The Hero with a Thousand Faces

The conclusion of the childhood cycle is the return or recognition of the hero, when, after the long period of obscurity, his true character is revealed. This event may precipitate a considerable crisis; for it amounts to an emergence of powers hitherto excluded from human life. Earlier patterns break to fragments or dissolve; disaster greets the eye. Yet after a moment of apparent havoc, the creative value of the new factor comes to view, and the world takes shape again in unsuspected glory. This theme of crucifixion-resurrection can be illustrated either on the body of the hero himself, or in his effects upon his world. The first alternative we find in the Pueblo story of the water jar.

The men were going out to hunt rabbits, and Water Jar Boy wanted to go. “Grandfather, could you take me down to the foot of the mesa, I want to hunt rabbits.” “Poor grandson, you can’t hunt rabbits, you have no legs or arms,” said the grandfather. But Water Jar Boy was very anxious to go. “Take me anyway. You are too old and you can’t do anything.” His mother was crying because her boy had no legs or arms or eyes. But they used to feed him, in his mouth, in the mouth of the jar. So next morning his grandfather took him down to the south on the flat. Then he rolled along, and pretty soon he saw a rabbit track and he followed the track. Pretty soon the rabbit ran out, and he began to chase it. Just before he got to the marsh there was a rock, and he hit himself against it and broke, and a boy jumped up. He was very glad his skin had been broken and that he was a boy, a big boy. He was wearing lots of beads around his neck and turquoise earrings, and a dance kilt and moccasins, and a buckskin shirt.

Catching a number of rabbits, he returned and presented them to his grandfather, who brought him triumphantly home.^[10]

The legendary cycles of medieval Ireland include: (1) The Mythological Cycle, which describes the migrations to the island of prehistoric peoples, their battles, and in particular the deeds of the race of gods known as the Tuatha De Danaan, “Children of the Great Mother, Dana”; (2) The Annals of the Milesians, or semi-historical chronicles of the last arriving race, the sons of Milesius, founders of the Celtic dynasties that survived until the arrival of the Anglo-Normans under Henry II in the twelfth century; (3) The Ulster Cycle of the Knights of the Red Branch, which treats primarily of the deeds of Cuchulainn (pronounced coohoolinn) at the court of his uncle Conchobar (pronounced conohoor): this cycle greatly influenced the development of the Arthurian tradition, in Wales, Brittany, and England — the court of Conchobar serving as model for that of King Arthur and the deeds of Cuchulainn for those of Arthur’s nephew, Sir Gawain (Gawain was the original hero of many of the adventures later assigned to Lancelot, Perceval, and Galahad); (4) The Cycle of the Fianna: the Fianna were a company of heroic fighters under the captaincy of Finn MacCool; the greatest tale of this cycle being that of the love triangle of Finn, Grianni his bride, and Diarmaid his nephew, many episodes of which come down to us in the celebrated tale of Tristan and Iseult; (5) Legends of the Irish Saints.

The “little people” of the popular fairy lore of Christian Ireland are reductions of the earlier pagan divinities, the Tuatha De Danaan.

The cosmic energies burning within the vivid Irish warrior Cuchulainn — chief hero of the medieval Ulster Cycle, the so-called Cycle of the Knights of the Red Branch — would suddenly burst like an eruption, both overwhelming himself and smashing everything around.

When he was four years old — so the story goes — he set out to test the “boy corps” of his uncle, King Conchobar, at their own sports. Carrying his hurly of brass, ball of silver, throwing javelin, and toy spear, he proceeded to the court city of Emania, where, without so much as a word of permission, he dived right in among the boys — “thrice fifty in number, who were hurling on the green and practicing martial exercises with Conchobar’s son, Follamain, at their head.” The whole field let fly at him. With his fists, forearms, palms, and little shield, he parried the hurlies, balls, and spears that came simultaneously from all directions. Then for the first time in his life he was seized with his battle-frenzy (a bizarre, characteristic transformation later to be known as his “paroxysm” or “distortion”) and before anyone could grasp what was coming to pass, he had laid low fifty of the best. Five more of the boy corps went scuttling past the king, where he sat playing chess with Fergus the Eloquent. Conchobar arose and took a hand in the confusion. But Cuchulainn would not lighten his hand until all the youngsters had been placed under his protection and guarantee.^[11]