Download Homer`s Iliad, Hesiod`s Works and Days, and Herodotus`Histories

THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS
Homer’s Iliad, Hesiod’s Works and Days,
and Herodotus’ Histories
Introduction, M. Andrew Holowchak
THE EARLIEST FORM OF EDUCATION was by means of stories passed down—most
notable, those of Homer (fl. ca. 775 B.C.) and, to a lesser extent, those of Hesiod (fl. ca. 730 B.C.). For it was through these stories that children learned
about the gods’ involvement in human affairs and the adventurous deeds of
bygone heroes. Through these stories, they also learned how they were supposed to act—what it meant for them to live the best life possible.
This section comprises selections from three different works in antiquity—Homer’s Iliad, Hesiod’s Works and Days, and Herodotus’ Histories—
each of which has a somewhat different story to tell. First, Homer in his Iliad
suggests that the best possible life holds the promise of heroic action in battle. The proper ethical disposition for each young boy, then, is to cultivate
courage and display it fittingly in situations requiring it. I have chosen, from
Homer’s Iliad, the meeting of Greek and Trojan armies and the subsequent
fight between the Trojan hero, Paris, and Greek king, Menelaus (Book III).
Second, Hesiod’s Works and Days, a poem which advises on how to live
honestly through diligent work, gives an even more gloomy depiction of
human existence, where great suffering and much toil are the norm. Toil,
however arduous, is itself our only escape from suffering and a means, if we
are lucky, of winning the favor of the gods. Finally, Herodotus (fl. ca. 450
B.C.) in Histories (I.30–43) tells of the visit of the Athenian statesman, Solon,
to King Croesus at Sardis in Lydia. Croesus, fully expecting Solon to judge
him the happiest man alive, tries to impress the wise man with his opulence.
Solon is unmoved and the Lydian king is given a severe blow at the hands of
the gods for his hubris (insolent pride) and lack of moderation.
These short selections from ancient material may give readers an accurate feel for the early Greek (informal) ethical climate.
Questions and items for consideration while reading: Sketch an account
of virtuous living for each of the three authors. In each of the passages, what
is the relationship between humans and gods? Are there any telling differences between the accounts of Homer and Hesiod and that of Herodotus
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS some 300 years later? Keep in mind, when reading, the possible impact of
such “models” for later, philosophic accounts.
ILIAD, BOOK III, HOMER
T
wo armies,
The troops in divisions
Under their commanders,
The Trojans advancing across the plain
Like cranes beating their metallic wings
In the stormy sky at winter’s onset,
Unspeakable rain at their backs, their necks stretched
Toward Oceanic streams and down
To strafe the brown Pygmy race,
Bringing strife and bloodshed from the sky at dawn,
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While the Greeks moved forward in silence,
Their breath curling in long angry plumes
That acknowledged their pledges to die for each other.
Banks of mist settle on mountain peaks
And seep into the valleys. Shepherds dislike it
But for a thief it is better than night,
And a man can see only as far as he can throw a stone.
No more could the soldiers see through the cloud of dust
The armies tramped up as they moved through the plain.
And when they had almost closed—
Was it a god?—no, not a god
But Paris who stepped out from the Trojan ranks,
Leopard skin on his shoulders, curved bow, sword,
And shaking two bronze-tipped spears at the Greeks
He invited their best to fight him to the death.
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When Menelaus, who was Ares’ darling, saw him
Strutting out from the ranks, he felt
Excerpts from Homer’s Iliad, Book III, trans. Stanley Lombardo, Hackett Publishing Company,
Inc., 1998.
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS As a lion must feel when he finds the carcass
Of a stag or wild goat, and, half-starving,
Consumes it greedily even though hounds and hunters
Are swarming down on him.
It was Paris all right,
Who could have passed for a god,
And Menelaus grinned as he hefted his gear
And stepped down from his chariot. He would
Have his revenge at last. Paris’ blood
Turned milky when he saw him coming on,
And he faded back into the Trojan troops
With cheeks as pale as if he had seen—
Had almost stepped on—a poisonous snake
In a mountain pass. He could barely stand
As disdainful Trojans made room for him in the ranks,
And Hector, seeing his brother tremble at Atreus’ son,
Started in on him with these abusive epithets:
“Paris, you desperate, womanizing pretty boy!
I wish you had never been born, or had died unmarried.
Better that than this disgrace before the troops.
Can’t you just hear it, the long-haired Greeks
Chuckling and saying that our champion wins
For good looks but comes up short on offense and defense?
Is this how you were when you got up a crew
And sailed overseas, hobnobbed with the warrior caste
In a foreign country and sailed off with
A beautiful woman with marriage ties to half of them?
You’re nothing but trouble for your father and your city,
A joke to your enemies and an embarrassment to yourself.
No, don’t stand up to Menelaus: you might find out
What kind of a man it is whose wife you’re sleeping with.
You think your lyre will help you, or Aphrodite’s gifts,
Your hair, your pretty face, when you sprawl in the dust?
It’s the Trojans who are cowards, or you’d have long since
Been dressed out in stones for all the harm you’ve done.”
And Paris, handsome as a god, answered him:
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS “That’s only just, Hector. You’ve got a mind
Like an axe, you know, always sharp,
Making the skilled cut through a ship’s beam,
Multiplying force—nothing ever turns your edge.
But don’t throw golden Aphrodite’s gifts in my face.
We don’t get to choose what the gods give us, you know,
And we can’t just toss their gifts aside.
So all right, if you want me to fight, fine.
Have the Trojans and the Greeks sit down,
And Menelaus and I will square off in the middle
To fight for Helen and all her possessions.
Winner take all.
And everyone else will swear oaths of friendship,
You all to live here in the fertile Troad,
And they to go back to bluegrass Argos
And Achaea with its beautiful women.”
Hector liked what he heard.
He went out in front along the Trojan ranks
Holding a spear broadside and made them all sit down.
Greek archers and slingers were taking aim at him
And already starting to shoot arrows and stones
When Agamemnon boomed out a command
For them to hold their fire. Hector was signalling
That he had something to say, and his helmet
Caught the morning sun as he addressed both armies:
“Listen to me, Trojans, and you warriors from Greece.
Paris, on account of whom this war began, says this:
He wants all the Trojan and Greek combatants
To lay their weapons down on the ground.
He and Menelaus will square off in the middle
And fight for Helen and all her possessions.
Winner take all.
And everyone else swears oaths of friendship.”
Utter silence,
Until Menelaus, who was good at the war shout, said:
“Now listen to me, since my pain is paramount
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS In all this. It may be that the Greeks and Trojans
Can at last call it quits. We’ve had enough suffering
From this quarrel of mine that Paris began.
Whichever of us is due to die, let him die.
Then the rest of you can be done with each other.
Bring a pair of lambs, a white one and a black,
For Earth and Sun. Our side will bring another for Zeus.
And have Priam come, so he can swear oaths himself,
In person, since his sons are arrogant perjurers
Who would just as soon trample on Zeus’ solemn word.
Younger men always have their heads in the clouds.
An old man looks ahead and behind, and the result
Is far better for both parties involved.”
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You could see their mood brighten,
Greeks and Trojans both, with the hope
That this wretched war would soon be over.
They pulled their chariots up in rows,
Dismounted, and piled up their weapons.
There was not much space between the two armies.
Hector dispatched two heralds to the city
To fetch the lambs and summon Priam.
Agamemnon sent Talthybius back to the ships
With orders to bring back a lamb.
While these human heralds were off on their missions,
Iris, the gods’ herald (who is also the rainbow),
Came to white-armed Helen disguised as Laodice,
Her sister-in-law and Priam’s most beautiful daughter.
She found Helen in the main hall, weaving a folding mantle
On a great loom and designing into the blood-red fabric
The trials that the Trojans and Greeks had suffered
For her beauty under Ares’ murderous hands.
Iris stood near Helen and said:
“Come and see, dear lady, the amazing thing
The Greek and Trojan warriors have done.
They’ve fought all these years out on the plain,
Lusting for each other’s blood, but now
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS They’ve sat down in silence—halted the war—
They’re leaning back on their shields
And their long spears are stuck in the sand.
But Paris and Menelaus are going to fight
A duel with lances, and the winner
Will lay claim to you as his beloved wife.”
The goddess’s words turned Helen’s mind
Into a sweet mist of desire
For her former husband, her parents, and her city.
She dressed herself in fine silvery linens
And came out of her bedroom crying softly.
Two maids trailed behind, Aethre,
Pittheus’ daughter, and cow-eyed Clymene.
They came to the Western Gate,
Where a knot of old men sat—
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Priam, Panthous, Thymoetes,
Lampus, Clytius, Hicetaon
(Who was in Ares’ bloodline)
Ucalegon and Antenor,
Who lived and breathed wisdom—
These veterans sat on the wall by the Western Gate,
Too old to fight now, but excellent counsellors.
Think of cicadas perched on a branch,
Their delicate voices shrill in the woods.
Such were the voices of these Trojan elders
Sitting on the tower by the Western Gate.
When they saw Helen coming
Their rasping whispers flew along the wall:
“Who could blame either the Trojans or Greeks
For suffering so long for a woman like this.”
“Her eyes are not human.”
“Whatever she is, let her go back with the ships
And spare us and our children a generation of pain.”
But Priam called out to her:
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS “Come here, dear child, sit next to me
So you can see your former husband
And dear kinsmen. You are not to blame
For this war with the Greeks. The gods are.
Now tell me, who is that enormous man
Towering over the Greek troops, handsome,
Well-built? I’ve never laid eyes on such
A fine figure of a man. He looks like a king.”
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And Helen,
The sky’s brightness reflected in her mortal face:
“Reverend you are to me dear father-in-law,
A man to hold in awe. I’m so ashamed.
Death should have been a sweeter evil to me
Than following your son here, leaving my home,
My marriage, my friends, my precious daughter,
That lovely time in my life. None of it was to be,
And lamenting it has been my slow death.
But you asked me something, and I’ll answer.
That man is Agamemnon, son of Atreus,
A great king and a strong warrior both.
He was also my brother-in-law—shameless bitch
That I am—if that life was ever real.”
The old man was lost in reverie and wonder:
“The son of Atreus. Born to power and wealth.
Blessed by the gods. Now I see
How many Greek lads you command.
I thought I saw it all when I went
To Phrygia once and saw thousands
Of soldiers and gleaming horses
Under the command of Otreus and Mygdon
Massed by the banks of the Sangarios,
An army in which I myself served
On that fateful day when the Amazons
Swept down to fight against men.
They were nothing compared to these wild-eyed Greeks.”
Then he saw Odysseus and asked:
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS “Now tell me about this one, dear child,
Shorter than Agamemnon by a head
But broader in the shoulders and chest.
His armor is lying on the ground
And he’s roaming the ranks like a ram,
That’s it, just like a thick-fleeced ram
Striding through a flock of silvery sheep.”
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And Helen, Zeus’ child:
“That is Laertes’ son,
The master strategist Odysseus, born and bred
In the rocky hills of Ithaca. He knows
Every trick there is, and his mind runs deep.”
Antenor turned to her and observed astutely:
“Your words are not off the mark there, madam.
Odysseus came here once before, on an embassy
For your sake along with Menelaus.
I entertained them courteously in the great hall
And learned each man’s character and depth of mind.
Standing in a crowd of Trojans, Menelaus,
With his wide shoulders, was more prominent,
But when both were seated Odysseus was lordlier.
When it came time for each to speak in public
And weave a spell of wisdom with their words,
Menelaus spoke fluently enough, to the point
And very clearly, but briefly, since he is not
A man of many words. Being older, he spoke first.
Then Odysseus, the master strategist, rose quickly,
But just stood there, his eyes fixed on the ground.
He did not move his staff forward or backward
But held it steady. You would have thought him
A dull, surly lout without any wit. But when he
Opened his mouth and projected his voice
The words fell down like snowflakes in a blizzard.
No mortal could have vied with Odysseus then,
And we no longer held his looks against him.”
The third hero old Priam saw was Ajax.
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS “And who is that giant of a Greek over there,
Head and shoulders above the other Achaeans?”
And Helen, shining in her long trailing robes:
“That is big Ajax, the army’s mountain.
Standing beyond him is Idomeneus,
Like a god, with his Cretan commanders.
He used to come often from Crete
And Menelaus would entertain him
In our house. And now I can make out
All the other Greeks, those I know
And whose names I could tell you.
But there are two commanders I do not see,
Castor the horse breaker and the boxer
Polydeuces, my brothers, born of one mother.
Either they didn’t come here from lovely Lacedaemon,
Or else they did come in their seagoing ships
But avoid the company of the fighting men
In horror of the shame and disgrace that are mine.”
But they had long been held by the life-giving earth
There in Lacedaemon, their ancestral land.
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And now the heralds came up to the town
With the sacrificial victims, the two rams,
And as fruit of the fields, hearty wine
In a goatskin bag. The herald Idaeus
Held a gleaming bowl and a golden chalice
And roused the old man with this speech:
“Rise, son of Laomedon.
The best men of Troy and Achaea summon you
Down to the plain to swear solemn oaths.
Paris and Menelaus will fight
A duel for the woman, and she will
Follow the winner with all her possessions.
Everyone else will swear oaths of friendship,
We to live here in the fertile Troad,
And they to go back to bluegrass Argos
And Achaea with its beautiful women.”
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS The old man stiffened.
He ordered his companions to yoke his horses,
Then mounted himself and took the reins.
Antenor rode with him in the beautiful chariot
And they drove out through the Western Gate
And onto the plain. They pulled up in the space
Between the two armies and stepped down to the earth.
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Agamemnon rose,
And Odysseus, deep in thought.
Heralds brought the animals for the oaths
And mixed wine in the great bowl.
They poured water over the kings’ hands,
Then Agamemnon drew the knife
That hung by his sword scabbard
And cut hairs from the rams’ heads.
The heralds gave these to the leaders on both sides,
And Agamemnon lifted his palms to the sky:
“Zeus, Father, Lord of Ida,
Greatest and most glorious;
Helios, who sees all and hears all;
Rivers and Earth, and Powers below
Who punish perjurers after death,
Witness and protect these sacred Oaths:
If Paris Alexander kills Menelaus,
Helen and all her goods are his,
And we will sail away in our ships.
But if Menelaus kills Paris,
The Trojans will surrender Helen
With all her goods and pay the Argives
A fit penalty for generations to come.
If Priam and Priam’s sons refuse,
Upon Paris’ death, this penalty to me,
I swear to wage this war to its end.”
He spoke, then slashed the rams’ throats
And put the gasping animals on the ground,
Their proud temper undone by whetted bronze.
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS Then they all filled their cups
With wine from the bowl and poured libations
To the gods eternal and prayed,
Greek and Trojan alike, in words like these:
“Zeus almighty and most glorious
And all you other immortal gods,
Whoever breaks this oath and truce,
May their brains spill to the ground
Like this wine, theirs and their children’s,
And may other men master their wives.”
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But Zeus would not fulfill their prayers.
Then Priam spoke his mind:
“Hear me, Trojans and Achaean soldiers:
I am going back now to windswept Ilion
Since I cannot bear to see with my own eyes
My dear son fighting with Menelaus,
Who is dear to Ares. Zeus and the other immortals
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Doubtless know whose death is destined.”
And this man who was a god’s equal
Loaded the rams onto his chariot
For interment in Trojan soil, mounted,
And took the reins. Anterior stood behind him
And together they drove back to Ilion.
Priam’s son Hector and brilliant Odysseus
First measured off an arena and then
Shook lots in a bronze helmet to decide
Which of the two would cast his spear first.
You could see hands lifted to heaven
On both sides and hear whispered prayers:
“Death, Lord Zeus,
For whichever of the two
Started this business,
But grant us your peace.”
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS Great Hector shook the helmet, sunlight
Glancing off his own as he looked away,
And out jumped Paris’ lot.
The armies
Sat down, rank after rank, tooled weapons
And high-stepping horses idle by each man.
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The heroes armed.
Paris, silken-haired Helen’s present husband,
Bound greaves on his shins with silver clasps,
Put on his brother Lycaon’s breastplate,
Which fit him well, slung around his shoulders
A bronze sword inlaid with silver
And a large, heavy shield. On his head he placed
A crested helmet, and the horsehair plume
Nodded menacingly.
Likewise Menelaus’ gear.
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They put their armor on in the ranks
And then stepped out into no-man’s-land,
A cold light in their eyes.
Veterans on both sides, horse-breaking Trojans
And bronze-kneed Greeks, just sat and stared.
They stood close, closer, in the measured arena,
Shaking their spears, half-mad with jealousy.
And then Paris threw. A long shadow trailed his spear
As it moved through the air, and it hit the circle
Of Menelaus’ shield, but the spearpoint crumpled
Against its tough metal skin. It was Menelaus’ turn now,
And as he rose in his bronze he prayed to Zeus:
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“Lord Zeus, make Paris pay for the evil he’s done to me,
Smite him down with my hands so that men for all time
Will fear to transgress against a host’s offered friendship.”
With this prayer behind it Menelaus’ spear
Carried through Paris’ polished shield
And bored into the intricate breastplate,
The point shearing his shirt and nicking his ribs
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS As Paris twisted aside from black fatality.
Menelaus drew his silver-hammered sword
And came down with it hard on the crest
Of Paris’ helmet, but the blade shattered
Into three or four pieces and fell from his hands.
Menelaus groaned and looked up to the sky:
“Father Zeus, no god curses us more than you.
I thought Paris was going to pay for his crimes,
And now my sword has broken in my hands,
And my spear’s thrown away: I missed the bastard!”
As Menelaus spoke he lunged forward
And twisted his fingers into the thick horsehair
On Paris’ helmet, pivoted on his heel,
And started dragging him back to the Greeks.
The tooled-leather chinstrap of Paris’ helmet
Was cutting into his neck’s tender skin,
And Menelaus would have dragged him
All the way back and won no end of glory.
But Aphrodite, Zeus’ daughter, had all this
In sharp focus and snapped the oxhide chinstrap,
Leaving Menelaus clenching an empty helmet,
Which the hero, spinning like a discus thrower,
Heaved into the hands of the Greek spectators.
Then he went back for the kill.
But Aphrodite
Whisked Paris away with the sleight of a goddess,
Enveloping him in mist, and lofted him into
The incensed air of his vaulted bedroom.
Then she went for Helen, and found her
In a crowd of Trojan women high on the tower.
A withered hand tugged at Helen’s fragrant robe.
The goddess was now the phantom of an old woman
Who had spun wool for Helen back in Lacedaemon,
Beautiful wool, and Helen loved her dearly.
In this crone’s guise Aphrodite spoke to Helen:
“Over here. Paris wants you to come home.
He’s propped up on pillows in your bedroom,
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS So silky and beautiful you’d never think
He’d just come from combat, but was going to a dance,
Or coming from a dance and had just now sat down.”
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This wrung Helen’s heart. She knew
It was the goddess—the beautiful neck,
The irresistible line of her breasts,
The iridescent eyes. She was in awe
For a moment, and then spoke to her:
“You eerie thing, why do you love
Lying to me like this? Where are you taking me now?
Phrygia? Beautiful Maeonia? Another city
Where you have some other boyfriend for me?
Or is it because Menelaus, having just beaten Paris,
Wants to take his hateful wife back to his house
That you stand here now with treachery in your heart?
Go sit by Paris yourself! Descend from the gods’ high road,
Allow your precious feet not to tread on Olympus,
Go fret over him constantly, protect him.
Maybe someday he’ll make you his wife—or even his slave.
I’m not going back there. It would be treason
To share his bed. The Trojan women
Would hold me at fault. I have enough pain as it is.”
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And Aphrodite, angry with her, said:
“Don’t vex me, bitch, or I may let go of you
And hate you as extravagantly as I love you now.
I can make you repulsive to both sides, you know,
Trojans and Greeks, and then where will you be?”
Helen was afraid, and this child of Zeus
Pulled her silvery-white linens around her
And walked silently through the Trojan women,
Eluding them completely. The goddess went ahead
And led her to Paris’ beautiful house. The servants
Suddenly all found something to do.
Helen moved like daylight to the vaulted bedroom,
Where Aphrodite, smiling, placed a chair for her
Opposite Paris. Helen, daughter of Zeus,
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS Sat down and, averting her eyes, said reproachfully:
“Back from the war? You should have died out there,
Beaten by a real hero, my former husband.
You used to boast you were better than Menelaus,
When it came to spear work and hand-to-hand combat.
Why don’t you go challenge him to fight again,
Right now? I wouldn’t recommend it, though,
A fair fight between you and Ares’ redhead darling.
You’d go down in no time under his spear.”
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Paris answered her:
“Don’t insult me, Helen.
Menelaus beat me this time—with Athena’s help.
Next time I’ll beat him. We have gods on our side too.
Enough of this.
Let’s go to bed now and make love.
I’ve never wanted you so much,
Not even when I first took you away
From Lacedaemon in my sailing ship
And made love to you on the island of Cranae.
1 want you even more now than I wanted you then.”
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He walked to the bed, and Helen followed.
While the two of them slept in their bed,
Menelaus prowled the ranks looking for Paris.
The Trojan troops, as much as they would have liked to,
Could not produce him. To a man,
They hated Paris as they hated death itself.
So Agamemenon, as commander-in-chief, proclaimed:
“Hear me, Trojans, allied troops, and Dardanians:
The victory clearly belongs to Menelaus.
Surrender therefore Argive Helen
And all the possessions that come with her.
We will further assess a suitable penalty,
A tribute to be paid for generations to come.”
Thus Agamemnon. And the Greeks cheered.
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THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS WORKS AND DAYS, HESIOD
M
uses from Pieria, who glorify by songs, come to me, tell of Zeus your
father in your singing. Because of him mortal men are unmentioned
and mentioned, spoken and unspoken of, according to great Zeus’ will. For
easily he makes strong, and easily he oppresses the strong, easily he diminishes the conspicuous one and magnifies the inconspicuous, and easily he
makes the crooked straight and withers the proud—Zeus who thunders on
high, who dwells in the highest mansions. O hearken as thou seest and hearest, and make judgment straight with righteousness, Lord; while I should
like to tell Perses words of truth.
I see there is not only one Strife-brood on earth, there are two. One
would be commended when perceived, the other is reprehensible, and their
tempers are distinct. The one promotes ugly fighting and conflict, the brute:
no mortal is fond of her, but they are forced by the gods’ designs to do
homage to Strife the burdensome. But the other was elder born of gloomy
Night, and the son of Kronos, the high-seated one who dwells in heaven, set
her in the earth’s roots, much the better for men. She rouses even the shiftless one to work. For when someone whose work falls short looks towards
another, towards a rich man who hastens to plough and plant and manage his
household well, then neighbour vies with neighbour as he hastens to wealth:
this Strife is good for mortals.
So potter is piqued with potter, joiner with joiner,
beggar begrudges beggar, and singer singer.
Perses, lay this down in your heart, and may the Strife who exults in
misfortune not keep your heart from work, a spectator of disputes, a listener
at the debate. Little business has a man with disputes and debates who has
not food for the year laid up at home in its ripeness, produce of the earth,
Demeter’s grain. When you have got an abundance of that you can promote
disputes and conflict over other men’s property. But you will not be able to
behave so another time. Instead, without more trouble, let us settle our dispute with straight judgments, the best that Zeus sends. For we divided our
estate before, and you kept grabbing and taking much more, paying great
tribute to the lords, those bribe-swallowers, who see fit to make this their
judgment. The infants, they do not know how much more the half is than the
whole, nor how much good there is in mallow and asphodel. For the gods
“Work and Days,” by Hesiod, reprinted from Theogony and Works and Days, trans. M. L. West,
Oxford University Press, 1988.
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS keep men’s food concealed: otherwise you would easily work even in a day
enough to provide you for the whole year without working. Soon you would
stow your rudder up in the smoke, and the business of oxen and toiling
mules would disappear.
But Zeus concealed it, angry because Prometheus’ crooked cunning had
tricked him. On that account he devised grim cares for mankind; he concealed fire. The noble son of Iapetos stole it back for men from Zeus the
resourceful in the tube of a fennel, eluding the eye of Zeus whose sport is
thunder. In anger Zeus the cloud-gatherer spoke to him:
“Son of Iapetos, clever above all others, you are pleased at having stolen
fire and outwitted me—a great calamity both for yourself and for men to
come. To set against the fire I shall give them an affliction in which they will
all delight as they embrace their own misfortune.”
So saying, the father of gods and men laughed aloud; and he told
renowned Hephaestus at once to mix earth with water, to add in a human voice
and strength, and to model upon the immortal goddesses’ aspect the fair lovely
form of a maiden. Athene he told to teach her crafts, to weave the embroidered
web, and golden Aphrodite to shower charm about her head, and painful
yearning and consuming obsession; to put in a bitch’s mind and a knavish
nature, that was his instruction to Hermes the go-between, the dog-killer.
So he ordered, and they all obeyed the lord Zeus son of Kronos. At once
the renowned Ambidexter moulded from earth the likeness of a modest
maiden by Kronos’ son’s design, and the pale-eyed goddess Athene dressed
and adorned her. The Graces and the lady Temptation put necklaces of gold
about her body, and the lovely-haired spirits of ripeness garlanded her about
with spring flowers. Pallas Athene arranged all the adornment on her body.
In her breast the Go-between, the dog-killer, fashioned lies and wily pretences and a knavish nature by deep-thundering Zeus’ design; and he put in a
voice, did the herald of the gods, and he named this woman Pandora, Allgift,
because all the dwellers on Olympus made her their gift—a calamity for men
who live by bread.
When he had completed the precipitous, unmanageable trap, the father
sent the renowned dog-killer to Epimetheus taking the gift, swift messenger
of the gods. Epimetheus gave no thought to what Prometheus had told him,
never to accept a gift from Olympian Zeus but to send it back lest some
affliction befall mortals: he accepted, and had the bane before he realized it.
For formerly the tribes of men on earth lived remote from ills, without
harsh toil and the grievous sicknesses that are deadly to men. But the woman
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS unstopped the jar and let it all out, and brought grim cares upon mankind.
Only Hope remained there inside in her secure dwelling, under the lip of the
jar, and did not fly out, because the woman put the lid back in time by the
providence of Zeus the cloud-gatherer who bears the aegis. But for the rest,
countless troubles roam among men: full of ills is the earth, and full the sea.
Sicknesses visit men by day, and others by night, uninvited, bringing ill to
mortals, silently, because Zeus the resourceful deprived them of voice. Thus
there is no way to evade the purpose of Zeus.
If you like, I will summarize another tale for you, well and skillfully—
mind you take it in—telling how gods and mortal men have come from the
same starting-point.
The race of men that the immortals who dwell on Olympus made first of
all was of gold. They were in the time of Kronos, when he was king in
heaven; and they lived like gods, with carefree heart, remote from toil and
misery. Wretched old age did not affect them either, but with hands and feet
ever unchanged they enjoyed themselves in feasting, beyond all ills, and
they died as if overcome by sleep. All good things were theirs, and the graingiving soil bore its fruits of its own accord in unstinted plenty, while they at
their leisure harvested their fields in contentment amid abundance. Since the
earth covered up that race, they have been divine spirits by great Zeus’
design, good spirits on the face of the earth, watchers over mortal men,
bestowers of wealth: such is the kingly honour that they received.
A second race after that, much inferior, the dwellers on Olympus made
of silver. It resembled the golden one neither in body nor in disposition. For
a hundred years a boy would stay in the care of his mother, playing childishly at home; but after reaching adolescence and the appointed span of
youthful manhood, they lived but a little time, and in suffering, because of
their witlessness. For they could not restrain themselves from crimes against
each other, and they would not serve the immortals or sacrifice on the sacred
altars of the blessed ones, as is laid down for men in their various homelands. They were put away by Zeus son of Kronos, angry because they did
not offer honour to the blessed gods who occupy Olympus. Since the earth
covered up this race in its turn, they have been called the mortal blessed
below, second in rank, but still they too have honour.
Then Zeus the father made yet a third race of men, of bronze, not like
the silver in anything. Out of ash-trees he made them, a terrible and fierce
race, occupied with the woeful works of Ares and with acts of violence, no
eaters of corn, their stern hearts being of adamant; unshapen hulks, with
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS great strength and indescribable arms growing from their shoulders above
their stalwart bodies. They had bronze armour, bronze houses, and with
bronze they laboured, as dark iron was not available. They were laid low by
their own hands, and they went to chill Hades’ house of decay leaving no
names: mighty though they were, dark death got them, and they left the
bright sunlight.
After the earth covered up this race too, Zeus son of Kronos made yet a
fourth one upon the rich-pastured earth, a more righteous and noble one, the
godly race of the heroes who are called demigods, our predecessors on the
boundless earth. And as for them, ugly war and fearful fighting destroyed
them, some below seven-gated Thebes, the Cadmean country, as they battled
for Oedipus’ flocks, and others it led in ships over the great abyss of the sea
to Troy on account of lovely-haired Helen. There some of them were
engulfed by the consummation of death, but to some Zeus the father, son of
Kronos, granted a life and home apart from men, and settled them at the ends
of the earth. These dwell with carefree heart in the Isles of the Blessed Ones,
beside deep-swirling Oceanus: fortunate Heroes, for whom the grain-giving
soil bears its honey-sweet fruits thrice a year.
Would that I were not then among the fifth men, but either dead earlier
or born later! For now it is a race of iron; and they will never cease from toil
and misery by day or night, in constant distress, and the gods will give them
harsh troubles. Nevertheless, even they shall have good mixed with ill. Yet
Zeus will destroy this race of men also, when at birth they turn out grey at
the temples. Nor will father be like children nor children to father, nor guest
to host or comrade to comrade, nor will a brother be friendly as in former
times. Soon they will cease to respect their ageing parents, and will rail at
them with harsh words, the ruffians, in ignorance of the gods’ punishment;
nor are they likely to repay their ageing parents for their nurture. Fist-law
men; one will sack another’s town, and there will be no thanks for the man
who abides by his oath or for the righteous or worthy man, but instead they
will honour the miscreant and the criminal. Law and decency will be in fists.
The villain will do his better down by telling crooked tales, and will swear
his oath upon it. Men in their misery will everywhere be dogged by the evil
commotions of that Envy who exults in misfortune with a face full of hate.
Then verily off to Olympus from the wide-pathed earth, veiling their fair
faces with white robes, Decency and Moral Disapproval will go to join the
family of the immortals, abandoning mankind; those grim woes will remain
for mortal men, and there will be no help against evil.
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS Now I will tell a fable to the lords, although they can think for themselves. Here is how the hawk addressed the dapple-throat nightingale as he
carried her high in the clouds, grasping her in his claws; impaled on the
curved talons, she was weeping piteously, but he addressed her sternly:
“Goodness, why are you screaming? You are in the power of one much
superior, and you will go whichever way I take you, singer though you are. I
will make you my dinner if I like, or let you go. He is a fool who seeks to
compete against the stronger: he both loses the struggle and suffers injury on
top of insult.”
So spoke the swift-flying hawk, the great winged bird. But you, Perses,
must hearken to Right and not promote violence. For violence is bad for a
lowly man; not even a man of worth can carry it easily, but he sinks under it
when he runs into Blights. The road on the other side gives better passage, to
righteousness: Right gets the upper hand over violence in the end. The fool
learns only by experience. For Oath at once runs level with crooked judgments; there is angry murmuring when Right is dragged off wherever bribeswallowers choose to take her as they give judgment with crooked verdicts;
and she follows weeping to those people’s town and territories clad in darkness, bringing ill to men who drive her out and do not dispense her straight.
. . .
But for those who occupy themselves with violence and wickedness and
brutal deeds, Kronos’ son, wideseeing Zeus, marks out retribution. Often a
whole community together suffers in consequence of a bad man who does
wrong and contrives evil. From heaven Kronos’ son brings disaster upon
them, famine and with it plague, and the people waste away. The womenfolk
do not give birth, and households decline, by Olympian Zeus’ design. At
other times again he either destroys those men’s broad army or city-wall, or
punishes their ships at sea.
. . .
But you, Perses, must take in what I say and hearken to Right, forgetting
force altogether. For this was the rule for men that Kronos’ son laid down:
whereas fish and beasts and flying birds would eat one another, because
Right is not among them, to men he gave Right, which is much the best in
practice. For if a man is willing to say what he knows to be just, to him wideseeing Zeus gives prosperity; but whoever deliberately lies in his sworn testimony, therein, by injuring Right, he is blighted past healing; his family
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS remains more obscure thereafter, while the true-sworn man’s line gains in
worth.
I will speak to you as a friend, foolish Perses. Inferiority can be got in
droves, easily: the road is smooth, and she lives very near. But in front of
Superiority the immortal gods set sweat; it is a long and steep path to her,
and rough at first. But when one reaches the top, then it is easy, for all the
difficulty.
Best of all is the man who perceives everything himself, taking account
of what will be better in the long run and in the end. Good is he, too, who
follows good advice. But he who neither perceives by himself nor takes in a
lesson from another, he on the other hand is a worthless man. But you, ever
bearing my instruction in mind, must work, Perses, you who are of Zeus’
stock, so that Hunger may shun you and august fair-crowned Demeter favour
you and fill your granary with substance; for Hunger goes always with a
workshy man. Gods and men disapprove of that man who lives without
working, like in temper to the blunt-tailed drones who wear away the toil of
the bees, eating it in idleness.
. . .
Beware the punishment of the immortal blessed ones.
. . .
HISTORIES (I.30–43), HERODOTUS
30
T
his, then, was the reason—though of course there was also the sightseeing—that brought Solon to Egypt to the court of Prince Amasis and
eventually to Sardis to Croesus. When he came there, he was entertained by
Croesus in his palace, and on the third or fourth day after his arrival the servants, on Croesus’ orders, took Solon round the stores of treasures and
showed them to him in all their greatness and richness. When he had seen
them all and considered them, Croesus, as the opportunity came, put this
question to Solon: “My friend from Athens, great talk of you has come to my
Excerpts from Herodotus’ The Histories, trans. David Greene, University of Chicago Press,
1987.
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS ears, of your wisdom and your traveling; they say you have traveled over
much of the world, for the sake of what you can see in it, in your pursuit of
knowledge. So now, a longing overcomes me to ask you whether, of all men,
there is one you have seen as the most blessed of all.” He put this question
never doubting but that he himself was the most blessed. But Solon flattered
not a whit but in his answer followed the very truth. He said, “Sir, Tellus the
Athenian.” Croesus was bewildered at this but pursued his question with
insistence. “And in virtue of what is it that you judge Tellus to be most
blessed?” Solon said: “In the first place, Tellus’ city was in good state when
he had sons—good and beautiful they were—and he saw children in turn
born to all of them, and all surviving. Secondly, when he himself had come
prosperously to a moment of his life—that is, prosperously as it counts with
us—he had, besides, an ending for it that was most glorious: in a battle
between the Athenians and their neighbors in Eleusis he made a sally, routed
the enemy, and died splendidly, and the Athenians gave him a public funeral
where he fell and so honored him greatly.”
31
Solon led on Croesus by what he said of Tellus when he spoke of his many
blessings, so Croesus went further in his questioning and wanted to know
whom Solon had seen as second most blessed after the first, for he certainly
thought that he himself would win the second prize at least. But Solon
answered him and said: “Cleobis and Biton. They were men of Argive race
and had a sufficiency of livelihood and, besides, a strength of body such as I
shall show; they were both of them prize-winning athletes, and the following
story is told of them as well. There was a feast of Hera at hand for the
Argives, and their mother needs must ride to the temple; but the oxen did not
come from the fields at the right moment. The young men, being pressed by
lack of time, harnessed themselves beneath the yoke and pulled the wagon
with their mother riding on it; forty-five stades they completed on their journey and arrived at the temple. When they had done that and had been seen by
all the assembly, there came upon them the best end of a life, and in them the
god showed thoroughly how much better it is for a man to be dead than to be
alive.1 For the Argive men came and stood around the young men, congratulating them on their strength, and the women congratulated the mother on
the fine sons she had; and the mother, in her great joy at what was said and
done, stood right in front of the statue and there prayed for Cleobis and
Biton, her own sons, who had honored her so signally, that the goddess
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS should give them whatsoever is best for a man to win. After that prayer the
young men sacrificed and banqueted and laid them down to sleep in the temple where they were; they never rose more, but that was the end in which
they were held. The Argives made statues of them and dedicated them at
Delphi, as of two men who were the best of all.”
32
So Solon assigned his second prize in happiness to these men; but Croesus
was sharply provoked and said: “My Athenian friend, is the happiness that is
mine so entirely set at naught by you that you do not make me the equal of
even private men?” Solon answered: “Croesus, you asked me, who know that
the Divine is altogether jealous and prone to trouble us, and you asked me
about human matters. In the whole length of time there is much to see that
one would rather not see—and much to suffer likewise. I put the boundary of
human life at seventy years. These seventy years have twenty-five thousand
two hundred days, not counting the intercalary month;2 but if every other year
be lengthened by a month so that the seasons come out right, these intercalary
months in seventy years will be thirty-five, and the days for these months ten
hundred and fifty. So that all the days of a man’s life are twenty-six thousand
two hundred and fifty; of all those days not one brings to him anything
exactly the same as another. So, Croesus, man is entirely what befalls him. To
me it is clear that you are very rich, and clear that you are the king of many
men; but the thing that you asked me I cannot say of you yet, until I hear that
you have brought your life to an end well. For he that is greatly rich is not
more blessed than he that has enough for the day unless fortune so attend
upon him that he ends his life well, having all those fine things still with him.
Moreover, many very rich men are unblessed, and many who have a moderate competence are fortunate. Now he that is greatly rich but is unblessed has
an advantage over the lucky man in two respects only; but the latter has an
advantage over the rich and unblessed in many. The rich and unblessed man is
better able to accomplish his every desire and to support such great visitation
of evil as shall befall him. But the moderately rich and lucky man wins over
the other in these ways: true, he is not equally able to support both the visitation of evil and his own desire, but his good fortune turns these aside from
him; he is uncrippled and healthy, without evils to afflict him, and with good
children and good looks. If, in addition to all this, he shall end his life well, he
is the man you seek, the one who is worthy to be called blessed; but wait till
he is dead to call him so, and till then call him not blessed but lucky.
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS “Of course, it is impossible for one who is human to have all the good
things together, just as there is no one country that is sufficient of itself to
provide all good things for itself; but it has one thing and not another, and the
country that has the most is best. So no single person is self-sufficient; he has
one thing and lacks another. But whoso possesses most of them, continuously, and then ends his life gracefully, he, my lord, may justly win this
name you seek—at least in my judgment. But one must look always at the
end of everything—how it will come out finally. For to many the god has
shown a glimpse of blessedness only to extirpate them in the end.”
33
That was what Solon said, and he did not please Croesus at all; so the prince
sent him away, making no further account of him, thinking him assuredly a
stupid man who would let by present goods and bid him look to the end of
every matter.
34
After Solon was gone, a great visitation of evil from the god laid hold of
Croesus and one may guess that it was because he thought he was of all
mankind the most blessed. Lo, as he lay sleeping, a dream stood over him
and declared to him the very truth of the evils that were to befall his son.
Croesus had two sons, the one of them quite undone, inasmuch as he was
deaf and dumb; but the other was far the first young man of his age; his name
was Atys. It was concerning this Atys that the dream communicated with
Croesus, namely, that he should have him stricken by an iron spearpoint.
When Croesus woke up and considered with himself the dream’s message,
he was in terror of it and married his son to a wife, and besides, although the
young man had been wont to captain the Lydians, he now would send him
nowhere on any such business. And as for the javelins and spears and all
such things as men use in war, he conveyed all these out of the men’s halls
and piled them in the chambers lest any of them, as they hung on the walls,
might chance to fall on his son.
35
Now when Croesus had in hand the marriage of his son, there came to Sardis
a man in the grip of calamity, his hands full of impurity. He was a Phrygian
by race and of the royal family. This man came forward into the house of
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS Croesus and begged to win purification of Croesus after the customs of that
country. So Croesus purified him: (The manner of purification is the same
for the Lydians and the Greeks.) After he had performed the due rites, Croesus asked him where he came from and who he was, in these words: “Sir,
who are you? And from where in Phrygia have you come, that you have
become a suppliant at my hearth? What man or woman have you killed?” He
answered him: “King, I am the son of Gordias, the son of Midas, and men
call me Adrastus; and it is my brother I have killed, and I did it unwittingly. I
come before you having been driven out by my father and having had my all
taken from me.” Croesus answered him and said: “Friends are they from
whom you spring, and it is to friends also that you have come. While you
remain in my house, you will lack for nothing. As for your calamity, that you
must bear as lightly as you may, for so it will be best for you.”
36
So he had his daily living in Croesus’ house. In that same time, on the
Mysian Olympus, there appeared a boar, a great brute indeed. He made his
headquarters in that mountain and would issue from it and ravage the tilled
fields of the Mysians. Time and again the Mysians went against him but
failed to do him hurt; rather, indeed, the suffering was on their side. So, at
last, messengers of the Mysians came to Croesus and said: “King, the greatest brute of a wild boar has appeared in our country, and he is destroying our
fields. We have sought to kill him, but we cannot. Now, therefore, we beg of
you to send with us your son and bands of chosen young men and hounds,
that we may drive the boar out of the land.” That was what they asked. But
Croesus, being mindful of the dream, spoke to them thus: “As to my son,
speak of him no more. I will not send him with you. He is but newly married,
and that is all his present care. But for the chosen Lydians and all the hunt
establishment, that I will send with you and straitly order those who go to
show the utmost zeal in helping you drive the beast out of the land.”
37
Those were his words, and the Mysians were content with them. But just
then there came in the son of Croesus, having heard what the Mysians
requested. When Croesus refused to send the boy with them, he said to him:
“Father, before this, the fairest and noblest achievements of our family were
going to wars and to hunts and finding renown there. Now you have
debarred me from both, though I am sure you cannot detect in me either
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS cowardice or want of spirit. With what eyes can I show myself, going to and
from the marketplace? What kind of man will I appear to be to my fellow
countrymen? What to my newly married wife? What sort of man will she
think she is living with? Either let me go to the hunt, or let your words convince me that this action of yours is for the best.”
38
Croesus answered him: “My son, it is not cowardice or anything ugly that I
have spied in you that makes me do this but because of a dream vision,
which stood by me and declared to me that you would be short-lived. You
will die, it said, by an iron spear. So because of this vision I hastened your
marriage and will not send you on this present business, guarding how I may
possibly steal you through, for my lifetime at least. For you are the only son
I have; as to the other, since his hearing is utterly destroyed, I count him as
being no son to me.”
39
The young man answered and said: “Father, you are not at all to blame for
guarding me, since you have seen such a vision. But it is just that I should
tell you what you do not understand and how the dream has escaped you.
You say the dream declares I shall die by an iron spearpoint. What hands has
a boar? Where is there the iron spearpoint you fear? Now, if the dream had
said I should die by a tooth or anything else that fits this beast, you might
well do what you are doing. But no, it was a spearpoint. Since, then, our
fight is not with men, let me go.”
40
Croesus answered: “My son, somehow you overcome my judgment in your
reading of the dream, and being so overcome I yield to you and will change
my resolve. I will send you on this hunt.”
41
Having said that, Croesus summoned to him the Phrygian, Adrastus, and
when he came, he said to him: “Adrastus, I purified you when you were
smitten by an ugly calamity; but I am not taunting you with that. I took you
into my house and have supported you altogether. Now then, since you owe
me something—I mean the returning of good for my good to you—I would
THREE EARLY “MODELS” OF GREEK ETHICS like to send you as my son’s guardian when he goes to this hunt, lest on the
way some villains of robbers set upon you both, to your hurt. Besides, you
yourself ought to go to where brave deeds will cover you with the brightness
of glory. That is what comes to you from your own father, and besides, you
are yourself a strong young man.”
42
Adrastus answered: “King, were it not that you asked me, I would not go to
any such sport. It is not fit that someone loaded with such a calamity as mine
should go among his fellows who are fortunate. Nor have I any such wish
myself, and on many grounds I would have refused. But since you are eager
for it, and I should surely gratify you—for indeed I owe you good for
good—I am ready to do this. As for your son, whom you so urgently would
have me guard, you may look to see him come back scatheless as far as this
guardian is concerned.”
43
Those were the words with which he answered Croesus. Thereafter they
went their way, equipped with the chosen bands of young men and the
hounds. Coming to the mountain of Olympus, they searched for the beast,
and, having found him, they ringed him round and shot javelins at him. Then
the guest-friend, he that had been purified of his bloodguilt, that was called
Adrastus, cast his spear at the boar and missed him, but struck the son of
Croesus. So the son died, struck by the point of the spear, fulfilling the declaration of the dream. And one ran to Croesus to tell him what had happened.
This man came to Sardis and told him of the fight and the fate of his son.
ENDNOTES
1
I have translated the two verbs (perfect and present infinitives) as I have (and not as
“It is better to die than to live”) because for Herodotus death is not a condition.
A Christian might say that our condition after death is better than in this life, but
what Solon is after is that, if you are dead, at least the risks of trouble are over.
Hence to have the last settlement when you are lavishly winning, with all the
assets of youth, beauty, and strength in the moment of triumph on your side, is
the supreme gift, while to go on living is to go on being continually at risk.
2
The intercalary month was the Greek substitute for our leap year.