HOW THE WORLD & MANKIND WERE CREATED

PROMETHEUS
As yet there were no human beings; but the world, now cleared of the monsters, was ready for mankind. It was a place
where people could live in some comfort and security, without having to fear the sudden appearance of a Titan or a
Giant. The earth was believed to be a round disk, divided into two equal parts by the Sea, as the Greeks called it—
which we know as the Mediterranean—and by what we call the Black Sea. (The Greeks called this first the Axine,
which means the Unfriendly Sea, and then, perhaps as people became familiar with it, the Euxine, the Friendly Sea. It
is sometimes suggested that they gave it this pleasant name to make it feel pleasantly disposed toward them.) Around
the earth flowed the great river, Ocean, never troubled by wind or storm. On the farther bank of Ocean were
mysterious people, whom few on earth ever found their way to. The Cimmerians lived there, but whether east, west,
north, or south, no one knew. It was a land cloud-wrapped and misty, where the light of day was never seen; upon
which the shining sun never looked with his splendor, not when he climbed through the starry sky at dawn, nor when
at evening he turned toward the earth from the sky. Endless night was spread over its melancholy people.
Except in this one country, all those who lived across Ocean were exceedingly fortunate. In the remotest
North, so far away it was at the back of the North Wind, was a blissful land where the Hyperboreans lived. Only a few
strangers, great heroes, had ever visited it. Not by ship nor yet on foot might one find the road to the marvelous
meeting place of the Hyperboreans. But the Muses lived not far from them, such were their ways. For everywhere the
dance of maidens swayed and the clear call of the lyre sounded and the ringing notes of flutes. With golden laurel they
bound their hair and they feasted merrily. In that holy race, sickness and deathly old age had no part. Far to the south
was the country of the Ethiopians, of whom we know only that the gods held them in such favor they would sit at
joyful banquets with them in their halls.
On Ocean’s bank, too, was the abode of the blessed dead. In that land, there was no snowfall nor much winter
nor any storm of rain; but from Ocean the West Wind sang soft and thrillingly to refresh the souls of men. Here those
who kept themselves pure from all wrong came when they left the earth.
By now all was ready for the appearance of mankind. Even the places the good and bad should go to after
death had been arranged. It was time for men to be created. There is more than one account of how that came to pass.
Some say it was delegated by the gods to Prometheus, the Titan who had sided with Zeus in the war with the Titans,
and to his brother, Epimetheus. Prometheus, whose name means forethought, was very wise, wiser even than the gods,
but Epimetheus, which means afterthought, was a scatterbrained person who invariably followed his first impulse and
then changed his mind. So, he did in this case.
Before making men, he gave all the best gifts to the animals, strength and swiftness and courage and shrewd
cunning, fur and feathers and wings and shells and the like—until no good was left for men, no protective covering
and no quality to make them a match for the beasts. Too late, as always, he was sorry and asked for his brother’s help.
Prometheus, then, took over the task of creation and thought out a way to make mankind superior. He fashioned them
in a nobler shape than the animals, upright like the gods; and then he went to heaven, to the sun, where he lit a torch
and brought down fire, a protection to men far better than anything else, whether fur or feathers or strength or
swiftness.

According to another story, the gods themselves created men. They made first a golden race. These, although
mortal, lived like gods without sorrow of heart, far from toil and pain. The cornland of itself bore fruit abundantly.
They were rich also in flocks and beloved of the gods. When the grave covered them, they became pure spirits,
beneficent, the guardians of mankind.
In this account of the creation the gods seemed bent on experimenting with the various metals, and, oddly
enough, proceeding downward from the excellent to the good to the worse and so on. When they had tried gold, they
went to silver. This second race of silver was very inferior to the first. They had so little intelligence that they could
not keep from injuring each other. They too passed away, but, unlike the gold race, their spirits did not live on after
them. The next race was of brass. They were terrible men, immensely strong, and such lovers of war and violence
that they were completely destroyed by their own hands. This, however, was all to the good, for they were followed by
a splendid race of godlike heroes who fought glorious wars and went on great adventures which men have talked and
sung of through all the ages since. They departed finally to the isles of the blessed, where they lived in perfect bliss
forever. The fifth race is that which is now upon the earth: the iron race. They live in evil times and their nature, too,
has much of evil, so that they never have rest from toil and sorrow. As the generations pass, they grow worse; sons are
always inferior to their fathers. A time will come when they have grown so wicked that they will worship power,
might will be right to them, and reverence for the good will cease to be. At last, when no man is angry any more at
wrongdoing or feels shame in the presence of the miserable, Zeus will destroy them, too. And yet even then something
might be done, if only the common people would arise and put down rulers that oppress them.

PANDORA’S BOX
These two stories of the creation—the story of the five ages, and the story of Prometheus and Epimetheus—different
as they are, agree in one point. For a long time, certainly throughout the happy Golden Age, only men were upon the
earth; there were no women. Zeus created these later, in his anger at Prometheus for caring so much for men.
Prometheus had not only stolen fire for men; he had also arranged that they should get the best part of any animal
sacrificed and the gods the worst. He cut up a great ox and wrapped the good eatable parts in the hide, disguising them
further by piling entrails on top. Beside this heap he put another of all the bones, dressed up with cunning and covered
with shining fat, and bade Zeus choose between them. Zeus took up the white fat and was angry when he saw the
bones craftily tricked out.
But he had made his choice and he had to abide by it. Thereafter only fat and bones were burned to the gods
upon their altars. Men kept the good meat for themselves. But the Father of Men and of Gods was not one to put up
with this sort of treatment. He swore to be revenged, on mankind first and then on mankind’s friend. He made a great
evil for men, a sweet and lovely thing to look upon, in the likeness of a shy maiden, and all the gods gave her gifts,
silvery raiment and a broidered veil, a wonder to behold, and bright garlands of blooming flowers and a crown of
gold—great beauty shone out from it. Because of what they gave her they called her Pandora, which means “the gift
of all.” When this beautiful disaster had been made, Zeus brought her out and wonder took hold of gods and men
when they beheld her. From her, the first woman, comes the race of women, who are an evil to men, with a nature to
do evil.

Another story about Pandora is that the source of all misfortune was not her wicked nature, but only her curiosity.
The gods presented her with a box into which each had put something harmful, and forbade her ever to open it. Then
they sent her to Epimetheus, who took her gladly although Prometheus had warned him never to accept anything from
Zeus. He took her, and afterward when that dangerous thing, a woman, was his, he understood how good his brother’s
advice had been. For Pandora, like all women, was possessed of a lively curiosity. She had to know what was in the
box. One day she lifted the lid—and out flew plagues innumerable, sorrow and mischief for mankind. In terror
Pandora clapped the lid down, but too late. One good thing, however, was there—Hope. It was the only good the
casket had held among the many evils, and it remains to this day mankind’s sole comfort in misfortune. So, mortals
learned that it is not possible to get the better of Zeus or ever deceive him. The wise and compassionate Prometheus,
too, found that out.
When Zeus had punished men by giving them women he turned his attention to the arch-sinner himself. The
new ruler of the gods owed Prometheus much for helping him conquer the other Titans, but he forgot his debt. Zeus
had his servants, Force and Violence, seize him and take him to the Caucasus, where they bound him.

The reason for inflicting this torture was not only to punish Prometheus, but also to force him to disclose a
secret very important to the lord of Olympus. Zeus knew that fate, which brings all things to pass, had decreed that a
son should someday be born to him who would dethrone him and drive the gods from their home in heaven, but only
Prometheus knew who would be the mother of this son. As he lay bound upon the rock in agony, Zeus sent his
messenger, Hermes, to bid him disclose the secret. Prometheus told him: —
Go and persuade the sea wave not to break. You will persuade me no more easily.
Hermes warned him that if he persisted in his stubborn silence, he should suffer still more terrible things.
 But nothing, no threat, nor torture, could break Prometheus. His body was bound but his spirit was free. He
refused to submit to cruelty and tyranny. He knew that he had served Zeus well and that he had done right to pity
mortals in their helplessness. His suffering was utterly unjust, and he would not give in to brutal power no matter at
what cost. He told Hermes: —
There is no force which can compel my speech. So let Zeus hurl his blazing bolts, and with the white wings of the
snow, with thunder and with earthquake, Confound the reeling world. None of all this will bend my will.
Hermes, crying out, why, these are ravings you may hear from madmen,
left him to suffer what he must. Generations later we know he was released, but why and how is not told clearly
anywhere. There is a strange story that the Centaur, Chiron, though immortal, was willing to die for him and that he
was allowed to do so. When Hermes was urging Prometheus to give in to Zeus, he spoke of this, but in such a way as
to make it seem an incredible sacrifice: —
Look for no ending to this agony
Until a god will freely suffer for you,
Will take on him your pain, and in your stead Descend to where the sun is turned to darkness,
The black depths of death.

But Chiron did do this and Zeus seems to have accepted him as a substitute. We are told, too, that Hercules slew the
eagle and delivered Prometheus from his bonds, and that Zeus was willing to have this done. But why Zeus changed
his mind and whether Prometheus revealed the secret when he was freed, we do not know. One thing, however, is
certain: in whatever way the two were reconciled, it was not Prometheus who yielded. His name has stood through all
the centuries, from Greek days to our own, as that of the great rebel against injustice and the authority of power.

THE GREAT FLOOD

There is still another account of the creation of mankind. In the story of the five ages men are descended from the iron
race. In the story of Prometheus, it is uncertain whether the men he saved from destruction belonged to that race or the
bronze race. Fire would have been as necessary to the one as to the other. In the third story, men are descended from a
race of stone. This story begins with the Deluge. All over the earth men grew so wicked that finally Zeus determined
to destroy them. He decided
To mingle storm and tempest over boundless earth
And make an utter end of mortal man.

He sent the flood. He called upon his brother, the God of the Sea, to help him, and together, with torrents of
rain from heaven and rivers loosed upon the earth, the two drowned the land.
The might of water overwhelmed dark earth,
over the summits of the highest mountains. Only towering Parnassus was not quite covered, and the bit of dry land on
its very topmost peak was the means by which mankind escaped destruction. After it had rained through, nine days
and nine nights, there came drifting to that spot what looked to be a great wooden chest, but safe within it were two
living human beings, a man and a woman. They were Deucalion and Pyrrha—he Prometheus’ son, and she his niece,
the daughter of Epimetheus and Pandora. The wisest person in all the universe, Prometheus had well been able to
protect his own family. He knew the flood would come, and he had bidden his son build the chest, store it with
provisions, and embark in it with his wife. Fortunately, Zeus was not offended, because the two were pious, faithful
worshipers of the gods. When the chest came to land and they got out, to see no sign of life anywhere, only a wild
waste of waters, Zeus pitied them and drained off the flood.
Slowly like the ebbing tide the sea and the rivers drew back and the earth was dry again. Pyrrha and Deucalion
came down from Parnassus, the only living creatures in a dead world. They found a temple all slimy and moss-grown,
but not quite in ruins, and there they gave thanks for their escape and prayed for help in their dreadful loneliness. They
heard a voice. “Veil your heads and cast behind you the bones of your mother.” The commands struck them with
horror. Pyrrha said, “We dare not do such a thing.” Deucalion was forced to agree that she was right, but he tried to
think out what might lie behind the words and suddenly he saw their meaning. “Earth is the mother of all,” he told his
wife. “Her bones are the stones. These we may cast behind us without doing wrong.” So, they did, and as the stones
fell, they took human shape. They were called the Stone People, and they were a hard, enduring race, as was to be
expected and, indeed, as they had needed to be, to rescue the earth from the desolation left by the flood.