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lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit · 2 years ago

Note

how do all the lackadaisy characters react to getting sick/how do the handle the situation. Thanks!! :3c

Lumping these two asks together as they are the same request. Ask and ye shall receive! (A collaborative effort between multiple of our authors as it does involve the whole cast.)

ROCKY

Sick? What do you mean sick. In his over twenty-two years of living thus far he's never been sick once. He has the immune system of a titan, what are you talking about.

Questions he whilst leaning heavily on the bar counter for support lest he is knocked to the ground in a feverish pile by this sudden earthquake that apparently no one else is noticing like seriously you guys shouldn't we evacuate the place?!

In his defense, he's right about one thing: illness seems to avoid him as prevalently and miraculously as death itself. He could get stuck in the rain, take cold mud baths, sleep outside in winter snow, hug someone with Spanish flu, taste the pavement of a rat-infested alley and drink raw sewage and still come out of it all fit as a fiddle.

(Whether he carries anything is a different question, though with the various microorganisms inside him he seems to live in an overwhelmingly peaceful coexistence.)

But every rule has exceptions. And since he frequently does end up in all those situations, when once a millennium he comes down with something it's hard to tell the cause.

How he handles it can be summed up in a short answer of: he doesn't. He refuses to acknowledge it until he's physically incapacitated. If asked about it he keeps insisting that he's fine, a-okay, dandy as can be, never has existed a more invigorated healthy young man on Earth. At best he may invent a perfectly unconvincing excuse, like allergies acting up. (Inside underground caves. In winter. When he's never been allergic to anything in his entire life.)

Aside from perhaps unsuccessfully forbidding him from causing more grievous disturbances than usual, people usually opt to just leave him to it, because once he's set his mind on being "fine" logical reasoning and sound advice are only breath wasted. Ever well-intentioned, Mitzi still tells him to get some rest every now and then, yet keeps stumbling into the boy as he's fumbling through whatever that unresting intent has currently possessed him to be doing.

This wouldn't be such an issue with, say, a cold, because regardless of his masochistic eagerness for activity it inevitably does pass, but if it's something that necessitates any amount of bedrest... well, good luck.

For one he hasn't really a place to rest. I mean... there's the car. No one but Ivy at the Lackadaisy seems to know he technically lives in there, and he's not too enthusiastic to disclose it himself; besides anywhere else actually suitable, like in Mitzi's apartment, he'd just feel like a capital nuisance.

But let's suppose a scenario with the ideal location and someone who cares enough to stick by and ensure he actually does stay put. Shouldering such a responsibility, they must be prepared for a minimum of two things.

For one: he's going to be even more unbearably talkative than usual. Because what else is there left for a restless spirit if the flesh is restrained? Nothing but to complain and lament and versify and prattle on incessantly about whatever comes careening hither along a changeful stream of consciousness. Albeit unwittingly, driving others insane with his aimless rambling is how he keeps himself... well, something.

It's like if his mind had to stop running at maximum speed for just a few minutes it would promptly crash for good. Which, for all we know, may really be the case.

(This is just my two cents, but: I think giving him drawing implements and a coloring book or just plain paper might keep him very nicely occupied, as well as relatively quiet. Be sure to provide plenty of paper though, if you don’t want him to start drawing on other things not meant to be drawn on when the supply runs out like an unsupervised kid... unless you welcome the idea of your walls and furniture being covered in doodles.)

The other, possibly more arduous challenge is keeping him inside the room in the first place. Not understanding nor agreeing with his special treatment largely experienced as imprisonment on his end, he seizes each arising opportunity to attempt to weasel away somehow.

And he's a trained escape artist.

Watch him closely but look away for even a second, and you'll find no trace of him left in the room when you look back. Lock him in there, he'll pick the lock in a pinch - or attempt the window, which depending on the floor number may carry various levels of risk. Tie him down (because you're getting desperate by now) and you're likely to stumble into him minutes later by the front door, having already wriggled his way out. Doesn’t matter which knot was used, he knows most of them by heart. (And even if he didn’t happen to, he’s resourceful enough.)

Like I’ve said before, he perseveres in resisting his confinement for as long as he's capable of moving his limbs around and some vague semblance of coherent thought. Even with his brains cooking with delirium one may have to rescue him as he's crawling along on the floor dragging with him the tangle of blankets he was last left swaddled in, not entirely clear on what direction he's headed but by all means dedicated.

He's not above manipulation either, in order to divert his warden’s attention or make them relinquish his firm supervision rooted in concern for his well-being. Because it's not like he's concerned about it; so why should anyone else be? In addition he's unshakably certain that his role in the Lackadaisy's rumrunning force as well as there in general is absolutely vital and requires that he always be available for employment regardless of if he’s even in a proper state for it. (Just look at the latest comic arc, for crying out loud.)

But psst. Here's a little personal tip, for (Y/N) specifically. If reasonable advice hits deaf ears, and cuffing him to a bedpost yields little results other than another mildly baffling escape attraction, there remains one other thing to try with better chances of success... a more hands-on approach, if you catch my drift.

(Cuddling. I'm talking about cuddling. If you've got a good grip on this string bean of a man he is certainly not going anywhere so long as you're vigilant. Doing so, of course, means risking your own health, which he won't fail to coyly point out either; but he'll otherwise put up minimal resistance and ultimately cave in because God knows he’s touch deprived and doesn't get held enough otherwise. Well, by not enough I mean not at all, ever. But that's exactly why it's a good thing you're here, isn't it?)

Overall, as amusing of a story collection to recount as his commonly absurd ailing escapades might provide later down the line, the fact that they very rarely happen is no doubt for the best. He engages in enough troublesome shenanigans as is.

FRECKLE

Surprisingly pragmatic about it. Yep. He's getting symptoms. Looks like he contracted something.

Best be careful about it... mostly because Nina wouldn't allow him running himself ragged anyhow.

Along with other moral virtues he's had honesty drilled into him from kittenhood. And although it's not always an option in... other matters... he's upfront about how he's feeling physically if not much else, and eventually does come to terms with it. (Once he’s confirmed with certainty that it’s not just the general nauseated feeling he gets whenever he thinks too deeply about his “work” nowadays.)

He doesn't want to infect other people, or incur the stern concern of his mother, so at the very least he stays around the house, doing small, mostly undemanding chores. He's aware it's not expected of him nor recommended, but he has a bit of restlessness to him too.

Mostly because, were it bad enough to confine him to bed in a blanketed bundle of suffering incarnate, all he'd be able to think about is that God's wrath finally caught up with him for being a horrible person and this was part of his rightful punishment. Even worse if he got a nasty fever; it's like he's already burning in Hell.

Distractions may be scarce, but if he's been told off from chores for sneezing on the washing-up or exhausting himself with much too overzealous hammering, he opts to read instead. Over the years he's amassed quite the collection of books, renowned classics and youth literature, and most of them still give off the fluttering remnants of a good kind of nostalgia when flipping through the pages.

And besides, immersing himself in someone else's story is far more pleasant than fretting over his own current predicaments.

Some company, from a safe distance of course, will do him wonders as well. Nina is not the most conversational woman around, and aside from checking on him regularly and ensuring his wellbeing they don't make much meaningful contact.

Rocky likely pops in from time to time however, forever enthused to just run his mouth for as long as allowed, and although he may get a bit too bombastic for Calvin's comparative lack of vitality sometimes he appreciates the distraction more than he's able to express it. And, believe it or not, it's not entirely one-sided either. Rocky has developed a keen sense for his quiet cousin's intent to contribute and will more than gladly listen to what he has to say.

He’ll also forward Ivy’s wishes for Calvin to get well soon as she’s just dying to be able to meet with him at the speakeasy again. (Definitely also attaches a teasing remark or two to the message.) Then he’s eventually ushered out by Nina and as soon as his hasty goodbyes are swallowed by the outdoors Calvin finds himself missing the noise already.

The paralyzed stillness of being sick gets to him a lot more than it shows… seeing as it leaves him a little too alone with his own mind. So he sinks into the comfort of old books until he’s incapacitated by a headache and sore eyes, and diligently rakes those seven leaves that had gathered across the back lawn since he last attended to them two hours before, and lingers outside in the garden until warmer hues overtake a sun-painted sky and the evening chill starts to bite, taking in all things green and alive and in motion to remind himself that he’s not a walking corpse. Not yet, anyway.

Due to his mom’s supervision as well as his own eagerness to follow instructions in order to escape his personal limbo as soon as possible, he does tend to recover fairly fast; and he’s a pretty hardy young lad, thank goodness, so it’s all quite uncommon of an ordeal. In short it’s back to the ol’ grindstone in a jiffy; you know, the kind of grindstone that pulverizes mortal lives and churns out dripping blood.

But hey, best not stop and mull over it too long.

IVY

Oh, it's a nightmare for her.

You mean she can't go out in the evenings anymore? Can't go shopping with friends? Can't procure booze with her criminal coworkers? Can't attend dates with her cute new boyfriend? (Well, those last two are one and the same, really.)

These are all vital activities for a young woman like her to pursue! What else is she supposed to do? Rot in her room and steer clear of all fun whilst everyone else keeps going on with their lives?!

Some flimsy cold is nowhere near enough to keep her away from the beloved Lackadaisy. She can still man the café counter with a little sniffle (taking care to sneeze on no one's food) or look absolutely gorgeous on the dancefloor decked in glimmering pearls and feathers with a slightly paler constitution. But if it's bad enough that she simply must stay put...

During classes the still life of an empty dormitory fills with upbeat contemporary tunes from her bedstand radio as she lies upon crumpled bedsheets, clad in her prettiest pajamas, surrounded by an almost ritualistic circle of tissues and magazines whilst flipping through one of the latter with her legs girlishly dangling in the air. This is likely the scene any visitors are greeted by as well.

She looks like she's coping rather well... until verbal contact ensues and she begins her long string of complaints about how she's feeling utterly miserable. Runny nose, sore throat, grating cough, an unshakable sense of fatigue and she can't even go anywhere! Her classmates are off studying or having fun themselves (as well as deliberately avoiding contact with her for obvious reasons), and she's got nothing to look at but patterned wallpaper and pictures of pretty clothes she currently can't even visit the boutiques for.

But once the grievances are shared she promptly guides the spotlight in their direction, upon which they are to share every last bit of information and news about all most recent ongoings in the world of the healthy. It is a requirement (she will not let them go until they oblige), but also an opportunity; they're welcome to spill the beans on how their week has been and any noteworthy things that happened to them and also to just chat with her about whatever else comes up in the process.

Another way she keeps herself involved with the outside world is through the telephone. The local operator can already tell if she's under the weather by the prevalence of hearing her slightly weathered, juvenile voice squeak for connection to mostly one line throughout the day.

Her calls may also be scheduled to a certain hour so that everyone can come up to Mitzi's office and say hi. That "everyone" overwhelmingly ends up being Rocky, who lingers around there a bit more insistently than usual nearing that time frame and never fails to make his presence known by shouting his own greetings and cheerful encouragements of perseverance into the receiver.

She always asks him about Viktor and Calvin since the former disappointingly refuses to engage with her calls, and the latter doesn't visit because boys aren't allowed in the dormitory... and because he's afraid of catching her sickness. (What a chicken.)

You’d better believe they both get a scolding once she’s recovered for not contacting her at all… though you can’t really stay mad at sheepishly apologetic, babyfaced Freckle McMurray, now can you

Supposing the presence of company who’s emotionally close enough, she may also get clingy in the physical sense. Yes, she knows it’s not very courteous to rub your germs all over someone, but oh, her head is just killing her and she’s exhausted and achy and utterly sick of being sick, hence she desperately needs to rest her chin on someone’s shoulder and latch onto their soft warmth. Really, they brought this upon themselves by daring to enter the sniffly lion cub’s den. Now they’re likely not allowed to move for… let’s say the next two hours. Alternatively, until she has to go to the bathroom or ask them to get her something to drink.

Yes, she’s a bit of a princess; and especially when she’s miserable she may occasionally indulge in showering a willing servant with her various requests. Fetch her this, throw away that, bring hot chocolate and snacks, take out the trash, give her attention. But how could you say no to those big, innocent eyes?

If it’s a schoolmate she will absolutely persuade them to skip their classes for the day and spend time with her instead, offering cuddles and gossip. Forgetting, or ignoring rather, that not everyone can afford to be so lax about their education. Though surely, full-time service as a personal maid slash stuffed animal is making a much better use of their time. She promises to do the same when they inevitably catch the illness themselves, if that’s any consolation.

Nightly adventures and consequent loss of sleep aside, she takes decent care of herself overall, so the understimulating agony of quarantined solitude luckily isn’t something she suffers more of than the average person… albeit that little she’s an expert at suffering luxuriously.

VIKTOR

No, he's not sick, you're just lying. The great, the indomitable, the fierce Viktor Vasco never gets sick.

Denial is definitely a big part of it. He will not admit to getting sick until he's too weak to stand, and even then he'll fight anyone who tries to get him to rest.

The boredom is somehow scarier than actual health concerns. Staying at home and being too ill to do anything except think means he'll think. And thinking leads to a whole load of other things that he doesn't want to get into.

Essentially, getting sick is a liability to everything, from his job to his sense of self.

However, good luck on trying to make him better. He will also stubbornly refuse any help that comes his way, will slam his door in the doctor's face and threaten to tear apart anyone who so much as suggests getting him medicine.

His colleagues from Lackadaisy have taken to asking Mrs Bapka, his neighbour, to administer anything they want to give him themselves (he will draw a line at punching an old woman and fellow Slovakian immigrant), or Ivy (no one can successfully dispose of Ivy and her headstrong attitude. No one.)

The last person he had actually listened to when he was sick was a certain Mordecai Heller. Needless to say, that's not the case anymore.

Maybe that's what really makes him so grumpy and reluctant.

ZIB

His immune system is either rock hard or absolute dogshit, there is no in-between. He can go through a crowd of cats with nasty 'bouts of the flu without catching it, but gets bedridden by something as small as a head cold.

Said wonky immune system may be because he tends to drink stuff cut with the most ridiculous ingredients (radiator fluid, coffin varnish, paint, water, mud, you name it he's probably tasted it)

When he gets laid up, he gets laid up hard (innuendo not intended). He has to drag himself out of bed during the worst parts of it and may not even bother, electing to curl up and shiver/cry from the pain/die where he's comfortable. His band members have to literally drag him out of there on those days and force food down his throat so he doesn't wither away

Goddammit you lanky noodle bitch look after your sick ass don't make everyone do it for you

MORDECAI

He hates falling ill with a passion. It's one of many reasons he drinks tea so often: if he does get sick, it won't hit him so hard.

He tends to try and shrug off small stuff (runny nose, mild to moderate headache, aches and pains) to go to work anyway; but he's no fool. If he really feels icky he'll stay at home and look after himself. As much as he hates to do it, he's only got one body and somebody has to look after it.

The Savoys bash/tease him relentlessly whenever he comes in sick. If the mild headache becomes something worth staying at home for, they'll go as far as to try and visit him (or get him to come to them). Is it guilt about ragging him about it, them missing him or just boredom? Hard to tell with those two.

Serafine once teased about playing as his "mama" and looking after him until he's better. Mordecai, in his sickness-muddled mind, flew off the handle at her...Though all the Savoys saw was him almost break a glass in his paws before telling them flatly to get out.

Neither one realized Serafine had hit a nerve until he refused to let them in for a few days after. Whether it was something about his past or Serafine betraying his trust to get him into her group, they let it go and pretended nothing happened once he was back in action (though there was a noticeably thicker wall between him and them)

SERAFINE/NICODEME

Meet the "clingy" duo.

They don't get sick often and have impressive immune systems, what with their past roaming the swamps and other dangerous conditions, but when they do? Oh boy...

They'll either cling to each other in private, or play it up and annoy a hapless colleague.

And by "hapless colleague", I mean Mordecai—because of course it is.

Sickness is less of an actual, preventive ailment, but rather an excuse to show off some dramatic acting skills.

"Oh, cher, I simply cannot move until you bring me some nice warm tea and chocolate!"

"If I die, tell the world I was warm and safe, because of our dear ami, Heller..."

"For crying out loud, you've both got nothing but a cold."

They'll still play it up.

Just because your nose is stuffy doesn't mean the rest of you has to be.

The show must go on, mon cher.

WICK

He gets sick really, really easily. He stays up late at night often, so he doesn't get much rest and his immunity suffers for it.

(Licking rock walls probably doesn't help with that. Muffinhead (affectionate))

He still does work and goes out when he's sick, which results in papers with shitty writing and his friends urging him to go and rest up, "we can go with you another day".

When he's not thinking straight he'll whine to Lacie about how no one wants to see him when he's sick; ignoring the fact that she's either making him food, putting a cold cloth on his head or literally came by just to say hi to him

He's a bit dim sometimes, but he's a loveable dim.

The easiest way to see how sick he is is to mention putting the work on pause or crack a joke at his expense. If he rapidly objects to not working or good-naturedly shrugs off the joke, it's a small thing, nothing to worry about. If all he has to say in response to not working is "I can't" and he tries to defend himself from the joke (or even worse, agrees with it), he's feeling god-awful.

Lacie tends to hide the alcohol away until he's feeling better. During the week or so he's really feeling foggy this actually works, since in his addled state he can't properly look for them.

MITZI (BONUS since she's been getting a fair bit of attention)

Mitzi doesn't get sick. She becomes inconvenienced.

She's also a real bitch when she's sick. It's less of a slipping mask and more of a "I can't be nice when my brain feels too big for my skull"

She'll still grin and bear it for Rocky. He's positively devoted to her, after all; the least she can do is swallow her nasty remarks and come up with something softer for him.

Some cats swear that she never falls ill or has anything happen to her...Usually because once it does happen she locks herself in her office and won't open the door if you're not Horatio or Viktor.

If another cat somehow gets through her door, can put up with her attitude swings and goes out of their way to help her through her illness, she may very well open up a little and talk to them easier. Something as small as a cup of tea during a ravenous headache will convince the then-bitchy queen that you're not all bad-and later that since you put up with her ravenous insults and still helped her, maybe you're worth swallowing her pride for and confiding in.

#{ahah!! hello!! Rory here!! so you may notice the slightly uneven distribution of (Y/N) here}#{even in my own parts I left Calvin out of it. the poor boy}#{and Rocky's easily goes over 1k because I got a bit excited. as you may guess he's my favorite}#{but reminder that (granted that requests are open at the time) we're more than happy to provide further servings of any of our concepts}#{more specialized or in-depth or what-have-you}#{although this IS a brew of headcanons. which are usually brief. I just got a tad eager with my first contribution here I suppose}#{hello to our lovely readers by the way!! :3}#{💌 mod rory 💌}#🦉mod iphiko #🖋 mod ille #Headcanon Home Brew #Rocky Rickaby #Calvin “Freckle” McMurray #Ivy Pepper #Viktor Vasko #Dorian “Zib” Zibowski #Mordecai Heller #Serafine Savoy #Nicodeme Savoy #Sedgewick “Wick” Sable #Mitzi May #headcanon #lackadaisy

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mothalaalee · 4 months ago

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My version:

Thankyou @marzhakallam for the mention!!!

No pressure tags: @penwingsonthinice @wisemilkaddict @listen-to-the-inner-walrus @versify @realitycanbewhateveridesire @lucy-shining-star

#this was funnn #also i usually pass any tag game because longer the post gets #it gets anxious to add more #but making your own version seems funn and dash-friendly #got the idea from marzhakallam #so i will be doing the other tag game i gotemtiomed in tooo!!#@penwingsonthinice #i seee you and thankyou for tagging mee in those

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theinwardlight · 29 days ago

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From George Fox's Epistle to Friends at Malton, UK (1654), versified

#George Fox #Quaker #Quakerism #poem #words #epistle #Religious Society of Friends #faith #joy #quench not the spirit

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burningvelvet · 2 years ago

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Every Instance of Lord Byron Hating On John Keats, Listed in Chronological Order.

“No more Keats I entreat — flay him alive. If some of you don’t I must skin him myself.”

To his publisher John Murray, 12 October 1820:

“‘I’m thankful for your books dear Murray / But why not send Scott’s Monastery?’ the only book in four living volumes I would give a baioccho to see, abating the rest of the same author, and an occasional Edinburgh & Quarterly – as brief Chroniclers of the times. — Instead of this – here are John Keats’s piss a bed poetry – and three novels by God knows whom [..] Pray send me no more poetry but what is rare and decidedly good. — There is such a trash of Keats and the like upon my tables – that I am ashamed to look at them. [..] – I am in a very fierce humour at not having Scott’s Monastery. – You are too liberal in quantity and somewhat careless of the quality of your missives. – [..] No more Keats I entreat – – – flay him alive – if some of you don’t I must skin him myself. There is no bearing the drivelling idiotism of the Mankin. – – – – – [editor’s note: ‘dashes degenerate into scrawl’]”

To his publisher John Murray, 4 November 1820:

“They Support Pope I see in the Quarterly. [Let them] Continue to do so – it is a Sin & a Shame and a damnation – to think that Pope!! should require it – but he does. – – – Those miserable mountebanks of the day – the poets – disgrace themselves – and deny God – in running down Pope – the most faultless of Poets, and almost of men – – the Edinburgh praises Jack Keats or Ketch or whatever his names are; – why his is the Onanism of Poetry — something like the Pleasure an Italian fiddler extracted out of being suspended daily by a Street Walker in Drury Lane – this went on for some weeks – at last the Girl – went to get a pint of Gin – met another, chatted too long – and Cornelli was hanged outright before she returned. Such like is the trash they praise – and such will be the end of the outstretched poesy of this miserable Self-polluter of the human Mind [editor’s note: ‘untranscribable scrawl’]. W. Scott’s Monastery just arrived — many thanks for that Grand Desideratun of the last Six Months.”

Note: “onanism” refers to masturbation.

To his publisher John Murray, 9 November 1820:

“Mr. Keats whose poetry you enquire after — appears to me what I have already said; such writing is a sort of mental masturbation — he is always frigging his Imagination. I don’t mean that he is indecent, but viciously soliciting his own ideas into a state which is neither poetry nor any thing else but a Bedlam vision produced by raw pork and opium.”

Note: “frigging” was slang for masturbation.

To his publisher John Murray, 18 November 1820:

“P.S. — Of the praises of that little dirty blackguard Keates in the Edinburgh — I shall observe as Johnson did when Sheridan the actor got a pension. ‘What has he got a pension? then it is time that I should give up mine!’ — Nobody could be prouder of the praises of the Edinburgh than I was — or more alive to their censure — as I showed in English Bards and Scotch Reviewers — at present all the men they have ever praised are degraded by that insane article. — Why don't they review & praise ‘Solomon's Guide to Health’ it is better sense — and as much poetry as Johnny Keates.”

To his publisher John Murray 26 April 1821:

“Is it true – what Shelley writes me that poor John Keats died at Rome of the Quarterly Review? I am very sorry for it – though I think he took the wrong line as a poet – and was spoilt by Cockneyfying and Surburbing – and versifying Tooke’s Pantheon and Lempriere’s Dictionary. I know by experience that a savage review is Hemlock to a sucking author – and the one on me – (which produced the English Bards &c.) knocked me down – but I got up again. Instead of bursting a blood-vessel – I drank three bottles of Claret – and began an answer – finding that there was nothing in the Article for which I could lawfully knock Jeffrey on the head in an honourable way. However I would not be the person who wrote the homicidal article – for all the honour & glory in the World, – though I by no means approve of that School of Scribbling – which it treats upon.”

To Percy Shelley, 26 April 1821:

“I am very sorry to hear what you say of Keats — is it actually true? I did not think criticism had been so killing. Though I differ from you essentially in your estimate of his performances, I so much abhor all unnecessary pain, that I would rather he had been seated on the highest peak of Parnassus than have perished in such a manner. Poor fellow! though with such inordinate self-love he would probably have not been very happy. I read the review of ‘Endymion’ in the Quarterly. It was severe, — but surely not so severe as many reviews in that and other journals upon others.

I recollect the effect on me of the Edinburgh on my first poem; it was rage, and resistance, and redress — but not despondency nor despair. I grant that those are not amiable feelings; but, in this world of bustle and broil, and especially in the career of writing, a man should calculate upon his powers of resistance before he goes into the arena. ‘Expect not life from pain nor danger free, Nor deem the doom of man reversed for thee.’

You know my opinion of that second-hand school of poetry. You also know my high opinion of your own poetry, — because it is of no school. [..] I have published a pamphlet on the Pope controversy, which you will not like. Had I known that Keats was dead — or that he was alive and so sensitive — I should have omitted some remarks upon his poetry, to which I was provoked by his attack upon Pope, and my disapprobation of his own style of writing.”

To Percy Shelley, 30 July 1821:

[First page missing] “The impression of Hyperion upon my mind was – that it was the best of his works. Who is to be his editor? It is strange that Southey who attacks the reviewers so sharply in his Kirk White – calling theirs ‘the ungentle craft’ – should be perhaps the killer of Keats. Kirke White was nearly extinguished in the same way – by a paragraph or two in ‘the Monthly’ – Such inordinate sense of censure is surely incompatible with great exertion – have not all known writers been the subject thereof?”

To his publisher John Murray 30 July 1821:

“Are you aware that Shelley has written an Elegy on Keats, and accuses the Quarterly of killing him?

‘Who killed John Keats? / ‘I,’ says the Quarterly, / So savage and Tartarly; / ‘Twas one of my feats.’ / Who shot the arrow? / ‘The poet-priest Milman / (So ready to kill man), / Or Southey or Barrow.’’

You know very well that I did not approve of Keats’s poetry, or principles of poetry, or of his abuse of Pope; but, as he is dead, omit all that is said about him in any M.S.S. of mine, or publication. His Hyperion is a fine monument, and will keep his name. I do not envy the man who wrote the article; — you Review people have no more right to kill than any other footpads. However, he who would die of an article in a Review would probably have died of something else equally trivial. The same thing nearly happened to Kirke White, who died afterwards of a consumption.”

4 August 1821, to his publisher John Murray:

“You must however omit the whole of the observations against the Suburban School – they are meant against Keats and I cannot war with the dead – particularly those already killed by Criticism. Recollect to omit all that portion in any case.”

To his publisher John Murray, 7 August 1821:

“All the part about the Suburb School must be omitted – as it referred to poor Keats now slain by the Quarterly Review — [..] I have just been turning over the homicide review of J. Keats. – It is harsh certainly and contemptuous but not more so than what I recollect of the Edinburgh R. of ‘the Hours of Idleness’ in 1808. The Reviewer allows him ‘a degree of talent which deserves to be put in the right way’ ‘rays of fancy’ ‘gleams of Genius’ and ‘powers of language’. – It is harder on L. Hunt than upon Keats & professes fairly to review only one book of his poem. – Altogether – though very provoking it was hardly so bitter as to kill unless there was a morbid feeling previously in his system.”

To Thomas Moore, August 27th 1822:

“It was not a Bible that was found in Shelley's pocket, but John Keats's poems.”

From his poem Don Juan Canto Eleventh written October 1822 and published August 1823. He was going off the popular gossip shared to him by Shelley (who believed it), which was that Keats health had sharply declined due to receiving bad reviews:

“John Keats, who was killed off by one critique, / Just as he really promised something great, / If not intelligible, without Greek / Contrived to talk about the Gods of late, / Much as they might have been supposed to speak. / Poor fellow! His was an untoward fate; / ‘Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, / Should let itself be snuffed out by an article.”

To his publisher John Murray, 25 December 1822:

“As to any community of feeling, thought, or opinion, between Leigh Hunt and me, there is little or none. We meet rarely, hardly ever; but I think him a good-principled and able man, and must do as I would be done by. I do not know what world he has lived in – but I have lived in three or four – and none of them like his Keats and Kangaroo terra incognita – Alas! poor Shelley! – how he would have laughed – had he lived, and how we used to laugh now & then – at various things – which are grave in the Suburbs. You are all mistaken about Shelley – – you do not know – how mild – how tolerant – how good he was in Society – and as perfect a Gentleman as ever crossed a drawing room; – when he liked – & where he liked. – – – – –“

The excerpts above are taken primarily from Peter Cochran’s transcriptions.

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adarkrainbow · 9 months ago

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Beauty and the Beast on the 18th century stage

A long time ago I promised you a handful of articles - and today it is time! I will begin with an article written by Catherine Ramond for the "Féeries" journal ("Féeries" is THE reference journal-review for all fairytale study and analysis), about the various theater adaptations of "Beauty and the Beast" in the 18th century France. As I also said before I won't do a literal translation, but rather "info-mine" as some like to say.

In the 18th century, every time a novel or short story had a huge success it was adapted to the stage, and so the fairytale did not escape. Ever since Charles Perrault and madame d'Aulnoy published their fairy stories, the "fairytale" had been a fashionable genre, and it offered to theaters a lot of material, especially since it craved magic and wonders. The story of "Beauty and the Beast" (La Belle et la Bête) especially had a lot of dramatic and scenic potential - as such the article compares FIVE different variations of the tale. Two of them are of course, the two literary versions of the tale, its two publications.

On one side, Madame Leprince de Beaumont's 1756 Beauty and the Beast, published in her "Le Magasin des enfants" (The Children's shop), THE most famous version of the story, and the one Cocteau used for his movie adaptation. On the other side, the ACTUAL first written/literary version of "Beauty and the Beast" titled as such, the one Leprince de Beaumont actually rewrote for her own book: Gabrielle de Villeneuve's Beauty and the Beast, inserted in her 1740 novel "La Jeune Américaine et les contes marins" (The Young American Girl and the sea tales). While this story was definitively "modern" in style and shape, it borrowed folkloric motifs (such as the theme of the animal-husband), making it a "cousin" to several of madame d'Aulnoy's fairytales (Serpentin Vert, The Green Snake ; Le Prince Marcassin, The Boar Prince), as well as a descendant of the model from Antiquity: Psyche's tale from Apuleus' Metamorphosis. This link between the new and ancient tale might have inspired the adaptators, since the tale of Psyche had been heavily adapted throughout the 17th century in different genres. 1656's Benserade and Lully's Psyche Ballet ; Corneille-Quinault-Molière-Lully's 1671's Psyche tragedy-abllet ; Corneille (Thomas this time)-Fontenelle-Lully's 1678's lyrical tragedy Psyche, etc etc... What we do know for sure is that the writers of fairytales and creators of stage entertainment of the time were well aware of the key elements of the story: Psyche's inhuman beauty, the oracle that offers her to a hideous monster, the jealousy of her sisters that causes bad advice (notably their encouragment to see the invisible husband despite it being forbidden). However... Against a Psyche perceived as a flaed character, against this weak, naive, curious Psyche, the 18th century opposes Belle, a Beauty who is kind and brave, and who instead of disrupting the order re-establishes a balance between the characters. The prince, turned into a Beast because of a spell must, to regain his true shape, have a young girl falling in love with him despite his horrible appearance. When Belle confesses her love and agrees to marry Beast, it makes the "beautiful Unknown" that she saw in her dreams appear before her, a Prince "more beautiful than love". This story reunites magic with a family drama (the relationships between Belle, her father and her sisters are at the forefornt of the narrative), while addng emotion and virtue: the fairytale had all the elements that would attract stage-writers and directors of the century.

The first "féerie dramatique", the first stage adaptation of this story was actually released between the two literary versions of the tale. It was the 1742's three-act versified comedy by Nivelle de La Chaussée "Amour pour amour" (Love for love), that borrowed elements from the very recent madame de Villeneuve's story (1740). The two last theater adaptations of the story were created after madame Leprince de Beaumont published her tale, and take inspiration from it. One is the ballet-comedy in four acts by Marmontel, with a music by Grétry, "Zémire et Azor" (names borrowed from Nivelle de La Chaussée). It had a huge success in 1771 when it was presented first at Fontainebleau, than at Paris. The second is a two-act prose comedy by madame de Genlis, "La Belle et la Bête", published in 1779 in her "Théâtre à l'usage des jeunes personnes" (Theater for young people). This play was for private stages, and had an open goal of educating children, by accentuating the moral aspect of the Leprince de Beaumont's tale. These adaptations truly show the wide variety of genres that welcomed the fairytale: a "classical" comedy, an "opéra-comique", and a small "moral treaty in action" for the theaters "de société".

The article wonders which elements of the fairytale were kept in theaters, and which ones were modified. There is also a brief recap of all the elements that encourage differences. For example, the fairytales are told through a third-person narraton, as opposed to the plays that need the characters to speak for themselves at the first person. Or how the literary fairytales are influenced by their context. Madame de Villeneuve's story was inserted in a novel, a "roman" as we call them in France, and as such her fairytale has "romanesque" aspects to it - for example by having inserted stories within the main story, which was a typical novel-device of the time. As such, when the Prince can freely speak again, he tells his own past through the sub-story "L'Histoire de la Bête", then followed by the sub-story of "The tale of the happy island" which unveils Beauty's true identity as the secret daughter of a King and a Fairy. The main story itself is divided in a double time: on one side the diurnal scenes, when Beauty and the Beast encounter each other, on the other side the nocturnal scenes, when Belle dreams of Le Bel Inconnu, which is the Prince. This dream-part of the tale will be heavily reduced, if not completely erased, in the other texts, while the two sub-stories evoked above will be removed from both the stage-adaptations and Leprince de Beaumont's rewrite. Beaumont's version is a simplified and linear tale, with its own context - a pedagogical one. Her "Le Magasin des enfants" is a dialogue between the figure of a "wise governess/knowledgeable nurse", and her most brilliant and obedient students - as such the fairytale is introduced, then commented, as a tale the children should study and find a message within. The narration itself multiplies the elements revealing it is the story told to children, such as this sentence "The beauty (because I told you before it was the name of the youth), so, the beauty, I said". This pedagogical nature, just like the romanesque overflow of the first literary tale, was removed by theater adaptations. When it reaches the stage, the tale only remains as what stuck in memories, as a pure fairy-story, which allows for its multiple metamorphosis and readaptations. Jean-Paul Sermain wrote about this in his book studying fairytales and concluded that, if a fairytale wanted to stay alive, it needed to escape its own context. This is clearly what happened with Beauty and the Beast.

And Leprince de Beaumont had already greatly helped the dramaturgists, by removing the romanesque elements of Villeneuve. Marmontel heavily used this to his advantage, with an adaptation very close to the tale - in fact, one of the main criticism against his "Zémire et Azor" was to have followed step-by-step the tale. People wrote at the time that what he did was just "Add some dialogues to a small story that isn't even his own". He was accused of "stealing" from Le Magasin des Enfants, of not having a single original idea in his own production, and basically one could read the book and have seen the stage ballet. Nivelle de La Chaussée's comedy, "Amour pour Amour", is further away from the literary story, especially since only madame de Villeneuve's story could be known at the time. This is also why it is the only stage adaptation that explains the metamorphosis of Azor/Beast due to the unshared love of a fairy, who in the play takes the shape of a romantic rival named Assan. La Chaussée also took another element from Villeneuve's tale: the dream where Azor appears to Beauty in "all of his brightness". Azor, like the Beast, is doubly punished: he has a repulsive physique, and he is forbidden from expressing his love. And here is the problem: how could the innocent Zemir pronounce the words "I love you" if she doesn't hear them first in her lovers' mouth? "Amour pour Amour" is, as such, quite close to Marivaux's theaters (comparisons can be made with his 1721's Arlequin poli par l'amour, for example). Nivelle de La Chaussée also gives to the story an Oriental aspect: the story takes place in a small town near Bagdad, Beauty and the Beast are given the exotic names of Zémire and Azor (later reused by Marmontel), and the family of Beauty are replaced by "confidents", which form a couple parallel to the main heroes, as it was usual in the comedy of France - the author also used these secondary characters as a way to deal with the absence of a narrative voice.

In fact, the absence of a narration is a problem for all three stage-adaptations. Marmontel gives to the father (Sander) a slave named Ali, who brings a comical letter ; while madame de Genlis gives to her Beauty (Zirphée) a friend named Phédime who is her confident, her match-maker, and a bit of her rival. But Marie-Emmanuelle Plagol highlighted that the character of the companion is fundamentaly "foreign to the fairytale", which is supposed to be "played in solitude". Only Marmontel kept the characters of the father-sisters, and the initial episode of the rose. Madame de Genlis went further away from the story by making Zirphée an orphan girl destined to a repulsive husband, while Phanor/Beast ravished her to escape an enchantment of unknown origins. All he says about this is: "Barian Fairy! Enjoy the excess of my pain ; your power, superior to mine, condemned me once to endure life under this hdeous shape, and I can't take back my first face unless I am loved, by touching with my scary face a soul that felt nothing before". So, while there are variations, the three stage-stories borrow from the literary versions A) the two main characters B) the key plot and C) the spectacular ending tied to words that must be pronounced.

Now, despite Mme Leprince de Beaumont heavily reducing the story, it still has a length that is hard to bring on stage... Yes the events and the "coup de theatre" are perfectly dramatic, but the stage cannot render as well the slow evolution of the characters and the feeling of time passing by. It doesn't help that the three plays studied here are relatively short - two or three acts (four for Marmontel's but only because there are long songs). Beauty's stay at the Beast's castle is a large part of the story plot - but it is not very "dramatic", and the characters are usually alone during this sequence outside of their brief daily encounters. For Mme de Villeneuve, this sojourn allowed her to describe at length the luxuries and the entertainments of the magical castle while the Beast, cursed with both ugliness and stupidity, avoided Beauty's company so as to not bore or disturb her, rather hoping the wonders would replace him. As such, the magic was a temporal one, alternating the various wonders Beauty discovered with the daily meals during which the Beast appeared and asked the same question, over and over again. The scene of the meal, first described in details, became shorter and briefer with each repetition - and this repetitive nature was essential to the tale, as it shows Beauty getting accustomed and used to the Beast - paving the way for her starting to like him... But it doesn't fit theater. Mme Leprince de Beaumont does a similar thing - the ritual visit is first a full dialogue, then shortened in one or two sentences. But the same idea of the repetition becoming an habit, and the habit allowing Beauty to overcome the Beast's monstrous appearance, remains. How can it be translated on stage?

Nivelle de La Chaussée, who only wrote two interactions between Azor and Zémire, delegates the descriptions of Zémire's growing love to the characters of the confidents. Azor describes to Zaleg how Zémire is getting accustomed to him in the very first scene ; and later insists on their daily encounters when talking to Nadine in scene 5. The slowness of Zémire's love does not come from the horror Azor causes her, but rather of her own ignorance of what love is: when Assan declares his love for Zémire, he actually helps his rival unwittingly, by allowing Zémire to discover her own love for Azor. Nivelle de La Chaussée is interested by something left obscure and undescribed in the tales: how the characters realize and understand their own feelings. Marmontel, meanwhile, synthetizes all of the daily encounters between Beauty and the Beast in one scene (III, 5) and has Zémire/Beauty say herself "Seeing you so much, my eyes got accustomed". As for Genlis, he offers three encounters between Zirphée (Beauty) and Phanor (The Beast), during which Zirphée becomes bolder and bolder. But this compression of time always causes a same phenomnon among the three authors: the appearance of the Beast is modified, to explain such a fast change in relationship. The theater-Beasts are not as repulsive as the fairytale-Beasts, their monstruosity is watered-down.

However, while all the theater adaptations compress the time-dimension of the play, it is to better highlight the spectacular of the final transformation - always done alongside a change in sets. This was the most "dramatic" lement of the fairytale, and it shows. The decisive word of the Beauty, who agrees to marry the Beast, causes the dénouement, the de-transformation of the Beast into the Prince. In the two narrative versions, the words have an immediate effects - as soon as Beauty pronounces the words, the magic operates. Of course, the theater potential of such a scene is enormous: a "key" word causing a final "coup de théâtre" - and transformations of stages and sets were very, very liked at the time. As such all three plays have a common dénouement. At Nivelle de La Chaussée, when Zémire says "Yes, it is Azor that I love", the theater turns into a woodland, a clearing of orange-trees with a cradle of flowers among which is Zémire's statue. At Marmontel's, when Zémire says "I love you, Azor, I love you..." the theater turns into an "enchanted palace" and Azor is sitting on a throne in all of his beauty. And for Mme de Genlis, when Zirphée says "Yes, Phanor, I loved you ; yes, I cannot live without you", music resonates, and Phanor appears from the back of the stage in his human form, sitting on a throne of flowers. And Azor's explanations in the various plays also all sound similar: "Yes, I am that Genie that..." "Yes, I am this dreadful monster, that you did not hate despite his ugliness". However, there is one specific change from the fairytales: in the stage-plays, Beauty just has to declare her love ; while in the original tales, she has to either agree to sleep with the Beast, or to marry him. Again, we see a sentimental and psychological shift linked to the "weakening" of the Beast, not as threatening and not as monstrous, even in what he asks of Beauty.

While the wonders of the final transformation caught the eyes of the playwright, it wasn't the case with the other magical eements of the tale... Mme de Villeneuve's castle was an "enchanted palace", filled with fireworks, wealth, singing birds and monkey-comedians. When she opened the six windows of a room, Beauty could see the plays given in the four great theaters of Paris at the time (Comédie Française, Comédie Italienne, Opéra, Foire Saint-Germain), plus a view of the Tuileries and one of the "spectacle of the world". This careful "mise en abyme" of the "theater as the world" or the "world as a stage" was not kept by stage adaptations. In the written story, they were somptuous entertainments meant to distract Beauty from her loneliness and boredom, while showing how the Beast's muteness could be compensated by immense power and infinite wealth. But again, the loneliness of a bored Beauty and the forced stupidity of the Beast were not fit for the theater. Each playwright finds a different way to replace these wonders. Nivelle de La Chaussée opposes the seduction of wealth (embodied by Azor's rival, Assan, who in truth is the fairy in disguise) and Azor's pure love, who only has flowers to offer to Beauty and prefers to be loved for himself (he is very Marivaux-like). Marmontel rather decides to mix the luxuries with the Oriental exotic: the only indication for Azor's palace is "a wealthy salon, decorated in an Oriental way. Flower-filled vases between the windows" ; Azor's appearance in the third act is preceeded by the sight of a throne of flowers rising in the middle of the room, and a dance of genies. As for Mme de Genlis, while she does take back elements from Mme Leprince de Beaumont fairytale (lots of books, lots of wealth, the clavecin), the exploration of the palace is condensed in the second scene of act III, and while it works as a temporary burst of wonders, it does not reflect a daily cohabitation.

Finally, Marmontel and Mme de Genlis reuse the magical items of Mme de Beaumont, such as the magic mirror in which Beauty saw her family. Marmontel turns it into a magical painting: the family of Beauty appears at the back of the stage, framed like a painting, Zémire can hear them but not talk to them and it all disappears when she tries to touch them. (This stage trck had a huge success). The other magical item was the ring that teleported Beauty: Marmontel links the ring with the modifications of the sets, since it allows to alternate between the father's house and Azor's palace - but Marmontel does add a cloud to transport Sander and Ali. It might be a remnant of the Zephyr that carries Psyche and the other characters of Apuleus' tale. Within Mme de Genlis' play, Phanor's powers are also embodied by the ring that conferes to Zirphée ubiquity and the power to grant wishes, but ultimately the ring will be useless. However, Zirphée finds within the ring's box the final letter of adieu of Phanor - and it is reading this letter that causes Zirphée's declaration. The magical object is replaced by a very traditional and common item of theater: the letter.

The most extraordinary, strange and fascinating element of the tale however is the Beast. This horrid, scary beast that Mme de Villeneuve describes in terms of "abominable screams, terrible noises, a furious expression, a trunk like the one of an elephant, the enormous weight of his body, scales clicking with each movement". Aurélia Gaillard highlighted that this heavy, loud, scaly elephant-like body could be interpreted as an imperious, exhuberant sexuality described in monstrous terms.Mme Leprince de Beaumont attenuates a bit the Beast's horror because he is never described - he is said to be horrible and to have a frightening voice, but the Beasts laments more about its "ugliness" than its "monstruosity" - and in fact, the Beast can become quite ridiculous, such as when, in an attempt to sigh about its own sad fate, it "whistles so loudly all the walls of the castle shook". How can this be translated on stage?

The stage-Beasts, with their strong, exotic names of "Azor" or "Phanor" have barely anything in common with Villeneuve's monster. Nivelle de La Chaussée's text must be decyphered to understand what the Beast looks like: Azor is said to have been given an "hétéroclite" face which, in this context, actually means an "aged" face. Zaleg, Azor's confident, highlights the fact Azor is an old man in these words: "If the Fairy had left us our charming traits, / I could have tolerated ; but, Lord, we look like as if / We were about to enter the season before autumn." The fact Azor's punishment is shared by Zaleg also attenuates it. Within "Zémire et Azor", the only exact physical description appears in the list of characters: "Azor, young Persian prince, in a scary but not hideous shape ; black eyebrows, a bushy beard, a thick mane, arms and legs naked but covered by a tiger-like skin, the rest of the body clothed by a vest and a rich belt ; in behavor and action, he is a nobleman." We are far, far away from the monster! In fact, the plays have to convey the Beast's scariness through acting: in Marmontel's, when Zémire first sees him she faints, and Azor laments that it was his own ugliness that caused this. In Mme de Genlis' play, since no description is offered, we only have Phanor's words ("horrible face", "repulsive appearance"), and a few acting movements (Zirphée doesn't dare look at him ; she flees when he comes near her). But he is only a monster in appearance, as he proves to be a good, generous, sensible, delicate and faithful person. In fact, Marmontel gave his Beast a beautiful voice and pleasant words - even going as far as having him sing! In fact, it is because there is a discrepancy between Azor's appearance and his speech that Zémire believes an enchantment might be at play.

These psychological (the pangs of love) and moralizing (virtue is to be loved) trends completely erase the frightening voice, and the rude manners of the book-Beast, who had been "deprived of his mind". Villeneuve's Beauty complained that she could not talk to the Beast, she lamented herself that the Beast only spoke four or five sentences to her, and always the same ; a "stupidity in speech" that contrasted with the eloquence of the Beautiful Unknown of Beauty's dreams, and that also opposed itself to the long romanesque tale the Beast, free of his curse, offered to his audience. The Beast' slow humanization came through him speaking more to Beauty, and in a more galant way, and her noting in his speech softness and sincerity. By giving the Beast eloquence from the get-go, by removing his "stupidity", the playwrights made him closer to another famous fairytale character: the Prince Riquet of Perrault's fairytales. Riquet with the tuft was, just like the Beast, cursed by fairies to be ugly until love made him handsome, but ulike the Beast he wasn't cursed with idiocy - on the contrary, his eloquence was his main tool to win hearts. Yet another play that echoes Riquet as much as "Beauty and the Beast" would be Favart's "La fée Urgèle", a "féerie" inspired by a fairytale of Voltaire: created at Fontainebleau in 1765 with a huge success, then regularly played by the Italian Comedy, it depicts the strange romance between a fairy transformed into an old woman and the knight Robert. The metamorphosis of the act IV, where, with "the sound of thunder" the miserable hut becomes a splendid palace, echoes the stage-transformations of the "Beauty and the Beast" plays. In fact, the morality sung in the end seems like a watered-down version of the "Beauty and the Beast "lesson: "You have not disdained ugliness, / You deserve to be loved by Beauty.

The Beast's monstruosity disappears alongside its very name of "Beast". Usually appearing only in the title, the Beast becomes "Azor" or "Phanor" - and it is quite a paradox to see this sonor dimension of the name "Beast" disappearing, despite this posing no problem for the stage. In the narrative versions, we only have "Beauty" and "the Beast", and the dialogues do work fine. The exotic names chosen for the character remove the ambiguity and the wordplays originally used to conceive him, humanizing the Beast even further - and firmly setting his male identity, since "la Bête" is a female-neutral name. This need to give a precise name and defined identity to theater characters seems to reflect a deeper difference when it comes to genres: the theater relies on the words of the characters, and as such has difficulties depicting bestiality, aka what is deprived of words. The rare questions asked by Mme de Villeneuve's Beast were "impertinent" question: while it can be written that the Beast rudely asks "Do you want to sleep with me?", it is harder to have the character pronounce it on stage. And yet this sexual element (greatly watered-down within Leprince de Beaumont's version) is a key feature of the fairytale type of the "animal-groom", and seems to reflect, as Bettelheim wrote, that "sexuality is an animalistic action, that only love can turn into a human relationship". The theater must focus entirely on the romance due to what it cannot show and cannot tell ; in turn, this allows us to see the great freedom of the fairytale, which can name and show a "desiring body". By making the Beast human, the theater weakens the strange and disquieting element of the tale: the relationship between the human Beauty and the monstrous Beast was unexplained and unexplainable. As Jean-Paul Sermain said, the strength of this tale relied on the silence when it comes to the amorous choice, and how inexplicable or aberrant it is. Maybe this "shadowy" part of the tale disappears because the theater-character must always explain and analyze? Fairytale characters are lonely characters, who do not offer their inner thoughts to anybody. By giving them confidents, the playwrights allow them to explain their actions. We can think of Sedaine's "Raoul Barbe bleue", in which Bluebeard explains why he killed his wives - an element unrevaled in the story. This, alongside Bluebeard being named "Raoul", works to "desenchant" the tale.

The two public plays, those of La Chaussée and Marmontel, were enormous successes. Restif de la Bretonne, a great fan of fairy tales, wrote his enthusiasm for "Zémire et Azor", and his passion for the "Magical Painting". These plays were fitting perfectly the expectations of those that went to see a comedy or opera-comique. All in all, the three stage-plays explored, each in their own way, the dramatic and scenic possibilities of the tale, wile sprinkling it with exoticism and strengthening its "lesson" aspect. Psychology and rationality dominate within these plays, going against the very spirit of the "marvelous" of the fairytale - but by twisting the tale, they played their part in its history ; through their transformations and metamorphoses, they maintained the sense of mystery, pleasure and surprise brought by these variations and extensions. Today, cinema is continuign what the theater did before. But the difficulties the adaptations had to face back then highlight the limits of each genres. The first literary version of the tale could not fit fully the stage due to its "romanesque thickness" and its complex narrative structure - and as we saw, the most drastic change brought by the shift to the stage is the Beast, who becomes a new avatar of "Riquet with the tuft", an ugly but virtuous candidate for love. And moral as well as historial constraints forced the playwrights to remove the monstrous, the stupid, the loud, the sound and the fury - in short, the body in all of its ugliness from the story. Instead, the plays focused on the charms of the eloquence, and on the reward of kindness and virtue.

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