"One day Odysseus wandered hunting at the foot of the mountains of Delphi, when he met on his path two maidens who held each other by the hand. One had hair like violets, transparent eyes, and solemn lips; she said to him: 'I am Arete.' The other had languid eyelids, delicate hands and soft breasts; she said to him: 'I am Tryphe.' And together they said: 'Choose between us.'
But the subtle Odysseus wisely responded: 'How could I choose? You are inseperable. The eyes which see one of you pass without the other have glimpsed but a sterile shadow. Just as genuine virtue does not deprive itself of the eternal joys brought by sensual pleasure, so too luxury would turn bad without a certain grandeur of spirit. I will follow you both. Show me the way.' And as he finished, the two visions commingled, and Odysseus knew that he had spoken with the great goddess Aphrodite."
Pierre Louÿs, preface to Aphrodite, 1896.
Louÿs refers here to two Greek words, ἀρετή (aretê) and τρυφή (truphê). Both are difficult to translate. For Arete -- usually, especially by Christian writers, glossed as "virtue" -- read also "goodness, excellence, prowess, valour, moral prudence" -- productive, active, usually manly and aristocratic. (For Louÿs, writing in French, it might also echo of thinness and sharpness, as of a fish-bone). For Tryphe -- interpreted by the Church as "wantonness" -- read also "voluptuousness, softness, delicacy, daintiness, luxury, pleasure" -- yielding, sensuous, and weak(*). In a patriarchal context it is of course a vice, at best a womanly characteristic to be smiled upon patronizingly, at worst, as in the tendencious and unfaithful Athenaeus, a fatal flaw on which founder whole countries. But Louÿs is writing a pagan, or at least subversive, novel.
His story of Odysseus is an invention, but based on the similar tale of Prodicus of Ceos, popular with Christian commentators. In it, Heracles has to choose between Arete and Kakia (κακία, "badness"), and chooses the former, a life of glory in struggle. Smirkingly, Louÿs suggests that Prodicus's fables came in three parts, and the Herculean version is the one told to stupid little children. To brash young men he would tell of the choice of Paris, who hands the Apple of Discord to the one who promises him pleasure and beauty; but the third story, that of Odysseus, is the only story fit for adults of maturity and wisdom.
One must therefore take care to not ascribe to this duality the customary modern judgments.
Viewed without prejudice, this pair of contrasted opposites, revealed to form a merged and indivisible holy whole, is nothing less than a form of the Chinese Taijitu, the Taoist unity of yin and yang. "I will follow you both. Show me the Way", says the subtle Odysseus. The true fulcrum of genuine virtue is not confined to Arete, but is an Aristotelian golden mean, a balancing between the two poles.
(*) When Odysseus contrasts the two maidens, Louÿs writes of Tryphe using the French word "mollesse" -- "wetness, moisture; lack of vitality, limpness, feebleness" -- trusting the reader to interpret it positively; but our cultural norms view this nimbus of connotations with such a moral revulsion, it would prejudice the reader to render it literally. I chose "luxury" instead.