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Saturday, September 30, 2017 - 10:41

When I expanded the LHMPodcast to a weekly schedule in August, I set up a rotating set of four monthly segments: On the Shelf (general discussion and listener questions), Author Interview, Author Book Appreciation, and the Historic Essay that I'd started out with. But four times a year, there's going to be a fifth Saturday in the month. For the moment, I'm planning to use those for some random surprise topics--something intentionally different from anything I do in the other segments. I also have some exciting long-term ideas that I may be ready to share soon.

The Highwaywoman Special is the first of these Week 5 surprises. I decided to take a trope that has some popularity in lesbian historic fiction and look at it from several angles: the historic roots, the literary history, and a discussion of some lesbian novels featuring the motif. So you get the history of some notorious female highwaymen, a few ballads, a discussion of some popular themes in highwayman fiction, and micro-reviews of five books that feature unexpected romance when the masked stranger on the road turns out to be a woman.

I'm adding another feature for some of the podcast episodes: transcripts! Because I work very closely from scripts for the history essays and On the Shelf segments, providing a transcript is simply a matter of proofreading the original script against what ended up on the recording. I won't be able to provide transcripts for the interview segments, unfortunately, becasue I simply don't have the time to do the transcription. To find the transcript for an episode, find the show in the cumulative index and click on the link that says "transcript". The transcripts appear as part of my blog feed, so the ones for older episodes will be backdated to have the date when the original show was released.

Have an idea for a Week 5 Special? Or a question about pre-20th century lesbian history or literature you'd like me to answer? Just click on the Contact link at the top of the page.

Major category: 
LHMP
Friday, September 29, 2017 - 09:40

I've been a fan of Donoghue's academic works on the history of same-sex relations between women, but although I've collected up a number of her novels, I've only recently decided to prioritize them on my reading list. One essential thing to know, going in, is that a Donoghue novel about romantic and/or sexual relationships between women in history is not a "lesbian historical romance." These aren't formulaic books with happily-ever-after endings, they're fictionalizations of the lives of real historic women. Messy, complicated lives that don't resolve easily into feel-good endings. But neither are they necessarily tragedies.

The Sealed Letter interprets the life of Emily Faithful (nicknamed "Fido"), a 19th century English feminist, writer, and printer, who became tangled up in the scandalous divorce trial of a friend, alternately being accused of abetting the woman's infidelity and--by extremely veiled suggestion--of being part of the woman's infidelities. The setting of the story explores the precarious lives and careers of women who tried to expand the options for women in all fields of life, while having to dodge accusations of being "unwomanly" for doing so and struggling for the necessary financial support. There is also a great deal of exposition regarding divorce law in England at the time.

All this necessary exposition sometimes teeters on the edge between presenting historic research in the guise of fiction and providing a fictional story with the necessary background for the reader. I found it to keep the right balance, but as a fan of historical research I may have a fairly high tolerance. To some extent the story works best as a mystery: doling out clues to how the present state of affairs came to be through the lens of an entire cast of unreliable narrators. (I don't think there's a single viewpoint character who is entirely honest with the reader.) This unreliability delivers a delightful payload at the very end of the story when we're treated to one last tidbit about Fido and her divorcing friend that throws the puzzle pieces up in the air and leaves them to settle in an entirely new configuration.

Donoghue is a skilled and polished writer and managed to pull off a technique that many writers would struggle with. The book is written in multiple first-person present-tense viewpoints. I really stumbled over the present tense aspect in the first several pages because it left me confused and uncertain exactly how the people and events that were being discussed were related to each other. But after needing to re-read the opening several times to settle in, this aspect of the writing style faded to invisibility. The shifting first person approach worked excellently to show the skewed and filtered understanding that each character had of reality, allowing the reader to build their own understanding of what might have happened. I thought this worked particularly well given how the story is based on actual fact--but a set of facts that are themselves incomplete and ambiguous.

Major category: 
Reviews
Monday, September 25, 2017 - 07:00

I'm somewhat torn between disappointment and smug satisfaction at how very little material there is in books like this that I'm not already aware of (and, indeed, that I haven't already covered in their original publications). Disappointment, because it suggests that there are few new treasures waiting for me to find for the medieval period. Smug satisfaction, because it suggests that I've been doing a good job at tracking down all the essential publications. This is a book that I would strongly recommend for anyone wanting a basic grounding in medieval attitudes toward sex and sexuality. Its bibliography is also a good place to start for further research.

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

Karras, Ruth Mazo. 2005. Sexuality in Medieval Europe: Doing Unto Others. Routledge, New York. ISBN 978-0-415-28963-4

Publication summary: 

This work is intended as a non-specialist introductory text on the subject, e.g., for general college courses on medieval history. I found it to have excellent and up-to-date coverage in the areas I'm famliar with.

[The following is duplicated from the associated blog. I'm trying to standardize the organization of associated content.]

I'm somewhat torn between disappointment and smug satisfaction at how very little material there is in books like this that I'm not already aware of (and, indeed, that I haven't already covered in their original publications). Disappointment, because it suggests that there are few new treasures waiting for me to find for the medieval period. Smug satisfaction, because it suggests that I've been doing a good job at tracking down all the essential publications. This is a book that I would strongly recommend for anyone wanting a basic grounding in medieval attitudes toward sex and sexuality. Its bibliography is also a good place to start for further research.

# # #

Chapter 1: Sex and the Middle Ages

The book has a solid introductory discussion of the complexities of sexuality in history, especially historic differences in how orientation was viewed. This book is a general work for non-specialists. It includes a focus on the different experiences of men and women in all situations, including within marriage and outside of it. Other than this introductory chapter, the only chapter with relevant material to the LHMP is Chapter 4 (Women Outside of Marriage). Although the relevant lesbian material is limited, I’d have no problems recommending this book as an introductory text for those who want to contextualize sexual issues in the Middle Ages.

(Of the remaining chapters, only #4 has relevant material)

Chapter 4: Women Outside of Marriage

Women’s extramarital sex was less tolerated than men’s at least in terms of heterosexual activity. Women were considered more lustful than men, but held to stricter standards. Upper class women’s sex lives were closely overseen, but for unmarried women of the lower and middle classes, although sexual activity outside of marriage was considered a sin, it was treated as normal and expected. The book has four pages on same-sex activity, starting with the usual acknowledgement that there’s very little data on the topic and it’s hard to know what was really happening.

In the 13th century, medical writer William of Saliceto provides an early mention of the clitoris and its potential for penetrative sex if enlarged, but this would not become a significant preoccupation until the 16th century.

There is sometimes more evidence for women’s romantic feelings towards each other than sexual activities. Examples of erotic poetry written between nuns are offered. Anxieties about women’s sexual activities are laid out in penitential manuals, which were especially concerned with monastic women. Many of these are vague references, e.g., to women who “practice vice” together, which is punished less severely than heterosexual adultery and much less severely than male homosexual activity, unless the women use an “instrument”.

Court records of prosecutions for sex between women are scarce. Only 12 are mentioned in the entire medieval period, and these focused primarily on penetrative sex using a dildo. Legal condemnation was not for sex between women, as such, but for usurping a male role, as in the trial of Katharina Hetzeldorfer, which also involved cross-dressing.

The popular attitude towards non-penetrative sex between women is seen in de Fougères’ 12th century Livre des manières, which portrays it as ridiculous and pointless, rather than forbidden, though he admits the potential for sexual satisfaction.

Cross-dressing alone, especially if done for economic purposes or safety, was not strongly condemned. (Literary examples are cited, as well as the Krakow university student.) In fact, in some societies, female cross-dressing was associated with male homoeroticism, as in the 9th century Ummayad court’s institution of ghulamiyat [forgive the lack of diacritics], female slaves cross-dressing to appeal sexually to men who desired boys.

Medical manuals sometimes addressed the topic of the medical consequences of sexual frustration for women, expressed as a belief that the regular “emission of seed”, i.e., orgasm, was necessary for humoral balance. It might be prescribed for a midwife to treat this condition by manual stimulation. Another anecdote that recognized potential consequences of frustration told of Italian merchants’ wives in France who satisfied each other with dildos to avoid the risk of pregnancy that came with male lovers.

References to sex between women in literature, e.g., in the romance Tirant lo Blanc were carefully framed for male titillation and generally denied the possibility of genuine desire between women.

Sunday, September 24, 2017 - 12:48

"Shadow Duet" is a short story with the same setting and characters as her 18th century historic fantasy novel Masks and Shadows, featuring the famous castrato singer Carlo Morelli and his accompanist-lover Baroness Charlotte von Steinbeck. (Needless to say, their relationship--which was established after the end of the novel--is something of a scandal.) I'd call this work more of a character sketch than a short story, to tell the truth. Our characters are in London where Morelli is performing and the story is entirely encompassed by a society party where Charlotte encounters all manner of reactions to her existence and relationships from the upper class attendees and meets a number of real-world artists who have a somewhat broader-minded reaction. But there is no plot, as such, simply a great deal of delightful description and conversation.

I wouldn't recommend this work to anyone who hasn't already read Masks and Shadows, but if you have and you're thirsty for just a bit more of the characters, "Shadow Duet" should do the trick.

Major category: 
Reviews
Saturday, September 23, 2017 - 18:00

Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast - Episode 20 (previously 14d) - What did Medieval Lesbians Do in Bed?

(Originally aired 2017/09/23 - listen here)

You might guess from the title of this episode that this one is definitely not safe for work, though you’re going to get far more technical details than racy erotica. But be aware that we’re going to talk about sex today. A lot.

At first thought, it might seem silly to ask, “how did medieval European lesbians have sex?” I mean, you just do what comes naturally, right? I’ve noticed in my interviews with authors of historic lesbian fiction that when it comes to what characters do in bed together, most people shrug and say, “I use my imagination.”

But especially when you move away from the tab A and slot B basics of heterosexual reproduction, sexual activity is a complex and culture-specific activity. Did you ever have the experience as an adolescent of taking a peak in a book like The Joy of Sex and thinking, “Wait...do people actually do that?” Imagination isn’t always an accurate guide.

The mechanics of sexual pleasure are not necessarily obvious, and although many people succeed in re-inventing favorite techniques on their own, there’s a large cultural component in the behavior, the logistics, and the associated equipment. To say nothing of how people thought about what they were doing. People learn sexual techniques in many ways: from lovers, from popular culture, from gossip, from jokes, from observation. Keep in mind that different ages have different concepts of personal privacy, and medieval people learned a great deal about sex from seeing it performed in front of them.

All these factors come into play even for marginalized sexual subcultures. In the early 18th century, when Catharina Linken was on trial for passing as a man, marrying a woman, and having sexual relations with her, she testified that she knew of other women who had done the same and thought there wasn’t anything wrong with it. A 17th century French manual for priests taking confession from their female parishioners told them to ask whether something lewd took place with other girls or women, and if so, who they learned it from or may have taught it to.

Although today’s podcast covers an earlier era, we can expect that there may have been similar networks of information--that women who desired women knew of others who felt the same, and so learned how to act on those desires.

But conversely, we can’t assume that specific sexual acts and techniques are either universal or obvious. When writing historical fiction about lesbian characters, it can be just as important to consider what types of sex your characters might have been familiar with as to consider what clothes they might have worn or what food they might have eaten.

So where can we find evidence on this question? After all nobody was writing sex manuals in the Middle Ages were they?

Well, perhaps they were. There were actually some interesting sex manuals written in the Islamic world during the Middle Ages, although that won’t be covered in this particular podcast.

One source of information for how people were having sex--or at least how people thought other people were having sex--are lists of what sexual activities were prohibited. Starting in the early Christian era, religious authorities began drawing up penitential manuals to help priests when taking confessions. These penitentials would provide lists of possible sins, including details of minor variations that might make the sin greater or lesser, along with the penances that should be assigned for them.

During much of the medieval period, the Catholic church was the primary institution concerned with sexual transgressions in Europe. Secular law codes only came into the picture later. But that doesn’t mean that people weren’t brought into court for reasons related to same-sex relationships, and even when the specific sex acts aren’t the charge, they may be discussed as part of the evidence.

While penitential manuals listed what was prohibited, trial records documented what people were accused of. Whether or not the specific accusations were true, they represent what the “common knowledge” was at the time. What people imagined that their neighbors might be doing. That common knowledge was just as available to women contemplating sex with each other as it was to busybodies who wanted to restrict what they were doing. In fact, as time went by, the penitential manuals started getting more and more vague, noting that a confessor should avoid giving people ideas by asking questions that were too specific.

Of course, laws and trial records distort the historic record in many ways. If an act isn’t considered to be sex unless it resembles heterosexual intercourse, then all manner of activities may fly under the radar and fail to be mentioned. Official records have a rather prurient interest in the use of penetrative sex toys and other activities that seem to mimic heterosexual sex. It’s likely that this focus reflected the activities that made male authorities most anxious, rather than the ones that were necessarily most common among women.

Beyond that, there are mentions of tribadism--of women lying on top of each other and rubbing vulvas together--as well as mentions of manual stimulation. Kissing and general references to fondling are common, but references to oral sex are rare. Not unheard-of, but rare. Does this mean that medieval European women weren’t practicing oral sex? It’s hard to say. We have clear evidence that women in Classical Rome were accused of doing so, but that doesn’t mean that it was practiced continuously.

Let’s take a look at the specific references that we can find. Although I want to focus on the medieval period in Europe, I’m going to extend coverage though the Renaissance and cut things off around 1600. It’ll be a chronological tour, though it would be just as interesting to compare different countries. I’m also focusing specifically on Christian Europe which, as we all know, had some very decided hang-ups around sex. During the same era, the Islamic world provides some interesting and more sex-positive information, which I may tackle in a future podcast.

pre 10th

Saint Augustine’s instructions to nuns in the 5th century acknowledged the potential for lesbian sex but in non-specific terms. “The love between you, however, ought not to be earthly but spiritual, for the things which shameless women do even to other women in low jokes and games are to be avoided, not only by widows and chaste handmaids of Christ, living under a holy rule of life, but also entirely by married women and maidens destined for marriage.”

A similar rule for cloistered women written by Donatus in the 7th century dances around the potential for sex acts. He addresses it via more public behaviors. He is concerned “that none take the hand of another or call each other ‘little girl’ It is forbidden lest any take the hand of another for delight or stand or walk around or sit together.” And the rules for sleeping arrangements suggest that privacy and easy access to naked bodies were considered too tempting. Nuns should each sleep in a separate bed in groups with a light burning in the chamber. They should sleep clothed, with their dresses belted.

While penitential manuals begin addressing the topic of lesbian sex as early as the 7th century, the specific acts aren’t described in detail. Theodore of Tarsus says, “If a woman practices vice with a woman, she shall do penance for three years. If she practices solitary vice, she shall do penance for the same period.” In context, it’s clear that vice is referring to sex, but in what form?

The 8th century English penitential of Saint Bede offers specific imagery, specifying “If nuns [have sex] with a nun, using an instrument, seven years’ penance.” Vague references to an instrument or similar language can always be understood to mean a dildo.

In the 9th century, the Frankish writer Hincmar of Reims expands on this theme, writing of such women, "They do not put flesh to flesh as in the fleshly genital member of one into the body of the other, since nature precludes this, but they do transform the use of that part of their body into an unnatural one: it is said that they use instruments of diabolical operations to excite desire.”

So we see women being condemned for calling each other by endearments and walking hand in hand, and for employing dildos for sexual enjoyment. But what about something between those extremes?

11th

Alongside religious and legal attitudes toward sex, there is a long tradition of medical writing that was often more open-minded. That open-mindedness may in some cases be directly related to standing apart from Christian religious traditions. The Persian physician Avicenna, writing in the 11th century, explained an accepted theory that women’s sexual pleasure was essential for their health, as well as being required for the successful conception of children. This idea is part of the humoral theory of medicine that was popular throughout Europe at the time. Although Avicenna noted that “rubbing among other women” was one way to address this need, he discouraged the practice. This sort of therapeutic stimulation fell out of favor in later medieval medical manuals, but appears again in the Renaissance.

12th

The 12th century German abbess Hildegard of Bingen had her own rather passionate attachments to fellow nuns, but seems to have made a distinction between even very intense spiritual love and sexual activity. She wrote that “a woman who takes up devilish ways and plays a male role in coupling with another woman is most vile in my sight, and so is she who subjects herself to such a one.” Hildegard’s description reflects the active-passive model of sex that prevailed in the middle ages. In context, it might suggest penetrative sex, but it could simply frame one woman as the pursuer and the other as pursued.

How well does the penitential literature describe how nuns expressed erotic desire for each other? Not well at all if you go by a 12th century German poem addressed by one nun to her absent beloved, in which she recalls “the kisses you gave me, and how with tender words you caressed my little breasts”.

It’s possible that kisses and caresses were not typically perceived as sexual between women. The 12th century French theologian Allan of Lille wrote a treatise De Planctu Naturae “Nature’s Complaint” that personifies Nature in relation to God and specifically attacks homosexuality as against nature. And yet illustrated editions of this work depict pairs of female allegorical figures in passionate physical embraces and kisses with only positive implications. The images may even be described in the text literally as “nuptial embraces”, that is, a formal action representing marriage. So while it’s possible that these artistic images were given a pass on their passion for being mere symbols, it’s also possible that this sort of sensuality was not considered to be sexual in a forbidden sense.

Elsewhere, embraces, kisses, and formalized gestures such as one lover holding the other’s chin (a gesture called a chin-chuck or chucking under the chin), are used as clear symbols of an implied sexual relationship. An entire series of illustrated Bibles of the 13th and 14th centuries show female and male pairs of lovers (clearly labeled as “sodomites”) lying together (fully clothed), kissing, with their arms around each other, and touching each other’s chin in the chin-chuck gesture. These gestures, and in particular touching or holding the lover’s chin, were part of a formalized artistic vocabulary of erotic activity. We see such signs again in illustrated versions of Ovid’s tale of Callisto created in the same era. The nymph Callisto is being kissed and embraced and touched on the chin by Diana (who is actually Zeus in disguise) and then, later, Callisto turns up pregnant.

So it seems reasonable to add kissing and embracing to the set of activities that were recognized as directly related to sexual activity, whether or not they were categorized as sex acts in and of themselves.

The English monk Aelred of Rievalux tackled this question directly in the 12th century when contemplating distinctions between spiritual and carnal friendship. He concludes that kissing on the lips can either be a spiritual act or a sexual one. Aelred included same sex relations in this concern, for in a treatise aimed at anchorites, he warns that a woman can be inflamed with passion for another woman. Female religious recluses were warned against “playing games of tickle” with female companions, which suggests another activity that may have balanced on the edge of sexuality.

13th

In the 13th century, Thomas Aquinas expressed similar concern about the erotic potential of these non-genital actions, asking “May there be mortal sin in caresses and kisses?” He answers that kisses and embraces can be innocent, but if done for the sake of pleasure then they can be sinful, that is, sexual.

In this same era, changes to procedures for accusation and evidence in the courts created a greater scope for the prosecution of private sexual activity on the basis of rumor or suspicion alone.  Now we begin to see a new category of evidence for women’s sexual activities: the accusations of their neighbors.

In the late 13th century, an Italian woman named Bertolina, was tried in Bologna for sodomy with other women. An anonymous accuser claimed that she was publicly known as a sodomite and that she had “conducted herself lustfully with women” using a sexual instrument made of silk to satisfy her lovers. The accusation seems to have been inspired by personal enmity, and Bertolina doesn’t seem to have made any secret of her activities. One witness, named Ugolino, told a story of how he’d heard some men serenading someone near his house, and he went out to ask if they’d serenade his own lady-love, Dolzebone. The singers said they’d been hired by Bertolina, but she said they could take the other job and went along with them to Dolzebone’s house, asking Ugolino, “Are you interested in her?” It turned out that Bertolina was another longtime suitor of the lady in question. When Ugolino scoffed at her, “How can you be interested in women?” Bertolina pulled out her silken dildo and said she knew how to satisfy them.

15th

When lesbian sex came to the attention of the law, most commonly it involved some trespass on male prerogatives, and especially the use of a dildo or involving male disguise. But one early 15th century French couple that I discussed in the very first episode of this podcast, were described simply as “climbing on top of each other, as a man does on a woman,” suggesting that the activity may have been closer to tribadism. Their ongoing relationship was consensual and they thought there was nothing wrong in what they were doing, but when their breakup turned violent the law got involved.

The more common situation in which the law got involved is seen in cases like a Spanish couple where a woman was passing as a man and twice married women, but was later convicted of sodomy for using a dildo for sex with them.

The details in the German trial of Katherina Hetzeldorder in the later 15th century shows a woman imitating the worst of male sexual aggression, but also has one of the most detailed descriptions of sexual activity found in medieval records. One woman testified that Katherina had “deflowered her and had made love to her over two years.” Another asserted that Katherina had “grabbed her just like a man” … “with hugging and kissing she behaved exactly like a man with women.” The most detailed testimony in the trial concerned how Katherina used an artificial penis both in her gender disguise and as a sexual aid. “She made an instrument with a red piece of leather, at the front filled with cotton, and a wooden stick stuck into it, and made a hole through the wooden stick, put a string through, and tied it round; and therewith she had her roguery with the two women….” Katherina’s sexual repertoire also included manual stimulation. One partner described how “she did it at first with one finger, thereafter with two, and then with three, and at last with the piece of wood that she held between her legs as she confessed before.”

So we have evidence that women were using digital stimulation for everyday pleasure as well as it being recommended as a medical treatment. Avicenna’s somewhat hesitant suggestions on that topic return in medical manuals by Italian physicians such as Antonio Guaynerio and Giovanni da Gradi, who recommended a treatment for sexual frustration under the name “suffocation of the womb.” A midwife should apply an ointment to the mouth of a woman’s vulva and rub it in using her finger in a circular motion both around and inside the vulva until the woman expelled the seed that was being retained. That is, until she came to orgasm.

16th

It’s curious that so little of the medieval material talks about the simple act of sexual rubbing, when so much of the vocabulary for lesbians focused on this activity. Whether it’s the Greek tribade, the Latin fricatrix, the English rubster, or the Arabic suĥaqiyya, meaning “grinder,” the linguistic assumption was that lesbian sex could be defined as rubbing. In the 16th century, professional literature about sex joined the image of rubbing genitals with the medical rediscovery of the clitoris and invented the idea that lesbian desire either was caused by, or would result in, an enlarged clitoris that was capable of penetrative sex all by itself. It’s pretty clear that this medical focus on the clitoris is due to its being considered an analog of the penis. And therefore people who assumed there could be no sexual pleasure without a penis, saw it as a focus for female sexual pleasure. It was true, but the logic was wrong.

There were still harsh legal penalties for sex between women involving dildos, and we still find trial records making reference to them in Spain and France. But now we start hearing stories of women who could perform sexually as if they were men using their own anatomy. Although this possibility is within the range of natural anatomical variation, the trope of it being common was largely a male fantasy.

As England had no tradition of prosecuting women for same-sex activity, medical literature is one of the few types of sources we have for what 16th century women may have been doing there. The medical fascination with the connection between tribadism and enlargement of the clitoris by writers such as Helkiah Crooke suggests that this was considered one popular sexual activity. But as I mentioned earlier, the medical theory of humoral balance included a belief that the “emission of seed”--that is to say, orgasm--could restore health to an abstinent woman. Sexual frustration even had its own name--“green sickness”--and some doctors prescribed treatment by the hand of a skilled midwife using a medicinal ointment. Though this wouldn’t have been considered a sexual act, it may have provided women a context for pleasure with official sanction.

There may have been any number of contexts in which women found excuses or reasons for why their sexual activities with each other were acceptable, or even desirable. One of the more extreme cases was that Benedetta Carlini, the abbess of a convent at Pescia, Italy in the early 17th century--which I’m including outside my date range because of the details. Benedetta may have been emotionally disturbed--possibly including hallucinations. And the relationship she had with the nun who provided testimony definitely involves some questionable consent, although it’s also true that the nun had a strong motivation for claiming to have been unwilling and admitted to having experienced sexual satisfaction.

Benedetta made a number of outrageous claims. She claimed to have received stigmata--that is, wounds in imitation of the wounds of Christ. She claimed to have had visions of divine figures and conversations with them, and to be the embodiment of an angel named Splendidiello. Benedetta was originally being investigated for the possibility that her experiences were holy and miraculous--a topic the church took seriously and was interested in either confirming or denying. Only as the testimony came out at great length did the sexual topics appear.

The nun who reported Benedetta’s activities was originally assigned to be her companion, to sleep with her and assist her during her episodes of hallucination and self-injury. (The stigmata were eventually proven to be self-inflicted.) As the holy nature of Benedetta’s experiences began to unravel, the nun who was her companion testified in detail to a sexual relationship.

Benedetta’s relationship with the nun began with kissing and putting her face between the other woman’s breasts and kissing them. Benedetta would lie on top of her and “stir herself on top of her so much that both of them corrupted themselves”. Benedetta grasped the other woman’s hand and placed it on her genitals, with a finger inside her, and then “holding it there she stirred herself so much that she corrupted herself.” I should note that “corrupted herself” in this context is an unambiguous reference to orgasm. Then Benedetta would perform a similar act to bring the nun to orgasm.

Benedetta’s explanation was that the angel Splenditello was acting through her, causing her to kiss the other woman and to fondle her breasts, and perform the other actions. On other occasions, the voice speaking through her presented itself as Jesus and told the nun that what they were doing was not a sin.

Although the context of these activities can hardly be viewed as a healthy, loving romantic relationship, the details provide us with a wealth of information about what sexual techniques 16th century nuns either learned from others or came up with on their own. And given this wealth of detail, it may be meaningful that there is no description of oral sex inciuded.

There was an understanding and expectation that women in convents--who may have been sent there with no particular religious vocation--might find solace and enjoyment in close personal relationships with each other. Even as penitential manuals grew more vague in their specifics, sets of rules for convents began to address secondary behaviors that were considered to lead to “special friendships” or to provide the opportunity for sin.

Spanish convent rules in the 16th century forbade nuns to sleep in the same bed or to be alone together behind closed doors. Special scrutiny was given to nuns who were seen hugging or “joining their faces together” (one wonders why they didn’t simply say “kissing” so perhaps something more specific was meant here).

When secular female couples came under the scrutiny of the courts, the traditional concern for the use of dildos was still present and punished harshly, sometimes with death, especially if gender disguise were involved. A woman in Valencia escaped the death penalty on a technicality despite passing as a man, marrying a woman, and enjoying sexual relations with her using an artificial penis made of lambskin. “Lambskin” was sometimes the term used for a condom made from a sheep’s intestines, so it’s possible that she was using a stuffed condom as a sex toy.

A much wider range of erotic activities are discussed that received non-lethal penalties when punished. Inés de Santa Cruz and Catalina Ledesma enjoyed a long-term, if stormy, domestic partnership “eating at the same table and sleeping in the same bed” that was public knowledge among their families and neighbors. Gossip presented at their trial included the results of eavesdropping where they were heard panting and grunting and making comments like, “Does that feel good?” as well as pillow talk. The sexual acts they admitted to included rubbing vulvas together and manual stimulation. They provided inconsistent testimony regarding the use of a dildo and there’s a sense that they may have been trying to include that item simply because the court expected them to.

The French writer Pierre de Bourdeille, better known by his title, Brantôme wrote a sensational book titled The Lives of Fair and Gallant Ladies that includes a number of homoerotic encounters between women, though the specifics may owe more to the male imagination than the female repertoire. Along with the usual descriptions of tribadism and the use of dildos attached using straps, he describes tongue-kissing, calling it “kissing in the manner of pigeons” that is, with the mouth open and the tongue in the mouth.

Summary

I would never treat the period from the 8th through 16th centuries as a single unified culture. The frequency with which particular techniques are mentioned varies over time, though in part this is due to changes in what the people making the records were most concerned about. There are some clear regional differences to be found in sexual behavior once you have enough data to look for them. But when you summarize the evidence for the types of sexual and erotic activities women enjoyed in Christian Europe in the middle ages and Renaissance, the same items are mentioned throughout this period and the same items are absent.

One category of activity that is notably absent is oral stimulation of the genitals, although this is a behavior that is clearly documented during Classical Roman times as well as after the Renaissance.

The activities that women did enjoy that were either considered to be sexual or that were clearly associated with erotic relationships include: kissing, in some cases including tongue-kissing, embracing, fondling of the breasts, tickling, the use of verbal endearments, hand-holding, chucking under the chin, sleeping in the same bed, lying on top of one another either clothed or naked and rubbing the genitals together, use of a dildo, manual stimulation and penetration with fingers.

Some of these activities could also be engaged in publicly without being considered sexual: including kissing, embracing, and sharing a bed.

So now you have a better idea about what your fictional medieval and Renaissance lesbians might have been up to.

Show Notes

This episode looks at the historic evidence for the specific sexual techniques enjoyed between women in the middle ages and Renaissance. Caution: although this essay isn’t intended as erotica, it does include a lot of detailed technical descriptions of bodies, sex acts, and sex toys. The content is very definitely Not Safe For Work.

In this episode we talk about:

  • What are the sources of historic evidence for this question?
  • Which sources can we trust for what women were actually doing, and which ones are more likely to be about what men thought they were doing?
  • Did the repertoire of sexual techniques change over time? Was it different indifferent places?
  • What was the range of activities that medieval people considered to be “sex”? How did it differ from modern definitions?

This topic is discussed in one or more entries of the Lesbian Historic Motif Project here:

Links to the Lesbian Historic Motif Project Online

Links to Heather Online

Major category: 
LHMP
Saturday, September 23, 2017 - 09:47

When interviewing authors of historical fiction for the podcast, one of things that come up regularly is that people have a hard time finding research on what, specifically, women in earlier ages were doing in bed together. But both sexual practices and attitudes towards them are strongly influenced by culture. Imagination alone isn't a good guide to sex any more than it is to cuisine or clothing. Today's podcast takes a look at the types of documentary evidence we have for specific sexual techniques and practices, and what they tell us about medieval European women's sexual lives.

Listen to the podcast at The Lesbian Talk Show, or subscribe via iTunes, Podbean, or Stitcher.

Major category: 
LHMP
Thursday, September 21, 2017 - 10:21

Bella Books is holding one of its periodic surprise sales. This time the theme is relatively recent ebooks, so if you haven't gotten around to buying Mother of Souls yet (yes, I'm secretly tapping my foot impatiently) it's only $5.99 through this weekend. Plenty of other bargains as well!

Major category: 
Promotion
Publications: 
Mother of Souls
Tuesday, September 19, 2017 - 08:00

Sheena (our fearless leader at The Lesbian Talk Show) was chatting with me on facebook about how I write characters, after the review of Mother of Souls came out at The Lesbian Review (her other project), and it ended up turning into an interview for her series The Write Stuff. So here you can listen to me talking about my approach to creating three-dimensional characters and how I let the characters themselves shape their stories. Plus, you get the very very short version of "stapling the octopus to the wall".

Major category: 
Writing Process
Publications: 
Mother of Souls
Monday, September 18, 2017 - 08:00

When I was putting together my main podcast essay for this month, on details of lesbian sexual techniques as given in sources like penitential manuals, I realized that I already owned this book but had never blogged it. I was somewhat disappointed to discover how heavily excerpted it was, making it rather less useful for my purposes than I thought, particularly in relation to the podcast. That means that at some point I should track down the full texts of some of the penitential manuals that I know have relevant information. Still, it was on the list and now it's been done.

Penitential manuals were designed not only as guidance for acceptable behavior in monastic institutions and for the clergy, but later as guidelines for confessors to sort out exactly what was and was not considered a sin, and to standardize penances to some extent. Although my summary here is only concerned with same-sex sexual sins, I found some of the early Irish material fascinating in how it pointed out some of the social fractures of the time (especially between different branches of the church).

Penitentials are, of course, theoretical sources. They discuss what sorts of activities people are considered at risk for doing. And they only cover activitites that the church was actively concerned about. So while they aren't exactly useless as evidence for what women were doing together, neither are they a reliable guide to the details. And in the case of this publication, there's the further filter that we see only those sections of the books that the translators/editors considered to be of historical interest.

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

McNeill, John T. & Helena M. Gamer. 1990. Medieval Handbooks of Penance: A Translation of the Principal Libri Poenitentiales.Columbia University Press, New York. ISBN 0-231-09629-1 (reprint of 1938 edition)

Publication summary: 

A collection of excerpts in translation from early medieval books of pennance. The significant editing means that the material is less useful for tracing the details of how penitential manuals handled same-sex sexual activity.

[The following is duplicated from the associated blog. I'm trying to standardize the organization of associated content.]

When I was putting together my main podcast essay for this month, on details of lesbian sexual techniques as given in sources like penitential manuals, I realized that I already owned this book but had never blogged it. I was somewhat disappointed to discover how heavily excerpted it was, making it rather less useful for my purposes than I thought, particularly in relation to the podcast. That means that at some point I should track down the full texts of some of the penitential manuals that I know have relevant information. Still, it was on the list and now it's been done.

Penitential manuals were designed not only as guidance for acceptable behavior in monastic institutions and for the clergy, but later as guidelines for confessors to sort out exactly what was and was not considered a sin, and to standardize penances to some extent. Although my summary here is only concerned with same-sex sexual sins, I found some of the early Irish material fascinating in how it pointed out some of the social fractures of the time (especially between different branches of the church).
Penitentials are, of course, theoretical sources. They discuss what sorts of activities people are considered at risk for doing. And they only cover activitites that the church was actively concerned about. So while they aren't exactly useless as evidence for what women were doing together, neither are they a reliable guide to the details. And in the case of this publication, there's the further filter that we see only those sections of the books that the translators/editors considered to be of historical interest.

# # #

Penitential manuals began being produced in the early Christian era (at least by the 5th century) as a guide for confessors or those in charge of monastic institutions to, in some ways, standardize and regularize what actions were considered sins, and what the penance for different degrees of sin should be.  This focus can make them valuable for the discussion of matters that might otherwise not be discussed in historic sources. Although penitential manuals covered a wide range of behaviors and aspects of life, this blog is specifically interested in what they have to say about sexual relations between women. So mostly I’ll be extracting the specific passages that speak to this topic. For a more general discussion of penitential manuals, follow the related tags.

As this book and its translations were initially published in 1938, don’t expect a nuanced and broad-minded treatment of homosexuality. The inclusion or omission of activities from these manuals often reflects the degree of concern that the church had about them at the time, rather than the presence or absence of those activities in society. Note also that general references to “fornication” may have been understood to cover same-sex situations, but have not been included in these notes unless they explicitly do. Furthermore, this edition does not reproduce the penitential texts in full, and in some cases I know from other sources that material specifically addressing female homosexuality is present but hasn’t been included.

The following early medieval Irish material is meant for the guidance of male monastics and priests, therefore it is not surprising that women’s same-sex activity isn’t addressed as it doesn’t fall within the scope of interest.

  • Early Irish canons attributed to Saint Patrick (ca. 7th century, Ireland) - Does not address same-sex activity.
  • Penitential of Finnian (6th century, Ireland) - Does not address same-sex activity.
  • Penitential of Cummean (7th century, Ireland) - Addresses male homosexual acts (sodomy and femoral masturbation). There are separate guidelines for boys engaged in the same acts, with variants depending on age.
  • Penitential  and Laws of Adamnan (7th century, Ireland) - Does not address same-sex activity.

Misc. early Welsh penitentials (6th century) - A vague reference to “anyone who sins with a woman or with a man”. The assumed audience is male, but there is only an implication that the sin is sexual. Specific reference to “he who is guilty of sodomy in its various forms.”

  • [From a Book of David, 6th century] Reference to “those who commit fornication...with a male” but again the assumed audience is male.
  • [From Gildas’ book of penance, 6th century] Reference to a man who has taken a monastic vow who commits “natural fornication or sodomy”.

Penitential of Theodore (7th century, Anglo Saxon) - In contrast to the previous documents which primarily addressed an audience of male monastics, this one has a broader audience. The section on fornication has an elaborate set of distinctions for sexual acts between men, and addresses women’s same-sex activity  explicitly: "If a woman practices vice with a woman, she shall do penance for three years. If she practices solitary vice, she shall do penance for the same period.” That is, for women, masturbation and lesbian sex were considered equivalent in severity. The penance is less severe than for sex between men, though the proliferation of distinctions for male participants makes it hard to know which to compare to. But male masturbation appears to be treated much more lightly.

Penitential of Columban (7th century, St. Columban was Irish but this text was compiled on the continent where he founded monasteries) - A reference to monks committing sodomy, to laymen committing sodomy (in a context where the audience is clearly male). Even though women are covered by other sex-related penances, there is no reference to same-sex activity between women.

Judgment of Clement (8th century, Frankish) - The audience for these rules is general, not clerical. Nothing specifically addressing sexual activity is included.

Burgundian Penitential (8th century, Frankish) - The implied audience is male except in some very specific cases. There is reference to committing “fornication as the Sodomites did”.

Saint Hubert Penitential (9th century, Frankish) - There is a fascinating item on cross-dressing that seems to have to do more with prohibitions on pagan practices than gender transgression. “Of dancing -- Anyone who performs dances in front of the churches of saints or anyone who disguises his appearance in the guise of a woman or of beasts, or a woman [who appears] in the garb of a man--on promise of amendment he [or she] shall do penance for three years.” No references to same-sex fornication.

Penitential of Halitgar (9th century, Frankish) - The default audience, as usual, is male, in which context we have a reference to “if anyone commits fornication as the Sodomites”. There are no references to women’s same-sex relations.

The collection also covers a number of later documents but in much abridged form, generally quoting only discussions that don’t appear in earlier documents. There is no material relating to same-sex relations in these excerpts.

Saturday, September 16, 2017 - 12:00

Genevieve Fortin returns to the podcast to talk about her favorite lesbian historical novels. Now with transcript!

The Lesbian-Interest website posted a nice shout-out to The Lesbian Talk Show and featured my episode on Sappho's poetry to illustrate it. If you're interesting in discovering lesbian media in a wide variety of formats and from the entire international scene, you should check them out! I'm going to go add them to my Feedly feed right now.

* * *

Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast - Episode 19 (previously 14b) - Book Appreciation with Genevieve Fortin - transcript

(Originally aired 2017/09/16 - listen here)

(Transcript commissioned from Jen Zink @Loopdilou who is available for professional podcast transcription work. I am working on adding transcripts of the existing interview shows.)

* * *

Heather Rose Jones: Last week, we had Genevieve Fortin in to interview her about her recent historical novel, Water’s Edge, set in 1880s New England and Canada. This week, we’re bringing her back to talk about a particular lesbian historic novel that she really enjoys. Tell me about a historic book involving lesbians that you really, really enjoy?

G: Well, the first one that I read was Patience and Sarah by Isabelle Miller. It really stayed with me because, first of all, it was in my favorite period of time, which is 19th century.

H: Yeah.

G: Although it was early 19th century, but most of all because it showed a way for those two women to actually live together, live happily together. They finally buy this little farm and they live together which I thought was very sweet and positive and encouraging and that’s why it stayed with me. It really inspired me also for Water’s Edge.

H: Yeah, so let’s let the readers know what this book is about. I love Patience and Sarah, I read it back when I was first coming out in the late 70s. It’s about two frontier women in, I think it’s maybe New York, upstate New York?

G: Right, it starts in Connecticut and ends in upstate New York. That’s where they get their little farm.

H And two women that set up housekeeping together and find a way to live together and to have a relationship. It’s very simple, sweet, well, simple is not the right word, a very sweet relationship.

G: Yes.

H: It’s a little touch of butch-femme, as I recall.

G: It is. It is. One of them, Sarah, she wears pants and she does work that men usually do. Patience is very attracted to that also.

H: As I recall, Patience is a painter that she’s modeled after, I’m trying to remember, one of the early American painters.

G: Mary Anne Willson. Yes. But I didn’t know that when I read it. I didn’t know there was any inspiration on someone that actually lived. I just read it and enjoyed the sweet story and especially the happy ending or somewhat happy ending that I didn’t see historical fiction. You know, whenever there was a lesbian character in historical fiction prior to that, that I read, it was not in a positive light. That’s what I love most about it.

H: Yeah, I think one of the things I really like among novels of that era, most of the lesbian fiction was looking at contemporary culture, which was not always a very happy life. Even having happy endings for the contemporary novels at that time was unusual. It was just such a wonderful fresh air to say, ‘Hey, you can write these stories.’

G: Absolutely, nobody has to die.

H: Yeah. Thank you for sharing your love for Patience and Sarah with us. Thank you for joining us again, Genevieve.

Show Notes

In the Book Appreciation segments, our featured authors (or your host) will talk about one or more favorite books with queer female characters in a historic setting.

In this episode Genevieve Fortin recommends her favorite queer historical novel:

Links to the Lesbian Historic Motif Project Online

Links to Heather Online

Links to Genevieve Fortin Online

Major category: 
LHMP

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