The French Connection: Queering History
I am a student of history, even before fantasy. History is the great epic of the human experience, with all the melodrama of the great names of history, as well as the trials and tribulations of everyday people; and that's a very fanciful way of saying that I'm obsessed with historical trivium and get one time a month to force that obsession on all of you. So, let's talk about interesting LGBT figures in French history! And yes, I will almost definitely be sharing another history rant in June for Pride Month.
Why France?
First of all, if you're wondering why I chose France, I've always been a bit of a Francophone. Plus, the French figures I've chosen to talk about are all ridiculously overpowered in the best way possible and each one deserves their own series. In recent times, France's relatively progressive and liberal attitudes towards sexual topics is a well-worn stereotype, even something that the French themselves lean into, especially if they get to take a potshot at a comparatively uptight Brit or American. But that was not their historical reputation, because France's main source of pride for most of its history from the Middle Ages to the end of the Napoleonic Wars was its peerless string of military victories, where often the only thing that could beat back France was quite literally every other major power in Europe combined. That focus on military superiority, the French monarchy's top-down autocratic nature, and the culture's devout nature to the Catholic Church makes France being an environment where the LGBT community could thrive unobvious, in a word.
The Duke of Orleans
It does help if you're the King's brother, however, proving that above anything else, absurd wealth is the most potent privilege of all. The first figure I want to talk about is something of a Bi icon, Philippe I, Duke of Orleans, and brother of Louis XIV, the Sun King. Growing up in the shadow of the most famous Louis in French history was not without its trials; Philippe's mother, Queen Anne, insisted on calling her second son "my little girl," purposely emasculating him at every chance, including dressing him in girl's clothing, so he would never outshine his brother, the future King. While a harrowing and scarring experience like that probably rings very close to home for anyone within the transgender community, Philippe grew to find comfort in wearing women's clothing, often openly dressing in drag at court. However, despite his mother's abuse, Philippe was in real danger of outshining his brother because he turned out to be an excellent soldier and strategist in the near-endless wars Louis XIV waged, winning an impressive number of battles that he personally fought in, his personal best being the Battle of Cassel against the Dutch in 1677.
Despite frequent rumors that Louis was so jealous of his brother that he refused to give him any more military commands, Louis did seem to have his back when it came to his personal relationships and acts of expression. Philippe, being a French Prince, was not subtle in the least, and carried on numerous romances with several male partners, most famously the Chevalier de Lorraine, who, besides being a brave soldier, was a major gay disaster, and "the great love of (Philippe's) life," according to the memoirs of Elizabeth Charlotte, the Prince's second wife. With all of this going on, complaints about Philippe's conduct were frequent, especially from religious authorities, but all of this fell on deaf ears when it reached the King, who as far as we can tell, never reprimanded his brother or tried to make him hide his sexual preferences- which already makes him a much better ally than a lot of self-proclaimed LGBT allies.
Philippe really won the lottery of life, able to live as his authentic, literally fabulous self. He would father six children and ensured they would have advantageous marriages all across Europe, earning him the nickname "Grandfather of Europe," but as brightly as he shone in Louis' court, he earned another nickname- Louis XIV may have been the Sun King, but Philippe was L'étoile du Matin- the Morning Star.
Julie D'Aubigny
While the youtube channel Extra Credits has already made an excellent video about Julie D'Aubigny, no list of French queer icons is complete without this swashbuckling, opera-singing, trope-heavy murder hobo queen. Known as La Maupin, which is French for "The Maupin," Julie was also drawn to the Court of Versailles during the reign of Louis XIV. If she were a D&D character, her moral alignment would very firmly be slotted in "Chaotic Neutral," as she would go between singing opera one night, sleeping with a new female lover the next, to challenging her lover's husband to a sword duel the day after.
Like many women in the Court of Versailles, she found out the only real way to advance her own interests was to find a lover in a powerful noble, in Julie's case, the Comte de Lorraine, who promptly married her off to a lesser noble she never had to see again for their entire married life. As the Comte was a favorite of the King, Julie quickly discovered she could, quite literally, get away with murder- and she proceeded to do exactly that, challenging nobles to sword duels when they thought they had a chance with her, setting up elaborate schemes to swindle the other courtiers, and then charm them all with her singing. When her schemes got a little too out of hand, Louis XIV would again play the role of a somewhat reliable ally by pardoning La Maupin of crimes that included kidnapping, impersonating a dead nun, and burning down an abbey to be reunited with her lover, the Madame de Florensac.
While she died young in her 30s, Julie D'Aubigny lived a rich and colorful life that inspired novels and plays for years to come, even managing to live out a good number of years with Madame de Florensac, where they "dwelt in such affection they believed to be perfect." She too had a fascination with cross-dressing, much like Philippe, which has led to a lot of speculation about her true sexual identity. Personally, I would kill to listen to a conversation between these two golden disasters.
Chevalier d'Éon
Our final French queer icon is the Chevalier d'Éon, or more probably to their preference, Chevalière d'Éon. A French, transgender James Bond, d'Éon went from relative obscurity to join a secret network of spies, called the King's Secret, in service of Louis XV in 1756. Their first mission was to infiltrate the court of Empress Elizabeth of Russia, to help pro-French nobles in St. Petersburg bring down the Hapsburg Monarchy of Austria, France's arch nemesis when being England's arch nemesis got boring. After success in Russia, d'Éon would continue serving in the King's Secret for many years, until they fell afoul of court politics in Versailles. Louis XV, who did not have the ally credentials of his great-grandfather Louis XIV, sent them to live in exile in London- but d'Éon got the last laugh, sitting on a massive pile of blackmail targeted against the King that allowed them to collect a comfortable pension from the French crown for their entire exile.
Beginning in 1777, d'Éon, commonly believed to be born male, began living as a woman in public society, being depicted as a woman in all remaining portraiture from that point forward in their life. Interestingly enough, both the French and English public found them to be a point of fascination and curiosity, a local celebrity if nothing else. There was even a betting pool on the London Exchange for a year about their true sexual nature which d'Éon was invited to be a part of but politely declined. As stories of their exploits became fashionable entertainment, usually supported by d'Eon themselves, they continued to showcase their prowess as a swordsman, settling old grudges from their exiles with political rivals back home, as seen in this engraving from 1787.
The Chevaliere continued to be an absolute gold mine of alternate history or historical fiction plots, making several bids to return home to France; during the reign of Louis XIV in 1778, they asked to lead a battalion of French soldiers during the American Revolution against the British, and after the French Revolution, offered the Revolutionary government a commission to lead a battalion of all-female soldiers against Hapsburg Austria. It should also be noted that the letter was sent in 1792 when d'Eon was already 64.
While none of d'Eon's absurdly awesome schemes were ever picked up by the various iterations of the French government, the cowards, they remain a fascinating historical figure that defied all the rules and lived fiercely, continue to compete in fencing competitions well into their seventies before passing in 1810.
The End - For Now
I want to thank you all for attending History class- don't worry, next month, there will be a pop quiz attached to my next blog post. I hope I was able to share some fun and inspiring stories about the colorful figures that shine through history and give a spotlight to some of the unsung heroes and disaster icons of LGBT history. This is what Blackwarren Books is all about, so until next time!