Part One

Take the Fair Face of Woman, and Gently Suspending with Butterflies, Flames, and Jewels Attending, Thus Your Fairy is Made of Most Beautiful Things.

She is young and blonde (or raven-haired) and beautiful – always beautiful. That is unless she’s old and grey and stout. She sleeps or runs or tiptoes through the wood and loves a child, demon, beast or frog. He is starving or overfed, her brother, a tailor, the handsome prince. They are threatened by a dwarf, thief, goblin or witch – that is, unless he is an evil king. Nonetheless, most are rescued in the end – by fishes, birds, gnomes or jinns – and wind up doing very well. I am telling fairy tales, of course.

“Take the Fair Face of Woman,”painting by Sophie Gengembre Anderson (wikimedia.org)

The word “fairy” comes from the Latin fatum, meaning fate – an often challenging force the dwells above and beyond nature. “Fay” refers to fairies as a group. The term evolved from fée or faie, a 14th century French word for people who possess the power to enchant. Thus, fate and magic figure largely in these tales. To qualify as fairy tale, a plot need not include the fay. Yet it must involve enchantment. The story typically runs short and almost always ends in peace.

Such tales are not to be confused with myth, fables or legend. Myth is concerned with how things got to be the way they are, while fables involve animals and morals. Legends are based in reality. But fairy tales – ah! They require magic, protagonists who grow and change, and conclude with “happily ever after.”

Though most stories end in pleasure, pain occurs along the way. The Grimm brothers (Jacob and Wilhelm) included many examples of such suffering in their first collection, Children’s and Household Tales. Published in 1812, those stories derive from an oral tradition dating to the Dark Ages. The Handless Maiden is one example. In the tale, a young girl’s father bargains for wealth with the devil by offering everything in his backyard. Nothing grows there, thinks the father, but an apple tree. What he doesn’t know is that his daughter is currently sweeping there. Upon learning her fate the maiden weeps, wipes her eyes, then weeps some more. The purity of her tears repels the Devil, and he insists the father chop off her hands. Afraid for his own life, the father does.

“Hansel and Gretel” by Alexander Zick

This theme of adults harming children (on purpose or by accident) permeates the genre – from Hansel and Gretel through Rapunzel. Such stories are not limited to Western Europe, but turn up almost everywhere – for instance The Jackal or Tiger (India) in which a king dismisses his pregnant wife for misidentifying an animal and The Pretty Little Calf (China) where two of a merchant’s wives beat a third (and her offspring) for bearing him a son.

Many have speculated on the origins of such violence. Psychologist Bruno Bettelheim argues that dark imagery enlivens a tale – pounds its message home. Say you are too busy with hunting or gathering to supervise your child, and you want her to avoid the creek. More than a generic warning, she might remember to elude an evil water spirit – one who kidnaps little kids in compensation for the son who drowned.

Jack Zipes (modern translator of the Grimms) claims that fairy tales were originally invented for adult enjoyment. In 17th century France the gathering and telling of such stories became a parlor game. Guests competed to see who could add the most subversive, political and/or vivid detail. One of the earliest fairy tale collections dates back to that time – Le Cabinet des Fées. Contributors were mostly women – like Madeleine de Scudéry and Madame de Lafayette – with a feminist agenda.

Another 17th century French collector/author is Charles Perrault. His Tales and Stories of the Past With Morals also goes by the more familiar name of Mother Goose. Perrault liked to conclude his stories with a moral. For instance, the original Little Red Riding Hood ends with a warning to young women against socializing with strange men. (Note – this version does not have a happy ending: Red Riding Hood is eaten by the wolf. Period.)

“The Little Mermaid and the Prince” by Edmund Dulac (wikimedia)

In the 19th century, Danish writer Hans Christian Andersen employed much violence in his tales. For instance The Little Mermaid falls in love with a prince, trading her tail and tongue for legs and searing pain. Though she sacrifices much to pursue the Prince, she ultimately fails. The story ends “happily” upon her death, when she is swept into heaven – a privilege denied most mermaids.

Love and marriage comprise another theme. Beginning with fairy tales from Ancient Greece (Cupid and Psyche) and continuing through Disney (Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White), the topic persists. Sometimes it’s a maiden, sometimes it’s a youth who does the pursuing. Even Puss in Boots wins a princess for his low-born master. In a patriarchal world, this near-obsession with romance seems rather odd. When the goal is to conquer other countries, steal their wealth and destroy their cultural accomplishments, what makes love and marriage so important?

Some answers are obvious, and some are not: In the obvious column, we have women-as-chattel – trophies, spoils of war. Not only might a beautiful princess provide a young man with his livelihood, but marriage could seal an alliance between their two countries. Then, there is sex – the power of which cannot be underestimated. In the original story, Rapunzel’s prince quickly gets her pregnant. We learn this when she asks the witch why her clothes have become so snug.

Psychologist Erich Neumann claims that marriage may also be a symbol for integration. Where all the characters in a story represent parts of the psyche, such a union stands for wholeness, maturity and balance. This is the case, he claims, with Cupid and Psyche. Due to her extraordinary beauty, Psyche attracts the god of love himself. When she loses him, the only way to win him back is through a series of quests. As the tasks near completion, Pysche gives birth to a little girl (as if to underscore her accomplishment) and gets promoted to the status of demi-god.

Enough about the mushy stuff. Let’s move on to villains. I’ve always found them much more interesting. In Part Two of this essay we’ll explore enemies, allies and their relationships to fairy tale heroes.

QUERY: Right now, Dear Reader, let us hear from you: As a child, what was your favorite fairy tale?