A
Moral from
The Epic
of Gilgamesh
Malcolm Rae
Liberal Studies 111,
Section 2
September 19, 2002
The behavior of Gilgamesh
is being wild, sorrowful, ambitious, and ultimately kingly. What is especially
striking amidst all the restlessness of this tale is that there is a certain
kind of general rule of behavior that emerges, a powerful moral.
One that is eventually brought to light for Gilgamesh.
This moral, to which Gilgamesh provides a moving testimony, is be true to
yourself, as far as you understand that self, at whatever the cost, and, in a
mature way, regard the world. Gilgamesh's behavior exemplifying this decree is especially notable in some
elements of three of his unmatched experiences: in the loss of his best friend Enkidu, at the brink of his quest for eternal life, and in
his return to Uruk.
When Gilgamesh loses his
best friend Enkidu he loses a major part of his own
wild self and this greatly alters and bewilders him to the point where his
mourning becomes so profound and prolonged that he eventually finds himself in
the beginning of a deep search for what he believes to be his own true self (as
far as he understands it).
"I cry now, Enkidu, like some crazed woman. I
howl. I screech for you because you were the axe upon my belt and the bow in my
weak hand; the sword within my sheath, the shield that covered me in battle; my
happiest robe, the finest clothes I ever
wore, the ones that made me look best in the eyes of the world"(Tablet VIII, Column ii, lines 64-69).
In acknowledging his friend's strengths and confessing his own weaknesses, Gilgamesh here, in
comparing Enkidu to his own dependable war tools and
his "happiest robe" has come to
realize that without his friend he is now completely defenseless and naked, in the worst way - "...in the eyes of the world." His entire sense of self-worth and dignity has now been stripped
away. Yet Gilgamesh simply refuses to let go of this worth that he
understands.
But soon after this, for
the first time in his sadness, Gilgamesh appears for a moment to be suddenly angry, and after
acknowledging his friend, he asks: "What devil came to take you off from me" (Tablet VIII, Column ii, line 71)? This is a key transition in
Gilgamesh's mentality.
It is as if he now needs to fight for what he maintains to be that better self.
He calls this better self his own "robe." Yet he is
now independent and without the help of that worth, and now must begin
searching. He is ready to take on a "devil" now, as it
were, in revenge for the loss of his better half.
Gilgamesh, in all his mourning, is in such
a state that it is as if it is the end of the world, and he must somehow do
something for himself in regards to the loss of his friend. This is because he
believes the true part of himself to be only found in his friend. Yet it is his
persistence in mourning that does, in a way, help him to prove what is good in
himself alone, and not just in his friend. Gilgamesh's extensive mourning for Enkidu does somehow
advance him to a better good (this good partly being a venture of his own),
although he does now seem somewhat odd in his claims of utmost dependency upon
his friend. Nonetheless, such claims are a useful
confession to himself. Enkidu is as the good half of
Gilgamesh, so Gilgamesh must in some way hold on to, or rediscover, this good
that he believes to be true.
Still in much pain and self-doubt,
Gilgamesh decides to remain true to himself (at whatever costs) by
demonstrating a determination to persist, largely through the means of his
sorrow, in the beginning of a quest of his own, a quest where he
eventually attempts to gain immortality. The bliss of killing monsters, going
off into the woods, stirring things up, and causing a ruckus with his good
buddy are no longer thrills that he can pursue. Yet, although his grief and
loss are almost more than he can bear, he must somehow turn them into something
useful for himself. At the brink of a new and radical venture, he is now in a
sad, yet good, way left to learn (Tablet IX, Column i,
lines 1-13). Interestingly, his sadness, fear, and doubt are not really the
things that hinder him, but actually the things that help him to be realistic. For it
is his persistent sadness, and fear of a death similar to his friend's, and his self-doubt, which help motivate him to move onward towards
something fresh and unfamiliar, even though it takes him considerable time to
reach this transition.
The final moment of truth
for Gilgamesh is when he returns to Uruk. Here
Gilgamesh says to the boatman: "Rise up now, Urshanabi, and examine Uruk's wall.
Study the base, the brick, the old design. Is it as
permanent as can be? Does it look like wisdom designed it" (Tablet XI, Column vi, lines 298-302)?
Evidently, Gilgamesh is now interested in civilization, as a good king should
be. He finally realizes, for the first time in a sensible way, that he really
is, in fact, a king. His new apparent interest in the protection (Uruk's wall) of
his people is a new and major contrast from his old, wild, venturing self. Now
he is interested in the wellness of his people, whereas before he neglected
their welfare. Because of this change, now he has become a more respectable
king. His final decision to be a mature king is proper, and it is ultimately
what makes him famous. Gilgamesh is no longer living as if it is the end of the
world and without regard for it. Rather, he is now regarding the world in his
decision to act responsibly in it, and it is in this that the world
ultimately gives him respect. Because Gilgamesh becomes accountable to the
world and not just to himself alone, he finally becomes truly true to himself
in the deepest sense.
So it is apparent that
Gilgamesh learned to be true to himself from some valuable, yet costly,
experience of his own. Gilgamesh tested what he believed as far as he knew, and
although it cost him great pain, his decision to transform this pain into a new
venture of his own eventually helps bring him back to what he has been all
along. This, of course, is a king - although for the most part he does not
realize this in the sense that he should, until the end.
Cited Work
Danny P. Jackson. The Epic of Gilgamesh. Bolchazy-carducci Publishers. Waucinda, Illinois. 1997.