* I call attention to these parallels, for they compel as
either to accept the Hindoo stories as true, because they
coincide with that which Christians regard as "revealed
truth," or they oblige as to distrust our current ideas as
to the inspired verity of some biblical stories, founded as
they are upon the same, or a similar, basis to those of the
Brahmins. The Hindoo tale being founded in the Sinpurana,
there can be no reasonable doubt that its fabrication
preceded that of the Hebrew or Christian mythos.
The effect of these austerities alarmed all the gods, and they went to Brahma for consolation. He answered that though he was bound to grant the boon desired by a man who became powerful by his austerities, he would devise a method of rendering it inoffensive to the heavenly host. Tarika, the name borne by the Daitya, asked for the gift of unrivalled strength, and that no hand should slay him except a son of Mahadeva. This being acquired, he plundered all the minor gods—the sun, dreading him, gave no heat; and the moon, in terror, remained always at the full—in short, the devil, Tarika, usurped the entire management of the universe. Nareda—the personification of Reason—Wisdom, the Logos, or "word," now prophesied that the destined deliverer, or saviour of the world, would come from the union of Mahadeva and Parvati. But the first was indisposed to marry, and only consented to do so after being mollified by ardent devotions and great austerities enacted by the second. To the horror, however, of the discomfited world, Parvati was barren; and the gods deputed Agni to try to produce the son whom all so earnestly desired. He took the form of "a dove," and arrived in the presence of Mahadeva just as he had risen from the arms of Parvati, and received from him, in a manner not easy or necessary to describe minutely, the germ of Carticeya; but, unable to retain it, the bird let it fall from his bill into the Ganges. On the banks of this river arose, therefrom, a boy, beautiful as the moon, and bright as the sun. This was "The Saviour" promised by the prophet. When he attained to manhood, he fought the devil in a terrific combat which lasted ten whole days; but Carticeya came off the conqueror, and delivered the world. I may notice in passing that as Carticeya is represented to be the son of his father, Mahadeva alone—so Ganesa, who was born after the marriage above referred to, is said to be solely the son of his mother, Parvati; Mahadeva not having anything to do with him. It is still farther stated in the Sin purana that the husband was jealous, and displeased at this assumption of independent power by his spouse, punished her in the person of this mysterious son (Moor, H. P., page 171-2).
There is another Hindoo story in which a father alone becomes the progenitor of twins—and it is remarkable, not only for this, but for the dread which a deity is said to feel from the austerities of a man. Wheeler (History of India, vol. i, p. 78; Williams' Sanscrit Lexicon, s. v. Kripa), regards this tale as Brahmanical, and, accepting his authority, we can see that the asceticism which is introduced into the story is intended to exalt the claims of that section of the priesthood who torture themselves. It runs thus:—Saradvat, by the magnitude of his penances, frightened Indra, who sent a celestial nymph to tempt him. He resisted all her wiles, and refused all commerce with her; but his excited imagination produced one of its common effects, and from that which was "spilled upon the ground" a boy and girl arose, Drona and Kripa. In Wheeler's sketch of the story, two such miraculous events occur, for a precisely similar occurrence took place with a certain Raja—and the males sprung from this supernatural form of generation, Drona and Drupada, became cronies, and were educated together. In Wheeler's account Kripa becomes the wife of Drona, and not his twin sister. She is represented to have been born from a Brahmin named Gautama, in the same fashion as Drona was. Certes, the scribes who wrote the gospels, and doubled wonders to make them more miraculous, are far behind the Hindoos in the unblushing effrontery of their conceptions.
A story somewhat analogous to that of the origin of Carticeya—Drona and Drupada, is to be found in Grecian mythology. Therein we read (see Lempriere's Classical Dictionary, 8.V., Minerva), that Jupiter promised to his daughter, Minerva, that she should never be married—since that was her especial desire. But, unfortunately, the Thunderer had not a good memory, and was unable to foresee the future; he therefore promised to Vulcan that he would—in return for a perfect suit of armour—give him whatsoever boon he asked. The distorted god, being a great admirer of the personification of wisdom, demanded Minerva in marriage. Zeus then granted his petition and gave Minerva to him for a bride, so that "arts and arms" should thenceforth be wedded together. But the goddess disliked Vulcan, just as much as science and philosophy shun war and physical weapons. Jupiter then privately counselled his daughter to submit, apparently, but to contend, actually, whenever her husband should endeavour to caress her. This advice the goddess very artfully and determinately carried out. But Vulcan's impetuosity was extreme, and the contest between the spouses was prolonged. Though the promised wife was in the end victorious, and retained her virginity, the scene of the strife, like many another battle-field, required cleansing. The material employed by the goddess in the process was thrown down to earth, and from this stuff sprung Ericthonius, as the son of Vulcan alone, who, on attaining man's estate, became the fourth king of Athens.
A somewhat similar story is told of Jupiter (Arnobius, adv. Gentes, B. v.), who is represented as enamoured of Themis, who, when lying on the rock Agdus, in Phrygia, and there surprised by the god, resisted his desires, as Minerva had done those of Vulcan, and with a somewhat similar result. But in this instance, that which the author calls in another passage of his work, the vis Lucilii, fell upon the hard rock. This conceived, and, after ten months, the stony soil brought forth a son, called, from his maternal parent, Agdistis. His character, and even his appearance, were frightful and rugged in the extreme. His strength, recklessness, and audacity frightened all the gods. In their dilemma, Bacchus offered to give his aid, and proceeded first to make the man drunk by substituting wine for the water of the fountain from which he habitually drank. Then, by a curious contrivance, he made the fierce hunter emasculate himself. The earth swallows up the sanguinary ruins of his manhood, and in their place comes up a pomegranate tree in full bearing. This being seen by Nana, a king's daughter, she plucks some of the fruit, and lays it in her bosom. By this she becomes pregnant, and, her story being disbelieved, her father attempts to starve her. But the mother of the gods sustains her with apples (see Canticles ii. 5), and berries, or other food. Her baby, when born, is exposed as being illegitimate, but found by a goatherd and brought up—becoming the all but deified Atys.
In this legend, we see one son born without a human mother, and a second without any other father than Rimmon, or a pomegranate.*
* Agdus, Agdistis, &c—I am frequently tempted, after
reading a story like the preceding, to search in the
Sanscrit lexicon to ascertain if there can be any esoteric
signification in the legend that can be explained by that
ancient language. Arnobius opens the story with a statement
of the remote antiquity of the tale, and how it is connected
with the Great Mother. He then tells of a wild district in
Phrygia, called Agdus. Stoaes taken from it, as Themis had
enjoined, were used by Deucalion and Pyrrha to repeople the
world which had been destroyed by a flood. The great mother
was fashioned amongst the rest, and animated by the deity;
then follows the story given in the text. Now, in the
Sanscrit, Agadha signifies a "hole or chasm," and such
things have from the earliest times typified the Celestial
Mother. Agdistis I take to be a Greek form of Agasti—son
both of Mitra and Varuna by Urvasi, said to have been born
in a water-jar, to have swallowed the ocean, and compelled
the Vindhya mountains to prostrate themselves before him,
&c. (Monier Williams' Sanskrit English Lexicon, pp. 4, 6).
Themis may be a corruption of Dhamas—the moon, an epithet
of Vishnu, Yama, and Brahma; also the Supreme Spirit (M. W.
op. cit., p. 448). Deucalion seems readily to be resolved
into the dyu or div—holy, and Kalam, semen virile (M. W.,
p. 211). Pyrrha may apparently be derived from bdra—an
opening or aperture (M. W.); also bhdra—bearing, carrying,
cherishing, supporting (M. W., p. 700). Atys, described as
of surpassing beauty, may fairly be associated with atisi
and atisaya—to surpass, excel, exceed; and pre-eminence,
superiority (M. W., op. cit., p. 15). Liber, again, who is
clever enough to outwit and conquer Agdistis, may, without
too strong a stretch of imagination, come from Idbha—
obtaining, gaining, getting; capture, conquest; the rootword
is labh—to seize, to take hold of, gain, recover, regain,
fcc. (M. W., p. 861, 2). Nana, the mother of Atys the
beautiful, has probably come from nanda—happiness,
pleasure, joy, felicity, delight (M. W., op. cit. p. 467).
In the previous volumes I have referred to the pomegranate—
Hebrew, Rimmon—as an emblem. In the legend which makes Nana
conceive by eating this fruit, there are, I fancy, two
ideas—one, that the pomegranate is filled with seeds and
pulp of a red colour; the other, that in the Greek its name
is rota, or roa, which has a close resemblance in sound with
reo—to flow or gush. Of the word Midas—the name of him who
sought to bring about the union of the opposite sexes by
marrying his daughter Nana to Attis or Atys, the most
appropriate etymon which I can find in the Sanscrit is in
the root math, which signifies to strike fire by rubbing
wood together, to churn or produce by churning.
If we allow that there is truth in these derivations, we can then see how completely Arnobius has been deceived by taking the legend au pied de la lettre. He sees nothing but the exoteric side of the fable; the more instructed philosopher sees in it nothing beyond an attempt to weave a story to account for ordinary men and women existing. The Earth, from her deep womb produces stones which become male and female (compare Psalm cxxzix. 15—"When I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth." But mycologists were not always content with giving precedence in creation to the "Great Mother," consequently the "Father of all" comes upon the scene from no one knows where. Refusing to share with him her supremacy, he, like the Hindoo Mahadeva, becomes a father in spite of her. Like his parent, the son becomes raging mad, like an elephant or a horse in spring. He is tamed by castration, but the parts he loses still bear a fructifying power, and once more, a maiden—type of the celestial virgin, has offspring. Without going further into the tale, the story teller endeavours again to introduce marriage, but on the threshold arrests himself, apparently under the idea that the wedded state takes away the pleasure of freedom from fine young men. Beyond this point it would be unprofitable to go, since few of us can realize Greek ideas on certain matters.
The origin of Venus is told by Hesiod in such a manner as to lead his readers to believe that, not only was she the daughter of a father alone, but of that particular part of his body which has been deified as a Trinity. After speaking (Theogmy, 170-200), of the cruelty of Ouranos, and how his wife inspirited Cronos to punish his father by means of a sickle made of white iron extracted from her body (t.&, the earth), we read—"Then came vast Heaven, Ouranos, bringing Night with him, and eager for love, brooded around Earth (Ge) and lay stretched, I wot, on all sides; but his son from out his ambush grasped at him with his left hand, whilst in his right he took the huge sickle, long and jagged-toothed, and hastily mowed off the genitals of his sire, and threw them, to be carried away, behind him. These fell into the sea, and kept drifting a long time up and down the deep, and all around kept rising a white foam from the immortal flesh; and in it a maiden was nourished. First, she drew nigh divine Cythera, and thence came next to wave-washed Cyprus. Then forth stepped an awful, beauteous goddess; and beneath her delicate feet the verdure throve around; her, gods and men name Aphrodite the foam-sprung goddess," &c. (Bonn's Translation, p. 11,12).
Still further, we find in the Grecian mythology that Minerva was the offspring of Jupiter without a mother being in the case—unless we put faith in the tale, that the god impregnated Metis, or wisdom, and afterwards ate her up. In this case the goddess ought, however, to have emerged from the abdomen, and not from the head of her father. Vulcan, moreover, is said to have been the son of Juno alone, "who in this wished to imitate Jupiter, who had produced Minerva from his brains"—a mythos which does not tally with the statement that Zeus ordered Vulcan to cleave his head open, not the part corresponding to the yoni The tales certainly lack that evidence which the philosopher is bound to seek for; but for those orthodox believers who are bound to credit every extraordinary event which is recorded in the books of the faithful, no testimony is required. Those who feel assured that a serpent, ox, donkey, tree, bush, and other things have spoken rationally, can readily extend their trust and assure themselves that a female has had a child without a male, and vice versa—especially when the individuals were divine.