Dialogues of the Gods

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 244 sections

14.1.2
Alas, Hermes,—my love!
14.1.3
Oh; that’s bad. What, are you still brooding over that affair of Daphne?
14.1.4
No. I grieve for my beloved; the Laconian, the son of Oebalus.
14.1.5
Hyacinth? he is not dead?
14.1.6
Dead.
14.1.7
Who killed him? Who could have the heart? That lovely boy!
14.1.8
It was the work of my own hand.
14.1.9
You must have been mad!
14.1.10
Not mad; it was an accident.
14.1.11
Oh? and how did it happen?
14.2.1
He was learning to throw the quoit, and I was throwing with him. I had just sent my quoit up into the air as usual, when jealous Zephyr (damned be he above all winds! he had long been in love with Hyacinth, though Hyacinth would have nothing to say to him)—Zephyr came blustering down from Taygetus, and dashed the quoit upon the child’s head; blood flowed from the wound in streams, and in one moment all was over. My first thought was of revenge; I lodged an arrow in Zephyr, and pursued his flight to the mountain, As for the child, I buried him at Amyclae, on the fatal spot; and from his blood I have caused a flower to spring up, sweetest, fairest of flowers, inscribed with letters of woe.—Is my grief unreasonable?
14.2.2
It is, Apollo. You knew that you had set your heart upon a mortal: grieve not then for his mortality.
15.1.1
To think that a cripple and a blacksmith like him should marry two such queens of beauty as Aphrodite and Charis!
15.1.2
Luck, Hermes—that is all. But I do wonder at their putting up with his company; they see him running with sweat, bent over the forge, all sooty-faced; and yet they cuddle and kiss him, and sleep with him!
15.1.3
Yes, it makes me angry too; how I envy him! Ah, Apollo, you may let your locks grow, and play your harp, and be proud of your looks; I am a healthy fellow, and can touch the lyre; but, when it comes to bedtime, we lie alone.
15.1.4
Well, my loves never prosper; Daphne and Hyacinth were my great passions; she so detested me that being turned toa tree was more attractive than I; and him I killed with a quoit. Nothing is left me of them but wreaths of their leaves and flowers,
15.1.5
Ah, once, once, I and Aphrodite—but no; no boasting.
15.2.1
I know; that is how Hermaphroditus is accounted for. But perhaps you can tell me how it is that Aphrodite and Charis are not jealous of one another.
15.3.1
Because one is his wife in Lemnus and the other in Heaven. Besides, Aphrodite cares most about Ares; he is her real love; so she does not trouble her head about the blacksmith.
15.3.2
Do you think Hephaestus sees?
15.3.3
Oh, he sees, yes; but what can he do? he knows what a martial young fellow it is; so he holds his tongue. He talks of inventing a net, though, to take them in the act with.
15.3.4
Ah, all I know is, I would not mind being taken in that act.
16.1.1
I must congratulate you, madam, on the children with whom you have presented Zeus.
16.1.2
Ah, madam; we cannot all be the proud mothers of Hephaestuses.
16.1.3
My boy may be a cripple, but at least he is of some use. He is a wonderful smith, and has made Heaven look another place; and Aphrodite thought him worth marrying, and dotes on him still. But those two of yours!—that girl is wild and mannish to a degree; and now she has gone off to Scythia, and her doings there are no secret; she is as bad as any Scythian herself,—butchering strangers and eating them! Apollo, too, who pretends to be so clever, with his bow and his lyre and his medicine and his prophecies; those oracle-shops that he has opened at Delphi, and Clarus, and Dindyma, are a cheat; he takes good care to be on the safe side by giving ambiguous answers that no one can understand, and makes money out of it, for there are plenty of fools who like being imposed upon,—but sensible people know well enough that most of it is clap-trap. The prophet did not know that he was to kill his favourite with a quoit; he never foresaw that Daphne would run away from him, so handsome as he is, too, such beautiful hair! I am not sure, after all, that there is much to choose between your children and Niobe’s.
16.2.1
Oh, of course; my children are butchers and impostors. I know how you hate the sight of them. You cannot bear to hear my girl complimented on her looks, or my boy’s playing admired by the company.
16.2.2
His playing, madam!—excuse a smile;—why, if the Muses had not favoured him, his contest with Marsyas would have cost him his skin; poor Marsyas was shamefully used on that occasion; 'twas a judicial murder.—As for your charming daughter, when Actaeon once caught sight of her charms, she had to set the dogs upon him, for fear he should tell all he knew: I forbear to ask where the innocent child picked up her knowledge of obstetrics.
16.2.3
You set no small value on yourself, madam, because you are the wife of Zeus, and share his throne; you may insult whom you please. But there will be tears presently, when the next bull or swan sets out on his travels, and you are left neglected.
18.1.1
Well, Zeus, I should be ashamed if I had such a son; so effeminate, and so given to drinking; tying up his hair in a ribbon, indeed! and spending most of his time among mad women, himself as much a woman as any of them; dancing to flute and drum and cymbal! He resembles any one rather than his father.
18.1.2
Anyhow, my dear, this wearer of ribbons, this woman among women, not content with conquering Lydia, subduing Thrace, and enthralling the people of Tmolus, has been on an expedition all the way to India with his womanish host, captured elephants, taken possession of the country, and led their king captive after a brief resistance. And he never stopped dancing all the time, never relinquished the thyrsus and the ivy; always drunk (as you say) and always inspired! If any scoffer presumes to make light of his ceremonial, he does not go unpunished; he is bound with vine-twigs; or his own mother mistakes him for a fawn, and tears him limb from limb. Are not these manful doings, worthy of a son of Zeus? No doubt he is fond of his comforts, too, and his amusements; we need not complain of that: you may judge from his drunken achievements, what a handful the fellow would be if he were sober.
18.2.1
I suppose you will tell me next, that the invention of wine is very much to his credit; though you see for yourself how drunken men stagger about and misbehave themselves; one would think the liquor had made them mad. Look at Icarius, the first to whom he gave the vine: beaten to death with mattocks by his own boon companions!
18.2.2
Pooh, nonsense. That is not Dionysus’s fault, nor the wine’s fault; it comes of the immoderate use of it. Men will drink their wine neat, and drink too much of it. Taken in moderation, it engenders cheerfulness and benevolence. Dionysus is not likely to treat any of his guests as Icarius was treated. —No; I see what it is:—you are jealous, my love; you can’t forget about Semele, and so you must disparage the noble achievements of her son.
19.1.1
Eros, dear, you have had your victories over most of the Gods—Zeus, Posidon, Rhea, Apollo, nay, your own mother; how is it you make an exception for Athene? against her your torch has no fire, your quiver no arrows, your right hand no cunning.
19.1.2
I am afraid of her, mother; those awful flashing eyes! she is like a man, only worse. When I go against her with my arrow on the string, a toss of her plume frightens me; my hand shakes so that it drops the bow.
19.1.3
I should have thought Ares was more terrible still; but you disarmed and conquered him.
19.1.4
Ah, he is only too glad to have me; he calls me to him. Athene always eyes me so! once when I flew close past her, quite by accident, with my torch, ‘If you come near me,’ she called out, ‘I swear by my father, I will run you through with my spear, or take you by the foot and drop you into Tartarus, or tear you in pieces with my own hands’—and more such dreadful things. And she has such a sour look; and then on her breast she wears that horrid face with the snaky hair; that frightens me worst of all; the nasty bogy—I run away directly I see it.
19.2.1
Well, well, you are afraid of Athene and the Gorgon; at least so you say, though you do not mind Zeus’s thunderbolt a bit. But why do you let the Muses go scot free? do they toss their plumes and hold out Gorgons’ heads?
19.2.2
Ah, mother, they make me bashful; they are so grand, always studying and composing; I love to stand there listening to their music,
19.2.3
Let them pass too, because they are grand. And why do you never take a shot at Artemis?
19.2.4
Why, the great thing is that I cannot catch her; she is always over the hills and far away. But besides that, her heart is engaged already.
19.2.5
Where, child?
19.2.6
In hunting stags and fawns; she is so fleet, she catches them up, or else shoots them; she can think of nothing else. Her brother, now, though he is an archer too, and draws a good arrow—
19.2.7
I know, child, you have hit bim often enough.
20.1.1
Hermes, take this apple, and go with it to Phrygia; on the Gargaran peak of Ida you will find Priam’s son, the herdsman. Give him this message: ‘Paris, because you are handsome, and wise in the things of love, Zeus commands you to judge between the Goddesses, and say which is the most beautiful. And the prize shall be this apple.’—Now, you three, there is no time to be lost: away with you to your judge. I will have nothing to do with the matter: I love you all exactly alike, and I only wish you could all three win. If I were to give the prize to one of you, the other two would hate me, of course. In these circumstances, I am ill qualified to be your judge. But this young Phrygian to whom you are going is of the royal blood —a relation of Ganymede’s,—and at the same time a simple countryman; so that we need have no hesitation in trusting his eyes.
20.2.1
As far as I am concerned, Zeus, Momus himself might be our judge; I should not be afraid to show myself. What fault could he find with me? But the others must agree too.
20.2.2
Oh, we are under no alarm, thank you,—though your admirer Ares should be appointed. But Paris will do; whoever Paris is.
20.2.3
And my little Athene; have we her approval? Nay, never blush, nor hide your face. Well, well, maidens will be coy; ’tis a delicate subject. But there, she nods consent. Now, off with you; and mind, the beaten ones must not be cross with the judge; I will not have the poor lad harmed. The prize of beauty can be but one.
20.3.1
Now for Phrygia. I will show the way; keep close behind me, ladies, and don’t be nervous. I know Paris well: he is a charming young man; a great gallant, and an admirable judge of beauty. Depend on it, he will make a good award.
20.3.2
I am glad to hear that; I ask for nothing better than, a just judge.—Has he a wife, Hermes, or is he a bachelor?
20.3.3
Not exactly a bachelor.
20.3.4
What do you mean?
20.3.5
I believe there is a wife, as it were; a good enough sort of girl—a native of those parts—but sadly countrified! I fancy he does not care very much about her.—Why do you ask?
20.3.6
I just wanted to know.
20.4.1
Now, Hermes, that is not fair. No whispering with Aphrodite.
20.4.2
It was nothing, Athene; nothing about you. She only asked me whether Paris was a bachelor.
20.4.3
What business is that of hers?
20.4.4
None that I know of. She meant nothing by the question; she just wanted to know.
20.4.5
Well, and is he?
20.4.6
Why, no.
20.4.7
And does he care for military glory? has he ambition? or is he a mere neatherd?;
20.4.8
I couldn’t say for certain. But he is a young man, so it is to be presumed that distinction on the field of battle is among his desires.
20.4.9
There, you see; I don’t complain; I say nothing when you whisper with her. Aphrodite is not so particular as some people.
20.4.10
Athene asked me almost exactly the same as you did; so don’t be cross. It will do you no harm, my answering a plain question.—
20.5.1
Meanwhile, we have left the stars far behind us, and are almost over Phrygia. There is Ida: I can make out the peak of Gargarum quite plainly; and if I am not mistaken, there is Paris himself.
20.5.2
Where is he? I don’t see him.
20.5.3
Look over there to the left, Hera: not on the top, but down the side, by that cave where you see the herd.
20.5.4
But I don’t see the herd.
20.5.5
What, don’t you see them coming out from between the rocks,—where I am pointing, look—and the man running down from the crag, and keeping them together with his staff?
20.5.6
I see him now; if he it is.
20.5.7
Oh, that is Paris. But we are getting near; it is time to alight and walk. He might be frightened, if we were to descend upon him so suddenly.
20.5.8
Yes; very well. And now that we are on the earth, you might go on ahead, Aphrodite, and show us the way. You know the country, of course, having been here so often to see Anchises; or so I have heard.
20.5.9
Your sneers are thrown away on me, Hera.
20.6.1
Come; I'll lead the way myself. I spent some time on Ida, while Zeus was courting Ganymede. Many is the time that I have been sent here to keep watch over the boy; and when at last the eagle came, I flew by his side, and helped him with his lovely burden. This is the very rock, if I remember; yes, Ganymede was piping to his sheep, when down swooped the eagle behind him, and tenderly, oh, so tenderly, caught him up in those talons, and with the turban in his beak bore him off, the frightened boy straining his neck the while to see his captor. I picked up his pipes—he had dropped them in his fright— and—ah! here is our umpire, close at hand.
20.7.1
Let us accost him.— Good-morrow, herdsman!
20.7.2
Good-morrow, youngster. And who may you be, who come thus far afield? And these dames? They are over comely, to be wandering on the mountain-side.
20.7.3
‘These dames,’ good Paris, are Hera, Athene, and Aphrodite; and I am Hermes, with a message from Zeus. Why so pale and tremulous? Compose yourself; there is nothing the matter. Zeus appoints you the judge of their beauty. ‘Because you are handsome, and wise in the things of love’ (so runs the message), ‘I leave the decision to you; and for the prize,—read the inscription on the apple.’
20.7.4
Let me see what it is about. For THE FAIR, it says. But, my lord Hermes, how shall a mortal and a rustic like myself be judge of such unparalleled beauty? This is no sight for a herdsman’s eyes; let the fine city folk decide on such matters. As for me, I can tell you which of two goats is the fairer beast; or I can judge betwixt heifer and heifer;—’tis my trade.
20.8.1
But here, where all are beautiful alike, I know not how a man may leave looking at one, to look upon another. Where my eyes fall, there they fasten,—for there is beauty: I move them, and whaf do I find? more loveliness! I am fixed again, yet distracted by neighbouring charms, I bathe in beauty: I am enthralled: ah, why am I not all eyes like Argus? Methinks it were a fair award, to give the apple to all three. Then again: one is the wife and sister of Zeus; the others are his daughters. Take it where you will, ’tis a hard matter to judge.
20.8.2
So it is, Paris. At the same time—Zeus’s orders! There is no way out of it.
20.9.1
Well, please point out to them, Hermes, that the losers must not be angry with me; the fault will be in my eyes only.
20.9.2
That is quite understood. And now to work.
20.9.3
I must do what I can; there is no help for it. But first let me ask,—am I just to look at them as they are, or must I go into the matter thoroughly?
20.9.4
That is for you to decide, in virtue of your office. You have only to give your orders; it is as you think best.
20.9.5
As I think best? Then I will be thorough.
20.9.6
Get ready, ladies. Now, Mr. Umpire.—I will look the other way.
20.10.1
I approve your decision, Paris. I will be the first to submit myself to your inspection. You shall see that I have more to boast of than white arms and large eyes: nought of me but is beautiful.
20.10.2
Aphrodite, will you also prepare?
20.10.3
Oh, Paris,—make her take off that girdle, first; there is magic in it; she will bewitch you. For that matter, she has no right to come thus tricked out and painted,—just like a courtesan! She ought to show herself unadorned.
20.10.4
They are right about the girdle, madam; it must go.
20.10.5
Oh, very well, Athene: then take off that helmet, and show your head bare, instead of trying to intimidate the judge with that waving plume. I suppose you are afraid the colour of your eyes may be noticed, without their formidable surroundings.
20.10.6
Oh, here is my helmet.
20.10.7
And here is my girdle,
20.10.8
Now then.
20.11.1
God of wonders! What loveliness is here! Oh, rapture! How exquisite these maiden charms! How dazzling the majesty of Heaven’s true queen! And oh, how sweet, how enthralling is Aphrodite’s smile! 'Tis too much, too much of happiness.—But perhaps it would be well for me to view each in detail; for as yet I doubt, and know not where to look; my eyes are drawn all ways at once.
20.11.2
Yes, that will be best.
20.11.3
Withdraw then, you and Athene; and let Hera remain,
20.11.4
So be it; and when you have finished your scrutiny, you have next to consider, how you would like the present which I offer you. Paris, give me the prize of beauty, and you shall be lord of all Asia.
20.11.5
I will take no presents. Withdraw, I shall judge as I think right.
20.12.1
Approach, Athene.
20.12.2
Behold. And, Paris, if you will say that I am the fairest, I will make you a great warrior and conqueror, and you shall always win, in every one of your battles.

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