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THERE WAS ONCE a very rich merchant who
had three daughters; being a man of sense, he spared no cost for their
education. His daughters grew to be very beautiful, especially the youngest,
who was called Beauty, a special name that made her sisters very jealous of
her.
The two eldest had a great deal of pride because they were rich. They gave
themselves ridiculous airs, and would not visit other merchants' daughters,
nor keep company with any but persons of quality. They went out every day to
parties, balls, plays, concerts, and so forth, and they laughed at their
youngest sister, because she spent the greatest part of her time in reading
good books.
Suddenly, all at once the merchant lost his whole fortune, excepting
a small country house at a great distance from town, and told his children
with tears in his eyes that they must go there and work for their living. The
two eldest answered that they would never have to leave the town, for they
had several prominent merchants who they were sure would be glad to have
them, though they had no fortune. But the good ladies were mistaken, for
their lovers slighted and forsook them in their poverty. As they were not
liked on account of their pride, everybody said; they do not deserve to be
pitied, we are very glad to see their pride humbled, let them go and give themselves
quality airs in milking the cows and minding their dairy. But, added they, we
are extremely concerned for Beauty, she is such a
charming, sweet-tempered creature who speaks so kindly to poor people and has
such a friendly, gracious nature.
When they came to their country house, the merchant applied himself to
farming and Beauty rose at four in the morning. Before the others stirred,
she made haste to clean the house and prepare breakfast for the family. In
the beginning she found it very difficult, for she had not been used to work
as a servant, but in less than two months she grew stronger and healthier
than ever. After she had done her work, she read, played on the harpsichord,
or else sung while she spun yarn.
On the contrary, her two sisters did not know how to spend their time. They
got up at ten and did nothing but saunter about the whole day, lamenting the
loss of their fine clothes and acquaintance. "Do but see our youngest
sister," they snickered, one to the other, "how well she's suited
to a life of menial labor."
The family had lived about a year in the country house when the merchant
received a letter with an account that a ship he thought had been lost at
sea, that held on board dozens of bolts of cloth and silks he had purchased,
had in fact safely arrived. The family rejoiced in the turn of their fortune.
When the two eldest daughters saw their father ready to set out, one begged
of him to buy her a new necklace of gems, and the other a thick golden chain,
but Beauty asked only for a rose.
The good man set off on his journey. But when he came there, oh such problems
there were over who properly owned the ship and the merchandise on board, and
after a great deal of trouble and pains to no purpose, he came back as poor
as before, especially after he bought the fine new necklace and gold chain he
promised to his two older daughters. Thinking he might come upon a rosebush
to satisfy the wish of his youngest daughter, he led his horse deep into the
woods. As the sun set and the wind began to howl, the poor man realized he
was hopelessly lost. What's more, with the rain and the snow he knew he might
well starve to death with cold or hunger, or be devoured by the wolves, whom he heard howling all round him. Then in an instant,
looking through a long walk of trees, he saw a light at some distance. Going
on a little farther, he noticed it came from a place lit with candles from
top to bottom. The merchant hastened to the place, but was greatly surprised
at not meeting anyone in the outer courts. His horse followed him, and seeing
a large stable open, went in, and finding both hay and oats, the poor beast, who was almost famished, fell to eating very heartily. The
merchant tied him up to the manger and walked towards the house, where he saw
no one. Entering into a large hall, he found a good fire and a table
plentifully set out. As he was wet quite through with the rain and snow, he
drew near the fire to dry himself. "I hope," said he, "the
master of the house, or his servants will excuse the liberty I take; I
suppose it will not be long before some of them appear."
He waited a considerable time, until it struck eleven, and still nobody came.
At last he was so hungry that he could stand it no longer, but took a leg of
chicken and ate it in two mouthfuls, trembling all the while. After this he
drank a few glasses of wine. Growing more courageous, he went out of the hall
and crossed through several grand apartments with magnificent furniture,
until he came into a chamber. In the chamber was an exceedingly good bed, and
as he was very tired and it was past
It was ten the next morning before the merchant waked. As he was going to
rise he was astonished to see a good suit of clothes laid out on the bed that
would fit him perfectly. Certainly, said he, this palace belongs to some kind
fairy, who has seen and pitied my distress. He then
returned to the great hall where he had supped the night before, and found
some chocolate ready made on a little table. "Thank you, good Madam
Fairy," said he aloud, "for being so careful as to provide me a
breakfast. I am extremely obliged to you for all your favors."
The good man drank his chocolate and then went to look for his horse, but
passing through an arbor of roses he remembered Beauty's request to him, and
gathered a branch on which were several. Immediately he heard a great crash
like thunder, and looking around he saw a huge monster - two tusks in his
mouth and fiery red eyes surrounded by bristles and horns coming out of its
head and speading over its back.
"Mortal," roared the beast, "who told you you might pluck my
rose?"
"Please, sir," said the merchant in fear and terror for his life,
"I promised my daughter to bring her home a rose and forgot about it
till the last moment, and then I saw your beautiful garden and thought you
would not miss a single rose, or else I would have asked your
permission."
"Thieving is thieving," said the beast, "whether it be a rose
or a diamond; your life is forfeit."
The merchant fell on his knees and begged for his life for the sake of his
three daughters who had none but him to support them. "My lord,"
said he, "I beseech you to forgive me, indeed I had no intention to
offend in gathering a rose for one of my daughters, who desired me to bring
her one."
"You say you have daughters," replied the monster. "I will
forgive you, on one condition - that one of them come willingly and suffer
for you. Swear that if any of your daughers refuses to die in your stead, you
will return within three months and place yourself at my disposal."
So the merchant swore. Taking his rose, he mounted his horse and rode home.
As soon as he got into his house, his daughters came rushing round him,
clapping their hands and showing their joy in every way. He gave the necklace
to his eldest daughter, the gold chain to his second daughter, and then he
gave the rose to his youngest, and as he gave it he sighed.
"Oh, thank you, father," they all cried.
But the youngest said, "Why did you sigh so deeply when you gave me my
rose?"
"Later I will tell you," said the merchant.
So for several days they lived happily together, though the merchant wandered
about gloomy and sad, and nothing his daughters could do would cheer him up
till at last, pressed by his youngest daughter, he related his fatal
adventure.
Immediately the two eldest set up lamentable outcries, blaming poor Beauty,
and said all manner of ill-natured things to her.
Beauty spoke: "Since the monster will accept one of his daughter," said she, "I will deliver myself up
to all his fury, and I am very happy in thinking that my death will save my
father's life, and be a proof of my tender love for him."
"Beauty, I am charmed with your kind and generous offer," said the
merchant, "but I cannot let you do it. I am old and have not long to
live, so can will lose only a few years, at the most."
"Indeed father," said Beauty, "you shall not go to the palace
without me, you cannot stop me from following
you." Beauty insisted on setting out for the palace, and made the
necessary preparations for herself, and her sisters
were secretly delighted at the prospect of getting rid of her once and for
all.
So next day the merchant took Beauty behind him on his horse, as was the
custom in those days, and rode off to the dwelling of the beast. When he got
there and they alighted from his horse the doors of the house opened, and
what do you think they saw there? Nothing. So they went up the
steps and went through the hall into the dining room. There they saw a table
spread with all manner of beautiful glasses and plates and dishes and napery,
with plenty to eat upon it. So they waited and they waited, thinking that the
owner of the house would appear, till at last the merchant said, "Let's
sit down and see what happens then." When they sat down, invisible hands
passed them things to eat and to drink, and they ate and drank to their
heart's content. And when they arose from the table it arose too and
disappeared through the door as if it were being carried by invisible servants.
Suddenly the Beast filled the doorway. "Is this your youngest
daughter?" he boomed.
And when he had said that it was, the Beast said, "Is she willing to
stay here with me?"
Then he looked at Beauty who said, in a trembling voice, "Yes,
sir."
"Well, no harm shall befall you." With that he led the merchant
down to his horse and said to him, "Honest man, go your ways tomorrow
morning, but never think of coming here again." Then the Beast returned
to Beauty and said to her, "This house with all that is therein is
yours; if you desire anything, clap your hands and say the word and it shall
be brought to you." And with that he made a sort of bow and went away.
So Beauty lived on in the home of the Beast and was waited on by invisible
servants and had whatever she liked to eat and to drink, but she soon got
tired of the solitude. Next day, when the Beast came to her, though he looked
so frightening, she had been so well treated that she had lost a great deal
of her terror of him. So they spoke together about the garden and the house
and her father's business and all manner of things, so that Beauty lost
altogether her fear of the beast.
"Beauty," said the Beast, "if my presence is troublesome, I
will end our conversation and leavy you. For tell me, do not you think me
very ugly?"
"It is true," said Beauty, "for I cannot tell a lie, but I
believe you are very good natured."
"Yes, yes," said the Beast, "my heart is good, but still I am
a monster."
"Among mankind," says Beauty, "there are many that deserve
that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who,
under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart."
Beauty ate a hearty supper and had almost conquered her dread of the monster,
but she nearly fainted away when he said to her, "Beauty, will you be my
wife?"
It was some time before she dared answer, for she was afraid of making him
angry if she refused. At last, however, she said trembling, "No,
Beast." Immediately the poor monster sighed, and then hissed so
frightfully that the whole palace echoed. But Beauty soon recovered her
fright, for Beast said in a mournful voice, "then farewell,
Beauty," and left the room.
Beauty spent the next three months very contentedly in the palace. Seeing the
Beast often had so accustomed her to his deformity, that, far from dreading
the time of his visit, she would often look on her watch to see when it would
be nine, for the Beast never missed coming at that hour. There was only one
thing that gave Beauty any concern, which was that every night, before she
went to bed, the monster always asked her, if she would be his wife. One day
she said to him, "Beast, you make me very uneasy, I wish I could consent
to marry you, but I am too sincere to make you believe that will ever happen;
I shall always esteem you as a friend, please try to
be satisfied with this."
"I suppose I must," said the Beast, "for, alas! I know too
well my own misfortune. Though I ought to think myself happy that you will
stay here; promise never to leave me."
Beauty blushed at these words. "I could," answered she,
"indeed, promise never to leave you, but I have so great a desire to see
my father that I'm afraid I shall fret to death if you refuse me that
satisfaction."
"Perhaps this will help," said the Beast. He handed her a handled
looking-glass and in the round mirror was the image of Beauty's father,
pining himself sick for the loss of her.
"Oh!" she cried, and all the color rushed from her face.
"I would rather die myself," said the monster, "than give you
the least uneasiness. I will send you to your father. You may remain with him
for one week, but if you do not return before the end of the week, poor Beast
will die with grief."
"I give you my promise," said Beauty, "to return in a
week."
"You shall be there tomorrow morning," said the Beast. "Take
this magic looking-glass with you, and this ring. You need only to lay your
ring on the mirror before you go to bed, when you have a mind to come back.
Farewell Beauty."
When Beauty waked the next morning, she found herself at her father's house.
She quickly dressed and came to the kitchen, where her father gave a loud
shriek and thought he would die with joy to see his dear daughter again. He
held her fast locked in his arms over a quarter of an hour. As soon as the
first transports were over, the father shared with Beauty the good news -
both her sisters were married.
Beauty sent for her sisters who hastened thither with their husbands. They
were both of them very unhappy. The eldest had married a gentleman, extremely
handsome indeed, but so fond of his own person, that he was full of nothing
but his own dear self, and neglected his wife. The second had married a man
of wit, but he only made use of it to plague and torment everybody, and his
wife most of all. Beauty's sisters sickened with envy, when they saw her
dressed like a princess, and more beautiful than ever, nor could all her
obliging affectionate behavior stifle their jealousy, which was ready to
burst when she told them how happy she was. They went down into the garden to
vent it in tears; and said one to the other, in what way is this little
creature better than us, that she should be so much happier?
"Sister," said the oldest, "a thought strikes my mind. She
told us of the promise to stay only for one week. Let us try to keep her
beyond the week. Perhaps the monster will be so enraged for breaking her word
that he will devour her."
"Right, sister," answered the other. They went back to the house
and behaved so affectionately to their sister that poor Beauty wept for joy.
When the week was expired, they cried and tore their hair, and seemed so
sorry to part with her that she promised to stay a week longer.
In the meantime, Beauty could not help feeling uneasy that she was likely
causing pain for poor Beast, whom she sincerely loved, and really longed to
see again. The tenth night she spent at her father's, she dreamed of the
Beast in the palace garden, suffering, maybe even dying, for lonliness for
her. Beauty was startled from her sleep, sat up straight in bed, and burst
into tears. "Am I not very wicked," said she, "to act so
unkindly to Beast, who has tried so hard to please me in everything? Is it
his fault if he is so ugly? He is kind and good, and that is more than
enough. Why did I refuse to marry him? I would be happier with the monster
than my sisters are with their husbands; it is neither wit, nor a fine face,
in a husband, that makes a woman happy, but virtue, sweetness of temper, and
thoughtfulness, and Beast has all these valuable qualifications. Having said
this, Beauty rose, put her ring on the mirror, and then laid
down again; scarce was she in bed before she fell asleep, and when she waked
the next morning, she was overjoyed to find herself in the Beast's palace.
She put on one of her richest suits to please him, and waited for evening
with the utmost impatience, at last the wished-for hour came, the clock
struck nine, yet no Beast appeared. Beauty then feared she had been the cause
of his death; she ran crying and wringing her hands all about the palace,
like one in despair; after having sought for him everywhere, she remembered
her dream and flew to the garden, where she had dreamed she saw him. There
she found poor Beast stretched out, quite senseless, and, as she imagined,
dead. She threw herself upon him and finding his heart beating still, she
fetched some water from the canal and poured it on his head. Beast opened his
eyes, and said to Beauty, "You forgot your promise, and I was so
afflicted for having lost you that I resolved to starve myself, but since I
have the happiness of seeing you once more, I die satisfied."
"No, dear Beast," said Beauty, "you must not die. Live to be
my husband; from this moment I give you my hand, and swear to be none but
yours. Alas! I thought I had only a friendship for you, but the grief I now
feel convinces me that I cannot live without you."
No sooner had she said this than the hide of the beast split in two and out
came a most handsome young prince. The prince told her that he had been
enchanted by a magician and could not recover his natural form until a maiden
would, of her own free will, declare that she loved him.
Thereupon the prince sent for the merchant and his daughters, and he was
married to Beauty, and they all lived happily ever after.
Source of Story:
This version of "Beauty and the Beast" is combined by Elaine L.
Lindy from two sources:
(1) the story as told by Madam Prince de Beaumont in 1756 (The Young
Misses Magazine, Containing Dialogues between a Governess and Several Young
Ladies of Quality Her Scholars, 4th edition, volume 1, London, pp.45-67).
(2) the story as told by Joseph Jacobs in 1916 (European Folk and Fairy
Tales, New York, G. P. Putnam's Sons, pp. 34-41).
The copyright for this version is held by Elaine L. Lindy ©2006. All rights
reserved.
About "Beauty and the Beast":
"Beauty and the Beast" is a classic fairytale, nearly as beloved as
"Cinderella" and "Sleeping Beauty." Yet unlike those two
stories, where the female protagonist instantly falls in love with her
prince, in this tale the woman gets to know the male character first and
develops a relationship with him before she falls in love. Another
distinguishing characteristic of the story is that the male character,
portrayed as hideously ugly (a "beast") proves to be gentle and
kind, thus disproving the notion that first impressions are trustworthy.
The "animal bridegroom" motif is well known to folklorists, however
the specific tale of "Beauty and the Beast" as we know it evolved
from the literary imagination of two Frenchwomen. Madame Beaumont wrote
a version which itself was a revision of an even longer tale penned by
Frenchwoman Madame Villeneuve over a decade before (see "Source of
Story"). However Madame Beaumont is credited with the plot line of the
story we accept today. In her version, Beauty comes to appreciate the Beast
by her own initiative rather than in the Villeneuve version, where she is
repeatedly reassured by a Good Fairy and magical dreams that loving the Beast
is a good idea. The story of "Beauty and the Beast" is often
mistakenly credited to Charles Perrault, who published a popular collection
of fairytales (Tales of Mother Goose) in 1697, including this one.
Some note a similarity with the story line in the modern King Kong
films.