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Monsieur Charles Perrault was the author of the story of Bluebeard. He was born at Paris, January 12, 1628. His father was an advocate, originally from Tours. He was the youngest of four brothers: the oldest, Peter, was destined for the Bar, but became the Receiver-General of Finances under Louis XIV. and his Prime Minister Colbert, though he afterwards fell out of favour and died in poverty; Claude studied medicine; and Nicholas, theology. Charles was taken up by Colbert and made Superintendent of Public Buildings throughout the kingdom. While in this position, the erection of the Observatory and the reconstruction and completion of the Palais du Louvre were determined upon. Plans for these buildings were to be decided by competition, and the renown of the name of Perrault is greatly increased by the fact that Charles’s brother Claude, although educated as a doctor of medicine and not as an architect, designed plans which, after much discussion and investigation, extending even to Rome, were finally adopted by the King and his Minister. Charles Perrault became a member of the Academy—one of the “Immortal Forty.” He introduced many improvements into their methods, the principal of which was for securing the attendance of members, and a continuance of, and devotion to, the work of preparing the great French Dictionary. An episode in his life, covering several years, was his poem of Le Siècle de Louis le Grand and the parallel between the ancients and moderns, which produced a discussion among the most brilliant writers of France. Boileau, Racine, La Fontaine, Longpierre, Buet, Arnauld, and other illustrious champions took up the cudgels against Perrault and Fontanelle, and in favour of the ancient classic heroes.
In 1662, Perrault retired from his office in the Public Buildings, selling his right therein to Monsieur de Blainville, a son-in-law of Colbert. Until his death, May, 16, 1703, he devoted himself to literature and to the education of his children, and this was probably the happiest portion of his life, for he loved to be in the bosom of his family. He wrote for the amusement of his children that which has now become the most celebrated of his writings, which has done more to perpetuate his name and fame, and by which he is better known than by the more pretentious and serious papers and poems,—the Contes de Mère l’Oye (Stories of Mother Goose). The first edition was published in 1697 under the name of his son, Perrault d’Armancourt, and dedicated to Mademoiselle Elizabeth Charlotte d’Orléans, the sister of the Duke of Chartres and the niece of Louis XIV. These Mother Goose stories were as follows: Little Red Riding-Hood, The Fairies, Bluebeard, The Sleeping Beauty, Puss in Boots, Cinderella, Requet à la Houppe, to which Le Petit Poucet, The Adroit Princess, and The Ass’s Skin were afterwards added. There were still others in verse and fable translated. Perrault was more poet than prose writer—his serious works were in poetry: Painting, The Apology for Women, The Century of Louis the Grand, Genius (to Fontanelle), and A Portrait of the Voice of Iris. We, however, are interested alone in Bluebeard.[1]
[1] See Appendix A.
Studious historians or astute critics may dispute Perrault’s history of Bluebeard having been founded upon the life of Gilles de Retz, but the country people (the folk) of Brittany will simply smile at such erudition and continue in their former belief that Bluebeard represents a cruel, wicked man who lived here hundreds of years ago and who was executed for his many crimes against humanity; and the old men and women and the nurses will repeat the story of Gilles de Retz under the name of Bluebeard,—sometimes how he abducted and murdered the children, and other times how he murdered his wives. In that country Gilles de Retz will always be known as Bluebeard, and we must accept their verdict as final.[2]
Rev. Dr. Shahan writes:
Dear Professor Wilson:
I have looked through your interesting work with the greatest pleasure. It is just such a tale as I would delight in tracing through its strange genesis and stranger propaganda....
I wonder if the actual facts were not soon plaited back into ancient nursery tales of a kindred tone, and a fresh lease of life thus given to mythical narratives that would otherwise not have had strength enough to perpetuate themselves to our time, at least in such intensity and vitality.
I would suggest as complete a literature of the Bluebeard subject as possible[2] and think perhaps it would be well to see what roots it had struck in German, Spanish, and Welsh soil,—fields always susceptible at that time to anything odd or romantic.
When I was a child how often I cried with Sister Anne on the high tower, and looked for the three specks out on the ocean “no bigger than the head of a pin.” Thank God! their steeds always breasted the flood bravely and arrived in time to save injured innocence. Is not that the true origin of Bluebeard, in an age of chivalrous ideal, of strict theologico-popular views of justice and of feudal individualism?
The box of Pandora and the key of Bluebeard may have some relationship—CURIOSITY, irrepressible though dangerous, is its keynote, and I wonder if it does not all come from India, like those mediæval tales that Gaston Paris tells about, or if it is not an old Gaelic myth, like that of Balor-of-the-Mighty-Blows so well translated by Standish O’Grady in his Silva Gadelica....
Yours very truly,
(Signed) Thomas J. Shahan.[2] See Appendix B.
