SOURCE: Birberick, Anne L. “Fatal Curiosity: d'Aulnoy's ‘Le Serpentin vert.’” Papers in French Seventeenth-Century Literature XXVI, no. 51 (1999): 283-88.

[In this essay, Birberick looks at d'Aulnoy's adaptation of the classical story of Psyche and Cupid in the fairy tale “Le serpentin vert.”]

The word curiosité calls to mind the idea of an intense, at times uncontrollable passion for knowledge. As the Dictionnaire universel informs us “[le curieux est] celuy qui veut tout savoir & tout apprendre”. Yet the desire to know and to learn is not always portrayed in a positive light, for the same dictionary also makes a distinction between two kinds of curiosity: “une bonne et une mauvaise”. In possessing the first kind, one seeks to understand “les merveilles de l'art & de la nature”; in possessing the second kind, one seeks to uncover “les secrets d'autruy”.¹ Although these two types are not explicitly marked according to gender, it is the second that has been most often identified with the female sex, as Eve's apple, Pandora's box, and Psyche's lamp have become traditional symbols of women's innate wickedness, of their fatal curiosity.

Seventeenth-century French conteuses frequently drew upon these notable examples to fashion their own distinctive narratives about female disobedience and its punishment.² In this paper, I would like to examine one such narrative: Marie-Catherine d'Aulnoy's “Le Serpentin vert,” a fairy tale that not only rewrites the story of Psyche and Cupid but also reconfigures the traditional moral of “la curiosité fatale” associated with the myth. Because d'Aulnoy's version departs significantly from its sources in Apuleius and La Fontaine, I will begin by identifying important differences in theme and structure. I will then show how these changes open up another level of didactic meaning in the tale, one that involves understanding the heroine's curiosity not so much as an inherent character trait of women but as a desire acquired and generated through the act of reading. Finally, I will suggest that the inscription of La Fontaine's text, Les Amours de Psyché et de Cupidon, within “Le Serpentin vert” allows d'Aulnoy to transform her version of the story into a rare and new literary artifact, thereby creating “une chose curieuse”.

“Le Serpentin vert” is one of three fairy tales found in Don Fernand de Tolède, a novella published in 1697-98 as the last installment of the four-volume Contes des fées. By using a framing device for the story of Laidronette, d'Aulnoy follows in the footsteps of Apuleius and La Fontaine who embed their versions of the Psyche myth within larger narratives. In the Golden Ass, an old woman relates Psyche's adventures so that she may divert a younger woman placed in her custody, while in Les Amours de Psyché et de Cupidon, Poliphile entertains friends in the gardens of Versailles by reading them his account of the story. For both the old woman and Poliphile, the Psyche story becomes a vehicle for amusing their respective audiences; it becomes, in other words, a tale told to please rather than to instruct. D'Aulnoy's frame-narrator, Don Fernand, is also motivated by a desire to divert his audience: “pour les distraire de la profonde rêverie où elles sembloient s'abandonner, il leur proposa de leur dire un conte” (174). Unlike his counterparts, however, he chooses to present a didactic tale whose moral directly comments upon the problem of female curiosity.

Don Fernand's story of Laidronette falls into three parts: the evil fairy Magotine's malediction and its unhappy consequences for Laidronette; her stay in the realm of Pagodia where she marries an invisible king who is, she later discovers, the monstrous Green Serpent; and finally, Laidronette's penitence, a series of impossible tasks that must be successfully completed before husband and wife may be reunited. In larger plot contours, Laidronette's adventures resemble those of Psyche who is herself cursed, sent into exile, wed to an unknown husband, and finally punished for the indiscretion of uncovering his identity. Yet if we examine more closely Laidronette's story, we discover that it deviates dramatically from Psyche's in several respects.

Most striking is d'Aulnoy's insistence on the ugliness of her heroine. In sharp contrast to Psyche whose beauty is so great it rivals Venus's, Laidronette's defining characteristic is, as her name suggests, an ugliness “si affreuse” that she is compelled to retreat to “un château des solitaires”. It is here that she encounters for the first time “le Serpentin vert”. While the hideous appearance of the green snake produces the same effect on Laidronette that her appearance has on others, she fails to appreciate any similarity between their situations: “aprens, Laidronette, qu'il ne faut point mépriser Serpentin Vert; & si ce n'étoit pas te dire une dureté, je t'assurerois qu'il est moins laid en son espèce, que tu ne l'es en la tienne” (183). Despite the friendly admonition, Laidronette refuses to accept what she perceives as an unpleasant and inappropriate analogy. This failure to interpret correctly her situation is to have, as we shall see, dire consequences for those around her.

Ugliness serves a purpose beyond that of allowing d'Aulnoy to substitute characters who are physically repellent (Laidronette, the Green Serpent, Magotine) for characters who are physically attractive (Psyche, Cupid, Venus); it is also a crucial element of the scene in which Laidronette discovers the true identity of her mysterious husband. Perhaps more than any other, this scene illustrates the degree to which d'Aulnoy at once draws upon and rewrites the Psyche myth.

Living happily with her invisible spouse, Laidronette is one day given La Fontaine's story of Psyché and Cupidon:³

il y en eut une [Pagode] qui lui apporta l'histoire de Psyché, qu'un auteur des plus à la mode venoit de mettre en beau langage; elle y trouva beaucoup de choses qui avoient de rapport avec son aventure, & lui prit une si violente envie de voir chez elle son père & sa mère avec sa soeur & son beau-frère, que quelque chose au monde que pût lui dire le roi, rien ne fut capable de lui ôter cette fantasie. Le livre que vous lisez, ajouta-t-il, vous peut faire savoir dans quels malheurs Psyché tomba: he! de grâce, profitez-en pour les éviter.

(198-99)

Laidronette does, indeed, follow her husband's advice. Approaching Psyché as she would a piece of didactic literature, she reads and rereads the novel in order to better prepare herself against any mischief her family's visit might cause (199). Her efforts are, however, in vain. Shortly after their arrival, a debate ensues between mother and daughter on whether or not there exists “un rapport” between Laidronette's situation and Psyché's. The queen exclaims: “Ah! malheureuse … que les panneaux qu'on te tend sont grossiers! Est-il possible que tu croies avec une si grande simplicité de tels contes? Ton mari est un monstre, & cela ne peut être autrement” (200-201). Laidronette replies: “Je crois bien plutôt … que c'est le dieu d'amour luimême” (201). To which the queen counters: “Quelle erreur … l'on dit à Psyché qu'elle avoit un monstre pour époux, & elle trouva que c'étoit l'amour; vous êtes entêtée que l'amour est le vôtre, & assurément c'est un monstre” (201). Having arrived at a hermeneutical impasse, it becomes evident to Laidronette that the only way to resolve the problem is by following in Psyché's footsteps. She therefore illuminates her sleeping husband's body and discovers, in place of the God of Love, the “affreux Serpentin Vert aux longs crins hérissés (201-202). For Laidronette, there is no fairy-tale reversal: the Beast is not a Beauty but a Beast.

Laidronette's disclosure of her husband's identity is important in another respect. In La Fontaine's version of the myth, Psyché's curiosity is presented as an inherent character trait, one of “les trois défauts de son sexe” (161).⁴ In d'Aulnoy's version, Laidronette's curiosity is, on the contrary, an acquired desire. In other words, it is not until she reads Psyché that Laidronette is motivated to know who her husband is, since up to that moment she has not only respected his privacy but also promised to have “aucune curiosité contre ses désirs” (198). At first glance, such an oath might appear suspect. Yet, if we again compare the respective situations of the two heroines, we find that Laidronette has substantially less reason to be curious about her husband's identity than Psyché does about hers. Laidronette knows, for example, that Magotine has cursed her spouse; that if she learns her husband's identity he must start his penitence again; and that if she honors his wishes her own beauty will be restored. Put differently, Laidronette's curiosity reflects not so much an interest in uncovering secrets as a desire to test an analogy—in this case the analogy between her own situation and Psyché's.

Whatever the impulse behind Laidronette's curiosity, she is nonetheless punished for her act of indiscretion. Hence, Magotine forces her to perform a series of impossible tasks, one of which involves filling a leaky pitcher with “l'eau de discrétion”. Intrigued by the water's name, Laidronette decides to drink some in order that she may become “plus prudente & plus discrète que par le passé” (213). While before Laidronette reasoned poorly (e.g. her encounters with the Green Serpent as well as her reading of Psyché), now she judges wisely and is, as a result, appropriately rewarded: “Après qu'elle eut bu un long trait, elle se lava le visage & devint si belle, si belle, qu'on l'auroit plutôt prise pour une déesse, que pour une personne mortelle” (213). With a change in appearance comes a change in name; Laidronette becomes “la reine Discrète”.

The restoration of Laidronette's beauty is not without significance, for she inhabits a world where character traits are often written on the body. Nowhere is this correspondence between surface and depth, between outside and inside, made more explicit than in the “forest episode”. Sent by the good fairy Protectrice to a secluded woods, Laidronette comes to rule over a rather unusual kingdom, one composed of men and women whose “défauts essentiels” have caused their metamorphosis into animals: “elles [les fées] firent des perroquets, des pies & des poules de celles qui parloient trop; des pigeons, des serins & des petits chiens, des amants & des maîtresses; des singes de ceux qui contrefaisoient leurs amis; des cochons, de certains gens qui aimoient trop la bonne chère” (215). Returning, then, to Laidronette's own transformation, we find that as the embodiment of discretion she stands, once again, in contrast to Psyché.

In d'Aulnoy's fairy tale, indiscretion and curiosity are inextricably linked to one another, for her heroine's “crime” is variously described as being “une curiosité trop indiscrète” (206) or “une indiscrète curiosité” (208, 221). Such a coupling suggests that it is not curiosity in and of itself which lies at the heart of Laidronette's misconduct, but a particular kind of curiosity, one that is injudicious, presumptuous and naive.⁵ We see this distinction more clearly when we compare how both Psyché and Laidronette perform what is to become their final task, a descent into the underworld to retrieve a container filled with a precious substance. In Psyché's case, the voyage proves disastrous, since curiosity clouds her judgment when she opens the forbidden box, despite all warnings to the contrary. Here is La Fontaine's text: “Elle eut envie de savoir quel était ce fard dont Proserpine l'avait chargée. Le moyen de s'en empêcher? Elle serait femme, et laisserait échapper une telle occasion de se satisfaire!” (247). In this case, curiosity represents an innate, essential and eternal feminine obsession with uncovering secrets (“elle serait femme”), an obsession for which there is neither cure nor treatment. Laidronette's case is, however, quite different. True to her new name, she refuses all temptation to open the dangerous gift (“une fiole assez mal bouchée, pour lui faciliter l'envie de l'ouvrir,” 226), and is, for this sagacious act, immediately rewarded by being reunited with her husband who also has regained his original form. Unlike her novelistic counterpart, Laidronette profits from experience and, in doing so, offers us an example of perfect discretion rather than fatal curiosity.

The points of divergence I have been tracing between La Fontaine's Psyché and d'Aulnoy's Laidronette are, I would like to suggest, ones that d'Aulnoy herself invites. By embedding direct references to contemporary writers (i.e. Corneille and Molière) in her tale, she prepares the way for an indirect allusion to La Fontaine as the author of the Psyché story given to Laidronette (“qu'un auteur des plus à la mode venoit de mettre en beau language,” 198). This allusion coupled with the notion of curiosity, a notion she examines in a more detailed and complex way than I have been able to discuss here, leads to a final observation. Initially, it appears that d'Aulnoy's treatment of “la mauvaise curiosité” does not represent anything original or new, but is simply a continuation of a pre-existing literary tradition. And yet, when we read it over and against Les Amours de Psyché et de Cupidon, her fairy tale stands out in stark relief, since she not only presents readers with an unusual heroine but also offers them, through Laidronette, a warning not to interpret by false analogy. If we see the differences, “Le Serpentin vert” carries us beyond the idea of feminine inquisitiveness by giving us a story that itself becomes a curiosity, something that is in the words of the Dictionnaire de l'Académie française: “rare, nouveau, excellent en son genre, propre à exciter la curiosité”.

Notes

1. Similarly the Dictionnaire de l'Académie française distinguishes between good and bad curiosity. The first represents “[une] passion, désir, empressement de voir, d'apprendre des choses nouvelles, intéressantes, rare, etc.” while the second reflects “une grande envie, un trop grand empressement de savoir les secrets, les affaires d'autrui.”

2. This issue is touched upon in Lewis C. Seifert's excellent book-length study, Fairy Tales, Sexuality, and Gender in France, and Marcelle Maistre Welch's articles, “Le Devenir de la jeune fille dans les contes de fées de Madame d'Aulnoy” and “Rébellion et Résignation dans les contes de fées de Mme d'Aulnoy et Mme de Murat.”

3. Because Laidronette reads a version of the myth recently written by “un auteur des plus à la mode,” it is more likely that d'Aulnoy has in mind La Fontaine as the author rather than Apuleius.

4. This is not the only instance in which curiosity is presented as a feminine trait. For example, when Psyché learns from her husband that she will receive mysterious visitors, Poliphile wryly comments: “Volià Psyché fort embarrassée, comme vous voyez. Deux curiosités à la fois! Y a-t-il femme qui y résistât?” (159). Further examples are found on pages 244 and 247.

5. Seventeenth-century dictionaries also equate indiscretion with an undesirable kind of curiosity. According to the Dictionnaire de l'Académie française, “Curieux se prend quelquefois en mauvaise part, et se dit d'une personne qui cherche indiscrètement à pénétrer les secrets d'autrui.” And the Dictionnaire universel offers the following: “c'est un indiscret qui est curieux de savoir les secrets d'autruy.”

Works Cited

Aulnoy, Marie-Catherine. Le Jumel de Barneville, Comtesse d', Les Contes des fées. 4 vols. Paris, 1697-1698.

Apuleius. Metamorphoses. Ed. and trans. J. Arthur Hanson. 2 vols. Loeb Classic Library. Cambridge: Harvard U P, 1989.

Dictionnaire de l'Académie française. Paris: Hachette, 1935.

Furetière, Antoine. Dictionnaire universel. 2nd ed. 2 vols.

Revised by Basnage de Bauval. The Hague and Rotterdam: A. and R. Leers, 1702.

La Fontaine, Jean de. Les Amours de Psyché et de Cupidon.

Œuvres diverses, éd. Pierre Clarac. Bibliothèque de la Pléiade. Paris: Gallimard, 1958.

Seifert, Lewis C. Fairy Tales, Sexuality, and Gender in France 1690-1715: Nostalgic Utopias. Cambridge: Cambridge U P, 1996.

Welch, Marcelle Maistre. “Le Devenir de la jeune fille dans les contes de fées de Madame d'Aulnoy”. Cahiers du Dix-septième 1.1 (1987), 53-62.

———.“Rébellion et Résignation dans les contes de fées de Mme d'Aulnoy et Mme de Murat”. Cahiers du Dix-septième 3.2 (1989), 131-142.