The ancient Mesopotamian poem referred to as the Epic of Gilgamesh told a long and complicated story about the quest of the hero Gilgamesh to obtain fame and, most of all, immortality. One main theme is the question of the gains and the losses for human beings of living in civilization as opposed to living in wild nature. The text as it exists today is only incompletely preserved, with some significant gaps in the narrative. The overall theme of the story, however, is recoverable: through hard experience, Gilgamesh ultimately learns, to his sorrow, that human beings cannot escape their mortal nature and therefore their inevitable death, a lesson that teaches people to look for the best way to live under the ultimately sad but inescapable circumstances of life.
Gilgamesh is the king of the Sumerian city Uruk, which makes him someone who lives the kind of life characteristic of civilization. In the epic, he encounters Enkidu, a man living a completely different kind of life in the wilderness among wild animals; in other words, Enkidu exists outside of civilization. Their meeting comes as the result of a hunter complaining to his father that Enkidu is making it impossible for him to be successful in catching wild animals. The following excerpts come from the Epic.
“Father, there is a man [that is, Enkidu] who has come from the hills. In all the lands he is the most powerful; power belongs to him. Like a shooting star of the god Anu, he has awesome strength. He ranges endlessly over the hills, endlessly feeds on grass with the animals, endlessly sets his feet in the direction of the watering place. For terror I cannot go near him. He fills up the pits I dig; he tears out the traps I set; he allows the beasts to slip through my hands, the hurrying creatures of the abandon; in the wilderness he does not let me work.
His father shaped his mouth and spoke, saying to the Hunter: “My son, in Uruk lives a man, Gilgamesh: no one has greater strength than his. In all the land he is the most powerful; power belongs to him. Like a shooting star of Anu, he has awesome strength. Go, set your face toward Uruk. Let him, the knowing one, hear of it . . . ”
He listened to the counsel of his father. The Hunter went to Gilgamesh. . . . Gilgamesh said to him, the Hunter, “Go, Hunter, and take with you a love-priestess, a temple courtesan [a status whose history and significance is disputed by modern scholars]. When he [that is, Enkidu] waters the animals at the watering place, have her take off her clothes, have her show him her strong beauty. When he sees her, he will come near her. His animals, who grew up in his wilderness, will turn from him. . . .” The animals came; theirs hearts grew light in the waters. And as for him, Enkidu, child of the mountain, he who fed with gazelles on grass, he drank with the wild beasts at the watering place, and with the hurrying animals his heart grew light in the waters.
The woman saw him, the man-as-he-was-in-the-beginning, the man-and-killer from the wilderness. . . . The courtesan untied her wide belt and spread her legs, and he struck her wildness like a storm. She was not shy; she took his wind away. Her clothing she spread out, and he lay upon her. She made him know, the man-as-he-was, what a woman is. His body lay on her; six days and seven nights Enkidu attacked, having sex with the priestess. After Enkidu was glutted on her richness he set his face toward his animals. Seeing him, Enkidu, the gazelles scattered, wheeling: the beasts of the wilderness fled from his body. Enkidu tried to rise up, but his body pulled back. His knees froze. His animals had turned from him. Enkidu grew weak; he could not gallop as before. Yet he had knowledge, wider mind. . . . The woman said to him, to Enkidu: “You have become wise, like a god, Enkidu. Why did you range the wilderness with animals? Come, let me lead you to the heart of Uruk of the Sheepfold, to the stainless house, holy place of Anu and Ishtar, where Gilgamesh lives, completely powerful, and like a wild bull stands supreme, mounted above his people.” She speaks to him, and they look at one another. With his heart’s knowledge, he longs for a deeply loving friend. . . .
[Following some adventures with Gilgamesh, Enkidu, conscious of his coming death, has come to regret his choice to leave the wilderness and becomes angry at the woman who introduced him to civilization.]
“His heart urged him to curse the temple courtesan, the woman. . . . [The god] Shamash heard, opened his mouth, and from afar, . . . from the heavens called to him: “Why, Enkidu, do you curse the love-priestess, the woman who would feed you with the food of the gods, and would have you drink wine that is the drink of kings, and would clothe you in a great garment, and would give you beautiful Gilgamesh as a companion? Listen: hasn’t Gilgamesh, your beloved friend, made you lie down in a great bed? Hasn’t he made you like down in a bed of honor, and placed you on the peaceful seat at his left hand? The world’s kings have kissed your feet. He will make the people of Uruk weep for you, cause them to grieve you, [will make the women], the whole city, fill up with sorrow for your sake. And afterward he will carry the signs of grief on his own body, putting on the skin of dogs and ranging the wilderness.” Enkidu listened to the words of Shamash the warrior [and] his angry heart grew still, . . . grew quiet.
Source: Translation adapted from John Gardner and John Maier. Gilgamesh (1984), 73–74, 77–78, 172–73.
Questions to Consider