by Ana Mardoll
The Merchant, in his position as head of the family, is willing to spend his children to settle his debts. It's true that his response to poverty wasn't to immediately sell his sons into slavery or send his daughters to work in the brothels. At the same time, though, he doesn't consider the loss of one child to be an unacceptable price to pay when it comes to saving his own life. He sees his children as collateral: property that he can use to secure his loans and, if necessary, pay his debts entirely.
This barbarous decision is accepted by the other children without horror. Indeed, they strongly counsel him to seal the decision over any lingering doubts he might have. Though his decision to trade the life of a child to settle his debts sets a rather dangerous precedent for the other children, yet still they urge him on. Why? It seems that they truly consider their difficult future as poor orphans to greatly outweigh the loss of a single sibling. And as for the Merchant, he seems to honestly consider the death of his youngest daughter to be preferable to his own untimely demise.
Submission and Refusal
On the appointed day, the Merchant and Beauty both mount the magical horse sent to summon them to the Beast's castle. Upon reaching the castle, the Beast meets and greets the family with an almost macabre politeness. With a sudden intensity, he begins to question Beauty on the particulars of her visit: does she come willingly to this place and is she prepared to place her life in the hands of this monstrous being?
"Do you come here voluntarily?" inquired the Beast; "and will you consent to let your father depart without following him?" Beauty replied that she had no other intention. "Ah! and what do you think will become of you after his departure?"
"What it may please you," said she; "my life is at your disposal, and I submit blindly to the fate which you may doom me to."
"I am satisfied with your submission," replied the Beast.
The Beast has not yet mentioned marriage -- his only stipulation was that a daughter be brought to him and left for dead by her father -- yet still his words contain a double meaning here that is apparent to the reader. The situation in which Beauty now finds herself is not materially different from that of a marriage arranged to pay her father's debts. Her father will leave, she will remain behind, and what happens to her then is completely in the hands of this new stranger.
In a world where a woman has no right to refuse a marriage and no right to flee from an abusive husband, her fate is truly in the hands of her father and the man he gives her to. In every meaningful sense of the word, she is owned by the men in her life. They determine when and what she may eat, when and how she will have sex, where and how she will live, and they can dispose of her (her father by marriage and her husband by an asylum) at any moment they see fit. She may hope that the men who own her will take pity on her and treat her kindly, but ultimately she has the same legal recourse as, say, an unhappy horse or dog -- and she may be significantly less able to defend herself from abuse.
Knowing this, the reader can see that though Beauty "submits" to the wishes of the Beast who now owns her, her submission is less of a choice and more of a reality of the world she lives in. The Merchant and the Beast can have their theater and pretend that Beauty has been given a choice to make, but ultimately the 'choice' she has been offered is no choice at all. She can give up her life as forfeit to the Beast, or she can let the Merchant be killed in her stead, only to return home and be married off in a match created by resentful brothers laden with debts. Either way, the only hope Beauty can have for the future is that her fate be quick and relatively painless.
The Merchant, in contrast, is in high spirits. Laden with riches by the Beast and encouraged by the fact that the monster has not chewed on his daughter in his presence, the Merchant has decided to convince himself that the Beast is a man of quality who will care for Beauty. Why, he might even someday reverse his stern decree that the father and daughter may never meet again! Why not?
He would have departed without concern if the Beast had not had the cruelty to make him understand that he must not dream of seeing his palace again, and that he must wish his daughter an eternal farewell. There is no evil but death without remedy. The good man was not completely stunned by this order. He flattered himself that it would not be irrevocable, and this hope prepared him to quit his host with tolerable satisfaction.
Beauty was not so well satisfied. Little persuaded that a happy future was prepared for her, she feared that the rich presents with which the Monster loaded her family was but the price of her life, and that he would devour her immediately that he should be alone with her, or at least that a perpetual prison would be her fate, and that her only companion would be this frightful Monster.
Beauty is understandably less enthused. The mere fact that she has not yet died does not automatically auger a happy, carefree future for her. The contrast between Beauty and the Merchant is striking. The Merchant decides that his daughter will be fine as long as her physical needs are met and her 'womanly' desires for wealth and comfort are satisfied. As the Beast is well-mannered enough not to murder her, then she should be safe; as the Beast is obviously wealthy, then she should be happy. What more could a woman ask for than physical safety and comfort?
Here, more so than anywhere else in the story, Beauty represents the feminist perspective. She has needs and wants and desires beyond simply 'safe from murder' and 'safe from poverty'. She doesn't want to live out her life with no company but an ill-mannered, boorish, frightening stranger. She doesn't feel compelled to view with charity a creature who arranged for her to be sold to him as a prisoner. Tellingly, the future she anticipates for herself is the exact same future that her father imagines for her: forced to endure for eternity the captivity of this gilded castle around her. But where the Merchant views this prospect with delight on her behalf, Beauty feels only dread.
At the usual hour, Beauty found her supper served, with the same delicacy and neatness as before. No human figure presented itself to her view; her father had told her she would be alone. This solitude began no longer to trouble her, when the Beast made himself heard. Never having yet found herself alone with him, ignorant how this interview would pass off, fearing even that he only came to devour her, is it any wonder that she trembled?
But on the arrival of the Beast, whose approach was by no means furious, her fears were dissipated. This monstrous giant said, roughly, "Good evening, Beauty."
She returned his salutation in the same terms, with a calm air, but a little tremulously. Amongst the different questions which the monster put to her, he asked how she amused herself? Beauty replied, "I have passed the day in inspecting your palace, but it is so vast that I have not had time to see all the apartments, and the beauties which it contains." [...]
At length he asked her bluntly if she would marry him. At this unexpected demand, her fears were renewed, and uttering a terrible shriek, she could not help exclaiming, "0! Heavens, I am lost!"
"Not at all," replied the Beast, quietly; "but without frightening yourself, reply properly. Say precisely 'yes' or ' no.'"
Beauty replied, trembling, "No, Beast."
"Well, as you object, I will leave you," replied the docile Monster. "Good evening, Beauty."
"Good evening, Beast," said the frightened girl, with much satisfaction. Extremely relieved by finding that she had no violence to fear, she lay quietly down and went to sleep.
At dinner, the Beast proposes to Beauty: will she marry him? The irony, not lost on the reader, is that the immediate appreciable difference between her current state and a married state is not clear. Beauty is his prisoner -- she cannot leave the grounds nor can she return to her family without his express permission and aid. Her safety and comfort are wholly dependent on the Beast's goodwill, and he can harm her at any moment without fear of reprisal.
Marriage, of course, implies sole sexual access, but the truth of the situation is that the Beast has as much of that as he is willing to take. Locked up as she is in his enchanted castle, Beau
ty is not free to give herself to a rival; and inasmuch as the Beast is free to harm her, starve her, or beat her while she lives as his prisoner, so too does he have the ability to rape her -- a fact that de Villeneuve must have known her audience would seize upon. However, just as the Beast required that Beauty submit willingly to live as his prisoner, so too does his curse require that she 'willingly' acquiesce to marry him.
And yet, the reader will question whether such willingness is even possible in the context of the situation. While the Beast's mild behavior and unwillingness to force Beauty's decision is meant to be reassuring, her status as prisoner is not something that can be completely swept aside. She is his prisoner and can neither leave nor choose another suitor to marry. He is dangerous to her, and while he does not fly into a rage and tear her apart with his teeth at the dinner table, yet still Beauty is constantly aware that this is a possibility. Nightly, the Beast will return to ask this question, only to be nightly refused. Each time, Beauty must fear that this time may be the end of his patience, that this time may end in her rape or her death.
But even if the Beast never intends to harm her, even if he can accept her refusal night after night for the rest of her life, Beauty is still not well cared for in her new 'home'. She is a prisoner, doomed to live out the rest of her life being hounded by the same question nightly. She is caught eternally between the submission of her will to the man who controls her entire life and her refusal to pretend that she loves him.
Stockholm Seduction?
Beauty is given free rein to wander the enchanted castle and enjoy its magical sights and sounds. Animal servants are provided to wait on her every need and they show her magic portals that allow her to watch stunning plays and remarkable theater productions. Yet even with these intellectual delights, as time passes she begins to feel more isolated and lonely. Both the Merchant's hopes and Beauty's fears have been realized: though she is safe and enjoys the comforts of wealth, still she longs for human companionship. The only conversation offered to her is the nightly interrogation that invariably culminates in a marriage proposal.
She took great pains to conceal from the Beast the sorrow which preyed upon her; and the Monster, who had frequently surprised her with the tears in her eyes, upon hearing her say that she was only suffering from a headache, pressed his inquiries no further. One evening, however, her sobs having betrayed her, and feeling it impossible longer to dissimulate, she acknowledged to the Beast, who begged to know what had caused her afflictions, that she was yearning to see her family.
Though she has not accepted the Beast's marriage proposal, still there is a bitter similarity between Beauty's confinement and an unwanted marriage. Beauty feels compelled to hide her sorrow out of fear that candor will worsen her situation. She lies to protect the feelings of her captor, concerned of what he might do if she admits to being unhappy with the life he has forced on her. After all, the Beast was willing to kill her father over a single rose; mightn't he 'give her something to cry about' if she admitted that her tears were anything other than a symptom of illness? And when finally she can hide her feelings no longer, she reflexively sugar-coats the truth. Her problem is not that she doesn't love her new prison, nor is it that she doesn't enjoy the companionship of her captor. No, her sorrow is simply born out of a deep longing to see her family. Filial devotion motivates her, not physical revulsion.
This is, on the face of it, not entirely a lie. The reader may be forgiven for seeing the Merchant in a vastly different light than Beauty does; though we despise him for leaving his daughter with a monster while telling himself comforting lies, Beauty's love for her father has not been wholly extinguished by his bad behavior. She misses his company, and hopes to reassure her father that she is safe and unharmed. And again the reader is struck by the analogy between captivity and marriage: Beauty must plead for permission to leave the Beast's home that she might visit her family and reassure them that she is safe in her new surroundings. She does not blame the callous father who made this disastrous bargain she now labors under; she is resigned to the belief that her father simply did what he had to.
The Beast, however, does not see value in Beauty's filial devotion. He only dwells on how her conflicting loyalties between captor and father affect him. Flying into a fit of pique at her request, he casts himself as the victim and Beauty as the cruel abuser.
At this declaration the Beast sank down without power to sustain himself, and heaving a deep sigh, or rather uttering a howl that might have frightened anyone to death, he replied, "How, Beauty! Would you, then, abandon an unfortunate Beast? Could I have imagined you possessed so little gratitude? What have I left undone to make you happy? Should not the attentions I have paid you preserve me from your hatred? Unjust as you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart."
"No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour."
While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. [...] If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive."
In this single exchange, the Beast hits every area except one on the "Power and Control Wheel" of domestic violence. 12
His Privilege allows him to make the final decision on when and how she will leave.
He Threatens to commit suicide if she does not return, and insists that his death will be her fault.
He Intimidates her with his nightmarish howls that "might have frightened anyone to death".
He Emotionally Abuses her by calling her ungrateful and making her feel guilty for her request.
He Isolates her by keeping her contained in his castle and hidden from her friends and family.
He Minimizes the abuse and belittles her needs as ingratitude and a peevish refusal to be happy.
He Economically Abuses her by denying her resources that she may use to pursue happiness.
The only spot on the "Power and Control Wheel" that the Beast didn't hit was Using Children.
The Beast has not physically attacked Beauty in response to her request. But he has attacked her emotionally and psychologically for the crime of requiring more out of life than the home and company of her captor. And thus we see that Beauty was prudent to keep her sorrows to herself and excuse them as a symptom of illness; she has correctly judged that her captor is not interested in her psychological well-being, and she has instinctively recognized that her needs will not be taken seriously and treated with respect here. The Beast's professed 'love' for her is a meager love that asks only what she can do for him, and never what he can do for her, since any answer she could give would imply that she is not already happy with the life he has 'given' her.
With the aid of a magic ring, Beauty lies down to sleep and awakens in the house of her father. She embraces her father and siblings, and then she and the Merchant retire privately to discuss all that has happened since she left them to live with the Beast.
Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of
those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step.
"Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. [...] Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions."
It's interesting that the Merchant exhorts Beauty to be guided by "gratitude" to the Beast. A classic aspect of Stockholm Syndrome is the tendency for victims to view a lack of overt abuse from their captors for an act of kindness. 13 The Merchant, once sentenced to death by the Beast and now generously bribed several times over by him, seems completely under his sway and characterizes the Beast as brutish "only in form, and not in his feelings or actions".