SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMA nON: TWO 
it is the woman who secretly enslaves a man, so that he can no longer free himself from her and becomes a child again.64 It is also significant that Isis, the sister-wife of the sun-god, creates the poisonous serpent from his spittle, which, like all bodily secretions, has a magical significance, being a libido equivalent. She creates the serpent from the libido of the god, and by this means weakens him and makes him dependent on her. Delilah acts in the same way with Samson: by cutting off his hair, the sun's rays, she robs him of his strength. This demon-woman of mythology is in truth the "sister-wife-mother," the woman in the man, who unexpectedly turns up during the second half of life and tries to effect a forcible change of personality. I have dealt with certain aspects of this change in my essay on "The Stages of Life." It consists in a partial feminization of the man and a corresponding masculinization of the woman. Often it takes place under very dramatic circumstances: the man's strongest quality, his Logos principle, turns against him and as it were betrays him. The same thing happens with the Eros of the woman. The man becomes rigidly set in his previous attitude, while the woman remains caught in her emotional ties and fails to develop her reason and understanding, whose place is then taken by equally obstinate and inept "animus" opinions. The fossilization of the man shrouds itself in a smoke-screen of moods, ridiculous irritability, feelings of distrust and resentment, which are meant to justify his rigid attitude. A pertect example of this type of psychology is Schreber's account of his own psychosis, Memoirs of My Nervous Illness.65 
	459 	The paralysis of progressive energy has in truth some very 
disagreeable aspects. It seems like an unwelcome accident or a positive catastrophe, which one would naturally rather aVOId. In most cases the conscious personality rises up against the assault of the unconscious and resists its demands, whlcn, It is clearly felt, are directed not only against all the weaK spots in the man's character, but also against hiS chiet VIrtue (the mfterentiated function and the ideal). It is eVident from the myths of Heracles and Gilgamesh that this assault can become the 
64 Cf. Heracles and Omphale. 
65 The case was written up at the time by Freud in a very unsatisfactory way after I had drawn his attention to the book. See "Psycho-Analytical Notes upon an AutobIOgraphical Account of a Case of Paranoia," p. 9· 
3°° 

VI. THE BAlTLE FOR DELIVERANCE FROM THE MOTHER 
source of energy for an heroic conflict; indeed, so obvious is this impression that one has to ask oneself whether the apparent enmity of the maternal archetype is not a ruse on the part of Mater Natura for spurring on her favoured child to his highest achievement. The vengeful Hera would then appear as the stern "Mistress Soul," who imposes the most difficult labours on her hero and threatens him with destruction unless he plucks up courage for the supreme deed and actually becomes what he always potentially was. The hero's victory over the "mother," or over her daemonic representative (dragon, etc.), is never anything but temporary. What must be regarded as regression in a young person-feminization of the man (partial identity with the mother) and masculinization of the woman (partial identity with the father)-acquires a different meaning in the second half of life. The assimilation of contrasexual tendencies then becomes a task that must be fulfilled in order to keep the libido in a state of progression. The task consists in integrating the unconscious, in bringing together "conscious" and "unconscious." I have called this the individuation process, and for further details must refer the reader to my later works.65a At this stage the mother-symbol no longer connects back to the beginnings, but points towards the unconscious as the creative matrix of the future. "Entry into the mother" then means establishing a relationship between the ego and the unconscious. Nietzsche probably means something of the kind in his poem: 
Why hast thou enticed thyself Into the old serpent's Paradise? Why hast thou stolen 
Into thyself, thyself? 
A sick man now, 
Sick of the serpent's poison; fI6 A captive now 
Who drew the hardest lot: 
Bent double 
Working in thine own pit, 
65a [Cf. especially Two Essays on Analytical Psychology and Psychology and Alchemy.-EDlTORS.] 
66 SpieIrein's patient was also sick from "snake poison" (p. 385). Schreber said he was mfected oy "corpse poison," that "soul murder" had been committed on him, etc. (pp. 54ft). 
3°1 

SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
Encaved within thyself, Burrowing into thyself, Heavy-handed, 
Stiff, 
A corpse- 
Piled with a hundred burdens, Loaded to death with thyself, A knowerl 
Self-knower! 
The wise Zarathustra! 
You sought the heaviest burden And found yourself.67 
	460 	Sunk in his own depths, he is like one buried in the earth; 
a dead man who has crawled back into the mother; 68 a Kaineus "piled with a hundred burdens" and pressed down to death, groaning beneath the intolerable weight of his own self and his own destiny. Who does not think here of Mithras, who, in the Taurophoria, took his bull (or, as the Egyptian hymn says, "the bull of his mother"), namely his love for his Mater Natura, on his back, and with this heaviest burden set forth on the via dolorosa of the Transitus? 69 The way of this passion leads to the cave in which the bull is sacrificed. So, too, Christ had to bear the Cross 70 to the place of sacrifice, where, according to the Christian version, the Lamb was slain in the form of the 
67 "Between Birds of Prey." (Werke, VIII, p. 414.) [Cf. trans. in Ecce Homo and Poetry, by Ludovici et al., p. 179.] 
68 Spielrein's patient (p. 336) uses the same images; she speaks of the "rigidity of the soul on the cross," of "stone figures" who must be "melted." 
69 Gurlitt says: "The carrying of the bull [pI. xLlxa] is one of the difficult lfJ)o..a which Mithras performed for the redemption of mankind; it corresponds roughly -if we may compare small things with great-to Christ carrying the cross." ("Vorbericht libel' Ausgrabungen in Pettau"; cited in Cumont, Textes, I, p. 172.) 70 Robertson (Christianity and Mythology, p. 401) makes an interesting contribution to the symbol of carrying the cross: Samson carried the gate-posts of the city of Gaza, and died between the pillars of the temple of the Philistines. Heracles carried his pillars to Gades (Cadiz), where, according to the Syrian version of the legend, he died. The Pillars of Hercules mark the point in the west where the sun sinks into the sea. "In ancient art," says Robertson, "he was actually represented carrying the two pillars in such a way under his arms that they form exactly a cross. Here, probably, we have the origin of the myth of Jesus carrying his own cross to the place of execution. Singularly enough, the three Synoptics substitute for Jesus as cross-bearer one Simon, a man of Cyrene. Cyrene is in Libya, the legendary scene, as we saw, of the pillar-carrying exploit of Heracles; 
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VI. THE BATTLE FOR DELIVERANCE FROM THE MOTHER 
god, and was then laid to earth in the sepulchre.71 The cross, or whatever other heavy burden the hero carries, is himself, or rather the self, his wholeness, which is both God and animalnot merely the empirical man, but the totality of his being, which is rooted in his animal nature and reaches out beyond the merely human towards the divine. His wholeness implies a tremendous tension of opposites paradoxically at one with themselves, as in the cross, their most perfect symbol. vVhat seems like a poetic figure of speech in Nietzsche is really an age-old myth. It is as if the poet could still sense, beneath the words of contemporary speech and in the images that crowd in upon his imagination, the ghostly presence of bygone spiritual worlds, and possessed the capacity to make them come alive again. As Gerhart Hauptmann says: "Poetry is the art of letting the primordial word resound through the common word." 72 
	461 	The sacrifice, whose mysterious and manifold meanings we 
guess rather than understand, passes by the conscious mind of our author unrecognized and unconsummated. The arrow is not yet shot, the hero Chiwantopel is not yet fatally poisoned and ready for death through self-sacrifice. On the evidence before us we can say that this sacrifice means giving up the connection with the mother, relinquishing all the ties and limitations 
and Simon (Simeon) is the nearest Greek name-form to Samson .... In Palestine, Simon, or Sem, was actually a god-name, representing the ancient sun-god Shemesh, identified with Baal, from whose myth us that of Samson unquestionably arose; and the God Simon was especially worshipped in Samaria." I give Robertson's words here, but must emphasize that the etymological connection between Simon and Samson is exceedingly questionable. The cross of Heraclcs may well be the sun-wheel, for which the Greeks used the symbol of the cross. The sunwheel on the bas-relief of the Little Metropolis in Athens actually contains a cross which looks very like the Maltese cross. (Cf. Thiele, Antike Himmelsbilder, p. 59·) Here I must refer the reader to the mandala symbolism in Psychology and Alchemy and in The Secret of the Golden Flower. 
71 The legend of Ixion (pI. XLV1b), who was "crucified on the four-spoked wheel" (Pindar), says the same thing. Ixion first murdered his father-in-law but was afterwards absolved from guilt by Zeus and blessed with his favour. Ixion, with gross ingratitude, then tried to seduce Hera, but Zeus tricked him by getting the cloud-goddess Nephele to assume Hera's shape. From this union the centaurs are said to have sprung. Ixion boasted of his deed, but as a punishment for his crimes Zeus cast him into the underworld, where he was bound on a wheel that turned forever in the wind. 
72 Cited from the Zentralblatt fUr Psychoanalyse, 11 (1912), p. 365 [in a note by W. Stekel, quoting extracts from Hauptmann's published diary.-EDIToRS]. 
3°3 

SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
which the psyche has taken over from childhood into adult life. From various hints of Miss Miller's it appears that at the time of these fantasies she was still living in the family circle, at an age when independence was an urgent necessity. It is therefore significant that the birth of her fantasies coincided with a journey abroad, i.e., with a breaking away from her childhood environment. It is not possible to live too long amid infantile surroundings, or in the bosom of the family, without endangering one's psychic health. Life calls us forth to independence, and anyone who does not heed this call because of childish laziness or timidity is threatened with neurosis. And once this has broken out, it becomes an increasingly valid reason for running away from life and remaining forever in the morally poisonous atmosphere of infancy. 
	462 	The fantasy of the arrow-shot is part of this struggle for per- 
sonal independence. As yet, however, the need for such a decision has not penetrated to the conscious mind of the dreamer: the fatal arrow of Cupid has not yet found its mark. Chiwantopel, playing the role of the author, is not yet wounded or killed. He is the bold adventurer who dares to do what Miss Miller obviously shrinks from doing: he offers himself, of his own free will, as a target for the fatal arrow-shot. The fact that this gesture of self-exposure is projected upon a masculine figure is direct proof that the dreamer is quite unconscious of its necessity. Chiwantopel is a typical animus-figure, that is to say, a personification of the masculine side of the woman's psyche. He is an archetypal figure who becomes particularly active when the conscious mind refuses to follow the feelings and instincts prompted by the unconscious: instead of love and surrender there is mannishness, argumentativeness, obstinate self-assertion, and the demon of opinion in every possible shape and form (power instead of love). The animus is not a real man at all; he is a slightly hysterical, infantile hero whose longing to be loved shows through the gaps in his armour. It is in this garb that Miss Miller has dressed the critical decisions of her life, or rather these decisions have not yet got beyond the stage of unconscious fantasy and are still not recognized by her conscious mind as her own decisions. (Cf. pI. XVII.) 
	463 	The fact that the assassin allows himself to be scared away by 
Chiwantopel's heroics means that the impending death of this 
3°4 

VI. THE BATTLE FOR DELIVERANCE FROM THE MOTHER 
pasteboard hero has been temporarily postponed: the conscious mind is not yet ready to come to a decision by itself, but prefers to adopt the ostrich policy of burying its head in unconsciousness. Chiwantopel must fall because the power of decision locked up in the unconscious, which is at present keeping the nerveless figure of the hero erect, is needed to strengthen the conscious mind, for without the co-operation of the unconscious and its instinctive forces the conscious personality would be too weak to wrench itself free from its infantile past and venture into a strange world with all its unforeseen possibilities. The whole of the libido is needed for the battle of life. The dreamer cannot bring herself to this decision, which would tear aside all sentimental attachments to childhood, to father and mother, and yet it must be taken if she wishes to follow the call of her individual destiny. 
3°5 

VII 
THE DUAL MOTHER! 
	464 	After his assailant has disappeared, Chiwantopel begins the 
following monologue: 
From the tip of the backbone 2 of these continents, from the farthest lowlands, I have wandered for a hundred moons since quitting my father's palace, forever pursued by my mad desire to find "her who will understand." With jewels I tempted many beautiful women; with kisses tried I to draw out the secrets of their hearts, with deeds of daring I won their admiration. [He reviews one after another the women he has known.] Chi-ta, the princess of my own race ... she was a fool, vain as a peacock, without a thought in her head except trinkets and perfumes. Ta-nan, the peasant girl ... bah! a perfect sow, nothing but a bust and a belly, thinking of nothing but pleasure. And then Ki-ma, the priestess, a mere parrot, repeating the empty phrases learnt from the priests, all for show, without real understanding or sincerity, mistrustful, affected, hypocritical! ... Alas! Not one who understands me, not one who resembles me or has a soul that is sister to mine. There is not one among them all who has known my soul, not one who could read my thoughts-far from it; not one capable of seeking the shining summits with me, or of spelling out with me the superhuman word Love! 
	465 	Here Chiwantopel admits that his travels and wanderings 
are a search for the other, for the beloved, and for the meaningof life that is to be found in union with her. This possibility was merely hinted at in the first part of the book. The fact that the seeker is masculine and the sought-for feminine is not so very remarkable, since the prime object of unconscious desire is the mother, as should be clear from what we have already learnt. "She who understands" is, in infantile speech, the 
1 [See p. 394, n. 1, concerning this chapt~r heading.-EDlTORS.] 
2 Probably an allusion to the Andes and the Rocky Mountains. [Note by Flournoy.] 
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VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
mother. The original concrete meaning of words like comprehend) comprendre) begreifen) erfassen (grasp, seize), etc., is literally to seize hold of something with the hands and hold it tight in the arms. That is just what the mother does with her child when it asks for help or protection, and what binds the child to its mother. But the older it grows, the greater becomes the danger of this kind of "comprehension" hindering its natural development. Instead of adapting itself, as is necessary, to its new surroundings, the libido of the child regresses to the sheltering ease of the mother's arms and fails to keep pace with the passing of time. This situation is described as follows in an old Hermetic text: "Being chained to the arms and breast of my mother, and to her substance, I cause my substance to hold together and rest, and I compose the invisible from the visible. ••• " 3 When a person remains bound to the mother, the life he ought to have lived runs away in the form of conscious and unconscious fantasies, which in the case of a woman are generally attributed to some hero-figure, or are acted out by him, as here. He is the one who then has the great longing for an understanding soul-mate, he is the seeker who survives the adventures which the conscious personality studiously avoids; he it is who, with a magnificent gesture, offers his breast to the slings and arrows of a hostile world, and displays the courage which is so sadly lacking to the conscious mind. It is all up with the man whom the whims of fortune bring into contact with this infantile woman: he will at once be made identical with her animus-hero and relentlessly set up as the ideal figure, threatened with the direst punishments should he ever make a face that shows the least departure from the ideal! 
	466 	It is in this situation that our author now finds herself. 
Chiwantopel is the very devil of a fellow: a breaker of hearts by the dozen, all the women rave about him. He knows so many of them that he can pass them under review. Not one of them gets him, for he seeks one who (so she thinks) is known only to 3 Septem tractatus aurei (1566), ch. IV, p. 24. ("Ego vinctus ulnis et pectori meae matris et substantiae eius continere et quiescere mea m substantiam facio, et invisibile ex visibili compono.") The subject of this sentence (Mercurius or the arcane substance) can be interpreted as inner fantasy activity. The quotation naturally has a much more comprehensive, anagogic meaning in the original text, while making use of the primordial image of relationship to the mother. Cf. Psychology and Alchemy, par. 141, and "The Spirit Mercurius." 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
our author. That is, she believes in her heart of hearts that he is looking for her. In this she is labouring under a delusion, for experience shows that this particular cat jumps quite differently. The animus, a typical "son"-hero, is not after her at all; true to his ancient prototype, he is seeking the mother. This youthful hero is always the son-lover of the mother-goddess and is doomed to an early death. (Cf. fig. 20.) The libido that will not flow into life at the right time regresses to the mythical world of the archetypes, where it activates images which, since the remotest times, have expressed the non-human life of the gods, whether of the upper world or the lower. If this regression occurs in a young person, his own individual life is supplanted by the divine archetypal drama, which is all the more devastating for him because his conscious education provides him with no means of recognizing what is happening, and thus with no possibility of freeing himself from its fascination. Herein lay the vital importance of myths: they explained to the bewildered human being what was going on in his unconscious and why he was held fast. The myths told him: "This is not you, but the gods. You will never reach them, so turn back to your human avocations, holding the gods in fear and respect." These ingredients can also be found in the Christian myth, but it is too veiled to have enlightened our author. Nor is anything said about these things in the catechism. The "shining heights" are beyond the reach of mere mortals, and the "superhuman word Love" betrays the divine nature of the dramatis personae) since even human love presents such a thorny problem to man that he would rather creep into the remotest corner than touch it with his little finger. The words we have quoted show how deeply our author has been drawn into the unconscious drama and how much she is under its spell. Looked at in this light, the pathos rings hollow and the heroics seem hysterical. 
	467 	However, it looks somewhat different when viewed not from 
the personalistic standpoint, i.e., from the personal situation of Miss Miller, but from the standpoint of the archetype's own life. As we have already explained, the phenomena of the unconscious can be regarded as more or less spontaneous manifestations of autonomous archetypes, and though this hypothesis may seem very strange to the layman, it is amply supported by the fact the archetype has a numinous character: it exerts a fascina- 
308 

VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
tion, it enters into active opposition to the conscious mind, and may be said in the long run to mould the destinies of individuals by unconsciously influencing their thinking, feeling, and behaviour, even if this influence is not recognized until long afterwards. The primordial image is itself a "pattern of be" haviour" 4 which will assert itself with or without the co-operation of the conscious personality. Although the Miller case gives us some idea of the manner in which an archetype gradually draws nearer to consciousness and finally takes possession of it, the material is too scanty to serve as a complete illustration of the process. I must therefore refer my reader to the dream-series discussed in Psychology and Alchemy) where he will be able to follow the gradual emergence of a definite archetype with all the specific marks of its autonomy and authority. 
	468 	From this point of view, then, the hero Chiwantopel repre- 
sents a psychic entity which can only be compared to a fragmentary personality equipped with a relative degree of consciousness and a will to match. Such a conclusion is inevitable if our premise of the autonomy and purposiveness of the complex is correct. In that case the intentions both of Chiwantopel and of the mother-imago standing behind and above him can be subjected to closer scrutiny. He himself seems to find complete fulfilment in the role of the actor. As an ideal figure he attracts all our author's attention to himself, he gives voice to her most secret thoughts and desires, and, like Cyrano, he does so in a language which springs from Miss Miller's own heart. He is therefore sure of his success and cuts out all possible rivals. He wins the soul of the dreamer, not in order to lead her back to normal life, but to her spiritual destiny; for he is a bridegroom of death, one of the son-lovers who die young because they have no life of their own but are only fast-fading flowers on the maternal tree. Their meaning and their vitality begin and end in the mother-goddess. Therefore, when Chiwantopel, the "ghostly lover," 5 draws Miss Miller away from the path of life, he does so in a certain sense at the behest of the mother-imago, which in women personifies a special aspect of the unconscious. It does not, like the anima, stand for the chaotic life of the unconscious in all its aspects, but for the 
"See "On the Nature of the Psyche." Sec. VII. 
li Cf. Harding. The Way ot All Women. 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
peculiarly fascinating background of the psyche, the world of primordial images. There is always a danger that those who set foot in this realm will grow fast to the rocks, like Theseus and Peirithous, who wanted to abduct the goddess of the underworld. It happens all too easily that there is no returning from the realm of the Mothers. As I have already hinted, this is the fate that has overtaken Miss Miller. But the danger could equally well prove to be her salvation, if only the conscious mind had some means of understanding the unconscious contents. This is certainly not the case with our author. For her these fantasies are "marvellous" products of an unconscious activity which she confronts more or less helplessly, although, as we shall see, the associations contain all the necessary clues that would enable her, with a little reflection, to guess what the fantasy-figures mean, and to use the symbols as a heavensent opportunity for assimilating her unconscious contents. Our culture, however, has neither eyes nor heart for these things. Anything that comes out of the psyche is regarded with suspicion at the best of times, and if it does not immediately prove its material value it goes for nothing. 
	469 	The hero as an animus-figure acts vicariously for the con- 
scious individual; that is to say, he does what the subject ought, could, or would like to do, but does not do. All the things that could happen in conscious life, but do not happen, are acted out in the unconscious and consequently appear in projection. Chiwantopel is characterized as the hero who leaves his family and his ancestral home in order to seek his psychic counterpart. He thus represents what in the normal course of events ought to happen. The fact that this appears as a fantasy-figure shows how little the author is doing it herself. What happens in fantasy is therefore compensatory to the situation or attitude of the conscious mind. This is also the rule in dreams. 
	470 	How right we were in our supposition that what is going on 
in Miss Miller's unconscious is a battle for independence is now shown by her remark that the hero's departure from his father's house reminded her of the fate of the young Buddha, who renounced all the luxury of his home in order to go out into the world and live his destiny to the full.6 The Buddha 
8 Another source mentioned by Miss Miller, namely Samuel Johnson's History of Rrzsselas (1759), was not available to me at the time of writing. 
310 

VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
set the same heroic example as Christ, who also cut himself off from his family and even spoke these bitter words (Matt. 10: 34f.): 
Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword. 
For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. 
And a man's foes shall be they of his own household. 
He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of 
me .•.• 
	471 	Homs snatches the head-dress from his mother, the emblem 
of her power. Nietzsche says: 
We must suppose that a mind in which the ideal of the "free spirit" can grow to maturity and perfection has had its decisive crisis in some great act of emancipation, and that before this it was a spirit bound and apparently chained for ever to its corner and pillar. What binds it most tightly? What ties are the most unbreakable? For men of a superior and select type, it is the ties of duty: the reverence that befits youth, respect and tenderness for all the time-honoured and valued things, feelings of gratitude for the soil whence they grew, for the hand that guided them, for the shrine where they learnt to pray -their highest moments are the very ones that bind them most firmly, that put them under the most enduring obligations. The great emancipation comes suddenly for those who are so bound .... 
"Better to die than live here," says the imperious voice of temptation; and this "here," this "at home," is all that the soul has hitherto loved! A sudden horror and mistrust of what it loved, a flash of contempt for its so-called "duty," a rebellious, wilful, volcanically impelling desire for travel, strangeness, estrangement, coldness, disillusion, glaciation; a hatred of love, perhaps a sacrilegious grasp and glance backwards 7 to everything it had worshipped and loved till then, perhaps a blush of shame over what it has just done and at the same time an exultation over having done it, an intoxicating, 
7 Cf. Horus's sacrilegious assault on Isis, which so horrifies Plutarch (De [side et Osiride, trans. by Babbitt, V, pp. 48-49): "If they hold such opinions and relate such tales about the blessed and imperishable (in accordance with which our concept of the divine must be framed), as if such deeds and occurrences actually took place, then 'Much need there is to spit and cleanse the mouth,' as Aeschylus has it." 
311 

SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
inner thrill of joy which signalizes victory-victory over what? over whom? an enigmatic, doubtful, questioning victory, but the first victory nonetheless. Of such evil and painful things is the history of the great emancipation composed. It is like a disease that can easily destroy the man, this first eruption of strength and will to selfdetermination .... 8 
	472 	The danger, as Nietzsche sees, lies in isolation within one- 
self: 
Solitude surrounds and encircles him, ever more threatening, ever more constricting, ever more heart-strangling, that terrible goddess and Mater saeva cuPidinum.9 
	473 	The libido that is withdrawn so unwillingly from the 
"mother" turns into a threatening serpent, symbolizing the fear of death-for the relation to the mother must cease, must die) and this is almost the same as dying oneself. That is to say, the violence of the separation is proportionate to the strength of the bond uniting the son with the mother, and the stronger this broken bond was in the first place, the more dangerously does the "mother" approach him in the guise of the unconscious. This is indeed the Mater saeva cuPidinum) 'savage mother of desire,' who in another form now threatens to devour the erstwhile fugitive. (Note the snake symbolism.) 
	474 	Miss Miller now gives us a further reference, this time to 
something that influenced her fantasies in a more general way, namely Longfellow's great narrative poem, The Song of Hiawatha.10 My reader must frequently have wondered at the number of times I adduce apparently very remote material for purposes of comparison and how I enlarge the basis upon which Miss Miller's creations rest. He must also have doubted whether it is justifiable, on the basis of such scanty suggestions, 
8 Human, All Too Human, trans. by Zimmern and Cohn, 11, pp. 4f., modified. 9 Ibid., 11, p. 6. 
10 [Published 1855. It is based on American Indian legend, drawing its sources mainly from the work of Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, a pioneer of American Indian ethnology. Hiawatha was, historically, a 16th-century Iroquoian leader, but the terminology and legendary material of the poem are Algonquian. (Cf. Standard Dictionary of Folklore, s.v. "Hiawatha.") Longfellow derived the metre from the Finnish epic Kalevala.-EDITORS.] 
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VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
to enter into fundamental discussions concerning the mythological foundations of these fantasies. For, he will say, we are not likely to find anything of the sort behind the Miller fantasies. I need hardly emphasize how hazardous these comparisons have seemed even to me. In this case I can at least plead that Miss Miller named her sources herself. So long as we stick to these clues we are moving on certain ground. The information we obtain from our patients, however, is seldom complete. We ourselves do not find it at all easy to remember where some of our·own ideas and views come from. But, although instances of cryptomnesia are not uncommon, it is highly probable that not all our ideas are individual acquisitions, and that the ones whose origin we do not know are not necessarily cryptomnesias. It is rather different as regards the way in which our ideas are formed and the order in which they are arranged. Such things can undoubtedly be acquired and afterwards remembered. That need not always be the case, however, because the human mind possesses general and typical modes of functioning which correspond to the biological "pattern of behaviour." These preexistent, innate patterns-the archetypes-can easily produce in the most widely differing individuals ideas or combinations of ideas that are practically identical, and for whose origin no individual experience can be made responsible. In the psychoses, for instance, there are very many ideas and images which impress the patient and his circle with their absolute strangeness, but which are quite familiar to the expert on account of the affinity of their motifs with certain mythologems. Because the basic structure of the psyche is everywhere more or less the same, it is possible to compare what look like individual dreammotifs with mythologems of whatever origin. So I have no hesitation in making comparisons between American Indian myth and the modern American psyche. 
	475 	I had never read Hiawatha until I came to this point in my 
inquiry, when the continuation of my work made its perusal necessary. This poetical compilation of Indian myths proved to my satisfaction how justified were all my previous reflections, since it is unusually rich in mythological motifs. This fact should throw light on the wealth of associations in the Miller fantasies. It therefore behoves us to examine the contents of this epic more closely. 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMA nON: TWO 
	476 	Nawadaha sings the songs of Hiawatha, the friend of man: 11 
There he sang of Hiawatha, Sang the songs of Hiawatha, 
Sang his wondrous birth and being, How he prayed and how he fasted, How he lived, and toiled, and suffered, That the tribes of men might prosper, That he might advance his people. 
	477 	The teleological significance of the hero as a symbolic figure 
who attracts libido to himself in the form of wonder and adoration, in order to lead it over the symbolic bridge of myth to higher uses, is already anticipated here. Thus we quickly become acquainted with Hiawatha as a saviour, and are prepared to hear all that is usually said about such a figure, about his miraculous birth, his mighty deeds in youth, and his sacrifice for his fellow men. The first canto opens with an "Evangelium": 
Gitche Manito, the "master of life," weary of the squabbles of his human children, calls his people together and makes known to them the joyous message: 
I will send a Prophet to you, A Deliverer of the nations, 
Who shall guide you and shall teach you, Who shall toil and suffer with you. 
If you listen to his counsels, 
You will multiply and prosper; 
If his warnings pass unheeded, 
You will fade away and perish! 
	478 	Gitche Manito the Mighty, "the creator of the nations," 12 is 
shown standing erect "on the great Red Pipestone quarry": 
From his footprints flowed a river, Leaped into the light of morning, O'er the precipice plunging downward Gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet. 
11 On the motif of the "friend," see my paper "Concerning Rebirth" (Swiss edn., pp. 53£.)· 
12 The figure of Gitche Manito can be regarded as a 'kind of Original Man (Anthropos). 
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VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
	479 	This image has a parallel in certain Cop tic ideas. In the 
"Mysteries of Saint John and the HolyVirgin" we read: 
[The Cherubim] answered and said unto me: "Seest thou that the water is under the feet of the Father? If the Father lifteth up His feet, the water riseth upwards; but if at the time when God is about to bring the water up, man sinneth against Him, He is wont to make the fruit of the earth to be little, because of the sins of men." ]3 
By the water is meant the Nile, on which Egypt's fertility depended. 
	480 	It is not only the feet themselves that have a fertility sig- 
nificance, it also seems to extend to their activity, treading. I observed that the dance-step of the Pueblo Indians consisted in a "calcare terram"-a persistent, vigorous pounding of the earth with the heels ("nunc pede libero pulsanda tellus": "with unfettered foot now we are to beat on the ground" 14). Kaineus, as we saw, descended into the depths, "splitting the earth with a straight foot." Faust reached the Mothers by stamping on the ground: "Stamping descend, and stamping rise up again!" ]5 
	4lh 	The heroes in the sun-devouring myths often stamp or kick 
in the gullet of the monster. Thor stamped clean through the bottom of the boat in his struggle with the monster and touched the bottom of the sea. The regression of libido makes the ritual act of treading out the dance-step seem like a repetition of the infantile "kicking." The latter is associated with the mother and with pleasurable sensations, and recapitulates a movement that was already practised inside the mother's womb. The foot and the treading movement are invested with a phallic significance,16 or with that of re-entry into the womb, so that the rhythm of the dance transports the dancer into an unconscious state. The Dancing Dervishes and other primitive dancers offer confirmation of this. The comparison of the water flowing from Gitche Manito's footprints with a comet means that it is a light- or libido-symbol for the fertilizing moisture (sperma). According to a note in Humboldt's Cosmosp certain South American Indian tribes call meteors the "piss of the stars." "Ve should also mention that Gitche Manito is a fire-maker: he ]3 Budge, Coptic ApocryPha in the Dialect of Upper Egypt, p. 243. 
	14 [Horace. Odes, I, xxxvii, 1-2.] 	]5 [Cf. MacNeice trans., p. 179.] 
16 See evidence in Aigremont, Fuss- und Schuhsymbolik. 17 Humboldt, Cosmos, I, p. 99, n. 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMA TlON: TWO 
blows upon a forest so that the trees rub against one another and burst into flame. Hence this god too is a libido-symbol, since he produces not only water but fire. 
	482 	After this prologue there follows in the second canto the 
story of the hero's antecedents. His father, the great warrior Mudjekeewis, has overcome by stealth the great bear, "the terror of the nations," and stolen from him the magic "belt of wampum," a girdle of shells. Here we meet the motif of the "treasure hard to attain," which the hero wrests from the monster. The "mystic" identity of the bear comes out in the poet's comparisons: Mudjekeewis smites the bear on the head after robbing him of the treasure: 
With the heavy blow bewildered Rose the great Bear of the mountains; But his knees beneath him trembled, And he whimpered like a woman. 
	48S 	Mudjekeewis tells him mockingly: 
Else you would not cry and whimper Like a miserable woman! ... 
But you, Bear! sit here and whimper, And disgrace your tribe by crying, Like a wretched Shaugodaya, 
Like a cowardly old woman! 
	484 	These three comparisons with a woman occur on the same 
page. What Mudjekeewis slays is his feminine component, the anima-image, whose first carrier is the mother. Like a true hero, he has snatched life from the jaws of death, from the all-devouring Terrible Mother. This deed, which as we have seen is also depicted as the journey to hell, the night sea journey (cf. pars. 308f.), or the conquest of the monster from within, signifies at the same time entry into the mother's womb, a rebirth that has notable consequences for Mudjekeewis. As in the Zosimos vision, so here the entrant becomes the pneuma, a wind-breath or spirit: Mudjekeewis becomes the West Wind, the fertilizing breath, the father of the winds.18 His sons become the other 
18 Porphyry (De antro nymPharum, p. 190). says that, according to Mithraic doctrine, the ancients "very reasonably connected winds with souls proceeding into generation, and again separating themselves from it [Le., at birth and death]. because, as some think, souls attract spirit, and have a pneumatic nature:' 
316 

VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
winds. An intermezzo tells of them and their loves, of which I will mention only the courtship of Wabun, the East Wind, because the wind's wooing is described in particularly graphic language. Every morning he sees a beautiful girl in the meadow, whom he eagerly courts: 
Every morning, gazing earthward, Still the first thing he beheld there Was her blue eyes looking at him, Two blue lakes among the rushes. 
	485 	The comparison with water is not irrelevant, because from 
"wind and water" man shall be born anew. 
And he wooed her with caresses, 
Wooed her with his smile of sunshine, With his flattering words he wooed her, With his sighing and his singing, Gentlest whispers in the branches, Softest music, sweetest odors. 
	486 	The caressing courtship of the wind is beautifully expressed 
in the lilting onomatopoeia.19 
	487 	The third canto gives us the antecedents of Hiawatha's two 
mothers. We are told that as a girl his grandmother lived in the moon. One day when she was swinging on a grape-vine, a jealous lover cut it down, and Nokomis, Hiawatha's grandmother, fell to earth. The people who saw her fall thought she was a shooting-star. The wonderful origin of Nokomis is explained more fully in the course of the same song. Young Hiawatha asks his grandmother what the moon really is. She tells him that the moon is the body of a grandmother who had been thrown up there by one of her warlike grandchildren in a fit of rage. (Cf. fig. 32.) 20 According to the ancient belief, the moon is the gath- 
19 In the Mithraic liturgy, the generating breath of the spirit comes from the sun, presumably from the "sun-tube" (cf. Part I, pars. 149-54). There is a similar idea in the Rig-Veda, where the sun is called "one-footed." Cf. the Armenian prayer that the sun may let its foot rest on the face of the worshipper. Abeghian, Der armenische Volksglaube, p. 43. 
20 [The Haida myth upon which the depiction in fig. 32 is based tells of a woman who offended the moon and was removed thence, together with her waterpail and a berry-bush she grasped in trying to save herself. Cf. Swanton, Ethnology of the Haida, p. 142.-EDlTORS.] 
317 

S\"MBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
ering-place of departed souls 21 (fig. 31) .. a guardian of the seed, and hence a source of life with a feminine significance. The remarkable thing is that N okomis, when she fell to earth~ gave birth to a daughter, Wenonah, who afterwards became the mother of Hiawatha. The throwing upward of the mother, her fall and birth-pangs, seem to be something altogether typical. A seventeenth-century story relates that a raging bull tossed a pregnant woman "as high as a house" and tore open her body, and the child fell to earth without injury. This child, on account of his wonderful birth, was supposed to be a hero or 
miracle-worker, but he died young. There is a widespread belief among primitives that the sun is feminine and the moon masculine. Among the Namaqua Hottentots, the sun is thought to consist of clear bacon-fat. "Those who travel on boats," we read,22 "draw it down by magic every evening, and after cutting off a sizeable piece, kick it up again into the sky." In infancy, food comes from the mother. In the fantasies of the Gnostics there is a legend about the origin of man which may be of some 
21 Firmicus Matemus (Matheseos libri octo, I, 5, 9, in edn. of Kroll, etc., pp. 1617): "Cui [animo] descensus per orbem solis tribuitur, per m-bem vera lunae praeparatur ascensus" (The soul is believed to descend through the disc of the sun, but its ascent is prepared through the disc of the moon). Lydus (De mensibus, IV, I, 2, in Wunsch edn., p. 66) reports the saying of the hierophant Praetextus that Janus "sends the divmer souls to the lunar throng." Epiphanius (Adversus octoginta haereses, LXVI, 52): "the disc of the moon is filled with souls." It is the same in exotic myths. Cf. Frobenius, Zeitalter, pp. 352ff• 
22 Waitz, Anthropologie der Naturvolker, II, p. 342. 
318 

Fig. 31. The moon as the abode of souls Chalcedon gem, ISt century B.C. 

relevance here. The female archons who were bound to the vault of heaven were unable, on account of its rapid rotation, to keep their young within them, but let them fall to earth, where they grew into human beings. (This may be connected with certain barbarous obstetric methods, in which women in labour were dropped or thrown to the ground.) The assault on the mother begins with the Mudjekeewis episode and is continued in the violent treatment of Grandmother Nokomis, who, as a result of the cutting of the grape-vine and her fall to earth, seems to have become pregnant in some way. The "plucking of the branch" hints, as we have already seen, at an infringement of the incest-taboo. The song about "Saxonland, where beautiful maidens grow upon trees," or proverbs like "stolen fruits are sweetest," point to a similar idea. The fall of Nokomis deserves comparison with a poetical figure in Heine: 
A star, a star is falling 
Out of the glittering sky! 
The star of Love! I watch it 
Sink in the depths and die. 
Fig. 32. The woman in the moon Tattoo pattern, Haida Indians, Northwest America 
The leaves and buds are falling From many an apple-tree; I watch the mirthful breezes Embrace them wantonly.23 
	488 	Wenonah is later wooed by the caressing West Wind and is 
made pregnant by him. Being a young moon-goddess, she is as beautiful as the moonlight. Nokomis warns her of the dangerous courtship of Mudjekeewis, but Wenonah allows herself to become infatuated and conceives from the breath of the West Wind a son, our hero: 
And the West Wind came at evening Found the beautiful Wenonah Lying there among the lilies, 
Wooed her with his words of sweetness, Wooed her with his soft caresses, 
Till she bore a son in sorrow, 
Bore a son of love and sorrow. 
23 Tram. by Untermeyet, p. 78. 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
	489 	The star or comet plainly belongs to the birth-scene; Noko- 
mis, too, comes to earth as a falling star. Morike's poetic fancy imagined another such divine conception: 
And she who bore me in her womb, And gave me food and clothing, She was a maid, a wild, brown maid, 
Who looked on men with loathing. 
She £leered at them and laughed aloud, And bade no suitor tarry; 
''I'd rather be the Wind's own bride Than have a man and marry." 
Then came the Wind and held her fast, His captive, love-enchanted; 
And 10, by him a merry child 
Within her womb was planted.24 
	490 	The same idea can be seen in the story of Buddha's marvel- 
lous birth, as told by Sir Edwin Arnold: 
Maya the queen ... 
Dreamed a strange dream; dreamed that a star from heavenSplendid, six-rayed, in colour rosy-pearl, 
Whereof the token was an Elephant. 
Six-tusked, and white as milk of Kamadhuk- 
Shot through the void; and, shining into her, 
Entered her womb upon the right.25 [PI. xLIxb.] 
	491 	During the conception 
A wind blew With unknown freshness over lands and seas. 
	492 	After the birth the four genies of the East, West, North, and 
South come to offer their services as palanquin-bearers. (Cf. the coming of the Wise Men at the birth of Christ.) To complete the symbolism, there is in the Buddha myth, besides the fertilization by star and wind, fertilization by a theriomorphic sym- 
24 [As trans. in the Hinkle edn. (1916), pp. 254-f.] 
25 The Light of Asia, Book I, p. 2. The elephant is shown penetrating Maya's side with his trunk. According to a medieval tradition, Mary's conception of Jesus took place through the ear. 
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VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
bol, the elephant, who, as Bodhisattva, begets the Buddha. In Christian picture-language the unicorn, as well as the dove, is a symbol of the spermatic Word or Spirit.26 (Cf. pI. VIII.) 
	493 	At this point we might ask ourselves why the birth of a hero 
always has to take place under such extraordinary circumstances. One would think it possible for a hero to be born in the normal manner, and then gradually to grow out of his humble and homely surroundings, perhaps with a great effort and in face of many dangers. (This motif is by no means un· common in the hero-myths.) As a general rule, however, the story of his origins is miraculous. The singular circumstances of his procreation and birth are part and parcel of the heromyth. What is the reason for these beliefs? 
	494 	The answer to this question is that the hero is not born like 
an ordinary mortal because his birth is a rebirth from the mother-wife. That is why the hero so often has two mothers. As Rank 27 has shown with a wealth of examples, the hero is frequently exposed and then reared by foster-parents. In this way he gets two mothers. An excellent example of this is the relation of Heracles to Hera. In the Hiawatha epic, Wenonah dies after giving birth, and her place is taken by N okomis.28 Buddha, too, was brought up by a foster-mother. The fostermother is sometimes an animal, e.g., the she-wolf of Romulus and Remus, etc. (pIs. II, La). The dual mother may be replaced by the motif of dual birth, which has attained a lofty signifi· cance in various religions. In Christianity, for example, baptism represents a rebirth, as we have already seen. Man is not merely born in the commonplace sense, but is born again in a mysterious manner, and so partakes of divinity. Anyone who is reborn in this way becomes a hero, a semi-divine being. Thus Christ's redemptive death on the cross was understood as a "baptism," that is to say, as rebirth through the second mother, symbolized by the tree of death. (Cf. pIs. XXXVI, XXXVII.) Christ himself said (Luke 12: 50): "But I have a baptism to be baptized with; and how am I straitened till it be accomplished!" He therefore 
26 Cf. Psychology and Alchemy, pars. 518ft'. 27 The Myth of the Birth of the Hero. 
28 The rapid death of the mother, or separation from the mother, is an essential part of the hero-myth. The same idea is expressed in the myth of the swanmaiden, who flies away again after the birth of the child, her purpose fulfilled. 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
interprets his own death-agony symbolically as the pangs of rebirth. 
	495 	The dual-mother motif suggests the idea of a dual birth. One 
of the mothers is the real, human mother, the other is the symbolical mother; in other words, she is distinguished as being divine, supernatural, or in some way extraordinary. She can also be represented theriomorphically. In certain cases she has more human proportions, and here we are dealing with projections of archetypal ideas upon persons in the immediate environment, which generally brings about complications. For instance the rebirth symbol is liable to be projected upon the step-mother or mother-in-law (unconsciously, of course), just as, for her part, the mother-in-law often finds it difficult not to make her son-inlaw her son-lover in the old mythological manner. There are innumerable variations on this motif, especially when we add individual elements to the collective mythological ones. 
	496 	He who stems from two mothers is the hero: the first birth 
makes him a mortal man, the second an immortal half-god. That is what all the hints in the story of the hero's procreation are getting at. Hiawatha's father first conquers the mother under the terrifying symbol of the bear; 29 then, having become a god himself, he begets the hero. What the hero Hiawatha then has to do is suggested to him by N okomis, when she tells him the story of the origin of the moon: he is to throw his mother up into the sky, whereupon she will become pregnant and give birth to a daughter. This rejuvenated mother would, according to the Egyptian fantasy, be given as a daughter-wife to the sungod, the "father of his mother," for purposes of self-reproduction. What Hiawatha does in this respect we shall see presently. We have already examined the behaviour of the dying and resurgent gods of the N ear East. In regard to the pre-existence of Christ, the gospel of St. John is, as we know, the crowning witness to this idea. One has only to think of the words of the Baptist (John 1: 30): "After me cometh a man which is preferred before me: for he was before me." The opening words are equally significant: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was 
29 The bear is associated with Artemis and is thus a "feminine" animal. Cf. also the Gallo-Roman Dea Artio (pI. Lb), and my "Psychological Aspects of the Kore," Case Y, i (dream) (1950/51 edn., pp. 234£·)· 
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VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made." Then follows the annunciation of the Light, of the rising sun-the Sol mysticus which was before and will be afterwards. In the baptistry at Pisa, Christ is shown bringing the tree of hfe to mankind, his head surrounded by a sun-wheel. Over thIS relief stand the words "INTROITUS SOLIS." 
	497 	Because the reborn is his own begetter, the story of his pro- 
creation is veiled beneath strange symbolical events which conceal and reveal at the same time. Quite in keeping with this is the extraordinary assertion about the virgin conception. TIle idea of supernatural conception can, of course, be taken as a metaphysical fact, but psychologically it tells us that a content of the unconscious ("child") has come into eXIstence without the natural help of a human father (i.e., consciousness). (Cf. pl. VIII.) It tells us, on the contrary, that some god has begotten the son and further that the son is identical with the father, which in psychological language means that a central archetype, the God-image, has renewed itself ("been reborn") and become "incarnate" in a way perceptible to consciousness. The "mother" corresponds to the "virgin anima," who IS not turned towards the outer world and is therefore not corrupted by It. She is turned rather towards the "inner sun," the archetype ot transcendent wholeness-the self.so 
	498 	As is consistent with the birth of the hero and renewed god 
from the ocean of the unconscious, Hiawatha passes his childhood between land and water, by the shores of the great lake: 
By the shores of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the moon, Nokomis. Dark behind it rose the forest, 
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees. Rose the firs with cones upon them; Bnght before it beat the water, 
Beat the clear and sunny water, 
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water. 
	499 	In these surroundings he was reared by N okomis. Here she 
taught him the first words and told him the first fairytales, and 30 Cf. Layard, "The Incest Taboo and the Virgin Archetype," pp. 254ft 
323 

SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
the sounds of the water and the forest mingled with them, so that the child learned to understand not only the language of men, but the language of nature: 
At the door on summer evenings Sat the little Hiawatha; 
Heard the whispering of the pine-trees, Heard the lapping of the water, 
Sounds of music, words of wonder: 
"Minne-wawa!" said the pine-trees, "Mudway-aushka!" said the water. 
	500 	Hiawatha hears human speech in the sounds of nature; thus 
he understands nature's language. The wind says "wawa." The goose cries "wawa." "Wah-wah-taysee" is the name of the little glow-worm that enchants him. Thus the poet describes the gradual drawing in of external nature into the world of the subject, and the contamination of the primary object, the mother, to whom those first lisping words were addressed and from whom the first sounds were learned, with the secondary object, nature, which imperceptibly usurps the mother's place and takes over the sounds first heard from her, together with all those feelings we later rediscover in ourselves in our warm love for Mother Nature. The subsequent blending, whether pantheistic or aesthetic, of the sensitive, civilized man with nature 31 is, looked at retrospectively, a reblending with the mother, who was our first object, with whom we were truly and wholly one. She was our first experience of an outside and at the same time of an inside: from that interior world there emerged an image, apparently a reflection of the external mother-image, yet older, more original and more imperishable than this-a mother who changed back into a Kore, into an eternally youthful figure. This is the anima, the personification of the collective unconscious. So it is not surprising if we see the old images rising up again in the graphic language of a 
31 Karl Joel (See le und Welt, pp. 153f.) says: "Life is not lessened in artists and prophets, but is enhanced. They are our guides into the Lost Paradise, which only becomes Paradise through being found again. It is not the old, mindless unity that the artist strives for, but a felt reunion: not empty unity, but full unity; not the oneness of indifference, but the oneness attained through differentiation. . . . All life is a loss of balance and a struggling back into balance. We find this return home in religion and art." 
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VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
modern philosopher, Karl Joel, symbolizing this oneness with the mother and the merging of subject and object in the unconscious. J oel gives the following account of this "Primal Experience": 32 
I lie on the seashore, the sparkling flood blue-shimmering in my dreamy eyes; light breezes flutter in the distance; the thud of the waves, charging and breaking over in foam, beats thrillingly and drowsily upon the shore-or upon the ear? I cannot tell. The far and the near become blurred into one; outside and inside merge into one another. Nearer and nearer, friendlier, like a homecoming, sounds the thud of the waves; now, like a thundering pulse, they beat in my head, now they beat over my soul, wrapping it round, consuming it, while at the same time my soul floats out of me as a blue waste of waters. Outside and inside are one. The whole symphony of sensations fades away into one tone, all senses become one sense, which is one with feeling; the world expires in the soul and the soul dissolves in the world. Our little life is rounded by a great sleep. Sleep our cradle, sleep our grave, sleep our home, from which we go forth in the morning, returning again at evening; our life a short pilgrimage, the interval between emergence from original oneness and sinking back into it! Blue shimmers the infinite sea, where the jelly-fish dreams of that primeval existence to which our thoughts still filter down through aeons of memory. For every experience entails a change and a guarantee of life's unity. At that moment when they are no longer blended together, when the experient lifts his head, still blind and dripping, from immersion in the stream of experience, from flowing away with the thing experienced; when man, amazed and estranged, detaches the change from himself and holds it before him as something alien-at that moment of estrangement the two sides of the experience are substantialized into subject and object, and at that moment consciousness is born.33 
	501 	Joel describes here, in unmistakable symbolism, the merging 
of subject and object as the reunion of mother and child. rhe symbols agree with those of mythology even in their details. There is a distinct allusion to the encircling and devouring motif. The sea that devours the sun and gives birth to it again 
32 By "primal experience" is meant that first human differentiation between subject and object, that first conscious objectivation which is psychologically inconceivable without an inner division of the human animal against himself-the very means by which he separated himself from the oneness of nature . 
aa Seele und Welt. 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
is an old acquaintance. The moment of the rise of consciousness, of the separation of subject and object, is indeed a birth. It is as though philosophical speculation hung with lame wings on a few primordial figures of human speech, beyond whose simple grandeur no thought can fly. The image of the jelly-fish is far from accidental. Once when I was eXplaining to a patient the maternal significance of water, she experienced a very disagreeable sensation at this contact with the mother-complex. "It makes me squirm," she said, "as if I'd touched a jelly-fish." The blessed state of sleep before birth and after death is, as Joe! observes, rather like an old shadowy memory of that unsuspecting state of early childhood, when there is as yet no opposition to disturb the peaceful flow of slumbering life. Again and again an inner longing draws us back, but always the life of action must struggle in deadly fear to break free lest it fall into a state of sleep. Long before Joel, an Indian chieftain had expressed the same thing in the same words to one of the restless white men: "Ah, my brother, you will never know the happiness of thinking nothing and doing nothing. This is the most delightful thing there is, next to sleep. So we were before birth, and so we shall be after death." 34 
	502 	We shall see from the later destinies of Hiawatha how im- 
portant his early childhood impressions were in his choice of a wife. Hiawatha's first deed was to kill a roe buck with his arrow: 
Dead he lay there in the forest By the ford across the river ... 
	503 	This is typical of Hiawatha's deeds. Whatever he kills gener- 
ally lies by or in the water, or better still, half in water and half on land.85 His subsequent adventures will explain why this is so. Further, the roebuck was no ordinary animal, but a magic one with an unconscious (i.e., symbolical) significance. Hiawatha made himself gloves and moccasins from its hide: the gloves gave such power to his arms that he could crumble rocks 
84 Crevecoeur, Voyage dans la haute Pensylvanie, I, p. 362. I heard much the same thing from a chief of the Pueblo Indians, who told me the Americans were mad because they were so restless. 
85 The dragons of Greek (and Swiss) legend also live in or near springs or other waters, of which they are often the guardians. This links up with the motif of the "struggle by the ford." 
326 

VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
to dust, and the moccasins had the virtue of seven-leagued boots. By clothing himself in the hide he became a sort of giant. Therefore the roebuck killed at the ford 36 was a "doctor animal," a magician who had changed his shape, or a daemonic being-a symbol, that is to say, which points to the "animal" and other such powers of the unconscious. That is why it was killed at the ford, i.e., at the crossing, on the border-line between conscious and unconscious. The animal is a representative of the unconscious, and the latter, as the matrix of consciousness, has a maternal significance, which explains why the mother was also represented by the bear. All animals belong to the Great Mother (pI. LI), and the killing of any wild animal is a transgression against the mother. Just as the mother seems a giantess to the small child, so the attribute of size passes to the archetypal Great Mother, Mother Nature. Whoever succeeds in killing the "magic" animal, the symbolic representative of the animal mother, acquires something of her gigantic strength. This is expressed by saying that the hero clothes himself in the animal's skin and in this way obtains for the magic animal a sort of resurrection. At the Aztec human sacrifices criminals played the part of gods: they were slaughtered and flayed, and the priests then wrapped themselves in the dripping pelts in order to represent the gods' resurrection and renewal.37 
	504 	In killing his first roe buck, therefore, Hiawatha was killing 
the symbolic representative of the unconscious, i.e., his own participation mystique with animal nature, and from that comes his giant strength. He now sallies forth to do battle with Mudjekeewis, the father, in order to avenge his mother Wenonah. (Cf. Gilgamesh's fight with the giant Humbaba.) In this fight the father may also be represented by some sort of magic animal which has to be overcome, but he can equally well be represented by a giant or a magician or a wicked tyrant. Mutatis mutandis the animals can be interpreted as the "mother," as the "mater saeva cupidinum," or again as that 36 Where one can wade through the water-cf. what we said above about the encircling and devouring motif. Water as an obstacle in dreams seems to indicate the mother, or a regression of libido. Crossing the water means overcoming the obstacle, i.e., the mother as symbol of man's longing for the condition of sleep or death. See my "On the Psychology of the Unconscious," p. 87. 
37 Cf. the Attic custom of stuffing a bull in spring; also the Lupercalia, Saturnalia, etc. 
327 

505 
506 

SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
amiable Isis who laid a horned viper in her husband's path-in short, they can be interpreted as the Terrible Mother who devours and destroys, and thus symbolizes death itself.38 (I remember the case of a mother who kept her children tied to her with unnatural love and devotion. At the time of the climacteric she fell into a depressive psychosis and had delirious states in which she saw herself as an animal, especially as a wolf or pig, and acted accordingly, running about on all fours, howling like a wolf or grunting like a pig. In her psychosis she had herself become the symbol of the all-devouring mother.) 
Interpretation in terms of the parents is, however, simply a fas;on de parler. In reality the whole drama takes place in the individual's own psyche, where the "parents" are not the parents at all but only their imagos: they are representations which have arisen from the conjunction of parental peculiarities with the individual disposition of the child.39 The imagos are activated and varied in every possible manner by an energy which likewise pertains to the individual; it derives from the sphere of instinct and expresses itself as instinctuality. This dynamism is represented in dreams by theriomorphic symbols. All the lions, bulls, dogs, and snakes that populate our dreams represent an undifferentiated and as yet untamed libido, which at the same time forms part of the human personality and can therefore fittingly be described as the anthropoid psyche. Like energy, the libido never manifests itself as such, but only in the form of a "force," that is to say, in the form of something in a definite energic state, be it moving bodies, chemical or electrical tension, etc. Libido is therefore tied to definite forms or states. It appears as the intensity of impulses, affects, activities, and so on. But these phenomena are never impersonal; they manifest themselves like parts of the personality. The same is true of complexes: they too behave like parts of the personality. 
It is this anthropoid psyche which will not fit into the ra38 This fact led my pupil Dr. Spiel rein to develop her idea of the death-instinct, which was then taken up by Freud. In my opinion it is not so much a question of a death-instinct as of that "other" instinct (Goethe) which signifies spiritual life. 
39 An essential part of this disposition is the a priori existence of "organizing factors," the archetypes, which are to be understood as inborn modes of functioning that constitute, in their totality, man's nature. The chick does not learn how to come out of the egg-it possesses this knowledge a priori. 
328 

507 
508 

VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
tional pattern of culture-or only very unsatisfactorily and witb extreme reluctance-and resists cultural development to the utmost. It is as though its libido were constantly striving back to the original unconscious state of untamed savagery. The road of regression leads back to childhood and finally, in a manner of speaking, into the mother's body. The intensity of this retrospective longing, so brilliantly depicted in the figure of Enkidu in the Gilgamesh Epic, becomes quite unbearable with the heightened demands made by adaptation. These may be due either to external or to internal causes. If the demand comes from "inside," the main difficulty lies not so much in unfavourable external circumstances as in an enhanced "subjective" demand that seems to increase with the years, and in the everstronger emergence of the inner, and hitherto hidden, "real" personality. The source of this change is to all appearances the anthropoid psyche, and the anthropoid psyche is also the aim and end of every regression, which immediately sets in whenever there is the least hesitation to adapt-not to speak of cases where the demands of life cannot be met at all. 
Scenting the dangers in this situation, religious and conventional morality joins forces with Freudian theory in consistently devaluing the regression and its ostensible goal-reversion to infantilism-as "infantile sexuality," "incest," "uterine fantasy," etc. Reason must here call a halt, for it is hardly possible to go farther back than the maternal uterus. At this point concretism comes up against a brick wall; what is more, moral condemnation seizes upon the regressive tendency and tries by every trick of devaluation to prevent this sacrilegious return to the mother, surreptitiously aided and abetted by the one-sided "biological" orientation of the Freudian school. But anything that exceeds the bounds of a man's personal consciousness remains unconscious and therefore appears in projection; that is to say, the semi-animal psyche with its regressive demands against which he struggles so desperately is attributed to the mother, and the defence against it is seen in the father. Projection, however, is never a cure; it prevents the conflict only on the surface, while deeper down it creates a neurosis which allows him to escape into illness. In that way the devil is cast out by Beelzebub. 
As against this, therapy must support the regression, and continue to do so until the "prenatal" stage is reached. It must 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
be remembered that the "mother" is really an imago, a psychic image merely, which has in it a number of different but very important unconscious contents. The "mother," as the first incarnation of the anima archetype, personifies in fact the whole unconscious. Hence the regression leads back only apparently to the mother; in reality she is the gateway into the unconscious, into the "realm of the Mothers." Whoever sets foot in this realm submits his conscious ego-personality to the controlling influence of the unconscious, or if he feels that he has got caught by mistake, or that somebody has tricked him into it, he will defend himself desperately, though his resistance will not turn out to his advantage. For regression, if left undisturbed, does not stop short at the "mother" but goes back beyond her to the prenatal realm of the "Eternal Feminine," to the immemorial world of archetypal possibilities where, "thronged round with images of all creation," slumbers the "divine child," patiently awaiting his conscious realization. This son is the germ of wholeness, and he is characterized as such by his specific symbols. 
	509 	When Jonah was swallowed by the whale, he was not simply 
imprisoned in the belly of the monster, but, as Paracelsus tells US,40 he saw "mighty mysteries" there. This view probably derives from the Pirke de Rabbi Elieser) which says: 
Jonah entered its mouth just as a man enters the great synagogue, and he stood there. The two eyes of the fish were like windows of glass giving light to Jonah. R. Meir said: One pearl was suspended inside the belly of the fish and it gave illumination to J onah, like this sun which shines with all its might at noon; and it showed to Jortah all that was in the sea and in the depths.41 
	510 	In the darkness of the unconscious a treasure lies hidden, 
the same "treasure hard to attain" which in our text, and in many other places too, is described as the shining pearl, or, to quote Paracelsus, as the "mystery," by which is meant a fascinosum par excellence. It is these inherent possibilities of "spiritual" or "symbolic" life and of progress which form the ultimate, though unconscious, goal of regression. By serving as a means of expression, as bridges and pointers, symbols help to 
40 Liber Azoth, ed. by Sudhoff, XIV, p. 576. 
41 Trans. by Friedlander, ch. 10, p. 69. 
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VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
prevent the libido from getting stuck in the material corporeality of the mother. Never has the dilemma been more acutely formulated than in the Nicodemus dialogue: on the one hand the impossibility of entering again into the mother's womb; on the other, the need for rebirth from "water and spirit." The hero is a hero just because he sees resistance to the forbidden goal in all life's difficulties and yet fights that resistance with the whole-hearted yearning that strives towards the treasure hard to attain, and perhaps unattainable-a yearning that paralyses and kills the ordinary man. 
	511 	Hiawatha's father is Mudjekeewis, the West Wind: the 
battle therefore is fought in the West. From that quarter came life (fertilization of Wenonah) and death (Wenonah's). Hence Hiawatha is fighting the typical battle of the hero for rebirth in the Western Sea. The fight is with the father, who is the obstacle barring the way to the goal. In other cases the fight in the West is a battle with the devouring mother. As we have seen, the danger comes from both parents: from the father, because he apparently makes regression impossible, and from the mother, because she absorbs the regressing libido and keeps it to herself, so that he who sought rebirth finds only death. Mudjekeewis, who had acquired his godlike nature by overcoming the maternal bear, is himself overcome by his son: 
Back retreated Mudjekeewis, 
Rushing westward o'er the mountains, Stumbling westward down the mountains, Three whole days retreated fighting, 
Still pursued by Hiawatha 
To the doorways of the West Wind, To the portals of the Sunset, 
To the earth's remotest border, Where into the empty spaces 
Sinks the sun, as a flamingo 
Drops into her nest at nightfall. 
	512 	The "three days" are a stereotyped expression for the "night 
sea imprisonment" (December 21 to 24). Christ, too, spent three days in the underworld. During this struggle in the West the hero wins the treasure hard to attain. In Hiawatha's case the father is forced to make a great concession to the son: he gives 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
him his divine nature,42 that very wind-nature whose incor· poreality alone protected Mudjekeewis from death.43 He says to his son: 
I will share my kingdom with you, Ruler shall you be henceforward 
Of the Northwest ·Wind, Keewaydin, Of the home-wind, the Keewaydin. 
	513 	Hiawatha's being appointed the ruler of the home-wind has 
its exact parallel in the Gilgamesh Epic, where Gilgamesh obtains from the wise old Utnapishtim, who dwells in the West, the magic herb which brings him safely over the sea to his native land (cf. pI. XIX), but which is stolen from him by a serpent on his arrival home. As a reward for his victory Hiawatha receives a "pneumatic" body, a breath-body or subtle body not subject to corruption. On the return journey he stops with a skilled arrowsmith who has a lovely daughter: 
And he named her from the river, From the waterfall he named her, Minnehaha, Laughing 'Vater. 
	514 	When Hiawatha, in his early childhood reveries, felt the 
sounds of wind and water crowding upon his ears, he recognized in the phonetics of nature the speech of his own mother. "Minnewawa" said the murmuring pines on the shore of the great lake. And once again, through the murmuring of the wind and the lapping of the water, he discovers his childhood reveries in the girl of his choice, "Minnehaha," the laughing water. For the hero, even more than the rest of mankind, finds his mother in the woman he loves, so that he can become a child again and win to immortality. The archetype of the Feminine, the anima, first appears in the mother and then transfers itself to the beloved. 
	515 	The fact that Minnehaha's father is a skilled arrowsmith 
tells us that he is a protagonist in the unconscious drama, namely the father of the hero (just as the beloved is his mother). The archetype of the wise old man first appears in the father, being a personification of meaning and spirit in its procreative 42 In the Gilgamesh Epic, too, immortality is the goal of the hero. 
43 Cf. Zosimos, "Concerning the Art" (Berthelot, Alchimistes grecs, Ill, 1, 2): ~~ aVo.")'K'1< 'fpa.TfV6j.L€vo< 7rVfUP.a. Tf"AoUP.a., (Having become a priest from necessity, I am perfected as a spirit). 
332 

VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
sense.44 The hero's father is often a master carpenter or some kind of artisan. According to an Arabian legend, Terah, the father of Abraham, was a master craftsman who could cut a shaft from any bit of wood, which means in Arabic usage that he was a begetter of excellent sons.45 In addition, he was a maker of images. Tvashtri, the father of Agni, was the cosmic architect, a smith and carpenter, and the inventor of fire-boring. Joseph, the father of Jesus, was a carpenter, and so was Cinyras, the father of Adonis, who was supposed to have invented the hammer, the lever, roof-building, and mining. The father of the many-faced Hermes, Hephaestus, was a cunning technician and sculptor. In fairytales, the hero's father is, more modestly, the traditional woodcutter. In the Rig-Veda the world is hewn from a tree by the cosmic architect, Tvashtri. To say that Hiawatha's father-in-law was an arrowsmith means, therefore, that the mythological attribute otherwise characteristic of the hero's father has been transferred to the father-in-law. This corresponds to the psychological fact that the anima always stands in the relationship of a daughter to the wise old man.46 Nor is it uncommon to find the father-in-law so much emphasized that he replaces the real father. The reason for this is the archetypal relationship we have just discussed. 
	516 	Finally, father-attributes may occasionally fall to the son him- 
self, i.e., when it has become apparent that he is of one nature with the father. The hero symbolizes a man's unconscious self, and this manifests itself empirically as the sum total of all archetypes and therefore includes the archetype of the father and of the wise old man. To that extent the hero is his own father and his own begetter. This combination of motifs can be found in the legend of Mani. He performs his great deeds as a religious teacher, then goes into hiding for years in a cave, dies, and is skinned, stuffed, and hung up. Besides that, he is an artist and has a crippled foot. There is a similar combination of motifs in Wieland the Smith. 
44 Cf. my "Phenomenology of the Spirit in Fairy Tales." 
45 Sepp, Das Heidentum und dessen Bedeutung fur das Christentum, Ill, p. 82, cited in Drews, The Christ Myth, p. 116, n. 
46 An excellent example of this is the love-story of Sophia, reported by Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, Roberts and Rambaut trans., I, p. 7. 
333 

SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
	"17 	Hiawatha kept silent, on his return to Nokomis, about what 
he had seen at the old arrowsmith's house, and did nothing further to win Minnehaha. But now something happens which, if it were not in an Indian epic, we might rather have expected to find in the anamnesis of a neurosis. Hiawatha introverts his libido, puts up the most dogged resistance to the natural course of events, and builds himself a hut in the forest in order to fast and have dreams and visions. For the first three days he wanders through the forest as in his boyhood, looking at all the animals and plants: 
Master of Life! he cried, desponding, Must our lives depend on these things? 
	518 	This question, as to whether our lives must depend on 
"these things," is very strange. It sounds as if Hiawatha found it unendurable that life should come from "these things," i.e., from the world of nature. Nature seems suddenly to have taken on an alien meaning. The only possible explanation for this is that a considerable quantity of libido which till now was unconscious has suddenly been either transferred to nature or withdrawn from it. At any rate, some crucial change has taken place in the general direction of feeling, consisting apparently in a regression of libido. Hiawatha returns home to Nokomis without having undertaken anything; but there again he is driven away, because Minnehaha is already standing in his path. So he withdraws himself still further, back into the time of early boyhood when he learnt to hear the mother-sounds in the sounds of nature, whose undertones now fill his mind with memories of Minnehaha. In this reactivation of the impressions of nature we can see a revival of those very early and powerful impressions which are only surpassed by the still stronger impressions the child received from its mother. The glamour of this feeling for her is transferred to other objects in the child's environment, and from them there emanate in later years those magical, blissful feelings which are characteristic of the earliest memories of childhood. When, therefore, Hiawatha hides himself again in the lap of nature, what he is doing is to reawaken the relationship to the mother, and to something older than the mother, and it is therefore to be expected that he will emerge reborn in some other form. 
334 

VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
	519 	Before we turn to this new creation born of introversion, 
there is still another meaning to be considered in this question of whether life must depend on "these things." Life can depend on "these things" in the quite simple sense that, without them, man must perish of hunger. In that case we would have to conclude that the question of nourishment has suddenly come to lie close to the hero's heart. The question of nourishment has to be considered here because regression to the mother is bound to revive the memory of the "alma mater," 47 the mother as the nourishing source. Incest is not the only aspect characteristic of regression: there is also the hunger that drives the child to its mother. Whoever gives up the struggle to adapt and regresses into the bosom of the family, which in the last resort is the mother's bosom, expects not only to be warmed and loved, but also to be fed. If the regression has an infantile character, it aims-without of course admitting it-at incest and nourishment. But when the regression is only apparent, and is in reality a purposive introversion of libido directed towards a goal, then the endogamous relationship, which is in any case prohibited by the incest-taboo, will be avoided, and the demand for nourishment replaced by intentional fasting, as was the case with Hiawatha. Such an attitude compels the libido to switch over to a symbol or to a symbolic equivalent of the "alma mater," in other words, to the collective unconscious. Solitude and fasting have from time immemorial been the best-known means of strengthening any meditation whose purpose is to open the door to the unconscious. 
	520 	On the fourth day of his fast Hiawatha ceases to address 
himself to nature; he lies on his couch exhausted, his eyes halfclosed, sunk in his dreams, a picture of extreme introversion. We have already seen that in such states inner experiences take the place of external life and reality. Hiawatha then has a VISIOn: 
And he saw a youth approaching, Dressed in garments green and yellow, Coming through the purple twilight, Through the splendour of the sunset; Plumes of green bent o'er his forehead, And his hair was soft and golden. 
47 Almus means 'nourishing, refreshing, kind, bountiful.' (Cf. pI. XIV4.) 
335 

SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
This singular personage addresses Hiawatha as follows: 
From the Master of Life descending, I, the friend of man, Mondamin, Come to warn you and instruct you, How by struggle and by labour 
You shall gain what you have prayed for. Rise up from your bed of branches, 
Rise, 0 youth, and wrestle with me! 
Mondamin is the maize, the Indian corn. Hiawatha's introversion gives birth to a god who is eaten. His hunger-in the twofold sense described above-his longing for the nourishing mother, calls forth from the unconscious another hero, an edible god, the maize, son of the Earth Mother. The Christian parallel is obvious. It is hardly necessary to suppose any Christian influence here, since Fray Bernardino de Sahagun had already described the eucharist of Huitzilopochtli among the Aztecs early in the sixteenth century.48 This god, too, was ceremonially eaten. Mondamin, the "friend of man," 49 challenges Hiawatha to single combat in the glow of evening. In the "purple twilight" of the setting sun (i.e., in the western land) there now ensues the mythological struggle with the god who has sprung out of the unconscious like a transformed reflection of Hiawatha's introverted consciousness. As a god or god-man he is the prototype of Hiawatha's heroic destiny; that is to say, Hiawatha has in himself the possibility, indeed the necessity, of confronting his daemon. On the way to this goal he conquers the parents and breaks his infantile ties. But the deepest tie is to the mother. Once he has conquered this by gaining access to her symbolical equivalent, he can be born again. In this tie to the maternal source lies the strength that gives the hero his extraordinary powers, his true genius, which he frees from the embrace of the unconscious by his daring and sovereign independence. Thus the god is born in him. The mystery of the "mother" is divine creative power, which appears here in the form of the corn-god Mondamin. (Cf. pI. LII.) This view is cor- 
48 Bemardino de Sahagun, General History of the Things of New Spain, Book 3, pp. 5f. [Cf. "Transformation Symbolism in the Mass," pars. 339ff. (1955/56 edn., pp. 290ff.).] 
49 For the "friend," see my discussion of Khidr in "Concerning Rebirth" (Swiss edn., pp. 73ff.). [Cf. also Psychology and Alchemy, pars. 155-57.-EDITORS.] 
336 

VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
roborated by a legend of the Cherokee Indians, "who invoke it [the corn] under the name of 'the old woman,' in allusion to a myth that it sprang from the blood of an old woman killed by her disobedient sons." 50 
Faint with famine, Hiawatha Started from his bed of branches, From the twilight of his wigwam Forth into the flush of sunset, 
Came and wrestled with Mondamin; At his touch he felt new courage Throbbing in his brain and bosom, Felt new life and hope and vigour Run through every nerve and fibre. 
	523 	The battle in the sunset with the corn-god gives Hiawatha 
new strength-necessarily so, because the fight against the paralysing grip of the unconscious calls forth man's creative powers. That is the source of all creativity, but it needs heroic courage to do battle with these forces and to wrest from them the treasure hard to attain. Whoever succeeds in this has triumphed indeed. Hiawatha wrestles with himself in order to create himself.51 The struggle again lasts for the mythical three days; and on the fourth day, as Mondamin prophesied, Hiawatha conquers him, and Mondamin, yielding up his soul, sinks to the ground. In accordance with the latter's wish, Hiawatha buries him in the earth his mother, and soon afterwards, young and fresh, the corn sprouts from his grave for the nourishment of mankind. (Cf. pI. LII.) Had Hiawatha not succeeded in conquering him, Mondamin would have "killed" him and usurped his place, with the result that Hiawatha would have become "pas. sessed" by a demon.52 
	524 	Now the remarkable thing here is that it is not Hiawatha 
who passes through death and emerges reborn, as might be expected, but the god. It is not man who is transformed into a god, but the god who undergoes transformation in and through 
50 Frazer, The Golden Bough, IV, p. 297. 
51 "You sought the heaviest burden, and found yourself."-Nietzsche. [Cf. par. 459, above.] 
1>2 Christ successfully resisted the temptations of the power-devil in the wilderness. Whoever prefers power is therefore, in the Christian view, possessed by the devil. The psychologist can only agree. 
337 

338 
SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
man. It is as though he had been asleep in the "mother," i.e., in Hiawatha's unconscious, and had then been roused and fought with so that he should not overpower his host, but should, on the contrary, himself experience death and rebirth, and reappear in the corn in a new form beneficial to mankind. Consequently he appears at first in hostile form, as an assailant with whom the hero has to wrestle. This is in keeping with the violence of all unconscious dynamism. In this manner the god manifests himself and in this form he must be overcome. The struggle has its parallel in Jacob's wrestling with the angel at the ford Jabbok. The onslaught of instinct then becomes an experience of divinity, provided that man does not succumb to it and follow it blindly, but defends his humanity against the animal nature of the divine power. It is "a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God," and "whoso is near unto me, is near unto the fire, and whoso is far from me, is far from the kingdom"; for "the Lord is a consuming fire," the Messiah is 
"the Lion of the tribe of Judah": 
Judah is a lion's whelp; 
from the prey, my son, thou art gone up. He stooped down, he couched as a lion, 
and as an old lion; who shall rouse him up? 53 
	,25 	The devil, too, "as a roaring lion, walketh about seeking 
whom he may devour." 54 These well-known examples suffice to show that this idea is very much at home even in the J udaeo- 
Christian teachings. 
	526 	In the Mithraic mysteries, the cult-hero has to fight the bull; 
in the "transitus" he carries it into the cave, where he kills it. From its death comes all fruitfulness, especially things to eat.55 (Cf. pI. XXXIII.) The cave is the equivalent of the grave. The same idea is expressed in the Christian mystery, but in a more 
53 Hebrews 10: 31; Origen, In Jeremiam, 3, 3 (see James, ApocryPhal New Testament, p. 35]; Hebrews 12 : 29; Revelation 5: 5; Genesis 49: 9· 
M I Peter 5: 8. 
55 It is an almost invariable feature of the dragon-whale myth that the hero 
begins to feel very hungry in the belly of the monster and cuts off bits of the innards for food. He is, in fact, inside the "nourishing mother." His next act is to make a fire in order to get out of the monster. In an Eskimo myth from the Bering Strait, the hero finds a woman in the whale's belly, who is its soul. 
Cf. Frobenius, Zeita/ter. 

VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
beautiful and humane form. The struggle in Christ's soul in Gethsemane, where he wrestles with himself in order to complete his work; then the "transitus," the carrying of the cross,56 when he takes on his shoulders the symbol of the deadly mother and in so doing carries himself to the grave, from which he will rise again after three days-all these images express the same fundamental thought: that Christ is a divinity who is eaten in the Lord's Supper. His death transforms him into bread and wine, which we relish as mystical food.57 The relation of Agni to the soma-drink and of Dionysus to the wine 58 should not pass without mention here. Another parallel is Samson's strangling of the lion, and the subsequent inhabitation of the dead lion by a swarm of bees, which gave rise to the riddle: "Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness." 59 These ideas seem to have played a role in the Eleusinian mysteries, too. (Cf. also pI. !Vb.) Besides Demeter 
56 The carrying of the tree (lJaAAocpopla), as we know from Strabo, played an important part in the cults of Dionysus and Ceres (Demeter). 
57 A Pyramid text dealing with the arrival of the dead Pharaoh in heaven describes how he overpowers the gods in order to assimilate their divine nature and become their lord. "His servants have caught the gods with lassoes, and have taken them and dragged them away, they have bound them, they have cut their throats and taken out their entrails, they have cut them up and cooked them in hot COOking-pots. And the king consumes their strength and eats their souls. He devours the great gods for breakfast, the middle gods for dinner, and the little gods for supper ... The king devours everything that comes his way. He consumes all things in his greed, and his magic power becomes greater than all magic power. He becomes an heir of power greater than all heirs, he becomes the lord of heaven, he eats all the crowns and bracelets, he eats the wisdom of all the gods." (Wiedemann, in Der Alte Orient, II (1900), p. 50; i.e., no. %, p. 18.) This ravenous hunger (fJovA<p.la) aptly describes man's repressive instinctuality at the stage where the parents have a predominantly nutritive significance. 
58 The sacrifice of Dionysus-Zagrells and the eating of the sacrificial meat produced the VEoS {:uovvoos, the resurrection of the god, as is apparent from the Cretan fragment of Euripides quoted by Dieterich (Mithrasliturgie, p. 105): 
o."fVOV Of {310v nlvwv, t~ ou 
,t,.<os 'Ioalov P.VOTTJS "fEVOP.TJV 
Kat VVKTl7rOAOV Za"fPfWS (3ovras TOUS WP.ocpo."fOUS oa,ras nAfoas. 
(Leading a holy life since I have been initiated into the mysteries of Idaean Zeus, and have eaten raw the flesh of Zagreus, the night-roaming shepherd.) Through eating the raw flesh the initiates assimilated the essence of the god CL the Mexican rite of Teoqualo, "god-eating," in my "Transformation Sym· bolism in the Mass," pars. 339ff. (1955/56 edn., pp. 29off.). 59 Judges 14: 14. 
339 

SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
and Persephone, Iacchus was one of the chief gods in the Eleusinian cult; he was a puer aeternus) the eternal boy, whom avid apostrophizes as follows: 
For thine is unending youth, eternal boyhood: thou art the most lovely in the lofty sky; thy face is virgin-seeming, if without horns thou stand before us.60 
	527 	The image of Iacchus was carried at the head of the great 
Eleusinian procession. It is not easy to say exactly what god Iacchus is, but he was probably a boy or a new-born son, similar perhaps to the Etruscan Tages, who bore the epithet "the freshploughed boy," because, according to legend, he sprang out of a furrow behind a peasant ploughing his fields. This image illustrates the Mondamin motif very clearly: the plough has a well-known phallic meaning (cf. fig. IS), and the furrow, as in India, stands for woman. Psychologically this image is a symbolical equivalent of copulation, the son being the edible fruit of the field. The lexicographers called him "Demeter's daimon." He was identified with Dionysus, especially with the Thracian Dionysus-Zagreus, who is supposed to have undergone the typical fate of being reborn. Hera, we are told, had stirred up the Titans against Zagreus, who tried to escape them by changing into various shapes. In the end they caught him when he had taken on the form of a bull. They then killed him, cut him in pieces, and threw the pieces into a cauldron; but Zeus slew the Titans with a thunderbolt and swallowed the still-throbbing heart of Zagreus. In this manner he was regenerated, and Zagreus stepped forth again as lacchus. 
	528 	Another thing carried in the Eleusinian procession was the 
winnowing-basket (cf. also pI. lvb), the cradle of lacchus (A,[KlJOll, mystica vannus Iacchi). The Orphic legend 61 relates that Iacchus was reared by Persephone in the underworld, where, after slumbering for three years, he awoke in the A, [KlIOlJ. The 20th of Boedromion (the month of Boedromion lasted from about September S to October S) was called Iacchus, in honour of the hero. On the evening of this day a great torchlight pro- 
60 Metamorphoses, IV, 18-20, trans. by Miller, I, p. 181. 
610rphic Hymn 46, trans. by Taylor, p. 100. Cf. Roscher, Lexikon, s.v. "Iakchos." 
340 

VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
cession was held on the sea-shore, where the search and lament of Demeter were re-enacted. The part of Demeter, who, abstaining from food and drink, wanders over the face of the earth seeking her lost daughter, has, in the American Indian epic, been taken over by Hiawatha. He turns to all creatures, but receives no answer. Just as Demeter first gets news of her daughter from the moon-goddess Hecate, so Hiawatha only finds the one he is looking for-Mondamin 62-through profound introversion, by a descent into the darkness of night, to the Mothers. As to the content of the mysteries, we have the following testimony from Bishop Asterius (c. A.D. 390): "Is not there [in Eleusis] the dark descent, and is not the solemn communion of hierophant and priestess between him and her alone? Are not the torches doused, and does not the great multitude see their salvation in that which is consummated by the two in the darkness?" 63 This clearly points to a hieros gamos which was celebrated underground. The priestess of Demeter seems to have represented the earth-goddess, or possibly the ploughed furrow.64 The descent into the earth is a piece of womb symbolism and was widespread in the form of cave worship. Plutarch says that the Magi offered sacrifices to Ahriman "in a sunless place." 65 In Lucian, the magician Mithrobarzanes descends into the bowels of the earth "at a desolate spot, marshy and sunless." 66 According to the testimony of Moses of Chorene, the Armenians worshipped "Sister Fire" and "Brother Spring" in a cave. Julian records the Attis legend of a "descent into the 
62 An exact parallel is the legend of Izanagi, the Japanese Orpheus, who followed his dead wife down to the underworld and begged her to return with him. She was willing to do so but besought him not to look at her. Izanagi then made a light with one of the "masculine" prongs of his comb and immediately lost his wife. (Frobenius, Zeitalter, p. 343.) For "wife" read "mother," "anima," "unconscious." Instead of the mother, the hero brings back fire, just as Hiawatha pro· duced the corn, Od in the runes, etc. 
63 Cited from De Jong, Das antike Mysterienwesen, p. 22. [For Asterius, bishop of Amasea, see his Homilia X in sanctos martyres, in Migne, P.G., vo!. 40, 323-24.EDITORS.] 
64 A son-lover from the Demeter myth was lasion, who lay with Demeter on a thrice-ploughed cornfield, and was struck with lightning by Zeus. (Ovid, Meta· morPhoses, IX.) 
65 .1. r07rOV a.v~A,ov.-De [side et Osiride, 369. [Cf. Babbitt trans., V, p. 113.J 66.1. xwplov ~P7Jp.ov Ka.l VAWO" Ka.l a.v~A,ov.-Menippus. [Cf. Harman trans., IV, p. 89·) 
~41 

SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
cave," from which Cybele brings back her son-lover.67 The cave where Christ was born in Bethlehem ("The House of Bread") is said to have been an Attis spelaeum. 
	529 	A further piece of Eleusinian symbolism relating to the 
celebration of the hieros gamos is the mysterious baskets (pI. LVIla), which, according to the testimony of Clement of Alexandria, contained pastries, salt-offerings, and fruit. But the synthema (confession) of the neophyte, as handed down by Clement, points to other things besides: 
I have fasted, I have drunk the mixed drink, I have taken from the cista, and after working with it I have laid it back in the basket and from the basket into the cista.68 
	530 	The question of what was in the cista has been elucidated 
by Dieterich.69 The "working" he interprets as some phallic activity which the neophyte had to perform. And there are in fact representations of the magic basket with a phallus lying in it surrounded by fruits.70 On the so-called Lovatelli funeral urn, carved with scenes supposedly taken from the Eleusinian mysteries, there is a picture of a neophyte fondling the snake entwined about Demeter. The fondling or kissing of the "fearanimal" symbolizes the ceremonial conquest of incest. According to Clement of Alexandria, there was a snake in the mystical basket.71 This snake signifies the danger that comes from the regressive movement of libido. Rohde 72 mentions that, at the Arrhetophoria festival, pastries shaped like phalli and serpents were thrown into a pit near the Thesmophorion, to invoke the blessing of children and good harvests.73 The snake 
6T KaTa{JaULS Eis avrpov.--Dratio v. [Cf. Wright trans., I, p. 463.] Here cited from Cumont, Textes, I, p. 56. 
68 Protrepticus. [C£. the WiIson trans., I, p. 13.] 'EV~UTEU<Ta, l1r-.ov TOV KVKEi:wa, ~>'a{Jov fK KluT7JS, fp-yaUa/lEVOS a7r.OIi/l7Jv .ls Ka>.aOov .al fK KaAaOov Eis .1uT7Jv. Instead of Ep-yaUa/lEVOS Lobeck suggests 1i-Y-YEVUa./lEVOS, 'after I have tasted: Dieterich (Mithrasliturgie, p. 125) keeps to the traditional reading. 
69 Dieterich, pp. 123ff. 
70 As, for instance, in a Campana bas-relief in Caetani·Lovatelli, Antichi monumenti, Pl. IV, fig. 5. [The "Lovatelli urn" is described and depicted, also, in this work.-EDlToRS.] Similarly, the Verona Priapus holds a basket filled with phalli. 
	(Cf. pl. LXlb.) 	71 Wilson trans., I, p. 17. 	72 "1;KIPA," p. 124. 
73 The mother is the giver of nourishment. St. Dominic was nourished at the breasts of the mother of God, and so was the adept in alchemy. The sun·woman of the Namaquas, of South Africa, is made of bacon·fat. Cf. the megalomaniac 
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also played a large part in the initiation ceremonies, under the strange title "0 o~a X6A1l'OV e~6~" (the god through the lap). Clement says that the symbol of the Sabazius mysteries was "The god through the lap: and that is a snake which is dragged through the laps of the initiates." 74 From Arnobius we learn: "A golden snake is let down into the lap of the initiates and is drawn out again from below." 75 In the 52nd Orphic hymn, Bacchus is invoked by the name of V1l'O/(6A1l'~~ (lying in the lap), which suggests that the god entered his devotees as if through the female genitals.76 At the Eleusinian mysteries the hierophant proclaimed in a loud voice: "The great goddess has borne a divine boy, Brimo has borne Brimos!" 77 This Christmas message "Unto us a son is born" is further elucidated by the tradition 78 that the Athenians "silently held up before the celebrants the great, the wonderful, the supreme epoptic mystery-a mown ear of corn," 79 (Cf. pI. Ivb.) 
	531 	The parallel to the motif of dying and rising again is that 
of being lost and found again. It appears ritually at exactly the same place, in connection with the hieros-gamos-like spring festivities, where the image of the god was hidden and then found again. There is an uncanonical tradition that Moses left his father's house at the age of twelve in order to instruct man- 
ideas of my patient: "I am Germania and Helvetia made of exclusively sweet butter" ("Psychology of Dementia Praecox" [1936 edn., p. 109]). 
74 Protrepticus, Il, 16. Cited in Dieterich, p. 123. (0 01<, K6A7roV OEOS, opaKwv oe fUn Kal OU'TO~ OL€'A.KOP.fVOS TOU K6A7rOV rwp ri'Aovp,EPC!.\V.) 
75 Adversus Gentes, V, 21. ("aureus coluber in sinum demittitur consecratis et eximitur rursus ab inferioribus partibus atque imis:') [Cf. Bryce and Camp bell trans., p. 244.] 
76 Cf. Nietzsche's images: "thyself pierced through," "working in thine own pit," etc. [pars. 446 and 459, above]. A prayer to Hermes in a papyrus says: 'Me /lOI, KVPLf 'Ep/lfi, ws Ta {Jpe<l>7J Els TaS KOLAias TOW -yv"aIK(;'V (Come to me, 0 Hermes, as children come into the womb of women).-Kenyon, Greek Papyri in the British Museum, I, p. 116: Pap. CXXIl, 11. 2ff.; cited in Dieterich, p. 97. 
77 h ••• 7r6rVLa KO;;POV, BPL/lW BpLJ.<ov.-Brimo = Demeter. Jupiter is said to have had intercourse with his mother Deo (Demeter) in the form of a bull. This made the goddess so furious that, to pacify her, he pretended to castrate himself. Roscher, Lexikon, IV, s.v. "Sabazios," 253, 5. 
78 De Jong, Das antike Mysterienwesen, p. 22. 
79 The corn·god of antiquity was Adonis, whose death and resurrection were celebrated annually. He was the son·lover of the mother, for the corn is the son and fructifier of the earth's womb, as Robertson (Christianity and Mythology, p. 318) has already pointed out. 
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kind. Similarly, Christ was lost by his parents, and they found him teaching wisdom in the temple, just as in the Mohammedan legend Moses and Joshua lose the fish and find in its stead Khidr, the teacher of wisdom. So, too, does the corn-god, lost and believed dead, suddenly spring from the earth in the splendour of youth. 
	532 	We can see from these accounts how comforting the Eleusin- 
ian mysteries were for the celebrant's hopes of a world to come. One epitaph says: 
Truly the blessed gods have proclaimed a most beautiful secret: 
Death comes not as a curse, but as a blessing to men! 
	533 	The Homeric hymn to Demeter says the same thing of the 
mysteries: 
Happy is he among men upon earth who has seen these mysteries; but he who is uninitiate and has no part in them, never has lot of like good things once he is dead, down in the darkness and gloom. so 
	534 	And we find the same symbolism in a nineteenth-century 
hymn by Samuel Preiswerk: 
The world is yours, Lord .Jesus, The world, on which we stand, Because it is thy world 
It cannot perish. 
Only the wheat, before it comes Up to the ligh t in its fertility, Must die in the womb of the earth First freed from its own nature. Thou goest, 0 Lord, our chief, To heaven through thy sorrows, And guide him who believes 
In thee on the same path. 
Then take us all equally 
To share in thy sorrows and kingdom, Guide us through thy gate of death, Bring thy world into the light.81 
	535 	Firmicus says of the Attis mystery: 
On a certain night the image is laid on its back in a litter, and the people bewail it with rhythmical laments. And when they have had 80 Trans. by Evelyn-White, p. 323. 
81 [As trans. in the Hinkle edn. (1916), p. 378.] 
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VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
their fill of this pretended lamentation, a light is brought in. Then the priest anoints the throats of all who wept, and this having been done, the priest whispers softly: "Take courage, ye initiates, for the god is saved, and you too shall have salvation out of sorrow." 82 
	536 	These parallels show how little there is of the human and 
personal in the Christ-image, and how strong is the universal and mythological element. The hero is an extraordinary being who is inhabited by a daemon, and it is this that makes him a hero. That is why the mythological statements about heroes are so typical and so impersonal. Christ was a divine being, as the early Christian interpretation tells us at first hand. All over the earth, in the most various forms, each with a different timecolouring, the saviour-hero appears as a fruit of the entry of libido into the maternal depths of the unconscious. The Bacchic consecrations depicted on the Farnese stucco-relief contain a scene in which a neophyte, wrapped in a mantle drawn over his head, is being led before Silenus, who holds the ALKl'Ol', which is covered with a cloth. The covering of the head signifies invisibility, that is, death.83 Among the Nandi, of East Africa, the newly-circumcised, the initiates, have to go about for a long time dressed in queer cone-shaped grass hats, which envelop them completely and reach to the ground. The circumcised have become invisible, i.e., spirits. The veil has the same significance among nuns. The neophyte dies like the seed-corn, springs up again and gets into the winnowing-basket. Proclus reports that the neophytes were buried in the ground up to their necks.84 The Church is, in a sense, the hero's grave (cf. the catacombs). The believer descends into the grave in order to rise again from the dead with the hero. It can scarcely be doubted that the underlying meaning of the Church is the mother's womb. The Tantric texts interpret the interior of the temple as the interior of the body, and the adyton is called "garbha griha," the seeding-place or uterus. We can see this quite plainly in the worship of the Holy Sepulchre, a good 
82 ("Nocte quadam simulacrum in lectica supinum ponitur, et per numeros digestis fletibus plangitur; deinde cum se ficta lamentatione satiaverint, lumen infertur: tunc a sacerdote omnium qui flebant fauces unguentur, quibus perunctis sacerdos hoc lento murmure susunat: 8app.ire ILVUTa, TaU O<oU UEU'"UILfVOU, <UTa' 'Yap TJIL'V EK ",ovwv uWT'7pia").-De errore profanarum religionum, XXII, I, p. 57. 
	88 Dieterich, p. 167. 	84 Ibid. 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
example being the Holy Sepulchre of San Stefano in Bologna. The church itself, an extremely ancient polygonal building, was built from the remains of a temple to Isis. Inside, there is an artificial spelaeum, known as the Holy Sepulchre, into which one creeps through a tiny door. 'Worshippers in such a spelaeum could hardly help identifying themselves with him who died and rose again, i.e., with the reborn. Similar initiations seem to have been performed in the neolithic caves of Hal Saflieni in Malta. An Etruscan ossuary in the archaeological museum at Florence serves at the same time as a statue of Matuta (pI. LIV), the goddess of death: the clay figure of the goddess is hollowed out inside as a receptacle for ashes. It is clear from the accompanying illustration that Matuta is the mother. Her chair is adorned with sphinxes, a fitting symbol of the mother of death. (Cf. the Oedipus myth.) 
	537 	Of the further deeds of Hiawatha only a few can interest us 
here. The battle with Mishe-Nahma, the fish-king, in the eighth canto, deserves mention as a typical battle of the sun-hero. Mishe-Nahma is a monster fish who lives at the bottom of the waters. Challenged to battle by Hiawatha, he swallows the hero together with his boat: 
In his wrath he darted upward, Flashing leaped into the sunshine, Opened his great jaws, and swallowed Both canoe and Hiawatha. 
Down into that darksome cavern Plunged the headlong Hiawatha, As a log on some black river 
Shoots and plunges down the rapids, Found himself in utter darkness, Groped about in helpless wonder, Till he felt a great heart beating, Throbbing in that utter darkness. 
And he smote it in his anger, 
With his fist, the heart of Nahma, Felt the mighty king of fishes Shudder through each nerve and fibre Crosswise then did Hiawatha 
Drag his birch-canoe for safety, 
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VII. THE DUAL MOTHER 
Lest from out the jaws of Nahma, In the turmoil and confusion, 
Forth he might be hurled and perish. 
	538 	This is the almost worldwide myth of the typical deed of the 
hero. He journeys by ship, fights the sea monster, is swallowed, struggles against being bitten and crushed to death (kicking or stamping motif), and having arrived inside the "whale-dragon," seeks the vital organ, which he proceeds to cut off or otherwise destroy. Often the monster is killed by the hero lighting a fire inside him-that is to say, in the very womb of death he secretly creates life, the rising sun. Thus the fish dies and drifts to land, where with the help of a bird the hero once more sees the light of day.85 The bird probably signifies the renewed ascent of the 
85 As an example, I will quote here the Polynesian myth of Rata (Frobenius, Zeitalter, pp. 64-66): "The boat was sailing along merrily over the ocean under a favourable wind, when one day Nganaoa called out: '0 Rata! A fearful enemy is rising up from the sea!' It was a giant clam, wide open. One of its shells was in front of the boat, the other behind, and the vessel lay in between. The next moment the horrible clam would have snapped shut and ground the boat and all its occupants to pulp. But Nganaoa was prepared for this possibility. Seizing his long spear, he thrust it quickly into the creature's belly, so that instead of snapping shut it sank instantly to the bottom of the sea. After escaping from this danger they continued on their way. Yet soon the voice of the ever watchful Nganaoa was heard again: '0 Rata! Another fearful enemy is rising up from the seal' This time it was a mighty octopus, whose giant tentacles were already wrapped round the boat to destroy it. At this critical moment Nganaoa seized his spear and plunged it into the head of the octopus. The tentacles sank down limply, and the dead monster floated away on the surface of the ocean. Once more they continued on their journey, but a still greater danger awaited them. One day the valiant Nganaoa cried out: '0 Rata! Here is a great whale!' Its huge jaws were wide open, the lower jaw was already under the boat, the upper one was over it. Another moment and the whale would have swallowed them. Then Nganaoa, the 'slayer of monsters: broke his spear in two, and just as the whale was about to crush them he stuck the two pieces in his enemy's gullet, so that he could not close his jaws. Then Nganaoa leapt into the maw of the great whale (devouring of the hero) and peered down into his belly, and what did he see? There sat his two parents, his father Tairitokerau and his mother Vaiaroa, who had been swallowed by this monster of the deep when out fishing. The oracle had come true. The voyage had reached its goal. Great was the joy of the parents of Nganaoa when they beheld their son, for they were now persuaded that their liberation was at hand. And Nganaoa, too, was bent upon vengeance. Taking one of the two sticks from the animal's gullet-the other was enough to prevent the whale from closing his jaws and to keep the passage clear for Nganaoa and his parents-he broke it into two pieces for use as fire-sticks. He told his father to 
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SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION: TWO 
sun, the rebirth of the phoenix, and is at the same time one of those "helpful animals" who render supernatural aid during the birth: birds, as aerial beings, symbolize spirits or angels. Divine messengers frequently appear at these mythological births, as can be seen from the use we still make of god-parents. The sunsymbol of the bird rising from the water is preserved etymologically in the idea of the singing swan. "Swan" derives from the root sven) like 'sun' and "sound." 86 This ascent signifies rebirth, the bringing forth of life from the mother,87 and the ultimate conquest of death, which, according to an African Negro myth, came into the world through the carelessness of one old woman: when the season of universal skin-casting came round again (for in those days people renewed themselves by casting their skins like snakes), she was absent-minded enough to put on her old skin instead of the new one, and in consequence died. 
	539 	It is easy to see what the battle with the sea monster means: 
it is the attempt to free the ego-consciousness from the deadly grip of the unconscious. The making of a fire in the monster's belly suggests as much, for it is a piece of apotropaic magic aimed at dispelling the darkness of unconsciousness. The rescue of the hero is at the same time a sunrise, the triumph of consciousness. (Cf. fig. 33.) 
	540 	Unfortunately, however, this heroic deed has no lasting 
effects. Again and again the hero must renew the struggle, and always under the symbol of deliverance from the mother. Just as Hera, in her role of the pursuing mother, is the real source of the mighty deeds performed by Heracles, so Nokomis allows Hiawatha no rest, but piles up new difficulties in his path, 
hold one piece firmly below, while he himself manipulated the upper one until the fire began to glimmer (fire-lighting). Then, blowing it into a flame, he hastened to heat the fatty parts inside the belly (i.e., the heart) with the fire. The monster, writhing with pain, sought relief by swimming to land (sea journey). As soon as it reached the sandbank (landing), father, mother and son stepped ashore through the open gullet of the dying whale (slipping out of the hero)." See 
	diagram on p. 210. 	86 [C£. par. 235, above.] 
87 In the Maori myth of Maui (Frobenius, pp. 66ff.) the monster to be overcome is Grandmother Hine-nui-te-po. Maui, the hero, says to the birds who help him: 
"My little friends, when I creep into the jaws of the old woman, you must not laugh, but once I have been in and have come out of her mouth again, you may welcome me with shouts of laughter." Then Maui creeps into the mouth of the old woman as she sleeps. 
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Fig. 33. Vidarr's fight with the Fenris-Wolf Relief from a cross, Churchyard of Gosforth, Cumberland 
hazardous adventures in which the hero may be victorious, but may also meet with his death. Man with his consciousness is always a long way behind the goals of the unconscious; unless his libido calls him forth to new dangers he sinks into slothful inactivity, or in the prime of life he is overcome with longing for the past and is paralysed. But if he rouses himself and follows the 
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