Part 1
[Illustration: ONE COLD MARCH DAY, THE LITTLE MAID RAN DOWN TO THE OUTER COURT, WITH HER NEW SCARLET CLOAK, TO WRAP HER FRIEND THE OLD WATCH DOG IN! LEIGHTON, BROS.]
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.
_An Old Tale New-Told, with Pictures, By E. V. B._
LONDON:
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, LOW, AND SEARLE,
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS, BREAD STREET HILL.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
1.--_Once, on a cold March day, the little maid ran down to the outer court with her new scarlet cloak, to wrap her friend the old watch-dog in!_
2.--_In the King’s garden the feast is ready and the minstrels wait._
3.--_The merchant found a little door in the wall, and he opened it and went into the Beast’s garden._
4.--_Upon the strange prickly leaves some one had curiously carved Beauty’s name._
5.--_At dawn, a lady came to comfort her._
6.--_After supper every night, the Beast asked Beauty to be his wife; and every night she said him nay._
7.--_One sister’s husband, like Narcissus of old, worshipped his own beauty: but the other was full of learning._
8.--_Only the raven in the brake saw the sisters’ rage, and heard them plot her death._
9.--_“Ah, dear Beast!” she said; “alas, that my unkindness should thus slay thee!”_
10.--_Love is the magic that makes all things fair._
[Illustration]
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.
Once, long ago, in a certain city whose name is forgotten, there lived a merchant-master. He had three sons and three daughters, but his wife was dead. The man was happy in his children; for the sons were well-grown and brave, and the daughters beautiful. Men called both elder maidens passing fair. One, like dusky night, black-haired and brown-eyed--the other, bright as the morning, with long tresses of red gold. But the third daughter, born years later, outshone both in her perfect loveliness. Such a lovely maid was never seen--so they named her simply, Beauty. No fairy godmother came with gifts to call her so; but she grew so sweet and lovely, that in the city where she dwelt they knew her by no other name. Howbeit, many a one said, it was but her happy, innocent soul that gave the sunshine to her face. Sometimes it would happen, that one of the great masters in painting or sculpture of those old times, journeying through that place, and beholding her pass down the street, would beseech her to stay a while, that with pencil or with chisel, he might do some image of that gracious, lovesome mien, to make him glad in after days. And thus, it may be, Beauty lives still under the dimness of some old canvas--the St. Catherine or the Virgin Mother of some Holy Family--or smiles may-be, in the carven face of an angel, in the niche beside some old cathedral door. Even from the time when she was a little child, Beauty possessed the gift of a loving heart. And the love she so freely gave, was paid back to her again in full measure. They who were despised and ugly, in their wretchedness wanted never a kind word or look from her, nor were unholpen by her in their need. Most tenderly she loved all God’s suffering creatures, whether of bird or beast; she took them to her heart, and made joy to soothe and comfort them. And she withheld not her small hand from succouring the most ill-favoured of earth’s children. Self-forgetful, in her large charity, she tended even herbs, and such unlovely, blossomless, and scentless plants, as might call for her tender care. And the child would oftentimes fetch water for some poor neglected weed, fainting in the hot sun, or stay to prop some weak climbing plant torn down by the rough wind. And Beauty was greatly beloved; and notwithstanding that she never knew a mother’s love, her child days went lightly by, and the rose-light of her own sweet joyous spirit shone back to her from all things round. But as the maiden grew from infancy into youth, her meek heart was pained by her sisters’ pride and arrogance. Many were the sharp cruel words she heard; many a hard rebuke must she endure from that ungentle pair. Their pride and hardness knew no end. Vain were they of their many lovers, of their gold-embroidered gowns, of their goodly persons; for well they wist that of all fair women thereabout,--but for their young sister,--they were held peerless. So they envied Beauty the lovely face that God gave her, and the love her kindness won for her. Noble youths sought many a time to gain in marriage one or another of them; but none seemed great enough, or rich enough. Yet they would not let them go, but with half smiles and double words, kept the young men following in their train.
[Illustration: “IN THE KING’S GARDEN THE FEAST IS READY, AND THE MINSTRELS WAIT.” LEIGHTON, BROS.]
Time sped quickly in the rich city where the merchant dwelt. Day and night the hours danced on to the sound of music and feasting. Beauty’s sisters reigned like queens amid their young companions,--damsels nigh as fair as they,--but of whom they made not much account, for the splendour of the merchant’s daughters cast a cold shadow all around.
On great feast days, when the house was set in order, and the sisters in their rich apparel, and gold crowns upon their heads, sat under silken canopies, with all their lovers at their feet, right glad were they when Beauty sat not with them. At such times the girl, in the glory of her lustrous loveliness, would call the children, to come forth into the fields and woods, and gather flowers with her; or perchance she might steal away to succour in their distress, poor miserable ones, who lay sick and forlorn of hope, in rude dwellings beyond the city walls. Then were the sisters left to reign alone; and no prayer did they ever make to Beauty, for her to share the joyance of such festal days.
[Illustration]
But that sweet maiden gave no heed at all to such unkindness. She would seek flowers of rare bloom, and therewith weave garlands and set them in her sisters’ hair, all unaware that meanwhile sharp stings of envious hatred stung them, when they marked how men’s faces lit up with gladness whenever Beauty passed by, clad only in her simple gown. And so neglect and unkindness did not touch her gentle life. And home was beyond all things dear to her, for the great love and reverence she bore her father. Dearer moreover than aught else beside, save only his gold (which was indeed no hoarded wealth), was the youngest born to him. Yet the prince-merchant took most delight withal, in his many-oared galleys and full-sailed ships, which ever and anon went out across the harbour bar, and in due course came back into port gold-laden, and heavy with precious merchandise from lands beyond the sunrise.
[Illustration]
But Fortune is not always kind, and there be many winds both fair and foul; and black days there be, when the Fates send forth a wind, which blows no good to any living soul. So fared it with the merchant. For on a day, watchers upon the high watch-tower, out-worn with long waiting, and with gazing seawards in vain, heard the clatter of iron shoes upon the beaten way below. And anon came messengers on swift coursers from some outland place, who did their message, and cried out to the men to cease their watch, for that the ships would return no more. They told how fierce storms had arisen, and had so buffeted the ships that they drove right upon the rocks; the heavy cargo sank down, and all had perished in the sea. Thus sorrow and a great heaviness fell upon the merchant and all his house. The elder daughters slept not, nor ate, for two days and two nights. No more dreams of pride for them. No more days of idle joy. Fortune hid her face, and the world hid hers, for it had come to pass that the rich man, was on a sudden, poor. The suitors melted away, every one, like ghosts at cockcrow. And not one had said, “Stay with us; my home is thine.” Beauty, it is true, might abide in that city, a well-loved, honoured wife; but ruin and unhappiness had crept up to the door, and, like a deadly snake, enfolded all her father’s house: and she cared not to live at ease, when they who were dear to her, might scarce have bread to eat. Her brothers knit their brows, and spake no word good or bad; only, they laid by in the great painted chest, their swords, and gay clothing of furred mantles and plumed caps, and went to toil in the fields.
[Illustration]
Leagues away, on a barren sandy ridge above the sea, in long-past years, the sea-kings had built them a stronghold. Little of it now had fire and war and time’s long decay left whole, save one tempest-shaken tower. And under the tower a village, where dwelt rude fisher folk. A poor place withal for he who was once a rich lord! A possession that no man might take much pride in. But thither the ruined merchant now must wend, to make his abode there, and strive to win some daily bread, in rough toil with the fishing-boats. So the man with his children departed, and came to dwell in the tower on the grey hill, amidst of wretched huts. And what scanty gear they had, was carried on the backs of one or two hired mules. It was a dark and windy night, the night when they came there, in the season of the year that leaves first turn from green to gold, and barley sheaves stand in the fields, and the vintage is done. The sun had arisen in the morning when Beauty opened the old brown door and looked out from under its low-browed arch. Far down, beyond the curving yellow sands, lay a great sea-plain, silver bright, glittering in changeful lights and colour. Up to the roots of the far-off white mountains, olive woods clothed all the land with mists of shimmering grey. Corn-fields lay anear, between long stretches of purple-shadowed forest. And the girl laughed for gladness of heart, calling aloud to her sisters to come and behold with her this glorious new wonderland where Fate had led them. But they, so soon as they came and stood beside the open door, did but cast one glance down upon those poverty-stricken huts, below the steep hard by,--then muttering one to the other, “Better in our graves than here!” they turned away their faces from God’s earth and sea: and therewith, through sore repining and complaint, they both fell sick: and on their hard beds made what cheer they might with empty dreams, and lamentation for the goodly days that had been.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
In the old homestead on the hill, the year wore on merrily, for Beauty made great sunshine in that place. Her light step and the music of her happy voice seemed everywhere--all about the house, in the low dark rooms and up and down the creaking stair. A glory seemed to shine round her lovely face when you saw it at the door. Like the wild birds, she was for ever flitting here and there, and singing as she went. She lent the young strength of her white arms to the ancient crone who kept the house. She came wherever she was called. It was Beauty who drew the water and kneaded the cakes, and led the cows to pasture in the dewy grass-lands in the morning. It was Beauty who set the table, and made ready for father and hungry brothers against their return at evening, from the long day’s work. Right glad and willing was she, to labour from red dawn to dark, for the love she bore them. And whatever work she set her hand to, wheresoever she did any service, all things she touched seemed nobler, since that she had to do with them. But greater joy she had otherwhile, on the days when she was sent to keep goats upon the hill. Strong and light of foot herself as a young kid, she climbed the rugged paths among the rocks, following after her wayward herd. Many a day would she wander with them through the great woods till the sun was low. But ever as she went, on the hills under the blue sky, or through the forest amid the green darkness of noonday, sea and sky, and sun and shadow, taught the maiden marvellous things. Many a secret did the wind whisper; many a strange tale her eyes read in the flowery grass; many a song, for her alone, sang the mountain stream, hurrying over the stones. And when Beauty led home her flock at sun-down, after such sweet days as these they noted how, when she crossed the threshold and came into the dark house-room, her eyes would shine with a diviner light, than the full health of youth only might give.
[Illustration]
Days and months went by; till in the second winter, one morning a weary horseman drew rein at the door. He told that the merchant’s heaviest-laden ship, one of those long since given up for lost, had on a sudden sailed into a distant sea-port, and now lay safely anchored in the bay. Loud were the rejoicings that day within the grey old tower on the hill. Joy and laughter filled all hearts. The elder sisters straightway lost themselves in happy day-dreams of a golden coming time; of a joyous life to be lived once more, when they should return to the great rich city. They hastened their father’s quick departure for the ship; but as needs must, their farewells were long, for they prayed him to bring back to them many a rich thing that their hearts desired--jewelled coifs, and silken gowns and gold-embroidered stuffs; stores of perfumed gloves and precious stones; and golden chains, and strings of pearls. Each sister longed after something better, and of higher price than the other. So the merchant promised all, and made ready to be gone. Then Beauty put up her sweet face to bid farewell, as she stood beside the horse, and held his stirrup for the beloved father. And he stooped down to kiss her, saying, “And wilt thou nought, thou best-loved child? Choose only what thing is most rare and longed for, it is granted.”
[Illustration]
But Beauty whispered, “Bring me a white rose, my father,--a little white rose!”
And seeing that no words could move her in this, but that she would have a rose, a white rose, he promised that and rode away.
So in this changing world the evil days for them seemed passed away for evermore. It was now winter, and when that tide drew near that the merchant should come home, Beauty’s sisters sat all day in the little turret window watching; or they went pacing up and down the bare grey ridge, waiting to behold from afar the long train of laden mules. From early morning, through the glaring noon-tide, oftentimes till after moonrise, when long shadows lengthened, still would they keep untiring watch. Small care indeed had they to see again their father’s face; but their souls yearned for the gold and the silver and the treasure he should bring with him.
[Illustration: THE MERCHANT FOUND A LITTLE DOOR IN THE WALL, AND HE OPENED IT, AND WENT INTO THE BEAST’S GARDEN. LEIGHTON, BROS.]
Alas! the longed-for hour, when at last it came, was in no wise like the picture that eager greed had held up before their minds’ eye. Bad luck still clave fast to the ill-starred merchant; or so it seemed; for when he came anear the wished-for harbour, he saw indeed amidst crowded masts a little smouldering smoke and flame, and folks running to and fro upon the quay; but his own good ship with her bales of costly merchandize, he never saw. That very night, by misadventure, some spark from the shipmen’s fire had fallen unheeded, and the ship had burned down to the edge of the cold water. Thus sore smitten, and in great heaviness, the merchant must wend home again. Poor had he left it, and poor must he return. Full well might cruel fancy now paint for him--as wearily, with down-bent head, he turned to fare back the way that he had come--the grief of such an empty home-coming. “Alas!” he sighed, as he looked round across the wide wintry plain, “unhappy that I am! I cannot even take home with me the one little white rose for Beauty.” And so, very sorrowfully, did he ride on for many a weary mile, in the rain and the wind. Lost in troubled thought, he forgot to mark which way his horse might go. On a sudden the creaking sound of thick branches overhead, with storms of dry dead leaves whirled past his face, and many a wild sound, as of the great north wind in winter battling with the strong-limbed forest-trees, aroused him and recalled him to himself. All around seemed strange, and unlike the road he knew. Painfully for a time the merchant and his tired beast made head against the driving blast. The forest path seemed as though it would never end; the wind blew as though it would never cease. But at sundown there fell a calm. The dark clouds broke, and in the clear evening light, the man turned into a way he deemed that he had gone, once in older times, under shelter of a grey stone wall. On the right hand, between straight red bolls of tall fir-trees, shone the far-off open country. The wall closed in upon the left; and above the mouldering weed-grown coping, from within, rose dark cypress spires against the sky. Arbutus trees, all a-flame with rich ripe fruit amidst gold-green leaves, tossed down their scarlet balls upon the wet stony way below. And withal, from the other side came a great sweetness as of summer roses upon the air; but a few paces farther on, white roses, like floods of surging foam, overtopped the high wall. Between the whiteness of uncounted roses scarce any green at all might show. Now as the merchant beheld these foam-white flowers, he thought on Beauty’s simple wish. Then he cast about in his mind how to reach up to them; and anon he spied a quaintly-painted gateway in the wall, and a little door set therein. Without more ado he dismounted, and pushing open the little door, passed through into a fairy garden. Within the greenness of that enchanted space there was not any more winter. Green paths overhung by pale-blossomed acacias, led to grassy lawns closed in by well-clipt hedges of box and rosemary, and broidered all over with little flowers,--blue, pink, and lilac,--mixt with the short thick grass. Long narrow terraces rising in green steps one above the other, set with fruit-trees in full bloom, made lines of lovely colour. Wild violets crept fragrantly about their roots, or hung in purple draperies from step to step. Under the shadowy dark-stemmed trees blood-red lilies burnt with a sultry glow. Here and there, in the blackness of some deeper gloom, pure star-like flowers, poised on tall slender stalks, gleamed white and ghostly. But everywhere about that garden, roses grew and bloomed, scattering their delicate petals upon the grass. Through the silence came a low murmuring of unseen waters; the thrush sang hidden amid thick leaves. The man scarce could tell if all the sweetness of that place were truth, or but woven magic. How this might be seemed nought to him, so he might pluck a living rose or two for Beauty. Yet he trod lightly, lest a spell should snap, and the dream melt away, leaving him alone in some drear bleak waste.
[Illustration]
But as he held the plucked flowers in his hand, a dread of some nameless unknown thing began to chill the man’s heart. Night seemed gathering round. The loud birds ceased their music; the merry-voiced fountains ran dully; and a shuddering dreadful sound, creeping up a-nigh him, turned all his blood to ice. The heavy dragging rustle as of some huge beast beneath the trees, became at length a grizzly shape, on the open green. The man was ’ware of great blackness and the grating of teeth. What more he could never tell, for betwixt the strange darkness and his mortal fear, standing there unarmed,--nought in his right hand but some stolen roses,--sight failed him. Then the Beast stayed still, and the roses dropt from the man’s grasp; and that Beast spake in a voice which was terrible to hearken to, so shaken was it by despair and rage.
“Who, wretched man! art thou, that darest enter here and steal my roses? Meet were it did I slay thee there where thou standest!”
But now the merchant, in whose breast there beat no woman’s heart, gat together all his strength and wit. So he turned and faced the Beast.
“That were poorly done, fair sir,” said he, “to slay an unarmed man--one, too, less mighty than thyself. The child shall yet win sweeter flowers than these; take back thy roses and let me be gone.” And he cast down the flowers, and spurned them with his foot.
But the Beast’s wrath on a sudden changed, as with a grievous voice he groaned, “For whom, then, art thou thus lost?”
[Illustration: UPON THE STRANGE PRICKLY LEAVES, SOME ONE HAD CURIOUSLY CARVED BEAUTY’S NAME.... THE BEAST CAME NEAR, AND THE ROSES FELL FROM HIS GRASP. LEIGHTON, BROS.]
Then the man told him all; of his bootless journey to the distant seaport,--of how his eldest daughters had desired jewels and gold raiment, and of Beauty’s wish for one white rose.