Full citation:Rivers, Christopher. 1995. “Safe Sex: The Prophylactic Walls of the Cloister in the French Libertine Convent Novel of the Eighteenth Century” in Journal of the History of Sexuality, Vol. 5, No. 3: 381-402
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This article focuses on the highly specific genre of 18th century French erotic “convent novels,” part of the larger genre of libertine literature. Within the field of libertine novels, clerical themes—especially those relating to nuns and convents—are more common than references to prostitution and brothels. Such works combine the double-taboo of sex and religion. And the focus on convents brings in a third transgressive element: lesbianism. The author argues that there are enough similarities of theme and content to declare the “libertine convent novel” an identifiable genre.
As a prototype for the genre, Venus dans le cloître (Venus in the cloister) adopts the “sexual initiation dialogue” format found in L’Escole des filles and transposes it to the convent, marking a “transition between seventeeth-century libertinism (free thought with respect to religious questions) and eighteenth-century libertinism (free religious thought combined with free sexual expression.” An extensive list of other works in the genre is given (only some of which are listed in the tags for this publication). But there seems to be an obligatory convent scene in most libertine novels of the era.
Why this particular thematic intersection? The author suggests such works are a targeted resistance to the religious and secular power structures of 18th century France, without being a reaction to any one specific event or factor. The form of the genre is relatively static across the era of its popularity, rather than dynamically commenting on specific circumstances. Why lesbianism? While depicting f/f sex simultaneously as titillating and forbidden, situating it in the convent also depicts it as “subordinate, contained within walls both literal and figurative.” It is both transgressive and unthreatening. On a philosophical level, the novels address the question of whether homosexuality is “natural” or perverted.
The author notes that, following the Foucaultian premise that repression creates eroticism, the convent as the most intense site of sexual repression becomes the “most highly charged site of pornographic fantasy.” In the premise that convents inevitably breed homosexuality, the Madonna/whore distinction is erased and anti-clerical and misogynistic forces are bound together. While other single-sex venues, such as the Ottoman harem, also attracted erotic same-sex fantasies, these were set apart from the everyday experience of the French reader, whereas everyone would know at least one person with connections to the convent.
The texts themselves express the concept that, in shutting sex out, convents necessarily shut it in as well. Erotic impulses that cannot be denied entirely are focused inward, invisible to the outside world. The imagined female sexual pedagogy of L’Escole des filles is acted out between a novice and an older nun, with no waiting heterosexual outlet for the knowledge and expertise. The initiation into sexual pleasure is accompanied by indoctrination into libertine philosophy, including the questioning of all religious authority. This pedagogical context is reinforced within the text as religious mentors recommend to their novice-pupils specific real-life titles in the genre of sexual instruction. As convents of the time served as a site of scholarship and literacy for young women, the two themes blend seamlessly. The philosophical principles align with Enlightenment valorization of “nature,” arguing that as Nature bestowed sexual desire on women, it is acceptable—even necessary—to respect and act on that desire. Most typically, sexual instruction is not predatory (although there are exceptions) but comes in the form of an awakening and recognition of existing desires.
In these novels, the connection between lesbianism and the convent goes both ways: convents inevitably give rise to lesbians, but references to lesbianism (in the novels) inevitably include some connection to convents. (A connection that remained in the popular imagination well into the 19th century.)
In parallel with all the above, lesbianism within the convent is depicted as “a harmless, pleasurable, and necessary substitute…for heterosexual sex.” Regardless of how much the nuns enjoy themselves, there is an inevitable nod to how much better it would be if they had access to men. The younger secular “pupils” often end their stories longing for their release from the convent to the joys of marriage. If they return afterwards to their female lovers, it is to recount their heterosexual adventures. (There are, of course, inherent contradictions in this, as the erotic context of these recountings continues to be a homosexual one.)
Thus, in contrast with the internal philosophical arguments that desire is natural and must be obeyed, same-sex desire is alleged to be “unnatural” in that it is provoked and satisfied only by the constraints of the convent that exclude the possibility of heterosexual encounters. This satisfies any potential anxieties in the audience that non-cloistered women might be engaging in lesbianism from preference.
The conversations within the convent call what they’re doing “foolishness” and “play.” But the clear framing within libertine literature of lesbianism as the most transgressive sex imaginable contradicts this supposed triviality. (Male homosexuality is, of course, even more transgressive but appear to be far less “imaginable” within the context of libertine literature of the day.)
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