There was once a very rich merchant, who had three sons and three
daughters. He loved his children very much and, being a sensible man,
he spared no cost for their education. Each had tutors in the arts and
music and all manner of intersting things. The merchant's daughters
were especially beautiful, especially the youngest. When she was
little, the whole town would admire her, calling her "The little
Beauty" so that, as she grew, she was still called Beauty, a fact which
made her sisters most jealous.
The youngest, loving learning more than the others, excelled at her
studies. The elder sisters were proud and arrogant and often rude to
others, believing that because they were rich they were somehow better
than the people of the town. They gave themselves ridiculous airs, and
refused to visit the daughters of their father's business associates.
Neither would they company with anyone they did not consider to be of
quality, which meant people who had more money and put on more
ridiculous airs than they themselves. Daily parties and outings became
the norm: Each day brought: balls, plays, concerts, and so forth. They
derided youngest sister, and considered her a fool because she passed
so much of her time time reading books.
As it was known that they would marry with huge dowries, several
eminent merchants sought to woo the merchant's daughters. But the two
eldest asserted that they would never marry, unless it were to a duke,
or an earl at the very least. Beauty, however, politely thanked all
that courted her, and told them she was too young yet to marry, but
wished to stay with her father a few years longer.
One day, suddenly, some bad decisions caused the merchant lost his
whole fortune and his estate in the city. He had only a small country
house to his name, and it was at a great distance from town. With tears
in his eyes, he called his children to announce that they work for
their living in the country. The two eldest rebelled, swearing that
they would never leave the town for they had several lovers, who sure
would be glad to have them with or without their dowries. Alas, the
good ladies were mistaken, for their lovers slighted and abandoned them
to their new-found poverty. Their arrogance and mean-spiritedness had
made them so ill-liked that the townspeople were secretly very glad to
see them humbled. "Let them go and give themselves airs in milking the
cows and minding their dairy! But," they whispered, "we shall miss
Beauty and wish her well always. She was such a lovely, sweet-tempered
creature and always spoke so kindly to poor and rich people alike.
Indeed, several gentlemen would have married her, though they knew she
had not a penny. Still she told them she would not abandon her poor
father in his misfortunes, but was determined to go along with him into
the country to comfort and attend him.
Poor Beauty at first grieved at the loss of her fortune. "But," said mused,
"were I to cry or complain, that would not make things better. She resolved to make herself happy without a fortune.
Arriving at their country house, the merchant and his three sons
began to work as farmers and dairymen, while Beauty rose at four each
morning, and ensured that the house was clean and comfortable, and
dinner ready for the family. At first, she found it very difficult, for
she was unaccustomed to labor as a servant, but in fewer than two
months she grew stronger and healthier than ever. At the end of the day
when her work was finished, she read, played the harpsichord, or sang
songs while she spun.
Her two sisters, on the other hand, were at a loss as how to spend
their time; they arose at ten each morning, and did nothing but saunter
about the whole day, lamenting the loss of their fine clothes and
acquaintances. "Look at our youngest sister," they said to one to the
other, "what a poor, stupid creature she is, to content herself with
such an unhappy dismal existence."
The good merchant was of quite a different opinion. He knew very
well that Beauty outshone her sisters, in her person as well as her
mind. He admired her humility and industry, but above all her humility
and patience. For her sisters not only left her all the work of the
house to do, but rewarded her with insults every waking moment.
After the family had retired to the country for a year, the merchant
received notice that a vessel carrying cargo that belonged to him that
had safely arrived. This news spun the heads of the two eldest
daughters, who immediately envisioned themselves returning to town in
glory and new finery, for they were long weary of a country life.
Seeing their father preparing to leave for town, they begged of him to
buy them new clothes, scarves, ribbons, and all manner of trifles. He
promised to see what he could do. "And what for you, Beauty? Will you
have fine clothes like your sisters?" But Beauty asked for nothing -
for she thought to herself, that all the money her father was going to
receive, would scarce be sufficient to purchase everything her sisters
demanded.
"Since you have the goodness to think of me," answered she, "be so
kind to bring me a rose, for as none grow hereabouts, they are a kind
of rarity." Not that Beauty cared for a rose, but she asked for
something, so she would not seem by her example to condemn her sisters'
conduct, who would have said she did it to reflect poorly on them.
The good man departed on his journey, but upon arriving in town, he
found that recovering his cargo would not be easy. He went to speak
with his old business friends and lawyers about the merchandise, but
finally, after a great deal of trouble and pains to no purpose, he set
off for home as poor as when he left.
He was within thirty miles of his own house, thinking on the
pleasure he should have in seeing his children again, when he became
lost in a dark forest. The weather had been warm and sunny but suddenly
it was raining and snowing fiercefully. The wind blew so hard that it
twice threw him off his horse, and with night coming on,he feared that
he might die from cold and hunger, or else be devoured by the wolves he
heard howling all round him. Suddenly, looking through a long walk of
trees, he saw a light at some distance, and going a little farther in
that direction, he perceived it came from a brightly-lit palace. The
merchant rejoiced at this happy discovery, and rode toward the palace
as quickly as he could. Here, dismounting, he was greatly surprised to
find no one in the outer courts. Leading his horse, he found a large
stable open, and finding both hay and oats, the poor beast fell to
eating very heartily. The merchant tied him up to the manger, and
himself walked towards the house, where still seeing no one, he entered
a large hall with a good fire, and a great feast set out but with only
one place setting laid. As he was soaked by the rain and snow, he drew
near the fire to warm himself and dry his clothes. "I hope," he said in
a half-audible voice hoping that someone would hear him, "that 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 for hours and no one appeared. The clock strike nine, ten,
eleven, and still no one had come. At last, he was so hungry that he
could stay no longer, but took a chicken, and ate it in two mouthfuls,
trembling all the while. He then drank a few glasses of wine, and
growing more courageous, he went out of the hall, crossing several
grand salons of magnificent furniture, until he reached a guest
chamber, with a warm bed turned down and waiting for him. It was now
past midnight and he was weary from his many adventures of the day. He
decided it was best to shut the door, and go to bed where he fell into
a deep, dreamless sleep.
It was ten the next morning before the merchant awoke, and as he
began to rise, he was astonished to see a fine suit of clothes put out
for him. His own clothes had been quite spoiled from the elements.
Certainly, he thought, this palace belongs to some kind fairy, who has
seen and pitied my distress. He looked through a window, but instead of
snow, he saw a garden of delightful arbors, interwoven with the most
beautiful flowers he had ever seen. He returned to the great hall,
where he had supped the night before, and found frothy hot chocolate
waiting on a small 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. 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 noise, and saw such a frightful Beast coming towards him,
that he was nearly fainted.
"You are truly ungrateful," said the Beast to him, in a terrible
voice. "I have saved your life by receiving you into my home, and in
return, you steal my roses, which I value beyond all else in the
universe. You shall die for it; I give you but a quarter of an hour to
prepare yourself, and make your peace with God."
The merchant fell on his knees, and lifted up both his hands, "My
lord," said he, "I beg your forgiveness. Indeed I had no intention to
offend you in gathering a rose for one of my daughters, who desired me
to bring her one."
"My name is not 'My Lord'," replied the monster, "but 'Beast'. I am
no lover of compliments, not I. I like people to speak their mind
honestly. Do not imagine that I am to be moved by any of your
flattering speeches." Here he paused. "But you say you have got
daughters? I will forgive you, on condition that one of them come
willingly, and suffer for you. Let me have no words, but go about your
business, and swear that if your daughter should refuse to die in your
stead, you will return within three months."
The merchant had no mind to sacrifice his daughters to the ugly
monster, and hoped only that he should have the satisfaction of seeing
them once more, so he promised, upon oath that he would return. The
Beast told him he might set out whenever he pleased, "but," added he,
"you shall not depart empty-handed; go back to the chamber where you
spent the night, and you will see a great empty chest; fill it with
whatever you like best, and I will send it to your home," and thereupon
the Beast withdrew.
"Well," said the good man to himself, "if I must die, I shall be
comforted to know that I am leaving something to my poor children." He
returned to the bedchamber, and finding a great quantity of broad
pieces of gold, he filled the great chest the Beast had mentioned,
locked it, and afterwards took his horse out of the stable, leaving the
palace with as much grief as he had entered it with joy. The horse, of
his own accord, took one of the roads of the forest, and in a few hours
the good man was at home.
His children came to him, but instead of receiving their embraces
with pleasure, he looked on them, and holding up the branch he had in
his hands, he burst into tears. "Here, Beauty," said he, "take these
roses, but little do you know how dear they are like to cost your
unhappy father," and then related his fateful adventure. Immediately
the two eldest set up lamentable outcries, and loudly blamed Beauty,
who did not cry at all.
"Do but see the pride of that little wretch," said they; "she would
not ask for fine clothes, as we did; but no, Miss wanted to set herself
above us, so now she will be the death of our poor father. And yet she
does not so much as shed a tear."
"Why should I?" answered Beauty, "It would be needless, for my
father shall not suffer upon my account. Since the monster will accept
of one of his daughters, I will deliver myself up to all his fury. I am
very content that my death will save my father's life, and be a proof
of my tender love for him."
"No, sister," said her three brothers, "that shall not be. We will
seek out the monster, and either kill him, or perish in the attempt."
"Do not imagine any such thing, my sons," said the merchant,
"Beast's power is so great, you cannot overcome him. I am moved by
Beauty's kind and generous offer, but I cannot yield to it. I am old,
and have not long to live. I can lose, at most, only a few years, which
I regret for your sakes alone, my dear children."
"Indeed father," said Beauty, "you shall not go to the palace
without me; you cannot keep me from following you." Despite everything
her father and brothers said, Beauty could not be persuaded otherwise.
She still insisted on setting out for the fine palace, and her sisters
were delighted at it, for her good heart and kind ways made them
envious and jealous.
The merchant was so afflicted at the thoughts of losing his daughter
that he had quite forgotten the chest full of gold. But as he retired
that night to rest, no sooner had he shut his chamber door than to his
great astonishment, he found the chest by his bedside. He was
determined, however, not to tell his children, that he was grown rich,
because they would have wanted to return to town, and he was resolved
not to leave the countryside. He trusted only Beauty with the secret,
who recounted to him how two gentlemen had come in his absence to court
her sisters. She begged her father to consent to their marriage, and to
give them fortunes, for she was so good that she loved them and forgave
all their cruelty to her. These wicked creatures rubbed their eyes with
an onion to force some tears when they parted with their sister, but
her brothers held each other to console themselves at the loss of her.
Only Beauty shed no tears at parting, because she would not increase
their unhappiness.
Setting off, the horse took the most direct road to the palace. As
dusk fell, they saw it illuminated as the father had at his first
visit. The horse went of himself into the stable, and the good man and
his daughter came into the great hall, where they found a table
splendidly set and two place settings. The merchant had little heart to
eat, but Beauty, wanting to put her father at ease, eagerly sat down to
table. "Afterwards," she thought to herself, "Beast surely has a mind
to fatten me before he eats me, since he provides such delicious
suppers."
When they had supped they heard a tremendous noise, and the
merchant, all in tears, bid his favorite child farewell, for he thought
Beast was coming. Beauty shuddered in terror at his horrid form, but
she took courage as best as she could. The monster demanded to know if
she came willingly: "Ye -- e -- es," she responded, trembling.
The beast smiled quite briefly to himself and said, "You are very
good, and I am greatly obliged to you; honest man, go your ways
tomorrow morning, but never think of coming here again."
"Farewell Beauty, farewell Beast," answered he, and immediately the
monster withdrew. "Oh, daughter," said the merchant, embracing Beauty,
"I am nearly frightened to death. Believe me, you had better return
home, and let me stay here."
"No, father," said Beauty, resolutely, "you shall set out tomorrow
morning, and leave me to my destiny." They retired to to beds, thinking
they should not close their eyes all night. But scarcely had their
heads met their pillows than they fell fast asleep. In her dreams,
Beauty saw a fine lady who came to her and said, "I am content, Beauty,
with your good will. This good action of yours to sacrifice your own
life to save your father's shall not go unrewarded." Beauty awoke, and
told her father her dream, and though it helped to comfort him a
little, he could not help crying bitterly when he took leave of her in
the morning.
As soon as his silhouette had vanished from the horizon, Beauty sat
down in the great hall, and fell to sobbing. But as she was a person of
great resolution, she said her prayers, and resolved not to be uneasy
the little time she had to live, for she firmly believed Beast would
devour her that night.
Her tears spent, she began to notice that her surrounding were so
lovely and it occurred to her that she might as well explore the palace
and grounds a bit until then. The Beast's home was a delightful
pleasant place, and she was extremely surprised upon finding a door,
over which was written, "Beauty's Apartment." She opened it hastily,
and was quite dazzled with the magnificence that reigned throughout.
Amazed, her eyes rested upon a large library, a harpsichord, and
several music books. "Well," said she to herself, "I see my time will
nmot hang heavy upon my hands for want of amusement." Then she
reflected, "Were I but to stay here a day, he would not have ordered
all these preparations." This idea inspired her with courage; and
opening the library she took a book, and read these words, in letters
of gold:
Welcome Beauty, banish fear,
You are queen and mistress here.
Speak your wishes, speak your will,
Swift obedience meets them still.
"Alas," said she, with a sigh, "there is nothing I desire so much as
to see my poor father, and know what he is doing." She had no sooner
said this than casting her eyes on a great looking glass, to her great
amazement, she saw her own home and her father arriving there with a
very dejected countenance. Her sisters went to meet him, and
notwithstanding their attempts to feign grief, their joy at having got
rid of their sister was visible in every feature. In the next moment,
the vision
disappeared, and Beauty took heart at this proof of Beast's willingness
to allay her fears.
At noon she found dinner ready, and while at table, was entertained
with an excellent concert of unseen music. But at night, as she was
going to sit down to supper, she heard the noise Beast made, and could
not help being terrified. "Beauty," said the monster, "will you give me
leave to see you sup?"
"That is as you please," answered Beauty trembling.
"No," replied the Beast, "you alone are mistress here; you need only
bid me gone, if my presence is troublesome, and I will immediately
withdraw. But, tell me, do not you think me very ugly?"
"That is true," said Beauty, "for I cannot tell a lie. But I believe to be good of heart."
"So I am," said the monster, "so I am." But then, besides my
ugliness, I have no sense. I know very well, that I am a poor, silly,
stupid creature."
"'Tis no sign of folly to think so," replied Beauty, "for never did
a fool know this, or had so humble an estimation of his own
understanding."
"Eat then, Beauty," said the monster, "and amuse yourself in your
palace, for everything here is yours. I should be unconsolable if you
were not happy."
"You are most kind," answered Beauty. "I am touched by your
kindness, and when I consider that, your deformity seems scarely noticeable."
"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."
"If I had sense enough," replied the Beast, "I would replay your
fine compliment to thank you, but I am so dull, that I can only thank
you for your kind words."
Beauty ate a hearty supper, and had almost conquered her dread of
the monster, when he asked her, "Beauty, will you be my wife?"
Breathless, she paused 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 began to
sigh, and hissed so frightfully, that the whole palace echoed. But
Beauty soon recovered from her fright, for Beast having said, in a
mournful voice, "Then farewell, Beauty," left the room, turning back
now and then to look at her as he went out.
When Beauty was alone, she felt a great deal of compassion for poor
Beast. "Alas," said she, "'Tis thousand pities that someone so good
should be so ugly."
Beauty spent three months very contentedly in the palace. Every
evening, Beast paid her a visit, and talked to her, during supper, very
rationally, with plain good common sense, but never with what the world
calls wit. Each day, Beauty discovered some new virtue in the monster,
and as the days passed, she grew accustomed to his deformity. It was
not long before she found herself looking forward to the evening when
she knew he would visit. She would often check her watch to see when it
would be nine, for the Beast never missed coming at that hour.
There was but one thing that gave Beauty any concern: that every
night, before she went to bed, the monster always asked her to be his
wife. One day she said to him, "Beast, I wish I could consent to marry
you, but I cannot lead you to falsely believe that will ever happen. I
shall always treasure you as a dearest friend, please be satisfied with
this."
"I must," said the Beast, "For, alas! I know too well my own
misfortune. But then I love you more than life itself. I know that I
ought to think myself happy, that you will stay here; promise me never
to leave me."
Beauty blushed at these words; she had seen in her mirror's
reflection that her father had grown sick with pining for the loss of
her. She longed to see him again. "I could indeed," answered she,
"promise never to leave you entirely, were it not for one thing. I have
so great a desire to see my father, that I fear I shall die if you do
not let me see him one more time."
"I had rather die myself," said the monster, "than have you suffer
any unhappiness. I will send you to your father. You shall remain with
him, and poor Beast will die with grief."
"No," said Beauty, weeping, "I love you too well to be the cause of
your death. I give you my promise to return in a week. You have shown
me that my sisters are married, and my brothers gone to the army. Oly
let me stay a week with my father, as he is alone."
"You shall be there tomorrow morning," said the Beast, "but remember
your promise. You need only lay your ring on a table before you go to
bed, when you are ready to come back. Farewell Beauty." Beast sighed,
as usual, bidding her good night, and Beauty went to bed with a heavy
heart at seeing him so miserble. As he had promised, she found herself
at her father's house when she woke in the morning. Having rung a
little bell, that was by her bedside, she saw the maid come, who, the
moment she saw her, gave a loud shriek, at which her father ran
upstairs, and thought he should have died with joy to see his dearest
daughter again. He held her fast, locked in his arms for more than a
quarter of an hour. Soon after, Beauty began to think of rising, and
was afraid she had no clothes to wear but the maid told her, that she
had just found, in the next room, a large trunk full of gowns, covered
with gold and diamonds. Beauty thanked the good Beast for his kind
care, and taking one of the plainest of them, she intended to make a
present of the others to her sisters. Scarecely had she said so when
the trunk disappeared. Her father told her that Beast insisted on her
keeping them herself, and immediately both gowns and trunk reappeared.
Beauty dressed herself, and in the meantime sent for her sisters who
hastened to their father's house with their husbands. They both
appeared very unhappy. The eldest had married a gentleman, extremely
handsome indeed, but so fond of himself that he could see 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 were sick with envy when they
saw her dressed like a princess and more beautiful than ever. Nor could
all her affection for them 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 asked themselves in what way is this
little creature better than us, that she should be so much happier?
"Sister," said the oldest, "a thought just strikes my mind; let us
endeavor to detain her above a week, and perhaps the silly monster will
become so enraged at her for breaking her word, that he will devour
her."
"Right, sister," answered the other, "therefore we must show her as
much kindness as possible." After they had made this secret pact, they
went up, and behaved so affectionately to their sister, that poor
Beauty wept for joy. As the week drew to a close, they cried and tore
their hair, and seemed so sorry to part with her, that she promised to
stay one week longer.
In the meantime, Beauty could not help reproaching herself for the
pain she was likely to cause poor Beast, whom she sincerely loved and
found she herself longing to see again. The tenth night she spent at
her father's, she dreamed she was in the palace garden, and that she
saw Beast extended on the great lawn. He seemed near death and
reproached her with her ingratitude. Beauty started out of her sleep,
and bursting into tears. "Am I not very wicked," said she, "to act so
unkindly to this Beast who has done everything in his power to please
me? Is it his fault if he is so ugly, and has so little sense? He is
kind and good, and that is more than enough. Why did I refuse to marry
him? I should be happier with the monster than my sisters are with
their husbands. It is neither wit, nor a fine person, in a husband,
that makes a woman happy, but virtue, sweetness of temper, and a good
heart, and Beast has all these. It is true, I do not feel the
tenderness of affection for him, but I respect him and deeply value his
friendship. I will not make him miserable. Were I to be so ungrateful,
I should never forgive myself." Beauty rose, put her ring on the table,
and then retired 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 favorite dresses to please him, and waited for
evening with the greatest impatience. At last, the wished-for hour
came, the clock struck nine, and yet no Beast appeared. Beauty grew
frantic that she had been the cause of his death; she ran crying and
wringing her hands all about the palace, like one in despair. Having
sought for him everywhere, she recollected her dream, and flew to the
small stream in the garden, where she dreamed she saw him. There she
found poor Beast stretched out, quite senseless, and, as she imagined,
dead. She threw herself upon him without any dread, and finding his
heart beat still, she fetched some water from the small stream, she
poured it on his head. Beast opened his eyes, and said to Beauty, "You
forgot your promise, and I so despaired at having lost you, that I
resolved to starve myself. Now that
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
feel at the thought of losing you makes me see that I cannot live
without you." Beauty scarce had pronounced these words, when she saw
the palace sparkle with light and fireworks, instruments of music,
everything seemed to give notice of some great event. She turned to her
dear Beast, for whom she trembled with fear; but how great was her
surprise! There was no Beast but at her feet, one of the loveliest
princes that eye ever beheld. He thanked her for having put an end to
the spell under which he had so long resembled a Beast. Though this
prince was worthy of all her attention, she cared only for the Beast
and asked where he was.
"You see him at your feet, said the prince. A wicked fairy had
condemned me to remain under that shape until a woman of good heart
should consent to marry me. The fairy likewise cast a spell upon me to
keep me stupid. Only you in all the world had the great heart to be won
by the goodness of my temper, and in offering you my crown I cannot
come near to repaying you."
Beauty was most happily surprised, and offered the charming prince
her hand to rise. They returned together into the palance where Beauty
was overjoyed to find her father and his whole family in the great
hall. They had been transported there by the beautiful lady who
appeared in her dream.
"Beauty," said this lady, "come and receive the reward of your
wisdom> You have chosen virtue over either wit or beauty, and
deserve to find a person in whom all these qualities are united. You
are going to be a great queen. I hope the throne will not lessen your
virtue, or make you forget yourself. As to you, ladies," said the fairy
to Beauty's two sisters, "I know your hearts, and the malice they
contain. Become two statues, but even statues, you shall still retain
your reason. You shall stand before your sister's palace gate, and it
will be your punishment to behold her happiness. It will not be in your
power to return to your former state until you own your faults and so I
am very much afraid that you will always remain statues. Pride, anger,
luttony, and idleness are sometimes conquered, but the conversion of a
malicious and envious mind is miracle we dare not hope for."
Whereupon the fairy gave a stroke with her wand, and in a moment all
that were in the hall were transported into the prince's dominions. His
subjects received him with joy. He and Beauty married, and lived
together many years, and their happiness -- as it was founded on virtue
-- was complete.
sumber: http://www.artpassions.net/stories/beauty_and_the_beast_story.html
