My
primary research interest in the eighteenth century right now is the
representation of cross-dressed women in the literature . One
of my favorite characters is that of Hannah Snell, a real life female
cross-dresser, whose story was written and published under the title, The Female Soldier, in 1747 in England.
One of the most popular images of Snell. |
Hannah
sailed the seas with the British marines, disguised as a man, and, according to
her story (she was illiterate, so her story is told by a, seemingly male,
narrator), her female sex was never discovered. Initially, she joins the army
in order to find her husband, who abandoned her when she was pregnant. After
she gives birth and her child dies, she decides to find him. She hears of his
being pressed into service (this was common in the 18th century as
Britain waged many wars and conquests without the resource of a standing army;
more about that when I discuss Peg Woffington and her turn as “The Female
Volunteer” next week!) and decides to join up herself in search of him.
While
on her travels, she sees the world, and eventually she fights at the Battle of
Pondicherry, India, where she is wounded with a groin wound. She manages to
escape being “discovered” by convincing a local woman (referred to in the text
as a “Black,” though this designation applies to the Indians of India in the
eighteenth-century) to give her some ointment for her wound.
As
with many of the “passing women” of the eighteenth century, Hannah must prove
herself with feats of strength—and flirtations with other women. She defends
the honor of several women in port who may have otherwise fallen in with some
of her fellow crewmen with evil intentions, and these women apparently find her
version of masculinity quite appealing.
A rather different image of Snell. |
Upon
her return, Hannah goes with her ship’s mates to the marine offices to prove
that she indeed served aboard ship and to collect her pay—which she does,
successfully. Afterwards, she appears in her uniform on stage at Sadler’s
Wells, performing her military exercises for money.
While
the text ends on a happy note, historians have found evidence that Snell
eventually re-married (rather unhappily) and died alone and in poverty (not unusual
for an interesting, independent woman of this period, unfortunately; the writer
Aphra Behn also died in pain and in poverty despite penning many fantastic
works of fiction, poetry and plays).
What
I find fascinating about the actual text of Snell’s tale are the narrative
contortions necessary to make Snell a virtuous woman but also a strong and
valiant character. She’s good at disguising herself (lying to others), but it’s
ok, because she’s doing it for a noble end. She’s deathly afraid of getting
raped aboard ship, but she’s also one of the toughest and strongest
crew members. Most interestingly for my research is the narrator’s insistence
that we understand exactly how she passed
despite being female-bodied. We never learn how she relieved herself aboard
ship in front of fellow crew-members, or how she hid her monthly menses, but we
get a blow by blow of how she dug out the bullet from her own groin at
Pondicherry to avoid dealing with a surgeon.
Similarly,
when Snell is to be whipped shirtless in front of the company for disobeying orders,
the narrator goes into detail about how she had small breasts, and how she wore
a bandanna, and how she stood with her arms held up and facing the wall, so no one could
tell she had breasts. Snell’s female-bodied-ness is central to the story, as it
establishes the need to stay hidden, it illustrates how much she wishes to
preserve her virtue, and it creates the central tension of the text. On the
other hand, this need to keep her true sex hidden leads her to flirt with other
women, women who, according to the text, seem to really, really like her. As a
man. Or something. The ambiguity, the possibility of reading women like Snell from many different angles, is part of what makes the study of 18th-century female cross-dressers so fascinating.
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