The Seven Wives of Bluebeard: 1920

In Short

This narrative is a witty, revisionist historical study that deconstructs the famous legend of Bluebeard. By re-examining the life of Bernard de Montragoux—a wealthy, shy, and perpetually unlucky aristocrat—the text exposes the true villains of the story: the greedy, deceitful, and predatory women who marry him for his fortune. It functions as a sharp satire on how history is written by the victors and how reputations are systematically assassinated to justify theft and cold-blooded murder. It has endured as a classic of irony and skepticism.

The Story

The account begins by dismissing the "solar myth" theories and the identification of Bluebeard with the historical Marshal de Rais. Instead, it posits that the real Bluebeard was a decent, wealthy, but socially awkward man named Bernard de Montragoux. Bernard lives in his castle at Guillettes, plagued by an intense shyness that makes him fear women even as he deeply desires them. This timidity leaves him vulnerable to fortune hunters. His first six marriages are disasters: one wife runs off with a performing bear, another dies in a drunken accident, a third expires from sheer greedy ambition, a fourth is killed by a jealous lover, a fifth is abducted by a monk, and the sixth seeks an annulment.

Bernard’s life takes a final, fatal turn when he meets the Lespoisse family. Dame Sidonie de Lespoisse, a widow drowning in debt, maneuvers her younger daughter, Jeanne, into a marriage with the unsuspecting nobleman. The household, including Jeanne’s sister Anne and her lover, the Chevalier de la Merlus, descends upon Guillettes, treating the castle like a playground for their profligacy. Bernard, ever trusting, treats them with immense generosity.

When business calls him away, Bernard gives his wife the keys to the castle, including the key to the "Cabinet of the Unfortunate Princesses"—a room containing portraits of mythological women that serves as a repository for his painful memories. He warns her against entering it, not out of malice, but out of a superstitious belief that the room carries a malign influence that destroyed his previous happiness. Jeanne, however, uses the key to meet her lover, the Chevalier, in the cabinet. Together, they plot to murder Bernard to secure his inheritance.

Upon his return, Bernard discovers the key has been used. Rather than flying into a rage, he expresses only melancholy and love. Jeanne, however, screams for help, the prearranged signal for her conspirators. The Chevalier de la Merlus and Jeanne’s brothers attack the unsuspecting Bernard. Despite his strength, he is overwhelmed and stabbed to death from behind by the brothers. The conspirators frame the murder as an act of self-defense against a monster. Jeanne inherits the estate, marries her lover, and uses the stolen wealth to secure status for her family, effectively burying the truth of her husband’s goodness under the weight of her own manufactured legend.

How It Unfolds

The historical premise The author introduces the idea that historical villains are often the victims of biased record-keepers. He argues that Bluebeard’s reputation was established by his enemies to justify their crimes.

The life of a recluse We are introduced to Bernard de Montragoux, a man defined by his shyness and his genuine, if unfortunate, desire for companionship. His castle is a place of comfort, not a house of horrors, and his "blue" beard is revealed to be nothing more than a standard masculine trait.

The cycle of misfortune Bernard’s series of disastrous marriages is recounted, demonstrating his consistent kindness in the face of his wives' vices and betrayals. Each departure or death of a spouse is framed not as a crime, but as a misfortune that further isolates the noble.

The arrival of the predators The destitute Lespoisse family enters the scene, viewing Bernard as an easy mark. They orchestrate a campaign of manipulation, using the Chevalier de la Merlus to infiltrate the household while maintaining a facade of respectability.

The plot thickens During Bernard's brief absence, the cabinet becomes the center of a conspiracy rather than a site of supernatural terror. Jeanne and her accomplices transform the room into a staging ground for the murder.

The final treachery The narrative concludes with the cold-blooded betrayal of a man who returned home full of trust. The aftermath reveals the callous success of the conspirators, who use the victim’s wealth to solidify their own social standing.

The People

Bernard de Montragoux is the heart of the book. He is a man of "valiant soul" and immense generosity who desires only a companion. His defining trait is a crippling, naive shyness that prevents him from seeing the malice in those who court him. He remains "stoic" through every betrayal, ultimately paying for his capacity to love with his life.

Jeanne de Lespoisse is the primary antagonist. Though she appears as a beautiful, simple girl, she is a vessel for the calculated greed of her mother. She has no affection for her husband, viewing him only as a means to fund her lifestyle and her affair with the Chevalier.

The Chevalier de la Merlus is a parasitic figure, a "rake" and "sponger" who uses the cover of family connection to live off Bernard’s hospitality. He is the physical instrument of the conspiracy, lacking honor or courage.

Anne de Lespoisse is perhaps the most chilling figure. Unlike her sister, who is driven by sensual indulgence, Anne is driven by a cold, intellectual love of cruelty. She is the "soul of the conspiracy," ensuring that the murder is carried out and that the family’s profit is secured.

Dame Sidonie de Lespoisse serves as the mastermind. A woman of "immense estates" only in her own mind, she is a master of social theater who views her children as assets to be auctioned off to the highest bidder to save her from financial ruin.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the tendency of historians to malign the misunderstood, the author notes:

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.

Describing the true appearance of the "monstrous" Bluebeard, the author writes:

We shall get much nearer the reality by comparing the seigneur of Guillettes to those actors or priests whose freshly shaven cheeks have a bluish gloss.

On the psychological toll of Bernard’s final, empty marriage, we read:

In order to forget them, he hunted with desperation, exhausting horses, hounds, and huntsmen.

What It's Really About

The central argument is that history is a literary construction, often hijacked by the powerful to justify their own moral bankruptcy. The author interrogates the "craving for logic and lucidity" that forces humans to categorize complex figures into neat boxes of "saint" or "villain." By stripping the Bluebeard legend of its fairy-tale magic, the text exposes the banality of the evil that actually destroyed him. It asks whether we can ever know the truth of the past when the records are authored by those with the most to gain from a lie. It is a cynical, sophisticated look at how social reputation is an industry, and how the "glittering enchantments of Falsehood" will almost always drown out the "cold, naked Truth."

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the biting, dry wit of 19th-century French literature will find this book immensely satisfying. It is a brilliant example of literary subversion, written with a warmth that makes the protagonist's plight genuinely moving. You will love it if you have ever felt that history books were missing the "human" element or if you have a soft spot for the underdog, particularly when that underdog is the victim of a massive, historical PR campaign.

However, be prepared for a narrative style that feels very much of its time. The prose is elegant and measured, but it assumes a level of familiarity with classical allusions that might require a quick lookup for some. It does not move at the breakneck pace of a modern thriller; it is an essayistic, thoughtful dissection of a myth. It asks the reader to engage with its arguments rather than just consume a plot. If you are comfortable with an author who treats the reader like an intellectual peer—someone capable of weighing evidence and finding the irony in a tragic tale—you will find this to be a sharp, lingering experience. It stays with you because it challenges your own desire to believe the simplest version of a story.