Cross-Dressing and its Meaning ca 1900

I can forgive Vicinus for starting off by claiming that much of the historical work on cross-dressing men has focused on the theater and especially on Shakespeare’s works, only because this article was written before much of the work on gender-crossing and trans history has been done. She’s looking at the couple of decades around 1900, a time when understandings of gender and sexuality were undergoing one of those periodic revolutions. The instability of how to read “male impersonation” came from both the multiplicity of framings of the act itself and the attitude of the viewer. Although the act of male impersonation was situated within heterosexuality, like all theatrical cross-dressing, it raised the illusion (or threat) of same-sex desire. A “third category” as Marjorie Garber descries it that challenges the gender binary by its existence. But the popularity of impersonation acts points to a more complex response than the creation of a “category crisis.”

Although theorists like Butler focus on the fluidity of gender presentation, theatrical performance allowed for a fairly narrow range of stereotypical roles. Female impersonation betrays misogyny in focusing on the contrasting roles of “old hag” and “sexy beauty.” In contrast, the male impersonator role is almost always a young dandy, often one pretending to greater sexual experience (in contrast with the supposed “innocence” of the performer). The male impersonator retains enough femininity to be attractive to men, while presenting enough masculinity to be attractive to women.

The article looks at the careers and reception of three performers: Vesta Tilley’s music hall act, Sarah Bernhardt’s stage performances, and as a contrast, the fictional work The Heavenly Twins by Sarah Grand. [Note: I confess to some concern about how useful such a limited study can be for generalizations.] The analysis will conclude with a consideration of backlash against male impersonation acts in the context of the suffrage movement and the use of satirical accusations of masculinity, as well as the adoption of certain elements of male impersonation as part of early lesbian culture.

One popular context for Victorian-era male impersonation was comic music hall performances, as part of an ongoing tradition of theatrical cross-dressing that persists to the current day in the pantomime role of the “principal boy” who plays a romantic role opposite a female performer. At various eras, the fashion for the principal boy role might be a young, pre-pubescent woman or a woman with a mature figure that created greater contrast with the role. Part of the appeal of the role was the opportunity to see a female body exposed in form-fitting clothing. There was generally no attempt to create a realistic male impression—audience knowledge was an assumed part of the performance. At the same time, plots revolved around the (superficially heterosexual) romantic adventures (and success) of the performer. In the same era, when taken off stage, a similar cross-gender presentation was viewed as deviance and—increasingly—a symptom of homosexuality.

Vesta Tilley was a music hall performer across the turn of the 20th century, corresponding with the rise of the women’s movement. Performances were often filled with sexual innuendo, aimed at both male and female audience members. The most popular character type was the “swell,” a happy-go-lucky man about the town, interested in fashion and entertainment and spurning the thought of settling down into respectability. Tilley attributed some of her success to keeping a lid on the more risqué elements and appealing to a more respectable female audience (thought this claim in her memoirs may have been edited for posterity). Somewhat complicating the issue of universal sexual attraction of the character, the figure of the beautiful young “swell” was also linked to male homosexual culture. Thus all possible combinations of gender and orientation could be triggered by the male impersonator. This aspect, Vicinus suggests, may have contributed to the tendency of (male) journalists to avoid describing the eroticism of such performances. Women, on the other hand, were Tilley’s most ardent fans, expressing an eroticized adoration in letters and notes. Theatrical masculinity, such as Tilley’s, provided a sartorial model for lesbian culture in contexts and at a time when gender-passing was not a preferred option.

Sarah Bernhardt was one of a number of actresses famed for her “travesti” roles, as well as being famed for unconventional female roles. She played young tragic heroes, such as Hamlet, well into her 50s. She developed roles that avoided romantic scenes, while depicting weak, vacillating heroes who must succeed against the dominating villains through female-coded strategies. (There are detailed descriptions of her roles and the plots of the relevant plays.) Like the music hall stars, Bernhardt attracted adoring female fans who longed to imitate her dramatic style. Unlike Tilley, we have direct documentation that her fan club included prominent Parisian lesbians, such as Natalie Barney. Theatrical masculinity (but not actual gender disguise) became an element of erotic play in lesbian circles, documented with staged photos and performances. Bernhardt was also a cult icon among male homosexuals, some of whom adopted her feminine-tinged style.

In fiction, cross-dressing takes a different form in the 19th century. Rather than the earlier motifs of cross-dressed women provoking the romantic interest of women, in this era they pursue and declare their love for men, creating a male homoerotic illusion rather than a female one. We get a detailed presentation of the plot of The Heavenly Twins, in which—in addition to several plots about doomed women in relationships with dissolute men—we have the proverbial “convenient twin siblings” except that both are the (married) Angelica, who pursues a professional singer in male disguise, visiting him at night and teasing him about his love for Angelica. The disguise is revealed during a boating accident, the singer takes ill and dies, and Angelica returns to her husband. Vicinus examines the various possible erotic combinations implied in the scenario, as well as comparing the descriptions of the cross-dressed performance to music hall fashions. But in contrast to the music hall characters, suggestions of same-sex desire within the plot are confused. Angelica loves the singer, the singer loves her. When the disguised Angelica is approached by a prostitute she responds with horror. The disguised Angelica teases the singer but is treated with paternal affection—though in a form that takes other meanings when considered in light of pedophilic grooming. Vicinus, confusingly, argues that the scenario could be viewed as “groping toward an expression of lesbian love” which I find to be a bit of a stretch. (She’s basing this on the singer being presented as passive and the disguised Angelica as assertive.) The author seems to have had no transgressive intent, and claimed that the purpose of the novel was to highlight the dangers of venereal disease and to promote sexually pure marriage. So who knows?

Vicinus shifts to discussing the male-coded stylings of suffragists, in their tailored tweed suits and sturdy boots. The press treated this as an attempt to usurp male power, mocked the fashion, and accused suffragists of being lesbians, with their dress as evidence. Of course, some suffragists were lesbians, and many lesbians were adopting mannish styles to varying degrees. The conjunction had an influence on popular taste in theater and fiction, as male impersonation was becoming ever more strongly associated with homosexuality, and more “innocent” gender impersonation motifs became less popular.