Both in the unconscious and in the conscious, numbers stand for people: family situations and relations. We are quite consciously aware that “one” stands for ourselves in relation to the world, as the popular reference to “Number One” bears out. “Two” signifies a twosome, a couple, as in a love or marital relation. “Two against one” stands for being unfairly, even hopelessly outclassed in a competition. In the unconscious and in dreams, “one” can stand either for oneself, as it does in our conscious mind, or—particularly with children—for the dominant parent. For adults, “one” also refers to the person who holds power over us, such as the boss. In the child’s mind, “two” stands usually for the two parents, and “three” for the child himself in relation to his parents, but not to his siblings. That is why, whatever the child’s position within the sibship, the number three refers to himself. When in a fairy story a child is the third one, the hearer easily identifies with him because within the most basic family constellation the child is third down, irrespective of whether he is the oldest, middle, or youngest among his siblings.
Surpassing the two stands in the unconscious for doing better than the two parents. In respect to his parents the child feels abused, insignificant, neglected; to excel them means coming into his own, much more than triumphing over a sibling would. But since it is difficult for the child to admit to himself how great this desire to surpass his parents is, in the fairy tale it is camouflaged as outdoing the two siblings who think so little of him.
Only in comparison to the parents does it make sense that “the third,” meaning the child, is at the beginning so incompetent or lazy, a simpleton; and only in regard to them does he catch up so magnificently as he grows up. The child can do so only if he is helped, taught, and promoted by an older person; as the child may reach or surpass the parents’ level through the help of an adult teacher. In “The Three Languages” the three masters in foreign cities make this possible; in “The Three Feathers” it is an old toad, very much akin to a grandmother, who helps the youngest son.
“The Three Feathers” begins: “Once upon a time there was a king who had three sons. Two of them were clever and bright, but the third didn’t say much, was simple, and was only called the dummy. As the king grew old and weak and thought of his end, he did not know which of his sons should inherit the kingdom. So he spoke to them, ‘Go out and who brings me the finest carpet, he shall be king after my death.’ So that there should be no fight among them, he took them outside his castle, blew three feathers into the air and said, ‘As these fly, there you go.’ One feather flew east, the other west, and the third straight ahead, but not far; it soon fell to the earth. Now one brother went right, the other left, and they laughed at the dummy who had to stay where the feather had fallen down. The dummy sat down and was sad. Then he noticed that beside the feather was a trap door. He lifted it, found a stair and stepped down.…”
Blowing a feather into the air and following it, if one is undecided in which direction to go, is an old German custom. Many other versions of this story, such as Greek, Slavic, Finnish, and Indian variations, tell of three arrows being shot into the air to determine the direction in which the brothers ought to go.35
Today it does not make much sense that the king should decide his succession on the basis of which of his sons brought home the finest carpet, but in times past, “carpet” was also the name given to most intricate weavings; and the fates wove the web which decided man’s fate. Thus, in a way, what the king said was that the fates should decide.
Going down into the darkness of the earth is a descent into the netherworld. Dummy undertakes this voyage into the interior, while his two brothers roam around on the surface. It does not seem farfetched to view this as a tale of Dummy embarking on exploring his unconscious mind. This possibility was suggested at the very beginning of the story, which opposes the brothers’ cleverness with Dummy’s simplicity and his not talking much. The unconscious speaks to us in images rather than words, and it is simple when compared with the productions of the intellect. And—as is Dummy—it is viewed as the lowliest aspect of our mind when compared with ego and superego, but when well used it is the part of our personality from which we can gain our greatest strength.
When Dummy walks down the stairs, he comes to another door, which opens itself. He enters a room where a big, fat toad sits, surrounded by little toads. The big toad asks him what he wants. In reply, Dummy requests the most beautiful carpet, which is given to him. In other versions it is some other animal which provides Dummy with what he needs, but it is always an animal, suggesting that what enables Dummy to win out is his reliance on his animal nature, the simple and primitive forces within us. The toad is experienced as an uncouth animal, something from which we do not normally expect refined products. But this earthy nature, when well used for higher purposes, proves itself far superior to the superficial brightness of the brothers, who take the easy way by remaining on the surface of things.
As usual in stories of this type, the other brothers are not at all differentiated. They act so alike that one may wonder why more than one is needed to make the tale’s point. It would seem that their being undifferentiated is essential because it symbolizes the fact that their personalities are undifferentiated. To impress the hearer with this, more than one brother is needed. The brothers function only on the basis of a much-depleted ego, since it is cut off from the potential source of its strength and richness, the id. But they also have no superego; they have no sense of the higher things, and are satisfied with taking the easy way. The story tells, “But the two others had taken their younger brother for so silly that they thought he would find and come up with nothing. ‘Why should we take great pains with the search?’ they said, and took the coarse rags off the first shepherds’ wives and carried these home to the king.”
When the youngest brother at the same time returns with his beautiful carpet, the king is astonished and says that, by right, the kingdom should go to Dummy. The others argue against it, and ask for another test. This time the winner shall return with the finest ring. Once more the three feathers are blown and fly in exactly the same directions. Dummy receives a beautiful ring from the toad and wins, since “the two oldest laughed at Dummy for trying to find a golden ring, took no pains, but knocked the nails out of an old carriage ring and brought it to the king.”
The two older brothers plague the king till he agrees to a third test; this time, whoever brings back the most beautiful woman shall win. The previous course of events is repeated. But this third time there is a difference as far as Dummy is concerned. He descends as before to the fat toad, and tells her that he is supposed to bring home the most beautiful woman. Now the big toad does not just hand over to him what he requests, as had happened before. Instead the big toad gives him a hollowed-out yellow turnip to which six mice are harnessed. Dummy sadly asks what he should do with it, to which the big toad replies, “Just put one of my little toads into it.” He picks one out of the circle of little toads and puts it in the yellow turnip. As soon as the toad sits in the turnip, she becomes a wonderfully beautiful maiden, the turnip turns into a carriage, and the mice become horses. Dummy embraces her and takes them all to the king. “His brothers came too. They had given themselves no trouble but had taken along the first peasant women they had met. When the king saw them, he said, ‘To the youngest belongs the kingdom after my death.’ ”
The two other brothers object once more and suggest that each of the women the three brothers have brought home should jump through a large ring which hangs in the hall because they believe the dainty girl Dummy has brought home would not be able to do so. The peasant women the two have brought are clumsy and break their bones, but the beautiful girl Dummy has gained from the toad jumps easily through the ring. At this, all opposition has to cease. Dummy “received the crown and ruled a long time and with great wisdom.”
Since the two brothers who roamed on the surface found only coarse things despite all their s
upposed cleverness, this suggests the limitations of an intellect that is not founded on, and supported by, the powers of the unconscious, both id and superego.
The extraordinary frequency with which the number three appears in fairy tales has been discussed before, as has its possible meaning. In this story it is emphasized even more than in some others. There are three feathers, three brothers, three tests—with a variant fourth one added on. I have already suggested what some of the meanings of the beautiful carpet may be. The story tells that the carpet Dummy brought back was “so beautiful and so fine, as none could be woven on earth” and “the ring sparkled with jewels and was so beautiful that no goldsmith on earth could have fashioned it.” Thus, what Dummy receives are no ordinary objects, but works of great art.
Relying once more on insights of psychoanalysis, we may say that the unconscious is the source of art, the mainspring from which it originates; that the superego’s ideas fashion it; and that it is the ego forces which execute the unconscious and conscious ideas that enter into the creation of a work of art. Thus, in some ways these art objects signify the integration of the personality. The coarseness of what the two clever brothers bring home emphasizes, by comparison, the artistry of the objects Dummy presents in his efforts to meet the tasks.
No child who thinks about the story can help wondering why the brothers, who at the end of the first test saw that Dummy should not be underestimated, made no greater efforts the second and third times. But the child soon realizes that while these brothers were clever, they were unable to learn from experience. Cut off from their unconscious, they could not grow, could not appreciate the finer things in life, could not differentiate between qualities. Their choices were as undifferentiated as they were. The fact that they were clever and yet did no better the next time symbolizes that they will remain on the surface, where nothing of great value can be found.
Twice the big fat toad hands Dummy what he needs. Going down into the unconscious and coming up with what one unearthed there is much better than remaining on the surface, as the brothers did, but it is not enough. That is why more than one test is needed. Becoming familiar with the unconscious, the dark powers within us which dwell below the surface, is necessary but not sufficient. Acting on these insights must be added; we must refine and sublimate the content of the unconscious. That is why, the third and last time, Dummy himself has to choose one of the little toads. Under his hands the turnip turns into a carriage, the mice into horses. And, as in many other fairy tales, when the hero embraces—that is, loves—the toad, it turns into a beautiful girl. It is, in the final analysis, love which transforms even ugly things into something beautiful. It is ourselves alone who can turn the primordial, uncouth, and most ordinary content of our unconscious—turnips, mice, toads—into the most refined products of our mind.
Finally, the tale suggests that merely repeating the same things with variations is not enough. That is why, after the three similar tests in which the three feathers fly in different directions—representing the role chance plays in our lives—a new and different achievement not relying on chance is needed. Jumping through the ring depends on talent—on what one can do oneself, as different from what one may find through search. Just developing one’s personality in all its richness, or just making the vital sources of the unconscious available to the ego, is not sufficient; one must also be able to use one’s ability skillfully, gracefully, and with purpose. The beautiful girl who does so well in jumping through the ring is but another aspect of Dummy, as the coarse and clumsy women are other aspects of the brothers. This is suggested by the fact that nothing else is said about her. Dummy does not marry her; at least, we are not told so. The very last words of the fairy tale contrast the wisdom with which Dummy reigns with the cleverness of the two brothers which began the story. Cleverness may be a gift of nature; it is intellect independent of character. Wisdom is the consequence of inner depth, of meaningful experiences which have enriched one’s life: a reflection of a rich and well-integrated personality.
The first steps toward achieving this well-integrated personality are made as the child begins to struggle with his deep and ambivalent attachments to his parents—that is, his oedipal conflicts. In regard to these, too, fairy tales help the child to comprehend better the nature of his predicaments and offer ideas which give him courage to struggle with his difficulties and strengthen hopes for their successful resolution.
OEDIPAL CONFLICTS
AND RESOLUTIONS
THE KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR
AND THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS
In the throes of oedipal conflict, a young boy resents his father for standing in his way of receiving Mother’s exclusive attention. The boy wants Mother to admire him as the greatest hero of all; that means that somehow he must get Father out of the way. This idea, however, creates anxiety in the child, because without Father to protect and take care of them, what would happen to the family? And what if Father were to find out that the little boy wanted him out of the way … might he not take a most terrible revenge?
One can tell a small boy many times that someday he will grow up, marry, and be like his father—without avail. Such realistic advice provides no relief from the pressures the child feels right now. But the fairy tale tells the child how he can live with his conflicts: it suggests fantasies he could never invent for himself.
The fairy tale, for example, offers the story of the unnoticed little boy who goes out into the world and makes a great success of life. Details may differ, but the basic plot is always the same: the unlikely hero proves himself through slaying dragons, solving riddles, and living by his wits and goodness until eventually he frees the beautiful princess, marries her, and lives happily ever after.
No little boy has ever failed to see himself in this starring role. The story implies: it’s not Father whose jealousy prevents you from having Mother all to yourself, it’s an evil dragon—what you really have in mind is to slay an evil dragon. Further, the story gives veracity to the boy’s feeling that the most desirable female is kept in captivity by an evil figure, while implying that it is not Mother the child wants for himself, but a marvelous and wonderful woman he hasn’t met yet, but certainly will. The story tells more of what the boy wants to hear and believe: that it is not of her own free will that this wonderful female (i.e., Mother) abides with this bad male figure. On the contrary, if only she could, she would much prefer to be with a young hero (like the child). The dragon slayer always has to be young, like the child, and innocent. The innocence of the hero with whom the child identifies proves by proxy the child’s innocence, so that, far from having to feel guilty about these fantasies, the child can feel himself to be the proud hero.
It is characteristic of such stories that once the dragon is slain—or whatever deed that frees the beautiful princess from her captivity is accomplished—and the hero is united with his beloved, we are given no details about their later life, beyond being told that they lived “happily ever after.” If their children are mentioned, it’s usually a later interpolation by someone who thought the story would become more enjoyable or realistic if such information were offered. But introducing children into the story’s ending shows little comprehension of a small boy’s imaginings about a blissful existence. A child cannot and does not want to imagine what is actually involved in being a husband and father. This would imply, for example, that he would have to leave Mother for most of the day to work—while the oedipal fantasy is a situation where the boy and Mother will never be separated for a moment. The little boy certainly doesn’t want Mother to be busy with housekeeping, or taking care of other children. He doesn’t want to have sex with her either, because that is still an area full of conflict for him, if he has much awareness of it at all. As in most fairy tales, the little boy’s ideal is just he and his princess (Mother), all their needs and wishes taken care of, living by themselves and for each other forever.
The oedipal problems of a girl are different from tho
se of a boy, and so the fairy stories which help her to cope with her oedipal situation are of a different character. What blocks the oedipal girl’s uninterrupted blissful existence with Father is an older, ill-intentioned female (i.e., Mother). But since the little girl also wants very much to continue enjoying Mother’s loving care, there is also a benevolent female in the past or background of the fairy tale, whose happy memory is kept intact, although she has become inoperative. A little girl wishes to see herself as a young and beautiful maiden—a princess or the like—who is kept captive by the selfish, evil female figure and hence unavailable to the male lover. The captive princess’ real father is depicted as benevolent, but helpless to come to the rescue of his lovely girl. In “Rapunzel” it is a vow that stymies him. In “Cinderella” and “Snow White” he seems unable to hold his own against the all-powerful stepmother.
The oedipal boy, who feels threatened by his father because of the wish to replace him in Mother’s attention, casts Father in the role of the threatening monster. This also seems to prove to the boy how dangerous a rival to the father he is, because otherwise why would this father figure be so threatening? Since the desirable female is held captive by the old dragon, the little boy can believe that only brute force prevents this lovely girl (Mother) from joining him, the much-preferred young hero. In fairy stories which help the oedipal girl to understand her feelings and find vicarious satisfaction, it is the (step)-mother’s or the enchantress’ intense jealousy which keeps the lover from finding the princess. This jealousy proves that the older woman knows the young girl is preferable, more lovable, and more deserving of being loved.
While the oedipal boy does not want any children to interfere with Mother’s complete involvement in him, matters are different for the oedipal girl. She does want to give her father the love-gift of being mother to his children. Whether this is an expression of her need to compete with Mother in this respect, or a dim anticipation of her motherhood to come, is difficult to determine. This desire to give Father a child doesn’t mean having sexual relations with him—the little girl, like the little boy, doesn’t think in such concrete terms. The little girl knows that children are what bind the male even more strongly to the female. That is why in fairy stories dealing in symbolic form with the oedipal wishes, problems, and hardships of a girl, children are occasionally mentioned as part of the happy ending.
The Uses of Enchantment Page 15