The Seven Wives of Bluebeard

The Seven Wives of Bluebeard
(from authentic documents)
by Anatole France (1903)
translated by D. B. Stewart (1920)
From The Seven Wives of Bluebeard and Other Marvellous Tales.
James Lewis May and Bernard Miall, editors.
London: John Lane, The Bodley Head, 1920.
(New York: John Lane Company, 1920).

CHAPTER I
The strangest, the most varied, the most erroneous opinions have been expressed with
regard to the famous individual commonly known as Bluebeard. None, perhaps, was less
tenable than that which made of this gentleman a personification of the Sun. For this is
what a certain school of comparative mythology set itself to do, some forty years ago. It
informed the world that the seven wives of Bluebeard were the Dawns, and that his two
brothers-in-law were the morning and the evening Twilight, identifying them with the
Dioscuri, who delivered Helena when she was rapt away by Theseus. We must remind
those readers who may feel tempted to believe this that in 1817 a learned librarian of
Agen, Jean-Baptiste PŽrŽs, demonstrated, in a highly plausible manner, that Napoleon
had never existed, and that the story of this supposed great captain was nothing but a
solar myth. Despite the most ingenious diversions of the wits, we cannot possibly doubt
that Bluebeard and Napoleon did both actually exist.
An hypothesis no better founded is that which consists in identifying Bluebeard with the
Marshal de Rais, who was strangled by the arm of the Law above the bridges of Nantes
on 26th of October. Without inquiring, with M. Salomon Reinach, whether the Marshal
committed the crimes for which he was condemned, or whether his wealth, coveted by a
greedy prince, did not in some degree contribute to his undoing, there is nothing in his
life that resembles what we find in Bluebeard's; this alone is enough to prevent our
confusing them or merging the two individuals into one.
Charles Perrault, who, about 1660, had the merit of composing the first biography of this
seigneur, justly remarkable for having married seven wives, made him an accomplished
villain, and the most perfect model of cruelty that ever trod the earth. But it is permissible
to doubt, if not his sincerity, at least the correctness of his information. He may, perhaps,

have been prejudiced against his hero. He would not have been the first example of a poet
or historian who liked to darken the colours of his pictures. If we have what seems a
flattering portrait of Titus, it would seem, on the other hand, that Tacitus has painted
Tiberius much blacker than the reality. Macbeth, whom legend and Shakespeare accuse
of crimes, was in reality a Just and a wise king He never treacherously murdered the old
king, Duncan. Duncan, while yet young, was defeated in a great battle, and was found
dead on the morrow at a spot called the Armourer's Shop He had slain several of the
kinsfolk of Gruchno, the wife of Macbeth. The latter made Scotland prosperous; he
encouraged trade, and was regarded as the defender of the middle classes, the true King
of the townsmen. The nobles of the clans never forgave him for defeating Duncan, nor
for protecting the artisans. They destroyed him, and dishonoured his memory. Once he
was dead the good King Macbeth was known only by the statements of his enemies. The
genius of Shakespeare imposed these lies upon the human consciousness. I had long
suspected that Bluebeard was the victim of a similar fatality. All the circumstances of his
life, as I found them related, were far from satisfying my mind, and from gratifying that
craving for logic and lucidity by which I am incessantly consumed. On reflection, I
perceived that they involved insurmountable difficulties. There was so great a desire to
make me believe in the man's cruelty that it could not fail to make me doubt it.
These presentiments did not mislead me. My intuitions, which had their origin in a
certain knowledge of human nature, were soon to be changed into certainty, based upon
irrefutable proofs.
In the house of a stone-cutter in St. Jean Bois, I found several papers relating to
Bluebeard; amongst others his defence, and an anonymous complaint against his
murderers, which was not proceeded with, for what reasons I know not. These papers
confirmed me in the belief that he was good and unfortunate, and that his memory has
been overwhelmed by unworthy slanders. From that time forth, I regarded it as my duty
to write his true history, without permitting myself any illusion as to the success of such
an under taking. I am well aware that this attempt at rehabilitation is destined to fall into
silence and oblivion. How can the cold, naked Truth fight against the glittering
enchantments of Falsehood?

CHAPTER 2
Somewhere about