PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 Gender Inversions and Transgressive Bodies: A Queer Reading of Madame de Murat’s “Le Sauvage” N ANCY A RENBERG U NIVERSITY OF A RKANSAS At the close of the seventeenth century, Henriette-Julie de Castelnau was an active participant of the conteuses, a group of fairy-tale writers that included Madame d’Aulnoy, Mlle Bernard, Mlle Lhéritier, and Mlle de La Force (among others). Despite the fact this literary genre was considered minor, these innovative, accomplished women composed two-thirds of the fairy tales published in France between 1697-1710. 1 Although relatively unknown, Madame de Murat was a prolific writer who published two volumes of fairy tales: Contes de fées (1698) and Les Nouveaux contes des fées (1698). In addition, her body of work was quite diverse, as Murat composed a variety of prose texts, including short stories, a journal, and an experimental text, Voyage de campagne (1699), which sustained her interest in the supernatural, infused with magic. It is worth noting that one of her most compelling literary creations was her Mémoires de M me la comtesse de M*** avant sa retraite, servant de réponse aux mémoires de M. St-Évremond (1697). In her extensive study of Murat’s published works, Geneviève Clermidy-Patard underscores the importance of this text, as it lays the groundwork for the author’s literary project— her interest in the feminine condition. A key aspect of Murat’s objective, outlined in the preface to her memoirs, is her collective defense of women. As Patard points out, her volume of memoirs can be read as an autofiction, as she fuses authentic parts of her own life story with a fictional component (41-42). In essence, Murat wrote to defend herself from widespread calumny 1 For a detailed history of the fairy-tale genre and the role of the conteuses, see Raymonde Nancy Arenberg PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 214 and misogyny because she was accused of numerous scandals, revolving around lesbian relationships, gambling, and other deviant sexual activities. In 1702, she was arrested and banished to a castle in Loches because she supposedly engaged in the “désordre” of lesbian love affairs. 2 David Robinson has examined the police reports conducted by the Parisian lieutenant general of police, René D’Argenson, who wrote a detailed account of Murat’s “monstrous attachment to persons of her sex.” (53). 3 With these accusations swirling around her, it is no surprise that Murat’s memoirs reflect her position against the injustice aimed at women, and, in turn, the negative portrayal of the feminine condition. The author’s proto-feminist stance permeates her fairy tales, exemplified by the creation of transgressive, audacious women who refuse to succumb to the conventional patriarchal structure that prevailed during the Classical Age. This essay focuses on the construction of sex roles, with a focus on gender inversions and corporeal transgression in “Le Sauvage,” an intriguing and intricately crafted tale. From the opening pages of the text, the protagonist, Constantine, engages in gender switching by cross-dressing to escape an arranged marriage with an undesirable partner. To provide insight on crossdressing and the appropriation of the masculine, contemporary theoretical approaches to exploring the complexity of gender issues will be interpolated into the analysis. Judith Butler’s and Marjorie Garber’s theories on crossdressing and sexual identities are illuminating to consider the deeper implications of the performative aspects of gender inversions. As a critical part of this study on gender reversals in the tale, we will consider current ideologies related to queer identities, with emphasis on the fairy-tale genre. Scholars such as Lewis Seifert, Kay Turner, and Pauline Greenhill have written exclusively on “queering” the fairy tale, which reveals a fascinating postmodern aspect concealed within the narrative. It is the combination of queer elements and Murat’s proto-feminist position that highlights the subversive features of the narrative, as will be shown. It is useful to begin by looking at some of the seminal critical theories on cross-dressing and gender switching, since these aspects are not only germane to the architectonics and setting of “Le Sauvage” but are interwoven into the rich fabric of the tale. In Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble, she notes that gender 2 Geneviève Clermidy-Patard proves a thorough study of Madame de Murat’s scandalous experiences and other transgressive personal experiences in her recent monograph entitled Madame de Murat et la défense des dames (Classiques Garnier, 2023) 19-20. 3 David Robinson examines the representation of lesbianism in the early modern period in “The Abominable Madame de Murat,” Journal of Homosexuality 41.3 (2018) 53-56. Gender Inversions and Transgressive Bodies PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 215 is “performative—that is, constituting the identity it is purported to be. In this sense, gender is always a doing” (25). In other words, the concept of gender identity is malleable or fluid, and, at times, seemingly ambiguous, thereby creating a space in which fictional characters can not only appropriate the opposite sex but engage in a prolonged theatrical performance. Butler views these types of performances as an act, a dramatic one revolving around the construction of alternative identities (139-140). From a cultural angle, Garber provides further insight on cross-dressing. Mirroring Butler, she views cross-dressing as a construction and a dramatic performance, creating gender confusion. In particulier, Garber emphasizes the pivotal role that clothing plays in cross-dressing: “clothes are but a symbol of something hid deep beneath” (135). This symbolic notion seems to point to the possibility of switching sexual identities. Above all, the body can be viewed as a surface, a blank canvas that is inherently flexible and can adapt to either feminine or masculine apparel. These postmodern theories on the gender implications of cross-dressing as a dramatic performance are germane to Murat’s protagonist, Constantine, a young princess who has three unattractive sisters: Disgrâce, Douleur, and Désespoir. Throughout the tale, the theme of ugliness is opposed to beauty, shown by the king’s reference to his three undesirable daughters as magottes and monstres (80). Nevertheless, he succeeds in marrying them off before their miracle daughter is born, Constantine, a striking beauty, cast in sharp contrast to her hideous sisters. It is important to consider the author’s choice of names for the three sisters, as it mirrors her philosophy on the negative view of women during the Classical Age, while highlighting her pessimistic outlook on the feminine condition, a viewpoint seen in fairy tales such as “Anguillette,” and “Peine Perdue” (among other tales). At the same time, the choice of these three names seems to be emblematic of the feminine condition. To clarify, the author’s pessimism is represented by feminine oppression emanating, in this fairy tale, from the authoritarian king. When the princess’s father, King Richardin, finds Constantine a suitor, a man without wealth or a title, the courageous protagonist decides to flee the kingdom to escape her inevitable fate as an unhappy bride. With no reservations, she asks her mother, Queen Corianthe, to offer her assistance: “donnez-moi un habit d’homme, et sous ce déguisement je chercherai dans un pays éloigné une mort honorable, que je préférerai toujours à une vie honteuse” (84). 4 In response to her daughter’s request, her mother outfits her with masculine clothing so she can more readily flee the kingdom and set sail 4 All of the quotations are taken from Madame de Murat’s “Le Sauvage,” Contes de fees queer. (Rivages, 2024). Subsequent references to this fairy tale are incorporated into the text. Nancy Arenberg PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 216 to another country. The acquisition of this virile disguise signals a key transgression on the princess’s part, as she not only rejects her father’s plan for her future but establishes a path that might provide her with some autonomy (albeit limited). There is another interesting aspect here related to the author’s pre-feminist stance, shown by the role Constantine’s mother plays in her escape. In saving her daughter from being chained to an undesirable partner, the theme of feminine solidarity is underscored, as seen in many of Murat’s fairy tales, but it is not restricted to fairies assisting young women in distress. On the contrary, the author develops the empowering connections between women; they are often cast as mothers and other feminine figures who offer aid and guidance to younger women. As a loyal ally, Queen Corianthe conceals her knowledge regarding her daughter’s unexpected disappearance from her husband who suspects she knows what became of their absent daughter. Upon her arrival in Sicily, the author develops the network of feminine support, as an elegantly attired fairy encounters Constantine who is asleep in a dense forest. The beautiful fairy awakens her and gifts her with a magic horse to swiftly carry her to safety. It is Embletin that will guide the displaced princess to a place where she can seek asylum. Disguised as a man, Constantine arrives at the court of Sicily and immediately changes her name to Constantin to meet the king and his sister Fleurianne. It is important to point out that Constantine’s gender performance is convincing, as no one questions her “male” appearance. But most of all, Constantine’s masquerade reveals some fascinating gender implications, for this display of cross-dressing highlights the fluidity of appropriating the sexual identity of the opposite sex. As Butler observes, “gender itself becomes a free-floating artifice, with the consequence that man and masculine might just as easily signify a female body as a male one, and woman and feminine a male body as easily as a male one” (6). To broaden the perspective, Garber posits that “Cross-dressing is about the power of women” (390). In taking on a masculine identity as Constantin, the princess acquires agency, pivoting from her authentic feminine self to present herself as a heroic warrior, as will be demonstrated before the king and his sister. With warmth and enthusiasm, the king welcomes this intriguing stranger to Sicily, assuring Constantin that he will have his protection in his kingdom. Garbed as Constantin, he does not conceal the truth of his origins, as he states he is from the island of Tercères but finds himself in a disadvantaged position, thus is bereft of material necessities. As the king’s guest, Constantin is the recipient of an array of clothing, embellished with luxurious fabrics and vibrant colors. This initial encounter between Constantin and the king reveals an interesting reaction to the stranger’s presence, revolving around clothing, which accentuates his Gender Inversions and Transgressive Bodies PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 217 striking features. As the author describes it, “Les habits magnifiques dont il fut revêtu relevèrent encore sa beauté et sa bonne mine; le roi était charmé des belles manières de ce nouveau gentilhomme, mais la princesse Fleurianne, sa soeur, ne se lassait point de l’admirer” (89). This passage suggests that the king is not only charmé but enchanted by Constantin’s physical transformation into sartorial finery, an illusion to his veiled homoerotic attraction for the young visitor. In concert with her brother, Fleurianne admires Constantin but finds herself strangely drawn to him because of his alluring appearance. This pivotal scene has significant textual implications, as it contains alternative interpretations of gender constructions, which invite readers to “read against the grain” (16). 5 To delve into this notion, it is useful to consider the marvelous aspect of the fairy-tale genre. In general, Kay Turner and Pauline Greenhill note that the structural frame of fairy tales carves out a space for enchantment and fantasy, thereby allowing for unusual or non-conventional situations to occur, including nontraditional love relationships. In his work on the queer aspects of fairy tales, Seifert provides a definition of how the term queer applies to the fairy-tale genre. According to him, queer references genders and sexualities that resist normative categories such as masculine-feminine, heterosexual-homosexual, dominant-submissive, etc (16). Mirroring Seifert’s ideology, Turner and Greenhill affirm that queer fairy tales tend to “turn away from heteronormativity” (9). Above all, Turner and Greenhill observe that “fairy tales reference same-sex erotic attraction, symbolically yet multivocally” (9). Indeed, the homoerotic desire experienced by the king, who believes Constantin is a man, destabilizes the normative exchange of corporeal passion between a man and a woman. In this instance, Madame de Murat deviates dramatically from the tension driving traditional heterosexual love triangles, seen in prose texts like La Princesse de Clèves, in which the female protagonist is the object of two desiring men. In sharp contrast to the mainstream love triangle, the king and his sister direct their erotic gaze to the ambiguous figure of the cross-dresser. Within the marvelous configurations of the tale, the author revises the heteronormative category, replacing it with a queer one, the cross-dresser who, according to Garber, not only destabilizes all binaries but constitutes “the radical sense—in which transvestism is a “third” (133). Annamarie Jagose enhances the perspective on queerness. According to her, “Institutionally, queer has been associated most prominently with lesbian and gay subjects, but its analytic framework also includes such topics 5 This expression is attributed to Lewis Seifert. See his introduction in a special volume devoted to queer readings of fairy tales in Marvels & Tales: Journal of Fairy- Tale Studies 29.1 (2015) 16. Nancy Arenberg PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 218 as cross-dressing, hermaphroditism, gender ambiguity” (3). To apply this concept to the text, this strange attraction to this “third” category has a profound impact on the king’s sister. Her reaction is more complex, as she believes she is drawn to a man but, in fact, experiences a lesbian attraction, an unspoken desire for a beautiful princess. Fleurianne’s affinity for Constantin will be further developed in subsequent encounters with him. After this initial meeting between the three characters, the author directs the reader’s attention to the ensuing intrigue in the narrative, revolving, once again, around marriage. Fleurianne is supposed to marry the prince Carabut from the kingdom of Canarie, an arrangement between the two royal families. However, his physical appearance is described as “bossu et fort désagréable, et la princesse n’avait pas lieu d’en être contente” (89-90). With this portrayal of the repulsive prince, the author reprises the theme of ugliness, shown earlier in the depiction of Constantine’s unsightly sisters, identified with monsters. But in the passage above, the distasteful image of Carabut amplifies the dramatic tension in the intrigue, as Fleurianne looks to Constantin to save her from this unhappy fate—to be betrothed to a hideous prince. To impress the king and his sister at the court of Sicily, Constantin showcases other compelling aspects of his performance as a man by engaging in an elaborate display of his fighting skills, represented by his swordsmanship. It is important to take a closer look at Constantin’s heroic attributes, as this aspect of the main character’s masquerade fuses masculine and feminine traits, blurring the delineation of gender, thereby creating, at times, corporeal ambiguity. Beneath the masculine attire in this scene, the reader can identify the veiled silhouette of a historical female figure. Like her fellow writers, Murat and the conteuses hark back to the first half of the century by reviving the fascinating figure of la femme forte. For the conteuses, they wanted to restore not only the heroism of a lost era but the glory of the aristocratic class, which was waning at the close of the century. As Ian Maclean notes, the conception of la femme forte in the 1640s underscores the virtuous nature of women, while presenting an early feminist image of these compelling figures as energetic, courageous, and compassionate (75-87). Echoing Maclean, Joan DeJean describes these formidable women as “illustrious,” “heroic,” “generous,” and “strong.” (28). To situate the time frame in the early part of the Classical Age, Maclean explains that the early years of Anne of Austria’s regency “were preceded by a decade which saw a steady rise in the prestige of woman” (76). He goes on to add that the salons and the Hôtel de Rambouillet were united in fostering an atmosphere “in which feminism could not but flourish” (76). Most notably, this promotion of the pivotal image of heroic women is represented in works by writers such as Mlle de Gender Inversions and Transgressive Bodies PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 219 Scudéry, Jacques Du Bosc, and François de Grenaille (among others). 6 Turning our attention back to the tale, the author sustains corporeal ambiguity, identified with the “third sex,” the transvestite, as Constantin presents himself not only as a heroic figure, akin to a femme forte, but a multi-faceted one. His more masculine talents as a skilled horseman are modulated by a more refined, cultured side: “Si l’on faisait une chasse, il en avait tout l’honneur, s’il dansait au bal, il effaçait les meilleurs danseurs; l’on faisaient quelquefois des concerts chez la princesse, sa belle voix et la grâce qu’il avait à toucher des instruments le faisaient admirer de tout le monde” (91). It is this intriguing balance between masculine and feminine talents that intensifies Fleurianne’s fascination for the stranger from Tercères: “Fleurianne en ressentait augmenter sa passion” (91). Her fondness for their affable guest does not go unnoticed by the king, but he can only, in part, acquiesce to her wishes by proposing Constantin as her personal horseman. With this designation as a squire, the author maintains the socio-cultural emphasis on social class, as Constantin cannot court the princess, for he lacks a title, material possessions, and wealth. Moreover, she is promised to her unsavory suitor, Carabut, as noted above. In any case, Fleurianne accepts her brother’s decision with pleasure and Constantin soon becomes her trusted friend and confidant. It is her wish that Constantin, as a talented swordsman, save her from her inevitable union with this undesirable prince. She openly avows her feelings to Constantin, while acknowledging that she lacks the power to save herself from her fate. Disguised behind her fictional character, Madame de Murat subtly fuses her voice with Fleurianne’s to articulate her opposition to arranged marriages. As the princess states, “si j’étais la maîtresse de mon sort, je ne balancerais pas un moment à vous prendre pour mon époux, mais puisque je ne le puis faire sans manquer à ce que je dois, je suis résolue de n’être jamais à d’autres” (94). Although Fleurianne is unaware, once again, that she is in love with another woman, her desire for Constantin accentuates the erotic aspect of the masked lesbian narrative. Moved by her profound dilemma, Constantin inadvertently finds himself in a position to alter the destiny of the princess. At this juncture of the tale, the intrigue accelerates, which alters Constantin’s fate in Sicily. The unsightly prince is aware of Fleurianne’s penchant for the intriguing stranger at court and challenges Constantin to a duel. With minimal effort, Constantin demonstrates he is a skilled fighter and kills him, thereby liberating the king’s sister from the shackles of an arranged marriage. It is the shocking murder of Carabut that signals the end of Constantin’s pleasant sojourn with the king and the 6 For a detailed history of la femme forte, see Ian MacIean’s book, Woman Triumphant: Feminism in French Literature 1610-1652. (Oxford, 1977) 74-87. Nancy Arenberg PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 220 princess, the core of the first part of the text. Although the middle part of the narrative seems to serve as a textual digression from the central events in the tale, it reveals other transgressions that are associated with the instability of gender roles. After this sudden death of Carabut, the author develops the use of repetition, a key trait of fairy-tale stylistics. The theme of exile resurfaces, as Constantin saddles his mystical horse to flee the kingdom of Sicily. Here, there is a variation on an earlier scene in which Obligeante, the fairy, provided him with Embletin and other necessities for the journey to Sicily. However, this time Embletin leads his rider to a dense forest, a remote place. Within the text, Madame de Murat reverses the trajectory of the intrigue by creating a circular structure, shown by restoring a familiar spatial image— the forest, a mysterious space that adds suspense to the tale. Unbeknownst to Constantin, he enters this dark forest, belonging to Obligeante, the fairy who resides in a sumptuous palace, concealed deep in the woods. Another noteworthy example of the author’s reversal of the tale’s intrigue revolves around the questions of gender and identity, for Constantin is no longer clad in masculine clothing. On the contrary, she is recognized by Obligeante’s servants as a woman, thus she abandons her performance as a man to swing back to her authentic feminine self. From Butler’s viewpoint, as noted above, this abrupt inversion indicates that gender is a free-floating artifice (6). To further apply Butler’s concept to the text, the protagonist’s gender identity is fluid and malleable, which, in turn, creates more complexity in the overall construction of sex roles. On a stylistic level, there is another key example of repetition in this part of the text, as the author emphasizes the generosity of the fairy who presents Constantine, once again, with an abundance of gifts. Obligeante also seems to play the role of a surrogate maternal figure in her relationship with the princess, guiding her with wisdom, while treating her with kindness and compassion. As she becomes aware of her surroundings, Constantine recognizes the fairy from her initial arrival in the forest. Her hostess, Obligeante, graciously offers the young princess repos: “Obligeante lui fit connaître qu’elle savait tout ce qui lui était arrivé chez le roi de Sicile, et lui dit qu’elle attendrait dans ce château la fin de toutes ses peines” (98). As this passage suggests, Obligeante is intent on offering Constantine repos from the turmoil emanating from the violent turn of events in Sicily. Moreover, she presents her guest with an array of elegant clothing, accentuating the gender reversal here, as the princess realigns herself with her authentic identity, represented by garbing herself in luxurious feminine apparel. In addition, there are other salient gender implications in this interesting relationship between Constantine and Obligeante. Gender Inversions and Transgressive Bodies PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 221 This middle part of the tale places female friendship at the center of the narrative, and, in so doing, reduces the presence of male characters. With an absence of male characters in this scene, the author directs the focus to Obligeante’s majestic home, a place of enchantment on many levels. Her castle represents an innovative reproduction of a gynaeceum, an idyllic space, situated in the marvelous, that is governed solely by a fairy who possesses great agency. As her guest, Obligeante leads Constantine to a cabinet in her palace, a feminized space, offering the two women a unique experience. The ability to see beyond the present indicates that the motif of destiny reappears but differs from the patriarchal mandate of arranged marriage, reinforced by Constantine’s father in the first part of the text. Here, the cabinet represents a serene space, a place offering respite from all socio-cultural conflict. Within Obligeante’s palace, this luminous space is described as a “galerie remplie de cabinets, de miroirs, de tables, de guéridons, de girandoles et de lustres d’une richesse infinie” (99). In this passage, Madame de Murat appears to pay homage to Versailles, exemplified by the numerous allusions to mirror imagery and reflecting objects, all of which are lavish and extravagant. However, the author revises the context, for the concept of transparency does not revolve around the patriarchal figure of Louis XIV but is rescripted into the feminine. To clarify, the image of the mirror is reversed to highlight Obligeante’s palace and her agency. The image of transparency is equally transformed, as it illuminates this unusual feminine space, the cabinet du destin, where Obligeante possesses the extraordinary ability to view the future. With no reservations, Obligeante invites Constantine to travel with her to observe the courts of Europe, royal marriages at Versailles, the brutality of wars, and even the court of Sicily. To embark on this elaborate voyage, Obligeante relies on her magical powers to alter their corporeal appearance. Sylvie Cromer reads this as another form of disguise: “la jeune fille doit user d’un autre travestissement, non moins innocent: l’invisibilité” (11). To delve deeper into this complex notion, the visible image of the feminine body is erased by Obligeante’s supernatural ability to allow them to travel invisibly, thereby opening new horizons for them to discover. The effacement of the female gender is achieved by blurring the visible image of their feminine apparel, thereby permitting the two women to acquire the freedom to penetrate masculine places—the royal court of France, a privileged space that is normally not accessible to those who are not a part of the king’s carefully curated entourage at court. Most importantly, their infiltration of this royal space points to deeper socio-cultural repercussions. Cromer observes that transvestism in “Le Sauvage” not only contests patriarchal power, demonstrated in the first part by Constantine’s refusal to marry her chosen suitor, but subverts it by cross-dressing in the tale. As Cromer Nancy Arenberg PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 222 reads it, Murat’s use of transvestism constitutes “une usurpation du pouvoir du Père” (11). Most of all, the erasure of their femininity can be interpreted as another form of transgression in the text, one that poses a challenge to the socio-political norms of the day. Cloaked in invisibility, the two women not only observe political events at court but overcome barriers that lock women out of masculine spaces. As noted in this travel scene, the author shifts the emphasis on transgressive bodies to female agency in this middle part of the narrative, for the figure of the invisible woman demonstrates resistance to assigned gender roles. As a critical part of their trip to foreign lands, the two women observe the events transpiring in the kingdom of Sicily, which has become increasingly unstable in the aftermath of the death of Carabut. On a structural level, their ability to observe the violence in Sicily highlights the author’s stylistic use of fluidity, a technique that creates cohesiveness in the tale. Madame de Murat seamlessly bridges this middle part, a digression, to the main frame of the plot by shifting the focus back to the kingdom of Sicily. Empowered by Obligeante’s extraordinary powers, Constantine can see that the king of Sicily is engaged in a series of wars, including a civil conflict in which he is engaged in combat with brutal monsters that are half human and half goat. One of these preternatural creatures approaches the king to speak with him in a peaceful manner: “Je te demande seulement, répondit-il, que tu m’emmènes avec toi dans ton palais, et que tu me mettes en un lieu où je ne sois vu que de toi, et après que j’y aurai été quelque temps, je te dirai des choses qui ne te seront pas désagréables” (109). The king agrees to the monster’s request, which seems to accentuate the rational side of this odd creature. The fact that the monster, Le Sauvage, wants to seek refuge at the king’s palace not only accelerates the rhythm of the tale but adds intrigue and suspense to this latter part of the narrative. It also sets the stage for Constantine and Obligeante to reappear, but this time they infiltrate another masculine place—the private space of the royal kingdom of Sicily. The closing scene of the text reprises the overarching theme of marriage, but the role of destiny is significantly modified. Although the king is unaware, the beast in his palace is no ordinary monster, as he possesses a miraculous power that will significantly impact his future. His guest, Le Sauvage, informs him: “Il faut que vous disiez à tous vos sujets que vous voulez vous marier” (111). To enhance the mystery surrounding the woman intended for the king, the author dissimulates the future queen’s identity. The beast apprises the king that when he prepares the apartment for his future queen in his palace, he will, in turn, learn who will become his wife. To resolve the enigma surrounding the chosen queen, Madame de Murat places Constantine and Obligeante at the forefront of the action, thereby sustaining her textual Gender Inversions and Transgressive Bodies PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 223 emphasis on female agency. The performative aspect associated with gender configurations resurfaces in a different way, as Constantine enters the room dressed as a woman and is accompanied by Obligeante. Before he is introduced to her, the king recognizes some familiar features that bear an odd resemblance to Constantin’s alluring silhouette, an observation shared by Fleurianne. Interestingly, the malleable aspect of gender roles manifests itself again, shown by the queer aspect of Fleurianne’s hidden desire: “la princesse, qui l’avait tant aimée comme Constantin, ne l’aimait pas moins comme Constantine” (114-115). As noted earlier, Fleurianne and the king are equally attracted to Constantine’s enticing beauty, regardless of whether it is visually presented in the masculine or feminine. Obligeante reveals the truth surrounding the identity of the enchanting stranger by informing the king that Constantine is, in fact, a princess, the daughter of the king of Tercères, and, above all, his intended bride. The intervention of Le Sauvage’s influence does not go unnoticed. As Obligeante waves her magic wand, she transforms Le Sauvage into his authentic self—a handsome prince, the suitor destined to marry Fleurianne. The beast was the victim of a cruel spell cast by an evil fairy, which can only be broken by the king who must give his consent to marry Constantine. Here, it is worth taking a closer look at the transformation of Le Sauvage, as it is indicative of another inclusion of a queer element in the tale. Elizabeth Howard adds perspective on metamorphosis by referencing similar occurrences in Madame d’Aulnoy’s “Belle-Belle ou Le Chevalier fortuné” (316), a tale that also focuses on the protagonist’s cross-dressing adventures. Howard stresses the importance of identity instability in Madame d’Aulnoy’s queer tales, which we have also observed in “Le Sauvage.” According to Howard, “Identity is also queered through the constant transformations of the characters. A queer understanding of identity, which imagines identity to be in constant flux, takes literal shape in the magical world of d’Aulnoy’s tales” (316). This concept also applies to Madame de Murat’s tale, represented by multiple gender inversions, as Constantine swings back and forth between masculine and feminine identities throughout the tale. To return to Le Sauvage’s transformation, he sheds his monstrous mask as a creature who is half human and half goat, as Obligeante liberates him from the curse of ugliness. On an aesthetic level, Madame de Murat reprises the tension between beauty and ugliness to eliminate the presence of the grotesque, as the fairy tale is traditionally an idyllic space reserved for elegant, attractive characters. Once Fleurianne sees that Le Sauvage is not a repulsive monster, she accepts his marriage proposal: “Il alla se jeter aux pieds de la belle Fleurianne; ils conçurent en ce moment l’un pour l’autre la plus tendre de toutes les passions” (114). Nancy Arenberg PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 224 The final scene of the narrative tends to revert to more conventional closures often seen in fairy-tale writing, exemplified by noble women acquiescing to the patriarchy by accepting a chosen suitor. However, it is important to note that the author maintains the textual focus on Obligeante’s intervention to ensure the happiness of not only the king, Fleurianne, and Constantine, but Le Sauvage as well. In other words, the tale retains its feminocentric emphasis by relying on Obligeante’s magical powers to create a sense of harmony. In a subtle way, Madame de Murat interpolates another interesting form of transgression, shown by downplaying authoritarian power. It is Obligeante, the replacement for a patriarchal figure, that ensures the future will bring these two couples together in blissful unions. Once again, the author seems to shroud her authorial presence behind one of her female characters to redefine the socio-cultural conventions of the day, revolving around the critical question of marriage. In her illuminating study of Murat’s body of work, Patard observes that one of the author’s more subversive notions was her belief in reforming love relationships, which mirrors the prefeminist position of the Précieuses. Murat’s feminocentric stance on arranged marriage harks back to the earlier part of the century and was the subject of many animated conversations in the salons and in women’s literary works. As a champion of reform, Mlle de Scudéry articulated her position on challenging official laws governing marriage contracts, while underscoring the critical need to redefine marriage. As DeJean notes, “the fictional forms devised by seventeenth-century women writers were both feminocentric and the product of an ideology that sought to promote equality between the sexes” (5). Echoing this progressive idea highlighting equality, Murat’s revisionist philosophy was predicated on “une vision de l’amour comme échange plutôt que rapport de force” (Patard 115). Murat’s stance is reminiscent of a dream, one that would eradicate the inequity of the power balance between the sexes. In a similar way, her proto-woman position supports marriages that privilege love, not duty. It is this strikingly modern conception of marriage, with an emphasis on gender equality, that underscores the pivotal role that women can play in changing their destiny, demonstrated textually by Obligeante’s extraordinary agency. It is important to note that this tale reveals a sharp contrast in comparison to other fairy tales composed by Murat. In many of her other texts, the author highlights her pessimistic view of love, as happy outcomes do not occur in tales such as “Peine Perdue,” “Anguillette,” and “Le Palais de la Vengeance” (among others). Although there are many conventional aspects associated with “Le Sauvage,” which tend to follow the style of Murat’s fellow conteuses, this close analysis of the malleability of gender configurations underscores the contemporary aspect of Murat’s writing. As shown, these textual examples of Gender Inversions and Transgressive Bodies PFSCL LII, 102 DOI 10.24053/ PFSCL-2025-0014 225 Constantine’s cross-dressing performances reveal many instances of gender transgressions, pointing to deeper socio-cultural repercussions for women during the Classical Age. To delve into this aspect, Cromer poses an interesting question, pertaining to the rigid political structure of the day. In her reading of the closure of the tale, Cromer wonders if Murat was an advocate of a “transformation du patriarcat” (15). To look at Cromer’s inquiry from another perspective, this proposed change may constitute a part of Murat’s utopic vision for women in her defense and promotion of the feminine condition, the main justification for picking up her pen to engage in literary productions. In any case, it is through the study of tales like “Le Sauvage,” that Madame de Murat demonstrates that she was indeed a progressive writer, a formidable scribe who prepared the way for more empowered women to emerge in the Enlightenment. At the dawn of the eighteenth century, the author envisions alternative paths, providing women with more intellectual and creative opportunities that might liberate them from their traditional destiny—the enslavement of a loveless marriage. Works Cited Aulnoy, Marie-Catherine Le Jumel de Barneville, Comtesse d’. “Belle-Belle ou le chevalier fortuné.” Contes des fées suivi des contes nouveaux ou les fées à la mode, edited by Nadine Jasmin, 2004, Champion, pp. 797-838. Butler, Judith. 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