Maybe Eve bit the Apple, but Adam was the Snake

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Lebey is extremely playful in his interpretation of the story of Melusine. As Raymondin is approaching his wife during the culmination of his betrayal, Lebey describes “He slid slowly forward… And in the moonlight that made his coat of mail glisten, he had the appearance of a strange serpent with iron scales.” How ironic, this image of Raymondin, serpent-like, slithering towards his own despair. Here, our author coils around the infamous, biblical origin story of human sin. Maybe Eve bit the apple, but Adam was the snake. Lebey continues to meander this inverted narrative in the next chapter. First with the reversal of the typical mermaid narrative: “Deceived, as women are and always will be, by your handsome body, your honest face, your sweet appearance, I did not suppose you capable of treason…” Contrary to mermaid lore that focuses on the human’s narration, Melusine’s point of view upends the lure of the beauty of the hybrid. To Melusine it is Raymondin who lured her in with his stoic stature, his handsome innocence. Digging deeper, giving a voice to Melusine not only upends the typical mermaid lore, but transposes the legend of Adam and Eve. “If you had not broken your word” Melusine tells Raymondin “I could have remained in this world and been saved from torment and misery in the other.” The notion of women blaming men for eternal damnation is a role reversal of sin. Lebey’s reimagination of the story of Melusine is an upheaval of man’s dominion. The depiction of unruly nature, the serpentine likeness of Raymondin, the sensual luring of Melusine, the interpretation of betrayal. All contribute to dislodge the concept of man’s supremacy. Lebey plays with the contortion of societal narrative. After all, this is a time for social reform. The Parisian lost generation of the post-war 1920s, struggling to find their footing on a war-torn continent. Lebey takes a story used to assert the lordship of men and instead tears down their dominion.

Humanity in Femininity

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Melusine’s story reflects so much of life from its introduction: discussions of the fluid nature of opposing concepts, patriarchal structures and their implementation within relationships, and of course, the need to hide deep secrets from those we love in order to protect ourselves. This then spills over into one of the most realistic parts of the story in my opinion: the use of mermaids as a vessel for fate, and how that plays a role in romantic ideology for women.

Emotionally, it’s made incredibly apparent how his betrayal of her boundaries, a concept all too well fated to modern societies and relationships, becomes a point of vulnerability for her. The moment her image of their love seems to unravel, she crumbles: “the fate that was now imposed on her, she felt everything uncertain, herself, her future, as if her heart was breaking, and she fell to the ground as if she were dead” (Lebey, 140). Emphasis on fate, how this was inevitable, begins this narrative of how love stories are considered written as a part of our lives. Life as we know it in the 21st century often means marriage, the nuclear family; it is destined regardless of women’s desires for their future. In Melusine’s, her one explicit desire only lies in being loved, and seen as more than the curse she’s been fated to. She truly represents how destiny plays a role in women’s reality, how escaping the circumstances placed upon them is something they so deeply crave, and that is often found in love in literature. His respect of her boundaries for so long implied reality in these desires finally being fulfilled, in this escape of her unfortunate through the power of a soul-crushing love that’s so often depicted to women, making his betrayal so impactful.

Seeing it from a holistic perspective, it’s apparent how being betrayed by someone she loved shatters her world view beyond love. It resonates deeply with those who’ve experienced that first major love heartbreak, to consume yourself so completely within another human being only to be so earth shatteringly devastated at their disappearance, and faced with the reality that you and this other are not intertwined forever. Mermaids being seen as these powerful and divine creatures that build upon womanhood’s principles, only for Melusina to become so distraught by the loss of a man shows how integrally incorporated love becomes as a part of womanhood. Despite being a figure of supposed vanity, and caught in a moment of “narcissism”, his betrayal wrecks her so deeply, it feels like a death of such a major piece of her. It humanizes her, equating the way so many girls and women react to losing a partner they invest themselves within to her, as well as paints how in a patriarchal society, natural state, hers being a mermaid, ties women to the inevitability of whatever their situation may be.

Week 5 reading

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Religion has played a huge part in the myth of mermaids, as we already know. In this story, “The Romance of the Faery Melusine” by Gareth Knight and Andre Lebey, showcases how Christianity is deeply rooted in the portrayal of Melusine and Raymondin throughout the text. Christianity still on a mission to ruin femininity and use Melusine as their example for readers. For example; portraying her as meek and forgiving as her main personality is quite sexist and having Raymondin convinced that Melusine is connected to the devil and he must save her. “Women do not know, know nothing of what we call Honor”(Knight, 138). There goes Raymondin bashing on Melusine and women in general because of her because of her revealed secret that he shouldn’t have been snooping around for! The strange and unnatural image of Melusine horrified Raymondin and instantly turned his inquisitiveness turn into pure hatred. Perhaps its became she isn’t fully a human but a hybrid and therefore has power that he won’t be able to posses within his humanly power? Could this have been avoided if Raymondin and his curious nature had minded their own business? Or, since Raymondin is fully human and humans have the endless desire for power and knowledge that there was no other way for this story to have gone?

Legend of Melusina

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When I think of French fairy tales, I often associate them with having some sort of moral at the end of the story, as well as with witty women, since many of them originated from literary salons hosted by them. When reading this week’s “Legend of Melusina” in “The Penguin Book of Mermaids” I really struggled with imagining what the moral could be for this tale or if a single one existed. I began to think about our in-class discussion last Thursday on Odysseus and the Sirens. In both, a curious man attempts to cross a boundary in attempts to do something that has not been done before. In both, it’s clear that the men lack boundaries and I found this to be extremely amusing because their anxiety, disguised as curiosity, is rooted in this need to know more about the woman (Odysseus having to tie himself to the post to hear the forbidden sirens song & Raymond looking at his wife on the only forbidden day of the week, Saturday). What interested me the most about this week’s story was how quickly curiosity can turn into a violation of privacy, especially when it comes to clear boundaries that were set from the beginning. In only a total of four pages, this week’s reading highlighted to me the importance of listening to others boundaries, especially when it comes to something sacred and personal like their body and overall identity. 

The story of Melusine, what can we learn?

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In the chapter “The Story of Melusine” from The Penguin Book of Mermaids, the tale of Melusine offers a compelling mix of myth, mystery, and morality. Melusine, a half-fairy or mermaid-like woman, marries a mortal man, Raymondin, under one key condition: he must never see her on Saturdays. When he breaks this promise and spies on her, discovering her true form, he violates the sacred trust between them. As a result, Melusine is forced to leave him, emphasizing themes of secrecy, trust, and the consequences of betrayal. The moral of Melusine’s story centers on the sanctity of boundaries and the vital role that trust plays in relationships. Melusine, though magical and different, is loyal and loving as long as Raymondin respects her request. His inability to honor this promise not only breaks their bond but ultimately leads to his downfall. This tale reminds us that love is not about complete possession or control over another person, but about mutual respect and acceptance—even of the unknown or unexplained.

In our own lives, the story encourages us to reflect on how we handle trust and personal boundaries. Whether in romantic, familial, or platonic relationships, honoring each other’s privacy and respecting personal space is essential. We often feel compelled to uncover every truth, but sometimes, faith in the other person’s integrity matters more than knowing everything.

Melusine’s story also speaks to the idea that people are more than what we see on the surface. Her dual nature is symbolic of the complexity within all individuals. By judging others solely on visible traits—or by forcing them to expose parts of themselves they wish to keep private—we risk losing something beautiful.Ultimately, Melusine’s tale teaches us that love without trust is fragile—and that true connection requires acceptance, not control.

A different kind of story

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For this post I read The Legend of Melusina” (Penguin, pgs. 85-88)

While I can talk about how the story can be interpreted as power, with Melusine’s incredible power (her wealth and being able to build “the castle of Lusignan”(87)), and or that it is about the trust in relationships (Melusine making her husband promise not to come see her on Saturdays when she’s transformed). I would like to highlight how different this story is from the usual ones of its time and type, where such a secret would have seen Melusine not only shamed and hunted for her curse, but demonized heavily. Which the prelude text highlights that in different tellings, most likely NOT created by the original author, allude to. But rather the husband, Raymondin,“is not horrified but only saddened” (85). This is where I liked the story, because rather than immediately judge Melusine and her condition, showing that he truly only loved her for her looks, he becomes what I interpreted as relief, because he was egged on by someone else, driven by jealously. It wasn’t his words that convinced Melusine to ultimately leave, but Geoffroi, to be honest I would kick him in the shins for calling my wife a “snake and odious serpent” (88).

This also highlights my next interesting point, when Raymondin witnessed Melusine’s hybrid form the text described it as “in a snake, gray and sky-blue, mixed with white”, but this doesn’t actually apply to snakes, but to fish. As the beginning text said, “fish and water hold a redemptive symbolism”, which tells me that possibly Raymondin would’ve accepted Melusine for her curse and redeemed the curse (not her) in her eyes. Considering when their children were born, they were described as deformed, yet for Raymondin, “Raymond’s love for the beauty that ravished both heart and eyes remained unshaken”. Considering how common a trope it is for the husband to blame and scorn the mother if a child ends up with anything undesirable, it proves how much he genuinely loved Melusine. That she found someone accepting of her but another had to go off and ruin it. I can see the story having a message of acceptance as well, but that’s the tragedy.

Human Identity and it’s Connection to the Natural World in ‘The Great Old Hunter’

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In this week’s reading in Chapter 1, “The Great Old Hunter,” the author showed readers from the start of the story that this was a natural world being depicted as both menacing and awe-inspiring. Wolves, foxes, and wildcats stalk on the borders of human life, threatening children and livestock: “God help any child left playing on the doorstep, forgotten of an evening. On winter nights, in times of famine, packs ran through the streets, howling under the cold moon,” (11). Here, nature is not romanticized but is read as a force of hunger and violence that is used for conflict in fragile, weak towns. The “howling” wolves and the “diabolic” rustling of packs are described with words that border almost the supernatural, especially with the mention of the smell of sulphur, evoking literal Hell itself. The type of language that is used shows how the imagination of medieval people is often combined with the physical dangers of the environment, with moral and spiritual threats.

Yet, the forest and its creatures are not merely destructive. These animals also become the proving ground for, I suppose we can call it, “human greatness.” The narrator states that “evil reigned only if heroes failed to confront its dangers. It seemed that the one existed to give rise to the other, for humans do not show their mettle if left to themselves,” (12). In other words, the danger of nature is necessary because it brings out the courage, heroism, and even piety in humans. Aimery’s hunts are not seen as a simple sport but also as acts that extend human power into the world and reaffirm that divine order. When Aimery slays a boar, that isn’t a victory over an animal, but it’s a symbolic triumph over the Antichrist. Hunting becomes this sacred labor, an almost ritualized confrontation with the wild that we can see both disciplines nature and sanctifies humanity.

Overall, this passage suggests to us that in Aimery’s world, human identity comes from its relationship with the natural world–a world that constantly threatens, tempts, and tests humans, but also gives us opportunities for glory and grace. To live near the forest is to live near both the Devil and God, to be reminded that danger and sanctity often come from the same dark woods.

Week 5: The Cost of Curiosity and Shattering of Enchantment in Melusine

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In the reading of Melusine, one moment that really stuck out to me was the scene where it exposed not only a secret about the Melusine’s body, but also a deep anxiety about women’s autonomy in medieval romance (pp.13-18). Raymondin’s decision to spy on her as she bathed was framed as immoral but also as an act of control as he had been told to not disturb her on Saturdays yet his feelings of suspicion caused by gossip pushed him to violate this vital boundary.

What he finds behind the door is described with a lush ambivalence: “[Melusine]…more pale than usual, pearled almost to transparency, combs her hair beside a pool while a ‘great serpent tail’ gleams in the water.” Here, her hybrid form shows the contrast between the wife and monster where she embodies a possibility for women’s agency beyond a fixed role. One of power and secrecy. Yet Raymondin turns this liminality into a threat by forcing her secret out into the open, where he transforms her into a mere spectacle, something to be ridiculed and judged.

Melusine’s response makes it clear that she forgives her husband but insists that his mistrust had “broken the promise made” and condemned her to wander until Judgment Day. This exemplifies the precariousness of female power where she could only exist as a wife only as long as her husband respected the terms and once they were broken, she was stripped of the social position marriage gave her and was reduced to a mythic curiosity. She then soars away as a winged serpent as a refusal to remain under a punitive gaze.

Melusine showcases the familiar gender script where the woman attempts to carve out a private space to retain some selfhood only for the man to betray that trust and violates that privacy out of a perceived betrayal. The romance portrays her departure as one of tragedy but also one of her attempting to retain some dignity. The author underscores the cost of patriarchal curiosity where it not only destroys trust, but also drives powerful women out of the domestic sphere

Week 5: The Great Old Hunter

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After having read “The Great Old Hunter”, I was seeing a different angle on other “things” and “creatures”, as mentioned in the story, and connecting them to the rest of the readings we’ve done. Particularly relating to sirens last week. From my understanding after having close read the texts, it seems as though the Sirens of war have served as a way to see into the future, or see the inevitable outcome of war for man, which is death. In someways, any catastrophes involving a siren and man at sea could simply be viewed as a dark favor by putting man out of ones misery prior to experiencing death involved in a war. In the reading for “The Great Old Hunter” however, the aviary creatures found within the forest of Broceliande, “[…] in the talons of a hawk on a golden perch, the Code of Love was to be found” (Pg. 12). This approach of the falcon/hawk is different than the ones of the sirens who attempt to lure men with their voice and beauty, or their alerts on war.

In this story however, it seems that man has the ability to question and be open to other voices, including their own, not fearing the unknown, “[…] men identified with things that could lead them further into the unknown; they sought in all directions the extensions of their physical and spiritual power. So they believed and so they lived, sure of themselves and strong at one moment, at the next deflated and weak[…]”(Pg. 12), this being so unlike the men on the ship in the Odyssey fearing a shipwreck, and too scared to listen to the sirens. It seems as though theres been a shift in the way the unknown is viewed and the way aviary creatures serve their purpose to man. In this case, they can be beneficial while taming the, “Fine proud heraldic and handsome, noble rulers of the sky[…]” (Pg. 13), yet another change from before. One in which I believe is a great shift.

Week 5: A Curse between Us and Them

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The Legend of Melusina is a heartbreaking story about a fairy whose curse, brought on by her mother, has led to a tragedy between us (humans) and them (non-humans). Although the curse can stem from one side, it will often have undesirable effects when the afflicted come in contact with a being from the other side. As seen in Melusina’s curse and her marriage with Raymond, the legend uses the curse as an outside force, whether natural/unnatural or in/outside the person, that can disturb or even devastate both sides of the equation.

Melusina’s rejection comes from her curse–which she cannot control–that turns her into a half-serpent every Saturday, which is lifted under a condition that a man who would marry her should “never [see] her on a Saturday, and should keep his promise.” (Penguin 86) If you know the context, she brought the curse upon herself by planning with her sisters to punish their father (on the “us” side) as “revenge” and confessing what they had done to their mother (on the “them” side). Because she was the one who carried out the plan in the first place, it is no wonder why she had the most severe punishment compared to her sisters. The curse forces her to live outside of society, “in search of the man who was to deliver her.” Raymond, a man who “accidentially” killed his uncle, meets her and swears to not see her on a Saturday.

Despite her curse, she is quite an able and powerful woman, as demonstrated in her ability to build castles and other majestic places “out of her great wealth” for Raymond, as seen in page 87 of the Penguin Book of Mermaids. However, their marriage would quickly crumble when her curse–and destiny–results in “the deformity of the children born of one that was enchanted” and Raymond’s cousin “exciting him to jealousy” and making him believe that his wife is retiring on Saturday. The curse has done more than just curse her body; it has tainted their marriage, and she’s sharing it with Raymond.

In the last parts of the legend, you may be wondering: why was Raymond hiding in Melusina’s room? It’s simple: the curse deceived him. The force from the other side has “afflicted” him, leading to him breaking his promise of never seeing his wife on a Saturday and the curse rubbing it in by making his son murder his brother. These events have led to Raymond seeing Melusina’s cursed form not with horror, but with heartbreak that he broke his promise. And because this curse has led to the death of his son Freimund, he yells at the accursed fairy to get out of his sight while calling her a “pernicious snake and odious serpent! thou contaminator of my race!” (87)

Raymond believes that Melusina was the one responsible for the misfortunes that happened in their marriage, as he is now fully convinced that she has “contaminated” him with the curse that will follow him until his death as a hermit. Melusina had found a man perfect for her to break her curse, but at what cost?