For Leopold von Ranke, the German historian who induced historians into archives in the nineteenth century, the historical records were virgins to whom he longed to have an access. He was not alone with his erotic fantasies about historical sources as feminized objects only waiting to be conquered by the heroic historians who championed the archives. This was a transnational fantasy: from France to Finland and Britain to Germany, men were aroused by the prospects the untouched sources held out for them. Feminizing history and its source material helped to gender historical research and was one component in the grand archive narrative that presented archives as physically trying spaces that demanded such endurance, fortitude, and strength that only men possessed. The archive discourse promoted a strong male body as a precondition for historical research. The sexually invested vocabulary of history and the fragile old records as feminine objects residing in the harem-cum-archive only waiting for men to conquer them accentuated historical research as an embodied and gendered practice. The erotic fantasies, mostly shared privately, were conducive to the forging of tight masculinist communities of historians.
As archives became the epicenter of historical research in the nineteenth century, it was crucial to stage them as manly spaces. Archivists introduced rules that either restricted or altogether prohibited women’s access to the archives because they feared that the collections might contain material that was unsuitable for feminine morality. The paternalistic concern about feminine sensibilities was not, however, the only reason to exclude women from the archives. There were rumors that some feared that women’s presence in the reading rooms distracted the men working in the same space – or even worse, their presence tempted men to exchange intellectual pursuits for carnal adventures. This, though, did not purge archives from sexually invested bodily seductions. Archives were rendered sexually charged spaces by discursively turning the documents, the traces of past, into objects of manly conquer. Accordingly, archives were imagined as harems filled with maidens only waiting for historians to come and take possession of them. Historians were physically tormented by the irresistible allure of archives. For Ranke, the sources were “princesses, possibly beautiful, all under a curse and needing to be saved.” After a long day in an archive, he recollected the “sweet magnificent fling with the object of my love, a beautiful Italian [document]” hoping that they could “produce a beautiful Roman-German prodigy.” Because of this, he rose the following day only at noon “completely exhausted.”
While Ranke directed his erotic gaze to the primary sources, some others were passionate about history itself. Oxford Professor Frederick York Powell admitted that had “no claim on the Historic Muse save that which a charmed and fascinated suitor imagines he has on a beautiful lady.” For another Oxford professor, Charles Oman, the past was the mistress of his life. In Sorbonne, Professor Alphonse Aulard imagined French Revolution, the subject of his studies, in terms that were mostly used for describing a wife. The Revolution, “she,” was for him someone who he had to take seriously and devote to for his entire lifetime. “She” contributed significantly to his intellectual and emotional happiness and “she” needed him to defend “her.” Aulard was not looking for a fleeting moment of passion, but a life-long relationship and his quest for a partner echoed the nineteenth-century bourgeois family values and gender hierarchies. History was like a wife – a source of happiness, yet passive and fragile in need of protection – and someone to whom Aulard as a well-educated man was expected to commit for his whole life.
For some historians, the allures of history caused internal struggle between split desires. The Finnish historian Henry Biaudet, specialist in the history of the Nordic Reformation, declared his love for the “maiden Cattolica.” The young virgin was submissive and compliant to his wishes, and, in other words, an ideal partner. Yet, at the same time he fantasized about a romantic attachment with “the luscious miss Slavia.” He knew that his infidelity could have infuriated the maiden Cattolica and lead, in the worst case, him being left entirely alone. Rivaling muses, unfaithfulness, and a need for sexual satisfaction were no strangers to Biaudet in real life either. His sexual innuendos were not limited to the maidens waiting for him in the archives. He tested the boundaries of acceptable male sexual behavior and was notorious for his ceaseless sexual appetite. Although the nineteenth-century double morality allowed men more levity in terms of sexual affairs, Biaudet’s case indicates that there were some boundaries for men as well and that he pushed them too far. While he lived in Rome with his research assistant and mistress, he was going through an ugly divorce case in Helsinki, had an illegitimate child with his sister-in-law, and engaged in boisterous sexual adventures during his archive expeditions. This was too much for many and his private life began to threaten his scholarly credibility.
It is well-known that the women who pursued a career in history around 1900 were judged both by their public and private lives. Many chose chastity as by staying single academic women could abolish any doubts about their propriety or lack of dedication to scholarship. Less attention has been paid to men who lost their scholarly reputation because of inappropriate conduct. Obviously, as in the case of Biaudet, scholarly credibility was endangered only when sexuality became excessive. Whereas historians could desire the historic maidens stored in archives, some degree of control over the masculine sexuality outside the reading rooms was considered essential for maintaining a scholarly reputation.
Nineteenth-century historians were astonishingly resourceful in creating metaphors for describing the daily routines and practices of historical research and the range of emotions and sensations historical endeavors provoked. While research was portrayed as a battlefield, construction site, or a harem, the choice of symbols created a powerful impression of history as a manly privilege. Whether historians used the fragile manuscripts for fighting a battle, constructing an edifice, or for seducing virgins, they inevitably outlined a historian as an embodiment of masculine virtues. It is this boundless creativity in defining a “historian” that makes the nineteenth-century historiography so intriguing.
Sources
The Papers of Per Olof von Törne, Åbo Akademi University Library.
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Elton, Oliver. Frederick York Powell: A Life and a Selection from his Letters and Occasional Writings, vol. 1 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906).
Oman, Charles. On the Writing of History (London: Methuen, 1939).
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Smith, Bonnie G. The Gender of History: Men, Women, and Historical Practice (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998).