The Uses of Enchantment

by Bruno Bettelheim

  Trying to force the husband to give up his animalistic nature by tying him to his humanity with a string is a rare detail. Much more frequent is the motif of the female who is forbidden to shed light upon or see the secret of the male. In “Cupid and Psyche” it is an oil lamp which sheds light on that which is forbidden. In the Norwegian fairy tale “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” it is the light of a candle which shows the wife that her husband is not a white bear, as he appears during the day, but a beautiful prince who must now leave her.118 The title suggests how far this wife’s wanderings have to take her before she can be reunited with her husband. It is made clear in such stories that the husband would have regained his human form in the near future—the bear in “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” within a year’s time, the enchanted pig in as little as three days—had the wife just restrained her curiosity.

  Since in so many stories shedding light on the husband is the fatal mistake his young wife makes, one realizes that the wife wishes to find out about her husband’s animal nature. This is not said directly, but is put into the mouth of some figure who induces the wife to go against her husband’s warnings. In “Cupid and Psyche” the oracle and the sisters tell Psyche that Eros is a terrible dragon; in “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” it is her mother who tells the girl that the bear is likely to be a troll—with the clear implication that she had better look and find out. The witch who suggests tying a string around the husband’s leg in “The Enchanted Pig” is an older female. Thus, the fairy tale subtly suggests that it is older women who give young girls the idea that males are beasts; that girls’ sexual anxieties are the result not of their own experiences, but of what others have told them. The stories also imply that if girls listen and believe this, then their marital happiness will be in jeopardy. The enchantment of the animal husband is usually the work of some older female: Aphrodite, who actually wanted Psyche to be ravaged by an abominable beast; a stepmother who cast a spell on the white bear; a witch who enchanted the pig. This fact repeats the motif: it is older women who make males appear as beasts in the eyes of young girls.

  Still, if the “animal husband” is a symbol of the girl’s sexual anxieties, irrespective of whether these anxieties are her own creation or the consequence of what she has been told by older females, then one would expect the animal husband to be an animal at night in bed, and not during the day. What do the stories indicate by expressing that the animal husband is an animal during the day to the world, but lovely to behold to his wife at night in bed?

  I think these tales reveal deep psychological insights. Many females who consciously or subconsciously experience sex as something “animal-like,” and resent the male for depriving them of their virginity, feel quite differently while enjoying themselves with the man they love during the night. But once the man has left them, in bright daylight the old anxieties and resentments, including the jealousy of one sex for the other, reassert themselves. What seemed lovely at night looks different by day, particularly when the world with its critical attitude toward sexual enjoyment (the mother’s warning that it might be a troll) reasserts itself. Similarly, there are many males who feel one way about their sexual experiences during them, and another way the next day when archaic anxieties and resentments are not subdued by the pleasure of the moment.

  Stories about the animal husband assure children that their fear of sex as something dangerous and beastly is by no means unique to them; many people have felt the same way. But as the story characters discover that despite such anxiety their sexual partner is not an ugly creature but a lovely person, so will the child. On a preconscious level these tales convey to the child that much of his anxiety is implanted in him by what he has been told; and that matters may be quite different when one experiences them directly, from the way one sees them from the outside.

  On another level, the stories seem to tell that throwing light on these matters, while it may demonstrate that one’s anxiety was unfounded, does not solve the problem. This takes time—trying to do it prematurely only postpones it all—and, most of all, is hard work. To overcome sexual anxieties, one must grow as a person, and unfortunately much of this growth can be achieved only through suffering.

  One obvious lesson of these stories may be less important today than in times past when the pattern was that the male had to woo the female—as the pig comes wooing from afar to win the princess, and the great white bear has to make all kinds of promises to win his bride. This, the stories tell, is not sufficient for a happy marriage. The female has to exert herself as much as the male; she has to pursue him actively as much as he pursues her, maybe even more so.

  Other psychological subtleties of these stories may be lost on the hearer, but they may impress him subconsciously and thus make him sensitive to typical difficulties which, when not understood, may create hardships in the relations between people. For example, when the pig deliberately rolls itself in the mud and then asks its bride to kiss it, such behavior is typical of the person who fears that he is not acceptable and tests this by making himself appear worse than he is, because only when he is accepted under the worst appearance can he feel secure. Thus, in the stories of the animal husband the male’s anxieties that his coarseness will turn off the female are juxtaposed with her anxieties about the bestial nature of sex.

  Quite different is the detail which permits the bride of the enchanted pig to become reunited with her husband. To make the last step necessary for this, she has to cut off her little finger. It is her final, most personal sacrifice, her “key” to her happiness. Since nothing in the story suggests that her hand remained crippled or that she bled, hers is clearly a symbolic sacrifice, suggesting that in a successful marriage the relationship is more important even than the complete integrity of the body.119

  This still leaves undiscussed the meaning of the secret room which must not be entered lest calamity result. This is best considered in connection with much more tragic consequences which follow from similar transgressions in other stories.

  “BLUEBEARD”

  Bluebeard is the most monstrous and beastly of all fairy-tale husbands. Actually this story is not a fairy tale, because with the single exception of the indelible blood on the key which gives away the fact that Bluebeard’s bride has entered the forbidden room, there is nothing magical or supernatural in the story. More important, there is no development of any of the characters; although evil is punished in the end, this in itself makes neither for recovery nor for consolation. “Bluebeard” is a story invented by Perrault for which there are no direct antecedents in folk tales as far as we know.120

  There are quite a few fairy tales with the central motif of a secret chamber which must not be entered, where previously killed women are preserved. In some Russian and Scandinavian tales of this sort it is an animal husband who forbids entering the room, suggesting a relation between the animal-groom stories and those of the “Bluebeard” type. Among the better known of these fairy tales are the English “Mr. Fox” and the Brothers Grimm’s “Fitcher’s Bird.”121

  In “Fitcher’s Bird” a sorcerer carries off the eldest of three daughters. He tells her that she may enter all rooms of the house with the exception of one, which can be opened only by the smallest of the keys. This room she must avoid on pain of death. The sorcerer further entrusts the girl with an egg, which she is always to carry with her, because great misfortune will ensue should she lose it. The girl enters the forbidden room and finds it full of blood and dead people. In her fright she drops the egg, and the blood which gets on it cannot be wiped off. The egg gives her away on the return of the sorcerer, who then kills her like the others. Next he gets hold of the middle sister, whose fate is the same.

  The youngest daughter is finally carried off by the wizard to his house. But she tricks him by putting the egg away carefully before she goes exploring. Positioning the limbs of her sisters together, she restores them to life. On his return, the sorcerer believes her to have bee
n faithful and tells her that as a reward she will be his bride. She tricks him once more, this time into carrying her sisters and a lot of gold to her parents. Then she glues feathers all over her body so that she looks like a strange bird—hence the story’s title—and in this way escapes. In the end the wizard and all his friends are burned to death. In fairy tales of this type there is full recovery of the victims, and the villain is not a human being.

  “Bluebeard” and “Fitcher’s Bird” are considered here because these stories present in the most extreme form the motif that as a test of trustworthiness, the female must not inquire into the secrets of the male. Carried away by her curiosity, she does so nevertheless, with calamitous consequences. In “The Enchanted Pig” the three daughters invade the forbidden room and find the book containing an account of their future. “The Enchanted Pig” has this feature in common with stories of the “Bluebeard” type, so we will consider these stories together, to help clarify the significance of this motif of the forbidden room.

  In “The Enchanted Pig” knowledge about marriage is found in the book kept in the room which the sisters are told not to enter. That the forbidden information is about marriage suggests that it is carnal knowledge their father forbade them to acquire—as even today certain books containing sexual information are withheld from the young.

  Whether it is Bluebeard or the sorcerer in “Fitcher’s Bird,” it seems clear that when the male gives the female a key to a room, while at the same time instructing her not to enter, it is a test of her faithfulness to his orders or, in a broader sense, to him. Then these males pretend to depart or do depart for a while, to test their partner’s fidelity. Returning unexpectedly, they find that their confidence has been betrayed. The nature of the betrayal may be guessed by the punishment: execution. In certain parts of the world in times past, only one form of deception on the female’s part was punishable by death inflicted by her husband: sexual infidelity.

  With this thought, let us consider what gives the woman away. In “Fitcher’s Bird” it is an egg, in “Bluebeard” a key. In both stories these are magic objects in the sense that once they are touched by blood, the blood cannot be washed off them. The motif of blood that cannot be washed off is an ancient one. Wherever it occurs, it is a sign that some evil deed, usually murder, was committed.* The egg is a symbol of female sexuality which, so it seems, the girls in “Fitcher’s Bird” are to preserve unspoiled. The key that opens the door to a secret room suggests associations to the male sexual organ, particularly in first intercourse when the hymen is broken and blood gets on it. If this is one of the hidden meanings, then it makes sense that the blood cannot be washed away: defloration is an irreversible event.

  In “Fitcher’s Bird” the faithfulness of the girls is tested before they have gotten married. The sorcerer plans to marry the youngest daughter because she is able to fool him into believing that she has not disobeyed him. In Perrault’s “Bluebeard” we are told that as soon as Bluebeard left for his pretended trip, a great festivity took place; visitors came who did not dare enter the house when its master was at home. It is left to our imagination what went on between the woman and her guests with Bluebeard away, but the story makes it clear that everybody had a high time. The blood on the egg and the key seems to symbolize that the woman had sexual relations. Therefore we can understand her anxious fantasy which depicts corpses of women who had been killed for having been similarly unfaithful.

  On hearing any of these stories, it immediately becomes obvious that the female is strongly tempted to do what is forbidden to her. It is hard to imagine any more effective way to seduce a person than to tell her: “I am going away; in my absence you may inspect all rooms but one. Here is the key to the forbidden room, which you are not to use.” Thus on one level which is easily obscured by the gruesome details of the story, “Bluebeard” is a tale about sexual temptation.

  On another level which is much more obvious, “Bluebeard” is a tale about the destructive aspects of sex. But if one thinks over the story’s events for a moment, strange discrepancies become apparent. For example, in Perrault’s tale, after her gruesome discovery, Bluebeard’s wife does not call for help from any of the many guests who, according to the story, must still be around. She does not confide in her sister Anne, nor seek her help; all she asks of Anne is to look out for her brothers, who are to come on that day. Finally, Bluebeard’s wife does not choose what would seem the most obvious course of action: to run for safety, or hide, or disguise herself. This is exactly what happens in “Fitcher’s Bird” and in a parallel fairy story of the Brothers Grimm, “The Robber Bridegroom,” in which the girl first hides, then escapes, and finally tricks the murderous robbers into coming to a feast, during which they are unmasked. The behavior of Bluebeard’s bride suggests two possibilities: that what she sees in the forbidden closet is the creation of her own anxious fantasies; or that she has betrayed her husband, but hopes he won’t find out.

  Whether or not these interpretations are valid, there is no doubt that “Bluebeard” is a story which gives body to two not necessarily related emotions which are by no means alien to the child: First, jealous love, when one wishes so badly to keep one’s beloveds forever that one is even ready to destroy them so that they cannot change loyalties. And second, sexual feelings can be terribly fascinating and tempting, but also very dangerous.

  It is easy to ascribe “Bluebeard’s” popularity to the combination of crime and sex, or the fascination which sexual crimes hold. To the child, I believe part of the attraction of the story is that it confirms his idea that adults have terrible sexual secrets. It also states what the child knows only too well from his own experience: to find out about sexual secrets is so tempting that even adults are willing to run the greatest risks imaginable. Further, the person who so tempts others deserves a fitting punishment.

  I believe that on a preconscious level the child understands from the indelible blood on the key and from other details that Bluebeard’s wife has committed a sexual indiscretion. The story tells that although a jealous husband may believe a wife deserves to be severely punished—even killed—for this, he is absolutely wrong in such thoughts. To fall into temptation, the story clearly tells, is most human. And the jealous person who believes he can take things into his own hands and acts on this conviction deserves to be killed. Marital infidelity, symbolically expressed by the blood on the egg or the key, is something to be forgiven. If the partner does not understand this, it is he who will suffer for it.

  Gruesome as the story is, this analysis suggests that “Bluebeard,” like all fairy stories—although, as mentioned before, it does not really fall into this category—teaches deep down a higher morality or humanity. The person who seeks cruel revenge for infidelity is deservedly undone, as is one who experiences sex only in its destructive aspects. That this more humane morality which understands and forgives sexual transgressions is the most significant aspect of this story is, for once, expressed in the second “morality” which Perrault appended to it. He writes: “One can well see that this is a story of times past; there are no longer such terrible husbands who demand the impossible; even when they are dissatisfied or jealous, they act gently toward their wives.”

  However one interprets “Bluebeard,” it is a cautionary tale which warns: Women, don’t give in to your sexual curiosity; men, don’t permit yourself to be carried away by your anger at being sexually betrayed. There is nothing subtle about it; most of all, no development toward higher humanity is projected. At the end, the protagonists, both Bluebeard and his wife, are exactly the same persons they were before. Earth-shaking events have taken place in the story and nobody is the better for them, except possibly the world because Bluebeard no longer exists in it.

  How a true folk fairy tale elaborates the motif of the room one is forbidden to enter but which one opens despite such warning can be seen from a large group of tales—for example, the Brothers Grimm’s “Our Lady’s Child.” When the girl is f
ourteen—the age of sexual maturation—she is given keys which unlock all rooms, but is told not to enter one of them. Tempted by her curiosity, she opens its door. Later she denies that she has done so, despite repeated questioning. As punishment she is robbed of the ability to speak, since she has misused it in lying. She suffers many severe trials, and finally she admits that she has lied. Her speech is restored to her and all is well again, because “whoever repents his sins and confesses will be forgiven.”

  “BEAUTY AND THE BEAST”

  “Bluebeard” is a story about the dangerous propensities of sex, about its strange secrets and close connection with violent and destructive emotions; in short, about those dark aspects of sex which might well be kept hidden behind a permanently locked door, securely controlled. That which happens in “Bluebeard” has nothing whatsoever to do with love. Bluebeard, bent on having his will and possessing his partner, cannot love anybody, but neither can anyone love him.

  Despite the title, there is nothing so beastly in the fairy tale of “Beauty and the Beast.” Beauty’s father is menaced by the Beast, but one knows right from the start that it is an empty threat, designed to gain first Beauty’s company, eventually her love, and with it deliverance from an animal-like appearance. In this story all is gentleness and loving devotion to one another on the part of the three main characters: Beauty, her father, and the Beast. Cruel and destructive as the oedipal love of Aphrodite for her son is in the myth which begins the history of this fairy-tale cycle, the oedipal love of Beauty for her father, when transferred to her future husband, is wonderfully healing, in the fairy tale which is the final apotheosis of this cycle.