Chapter I: Part 1

Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.

Footnote 20 is referenced twice several pages apart in the text.

Italics are represented thus _italic_.

The cover was prepared by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

NERVOUS AND MENTAL DISEASE MONOGRAPH
SERIES, NO. 18

The Myth of the Birth of the Hero

A Psychological Interpretation of Mythology

BY
DR. OTTO RANK
of Vienna

Authorized Translation by
DRS. F. ROBBINS and SMITH ELY JELLIFFE

NEW YORK

THE JOURNAL OF NERVOUS AND MENTAL DISEASE
PUBLISHING COMPANY

1914

NERVOUS AND MENTAL DISEASE MONOGRAPH SERIES

Edited by

Drs. SMITH ELY JELLIFFE and WM. A. WHITE

Numbers Issued

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(2d Edition.) $2.50. By Prof. Sigmund Freud.

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16. Poliomyelitis. $3.00. Dr. I. Wickmann.

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18. The Myth of the Birth of the Hero. $1.00.
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Copyright, 1914, by
THE JOURNAL OF NERVOUS AND MENTAL DISEASE
PUBLISHING COMPANY, NEW YORK

PRESS OF
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TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Introduction 1

Sargon 12

Moses 13

Karna 15

Œdipus 18

Paris 20

Telephos 21

Perseus 22

Gilgamos 23

Kyros 24

Tristan 38

Romulus 40

Hercules 44

Jesus 47

Siegfried 53

Lohengrin 55

Index 95

THE MYTH OF THE BIRTH OF THE HERO

[A PSYCHOLOGICAL INTERPRETATION OF MYTHOLOGY]

INTRODUCTION

The prominent civilized nations, such as the Babylonians, Egyptians, Hebrews, and Hindoos, the inhabitants of Iran and of Persia, the Greeks and the Romans as well as the Teutons and others, all began at an early stage to glorify their heroes, mythical princes and kings, founders of religions, dynasties, empires or cities, in brief their national heroes, in a number of poetic tales and legends. The history of the birth and of the early life of these personalities came to be especially invested with fantastic features, which in different nations even though widely separated by space and entirely independent of each other present a baffling similarity, or in part a literal correspondence. Many investigators have long been impressed with this fact, and one of the chief problems of mythical research still consists in the elucidation of the reason for the extensive analogies in the fundamental outlines of mythical tales, which are rendered still more enigmatical by the unanimity in certain details, and their reappearance in most of the mythical groupings.[1]

The mythological theories, aiming at the explanation of these remarkable phenomena, are, in a general way, as follows:

(1) The “Idea of the People,” propounded by Adolf Bastian[2] [1868]. This theory assumes the existence of _elementary thoughts_, so that the unanimity of the myths is a necessary sequence of the uniform disposition of the human mind, and the manner of its manifestation, which within certain limits is identical at all times and in all places. This interpretation was urgently advocated by Adolf Bauer[3] [1882], as accounting for the wide distribution of the hero myths.

(2) The explanation by original community, first applied by Th. Benfey [Pantschatantra, 1859] to the widely distributed parallel forms of folklore and fairy tales. Originating in a favorable locality [India] these tales were first accepted by the primarily related [namely the Indo-Germanic] peoples, then continued to grow while retaining the common primary traits, and ultimately radiated over the entire earth. This mode of explanation was first adapted to the wide distribution of the hero myths by Rudolf Schubert[4] [1890].

(3) The modern theory of migration, or borrowing, according to which the individual myths originate from definite peoples [especially the Babylonians], and are accepted by other peoples through oral tradition [commerce and traffic], or through literary influences.[5]

The modern theory of migration and borrowing can be readily shown to be merely a modification of Benfey’s theory, necessitated by newly discovered and irreconcilable material. The profound and extensive research of modern investigations has shown that not India, but rather Babylonia, may be regarded as the first home of the myths. Moreover the mythic tales presumably did not radiate from a single point, but travelled over and across the entire inhabited globe. This brings into prominence the idea of the interdependence of mythical structures, an idea which was generalized by Braun[6] [1864], as the basic law of the nature of the human mind: Nothing new is ever discovered as long as it is possible to copy. The theory of the elementary thoughts, so strenuously advocated by Bauer over a quarter of a century ago, is unconditionally declined by the most recent investigators [Winckler,[7] Stucken], who maintain the migration and purloining theory.

There is really no such sharp contrast between the various theories, and their advocates, for the theory of the elementary thoughts does not interfere with the claims of the primary common possessions and the migration. Furthermore, the ultimate problem is not whence and how the material reached a certain people; but the question is, _where did it come from to begin with?_ All these theories would only explain the variability and distribution, but not the origin of the myths. Even Schubert, the most inveterate opponent of Bauer’s view, acknowledges this truth, by stating that all these manifold sagas date back to a single very ancient prototype. But he is unable to tell us anything of the origin of this prototype. Bauer likewise inclines to this mediating[8] view and points out repeatedly that in spite of the multiple origin of independent tales, it is necessary to concede a most extensive and ramified purloining, as well as an original community of the concepts, in related peoples. The same conciliatory attitude is maintained by Lessmann, in a recent publication[9] [1908], in which he rejects the assumption of the elementary thoughts, but admits that primary relationship and purloining do not exclude one another. As pointed out by Wundt, it must be kept in mind, however, that the appropriation of mythical contents always represents at the same time an independent mythical construction; because only that can be permanently retained which corresponds to the purloiner’s stage of mythological ideation. The faint recollections of preceding narratives would hardly suffice for the re-figuration of the same material, without the persistent presence of the underlying motives; but precisely for this reason, such motives may produce new contents, which agree in their fundamental motives, also in the absence of similar associations. (Völker-Psychologie, II Vol., 3 Part, 1909).

Leaving aside for the present the enquiry as to the mode of distribution of these myths, the origin of the hero myth in general is now to be investigated, fully anticipating that migration, or borrowing, will prove to be directly and fairly positively demonstrable, in a number of the cases. When this is not feasible, other view points will have to be conceded, at least for the present, rather than barricade the way to further progress by the somewhat unscientific attitude of Winckler,[10] who says: When human beings and products, exactly corresponding to each other, are found at remote parts of the earth, we must conclude that they have wandered thither; whether we have knowledge of the how or when makes no difference in the assumption of the fact itself. Even granting the migration of all myths, the provenance of the first myth would still have to be explained.[11]

Investigations along these lines will necessarily help to provide a deeper insight into the contents of the myths. Nearly all authors who have hitherto been engaged upon the interpretation of the myths of the birth of heroes find therein a personification of the processes of nature, following the dominant mode of natural mythological interpretation. The new born hero is the young sun rising from the waters, first confronted by lowering clouds, but finally triumphing over all obstacles [Brodbeck, Zoroaster, Leipzig, 1893, p. 138]. The taking of all natural, chiefly the atmospheric phenomena into consideration, as was done by the first representatives of this method of myth interpretation;[12] or the regarding of the myths in a more restricted sense, as astral myths [Stucken, Winckler and others]—is not so essentially distinct, as the followers of each individual direction believe to be the case. Nor does it seem to be an essential progress when the purely solar interpretation as advocated especially by Frobenius[13] was no longer accepted and the view was held that all myths were originally lunar myths, as done by G. Hüsing, in his “Contributions to the Kyros Myth” [Berlin, 1906], following out the suggestion of Siecke, who [1908][14] claims this view as the only legitimate obvious interpretation also for the birth myths of the heroes, and it is beginning to gain popularity.[15]

The interpretation of the myths themselves will be taken up in detail later on, and all detailed critical comments on the above mode of explanation are here refrained from. Although significant, and undoubtedly in part correct, the astral theory is not altogether satisfactory and fails to afford an insight into the motives of myth formation. The objection may be raised that the tracing to astronomical processes does not fully represent the content of these myths, and that much clearer and simpler relations might be established through another mode of interpretation. The much abused theory of elementary thoughts indicates a practically neglected aspect of mythological research. At the beginning as well as at the end of his contribution, Bauer points out how much more natural and probable it would be to seek the reason for the general unanimity of these myths in very general traits of the human psyche, than in a primary community or in migration. This assumption appears to be more justifiable as such general movements of the human mind are also expressed in still other forms, and in other domains, where they can be demonstrated as unanimous.

Concerning the character of these general movements of the human mind, the psychological study of the essential contents of these myths might help to reveal the source from which has uniformly flowed at all times, and in all places, an identical content of the myths. Such a derivation of an essential constituent, from a common human source, has already been successfully attempted with one of these legendary motives. Freud, in his “Dream Interpretation,”[16] reveals the connection of the Œdipus fable [where Œdipus is told by the oracle that he will kill his father and marry his mother, as he unwittingly does later on] with the two typical dreams of the father’s death, and of sexual intercourse with the mother, dreams which are dreamed by many now living. Of King Œdipus he says that “his fate stirs us only because it might have been our own fate; because the oracle has cursed us prior to our birth, as it did him. All of us, perhaps, were doomed to direct the first sexual emotion towards the mother, the first hatred and aggressive desire against the father; our dreams convince us of this truth. King Œdipus, who has murdered his father Laios, and married his mother Iokaste, is merely the wish fulfilment of our childhood.”[17] The manifestation of the intimate relation between dream and myth,—not only in regard to the contents, but also as to the form and motor forces of this and many other, more particularly pathological psyche structures,—entirely justifies the interpretation of the myth as a dream of the masses of the people, which I have recently shown elsewhere (“Der Künstler,” 1907). At the same time, the transference of the method, and in part also of the results, of Freud’s technique of dream interpretation to the myths would seem to be justifiable, as was defended and illustrated in an example, by Abraham, in his paper on “Dreams and Myths” [1909].[18] The intimate relations between dream and myth find further confirmation in the following circle of myths, with frequent opportunity for reasoning from analogy.

The hostile attitude of the most modern mythological tendency [chiefly represented by the Society for Comparative Mythological Research] against all attempts at establishing a relation between dream and myth[19] is for the most part the outcome of the restriction of the parallelization to the so-called nightmares [Alpträume], as attempted in Laistner’s notable book, “The Riddle of the Sphinx,” 1889, and also of ignorance of the relevant teachings of Freud. The latter help us not only to understand the dreams themselves, but also show their symbolism and close relationship with all psychic phenomena in general, especially with the day dreams or phantasies, with artistic creativeness, and with certain disturbances of the normal psychic function. A common share in all these productions belongs to a single psychic function, the human imagination. It is to this imaginative faculty—of humanity at large rather than individual—that the modern myth theory is obliged to concede a high rank, perhaps the first, for the ultimate origin of all myths. The interpretation of the myths in the astral sense, or more accurately speaking as “almanac tales,” gives rise to the query, according to Lessmann,—in view of a creative imagination of humanity,—if the first germ for the origin of such tales is to be sought precisely in the processes in the heavens;[20] or if, on the contrary, readymade tales of an entirely different [but presumably psychic] origin were only subsequently transferred to the heavenly bodies. Ehrenreich (General Mythology, 1910, p. 104) makes a more positive admission: The mythologic evolution certainly begins on a terrestrian soil, in so far as experiences must first be gathered in the immediate surroundings before they can be projected into the heavenly universe. And Wundt tells us (loc. cit., p. 282) that the theory of the evolution of mythology according to which it first originates in the heavens whence at a later period it descends to earth, is not only contradictory to the history of the myth, which is unaware of such a migration, but is likewise contradictory to the psychology of myth-formation which must repudiate this translocation as internally impossible. We are also convinced that the myths,[21] originally at least, are structures of the human faculty of imagination, which at some time were projected for certain reasons upon the heavens,[22] and may be secondarily transferred to the heavenly bodies, with their enigmatical phenomena. The significance of the unmistakeable traces which this transference has imprinted upon the myths, as the fixed figures, and so forth, must by no means be underrated, although the origin of these figures was possibly psychic in character, and they were subsequently made the basis of the almanac and firmament calculations, precisely on account of this significance.

In a general way it would seem as if those investigators who make use of an exclusively natural mythological mode of interpretation, in any sense, were unable, in their endeavor to discover the original sense of the mythical tales, to get entirely away from a psychological process, such as must be assumed likewise for the creators of the myths.[23] The motive is identical, and led to the same course in the myth creators as well as in the myth interpretorsIt is most naïvely uttered by one of the founders and champions of comparative myth investigation, and of the natural mythological mode of interpretation, for Max Müller points out in his “Essays” [1869][20] that this procedure not only invests meaningless legends with a significance and beauty of their own, but it helps to remove some of the most revolting features of classical mythology, and to elucidate their true meaning. This revolt, the reason for which is readily understood, naturally prevents the mythologist from assuming that such motives as incest with the mother, sister or daughter; murder of father, grandfather or brother could be based upon universal phantasies, which according to Freud’s teachings have their source in the infantile psyche, with its peculiar interpretation of the external world and its denizens. This revolt is therefore only the reaction of the dimly sensed painful recognition of the actuality of these relations; and this reaction impels the interpreters of the myths, for their own subconscious rehabilitation, and that of all mankind, to credit these motives with an entirely different meaning from their original significance. The same internal repudiation prevents the myth-creating people from believing in the possibility of such revolting thoughts, and this defence probably was the first reason for the projecting of these relations to the firmament. The psychological pacifying through such a rehabilitation, by projection upon external and remote objects, can still be realized, up to a certain degree, by a glance at one of these interpretations, for instance that of the objectionable Œdipus fable, as given by a representative of the natural mythological mode of interpretation. Œdipus, who kills his father, marries his mother, and dies old and blind, is the solar hero who murders his procreator, the darkness; shares his couch with the mother, the gloaming, from whose lap, the dawn, he has been born, and dies blinded, as the setting sun [Goldziher, 1876].[24]

It is intelligible that a similar interpretation is more soothing to the mind than the revelation of the fact that incest and murder impulses against the nearest relatives are found in the phantasies of most people, as remnants of the infantile ideation. But this is not a scientific argument, and revolt of this kind, although it may not always be equally conscious, is altogether out of place, in view of existing facts. One must either become reconciled to these indecencies, provided they are felt to be such, or one must abandon the study of psychological phenomena. It is evident that human beings, even in the earliest times, and with a most naïve imagination, never saw incest and parricide in the firmament on high,[25] but it is far more probable that these ideas are derived from another source, presumably human. In what way they came to reach the sky, and what modifications or additions they received in the process, are questions of a secondary character, which cannot be settled until the psychic origin of the myths in general has been established.

At any rate, besides the astral conception, the claims of the part played by the psychic life must be credited with the same rights for myth formation, and this plea will be amply vindicated by the results of our method of interpretation. With this object we shall first take up the legendary material on which such a psychological interpretation is to be attempted for the first time on a large scale; selecting from the mass[26] of these chiefly biographical hero myths those which are the best known, and some which are especially characteristic. These myths will be given in abbreviated form as far as relevant for this investigation, with statements concerning the provenance. Attention will be called to the most important, constantly recurrent motives by a difference in print.

SARGON

Probably the oldest transmitted hero myth in our possession is derived from the period of the foundation of Babylon (about 2800 B.C.), and concerns the birth history of its founder, Sargon the First. The literal translation of the report—which according to the mode of rendering appears to be an original inscription by King Sargon himself—is as follows:[27]

“Sargon, the mighty king, King of Agade, am I. _My mother was a vestal, my father I knew not_, while my father’s brother dwelt in the mountains. In my city Azupirani, which is situated on the bank of the Euphrates, my mother, the vestal, bore me. _In a hidden place she brought me forth. She laid me in a vessel made of reeds_, closed my door with pitch, and _dropped me down into the river_, which did not drown me. The river carried me to Akki, the water carrier. Akki the water carrier lifted me up in the kindness of his heart, Akki the water carrier raised me as his own son, Akki the water carrier made of me his gardener. In my work as a gardener I was beloved by Istar, I became the king, and for 45 years I held kingly sway.”

MOSES

The biblical birth history of Moses, which is told in Exodus, chapter 2, presents the greatest similarity to the Sargon legend, even an almost literal correspondence of individual traits.[28] Already the first chapter (22) relates that Pharaoh commanded his people to throw into the water all sons which were born to Hebrews, while the daughters were permitted to live; the reason for this order being referred to the overfertility of the Israelites. The second chapter continues as follows:

“And there went a man of the house of Levi, and took to wife a daughter of Levi[29]. And the woman conceived, and bare a son: and when she saw him that he was a goodly child, she hid him three months. And when she could no longer hide him, she took for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch, and put the child therein; and she laid it in the flags by the river’s brink. And his sister stood afar off to wit what would be done to him. And the daughter of Pharaoh came down to wash herself at the river; and her maidens walked along by the river’s side and when she saw the ark among the flags, she sent her maid to fetch it. And when she opened it, she saw the child, and behold the babe wept. And she had compassion on him, and said, this is one of the Hebrews’ children. Then said his sister to Pharaoh’s daughter, Shall I go and call to thee a nurse of the Hebrew women, that she may nurse the child for thee? And Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, Go. And the maid went and called the child’s mother. And Pharaoh’s daughter said unto her, Take this child away, and nurse it for me, and I will give thee wages. And the woman took the child, and nursed it. And the child grew, and she brought him unto Pharaoh’s daughter, and he became her son. And she called his name Moses:[30] and she said, Because I drew him out of the water.”

This account is ornamented by Rabbi mythology through an account of the events preceding Moses’ birth. In the sixtieth year after Joseph’s death, the reigning Pharaoh saw in his dream an old man, who held a pair of scales, all the inhabitants of Egypt lay on one side, with only a sucking lamb on the other, but nevertheless this outweighed all the Egyptians. The startled king at once consulted the wise men and astrologers, who declared the dream to mean that a son would be born to the Israelites, who would destroy all Egypt. The king was frightened, and at once ordered the death of all newborn children of the Israelites in the entire country. On account of this tyrannical order, the Levite Amram, who lived in Goshen, meant to separate from his wife Jocabed, so as not to foredoom to certain death the children conceived from him. But this resolution was opposed later on by his daughter Miriam, who foretold with prophetic assurance that precisely the child suggested in the king’s dream would come forth from her mother’s womb, and would become the liberator of his people.[31]

Amram therefore rejoined his wife, from whom he had been separated for three years. At the end of three months, she conceived, and later on bore a boy at whose birth the entire house was illuminated by an extraordinary luminous radiance, suggesting the truth of the prophecy. (After Bergel, “Mythology of the Hebrews,” Leipzig, 1882.)

Similar accounts are given of the birth of the ancestor of the Hebrew nation, Abraham. He was a son of Therach—Nimrod’s captain—and Amtelai. Prior to his birth, it was revealed to King Nimrod, from the stars, that the coming child would overthrow the thrones of powerful princes, and take possession of their lands. King Nimrod means to have the child killed immediately after its birth. But when the boy is requested from Therach, he says: Truly a son was born to me, but he has died. He then delivers a strange child, concealing his own son in a cave underneath the ground, where God permits him to suck milk from a finger of the right hand. In this cave, Abraham is said to have remained until the third (according to others the tenth) year of his life. (Compare Beer, “The Life of Abraham,” according to the interpretation of Jewish traditions, Leipzig, 1859, and Aug. Wünsche, “From Israel’s Temples of Learning,” Leipzig, 1907.) Also in the next generation, in the story of _Isaac_, appear the same mythical motives. Prior to his birth King Abimelech is warned by a _dream_ not to touch Sarah, as this would cause woe to betide him. After a long period of barrenness, she finally bears her son, who (in later life, in this report) after having been destined to be _sacrificed by his own father_ (foster-father) Abraham, is ultimately _rescued_ by God. But Abraham casts out his own son Ishmael, with Hagar, the boy’s mother (Genesis 20, 6. See also Bergel, loc. cit.).

KARNA

A close relationship with the Sargon legend is also shown in certain features of the ancient Hindu epic[32] Mahâbháràta, of the birth of the hero Karna. The contents of the legend are briefly rendered by Lassen (“Indische Altertumskunde,” I, p. 63).[33]

The princess Pritha, also known as Kunti, bore as a virgin the boy Karna, whose father was the sun god Surya. The young Karna was born with the golden ear ornaments of his father and with an unbreakable coat of mail. The mother in her distress concealed and exposed the boy. In the adaptation of the myth by A. Holtzmann,[34] verse 1458 reads: “Then my nurse and I made a large basket of rushes, placed a lid thereon, and lined it with wax; into this basket I laid the boy and carried him down to the river Acva.” Floating on the waves, the basket reaches the river Ganga and travels as far as the city of Campa. “There was passing along the bank of the river, the charioteer, the noble friend of Dhrtarastra, and with him was Radha, his beautiful and pious spouse. She was wrapt in deep sorrow, because no son had been given to her. On the river she saw the basket, which the waves carried close to her on the shore; she showed it to Azirath, who went and drew it forth from the waves.” The two take care of the boy and raise him as their own child.

Kunti later on marries King Pandu, who is forced to refrain from conjugal intercourse by the curse that he is to die in the arms of his spouse. But Kunti bears three sons, again through divine conception, one of the children being born in the cave of a wolf. One day Pandu dies in the embrace of his second wife. The sons grow up, and at a tournament which they arrange, Karna appears to measure his strength against the best fighter, Arjuna, the son of Kunti. Arjuna scoffingly refuses to fight the charioteer’s son. In order to make him a worthy opponent, one of those present anoints him as king. Meanwhile Kunti has recognized Karna as her son, by the divine mark, and prays him to desist from the contest with his brother, revealing to him the secret of his birth. But he considers her revelation as a fantastic tale, and insists implacably upon satisfaction. He falls in the combat, struck by Arjuna’s arrow. (Compare the detailed account in Lefmann’s “History of Ancient India,” Berlin, 1890, p. 181, et seq.)

A striking resemblance of the entire structure with the Karna legend is presented by the birth history of Ion, the ancestor of the Ionians, of whom a relatively late tradition states the following:[35]

Apollo, in the grotto of the rock of the Athenian Acropolis, procreated a son with Kreusa, the daughter of Erechtheus. In this grotto the boy was also born, and exposed; the mother leaves the child behind in a woven basket, in the hope that Apollo will not leave his son to perish. On Apollo’s request, Hermes carries the child the same night to Delphi, where the priestess finds him on the threshold of the temple in the morning. She brings the boy up, and when he has grown into a youth makes him a servant of the temple. Erechtheus later on gave his daughter Kreusa in marriage to the immigrated Xuthos. As the marriage long remained childless, they addressed the Delphian oracle, praying to be blessed with progeny. The god reveals to Xuthos that the first to meet him on leaving the sanctuary is his son. He hastens outside and meets the youth, whom he joyfully greets as his own son, giving him the name Ion, which means “Walker.” Kreusa refuses to accept the youth as her son; her attempt to poison him fails, and the infuriated people turn against her. Ion is about to attack her, but Apollo, who did not wish the son to kill his own mother, enlightened the mind of the priestess so that she understood the connection. By means of the basket in which the newborn child had lain, Kreusa recognizes him as her son, and reveals to him the secret of his birth.

ŒDIPUS

The parents of Œdipus, King Laios and his queen, Jocaste, lived for a long time in childless wedlock. Laios, who is longing for an heir, asks the Delphic Apollo for advice. The oracle answers that he may have a son if he so desires; but fate has ordained that his own son will kill him. Fearing the fulfilment of the oracle, Laios refrains from conjugal relations, but being intoxicated one day, he nevertheless procreates a son, whom he causes to be exposed in the river Kithairon, barely three days after his birth. In order to be quite sure that the child will perish, Laios orders his ankles to be pierced. According to the account of Sophocles, which is not the oldest, however, the shepherd who has been intrusted with the exposure, surrenders the boy to a shepherd of King Polybos, of Corinth, at whose court he is brought up, according to the universal statement. Others say that the boy was exposed in a box on the sea, and was taken from the water by Periböa, the wife of King Polybos, as she was rinsing her clothes by the shore.[36] Polybos brought him up as his own son.

Œdipus, on hearing accidentally that he is a foundling, asks the Delphian oracle for his own parents, but receives the prophecy that he will kill his father and marry his mother. In the belief that this prophecy refers to his foster parents, he flees from Corinth to Thebes, but on the way unwittingly kills his father Laios. By solving a riddle, he frees the City from the plague of the Sphinx, a man-devouring monster, and in reward is given the hand of Jocaste, his mother, as well as the throne of his father. The revelation of these horrors, and the subsequent misfortune of Œdipus, were a favorite subject for spectacular display among the Greek tragedians.

An entire series of Christian legends have been elaborated on the pattern of the Œdipus myth,[37] and the summarized contents of the Judas legend may serve as a paradigm of this group. Before his birth, his mother Cyboread, is warned by a dream that she will bear a wicked son, to the ruin of all his people. The parents expose the boy in a box on the sea. The waves cast the child ashore on the Isle of Scariot, where the childless queen finds him, and brings him up as her son. Later on, the royal couple have a son of their own, and the foundling, who feels himself slighted, kills his foster brother. As a fugitive from the country, he takes service at the court of Pilate, who made a confidant of him and placed him above his entire household. In a fight, Judas kills a neighbor, without knowing that he is his father. The widow of the murdered man, namely his own mother, then becomes his wife. After the revelation of these horrors, he repents and seeks the Saviour, who receives him among his apostles. His betrayal of Jesus is known from the Gospel.

The legend of St. Gregory on the Stone—the subject of the narrative of Hartmann von Aue—represents a more complicated type of this mythical cycle. Gregory, the child of the incestuous union of royal lovers, is exposed by his mother in a box on the sea, saved and raised by fishermen, and is then educated in a convent for the church. But he prefers the life of a knight, is victorious in combats, and in reward is given the hand of the princess, his mother. After the discovery of the incest, Gregory does penance for seventeen years, on a rock in the midst of the sea, and he is finally made the Pope, at the command of God. (Compare Cholevicas, “History of German Poetry, According to the Antique Elements.”)

A very similar legend is the Iranese legend of King Dârâb, told by King Firdusi in the Book of Kings, and rendered by Spiegel (Eranische Altertumskunde, II, 584). The last Kirânian Behmen nominated as his successor his daughter and simultaneous wife Humâi; so that his son Sâsân was grieved and withdrew into solitude. A short time after the death of her husband, Humâi gave birth to a son, whom she resolved to expose. He was placed in a box, which was put into the Euphrates, and drifted down stream, until it was held up by a stone, which had been placed in the water by a tanner. The box with the child was found by him, and he carried the boy to his wife, who had recently lost her own child. The couple agreed to raise the foundling, and as the boy grew up, he soon became so strong that the other children were unable to resist him. He did not care for the work of his father, but learned to be a warrior. His foster mother was forced by him to reveal the secret of his origin, and he joined the army which Humâi was then sending out to fight the king of Rûm. Her attention being called to him by his bravery, Humâi readily recognized him as her son, and named him her successor.

PARIS

Apollodorus relates of the birth of Paris: King Priamos had with his wife Hekabe a son, named Hektor. When Hekabe was about to bear another child, _she dreamed_ that she brought forth a burning log of wood, which set fire to the entire city. Priamos asked the advice of Aisakos, who was his son with his first wife Arisbe, and an expert in the interpretation of dreams. Aisakos declared that the child would bring trouble upon the city, and advised that it be exposed. Priamos gave the little boy to a slave, who carried him to the top of Mount Ida; this man’s name was Agelaos. _The child was nursed during five days by a she-bear._ When Agelaos found that he was still alive, he picked him up, and carried him home to raise him. He named the boy Paris; but after the child had grown into a strong and handsome youth, he was called Alexandros, because he fought the robbers and protected the flocks. Before long he discovered his parents. How this came about is told by Hyginus, according to whose report the infant is _found by shepherds_. One day messengers, sent by Priamos, come to these herders to fetch a bull which is to serve as the prize for the victor in the combats arranged in commemoration of Paris. They selected a bull which Paris valued so highly that he followed the men who led the beast away, assisted in the combats, and won the prize. This aroused the anger of his brother Deiphobos, who threatened him with his sword, but his sister Kassandra recognized him as her brother, and Priamos joyfully received him as his son. The misfortune which Paris later on brought to his family and his native city, through the abduction of Helena, is well known from Homer’s poems, as well as their predecessors and successors, their _prologue_ and _epilogue_.

A certain resemblance with the story of the birth of Paris is presented by the poem of Zal, in Firdusi’s Persian hero-myths (translated by Schack). The first son is born to Sam, king of Sistan, by one of his consorts. Because he had white hair, _his mother concealed the birth_. But the nurse reveals the birth of his son to the king. Sam is disappointed, and commands that the child be exposed. The servants carry it on the top of Mount Alburs, where it is raised by the Somurgh, a powerful bird. The full grown youth is seen by a travelling caravan, whose members speak of him “as whose nurse a bird is sufficient.” King Sam once _sees his son in a dream_, and sallies forth to seek the exposed child. He is unable to reach the summit of the elevated rock where he finally espies the youth. But the Somurgh bears his son down to him, he receives him joyfully and nominates him as his successor.

TELEPHOS

Aleos, King of Tegea, was informed by the _oracle_ that his sons would perish through a descendant of his daughter. He therefore made his daughter Auge a priestess of the goddess Athene, and threatened her with death should she mate with a man. But when Herakles dwelt as a guest in the sanctuary of Athene, on his expedition against Augias, he saw the maiden, and when intoxicated he raped her. When Aleos became aware of her pregnancy, he delivered her to Nauplios, a rough sailor, with the command to throw her into the sea. But on the way she gave birth to Telephos, on Mount Parthenios, and Nauplios, unmindful of the orders he had received, carried both her and the child to Mysia, where he delivered them to King Teuthras.

According to another version, Auge secretly brought forth as a priestess, but kept the child hidden in the temple. When Aleos discovered the sacrilege, he caused the child to be exposed in the Parthenian mountains,[38] Nauplios was instructed to sell the mother in foreign lands, or to kill her. She was delivered by him into the hands of Teuthras.

According to the current tradition, _Auge exposes the newborn child_ and escapes to Mysia, where the childless King Teuthras adopts her as his daughter. The boy, however, is nursed by a doe, and is found by shepherds who take him to King Korythos. The king brings him up as his son. When Telephos has grown into a youth he betakes himself to Mysia, on the advice of the oracle, to seek his mother. He frees Teuthras, who is in danger from his enemies, and in reward receives the hand of the supposed daughter of the king, namely his own mother Auge. But she refuses to submit to Telephos, and when he in his ire is about to pierce the disobedient one with his sword, she calls on her lover Herakles in her distress, and Telephos thus recognizes his mother. After the death of Teuthras he becomes king of Mysia.

PERSEUS

Akrisios, the king of Argos, had already reached an advanced age without having male progeny. As he desired a son, he consulted the Delphian oracle, but this warned him against male descendants, and informed him that his daughter Danae would bear a son through whose hand he would perish. In order to prevent this, his daughter was locked up by him in an iron chamber, which he caused to be carefully guarded. But Zeus penetrated through the roof, in the guise of a golden rain, and Danae became the mother of a boy.[39] One day Akrisios heard the voice of young Perseus in his daughter’s room, and in this way learned that she had given birth to a child. _He killed the nurse_, but carried his daughter with her son to the domestic altar of Zeus, to have an oath taken on the true father’s name. But he refuses to believe his daughter’s statement that Zeus is the father, and _he encloses her with the child in a box,[40] which is cast into the sea_. The box is carried by the waves to the coast of Seriphos, where _Diktys, a fisherman_, usually called a brother of King Polydektes, _saves mother and child by drawing them out of the sea with his nets_. Diktys leads the two into his house and keeps them as his relations. Polydektes, however, becomes enamoured of the beautiful mother, and _as Perseus was in his way, he tried to remove him_ by sending him forth to fetch the head of the Gorgon Medusa. But against the king’s anticipations Perseus accomplishes this difficult task, and a number of heroic deeds besides. In throwing the discos, at play, he accidentally kills his grandfather, as foretold by the oracle. He becomes the king of Argos, then of Tiryath, and the builder of Mykene.[41]

GILGAMOS

Aelian, who lived about 200 A.D, relates in his “Animal Stories” the history of _a boy who was saved by an eagle_.[42]

“Animals have a characteristic fondness for man. An eagle is known to have nourished a child. I shall tell the entire story, in proof of my assertion. When Senechoros reigned over the Babylonians, the Chaldean fortune-tellers foretold that the son of the king’s daughter would take the kingdom from his grandfather; this verdict was a prophecy of the Chaldeans. The king was afraid of this prophecy, and humorously speaking, he became a second Akrisius for his daughter, over whom he watched with the greatest severity. But his daughter, fate being wiser than the Babylonian, conceived secretly from an inconspicuous man. For fear of the king, the guardians threw the child down from the Akropolis, where the royal daughter was imprisoned. The eagle, with his keen eyes, saw the boy’s fall, and before the child struck the earth, he caught it on his back, bore it into a garden, and set it down with great care. When the overseer of the place saw the beautiful boy he was pleased with him and raised him. The boy received the name Gilgamos, and became the king of Babylonia. If anyone regards this as a fable, I have nothing to say, although I have investigated the matter to the best of my ability. Also from Achaemenes, the Persian, from whom the nobility of the Persians is derived, I learn that he was the pupil of an eagle.”[43]

KYROS

The myth of Kyros, which the majority of investigators place in the center of this entire mythical circle, without entirely sufficient grounds, it would appear—has been transmitted to us in several versions. According to the report of Herodotus (about 450 B.C.), who states (I, 95) that among four renderings known to him, he selected the least “glorifying” version, the story of the birth and youth of Kyros is as follows, I, 107 et seq.[44].

Royal sway over the Medes was held, after Kyaxares, by his son Astyages, who had a daughter named Mandane. Once he saw, in a dream, so much water passing from her as to fill an entire city, and inundate all Asia. He related his dream to the dream interpreters among the magicians, and was in great fear after they had explained it all to him. When Mandane had grown up, he gave her in marriage, not to a Mede, his equal in birth, but to a Persian, by name of Kambyses. This man came of a good family and led a quiet life. The King considered him of lower rank than a middle class Mede. After Mandane had become the wife of Kambyses, Astyages saw another dream vision in the first year. He dreamed that a vine grew from his daughter’s lap, and this vine overshadowed all Asia. After he had again related this vision to the dream interpreters, he sent for his daughter, who was with child, and after her arrival from Persia, he watched her, because he meant to kill her offspring. For the dream interpreters among the magicians had prophesied to him that his daughter’s son would become king in his place. In order to avert this fate, he waited until Kyros was born, and then sent for Harpagos, who was his relative and his greatest confidant among the Medes, and whom he had placed over all his affairs. Him he addressed as follows: “My dear Harpagos, I shall charge thee with an errand which thou must conscientiously perform. But do not deceive me, and let no other man attend to it, for all might not go well with thee. Take this boy, whom Mandane has brought forth, carry him home, and kill him. Afterwards thou canst bury him, how and in whatsoever manner thou desirest.” But Harpagos made answer: “Great King, never hast thou found thy servant disobedient, and also in future I shall beware not to sin before thee. If such is thy will, it behooves me to carry it out faithfully.” When Harpagos had thus spoken, and the little boy with all his ornaments had been delivered into his hands, for death, he went home weeping. On his arrival he told his wife all that Astyages had said to him. But she inquired, “What art thou about to do?” He made reply: “I shall not obey Astyages, even if he raved and stormed ten times worse than he is doing. I shall not do as he wills, and consent to such a murder. I have a number of reasons: in the first place, the boy is my blood relative; then, Astyages is old, and he has no male heir. Should he die, and the kingdom go to his daughter, whose son he bids me kill at present, would I not run the greatest danger? But the boy must die, for the sake of my safety. However, one of Astyages’ men is to be his murderer, not one of mine.”

Having thus spoken, he at once despatched a messenger to one of the king’s cattle herders, by name Mithradates, who, as he happened to know, was keeping his herd in a very suitable mountain pasturage, full of wild animals. The herder’s wife was also a slave of Astyages’, by name Kyno in Greek, or Spako (a bitch) in the Medean language. When the herder hurriedly arrived, on the command of Harpagos, the latter said to him: “Astyages bids thee take this boy and expose him in the wildest mountains, that he may perish as promptly as may be, and the King has ordered me to say to thee: If thou doest not kill the boy, but let him live, in whatever way, thou art to die a most disgraceful death. And I am charged to see to it that the boy is really exposed.” When the herder had listened to this, he took the boy, went home, and arrived in his cottage. His wife was with child, and was in labor the entire day, and it happened that she was just bringing forth, when the herder had gone to the city. They were greatly worried about each other. But when he had returned and the woman saw him again so unexpectedly, she asked in the first place why Harpagos had sent for him so hurriedly. But he said: “My dear wife, would that I had never seen what I have seen and heard in the city, and what has happened to our masters. The house of Harpagos was full of cries and laments. This startled me, but I entered, and soon after I had entered, I saw a small boy lying before me, who struggled and cried and was dressed in fine garments and gold. When Harpagos saw me, he bid me quickly take the boy, and expose him in the wildest spot of the mountains. He said Astyages had ordered this, and added awful threats if I failed to do so. I took the child and went away with it, thinking that it belonged to one of the servants, for it did not occur to me whence it had come. But on the way, I learned the entire story from the servant who led me from the city, and placed the boy in my hands. He is the son of Mandane, daughter of Astyages, and Kambyses the son of Kyros; and Astyages has ordered his death. Behold, here is the boy.”

Having thus spoken, the herder uncovered the child and showed it to her, and when the woman saw that he was a fine strong child, she wept, and fell at her husband’s feet, and implored him not to expose it. But he said he could not do otherwise, for Harpagos would send servants to see if this had been done; he would have to die a disgraceful death unless he did so. Then she said again: “If I have failed to move thee, do as follows, so that they may see an exposed child: I have brought forth a dead child; take it and expose it, but the son of the daughter of Astyages we will raise as our own child. In this way, thou wilt not be found a disobedient servant, nor will we fare ill ourselves. Our stillborn child will be given a kingly burial, and the living child’s life will be preserved.” The herder did as his wife had begged and advised him to do. He placed his own dead boy in a basket, dressed him in all the finery of the other, and exposed him on the most desert mountain. Three days later he announced to Harpagos that he was now enabled to show the boy’s cadaver. Harpagos sent his most faithful body guardians, and ordered the burial of the cattle herder’s son. The other boy, however, who was known later on as Kyros, was brought up by the herder’s wife. They did not call him Kyros, but gave him another name.

When the boy was twelve years old the truth was revealed, through the following accident. He was playing on the road, with other boys of his own age, in the village where the cattle were kept. The boys played “King,” and elected the supposed son of the cattle herder.[45] But he commanded some to build houses, others to carry lances; one he made the king’s watchman, the other was charged with the bearing of messages; briefly, each received his appointed task. One of the boy’s playmates, however, was the son of Artembares, a respected man among the Medes, and when he did not do as Kyros ordained, the latter made the other boys seize him. The boys obeyed, and Kyros chastised him with severe blows. After they let him go, he became furiously angry, as if he had been treated improperly. He ran into the city and complained to his father of what Kyros had done to him. He did not mention the name of Kyros for he was not yet called so, but said the cattle herder’s son. Artembares went wrathfully with his son to Astyages, complained of the disgraceful treatment, and spoke thus: “Great king, we suffer such outrageous treatment from thy servant, the herder’s son,” and he showed him his own son’s shoulders. When Astyages heard and saw this, he wished to vindicate the boy for the sake of Artembares, and he sent for the cattle herder with his son. When both were present, Astyages looked at Kyros and said: “Thou, a lowly man’s son, hast had the effrontery to treat so disgracefully the son of a man whom I greatly honor!” But he made answer: “Lord, he has only received his due. For the boys in the village, he being among them, were at play, and made me their king, believing me to be the best adapted thereto. And the other boys did as they were told, but he was disobedient, and did not mind me at all. For this he has received his reward. If I have deserved punishment, here I am at your service.”