Twentieth-century language for describing sexual behaviour (and even our tendency to prioritize sex as a leading human drive) does not fit the behaviour, or (which is all we have) the representations of behaviour of sixteenth-century males. No one in the early modern period would have defined themself as a homosexual, since the word only entered English in medical contexts in the 1890s; indeed, no one in the period would have sought to define their identity by their sexual activity. The language for describing same-sex sexual activity in the sixteenth century is full of what seems to us to be gaps. […] The act of intercourse between men was often described by the violently pejorative ‘sodomy’ or ‘buggery’, which were crimes punishable by death, and accusations of which were frequently linked with accusations of bestiality and treason. Enemies of the state and Catholic enemies of the state religion were likely also to be called ‘sodomites’. [..] The theatre is, indeed, the only institution in the period which can have any claim to have fostered anything which remotely resembled a same-sex subculture. But in early modern England male friends shared books, beds, and occasionally also women (and in the Universities it was common practice for students to share sleeping quarters with their Tutors). Men embraced and kissed each other with far greater freedom than most Anglo-Saxon males do now. […] Certainly, though, in learned circles there was a live acquaintance with Hellenic tolerance of pederasty. (Colin Burrow, Introduction to Shakespeare’s Sonnets, The Oxford Shakespeare Complete Sonnets and Poems, OUP 2002, 125–7)
Portrait of Sir Walter Raleigh
What Burrow is notably concerned with here is the question foremost in modern readers’ minds when they realise the fact that the majority of Shakespeare’s sonnets seem to address a male “you”: Good Lord, was the man gay?? This, too, busies the author of one of the better (though still rather simplistic) study guides to the sonnets on the web and
Rubens, Self-Portrait with Circle of Friends
you can tell from the prevarications of his syntax the degree of embarassment Anglo-Saxon males (to quote Burrow) feel now with the ambiguities and plain paradoxes of Elizabethan masculinities. Obviously, these men then were far more comfortable with expressing their love, admiration, and even possessiveness and jealousy towards one another, and could enjoy the tantalizing sexual innuendo this would bring. This does not make them effeminate or bisexual or gay, no matter the amount of lace, jewellery, pearls or earrings involved in their appearance (witness the above portrait of Sir Walter Raleigh in all his courtly splendour). But then, the 1590s were generally a time of striking personalities and events.
Montaigne’s essay On Friendship is another good reminder of the fact that men considered their relationship to their friends vastly superior to that to a woman (the mind being more superior to the body anyway…). Apart from a very few privileged noblewomen, no woman at the time could expect an adequate education; the best she could offer was external beauty and sex, maybe some natural shrewdness and cunning thrown in for good measure. (This, BTW, explains a great many of the problems contemporary males had with being ruled by a queen and why such rule could be considered unnatural!) When critics level the accusation of misogyny at Montaigne et al., it pays to recall that common women were by and large stupid.
Oh gosh, the portrait of Raleigh makes me choke. I wouldn’t have expected such a delicate appearance. I can hardly imagine this was absolutely normal back then and didn’t make him feel, well, awkward… Brilliant!
Elizabethan Mega-Bling! 😀