Heroic Faults

            The Epic of Gilgamesh begins in this way: “The story of him who knew the most of all men know; who made the journey; heartbroken; reconciled…who went to the end of the earth, and over; who returned, and wrote the story on a tablet of stone” (Ferry, 3). This introduction reveals that the hero himself, Gilgamesh, wrote the story that is being told. It is easy to look over these first few lines, to skim through them thoughtlessly, eager to reach the larger story within. However, hidden within these opening stanzas may be the key to understanding what a hero embodied in the Babylonian world of the twenty-seventy century B.C.E.

            Gilgamesh is described in the beginning of the epic as both loved and feared. His people are simultaneously awed and frightened of his power: “There was no withstanding the aura or power of the Wild Ox Gilgamesh. Neither the father’s son nor the wife of the noble; neither the mother’s daughter nor the warrior’s bride was safe” (Ferry, 4). What is interesting about this depiction of the hero is that, as the introduction suggests, it was written by the hero himself. Gilgamesh admits that his people feared and resented him, that they prayed to the gods to subdue his power in some way. Throughout the epic, Gilgamesh admits his fear of death, failing the sleep challenge miserably, and his loss of the plant of youth. The hero in this Sumerian epic is able to admit his flaws.

            I am curious what this may imply about the Babylonian hero of this era. In later epics, and even in literature today, admitting defeat rarely happens. The hero has to look strong and all knowing, and overall immune from mistakes. But in Gilgamesh, the hero openly speaks about his failures, and there is no implication that this equals weakness, or that it makes him any less of a hero. I am left wondering if the character of Gilgamesh and his ability to admit his shortcomings embodies what Babylonian society of this time deemed heroic.