by Ana Mardoll
Is it fair that the Sisters upbraid Beauty for her request? Yes and no.
Beauty's request that their father come home safely and in good health need not, in the context of their society, automatically be a sentimental request. As bad as their current social station is, it would almost certainly plummet farther if the Merchant were to die while the daughters are still unwed. The brothers have been explicitly stated in the text as too young to think of marriage, so it seems likely that in the event of the Merchant's death, the responsibility of disposing his daughters in marriage would fall either to the oldest of the young brothers or to a distant relation. The father, for all his faults, seems to genuinely care for his daughters; it stands to reason that a transition to an orphaned state with no equally doting older male relative to shelter them would leave the girls in a precarious social situation.
Of course, Beauty's request is not meant to be interpreted as a practical one. She is very clear in her request as to the motive: her father is more precious to her than any jewelry, attire, or head-dress could ever be. And yet this framing immediately casts aspersions on her Sisters for failing to ask for the "more precious" and yet inherently obvious 'gift' of their father's safety. Beauty does not humbly ask simply for her father's safe return, nor does she ask for nothing at all; instead she makes a proud production of her request, singling out her Sisters' requests and deliberately contrasting them with her own. Her statement evaluates and judges both explicitly the requests and implicitly the requesters.
But the father, touched by her expressions, could not help showing his delight at them, appreciating, too, the feeling which induced her to ask nothing for herself, he begged she would choose something; and to allay the ill-will that his other daughters had towards her, he observed to her that such indifference to dress was not natural at her age -- that there was a time for everything. "Very well, my dear father," said she, "since you desire me to make some request, I beg you will bring me a rose; I love that flower passionately, and since I have lived in this desert I have not had the pleasure of seeing one." This was to obey her father, and at the same time to avoid putting him to any expense for her.
Though the Sisters are primed by their toxic society to view Beauty as a competitor first and a dear sister last, it would seem in text that Beauty is not intentionally trying to hurt her Sisters with her request. And yet, already the reader can see the tiny fissures in this complex family. The Merchant reacts with immediate and obvious pleasure at Beauty's 'selfless' request, and then immediately back-pedals in an attempt to prevent family conflict. He strongly pressures her to make a 'real' request of him, and in doing so he effectively seals his own fate. Beauty asks for a gift of his time, effort, and attention rather than one simply of his money: a single rare rose.
Children as Collateral
When the day comes for the Merchant to leave for the port, he does so with a heavy heart and an unwillingness to separate from his family. When he reaches the city, he learns that his trip is a waste of time; the bulk of his riches have been stolen by his business partners, and he wastes the last of his wealth in fruitless litigation. Discouraged and depressed, he sets out for home in the dead of winter and almost immediately becomes lost in a thick snowstorm.
The Merchant stumbles through the storm in imminent danger of death, when suddenly he reaches a beautiful castle that seems to invite him in as master of the house: the castle doors open before him, and invisible servants serve him warm food while he rests deeply in comfort. In his astonishment, the Merchant begins to believe that the house is a gift from a good spirit, and he travels through the marvelous castle taking stock of his new home. Almost at once, he comes upon a little alleyway lined with roses, all of which bloom brightly in spite of the cold winter outside the castle estate.
He had never seen such lovely roses. Their perfume reminded him that he had promised to give Beauty a rose. He picked one, and was about to gather enough to make half-a-dozen bouquets, when a most frightful noise made him turn round. He was terribly alarmed upon perceiving at his side a horrible beast, which, with an air of fury, laid upon his neck a kind of trunk, resembling an elephant's, and said, with a terrific voice, "Who gave thee permission to gather my roses? Is it not enough that I kindly allowed thee to remain in my palace. Instead of feeling grateful, rash man, I find thee stealing my flowers! Thy insolence shall not remain unpunished."
The good man, already too much overpowered by the unexpected appearance of this monster, thought he should die of fright at these words, and quickly throwing away the fatal rose. "Ah! my Lord," said he, prostrating himself before him, "have mercy on me! I am not ungrateful! Penetrated by all your kindness, I did not imagine that so slight a liberty could possibly have offended you." The monster very angrily replied, "Hold thy tongue, thou foolish talker. I care not for thy flattery, nor for the titles thou bestowest on me. I am not 'my Lord;' I am The Beast; and thou shalt not escape the death thou deservest."
In a manner consistent with his characterization thus far, the Merchant has squandered the good situation he found himself in. Despite being in an obviously magical castle, he has let his pride get the better of him and has fancied himself the owner of the fine things that surround him. What he doesn't know -- and what the reader will not know until the lengthy final chapters -- is that the entire castle was a trap for him. The Beast wanted him to pick the roses, because the Beast wanted to demand Beauty be brought to him as prisoner.
Pleading for his life, the Merchant describes how charming Beauty is and that the rose he plucked was for her alone. He hopes that by explaining his motives, the Beast will understand his actions and will allow him to return home to the charming daughter who asked for nothing from him but a single rose. The Beast seems unmoved by his tale, and insists that a life must be sacrificed for the loss of the rose. Either the Merchant can die, or one of his daughters can donate her life willingly in his stead.
The Beast considered for a moment, then, speaking in a milder tone, he said to him," I will pardon thee, but upon condition that thou wilt give me one of thy daughters -- I require some one to repair this fault."
"Just Heaven!" replied the merchant; "how can I keep my word? Could I be so inhuman as to save my own life at the expense of one of my children's; under what pretext could I bring her here?"
"There must be no pretext," interrupted the Beast. "I expect that whichever daughter you bring here she will come willingly, or I will not have either of them. Go; see if there be not one amongst them sufficiently courageous, and loving thee enough, to sacrifice herself to save thy life."
It is interesting that the Merchant first asks how he could possibly be expected to sacrifice one of his own children, and then in the same breath asks how he could trick a daughter into coming under some pretext. Possibly the question is a rhetorical protest against the Beast's proposal -- "I could never feasibly trick anyone into coming here, so it's not even worth asking me to" -- and yet the Merchant will return home with the intention of proposing the trade, so it's hard to believe that the question of pretext was entirely an incredulous attempt to refuse the deal. The reader is left with the impression that the Merchant would prefer that 'willingness' not be a prerequisite for the sacrifice.
The good man, although quite convinced that he should vainly put to the proof the devotion of his daughters, accepted, nevertheless, the Monster's proposition.
Out of fear, the Merchant agrees to the Beast's terms: he will ask his daughters to sacrifice their lives for his, and either he or they will return in one month for their death sentence. Though he has no faith that any of his daughters will accept the offer, still he resolves to ask and know their answer.
Halfway to his home on a magic steed supplied by the Beast, the Merchant suffers a pang of guilt. He decides he will not torment his children with the knowledge of his bargain, and resolves that the best course of action is to return immediately to the Beast for his death. The horse refuses to veer from its course, however, so the M
erchant amends his plans; he will remain silent about his bargain and use his month to put his affairs in order. From the moment he is deposited at his house, however, his resolve flees him and he spills the whole tale.
Already he saw his house in the distance, and strengthening himself more and more in his resolution, "I will not speak to them," he said, "of the danger which threatens me: I shall have the pleasure of embracing them once more; I shall give them my last advice; I will beg them to live on good terms with their brothers, whom I shall also implore not to abandon them."
In the midst of this reverie, he reached his door. His own horse, which had found its way home the previous evening, had alarmed his family. His sons, dispersed in the forest, had sought him in every direction; and his daughters, in their impatience to hear some tidings of him, were at the door, in order to obtain the earliest intelligence. As he was mounted on a magnificent steed, and wrapt in a rich cloak, they could not recognise him, but took him at first for a messenger sent by him, and the rose which they perceived attached to the pummel of the saddle made them perfectly easy on his account.
When this afflicted father, however, approached nearer, they recognised him, and thought only of evincing their satisfaction at seeing him return in good health. But the sadness depicted in his face, and his eyes filled with tears, which he vainly endeavoured to restrain, changed their joy into anxiety. All hastened to inquire the cause of his trouble. He made no reply but by saying to Beauty, as he presented her with the rose, "There is what thou hast demanded of me, but thou wilt pay dearly for it, as well as the others."
"I was certain," exclaimed the eldest, "and I was saying, this very moment, that she would be the only one whose commission you would execute. At this time of the year, a rose must have cost more than you would have had to pay for us all five together; and, judging from appearances, the rose will be faded before the day is ended: never mind, however, you were determined to gratify the fortunate Beauty at any price."
"It is true," replied the father, mournfully, "that this rose has cost me dear, and more dear than all the ornaments which you wished for would have done. It is not in money, however; and would to Heaven that I might have purchased it with all I am yet worth in the world."
These words excited the curiosity of his children, and dispelled the resolution which he had taken not to reveal his adventure. He informed them of the ill-success of his journey, the trouble which he had undergone in running after a chimerical fortune, and all that had taken place in the palace of the Monster. After this explanation, despair took the place of hope and of joy.
The Merchant cannot resist giving his youngest daughter the rose she asked for, along with a cutting barb blaming her for his as-yet-unknown-to-them fate. And thus does Beauty's request -- which he previously valued as a sign of her devotion and humility -- become something that he hates and blames her for.
In this family of competing love and competing resources, her Sisters seize the opportunity for filial favor to go on the offensive. They point out that their requests of jewelry and clothing, once despised as being less precious than his safety and more expensive than a single rose, are now in retrospect altogether harmless. Beauty can only protest in vain against the general clamor that a request for a rose in the summer cannot be reasonably foreseen to culminate in the plucking of a magic rose in the dead of winter from an enchanted castle occupied by a vicious beast-monster.
Notwithstanding this, they sought for expedients to save his life; the young men, full of courage and filial affection, proposed that one of them should go and offer himself as a victim to the wrath of the Beast; but the monster had said positively and explicitly that he would have one of the daughters, and not one of the sons. The brave brothers grieved that their good intentions could not be acted upon, then did what they could to inspire their sisters with the same sentiments. But their jealousy of Beauty was sufficient to raise an invincible obstacle to such heroic action.
"It is not just," said they, "that we should perish in so frightful a manner for a fault of which we are not guilty. It would be to render us victims to Beauty, to whom they would be very glad to sacrifice us; but duty does not require such a sacrifice. Here is the fruit of the moderation and perpetual preaching of this unhappy girl! Why did she not ask, like us, for a good stock of clothes and jewels. If we have not had them, it has at all events cost nothing for asking, and we have no cause to reproach ourselves for having exposed the life of our father by indiscreet demands. If, by an affected disinterestedness, she had not sought to distinguish herself, as she is in all things more favoured than we, he would have, no doubt, found enough money to content her. But she must needs, by her singular caprice, bring on us all this misfortune. It is she who has caused it, and they wish us to pay the penalty. We will not be her dupe. She has brought it on herself, and she must find the remedy."
What is most interesting here is the immediate fracturing of the family. The sons leap to offer their lives in the place of their father's, but they conveniently offer their lives well after the Merchant has already told them that only a daughter's life will suffice. Their offers are therefore not genuine, but they quickly use their counterfeit offers as leverage to urge their Sisters to go willingly to their deaths on behalf of a father who has consistently valued them less than the rest of their siblings.
The Sisters, sensing the dangerous position they are in and the animosity of their brothers, lash out at Beauty. It's not their fault their father stumbled into a magic castle and started defacing the rose hedges, so why should they have to volunteer to fix it? Either their father can take his lumps and pay the price for his favorite daughter's rose-gift, or Beauty can step up and sacrifice herself in his stead. Either way, the Sisters maintain their refusal to be sacrificed on the altar of their father's folly or their sister's sainthood.
As harsh as their words are, their attitudes underscore just how dysfunctional this family has been for a long time. For the last two years of their exile, both father and brothers have nagged and harried the Sisters for failing to possess Beauty's humility and frugality. Why were the Sisters doing hard work around the house instead of singing cheerfully and stringing daisy-chains like the Beauty? Why were the Sisters spending their brothers' inheritance in an attempt to secure their futures instead of asking for flowers and rainbows like Beauty?
And now, when that 'innocent' and no doubt much-needled request for a rose has spelled doom for their father, the Sisters are being loudly called upon to give their lives to a monstrous Beast. Their father has ridden up to the doorstep and asked point-blank for one of the Sisters to die for his foolish mistakes. Their brothers have made obviously counterfeit offers of their lives in an attempt to bully the Sisters up to the chopping block. By lashing out at Beauty, the Sisters are fighting dirty, but they are fighting for their lives.
Beauty, whose grief had almost deprived her of consciousness, suppressing her sobs and sighs, said to her sisters, "I am the cause of this misfortune; it is I alone who must repair it. I confess it would be unjust to allow you to suffer for my fault. Alas! it was, notwithstanding, an innocent wish. Could I foresee that the desire to have a rose when we were in the middle of summer would be punished so cruelly?"
Beauty accepts the situation and steps forward to die in her father's place. This is another one of those acts that could be equal parts sentimental and practical. Of course, it is very noble to sacrifice one's life for a loved parent, but at the same time there is perhaps nothing to be gained living as an impoverished orphan in a home filled with bitter siblings who blame you for your father's death.
Then, also, there is the fact that the Merchant asks Beauty to sacrifice herself for him. He does not ask her alone, of course -- he, like her brothers, would prefer that one of her less-pretty and less-amiable Sisters take on the death sentence. But neither does her father refuse her when she steps up to the plate. His reluctance has nothing to do with a love for her, and everything to do with a preference for her.
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By asking Beauty to die in his place, the Merchant demonstrates that he does not love her as much as she loves him. Beauty loves her father enough to die in his place; the Merchant does not love his daughter enough to do the same. His request underscores the inequalities in their relationship: as parent and male, the Merchant has far more power over Beauty than she could over him, as child and female. In this light, regardless of how good and noble and loving Beauty may or may not be, the conclusion here was always foregone. One of the Merchant's daughters must sacrifice herself for him, and the task falls to the one most traceably at 'fault'.
The father alone would not consent to the design of his youngest daughter; but the others reproached him insolently with the charge that Beauty alone was cared for by him, in spite of the misfortune which she had caused, and that he was sorry that it was not one of the elders who should pay for her imprudence.
It is noteworthy that the Merchant would happily sacrifice one of his children to save his life, and that it only matters to him which child will pay the price for his indiscretions. The boys he could part with if he had to, and the Sisters he would be glad to see the back of, but he grieves that Beauty will die for his sake. He just doesn't grieve enough to put up any meaningful resistance to her offer.