Heather Rose Jones's Blog, page 92
November 21, 2018
The Pendulum of Lesbian Legibility
The Lesbian Historic Motif Project
Across many authors there’s a confusing assertion that lesbian possibilities have regularly gone from being considered impossible, to being recognized, then resulting in the demonization of demonstrations of affection. To some extent, this article deals with the reverse swing of the pendulum: how was that awareness suppressed again, such that there could be a later re-awakening of suspicion? Traub and Andreadis discuss how lesbian possibilities were identified and articulated in the 17th century, resulting in a genteel avoidance-discourse among authors like Katherine Phillips. Lanser and others examine a similar dynamic in the 18th century leading to the "sex panic" of the 1790s that rolled over into an erasure of female sexual possibilities in general in the 19th century...only to have a focus on lesbian possibilities revived in the late 19th century with the decadent movement and the sexologists, who once again raised the spectre that any close female relationships were suspect.
It almost makes me wonder to what extent this apparent pendulum swing is a real phenomenon in lived experience and to what extent it's an artifact of changing fasions in "official discourse." Were there actual ups and downs in the average person's awareness of the possibilities of female same-sex relations? Or were there only ups and downs in the degree of official scrutiny those possibilities were given? Other authors have pointed out that shifts in the attitudes of the patriarchal establishment toward relationships between women were often dictated by the extent to which those relationships defused or exacerbated women's challenges to their authority.
When Craft-Fairchild asserts "the lack of a coherent, codified model" of sapphic identity in the 18th century, could we not just as reasonably assert that 18th century English writers did not have a single stereotype for "real lesbians" while clearly having an awareness of desire between women? Rather than this lack of coherence indicating the absense of a sense of lesbian identity, might it rather indicate that 18th century lesbian identity was rooted in the experience of desire itself and had as wide a variety of expressions of that desire as were available for heterosexual desire? Does "lesbian erasure" come from the absence of a single, agreed-upon stereotypical image? Or does real erasure come from the idea that there must be a single, agreed-upon sterotypical image in order for "lesbian identity" to exist?
I think these are questions that might usefully be considered by comparison to 20th-21st century concepts and images of lesbian identity. Is there currently a "coherent, codified model" of lesbian identity of the sort that Craft-Fairchild is looking for in the 18th century? Or are there many different flavors of identity that connect to each other by a variety of similarity-links without the need or ability to define a sharp-edged category? (I'm always happy to insert cognitive approaches category theory into a discussion!)
One significant challenge that articles like this one raise is against the idea that "absence of evidence" for unambiguous lesbian-like identities can ever be considered evidence of absence. But another important challenge is to the idea that an overall picture of historic concepts of same-sex love and desire can come from studying individual historic periods. If any given defined historic period appears to recapitulate a cycle of covert identity, growing awareness, public identification, demonization, and suppression, then maybe we need to stop thinking in terms of "development". It's reminiscent of Traub's concept of "cycles of salience" (Traub 2011) as well as Lanser's point that in every age lesbianism was framed as being both "an ancient vice" and "a new fashion" (Lanser 2014).
When I started this Project, I truly thought of my own work as being the isolated summary and presentation of individual publications, but more and more I find myself developing my own over-arching image of the state of sapphic consciousness across time and space, and find myself challenging more narrow conclusions based on focused data. Not that I think there is a single unified field theory of lesbianism, but that I have an image of the connections and continuities as well as the disruptions and disjunctions that helps me make sense of how individual women in different times and places might have understood their own lives. It's a rich tapestry and has a lot of space for making up new stories that are woven seamlessly into the existing ground.
Major category: LHMPTags: LHMP
LHMP #224 Craft-Fairchild 2006 Sexual and Textual Indeterminacy
About LHMP
Full citation:
Craft-Fairchild, Catherine. 2006. “Sexual and Textual Indeterminacy: Eighteenth-Century English Representations of Sapphism” in Journal of the History of Sexuality 15:3
A comparison of the popular reactions in 18th century English literature to “sapphists” as contrasted with male homosexual institutions like molly houses gives the appearance of unconcern about women’s relationships, as does the absence of English laws against sex between women. When women in same-sex relationships ran afoul of the law, they were typically charged with fraud. Nor were women who cross-dressed as men treated with the same public scorn as effeminate men. Various scholar have suggested that it was possible for people in that era to be entirely ignorant of the sexual possibilities between women.
Terry Castle’s The Apparitional Lesbian took a contrasting position: that lesbians were absent from the historic record because they generated an anxiety too extreme to be articulated. Other scholars, such as Elizabeth Susan Wahl assert that homosexual possibilities between women were an “open secret” during the 18th century that was encoded into a variety of literary genres while still being elusive. Similarly, Valerie Traub maps out how 17th century English texts used a set of classical idioms, tropes, and motifs to create a means of making female homoeroticism intelligible, but that very visibility led to increasing social sanction. Knowledge about female same-sex possibilities then cast suspicion on forms of intimacy such as bed-sharing, kissing and caressing, and close friendships that had previously been considered “chaste”.
Harriette Andreadis argues that this conflict provided an impetus for inhibiting open discussion of same-sex relations by the mid-17th century. Accusations of female same-sex relations could be used for social control to support a binary, heteronormative sexual imperative. This resulted in a self-protective evasiveness among women writers who depicted eroticized female relationships.
Thus we find an apparent contradiction where female homoeroticism is expressed in a variety of 18th century genres while simultaneously beginning to fade to deniability. The anxiety around same-sex discourse affected the authors as well as their audiences, resulting in an ambivalent and indeterminate treatment of lesbian-like characters. This article looks at the nature of how that ambivalence and indeterminacy was expressed. Rather than taking a position that textual same-sex desire existed but has been erased and must be re-discovered, Craft-Fairchild looks at the textual nature of the presence of same-sex desire.
Were women “struggling to find a language with which to define their love for one another”? Or were they using the approved models of female friendship to conceal or dodge the issue while still expressing those emotions? Was lesbian identity being developed or was a developed model being concealed? If 18th century texts appear to present an incoherent articulation of same-sex desire, is that due to the incoherence of the writers or of today’s readers? Craft-Fairchild argues that the apparent tolerance of the 18th century sapphist was due to the lack of a coherent, codified model that defined her. This same lack is what makes her difficult for modern readers to identify.
The first case study is Delariviere Manley’s The New Atalantis (1709), which ridicules the lesbian behavior of “the new Cabal,” a fictional cadre of women who have turned their emotional focus on each other. The resulting relationships are varied in nature, including both mannish women and traditional feminine ones, “butch-femme” couples as well as “femme-femme” ones, hierarchical relationships and egalitarian ones and with a variety of expressed motivations for disdaining men (or embracing both men and women).
Manley’s text both asserts that female homoeroticism is an “impossibility” while simultaneously treating it as a threat. The all-female society is presented in both utopian and satirical lights. She sees the line between female friendship and “irregularity” as both impossible to identify and clearly transgressible. Manley’s text asserts both that the “real” sapphist can be identified by physical signs (masculine appearance and behavior) and that one can be both traditionally feminine and inclined toward women.
The second case study is John Cleland’s Fanny Hill in which the innocent Fanny is initiated into sexual pleasure by an older prostitute, Phoebe, who is described variously as having “an arbitrary taste” for women that she takes the opportunity to gratify, while also taking pleasure “without distinction of sexes.” While Fanny is depicted as preferring to move on from her female initiation to the “more solid food” of men, Phoebe is assigned a contradictory array of motivations for her active interest in same-sex erotics. Nor is she depicted as being in any way masculinized. Rather than resolving the problem, Cleland simply abandons the character.
The third case study is Henry Fielding’s The Female Husband, a highly fictionalized story of Mary Hamilton, a woman tried for fraud for marrying another woman while in male disguise. Fielding presents Hamilton as being traditionally feminine and attractive, as being innocent and properly brought up, but then being “corrupted” by a relationship with an older woman after which she had a fixed interest only in women. The actual court records of Hamilton’s case make it clear that the legal charge was fraud and that there was no suggestion of a sexual crime, while Fielding’s work revolves around a prurient interest in the sexual possibilities of her life.
Fielding lays out an incoherent theory of “natural” versus “unnatural” desire which fails to justify how Hamilton could be diverted to the “unnatural” despite having no physical or psychological predisposition before her own seduction. Fielding simultaneously asserts that such women will always turn back to preferring men when the option is available (illustrating the point with several of Hamilton’s partners who abandon her for men), but consistently depicts Hamilton herself as steadfastly preferring female partners, with no implication that she would have been unable to attract a man if she chose.
Perhaps the perfect encapsulation of male anxiety, as voiced by Fielding’s character, is when she offers her female partner “all the pleasures of marriage without the inconveniences.”
The anxiety provoked by the inability to “read” sapphism is illustrated by a fantasy by Jonathan Swift, who imagines a system of evaluating female virtue by means of the myth that a lion would not attack a true virgin. Thus all communities (he asserts) should keep a lion handy by the church. A woman would not be absolutely compelled to offer herself for the test, but if she refused she would be assumed to be a whore. He then spins a tale in which a woman embarked on the test believing herself secure, but when the lion attacked, as she was torn to pieces, she confessed “I am no true virgin! Oh Sappho, Sappho!” The text emphasizes the lack of any identifying signifier of sapphism other than the magical senses of the lions. The sapphist moves invisibly through society with no identifying characteristics, but the strength of the anxiety her existence provokes is measured in the viciousness of the fictional punishment she is subjected to.
Even condemnatory texts such as Manley, Swift, Cleland, and Fielding could not serve up a coherent image of female homoeroticism. But positive descriptions of women in committed relationships fared no better in characterizing their subjects. Susan Lanser asserts that women such as the Ladies of Llangollen or Anne Lister created an acceptable image of “lesbian” relationships but that the acceptability of intimate female relationships depended on manipulating the conventions through which they were interpreted. Positive depictions of female erotic relationships drew on the language of friendship and heterosexual romance, but in wavering between them might participate in their own erasure.
The anonymous The Travels and Adventures of Mademoiselle de Richelieu presents an example of the difficulty of interpreting textual intent, in part because the anonymous nature of the text and a lack of contemporary critical commentary makes it hard to determine the author’s intent or the expected reception. The story embeds the spicy tale of same-sex flirtation and love within an incoherent jumble of other literary genres, making it possible to overlook--or even deny--the sexually transgressive nature of the text. The protagonists (Alithea and Arabella) regularly disparage heterosexual marriage, but in a manner that is consistent with expected reactions for women of their class. Only their expressions of physical admiration and desire for each other then move their reactions into sapphic territory. The story is rife with expressions of physical affection between the two, teasing references between them to being lovers or each other’s husband, but avoids using any vocabulary that makes unambiguous reference to lesbianism (terms such as sapphist, tribade, fricatrice, etc.). And the two regularly pay lip service to same-sex love representing “impossibilities” and lamenting their inability to truly play the part of a husband. This leaves the reader suspended between an interpretation of the text as a covert lesbian love story and a misogynistic satire that denies the possibility of love between women.
There are parallel ambiguities in the fictionalized autobiography A Narrative of the Life of Mrs. Charlotte Charke by an actress best known for performing both “breeches roles” (roles in which a female character dresses in male clothing) and actual male roles. Charke cross-dressed off the stage as well at times in a variety of circumstances, including a long stint living as “Mr. Brown” in company with a female companion. Like the Richelieu story, the text combines multiple genres and refuses to adhere to a coherent through-line. Charke hints at a heterosexual context for her cross-dressing (which she refuses to disclose in detail) and depicts herself as dodging any attempt at consummation of romantic encounters with women while cross-dressing, but then relates in detail the loving and marriage-like relationship with Mrs. Brown. While critics have offered a number of events in support of Charke’s heterosexuality (marriage to a man, assertions that she didn’t share a bed with Mrs. Brown) Emma Donoghue points out the double standard that if a man and woman engaged in the relationship laid out for Charke and Mrs. Brown there would be no doubt it was a romantic and sexual one.
Across multiple 18th century texts, sapphic figures are presented in ambiguous and inexplicit terms that allow for plausible denial while requiring a significant amount of effort and hand-waving to perform that denial. Homoerotic relations between women were presented indirectly, both due to the lack of a consistent and coherent social model, but perhaps by the women themselves as a self-protective measure. Although explicit language was available to identify women involved in same-sex erotics, that language was avoided in more elevated literary registers both because it was taboo, and possibly because women writing of their own lives did not view themselves in the negative light associated with those terms. In doing so, they may have participated in their own literary erasure.
Time period: 17th c18th cPlace: EnglandMisc tags: sexual/romantic desireEvent / person: The New Atalantis (Mary Delarivier Manley)Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure (John Cleland)The Travels and Adventures of Mademoiselle de Richelieu (Erskine)Charlotte Charke
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Theater Review: The Lifespan of a Fact
After some dithering, I decided to see only one show on this trip to New York. (There always seems to be a non-zero chance that either Lauri or I will get a cold while I'm visiting, and besides I wanted to manage at least two dinner meet-ups with friends. So maybe sometimes I don't have to over-schedule my visits?) We decided to walk down from Lauri's place to the theater district and pick a place for dinner along the way, which ended up being the Oxbow Tavern. Food served in a very trendy presentation (truffle foam around my pan-fried hallibut) but quite delicious.
We'd considered several possible shows to see, but I settled on The Lifespan of a Fact as being of nerdy interest (central conflict involves the process of fact-checking a magazine essay) and because Cherry Jones was performing and Lauri likes her (and I'd enjoyed her performance a few years ago in The Glass Menagerie). Oh, and also this guy named Daniel Radcliffe. The third performer was Bobby Cannavale who I confess I'm not familiar with. All three gave stunning performances and inhabited their roles perfectly.
So here's the premise: older female magazine editor assigns eager young white male (Harvard graduate) intern to do the rush fact-checking on an essay about a suicide in Las Vegas by a middle-aged author who sees himself as a Serious Meaningful Writer (a writer of essays not of articles thank you very much). Eager young intern is eager and sets out to check every single fact in the essay. Not just spellings of names and places, but every single potentially verifiable statement included in the piece. Because it's his first serious assignment and he wants to do it right. This leads him into an extended clash with Serious Meaningful Writer for whom the details of the fact-like-objects exist to serve the larger emotional narrative.
The play is about the conflict between truth and story. Between the importance of journalistic reliability and trust and the need to construct narratives that give a meaning to the otherwise senseless things that happen every day. The editor serves, not only to propel the conflict (by overly impressing the importance of the fact-checking job upon an impressionable and ambitious intern) but as go-between and moderator between the other two characters, while representing the inexorable approach of the press deadline as well as debating the competing requirements of business and principle.
The themes of the play resonated strongly with me both as a linguist and a writer: the ways in which language shapes our understanding and interaction with the world, how we impose meaning on what is often an arbitrary and random existence, and the slipperiness of "truth". (Ok, so I had a bit of a geekgasm when one bit hinged on dissecting the semantics of a preposition.)
Radcliffe plays an excellent Eager Young Thing, with that air of Ivy League priviledged assumption that truth is truth and is knowable. Cannavale has the air of a toned-down but still gritty aspiring Hunter S. Thompson -- not so much in the drug-fueled gonzo style, but with that sense of journalism as performance. And Jones tackles the archetype of the hard-driving editor who wants one more triumph to rest on. (It occurs to me that we have an actual archetype of the older middle-aged female magazine editor that needn't be read as representing any particular real person. How delightful.)
I won't give away some of my favorite twists in the show--including the final resolution. But overall, my favorite element was how the audience is asked to understand and agree with both positions in the conflict. Neither is right or wrong in absolute terms, and yet they are incompatible. The ultimate irony, of course, is that the play itself, while based on an actual true story, has adapted, changed, twisted, and distorted that original truth in the service of narrative. (The original multi-year interaction is compressed down to 5 days, the writer's home and day-job prestige status are shifted, as well as all the much more minor changes required for theatrical purposes.) Perhaps that makes the show come down unambiguously on the side of narrative over truth, but not in a way that undermines the balance within the show itself.
The Lifespan of a Fact is playing at Studio 54 and is worth consideration if you're in NYC and want to take in a show.
Major category: ReviewsTags: Reviews: Live Performance
November 20, 2018
My 2018 Fiction Publications
bookreview.jpg
It is that time of year in writingdom: the time of reminding people what fiction we have put out into the world in the current calendar year. Purely for people's curiosity and amusement, of course. Not at all with any expectation or pressure for people to consider our works for award nominations.
I am relieved to be able to report that I succeeded in having one work of fiction published in 2018:
"Gifts Tell Truth" by Heather Rose Jones in Lace and Blade 4 edited by Deborah J. Ross
I currently have two works out on submission, but even if accepted by the current venues, they wouldn't come out this year.
But wait, there's more! This year I have also become a publisher of fiction, via the Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast. As works of historical fiction, these aren't relevant to those readers who are currently considering SFF award nomination season, but I'm very proud of my authors (as well as being proud of myself) and want to put them out there. The fourth story in the set won't be released until the end of December, so it doesn't have a link yet.
"One Night in Saint-Martin" by Catherine Lundoff (aired 2018/03/31)
"Inscribed" by V. M. Agab (aired 2018/06/30)
"Peaceweaver" by Jennifer Nestojko (aired 2018/09/29)
"At the Mouth" by Gurmika Mann (to air 2018/12/29)
When we get closer to the actual end of the year, I'll do my year-end summary "What Hath She Wrote?" post, which details blogging, reviews, and other stuff that allows me to feel accomplished.
Major category: PromotionPublications: Gifts Tell TruthTags: Year-End Summary
November 17, 2018
Unruly Women and the State of the State
The Lesbian Historic Motif Project
As the 18th century progressed toward the "sex panic" that presaged a massive shift in attitudes towards women's sexuality, we see how images of sexual license--both heterosexual and homosexual--came to be viewed as signs of the decay and collapse of civil society itself. In France, these images got caught up in the larger upheavals that led to the Revolution. It becomes difficult to decipher exactly what the women of the French court were actually doing with each other, as opposed to what they were accused of doing as a symbolic displacement of hostility about other aspects of society and politics. The more I read about this era, the less I'm certain that I know. In some ways, the image of sapphic chaos in the later 18th century French court feels like a preview of the image of lesbian decadence that would bloom a century later. While attitudes towards relationships between women in western Europe share some trends and similarities, the specific form they take in particular countries is often shaped by local politics and anxieties. The Revolution not only employed the image of lesbian relations as an example of the destructive nature of uncontrolled women (whether in the aristocracy, or later among revolutionaries), but reaction to those images then shaped attitudes in England and elsewhere as we've seen in this current series of articles.
Major category: LHMPTags: LHMP
LHMP #223 Merrick 1990 Sexual Politics and Public Order in Late Eighteenth-Century France
About LHMP
Full citation:
Merrick, Jeffry. 1990. “Sexual Politics and Public Order in Late Eighteenth-Century France: the Mémoires secrets and the Correspondance secrète” in Journal of the History of Sexuality 1, 68-84.
This article is an examination of the intersection of private and public morality within the ancien régime of France (i.e., the monarchy prior to the Revolution), and how the image of the family as a “miniature kingdom” created parallels such that transgressions against the state and transgressions against family members could be considered parallel. In turn, legal structures viewed the state (as embodied in the monarch and the legal system) as backing up paternal authority over family members with regard to clandestine marriages, female adultery, and the misbehavior of wives and children.
But this understanding can be seen most clearly when it is perceived as a failed system: in the later 18th century, patriarchalism (in both the state and family) was replaced by paternalism as secular authorities withdrew from the enforcement of morality. The perception of this as failure is woven throughout two collections of reports about moral transgressions and sexual scandals of the French court known as the Mémoires secrets and the Correspondance secrète, covering events of 1762-1787. Neither objective news reports nor simple personal memoirs, these documents assembled information about personal behavior from many sources but were selective and sensational in what they chose to include.
The collections are of interest to the Project due to a significant focus on sexual misconduct: “reports about homosexuality, unmanly men and unwomanly women, unruly and unchaste wives, marital separations, and misconduct involving members of the royal family." The conflation of private and state matters meant that these behaviors were seen as failures of the state itself.
Homosexuality, in particular, was seen as an index of the moral state and the references provide a view of the French vocabulary of the era regarding sexual preferences. The authors “recognized that pederasty and tribadism had always been popular among men and women respectively” but framed such practices as being newly popular and more open. The extensive anecdotes about male homosexuals provide evidence of something resembling an organized subculture, cutting across class backgrounds.
References to tribades, however, associated them more narrowly with theatrical performers and the associated fields of prostitution and pornography. Among the featured subjects were actress Françoise-Marie-Antoinette-Joseph Saucerotte, known as Mademoiselle de Raucourt, who enjoyed the patronage of Queen Marie Antoinette. She was said to dress like a man when sexually involved with women, and like a woman when involved with men. She was said to have “married” the singer Sophie Arnould.
The editorializing on lesbian inclinations (and the specific word “lesbian” is used at least once) asserted their essential bisexuality, but also noted that men sometimes acknowledged that a man was not capable of retrieving the affections of a lover who had turned to other women. Sex between women was not viewed as criminal (since the law didn’t recognize the possibility of sex with no man involved) but rather as “vice”. Sexual relationships between women disrupted the patriarchal social order by removing women from the marriage economy.
The vast majority of this article is concerned with topics unrelated to lesbianism, so the following is a very small item from a much longer discussion.
While the Mémoires secrets were preoccupied with sexual indiscretions, the authors also traced shifts in the part sex played in public opinion about various members of the court. Entries in 1776 condemned scurrilous verses that questioned Louis XVI’s virility and that “criminally” misrepresented the friendship between Queen Marie Antoinette and the princesse de Lamballe (they were rumored to be lovers). Public opinion attacked the queen from a number of angles, including her participation in the government, but a running them was sexual voracity with both men and women and with persons of all classes. She came to represent the archetype of the “disorderly female” who symbolized the ruin of society.
Time period: 18th cPlace: FranceMisc tags: cross-dressingmarriage between womensex between womentribadelesbianEvent / person: Marie AntoinetteFrançoise-Marie-Antoinette-Joseph Saucerotte (Mademoiselle de Raucourt)
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Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast Episode 28d - Anne Damer
The Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast
Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast - Episode 28d - Annd Damer - transcript
(Originally aired 2018/11/24 - listen here)
Usually when I choose a podcast topic based on a book I’m reading, it’s one of the non-fiction works intended for the blog. But this time I was inspired by reading Emma Donoghue’s Life Mask, a novelization of the life of late 18th century aristocrat and sculptor Anne Damer. Donoghue’s fiction is sometimes very close to a history text--hmm, I mean that in a more complimentary way than it may have sounded. In any event, women like Damer also feature heavily in Donoghue’s academic writings. She is one of the major research sources I used for this essay.
Anne Conway Damer illustrates two significant issues of the 18th and 19th centuries in western Europe: the difficulty of defining and identifying lesbian-like women, and the ways in which accusations of lesbianism were used to control and punish women whose lives challenged patriarchal structures and prerogatives.
Born Anne Conway in the mid-18th century to an aristocratic British family, her associates were titled peers, high-ranking military officers, members of parliament, philosophers, authors, and artists. In such company, and at such a time, politics shaped her social life. Her family and close friends were members of the Whig party, who favored constitutional monarchism, the supremacy of parliament, and embraced progressive causes such as abolition and religious tolerance, while also being closely tied to the power of the hereditary aristocracy. 18th century British politics were complicated. And politics could also be vicious, especially with regard to women with social power and prominence. Women such as Damer’s friend the Duchess of Devonshire were active in supporting favored political parties but were often repaid by having their personal scandals made public. Sexually tinged gossip and innuendo were a favorite tactic for undermining such women.
Following a typical life course for women of her class, at age 19 Anne married John Damer, the son of Lord Milton who, if things had gone very differently, might eventually have inherited the title of Earl of Dorchester from his father. The couple were set up with a fairly generous income from their families, which John Damer burned through at a furious rate. Several years after their marriage, Anne separated from him--in that era, divorce was rare, though available to the wealthy and well-connected, as it required a special bill in parliament. Two years later, heavily in debt and having been refused further financial help by his father, John Damer committed suicide in a rather scandalous fashion. Gossip later implied that Anne’s disinterest contributed to the act, although any rational assessment of their marriage would put all fault on his side.
Anne had an interest in sculpture--not just as an admirer, but as an artist--and began devoting herself to this artistic field, despite the physicality of the work being considered unfeminine. This was not, mind you, a profession by which she might support herself, but fortunately she had family money to rely on. She worked in a neo-Classical style, specializing in portrait busts in terra-cotta, bronze, and marble, and featuring people in her social circles, as well as creating architectural decorations including works for her beloved theaters. In addition to her aristocratic circle, Anne had a number of close friends in theatrical professions including actors Sarah Siddons and Elizabeth Farren. We’ll come back to that friendship with Farren in a little bit.
It was during travels on the continent to study art, in the years immediately after being widowed, that rumors began to circulate that Anne Damer was a lover of women. The rumors were propagated by a number of satirical publications that mentioned her using pseudonyms in such ill-disguised form that there was no question who was intended. In addition to being referred to as “Sapphick”, she was called a “Tommy” in a very early example of this slang term being used for a lesbian. There was no solid evidence that she was sexually active with women, but even in the face of powerful friends taking publishers to task for printing the satires and verses, the rumors continued for two decades before gradually fading.
Whether there was any basis for sexual accusations, Damer’s life gives ample evidence that her strongest emotional ties were with women. Some of her rumored lovers were women with whom she had very close friendships that could reasonably be classified as romantic. But simply having intense emotional friendships with other women was not something that automatically brought accusations of lesbianism in the later 18th century. So what was different about Damer that attracted those accusations?
During the 18th century, there was a complex and unstable relationship between various types of homoerotic relations between women. Coming out of the libertine philosophy of the 17th century, one strain of thought held that all women were potentially bisexual and that while relations between women that included erotic behavior were as morally questionable as unsanctioned sexual relations between women and men, they were not necessarily qualitatively different. This attitude was a favorite of pornographers writing primarily for the male gaze. Sexual relations between women were titillating and scandalous, but not considered “deviant” unless same-sex desire was combined with masculine behavior or presentation. Hold on to that thought for a moment.
Another strain of thought came out of a culture of intensely sentimental female friendships, such as those that complicated the socio-politics of Queen Anne’s court and administration in the early 18th century, or that lay behind the rumors of Queen Marie Antoinette’s lesbianism. This movement featured effusive public and literary expressions of affection and devotion, using the language and symbolism of romance, but without a necessary implication of a sexual component. And yet such effusively public displays of affection could put a woman at risk of other suspicions if people were casting about for a reason to disapprove of her.
Somewhat separate from both of these themes was a tradition of sexual activity between women of the working classes that was considered to be a spontaneous byproduct of loose morals and excessive sexual desire. It wasn’t necessarily associated with romantic love or any particular preference for women as sexual partners. And an entirely different strain of thought came out of the pseudo-medical theory that sexual desire was determined in polar opposition to one’s underlying gender identity and that desire of an apparently-female person for women was actually evidence of that person having a masculine physiology. This theory was losing popularity by the 18th century and the medicalization of same-sex desire wouldn’t be revived until the end of the 19th century. In general, women of the upper classes tried to distance themselves from these images of purely erotic relationships between women, whether because they saw a genuine distinction of kind, or because of the potential impact to their reputations.
Yet another historical thread that existed independently of all these frameworks, but that might invoke them for explanatory purposes, was the tradition of passing women and “female husbands” who might have economic motivations, but did not exclude the possibility of same-sex erotics. So as you can see, the question of same-sex relations between women was quite complex in the later 18th century with issues of class and politics playing as much of a role as gender identity and erotic desire.
Among the upper classes, public accusations that close friendship had slid over into lesbianism generally were politically motivated (whatever the factual basis in any particular case), such as the attacks against Queen Marie Antoinette of France. One of these days, I need to do an episode about her. But it wasn’t until the 19th century that public rumors of lesbianism shifted significantly towards the bohemian set rather than the aristocracy. Anne Conway Damer overlapped both camps and may have fallen afoul of an intersection of the libertine reputation of the aristocracy with the loose morals of the artistic set.
One can understand, perhaps, why the question of “did she or didn’t she?” mattered to Damer’s contemporaries. It’s a bit more problematic for those of us studying history today to place such a heavy emphasis on the question of whether or not Damer engaged in activities that she--or we--would consider sexual with the women she was romantically attached to. It is a fact that very intense romantic friendships were acceptable and even praised during her lifetime, so long as they avoided the rumor of erotic activity. Damer failed to avoid those rumors, but it is unclear whether her denial of the label of “Sapphist” was due to an absence of an erotic component to her relationships, to a narrow definition of erotic activity, or simply due to self-preservation.
Part of the explanation for the accusations against Damer may lie in masculine jealousy over her successful career as a sculptor--a profession that lay outside the acceptable roles for women. As noted previously, women who trespassed on what was considered masculine territory were kept in line with the suggestion that there was perhaps something a bit too masculine for comfort in their personal lives as well. The turn of the 19th century marked a shift from “mannish” styles of dress being considered a symptom of an underlying masculine personality in a woman, to the deliberate use of male-coded garments as a statement of personal style, or as a social signal, by women with romantic interests in women. And here, too, Damer may have crossed the line in ways that attracted suspicion. A contemporary wrote: “The singularities of Mrs Damer are remarkable — She wears a Mans Hat, and Shoes, — and a Jacket also like a mans — thus she walks about the fields with a hooking stick.”
Damer also seems to have attracted some ire for her close friendship with actress Elizabeth Farren, who was involved in an extended platonic courtship with the Earl of Derby, who had the unfortunate burden of a still-living wife. Under ordinary circumstances, one would have expected the actress to take up a comfortable position as Derby’s mistress. The rumor mill required some stronger explanation than personal morals for Farren’s apparent chastity. Romantic interference by Damer was suggested. The following epigram about Farren was written by a theatrical rival but seems more pointed at her friend:
“Her little stock of private fame
Will fall a wreck to public clamour,
If Farren herds with her whose name
Approaches very near to Damn her.”
Farren took the rumors seriously enough to drop the friendship in order to preserve her own reputation. Farren’s prudence and strategy eventually triumphed when Derby became free to marry and she became a countess.
One of the sources of rumor about Anne Damer’s sex life was the notorious gossip Hester Thrale-Piozzi who had something of a fixation about being able to identify both men and women with homosexual inclinations. Despite being close friends with a number of famous romantic female couples, Thrale wrote that, “whenever two ladies live too much together” they were suspected of “what has a Greek name now and is called Sapphism.” She was among those who made crude jokes about the sexual reputation of Anne Damer, claiming that it was a byword in London to say that a woman with sapphic interests “visits Mrs. Damer.” In her private diaries, Thrale noted Damer down as “a lady much suspected for liking her own sex in a criminal way.” (Note, however, that lesbian sex was not actually a criminal act in England, unlike sex between men.)
Later, Damer developed a devoted partnership with author Mary Berry which lasted until her death. She met Berry through a mutual friendship with Horace Walpole, a close family friend. (After Walpole’s death, Berry would become his literary executor and Damer inherited his property of Strawberry Hill.) The two women traveled together on the continent and were frequently together in England. An acquaintance commented somewhat snarkily, “The ecstasies on meeting, and tender leave on separating, between Mrs Damer and Miss Berry, is whimsical. On Miss Mary Berry going lately to Cheltenham, the servants described the separation between her and Mrs Damer as if it had been parting before death.”
References to Damer and to Strawberry Hill as a den of sapphic love are included in a long anonymous poem published in 1778 entitled “A Sapphick Epistle” which includes a litany of women accused of such interests, all written up in a mocking complaint so stuffed full of allusions and coded references as to be nearly indecipherable. To say nothing of being very bad verse. Ordinarily I enjoy including relevant bits of poetry in these podcasts, but this one just goes on and on with no real point to make and I’ll spare you.
We have a unique window on how Damer viewed the question of her relationships with women due to extensive portions of her correspondence and journals being preserved. In particular, we have significant exchanges with her later romantic friend Mary Berry that specifically addressed the sexual rumors regarding them and raised the question of whether they should change anything about their relationship to try to damp down the gossip. In the end, the answer they came to was “no” and the two continued to live as a couple, for all practical purposes, until Damer’s death, after which Berry referred to herself as being “widowed”.
Damer’s correspondence makes it clear that she considered the accusations of lesbianism to be false and baseless, but it is open to question whether this was a rhetorical position, a matter of self-deception, or simply a matter of definition where she did not categorize her relationships with women as falling within the scope of what she was being accused of. Emma Donoghue speculates that, given that the prevalent definitions of sex at the time required the participation of a man, it’s not impossible that Damer did have erotic interactions with women but did not consider her actions sexual.
In any event, she clearly enjoyed romantic relationships with women. What she didn’t enjoy as comfortably as many of her contemporaries was the ability to indulge in them free from public scorn and suspicion. The reasons for that difference are not entirely clear. Perhaps it was due to her clear disinterest in marriage after the tragic end to her first experience of that state. Perhaps it was her entrance into the field of sculpture which was considered an exclusively masculine preserve. Perhaps it was simply a convenient weapon for personal and political enmities. Time and again, through history, when women have reached out to embrace lives independent of men, the accusation of lesbianism has been used to push them back again. Not until that accusation loses its power will women be truly free.
Sources and References
Major category: LHMPTags: LHMPpodcast
November 8, 2018
The Sex Panic of the 1790s
The Lesbian Historic Motif Project
I couldn't do better for a blog title than the title of the article in this case. This article might seem an odd choice for a project focusing on women’s homoerotic relationships, given that it is concerned almost entirely with heterosexual adultery. The relevance comes in side consequences of the shift in attitudes towards women’s sexuality centered around the end of the 18th century. The displacement of active sexuality onto the feminine Other--prostitutes, foreigners, the working class--both allowed and confined “respectable” women into a life of sentimental romance that could be enjoyed without suspicion (or encouragement) of erotic desire. Thus the rise of female Romantic Friendships that both sublimated and gave cover to women’s same-sex desires.
Major category: LHMPTags: LHMP
LHMP #222 Binhammer 1996 The Sex Panic of the 1790s
About LHMP
Full citation:
Binhammer, Katherine. 1996. “The Sex Panic of the 1790s” in Journal of the History of Sexuality 6, no. 3: 409-34.
A number of historians have concluded that there was a major shift in attitudes toward sex in western Europe in the last decade of the 18th century. Binhammer lays out some of the underlying forces and manifestations of that shift. Although the article largely concerns English attitudes (and any unmarked references can be assumed to concern England) the shift can also be observed in France and other western European cultures.
Critics of Mary Wollstonecrafts’s feminist arguments for women’s right to sexual self-determination contradictorily depicted her as lascivious and immoral, and as frigid and sexually unattractive. The social and political complexity that made these mutually exclusive claims possible in that particular point of history is the focus of this article.
With regard to Wollstonecraft herself, one part of the contrast hinges on the publication of her husband’s memoirs, laying public the open sexual nature of their marriage. Things that were not permissible to say about Wollstonecraft’s sex life before that admission became possible.
Modern correlations between political and sexual ideologies can create a misleading idea that there is some absolute alignment between conservative politics and repressive social attitudes and the converse. But in the late 18th century, writers who held diametrically opposed political positions with regard to revolutionary thought found themselves closely aligned on the question of female sexuality. In certain ways, the intense conflict generated in the wake of the French revolution manufactured a consensus around gender and female sexuality than can reasonably be depicted as a “sex panic” that resulted in a redefinition of acceptable female sexuality that carried through the entire 19th century. Central to this redefinition was the domestic ideology of the woman’s role as an unpaid domestic servant, household manager, a consumer but not producer of goods, and someone expected to be fulfilled by her role as wife and mother rather than by a “public” life.
Not coincidentally, this is the era when the modern feminist movement for equal political and social rights emerges, alongside a conjunction of the philosophical consequences of the French Revolution, the social enforcement of compulsory heterosexuality, and a judicial system focused on surveillance, censorship, and control of personal morals. Many of these forces were already in motion, but together they created a mechanism that tied images of power and gender to the domestic ideal of female sexuality.
Among the symptoms or consequences of this shift were a rise in sentimental literature, the creation of an ideal of maternal domesticity for women, and an equation of women’s moral lives with the vitality of the state.
The French Revolution had inspired a rise in pressure for women’s equality that was met with a backlash that depicted women’s participation in politics as sexually unnatural. The negative aspects of the Revolution then became linked to women’s political influence, creating a rationale for excluding women from public life for the sake of the public safety. Public concerns about economic and social relations were displaced onto the sexual realm, emerging as a flurry of popular literature (pamphlets and tracts) around the supposed rise in adultery and cases of divorce, as well as other moral-tinged concerns such as prostitution. This supposed sexual crisis was considered to pose a threat to the very existence of society.
Sex panic literature used the image of the French Revolution to conflate female sexuality and the personified nation. The nation--coded as a chaste and virtuous woman--was depicted as being at risk from violent sexual attack. This image was then turned around to place the burden of national honor on the proper and acceptable behavior of women. This concern cut across traditional class lines, using anti-aristocratic sentiment as a mobilizing force to shape bourgeois ideals.
The theory went something like this: the debauched morals of French women, as symbolized by the pornographic accusations against Marie Antoinette, legitimated the need for the Revolution and were directly responsible for the fall of the ancien régime. But this female moral corruption was then the cause of the worst excesses of the Revolution itself. No matter whether one supported or opposed the Revolution, the upheaval could be blamed on immoral women.
To make the accusation stick, however, required a reformulation of ideas about the nature of female sexuality. The early modern understanding of women’s sexuality included two principles that were about to be stripped away: that women actively enjoyed and sought out sexual pleasure (true) and that women’s orgasm was biologically necessary for successful procreation (false).
The desexualization of women was accomplished, in part, by redefining them as maternal rather than sexual beings. This was accompanied by a shift from viewing the sexes in a hierarchical relationship (i.e., that women were qualitatively “like men” but simply lesser versions) to a complementary one (where men and women occupied separate and distinct social roles). If women were qualitatively similar to men, then the same arguments made for the social and political equality of the lower economic classes could apply to them. But if women were a separate and distinct species from men, then it was rational to argue that they were constitutionally unsuited to equality--a sort of gender-based “separate by equal” philosophy.
Within this shift, the abandonment of the idea that women’s sexual fulfillment was biologically essential for procreation was necessary in order to position the ideal woman as sexually passive.
One place this shift in the image of women’s sexuality can be seen to play out is in the literature surrounding adultery trials. For all practical purposes, adultery was treated as a property crime wherein one man (the adulterer) deprived another man (the husband) of something valuable (exclusive sexual access to the wife). The husband was suing his wife’s lover for damages, with the wife’s function in the trial reflecting the symbolic role she was expected to play. What Binhammer argues is that the most important topic under debate in these trials was not the guilt or innocence of the man, but the nature of approved female sexuality that was emerging in this new domestic economy. (Note that adultery trials were never concerned with a husband’s extramarital affairs, just as it was not possible for a woman to sue for divorce on the basis of her husband’s infidelity, while the contrary--though difficult--was done.)
These trials for “criminal conversation,” as the act was called, became a topic of popular literature, including purported trial transcripts and fictionalized narratives. The public attention, in turn, supported the politically-charged belief that adultery and divorce rates were on the rise. Not all such publications took a conservative view of sexuality--alongside the didactic accounts were pornographic versions that embraced a more active image of female sexuality. But while active male sexuality was taken as the normal baseline, women’s active sexuality was depicted as inherently depraved and predatory.
The popularity of the “crim con” trials waned with the establishment of the new image of women’s sexuality. It became increasingly unacceptable to view women’s adultery as something for which monetary compensation was appropriate. Images of women’s sexuality were displaced entirely onto the spheres of pornography and prostitution, leaving no acceptable role for “respectable” women but one of sexless domestic passivity.
Time period: 18th cPlace: EnglandFranceMisc tags: sexual/romantic desireEvent / person: Mary WollstonecraftMarie Antoinette
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November 7, 2018
More Greek Romances
The Lesbian Historic Motif Project
Serendipity has once again set up a series of related entries on this blog. When sorting through the recent journal article haul from the Journal of the History of Sexuality, this one jumped out at me as relating to the topic of classical Greek romance novels. I think it reads well as a pairing with the summary of the Babyloniaka from last week. Gorman takes a complex look at the various messages--both intentional and inadvertent--sent by using the Greek romance as a template for early Christian "adventure stories" um...that is...apocrypha. References to Boswell in the discussion here remind me that I still haven't yet covered either of his major works on same-sex relations in the context of early Christianity. If you want a reason beyond "there are a lot of publications and I haven't gotten to them yet" I think it would be equal parts annoyance at his blythe assumption that you can do all your research on men and wave your hands about how it applies to women, and the certainty that people looking for research sources for same-sex relations in that ear are unlikely to be unaware of Boswell's work. (There's also the complicating issue that many historians of sexuality in the early Christian period take issue with some of Boswell's arguments and conclusions.) I'll get to them. Eventually. In the mean time, hey, more wacky ancient Greek romance novels! This time with Christian theology!
Major category: LHMPTags: LHMP
LHMP #221 Gorman 2001 Thinking with and about ‘Same-Sex Desire’
About LHMP
Full citation:
Gorman, Jill. 2001. “Thinking with and about ‘Same-Sex Desire’: Producing and Policing Female Sexuality in the ‘Acts of Xanthippe and Polyxena’” in Journal of the History of Sexuality 10:3/4 pp.416-441
This article examines the plot and narrative structure of the 4th century Christian Acts of Xanthippe and Polyxena (AXP) within the context of the genre of Greek romance novels of the time. A high-level summary of the structure of a Greek romance is “two souls who are--or wish to be--joined together, who go through adventures, separations, and trials that test their commitment and devotion to each other, and are rewarded by being (re)united and enjoying an ongoing social union.” The Greek romance operated within a pagan context, but the narrative structure was borrowed for Christian folk-literature such as the apocryphal acts of the apostles. In structure, the story of Xanthippe and Polyxena follows most of the romance novel pattern: the two women enjoy a loving and devoted relationship, are parted by force, and Polyxena, at least, experiences abductions, escapes, and other adventures typical of a Greek heroine before finally being reunited with Xanthippe. At which “...seeing Polyxena, [Xanthippe] was overcome by an unspeakable joy and fell to the ground; but Polyxena embracing her and caressing her for a long time brought her back to life.”
In other important respects, AXP diverges from the romance formula, including the fact that shortly after their reunion, Xanthippe dies, entrusting Polyxena to the oversight of the apostle Paul. And even while creating parallels with the romantic couple of the Greek novel, it undermines and condemns their desire for each other. This relates to Brooten’s (1996) exploration of how early Christian writings marginalized and disparaged relations between women.
The article discusses how the treatment of same-sex relations in late antiquity is more often concerned with social power and knowledge than with specific sex acts. So how might the framing of X&P as a romantic couple serve some other discursive purpose? Gorman considers the question in four parts: how the narrative frames Xanthippe and Polyxena as the protagonists of a romance novel; how conflicts about gender shape the understanding of their bond within the text; what a Foucaultian analysis says about the sociopolitical agendas around women’s same-sex bonds; and how this depiction of commitment between women adds to our understanding of female same-sex relations in the late antique world.
AXP can be viewed as consisting of two narrative halves: the first telling the story of Xanthippe and how she separates from her husband after the arrival of the apostle Paul and her conversion. The second half tells the story of the beautiful young Polyxena who is abducted from Xanthippe’s bedroom in the middle of the night and, after many other adventures, abductions, and perils, achieves Christian baptism and returns home, still safely a virgin. The rupture of Xanthippe’s marriage follows the standard plotline for Christian ascetic texts. But the relationship between the two women then takes up the tropes and expectations of a romance. Xanthippe loves Polyxena for her youth and beauty, using the same language as m/f romances. [Note: also the same tropes used in age-differentiated m/m Greek romances.]
Following the standard romance plot, the two women enjoy their time together initially (Xanthippe reads religious writings to the younger woman while alone together in her bedroom) and a prophetic dream establishes that it is Polyxena’s destiny to receive baptism. Delighted about this, Xanthippe goes to tell Paul, leaving Polyxena vulnerable to abduction by a jilted suitor. This starts a long serious of events following the standard romance plot in which the lovers are separated and experience extreme grief, even to the point of desiring death if they cannot be reunited. Even some of the adventure motifs are standard recurring tropes from the romance genre, such as when Polyxena throws herself overboard from a ship to escape her abductor and is rescued by sailors, or the regular threat of politically powerful men who want access to the “heroine” figure (the part played by Polyxena).
Gorman notes another similarity with the romance genre in how the relationship between the protagonists is framed as one of equality and reciprocity, rather than being expressed in social hierarchies. In the more typical heterosexual novel, this often results in a male protagonist who appears relatively passive and a female protagonist who regularly acts on her own behalf. In AXP, we see the same mutual affection and desire for reunion. Xanthippe follows the “male” role, remaining at home and taking action toward their reunion primarily via fasting and prayer, while Polyxena is proactive, though regularly at the mercy of the male figures contending for control of her fate.
As in the romance plots, the decisive action toward plot resolution is displaced onto a secondary character whose motives do not involve erotic desire--in this case a friend of the apostle Paul who finally delivers her back to the grieving Xanthippe. Another parallel is in the adventuring character forming secondary attachments during the separation who support her in her goals. In romance novels, this is often a temporary alliance with a desiring male character. In the case of Polyxena, it is a bond with the slave Rebecca who is baptized alongside her by the apostle Andrew and with whom she lives until another abduction creates a secondary rupture--one that the secondary partner laments while the primary partner returns to the original quest.
Another structural parallel is in how the separations and adventures are revealed at the end to be due to divine plan (whether that of pagan gods in the romance texts, or of the Christian god in AXP). What originally appeared to be arbitrary suffering turns out to be deliberate actions by a deity to demonstrate a moral lesson. Though in the case of Xanthippe and Polyxena the lesson is stated simply as “Thus we must be troubled, my daughter, that we may know our defender, Jesus Christ.”
The novel structure typically ends after the reunited protagonists enjoy a happy life together followed by one of them passing on dying wisdom by means of a last kiss. AXP rewrites this formula in a way that reinforces the exclusive and committed bond between the two women, though by short-circuiting the “happy life together” step. When Polyxena returns, Xanthippe joyously runs to meet her, is overcome by “unspeakable joy” and swoons, after which Polyxena “embracing her and caressing her for a long time brought her back to life.” The other characters, including Xanthippe’s husband and the apostle Paul literally stand back to allow focus on this reunion. Xanthippe then offers her dying wisdom, telling Polyxena of what she’s done through fasting and prayer to protect her (despite being told by the apostle that these actions were unnecessary). By shifting the dramatic “dying wisdom” scene that is traditionally assigned to husband and wife instead to Xanthippe and Polyxena, the story completes the framing of the story as that of a romantic and desiring bond between the two women.
The analysis now turns to how this narrative framework is used to “police” the female same-sex relations it depicts, including a consideration of who the primary audience was and for what purpose the story was employed.
Throughout the story, men in authority regularly disrupt the interactions between the two women, with the implication that they cannot be allowed to manage their own sexualities (even if that sexuality is the choice of virginity). Polyxena is, functionally, passed from hand to hand by men with authority over her. The struggle is not her ability to determine her own fate, but a struggle between Christian and non-Christian men for control over her. (It is noted that the original jilted suitor who sets the adventure in motion is never actually punished in the story for his action, but is redeemed by receiving baptism.) The final disruption is Xanthippe’s death, leaving Polyxena to rely on the protection of the apostle Paul to continue in her desired virgin state rather than either enjoying a continuing bond with Xanthippe or being allowed control over her own fate (as was the case for other apocryphal female figures such as Thecla).
The attitudes of the primary characters toward the purpose of the events of the story is contrasted. Xanthippe believes that she needs to perform severe asceticism in order to (magically) protect the abducted Polyxena. Polyxena believes her trials are due to her having offended God and therefore must be endured to achieve redemption. But the male authorities, including the apostle Paul, proclaim that the misfortunes were all divinely willed and determined and had nothing to do with either of the women’s own actions.
While the divine meddling in Greek romance novels was typically resolved with the implication that the reunion of the lovers was divinely willed and that it restored the desired social structure, the message of AXP appears to be that the abduction and threats against an innocent young woman were, themselves, divinely willed. The idea that the women had any power to redeem their lives or protect themselves is treated as contrary to the “official” male authorities interpretation of divine will. At the same time that ascetic narratives appeared to encourage women to take charge of their own lives by choosing chaste or virgin lives and Christian baptism, they undermine the idea that women can understand the purposes of those choices, or even that their fates are something they are able to choose.
Another potential reading is that, in producing a female romantic couple at the center of AXP, the narrative is actually “policing” something entirely different from that relationship. The Greek novel structure was also regularly appropriated in the apocryphal Acts of the Apostles for narratives pairing up a Christian male apostle and an elite ascetic woman who was previously involved with a non-Christian elite man. This is turned into a pseudo-romantic triangle with the non-Christian man retaliating against the apostle to create the narrative crisis. Within this structure, the original depiction of the restoration of marriage and civic ties being the desired “happy ending”, is replaced with the disruption of marriage and carnal relationships as the desired and approved outcome.
The “romantic triangle” does not involve contention between two equivalent suitors for the woman (one of whom has the benefic of a romantic bond), but rather a contention between the traditional virtues of civic duty (marriage and child bearing) represented by the pagan men and the new ideal of Christian asceticism that rejected traditional civic values.
This doesn’t mean that male and female audiences for these stories might not take different messages away from them. Women might easily envision a Christianity that offered them power over their own destinies and social equality to the apostles, as in the Acts of Paul and Thecla with its bold heroine who crops her hair, puts on men’s clothes, and achieves the right to teach and perform baptisms. Stories such as AXP might be seen in this context as a suppression of such images of female leadership and egalitarian claims. The contrast between Thecla and Polyxena is striking. Thecla eagerly takes on male clothing in order to control her own sexuality, while Polxena does so only at the urging of male protectors. Thecla is shown as receiving Paul’s blessing to go out and preach, while Polyxena willingly commits herself to staying at Pauls’ side for her own protection. Was AXP then part of an indoctrination program to control women’s expectations within the ascetic community, while still encouraging the participation (especially the wealth and prestige) of elite women in those communities?
In looking for evidence of same-sex desire within AXP, the author turns Halperin’s theories about “pre-homosexual” categories applied to men: effeminacy, pederasty, friendship, and passivity. Within this framework, the category of reciprocal love between (male) social equals provides a context for portraying passionate same-sex love that avoids social reproach. The love between Xanthippe and Polyxena could be seen in this same context. But the traditional view of women as envisioned within a subordinate position to a man (father, husband, or religious leader) complicates the matter. In the context of social equality, X&P make a better argument for Boswell’s pantheon of same-sex saintly pairs than his example of Perpetua and Felicitas who inhabited a social hierarchy of mistress and servant.
Several other theoretical approaches to interpreting same-sex relationships in the early Christian world are discussed. Whether or not X&P’s relationship can reasonably be interpreted as erotic, it can easily be seen as a threat to patriarchal structures. If the ideal position for women is in relation to a male authority, then the bond between X&P needed to be disrupted in order for both of them to accept their roles as brides of Christ. There is clear evidence from instructional writings for ascetic communities that authorities were concerned about the potential for female same-sex friendships developing into erotic relationships. Thus stories such as AXP that undermine the idealization of such relationships may have been part of how such concerns were addressed.
Time period: Post-Roman/Early Medieval4th cMisc tags: female comrades/friendsfemale mentorsEvent / person: Xanthippe & PolyxenaPerpetua & Felicitas
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November 2, 2018
Several Funerals and Maybe a Wedding: Berenike and Mesopotamia
The Lesbian Historic Motif Project
With the help of several online friends (yay twitter!) I tracked down various versions of this text in time to discuss in in my podcast on women loving women in classical Rome, so it only made sense to add it to my occasional series of LHMP entries with primary sources. I can't say that I was happy to find that the evidence in the story for women's same-sex marriage in ancient Egypt was not quite as solid as some authors (like Brooten) imply. But it's still a clear presentation of a romantic and erotic (and possibly matrimonial) relationship depicted in a fictional context by an author within the cultural scope of the Roman empire and presented using language identical to that used for heterosexual relationshps.
I'm amused to find that over-the-top ancient Greek adventure-romances were evidently A Thing. Next week's entry will look at parallels between the plot stucture of Greek romances and an early Christian text "The Acts of Xanthippe and Polyxena" which involves a similar string of separations, abductions, rescues, devoted pining, and dramatic reunion.
Unlike Ovid, Iamblichos doesn't seem to have had any doubts that women could not only feel desire for each other but had clear ideas about how to act on it. But this text also points out how easy it is for evidence of women's homoeroticism to be erased across the ages. Photius wrote his summary of the Babyloniaka and skipped over much of the side-story of Berenike with the bare outline: The story of Berenice, daughter of the king of Egypt, of her disgraceful amours, of her intimacy with Mesopotamia. If the character of Mesopotamia hadn't been so essential to the central story of Rhodanes and Sinonis, one imagines that Photius might have eliminated it altogether as part of the unfortunately "immoral" portions of Iamblichos' work.
Wikipedia says that the last known copy of the original text by Iamblichos was accidentally destroyed by fire in 1671...but that the fate of the work hinged on a single copy speaks of a history of neglect and indifference. Mind you, based on the summary that we have, the Babyloniaka may not have been exactly a shining lamp of literature. Perhaps the characterization by Photius that it was a "puerile fiction" has merit. But there's a long history of female erasure based on which texts are considered to have merit. Perhaps we need our "puerile fictions" if that's the only place we can find ourselves reflected.
Major category: LHMPTags: LHMP
LHMP #220 Iamblichos Babyloniaka
About LHMP
Full citation:
Photius (trans. J.H. Freese). 1920. The Library of Photius (volume 1). The Macmillan Company, New York. - Greek text from De La Rochette, S. Charon. 1812. Mélanges de Critique et de Philologie. D’Hautel, Paris.
Publication summary:
English translation, with key passages in the original Greek, of Photius' summary of the Babyloniaka of Iamblichos, including the romance and marriage(?) of Berenike, Queen of Egypt, and Mesopotamia.
Primary Source Text: The Babyloniaka of Iamblichos
Brooten 1997, among other sources, refers to “a lost novel by Iamblichos that tells of how Berenike, daughter of the king of Egypt, loved and married a woman named Mesopotamia.” This was an intriguing lead, but it wasn’t until I was working on a podcast about same-sex relations between women in classical Rome that I had the need to track down the original source and identify exactly what it did and didn’t say. For one thing, the name “Mesopotamia” is so obviously a geographic name that I wondered if the “lost novel” might be some sort of allegory of nations rather than a representation of real women’s lives. Furthermore, how exactly was this “love and marriage” presented? Was the language unambiguous? Did it use the same vocabulary that would be used for a heterosexual couple? And if the novel had been “lost” how was it that we knew the contents at all?
Fortunately, we live in the age of online texts, and I have the advantage of friends who live and breathe classical texts as close as my twitter feed. So with the assistance of Maya (who tracked down a cleaned up copy of the OCR’ed English translation, and a parallel text with the original Greek and French translation), Fade for Classical Greek consultation, Irina for general offers of assistance, and various virtual cheerleaders, I was able to put the following together.
Iamblichos (or in the Latinized version, Iamblichus) was a Syrian Greek writer of the 2nd century CE. His best-known work was his Babyloniaka (Babylonian History) which was an epic romance of the lovers Rhodanes and Sinonis and their hair-raising adventures to achieve their happily ever after. A 10th century Byzantine encyclopedia indicates that the original work consisted of 39 books, but today the only surviving version is a summary by Photius, which mentions only 17 volumes. Evidently a copy of the original survived to 1671 when it was destroyed in a fire. One could wish that someone had taken the trouble to copy it, but that’s true of so many works.
Photius was a 9th century Orthodox Patriarch of Constantinople. Among his other endeavors, he was a compiler of Greek texts--not only religious and philosophical writings, but evidently more popular works as well. He does, however, offer his opinion of the moral and literary merit of the material, which raises the question of to what extent he may have edited texts to fit his prejudices. There’s at least a hint that he may have elided many of the details about Berenike and Mesopotamia due to disapproval, but on the other hand, he omits so much of the overall story that this may not have been a pointed choice. Many other classical Greek works are known only through his summaries and due, to later losses, this is true of the Babyloniaka of Iamblichos.
The text included below is an excerpt from a 1920 English translation by J.H. Freese entitled The Library of Photius in 5 volumes, with Iamblichos appearing in volume 1 (fortunately, since this seems to be the volume that has been made available online). Google Books has a cleaned up (though still error-filled) scan available in e-book formats and this can be proofed against a pdf scan of an original copy at archive.org (which also has a much messier OCR text). But for my purposes, I wanted to know what words were used in the original Greek (or at least in Photius’s Greek summary of the original Greek) to discuss the “love” and “marriage” between these women. The version I used is from a French website which provides parallel texts in Greek and French translation, taken from an early 19th century publication, and which conveniently separates the various authors Photius covers into individual pages. While I can’t tell if the Greek has been standardized in spelling and diacritics (likely), it presumably represents the original vocabulary. Pause for a moment to wonder at the fact that all these materials are avaialable freely and easily (at least, once you know they exist) on the internet! Truly we live in an age of riches.
The following collated version is Freese’s English translation, with the sections relevant to the story of Berenike and Mesopotamia in italics, and accompanied by the corresponding Greek. Key vocabulary is discussed (in curly braces). Freese’s footnotes are inserted in square brackets in place of the original footnote number. I’ve added some extra paragraph breaks for readability.
It’s best if you read this plot summary envisioning an ancient Greek soap opera. A really really wacky ancient Greek soap opera.
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Read the Dramaticon of Iamblichus [Syrian romance-writer, probably lived about the middle of the second century A.D. The complete work is no longer extant (see Cod. LXXIII).], a narrative of love adventures. The author makes less show of indecencies than Achilles Tatius, but he is more immoral than the Phoenician Heliodorus. Of these three writers, who have all adopted the same subject and have chosen love intrigues as the material for their stories, Heliodorus is more serious and restrained, Iamblichus less so, while Achilles Tatius pushes his obscenity to impudence. The style of Iamblichus is soft and flowing; if there is anything vigorous and sonorous in it, it is less characterized by intensity than by what may be called titillation and nervelessness. Iamblichus is so distinguished by excellence of style and arrangement and the order of the narrative that it is to be regretted that he did not devote his skill and energies to serious subjects instead of to puerile fictions.
The characters of the story are a handsome couple named Rhodanes and Sinonis, united by the tie of mutual love and marriage. Garmus, king of Babylon, having lost his wife, falls in love with Sinonis and is eager to marry her. Sinonis refuses and is bound with chains of gold, while Rhodanes is placed upon the cross by Damas and Sacas, the king's eunuchs. He is taken down through the efforts of Sinonis, and the lovers take to flight, one thus escaping death, the other a hated marriage. Sacas and Damas have their ears and noses cut off and are sent after the fugitives. They take different routes to carry out the search. Rhodanes and Sinonis are nearly surprised by Damas in a meadow. For a fisherman had told him of some shepherds who, being put to the torture, at last show him the meadow where Rhodanes had discovered a treasure, revealed to him by the inscription engraved on a cippus [A monumental pillar or monument generally marking the site of a grave.] surmounted by a lion.
A spectre in the form of a goat becomes enamoured of Sinonis, which obliges the lovers to leave the meadow. Damas finds a garland of flowers dropped by Sinonis and sends it to Garmus as a consolation. In their flight, the lovers come across an old woman at the door of a hut; they hide themselves in a cave, thirty stades long and open at both ends, the mouth of which is concealed by thick bushes. Damas comes up with his companions, and questions the old woman, who is terrified by the sight of the naked sword. The horses on which Rhodanes and Sinonis had ridden are captured. The soldiers surround their hiding-place; the brazen shield of one of those who were keeping watch is broken on the cave; the hollowness of the echo discloses the whereabouts of the fugitives; the soldiers begin to dig, and Damas's shouts reach the ears of those within. They retire farther into the cave and make their way to the second opening.
Here a swarm of wild bees attacks the diggers, drops of honey falling also upon the fugitives. The bees as well as the honey are infected with poison from their having eaten certain venomous reptiles, so that the diggers whom they sting either lose a limb or die. Rhodanes and his companion, hard pressed by hunger, lick up some drops of the honey, are seized with colic, and fall on the road as if dead. The soldiers, worn out by the attack of the bees, take to flight but renew the pursuit of the lovers. Seeing Rhodanes and Sinonis prostrate in the road, they pass them by, taking them for two dead strangers. Sinonis, while in the cave, had cut her hair, and made a rope with it to draw water; Damas finds it and sends it to Garmus, as an earnest of the speedy capture of the fugitives. The soldiers who passed by where Rhodanes and Sinonis were lying in the road pay respect to them as if they were really dead, according to the custom of the country; some cover them with their tunics, others throw over them anything they have at hand, even pieces of bread and meat, and then go their way.
The lovers recover from the drowsiness caused by the honey; Rhodanes had been roused by some crows quarrelling over some pieces of meat, and woke Sinonis. Getting up, they go in the opposite direction to the soldiers, so as to be less easily recognized. They meet two asses and mount them, having first loaded them with part of what the soldiers, thinking them dead, had thrown over them, and which the lovers had carried away. They stop at an inn, but soon leave it for another, in the neighbourhood of a full market-place. Two brothers have died and they are accused of their murder, but acquitted. The elder of the two brothers, who had poisoned the younger and who had accused them, poisons himself, thereby proving their innocence. Rhodanes gets possession of the poison without being seen.
They put up at the house of a brigand who robbed passers-by and ate them. Soldiers sent by Damas capture the brigand and set fire to his house; Rhodanes and Sinonis, enveloped by the flames, with great difficulty escape with their lives, after they have killed the asses and thrown them on the fire to make a bridge across. The soldiers who fired the house, meeting them during the night, ask them who they are. "We are the ghosts of those murdered by the brigands," they reply. Their thin, pale countenances, the weakness of their voice, persuade the soldiers that they are speaking the truth, whereat they are greatly alarmed.
The lovers resume their flight, and meeting a young girl who is being carried to the grave, join the throng of spectators. An old Chaldaean comes up and stops the funeral, saying that the girl is still alive, and so it turns out to be. He predicts to Rhodanes and Sinonis that they will attain royal rank. The girl's grave is left empty, and a great part of the robes which were to be burnt and of the food and drink is left behind. Rhodanes and Sinonis make a good meal, take some of the clothes and sleep in the grave.
In the morning, the soldiers who had fired the house find they have been deceived, and set out in pursuit of Rhodanes and Sinonis, imagining that they are accomplices of the brigand. Having traced them as far as the grave and seeing them lying there motionless, overcome by wine and sleep, they imagine they are looking on corpses and so leave them, although they hesitated since their footsteps guided them thither. [Or, "being uncertain whether their footsteps led thither,”] Rhodanes and Sinonis leave the grave and cross the river, the waters of which are sweet and clear and reserved for the king of Babylon alone to drink.
Sinonis, when trying to sell the clothes she has taken, is arrested for sacrilege and brought before Soraechus, the son of Soraechus the tax-gatherer and named the Just. Owing to her beauty, he is minded to send her to king Garmus; whereupon Rhodanes and Sinonis mix a dose of poison, considering death preferable to the sight of this king. Their intention is revealed by a female slave to Soraechus, who secretly empties the cup containing the deadly potion and fills it with a sleeping draught; after they have drunk it and are in a deep sleep they are placed in a carriage to be taken to the king.
A little way from Babylon, Rhodanes is frightened by a dream and cries out; this wakes Sinonis, who takes up a sword and wounds herself in the breast. Soraechus wants to know their history, and the lovers having received a solemn promise from him, tell him everything. He sets them at liberty and shows them a temple of Aphrodite on a little island, where Sinonis can be healed of her wound.
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By way of digression the author relates the history of the temple and the little island, which is formed by the surrounding waters of the Euphrates and Tigris. The priestess of Aphrodite had three children, Euphrates, Tigris, and Mesopotamia, the last, who was born ugly, being changed into a woman so beautiful that three suitors quarrelled for her hand. Bochorus, the most famous judge of the time, was chosen to decide their claims, and the three rivals pleaded their cause. Now Mesopotamia had given one of them the cup from which she drank, had crowned the second with a garland of flowers from her own head, and had kissed the third. Bochorus decided that she belonged to the one whom she had kissed, but this decision only embittered the quarrel, which ended in the death of the rivals by one another's hands.
{There is no discussion here of Mesopotamia’s relationship with Berenike, so we don’t know whether they have already met and fallen in love. I confess that my writer’s imagination has spun off a previous meeting and kiss between the two women, such that Mesopotamia eagerly agrees that she belongs to “the one whom she had kissed” envisioning Berenike. But I’ll save that for if I ever decide to write my own version.}
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Ὡς ἐν παρεκβολῇ δὲ διηγεῖται καὶ τὰ περὶ τοῦ ἱεροῦ καὶ τῆς νησῖδος, καὶ ὅτι ὁ Εὐφράτης καὶ ὁ Τίγρις περιρρέοντες αὐτὴν ποιοῦσι νησῖδα, καὶ ὅτι ἡ τῆς ἐνταῦθα Ἀφροδίτης ἱέρεια τρεῖς ἔσχε παῖδας, Εὐφράτην καὶ Τίγριν καὶ Μεσοποταμίαν, αἰσχρὰν τὴν ὄψιν ἀπὸ γενέσεως, ὑπὸ δὲ τῆς Ἀφροδίτης εἰς κάλλος μετασκευασθεῖσαν. Δι´ ἣν καὶ ἔρις τριῶν ἐραστῶν γίνεται, καὶ κρίσις ἐπ´ αὐτούς. Βόροχος ἢ Βόχορος ὁ κρίνων ἦν, κριτῶν τῶν κατ´ ἐκείνους καιροὺς ἄριστος. Ἐκρίνοντο δὲ καὶ ἤριζον οἱ τρεῖς, ὅτι τῷ μὲν ἡ Μεσοποταμία τὴν φιάλην ἐξ ἧς ἔπιεν ἔδωκε, τῷ δὲ τὸν ἀπὸ τῆς κεφαλῆς ἐξ ἀνθέων ἀφελομένη στέφανον περιέθηκε, τὸν δὲ ἐφίλησε. Καὶ τοῦ φιληθέντος κρίσει νικήσαντος οὐδὲν ἔλαττον αὐτοῖς ἡ ἔρις ἤκμαζεν, ἕως ἀλλήλους ἀνεῖλον ἐρίζοντες.
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In another digression the author gives details of the temple of Aphrodite. The women who visit it are obliged to reveal in public the dreams they have had in the temple; this leads to minute details of Pharnuchus, Pharsiris and Tanais, from whom the river is named. Pharsiris and Tanais initiated those who dwelt on the banks of the river into the mysteries of Aphrodite. Tigris died in the little island just mentioned, after having eaten of some roses in the buds of which, not yet full blown, lurked a poisonous little beetle. His mother believed she had made him a demi-god by her enchantments.
Iamblichus then describes different kinds of enchantments —by locusts, lions and mice. According to him, the last is the oldest, the mysteries being called after the name of these animals. [Deriving μυστήριον [mysterion] from μῦσ [mys].] There are also enchantments by hail, snakes, necromancy and ventriloquism, the ventriloquist being called by the Greeks Eurycles, and by the Babylonians Sacchuras. The author calls himself a Babylonian and says that, after having learnt the art of magic, he devoted himself to the study of the Greek arts and sciences. He flourished in the reign of Soaemus, son of Achaemenides the Arsacid, who occupied the throne of his fathers, and was afterwards a Roman senator and consul, and king of Greater Armenia. [A.D. 164.] At this time Marcus Aurelius was Roman emperor. When Aurelius sent Verus, his adopted brother and son-in-law and colleague in the empire, to make war against Vologaesus [Or Vologases III (148-190).] the Parthian king, Iamblichus predicted the beginning, the course, and end of the war. He also tells how Vologaesus fled over the Euphrates and Tigris, and how the kingdom of Parthia became a Roman province.
Tigris and Euphrates, the children of the priestess, were very like each other, and Rhodanes was like both. Tigris, as has been mentioned, had been poisoned by eating roses, and when Rhodanes crosses over to the island with Sinonis, the mother of Tigris, when she sets eyes on Rhodanes, declares that her son has come back to life, accompanied by Kore. [Reading Κόρην with capital K. Kore or Persephone, daughter of Demeter (Ceres), wife of Pluto, and queen of the lower world. If κόρην be read, we must translate "and bids her daughter follow him.”] Rhodanes falls in with the deception, highly amused at the credulity of the islanders.
Damas is informed of what has happened to Rhodanes and Sinonis and of what Soraechus has done for them, his informant being the physician whom Soraechus had secretly sent to attend to Sinonis's wound. Soraechus is arrested and taken to Garmus, and at the same time the informer is sent with a letter to the priest of Aphrodite, ordering him to seize Rhodanes and Sinonis. The physician, in order to cross the river, hangs himself round the neck of a camel in the usual manner, having first deposited the letter in the animal's right ear. He is drowned in the river, the camel alone reaches the island, and Rhodanes and Sinonis, taking Damas's letter out of its ear, become aware of the danger that threatens them.
They accordingly take to flight, and on the way meet Soraechus, who is being taken to Garmus, and put up at the same inn. During the night Rhodanes bribes certain persons to slay the guards of Soraechus, who takes to flight with the lovers, being thus rewarded for his previous kindness.
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Damas arrests the priest of Aphrodite and questions him about Sinonis; the old man is condemned to change his ministry for the office of executioner; the manners and customs relating to this office. Euphrates, whom the priest his father takes for Rhodanes and calls him by this name, is arrested, and his sister Mesopotamia takes to flight. Euphrates is taken before Sacas and questioned about Sinonis, being taken for Rhodanes and examined as such. Sacas sends a messenger to Garmus to inform him that Rhodanes is captured and that Sinonis soon will be. For Euphrates, when questioned in the name of Rhodanes, being obliged to call his sister Mesopotamia by the name of Sinonis, declares that Sinonis fled when she saw him arrested.
{Once again, no reference to the relationship between Mesopotamia and Berenike.}
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Συλλαμβάνει Δάμας τὸν τῆς Ἀφροδίτης ἱερέα, καὶ ἀνακρίνεται περὶ Σινωνίδος, καὶ τέλος κατακρίνεται δήμιος γενέσθαι ἀντὶ ἱερέως ὁ πρεσβύτης. Καὶ τὰ περὶ τὸν δήμιον ἔθη καὶ νόμιμα. Συλλαμβάνεται Εὐφράτης, ὅτι ὁ πατὴρ καὶ ἱερεύς, ὡς Ῥοδάνην αὐτὸν ὑπολαβών, οὕτως ἐπεκάλει· καὶ φεύγει Μεσοποταμία ἡ ἀδελφή. Καὶ πρὸς τὸν Σάκαν ἀπάγεται Εὐφράτης, καὶ ἀνακρίνεται περὶ Σινωνίδος· ὡς γὰρ Ῥοδάνης ἠτάζετο. Ἀποστέλλει Σάκας πρὸς Γάρμον ὅτι Ῥοδάνης συνείληπται καὶ Σινωνὶς συλληφθήσεται· ὁ γὰρ Εὐφράτης, ὡς Ῥοδάνης κρινόμενος ἔφη, τὴν Σινωνίδα συλλαμβανομένου αὐτοῦ πεφευγέναι, Σινωνίδα καλεῖν κἀκεῖνος ἐκβιαζόμενος τὴν ἀδελφὴν Μεσοποταμίαν.
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The fugitives Rhodanes, Sinonis and Soraechus, put up at the house of a farm-labourer. He has a beautiful daughter, who has just lost her husband, and out of her affection for him has cut her hair. She is sent to a goldsmith to sell the golden chain which Sinonis had brought from her former prison. The goldsmith, seeing the beauty of the young woman, and recognizing part of the chain which he happened to have made himself, and noticing that she has her hair cut, suspects that she is Sinonis. He accordingly informs Damas and has the labourer's daughter secretly watched. Suspecting what is afoot, she takes refuge in an empty house.
The story of the young girl named Trophime, of the slave who was both her lover and murderer, of the golden ornaments, of the lawless conduct of the slave, of his suicide, of the blood that spirted over the labourer's daughter when the murderer was committing suicide, of the fear and flight of the young woman, of the terror and flight of those who were keeping watch on her, of the young woman's return to her father, of the story of her adventures, of the departure of Rhodanes, and of the letter sent by the goldsmith to inform Damas that Sinonis has been found. To confirm his letter, he sends the chain which he has bought, and mentions the other suspicious circumstances connected with the labourer's daughter.
Rhodanes, at the moment of leaving, kisses the labourer's daughter. Sinonis is furiously jealous; at first she had only suspected this kiss, but her suspicions were confirmed when she wiped off the marks of blood with which his lips were stained. Sinonis makes up her mind to kill the young woman and hastens back like a madwoman, followed by Soraechus, who is unable to calm her passionate fury.
They put up at the house of a wealthy man of dissolute habits, named Setapus, who falls in love with Sinonis and tries to seduce her. She pretends to return his love and, at night, when Setapus is intoxicated, stabs him with a sword, orders the servants to open the door, leaves Soraechus, who is ignorant of what has happened, and sets out in haste to find the labourer's daughter.
Soraechus, when he hears of her departure, starts in pursuit, having hired some of the slaves of Setapus to accompany him, so as to prevent the murder of the labourer's daughter. He overtakes her, makes her get into a carriage which had been prepared beforehand, and turns back with her. On their return, the servants of Setapus, who had found their dead master, filled with rage rush upon them, seize Sinonis, bind her, and take her to Garmus to be punished as a murderess. Soraechus, having sprinkled his head with dust, and rent his cloak, announces the sad news to Rhodanes, who would have killed himself, but is prevented by Soraechus.
Garmus, having received the letters from Sacas and the goldsmith, informing him of the capture of Rhodanes and Sinonis, rejoices greatly, offers sacrifice to the gods, orders preparations to be made for the marriage, and issues a decree that all prisoners should be unbound and set free. Sinonis is accordingly released from her bonds by the servants of Setapus.
Garmus orders Damas to be put to death and he is handed over to the priest whom he himself had deprived of his priesthood and made executioner. Garmus was wroth with Damas, because he had allowed others to have the honour of arresting the supposed Rhodanes and Sinonis. Damas is succeeded in his office by his brother Monasus.
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The story of Berenice, daughter of the king of Egypt, of her disgraceful amours, of her intimacy with Mesopotamia, who was afterwards seized by Sacas and, as Sinonis, sent to Garmus with her brother Euphrates. Garmus, hearing from the goldsmith that Sinonis has escaped, orders him to be put to death, and the guards, who had been deputed to watch the pretended Sinonis and to bring her to him, to be buried alive with their women and children.
{So here we finally bring Berenike into the story, with the clear implication that she and Mesopotamia already had a thing going on much earlier in the story.}
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Διάληψις περὶ Βερενίκης, ἥτις ἦν θυγάτηρ τοῦ βασιλέως Αἰγυπτίων, καὶ τῶν ἀγρίων αὐτῆς καὶ ἐκθέσμων ἐρώτων· καὶ ὅπως Μεσοποταμίᾳ τε συνεγίνετο, καὶ ὡς ὕστερον ὑπὸ Σάκα συνελήφθη Μεσοποταμία, καὶ πρὸς Γάρμον ἅμα τῷ ἀδελφῷ Εὐφράτῃ ἀπάγεται. Γράμμα δεξάμενος Γάρμος παρὰ τοῦ χρυσοχόου ὡς Σινωνὶς διαπέφευγε, προστάσσει ἐκεῖνόν τε ἀναιρεθῆναι καὶ τοὺς ἐπὶ φυλακῇ ταύτης καὶ ἀγωγῇ σταλέντας αὐταῖς γυναιξὶ καὶ τέκνοις ζῶντας κατορυχθῆναι.
{ἀγρίων is from a root meaning “wild, fierce, savage, uncivilized” but used here as a noun, so perhaps something like “wild/uncivilized actions”? In ἐκθέσμων ἐρώτων the second word is easily recognizable as from the root “eros” (desire, erotic love). The first word, ἐκθέσμων, appears to be derived from θέσμός “law, rule, order”, so with that prefix, “unlawful” or perhaps “unnatural”. In the following phrase, συνεγίνετο with the dative can mean “to have intercourse with." Also “to be acquainted with” but this is less likely in the near vicinity of ἐρώτων! In any event, taken all together we get a clear description of an erotic relatoinship and activities.}
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An Hyrcanian dog, belonging to Rhodanes, finds in the ill-omened inn the bodies of the unhappy girl and of the slave, her infatuated lover and murderer. It has already devoured the body of the slave and half eaten that of the young girl, when the father of Sinonis comes on the scene. Recognizing the dog as belonging to Rhodanes and seeing the half-eaten body of the girl, he first kills the dog as a sacrifice to Sinonis and then hangs himself, having first buried the remains of the girl and written on her tomb with the blood of the dog, "Here lies the beautiful Sinonis."
Meanwhile Rhodanes and Soraechus come up, see the dog lying dead by the tomb, Sinonis's father hanging by a rope, and the epitaph written on the tomb. Rhodanes stabs himself and adds to the epitaph on Sinonis the words: "and the handsome Rhodanes," written in his own blood. Soraechus puts his head in the noose, and Rhodanes is preparing to give himself the death blow, when the labourer's daughter rushes in, shouting loudly, "Rhodanes, she who lies here is not Sinonis." She runs and cuts the rope by which Soraechus is hanging, and snatches the dagger from the hand of Rhodanes. At last she manages to convince them by relating the story of the unhappy girl, and of the buried treasure, which she had come to carry off.
Meanwhile Sinonis, released from her bonds, hastens to the labourer's house, still furious with his daughter. Unable to find her, she asks her father where she is, and on his telling her the way she has taken, she immediately sets out in pursuit with drawn sword. At the sight of Rhodanes lying on the ground and her rival sitting alone by his side, endeavouring to staunch the wound in his breast (Soraechus having gone to fetch a physician) her rage and jealousy know no bounds and she rushes upon the young woman. But Rhodanes, forgetting his wound at the sight of her violence, musters up strength to throw himself in front of Sinonis and hold her back, at the same time snatching the sword from her hands. Sinonis, transported with rage, rushes out of the inn and running like a madwoman shouts to Rhodanes: "I invite you to-day to Garmus's wedding." Soraechus, on his return, hearing what has taken place, consoles Rhodanes, and after his wound has been dressed, the labourer's daughter is sent back with money to her father.
{As a comparative text to the following, I note that Sinonis's taunt "I invite you to-day to Garmus's wedding" renders the following Greek: Καλῶ σε σήμερον εἰς τοὺς Γάρμου γάμους. This uses the same word "γάμους" as is used for the union between Berenice and Mesopotamia in the next passage.}
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Euphrates and Mesopotamia, the supposed Rhodanes and Sinonis, together with Soraechus and the real Rhodanes are taken before Garmus. Garmus, seeing that Mesopotamia is not Sinonis, delivers her to Zobaras with orders to cut off her head on the banks of the Euphrates, to prevent any one else in future taking the name of Sinonis. But Zobaras, who has already drunk at the fountain of love, is smitten with Mesopotamia; he spares her life and sends her back to Berenice, who had become queen of Egypt after her father's death, and from whom she had been taken. [By Sacas (p. 174).] Berenice is again united to Mesopotamia, on whose account Garmus threatens war.
Euphrates is handed over to his father, now executioner, by whom he is recognized, and his life is spared. He takes the place of his father, whose hands are not soiled with human blood, and afterwards, disguised as the daughter of the executioner, escapes from the prison and regains his freedom.
{This gives us a few more clues to the timeline of Berenike and Mesopotamia. I’ll try to put the whole known timeline for them together at the end.}
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Ἄγεται πρὸς Γάρμον Εὐφράτης ὡς Ῥοδάνης, καὶ ὡς Σινωνὶς Μεσοποταμία· ἄγεται καὶ Σόραιχος καὶ ὁ ἀληθὴς Ῥοδάνης. Καὶ διαγνοὺς ὁ Γάρμος μὴ εἶναι Σινωνίδα τὴν Μεσοποταμίαν, δίδωσι Ζοβάρᾳ παρὰ ποταμὸν Εὐφράτην καρατομῆσαι ἵνα μή, φησί, καὶ ἑτέρα τις τοῦ τῆς Σινωνίδος ἐπιβατεύσῃ ὀνόματος. Ὁ δὲ Ζοβάρας ἀπὸ πηγῆς ἐρωτικῆς πιὼν καὶ τῷ Μεσοποταμίας ἔρωτι σχεθείς, σῴζει τε ταύτην καὶ πρὸς Βερενίκην Αἰγυπτίων ἤδη, ἅτε τοῦ πατρὸς τελευτήσαντος βασιλεύουσαν, ἐξ ἧς ἦν καὶ ἀφελόμενος, ἄγει· καὶ γάμους Μεσοποταμίας ἡ Βερενίκη ποιεῖται, καὶ πόλεμος δι´ αὐτὴν Γάρμῳ καὶ Βερενίκῃ διαπειλεῖται.
Εὐφράτης δὲ παραδίδοται τῷ πατρὶ ὡς δημίῳ καὶ ἀναγνωσθεὶς σῴζεται, καὶ πληροῖ μὲν αὐτὸς τὰ τοῦ πατρὸς ἔργα, ὁ δὲ πατὴρ οὐ μιαίνεται τοῖς ἀνθρώπων αἵμασιν· ὕστερον δέ, ὡς τοῦ δημίου κόρη, ἐξέρχεται τοῦ οἰκήματος καὶ διασῴζεται.
{My classical Greek consultant notes with regard to γάμους (from γάμος “marriage” in its basic sense) that “in later Greek particularly, [it] gets an extended meaning that makes it more of a euphemism for sex, including illicit sex; when it's in the plural, it's even more likely to mean prostitution, rape, or, as my dictionary delicately puts it, ‘unlawful wedlock’. So it's more along the lines of ‘Berenice has illicit sex with Mestopotamia’.” This is a bit less unambiguous than Brooten implies. We still have a sexual context, but less clearly an assertion of marriage in the sense of a formal contract. But on the other hand, the exact same word was used for the expected union between Sinonis and King Garmus. Perhaps Freese’s “united to” is at an appropriate level of ambiguity, but if so, it is an ambiguity that applies to the heterosexual relationships in the text as well. Even as a euphemism, the word clearly evokes the concept of marriage. It may be one of those cases where, if you accept the concept of marriage between women, then you can understand it as referring to a marriage between two women, whereas if you consider marriage between woman an impossibility or absurdity, you’re left interpreting it in a purely sexual sense.}
* * *
Such was the state of affairs when Soraechus is condemned to be crucified. The place of execution appointed was the meadow with the fountain where Rhodanes and Sinonis had first rested during their flight, where Rhodanes had discovered the hidden treasure of which he informs Soraechus when the latter is being led away to execution. A body of Alans, indignant at not receiving their pay from Garmus, who had halted at the place where Soraechus was to be executed, drive away the guards of Soraechus and set him free. Soraechus, having found the treasure of which he had been told, and having cleverly removed it from its hiding-place, persuades the Alans that he has learnt this and other things from the gods. Having gradually gained their confidence, he induces them to elect him their king, makes war upon Garmus and defeats him. But this happened later.
While Soraechus is on his way to execution, Garmus, crowned with garlands and dancing, orders Rhodanes to be taken to the place where he was to have been executed before, and to be placed upon the cross. While Garmus, drunk with wine and dancing round the cross with the fluteplayers, abandons himself to joy and revelry, he receives a letter from Sacas, informing him that Sinonis has just married the young king of Syria. Rhodanes is rejoiced, Garmus at first wants to kill himself, but, changing his mind, makes the unwilling Rhodanes, who would have preferred death, come down from the cross. Garmus then appoints him to the command of an army which he decides to send against the king of Syria, so as to pit the lover against the rival.
Rhodanes is treacherously received by the army in a friendly manner, Garmus having privately instructed the generals under Rhodanes that, if their army is victorious and Sinonis is captured, they are to put Rhodanes to death. Rhodanes gains the victory, recovers Sinonis, and becomes king of Babylon, as a swallow had foretold. For when Garmus in person came to see Rhodanes set out on the expedition, an eagle and a kite pursued this swallow, which escaped the eagle but became the prey of the kite. Such is the contents of the sixteen books.
* * *
So here’s a brief summary of the events from the point of view of Mesopotamia and Berenike, as best I can work it out. All the other stories have been stripped down to only the context necessary for this part.
Mesopotamia is the daughter of a priest and priestess of Aphrodite, living on an island between the Euphrates and Tigris. She has two brothers, named after the rivers, and she herself is named for the land between those rivers (meso “middle” potamos “river”). Mesopotamia was born ugly but was changed (by unspecified means) into a beautiful woman. The two brothers closely resemble each other and also resemble Rhodanes, enough that they can all be mistaken for each other. Mesopotamia (in her beautiful version) so closely resembles Sinones that they too can be mistaken for each other.
At some point in the past, Tigris has died from eating poisoned roses.
Berenike is the daughter of the king of Egypt and evidently is known for “disgraceful amours” and at some point in here has an erotic relationship with Mesopotamia. It is not specified whether that relationship is before or after the following episode.
Mesopotamia had three suitors arguing over the right to marry her. At some point in this triple courtship, she gives one of them a cup from which she drank, crowned one of them with a garland of flowers taken from her own head, and kissed the third. The famous judge, Bochorus, judged that she belonged to the one she’d kissed, but the three suitors contested the decision and fought until all three were dead.
There is an implication that at the time of the following events, Mesopotamia and Berenike are together, so presumably both are present on the island where the temple of Aphrodite is.
Rhodanes and Sinonis are sent to the temple of Aphrodite to recover from the wounds of their most recent adventure and the late Tigris’s mother believes Rhodanes is her son come back to life, accompanied by Kore (Persephone) from the land of the dead. Rhodanes is amused and goes along with the deception.
The physician who attended previously to Rhodanes’ wounds betrays his location to Damas, the servant of King Garmus, and then is sent to the priest of Aphrodite with a message ordering him to seize Rhodanes and Sinonis, but the physician drowns crossing to the island and his message falls into the hands of Rhodanes and Sinonis, giving them warning and they flee the island.
Damas arrives at the island only to learn that his instruction to the priest of Aphrodite has not been carried out and he arrests the priest. Now the visual confusion between the various characters really comes into play. The priest calls his own son Euphrates by the name of the fugitive Rhodanes, resulting in the arrest of Euphrates (in place of Rhodanes). Seeing this, Mesopotamia takes flight. When Euphrates (mistaken for Rhodanes) is interrogated about the whereabouts of Sinonis, he says that the fleeing Mesopotamia was actually Sinonis, fleeing when she saw Damas arrive.
There is some confusion over exactly when and by whom Mesopotamia (taken for Sinonis) is captured and sent as a prisoner to King Garmus, along with Euphrates (taken for Rhodanes). It’s said that Damas arrested Euphrates/Rhodanes, but then it’s said that Sacas (another servant of King Garmus) was responsible for seizing Mesopotamia/Sinonis. It doesn’t much matter. On receiving news of the capture of (the false) Sinonis and Rhodanes, King Garmus celebrates by releasing all his prisoners, including the true Sinonis.
Euphrates (taken for Rhodanes) and Mesopotamia (taken for Sinonis) as well as the real Rhodanes are all taken before King Garmus where Garmus recognizes that Mesopotamia is not actually Sinonis and orders her to be killed for “impersonating” her. But her executioner falls in love with Mesopotamia, spares her life, and sends her back to Berenike, who in the mean time has become queen of Egypt at her father’s death. Berenike and Mesopotamia are married, though King Garmus is still mad about something to do with Mesopotamia and threatens war over it (presumably against Egypt?).
The embedded family saga is concluded when Euphrates is handed over for execution only to discover that the executioner is his own father (the former priest of Aphrodite) who spares his life. Euphrates takes his father’s place and later escapes the prison disguised as “the daughter of the executioner.” (would this be “disguised as his own sister”? Unclear.)
So, all in all, is this a text that supports the idea that marriage between women was a normal, accepted event associated with Egypt in the 2nd century CE (when Iamblichos was writing)? I’d have to judge that as “not proven.” The Babyloniaka is clearly a fantastic story of improbable events, not even a pseudo-history. But conversely, a female same-sex relationship in included in the story as an unremarkable event, described with the same word "γάμους" as is used for hterosexual relatoinships. Photius, at least, clearly disapproves of the women's relationship and recall that he explicitly refers to Iamblichos’ text as “immoral.” So we can’t rely on Photius as reflecting the original author’s position. Further, when you consider how rare it is for fictional texts to introduce the idea of same-sex romance at all, then it seems meaningful that Iamblichos included this element in a context where there seems to be no direct motivation for it. (Unlike, for example, Ovid’s story of Iphis and Ianthe, where the same-sex element is the whole point of the story.) Brooten notes other texts that associate same-sex romance or marriage with Egypt in the classical era, though I think all of them have some amibiguity.
Even the most conservative reading of this text is that the 2nd century audience for the Babyloniaka would not have considered a romantic relationship--and perhaps even marriage--between a fictional Egyptian queen and a Babylonian woman to be an event that needed special pleading. The text clearly calls their relationship “erotic” in the sexual sense and uses the word gamos which at the very least evokes the concept (if not with certainty the legal status) of marriage, in parallel with how heterosexual unions are described. Within the context of the Project, we can consider this as a motif that women of the 2nd century within the Greco-Roman cultural sphere could reasonably have been aware of and used as a way to frame their own desires. The most generous reading is that marriage between women may have been an ordinary event in Egypt that has been largely erased from the historic record by later Christian writers and the prevailing misogyny of both pagan and Christian Roman culture. This, I think, goes beyond what this specific text can be considered to establish.
But I think someday I will write my own version of their story.
Time period: Classical EraPlace: EgyptMiddle EastIraqMisc tags: emotional /romantic bonds between womenmarriage between womensexual/romantic desireprimary sourcesEvent / person: Babyloniaka (Iamblichos)
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October 28, 2018
Con Report: Sirens 2018
bookreview.jpg
Here I am at the end of my first Sirens conference, sitting in the lobby waiting for my shuttle bus. And I figure if I don't blog about the conference now, it will probably slip down my priority list during week. (Note: parts of this were written at the airport later.)
I decided to come to Sirens with an even mixture of excitement and trepidation. A literary-oriented conference focused on women in fantasy? Totally my jam! And several people whose taste and sense I admire said wonderful things about it. But the trepidation came from how clear it was that it was a small tight-knit community with a defined culture, and I'd be showing up knowing nobody (well, ok, I did know Kate Elliott and we said hi when we bumped into each other) and uncertain how and whether I'd fit into that culture.
I'm going to give a spoiler here and say that I sufficiently enjoyed myself that I have definite plans to return and potentially add Sirens to my regular list of events to attend.
I loved the focus on thinking about literature and themes and tropes, and the conference's focus on women in fantasy (either as characters or as authors) pretty much defines my core reading and writing interests. I'd say that I woud have enjoyed attending 80% of the programming (which, of course, was arranged in tracks so I could only attend 1 out of any 4 at a time). I loved how the schedule was structured to include a lot of plenary-type events (the GOH speeches, readings, etc.) including group meals with "ice breaker" conversation starters.
Knowing I was coming into the event with a cloud of social anxiety hanging over me, I made a lot of pushes to get out in front of that. And it was necessary, because even though the event structure directly addressed the potential for social isolation of newcomers, and even though I was far from the only person willing to admit to social anxiety regarding the close-knit existing community, there was still a lot of potential for isolation for those who didn't come in to the event with an existing social circle. The conference took a lot of steps to address this, and it made a big difference.
I never ate a meal alone, though I always had to fight through a panic attack when the dinner hour approached and I didn't have any invitations. There was a designated place to meet for spontaneous dinner groups (and the limited number of walking-distance dinner spots meant that joining an existing group at one of them was also an option). The breakfasts and lunches (catered and in the main conference room) simpy involved picking a table to sit at, so although there was a certain amount of wandering around the room hoping someone would actively invite me to join them before picking a space at random, there was a clear expectation of mingling and one of the first meals even had assigned randomized seating to get the mixing going.
The big masquerade dance Saturday evening I knew was going to be a bust for me in terms of socializing due to my issues with ambient noise (and my lack of dancing), but there were a few refugees from the dance hanging out in the reg/bookroom space next door. And that space was a general hanging-out space throughout the event. So, all in all, my concerns were valid but I worked through them, and the social atmosphere created an expectation that people would be welcoming if you plunked yourself down.
The primary time when I felt uncomfortably isolated was on the shuttle bus going between the airport and the venue (a couple hour drive). The seating wasn't crowded enough to fill all the seats and for that same reason I think people felt uncomfortable sitting down next to someone unless they were together already. On the trip out at the beginning, once I realized I was starting an anxiety attack, I stood up and announced that it was my first Sirens and I didn't know anyone and I hoped to change that before the end of the bus ride. This generated a round of introductions, but didn't immediately carry over into actually getting to know anyone. (I did get included in a conversation later in the trip.) On the trip back today I was sitting alone again, but I didn't have the energy to do anything about it so I just worked on marking up my sample ballot. But once at the airport I posted about looking for dinner company (given a 3 hour wait before boarding) and enjoyed a great time with several other people in the same spot. So the socializing was ups and downs but mostly all good in the end.
For those who worry about the "graying of fandom", you would get an entirely different impression if you came to Sirens. I couldn't calculate what the age distribution was, but definitely skewing to the younger-than-40, maybe younger-than-30. My wild-ass guess is that maybe there were half a dozen members my age or older. This, along with the strong presence of library professionals was probably a factor in the significant presence of young adult fiction in the scope of the material. The age thing did make me feel a little out of step, but at the same time it made me very happy for the vibrancy and energy of the conference.
In addition to the group guest of honor events, there were three main types of programming: papers, panels, and round tables. The first two are what you might expect from the labels. The round tables were moderater-led group discussions of around 20 people. (My contribution to programming was a round table on the topic of "Finding Books, Finding Readers, the problem of communicating lesbian content in fantasy" which was enthusiastically participated in.) Some of my favorites among the programming were a paper on the gendered nature of villainy, and a panel on how the bildungsroman narrative often doesn't fit the shape of women's lives and what a late-life female bildungsroman might look like. There was a panel on historical fantasy that looked intriguing but had a panelist missing which made it feel a bit thin. I'm already brainstorming programming ideas for next year (theme: heroes), though the requirement for panels that the proposer come up with the list of panelists in addition to the topic is a bit of a hindrance. But I've jotted down some notes...
Oh, and yes, I plan to go back next year.
Major category: ConventionsTags: conventionsSirens
October 21, 2018
Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast Episode 28a - On the Shelf for November 2018
The Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast
Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast - Episode 28a - On the Shelf for November 2018 - Transcript
(Originally aired 2018/11/03 - listen here)
Welcome to On the Shelf for November 2018.
November? Wait, how did that happen? It feels like the end of the year has been galloping down on me. With an out of town trip every month. I just got back from going to the Sirens Conference on women in fantasy literature. That is, I will have just gotten back from it when this airs. At the time I’m recording, I haven’t gone yet and since this is my first time attending Sirens I have no idea what it will be like. I’m always a bit anxious going to an event for the first time because I worry about not knowing the unwritten rules, or trying to socialize when everyone else already knows each other. Sometimes I fit right in at new events and sometimes I stand on the sidelines trying to work out what went wrong. I’ll keep my fingers crossed on this one because I’ve heard great things. Of course that will only make it worse if I don’t fit in.
I don’t have any similar worries about Chessiecon in Baltimore, which I’ll be attending later this month. I’ve been going to that convention in one form or another for over 30 years and it’s sort of like going to a family reunion. I may even read something from Floodtide my current novel project.
Speaking of writing, are people working on stories to submit for next year’s fiction series? Keep in mind that we’ll be open for submissions in January and the end of the year will come faster than you think. Like this year’s series, we want short stories with historical settings featuring queer women. Check out the submission guidelines on the website for more details.
Publications on the Blog
In October, the blog covered several publications focusing on sexuality in classical Rome, leading up to the essay topic at the end of the month. This month’s publications will go back to more of a mixed bag. I don’t have any new book-shopping treasures, but I do want to talk about a great resource for those who can wangle access. As long-time listeners and readers may know, I periodically go off the the library at the University of California in Berkeley to photocopy journal articles for the project. Often I’m doing something of a shotgun approach where I take a long list of publications and run through the call numbers in the order of library location and simply copy the articles that are on the shelf. On the shelf, get it?
But I gradually accumulate a list of publications that the library has in electronic format rather than hard copy. So last month I decided to tackle some of those and reminded myself of the joys of JSTOR, an electronic journal subscription service. Mostly you have to have some sort of academic connection to have a JSTOR account, but if the library has an account, it’s possible to download individual files for offline use. So I pulled up the first article I wanted to use...and had a bit of a “Doh!” moment when it occurred to me that I could have been using the system even for all the journal articles the library has in paper form, rather than taking the trouble to photocopy them. And then I proceeded to review the entire run of issues of the Journal of the History of Sexuality, which left me with 32 articles to cover. I don’t feel inclined to spend the next 8 months on nothing but this one journal, but expect to see it filling in the corners of the schedule for a while.
Author Guest
Last month’s focus on the classical world leads nicely into this month’s author guest, Elizabeth Tammi, who will join us to talk about her debut novel Outrun the Wind, set in an ancient Greece that balances between history and myth. Following that, this month’s Book Appreciation show will be me talking about three books that ask the reader to step a little outside their comfort zone in content and format.
Essay
I was thinking about what topic to promise for the November essay, and decided I wanted to do another biographical sketch. So this time I’ll be talking about 18th century sculptor Anne Damer, who may or may not have had sexual relations with women, but was accused of doing so, in part due to stepping outside the bounds of appropriate female behavior. As I record this, I’m reading Emma Donoghue’s fictionalized biography of her, Life Mask, which gave me the inspiration for the choice.
Recent Lesbian Historical Fiction
Last month I whined a little about how few historicals we seemed to be seeing from the major lesbian publishers these days. That trend hasn’t changed this month, but lots of other publishers are stepping in and I have 10 books to talk about this month. Only one of them is a straight-forward historical story set in a single era with no fantastic elements and focusing only on a relationship between women who are the primary characters. That’s not to say that the other books aren’t wonderful books, only that it says something about the state of the market.
I have one October publication to catch up on, and in fact it’s a release of a novelette that was previously published as part on an anthology. “Penhallow Amid Passing Things” by Iona Datt Sharma originally appeared in the fantasy anthology The Underwater Ballroom Society. The author has released it separately as a self-published work. Fans of Georgette Heyer’s Regency romances may recognize the world of smugglers depicted here, though not the touch of magic overlaid on it. Here’s the blurb:
Magic, in common with all things, is passing from this world. In a coastal village in eighteenth-century Cornwall, Penhallow -- an honourable smuggler par excellence -- has more pressing problems. One of her boys has just been hauled up before the magistrates. A mysterious King's messenger has arrived from London. Something nasty -- and possibly magical -- is afoot in the smugglers' caves beneath water. And then there's Trevelyan, the town's austere, beautiful Revenue officer...
The debut novel of this month’s author guest, Outrun the Wind by Elizabeth Tammi (from Flux/North Star Editions) takes up the story of the Greek heroine Atalanta. Here’s the blurb:
The Huntresses of Artemis must obey two rules: never disobey the goddess, and never fall in love. After being rescued from a harrowing life as an Oracle of Delphi, Kahina is glad to be a part of the Hunt; living among a group of female warriors gives her a chance to reclaim her strength. But when a routine mission goes awry, Kahina breaks the first rule in order to save the legendary huntress Atalanta. To earn back Artemis’s favor, Kahina must complete a dangerous task in the kingdom of Arkadia—where the king’s daughter is revealed to be none other than Atalanta. Still reeling from her disastrous quest and her father’s insistence on marriage, Atalanta isn’t sure what to make of Kahina. As her connection to Atalanta deepens, Kahina finds herself in danger of breaking Artemis’s second rule. She helps Atalanta devise a dangerous game to avoid marriage, and word spreads throughout Greece, attracting suitors to go up against Atalanta in a race for her hand. But when the men responsible for both the girls’ dark pasts arrive, the game turns deadly.
The book that most closely fits the paradigm of lesbian historical fiction this month is Wild Fields by Purple Hazel (from Torrid Books). From the context it looks like this one is on the erotic side, if that influences your interest. Here’s the blurb:
Ludmilla is a young farmer's daughter living in 16th century Russia. Motherless since age three, and with five older brothers constantly taunting her about her gender, Ludmilla sheds her identity as a girl by age thirteen. She dresses like a man, walks like a man, and smells a lot like one too. Then one day, she goes into town and sees the most beautiful girl she's ever laid eyes upon. It is Tatyana, daughter to the local innkeeper, who has practically grown up working there. The lovely brunette has become inured to the fact she might very well turn into an old maid some day running the family business. But when Ludmilla enters her tavern what happens next will change both their lives forever. Ludmilla is everything Tatyana needs in her life. She is the best friend Tatyana never had growing up, and the "boyfriend" she thought she'd never find.
Next we have a non-fiction work, Gentleman Jack: A biography of Anne Lister, Regency Landowner, Seducer and Secret Diarist by Angela Steidele, translated by Katy Derbyshire (from Serpent's Tail). The book’s description sounds like the author is framing Lister as more of an adventurer than her diaries suggest. It’s also interesting that they chose the nickname “Gentleman Jack” for the title since Lister herself had a negative reaction to it. Here’s how the book describes her:
Anne Lister was a Yorkshire heiress, an intrepid world traveller and a proud lesbian during a time when it was difficult simply to be female. She chose to remain unmarried, dressed all in black and spoke openly of her lack of interest in men. The first woman to climb Vignemale in the treacherous Pyrenees, she journeyed as far as Azerbaijan and slept with a pistol under her pillow. As daring as Don Juan and as passionate as Heathcliff, Anne would not be constrained by the mores of Regency society. Anne's diaries lay hidden for many years, before scholars were brave enough to crack their code. Her erotic confessions and lively letters tell the story of an extraordinary woman.
A Different Kind of Fire by Susanne Schafer (from Waldorf Publishing) has a solidly historic setting but the protagonist has relationships with both women and men, which readers may want to be aware of.
Ruby Schmidt has the talent, the drive, even the guts to enroll in art school, leaving behind her childhood home and the beau she dreamed of marrying. Her life at the Academy seems heavenly at first, but she soon learns that societal norms in the East are as restrictive as those back home in West Texas. Rebelling against the insipid imagery woman are expected to produce, Ruby embraces bohemian life. Her burgeoning sexuality drives her into a life-long love affair with another woman and into the arms of an Italian baron. With the Panic of 1893, the nation spirals into a depression, and Ruby's career takes a similar downward trajectory. After thinking she could have it all, Ruby now wonders how she can salvage the remnants of her life. Pregnant and broke, she returns to Texas rather than join the queues at the neighborhood soup kitchen. Set against the Gilded Age of America, a time when suffragettes fight for reproductive rights and the right to vote, A Different Kind of Fire depicts one woman's battle to balance husband, family, career, and ambition. Torn between her childhood sweetheart, her forbidden passion for another woman, the Italian nobleman she had to marry, and becoming a renowned painter, Ruby's choices mold her in ways she could never have foreseen.
The next few books play games with time periods, either with parallel stories in multiple eras, time-slip stories, or outright time-travel. The Lilith Gene by M. Cassol (from Clink Street Publishing) suggests that we may be dealing with some paranormal connections across time, although the blurb isn’t entirely clear on that point.
Vesna, a Serbian PhD student in Art History living in Tuscany, is a master rock climber. The only thing she can't get a grip on is her love life. Beset by terrifying panic attacks that strike every time she allows herself to be intimate with another woman, she strives to avoid the so-called mermaids in her life. Olga is a widened-eye nurse trainee in Sarajevo. It’s 1912 and Olga is all too keen to document her life and the world changing around her in her diaries. Olga's passion for nursing is only rivalled by her love for her anguished boyfriend Gav. The arrival of the obscure Patient J.D. 347 at the hospital is about to change everything for Olga. Everything will change for Vesna too, when she meets the compelling art restorer Rafaella Guaritore. Rafaella holds the key to Vesna's research into influential women painters of the Renaissance and the metaphorical Lilith Gene that all the rebellious ladies in art are believed to share. Will Rafaella hold the key to solving Vesna's mysterious recurring dreams and find the root of all her anxiety? Or is the answer to Vesna's problems hidden in Olga's diaries?
Pulp by Robin Talley (from Harlequin Teen) is a more traditional time-slip story, connecting the historic and contemporary characters by means of a research project involving lesbian pulp novels of the 1950s.
In 1955, eighteen-year-old Janet Jones keeps the love she shares with her best friend Marie a secret. It’s not easy being gay in Washington, DC, in the age of McCarthyism, but when she discovers a series of books about women falling in love with other women, it awakens something in Janet. As she juggles a romance she must keep hidden and a newfound ambition to write and publish her own story, she risks exposing herself—and Marie—to a danger all too real. Sixty-two years later, Abby Zimet can’t stop thinking about her senior project and its subject—classic 1950s lesbian pulp fiction. Between the pages of her favorite book, the stresses of Abby’s own life are lost to the fictional hopes, desires and tragedies of the characters she’s reading about. She feels especially connected to one author, a woman who wrote under the pseudonym “Marian Love,” and becomes determined to track her down and discover her true identity. In this novel told in dual narratives, New York Times bestselling author Robin Talley weaves together the lives of two young women connected across generations through the power of words. A stunning story of bravery, love, how far we’ve come and how much farther we have to go.
For outright time-travel we have Alice Payne Arrives by Kate Heartfield (from tor.com) which serves up dashing adventure across the centuries. Here’s the blurb:
A disillusioned major, a highwaywoman, and a war raging across time. It's 1788 and Alice Payne is the notorious highway robber, the Holy Ghost. Aided by her trusty automaton, Laverna, the Holy Ghost is feared by all who own a heavy purse. It's 1889 and Major Prudence Zuniga is once again attempting to change history―to save history―but seventy attempts later she's still no closer to her goal. It's 2016 and . . . well, the less said about 2016 the better! But in 2020 the Farmers and the Guides are locked in battle; time is their battleground, and the world is their prize. Only something new can change the course of the war. Or someone new. Little did they know, but they've all been waiting until Alice Payne arrives.
For those who love your steampunkish adventure, there’s a new Trafalgar and Boone story out, number 4 in the series. Trafalgar & Boone and the Children of the Burnt Empir by Geonn Cannon (from Supposed Crimes) continues the adventures of our heroines.
Dorothy Boone, still blaming herself for a devastating loss on their last adventure, and Miss Trafalgar are offered a new mission from the Royal Geographical Society: an expedition to find the source of a mythical river has gone missing in the Amazon rainforest, and their patrons want them found. It seems like the perfect low-threat endeavor to get the duo back to normalcy, so Dorothy and Trafalgar accept. Accompanied by Cora Hyde, who is also recovering from a loss, the duo sets out for the jungle. Their safe undertaking soon turns perilous when they run afoul of a previously unknown tribe known as the Burnt Empire. Dorothy and Trafalgar are separated in the scuffle and taken in by two groups with similar goals but differing tactics. The groups only agree on one point: the very existence of the Burnt Empire could lead to untold destruction.
The last book I’m going to mention this month is only tangentially of lesbian interest--the protagonist has a lesbian best friend, but it’s only a minor aspect of the story. The book came up on my radar when I was looking at Amazon listings with the keywords “lesbian” and “historical”. But the focus of the book is very feminist oriented with a less commonly heard point of view, and furthermore, the protagonist is based on an actual historic figure. This is: The Widows of Malabar Hill (A Mystery of 1920s India) by Sujata Massey (from Soho Crime).
Perveen Mistry, the daughter of a respected Zoroastrian family, has just joined her father's law firm, becoming one of the first female lawyers in India. Armed with a legal education from Oxford, Perveen also has a tragic personal history that makes women's legal rights especially important to her. Mistry Law has been appointed to execute the will of Mr. Omar Farid, a wealthy Muslim mill owner who has left three widows behind. But as Perveen examines the paperwork, she notices something strange: all three of the wives have signed over their full inheritance to a charity. What will they live on? Perveen is suspicious, especially since one of the widows has signed her form with an X—meaning she probably couldn't even read the document. The Farid widows live in full purdah—in strict seclusion, never leaving the women's quarters or speaking to any men. Are they being taken advantage of by an unscrupulous guardian? Perveen tries to investigate, and realizes her instincts were correct when tensions escalate to murder. Now it is her responsibility to figure out what really happened on Malabar Hill, and to ensure that no innocent women or children are in further danger. Inspired in part by the woman who made history as India's first female attorney, The Widows of Malabar Hill is a richly wrought story of multicultural 1920s Bombay as well as the debut of a sharp new sleuth.
Ask Sappho
I’m going to skip the Ask Sappho segment this month, in part because the forthcoming books took up so much time, but in part because I don’t have any intriguing questions in the queue. Remember that if you have a question about lesbian history, of would like a book list on some topic, drop me a note and I’ll answer it on the show. You can also take the opportunity to tell me how much you enjoy the podcast.
Books Mentioned
"Penhallow Amid Passing Things" (novelette) by Iona Datt Sharma (self-published) (also in anthology Underwater Ballroom Society)
Outrun the Wind by Elizabeth Tammi (Flux/North Star Editions)
Wild Fields by Purple Hazel (Torrid Books)
Gentleman Jack: A biography of Anne Lister, Regency Landowner, Seducer and Secret Diarist by Angela Steidele, trans. Katy Derbyshire (Serpent's Tail)
A Different Kind of Fire: A Novel by Susanne Schafer (Waldorf Publishing)
The Lilith Gene by M. Cassol (Clink Street Publishing)
Pulp by Robin Talley (Harlequin Teen)
Alice Payne Arrives by Kate Heartfield (tor.com)
Trafalgar & Boone and the Children of the Burnt Empire (Trafalgar and Boone Book 4) by Geonn Cannon (Supposed Crimes)
The Widows of Malabar Hill (A Mystery of 1920s India) by Sujata Massey (Soho Crime)
Major category: LHMPTags: LHMPpodcast
