absent, having already fled the proceedings, at least temporarily. The story of Johannes Bader, a butcher who‘allegedly along with a female left his wife and children and left town
to settle in America’ was not exceptional,28 but for the fact that he

26 Historian Christoph Guggenbühl describes the decision to open up a public house as a form of precarious self-employment often pursued in economic crises. He also points to the boom in tavern openings in the crisis of the
1880s. See Christoph Guggenbühl, ‘Heaven or Hell? The Public House andits Social Perception in Nineteenth- and Early Twentieth-Century Switzerland’, in Marc Jacobs (ed.), Eating Out in Europe: Picnics, Gourmet Dining andSnacks since the Late Eighteenth Century (Oxford, 2003), 89–104, at 100-1.
27 STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen der Stadt 1840–51, report on Carl Wassermann, 27 Oct. 1845.
28 The schoolteacher Niklaus Fessler moved with some of his family to
America, 26 Jan. 1847, because of ‘lack of earning and a guilty conscience’;
the wagon-maker Joseph Sprich left for America, 26 Jan. 1847; Emanuel Staub
became a mercenary for the Kingdom of Naples, 26 Jan. 1847; the tailor
Johannes Krattiger settled for America, 19 Apr. 1847; the glassworker
Hieronymus Friedrich Holzach left his wife and children and settled in
America, 13 July 1847; the innkeeper Jakob Schneider ‘secretly edged awaywith his second wife while leaving his children from his first marriage’, andsupposedly went to America, 10 July 1848; Rudolf Jeremias Christ had lost
his wife and children and ‘according to reports went to America’, 13 Jan.
1848; the erstwhile civil court officer Heinrich Tschientschy ‘left office, family and home country’ and moved to America, 19 Jan. 1849; the saddler
Eduard Rebsamen allegedly went to America, 2 July 1849; the joiner Urs

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returned shortly afterwards and tried ‘to redeem his mistake byoffering his creditors an additional 20 per cent which the family of hiswife is willing to pay’.29 The potential for hiding assets was anothersource of uncertainty. If the value of the mobile assets was conspicuously low, the officials suspected the insolvents of ‘concealing’(Hinterschlagung) goods.30 Also ‘defrauding’,31 ‘diversion’ (Verschleppung),32 or the ‘alienation’ of goods (Entfremdung),33 could become
subject to criminal investigation. But often the authorities did not
pursue the matter further since they lacked the necessary information or the goods were of too little value. ‘No need to be stupid, youhave to divert the belongings’ (man müsse nicht so dumm seyn und die
Sachen auf die Seite schaffen), the wife of the insolvent Abraham Sixt
allegedly said shortly before her family went bankrupt, and moved
some household effects, silverware, and money from Basel to thesuburb of Allschwil, as an anonymous informer told the police.
When the police officer handed over the interrogation warrant to
Abraham Sixt, he later reported that he had looked at the Fallit’s
kitchen, ‘which was poor, and I saw that it was furnished only withold belongings, as is the case with people who no longer own much’.
Having no search warrant, he merely ‘glanced through the open door
into the sitting room, and saw nothing remarkable there either, only
a table in the middle of the room; yet I did not see the whole sitting
Victor Pfirter settled with his family in America, 2 July 1849; the scrivener
Leonhard Matzinger-Weck moved to Amiens to start a trade in gaslamps,
then, after becoming insolvent there, returned to Basel where in 1849 he soldrifles to the insurgents in Baden, then, facing bankruptcy again, supposedly
fled with a ‘not insignificant sum of money’ to America, 7 Jan. 1850; the goldsmith Richard Trappet went to Amerca with his wife, 1 July 1851. In one casethe officers speculated about a suicide: ‘Häring disappeared without a trace;
one guesses he has thrown himself into the Rhine’, 13 Jan. 1848.
29 STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen der Stadt 1840–51, report on Johannes
Bader, 5 May 1845.
30 Ibid. report on Philipp Schwarz, 7 May 1844; conclusion of report, 27 Oct.
1845, reflecting on several cases of insolvency; report on Abraham Six, 16
Apr. 1846; report on Rudolf Sandreuter, 6 July 1846.
31 STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen der Stadt 1840–51, report on Ludwig Calre,
5 Oct. 1848; report on J. J. Eckenstein, 19 Jan. 1849.
32 Ibid. report on Christoph Grey, 6 Oct. 1849.
33 Ibid. report on Alois Matua, 19 Jan. 1849.

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room’.34 Insolvents often made themselves out to be poorer than theywere, but sometimes also richer, to keep up appearances. They did soin order to remain in credit, such as Samuel Barth, who was blamedfor having managed ‘to keep up the illusion of wealth by keeping anéquipage [a carriage]’.35 Also, the authorities only had quite limited
control over the bankrupts’ behaviour. ‘It would be desirable to findways to fine debtors like Häring’, they wrote in 1845, ‘who, although
he is keenly aware of his own definite insolvency, is capable of borrowing time and again sums small and large, since such borrowing
with its promise to repay appears as nothing else but fraud.’36
Despite the unreliability of sources and information, authorities
made definite and decisive assessments of the reasons for financial
failure. These judgements followed a logic: in a standardized form,
they told a story of individual responsibility and culpability. They
employed in a specific way the dialectics of inside and outside thatwere noted at the beginning of this chapter. According to the court
officials, it was the inner, individual failure that led to a decline insocial status. The case of Rudolf Hunziker, the petitioner for rehabilitation mentioned at the beginning, is a good example: ‘This Fallit
was a clerk in a trading house of our town, then he became a postman, and now he is a day-labourer.—This descending career path
seems not to be caused by misfortune, but was self-inflicted [derSelbstverschuldung zuzuschreiben].’37
The court officials attributed two complementary characteristics
to Falliment: lack of industriousness and lack of good housekeeping(haushalten). On a first level, these two interconnected components
can be translated into the spheres of production and consumption,
into the lack of consistent earnings and of economical spending, ofworkplace and the domestic. Yet these two spheres were closelyintertwined. In the view of the officials, housekeeping had produc-

34 STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen 1846–52, police report on
Abraham Sixt, 23 Apr. 1846.
35 STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen der Stadt 1840–51, report on Samuel Barth,
13 Jan. 1848.
36 Ibid. report on Oscar Häring, 16 July 1845.
37 Ibid. report on Rudolf Hunziker, 7 Jan. 1850. During his interrogation,
Hunziker claimed that he worked as a stockroom labourer, not a clerk.
STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen 1846–52, interrogation of Rudolf
Hunziker, 11 Jan. 1850.

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Fallimenttive aspects, and work demanded virtues that originated from thedomestic sphere as well. The failures in the domestic sphere wererendered into the stereotypes of ‘squandering’, often linked withdrinking, or of ‘debauchery’ (Schwelgerei) and ‘luxuriousness’ (Wohlleben).38 Mostly, the two explanations were combined: ‘This Fallit
could have prevented his Falliment, had he been more thrifty andindustrious’, was the typical and standardized story of failure.39 To
be ‘work-shy’ meant inconsistency, a lack of focus on one single occupation, and an inappropriate use of time: ‘This Fallit who stayed here
as a silk weaver and started trading in commodities given to him oncommission, seems to belong rather to the class of the aventuriers, as
opposed to hard-working people who persevere in their profession.’40 As with the case of a hat-maker: ‘This Fallit concerns himself
not only with his occupation but is often away on travels where hepresumably spends more than he gains.’41 Official accounts admonished a joiner: ‘Idleness [Arbeitsscheu] and perhaps self-inflicted lackof customers are the reasons for the Falliment.’42 Carelessness andincompetence were additional attributes of failure.
In the civil court officials’ discourse, the notion of an ‘immoral’
reputation connected the regard a person was held in by others withindividual behaviour. A statement about a wig-maker said: ‘As canbe concluded from the many letters of debt collection over many
years, this Fallit has had a wrecked home [zerrüttetes Hauswesen] for along time and he has not a good moral reputation.’43 ‘Immorality’
was also linked to social interaction; it came to the fore in reprehensible dealings with others, for which the notion of deceit was central.44 ‘This extravagant and immoral man managed . . . in a deceitful
38 E.g. STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen der Stadt 1840–51, Report on Johann

Georg David, 16 July 1845; report on Heinrich Plattner, 26 Oct. 1846.
39 Ibid. report on J. J. Sandreuter, 16 July 1845.
40 Ibid. report on Jean Maas-Day, 20 Oct. 1841 (French in the original).
41 Ibid. report on Adam Scherb, 22 Jan. 1844.
42 Ibid. report on Martin Rapp, 27 Oct. 1845.
43 Ibid. report on Rudolf Carly, 6 July 1846. Similar statements in the reporton David Keller of 23 Apr. 1841; in the reports on Christoph Heckendorf andMaria Knechtle, both 17 Aug. 1842; in the report on Ludwig Calre, 5 Oct.
1848; and on Heinrich Scherrer, 19 Jan. 1849.
44 On the idea of ‘deceit’ in this context, see Toby L. Ditz, ‘Shipwrecked; orMasculinity Imperiled: Mercantile Representations of Failure and the Gender-

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way [hinterlistiger Weise], to get hold of the annuity of 1,000 francs
which his wife’s relatives paid for her, for five years in advance.
When Heckendorn received this sum of 5,000 francs, he ran away
leaving his wife and children behind.’45
In addition to the surprisingly few cases that treated the topics ofsickness, disability or old age,46 it was in the domain of family andhousehold—and only here—where authorities found acceptable
explanations for a Falliment. If the ‘wrecked home’ could be at theroot of self-inflicted financial decline, then also, conversely, family
responsibilities like caring for many children or relatives might
account for misfortune through no fault of one’s own. However, theone explanation the authorities in the 1840s never gave for a failure
was economic crisis.47 During the hunger crisis of 1847, when in Baselroughly 5000 persons obtained free meals from philanthropic institutions,48 the officials concluded their report: ‘Even if many of these
insolvencies were exacerbated by the hardship of these times [in derBedrängniß der Zeit ihren mitwirkenden Grund haben], it should nevertheless be appropriate, given the excess of careless insolvencies, topursue matters against the fallible persons [die Fehlbaren] all the morestrictly, as our laws command.’49 What authorities noticed and what
they felt they must intervene against were perceived individual failures only, and their translation into improper reputation. For this, thebridge between inner self and social standing was provided by thesemantics of morality, that is, the projection of the individual on to
the social.
ed Self in Eighteenth-Century Philadelphia’, Journal of American History, 81(1994), 51–80, at 59.
45 STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen der Stadt 1840–51, report on Christoph
Heckendorn, 17 Aug. 1842.
46 I counted only 14 such cases out of 260.
47 In some rare instances, the court officials took heightened competition in
specific trades into consideration, e.g. between grocery dealers or coachmen.
See STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen der Stadt 1840–1851, report on J. J.
Reischacher-Hirt, 13 Jan. 1848; report on Johann Heinrich Wiesner, 2 July
1850.
48 Sarasin, Stadt der Bürger (2nd edn.), 265.
49 STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen der Stadt 1840–51, conclusion of report, 13
July 1847.

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FallimentIII. Modest Stories, Losing Credit

In contrast to the standardized narrative of individual mistakes
recounted by the court officials, the bankrupts who were interrogated by the police gave a different account of their failure. And yet theirstory complemented rather than contradicted the authorities’
account. The insolvents told a personal story, which stressed supraindividual circumstances and events. Certainly these were ‘enforced
narratives’, structured by the police officer’s questions and following
what Carolyn Steedman has called the ‘autobiographical injunction’that becomes ‘a history of expectations, orders and instructions’ inwhich the insolvent narrator tried to situate himself tactically.50 One
of the requirements of these highly pre-formatted narratives was totell an individual history that stressed similarity with others: a storyof having done nothing particularly wrong. The insolvents employeda conspicuous rhetoric of modesty. ‘It just happened to me as it happens to many a man, my earnings fell back’, Rudolf Hunziker, whom
we encountered earlier, succinctly explained his dilemma to thepolice officer in 1850. He said he had taken over his father’s house forthe substantial sum of 9,500 francs, of which at the foreclosure sale
only 7,250 francs were recovered. The single most repeated cause theinsolvents cited for their losses was a poor forced auction sale. In asense, the bankrupts recounting low auction sales were complainingthat the market was a mechanism without memory—whereas they
remembered their expenses and efforts from the past and projected
them on to a value in the present and future.51 In contrast to the civil
servants’ accounts, the bankrupts frequently referred to the ‘current
conditions of the times’ of the late 1840s, especially to the plummet-

50 Carolyn Steedman, ‘Enforced Narratives: Stories of Another Self’, in Tess
Cosslett, Celia Lury, and Penny Summerfield (eds.), Feminism and Autobiography: Texts, Theories, Methods (London, 2000), 25–39, at 28.
51 See e.g. STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen 1836–45, interrogation of
Christoph Gysin, 8 May 1845; interrogation of Rudolf Kübler, 17 Feb. 1845;
STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen 1846–52, interrogation of Fredrich
Klingelfuß, 4 Feb. 1846; interrogation of Otto Landerer, 6 Feb. 1846; interrogation of Friedrich Otto, 6 Feb. 1846; Johann Georg Oppermann, 18 Oct. 1847;
interrogation of Johann Jacob Reischacher-Hirt, 26 Jan. 1848; interrogation ofJohann Jacob Schlueb, 11 Apr. 1848; interrogation of Johann Carl Peschel, 30
Apr. 1849.

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ing real estate prices.52 To refer to a general economic crisis was, ofcourse, an argument for exculpation; however, it is important to note
how this broad explanation of failure was transfigured into private
misfortune in the insolvents’ tales. The notion of economic crisis was
merely a background to a personal consideration which developed
the idea of lost credit. ‘Falling back’ or ‘not getting ahead’ was, according to the bankrupts’ accounts, linked to the loss of credit.
Credit was not a single act of financial dealing, but an intangible
situation or esteem, which one possessed, and which one could also
lose. It involved personal interaction and was built on a web of social
relations consisting of reputation and confidence from suppliers, fellow traders, and family members, all of whom had their own expectations and claims vis-à-vis a debtor. The interrogation minutes ofFriedrich Hodel, a 30-year-old shoemaker and a divorced father offour, are significant in this respect. ‘I established myself [as a shoemaker] in 1838’, he told the police officer

with some ideas I brought from Paris, where I had been a lead
worker in a distinguished shoemaking enterprise and trading
house for a while. In the beginning, I had no funds of my own,
and had to . . . equip my workshop, in which I handled goodsof all kinds, solely on credit, and entered into heavy debts atthe beginning; even though I enjoyed the unlimited trust of
local tanners, the bills they issued piled up as well (dasVertrauen hiesiger Gerber besaß ich zwar unbeschränkt, aber ihre
Rechnungen stiegen dabei auch sehr hoch) . . . [I]n later years,
when I had eventually lost many customers and generallycame under economic pressure, my natural dislike for the
shoemaking profession arose again, and I confess freely thatmy fervour cooled down . . . When I started out in 1838, I was
still young and inexperienced in many respects, I had credit,
too, more than was actually healthy, and so I ventured, withthe best intentions, and good trust, many things, I later repented.53

52 See e.g. STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen, 1846–52, interrogation ofJohann Carl Peschel, 30 Apr. 1849; interrogation of Niklaus Riedtmann, 5July 1849.
53 STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen, 1846–52, interrogation ofFriedrich Hodel, 21 Apr. 1846.

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Falliment

Hodel gave a contradictory account of his start in the profession, atthe same time allegedly burdened with heavy debt and facilitated toosmoothly with easy credit. The narrative then shifted to depictions ofapathy and a change of mood, admitting a ‘natural dislike’ for his
profession. Then again, Hodel underlined his good intentions, andpointed to the commonplace of inexperienced youth.54 Friedrich
Hodel referred to ‘trust’ to describe the suppliers’ attitude towards
him. While this particular term is not common in the source baseunder review,55 the esteem received from others could help balanceout financial dealings over a certain period of distress. He would
have fallen into the condition of Falliment even earlier, an insolvent
said, had it not been for the ‘leniency’ and ‘consideration shown inrespect to my otherwise upright and honest conduct’ by a ‘local,
respectable trading house’.56 Yet credit could quickly disappear; insome instances the insolvents pointed to the pace of debt recollection
and deplored how they themselves had run out of time.57 When apolice officer reproached a bankrupt mason for having ‘exploited thecredit given until the last moment and piled debts on debts’, the latter responded that he had never ‘abused his credit carelessly’, but‘then I suddenly became hustled from all sides, and couldn’t holdmyself up any longer’.58 The ‘piling up of debts’ (Schuldenmachen)was, then, the counterpart to ‘having credit’. While the authorities
54 On the moods, aspirations, and mobilizations of nineteenth-century shoe-

makers, see the classic piece: Eric Hobsbawm and Joan W. Scott, ‘Political
Shoemakers’, Past and Present, 89 (1980), 86–114.
55 Only in one other instance did an insolvent say that he initially had ‘confidence’ (Vertrauen) and a good outlook in his trade, while in another case an
insolvent reported that ‘misguided trust’ had led him into fatal enterprises.
See STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Konkurssachen 1836–45, interrogation of
Christoph Holzach, 22 July 1845; STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen
1846–52, interrogation of Jacob Meyer, 16 Oct. 1847.
56 STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen 1846–52, interrogation of Valentin
Rimmensperger, 16 Oct. 1847. Similarly, see interrogation of Heinrich
Bruckner, 14 July 1848.
57 STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Konkurssachen 1836–45, interrogation of
Christoph Holzach, 22 July 1845; STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Konkurssachen
1846–52, interrogation of Johann Jacob Reischacher-Hirt, 26 Jan. 1848.
58 STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen 1846–52, interrogation ofJohannes Löliger, 28 Nov. 1848.

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pointed out what they saw as a careless habit of paying old household debts with new ones—thereby alluding to the standard vice ofexcess consumption—the interrogated insolvents frequently emphasized a difficult professional start from which they never managed torecover. As debtors in the police interrogation translated their financial dealings into terms of personal relations, a prosecuted claim
would be depicted as violation of the debtor’s integrity. A rapid settling of accounts, ‘quickly and heedlessly enforced’, as one insolvent
said, was interpreted as a hostile act.59 Vice versa, the fragile balanceof countless credit arrangements was further endangered when others failed to make their payments or when a co-signed guarantee
became due, leading to cascades of unmet debts.60
The virtues and appearances on display, essential to navigating
everyday credit, depended ultimately on the household’s gendered
order with its spheres, tasks, duties, and expectations. A failed
domestic economy could provide a ready explanation for insolvency,
since household financial dealings were relegated to women.61 ‘Well,
I don’t know that; there must have accrued quite a few debts for along time’, Johannes Haering, a 65-year-old blacksmith told thepolice: ‘I have in my lifetime given my monthly earnings of c.36
francs to the household, and still give it, since the death of my wife,
which occurred two years ago, to my daughter, and do not concern
myself with it [bekümmere mich weiter nicht].’62
Yet to shift the responsibility on to the (deceased) wife or daughter was only one way of self-justification. Several bankrupts claimed

STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Konkurssachen 1836–45, interrogation of
Christoph Gysin Rosenburger, 8 May 1845. Another salient example is theinterrogation of Ludwig Schwörer, 4 Nov. 1845.
60 STABS Justiz J6, Einzelne Rehabilitationen 1846–56, request by Franz
Schaub, 7 June 1851; request by Johann Ludwig Hagmann, 27 June 1851.
61 Amanda Vickery, ‘His and Hers: Gender, Consumption and Household
Accounting in Eighteenth-Century England’, Past and Present, Supplement,
vol. 1 (2006), 12–38, at 13–14; Beverly Lemire, The Business of Everyday Life:
Gender, Practice and Social Politics in England, c. 1600–1900 (Manchester, 2005),
17; Bettina Heintz and Claudia Honegger, ‘Zum Strukturwandel weiblicher
Widerstandsformen im 19. Jahrhundert’, in ead. (eds.), Listen der Ohnmacht:
Zur Sozialgeschichte weiblicher Widerstandsformen (Frankfurt an Main, 1981), 7–
68, at 16–17.
62 STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Konkurssachen 1836–45, interrogation ofJohannes Haering, 3 Nov. 1845.
59

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Fallimentthat after their divorce they lost esteem in their community and forfeited their credit.63 When they alluded to marital disputes or to theabsence of a wife,64 they addressed, for the purpose of explanation, anormative arrangement with habitual gendered practices and worktasks which could not be sustained without its female part.65 Other
insolvents represented themselves as caring heads of households(Hausväter) who led their household in a proper way. In any case, thebankrupts pointed to the importance of public display. This was also
crucial for the inn as a space for plebeian public sociability.66 The
authorities intervened here by publicly forbidding insolvents fromentering an inn. One insolvent asked to be spared this special penalty of honour. He did not object to losing his civil rights but begged
not to be banned from the tavern ‘because I fear the disgrace anddetriment this would bring me’.67 Confronted with the police offi63 Ibid. interrogation of Abraham Oppliger, 5 Nov. 1845; STABS Justiz J7,
Einzelne Concurssachen 1846–52, interrogation of Rudolf Karli, 10 July 1846.
64 Ibid. interrogation of Johann Lucas Kappeler, 3 Feb. 1847.
65 This does not imply that only one current household model existed; nor did
the normative order of a household necessarily draw on arrangements which
Otto Brunner has, with recourse to Wilhelm Heinrich Riehl, termed ‘dasganze Haus’. Rather the household should be regarded, as David Sabean has
pointed out, as a site of tension: of implicit contracts, claims, and expectations
between spouses and generations. See Otto Brunner, ‘Das “ganze Haus” unddie alteuropäische “Ökonomik” ’, in id., Neue Wege der Verfassungs- und Sozialgeschichte (1st edn. 1956; Göttingen, 1968), 103–27; David W. Sabean, Property,
Production, and Family in Neckarhausen, 1700–1870 (Cambridge, 1990), ch. 3. Fora critique on Brunner, see Valentin Groebner, ‘Ausser Haus: Otto Brunnerund die alteuropäische “Ökonomik” ’, Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht, 46 (1995), 69–80.
66 On Swiss taverns see Beat Kümin, ‘Das vormoderne Wirtshaus im Spannungsfeld zwischen Arbeit und Freizeit’, in Hans-Jörg Gilomen (ed.), Freizeit
und Vergügen vom 14. bis zum 20. Jahrhundert (Zurich, 2005), 87–98; Guggenbühl, ‘Heaven or Hell’. With respect to a plebeian public, see Hans Medick,‘Plebejische Kultur, plebejische Öffentlichkeit, plebejische Ökonomie: ÜberErfahrungen und Verhaltensweisen Besitzarmer und Besitzloser in der Übergangsphase zum Kapitalismus’, in Robert Berdahl et al., Klassen und Kultur:
Sozialanthropologische Perspektiven in der Geschichtsschreibung (Frankfurt am
Main, 1982), 157–204.
67 STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen 1846–52, interrogation of
Christoph Grey, 28 May 1849. The ban on entering an inn was remembered as

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cers’ frequent reproaches about drinking and careless housekeeping,many bankrupts claimed to be resentfully slandered by others, andthus they interpreted their own situation as a series of interpersonal
hostile relations. They called for witnesses and insisted that ‘nobody
has ever seen’ them drunk or that they were never picked up by thepolice in the tavern after hours (Übersitzer),68 always referring to theissue of being seen, of public appearance.69
The interplay between social existence and inner existence was ofparamount importance in the interrogated insolvents’ tales. Theinterrogation had to complement and confirm the authorities’ encoding. The insolvents largely complied with this role the interrogators
assigned them, all the while employing a specific semantics of modesty. In their narratives, they framed their economic dealings in personal terms, including emotions and moods. The loss of credit was
intrinsically bound to the esteem they were held in by others. The
insolvents emphasized the importance of appearance in differentiated publics that affected them in their inner, personal life.
IV. Contested and Ambivalent Property

A liberal conception of property as exclusive ownership, which
emerged and became reinforced in the nineteenth century, constantly collided with everyday economic life and its relative, aspect-oriented usages of property in which user rights, deferred payment,
instalments, barter, lending, leaseholding, appropriation and reusage of goods, claims and counter-claims marked the workings ofan especially degrading penalty in the memoir of the nineteenth-century pedlar Gregorius Aemisegger. See Fabian Brändle (ed.), Das lange Leben eines
Toggenburger Hausierers: Gregorius Aemisegger 1815–1913 (Wattwil, 2007), 62;
Hermann Bendiner, Das Wirtshausverbot: Eine schweizerische Strafe und Verwaltungsregel (Zurich, 1917).
68 STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Concurssachen 1846–52, interrogation of
Christoph Grey, 28 May 1849.
69 STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne Konkurssachen 1836–45, interrogation of Rudolf
Kübler, 17 Feb. 1845; interrogation of Johannes Haering, 3 Nov. 1845; interrogation of Ludwig Schwörer, 4 Nov. 1845; STABS Justiz J7, Einzelne
Concurssachen 1846–52, interrogation of Jacob Mangold, 24 Jan. 1849; interrogation of Niclaus Schimpf, 11 Oct. 1849.

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Falliment

what was a fairly informal economy.70 These complicated property
relations involved difficulties in assigning and even delineating
assets in bankruptcy cases. When police officers routinely asked theinsolvents how much money, in their own estimation, the creditors
had forfeited in their case the bankrupts virtually never came up witha correct answer, or claimed to have no idea at all. This conspicuous
ignorance might have been a tactical move. Also, insolvents were notpresent when an official inventory of the creditors’ unmet claims was
conducted.71 Yet the answers given in the police interrogations mightalso point to the complicated property relations, which led to contradictory assessments. The president of the Justizkollegium reflected on
the extraordinary amount of ‘negative fantasy’ of the Falliten who frequently contested the official inventory: ‘Everybody finds here andthere indications for excuses which make the whole procedure
appear useless and superfluous.’72
The most difficult asset to assign by the authorities was the female
marriage portion or dowry. Here marital affiliation, the household’s
gender order, and the wife’s family lineage intersected. The dowry,
then, was not a property with informal traits such as the ones discussed above, but one in which different domains of formality
clashed. In judicial discussion, the marriage portion was technicallyambivalent, being located at the intersection of insolvency law andmarital property law. This border position points to a greater poten-

70 On the encounter between the relative nature and the absolute conceptionof property relations, as seen through the lense of criminal law, see Rebekka
Habermas, Diebe vor Gericht: Die Entstehung der modernen Rechtsordnung im 19.
Jahrhundert (Frankfurt am Main, 2008), 82–3; ead., ‘Eigentum vor Gericht: Die
Entstehung des modernen Rechtsstaates aus dem Diebstahl?’, WerkstattGeschichte, 42 (2006), 25–43; on the conceptual multiplicity of property in civil
law disputes see Sperber, Property; on the futile efforts to conceptualize property in a coherent framework in nineteenth-century legal scholarship, see
Mikhail Xifaras, La propriété: Étude de philosophie du droit (Paris, 2004); on theconcept of informal economy, see Manuel Castells, Alejandro Portes, andLauren A. Benton (eds.), The Informal Economy: Studies in Advanced and Less
Developed Countries (Baltimore, 1989).
71 This changed in 1855 and bankrupts by then had to attend the creditors’
negotiations on the remaining assets. See Verwaltungs-Bericht des KleinenRaths an den Großen Rath des Kantons Basel-Stadt über das Jahr 1855, 74.
72 STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen 1852–59, President of the Justizkollegium tothe mayor and minor city council, 16 May 1854.

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tial conflict between a concept of contractual relations on the one
hand, and a concept of the household on the other.
Before going bankrupt a husband could use his wife’s dowry for
his financial dealings.73 He could back a debt specifically with thewife’s dowry as collateral as long as the wife consented in writing.74
In the case of insolvency, the gender tutelage for the insolvent’s wife
was handled, as it was for unmarried women, divorcees, or widows,
by the guilds. Assuming gender tutelage, the guilds’ influenceincreased compared to early modern times when women frequently
testified before court.75 In practice, the guilds pursued their own economic interests while pooling these overall enormous sums fromwomen’s dowries.76 Yet in theory, the wife’s guardian’s task was toprotect her interests. In the case of insolvency, the wife’s portion hada privileged position in the remaining assets. A wife could take backher mobile assets if they were still in place, and moreover, she had aprivileged claim on the lost assets.77 In that sense, the supposedly pre73 On the importance of dowries, especially for business enterprise in nine-

teenth-century Switzerland, see Elisabeth Joris, ‘Kinship and Gender:
Property, Enterprise, and Politics’, in David W. Sabean, Simon Teuscher, andJon Mathieu (eds.), Kinship in Europe: Approaches to Long-Term Development(1300–1900) (New York, 2007), 231–57.
74 Peter Münch, Aus der Geschichte des Basler Privatrechts im 19. Jahrhundert:
Traditionsbewusstsein und Fortschrittsdenken im Widerstreit (Basel, 1991), 138.
75 Regina Wecker ‘Geschlechtsvormundschaft im Kanton Basel-Stadt: Zum
Rechtsalltag von Frauen—nicht nur im 19. Jahrhundert’, in Rudolf Jaun andBrigitte Studer (eds.), Weiblich—männlich: Geschlechterverhältnisse in der
Schweiz. Rechtsprechung, Diskurs, Praktiken (Zurich, 1995), 87–97, at 90. An
exception to gender tutelage was the ‘freie Mittelverwaltung’, comparable tothe legal category of the ‘merchant woman’ or ‘femme marchande’, which
existed in many European societies. In 1875 there were 317 women in Basel
who obtained this status, ibid. 93. On the ‘femme marchande’ see Fontaine,
Économie, 144–50. In her study on gender tutelage in the canton Basel-Landschaft, Annamaria Ryter asserts the class dimension of gender tutelage and‘freie Mittelverwaltung’: wealthy women could manage their assets rather
freely, whereas the makeshift economy of the underclasses was thoroughly
scrutinized by the authorities. See Annamaria Ryter, Als Weibsbild bevogtet:
Zum Alltag von Frauen im 19. Jahrhundert—Geschlechtsvormundschaft undEhebeschränkungen im Kanton Basel-Landschaft (Liestal, 1994), 170–5.
76 Wecker, ‘Geschlechtsvormundschaft’, 90.
77 On the different classes of creditors in insolvency proceedings, a mechanism first instituted in early modern town ordinances in order to invigorate

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Fallimentmodern institute of the dowry can be seen as an individual female
property. As recent studies on dowries have shown, this property was
specifically conceptualized as a wife’s credit vis-à-vis her husband
and it was a potential source of legal and financial agency.78 Evidence
gathered from outside Basel further indicates that the inconsistent
legal status of bankrupts’ wives promoted their financial agency. For
example, a statute in Zurich of 1810 stated that ‘experience has
shown that the wives of Falliten after the Falliment of their husbands
mostly remain without supervision [Aufsicht] and often, whileneglecting several respective statutes, do whatever they like with
their saved female portion [nach Belieben schalten und walten] whereby for both public credit and the civic order very detrimental consequences arise [wodurch für den öffentlichen Credit sowohl, als für diebürgerliche Ordnung sehr nachtheilige Folgen entstehen]’.79
However, it seems that in Basel the tutelage system, managed by
the guilds, worked more rigorously than in Zurich. Contradictory
practices and appropriation of inconsistent legal situations aside, thelegal discussion on the subject was rooted in a patriarchal viewwhich stressed order and hierarchy within the household. This view
led to two different arguments. The first highlighted the female needcredit markets by providing legal security, see Sibylle Hofer, ‘ “So haben Wir
zur Beförderung des Credits vor nöthig befunden (…)”: Kreditsteuerung
durch Konkursrecht in der frühen Neuzeit’, Zeitschrift für Neuere Rechtsgeschichte, 26 (2004), 177–88.
78 Margaret Lanzinger, ‘Variationen zum Thema: Mitgiftsysteme’, in ead. etal., Aushandeln von Ehe: Heiratsverträge im europäischen Vergleich (Cologne,2010), 460–92; Angiolina Arru, ‘Die nicht bezahlte Mitgift: Ambivalenzen
und Vorteile des Dotalsystems im ausgehenden 19. und beginnenden 20.
Jahrhundert’, L’Homme: Zeitschrift für feministische Geschichtswissenschaft, 22(2011), 55–69; ead., ‘ “Schenken heisst nicht verlieren”: Kredite, Schenkungenund die Vorteile der Gegenseitigkeit in Rom im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert’,
L’Homme: Zeitschrift für feministische Geschichtswissenschaft, 9 (1998), 232–51.
79 Gesetz, betreffend die Bevogtigung der Eheweiber von Falliten, 13. Dezember 1810, in Officielle Sammlung der von dem Großen Rathe des Cantons
Zürich gegebenen Gesetze und gemachten Verordnungen, und der von dem Kleinen
Rath emanierten allgemeinen Landes- und Polizey-Verordnungen (Zurich, 1811),
iv. 383. Also, Albert Vogt in his study of a village in canton Solothurn concludes that a husband’s bankruptcy furthered a wife’s agency and points tothe active public roles of insolvents’ wives before the court, especially in libel
suits in which women defended the family’s honour if their husband had lost239

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for protection by the law, the second, marital consent and female submission to the husband. These arguments were not mutually exclusive; for example, the legal scholar Andreas Heusler, who later wrote
the first draft of the federal bankruptcy law, balanced both lines ofargument.80
As a general tendency, a woman’s claim to her portion in insolvency proceedings was progressively diminished during the nineteenth century. For the dowry, as a credit a wife granted to her husband, did not have the same status as other credits, as changing
modalities for the rehabilitation of bankrupts demonstrate. As a precondition for the rehabilitation of a Fallit, all creditors had to be repaid by the bankrupt himself. This general rule was tightened as contractual relations became stronger in the context of expanding capitalist conditions. By 1849 an insolvent had to prove in detail that his
creditors had not only declared themselves ‘satisfied’ in writing, but
had in fact been paid.81 Yet for the female marriage portion the exact
opposite development can be observed. By 1827 a report by the civil
court officials examining the rehabilitation of a Fallit had alreadycome to a somewhat paradoxical conclusion. The Fallit in question
failed to reimburse his wife’s dowry, yet had repaid the other creditors. The officials, however, nonetheless granted rehabilitation, byconcluding that ‘the relationship of a wife to her husband’s funds isof the kind that she is not a creditor vis-à- vis him, but only has a privilege vis-à-vis other creditors’.82 This wife was in the paradoxical situation of not being a creditor and of simultaneously being privileged
over other creditors. The unspoken assumption that a saved marriage portion de facto would support the whole bankrupt family was
no longer taken into consideration.83 The argument was that a wife
his civil rights. See Albert Vogel, Ädermannsdorf: Bevölkerung, Wirtschaft,Gesellschaft und Kultur im 19. Jahrhundert (Zurich, 2003), 201–2, 694.
80 Andreas Heusler, Motive zu dem Entwurf eines Civilgesetzbuches für den
Canton Basel-Stadt (Basel, 1866), pt. 1, 33, as quoted in Münch, Basler Privatrecht, 144.
81 Der Statt Basel Statuta und Gerichts-Ordnung. . . (Basel, 1849), §276.
82 STABS Justiz J6, Einzelne Rehabilitationen 1764–1845, report by the Gerichtsämter on the rehabilitation of Joseph Dollinger, 13 Sept. 1827, emphasis
in original.
83 For this tacit assumption, see Vogt, Ädermannsdorf, 200; also Sperber,
Property, 248–9.

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Fallimentshould submit to her husband’s lot and that she would also benefit
from his rehabilitation. Thus this intra-household credit had a special
status, positing the household normatively as a domain which stood,
partially, in contrast to contractual financial dealings. In 1867 thispolicy with respect to rehabilitation was retained in a law.84 The firstdraft of a federal bankruptcy law of 1874 went further.85 According
to this, the wife could only reclaim 50 per cent of her total wealth.
Basel adopted this position in 1884 while simultaneously allowing
the wife to request separation of property before her husband
became insolvent, although with several impediments.86 Finally, thelegal doctrine that a wife held a privilege over only 50 per cent of her
marriage portion was instituted in the federal bankruptcy law of1889. Overall, the security of creditors was heightened at the expenseof the wife’s position.87 This tendency to diminish the guarantee on
the wife’s assets can be integrated into the framework of a changing
pattern of kinship alliances with respect to property in the context of
expanding capitalist conditions and class formation. According tothis interpretation, the influence of the wife’s family with its longterm interests in lineage declined, and a husband’s power to appropriate and to flexibly mobilize female capital augmented.88
On top of these ambiguities enshrined in a fractured, yet formalized legal framework came the practical ambiguities, since the female
84 STABS BS DS 9. Rathschlag und Gesetzesentwurf über die rechtlichen Folgen vonFallimenten, dem E. Großen Rath vorgelegt am 3. Dezember 1866 (= Rathschlag357), 13.
85 [Andreas Heusler], Bundesgesez [sic] über Schuldbetreibung und Konkurs:
Erster Entwurf mit Motiven (Berne, 1874), 123 ff; Münch, Basler Privatrecht, 144–
5.
86 Münch, Basler Privatrecht, 143.
87 See Wecker, ‘Geschlechtsvormundschaft’, 96 for a parallel development ingender tutelage.
88 This is in line with the wider implications of David Sabean’s thesis on theabandonment of legal guardianship over married women by the late 1820s.
See David W. Sabean, Property, 26, 47–8, 430; id., ‘Allianzen und Listen: Die
Geschlechtsvormundschaft im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert’, in Ute Gerhard (ed.),Frauen in der Geschichte des Rechts: Von der Frühen Neuzeit bis in die Gegenwart(Munich, 1997), 460–79. Also Joris, ‘Kinship and Gender’ argues along thisline. For a further elaboration of the thesis of a changing kinship pattern, seeDavid W. Sabean and Simon Teuscher, ‘Kinship in Europe: A New Approachto Long-Term Development’, in eid., Kinship in Europe, 1–32.

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marriage portion was an emblematic site of tensions over intrahousehold power. A final case will exemplify this. When the tailor
Abraham Wertenberg was declared insolvent in 1834, his wife’s portion of 6,429 francs was transferred to the guild Saffran, and his creditors lost 11,205 francs. When his mother died in 1845, he became able
to repay most of his creditors with an inheritance of roughly 7,000
francs. In 1848 he convinced the remaining creditors, among them his
wife’s uncle, to grant him a remission, and he declared that he had
repaid all his creditors. He then requested rehabilitation.89 The investigating officials were convinced by this because they counted
Wertenberg’s wife’s uncle as a relative. Granting intra-familial credits a special status, the authorities did not insist on full repayment.
Yet the officials refused to hand his wife’s portion over to Wertenberg since they assumed that his ‘personality . . . hardly gives guarantee of responsible custody of even small funds’. Wertenberg saw
this as a ‘motion of no-confidence’ and declared to the attending official ‘that he, given such a restriction, would forever be a bonded man’and vehemently refused this precondition. The reporting head of thejustice department suggested to the mayor that the request for rehabilitation be denied.90 The authorities decreed that the marriage portion should remain in the guild’s custody, except for a sum of 1,000
francs, which should be handed over to Wertenberg.91 He finallygave in when he realised the weakness of his position. Yet even afterthat he continuously assailed both the guardian and the attending
civil court official, insisting on what he perceived as his right as ahead of household.92 In order to get hold of his wife’s substantial
money, he utilized a hegemonic argumentation that stressed maleauthority in the household. Masculine sovereignty was, according tothis line of argument, bound to marital dominance. Wertenberg
claimed that having his civil rights reinstated was inseparable fromfull control over his wife’s property. To conclude, the female marriage portion shows the difficulties the authorities encountered when
examining, delineating, and assigning assets. Located at the intersec89 STABS Justiz J6, Einzelne Rehabilitationen 1846–56, request by Abraham

Wertenberg, 29 Dec. 1848.
90 Ibid. Justizkollegium, 25 Jan. 1849.
91 Ibid. Justizkollegium, 15 Feb. 1849.
92 STABS Justiz J6, Einzelne Rehabilitationen 1846–56, Gerichtsämter, 10 May
1849.

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Fallimenttion between family lineage and marital affiliation, it had an ambivalent status as an intra-household credit. Thus it was subject to constant contestation and legal redefinition.
V. Male Honour and the Variance of Social Experience

In their requests for rehabilitation insolvents asked to have their sovereignty as citizens reinstated. This highly gendered notion
embraced public and private dimensions. In 1848, the founding
moment of the Swiss federal state, questions of civic inclusion and(male) suffrage became matters of intense public debate. The turbulent years 1847 to 1852, marked by a short civil war, by competing
religious conceptions of social order, and by diverging visions of thenation, saw a massive wave of popular nationalist mobilization.93
The counterpart to civic inclusion, the loss of civil rights, also becamea highly charged touchstone for questions of social order. Yet despite
the increasingly national horizon of these themes, the decision
whether to grant or remove civil rights remained in the realm of themunicipalities, mainly because civil rights were linked to the right tocommunal poor relief. Due to the municipalities’ restrictions, about
17 per cent of Swiss adult men (and in Basel almost 50 per cent) wereprecluded from the right to vote in 1848.94 When in 1848 a society ofFalliten and Accordants (Falliten- und Accordantenverein) wrote a petition to the mayor, it voiced a theme of national inclusion to a government that mainly followed corporative, Old Regime modes oftown-rule.95 The society of Falliten unsuccessfully requested that
93 Oliver Zimmer, A Contested Nation: History, Memory and Nationalism in

Switzerland, 1761–1891 (Cambridge, 2003), 130; Martin Schaffner, ‘Direkte
Demokratie: “Alles für das Volk—alles durch das Volk” ’, in Manfred Hettling et al., Eine kleine Geschichte der Schweiz: Der Bundesstaat und seine Traditionen (Frankfurt am Main, 1998), 189–226, at 210 ff.
94 Albert Tanner, ‘Ein Staat nur für die Hablichen? Demokratie und politische Elite im frühen Bundesstaat’, in Brigitte Studer (ed.), Etappen des Bundesstaates: Staats- und Nationsbildung in der Schweiz, 1848–1998 (Zurich, 1998),
63–88, at 70.
95 For a microhistorical account of the modalities of Old Regime town-ruleand citizenship, see Simona Cerutti, ‘Justice et citoyenneté à Turin à l’époquemoderne’, in Juan Carlos Garavaglia and Jean-Frédéric Schaub (eds.), Lois,

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insolvents be allowed to vote for the national constitution, writingthat ‘the Fallit’s heart beats as warmly for the fatherland as the active
citizen’s’.96 The society of Falliten also petitioned that insolventsshould be allowed to hold low-level administrative offices and be
included in military ranks, which in the nationalist moment of 1848
touched on an especially sensitive point. The committee of the city
council responsible for this issue rejected the request, stating that‘with few exceptions, all public offices demand that the one who isconsigned [to the office] enjoys public confidence’. Since Falliten were
‘stripped of this confidence’, they were judged not capable of officiating.97 Also, the cantonal military commission answered that a military rank could only be held by ‘an upright man’, that is, a solvent,
sovereign citizen.98 Yet military service was one of the few instancesin which the newly instituted federal state actually transformed cantonal conditions, and by 1850 the federal military commission planned to include Falliten in military service.99
Although written in this context, the individual requests for rehabilitation of bankrupts scarcely reflect the rhetoric of nationalist
urgency; in fact, they highlight both more practical and more general symbolic dimensions of social status. What the petitions did
address as a central concern was male honour. The insolvents presented themselves as caring heads of households, underscoring a setof duties the authorities had to acknowledge, even if this was not

Justice, Coutume: Amérique et Europe latines (16e–19e siècle) (Paris, 2005), 57–91;
for a concise overview of Basel’s political system, see Martin Schaffner, ‘Geschichte des politischen Systems von 1833 bis 1905’, in Lukas Burckhardt(ed.), Das politische System Baselstadt: Geschichte, Strukturen, Institutionen, Politikbereiche (Basel, 1984), 37–53; on citizenship in Basel see Argast, Staatsbürgerschaft und Nation, 227–62; ead., ‘Das Basler Kantons- und Gemeindebürgerrecht’, in ead., Gérald Arlettaz, and Brigitte Studer (eds.), Das Schweizer
Bürgerrecht: Erwerb, Verlust, Entzug von 1848 bis zur Gegenwart (Zurich, 2008),
187–228.
96 STABS Justiz J4, Rechtliche Folgen des Falliments, bürgerliche Stellung undÄmterfähigkeit der Falliten 1782–1863, petition Fallitenverein, 8 Aug. 1848.
97 Ibid. Petitionskommission, 19 Aug. 1848.
98 Ibid. Militärkollegium, 26 Aug. 1848.
99 Hans Tanner, Die öffentlichrechtlichen Folgen (Ehrenfolgen) der fruchtlosen
Pfändung und des Konkurses in der Schweiz, Dissertation der rechts- und staatswissenschaftlichen Fakultät der Universität Zürich (Affoltern a.A., 1924),
13–14.

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Fallimentmatched by fulfilling other duties such as paying one’s debts. The
household thus provided a specific register of justification in theirwriting. As has been noted before, the household invoked a domain
which was complementary to, though by no means disconnected
from, contractual market relations. Rudolf Hunziker, the day-labourer whose account of the ‘deepest misery’ of his Falliment is mentioned
at the beginning, asked for his rehabilitation in order to become ‘reinstated’ in his ‘capacity to act as an honourable citizen’.100 He explained how he had ‘faithfully educated’ his three children, and hereminded the mayor that at no point in time had he let his family
become a burden on community welfare. The baker Johann Jakob
Basler, on the other hand, recounted how his Falliment forced him todo precisely this: he had to commit his child to the orphanage ‘and,which hurt me no less, let me appear in line with housefathers who,
through carelessness and extravagance, throw themselves and theirfamilies into misery’.101 Not to ‘appear in line with’ careless housefathers speaks of an attempt to break with the classifications ofFalliment: in that sense, the requests for rehabilitation also documentattempts to counter the social ascriptions inherent in the process of
Falliment. By employing the normative figure of the caring housefather the petitioners entered the semantic field of morality which wasmarked by profoundly polysemic terms. Stressing the moral integrity
and the duties of a father who ‘faithfully educated’ his children
enabled an insolvent to use the concept of morality against the currentof the authorities’ argument. This is not to assert that the petitioners
fully appropriated and redefined those terms, nor that they came up
with morally grounded legitimations that directly opposed theauthorities’ view (after all, these were administrative requests by individualized subjects, not moments of collective action). The modes ofjustification the insolvents employed were, rather, complementary to
the authorities’ semantics of morality, making use of a gradual variance of meaning in order to interrupt the authorities’ encoding.
The attempted break with the authorities’ encoding by the Falliten
also comes to the fore in the highly individualized narratives someinsolvents told in their requests. In contrast to the rhetorics of mod100 STABS Justiz J6, Einzelne Rehabilitationen 1846–56, request by Rudolf

Hunziker, 5 Sept. 1854.
101 Ibid. request by Johann Jakob Basler, 25 Dec. 1849.

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esty the insolvents employed in the police interrogations, some fashioned their requests for rehabilitation as elaborated tales of misfortune, and they pointed to their striving for an honourable living. The
silk weaver Johann Ludwig Hagmann, who was a non-citizen resident in Basel, recounted how he had to pay for a debt he had cosigned for someone else, how his family was affected by sickness,
how he left the country in order to find work yet had to return withless than what he had started out with, and, finally, how a fire burned
his house down and destroyed all his mobile assets including four
weaving looms. On top of all these ‘misfortunes through no fault of
my own’ came, following his Falliment, what he considered the mostserious ‘misfortune’: ‘the withdrawal of my residence permit.’ The
threat of expulsion points to a practical dimension of citizenship thatfor Hagmann and many others was of far greater importance than,though inherently intertwined with, its symbolic dimension.102
Insolvents did not passively await their rehabilitation. The
authorities continuously deplored the fact that bankrupts besieged
their creditors in order to obtain a statement that they had been
paid.103 The court officials investigated whether the supposedly satisfied creditors actually had been paid, but always lacked solid information. Whether a reduction of the debt granted by a relative or afriend would count as a statement of payment or not also involved
tedious negotiation.104 Payments by relatives were an especiallysalient issue since inheritance and advancements of inheritance were
102 STABS Justiz J6, Einzelne Rehabilitationen 1846–56, request by Johann
Ludwig Hagmann, 27 June 1851. Similar examples, among others, are therequest by Friedriy Gerster, 20 Nov. 1854, and by Hermann Wetzel, 10 Oct.
1851. See also the request by the silk weaver Johann Jakob Grieder, 2 Dec. 1856
who, although having obtained rehabilitation, was scrutinized by the residence administration’s office (Niederlassungskommission) since he possessedno assets whatsoever; authorities in this case hesitated to prolong the residence permit to someone who possibly might require poor relief in the future.
103 STABS Justiz J6, Einzelne Rehabilitationen 1846–56, rehabilitation ofJohannes Deck, report by the Justizkollegium, 6 Jan. 1849; rehabiliation of Jakob
Konrad Ungerer, report by the Justizkollegium, 22 June 1852.
104 Ibid. requests by Johann Friedrich Hurst, 14 Aug. and 13 Oct. 1846;
reports by the Justizkollegium, 20 Aug. and 22 Oct. 1846. A similar case is therequest by Hieronyms Erzberger, 15 Jan. 1846, and the respective report by
the Justizkollegium, 29 Jan. 1846.

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the main and often the only way of acquiring the means to become
rehabilitated. Authorities were acutely aware of this. When interrogating a bankrupt, the court official asked the standard question
whether he could ‘expect anything from anywhere’ (Ob er von irgendeiner Seite noch etwas zu erwarten habe), meaning inheritance fromboth the wife’s and the insolvent’s family. The authorities were, ofcourse, interested in creditors being paid. Yet they also had to makesure that the insolvents did not reimburse their creditors by taking
up new debts from relatives. Confronted with intricate family relationships and their intermingled transfers, the court officials faceddifficulties of assessment.
Finally, the requests for rehabilitation show that the insolvents’attitude to Falliment varied considerably. Certainly, this condition,highly symbolically charged, strongly affected many in their personal and social being. Also, as has been detailed, the practical consequences of the loss of civil rights were of pivotal importance, first andforemost the threat of eviction from the city. And yet it seems that in
the everyday life of some Falliten their legal situation was of only
small significance. The number of requests for rehabilitation remained
low, which is probably due to the fact that many insolvents were
never able to reimburse their creditors. Also, for obvious reasons theavailable sources say nothing about the motives of those who did not
petition for rehabilitation. But certain requests suggest that someinsolvents were not greatly impaired by the legal sanctions, and possibly some of them simply could not be bothered to become rehabilitated. To repeat an observation made earlier, in some cases othersocial sanctions, such as the ban on going to an inn, were seen as
more invasive than the loss of civil rights.
At least some of the requests for rehabilitation give the impressionthat the bankrupts did not pay much attention to the procedures of
Falliment. The day-labourer and non-citizen Jakob Lüdin claimed hesimply had not realized that he was about to go bankrupt in the firstplace: he ignored the court summons ‘and when I learned about theconsequences of the procedure, it was too late’.105 The tailor Friedrich
Ungerer wrote in 1855 that he did not notice that a request for rehabilitation, which he had made two years years before, had been
105 STABS Justiz J6, Einzelne Rehabilitationen 1846–56, request by Jakob
Lüdin, 14 Dec. 1849.

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rejected at that time. It does not seem that his loss of civil rights
restricted him much in his daily affairs. Ungerer had correctly repaid
his creditors, but he said he had ‘forgotten to attach the receipts’. And
since he was living in a village outside Basel, the administration’s
negative decision did not reach him, or at least so he wrote. It was
only when Ungerer had to start a business on his own because his
increasing deafness meant that he was no longer able ‘to easily earnanything among other people’, that his thoughts returned to rehabilitation.106
These examples are given not to deny the force of the condition of
Falliment, but rather to show the varying experiences and attitudes
towards it. Instead of a pervasive, coherent set of norms one finds avariety of situatively differentiated effects, which were perceived andassessed by the Falliten in a multiplicity of ways. The social life of thelegal category of Falliment, then, appears as more multi-layered thana notion of homogenous bourgeois morals assumes.
VI. Conclusion‘Social death’ or ‘civic death’ (bürgerlicher Tod) was a powerful tropefor organizing experiences at the margins of nineteenth-century
bourgeois society, among them the experience of Falliment.107
Without neglecting the force of this trope, this chapter has, however,highlighted rather inconsistent situations and a variety of experiences, active insolvents and in many respects unknowing and unaware authorities (who nevertheless did have authority). The classifications on which the legal category of Falliment was based were nobinary procedure, but involved a differentiated and contested
process. This was especially the case with morality. Morality provid106 Ibid. request by Friedrich Ungerer, 5 June 1855.

107 Two temporally and thematically very different examples indicate thedurability and adaptability of the trope of bürgerlicher Tod: Robert Beachy,‘Bankruptcy and Social Death: The Influence of Credit-Based Commerce on
Cultural and Political Values’, Zeitsprünge: Forschungen zur Frühen Neuzeit 4(2000), 329–43; Brigitta Bernet, ‘ “Der bürgerliche Tod”: Entmündigungsangst,
Psychiatriekritik und die Krise des liberalen Subjektentwurfs um 1900’, inead. et al., Zwang zur Ordnung: Psychiatrie im Kanton Zürich, 1870–1970(Zurich, 2007), 117–53.

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ed a link: it connected notions of ‘individuality’ and ‘social existence’,
which were both at stake in an insolvency procedure. Marx, in hisreflections on credit and money, claimed that trust in bourgeois society was based on distrust, and that in a debt relationship, in terms of
moral evaluation, the inner existence came under scrutiny. Clearly
the authorities’ moral judgements in Basel’s bankruptcy proceedings
had an economic underside, or to phrase it differently: normatively
structured reputation had economic effects since only those bankrupts who regained a flawless reputation would also regain creditworthiness. Ex negativo, the tales about losing credit, which the interrogated insolvents recounted, confirm how a moral logic and economic considerations were closely intertwined. Yet morals were also
intrinsically bound to the calculative procedure of examining financial failure itself; morality framed the authorities’ process of classifying—it was part of their practice of knowledge-production. Facing a
constant lack of information and having to navigate through situations of uncertainty marked by the insolvents’ intricate financial andsocial relationships, the civil court officials quickly encoded eachindividual insolvency case in their grammar of moral judgement. In
that sense the powerful assigned attributes of careless housekeeping
and lack of industriousness also speak of a profound insecurity on
the authorities’ part as regards their level of knowledge. As encoding
abstracts from social contexts and elides information, the interrogation of the insolvents had to complement and confirm the authorities’
first encoding. When questioned, the insolvents largely compliedwith their ascribed role, as their modest stories indicate. Only whenrequesting rehabilitation did the insolvents attempt to disrupt theauthorities’ encoding by telling individualized stories and by justifying themselves.
Morality as a grid of comprehension documents a continuous
problematic of knowledge-gathering on the ground. The verbose,
formulaic catalogue of vices and mistakes the court officials enumerated in their reports set out powerful social facts which were actually based on uncertain knowledge. It is debatable to what degree thisgrid of comprehension was replaced by more objectified forms ofknowledge. In their works on credit reporting agencies, Berghoff andLauer assert that moral ‘character rating’ was increasingly superseded by what they term more solid information and systematic practices of gathering, filing, storing, and mobilizing information. How249

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ever, the insolvency proceedings in Basel assigned to morals morethan a compensatory function in knowledge-gathering. Yet it is truethat by the 1850s the authorities increasingly complained about the
weak information in their reports.108 The precarious knowledge theofficials had, which was constantly undercut by debtors who eluded
the procedures, made valuables disappear, or who disguised themselves, finally led the authorities to abandon their moral reports on
the causes of bankruptcy. Eventually by the late 1860s these reports
were increasingly rendered in tabular form, and in 1876, in accordance with new administrative arrangements and a new cantonal
insolvency law instituted the year before, the court officials stopped
their reports to the council altogether. ‘[T]he available means allow
only for incomplete accounts on vague foundation’, they concluded
and, on the other hand, the cases for pursuit by criminal justice bythen were directly delivered to the respective office.109 But at thesame time the grammar of moral judgement continued to frame thelegal situation of Falliment. For when in 1867 a new law concerning
the rehabilitation of insolvents was introduced, the precondition forrehabilitation hinged on the insolvents’ ability to prove in detail that
their bankruptcy had occurred through no fault of their own.110 In
order to do this, insolvents had to inscribe themselves into the verysame catalogue of morality as the one which had guided the officials
in the first place.
One pivotal point in the argumentation of all actors involved—
interrogating police officers, reporting court officials, council members deciding on rehabilitation, and the insolvents themselves—wasa notion of the household with its gendered order. This notion lay at
the heart of the contradictory, insecure status of the female marriage
portion as well. Also, the polysemic quality of moral terms came108 STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen 1852–59, Justizkollegium to mayor andminor city council, 9 Jan. 1855; Justizkollegium to minor city council, 25 Sept.
1855; STABS Justiz J1, Allgemeine Betreibungs- und Konkurssachen, Police
directorate to minor city council, 23 Aug. 1855; civil court president to minor
city council, 10 Sept. 1855.
109 STABS Justiz J8, Collocationen der Stadt 1869–80, report by the second
president of the civil court to the mayor and city council, 7 July 1876.
110 STABS DS BS 9, Rathschlag und Gesetzesentwurf über die rechtlichen Folgen
von Fallimenten, dem E. Großen Rath vorgelegt am 3. Dezember 1866 (= Rathschlag
357).

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Fallimentespecially to the fore in relation to the household. The household as
a force field of both private and public expectations of proper behaviour proved to be fertile ground for imputation and explanation, yetalso for the registers of justification the insolvents employed.
Morality thus both provided ‘semantic security’ while at the sametime being a site of incoherence.111
111 Boltanski, On Critique, 78–81.

251NOtes ON eDitOrs aND CONtriBUtOrs
Matthias Bixler studied history and sociology at the University oftrier. since 2013 he has been a research associate at the Centre forMedia, Communications and information studies (ZeMKi) at the
University of Bremen. his research focuses on adolescent friendshipnetworks, communication networks, and historical networks. he iscurrently preparing a Ph.D. thesis on aggressive behaviour among
adolescents from a social network perspective. Publications on historical network research include (with Marten Düring, Michael
Kronenwett, and Martin stark) ‘VennMaker for historians: sources,
social Networks and software’, Redes: Revista hispana para el análisis deredes sociales, 21 (2011), 422–52.

MarKUs GaMPer is a senior lecturer in Cultural sociology at Cologne
University. his research focuses on social networks, migration studies, and the sociology of religion. recent publications on network
analysis are ed. (with linda reschke), Knoten und Kanten: Soziale Netzwerkanalyse in Wirtschafts- und Migrationsforschung (2010); and ‘soziale
Netzwerke und Macht: eliasʼ Konzept der Figuration vor dem hintergrund des aufstiegs der Medici in Florenz’, in Markus Gamper, linda
reschke, and Marten Düring (eds.), Knoten und Kanten III: Soziale
Netzwerkanalyse in Geschichts- und Politikforschung (2015), 81–108.

aNDreas GestriCh was appointed Director of the German historicalinstitute london in 2007. From 1996 to 2007 he was Professor ofModern history at the University of trier, where he was a memberof the research cluster ‘social Dependencies and social Networks’.
he directed a research project on ‘the role of Kinship and Patronage
Networks in the Credit Market of eighteenth- and NineteenthCentury rural Württemberg’. a recent publication on network analysis is (with Martin stark) ‘Überschuldung im ländlichen Kreditwesen
im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert’, Zeitschrift für Verbraucher- und Privatinsolvenz: Sonderheft 15 (May 2009), 23–6.

erNst laNGthaler studied modern economic, social and cultural history at the University of Vienna. he is currently Director of the insti253

NOtes ON CONtriBUtOrs

tute of rural history in st Pölten and senior Fellow at the rachel Carson Center for environment and society at the University of Munich. he is executive editor of the Jahrbuch für Geschichte des ländlichen
Raumes. his most recent monograph, Schlachtfelder: Alltägliches Wirtschaften in der nationalsozialistischen Agrargesellschaft 1938–1945 (2015)
deals with actors and their networks in rural society in Nazi Germany.

steFFeN leiNs studied early modern history and French at the universities of tübingen and aix-en-Provence. his major publication is
Das Prager Münzkonsortium 1622–23: Ein Kapitalgeschäft im Dreißigjährigen Krieg am Rand der Katastrophe (2012). he has received several
prizes, including the Federal German armed Forces’ award forDefence studies, and is currently completing his Ph.D. thesis entitled‘Field Marshal Peter Melander von holzappel: renegade, social
Climber, and the late thirty Years War’. his research interests focus
on social and economic history, military history, and the history oftechnology.

DaNiel reUPKe studied law and economics at the University of
Bayreuth, and history in France and at the saarland University, where
he received his Ma. he is currently working as a research assistantin the Department of history and is a doctoral student in the project‘Networks of lending in the Nineteenth Century’ headed by Gabriele
B. Clemens and funded by the German research Foundation. he has
also developed research projects with the research cluster of the universities of Mainz and trier, and with the Forschungsinstitut fürMusiktheater in Bayreuth. his research interests include legal history
in the nineteenth century, economic and cultural history in a regional
perspective, and methods in the humanities. he has published, with
Claudia Volk, ‘Von der akte zum Netzwerk: erfahrungsberichte ausder Werkstatt des historikers’, in M. schönhuth et al. (eds.), Visuelle
Netzwerkforschung: Qualitative, quantitative und partizipative Zugänge(2013), 297–316.
MartiN starK obtained his Ph.D. in modern history at the Universityof trier with a thesis entitled ‘social embeddedness of a rural Credit
Market in the Nineteenth Century’. his research focuses on applying
methods and theories of social Network analysis to historical topics,
including aspects of spatial analysis and natural language processing.
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Notes on Contributors

he is a Visiting research Fellow at the helmut schmidt University inhamburg, working on text mining, semantic networks, and the discourse of plant-level co-determination in Germany. his recent publications on network analysis include, with Daniel reupke, ‘Von
Gläubigern und schuldnern: Kreditnetzwerke des 19. Jahrhunderts in
geographischer Perspektive’, in Markus Gamper, linda reschke, andMarten Düring (eds.), Knoten und Kanten III: Soziale Netzwerkanalyse inGeschichts- und Politikforschung (2015), 261–92.
MisCha sUter is lecturer in Modern european history at the University of Basel. he studies the history of economic life in the Germanlanguage area in the nineteenth century, as well as, increasingly, in animperial context. Further research interests include law as a social
practice, theory of history, and the making of the social. his first book,on everyday indebtedness in liberal capitalism, will be published in2016. his is co-editor, with Monika Dommann and Daniel speich
Chassé, of Wissensgeschichte ökonomischer Praktiken, special issue of
Berichte zur Wissenschaftsgeschichte, 37/2 (2014).

aNNa-CarOliNa VOGel is a Ph.D. student in Cultural anthropology/
european ethnology at Georg-august University Göttingen. From2007 to 2013 she was a research Fellow in the DFG funded project‘Civil society zwischen Patronage, primordialer (familiärer) Verpflichtung und ökonomischer rationalität: schuldner und Gläubiger
in einer stadt-Gesellschaft des frühen 19. Jahrhunderts’ (Professor
Carola lipp) at the Göttingen institute of Cultural anthropology/
european ethnology. her publications include Tod und Sterben im Amt
Niedeck (1690–1875): Eine historisch-demografische Fallstudie zur Mortalität im ländlichen Niedersachsen (2011) and ‘Zufall, Chance, risiko: Kontingenz und die kapitalistische Geldökonomie’, Kuckuck: Notizen zur
Alltagskultur, 28/1 (2013) 44–8.

aNJa WilhelMi has been working as a researcher at the Nordostinstitut (iKGN) in lüneburg since 2002. her fields of research aresocial history, gender, and education in latvia and estonia (nineteenth and twentieth centuries). she is editor of the journal NordostArchiv: Zeitschrift für Regionalgeschichte and is currently working on abiographical project on the German–Baltic singer and writer Monika
hunnius.
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