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Names : L.bpez. Ruiz. Cart)l ina. editor.
T itle: God $. heroes, and mon$te rs: a $Ou rceboo k of G reek, Roma n , and Nea r E:1stern myth $ in t r anslation e d ited b)' C~trolina L:iopez-Ruiz, The Ohio State University.
De$cr iption : Secon d edition. I New Yor k : Oxford Uni\'e rsity P ress, 20 17. Id entifie rs: LCCN 20 1605922 1 J !SBN 9780190644 819 (pbk.)
Subjects: LCSH : Mytholog)', Greek. I Mytholog)', Roma n I M)•thology, Egyptian. I ?vfythology, ASS)1 ro.Babylonia n
Classificat io n : LCC BL 3 12 .G63 2017 I DDC 201 / 3-d c23
LC record avai lable at https://lccn. loc g,w/ 20 1605922 1 987654321
Printed b)' LSC Communications in the United States of America.
Abou t t he Cov er
The Sh ield of Ach i lles-a hypothetica l recon $tructio n by Kath leen Vail
The S h ield of Achilles is described i n Home r'$ Iliad ( 18.474-608) and h as exc ited the imagination of artists and schol:1rs $ince at least the n ineteenth century. Achil le$ ' divi ne a rmo r was made by Heph :tiSt0$ him$elf out of gold , $ilve r, b ronze. and tin. Homer uses the fantastic arti fact t0 depict the cosmic and human order: scen es of war and peace, and jO)' and grief, filled the $h ield just a$ they fill the$e page$ The images, arr.mged i n concentric band$. p resumab l)' evoked the detailed low reliefs engraved in meta lwor k, especial! )' in the so.called ..orientalizing" or Daedal ic $tyle (8t h -7th cents. BCE), wh ich inspires thi$ rend ition. The im:'lgina r y shield i$ too d rn:'lmic fo r static artwo rk t0 adequate!)' represent It takes us fn">m the cosm ic elements in the centr al scene (ea r th a nd se:1. hea\'en and st11 rs) t0 t he l ife of human communities in the $u rrou n ding r ings. In two c ities, one at peace and one at war, we see a wed di ng (Y.l r t)', a judgment over a blood cr ime, men invoked i n war prepar.1tio n $ and b1tttles, and those ded icated t0 agricu lture and its festivities. Sea w".1ves su rround the sh ield's oute r rim, a$ Greeks and 'Mesopotamians belie, ed the Ocean encircled t he inhabited world
CO N TENTS +
Li st of l'l1aps xv
Li st of F ig ures xv
Intro d uction xv 11
Ac k nowle d gme nts xxv
Note on T ext Arra ngement, T ra nsliterat io ns, an d Chrono logy xxvtt
About the Ed itor xxix
Co ntr ibutors xxx
Time li ne xxxi i
i\<!aps xl iii
PART ONE AN D SO IT BE GAN
COSMOGON IES AND T HEOGON IE S
MESOPOTAl'l1IAN
1.1. Babylo nian Epic of Creat io n: E1111ma Eli1b 7
1. 2 . Tbeogo11;• ofD1111n11 22
EGYP T IAN
1. 3. Egyptian Cosmogon ies 23
1.3.a . The l'l1emphite T heology: E nd ing of the Shaba ko Stone 2 4
1. 3.b "A Hym n to Life": Coffin Te.YI! Spell 80 26
1.3 .c. Excerpt from The Teachings for Meriknre 29
IS R AE L ITE
1.4 . Go d's Creat io n , from the Boo k of Genesis 1 29
GREEK
1.5. Hesiod's Theogo,!Y 32
1.6. The Demiurge, from Plato's Ti111ae11s 49
1.7. Orphic Cosmogony: The Derven i Papyrus 54
1.8. Short Cosmogony in Apollonios of Rh odes' A1go11a111ika 56
PHOENICIAN
1.9. Phoenician Cosmogon ies 57
1.9. a. Ph i lo n ofByblos: Excerpts from the Phoenida11 History 57
1.9.b. P hoenic ian Cosmogo ni es 1'11entio ned by Damaskios 63
ROM AN
1.10. Creation 1'11yth in Ovid's Mela111orphoses, Book 1 64
1.11. Two Short Cosmogon ies, from V irg il 'sAe11eida nd Eclog11es 66
1.11 a A "Tyr ian" Cosmogony, from Ae11eid, Book 1 66
1.11 .b . Cosmic Song of Silenus, from Edog11es 6 67
PARTT\li'O MANKIND CREATED. MANKIN D DESTROY ED 69
MESOPOTA1'11IAN
2.1. Mesopotamian Flood Stories 74
2. 1. a . Atrahasis 75
2. 1. b Floo d Story from the Epic ofGilga111esh, Tablet XI 87
EGYPTIAN
2.2. Egyptian Texrs on the Creat ion a nd D estruct io n ofi\1ank in d 90
2.2.a . Excerpts from the Cof!in Texts 90
2.2.b Excerpt from the Book ofthe Heaue11/y C01v 92
ISRAELITE
2.3. Adam a nd Eve, from Genesis 2-3 9 4
2.4. Th e Story of Noah, from Genesis 6-9 97
GREEK
2.5. Hesiod's Prometheus, Pandora, and Five Races of Mankind, from IVorks a11d Dll)'S 100
2.6. The Creat io n and Attributes of Mank ind, from Plato's Protagoras 105
2.7. D eu kali on and P yrr ha : The Greek Floo d , from Apollo dorus' Library 108
ROMAN-LATE GREEK
2.8. The Ages of 1'11ank ind and the F lood, from Ov id , Metmnorpboses, Book 1 112
2.9. Vi rgil's Go lden Age, from Georgics, Book 1 120
2.10. A n Orphic Anth ropogony 121
PART THREE EPIC STRUGGLES: CODS. HEROES. AND MONSTERS 123
MESOPOTAJ\1IAN
3 1 The Epic of Gi/ga1J1t1b (Se lectio ns) 128
EGYPTIAN
3.2. The D isputes between Horus and Seth 143
3.3 . Tale oftbe Sbip,vrecked Sailor 145
ANATOLI AN
3.4. Hittite l\1yths 149
3.4.a . Anatolia n l\1yt h of !!h!)'a11ka 150
3.4.b. The Hurro-H ittite K11marbi yrcle 154
CANAAN IT E
3.5 . Ugar itic Epic Poems 176
3.5 a The Baal (}de 177
3.5 .b . TheAqbal Epic 191
ISRAELITE
3.6. Yah,veh as a Storm God : P sa lm 29 19 9
3 7 D avi d an d Go liath: 1 Samue l 17 20 1
GREEK
3 8 Homer's Gods a nd Heroes in Battle: Iliad, Book 5 204
3.9. Apollo's J ourney : Th e Ho1J1eric H;•m1110Apollo 234
3 10 Di o nysos' l\1any Faces 247
3.10. a. Th e Ho1J1eric H;•1m1 lo Diol!J'SOS 248
3 10.b. The Ope n ing of Euripides' Bacthae 250
3.10.c. Di o nysos' Birth a nd \'{/anderings, from Apollodo r us' Library 252
3 11. Jason a nd the Argo nauts, from Apollodorus ' Library 254
3.12. Argive Heroes: Bellerophon, Perseus , and Herakles, from Apollodorus' Library 262
3.12.a . Bellerophon and the Chimaera 264
3.12.b. Perseus' Adventures 265
3 12.c . Herakles' Life and Labors 268
3 13 The Theban Saga: Oed ip us an d the Seven aga inst Thebes, from Apollodo ru s' Library 286
PART FOUR OF CI T IES AND PEOP LES 293
EGYP T IAN
4. 1. T h e Foundatio n of a H eliopo lis Temple by Senusret I 299
ANAT O L IAN
4 .2 . T he H u rro-H itt ite Soi(g of Rekose (Destru ct ion of t he City of Ebia) 301
IS R AE LITE
4.3 Cain and Abe l: Ge nesis 4 310
4.4. Th eTowerof B abel: Genes is 11 311
4.5 Abra ha m's T est, fro m Ge nes is 22 312
4. 6. l'v[oses and the I s raelites' Exodus, fro m the Boo k of Exo du s 313
MESOPOT Al'l1IAN
4.7. T he Sargo n Legend 319
4 7 a Th e Su me ri a n Sa rgon Legen d 320
4 7 b T h e Neo-Assyr ian Sargon B i r t h Legend 322
G R EEK-PE RSIAN
4. 8. B irth of Cyrus t he Great, from H e rodotos ' Hisloriu 322
G R EEK
4.9. T h e Foundat io n of Cyre ne 326
4 9 a. H erodotos on t he Foundatio n of Cyre ne 326
4 .9. b. Cyre ne in Pin dar, Iy1bia11 Ode 5 329
4 .10. Athens and A tl antis , from P lato's Ti111ae111and Krilias 333
4 11 T heseus : An Athe n ian Civ ic Hero 346
4 .11 .a . Theseus ' Exp loits, from Apollo dorus' Library 3 46
4 11 b T he U n ifi cat io n of Attica, fro m P lu tarch's LiftofThue11s 353
4 .12 . Ka dm os, Europa, and the Fou ndation of T h ebes 355
4 .12 .a . Th e Foundat io n of Thebes, from Apollo dorus' Library 355
4 12 b T he " R ape of Eu ropa" and the Fou ndation of T hebes, fro m Ovid, Meta111orpbosu, Boo ks 2-3 357
P HOEN ICIAN-WESTE R N l'l1E DITE RR ANEAN
4 .13. Tyre's Foundat io n Sto r y, from Nonnos' Dio1t)'Jioka 361
4 14 T h e Foundat io n of Ca r t hage 36 4
4 .14.a . Carthage's Fou ndat ion Legend, fro m Justin , Epito111e of Trog111 364
4 .14.b . Th e D a,vn of Carthage in V irgi l's Ae,,eid, B oo k 1 367
4 .15. Gargor is a nd H ab is: Cu lture H eroes in Iberia, fro m J u sti n, Epito111e of Trog11s 372
ROMA N
4 16 The Foundation of Rome 375
4 .16.a . Beginnings of R ome, from Livy's History of Ro,ne, B ook 1 375
4 .16.b . Romu lus and Remus, from P lutarch's Lift of Ro,n11h1s 381
PART FIVE EROS AND THE LABORS OF LOVE 383
i\<!ESOPOTAJ\1IAN
5.1. Ishtar and Gilgamesh : Epic ofGi/gfllnesh, Tab let VI 387
EGYPTIAN
5.2. Story ofthe Tivo Brothers 390
ISRAELITE
5.3 Joseph and Potiphar 's \'{life : Ge ne sis 39 392
GREEK-ROJ\1AN
5.4. Aphro dite an d Anch ises : The Homeric Hy111n to Aphrodite 394
5.5 . i\,[edea an d Jason, from Euripides' Medea 40 1
5 6 T he Or igins of Love Acc o rd ing to Aristophanes, from Plato's .l)'lll/JOJilllll 406
5.7. T eiresias : A Transgendered Seer, from Apoll odorus' Library 409
5 8 "Hymn to Venus ," from Lucretius' De n,11111 na/11ra 41 1
5.9. Aeneas and Did o, from Virgi l's Aeneid, Books 1 and 4 41 2
5.1 0 Pasiphae an d t he Cretan Bull 420
5.10.a . l\1 inos, Pasiphae , and the Bull, from Apo llo dorus' Library 420
5 10 b Pasiphae's Passion, from Ovid's ArsA111atorio, Book 1 42 1
5.10.c. l\1 inos and the Bull, from Ovid's Meta,norphoses, Book 8 422
5.11 . T heseus and Ar iadne 423
5. 11. a Aria dn e's Fate, from Plutarch, LifeofThese111 42 3
5. 11 .b . Aria dne to Th eseus : Ovid, Heroides 10 424
5 12 Phaedra to Hippolyrus: Ov id , Heroide14 428
5.13. Pe nelope to U lysses : Ov id, Heroit!es 1 432
5.14 . Hermaphroditus, from Ovi d's 1vfeto111orphoses, Book 4 434
5.1 5 Cep ha lus and Procris, from Ovid's Meto111orphoses, Book 7 437
5.1 6. H yac inth an d Apollo, from Ovid's Met01norpho1es, Book 10 441
5.1 7. P ygmal io n's Statue, from Ovi d 's Meto111orphose1, Book 10 443
5.18. i\<!yrrha a nd Ci nyras , from Ovid's Mefa,norphoses, Book 10 444
5 19 Caenis-Cae neus, from Ovid's Meto111orphoses, Book 12 448
5 20. Ach ille s at Skyros, from Statius' Arhilleid 449
5. 21. Cup id an d Psyche, from Apu leiu s, The Golden A11, Books 4-6 457
PART SIX DEATH AND T HE AFTER.L IFE JOURNEY 469
MESOPOTAJ\1IAN
6.1 . Sumerian Poem Ci/ga1J1t1h, E11kid11, and the Nethenvorld (Excerpt) 475
6.2 Gilgamesh and the Undenvorld : EpicofCi/gfllnnh, Tab letS X-X I 48 1
6.3 . !1htar'1 Desce11/ lo the U11denvorld 488
EGYPTIAN
6.4 . Great Hymn to Os ir is 492
6.5. T he Fight bet\veen Re and Apep, from the Book ofthe Dead 495
GREEK-EGYPTIAN
6.6. I s is and Os iris, from Plutarch's De !side el Osiride 497
GREEK
6.7. Odysseus' Nek;yia in Homer, 0,1;,sse;,, Book 11 503
6.8. The Homeric !-[y,nn lo De1J1e/er 523
6.9 Instructions for the Hereafter: An Orphic Go ld Tablet 534
6 10 The Story of Er, from Plato's Rep11blic 536
ROMAN
6.11. Adon is, from Ov id's 1l1eta1J1orphoses, B ook 10 541
6.12. Orpheus and Eurydice, from V irgil's Ceorgiu, Book 4 544
6 13 Aeneas' Katab,11i!, from Virgil's Aeneid, Book 6 546
6.14. T he Dream ofScipio, from C icero's De re p11b/ica 573
6 15 Psyche's Descent to the Underworld , from Apu leius, The Colde11A1s,
B ook 6 580
Glossary of Techn ica l Terms 583
B ibi iography 587
References 599
Figure Credits 609
Index of Places and Characters 611
Color platesfo//o,v page 382
LI ST O F MA PS +
Inside FroJ1t Cover: T he Near East and th e Medite r ra nea n i n the La te Bronze Age
Inside Batk Cover. The Medi terra nea n i n the A rcha ic Pe r iod, eighth -s i xth ce ntu rie s BCE
1\•fap 1: The Near East and the Aegean i n the Late Bron ze Age
1\•fap 2: The Nea r East du ring the Assy ri an and Babylo n ian E mpires, eighth-sixth centur ies BCE
1\•fap 3: G ree ks and Phoenici ans in the Medite rrane an, eighth-sixth cen t u ri es BCE
1\•fap 4: G r eece a n d the Aegean in Arch aic - C lassic al T imes
1\•fap 5: The Roman E m pire a t the D eath of Augustu s (14 CE)
1\•fap 6: Babylonian \Xlo rl d Map
1\•fap 7: \Xlo rJd Map Acco rding to Hec ataeus o f 1\•fil etos
LI ST OF FI C UR.E S +
Figure 1: Os iris as king of the dead an d first mummy, p ain ted i n Egyptian tomb
Figu re 2: A hare . looki ng cat o r uso lar cat," painted in Egyptian tomb.
F igu re 3: lv!csopotam ian cyli nde r seal with bull -man lighting a lio n a nd hero lighting a b ull.
F igu re 4: lv!csopotam ian clay mask of Hu m baba
F igu re 5: No rth -\Xlest Sem itic sto rm god Baal in a s tcle from Ugarit.
F igu re 6: Neo- H ittite stor m god i n a stel e from Babylon
F igu re 7: Assyrian s tatue of a hero tami ng a lio n, probab ly Gi lgames h.
F igu re 8: Perseus slaying t he Gorgon ]\,fcd usa wi th t he aid of A thena , fr om Sclinous, Sicily
F igu re 9: Yahweh and Asherah {?) in a n ostracon from Kunti llet Aj ru d (S inai)
Figu re 10: "Rape of E uropa" on a co in fro m the Phoe nician city of Sidon .
F igu re 11: Dionysos, Hades, a nd Persephone o n a vo lute crate r from Apulia
F igu re 12: Orp hic Go ld Tablet fro m Petelia (I taly).
Figu re 13: Alexand e r d lc G reat as A m o n o n a tctradrachm .
F igu re 14: Herakles ]\,fcJqart on a Carthagin ian s ilve r double s hekel.
F igu re 15: Ae neas o n a de narius of Juli us Caesar.
F igu re 16: I nteri or of t he te m ple of Venu s and Roma in Rome.
F igu re 17: " Prometheus mosaic" from Edcssa, Syria .
F igu re 18: Aph rodite and C upi d in a Byzan tine mosaic from Madaba, J o rdan.
F igu re 19: Achilles reveali ng hi mself as a man o n a Late Roman si lver plate.
F igu re 20: Adam and Eve banned from E d en in t he Sisti ne C hapel, Rome.
F igu re 21: Theseus s laying d, e 1\•finotau r i n a Neoc lass ical sculpture, P aris.
F igu re 22: Con test between Athena and Poseid o n in t he Parthenon repl ica in Nas hville, Ten nessee.
F igu re 23: Statue o f Prometheus by P aul Manshi p (1934), New Yo rk
F igu re 24: Detail o f The Lightning~ Bride, by Elliot Hundley ( 20 11).
I N TRODUC TI ON +
U N LI KE othe r introduct io ns to class ical mytho logy, t hi s volume sets itsel f apa r t by systemat icall y includ in g, alo ngs ide more fam iliar Greek and Roman texts, comp a rab le nar ratives fro m t he ancient Near East, s pec ifica lly from 1'11esopota m ia, Egypt, Anato lia, Ugar it, Ph oe n icia , and I srae l. T hese sou rc es amount to about o ne th ird of the volu me you are ho ld ing T his m o re co m p re hens ive app roa c h requ i res some explanation , espe ci ally fo r readers w ho m ight intu iti ve ly a ssoc iate the term "class ical " w ith the li te ratures of Greece a nd Rome. Th is anthology re fl ects our inc reas ing knowledge of the interco nn ected cu ltu res of the a nci e n t wo rld and the g rowing reali zation th a t impor tant mytho logical narratives of Gree ce a n d Rome evo lve d from and we re in d ialogue w ith t hei r cou n terparts in the ancien t Near E a st . J'l,(o reover, in t h e cr it ical an d most c reat ive pe ri o d , reac hi ng fro m the m id-seco nd to the late fi rst m i ll e nn ium BCE, G ree ce a nd Rome pa r tici pate d in a worl d whose ce n ter of gravity lay to th e ir east, in the a rc from t he Ni le to J'l,(eso potam ia T his volu me, th erefo re, p roposes a reconsi d e rat ion of the " cl assica l." T he Epic of Gilga111e1h, fro m 1'11esopota m ia, was , after a ll , a true "class ic" i n its t ime , re q ui re d re ad ing fo r a ll w ho cl aime d to be edu cated It was t ra ns la ted in to a host of languages a nd u se d i n sc hoo ls throughout the Nea r East and beyo nd , a nd it is now beco m ing clear that it also d irectly in fl ue nc ed Gree k he ro ic motifs . Many mytholog ical stories ,ve re sha ped in res ponse to eac h oth er, not on ly w ithi n the reg ion where t hey or ig in a ted b u t across la nguages an d peoples and dow n t h rough th e centur ies . Eve n with the d ramat ic c hanges that Ch ri st ian ity and Is lam b ro ug h t , so-calle d pagan myth s and even religious p ract ic es ada p ted to t he new rel ig io ns a nd s u rv ived . Why h ave t h e Nea r Easte rn masterp ieces, t he n, not been cons idered "class ical "?
T he fates of these literatu res were sha ped b y hi stor ical d evelo p ments . Fi r st, t he m o re a nc ie n t langu ages of t h e Nea r East had more t ime in wh ich to c ha nge, to be overr id d en , an d even to be lost, as hap pene d to Su m er ia n and A k kadian , w he reas m o re rece n t o nes, s u c h as Gree k and Lat in , were e nco d ed as the officia l lan guages of the nvo halves of the Ro m an Em pi re, so t h eir literatu res s u rv ived Th e H e brew
B ibl e obvious ly h as its o,vn rema rkable h isto r y of transm iss io n a nd preservation , b ut that a lso requ i red a cont in uou s investment of e ffo r t by later gene rat io ns. Gree k and Lati n texts were copied a nd used fo r educat io na l pu rposes in the Gree k-spea king
eastern Roman Emp ire (Byzantium) and in the medieval Latin \'{/est. It,vas this part of the ,vorld in wh ich the modern nat ions of Europe deve loped, and it is from them that our trad itions of scholarship der ive, includ ing our notion of the "classical. "
By contrast, Mesopotam ian, Egypt ian, and other non-Greco- Roman texts were excluded from this canon, at least in their origina l languages. By the time of Thucydides and Hero d otos, composers of the first histor ies, some early civilizat ions of the anc ient Near East, such as those of Ugarit and the Hittites, had long since d isappeared , both destroyed in ,vars and unknown to Greeks of the "classical" period , though the legacies of these lost cultures partly survived in Anato li a and Syro-Palestine. Later Near Eastern cu ltures, such as Neo-Assyrian, Neo-Babylonian, Phoenician, and Egyptian, ,vere eventually subsumed into the Hell en istic an d Roman Emp ires . Their texts, at least those that survived inscribed on papyri, stone monumentS , or clay tablets, were buried and had to wa it for millennia before they cou ld be uncovered and deciphered . (Para d ox ica lly, tablets from these lost cultures were often preserved by the very same Ii res that d estroyed them since the fires "cooked" the sun-dried cl ay.) T hus, as the great literary trad itions of the Near East fe ll into oblivion, the Greek and Latin "classics" were codified and partially preserved for posterity. Their uninterrupted transm ission in manuscr ipt form, thanks in large part to the efforts of Arab scholars during the n inth and tenth centur ies CE , ensured that they wou ld be studied and commented upon . In the process, they exerted po,verful influences on ph ilosophy, literature, and the artS , insp ir ing such movements as the Renaissan ce, the Enlightenment, and Romant ic ism .
D uring th is long per io d of time, stretch ing over a thousand years, little was kno,vn about ancient Near Eastern cultures . I n the \Xlestern view of h istory, ideas about the a ncient Near East were pr incipally represented by whatever classical h istorians (mostly Hero d otos) and the Hebrew Bible had to say about them. This changed dramatically ,vith the beginning of archaeo logical exploratio n in the n ineteenth century, enabled first by Napoleon's campaign in Ottoman Egypt (1798-1801) and the excavation ofl'v[esopotamian sites in the nineteenth century by European d ip lomatS an d exp lorers, who thus became the first archaeologists. The decipherment of Egypt ian hieroglyphs by Jean-Fran~o is Champoll ion in 1822 and of c uneiform tablets from l'v[esopotamia in the 1850s opened up a who le new phase in our know ledge of these languages an d cu ltures . Add itional sites, cultures , and languages, includ i ng Hittite and Ugaritic , were d iscovered in the t,ventieth century. Tab lets and even arch ives continue to appear today, enriching our c o r pus of Near Eastern literatures and filling in the blan ks of the mosaic of ancient cu ltures, forcing us to reconsi d er the ir legacy and mutual interrelations.
B ut by the t ime this amaz ing process of discovery bega n to peak in the n ineteenth century, the concept of Greco- Roman literature as "classical" ,vas too entrenched to read ily ma ke room for the "or iental" newcomers. An ci ent li terature was perceived as a fundamentally "\Vestern" inher itance. Preconceived di chotomies bet,veen East and West, rooted entirely in the poli tical and religious developments of the Midd le Ages (espec ially the confl ict with I slam) and the advent of "modern ity" (especially
the "Eastern question" regarding the d issolutio n of the Ottoma n Empire), greatly impacted the classification of cu lture s and literatures In recent decades, however, increasing coll aboration and d ia logue bet,veen the fields of class ics a nd Near Eastern studies are bringi ng us closer to a more accurate an d comprehensive vie,v of the ancient ,vorld and the different ways in ,vhich its inhabitants, their literatures, and intellectual tradit io ns interacted.
Independent d evelopme n ts within the field of class ica l studies have e nc ouraged such collaboration, though more always remains to be d one. Spec i fica ll y, for the past half-century classical Greece has gradua lly ceased to be regarded as a si ngu lar exemplar of virtuous qua lit ies such as freedom, d emocracy, pur ity, and reaso n.
Historical scho larship has broken do,vn this notion, and at the same time it has removed some of the barriers that had been erecte d arou nd cl assica l culture to keep it free of "contamination" by the "other," such as the Semitic cultures of the Near East. One of these barriers ,vas the theory that Greece shou ld be classified amo ng the I ndo-European cu ltures , together with Ce ltic, Nord ic, and Aryan-India n. \Xl hile it is true that the Greek language is part of the I ndo-European language fam ily, a genetic model cannot be so easily transferred to its culture as a whole. The se lectio n of texrs in this vo lum e is premised on scholarship that finds that Greek mythology d evelope d wit hin its contemporary Eastern l'l1e d iterranean co n text and borrowed extens ively from it.
Th is immed iately ra ises the prob lematic co nc ept of " influence." There are , of course, cases of d irect infl uence or simp le diffusio n, but we are mostly deali ng ,vith texts that are far apart in time a nd space: na rrat ive t hemes and e lements would normally have passed through many stages of adaptat io n and creative reelaboration, usually oral, before they acquire d their final form (i.e ., the ,vr itten versio n that ,ve have) And adap tation means that they ,vou ld have been thoroughly formatted to lit their ne,v host culture and the narrative goa ls of each poet, bard, or writer. Sometimes the direction of transmission can be ascertained : for example , the i\,(esopotamian flood story ,vas ad opted in ancient Israe l an d Gree ce and the Greek myths were taken up and reworked by the Romans Still, it is in the var iations and adaptatio ns themse lves that we can apprec iate the uniqueness of each act of reception. Every instance, every text, is a unique literary arti fa ct , and many of them have generated who le d isc ipli nes of stu d y. With their fas cinati ng sim ilarities and sharp contrasts, the texrs gathered here represent some of the most famous stories that have fueled the imag inat io ns of ge nerations across the l'l1e d iterranean and the lands of the Fertile Crescent for millenn ia.
The stor ies we call "myths" were much more than entertaini ng tales. The Greek ,vord H!Jlbos, which was eve n tually attached to fictional or lege ndary stories, was in earlier times used for any speech, utterance, or narrative For the ancients, what ,ve call "myths" were stories abo111 gods a11d heroes, stor ies value d and preserved as part of the tradition of particular commu n ities, for whom these stories were inseparab le from all central aspecrs of cu lture . Gods were real. T hey were worshipped, prayed to, and feared, in a ,vorld organized to a great d egree arou nd rel ig ious festiva l s and daily rituals . Heroes, o n the other hand, ,vere ce n tral in ancient people's perception
of their remote past a nd their recent h istory. They ,vere ofte n part of stories about city founders, lawgivers, beginnings of i nstitutions, etc. Indeed, in Near Eastern cultures (for instance in i\,(esopotamia) king l istS, rituals, la"' codes, and historical events ,vere ,vr itten do,vn at the same time as epic stories and cosmogonies. But in Greece before the eighth century B CE no writte n records preserved information (excep t for Linear B texts, ,vh ich appare ntl y were for purely adm ini strative purposes). Hence, "myths" carr ied the torch of community memory for centuries, preserving a nd reshaping genea logies a nd ideas of origins of whole cities and peoples (whether true or invented) a nd explaining the current relig ious order. l\1yt hs did more tha n re inforce abstract t he o logica l beliefs; they expla ined the ro le of festivals a nd ritual practices a nd provi d ed narratives to which people pinned their beliefs in the after life. However, wh i le myths ,vere the prime carrier for narratives and beliefs about the gods, ,ve shou ld be cautious about reading them as ancient "doctr ine": these narratives ,vere malleab le, and there ,vas no scr ipture or officia l church Not everyone eve n believed that Homer and Hesiod ha d accurately represented the go d s; playwrights and philosophers, such as Ar istophanes, Xenophanes , and Plato, to mention some , ,vere especially s keptica l of the trad itio na l gods .
Even as mythical narrative gra duall y became distinct from other historical, scie n t ific, ph ilosophical discourse, myths still had a place in the ne,v literary and intellectual modes, as sho,vn by the se lf-co nscious use of myths in Herodotos, L ivy's histories, and P lato's ph ilosophica l dialogues. Far from being discarded in the light of"reaso n ," narratives called myths could be used to express higher truths, and in turn myths have continued to be stud ie d as containing "hidde n" an d d eeper messages for centuries, whether through allegorical interpretations in a n tiquity and the l\1 idd le Ages or through psychoanalytical, anthropological , and structural ist approaches (among others) today. T hese multifaceted a nd porous narratives were in continuous dia logue with the real ities of people's lives and beliefs: myths helped to create the mindscapes of ancient peoples, offered some stabi lit y to the universe's ungraspab le nature, whi le , in turn, the changing ,vorld continuously reshaped the myths as needed. Only thi nk of the complex function of literary, visua l, and performative fiction works today (e.g. , our relationship to motion p ictures) and how they can be both fict io nal a nd st ill poignantly and deeply real and mean ingful. Hesiod's l\1uses captured it in a se n tence: "We kno,v how to tell many fantasies that seem rea l, and we kno,v, if we wa n t, how to s ing of real things" (Th. 27-28). The subject of the use and meaning of myths is vast, and the reader ,v i ii find suggested readings in the Bibl iography at the back of this volume.
How Th is B oo k I s Org aniz e d an d Ho,v to Use I t
SE LECT IONS are always d ifficu lt to ma ke, an d choice requires exclus io n. My gui d ing principle was to represent major themes and myths around wh ich Near Eastern, Greek, an d Roma n texts coalesce. Another goa l was to include
at least some entire books or self-contained sections in them , tablets, or poems when possible, w hi le avoiding the comp lete texts of accessible classical ,vorks that can eas ily be assigned separately to complement the present select io n, such as the poems of Homer, the Greek tragedies, and Hellenistic an d Roman epics. H ence , t he Trojan War is represe n te d here by one token book of the Iliad, and some large mythical themes , such as the Theban saga an d the story of Jason and the Argonauts , are represented here by the summa ri zed (but very informative) vers io ns in Apollodorus' Library, bes ides t,vo brief excerpts from Eur ipides' 1ltfedea and from Apollo n ios R ho d ios' Argona11tika T he readers will find masterful poetic e laborat io ns of these stories in the co rpus of Greek tragedies (Aes c hylus' Seven againJI The/Jes, Sophocles' Oedipus King , Antigone, Oedip111 al Co/01111!) and in the lo ng epic the Argona11tika. Perhaps the most important om ission is the story of the house of Atreu s Its truculen t past of fam ily murders and re ve nges made the stuff of some of the most intense Greek and R oma n traged ies, which can be rea d o uts ide this volume : Tiestes and Atreus' feud, the sacrifice of Iphigenia, Agamem no n's return from Troy an d his ow n murder at the hands of his w ife C le itemnestra , followed by the re venge of the ir ch ildren Orestes a nd E lectra \Xl ith in eac h t hem atic se ction or part, the texrs are arrange d by cultures (l'vfesopotam ian, Egyptian, ot her Near Eastern texts, the n Greek, the n Roman) and in a rough ly chronological ord er (archa ic G reek before cl assica l, and so o n). In this seco nd edit io n , I have s ignaled withi n each part the texts from the different ancient l\1e d iterranean realms, su c h as "]\fesopotam ian ," Egypt ian ," "G re ek," and " R oma n. " The reader must see these labels as a broad o ri entation , not a r igid terr itorial, eth n ic, or cu ltural division. T he categories are not always mutually exclusive . For instance, texts wr itte n by Roman or Roman-per io d aut hors (,vhether in Latin o r Greek) often deal ,v ith Greek myths and Latin and G re ek texts transmit P ers ian a nd Phoenician traditions (for ,vhi c h there are no or iginal Phoenician texts left). Sometimes the trad itions a nd are so diffi cu lt to disentangle that I had to resort to more in clus ive , doub le categories suc h as "G re ek-Roman," "Gree k-Pers ian," and "G ree k-Egyptian ."
A se lect ion of the sto ri es inserte d by Plato in his ph ilosophi ca l dialogues is also integ rated w it h in th is s c heme i n thei r chro no logical place wit h in the Greek source s, one chose n for each ch apter Th e one exception is the epi c ch apter, for wh ich there is not really a match in P lato's reperto ire. P lato's "myths" present thei r own set of fascinating interpret ive problems and could fo rm a sepa rate se ct ion of their own (as they did in our first ed ition). T heir integration with in the chapters, however, allows for a more d i rect compariso n w ith other myths w ithin broad themes.
The in troduc t ions to eac h of the six t hemat ic se c t ions and the headn otes that accompany eac h document a re addressed to nonspecialists , espec iall y undergrad uate students and the ge neral p ubl ic I avo id entering into detai led discuss io ns and theoretical interpretations . T he goal is to o ffer gu ida nc e for the major moti fs and fac il itate comprehens io n, contextualization, and cross-textual compariso n. Rather more detail has been allowed for texrs that are less we ll known outs ide spec iali zed circles , such as the Ugarit ic, Phoen ician, Egyptia n, and Hi tt ite sources Footnotes a re also minimal
and intended to clar ify obscure references and occas ionally provide background as ,ve il as cross-referen ces to other sections in the book Beyond that, each instructor can dec ide how much general histor ical, archaeologica l, and theoretical background to include in lectures Both teachers and independent readers w ill find suggest ions for further readings for each author and theme in the Bibliography, which can serve as a point of departure for a more profound exp loration. I have privileged monographs over articles or collections of essays when possible and Engl ish and recent books where avail able. Other aids, suc h as maps (including two historical maps) and a timeline, will he lp the reader situate the texts in their h istorical context. Because the book covers a ,vide range of cultures, genealogical charts of the Greek gods are not in cluded. Greek myt hs represent just one genealogical trad it ion (with frequent variants) , so to represent a ll of the div ine family trees from different cultures included in this volume would have been extreme ly complicated and not espec ially helpful. Instead, I hope the reader w il l benefit from the glossary at the back of the vo lume. The glossary explains technical terms used in scholarship, which are high lighted in bold the first time they appear in the text. The Index of P lace Names and Characters wi ll help the reader search and nav igate the volume as needed.
The six partS in the book are not mutually exclus ive as stories touch on many themes that resist strict class ification The intention ,vas to group together those stories that have a core theme in common so as to fac ilitate and stimulate comparison across trad itions and cultures, even if that meant delivering sectio ns of so me works piecemeal through the thematic chapters (e g , The Epic of Cilgamnh, Virgil's Aeneid) In any event, the thematic organization of Cods, Heroes, and ,Wons/en does not preclude reading those stories un interruptedly or using the texts in a different order or in comb ination ,vith other textS (e.g., broader se lections of the Iliad and Otf)'JSI!)', entire Greek tragedies). These and other ,vorks are eas il y availab le in multiple translations and are only minimall y represented here.
In principle, I have chosen texts that are literary elaborat ions of a myth. For instance, I have, where possible, priv ileged Ovid's poeti c rete ll ing of a Greek myth over Apollodorus' summar ies, and for the story of young Achilles, I have chosen Statius' Arhil/eid ep ic over the summar ies of the lost Epic Cycle poems. In other ,vords, th is antho logy is a lso conceived as a reader of anc ient mytho logica l lileral11re and not simp ly a myth sourcebook It is for this reason that nonliterar y inscr iptions and other sources such as the b u reaucrat ic Linear B tablets have been avo ided. Egypt presents a spec ial case in that, desp ite its vast corpus of texts wr itten in a var iety of med ia (o n papyr i, on walls of pyramids and other bui ldings, ins ide the panels of coffins, etc.), myth ica l narratives are usua ll y not directl y represented, especially in the earl ier per iods. To quote Ian Sha"' (2004, p . 116), "Egyptian texts have a tendency to allude to var ious di v ine myths through referen ces to ritual s and the use of various epithetS , but their li terature is notor ious ly Jack ing in stra ightforward narrati ve-style myths Recons t ructing Egypt ian mytholog y from anc ient texts can be rather l ike piecing together the biblical ac co u nt of the b irth ofJesus from a series of Christmas cards and caro ls "
About the Tr a n s lat i on s
TH ISvolume offers ne,v trans lations of important Near Eastern mytho logical texts that are generally not access ib le to the public. Offering their expertise, Christopher Woods (Sumerian), Sam Meier (North-West Sem itic), and Andres de D iego (Egypt), have contributed new trans lations that reflect the latest advances in their fields In the case of the H ittite texts, Mary Bachvarova has produced a critical edition ,vith ne,v readings and reconstructions of the fragments For the translation of another fragmentary text, the Derveni Papyrus, two leading expertS in that field, Alberto Bernabe and l'v!igue l Herrero, have also contributed the latest readings of the damaged text. The translations of P indar and Lucretius are also fresh contributions by Hanne E issenfeld, who specializes in Pindar and the intersection of ancient Greek rel igion and literarure. Mark Anderson, a speciali st in Greek philosophy, has trans lated a se lection of Plato's myths. Other Greek texts have been trans lated afresh by me (Hesiod and the Ho111eric r[yn111s being my area of expertise in archaic li terature), while new rhythmic trans lations of one book of Homer's Iliad and one of the Otfyssry have been generous ly provided by Barry B. Powell, whose comp lete translations of the t\vo works have appeared with this press (Powell 2014 and 20 15). I have composed the general introductions to the six thematic sections. The contributing trans lators listed above have provided shorter (section) introductions to their textS (with some editorial input), while I have written the headnotes to all other texts and to the Homeric passages.
Some trans lations for other texts have been taken from the Oxford \Xlorld C lass ics ser ies, for instance, the l'v!esopotamian texts by Stephanie D alley, Virgi l's Aeneid (set in rhythmic verse by Freder ick Ah l), and Apule ius' Golden Ass (by P. G. Wa lsh). I am a lso indebted to their notes, which I condensed and adapted . i\1inor editoria l changes to these translations include regu larization of the spelling and punctuation to conform to standard American pract ice. (See a lso the Note on Text Arrangement, Transliterations, and Chronology.)
Finall y, translations have been reused and adapted from the older volumes of the Loeb series and other out-of-copyright editions, usually for L at in textS, for instance, Ovid's Metamorphoses by F. J. M il ler and Apo llodoros' Libm,y by J. Frazer, which are, in my vie,v, not inferior to more recent vers ions . In any event, the language has been updated to remove archaisms. I also have annotated a ll of these texts, generally by using select notes from the existing edition, sometimes shortening them or adding my own clar i fications.
About the S econd Edit i on
The first several years of li fe of this book in classrooms and in general readers' hands have provided good ideas for improvements in th is second ed it ion Bes ides tak ing the opportunity to correct a few inevitable typos and implement ing some formatting improvementS, this volume includes an important body of add itional texts. The ma jority come from Apollodorus' Lihra1y and cover mythological sagas not represented in the first volume, such as the Argonauts and the Theban saga
Other documents randomly have different content
"Oh! it is not going to be to-morrow," said Ragaud; "the day of betrothal is not yet fixed. I leave all that to good M. Perdreau. He is taking a great deal of trouble; and I am glad he is, for I know precious little about legal matters."
"So, then, you don't bother yourself with anything?—very pretty conduct on your part."
"What should I do?" asked Ragaud innocently. "Each one has his part to play. M. Perdreau was brought up among books, and I at the plough. When he has the papers ready, he will tell me where to sign my name."
"And you will sign it?"
"Undoubtedly, after he has read them to me."
"All very nice," said Michou. "If I were in your place, I would sign without reading them; it would be more stupid...."
"What do you say?" asked Ragaud.
"I say," replied Jacques, "if you will allow me to offer a word of advice, you will not only make them read your daughter's marriage contract to you, but also have it read to others—to M. le Curé, for example; he is learned also—that he is."
"That would be insulting to M. Perdreau."
"Not at all. Two such learned men would soon understand each other. After all, you know, you must do as you think best. Goodmorning! Thank you for Jean-Louis; send him to me quickly. I must hurry off to my rascally wood-cutters in the wood of Montreux."
And the game-keeper turned his back without waiting for an answer, puffing away at his pipe so tremendously his cap was in a cloud of smoke.
Ragaud continued to shell his peas, but it was easy to see he felt rather anxious. Nevertheless, when he had ended his work, he reentered the house without showing any discomposure.
Jean-Louis left home that morning to spend a fortnight with Michou, depressed in spirits, but still hoping the best. On passing through Val-Saint, he stopped at M. le Curé's, who confirmed all that Michou had said about the Perdreaux. That dear, good man was much distressed, but could not think of any remedy for the evil; but he promised Jeannet to say Mass for the family, and highly approved of his leaving Muiceron for a time.
Meanwhile, the Ragauds acted as though they were bewitched. During the first week after the departure of Jeannet, his name was scarcely mentioned, even by Pierrette. They appeared to have lost all recollection of the services the excellent-hearted boy had rendered his adopted parents. No one thought of him or noticed him when he returned sometimes late at night from his hard day's work; and, had it not been for the good Luguets, poor Jean-Louis would have been as isolated in the world as if he had been brought up in a foundling asylum—his first destination. But God did not abandon him, and, although always very sad, he did not lose courage. Every evening, whether he returned or not to Muiceron, he visited his friends, and there, with Pierre and Solange, he recovered his goodhumor, or at least maintained his gentleness and resignation. His friendship for Solange increased day by day. He suspected nothing, nor she either; for although very friendly and intimate, they only felt toward each other like brother and sister. However, all was known in the village—better, perhaps, than elsewhere—and the gossips commenced to say that the devout Solange jumped at marriage as quickly as any other girl. Several of the girls even commenced to tease her about him; all of which she received gently, and smiled without being displeased, contenting herself with the remark that, after all, she might choose worse; and her work was continued more faithfully than ever.
One evening, when Pierre and his parents remained rather late at the fair at Andrieux, which is three good leagues from Ordonniers, and which is only reached by roads very difficult to travel in the bad season, Jeannet, as usual, went to the Luguets, and was surprised to find Solange all alone. She blushed slightly when she saw him,
not from embarrassment, however, but only, I imagine, because she remembered the reports that were circulating in the village. Jeannet took his usual seat, which was always near hers. The month of November was nearly ended, and that morning Michou had told Jean-Louis that Jeannette's betrothal would take place a little before Christmas, and the marriage soon after. The poor fellow was overwhelmed with sorrow; he poured all his grief into Solange's ear, and so great was his confidence in her that he allowed himself to weep in her presence.
"You have lost your courage and become thoroughly hopeless," said Solange gently. "I don't like that in a man, still less in a Christian."
"How can I help it? Am I made of stone?" replied Jeannet, his head buried in his hands. "Alas! alas! Solange, I believed your words. I thought that God would have mercy on us, and that this unfortunate marriage would not take place."
"I don't see that it has yet," replied Solange. "In the first place, they only speak of signing the contract a month from now, and up to then the mill will turn more than once; and, after all, does not God know better than we what is good for us, poor blind things that we are?"
"That is true; but to see Jeannette the wife of that man, without faith or fear of God or law; to see my old father and dear, good mother reduced to want; to be obliged to leave the country, and never see Muiceron again! For think, Solange, that Jeannette, when she signs her marriage contract, will know that I am not her brother! I will not wait to be told that my place is outside of the house. God knows I have worked for my parents, and their tenderness never humiliated me, but to receive a benefit from Isidore—no, never!" cried Jean-Louis, raising his eyes that flashed with honest pride.
"You are right in that," said Solange quietly; "but listen a moment, ... and first sit down there," she added, gently placing her hand on his arm. "Come to your senses. There, now, can you yet listen patiently to me?"
"Go on," said Jean-Louis obediently; "you need not talk long to calm me."
"Well," resumed Solange, resting her elbow on the table in such a manner that her sweet face nearly touched Jeannet's shoulder, "I will repeat again that the story is not yet ended; but as this good reason is not weighty enough for your excited brain, I beg you will tell me why you think Jeannette will despise you when she will learn that you are not her brother."
"But how can you expect it to be otherwise, my dear friend? Is it not against me that I seem to be installed in her house for life? that I have had half the hearts of her parents? Do you think that Isidore, who detests me, will not tell a thousand falsehoods to prejudice her against me? Ah! Solange, I have suffered terribly during the last month; but to see Jeannette regard me as an intruder; to have her crush me with her scorn, and make me feel that I am a foundling, picked up from the gutter—it is beyond all human strength, and the good God will not compel me to endure such agony. I will not expose myself to such a trial."
"But what can you do? You cannot get work in the country without running the risk of meeting her at every turn."
"I will manage it," said Jean-Louis. "France is a kind mother, Solange, and has never refused food to one of her sons, even though he had no name but the one given in baptism. I know that my dear father intended to procure a substitute for me; but, in the present situation, I can no longer accept a cent of Jeannette's inheritance, which will one day be Isidore's."
"Good," said Solange. "But wait another moment. All this is still in the future, since you can only be drawn next year; so put that aside. I will only say that you have spoken like a good-hearted fellow, for which I don't compliment you, as I knew you were that before. But, to return to what we were speaking of, why do you think you will be scorned by Jeannette? Come, now, tell me all. You love the little thing? and ... more than a brother loves a sister?"
"Ah!" cried Jeannet, hiding his face, which he felt crimsoning, like a young girl surprised, "you drag the last secret from my heart. Yes, I love her, I love her to madness, and that adds to the bitterness of my despair. May God pardon me! I have already confessed it, but with my great sorrow is mingled a wicked sentiment. Solange! I am jealous; I know it well. What can you expect? I was so before I knew it, and I cannot drive it from me. Did I ever feel that she was not my sister? No, not once until the day that there was question of her marriage; and yet," added he clasping his hands, "God, who hears me, knows that if she had chosen one worthy of her, I would have had the strength to conquer it for the sake of her happiness. But so many misfortunes have made me what I am, and—what I only avow to you—incapable of surmounting my jealousy and dislike."
While he spoke thus, beautiful Solange smiled, not like a scornful woman, who has no pity for feelings to which she is insensible, but like a mother who is sure of consoling her sick child. Her clear, tranquil eyes rested upon Jean-Louis, who gradually raised his, that he might look at her in his turn; for everything about this girl of twenty years was so gentle and calm, and at the same time so good, one always expected to receive consolation from her.
"You wish to scold me?" said Jean-Louis. "If so, do it without fear, if you think I am in fault."
"Not at all," she replied; "there is nothing wrong in what you have confided to me, Jeannet. I pity you with my whole heart, only I scarcely understand you."
"Why so, Solange? You are, however, very kind, and certainly have a heart."
"I hope so," said she; "but when a creature is loved so dearly, she should be esteemed in every respect."
"Don't I esteem Jeannette? O Solange! why do you say that?"
"But I only repeat what you first said, my child," she replied in her maternal tone, which was very sweet in that young mouth. "You
think her capable of despising you, and imagine that she will disdain you when she learns the misfortune of your birth; therefore, you do not esteem her, and so, I repeat, I can't understand such great affection."
"You can reason very coolly about it," said Jeannet; "but if your soul were troubled like mine, you would not see so clearly to the bottom of things."
"It is precisely because you are so troubled that the good God permits this conversation to-night," she replied. "Let me tell you now why I still hope. Jeannette at this moment sins by the head, but her heart is untouched; and here is the proof: the secret you so dread her knowing she has known as well as either of us for more than three months. Have you seen any change in her manner?"
"Oh! is it possible?" cried Jeannet. "And who told her?"
"I myself," answered Solange. "She had heard at the château some words dropped by Dame Berthe, which excited her curiosity. After her sickness, when I went to stay with her, she one day asked an explanation of her doubts; and as I feared, if she questioned others, she would not be properly answered, I told her all."
"You did right; and what was her reply?"
"She threw herself in my arms, and thanked me," said Solange. "For more than an hour she spoke of her great affection for you, which time had augmented instead of diminishing. She wept for your misfortune, and thanked God that her parents had acted so well, as by that act they had given her a brother; and never did I see her so gentle, tender, and kind. She made me promise I would never tell you that she knew your secret; but the poor child did not then foresee the necessity that compels me to speak to-night on account of your wicked thoughts."
"Dear, dear Jeannette!" said Jean-Louis, with tears in his eyes.
"I have heard lately," continued Solange, "that she came near sending off Isidore, because he presumed, thinking she knew
nothing, to make some allusion to the subject. She declared that she considered you her brother, and those who wished to be friends of hers must think the same."
"Say no more," said Jeannet. "I will love her more than ever."
"No," replied she, "it is useless. Only don't despair. Take courage, for there is always hope when the heart is good; and the moment this poor child, who is now acting without reflection, will know she should despise Isidore, she will dismiss him and drive him away as she would a dangerous animal."
"But will she ever know it?" said Jean-Louis.
"Hope in God," replied the pious girl. "Has he ever yet abandoned you?"
"Beg him to make me as confident as you," said he, looking at her with admiration. "What good you do me! How can I repay you, Solange, for such kind words?"
"Perhaps," said she seriously—"perhaps, one day, I may ask you to do me a great service."
"Really! Let me know it now. I will be so happy to serve you."
"Yes? Well, then, I will," replied Solange, after a moment's hesitation. "You have laid bare your heart to me; I will return your confidence. Jean-Louis, I also have a secret love in my soul, and I will die if I do not obtain what I desire."
"You!" said Jeannet, astonished; "you, dear Solange! I always thought you so quiet and so happy in your life."
"It is true," said she, sighing. "I look so, because I cannot let people see what they could not understand. But with you, Jean-Louis, it is different; I can tell you everything."
"I hope, at least," said Jeannet, smiling, "that he whom you love is worthy of your esteem."
"Oh! yes," she replied, crossing her arms on her breast, while her pale, beautiful face crimsoned with fervor—"oh! yes, for he whom I love is the Lord our God. I wish to be a Sister of Charity, Jeannet, and until then there will be no happiness on earth for me."
Jean-Louis for a moment was dumb with surprise at this avowal; then he knelt before her, and kissed her hands.
"I might have suspected it," said he, much moved; "you were not made to live the ordinary life of the world. God bless you, dear Solange, and may his holy angels accompany you! But what can I do to aid you in your holy wishes?"
"Much," she replied; "you can inform my parents, and afterwards console them; reason with Pierre, who will be half crazy when he hears of my departure; and perhaps you can even accompany me to Paris, for I am afraid to go alone. I have never been away from home, and I would not dare venture on that long journey."
"But, dear Solange, you will need a great deal of money for that."
"Oh!" said she, laughing, "do you think me a child? For two years I have deprived myself of everything, and I have more than enough. See," she added, opening a little box, which she kept hidden under a plaster statue of the Blessed Virgin, which stood near her bed. "Count!"
"Three hundred francs!" said Jeannet, after having counted; "and ten, and twenty, and thirty more—three hundred and sixty, besides the change. There are nearly four hundred francs."
"There will be when I am paid for what I am now embroidering," said she. "Is that enough?"
"Ten times too much," replied Jeannet. "Poor dear Solange! what happiness to think that I shall see you until the last moment!"
"And afterwards again," said she gaily; "the white cornets are made to go over the world. We will meet again, don't fear!"
It is truly said that example is better than precept. Jean-Louis became a man again before that beautiful and pious girl, so brave and so good. His heart was comforted, his soul strengthened. He would have blushed now to weep about his sorrows, when Solange was about to sacrifice her whole life to the sorrows of others. She commenced to play her part of Sister of Charity with him, and God doubtless already blessed her; for never did balm poured into a wound produce a more instant effect.
They finished their little arrangements just as the Luguets returned home. Pierre was rather gay, as he could not go to the fair without drinking with his friends; and when a man's ordinary drink is water colored with the skins of grapes, half a pint is enough to make him feel jolly.
Therefore, when he found Solange and Jeannet in conversation, looking rather more serious than usual, he commenced to look very wise, whistled, winking from one to the other, to let them know he understood what was going on. Jean-Louis was seated near the fire, and pondered over the mutual confidences made that evening. He paid little attention to Pierre's manœuvres; but Solange saw them, and, while laying the cloth for supper, begged her brother to explain, in good French what was on his mind.
"Yes, yes, my pretty one!" said he, trying to put his arm around her waist, something which she did not permit even in him; "we know something about you."
"Nothing very bad," she replied, laughing; "here I am before you in flesh and blood, and you see I am not at all sick."
"Don't be so sly," he answered; "this is not the time. We returned from the fair with lots of acquaintances, and every one told us you were going to be married, and that your bans would be published next Sunday."
"It is rather too soon," said Solange quietly; "the consent of the parents will be needed, and I don't know yet whether it will be
given. And to whom shall I be married? Those people who are so well informed should have told you that."
Thereupon Pierre, without answering, struck Jean-Louis on the shoulder.
"Look up, sleepy-head!" cried he in his ear. "Can you tell me who is going to marry my sister Solange?"
"Who? What?" answered Jeannet, like one coming out of a dream. "What are you talking about?"
"I say that you and Solange can keep a secret famously," said he, rather spitefully. "It is well to keep it secret, when you are only thinking of marriage, and I don't object to your first arranging it between yourselves; but now that everybody knows it except us, it is rather provoking for the family."
"You are crazy," said Jean-Louis.
"A big baby, at least," said Solange, shrugging her shoulders.
"All very well," said Pierre; "we know what we know. We say nothing further. When you choose to speak of your affairs, well, we will be ready to listen to you."
Jeannet was about to reply, but Luguet and his wife, who all this while had been in the barn, giving a look at the cattle, to see that all was safe for the night, re-entered the room, and Solange motioned to Jean-Louis not to continue such a useless conversation before her parents.
But whether Pierre was more obstinate than usual that night on account of the wine in his head, or whether his great friendship for Jeannet inflamed his desire for the alliance, certain it is he would not give up his belief in the approaching marriage, and continued throughout supper to make jokes and clack his wooden shoes underneath the table; in fact, he acted like a boy who is sure of his facts and loves to torment people. Jean-Louis several times was on the point of telling him to be quiet, but Solange, with her gentle smiles, always prevented him.
You can well perceive this confirmed Pierre in his belief that they understood each other, as honest lovers have the right to do; so that, if he was a little doubtful on his return from the fair, he was no longer so at the end of the supper, and went to bed so firmly persuaded that he would soon have Jeannet for brother-in-law, they could easier have cut off his right hand than make him believe to the contrary.
TO BE CONTINUED.
EPIGRAM.
TO DOMITIAN, CONCERNING S. JOHN, COMMANDED TO BE CAST INTO A CALDRON OF BURNING OIL.
Thou go unpunish'd? That shall never be, Since thou hast dar'd to mock the gods and me. Burn him in oil!—The lictor oil prepares: Behold the saint anointed unawares! With such elusive virtue was the oil fraught! Such aid thy olive-loving Pallas brought![198]
—CRASHAW.
FOOTNOTES:
[198] The allusion is to wrestlers anointing themselves to prevent their adversaries grasping them.
NANO
NAGLE:
FOUNDRESS OF THE PRESENTATION ORDER.
There is no fact more apparent or more full of significance in the history of the church than the constant acting and reacting upon each other of races and nations in the perpetual struggle between civilization and religion with barbarism and infidelity, light with darkness. While the faith seems dimmed and its professors the victims of persecution in one land, in another the torch of learning and piety is slowly but surely kindling into brilliancy, and the ardor of apostolic zeal is being awakened, even by the supineness and apostasy of its neighbors. That this should be permitted or ordained by divine Providence is a mystery to all, but its effects can easily be perceived by any ordinary student of history.
For proof of this mutation and transition we need not go beyond our own day and generation. Europe of the XIXth century presents a spectacle, if not alarming, at least discouraging to many who have the cause of Christianity sincerely at heart. In one country we perceive a direct attack on the Sovereign Pontiff, wholesale spoliation of his temporal possessions, restriction of his personal liberty, and a general onslaught on the religious orders—those most efficient agents for the propagation of morality, charity, and intelligence—which surround him—and that, too, by a prince of Catholic origin and education, who claims the right to govern twenty millions of subjects. In another we have a stolid, sordid imperator, instigated by a more intellectual but not less arbitrary minister, not only claiming complete dominion over the lives and property of twice that number, but assuming also the right to dictate the terms upon which they shall worship their Maker, what shall be their faith, and who may be their teachers and guides in the way of salvation.
Again, in such countries as Austria, France, Spain, and Belgium, until very recently considered the bulwarks of Catholicity on the Continent, indifferentism, communism, and open infidelity, if not yet triumphant, have certainly of late made rapid strides towards power and authority, and to the human eye seriously threaten the very existence of society, of all order and all law, human and divine, in those distracted nations. And still, a prospect such as Europe now presents, though seemingly gloomy, is actually full of hope and promise. While the hitherto supine Catholics of the Italian peninsula are being aroused into earnestness by the outrages daily perpetrated on the Holy Father and the religious orders, and their co-religionists of Germany are forming themselves into a solid, compact, and energetic array in defence of their rights, elsewhere the cause of the church is progressing with a rapidity and uniformity that equally astonishes and alarms her enemies.
Take our own republic, for example, with its seven archbishops, its forty-nine bishops, thousands of priests, and millions of earnest and obedient spiritual children, where a century ago a priest was an object of curiosity to most of the people, and a Catholic was generally regarded with less favor than is now shown the Chinese idolaters. Now, what has wrought this change; what has scattered broadcast over this vast continent, and engrafted in the heart of our vigorous young republic the doctrines of the church, but the persecutions which our co-religionists have endured and are still enduring, in the Old World? To the irreligious maniacs of the French Revolution, to the penal code of Great Britain, and now to the mendacity of Victor Emanuel and the truculent tyranny of Bismarck, are we mainly indebted, under Providence, for the origin, growth, and increase of Catholicity among us. Like a subterranean fire, the spirit of the church can never be repressed. Subdued in one place, it will burst forth in another with redoubled force, intensified by the very attempts made to confine it.
Then let us look at England—England which among the nations was the land of the Reformation; who not only stoned the prophets, but whose annals for nearly three centuries are the most anti-Catholic
and intolerant to be found in the records of modern history. She, also, as in the early ages of her conversion, felt the effect of continental barbarism and persecution. At the very time when the faith seemed to have been utterly extirpated within her boundaries, the French Revolution drove to her shores many Catholics, lay and clerical, of gentle birth, cultivated manners, and varied accomplishments, and to those exiles does she owe primarily the revival in her bosom of the religion planted by S. Augustine. She has now sixteen archbishops and bishops, sixteen hundred priests, over one thousand places of worship, where assemble large congregations, including many of the most eminent and distinguished of her sons.
The Catholics of Ireland, always true to the faith and loyal to the head of the church, were common sufferers with their co-religionists across the Channel, and, though in a different manner and at an earlier period, they were equally the gainers with those of England, and from causes almost similar. The property of that cruelly tried people was not only confiscated by the penal laws, their clergy outlawed, and their persons subjected to all sorts of pains and penalties, but they were denied the poor privilege of acquiring the principles of the commonest education. The consequences of such persecution, continued generation after generation, were what might have been, and no doubt was, expected to be—that the people, persistently refusing to yield to cajolery or threats in matters of conscience, within two centuries after the "Reformation" had almost universally sunk into abject poverty and secular ignorance. In fact, had it not been for their traditional knowledge of the great truths of religion, and the instruction sometimes stealthily given them by some fugitive priest in remote mountains and the fastnesses of the bogs, they must inevitably have degenerated into something like primitive barbarism.
However, such an anomalous state as this could not last for ever. All Christendom was about to cry out against it, and an incident occurred in 1745, under the administration of the celebrated Lord Chesterfield, which awakened at home general attention to the
wretched manner in which four-fifths of the inhabitants of the country were obliged to worship their Creator. It happened that in that year a small congregation was assembled secretly in an old store, in an obscure part of Dublin, to hear Mass, when the floor gave way, and the entire body was precipitated to the ground below. F. Fitzgerald, the celebrant, and nine of his parishioners, were killed, and several others severely injured. The viceroy, who, whatever may have been his other faults, was certainly less bigoted than his predecessors, thereupon took the responsibility of allowing the Catholics, under certain restrictions, to open their chapels, and worship in public. This limited concession was the commencement of a new era in the affairs of the Irish Catholics. The number of priests began to increase; churches, rude and small of necessity, sprang up here and there, generally in secluded localities, as if afraid to show themselves; and incipient efforts for the education of the masses of both sexes were soon noticed.
In this latter great work of benevolence the most zealous and efficient was the lady whose name heads this article. She seems to have been endowed by Providence with all the gifts, mental and moral, necessary to constitute her the pioneer of that host of noble women who, since her time to the present, have devoted themselves to the education and training of the females of Ireland. Born of an ancient and thoroughly Catholic family of considerable wealth and wide popular influence, she grew up amid home scenes of comfort, peace, and charity, a devout believer in the sanctity of religion, and in perfect accord with the instructions of indulgent but watchful parents. The position her father held among his poorer and less fortunate neighbors, his charity to the needy, and his protection to the helpless, afforded her, even in her extreme youth, many opportunities of studying the wants of the distressed, and of sympathizing with their afflictions: principles which, then perhaps nourished in her heart unconsciously, were in after-years destined to grow and fructify into those nobler deeds of charity that have made her memory so cherished and revered.
