ZEUS
And yet the others are not so badly off in comparison with myself. I am the monarch and father of all: but how many discomforts I put up with and how many bothers I have, distracted as I am by such a number of things to think of! First, I must oversee the work of all the other gods who help me in any way in administering my sovereignty, in order that they may not be remiss in it. Then I myself have to do any number of tasks that are almost impossible to carry out on account of their minuteness; for it is not to be supposed that I simply manage and direct in person the principal features of my administration, such as rain, hail, wind, and lightning, and that then I am through, being dispensed from thinking of details. No, not only must I do all that, but I must look in all directions at the same time and keep an eye on everybody, just like the herdsman at Nemea,
1
to see who is stealing, who is committing perjury, who is offering sacrifice, whether anybody has poured a drinkoffering, from what quarter the steam and the smoke of burnt-offerings rise, who has called upon me in sickness or at sea. What is most laborious of all, at one and the same moment I must attend the great sacrifice at Olympia, keep an eye on the armies at war near Babylon, send hail in the country of the Getae, and attend a banquet among the Ethiopians. At that, it is not easy to escape criticism. It often happens that the others, “the gods and the warriors crested with horse-tails,” sleep all through the night, while I, though Zeus, am not “held in the sweetness of slumber,”
2
for if I drowse off, even for an instant, Epicurus is instantly confirmed in his assertion that we exercise no providence over what happens on earth. And we cannot make light of the danger if men are going to take his word for this’: our temples will have no wreaths, our wayside shrines no savoury steam, our wine-bowls no drink-offerings, our altars will be cold, and in short there will be general dearth of sacrifices and oblations, and famine will be rife. For that reason, like the master of a ship, I stand by myself high up on the stern with the tiller in my hands, and everybody else aboard gets drunk, perhaps, and goes to sleep, whereas I, without closing my eyes or eating, “ponder in heart and in soul”
3
for the benefit of all, rewarded only by being considered captain.
And yet the others are not so badly off in comparison with myself. I am the monarch and father of all: but how many discomforts I put up with and how many bothers I have, distracted as I am by such a number of things to think of! First, I must oversee the work of all the other gods who help me in any way in administering my sovereignty, in order that they may not be remiss in it. Then I myself have to do any number of tasks that are almost impossible to carry out on account of their minuteness; for it is not to be supposed that I simply manage and direct in person the principal features of my administration, such as rain, hail, wind, and lightning, and that then I am through, being dispensed from thinking of details. No, not only must I do all that, but I must look in all directions at the same time and keep an eye on everybody, just like the herdsman at Nemea,
1
to see who is stealing, who is committing perjury, who is offering sacrifice, whether anybody has poured a drinkoffering, from what quarter the steam and the smoke of burnt-offerings rise, who has called upon me in sickness or at sea. What is most laborious of all, at one and the same moment I must attend the great sacrifice at Olympia, keep an eye on the armies at war near Babylon, send hail in the country of the Getae, and attend a banquet among the Ethiopians. At that, it is not easy to escape criticism. It often happens that the others, “the gods and the warriors crested with horse-tails,” sleep all through the night, while I, though Zeus, am not “held in the sweetness of slumber,”
2
for if I drowse off, even for an instant, Epicurus is instantly confirmed in his assertion that we exercise no providence over what happens on earth. And we cannot make light of the danger if men are going to take his word for this’: our temples will have no wreaths, our wayside shrines no savoury steam, our wine-bowls no drink-offerings, our altars will be cold, and in short there will be general dearth of sacrifices and oblations, and famine will be rife. For that reason, like the master of a ship, I stand by myself high up on the stern with the tiller in my hands, and everybody else aboard gets drunk, perhaps, and goes to sleep, whereas I, without closing my eyes or eating, “ponder in heart and in soul”
3
for the benefit of all, rewarded only by being considered captain.
Bis accusatus sive tribunalia. Lucian of Samosata. Austin Morris Harmon (Translator). United States. Perseus 5.0.
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