Melusine

Legends of the Demon Countess and the Plantagenet's unholy bloodline serve to enhance their monstrous mystique.

King Richard I often embellished the tale by claiming his ancestor was the legendary Melusine, a mythical female water fairy.

Much like a mermaid, she had the upper body of a beautiful woman and the tail of a serpent.

She often also came complete with the wings of a dragon.

Some say the Lady of the Lake from Arthurian legend was one of Melusine's kind.

Richard, who was himself a fearless and heedless warrior, would always end his tale with this foreboding proclamation about his family, "From the devil we came, and to the devil we will go." The one small hiccup in this otherwise marvelously ghoulish tale is the inconvenient fact that Geoffrey Greymantle's wife was not a woman of mysterious origin, but a well-known French noblewoman by the name of Adele of Maur.

She died in unmysterious circumstances in 982 and is buried in St. Aubin's Abbey, Angers.

These ladies, in fact, are by no means unfrequent in those fabulous, it must be confessed, but at the same time ingenious and entertaining histories.

As for instance, Melusine or Melusine, the heroine of a very ancient romance in French verse, and who was occasionally turned into a serpent, Morgan le Fay, the reputed half-sister of King Arthur, and the Lady of the Lake, so frequently noticed in Sir Thomas Mallory's old history of that monarch.

Legrand is of opinion that what is called fairy comes to us from the Orientals, and that it is their genies which have produced our fairies, a species of nymphs of an order superior to those women magicians, to whom they nevertheless gave the same name.

In Asia, he says, where the women imprisoned in the harems prove still beyond the general servitude a particular slavery, the romancers have imagined the peri, who flying in the air come to soften their captivity and render them happy.

This is a LibriVox recording.

A Word of Introduction Who has visited the pale islands where it snows jasmine flowers? or has wandered through the forest of Brocoliand, where the fairy Orianna, once upon a time, bridged the dewdrops with oaten straws to save the caterpillars from wetting their velvet feet? Who knows the boundaries of the kingdom of Ormus, can tell the sea in which glistens the golden isle, the name of the last emperor of Trebizond, or describe the lost glories of Matican? Who has heard of the silver-winged Urgande, Urgale, or Melusine? of their pale sister Habondi, or of the wicked outcast Melandrine.

There may be some travellers along the byways of fancy who have landed on these elusive shores, and doubtless there are students of the recondite who have made the acquaintance of the shadowy monarchs and flitting elves, but to the great bulk of readers, even to those of fairy stories, all this is new country with stranger people.

For this reason, if for none other, this version of Les Comptes du Rouvaix of Cthulhu Mendes should be made welcome.

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and as one becomes all the happier for doing good so the fairy orianna was so full of self-satisfaction that if she had not been afraid of overturning her carriage she would have stood up and danced in the nutshell but the hour of her happiness soon came to an end alas what had happened she was certain she had followed the right road yet there where the forest or broseliande had formerly waved its green depths in the breeze there now spread nothing but a vast plain marked here and there with a huge building while overhead the sky was grimy with black smoke oh what has become of you dear green and golden glades cried orianna glades where we used to dance in the clear starlight and where are the clumps of rose bushes the hawthorn thickets the grottoes where we slept upon mosses amid perfumes and music and what has become of the underground palace with its crystal walls, which we use to light up on fete days with thousands of living jewels.

And what has become of you, Urgonde, Urgola, Alcine, Vivian, and Holda, and Melusine, and you, Melandra, and you, Ariel, and Mab, and Titania, whatever has become of you all? Ah, poor Oriana, said a lizard, who was running away to hide himself in the rocks.

In vain you call, Crowds of rough and thoughtless men have invaded your peaceful solitudes, in order that they might build those ugly houses and open a passage for frightful machines, breathing smoke and flames.

Third hint.

The fairy Melusina.

I don't know.

You got nothing.

Love

it.

And Lamont's most famous poem is this kind of long, epic-length poem called the Fairy Melusina.

Oh, right.

When you get into the Song of Solomon, okay, when I studied this out, they tell that story of the blood drinking in, in many allegories.

Uh, Melusine-

Right

... for instance, she's at the center of a maze where this well is.

Bingo.

Bingo.

And Sigismund, he traced it back to Melusine.

He said that she was the one that came from Ireland and brought the dragon bloodline and initiation rites of the dragon princesses, and that's where he claimed that, you know, his genealogy stemmed from.

... all these symbologies too.

They, they talk about, you know, the grail maidens or Melusine.

You know, if you ever heard of Melusine, she was one of the first, you know, dragon princesses, and said she sat in the center of a labyrinth on a, on a black cube stone that water flowed, the waters of life.

And, uh, the person that would venture in, like the Wild Hunt, make it to the center and get the embrace of Melusine, and it would do one of two things.

It either, it would either be the embrace of death or the embrace of new life.

But they say it's alchemical once again because she's a- allowing you to taste of her Starfire and it's killing you.

These ladies, in fact, are by no means unfrequent in those fabulous, it must be confessed, but at the same time, ingenious and entertaining histories.

As, for instance, Melusine or Melusine, the heroine of a very ancient romance in French births and who was occasionally turned into a serpent.

morgan le fay a reputed hap sister of king arthur and the lady of the lake so frequently noticed in sir thomas malory's old history of that monarch legrand is of opinion that what is called fairy comes to us from the orientals and that it is their genies which have produced our fairies a species of nymphs of an order superior to those women magicians to whom they nevertheless gave the same name in asia he says where the women imprisoned in the harems prove still beyond the general servitude a particular slavery the romancers have imagined the paris who flying in the air come to soften their captivity and render them happy fabio twelve m o one one twelve whether this be so or not it is certain that we call the aurori borealis or active clouds in the night parry dancers after all sir william owsley finds it impossible to give an accurate idea of what the persian poets designed by a parry this aerial being not resembling our fairies the strongest resemblance he can find is in the description of milton in comus the sublime idea which milton entertained of a fairy vision corresponds rather with that which the persian poets have conceived of the parries their port was more than human as they stood i took it for a fairy vision of some gay creatures of the element that in the colors of the rainbow live and play in the plighted clouds disraeli's romances page thirteen It is by no means credible, however, that Milton had any knowledge of the Oriental parries, though his enthusiastic or poetical imagination might have easily peopled the air with spirits.

There are two sorts of fays, according to M. Legrand.

And so he ended up consolidating them all.

But, like, w- where this centers from is, like, Melusine, the way the stories go, they ... all these bloodlines, uh, that claim this dragon courts, a lot of them go back to Melusine.

Okay.

And Melusine, uh, she came from basically modern s- you know, Scotland, and she went-

Who was, who was Melusine? Is she seen as a, like a queen?

Okay.

Let's do this then.

... you know, I like to think myself a bit of a, a student of history here, so that's a-

Grainger, for the ones who get it done.

A WORD OF INTRODUCTION Who has visited the pale islands where it snows jasmine flowers? Or has wandered through the forest of Brocoliand, where the fairy Orianna, once upon a time, bridged the dewdrops with oaten straws to save the caterpillars from wetting their velvet feet? Who knows the boundaries of the kingdom of Ormus, can tell the sea in which glistens the golden isle, the name of the last emperor of Trebizond, or describe the lost glories of Matican? Who has heard of the silver-winged Urgande, Urgale or Melusine, of their pale sister Habondi, or of the wicked outcast Melandrine? There may be some travellers along the byways of fancy who have landed on these elusive shores, and doubtless there are students of the recondite who have made the acquaintance of the shadowy monarchs and flitting elves, but to the great bulk of readers, even to those of fairy stories, all this is new country with stranger people.

For this reason, if for none other, this version of Les Comptes du Rouvaix of Catulle Mendès should be made welcome.

But there are other reasons why the stories may claim a place among the treasured records of fairydom.

And as one becomes all the happier for doing good, so the fairy Orianna was so full of self-satisfaction that, if she had not been afraid of overturning her carriage, she would have stood up and danced in the nutshell.

But the hour of her happiness soon came to an end.

Alas, what had happened? She was certain she had followed the right road, yet there where the forest of broseliande had formerly waved its green depths in the breeze there now spread nothing but a vast plain marked here and there with a huge building while overhead the sky was grimy with black smoke oh what has become of you dear green and golden glades cried orianna glades where we used to dance in the clear starlight and where are the clumps of rose bushes the hawthorn thickets the grottos where we slept upon mosses amid perfumes and music, and what has become of the underground palace with its crystal walls, which we used to light up on fete days with thousands of living jewels, and what has become of you, Ergonde, Ergola, Alcine, Vivian, and Holda, and Melusine, and you, Melandra, and you, Ariel, and Mab, and Titania, whatever has become of you all, ah poor orianna said a lizard who was running away to hide himself in the rocks in vain you call crowds of rough and thoughtless men have invaded your peaceful solitudes in order that they might build those ugly houses and open a passage for frightful machines breathing smoke and flames they have cut down your trees set fire to the rose bushes and hawthorns filled up your mysterious grottoes and crystal palaces with rocks while all the fairies had been killed in the general disaster.

I saw Habandi, who was trying to escape, die under the foot of a workman, as though she had been a grasshopper.