The Beastly and the Beautiful Part 4: The Belle Enfant

Continued from Part 3: The Enfant Terrible

Because we are so used to looking at ourselves as a dichotomy of good and bad, beautiful and ugly, smart or stupid, heroic or cowardly, it is easy to use this story as a framework, having two distinct main characters. But we are much more complex as humans, spending our time in rooms that don't look medieval, and interacting with techno-gadgets and social media. Even so, it's tempting to think that all of our advancement and analysis can put the Beast in his place, to go along with his negative view of himself, and to see Belle as the heroine. But it's equally important to consider Belle as an enfant as well. She needs to understand what drives her, what limits her, and what is not so very beautiful about her, if she is to grow and mature as well.

Devalues the quiet beauties and daily expressions of courage around her. She finds the villagers quaint, and is polite to them. She doesn't have much to say, except to the bookseller. She feels that only he could understand her, and she is grateful to him, but this isn't really a friendship. It's a mutually beneficial salesman/customer arrangement. She gives no one else a chance. Feeling alone and alienated, she dissociates into stories and ideals.

Reveals her enthusiasms and concerns to people who either aren't listening or are distracted. She reveals her enthusiasm about the story she is reading-- "Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part!"-- to the domesticated animals that can't voice their thoughts, even if they were paying attention. The goat is more interested in nibbling at the paper in the book than in what Belle is gushing about. She senses that she has no positive effect on those around her, for all that is inside her head. She makes a half-hearted attempt to explain to Gaston that she prefers to use her imagination in favor of any contact with him, so he throws the beloved book into the mud. Her inner life is richer, but in her view it is vulnerable to gossipers, nibblers, and careless suitors. She assumes that everyone would react to her precious book the way Gaston does, and hides it in her basket, much in the way that the Beast sequesters his Rose. The Book is the symbol for Belle of her escape, and she has over-identified herself with books. She has not yet come to understand that she herself is a living creature, and not a boring story.

Mirrors the preoccupations of those around her. As for voicing her concerns, she does express herself to her inventor father, but he is caught up with his invention and also doesn't want to see that a problem is developing. He dismisses her concerns with assurance that she couldn't be odd, because he doesn't want to think of himself that way. His endearing and optimistic manner hides an egotism that leaves Belle with no one to turn to. There's an implication that the pair of them have never been at home, and they are in this remote village because it is safer to be odd there. "Crazy Old Maurice" seems to follow him wherever he goes, and Belle imitates his preoccupied manner. She can imagine that she is indeed how a villager sings of her-- "...behind that fair facade, I'm afraid she's rather odd." There might be a generous woman in town who could come to understand Belle, but she won't visibly emerge because Belle doesn't trust anyone with her feelings.

Remains in a state of longing. Because she doesn't trust anyone with her feelings, she is left lonely and pining for her future. If she wants economic security, she could have it by marrying Gaston, but like an infant starting out, she only knows what she doesn't want. After rejecting his proposal, she laments, "And for once, it might be grand, to have someone understand, I want so much more than they've got planned." She isn't impatient for her autonomy, but rather is waiting for a general acceptance by others before she can form well-defined aspirations for herself. 

Because her father doesn't think to invite her to come with him to the fair, she is similarly thoughtless, and is unaware that she could have asked for this. In this respect, and in many others, her imagination fails her. Being left alone with the chickens, while he goes off on his adventure, Belle is isolated. As a result, she imagines a conspiracy of sorts that will be acted upon her, a vague threat from the "they" who she fears have an actual plan for her, and she doesn't yet know how to fend that off. She is convinced that she needs the acceptance of others before making an actual plan for herself. Resignation becomes a constant companion to her longings.

Believes that there is something wrong with her. Because of this, coupled with her isolation, her mindset wavers between feeling inferior to the people she considers to be normal-- the villagers-- and also feeling superior to them, because they don't appear to share her interests. What she hasn't yet learned is that they would appreciate her having an interest, because they have them as well. The content isn't the same, but the inspiration is. To Belle, the bread might be the "same old rolls", but to the baker, they are signs of his interest in perfecting his craft. The mother with a brood of kids could use some encouragement that she will be able to hear herself think someday, and may be inspired to know that there are truly wondrous things to think about. In spite of Belle's imagination that is far ranging, her close-up vision is limited, and her curiosity stunted. She is imprisoned in the village as much as the Beast is imprisoned in his castle.

Is activated by emergency rather than purpose. When the pony shows up, riderless, Belle comes out of her reverie and takes action when there is an immediate crisis. Her father has gotten lost, she cares about him more than anyone, and this surge of need from him motivates her to do things we haven't yet seen. She's speaking with authority, riding the pony into the woods, trusting her instincts, ignoring danger, and finding a way to get to him. She didn't have a voice for her own needs, because a child with needs is not considered to be beautiful. A child with needs is inconvenient. A child with needs doesn't reflect well. When she cries to the horse, "Where's Papa?" we wish that she could have raised this same voice to him years ago, when he was preoccupied.

Overestimates her abilities. Belle goes into the dark, forbidding castle, knowing nothing about castles other than what she has read about them. She has no strategy, and naively forges ahead, because she can think of nothing other than "I'm looking for my father." She offers herself to the Beast in exchange for her father, despite his logical protests. His life is more important to her than her own, because he seems to have one, while she is already imprisoned. But how is she going to serve out this sentence? How is she equipped with anything other than pluck?

Denies the truth to herself and others. She has apparently coped with her childhood issues of having one breadwinning widowed parent, moving around without friends or mentors, and having no prospects or skills, by childishly denying what is only human. She won't come out of her room, insisting, "I'm not hungry!" When the Beast states the obvious, "you can't stay in there forever," she postures, "Oh, yes I can!" She is Belle, the beautiful child; she can do anything. 

Yet, she turns down and won't wear the costume of a more mature woman. She denies that she has any power or any room to negotiate in this situation and would rather hide and cry. For her, this isn't the way the story was supposed to go, so she is going to sulk her way out. Although her father didn't abandon her physically, and was forced away, this semblance of abandonment may finally match her emotional perspective. She wants the castle to know that she has been orphaned and left in isolation. Her self-pity is her comfort, rather than the notion that she is smart and brave enough to look for a way out. She is lying to herself about the hopelessness of her situation before she even tries. When the chambermaid attempts to cheer her with, "The Master's not so bad once you get to know him." She lies again, "I don't want to get to know him. I don't want anything to do with him." Oh, yes she does.

"Belle was now, in fact, quite the Queen of the palace, and all her wishes were gratified; but excepting at supper-time she was all alone…"

She oversteps her bounds. While it's heroic of Belle to go galloping off to save her father, she has no idea what she's getting into. Because of her habit of isolating herself, it doesn't occur to her to call upon any of the villagers to help her. She's at the center of this crisis. It is her loss, so, possessively, it will be her recovery. Even Gaston might have been happy to go along, just for something to do. If so, we wouldn't have this delightful tale. But Belle needs for something to be about her and to be her own central character. Because she is telling herself that it is only her father she is looking for, and not herself, she wanders into territories that are beyond her ken, even when expressly told not to. She could have made things worse for her father, she could have lost her own life before being able to save his, and she could have destroyed the Rose, condemning all of those in the castle.

Backs out on her word. When frightened, angry and confronted she declares,  "Promise or no promise, I can't stay here another minute!" She doesn't stay even long enough to understand what she might have done unwittingly. She feels justified in fleeing, because misconduct is not becoming. She has spent her life maintaining an outward appearance of beauty, intelligence and deference. She might be sad, wistful, lonely and bored; she might be abandoned, imprisoned, yelled at and ordered about. But to be at fault, however unintentionally? No. She denies that she has any destructive power within her, because that is the job of the enfant terrible, and him, she rejects. Being confronted with this possibility in her nature, she won't endure it, and negates the contract.

How often have we negated the contract we have with ourselves regarding the hopes we have for our lives, and our commitment to ourselves? How often have we decided that if any part of our lives will have to be destroyed-- even our denial--  then we refuse to be confronted by the painful truth, and flee instead. How often do we exchange our purpose and aspirations for those of others? How much energy do we put into imitating others, or preoccupying ourselves with their aspirations? How often do we sulk our way into giving up? How often do we deny what we need to thrive, or lie to ourselves about what we are drawn to?

How long do we spend in longing and resignation, waiting passively for something to happen before we spring into action? How long do we put off being honest with other people that we have emotional needs, social needs and creative needs that must find expression and reciprocation, even if they don't find them beautiful? Belle does not give up her concern and loyalty to her father, and she comes to care for the Beast and the others under the spell. Her work isn't finished, and she doesn't ultimately leave it. But her identity is still unclear until she takes it seriously. Otherwise, she simply will have exchanged the prison of the village and the escape of the bookshop with the prison of the castle and the escape of its library. A preoccupied father is supplanted by a preoccupied beast who regresses, and a street filled with gossipy villagers is replaced by hallways of gossipy servants. All of this only makes for a more elegant and decorous isolation, in which to remain a child.

Many times, we don't know what we want, and like a child, we only know what we don't want. Belle only knows that Gaston is not for her. And even her refusal of him makes her doubt herself even further. In discovering what we do want, we are essentially asking others for time to do nothing that is of reward to them. Sometimes, we are even asking for time to do nothing, which can be frightening. If we only know what we don't want, that is a starting place. But that place looks like nowhere to everyone else. It looks lazy and childish and beastly. Or it looks unfocused, unproductive, lifeless as a doll, and not genuinely beautiful. We don't even like that state for very long because then we can hear what the villagers think of us, which is really just a reflection of what we think of us.

Now that we have looked at both of the children in this tale, our next and final consideration in this series is how they are each confronted by the other, how they are not always proud of themselves, and how they work together to mature and find ways to grow out of their emotional pain. I'm not very interested in the idea that the beast is transformed physically into the handsome Prince Charming that Belle first believes that she is looking for. What marks her own transformation is that she no longer denies and rejects the Beast as her equal, while he is still in his beastly form, but embraces him as her kindred. She recognizes that like herself, with all of her own underdeveloped, self-negating ways of the Belle Enfant, she is not yet truly La Belle, purposefully heading toward more openly creative movement within the world.

Continued in the final Part 5: Les Belles Âmes