All the World’s a Stage: Georgian Masquerades and England’s First Drag Queen
Words by Lizzy Jones
“A masquerade at the Pantheon in Oxford Street, London”, Thomas Rowlandson and Augustus Charles Pugin, 1809.
While ideas surrounding the fluidity of gender and identity may seem more at home in modern history, they played a key role in the rapidly changing cultural landscape of Georgian England. Most significantly, large-scale masquerades emerged during the 1720s in London. While these masquerades were social events, where people from all classes could mix, their primary function was as a form of public entertainment. With elaborate costumes, disguised identities, debauchery, and sexually charged atmospheres, they were a place where people could detach from their identity and escape social rules. This included traditional gender roles, with cross-dressing being particularly common. One of the most prominent figures was a drag queen known as Princess Seraphina.
“Masquerade ticket”, (a satirical pretend admission ticket showing debauched characters), William Hogarth, 1727, Lewis Walpole Library.
Women and Masks
The masquerade’s popularity began with a small-scale trend of fashionable, upper-class women wearing half-masks, initially seasonally to protect themselves from the cold, but even these half-masks gave a feeling of anonymity. Soon, seasonal protection became a pretence and this trend developed seasonal half-masks into year-round full masks, still only worn by women, and allowing them to behave far more freely. While masks were used to hide identity, they were also used to remove yourself from your surroundings. It was believed that the face was readable and everything about a person could be ascertained from their features. By replacing these with the mask’s impersonal, unmoving expression, they could remove that layer of intimacy. This allowed women to sidestep the strict rules about interactions with the opposite sex, the two not being allowed to converse unless having been already introduced. The mask acted as a shield, making communication between the two sexes possible without overstepping improper levels of intimacy. It also granted women more autonomy over who they could interact with beyond the social circle introduced to them by their male relatives. The mask by nature was contrary, inviting conversation while being a deterrent to intimate connection; it protected a woman’s moral integrity yet made it possible for them to do immoral things which would place them in danger of being accused of impropriety. It is therefore no wonder that this enigmatic accessory became the centre of Georgian social performance and entertainment.
“The Beauty Unmask’d”, (a young woman in her masquerade costume) Philip Dawe, 1770, Lewis Walpole Library.
Masquerades and Performance
As masks grew in popularity, rules were imposed which restricted the wearing of them to theatres and parks. As such, these places became sites of performance, with the mask granting you the anonymity of either taking part in, or more commonly watching, the audience who were freed from social rules which dictated their interactions. While masks were still limited to women, men similarly anonymised themselves by hiding behind a newspaper or looking through opera glasses. Yet the negative connotations of immoral behaviour associated with the wearing of the mask meant they soon stopped being used as daily accessories.
In the 1720s the wearing of masks by both genders grew in popularity and was formalised by institutionalised masquerades, one of the most popular being Count Heidegger’s ‘Midnight Masquerades’ which was attended by 700-800 people each week from all different walks of life. Here, the performance was amplified as it became a popular form of entertainment. Regular detailed-press reports would allow those who didn’t attend to still enjoy them and it is not a stretch to say that the interactions and events at these parties were story-like and almost fictional in how they were constructed. Codes for verbal communication dictated that the phrases “I know you?” or “Do you know me?” were used to commence a conversation and characters were created which regularly appeared in the news reports.
A view of the dresses at the late masquerade given by the King of Denmark, John Lodge, 1768, Lewis Walpole Library.
Costumes ensured the complete disguise of body and face, so it was never sure who you were interacting with. For the upper class this brought along a fear they would disgrace their families by being in the wrong company and for women there was the risk they would be accused of immoral behaviour, yet this only contributed to the atmosphere of conspiracy and mystery integral to the masquerade. The environment was also highly erotic. The body was emphasised over the hidden face and anonymity allowed people to violate social norms. Costumes were expected to include an element which opposed a person’s essential feature, such as duchesses dressing up as milkmaids. This detachment from identity was believed to be a detachment from morality. It is important to acknowledge that masquerades were not isolated from global events and with colonial advances, foreign costumes became popular. This included dressing up as other races as a sign of imperialistic pride. It also added to the threat that masquerades generally posed to social categorization. Intrigue, mystery, danger, and eroticism, while highly criticised by middle-class moralists, were all essential to the story and performance created during masquerades.
“A Masquerade”, Laurie and Whittle, 1795, Lewis Walpole Library.
Cross-dressing and Drag Queens
The expected antithesis of costumes also led to experimentations with gender and cross-dressing. Men would disguise themselves as witches, nursing maids and shepherdesses, while women would go as hussars, sailors, and cardinals. It allowed women to go unattended and explore the positive nature of sex and their sexuality. Cross-dressing was also closely connected to homosexuality. ‘Molly houses’ rose in popularity during the 18th century, the name coming from the nickname ‘mollies’ given to gay men. They were spaces where gay men could gather, drink, and connect, becoming the centre of Britain's drag culture, with many iconic drag names such as Miss Conveniency and Blood-bold Nan. Often the performers would be called their drag name even out of drag and would be referred to with she/her pronouns by members of the public. It is likely that several were transgender yet could not fully proclaim their identification as women due to public disapproval. Princess Seraphina was the first identifiable drag queen in English history. John Cooper was a gentleman’s servant and a messenger for mollies, Princess Seraphina being the name they were christened with in the Molly houses. In one prominent court document in which the Princess was charging a man, Thomas Gordon, with stealing their clothes, one witness states: “I have seen her several times in Women’s Cloaths, she commonly us’d to wear a white Gown … with her Hair frizzled and curl’d all round her Forehead; and then she would so flutter her Fan, and make such fine Curt’sies, that you would not have known her from a Woman.” Many other testifiers also refer to the Princess in this way. Despite the Princess being acknowledged as a molly in court, there is no proof they were ever prosecuted. If you are interested in finding more about this court case, I encourage you to read the transcription linked below.
Masquerades are particularly unique in their detachment from social norms yet are incredibly revealing of attitudes and the collective consciousness of this time, with the construction of their performance revealing fears around social hierarchy. Moreover, cross-dressing wasn’t just isolated to these events, and forms a key part of English Queer history with the start of drag culture and performances.
Trial between Princess Seraphina and Thomas Gordon: http://rictornorton.co.uk/eighteen/seraphin.htm.
