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Evangelicalism and the making of same-sex desire : the life and writings of Constance Maynard (1849-1935) Lloyd, Naomi 2011

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EVANGELICALISM AND THE MAKING OF SAME-SEX DESIRE: THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF CONSTANCE MAYNARD (1849-1935)  by Naomi Lloyd  A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF  DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (History) THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver)  August 2011 © Naomi Lloyd, 2011  ABSTRACT Although a devout Evangelical Anglican, living in an era that largely pre-dated the dissemination of sexological discourses of female same-sex desire, Constance Maynard, the prominent Victorian feminist and educational reformer, pursued a series of same-sex relationships. Religion is often understood to exercise a repressive influence on sexual desire. This study, however, takes as its starting point the historian of sexuality Michel Foucault‘s contention that sexual regulation produces desire rather than repressing it. It charts the role of Evangelical discourse – both regulatory and non-regulatory – in the structuring of Maynard‘s dissident sexual subjectivity. Arguing that sexuality, and female homoeroticism in particular, is crucial to an understanding of turn-of-the-century British culture, this dissertation explores transitions in Maynard‘s same-sex desire as they were occasioned by shifts in her religious subjectivity, examines the role of other cultural discourses in precipitating changes in her religious beliefs, and delineates the implications of transitions in the relationship between Evangelicalism and these other discourses for turn-of-the-century British society. A central focus of this dissertation is the discourse of modernity. Modernity is often represented as the product of the triumph of science, reason, and progress over an out-dated, irrational, repressive religion. This dichotomy is a gendered one; masculinity is often aligned with the former terms and femininity with the latter. Dominant narratives of modernity also fail to take into account the indebtedness of the latter to imperialism. The making of Maynard‘s same-sex desire disrupts the science/religion, masculine/feminine, and metropole/colony binaries that inform narratives of modernity. Maynard‘s sexual subjectivity and her modernizing sexual discourse were the products of Evangelicalism in dynamic interaction with, rather than in opposition to, the scientific discourses of natural theology, evolution, eugenics, and psychoanalysis. The constitution and contestation of Maynard‘s religio-scientific imperialist ii  discourse in her same-sex relationships demonstrates the role of imperialism in the production of modern sexuality. Discourses of modern sexuality feature prominently in the making of contemporary geopolitical divides. To move beyond these divides it is necessary to recognize the complex interactions between religion and science that have produced modern western sexuality, and to situate its production in the context of the uneven relationship between metropole and colony.  iii  TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT .................................................................................................................................. ii TABLE OF CONTENTS ............................................................................................................ iv ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ......................................................................................................... v Introduction .................................................................................................................................. 1 Chapter 1: Religious Desire and Human Eros: Childhood and Early Adulthood ............... 34 Chapter 2: “That Infidel Place”: Women’s Higher Education, the Crisis of Faith, and Dissident Sexuality ...................................................................................................................... 92 Chapter 3: Familiar Desires: Evangelicalism, Familial Discourse, and Homosexual Subjectivity ................................................................................................................................ 155 Chapter 4: Motherhood: A Class Act? Class, Race, and Empire in the Evangelical MiddleClass Family .............................................................................................................................. 227 Chapter 5: Queer Intimacies: Evangelicalism, Homoeroticism, and Empire ..................... 301 Conclusion ................................................................................................................................. 362 Bibliography .............................................................................................................................. 374 Appendices ................................................................................................................................ 388 Appendix A: Chronology of Constance Maynard‘s Life ......................................................................388 Appendix B: Dates of the Writing of the Autobiography .....................................................................389  iv  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This dissertation is the product of a solitary journey in which the support of others has, nevertheless, been crucial. I am particularly grateful to Prof. Joy Dixon, my research supervisor. Not only is she a leading scholar in the field of religion, gender, and sexuality in nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Britain but she has also been an attentive and generous supervisor. Her clear and incisive criticism of my work has been invaluable, as has her confidence in my ability to make a contribution to the field. The innovative theoretical frameworks that she has forged in her work have enabled me to think in more nuanced ways about the complex relationship between religion, gender, and sexuality. I have also been fortunate to have committee members who have provided valuable input at various stages of my project. I have appreciated Prof. Pamela Dalziel‘s ability to hone in on weaknesses in my work and to articulate these unflinchingly, while expressing a sustained confidence in it. Prof. Robert Brain joined the committee late in the process. I am indebted to him for his reading of my dissertation at short notice and his well-formed, thorough, and perceptive suggestions. Prof. William Pinar, with his wide-ranging and interdisciplinary interest in religion, queer sexuality, and critical race theory has prompted some important lines of enquiry. In the history department of UBC I have found an intellectually engaged, rigorous, and hospitable scholarly community. Faculty members have been willing to give generously of their time to students. I have also benefitted from the administrative expertise of the head of the department, Prof. Daniel Vickers, and two graduate advisors, Prof. William French and Prof. Alejandra Bronfman. The graduate secretary, Gloria Lees, has negotiated the complex bureaucratic processes with a well-practiced ease, has communicated the latter clearly to  v  students, and has persevered with both. This, along with the efficiency and flexibility of all the staff of the history department, has made the process a smoother one. My research has entailed intermittent trips to the archives of Queen Mary College, University of London and I have valued the assistance of the archivist, Lorraine Screene. Closer to home, the librarians and the staff in the reference, interlibrary loan, and thesis formatting departments of Koerner Library at UBC have also provided much-appreciated support, as have the staff at the Faculty of Graduate Studies. I started this intellectual journey in the women‘s and gender studies program at UBC. Prof. Sneja Gunew played an important formative role in the early stages of my scholarly development and I also benefitted from the support of Professors Geraldine Pratt and Valerie Raoul. The lively and welcoming student body produced friends who have been an inspiration through this process. My thanks, in particular, to Xin Huang who has demonstrated that rare combination of an intrepid, clear-sighted, and efficient approach to her own work with a generous interest in that of others. I am also indebted to Almas Zakiuddin and Itrath Syed whose interest in religion and gender has prompted some very fruitful conversations. Time spent in San Diego led to a friendship with Evelyn Kirkley and Jill Bormann; I have valued their unstinting and gracious support. It is often families who bear the brunt of sustained scholarly ventures such as this one. I am particularly grateful to my partner, Bethan Theunissen, for her unwavering conviction that this project was worth the many sacrifices entailed, her consistent interest in it, and her generous emotional and financial support. I have also benefitted from the support of my parents, Leslie and Jeannette Lloyd, and that of my siblings; they, along with my partner, have modeled the diverse ways in which faith might be negotiated. Finally, this project would not have been possible without generous funding from the University of British Columbia and for this I am very grateful. vi  Introduction Marion and I stood on opposite sides of the tall white china stove, warming our hands . . . I could tell now that Marion was praying, and that God was near. I could only see part of her serge dress, and her knee and her foot. Once her long fingers came around the angle of the stove and we held hands for half a minute and then parted again. There was a thrill, a strange momentary smiling of the heart, an actual physical sensation, and I knew that I loved her. I had thought that never again should I love in the sense of having my heart‘s life implicated, and here the deed was done, and could not be undone, and a sense of awe and even terror came over me as well as a wave of extraordinary sweetness.1 Thus wrote the prominent Evangelical Anglican and Mistress of Westfield College Constance Maynard (1849-1935) of the final moments of a religious retreat she had convened for her students in the Thuringian Forest in Germany in 1897.2 Marion Wakefield, a young Anglo-Irish woman imbued with the optimism of a recent spiritual experience, was the guest 1  Constance Maynard, Unpublished Autobiography, 1897, 411-12, Constance Maynard Papers, Queen Mary College, London (hereafter cited as Autobiography). The autobiography is also available on microfilm: Constance Maynard, The Diaries of Constance Maynard, The Origins of Modern Feminism, pt. 1 (Brighton, Sussex: Harvester Microform, 1987). Maynard divided her autobiography into parts, which she subdivided into chapters. With some exceptions the page numbering starts afresh with each new part. The chapter numbers run in a single sequence from one to fifty-five. I have cited the part number and chapter using numbers for ease of reading rather than the spelledout form (―Part 6, Chapter 6,‖ rather than ―Part Six, Chapter Six‖) favored by Maynard. I have also included the year, which refers to the year of her life that she is chronicling. From her account of 1893, Maynard forewent part and chapter numbers in favour of years and I have followed this schema. Maynard wrote the autobiography over a twenty-year period, from 1915 until her death in 1935. Where it is significant, I have thus also included the date of the writing of the account (for a list of dates at which the various sections were written, see Appendix B). Unless otherwise indicated, italics are in the original. The autobiography is comprised of long, transcribed passage from the journals of her ―inner spiritual life,‖ her Greenbooks. These are supplemented by details from a parallel set of Diaries, a record of the ―external events‖ of her life, interleaved with commentary on both from the time of writing the autobiography. In all her notebooks, Maynard records her conversations with family and friends as direct speech. In the absence of other sources, it is these that have been drawn upon. It is important to remember, however, that as the product of her memory, they may not be entirely accurate. 2  The word ―evangelical‖ (derived from the term ―evangel‖ or gospel) had been used from the time of the Reformation to denote Protestantism. However, during the eighteenth-century revivals it came to denote a particular configuration of faith within Protestantism, namely, as historian of evangelicalism David Bebbington notes, a fourfold emphasis on the necessity of conversion, on the atoning work of Christ on the cross, on the Bible as the Word of God, and on good works as the outcome of the individual‘s experience of the grace of God at conversion (David W. Bebbington, Evangelicalism in Modern Britain: A History from the 1730s to the 1980s [Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1992], 2-3). Evangelicalism was a cross-denominational movement: George Whitefield and John and Charles Wesley were Anglicans, but the movement they founded seceded from the Anglican Church upon their deaths, and was known as Methodism. By the last two decades of the eighteenth century evangelicalism had permeated most Protestant denominations including Baptists, Independents (or Congregationalists), and the Society of Friends (Quakers). In this study I follow the convention of capitalizing the word ―evangelical‖ to refer to Anglican Evangelicalism, and use the lower case when referring to evangelical Nonconformity or evangelicalism generally.  1  speaker at Maynard‘s retreat. The touching of their hands, the ―strange momentary smiling‖ of Maynard‘s heart, and her sense of her heart‘s life becoming implicated in Wakefield‘s, were the product of a spiritual intimacy cultivated during the retreat. The emergence of homoerotic desire within contexts of Evangelical devotion was not new to Maynard. Raised in ―the full light of Evangelical doctrine,‖3 and remaining an Evangelical until her death, she had nevertheless pursued a series of homoerotic relationships through the course of her life. Her eight-year relationship with Wakefield was the last and most significant of these; it commenced, after some delay, in 1899. Maynard kept a careful account of her homoerotic relationships in a series of spiritual diaries which she named her Greenbooks, or ―the story of my own Christian life & those things that touch it most nearly.‖4 Her use of a religious genre, the spiritual diary, to describe these relationships attests to the Evangelical piety from which they had emerged and within which they were conducted.5 Maynard‘s dissident sexual desire was inextricably intertwined with her pursuit of religious aspirations. In 1899 or 1900 Edith Ellis (1861-1916), the wife of the renowned English sexologist Havelock Ellis (1859-1939), commenced a relationship with Lily Kirkpatrick, an Irish artist living in St. Ives. This was also the most significant of a number of same-sex relationships she had pursued. Havelock Ellis published Sexual Inversion, the first English medical text on homosexuality, in 1896 and Edith is widely believed to be the subject of one of Ellis‘s six  3  Autobiography, Part 1, Chapter 1, 1849-1860, 3.  4  Constance Maynard, Greenbook, 27 October 1903, 249, Constance Maynard Papers, Queen Mary College, London (hereafter cited as Greenbook). The Greenbooks (also designated ―Green-books‖ and ―Green Books‖ by Maynard) are also available on microfilm: Constance Maynard, The Diaries of Constance Maynard, The Origins of Modern Feminism, pt. 1 (Brighton, Sussex: Harvester Microform, 1987). 5  Pauline Phipps notes that Maynard‘s ―outpourings about love‖ were ―analyzed within the context of faith.‖ Pauline Phipps, ―Faith, Desire, and Sexual Identity: Constance Maynard‘s Atonement for Passion,‖ Journal of the History of Sexuality 18 no. 2 (May 2009), 265.  2  studies of ―female inversion,‖ ―Miss H.,‖ case study 36.6 Sexual Inversion, which represented female homosexuality as the product of a male psyche at odds with a female body, marked the beginning of the scientific study of female homosexuality in Britain. Havelock presented homosexuality as a harmless anomaly and thus challenged the contemporary legal, medical, and social censure of it. He was more sympathetic to male inversion than female inversion, but Edith nevertheless understood her same-sex desire in sexological terms; in an undated letter to her close friend, the homosexual activist and sexual utopian, Edward Carpenter, she took up the discourse of inversion to describe her same-sex desire: ―my inversion is the talk of [the] Higher Thought. How it has got out heaven knows or whether they only think it or know it I don‘t quite realize.‖7 Although Sexual Inversion was published in Britain in 1897 (it was first published in Germany in 1896), sexological explanations of female same-sex desire remained the preserve of a small medical elite in the ensuing thirty years. In 1928 the author Radclyffe Hall published her novel, The Well of Loneliness, which drew on sexological discourse to represent female homosexuality; Hall was prosecuted for obscenity in the same year. It was only at that point, as a consequence of the publicity surrounding the trial, that the broader British public became acquainted with sexological discourse on female ―sexual inversion.‖ Despite the relatively late dissemination of sexological discourses of female inversion, sexology has predominated in scholarly studies of modern British homosexuality. While acknowledging its largely unsympathetic approach to female homosexuality, historians have nevertheless argued that in an era in which sexual relations between women were inconceivable 6  Jo Ann Wallace, ―Edith Ellis, Sapphic Idealism and The Lover‘s Calendar (1912)‖ in Sapphic Modernities: Sexuality, Women and English Culture, ed. Laura Doan and Jane Garrity (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006), 189. 7  Wallace, ―Edith Ellis,‖ 189. Of ―Miss H.‖ Havelock Ellis noted, ―she believes that homosexual love is morally right when it is really part of a person‘s nature, and provided that the nature of homosexual love is always made plain to the object of such affection. . . . The effect of her loving women is distinctly good, she asserts, both spiritually and physically, while repression leads to morbidity and hysteria.‖ Havelock Ellis, Sexual Inversion in Studies in the Psychology of Sex, vol. 1, 3rd ed. (New York: Random House, 1942), 226, quoted in Wallace, ―Edith Ellis,‖ 189.  3  to most (the ostensibly passive sexuality of women was believed to require an active male participant), sexology, by naming female sexual inversion, gave women a public language for same-sex desire, lent legitimacy to physical expressions of that desire, and enabled like-minded women to identify one another.8 Intimate and demonstrative expressions of ―love‖ such as Maynard‘s are either deemed the product of romantic friendships (friendships between women informed by the heightened sentiments of the Romantic movement and often represented as platonic) or, if understood to be sensual or erotic, they are situated on a teleological trajectory as the less coherent, less self-aware, and less sexual products of the pre-sexological era. The scholarship on female homosexuality has, as Harry Cocks asserts of the history of modern sexuality generally, tended to ―recapitulate existing stories of modernity.‖9 Positing a singular trajectory of secularization, with the late-nineteenth century as a watershed moment in Britain‘s transition from a religious to a secular society, historians have represented science as the paradigm within which modern sexual discourse emerged.10 Singular trajectories of secularization that posit science as a simple advance on religion have, however, precluded scholars from considering the possibility that religiously inflected homoerotic relationships such as Maynard‘s, rather than simply an antecedent to modern homosexuality, constitute a different and equally valid genealogy of it.11  8  Lucy Bland thus argues that sexology gave women the means by which to ―claim the right to be sexual.‖ Lucy Bland, Banishing the Beast: Feminism, Sex and Morality (London: Tauris Parke, 1995), 256. 9  H. G. Cocks, ―Religion and Sexuality,‖ in Palgrave Advances in the Modern History of Sexuality (London: Palgrave, 2006), 157-79. For the study of sexology and female homosexuality, see Jennifer Terry, An American Obsession: Science, Medicine, and Homosexuality in Modern Society (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999); Lisa Duggan, ―The Trials of Alice Mitchell: Sensationalism, Sexology, and the Lesbian Subject in Turn-ofthe Century America,‖ Signs 18, no. 4 (1993): 791-814; and Siobhan B. Sommerville, ―Scientific Racism and the Invention of the Homosexual Body,‖ in Sexology in Culture: Labelling Bodies and Desires, ed. Lucy Bland and Laura Doan. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999), 60-76. 10  Joy Dixon, ―Sexology and the Occult: Sexuality and Subjectivity in Theosophy‘s New Age,‖ Journal of the History of Sexuality 7, no. 3 (1997): 411. 11  Important exceptions, discussed below, include Martha Vicinus, ―‗The Gift of Love‘: Nineteenth-Century Religion and Lesbian Passion,‖ Nineteenth-Century Contexts 23, no. 2 (2001): 241-64; Phipps, ―Faith,‖ 265-86;  4  In recent years feminist historians of religion, amongst others, have begun to question the secularization theory that has informed the scholarly aligning of modernity with science. While noting the range of ways in which the term ―modernity‖ has been used by historians,12 they have been particularly concerned with the notion of modernity as a period of ―disenchantment‖ consequent on the eschewal of religion, following Max Weber‘s formulation in his 1917 lecture ―Science as a Vocation.‖13 Alex Owen, exploring the fin-de-siècle mystical revival, argues not only that ―belief was capable of renegotiating the rationalism and even scientism of the period‖14 but also that turn-of-the-century religion was ―itself constitutive . . . of key elements of modern culture.‖15 Joy Dixon has drawn attention to the failure of proponents of secularization theory to take gender into account. Nineteenth-century women were aligned with spirituality and the religious language evident in turn-of-the-century feminist rhetoric points to the persistence of religion as a discourse of cultural authority for women.16 For Owen and Dixon the problem with the contemporary mobilization of the category ―modernity‖ is that the binary terms through which it is defined – secular/religious, science/religion, sexually liberated/repressed, and masculinity/femininity – derive from the discourse of secularization itself. Rather than allowing  Wallace, ―Edith Ellis‖; and Joanna Dean, Religious Experience and the New Woman: The Life of Lily Dougall (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2007). 12  For example, the term ―modernity‖ has been used to describe the socio-economic transformation from agrarian to industrialized societies; the rise of rationality, science, and the pursuit of human progress during the Enlightenment era; the emergence of the modern nation state, the advent of mass democracy, and the processes of rationalization that accompanied these; the advent of industrial capitalism in the nineteenth century and, more recently, new modes of producing knowledge, and new specifications of collectivities and identities. Stuart Hall, introduction to Modernity: An Introduction to Modern Societies, ed. Stuart Hall et. al. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1996), 3-17. 13  Joy Dixon, ―Modernity, Heterodoxy, and the Transformation of Religious Cultures,‖ in Women, Gender and Religious Cultures in Britain, ed. Jacqueline deVries and Sue Morgan (London: Routledge, 2010), 212. 14  Alex Owen, The Place of Enchantment: British Occultism and the Culture of the Modern (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004), 11. 15  Owen, Place of Enchantment, 8.  16  Joy Dixon, ―A New Age for Women: Suffrage and the Sacred,‖ in Divine Feminine: Theosophy and Feminism in England (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001), 177-205. See also, Callum Brown, The Death of Christian Britain (London: Routledge, 2001).  5  for the investigation of the process through which ―modernity‖ was constituted, including how these terms were consolidated and came to exist in opposition to one another, the current understanding of ―modernity,‖ allows only for the confirmation of these terms and their oppositional relationship.17 Feminist historians of sexuality have also begun to undertake a gendered critique of the exclusionary effects of secularization theory on their field of study. Lesley Hall observes that histories of sexuality have ―placed most weight on scientific, medical and legal treatises or articles in learned journals by men with the appropriate professional qualifications.‖18 Victorian women, however, worked in different genres, including ―polemic literature, religious discourse, works of popular instruction, essays, social surveys, textbooks for social workers,‖ many of which have not been considered by historians of sexuality.19 While some scholars have argued that Victorian and Edwardian women‘s religious beliefs led to inherently conservative views of sexuality – they draw attention to women‘s campaigns to resist the state legislation of prostitution and their involvement in the prostitute ―rescue‖ mission and the social purity and eugenics movements, for example20 – others have noted the opportunity such campaigns afforded women to speak about sex publicly for the first time.21 The latter have explored Victorian women‘s recourse to religious language to develop independent and even dissident  17  Dixon draws attention to the ―radical contingency of our analytic categories and the need to subject those categories to an ongoing historical critique.‖ Joy Dixon, ―‗Out of Your Clinging Kisses . . . I Create a New World‘: Sexuality and Spirituality in the Work of Edward Carpenter,‖ in The Ashgate Research Companion to Nineteenth-Century Spiritualism and the Occult, ed. Tatiana Kontou and Sarah Wilburn (London: Ashgate, forthcoming). 18  Lesley A. Hall, Outspoken Women: An Anthology of Women’s Writing on Sex, 1870-1969 (London: Routledge, 2005), 2. 19  Ibid.  20  Michael Mason, The Making of Victorian Sexual Attitudes (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994).  21  Bland, Banishing the Beast, xix; Frank Mort, Dangerous Sexualities: Medico-Moral Politics in England since 1830 (New York: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1987), 86; and Hall, Outspoken Women, 12.  6  understandings of sexuality.22 The historian of religion and gender Sue Morgan notes the indebtedness of Marie Stopes‘s Married Love (1918), the paradigmatically modern text on sexuality, to the writings of Victorian Christians such as the physician Elizabeth Blackwell and, paradoxically, the social purity reformer Ellice Hopkins, both of whom made recourse to later nineteenth-century incarnational theology to validate the body and its desires. Morgan suggests that religious discourse was in fact ―deeply imbricated in the making of modern British culture‖ and that women played a central role in the religious making of modern sexuality.23 In the early 1980s historians of same-sex desire began to explore the role of religion in the making of Victorian homosexuality. They focused primarily on male homosexuality and Anglo- and Roman Catholicism. David Hilliard‘s 1982 essay ―UnEnglish and Unmanly: AngloCatholicism and Homosexuality‖ inaugurated this field. Hilliard argued that the homosociality of the Anglican priesthood and of the monastic orders, the aestheticism of Anglo-Catholic religious practice, and the marginality of Anglo-Catholics within the Church of England rendered this tradition attractive to male homosexuals. Taking up Hilliard‘s work and focusing on both men and women, Frederick Roden delineated a three-stage model of the emergence of modern homosexual identity in literary religious discourse, from an erotic interest in homosocial religious institutions in the work of John Henry Newman and Christina Rossetti, to a troubled awareness of the possibilities of homoeroticism in the religious poetry of Gerald Manley Hopkins and Eliza Keary, to a fully-fledged, religiously-constituted homosexual identity in the writings of the aunt-niece couple Katharine Bradley and Edith Cooper (who published under the pseudonym ―Michael Field‖) and in the work of Oscar Wilde.‖24 In a ground-breaking essay 22  Sue Morgan, ―‗The Word Made Flesh‘: Women, Religion and Sexual Cultures,‖ in DeVries and Morgan, Women, Gender and Religious Cultures, 162. 23  Ibid., 159.  24  Frederick S Roden, Same-Sex Desire in Victorian Religious Culture (New York: Palgrave, 2002).  7  that addressed both women and Protestantism, Martha Vicinus argued that the same-sex relationships of Mary Benson, the Evangelical Anglican wife of the Archbishop of Canterbury Edward Benson, were the product of the spiritual mentoring that was central to Evangelical piety.25 In the only essay to explore Maynard‘s religious beliefs and her same-sex desire, Pauline Phipps suggested that a Puritan theology of atonement provided Maynard with a discourse of penance in advance of her ―sin,‖ thus facilitating Maynard‘s pursuit of illicit sexual desire, and that it enabled her to achieve a modern sexual identity similar to that of sexological discourse.26 As persuasive and as path-breaking as these studies have been, the relationship between religion and homosexuality has sometimes been under-theorized and, as a result, the relationship of religiously-structured homoeroticism/homosexuality to modern sexuality either unexplored or oversimplified. In undertaking an assuredly useful examination of religious institutions, practices, and theologies, these scholars nevertheless adopt an instrumentalist approach to religion; religion is seen to ―facilitate,‖ ―foster,‖ ―create space for,‖ ―provide a vehicle for,‖ ―underwrite,‖ or ―legitimate‖ homosexual desire.27 The assumption of many of these scholars that same-sex desire and homosexual identity pre-existed religious belief precludes the possibility of exploring the role of religious discourse in the constitution of sexual subjectivity, 28 and of a religiously structured dissident sexual subjectivity in the making of modern sexuality. A too-rapid attribution of sexual identity of the sexological kind prevents an exploration of the  25  Vicinus, ―Gift of Love,‖ 242.  26  Phipps, ―Faith.‖ See also, Pauline Phipps, ―An Atonement for Ambition and Passion: The Experience of British Victorian Educational Pioneer, Constance Louisa Maynard (1849-1935)‖ (Ph.D. dissertation, Carlton University, 2004). 27  Phipps, for example, asserts that Maynard ―adopted‖ faith as ―a means of understanding and resisting her samesex desire‖ and that Maynard used religious discourse (the notion that love was a gift from God) to ―justify‖ and to ―rationalize‖ her illicit desires. Phipps, ―Faith,‖ 266. 28  Dixon, ―Your Clinging Kisses.‖  8  intersections between pre-sexological and sexological discourse, whether in the form of resistance, convergence, or mutual constitution. The possibility of iterations of desire that are both self-aware and non-identitarian is overlooked and the diversity and complexity of modern iterations of same-sex desire is reduced to identitarian formulations. In order to fully understand modern sexuality, the complex relationship between religion and science from which it emerged, and broader transformations in late nineteenth-century British culture within which it was constituted, it is necessary to explore the role of the religion in the constitution of sexual subjectivity. By charting the role of religious discourse in the making of Constance Maynard‘s sexual subjectivity, this dissertation challenges the binary categories that inform secularization theory (secular/sacred, science/religion, sexual liberation/sexual repression, amongst others), maps the historically particular, dynamic, and diverse relationships between these discourses, and suggests that the process of social transformation evident in turn-of-the-century Britain was more complex than singular trajectories of secularization have allowed. The making of Maynard‘s same-sex desire suggests that Evangelicalism, rather than an anachronism, was integral to the production of modern sexuality.  Maynard is best known for her pioneering work in the British movement for women‘s higher education. The daughter of Henry Maynard (1800-1888), a prosperous colonial merchant with offices in Pancras Lane, London, and of a mother of French Huguenot descent, Louisa Maynard, nee Hillyard (1807-1878), she was one of the first women to pursue a university education. She gained admission to Girton College, Cambridge (or, more accurately, its predecessor, the College for Women at Hitchin), the first British residential college for women, in 1872, just three years after it had been founded by Emily Davies. She was the first Girton student to sit the Moral Science Tripos examination. In 1882, at the age of thirty-three, Maynard 9  established Westfield College (since incorporated into Queen Mary, University of London), the first British college to formally grant degrees to women; she served as its principal until her retirement in 1913.29 Over the course of her life Maynard published just under thirty books, primarily smaller ―shilling books‖ of a theological, instructional, or devotional nature, and over thirty essays, of a similarly religious nature, in a wide range of primarily Christian periodicals.30 Towards the end of her life Maynard, who was not given to self-aggrandizement, perceived herself to have attained a unique position among Anglican Evangelicals: ―I cannot but feel that I hold a place in the true Evangelical Church of today that I think no other woman holds.‖31 Maynard was indeed a prominent Victorian Evangelical; she knew and was known to many other leading Evangelicals. Lord Shaftesbury had attended the planning meetings for Westfield College in 1880 and well-respected Evangelicals such as Dr. Henry Wace, who had been principal of King‘s College, Dr. W. H. Barlow, and Canon James Fleming sat on the Westfield Council. Others, such as the Evangelical Bishop of Durham, Handley Moule, sent their daughters to Westfield.32 Josephine Butler, whom Maynard met at the 1881 Christian Women‘s Union Conference in Liverpool, where Maynard presented her proposal for a Christian women‘s college, encouraged her in this endeavor.33 Catherine Marsh, the daughter of 29  Oxford granted degrees to women in 1921 and Cambridge in 1948. Women had graduated from the University of London, in small numbers, from 1880. Bedford College, founded in 1849, prepared students for London degrees, and University College admitted women to most of its faculties after 1878, when the University of London opened its degrees to women, but these colleges were not residential. In 1882, the year Westfield opened, Maynard counted eleven women amongst two hundred men at the University of London graduation ceremony. In 1989 Westfield merged with Queen Mary to become ―Queen Mary and Westfield College.‖ The college moved from Finchley Road, Hampstead Heath (its home from 1891) to the Queen Mary campus in Mile End. The Hampstead Heath campus was purchased by King‘s College, but parts of it have recently been sold. In 2000 the name ―Queen Mary and Westfield College‖ was changed to ―Queen Mary College.‖ 30  This is a rough count since some of Maynard‘s articles were published anonymously as was the convention in most journals of the period. Although Maynard mentions some of her publications in her diaries, it is difficult to ascertain whether the list is definitive. 31  Autobiography, 1919, 76.  32  Autobiography, 1903, 502.  33  Autobiography, Part 6, Chapter 41, 1881, 84.  10  the Evangelical theologian William Marsh, whom Maynard met in 1905 when Marsh was eighty-seven, was similarly supportive.34 Through her involvement with the Salvation Army in the early 1880s, Maynard was also well-acquainted with William and Catherine Booth. Maynard was also a feminist. In addition to her work in women‘s higher education, she supported suffrage and spoke enthusiastically of Millicent Fawcett, the moderate suffragist and president of the National Union of Women‘s Suffrage Societies. Her support for suffrage is evident in an account of the 1908 suffrage march, written for the benefit of former Westfield students: It was not thought well that our College should take the prominent part others did – Girton, Somerville etc. marching under their distinctive banners. Neither did we forbid it as Holloway authorities did to their present Students. The result was that all the Staff (save of course Miss Whitby) and five of the elder students went. I am too much identified with Westfield to be able to go. . . . It was all most orderly and quiet and those who went enjoyed it very well, seeing Miss Fawcett, Miss Davies, and all the other celebrities concerned.35 Maynard was also an avid supporter of Josephine Butler and her campaign in the 1870s and 1880s to repeal the Contagious Diseases Acts and, like many Victorian feminists, she endorsed the social purity movement that emerged from that campaign.36 Maynard also participated in early efforts to consolidate an international women‘s movement. At the invitation of Lady  34  ―It was a wholly new world to her, but her ready sympathy came forward & embraced it. . . She saw clearly how one generation cannot serve another but each must serve its own, & there was not a trace of being shocked or of standing aloof from what I had to tell.‖ Autobiography, 1905, 540. 35  Constance Maynard, Budget Letter, 30 June 1908, quoted in Sondheimer, Castle Adamant, 66. Like other forerunners in women‘s higher education, she did not engage actively in the suffrage campaign for fear of alienating her already uncertain constituency. Emily Davies had withdrawn from suffrage work for similar reasons. M. C. Bradbrook, “That Infidel Place”: A Short History of Girton College, 1869-1969 (London: Chatto & Windus, 1969), 13. 36  The Acts allowed for the medical examination of women suspected of prostitution in garrison towns and ports and the incarceration in ―lock hospitals‖ of those found to have contracted sexually transmitted diseases until they were deemed healthy. Their male clients, military men for the most part, were exempt. The Acts were thus seen by those who sought their repeal to sanction the sexual double standard as well as prostitution. The social purity movement sought to procure the support of the state, including law-makers and the police, to eradicate prostitution.  11  Aberdeen, Ishbel Hamilton-Gordon, she presented the report on women‘s education at the 1899 Quinquennial Meeting of the International Council of Women. Maynard can thus be considered an evangelical feminist and located in the very diverse company of other such women, including Butler (1828-1906) and Booth (1829-1890), the latter of whom was not affiliated with the women‘s movement but nevertheless promoted women‘s rights within Salvationism. Despite Maynard‘s prominence amongst evangelical women, she has been largely overlooked by historians of both British evangelicalism and Anglicanism. While she is known to historians of gender, feminism and sexuality, no full-length study of her life has emerged from these disciplines either. The only biography of Maynard was published in 1949 by Catherine Beatrice Firth, a Westfield graduate, a friend of Maynard‘s, and one of the five women literary executors to whom Maynard entrusted her manuscripts.37 Firth‘s biography, while excluding Maynard‘s homoerotic relationships, gives due consideration to both her religious beliefs and her educational achievements and remains a largely reliable and informative account.38 More recent work on Maynard has, for the most part, been subject to what Dixon refers to as the ―historiographical division of labor‖ that has seen ―women‘s politics and women‘s spirituality . . . dealt with in separate literatures, and only a few attempts made to map the relationships between them.‖39 Studies of Maynard as a pioneer in the campaign for women‘s higher education rarely explore the relationship between her work in education and her  37  Firth entered Westfield in 1901 and studied under the well-respected historian Caroline Skeel, won the prestigious University of London Gilchrist Scholarship for her work in history in 1904, and in 1912 was the first Westfield student to attain a D. Lit. Sondheimer, Castle Adamant, 8, 56. 38  Firth found Maynard‘s outpourings about love ―startling, sometimes painful‖ and ―which [wished?] that she could turn away from records which, it seemed, no stranger‘s eye should read.‖ Catherine Beatrice Firth, Constance Louisa Maynard, Mistress of Westfield College: A Family Portrait (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1949), 5. 39  Dixon, Divine Feminine, 2-3.  12  Evangelicalism.40 Maynard‘s founding, of the first college to grant women‘s degrees, as one in which ―the name of Christ is loved & honoured‖41 may also have proved problematic for historians of feminism; despite a growing scholarship on religion and feminism, the indebtedness of the latter to the former has yet to be fully acknowledged.42 Certainly, the Puritanical framing of Maynard‘s Evangelicalism, her religious dogmatism, and her proselytizing are impediments to empathy for twenty-first century feminists. Maynard‘s feminist engagement with women‘s higher education was nevertheless driven by Evangelical aspirations. She believed herself to have received a prophetic calling as a child and soon after entering Girton, at the age of twenty-three, identified women‘s higher education as the arena within which she was to exercise that calling. She saw as her predecessors Christian women who had engaged in social reform, including ―the pioneers of nursing – Florence Nightingale, sweet Agnes Jones, and grave Sister Dora; the true hero, Josephine Butler; the single woman theologian of the nineteenth century, Dora Greenwell; the helpers of the utterly degraded, Mrs. Raynard and Mrs. Bayley; the persuaders to righteousness, Miss Marsh, Mrs. Pennefather, and Mrs. Catherine Booth; the sailor‘s friend, Miss Weston.‖43 Her taking up the cause of women‘s higher education was a variation of the characteristic Evangelical theme of 40  Maria Tamboukou, ―Erasing Sexuality from the Blackboard,‖ Australian Feminist Studies 17, no. 38 (2002): 13549; ―Of Other Spaces: Women's Colleges at the Turn of the Nineteenth Century in the UK,‖ Gender Place & Culture: A Journal of Feminist Geography 7, no. 3 (2000): 247- 63; and ―Spacing Herself: Women in Education,‖ Gender and Education 11, no. 2 (1999): 125-39. Also, Martha Vicinus, Independent Women: Work and Community for Single Women, 1850-1920 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985) and Deirdre Raftery, ―The Opening of Higher Education to Women in the Nineteenth Century: ‗Unexpected Revolution‘ or Inevitable Change?‖ Higher Education Quarterly 56, no. 4 (October 2002): 330-46. 41  Autobiography, Part 3, Chapter 11, 1872, 355-56.  42  Two articles on Maynard attempt to bridge some of the divides that characterize the scant scholarship on Maynard. In ―‗One Life to Stand Beside Me‘: Emotional Conflicts in First-Generation College Women in England,‖ Vicinus examines the relationship between Maynard‘s educational endeavours and her homoeroticism (Feminist Studies 3 [Fall 1982]: 603-28) and Phipps examines the relationship between Maynard‘s faith and her homoerotic desire (―Faith,‖ 265-86). 43  Constance Maynard, ―From Early Victorian Schoolroom to University: Some Personal Experiences,‖ NineteenthCentury 76 (1914): 1069.  13  social reformism, only in this instance directed as much at Evangelicals themselves as nonbelievers. At Westfield Maynard sought simultaneously to promote the cause of women‘s higher education amongst traditionally conservative Evangelicals and to promote the gospel amongst educated women. The same-sex desire and the homoerotic relationships pursued by this prominent Evangelical Victorian emerged as a product of her prophetic calling as she undertook it within the context of women‘s higher education. At first glance the idea that Victorian Evangelicalism should produce same-sex desire, structure homosexual subjectivity, and provide a language for homoeroticism/homosexuality seems counter-intuitive. For contemporary historians, Victorian Evangelicalism seems quintessentially sexually repressive. Evangelical discourse was taken up in the late eighteenth century by an emerging middle class intent on consolidating class and racial difference. 44 Evangelicals aligned sexual continence with respectability and juxtaposed these with the ostensibly lax sexual morality of the upper and working classes and the putative sexual excesses of the indigenous peoples of the empire.45 The repressive effects of Evangelicalism were evident at the level of public policy as the Society for the Suppression of Vice and the Encouragement of Virtue promoted the vigorous prosecution of obscene publications from 1850, and the National Vigilance Association (NVA), which succeeded it in 1875, pursued harsh measures to eradicate prostitution. Understandings of Victorian Evangelicalism as singularly sexually repressive have, however, often been informed by ahistorical notions of both religion and sexuality, which have 44  Leonore Davidoff and Catherine Hall, Family Fortunes: Men and Women of the English Middle Class, 17801850), rev. ed. (New York: Routledge, 2002). 45  Catherine Hall, ―Of Gender and Empire: Reflections on the Nineteenth Century,‖ in Gender and Empire, ed. Philippa Levine (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 46-76; Anne McClintock, Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest (New York: Routledge, 1995); Philippa Levine, ―Sexuality, Gender, and Empire,‖ in Gender and Empire ed. Philippa Levine (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 134-55; Ann Laura Stoler, Race and the Education of Desire: Foucault's History of Sexuality and the Colonial Order of Things (Durham: Duke University Press, 1995); and Ann Laura Stoler, Carnal Knowledge and Imperial Power: Race and the Intimate in Colonial Rule (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002).  14  precluded an exploration of other ways in which Evangelicalism and sexuality may have intersected. Scholars of religion and sexuality have often understood sexual desire to be the result of a biological drive that is unchanging in form. While the diversity of religious traditions has been acknowledged, religion has nevertheless often been represented as a response to spiritual or psychological needs deemed similarly universal and transhistorical. In making recourse to psychoanalytic theory, scholars of religion and sexuality often re-inscribe the essentialism inherent in ahistorical readings of sexuality and religion. They represent religion as the product of the sublimation of sexual desire, thus assuming a pre-constituted sexual drive and religious traditions that are unchanging in their motivation. If readings of religion as sexually repressive represent religion and sexuality as inherently antithetical, this usage of psychoanalytic theory collapses ―religion‖ into ―sexuality.‖46 Religion is deemed simply a manifestation of sexual desire. The possibility that religious discourse produces and structures sexual desire is precluded. Such readings of the relationship of religion and sexuality are not uniform within psychoanalytic theory. Freud, in fact, by opposing the biological models of sexuality promulgated by earlier sexologists and by arguing for the role of parents in the structuring of infants‘ otherwise polymorphous or undifferentiated sexuality, presented a more dynamic model of sexuality which attempted to take cultural factors (the family) into account. Freud did not historicize the family, however; his theory of the child‘s psychosexual development depended on the nuclear, middle-class family of western culture. He did not theorize the role of religion in either the constitution of the family or in the structuring of the child‘s sexual subjectivity. Some gender historians have attempted to do this. Thus Barbara Taylor, in her analysis of the erotic history of the feminist Mary Wollstonecraft, takes as her starting point the Freudian notion that ―the worshipful identification with deified parents . . . are the threads from which our 46  Joy Dixon, ―Your Clinging Kisses.‖  15  subjectivity is woven,‖ but goes on to argue that Wollstonecraft, confronting a lack of parental affection, pursued an amorous relationship with the divine. She explores the key role of ―the religious imagination in the formation of [Wollstonecraft‘s] sexual subjectivity.‖47 The Freudian focus on the nuclear family is thus extended to include the divine. 48 Taylor does not, therefore, represent religion as the product of the sublimation of sexual desire; instead, she suggests that religious desire and human eros are independent and parallel discourses which may nevertheless intersect. While her use of psychoanalytic theory is more nuanced than that of other historians of religion and sexuality, Taylor nevertheless still tends to construe religion and sexuality in ahistorical terms.49 Michel Foucault‘s The History of Sexuality, Volume One (1976), arguably the text that established the modern study of sexuality, provides an often overlooked framework for investigating the historical particularity of religion, sexuality, and their relationship to one another. Foucault refuted prevailing psychoanalytically indebted readings of Victorian sexuality 47  Barbara Taylor, Mary Wollstonecraft and the Feminist Imagination (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 116. 48  For an example of a related, though not historical, approach, see the work of the Lacanian feminist Julia Kristeva, particularly In the Beginning Was Love: Psychoanalysis and Faith (1987) and Tales of Love (1987). Kristeva suggests that the successful negotiation of the loss of the mother (in Lacan‘s reworking of Freud‘s oedipal theory), entails the child identifying with a third party, or the Other, which Kristeva defines as an illusion or fantasy. As Dawn McCance notes, Kristeva suggests that in Catholicism, Christ and the Virgin Mary constitute the Other; they serve as the mirror in which the child may construe her/his unity and thus attain subjecthood. Dawn McCance, ―Kristeva‘s Melancholia: Not Knowing How to Lose,‖ in Religion in French Feminist Thought: Critical Perspectives, ed. Morny Joy, Kathleen O'Grady and Judith L. Poxon (New York : Routledge, 2003), 139. 49  Taylor thus notes that the primary demand we make of ourselves, each other and our gods . . . is the demand for a viable selfidentity that is psychically and culturally viable. How such a viable subjectivity is established is in part – but only in part – a matter for history. Clearly the components of selfhood change over time – does it for example include a soul? – but the fundamental psychological processes through which self-identities are forged, I am proposing, are ubiquitous and constant. It is these processes that give persuasive weight to religion‘s universalist claims: not the claim of this or that religion to the exclusive possession of universal truth, but rather the capacity of all religions, as [William] James suggests, to speak to the demand of our being human.‖ Taylor, Mary Wollstonecraft, 128; Taylor is referencing William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (London: Penguin, 1985), 259, first published in 1902.  While Taylor goes to some pains to refute ahistorical notions of religion, she nevertheless asserts the ubiquity of the individual‘s need to forge identities and represents that process as the transhistorical purpose of religion.  16  as ―repressed‖ (the ―repressive hypothesis‖) and resisted predominantly Marxist notions of power as singularly oppressive or restrictive. He took historically specific discourses as his point of departure (―the history of sexuality – that is the history of what functioned in the nineteenth century as a specific field of truth – must be written from the viewpoint of a history of discourses‖50). By discourses he meant the institutions, practices, and language associated with a field of knowledge. Foucault argued that the proliferation of discourses on sexuality in a variety of disciplines during the Victorian era – sexology, psychology, psychiatry, pedagogy, and demography, for example – attested to the productive rather than restrictive nature of power and had the effect of saturating Victorian society with sexual desire rather than repressing it. Foucault did not eschew the notion of repression altogether, but saw it as part of a dual dynamic – repression/proliferation – intrinsic to the operation of power. The veiled or oblique terms in which sexuality was framed in Victorian discourse, the heightened significance sex gained as a result, the consequent notion that sex was a secret that required discovery and that it comprised the truth of the self, and the individual‘s recourse to sexual discourse to ascertain the truth of sex, produced and proliferated sexual desire. This desire, in requiring management, appeared to legitimate the regulatory discourse that produced it; the reach of power was thus extended into the intimate lives of Victorians. Foucault‘s analytic of modern power was concerned not only with the production of sexual desire but of sexual subjectivity and the sexual subject. He argued that individuals, by making recourse to sexual discourse to speak their truth, gained sexual subjectivity while simultaneously rendering themselves subject to that discourse. Foucault charted the transition from the religious regulation of sexuality in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to the scientific regulation of sexuality in the nineteenth century. He argued that an increasing focus on sexual sin during the Counter Reformation, and 50  Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, vol. 1., An Introduction, trans. Robert Hurley (New York: Vintage Books, 1990), 69.  17  the meticulous charting of sexual desire in the Catholic confession, produced rather than repressed sexual desire. At first glance his work may seem to support secularization theorists‘ aligning of modernity with science and secularization, including the failure to gender secularization theory. Foucault did, indeed, overlook the Victorian alignment of women with religion and the persistent role of religion as a source of cultural authority for nineteenth-century women. One objective of this study is to gender his account of Victorian sexuality by taking as a starting point for an analysis of Victorian women‘s religiously inflected sexual discourse, the theoretical approach he developed to investigate the relationship between religion and sexuality in the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries. His analysis of the Catholic regulation of sexual desire allows for the possibility that the regulatory discourse of Victorian Evangelicalism and women‘s sexual discourse in particular, rather than being singularly repressive, produced sexual desire and structured sexual subjectivity. At the same time this dissertation refutes the notion that Foucault endorsed simple, unilinear trajectories of secularization. By arguing that the Catholic confession provided the prototype for modern medical epistemology, the modern subject, and the modern operation of power, he drew attention to the imbrication of religion and science in the later Victorian period, and opened the way for more nuanced analyses of the relation of religion to modern sexual discourse.51 Some historians have begun to pursue a Foucauldian approach to religion. Dixon thus argues that religion, rather than being an ―ontological category,‖52 is a cultural formation, one that informs, and is informed by, other cultural discourses.53  51  David Halperin, How to Do the History of Homosexuality (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), 106; and Cocks, ―Religion and Spirituality,‖ 157. 52  Dixon, Divine Feminine, 13.  53  To approach religion as a cultural discourse is not to arbitrate on, or to provide rational explanations for, numinous elements within it. Rather it is to chart the broader cultural discourses that structured such expression of the numinous and to trace their culturally specific effects.  18  This study examines Evangelicalism as a cultural discourse and explores the historically specific structuring of Maynard‘s sexual desire. It argues that if sexual subjectivity is discursively constituted it is also multivalent and dynamic. The dissertation thus identifies five chronological but overlapping phases of Maynard‘s religious history, situates these within wider transitions in Victorian religious culture, and investigates Maynard‘s shifting sexual subjectivity as a product of changes in her religious subjectivity. It examines the Puritan, Presbyterianindebted, Anglicanism of her parents‘ faith, her subsequent encounter with Evangelical revivalism in the form of the Ulster revivals of the late 1850s, her entering Girton College as a young adult in the early 1870s and undergoing a crisis of faith, her rapprochement with Evangelicalism through her involvement with the holiness movement in the 1880s, and her engagement with theological modernism from the late 1890s until her death in 1935. The larger shifts in Victorian religious culture which gave rise to Maynard‘s changing religious beliefs, were themselves the product of interaction with other cultural discourses. This study focuses on intersections between Evangelicalism, on the one hand, and gender, science, and imperialism, on the other. While Foucault‘s notion of the productive nature of power provides a starting point for this dissertation, it also requires qualification. Victorian Evangelical regulatory discourse did not address female same-sex desire directly. It was only in the 1920s, as sexological explanations of female same-sex desire gained prominence, that religious authorities began to censure female homosexuality or ―sexual inversion.‖ (In 1924, the COPEC Commission asserted that while the Church ―might view ‗the pervert with deepest sympathy,‘ it should ‗regard him or her as a defective whose abnormality must be isolated and submitted to special treatment‘‖54). Nevertheless, Victorian Evangelicals were centrally preoccupied with the possibility that human 54  Christian Conference on Politics, Economics, and Citizenship (COPEC), ―The Relations of the Sexes‖ (London; Longmans, Green and Co., 1924), 31, quoted in Morgan, ―Word Made Flesh,‖ 178.  19  love in any of its forms might eclipse the love of God. Here they were in continuity with their eighteenth-century Puritan forebears. As one Puritan divine noted, to love family and friends was acceptable, but ―to love them with a particular love, as things distinct from God, to delight in them merely as creatures; to follow them as if some good, or happiness, or pleasure were to be found in them distinctly from what is in God: this is a branch of spiritual Adultery, I had almost said Idolatry.‖55 Maynard understood the elevation of human love over divine to be her ―besetting sin,‖ her single most significant temptation. In 1927 she wrote to her future literary executors: ―My life has had golden opportunities, but looking back I see it is full of inadequacies and failures and bitter disappointments, and these chiefly founded on the mistake of preferring Human love to Divine.‖56 This dissertation thus modifies Foucault‘s approach to regulatory sexual discourse by examining the effects on Maynard‘s sexual subjectivity of the Evangelical monitoring of the affections. For Evangelicals, as for Foucault‘s sixteenth-century Catholics, confession was central to piety. It was a confession that did not require the mediation of a priest, but was made through prayer to God; nevertheless, the presence of other believers or the recording of confessions in spiritual diaries lent urgency and legitimacy to confession. For Maynard the confessional aspect of diary writing was primary. ―People say that sometimes confession to another human being is good for one,‖ she wrote in 1903: ―the accusation we make against ourselves before God are so dim & vague, but to a man we give the details of our sin, time & place & opportunity. This  55  Catherine A. Brekus, ―Writing as a Protestant Practice: Devotional Diaries in New England,‖ in Practicing Protestants: Histories of Christian Life in America, 1630-1965, ed. Laurie F. Maffly-Kipp, Leigh E. Schmidt, and Mark Valeri (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 2006), 25. A clear discourse of affective idolatry was evident in nineteenth-century Britain also, as Vicinus notes: ―all who read Jane Eyre (1847) knew the danger of making an idol of one‘s beloved. Jane is justly punished for loving Mr. Rochester too much, for making him stand ‗between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun.‘‖ Vicinus, Intimate Friends 87, quoting Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1975), 287. 56  Firth, Constance Louisa Maynard, 306.  20  effect was produced on me by writing this last page or two.‖57 Driven by religious imperatives, she confessed both fully and quite frankly to her privileging of human desire over divine, with an urgent Evangelical sense of the necessity of maintaining a righteous relationship with God. ―All is open & acknowledged now, to God, to myself, to this book, & cannot again be hidden & slurred over,‖58 she observed in 1885 after her short-lived homoerotic relationship with fellow Westfield teacher, Frances Ralph Gray. In her autobiographical account of this period she notes, ―If I die, I must die in the attempt to belong only to God.‖59 The effects of Maynard‘s diarybased confession were unstable, however; the naming of desire, even in the process of renouncing it, proliferated that desire and facilitated its enactment. If Foucault‘s work on sexual regulation constitutes one framework within which to explore the relationship between Maynard‘s Evangelicalism and her dissident sexual subjectivity, it is not the only one. Foucault‘s relatively narrow focus on sexual regulation prevented him from considering the role of religious desire in inciting human eros, structuring sexual subjectivity, facilitating erotic relationships, and producing discourses of sexuality.60 An erotic discourse of religious desire, or the longing for spiritual intimacy with Christ, existed alongside repressive Evangelical sexual discourse, but has been largely overlooked by historians of sexuality. With the evangelical revivals of the Victorian era – the Irish revival of 1859, the holiness movement which emerged in the 1860s, the Moody and Sankey campaign of the 1870s,  57  Greenbook, 23 March 1903, 192.  58  Greenbook, 5 April 1885, 40.  59  Autobiography, Part 7, Chapter 48, 120.  60  He nevertheless gestured towards this possibility: ―The ars erotica did not disappear altogether from Western civilization. . . . In the Christian confession, but especially in the direction and examination of conscience, in the search for spiritual union and love of God, there was a whole series of methods that had much in common with an erotic art.‖ Foucault, History of Sexuality, 70. He defined ars erotica as ―truth is drawn from pleasure itself . . . [pleasure is understood] first and foremost in relation to itself; it is experienced as pleasure, evaluated in terms of its intensity, its specificity, its duration, its reverberations in the body and soul‖ (57). See chapter three for a discussion of this.  21  and the turn-of-the-century Torrey, Chapman, and Alexander revival meetings – Victorians made increasing recourse to metaphors of love, courtship, and marriage, all of which derived from the Christian scriptures, to define their relationship with Christ. Effusive articulations of spiritual desire, articulated in the language of human eros, led to slippages between the two. Metaphors of human eros had been an integral part of the Evangelical discourses of conversion and spiritual mentoring from the eighteenth-century revivals. John Wesley had argued that individuals‘ attraction to one another elucidated God‘s love for humankind; he went on to suggest that ―in human relations, spiritual knowledge can best be conveyed and absorbed when teacher and pupil gaze at each other ‗with a lover‘s eye.‘‖61 For Maynard it was only through human love, including love ―in its form of passion,‖62 that the would-be believer understood God‘s love.63 She believed an erotically inflected love to be the context within which spiritual birth took place and early spiritual mentoring was conducted. Cases such as Maynard‘s suggest that contemporary evangelical notions of homosexuality as alien to the tradition or as the product of modern and degenerate discourses of sexuality are misplaced. Female homoeroticism was a product of Evangelicalism and, in an era in which women predominated in Evangelicalism and in which devotional friendships were homosocial, an unacknowledged female homoeroticism both structured and sustained Evangelicalism. The Evangelical discourse of the family was, however, the most significant nonregulatory mechanism to structure Maynard‘s same-sex desire. The mutual constitution of Evangelical discourses of literal marriage, motherhood, and the family on the one hand, and their spiritual counterparts on the other – the use of the earthly family as a metaphor for the 61  Mack, Religion of the Heart, 135, 142.  62  Autobiography, Part 7, Chapter 49, 1885, 139.  63  Here she resembled Mary Benson, whose ―intense Evangelical belief in a personal savior began in earthly love.‖ Vicinus, ―Gift of Love,‖ 242.  22  spiritual and vice versa – rendered the discourse of the literal family unstable. The representation of the believer‘s relationship with God as a father-child relationship and with Christ as a bride-bridegroom relationship, and the depiction of the church as the ―family of God,‖ provided a challenge to the literal family by allowing for the possibility that relationships within the spiritual family might trump earthly ones. Maynard‘s same-sex desire emerged as she took up the mother-daughter metaphor for her spiritual friendships along with the notion that it was through an erotically inflected love that individuals apprehended the love of God. Maynard‘s subsequent struggle with her ―besetting sin‖ led to the emergence of what I designate a ―homosexual subjectivity.‖ The necessity of combatting the attractions of ―human love‖ led to an unrelenting investigation of its nature; Maynard came increasingly to insist on the difference between her homoerotic desire and platonic notions of love. Eventually she turned to heterosexual discourse and ritual to argue for the sexual valence of her intimate samesex relationships, even while rejecting the love that characterized those relationships as inimical to her love of God. She came to an awareness of the sexual nature of her desire in the course of repudiating it; that awareness was, nevertheless, not cast in identitarian terms and is best characterized as a homosexual subjectivity rather than a homosexual identity. Maynard‘s religiously structured homosexual subjectivity contests the alignment of modernity with secularization; it also challenges the category ―modern sexuality.‖ Frank Mort notes that ―sexual theory is littered with reductionisms, they have proved simplistic because they fail to grasp the plurality of sexual systems and force disabling choices around polarised oppositions.‖64 These ―reductionisms‖ derive in part from the notion that Foucault aligned modern sexuality with sexual identity and juxtaposed the latter with the sexual acts that were the  64  Mort, Dangerous Sexualities, xx.  23  focus of his study of the earlier religious regulation of sexuality. 65 Eve Sedgwick has criticized New Historicist scholars for inadvertently replicating the teleological thinking of the Whiggish histories they seek to critique when they make rigid distinctions between sexual acts and identities, and position the latter as an advance on the former.66 Queer postcolonial scholars have extended this critique by drawing attention to the imperialism inherent in this teleology: the singular sexual identities that have come to define modern sexuality are western and are contrasted with the ostensibly less advanced, fluid, and less visible iterations of same-sex desire evident in non-western cultures.67 In response to both these criticisms, New Historicist David Halperin theorizes the present as sexually heterogeneous, comprised of diverse sexual practices and identities with varying genealogies.68 For historians of Victorian sexuality the question of what constitutes ―modern‖ sexuality has been complicated by the question of whether women‘s same-sex relationships were in fact sexual and how the term ―sexual‖ should be defined. Historians have debated whether the lack of textual evidence for female same-sex genital activity in the Victorian era reflects the lack of a concomitant practice and have asked whether the absence of public discourses of female samesex sexuality rendered it impossible for later Victorian women to understand and to pursue sexual relationships with one another. Vicinus‘s answer to these questions represents a growing  65  David Halperin believes this widely held reading of Foucault‘s History of Sexuality to be inaccurate; he suggests it represents Foucault‘s approach to sexology but not to homosexuality generally. David, M. Halperin, How to do the History of Homosexuality (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), 9. 66  Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, Epistemology of the Closet (Berkeley: University of California, 1990), 47, quoted in Halperin, History of Homosexuality, 10. 67  Gayatri Gopinath,―Homo-Economics: Queer Sexualities in a Transnational Frame‖ in Burning Down the House: Recycling Domesticity, ed. Rosemary Marangoly George (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1998), 102-24; Geeta Patel, ―Home, Homo, Hybrid: Translating Gender,‖ in A Companion to Postcolonial Studies, eds. Henry Schwarz and Sangeeta Ray (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers, 2000), 410-27. 68  Halperin, History of Homosexuality, 12. Here Halperin draws on Dipesh Chakrabarty‘s work on modernity and religion in ―Minority Histories, Subaltern Pasts‖ in Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 200), 97-113.  24  consensus in the field. She argues that ―erotic play was an integral part of [Victorian women‘s] lives‖69 and that expressions of the erotic ranged ―from the openly sexual, to the delicately sensual, to the disembodied ideal.‖70 Vicinus suggests that a pre-sexological censuring of female same-sex relationships as morbid, damaging, or ill-pursued led Victorian women to forego accounts of such relationships. Others scholars have noted that Victorian women generally (like most Victorian men) rarely wrote about genital sexuality in their diaries. Yet others have pointed to ostensibly non-genital sexuality, such as the sadomasochism of Victorian barrister Arthur Munby and maid-of-all-work Hannah Cullwick, and questioned whether genital sexuality should be the index against which sexual intercourse is defined.71 Debates regarding the sexual practices that accompanied the same-sex desire of Victorian women have contributed to variations amongst scholars regarding the appropriate terms with which to designate such women and their relationships. Thus, while Vicinus believes ―all categories and definitions must remain provisional,‖ she uses the term ―lesbian,‖ which she expands to include a ―range of activities and identities,‖ as a ―a convenient linguistic reminder that sex matters.‖72 Other historians, taking up the critique of identity inherent in queer theory – the notion promulgated by Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick and Judith Butler that the act of classifying 69  Vicinus, Intimate Friends, xix-xx. Early work on this question, by the historians Carroll Smith-Rosenberg and Lillian Faderman, yielded the answer that Victorian women‘s homosocial relationships, their ―romantic friendships,‖ were rarely sexual. The publishing of Anne Lister‘s diaries by Helena Whitbread in 1998 challenged Smith-Rosenberg‘s and Faderman‘s analyses; Lister described genital sexuality with women and kept a tally of the orgasms she experienced. In 2004 Martha Vicinus revisited the female friendships Faderman had studied and drew attention to articulations of sexual desire intrinsic to them. Carroll Smith-Rosenberg, ―The Female World of Love and Ritual: The Relations between Women in Nineteenth-Century America,‖ Signs 1, no. 1 (1975): 1-29; Faderman, Lillian. Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth-Century America (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), 11-36; Anne Lister, The Diaries of Anne Lister, 1791-1840, ed. Helena Whitbread (London: Virago, 1988); and Vicinus, Intimate Friends. 70  Vicinus, Intimate Friends, xx.  71  Sharon Marcus, Between Women: Friendship, Desire, and Marriage in Victorian England (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006), 43. See also Anne McClintock, Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest (New York: Routledge, 1995). 72  Vicinus, Intimate Friends, xxiii, xxii.  25  and categorizing homosexuals is intrinsic to their subjugation – reject the term ―lesbian‖ as an identitarian formulation. Joanna Dean, while not espousing queer theory, nevertheless echoes the approach of its practitioners, when she argues that the ―retroactive application [of the term ―lesbian‖] imposes a modern identity politics on a more multivalent past‖ and suggests of the relationship between the Anglo-Catholic Lily Dougall and Sophie Earp that it ―could no more be ‗romantic friendship‘ in the asexual terms of the mid-nineteenth century, than it could be a ‗lesbian‘ relationship in the highly sexualized terms of post-1928 modern lesbian identity.‖73 Maynard was well able to identify sexual desire. As early as 1872 she had pursued a flirtation with her cousin‘s husband, the St. Andrews Classics professor Lewis Campbell, and had come to an understanding of her own erotic power and of the possibly sexual valence of touching. She recognized parallels between the articulation of desire in this relationship and caressing, kissing, and sharing a bed in the later 1870s with Louisa Lumsden, her first female love; she described the effects of touch in both relationships as an ―electric thrill.‖74 She understood her capacity to awaken sexual desire in women; she described herself as inciting her love‘s sexual ardor, ― it was I, I who had lighted the fire.‖75 She was intent on distinguishing sexual desire from platonic love, and used a variety of terms to do this: ―[love] in its form of passion,‖76 ―passionate affection,‖77 ―strong personal love,‖78 ―thrill of excitement,‖79 and  73  Joanna Dean, Religious Experience and the New Woman: The Life of Lily Dougall (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2007), 72. 74  Greenbook, 30 December 1877, 270.  75  Autobiography, 1899, 448.  76  Autobiography, Part 7, Chapter 49, 1885, 139.  77  Autobiography, Part 7, Chapter 46, 1885, 58.  78  Greenbook, 28 June 1907, 173.  79  Autobiography, Part 5, Chapter 34, 1878, 355.  26  ―raptures.‖80 In a characteristic Victorian discourse of sexuality, she ultimately acknowledged that, in her relationship with Wakefield, the ―white rose‖ of purity had been supplanted by the ―red rose‖ of passion. 81 Maynard never understood her same-sex desire to represent the truth of herself or to constitute a sexual identity, however. Her homosexual subjectivity represents an articulation of Western female same-sex desire that cannot be classified using identitarian formulae. The queer theorist Judith Halberstam has coined the term ―perverse presentism‖ for a methodology in which the past throws into question accepted understandings of the present.82 Maynard‘s sexual subjectivity raises questions about the contemporary alignment of female same-sex desire with lesbianism; it suggests that other discourses of female same-sex desire may characterize contemporary western culture and disrupt the western privileging of discourses of sexual identity over sexual acts. In examining the relationship of religion, science, and modernity in the making of Maynard‘s dissident sexual subjectivity, this study is indebted not only to the work of Foucault but also to a number of more recent works in the field. Dixon challenges singular trajectories of secularization by demonstrating that the categories of analysis upon which it depends, and which we think of as ―either/or‖ – such as the secular and sacred or science and religion – were actually 80  Autobiography, Part 7, Chapter 46, 1883, 59. In the late 1890s she the same metaphor to describe heterosexual transgression and her own same-sex desire. See chapter five for a fuller discussion of this trope. 81  In this study I eschew the term ―lesbian‖ in order distinguish between Maynard‘s same-sex sexual subjectivity and contemporary sexual identity. I use the term ―same-sex sexuality‖ to denote genital sexuality between women, ―homosexual subjectivity‖ to denote Maynard‘s recourse to heterosexual discourse to validate a specifically sexual desire, and ―same-sex desire‖ or ―homoerotic desire‖ to denote a less clearly defined erotically inflected desire for women. Following Jeffrey Weeks, I use the term ―sexuality‖ in a broader sense than Foucault, to denote ―a general description for the series of historically shaped and socially constructed beliefs, behaviours, relationships, and identities.‖ Jeffrey Weeks, ―The Body and Sexuality‖ in Modernity: An Introduction to Modern Societies, ed. Stuart Hall, David Held, Don Hubert and Ken Thompson (Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1996), 368. 82  For Halberstam, Anne Lister‘s masculinity raises questions about the subordination of gender to sexuality in lesbian feminist representations of female masculinity. She notes: ―what we do not know for sure today about the relationship between masculinity and lesbianism, we cannot know for sure about historical relations between samesex desire and female masculinities.‖ Female Masculinity (Durham, N. C.: Duke University Press, 1998), 54.  27  often ‗both/and‖ for Victorians. 83 Richard Dellamora, pointing to the persistence of religious discourse in literary modernism, as evidenced in Radclyffe Hall‘s The Well of Loneliness, argues that the ―religious discourse of sexual difference stands in complex, ambivalent, often resistant relationship to sexological discourse. Chronologically, it can precede, parallel, dialogue with it, and contest the truths of emergent sexology.‖84 Wallace, turning to Edith Ellis, asserts that it was ultimately less Havelock Ellis‘s sexology that provided the explanatory framework for her same-sex sexuality than the esoteric spirituality of Edward Carpenter.85 She suggests that Ellis found Havelock‘s ―rationalist, ‗scientific‘ analysis a necessary but not sufficient way of understanding and representing the experience of being an invert.‖86 Cocks summarizes this new direction in the field when he argues that the history of sexuality should be read ―not as a simple story of secularization which is shaped by the death of religion, but one that is informed by a dialogue between the secular and the spiritual.‖87 If Maynard‘s homoeroticism emerged as a product of her Evangelicalism, and she did not engage overtly with sexological discourse, she nevertheless took up scientific discourse to understand sexuality, both her own same-sex desire and the ―deviant‖ sexuality of her adopted daughter Stephané Fazulo (―Effie Anthon‖). Natural theology – or the belief that God could be 83  Ruth Livesay, Socialism, Sex, and the Culture of Aestheticism in Britain, 1880-1914 (Oxford, 2007), 6, quoted in Dixon ―Your Clinging Kisses.‖ Dixon notes that Livesay is addressing the relationship between politics and aesthetics, but she argues that the same may be said for politics (and other categories) and religion. 84  Richard Dellamora, ―The Well of Loneliness and the Catholic Rhetoric of Sexual Dissidence,‖ in Catholic Figures, Queer Narratives, ed. Lowell Gallagher, Frederick S. Roden, and Patricia Juliana Smith (New York: Palgrave McMillan, 2007), 114. 85  Wallace, ―Edith Ellis,‖ 193.  86  Jo-Ann Wallace, ―‗How Wonderful to Die for What You Love‘: Mrs. Havelock Ellis‘s Love-Acre (1914) as Spiritual Autobiography,‖ paper presented at the Religion and Sexuality in Britain 1870-1930 Workshop held at the University of British Columbia, 27-30 August 2009, 10. 87  Cocks, ―Religion and Spirituality,‖158, my emphasis. Martha Vicinus anticipated this line of enquiry when in 1984 she observed that ―a major contribution of the sexologists, and perhaps one reason why they came to be accepted, was their vocabulary, which made it possible to describe the complex connections among spirituality, sexuality, and personal emotions.‖ Martha Vicinus, ―Distance and Desire: English Boarding-School Friendships,‖ Signs 9, no. 4 (Summer, 1984): 621.  28  known through nature and thus through scientific enquiry – was integral to Maynard‘s parents‘ Evangelicalism and her childhood was characterized by amateur scientific pursuits such as astronomy, geology, botany, and physiology. Maynard‘s attempt to synthesize Darwinism and Evangelicalism in the early years of the twentieth century attests to the esteem in which she held science. Her adoption of Fazulo in 1888, her discovery in the mid-1890s of Fazulo‘s purported sexual deviance (her masturbation), and her recourse to eugenic discourse to deter Fazulo from marrying, further illustrates the imbrication of science and religion in Evangelical discourses of sexuality. When, in 1915, Maynard started to write her autobiography, she turned to another scientific discourse, Freudian theory, to attempt to understand her homoerotic desire. This study thus