Representations of Same-Sex Love in Public History By Claire Louise HAYWARD A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy Kingston University November 2015 2 Contents Page Abstract 3 Acknowledgements 4 List of abbreviations 6 Introduction 7 Chapter One ‘Truffle-hounding’ for Same-Sex Love in Archives 40 Chapter Two Corridors of Fear and Social Justice: Representations of Same-Sex Love in Museums 90 Chapter Three Echoes of the Past in Historic Houses 150 Chapter Four Monuments as les lieux de mémoire of Same-Sex Love 194 Chapter Five #LGBTQHistory: Digital Public Histories of Same-Sex Love 252 Conclusion 302 Appendix One 315 Questionnaire Appendix Two 320 Questionnaire Respondents Bibliography 323 3 Abstract This thesis analyses the ways in which histories of same-sex love are presented to the public. It provides an original overview of the themes, strengths and limitations encountered in representations of same-sex love across multiple institutions and examples of public history. This thesis argues that positively, there have been many developments in archives, museums, historic houses, monuments and digital public history that make histories of same-sex love more accessible to the public, and that these forms of public history have evolved to be participatory and inclusive of margnialised communities and histories. It highlights ways that Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans*, Queer (LGBTQ) communities have contributed to public histories of same-sex love and thus argues that public history can play a significant role in the formation of personal and group identities. It also argues that despite this progression, there are many ways in which histories of same-sex love remain excluded from, or are represented with significant limitations, in public history. This thesis shows that the themes of balancing trauma and celebration, limited intersectionality, complex terminology, shared authority and the ghettoisation of same-sex love have emerged across a variety of public history types and institutions. It discusses examples of successful and limited representations of same-sex love in order to suggest ways that public history can move forward and better represent such histories. 4 Acknowledgements First and foremost, my thanks go to my supervisor, Dr Nicola Phillips. Nicola has guided me through undergraduate, MA and now PhD study, and has been the most supportive, patient and encouraging supervisor I could have wished for. This thesis would not have been possible to conceive of, let alone write, without her. I am indebted to her for making this PhD both enjoyable and challenging to write. Thanks also to my colleagues and former lecturers in the History Department at Kingston University for their support and guidance throughout my time at Kingston, and thanks to Sue Hawkins for her help and advice. Also at Kingston, my thanks go to Liz Goodacre for her help and Patricia Phillippy and Frances White for advice and feedback on parts of this thesis. Many public historians have helped this thesis; my thanks in particular go to all of those in museums who responded to my questionnaire. Many of them took time and effort to respond with thoughtful and challenging ideas and comments. Special thanks to Josie Sykes and Meg McHugh from the Museum of Science and Industry and Vicky Garrington from Edinburgh Museums and Galleries for taking time to meet and talk with me. My thanks also go to Sarah Demb at the Museum of London. Staff at the many museums and historic houses I visited were incredibly helpful. My thanks in particular go to staff at the GLBT Museum and the historic houses I visited for their conversations and insights. Thanks also to Stephen Watson and Rose Collis of Brighton Pink Plaques for sharing their knowledge and permission to use their words and images. Several people kindly shared their work with me; thanks to Gabrielle Bourn, Stewart Burzio and Alan Butler for their conversations and help. 5 My thanks also go to wonderful colleagues in public history and the history of sexuality, who have shared their ideas and allowed me to share mine at conferences and online. Thanks in particular to editors at History Matters, Notches, Emotional Objects and History@Work. Thanks also to Justin Bengry, Sean Curran and Tasha Alden who have asked me to speak and write about my research. Finally, thanks to my family and friends for their support over the last few years. Thanks Dad, Helen and Maddy for their support, encouragement and understanding – but Dad, I can’t promise I won’t always be a student. Huge thanks to Jessica Carvalheira and her family for putting me up in San Francisco, and thanks to Caleb ‘Lynette’ Guzman for making the trip even more special. My eternal thanks go to my wonderful friends who not only made the last few years easier and more fun than it should have been, but also read and commented on my work. Thanks to my sister in solidarity Danny Kemsley, who was a wealth of joy and wonder from across the classroom, the flat, and remains so now from across the sea. Thanks and all my fruity love to Adam Spawton-Rice, Emily Spacie and Emma Knock for everything; their support and mockery has been endless and joyful. Lastly, my thanks go to Sylvain Padiolleau, whose love and support made this possible and enjoyable, and of whom I am immeasurably proud. Pensons à l’avenir. Note on images The images in this thesis are copyright of the author unless otherwise stated. With thanks to Rose Collis, Stephen Watson, Emma Knock and Emily Spacie for kind permission to use their images. 6 List of abbreviations AHD Authorized Heritage Discourse GLBT Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Trans* (US) LGBT Lesbian Gay, Bisexual, Trans* LGBTQ Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans*, Queer LAGNA Lesbian and Gay Newsmedia Archive LHA Lesbian Herstory Archives LMA London Metropolitan Archives TNA The National Archives 7 Introduction From the depths of Reading Gaol in 1897, Oscar Wilde penned a lengthy letter to his lover, Lord Alfred ‘Bosie’ Douglas, whilst serving two years of hard labour for ‘gross indecency’. The letter was never sent to Lord Douglas but was later published as De Profundis by Wilde’s friend and sometime lover Robbie Ross in 1905. In De Profundis, Wilde reflected on his time in prison, his life with Lord Douglas, the recent death of his mother and his torment at his public disgrace. He wrote that he had disgraced the name his mother and father had bequeathed him. Wilde lamented that his parents had made the name ‘Wilde’, ‘noble and honoured, not merely in literature, art, archaeology, and science’, but also, ‘in the public history of my own country, in its evolution as a nation.’1 Now, over a century since he was imprisoned, it is Wilde himself whose name is considered noble and honoured, in the public history of his own country, Ireland, the UK, and also in the public history of same-sex love. When Wilde wrote De Profundis, ‘public history’ was not an academic field. His referral to Ireland’s ‘evolution as a nation’ suggests that Wilde’s meaning of ‘public history’ was the popularly known history and shared cultural heritage of his place of birth. It signifies that who we are as individuals, communities, societies and nations is informed by our knowledge and understanding of the past. This thesis analyses how histories of same-sex love, including Wilde’s, are presented to and created by non-academics, ‘the public’. In doing so, it shows that public 1 Oscar Wilde, ‘De Profundis’, in The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde, Introduced by Merlin Holland¸ 7th Edition (London: Harper Collins Publishers, 2003), pp. 980-1059, p.1010. 8 understandings of the past are, like Wilde’s interpretation of public history, tied up in our evolution as a nation. This thesis shows that public history has a role to play in telling, showing, and engaging members of the public in histories of same-sex love and Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans*, Queer (LGBTQ) communities today. It uses examples of archives, museums, historic houses, monuments and digital technology to analyse the different ways that the public encounters histories of same-sex love. This is not an exhaustive analysis of all forms of public history, but aims to provide a comparison of representations of same-sex love. Other formats of public history that are not included are, for example, films, television and radio broadcasts and biographies. The examples of public history discussed are all visitable; from an archive to a website, they are all user focused. This thesis argues that representations of same-sex love in public history matter. Equally the silences that exist in public histories of same-sex love matter. Both John Tosh and Gerda Lerner have discussed at length why history matters. Lerner in particular showed that not having a history mattered, that the invisibility of women’s history had (and often continues to have) a detrimental impact on women as individuals and as a collective group.2 In a similar way, not having a history of same-sex love in public history, whether a representation in a large museum or the smallest inscription on a monument, matters. Indeed, as Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick has argued, any form of modern Western culture that does not include any attempt to understand and critique sexualities is ‘not 2 Gerda Lerner, Why History Matters, (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 1997). See in particular, Chapter 11, ‘Why History Matters’, pp. 199-211. See also John Tosh, Why History Matters, (Baskingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008). 9 merely incomplete, but damaged in its central substance.’3 Returning to Wilde’s words, what does it say about our evolution as a nation, an inclusive and diverse society, when histories of same-sex love continue to be marginalised? This thesis highlights both positive developments and ways in which representations of same-sex love remain at best limited and, at worst, exclusive and wilfully ignorant.