XXIII. THE GILGAMESH EPIC
We have seen[844] that the religion of Babylonia permeates all branches of literature, so that it is not always possible to draw a sharp dividing line between sacred and secular productions.
To account for this, it is but necessary to bear in mind what the previous chapters have aimed to make clear, that religion furnished the stimulus for the unfolding of intellectual life, and that the literary and scientific productions represent the work of men primarily interested in religion. The significance attached as omens to heavenly phenomena led by degrees to the elaborate astronomical system outlined in the previous chapter. But the astronomers of Babylonia were priests, and indeed the same priests who compiled the hymns and incantations. What is true of astronomy applies to medicine, so far as medicine had an existence independent of incantations, and also to law. The physician was a priest, as was the judge and likewise the scribe.
It is natural, therefore, to find that what may be called the great national epic of the Babylonians was of a religious character. The interpretation given to the traditions of the past was religious. The distant past blended with the phenomena of nature in such a way as to form a strange combination of poetry and realism. But thanks to this combination, which is essentially a process of the popular mind, the production that we are about to consider brings us much closer to the popular phases of the Babylonian religion than does the cosmology or the zodiacal system.
After all, a nation is much more interested in its heroes and in its own beginnings, than in the beginnings of things in general. Some speculation regarding the origin of the universe is perhaps inevitable the moment that the spirit of inquiry arises, but these speculations are soon entrusted into the hands of a minority,--the thinkers, the priests, the astronomers,--who elaborate a system that gradually separates itself from popular thought and exercises little influence upon the development of religious ideas among the masses.
The Book of Genesis passes rapidly over the creation of stars, plants, and animals, as though anxious to reach the history of man, and when it comes to the traditions regarding the ancestors of the Hebrews, the details are dwelt upon at length and pictured with a loving hand. Similarly among the Babylonians, there is a freshness about the story of the adventures of a great hero of the past that presents a contrast to the rather abstruse speculations embodied in the creation epic. In this story, in which a variety of ancient traditions have been combined, there is comparatively little trace of the scholastic spirit, and although, as we shall see, the story has been given its final shape under the same influences that determined the other branches of religious literature, the form has not obscured the popular character of the material out of which the story has been constructed.
The name of the hero of the story was for a long time a puzzle to scholars. Written invariably in ideographic fashion, the provisional reading Izdubar[845] was the only safe recourse until a few years ago, when Pinches discovered in a lexicographical tablet the equation
Izdubar = Gilgamesh.[846]
The equation proved that the Babylonians and Assyrians identified the hero with a legendary king, Gilgamos, who is mentioned by Aelian.[847] To be sure, what Aelian tells of this hero is not found in the Izdubar epic, and appears to have originally been recounted of another legendary personage, Etana.[848] There is therefore a reasonable doubt whether the identification made by Babylonian scholars represents an old tradition or is merely a late conjecture arising at a time when the traditions of Izdubar were confused with those of Etana. Still, since Etana appears to be a phonetic reading and can be explained etymologically in a satisfactory manner, the presumption is in favor of connecting Gilgamesh with the hero of the great epic. For the present, therefore, we may accept the identification and assume that in Aelian, as well as in the sources whence he drew his information, Izdubar-Gilgamesh has been confused with Etana.[849]
The ideographic form of the name is preceded invariably by the determinative for deity, but the three elements composing the name, iz, du, and bar, are exceedingly obscure. The first element is a very common determinative, preceding objects made of wood or any hard substance. The word for weapon is always written with this determinative; and since Izdubar is essentially a warrior, one should expect dubar to represent some kind of a weapon that he carries. On seal cylinders Gilgamesh appears armed with a large lance.[850] However this may be, Jeremias' proposition to render the name as "divine judge of earthly affairs"[851] is untenable, and the same may be said of other conjectures.
The fact that the name is written with the determinative for deity must not lead us to a purely mythical interpretation of the epic. There was a strong tendency in Babylonia to regard the early kings as gods. Dungi and Gudea, who are far from being the earliest rulers in the Euphrates Valley, appear in tablets with the determinative for deity attached to their names,[852] and it would be natural, therefore, that a hero belonging to a remote period should likewise be deified. There can be no doubt that there is a historical background to the Gilgamesh epic, and there is equally no reason to question the existence of an ancient king or hero who bore the name Gilgamesh. The deification of the hero superinduced the introduction of mythical elements. It was an easy process also, that led to tales which arose as popular symbols of occurrences in nature, being likewise brought into connection with a hero, who was at the same time a god.
The Gilgamesh epic thus takes shape as a compound of faint historical tradition and of nature myths. The deified hero becomes more particularly a solar deity. The popularity of the hero-god is attested by the introduction of his name in incantations,[853] and by special hymns being composed in his honor. One of these hymns,[854] of a penitential character, is interesting as illustrating the survival of the recollection of his human origin. Gilgamesh is addressed by a penitent, who seeks healing from disease:
O Gilgamesh, great king, judge of the Anunnaki, Prince, great oracle[855] of mankind, Overseer of all regions, ruler of the world, lord of what is on earth, Thou dost judge and, like a god, thou givest decisions,[856] Thou art established on the earth, thou fulfillest judgment, Thy judgment is unchangeable, thy [command is not revoked], Thou dost inquire, thou commandest, thou judgest, thou seest, and thou directest. Shamash has entrusted into thy hand sceptre and decision.
It will be observed that Gilgamesh is appealed to as a 'king' and 'prince.' His dominion is the earth, and the emphasis placed upon this circumstance is significant. In accord with this peculiar province of the god, the hymn continues:
Kings, chiefs, and princes bow before thee, Thou seest their laws, thou presidest over their decisions.
At the same time, his dependence upon Shamash is emphasized. As a minor solar deity, he receives his powers from the great judge Shamash. This double character of Gilgamesh furnishes the key to the interpretation of the epic in which he is the central figure.
The poem in its final shape comprised twelve tablets of about three thousand lines. Unfortunately only about half of the epic has been found up to the present time. The numerous fragments represent at least four distinct copies, all belonging to the library of Ashurbanabal. To Professor Paul Haupt we are indebted for a practically complete publication of the fragments of the epic;[857] and it is likewise owing, chiefly, to Professor Haupt that the sequence in the incidents of the epic as well as the general interpretation of the composition has been established.[858]
The center of action in the first tablets of the series and in the oldest portions of the epic is the ancient city Uruk, or Erech, in southern Babylonia, invariably spoken of as Uruk supuri, that is, the 'walled' or fortified Uruk. A special significance attaches to this epithet. It was the characteristic of every ancient town, for reasons which Ihering has brilliantly set forth,[859] to be walled.[860] The designation of Uruk as 'walled,' therefore, stamps it as a city, but that the term was added, also points to the great antiquity of the place,--to a period when towns as distinguished from mere agricultural villages were sufficiently rare to warrant some special nomenclature. From other sources the great age of Uruk is confirmed, and Hilprecht[861] is of the opinion that it was the capitol of a kingdom contemporaneous with the earliest period of Babylonian history. A lexicographical tablet[862] informs us that Uruk was specially well fortified. It was known as the place of seven walls and, in view of the cosmic significance of the number seven among the Babylonians, Jensen supposes[863] that the city's walls are an imitation of the seven concentric zones into which the world was divided. However this may be, a city so ancient and so well fortified must have played a most important part in old Babylonian history, second only in importance, if not equal, to Nippur. The continued influence of the Ishtar or Nana cult of Erech also illustrates the significance of the place. It is natural, therefore, to find traditions surviving of the history of the place.
The first tablet of the Gilgamesh epic contains such a reminiscence. The city is hard pressed by an enemy. The misfortune appears to be sent as a punishment for some offence.[864] Everything is in a state of confusion. Asses and cows destroy their young. Men weep and women sigh. The gods and spirits of "walled Uruk" have become hostile forces. For three years the enemy lays siege to the place. The gates of the city remain closed. Who the enemy is we are not told, and such is the fragmentary condition of the tablet that we are left to conjecture the outcome of the city's distress.
In the second tablet, Gilgamesh is introduced as a hero of superior strength and in control of Uruk. Is he the savior of the city or its conqueror? One is inclined to assume the latter, for the inhabitants of Uruk are represented as complaining that Gilgamesh has taken away the sons and daughters of the place. From a passage in a subsequent tablet it appears that Uruk is not the native place of the hero, but Marada.[865] Moreover, the name Gilgamesh is not Babylonian, so that the present evidence speaks in favor of regarding the first episode in the epic as a reminiscence of the extension of Gilgamesh's dominion by the conquest of Uruk. When this event took place we have no means of determining with even a remote degree of probability. The representation of Gilgamesh on very ancient seal cylinders[866] warrants us in passing beyond the third millennium, but more than this can hardly be said.
Gilgamesh is a hero of irresistible power. The inhabitants of Uruk appeal for help to Aruru, who has created Gilgamesh:
He has no rival.... Thy inhabitants [appeal for aid?]. Gilgamesh does not leave a son to his father. Day and night,... He, the ruler of walled Uruk,... He, their ruler,... The strong, the preeminent, the cunning,... Gilgamesh does not leave the virgin to [her mother], The daughter to her warrior, the wife to her husband. The gods [of heaven] hear their cry. They cry aloud to Aruru, "Thou hast created him, Now create a rival (?) to him, equal to taking up the fight against him (?)."
So much at least is clear from the badly mutilated lines that Gilgamesh has played sad havoc with the inhabitants of Uruk. In personal combat, as it would appear, he has triumphed over the warriors of the place. The son is taken away from his father, the virgins are taken captive, warriors and husbands are snatched from those dear to them. Aruru is here appealed to as the creator of mankind.[867] She who has created the hero is asked to produce some one who can successfully resist Gilgamesh. Aruru proceeds to do so.
Aruru, upon hearing this, forms a man of Anu.[868] Aruru washes her hands, takes a bit of clay, and throws it on the ground. She creates Eabani, a hero, a lofty offspring, the possession of Ninib.[869]
This creature Eabani is described as having a body covered with hair. He has long flowing locks and lives with the animals about him.
Eating herbs with gazelles, Drinking from a trough with cattle, Sporting with the creatures of the waters.
The description evidently recalls man living in a savage state, and, to judge from illustrations of Eabani on seal cylinders, the mythological fancy of the period when strange monsters existed of hybrid formation, half-man, half-beast, has influenced the conception of this strange creature who is to combat the invincible Gilgamesh. But Gilgamesh frustrates the plan. He sends a messenger known as Sadu, that is, 'the hunter,' and described as a "wicked man," to ensnare Eabani.[870] For three days in succession, the hunter sees Eabani drinking at the trough with the cattle, but is unable to catch him. The sight of this 'wild man of the woods' frightens the hunter. He returns to Gilgamesh for further instructions.
Gilgamesh spoke to the hunter:
Go, hunter mine, and take with thee Ukhat When the cattle comes to the trough, Let her tear off her dress and disclose her nakedness. He[871] will see her and approach her. His cattle, which grew up on his field, will forsake him.
Ukhatu is a name for a harlot devoted to the worship of Ishtar. Other names for such devotees are Kharimtu[872] and Kizritu.[873] Elsewhere the city Uruk is called "the dwelling of Anu and Ishtar, the city of the Kizreti, Ukhati, and Kharimati"[874] and in a subsequent tablet of the Gilgamesh epic[875] these three classes of harlots are introduced as the attendants of Ishtar, obedient to her call. The conclusion is therefore justified that Uruk was one of the centers--perhaps the center--of the obscene rites to which Herodotus[876] has several references. Several other incidental allusions in cuneiform literature to the sacred prostitution carried on at Babylonian temples confirm Herodotus' statement in general,[877] although the rite never assumed the large proportions that he reports.
On the other hand, Herodotus does not appear to have understood the religious significance of the custom that he designates as 'shameful.' The name given to the harlot among Babylonians and Hebrews,[878] Kadishtu or K'desha, that is, 'the sacred one,' is sufficient evidence that, at its origin, the rite was not the product of obscene tendencies, but due to naive conceptions connected with the worship of Ishtar as the goddess of fertility.
The introduction of Ukhat, however, as an aid to carry out the designs of Gilgamesh is devoid of religious significance, and one is inclined to regard the Eabani episode, or at least certain portions of it, as having had at one time an existence quite independent of Gilgamesh's adventures. The description of Eabani is, as we have seen, based upon mythological ideas. The creation of Eabani recalls the Biblical tradition of the formation of the first man, and Ukhat appears to be the Babylonian equivalent to the Biblical Eve, who through her charms entices Eabani away from the gazelles and cattle,[879] and brings him to Uruk, the symbol of civilized existence.
It is significant that in the Biblical narrative, the sexual instinct and the beginnings of culture as symbolized by the tree of knowledge are closely associated. According to rabbinical traditions, the serpent is the symbol of the sexual passion.[880]
Eve obtains control of Adam with the aid of this passion. In the episode of Eabani, Ukhat, and the hunter--who, be it noted, plays the part of the tempter--we seem to have an ancient legend forming part of some tradition regarding the beginnings of man's history, and which has been brought into connection with the Gilgamesh epic,--when and how, it is impossible, of course, to say.
The hunter follows the instructions of Gilgamesh. Eabani falls a victim to Ukhat's attractions.
Ukhat exposed her breast, revealed her nakedness, took off her clothing. Unabashed she enticed him.
The details of the meeting are described with a frank simplicity that points again to the antiquity of the legend.
For six days and seven nights Eabani enjoyed the love of Ukhat. After he had satiated himself with her charms, He turned his countenance to his cattle. The reposing gazelles saw Eabani, The cattle of the field turned away from him. Eabani was startled and grew faint, His limbs grew stiff as his cattle ran off.
But Ukhat has gained control of him. He gives up the thought of gazelles and cattle, and returns to enjoy the love of Ukhat. His senses return,
And he again turns in love, enthralled at the feet of the harlot, Looks up into her face and listens as the woman speaks to him. The woman[881] speaks to Eabani: "Lofty art thou, Eabani, like to a god. Why dost thou lie with the beasts? Come, I will bring thee to walled Uruk, To the glorious house,[882] the dwelling of Anu and Ishtar, To the seat of Gilgamesh, perfect in power, Surpassing men in strength, like a mountain bull."
It would appear from these lines that previous to the coming of Ukhat, Eabani had satisfied his desire on the beasts. In Ukhat, however, he found a worthier mate, and he accordingly abandons his former associates to cling to her.
He yields and obeys her command. In the wisdom of his heart he recognized a companion.[883]
In the continuation of the story Eabani becomes the companion of Gilgamesh, but I venture to think that the title was transferred in the development of the epic from Ukhat, to whom it originally belonged. It is she who awakens in Eabani a sense of dignity which made him superior to the animals. The word translated 'companion'[884] may be appropriately applied to Ukhat. Eabani clings to her, as Adam does to Eve after she 'is brought'[885] to him. Ukhat becomes Eabani's 'companion,' just as Eve becomes the 'helpmate' of Adam.
These considerations strengthen the supposition that the Eabani-Ukhat episode is quite distinct from the career of Gilgamesh. Had the epic originated in Babylon or Nippur, Eabani and Ukhat would have been brought to Babylon or Nippur. As it is, Eabani asks Ukhat to conduct him
To the glorious dwelling, the sacred seat of Anu and Ishtar, To the seat of Gilgamesh, perfect in power, Surpassing men in strength like a mountain bull.
Unfortunately, the tablet at this point is defective,[886] and the following three tablets are represented by small fragments only, from which it is exceedingly difficult to determine more than the general course of the narrative.
Ukhat and Eabani proceed to Uruk. There is an interesting reference to 'a festival' and to festive garments,[887] but whether, as would appear, Ukhat and Eabani are the ones who clothe themselves[888] upon reaching Uruk or whether, as Jeremias believes, a festival was being celebrated at the place it is impossible to say. Eabani is warned in a dream not to undertake a test of strength with Gilgamesh,[889]
Whose power is stronger than thine, Who rests not, ... neither by day or night. O Eabani, change thy ... Shamash loves Gilgamesh, Anu, Bel, and Ea have given him wisdom. Before thou comest from the mountain Gilgamesh in Uruk will see thy dream.[890]
Dreams play an important part in the epic. They constitute the regular means of communication between man and the gods, so regular that at times the compilers of the epic do not find it necessary to specify the fact, but take it for granted. To Gilgamesh, Eabani's coming is revealed and he asks his mother Aruru to interpret the dream.
The third and fourth tablets take us back to the history of Uruk. Gilgamesh, aided by his patron Shamash, succeeds in gaining Eabani as a 'companion' in a contest that is to be waged against Khumbaba, who threatens Uruk. The name of this enemy is Elamitic, and it has been customary to refer the campaign against him to the tradition recorded by Berosus of a native uprising against Elamitic rule, which took place about 2400 B.C.[891] It must be said, however, that there is no satisfactory evidence for this supposition. Elam, lying to the east of the Euphrates, was at all times a serious menace to Babylonia. Hostilities with Elam are frequent before and after the days of Hammurabi. If Gilgamesh, as seems certain, is a Cassite,[892] the conflict between him and Khumbaba would represent a rivalry among Cassitic or Elamitic hordes for the possession of Uruk and of the surrounding district. While the Cassites do not come to the front till the eighteenth century, at which time the center of their kingdom is Nippur, there is every reason to believe that they were settled in the Euphrates Valley long before that period. The course of conquest--as of civilization in Babylonia--being from the south to the north, we would be justified in looking for the Cassites in Uruk before they extended their dominion to Nippur. At all events, the conflict between Gilgamesh and Khumbaba must be referred to a much more ancient period than the rise of the city of Babylon as a political center.
Shamash and Gilgamesh promise Eabani royal honors if he will join friendship with them.
Come, and on a great couch, On a fine couch he[893] will place thee. He will give thee a seat to the left. The rulers of the earth will kiss thy feet. All the people of Uruk will crouch before thee.
Eabani consents, and in company with Gilgamesh proceeds to the fortress of Khumbaba. It is a long and hard road that they have to travel. The terror inspired by Khumbaba is compared to that aroused by a violent storm, but Gilgamesh receives assurances, in no less than three dreams, that he will come forth unharmed out of the ordeal.
The fortress of Khumbaba is situated in a grove of wonderful grandeur, in the midst of which there is a large cedar, affording shade and diffusing a sweet odor. The description reminds one forcibly of the garden of Eden, and the question suggests itself whether in this episode of the Gilgamesh epic, we have not again a composite production due to the combination of Gilgamesh's adventures with the traditions regarding Eabani. Unfortunately the description of the contest with Khumbaba is missing. There is a reference to the tyrant's death,[894] but that is all. In the sixth tablet, Gilgamesh is celebrated as the victor and not Eabani. We may conclude, therefore, that the episode belongs originally to Gilgamesh's career, and that Eabani has been introduced into it. On the other hand, for Eabani to be placed in a beautiful garden would be a natural consequence of his deserting the gazelles and cattle,--the reward, as it were, of his clinging to Ukhat. Separating the composite elements of the epic in this way, we have as distinct episodes in Gilgamesh's career, the conquest of Uruk and of other places,[895] and his successful campaign against Khumbaba. With this story there has been combined a popular tradition of man's early savage state, his departure from this condition through the sexual passion aroused by Ukhat, who becomes his 'companion,' and with whom or through whom he is led to a beautiful garden as a habitation.
The sixth tablet introduces a third element into the epic,--a mythological one. The goddess Ishtar pleads for the love of Gilgamesh. She is attracted to him by his achievements and his personality. The tablet begins with a description of the celebration of Gilgamesh's victory. The hero exchanges his blood-stained clothes for white garments, polishes his weapons, and places a crown on his head.
To secure the grace of Gilgamesh, the exalted Ishtar raises her eyes. Come, Gilgamesh, be my husband, Thy love[896] grant me as a gift, Be thou my husband and I will be thy wife I will place thee on a chariot of lapis lazuli and gold, With wheels of gold and horns of sapphire (?) Drawn by great ... steeds (?). With sweet odor of cedars enter our house. Upon entering our house, ... will kiss thy feet. Kings, lords, and princes will be submissive to thee, Products of mountain and land, they will bring as tribute to thee.
Ishtar appears here as the goddess of love and fertility. As such she promises Gilgamesh also abundance of herds. But Gilgamesh rejects the offer, giving as his reason the sad fate encountered by these who were victims of Ishtar's love:
Tammuz, the consort of thy youth (?), Thou causest to weep every year. The bright-colored allallu bird thou didst love. Thou didst crush him and break his pinions. In the woods he stands and laments, "O my pinions!" Thou didst love a lion of perfect strength, Seven and seven times[897] thou didst bury him in the corners (?), Thou didst love a horse superior in the fray, With whip and spur[898] thou didst urge him on, Thou didst force him on for seven double hours,[899] Thou didst force him on when wearied and thirsty; His mother Silili thou madest weep.
In this way Gilgamesh proceeds to upbraid the goddess, instancing, in addition, her cruel treatment of a shepherd, and apparently also of a giant, whom she changed to a dwarf. The allusions, while obscure, are all of a mythological character. The weeping of Tammuz symbolizes the decay of vegetation after the summer season. The misfortunes that afflict the bird, lion, and horse similarly indicate the loss of beauty and strength, which is the universal fate of those who once enjoyed those attributes. Ishtar, as the great mother, produces life and strength, but she is unable to make life and strength permanent. Popular belief makes her responsible for decay and death, since life and fertility appear to be in her hand. Gilgamesh, as a popular hero, is brought into association by popular traditions with Ishtar, as he is brought into relationships with Eabani and Ukhat. A factor in this association was the necessity of accounting for Gilgamesh's death. As a hero, the favorite of the gods and invincible in battle, he ought to enjoy the privilege of the gods--immortality. The question had to be answered how he came to forego this distinction. The insult he offers to Ishtar is the answer to this question. Knowing that Ishtar, although the giver of life, does not grant a continuance of it, he who is produced by Aruru will have nothing to do with the great goddess. But his refusal leads to a dire punishment, more disastrous even than the alliance with Ishtar, which would have culminated in his being eventually shorn of his strength.
Ishtar, determined that Gilgamesh should not escape her, flies in rage to her father Anu, the god of heaven, and tells of the manner in which she has been treated. Anu comforts her. Yielding to Ishtar's request he creates a divine bull, known as Alu, i.e., the strong or supreme one,[900] who is to destroy Gilgamesh. At this point in the narrative Eabani is again introduced. Gilgamesh and Eabani together proceed to the contest with the bull, as they formerly proceeded against Khumbaba. On seal cylinders this fight is frequently pictured.[901] In agreement with the description in the narrative, Eabani takes hold of the tail of the animal, while Gilgamesh despatches him by driving a spear into the bull's heart. Ishtar's plan is thus frustrated.
Ishtar mounts the wall of walled Uruk. In violent rage she pronounces a curse: "Cursed be Gilgamesh, who has enraged me, Who has killed the divine bull."
Eabani adds insult to injury by challenging the goddess.
Eabani, upon hearing these words of Ishtar, Takes the carcass (?) of the divine bull and throws it into her face. Woe to thee! I will subdue thee, I will do to thee as I have done to him.[902]
The mythological motives that prompted the introduction of Ishtar into this tablet now become apparent. The division of the epic into twelve parts is due to scholastic influences. It is certainly not accidental that the calendar also consists of twelve months. While it is by no means the case that each tablet corresponds to some month, still in the case of the sixth and, as we shall see, in the case of the seventh and eleventh tablets, this correspondence is certain. The sixth month is designated as the month of the "Mission of Ishtar." What this mission is we shall see in a subsequent chapter.[903] In this month was celebrated a festival to Tammuz, the young bridegroom of Ishtar, who is slain by the goddess. The prophet Ezekiel gives us a picture of the weeping for Tammuz,[904] which formed the chief ceremony of the day.
It is this character of the month that accounts not only for the introduction of the Ishtar episode in the sixth tablet, but which finds further illustrations in the mourning which Ishtar and her attendants indulge in after the death of the divine bull.
Ishtar assembled the Kizreti, Ukhalti and Kharimati. Over the carcass of Alu they raised a lamentation.
These three classes of sacred prostitutes have already been dwelt upon.[905] With more material at our disposal regarding the cult of Ishtar or Nana of Erech, we would be in a position to specify the character of the rites performed at this temple. The statements of Herodotus and of other writers suffice, however, to show that the three terms represent classes of priestesses attached to the temple. In this respect the Ishtar cult of Erech was not unique, for we have references to priestesses elsewhere. However, the function of the priestess in religious history differs materially from that of the priest. She is not a mediator between the god and his subjects, nor is she a representative of the deity. It is as a 'witch,' that by virtue of the association of ideas above set forth,[906] she is able to determine the intentions of the gods. Her power to do harm is supplemented by her ability to furnish oracles. In this capacity we have already come across her,[907] and we may assume that giving oracles constituted a chief function of the priestess in Babylonia. It was furthermore natural to conclude that as a 'witch' and 'oracle-giver,' the priestess belonged to the deity from whom she derived her power. When we come to the cult of a goddess like Ishtar, who is the symbol of fertility, observances that illustrated this central notion would naturally form an ingredient part of that 'sympathetic magic,'--the imitation of an action in order to produce the reality--which dominates so large a proportion of early religious ceremonialism. Among many nations the mysterious aspects of woman's fertility lead to rites that by a perversion of their original import appear to be obscene.[908] In the reference to the three classes of sacred prostitutes, we have an evidence that the Babylonian worship formed no exception to the rule. But with this proposition that the prostitutes were priestesses attached to the Ishtar cult and who look part in ceremonies intended to symbolize fertility, we must for the present rest content.
Gilgamesh, secure in his victory, proceeds to offer the horns of the divine bull to his patron Lugal-Marada, the 'king' of Marad, and who appears to be identical with Shamash himself. The offering is accompanied by gifts to the sanctuary of precious stones and oil. There is general rejoicing.
The episode of Gilgamesh's contest with the bull also belongs to the mythological phases of the epic. The bull is in Babylonian mythology[909] as among other nations a symbol of the storm. It is in his role as a solar deity that Gilgamesh triumphs over the storm sent by Anu, that is, from on high. In the following chapter, we will come across another form of this same myth suggested evidently, as was the fight of Marduk with Tiamat, by the annual storms raging in Babylonia. Gilgamesh triumphs as does Marduk, but when once the summer solstice, which represents the sun's triumph, is past, the decline of the sun's strength begins to set in. This is indicated by the subsequent course of the narrative.
The scene of rejoicing at Gilgamesh's triumph is changed to one of sadness. Eabani is snatched away from Gilgamesh. The few fragments of the seventh and eighth tablets do not suffice for determining exactly in what way this happened, but Ishtar is evidently the cause of the misfortune. A fatal illness, it would seem, seizes hold of Eabani,--whether as the result of a further contest or directly sent, it is impossible to say. For twelve days he lingers and then is taken away. As usual, the catastrophe is foreseen in dreams. For a third time[910] he sees a vision of fire and lightning, which forebodes the end.
The fragmentary condition of the epic at this point is particularly unfortunate. There is a reference to Nippur,[911] of which it would be important to know the purpose.
The relationship between Gilgamesh and Eabani would be much clearer if the seventh and eighth tablets were preserved in good condition. The disappearance of Eabani before the end of the epic confirms, however, the view here maintained, that the career of Eabani was originally quite independent of Gilgamesh's adventures. His death is as superfluous as is his association with Eabani. In all critical moments Gilgamesh appears to stand alone. He conquers Uruk, and it is he who celebrates the victory of the divine bull. The subsequent course of the narrative after Eabani's death, except for the frequent mention of Gilgamesh's lament for his companion, proceeds undisturbed. Moreover, Eabani's punishment appears to be identical with that meted out to Gilgamesh. The latter is also stricken with disease, but in his case, the disease has a meaning that fits in with the mythological phases of the epic. The seventh month--the one following the summer solstice--marks the beginning of a turning-point in the year. As the year advances, vegetation diminishes, and the conclusion was naturally drawn that the sun upon whom vegetation depended had lost some of his force. This loss of strength is pictured as a disease with which the sun is afflicted. In this way, the seventh tablet--and possibly also the eighth--continues the nature myth embodied in the sixth.
Haupt has ingeniously conjectured that the sickness which affects Gilgamesh is of a venereal character. The hero wanders about in search of healing. His suffering is increased by his deep sorrow over the loss of his 'companion.' The death of Eabani presages his own destruction, and he dreads the dreary fate in store for him. The ninth tablet introduces us to this situation.
Gilgamesh weeps for his companion Eabani. In distress he is stretched out on the ground.[912] 'I will not die like Eabani. Sorrow has entered my body. Through fear of death, I lie stretched out on the ground.'
He determines to seek out a mysterious personage, whom he calls Parnapishtim,[913] the son of Kidin-Marduk.[914] This personage has in some way escaped the fate of mankind and enjoys immortal life. He is called the "distant one." His dwelling is far off, "at the confluence of the streams." The road to the place is full of dangers, but Gilgamesh, undaunted, undertakes the journey. The hero himself furnishes the description.
I came to a glen at night, Lions I saw and was afraid. I raised my head and prayed to Sin. To the leader (?) of the gods my prayer came. [He heard my prayer (?)], and was gracious to me.
On many seal cylinders and on monuments, Gilgamesh is pictured in the act of fighting with or strangling a lion. In the preserved portions of the epic no reference to this contest has been found.[915] We should look for it at this point of the narrative. The following lines contain a reference to weapons,--ax and sword,--and in so far justify the supposition that some contest takes place. But the text is too mutilated to warrant further conjectures. After escaping from the danger occasioned by the lions, Gilgamesh comes to the mountain Mashu, which is described as a place of terrors, the entrance to which is guarded by 'scorpion-men.'
He reached the mountain Mashu, Whose exit is daily guarded, ... Whose back extends to the dam of heaven, And whose breast[916] reaches to Aralu;[917] Scorpion-men guard its gate, Of terror-inspiring aspect, whose appearance is deadly, Of awful splendor, shattering mountains. At sunrise and sunset they keep guard over the sun.
It will be recalled that the earth is pictured by the Babylonians as a mountain. The description of Mashu is dependent upon this conception. The mountain seems to be coextensive with the earth. The dam of heaven is the point near which the sun rises, and if the scorpion-men guard the sun at sunrise and sunset, the mountain must extend across to the gate through which the sun passes at night to dip into the great Apsu.[918]
Aralu is situated under the earth, and Mashu, reaching down to Aralu, must be again coextensive with the earth in this direction. The description of Mashu accordingly is a reflex of the cosmological conceptions developed in Babylonia. The scorpion-men pictured on seal cylinders[919] belong to the mythical monsters, half-man, half-beast, with which the world was peopled at the beginning of things. However, there is also an historical background to the description. The name Mashu appears in texts as the Arabian desert to the west and southwest of the Euphrates Valley.[920] It is called a land of dryness, where neither birds nor gazelles nor wild asses are found. Even the bold Assyrian armies hesitated before passing through this region. In the light of the early relationships between Babylonia and Arabia,[921] this reference to Mashu may embody a tradition of some expedition to Southern Arabia.[922] Beyond Mashu lay a great sea,--perhaps the Arabian Sea,--which Gilgamesh is obliged to cross ere he reaches his goal.
Gilgamesh is terrified at the sight of these scorpion-men but the latter have received notice of his coming and permit him to pass through the gate.
A scorpion-man addresses his wife: "He who comes to us is of divine appearance."
The wife of the scorpion-man agrees that Gilgamesh is in part divine, but she adds that in part he is human. In further conversation, the scorpion-man announces that it is by express command of the gods that Gilgamesh has come to the mountain. Gilgamesh approaches and tells the scorpion-man of his purpose. The hero, recovering his courage, is not held back by the description that the scorpion-man gives him of the dangers that beset the one who ventures to enter the dreadful district. The gate is opened and the journey begins.
He gropes his way for one double hour, With dense darkness enclosing him on all sides. He gropes his way for two double hours, With dense darkness enclosing him on all sides.
After traversing a distance of twenty-four hours' march, Gilgamesh beholds a tree of splendid appearance, decorated with precious stones and bearing beautiful fruit. Finally he reaches the sea, where the maiden Sabitum has her palace and throne. Upon seeing the hero, the maiden locks the gates of her palace and will not permit Gilgamesh to pass across the sea. Gilgamesh pleads with Sabitum, tells of the loss of his friend Eabani, 'who has become dust,'[923] and whose fate he does not wish to share.
Gilgamesh speaks to Sabitum: "[Now] Sabitum, which is the way to Parnapishtim? If it is possible, let me cross the ocean. If it is not possible, let me stretch myself on the ground."[924] Sabitum speaks to Gilgamesh: "O Gilgamesh! there has never been a ferry, And no one has ever crossed the ocean. Shamash, the hero, has crossed it, but except Shamash, who can cross it? Difficult is the passage, very difficult the path. Impassible (?) the waters of death that are guarded by a bolt. How canst thou, O Gilgamesh, traverse the ocean? And after thou hast crossed the waters of death, what wilt thou do?"
Sabitum then tells Gilgamesh that there is one possibility of his accomplishing his task. If Ardi-Ea,[925] the ferryman[926] of Parnapishtim, will take Gilgamesh across, well and good; if not, he must abandon all hope.
The ocean, though not expressly called Apsu, is evidently identical with the great body of waters supposed to both surround the earth and to flow beneath it.[927] The reference to 'the waters of death' thus becomes clear. The gathering-place of the dead being under the earth, near to the Apsu, the great 'Okeanos' forms a means of approach to the nether world. It is into this ocean, forming part of the Apsu, that the sun dips at evening and through which it passes during the night. The scene between Gilgamesh and Sabitum accordingly is suggested, in part, by the same cosmological conceptions that condition the description of the mountain Mashu.
Sabitum herself is a figure that still awaits satisfactory explanation. She is called the goddess Siduri.[928] The name of this goddess is found as an element in proper names, but of her traits we know nothing. Sabitum appears originally to have been a term descriptive of her, and Hommel[929] may be right in explaining the name as 'the one from Sabu,'[930] and in taking the latter as the name of a district in Arabia. It is tempting to think of the famous Saba in Southern Arabia. Obedient to the advice of Sabitum, Gilgamesh tells Ardi-Ea his story and also his desire.
Now Ardi-Ea, which is the way to [Parnapishtim?]. If it is possible, let me cross the ocean, And if not possible, let me lie outstretched on the ground.
Ardi-Ea consents, and tells Gilgamesh to take his ax, to go into the woods, and to cut down a large pole that may serve as a rudder.
Gilgamesh, upon hearing this, Takes an ax in his hand, ... Goes to the wood and makes a rudder five gar[931] long. Gilgamesh and Ardi-Ea mount the ship.
...
The ship tosses from side to side. After a course of one month and fifteen days, on the third day[932] Ardi-Ea reaches the waters of death.
This appears to be the most dangerous part of the voyage. Ardi-Ea urges Gilgamesh to cling to the rudder, and counts the strokes he is to take.[933] The waters are not extensive, for only twelve strokes are enumerated; but the current is so strong that it is with the utmost difficulty that Gilgamesh succeeds in passing through them. At last, Gilgamesh is face to face with Parnapishtim. The latter is astonished to see a living person come across the waters. Gilgamesh addresses Parnapishtim from the ship, recounts his deeds, among which we distinguish[934] the killing of a panther, of Alu, of the divine bull, and of Khumbaba. The death of Eabani is also dwelt upon, and then Gilgamesh pleads with Parnapishtim, tells him of the long, difficult way that he has traveled, and of all that he has encountered on the road.
Difficult lands I passed through, All seas I crossed.
Parnapishtim expresses his sympathy:
Gilgamesh has filled his heart with woe, But neither gods nor men [can help him (?)].
Parnapishtim thereupon addresses Gilgamesh, showing him how impossible it is for any mortal to escape death. The inexorable law will prevail as long as 'houses continue to be built,' as long as 'friendships' and 'hostilities' prevail, as long 'as the waters fill (?) the sea.' The Anunnaki, the great gods, and the goddess Mammitum, the creators of everything
Determine death and life. No one knows the days of death.[935]
At this point Gilgamesh propounds a most natural question: How comes it, if what Parnapishtim says is true, that the latter is alive, while possessing all the traits of a human being? The eleventh tablet of the epic begins:
Gilgamesh speaks to him, to Parnapishtim, the far-removed: "I gaze at thee in amazement, Parnapishtim. Thy appearance is normal. As I am, so art thou. Thy entire nature[936] is normal. As I am, so art thou. Thou art completely equipped for the fray.[937] Armor[938] (?) thou hast placed upon thee. Tell me how thou didst come to obtain eternal life among the gods."
In reply, Parnapishtim tells the story of his escape from the common fate of mankind. The story is a long one and has no connection with the career of Gilgamesh. It embodies a recollection of a rain-storm that once visited a city, causing a general destruction, but from which Parnapishtim and his family miraculously escaped. The main purport of the tale is not to emphasize this miracle, but the far greater one that, after having been saved from the catastrophe, Parnapishtim should also have been granted immortal life. The moral, however, is that the exception proves the rule. With this tradition of the destruction of a certain place, there has been combined a nature myth symbolizing the annual overflow of the Euphrates, and the temporary disappearance of all land that this inundation brought about, prior to the elaborate canal system that was developed in the valley. It is the same myth that we have come across in the creation epic and which, as we have seen, was instrumental in moulding the advanced cosmological conceptions of the Babylonians.
In Parnapishtim's tale, the myth is given a more popular form. There is no attempt made to impart a scholastic interpretation to it. In keeping with what we have seen to be the general character of the Gilgamesh epic, the episode introduced at this point embodies popular traditions and, on the whole, popular conceptions. The spirit of the whole epic is the same that we find in the Thousand and One Nights or in the Arabian romance of Antar.
The oriental love of story-telling has produced the Gilgamesh epic and, like a true story, it grows in length, the oftener it is told. Gilgamesh is merely a peg upon which various current traditions and myths are hung. Hence the combination of Gilgamesh's adventures with those of Eabani, and hence also the association of Gilgamesh with Parnapishtim. A trace, perhaps, of scholastic influence may be seen in the purport of Parnapishtim's narrative to prove the hopelessness of man's securing immortality; and yet, while the theology of the schools may thus have had some share in giving to the tale of Parnapishtim its present shape, the problem presented by Gilgamesh's adventures is a popular rather than a scholastic one. Even to the primitive mind, for whom life rather than death constitutes the great mystery to be solved, the question would suggest itself whether death is an absolutely necessary phase through which man must pass. The sun, moon, and stars do not die, the streams have perpetual life; and since all manifestations of life were looked at from one point of view, why should not man also remain alive? Beyond some touches in the narrative, we may, therefore, regard Parnapishtim's story, together with the 'lesson' it teaches, as an interesting trace of the early theology as it took shape in the popular mind. What adds interest to the story that Parnapishtim tells, is its close resemblance to the Biblical story of the Deluge. It also recalls the destruction of Sodom, and we shall have occasion[939] to show the significance of these points of contact. Bearing in mind the independent character of the Parnapishtim episode, and the motives that led to its being incorporated in the adventures of Gilgamesh, we may proceed with our analysis of this interesting eleventh tablet. Thanks to the labors of Haupt, the numerous fragments of it representing several copies, have been pieced together so as to form an almost complete text.[940] In reply to Gilgamesh's queries,
Parnapishtim spoke to Gilgamesh: "I will tell thee, Gilgamesh, the secret story, And the secret of the gods I will tell thee. The city Shurippak, a city which, as thou knowest, Lies on the Euphrates, That city was old,[941] for the gods thereof, Decided to bring a rainstorm upon it. All of the great gods, Anu, their father, Their counsellor, the warrior Bel, The herald Ninib, Their leader En-nugi, The lord of unsearchable wisdom, Ea, was with them, To proclaim their resolve to the reed-huts. Reed-hut, reed-hut, wall, wall! Reed-hut, hear! Wall, give ear!"
The ordinary houses of Babylonia were constructed of reeds, while the temples and palaces were built of hard-baked clay. "Reed-hut" and "clay structure," thus embracing the architecture of the country, are poetically used to designate the inhabitants of Shurippak. The address to the huts and structures has been appropriately compared by Professor Haupt to the opening words of Isaiah's prophecies.[942]
Hear, Heavens! and give ear, Earth!
Ea's words are intended as a warning to the people of Shurippak. The warning comes appropriately from Ea as the god of humanity, who according to some traditions is also the creator of mankind, and who is the teacher and protector of mankind. Opposed to Ea is Bel, the old Bel of Nippur, who is represented as favoring the destruction of humanity. The story in this way reflects a rivalry between the Ea and Bel cults.
Of Shurippak, against which the anger of the gods is enkindled, we unfortunately know nothing,[943] but it is fair to assume that there was an ancient city of that name, and which was destroyed by an overflow of the Euphrates during the rainy season. The city need not necessarily have been one of much importance. Its sad fate would naturally have impressed itself upon the memory of the people, and given rise to legends precisely as the disappearance of Sodom[944] or of the destruction of the tribes of Ad and Thamud gave rise to fantastic stories among Hebrews and Arabs respectively.[945]
Ea, not content with the general warning, sends a special message to Parnapishtim, one of the inhabitants of Shurippak.
O man of Shurippak, son of Kidin-Marduk![946] Erect a structure,[947] build a ship, Abandon your goods, look after the souls,[948] Throw aside your possessions, and save your life, Load the ship with all kinds of living things.
The god then tells Parnapishtim in what manner to build the ship. Its dimensions should be carefully measured. Its breadth and depth should be equal, and when it is finished, Parnapishtim is to float it. The warning from Ea comes to him in a dream, as we learn from a subsequent part of the story. Parnapishtim does not deem it necessary to dwell upon this, for it is only through dreams that the gods communicate with kings and heroes.
Parnapishtim declares his readiness to obey the orders of Ea, but like Moses upon receiving the command of Yahwe, he asks what he should say when people question him.
What shall I answer the city, the people, and the elders?
Ea replies:
Thus answer and speak to them: Bel has cast me out in his hatred, So that I can no longer dwell in your city. On Bel's territory I dare no longer show my face; Therefore, I go to the 'deep' to dwell with Ea my lord.
Bel's domain is the earth, while Ea controls the watery elements. Bel's hostility to mankind is limited to the inhabitants of the dry land. The moment that Parnapishtim enters Ea's domain he is safe. The answer thus not only furnishes the real motive for the building of the ship, but further illustrates the purport of the narrative in its present form. It is a glorification of Ea at the expense of Bel, and it is not difficult to detect the thought underlying the story that the evils afflicting mankind on earth are due to the hostility of the 'chief demon,'[949] who becomes the controller of the earth and of the atmosphere immediately above the earth. Ea's answer is not intended to be equivocal, for he further orders Parnapishtim to announce to his fellow-citizens the coming destruction.
Over you a rainstorm will come, Men, birds, and beasts will perish.
The following line[950] is defective, but it appears to except from the general destruction the fish as the inhabitants of the domain controlled by Ea. The time when the catastrophe is to take place is vaguely indicated.
When Shamash will bring on the time, then the lord of the whirlstorm Will cause destruction to rain upon you in the evening.
The 'lord of the whirlstorm' is Ramman, and the reference to this deity specifies the manner in which the catastrophe will be brought about. As in the Biblical story, 'the windows of heaven are to be opened,' the rains will come down, driven by the winds that are to be let loose. It has been supposed that because the ship of Parnapishtim drifts to the north that the storm came from the south.[951] No stress, however, is laid upon the question of direction in the Babylonian narrative. The phenomenon of a whirlstorm with rain is of ordinary occurrence; its violence alone makes it an exceptional event, but--be it noted--not a miraculous one. Nor are we justified in attributing the deluge to the rush of waters from the Persian Gulf, for this sheet of water is particularly sacred to Ea as the beginning of the "great deep." It would be an insult to Ea's dignity to suppose that he is unable to govern his own territory. The catastrophe comes from above, from Ramman and his associates who act at the instigation of the belligerent Bel.
Parnapishtim begins at once to build the ship. He gathers his material, and on the fifth day is ready to construct the hull. The ship resembles the ordinary craft still used on the Euphrates. It is a flat-bottomed skiff with upturned edges. On this shell the real 'house'[952] of Parnapishtim is placed. The structure is accurately described. Its height is one hundred and twenty cubits, and its breadth is the same, in accordance with the express orders given by Ea. No less than six floors are erected, one above the other.
Then I built six stories,[953] So that the whole consisted of seven apartments. The interior[954] I divided into nine parts.
The structure may properly be called a 'house boat,' and its elaborate character appears from the fact that it contains no less than sixty-three compartments. Parnapishtim carefully provides plugs to fill out all crevices, and furthermore smears a large quantity of bitumen without and within.
I provided a pole,[955] and all that was necessary, Six sar[956] of bitumen[957] I smeared on the outside,[958] Three sar of pitch [I smeared] on the inside.
He also has a large quantity of oil placed on the boat, oxen, jars filled with mead[959] oil, and wine for a festival, which he institutes at the completion of the structure. The preparations are on a large scale, as for the great New Year's Day celebrated in Babylonia. The ship is launched, and, if Professor Haupt is correct in his interpretation, the ship took water to the extent of two-thirds of its height.
The side of the ship dipped two-thirds into water.
Parnapishtim now proceeds to take his family and chattels on board.
All that I had, I loaded on the ship. With all the silver that I had, I loaded it, With all the gold that I had, I loaded it, With living creatures of all kinds I loaded it. I brought on board my whole family and household, Cattle of the field, beasts of the field, workmen,--all this I took on board.
Parnapishtim is ready to enter the ship, but he waits until the time fixed for the storm arrives.
When the time came For the lord of the whirlstorm to rain down destruction, I gazed at the earth, I was terrified at its sight, I entered the ship, and closed the door. To the captain of the ship, to Puzur-Shadurabu,[960] the sailor, I entrusted the structure[961] with all its contents.
The description of the storm follows, in diction at once impressive and forcible.
Upon the first appearance of dawn, There arose from the horizon dark clouds, Within which Ramman caused his thunder to resound. Nabu and Sharru[962] marched at the front, The destroyers passed across mountains and land, Dibbarra[963] lets loose the....[964] Ninib advances in furious hostility. The Anunnaki raise torches, Whose sheen illumines the universe, As Ramman's whirlwind sweeps the heavens, And all light is changed to darkness.
The destructive elements, thunder, lightning, storm, rain, are thus let loose. The dreadful storm lasts for seven days. The terror of men and gods is splendidly portrayed.
Brother does not look after brother, Men care not for another. In the heavens, Even the gods are terrified at the storm. They take refuge in the heaven of Anu.[965] The gods cowered like dogs at the edge of the heavens.
With this description the climax in the narrative is reached. The reaction begins. Ishtar is the first to bewail the destruction that has been brought about, and her example is followed by others of the gods.
Ishtar groans like a woman in throes, The lofty goddess cries with loud voice, The world of old has become a mass of clay.[966]
Ishtar appears here in the role of the mother of mankind. She feels that she has none but herself to blame for the catastrophe, for, as one of the great gods, she must have been present at the council when the storm was decided on, and must have countenanced it. She therefore reproaches herself:
That I should have assented[967] to this evil among the gods! That when I assented to this evil, I was for the destruction of my own creatures![968] What I created, where is it? Like so many fish, it[969] fills the sea.
From the words of Ishtar it would appear that the storm had assumed larger dimensions than the gods, or at least than some of them, had anticipated. At the beginning of the episode, Shurippak alone is mentioned, and Ishtar apparently wishes to say that when she agreed to the bringing on of the storm, she was not aware that she was decreeing the destruction of all mankind. It is evident that two distinct traditions have been welded together in the present form of the Babylonian document, one recalling the destruction of a single city, the other embodying in mythological form the destructive rains of Babylonia that were wont to annually flood the entire country before the canal system was perfected.
Some particularly destructive season may have formed an additional factor in the combination of the traditions. At all events, the storm appears to have got beyond the control of the gods, and none but Bel approves of the widespread havoc that has been wrought. It is no unusual phenomenon in ancient religions to find the gods powerless to control occurrences that they themselves produced. The Anunnaki--even more directly implicated than Ishtar in bringing on the catastrophe--join the goddess in her lament at the complete destruction wrought.
The gods, together with the Anunnaki, wept with her. The gods, in their depression, sat down to weep, Pressed their lips together, were overwhelmed with grief (?). The storm could no longer be quieted. For six days and nights Wind, rain-storm, hurricane swept along; When the seventh day arrived, the storm began to moderate, Which had waged a contest like a great host. The sea quieted down, wind and rain-storm ceased.
Parnapishtim then gazes at the destruction.
Bitterly weeping I looked at the sea, For all mankind had been turned to clay.[970] In place of dams, everything had become a marsh. I opened a hole so as to let the light fall upon my face, And dumbfounded, I sat down and wept. Tears flowed down my face. I looked in all directions,--naught but sea.
But soon the waters began to diminish.
After twelve double hours[971] an island appeared, The ship approached the mountain Nisir.
The name given to the first promontory to appear is significant. Nisir signifies 'protection' or 'salvation.' The houseboat clings to this spot.
At this mountain, the mountain Nisir, the boat stuck fast.
For six days the boat remains in the same position. At the beginning of the seventh day, Parnapishtim endeavors to ascertain whether the waters have abated sufficiently to permit him to leave the boat.
When the seventh day approached I sent forth a dove. The dove flew about But, finding no resting place, returned; Then I sent forth a swallow. The swallow flew about But, finding no resting place, returned; Then I sent forth a raven. The raven flew off, and, seeing that the waters had decreased, Cautiously[972] (?) waded in the mud, but did not return.
Parnapishtim is satisfied, leaves the ship, and brings a sacrifice to the gods on the top of the mountain. In seven large bowls he places calamus, cedarwood, and incense.
The gods inhaled the odor, The gods inhaled the sweet odor, The gods gathered like flies around the sacrificer.
A solemn scene ensues. Ishtar, the 'mistress of the gods,' swears by the necklace given to her by her father, Anu, that she will never forget these days.
Let the gods come to the sacrifice,[973] But Bel must not come to the sacrifice; Since, without consultation,[974] he caused the rain-storm, And handed over my creation[975] to destruction.
Bel thus appears to be the one who alone knew of the extent which the destruction was destined to reach. The annihilation of all mankind was his work, undertaken without consulting his associates. The latter were aware only of the intended destruction of a single place,--Shurippak.
At this moment Bel approaches. He does not deny his deed, but is enraged that the planned destruction should not have been complete, since Parnapishtim and his household have escaped.
As Bel approached And saw the ship, he was enraged, Filled with anger against the gods--the Igigi. 'What person has escaped (?)? No one was to survive the destruction.'
Ninib reveals the fact of Ea's interference:
Ninib opened his mouth and spoke, spoke to the belligerent Bel: "Who but Ea could have done this? For is it not Ea who knows all arts?"
Ea appeals to Bel:
Ea opened his mouth and spoke, spoke to the belligerent Bel: "Thou art the belligerent leader of the gods, But why didst thou, without consultation, bring on the rainstorm? Punish the sinner for his sins, Punish the evil-doer for his evil deeds, But be merciful so as not to root out completely, Be considerate not to destroy everything."
The terrors inspired by the deluge are well portrayed in the continuation of Ea's speech. He tells Bel that he should have brought on anything but a deluge.
Instead of bringing on a deluge, Let lions come and diminish mankind.[976] Instead of bringing on a deluge, Let tigers come and diminish mankind. Instead of bringing on a deluge, Let famine come and smite the land. Instead of bringing on a deluge, Let pestilence[977] come and waste the land.
Ea then confesses that through his instigation Parnapishtim was saved.
While I did not reveal the decision of the great gods, I sent Adra-Khasis[978] a dream which told him of the decision of the gods.
It is a misconception to regard this answer of the god as equivocal. Ea means to say that he did not interfere with the divine decree. He simply told Parnapishtim to build a ship, leaving to the latter to divine the reason. Ea, it is true, tells Parnapishtim of Bel's hatred, but he does not reveal the secret of the gods. After Ea's effective speech Bel is reconciled, and the scene closes dramatically, as follows:
Bel came to his senses, Stepped on board of the ship, Took me by the hand and lifted me up, Brought up my wife, and caused her to kneel at my side, Turned towards us, stepped between us, and blessed us. 'Hitherto Parnapishtim was human,[979] But now Parnapishtim and his wife shall be gods like us.[980] Parnapishtim shall dwell in the distance, at the confluence of the streams.' Then they took me and placed me in the distance, at the confluence of the streams.
The streams are, according to Haupt,[981] the four rivers--Euphrates, Tigris, Karun, and Kercha, which at one time emptied their waters independently into the Persian Gulf. Parnapishtim's dwelling-place is identical with the traditional Paradise of the Babylonians and Hebrews.
It will be proper before leaving the subject, to dwell briefly upon the points of contact between this Babylonian tale and the Biblical narrative of the Deluge. The source of the tradition must be sought in the Euphrates Valley. The ark of Noah can only be understood in the light of methods of navigation prevailing in Babylonia; and it is in Babylonia, and not Palestine, that the phenomenon was annually seen of large portions of land disappearing from view.
The Babylonian tale is to be differentiated, as already suggested, into two parts,--the destruction of Shurippak and the annual phenomenon of the overflow of the Euphrates. The combination of these two elements results in the impression conveyed by Parnapishtim's narrative that the rain-storm took on larger dimensions than was originally anticipated by the gods. The Biblical narrative is based upon this combination, but discarding those portions of the tale which are of purely local interest makes the story of a deluge, a medium for illustrating the favor shown by Yahwe towards the righteous man, as represented by Noah. The Biblical narrative ends, as does the Babylonian counterpart, with the assurance that a deluge will not sweep over the earth again; but viewed from a monotheistic aspect, this promise is interpreted as signifying the establishment of eternal laws,--a thought that is wholly foreign to the purpose of the Babylonian narrative.
The slight variations between the Biblical and Babylonian narratives, and upon which it is needless to dwell, justify the conclusion that the Hebrew story is not directly borrowed from the Babylonian version.[982] The divergences are just of the character that will arise through the independent development and the independent interpretation of a common tradition. The destruction of Shurippak has a Biblical parallel in the destruction of Sodom[983] and of the surrounding district. Sodom, like Shurippak, is a city full of wickedness. Lot and his household are saved through direct intervention, just as Parnapishtim and his family escape through the intervention of Ea. Moreover, there are traces in the Sodom narrative of a tradition which once gave a larger character to it, involving the destruction of all mankind,[984] much as the destruction of Shurippak is enlarged by Babylonian traditions into a general annihilation of mankind. It is to be noted, too, that no emphasis is laid upon Lot's piety, and in this respect, as in others, Parnapishtim bears more resemblance to Lot than to Noah.
The hostility between Bel and Ea, which we have seen plays a part in the Babylonian narrative, belongs to the larger mythological element in the episode, not to the specific Shurippak incident. Bel, as the god whose dominion includes the atmosphere above the earth, controls the 'upper waters.' At his instigation these waters descend and bring destruction with them. But Ea's dominion--the 'deep' and the streams--are beneficent powers. The descent of the upper waters is in the nature of an attack upon Ea's kingdom. It is through Ea that the mischief produced by Bel is again made good. Such a conception falls within the domain of popular mythology. An ancient rivalry between Nippur, the seat of Bel and Eridu (or some other seat of Ea worship), may also have entered as a factor, if not in giving rise to the story, at least in maintaining it. If this be so, the story would belong to a period earlier than Hammurabi,[985] since with the ascendancy of Babylon and of Marduk, the general tendency of religious thought is towards imbuing the gods with a kindly spirit towards one another, joining issues, as in the creation epic, for the glorification of Marduk. The absence of Marduk from the deluge story is another indication of the antiquity of the tradition.
Coming back now to the epic, Parnapishtim, whose sympathy has been aroused by the sight of Gilgamesh, makes an attempt to heal the hero of his illness.
The life that thou seekest, thou wilt obtain. Now sleep!
Gilgamesh falls into a heavy stupor, and continues in this state for six days and seven nights. An interesting dialogue ensues between Parnapishtim and his wife.
Parnapishtim says to his wife: "Look at the man whose desire is life. Sleep has fallen upon him like a storm." Says the wife to Parnapishtim: "Transform him, let the man eat of the charm-root,[986] Let him return, restored in health, on the road that he came. Through the gage let him pass out, back to his country." Parnapishtim says to his wife: "The torture of the man pains thee. Cook the food[987] for him and place it at his head."
It is interesting to note that the woman appears as the exorciser of the disease. The wife of Parnapishtim--whose name is not mentioned as little as is the wife of Noah or Lot--proceeds to prepare the magic food. A plant of some kind is taken and elaborately treated.
While he[988] slept on board of his ship, She cooked the food and placed it at his head. While he[988] slept on board of his vessel, Firstly, his food ... ; Secondly, it was peeled; Thirdly, moistened; Fourthly, his bowl (?) was cleansed; Fifthly, Shiba[989] was added; Sixthly, it was cooked; Seventhly, of a sudden the man was transformed and ate the magic food.[990]
Gilgamesh awakes and asks what has been done to him. Parnapishtim tells him. But Gilgamesh is not completely healed. His body is still covered with sores. The magic potion must be followed by immersion into the fountain of life. Parnapishtim instructs Ardi-Ea to convey Gilgamesh to this fountain. He speaks to the ferryman.
The man whom thou hast brought is covered with sores. The eruption on his skin has destroyed the beauty of his body. Take him, O Ardi-Ea, to the place of purification, To wash his sores in the water, that he may become white as snow. Let the ocean carry off the eruption on his skin, That his body may become pure.[991] Let his turban be renewed and the garment that covers his nakedness.
Ardi-Ea carries out these instructions and Gilgamesh at last is healed. The hero is now ready to return to his land. But though returning in restored health, he is not proof against death. Parnapishtim, at the suggestion of his wife, reveals the 'secret of life' to Gilgamesh just before the latter's departure. The ship is brought nearer to the shore, and Parnapishtim tells Gilgamesh of a plant that wounds as a thistle, but which possesses wonderful power. Gilgamesh departs on the ship, and with the help of Ardi-Ea finds this plant, which is called 'the restoration of old age to youth.' It is a long journey to the place. The plant grows at the side or at the bottom of a fountain. Gilgamesh secures it, but scarcely have his hands grasped the plant when it slips out of his hand and is snatched away by a demon that takes on the form of a serpent. All is lost! Gilgamesh sits down and weeps bitter tears. He pours out his woe to Ardi-Ea, but there is nothing left except to return to Uruk. He reaches the city in safely. His mission--the search for immortality--has failed. Though healed from his disease, the fate of mankind--old age and death--is in store for him. With the return to Uruk the eleventh tablet ends. It but remains, before passing on, to note that the narrative of the deluge in this tablet is connected with the character of the eleventh month, which is called the 'month of rain.' We may conclude from this that the mythological element in the story--the annual overflow--predominates the local incident of the destruction of Shurippak. Gilgamesh, we must bear in mind, has nothing to do with either the local tale or the myth, except to give to both an interpretation that was originally foreign to the composite narrative.
In the twelfth tablet--which is in large part obscure--we find Gilgamesh wandering from one temple to the other, from the temple of Bel to that of Ea, lamenting for Eabani, and asking, again and again, what has become of his companion. What has been his fate since he was taken away from the land of the living? The hero, now convinced, as it seems, that death will come to him, and reconciled in a measure to his fate, seeks to learn another secret,--the secret of existence after death. He appeals to the gods of the nether world to grant him at least a sight of Eabani. Nergal, the chief of this pantheon, consents.
... he opened the earth, And the spirit[992] of Eabani He caused to rise up like a wind.
Gilgamesh puts his question to Eabani:
Tell me, my companion, tell me, my companion, The nature of the land which thou hast experienced, oh! tell me.
Eabani replies:
I cannot tell thee, my friend, I cannot tell thee!
He seems to feel that Gilgamesh could not endure the description. The life after death, as will be shown in a subsequent chapter, is not pictured by the Babylonians as joyous. Eabani reveals glimpses of the sad conditions that prevail there. It is the domain of the terrible Allatu, and Etana[993] is named among those who dwell in this region. Eabani bewails his fate.[994] He curses Ukhat, whom, together with Sadu, he holds responsible for having brought death upon him. In Genesis, it will be recalled, death likewise is viewed as the consequence of Adam's yielding to the allurements of Eve. Special significance, too, attaches to the further parallel to be drawn between Adam's punishment and Eabani's fate.
Dust thou art, and unto dust shall thou return
applies to Eabani as well as to Adam. He was formed of clay, as we have seen,[995] and when he dies he is 'turned to clay.'[996] Still the fortunes awaiting those who die are not alike. Those who die in battle seem to enjoy special privileges, provided, however, they are properly buried and there is some one to make them comfortable in their last hour and to look after them when dead. Such persons are happy in comparison with the fate in store for those who are neglected by the living. The one who is properly cared for, who
On a soft couch rests, Drinking pure water, Who dies in battle, as you and I have seen,[997] His father and mother supporting his head, His wife[998] ... at his side,--
the spirit of such a one is at rest. The circumstances attending death presage in a measure the individual's life after death.
But he whose corpse remains in the field, As you and I have seen, His spirit[999] has no rest in the earth. The one whose spirit is not cared for by any one, As you and I have seen, He is consumed by gnawing hunger, by a longing for food. What is left on the street he is obliged to eat.[1000]
To be left unburied was the greatest misfortune that could happen to a dead person.
With this sentiment the epic closes. Gilgamesh must rest content with the unsatisfactory consolation that Eabani offers him. Man must die, and Gilgamesh cannot escape the universal fate. Let him hope for and, if possible, provide for proper burial when death does overtake him. He will then, at least, not suffer the pangs of hunger in the world of spirits to which he must go.
The twelfth tablet exhibits somewhat more traces of the theology of the schools than the others. Eabani's speech, while conveying sentiments that thoroughly represent the popular beliefs of Babylonia, is couched in terms that give to the address the character of a formal declaration of doctrines. The conjuring up of the spirit of Eabani is also a feature that appears to be due to theological influences, and the whole episode of Gilgamesh's wandering from place to place seeking for information appears to be a 'doublet' suggested by the hero's wanderings, as narrated in the ninth and tenth tablets.
The problem propounded in the earlier tablets--the search for immortality--is, as has been shown, a perfectly natural one and of popular origin, but the problem with which Gilgamesh wrestles in the twelfth tablet,--the secret of the life after death,--while suggested by the other, belongs rather to the domain of theological and mystic speculation. This aspect of the twelfth tablet is borne out also by the fact that the problem is not solved. The epic ends as unsatisfactorily as the Book of Job or Ecclesiastes. There is a tone of despair in the final speech of Eabani, which savors of the schools of advanced thought in Babylonia. For the problem of immortality, a definite solution at least is offered. Man can reach old age; he may be snatched for a time from the grasp of death, as Gilgamesh was through the efforts of Parnapishtim, but he only deludes himself by indulging in hopes of immortal life. 'Man must die' is the refrain that rings in our ears. The plant of 'eternal youth' slips out of one's hand at the very moment that one believes to have secured it.
The Gilgamesh epic, as we have it, thus turns out to be a composite production. Gilgamesh, a popular hero of antiquity, becomes a medium for the perpetuation of various popular traditions and myths. The adventures of his career are combined with the early history of man. Of actual deeds performed by Gilgamesh, and which belong to Gilgamesh's career as a hero, warrior, and ruler, we have only four,--the conquest of Erech, his victory over Khumbaba, the killing of the divine bull, and the strangling of the lion.[1001] The story of Eabani, Ukhat, and Sadu is independent of Gilgamesh's career, and so also is the story of his wanderings to Mashu and his encounter with Parnapishtim. Gilgamesh is brought into association with Eabani by what may be called, a natural process of assimilation. The life of the hero is placed back at the beginning of things, and in this way Gilgamesh is brought into direct contact with legends of man's early fortunes, with ancient historical reminiscences, as well as with nature-myths that symbolize the change of seasons and the annual inundations.
Popular philosophy also enters into the life of the hero. Regarded as a god and yet of human origin, Gilgamesh becomes an appropriate illustration for determining the line that marks off man's career from the indefinite extension of activity that is a trait of the gods. Gilgamesh revolts against the universal law of decay and is punished. He is relieved from suffering, but cannot escape the doom of death. The sixth tablet marks an important division in the epic. The Ishtar and Sabitum episodes and the narrative of Parnapishtim--itself a compound of two independent tales, one semi-historical, the other a nature-myth--represent accretions that may refer to a time when Gilgamesh had become little more than a name,--a type of mankind in general. Finally, scholastic speculation takes hold of Gilgamesh, and makes him the medium for illustrating another and more advanced problem that is of intense interest to mankind,--the secret of death. Death is inevitable, but what does death mean? The problem is not solved. The close of the eleventh tablet suggests that Gilgamesh will die. The twelfth tablet adds nothing to the situation--except a moral. Proper burial is essential to the comparative well-being of the dead.
The fact that Gilgamesh is viewed as a type in the latter half of this remarkable specimen of Babylonian literature justifies us in speaking of it, under proper qualification, as a 'national epic.' But it must be remembered that Gilgamesh himself belongs to a section of Babylonia only, and not to the whole of it; and it is rather curious that one, of whom it can be said with certainty that he is not even a native of Babylonia, should become the personage to whom popular fancy was pleased to attach traditions and myths that are distinctively Babylonian in character and origin.
The story of Gilgamesh was carried beyond the confines of Babylonia.[1002] Gilgamesh, to be sure, is not identical with the Biblical Nimrod,[1003] but the Gilgamesh story has evidently influenced the description given in the tenth chapter of Genesis of Nimrod, who is viewed as the type of Babylonian power and of the extension of Babylonian culture to the north.
The Gilgamesh epic is not a solar myth, as was once supposed,[1004] nor is the Biblical story of Samson a pure myth, but Gilgamesh becomes a solar deity, and it is hardly accidental that Samson, or to give the Hebrew form of the name, Shimshon, is a variant form of Shamash[1005]--the name of the sun in Babylonian and Hebrew. The Biblical Samson appears to be modelled upon the character of Gilgamesh. Both are heroes, both conquerors, both strangle a lion, and both are wooed by a woman, the one by Delila, the other by Ishtar, and both through a woman are shorn of their strength. The historical traits are of course different. As for the relationships of the Gilgamesh epic to the Hercules story, the authority of Wilamowitz-Moellendorf[1006] is against an oriental origin of the Greek tale, and yet such parallels as Hercules' fight with a lion, his conquest of death, his journey and search for immortality (which in contrast to Gilgamesh he secures), certainly point to an influence exercised by the oriental tale upon the Greek story. It is not surprising that the elements contributed through this influence have been so modified in the process of adaptation to the purely Greek elements of the Hercules story, and, above all, to the Greek spirit, as to obscure their eastern origin.[1007] Most curious as illustrating the continued popularity of the Gilgamesh story in the Orient is the incorporation of portions of the epic in the career of Alexander the Great.[1008] In Greek, Syriac, and Rabbinical writings, Alexander is depicted as wandering through a region[1009] of darkness and terror in search of the 'water of life.' He encounters strange beings, reaches the sea, but, like Gilgamesh, fails to secure immortality. Such were the profound changes wrought by Alexander's conquests that popular fancy, guided by a correct instinct of appreciation of his career, converted the historical Alexander into a legendary hero of vast dimensions.[1010] The process that produced the Gilgamesh epic is repeated, only on a larger scale, in the case of Alexander. Not one country, but the entire ancient culture world,--Babylonia, Persia, Egypt, Arabia, Judea, and Syria,--combine to form the legendary Alexander. Each country contributes its share of popular legends, myths, and traditions. Babylonia offers as her tribute the exploits of Gilgamesh, which it transfers in part to Alexander. The national hero becomes the type of the 'great man,' and as with new conditions, a new favorite, representative of the new era, arises to take the place of an older one, the old is made to survive in the new. Gilgamesh lives again in Alexander, just as traits of the legendary Alexander pass down to subsequent heroes.
FOOTNOTES:
[844] See above, pp. 245-247.
[845] Or Gishdubar or Gishtubar.
[846] Babylonian and Oriental Record, iv. 264. For previous readings of the name, see Jeremias' article on 'Izdubar' in Roscher's Ausfuehrliches Lexicon der Griechischen und Roemischen Mythologie, ii. col. 773, 774.
[847] Historia Animalum, xii. 21.
[848] See p. 524.
[849] In the Oriental legends of Alexander the Great, this confusion is further illustrated. To Alexander are attached stories belonging to both Izdubar and Etana. See Meissner's Alexander and Gilgamos, pp. 13-17 (Leipzig, 1894).
[850] See, e.g., Perrot and Chiplez, History of Art in Babylonia and Assyria, i. 84.
[851] Article 'Izdubar,' col. 776; see Delitzsch, Handwoerterbuch, p. 678. Hommel (e.g., Altisraelitische Ueberlieferung, p. 39) regards Gilgamesh as a contraction from Gibil (the fire-god) and Gam (or Gab), together with ish, an 'Elamitic' ending. If the name is Elamitic, one should hardly expect a Babylonian deity entering as one of the elements.
[852] See above, p. 167.
[853] See above, p. 284.
[854] Haupt's Das Babylonische Nimrodepos, p. 93.
[855] Lit., 'he who is applied to for giving a decision.'
[856] Ta-par-ra-as.
[857] Das Babylonische Nimrodepos (Leipzig, 1884-91). This edition includes all but the twelfth tablet, which was published by Haupt in the Beitraege zur Assyriologie, i. 48-79. For other publications of Haupt on the Gilgamesh epic, see the Bibliography, Sec. 6. The identification with the Biblical Nimrod is now definitely abandoned by scholars, though the picture drawn of Nimrod is influenced by the traditions regarding Gilgamesh. See p. 515.
[858] The best general work on the epic (based on Haupt's edition) is A. Jeremias' Izdubar-Nimrod (Leipzig, 1891), a reprint with additions, of his article on 'Izdubar' in Roscher's Ausfuehrliches Lexicon der Griechischen und Roemischen Mythologie ii.
[859] Vorgeschichte der Indo-Europaer, p. 112.
[860] The words for 'city' in the Semitic languages embody this idea.
[861] Old Babylonian Inscription, i. 2, p. 48.
[862] IIR. 50, 55-57; VR. 41, 17, 18. An interesting reference to the wall of Frech occurs Hilprecht, ib. i. 1, no. 26.
[863] Kosmologie, p. 172.
[864] Jeremias' Izdubar-Nimrod, p. 15, conjectures that the death of the king has evoked distress, but that is highly improbable. That the fragment under consideration belongs to the beginning of the epic is tolerably certain, though not absolutely so.
[865] Sixth tablet, l. 192. He brings offerings to Lugal-Marada, i.e., the king of Marada--a solar deity. See p. 486.
[866] Heuzey, Sceaux inedits des Rois d'Agade (Revue d'Assyriologie, iv. 3, p. 9).
[867] See above, p. 448.
[868] Anu here used in the generic sense of 'lofty,' 'divine.' The phrase is equivalent to the Biblical 'image of God.'
[869] A phrase in some way again indicative of Eabani's likeness to a deity.
[870] That Gilgamesh undertakes this, and not the gods acting in the interest of Uruk (as Jeremias and others assume), follows from a passage in Haupt's edition, pp. 10, 40.
[871] Eabani.
[872] Identical with our own word "harem."
[873] Perhaps "ensnarer."
[874] So in the "Dibbarra" legend. See p. 531 and Delitzsch, Handwoerterbuch, p. 41.
[875] Sixth tablet, ll. 184, 185.
[876] Book 1. Sec.Sec. 181, 182, 199.
[877] See Jeremias' Izdubar-Nimrod, pp. 59, 60; Nikel, Herodot und die Keilschriftforschung, pp. 84-86.
[878] The protest of the Pentateuch (Deut. xxiii. 18) against the K'desha, as also against the 'male devotee' (Kadesh), shows the continued popularity of the rites.
[879] It is to be noted that in the Yahwistic narrative, Adam is in close communication with the animals about him (Gen. ii. 20). It is tempting also to connect the Hebrew form of Eve, Khauwa (or Khauwat) in some way with Ukhat, not etymologically of course, but as suggestive of a dependence of one upon the other,--the Hebrew upon the Babylonian term. Professor Stade (Zeits. f. Alttest. Wiss., 1897, p. 210) commenting upon Gen. ii. 20, points out that Yahwe's motive for asking Adam to name the animals was the hope that he would find a 'helpmate' among them. In the light of the Babylonian story of Eabani living with animals, Stade's suggestion receives a striking illustration.
[880] See Trumbull, The Threshold Covenant, p. 239.
[881] Kharimtu. In Arabic the word is likewise used for 'woman' in general.
[882] The temple at Uruk is meant.
[883] Jeremias translates 'seeks a friend,' and refers the words to Gilgamesh, but there is nothing in the narrative to justify us in assuming that Eabani was thinking of the hero.
[884] It is used as a synonym of tappu 'associate,' Delitzsch, Handwoerterbuch, p. 10. Ideographically, it is composed of two elements, 'strength' and 'acquire.' 'Companion in arms' is the fellowship originally meant.
[885] The Hebrew verb (Gen. ii. 22) expresses sexual union and precisely the same verb is used in the cuneiform narrative when Eabani comes to Ukhat (Haupt's edition, p. 11, l. 21).
[886] We can still distinguish (Haupt, 12, 47) 'I will fetch him.' Jeremias' rendering, "I will fight with him," is erroneous.
[887] Haupt, 13, 7-8.
[888] Cf. Gen. iii. 5 and 21.
[889] The text of the following lines restored by combining Haupt, p. 13, with a supplementary fragment published by Jeremias' Izdubar-Nimrod, pl. 3.
[890] I.e., he will be told about thy dream through the wisdom given to him.
[891] See, e.g., Jeremias' Izdubar-Nimrod, p. 21.
[892] So, e.g., Hommel (Altisraelitische Ueberlieferung, p. 35). He is certainly not a native of Babylonia.
[893] Gilgamesh.
[894] Haupt, p. 26.
[895] A city Ganganna is mentioned in the first tablet (Haupt, pp. 51, 6).
[896] So Haupt, Beitraege zur Assyriologie, i. 112.
[897] I.e., again and again.
[898] This is the general sense of the three terms used.
[899] I.e., an army's march of fourteen hours. See pp. 490, 503, 521.
[900] The same word appears in incantation texts as a term for a class of demons.
[901] See, e.g., Jeremias' Izdubar-Nimrod, p. 26.
[902] I.e., to the bull.
[903] Chapter XXV.
[904] Ez. viii. 14.
[905] See above, p. 475.
[906] See p. 267.
[907] See above, p. 234.
[908] Trumbull, The Threshold Covenant, chapter vii.
[909] See p. 536.
[910] Or as a third dream. It will be recalled that in a previous portion of the epic (p. 481), Gilgamesh has three dreams in succession.
[911] Haupt, pp. 45, 53.
[912] Attitude of despair.
[913] I.e., 'offspring of life.' I adopt Delitzsch's reading of the name. Zimmern and Jensen prefer Sitnapishtim, but see Haupt's remarks on the objections to this reading in Schrader, Keilinschriften und das Alte Testament (3d edition) a. l. At the recent Eleventh International Congress of Orientalists, Scheil presented a tablet dealing with the deluge narrative. If his reading is correct, the evidence would be final for the form Pirnapishtim, formerly proposed by Zimmern (Babylonische Busspsalmen, p. 26). See p. 507, note 1.
[914] "Client of Marduk." The name Marduk appears here under the ideographic designation Tutu. The identification with Marduk may be due to later traditions.
[915] Jeremias' suggestion (Indubar-Nimrod, p. 18) that the fight with the lion belongs to the first tablet, where mention is made of a wild animal of some kind, is not acceptable.
[916] I.e., inner side.
[917] The name of the cave underneath the earth where the dead dwell.
[918] See above, p. 443.
[919] See, e.g., Jeremias' Izdubar-Nimrod, p. 28.
[920] See the passages in Delitzsch, Wo Lag das Paradies, pp. 242, 243.
[921] See above, p. 39, and Hommel's full discussion, Altisraelitische Ueberlieferung, chapter iii.
[922] Hommel (Altisraelitische Ueberlieferung, pp. 35, 37) suggests a migration of Cassites from Elam to Eastern Africa.
[923] Haupt, pp. 12, 67.
[924] Attitude of despair.
[925] I.e. 'servant of Ea.' The reading Ardi-Ea is preferable to Arad-Ea.
[926] Lit., 'sailor.'
[927] See above, p. 443.
[928] Haupt, pp. 64, 36; 65, 1.
[929] Altisraelitische Ueberlieferung, p. 35.
[930] Tum is the feminine ending.
[931] A large measure.
[932] Of the week? Hommel and others interpret that Gilgamesh accomplishes the 'forty-five days' journey' in three days.
[933] This I take to be the meaning of the numbers introduced at this point.
[934] The text is badly mutilated.
[935] There is no limit to the rule of death. Death alone is 'immortal.'
[936] As Haupt correctly interprets.
[937] This appears to be the sense of this rather obscure line.
[938] Read [sir-la]-am?
[939] See below, p. 507.
[940] The restored text in Haupt's edition of the Nimrodepos, pp. 134-149.
[941] Zimmern ingeniously suggests la bir, "not pure," instead of the rendering 'old.'
[942] Isaiah i. 1.
[943] See Jensen's remarks, Kosmologie, p. 387. There is no reference to Shurippak in IIR. 46, 1, as Haupt has shown (see his note in the 3rd edition of Schrader's Keilinscriften und das Alte Testament).
[944] Gen. xix.
[945] Hughes, Dictionary of Islam, sub "Ad" and "Salih".
[946] See above, p. 488, note 2.
[947] Lit., 'construct a house'; house is used for any kind of structure in general.
[948] I.e., let your property go and save your family.
[949] See above, p. 53.
[950] L. 45.
[951] Jensen, Kosmologie, p. 368; Jeremias, Izdubar-Nimrod, p. 37.
[952] See above, p. 496, note 6.
[953] Or decks (so Haupt).
[954] Of each story or deck.
[955] Poles are used to this day to propel the crafts on the Euphrates.
[956] The largest measure.
[957] The same word (kupru) is used as in Gen. vi. 14.
[958] Some part of the outside of the structure is designated.
[959] Haupt translates "Sesammeth."
[960] "Puzur" signifies 'hidden,' 'protected.' "Shadu rabu," i.e., 'great mountain,' is a title of Bel and of other gods (see above, pp. 56 and 278). Here, probably, Shamash is meant.
[961] Lit. 'great house' or 'palace.'
[962] I.e., 'king,' frequently found as a title of Marduk in astronomical texts (Jensen, Kosmologie, p. 145).
[963] The god of war and pestilence.
[964] "Tar-gul-le," some mischievous forces.
[965] The highest part of heaven.
[966] I.e., has been destroyed.
[967] Lit., 'spoken' or 'ordered.'
[968] Lit., 'my mankind.'
[969] I.e., Mankind.
[970] From which they were made. See pp. 448 and 511.
[971] See p. 482, note 4.
[972] Haupt and Delitzsch render ikkal, 'ate,' as though from akalu, but this is hardly in place. I take the stem of the word to be nakalu.
[973] To have a share in it.
[974] Jensen and Haupt translate "inconsiderately," but this rendering misses the point.
[975] Lit., 'my humanity.'
[976] Not destroy it altogether.
[977] Lit. 'the god Dibbarra.'
[978] I.e., the 'very clever' or 'very pious,' an epithet given to Parnapishtim. The inverted form, Khasis-adra, was distorted into Xisusthros, which appears in the writers dependent upon Berosus as the name of the hero of the Babylonian deluge. See, e.g., Cory's Ancient Fragments, pp. 52, 54, 60, etc. The epithet appears also in the Legend of Etana (pp. 523, 524), where it is applied to a 'wise' young eagle.
[979] I.e., mortal.
[980] I.e., immortal. Cf. Gen. iii. 22.
[981] Wo Lag das Paradies (Ueber Land und Meer, 1894-95, no. 15).
[982] The Hebrew account, it must be remembered, consists of two narratives dovetailed into one another. According to the one version--the Yahwistic--the rainstorm continued for forty days and forty nights; according to the other--the priestly narrative--one hundred and fifty days pass before the waters began to diminish and a year elapses before Noah leaves the ark. The Yahwistic narrative lays stress upon the ritualistic distinction of clean and unclean animals, but on the whole, the Yahwistic version approaches closer to the Babylonian tale. Evidence has now been furnished that among the Babylonians, too, more than one version of the tradition existed. At the Eleventh International Congress of Orientalists (September, 1897), Scheil presented a tablet, dating from the days of Hammurabi, in which the story of a deluge is narrated in a manner quite different from the Gilgamesh epic. The tablet also furnishes the phonetic reading pi-ir, and Scheil is of the opinion that these two syllables form the first element in the name of the hero. Unfortunately, the tablet is badly mutilated at this point, so that the question of the reading is not absolutely certain. See p. 488, note 2. [The reading Ut-napishtim is now generally adopted.]
[983] Gen. xix.
[984] Note the phrase in Gen. xix. 31, "there is no one on earth," and see Pietschman, Geschichte der Phonizier, p. 115.
[985] That the story was current as early as Hammurabi is now established by Scheil's fragment (see note 2 on preceding page).
[986] The word used is tu which means a charm or incantation in general.
[987] Made of the charm root.
[988] Gilgamesh.
[989] I.e., 'old age,' the name given to some plant of magic power.
[990] Tu.
[991] Lit., 'good.'
[992] Utukku--the name, it will be recalled, given to a class of demons. See p. 260.
[993] See p. 518.
[994] Haupt, Beitraege zur Assyriologie, i. 318, 319, has made it plausible that pp. 16-19 of his edition belong to the twelfth tablet of the epic, though perhaps to a different edition of the epic, as Jeremias suggests (Izdubar-Nimrod, p. 43).
[995] See above, p. 474.
[996] Haupt's edition, pp. 67, 12.
[997] Lit., 'thou hast seen it, I have seen it.'
[998] Text defective. Jeremias conjectures "kneeling."
[999] Ekimmu, another name for a class of demons. See p. 260.
[1000] The correct translation of these lines we owe to Haupt (Beitraege zur Assyriologie, i. 69, 70).
[1001] The reference to the killing of a panther in the tenth tablet (Haupt, p. 71, 6) is too obscure to be taken into consideration. Gilgamesh's fight with a 'buffalo' (so Ward, "Babylonian Gods in Babylonian Art," Proc. Amer. Or. Soc., May, 1890, p. xv) is pictured on seal cylinders. No doubt, various deeds of Gilgamesh were recounted in the missing portions of the epic, and it is also quite likely that besides the stories in the epic, others were current of Gilgamesh to which a literary form was never given.
[1002] The Parnapishtim episode passed on to the Arabs, where the hero of the deluge appears under the name of Khadir--a corruption of Adra-Khasis. See Lidzbarski, "Wer ist Chadir?" Zeits. f. Assyr. vii. 109-112, who also suggests that Ahasverus, 'the Wandering Jew,' is a corruption of Adrakhasis.
[1003] It will be recalled that Nimrod is termed a 'mighty hunter' (saeid). This suggests a comparison with Sadu, 'the hunter,' in the Gilgamesh epic. See above, p. 475.
[1004] Originally suggested by H. C. Rawlinson.
[1005] The ending on is an emphatic affix--frequent in proper names.
[1006] Euripides' Herakles, Einleitung.
[1007] On this subject see the Introduction to Berard's De l'origine des cultes Arcadiens, and for a further discussion of the relationships between Izdubar and Hercules, see Jeremias' Izdubar-Nimrod, pp. 70-73, or his article in Roscher's Ausfuehrliches Lexicon der Griechischen und Roemischen Mythologie, ii. 821-823.
[1008] Meissner, Alexander und Gilgamos (Leipzig, 1894), pp. 13-17.
[1009] In the Greek and other versions, the mountain Musas or Masis is mentioned,--that is, Mashu, as in the Gilgamesh epic. See p. 488.
[1010] See especially Budge, The Life and Exploits of Alexander the Great (London, Introduction, 1896); Noeldeke, Beitraege zur Geschichte des Alexander-Romans (Vienna, 1890) and Gaster, An Old Hebrew Romance of Alexander (Journal Royal Asiat. Soc., 1897, pp. 485-498).
XXIV. MYTHS AND LEGENDS
Not many years ago the impression appeared to be well founded that the Semites were poor in the production of myths and legends as compared, for example, to the Hindus or Greeks. The religious literature of the Babylonians, originating undoubtedly with the Semitic inhabitants of the Euphrates Valley, reverses the impression. The 'creation' and 'Gilgamesh' epics suffice, not merely for what they contain, but for what they imply, to accord to Babylonian mythology a high rank; but in addition to these epics we have a large number of tales of gods, demigods, demons, and spirits that illustrate the capacity of the Babylonians for the production of myths. Indeed, there is no longer any reason for doubting that the Babylonian mythology exercised considerable influence upon that of the Greeks. Further discoveries and researches may show that distant India also felt at an early period the intellectual stimulus emanating from the Euphrates Valley. At all events, many of the features found in Babylonian myths and legends bear so striking a resemblance to those occurring in lands lying to the east and west of Babylonia, that a study of Aryan mythology is sadly deficient which does not take into account the material furnished by cuneiform literature. How extensive the Babylonian mythology was must remain for the present a matter of conjecture, but it is easier to err on the side of underestimation than on the side of exaggeration. If it be remembered that by far the smaller portion only of Ashurbanabal's library has been recovered, and that of the various literary collections that were gathered in the religious centers of the south, scarcely anything has as yet been found, it is certainly remarkable that we should be in possession of an elaborate tale of a demi-god, Etana, of an extensive legend recounting the deeds of the war and plague-god Dibbarra, and of two genuine storm myths, while the indications in Dr. Bezold's catalogue of the Kouyunjik collection justify us in adding to the list several other myths and legends, among the still unpublished tablets of the British Museum.[1011] These myths and legends have a twofold value for us, a direct value because of the popular religious ideas contained in them, and an indirect value by virtue of the interpretation given to these ideas by the compilers. In the literary form that the popular productions received, the influence of those who guided the religious thought into its proper channels is to be clearly seen.
The Etana Legend.
It will be recalled that we came across a hero Etana in the Gilgamesh epic.[1012] The name of the hero is Semitic, and signifies 'strong.'[1013] An identical name appears in the Old Testament,[1014] and it is possible that the Babylonian Etana represents, like Gilgamesh, some ancient historical person of whom a dim tradition has survived among other nations besides the Babylonians. The deeds recounted of him, however, place the hero entirely in the domain of myth. His patron is Shamash, the sun-god, and in popular tradition he becomes a member of the pantheon of the nether world.
In the portions of the Etana legend preserved,[1015] two episodes are detailed in the hero's career, one regarding the birth of a son, the other a miraculous journey. The former episode justifies the assumption of a historical starting-point for the legend of Etana.[1016] Among many nations the birth of a hero or of a hero's son is pictured as taking place under great difficulties. Etana's wife is in distress because she is unable to bring to the world a child which she has conceived. Etana appeals to Shamash. Through the mediation of the priests he has offered sacrifices, and he now prays to Shamash to show him the "plant of birth."
The oracles[1017] have completed my sacrifices, They have completed my free-will offerings to the gods. O Lord, let thy mouth command, And give me the plant of birth, Reveal to me the plant of birth, Bring forth the fruit, grant me an offspring.
Of Shamash's reply only one line is preserved intact, in which he tells Etana:
Take the road, ascend the mountain.
It is presumably upon the mountain that the plant grows whose magical power will insure the happy delivery of the expected offspring. Harper calls attention to a remarkable parallel to this incident which is found in the Armenian and Mandaean legends of the birth of Rustem, the son of Sal. The latter's wife is unable to deliver her child because of its size. Sal, who was reared by an eagle, has in his possession a pinion of the eagle, by means of which he can, when in distress, invoke the presence of the bird. The father throws the pinion into the fire, and the eagle appears. The latter gives the mother a medicinal potion, and the child is cut out of the womb. Etana, like Rustem, is accompanied by an eagle, and it would appear that the eagle aids Etana in obtaining the plant.[1018] The eagle, in many mythologies, is a symbol of the sun, and it is plausible to conclude that the bird is sent to Etana at the instigation of Shamash. Who the son is that Etana expects we are not told, and naturally from a single episode like this--and one so fragmentarily preserved--no safe conclusions may be drawn. But the epic (if we may apply this term) must have recounted some achievements of Etana, and as the 'strong' one, his deeds must have borne some resemblance to those of Gilgamesh. The birth of the son, it is furthermore fair to presume, took place towards the end of Etana's career, when his own life was drawing to a close. If a fragment[1019] of the tale were only better preserved, we would have an episode of Etana's earlier career. But such is the condition of this fragment that, at the most, it can be said that Etana is engaged in some conflict against a city, in which Ishtar, Bel, the Anunnaki, the Igigi, and some minor gods, as En-ninna, Sibittum, are involved. The Etana series, as we learn from the colophon to this fragment, was known by a designation in which a city[1020] occurs, and it may be that this is the city against which Etana, aided by the gods, proceeds. Leaving this aside, it is fortunate that we have at least another episode in Etana's career which enables us to establish the connecting link between the hero as an historical personage and as a god or demi-god. As Gilgamesh offers an insult to Ishtar, so Etana encounters the ill-will of the great goddess, though through no direct offense. The eagle tempts Etana to mount with him into the upper regions. Etana is represented as giving, in part, an account of this adventure, in the first person. The gates of the upper regions are opened, and Etana is terrified at the majestic sight which greets him. He sees a throne, and throws himself on his countenance in terror. The gates are significantly designated as the gate of Anu, Bel, and Ea, and the gate of Sin, Shamash, Ramman, and Ishtar. The introduction of the two classes of the theological triads[1021] reveals the influence of a scholastic elaboration of some popular myth. The eagle reassures Etana, and addresses him as follows:
My friend lift up (?) [thy countenance], Come and let me carry thee to the heaven [of Anu]. On my breast place thy breast, On my pinion place thy palms, On my side place thy side.
Etana obeys, and thus, securely attached to the eagle, begins the daring journey. They fly for the space of a double hour,[1022] when
The eagle addresses Etana: Look, my friend, how the earth appears; Look at the sea and at its side, the house of wisdom;[1023] The earth appears as a mountain, the sea has become a pool (?). A second double hour he (i.e., the eagle) carried him on high. The eagle spoke to Etana: Look, my friend, how the earth appears; The sea is a mere belt (?) around the earth. A third double hour he carried him on high. The eagle spoke to Etana: Look, my friend, how the earth appears; The sea is a mere gardener's ditch.[1024]
In this way they reach the gate of Anu, Bel, and Ea in safety, where they take a rest. The eagle is not yet satisfied, and urges Etana to follow him to the domain of Ishtar.
Come, my friend [let me carry thee to Ishtar], With Ishtar, the mistress [of the gods, thou shall dwell], In the glory of Ishtar, the mistress of the gods, [thou shall sit?]. On my side place thy side, On my pinion place thy palms.
The gods, it will be seen, dwell on high in accordance with the view developed by astronomical speculations.[1025] Anu, Bel, and Ea are here evidently identified with the fixed stars bearing their names,[1026] while under Ishtar the planet Ishtar-Venus is meant. Etana yields to the eagle's suggestion. They mount still higher. Earth and ocean grow still smaller, the former appearing only as large as 'a garden bed,' the latter like 'a courtyard.' For three double hours they fly. Etana appears to warn the eagle to desist from his rash intention, but the warning comes too late. Etana and the eagle are thrown down from the lofty regions. With lightning speed the descent takes place, until the two reach the ground. The further course of the narrative is obscure. Was Etana punished by being sent to the nether world, where we find him in the Gilgamesh epic?[1027] There is a reference, unfortunately quite obscure, to the death of Etana, and perhaps to his shade,[1028] in a portion of the tablet. One certainly expects both Etana and the eagle to be punished for their rash act, but until we can determine with certainty what became of both, and with what purport the tale is introduced into the career of Etana, the question must be left open, as also the possibility of a connection between this flight of Etana and the similar Greek myth of Ganymede. The introduction of the eagle points clearly to the mythological character of the tale, but flights of eagles occur so frequently in the myths and legends of various nations that no great stress is to be laid upon further parallels that might be adduced.[1029] The story found in Aelian and which has already been referred to[1030] alone calls for mention here. According to this story, Gilgamesh, whose birth is feared by his cruel grandfather Sokkaros, king of Babylonia, is thrown from the tower where his mother was imprisoned and in which he was born, but in falling is caught by an eagle and taken to a gardener who rears the child. The eagle being the associate of Etana, the suspicion is justified that the child thus miraculously saved is in reality Etana and not Gilgamesh. At all events, there must be some connection between the story of Aelian and the Babylonian legend under consideration. The fate of the eagle is recounted in another tablet of the Etana series,[1031] which again furnishes an episode paralleled in the mythologies of other nations.
The eagle has lost favor with Shamash. Enmity has arisen between the eagle and the serpent, and, curiously enough, the latter stands under the protection of the sun-god. What the cause of the enmity between eagle and serpent was, may have been recounted in a missing portion of the tablet. The eagle forms a plan of destroying the serpent's brood. He is warned against this act by a young eagle, who is designated as a 'very clever young one.'
Do not eat, O my father, the net of Shamash is laid (?); The trap, the ban of Shamash, will fall upon thee and catch thee. Who transgresses the law of Shamash, from him Shamash will exact revenge.
But the eagle, we are told, paid no heed to the warning.
He descended and ate of the young of the serpent.
The serpent appeals to Shamash. He tells the sun-god of the cruel deed of the eagle:
See, O Shamash, the evil that he has done to me. Help (?), O Shamash, thy net is the broad earth. Thy trap is the distant heavens. Who can escape thy net?[1032] Zu,[1033] the worker of evil, the source of evil [did not escape?[1034]].
Shamash responds to the appeal:
Upon his hearing the lament of the serpent, Shamash opened his mouth and spoke to the serpent: Go and ascend the mountain; The carcass of a wild ox make thy hiding-place. Open him, tear open his belly. Make a dwelling place [of his belly]. All the birds of heaven will come down; The eagle with them will come down.
...
Upon penetrating to the meat he will hastily proceed, Making for the hidden parts.[1035] As soon as he has reached the inside,[1036] seize him by his wing, Tear out his wing, his feather (?), his pinion, Tear him to pieces, and throw him into a corner, To die a death of hunger and thirst.
This devilish plan is successfully carried out. With considerable skill the narrative describes how the eagle, suspecting some mischief, did not join the other birds, but when he saw that they escaped without harm felt reassured. He tells his brood:
Come, let us go and let us also pounce down upon the carcass of the wild ox and eat, we too.
The eagle is again warned by his "very clever" offspring. The rest of his brood join in the appeal, but
He did not hearken to them, and obeyed not the advice of his brood, He swooped down and stood upon the wild ox.
Still, he is not entirely free from suspicion, and the narrative continues:
The eagle inspected the carcass, looking carefully to the front and behind him. He again inspected the carcass, looking carefully to the front and behind him.
Detecting nothing to justify his suspicions, he digs his beak into the carcass, but scarcely has he done so when the serpent seizes hold of him. The eagle cries for mercy, and promises the serpent a present of whatever he desires. The serpent is relentless. To release the eagle would be to play false to Shamash.
If I release thee ... Thy punishment will be transferred to me.
Thus the serpent justifies what he is about to do. In accordance with the instructions of the sun-god, the eagle is stripped of his wings and feathers, and left to die a miserable death. In its present form this tale of the eagle and serpent forms part of the Etana story.[1037] Jeremias is right in questioning whether it originally had anything to do with Etana.[1038] Two distinct stories have been combined, much as in the Gilgamesh epic several tales have been thrown together. The association of Etana with the eagle suggests the introduction of the episode of the eagle's discomfiture. If one may judge of the two episodes related of Etana, he is not a personage regarded with favor by the compilers. In both episodes we find him in distress. His flight with the eagle is regarded as a defiance of the gods, though more blame attaches to the eagle than to him. Shamash can hardly have regarded with favor the ambition of a human being to mount to the dwelling of the gods. Gilgamesh makes no such attempt, and Parnapishtim is not carried on high, but to "the confluence of the streams." Gilgamesh, it will also be recalled, is unable to pass to the nether world where Eabani is placed, and in the following chapter we will come across a tale intended to illustrate the impossibility of any one ever returning from the hollow under the earth where the dead dwell. The story of Etana appears, therefore, to emphasize the equal impossibility for any mortal to ascend to the dwelling of the gods. Etana is deified, but he belongs permanently to the region where all mortals go after their career on earth is ended,--the nether world. One gains the impression, therefore, that Etana is a hero of antiquity who is not approved of by the Babylonian priests. Similarly, the conflict between the eagle and the serpent suggests an opposition to the view which makes the eagle the symbol and messenger of Shamash. The eagle recalls the winged disc, the symbol of Ashur,[1039] and the eagle occurs also as a standard among the Hittites,[1040] with whom, as we know, the Babylonians came into contact. The story of Shamash, himself, laying the trap for the eagle looks like a myth produced with some specific intent, an illustration of legitimate sun-worship against rival cults. As a matter of course, in the case of such a myth, it is difficult to say where its popular character ends and the speculative or scholastic theory begins. But whatever may have been the original purport of the tale, for our purposes its significance consists in the view unfolded of Shamash as the one who wreaks vengeance on the evil-doer. Shamash appears in the episode in the role of the just judge that characterizes him in the hymns and incantations. Etana's reliance upon the eagle leads to disgrace and defeat. In a representation of the hero's flight on a seal cylinder,[1041] the disapproval of the act is indicated by the addition of two dogs in a crouching position, their gaze directed towards the bird. The dogs are a symbol of the solar-god Marduk.[1042]
The Legend of Dibbarra.
Of more direct religious import is a story recounted in a series comprising five tablets of the deeds of the war and plague-god whose name is provisionally read Dibbarra.[1043] He is a solar deity identified in the theological system of the Babylonians with Nergal, but originally distinct and in all probability one of the numerous local solar deities of Babylonia like Nin-girsu and Nin-gishzida, Ishum and others, whose roles are absorbed by one or the other of the four great solar deities,--Shamash, Marduk, Ninib, and Nergal. Nergal representing the sun of midday and of the summer solstice, which brings in its wake destruction of various kinds, it was appropriate that a god who came to be specifically viewed as the god who causes disease should be regarded as an aspect of the terrible Nergal. In the legend that we are about to consider, Dibbarra appears as the god of war. He is designated as the 'warrior.' The name of the god is written ideographically with a sign that has the meaning of 'servant' and 'man.' To this sign the phonetic complement ra is added. In view of a passage in a lexicographical tablet, according to which the name of the god is designated as the equivalent of the god Gir-ra, Jensen concluded that the name was to be read Gira, and Delitzsch[1044] is inclined to follow him. A difficulty, however, arises through the circumstance that the element Gir in the name Gir-ra is itself an ideograph. In any case, the designation of the god as a 'servant' shows that he is described here by an epithet,[1045] and not by his real name, which is to be sought rather in the sense of 'strong,' that is one of the meanings of the ideograph gir. The epithet 'servant' belongs to the period when the god took his place in the theological system as one of the attendants of the great Nergal, just as the plague-god is himself accompanied by a god Ishum, who acts as a kind of messenger or attendant to him. It should be added that what little evidence there was for the conventional reading Dibbarra[1046] has now been dispelled, so that but for the desire to avoid useless additions to the nomenclature of the Babylonian deities, the form Gir-ra would have been introduced here, as for the present preferable.
Where the cult of Dibbarra centered we do not know, but that he presided over a district that must have played a prominent part at some period of Babylonian history is shown by the elaborate legend of his deeds for which, as in the case of Gilgamesh and Etana, we are justified in assuming an historical background. In fact, the legend of Dibbarra is naught but a poetic and semi-mythical disguise for severe conflicts waged against certain Babylonian cities by some rival power that had its seat likewise in the Euphrates Valley.
Of the five tablets, but four fragments have as yet been found in such a condition as to be utilized. The longest of these contains an address to Dibbarra by his faithful attendant Ishum, in which the power of the war-god is praised and some of his deeds recounted.
[The sons of] Babylon were (as) birds And thou their falconer. In a net thou didst catch them, enclose them, and destroy them, O! Warrior Dibbara, Leaving the city,[1047] thou didst pass to the outside, Taking on the form of a lion, thou didst enter the palace. The people saw thee and drew (?) their weapons.
The reference in these lines is to an attack upon the city of Babylon. The war-god is pictured as striking out in all directions, imprisoning the inhabitants of Babylon within the city walls, working havoc outside of the city, and not stopping short at entering the palace. The metaphor of the war-god taking on the form of a lion confirms the identification of Dibbarra with Nergal, who is generally pictured as a lion.
In the following lines the enemy who makes this attack on Babylon is introduced. He is designated as a 'governor,' and Dibbarra is represented as giving him certain instructions to carry out. The title 'governor' given to this enemy may be taken as an indication that the epic deals with the rivalry existing among the states of Babylonia, each represented by its capital. Ishum continues his address to Dibbarra:
The heart of the governor, intent upon taking vengeance on Babylon, was enraged, For capturing the possessions of the enemy, he sends out his army, Filled with enmity towards the people.
Dibbarra is represented as addressing this governor:
In the city whither I send thee, Thou shall fear no one, nor have compassion. Kill the young and old alike, The tender suckling likewise--spare no one. The treasures of Babylon carry off as booty.
Ishum continues his narrative:
The royal host was gathered together and entered the city. The bow was strung, the sword unsheathed. Thou didst blunt[1048] (?) the weapons of the soldiers, The servitors of Anu and Dagan. Their blood thou caused to flow like torrents of water through the city's highways. Thou didst tear open their intestines, and cause the stream to carry them off.
Dagan is here used for Bel,[1049] and the phrase 'servitors of Anu and Dagan' embraces the inhabitants of Babylon. Marduk, the lord of Babylon, is enraged at the sight, but apparently is powerless.
The great lord Marduk saw it and cried "Alas!" His senses left him. A violent curse issued from his mouth.
At this point the tablet is defective, and when it again becomes intelligible we find Ishum describing an attack of Dibbarra upon another of the great centers of the Euphrates Valley--the city of Uruk. Uruk is called the 'dwelling of Anu and Ishtar,' the city of the Kizreti, Ukhati, and Kharimati[1050]--the sacred harlots. Uruk suffers the same fate as Babylon:
A cruel and wicked governor thou didst place over them, Who brought misery upon them, broke down (?) their laws. Ishtar was enraged and filled with anger because of Uruk.
Her opposition, however, is as powerless to stem Dibbarra's attack as was Marduk's grief at the onslaught on Babylon.
Dibbarra's greed is insatiable. Ishum continues his address to him:
O warrior Dibbarra, thou dost dispatch the just, Thou dost dispatch the unjust, Who sins against thee, thou dost dispatch, And the one who does not sin against thee thou dost dispatch.
The following lines reveal the purpose of Ishum's long speech. A war more terrible even than the conflicts recounted is planned by Ishum, one that is to involve all creation and extend to the higher regions. Ishum asks Dibbarra's consent to the fearful destruction held in view:
The brightness of Shul-pauddu[1051] I will destroy. The root of the tree I will tear out That it no longer blossom; Against the dwelling of the king of gods, I will proceed.... The warrior Dibbarra heard him.[1052] The speech of Ishum was pleasant to him as fine oil, And thus the warrior Dibbarra spoke: Sea-coast [against] sea-coast, Subartu against Subartu, Assyrian against Assyrian, Elamite against Elamite, Cassite against Cassite, Sutaean against Sutaean, Kuthaean against Kuthaean, Lullubite against Lullubite, Country against country, house against house, man against man. Brother is to show no mercy towards brother; they shall kill one another.
The lines remind one of the description in the Gilgamesh epic of the terror aroused by the deluge,[1053] and one might be tempted to combine Dibbarra's speech with the preceding words of Ishum, and interpret this part of the Dibbarra legend as another phase of the same nature myth, which enters as a factor in the narrative of the Deluge. However, the continuation of Dibbarra's speech shows that a great military conflict is foretold. The countries named are those adjacent to Babylonia, and the intention of the writer is evidently to imply that the whole world is to be stirred up. This fearful state of hostility is to continue until
After a time the Akkadian will come, Overthrow all and conquer all of them.
Akkad, it will be recalled, is a name for Babylonia. The triumph of Babylon is foretold in these lines. The Akkadian is, therefore, none other than Hammurabi, who succeeds in obtaining the supremacy over the entire Euphrates Valley, and whose successors for many centuries claimed control of the four quarters of the world.
It is evident from this 'prophecy' that the Dibbarra legend received its final shape under influences emanating from Babylon, precisely as we found to be the case in the 'creation' story and in the Gilgamesh epic. The hostility that precedes the coming of Hammurabi points to the violence of the conflicts in which that warrior was engaged, while the exaggeration of this hostility shows how strong and permanent the impression of Hammurabi's achievements must have been. The designation of the conqueror as the Akkadian gives him to a certain extent the character of a Messiah, who is to inaugurate an era of peace, and whose coming will appease the grim Dibbarra. It is by no means impossible that Hebrew and Christian conceptions of a general warfare which is to precede the golden age of peace are influenced by the Babylonian legend under consideration.
Dibbarra gives his consent to Ishum's plan:
Go, Ishum, carry out the word thou hast spoken in accordance with thy desire.
Ishum proceeds to do so. The mountain Khi-khi is the first to be attacked.
Ishum directed his countenance to the mountain Khi-khi. The god Sibi,[1054] a warrior without rival, Stormed behind him. The warrior[1055] arrived at the mountain Khi-khi. He raised his hand, destroyed the mountain. He levelled the mountain Khi-khi to the ground. The vineyards in the forest of Khashur he destroyed.
In a geographical list[1056] a mountain Khi-khi, belonging to the Amoritic country, is mentioned, and a mountain Khashur described as a cedar district. There can be, therefore, no doubt that some military expedition to western lands is recounted in our tablet. The continuation of the narrative is lost, all but a small fragment,[1057] which tells of the destruction of a city--otherwise unknown--called Inmarmaru. At the instigation of Dibbarra, Ishum enters this city and destroys it. The outrages committed are described at some length. Ea, the god of humanity, hears of the havoc wrought. He is 'filled with wrath.' Unfortunately, the fragment is too mutilated to permit us to ascertain what steps Ea takes against Dibbarra. Marduk is also mentioned in this connection. Under the circumstances, one can only conjecture that in the missing portions of this tablet, and perhaps also in two others, the wars preceding the advent of the Akkadian[1058] are recounted in poetic and semi-mythical form. If this conjecture is justified, the main purport at least of the Dibbarra legend becomes clear. It is a collection of war-songs recalling the Hebrew anthology, "Battles of Yahwe,"[1059] in which the military exploits of the Hebrews were poetically set forth.
The closing tablet of the Dibbarra legend is preserved,[1060] though only in part. It describes the appeasement of the dreadful war-god. All the gods, together with the Igigi and Anunnaki, are gathered around Dibbarra, who addresses them:
Listen all of you to my words. Because of sin did I formerly plan evil, My heart was enraged and I swept peoples away.
He tells how he destroyed the flocks and devastated the fruits in the fields, how he swept over the lands, punishing the just and the wicked alike, and sparing no one. Ishum takes up the strain and urges Dibbarra to desist from his wrath:
Do thou appease the gods of the land, who were angry, May fruits (?) and corn[1061] flourish, May mountains and seas bring their produce.
The era of peace and prosperity is thus inaugurated, and the legend closes with solemn assurances from Dibbarra that he will bless and protect those who properly honor him.
He who glorifies my name will rule the world. Who proclaims the glory of my power Will be without a rival. The singer who sings [of my deeds] will not die through pestilence. To kings and nobles his words will be pleasing. The writer who preserves them will escape from the grasp of the enemy. In the temple where the people proclaim my name I will open his ear;[1062] In the house where this tablet is set up, though war[1063] may rage, And god Sibi work havoc, Sword and pestilence will not touch him--he will dwell in safety. Let this song resound forever and endure for eternity. Let all lands hear it and proclaim my power. Let the inhabitants of all places learn to glorify my name.
This closing address represents a late addition to the poem that somewhat modifies its original import. Wars did not cease with the establishment of Babylon's control. Many conflicts arose, but on the whole, Babylonia was an empire of peace. The people were inclined towards a life of ease, and the development of commerce served as a wholesome check against too frequent military disturbances. The war-songs, as a glorification of the nation's past, retained their popularity, but the lesson drawn from the songs was the great blessing that peace and freedom from turmoil brought with them. For the warlike Assyrians, Dibbarra enraged may have been a more popular figure, but to the peace-loving Babylonian, the appeased Dibbarra appealed with greater force. The story of Dibbarra's deeds became in this way in the course of time an object lesson, a kind of religious allegory handed down from one generation to the other as an illustration of the horrors of war and of violence in general. With the tendency--so characteristic of the Babylonian religion[1064]--for great gods to absorb the roles of minor ones, Nergal became the god of war par excellence, while Dibbarra, Ishum, and Sibi were chiefly viewed as powers responsible for such forms of violence as pestilence and distress. To ensure the favor of a god of pestilence was of importance for every individual, and one of the safest means of obtaining this favor was to sing his praises, to recall his power,--to glorify him and thus to keep him, as it were, in good humor. What better means of accomplishing this than to have the record of his deeds constantly before one's eyes? The British Museum contains two specimens of tablets on which a portion of the Dibbarra legend is inscribed, and which are pierced with holes in a manner as to leave no doubt[1065] that the tablets were intended to be hung up in houses with a view of securing protection from Dibbarra and his associates. The reference in the closing lines of the story:
The house where this tablet is set up,
thus becomes clear. As the Hebrews were commanded, in order to secure the protection of Yahwe, to write his law
On the doorposts of the house,[1066]
so the Babylonians were instructed by their priests to hang tablets in their homes--probably at the entrance--on which Dibbarra was glorified. Naturally, it was impossible to inscribe the whole story on a little tablet, just as it was impossible to place the entire law of Yahwe on the doorposts. In both cases a significant extract served as a part, representative of the whole. In the case of the Dibbarra legend, the closing portion was selected, which emphasized the necessity of keeping the deeds of Dibbarra and the greatness of his power in mind. Like the Gilgamesh epic, so the Dibbarra legend was to be taught by the father to his son. The scribes were enjoined to teach the story to the people. The poets were to make it the subject of their songs, and kings and nobles were not exempt from the obligation to listen to the tale.
The Myth of the Storm-God Zu.
Birds and bulls were to the Babylonians the symbols of storms and clouds. In the Gilgamesh epic, it will be recalled, Anu sends a divine bull to engage in a contest with Gilgamesh.[1067] The text of the epic being unfortunately defective, we have no definite indication of the character of the attack to be made upon the hero by the messenger from the god of heaven; but since storms and disease are the two chief weapons in the hands of the gods, and inasmuch as Gilgamesh in a later section of the epic is struck down by disease, it is more than likely that the bull represents a storm that is to sweep the hero and his companion off the earth. The winged bulls placed at the entrance of palaces embody the same idea, and in addition to the explanation for these fantastic figures above[1068] suggested, it is noteworthy that the two types of animals chosen for this symbolical decoration of edifices, the bull and the lion, again illustrate the same two means at the disposal of the gods for the punishment of man, the bull representing the storms, and the lion being the symbol of Nergal, who is the god of pestilence, as well as of war and of violent destruction in general.
A storm-god symbolized under the form of a bird is Zu. The underlying stem of the word conveys the notion of strength and violence. How bulls came to be chosen as symbols of storms is not altogether clear. Possibly the element of "strength" formed the connecting link in the chain of the association of ideas. In the case of birds, on the other hand, the association is to be sought in the appearance of the clouds during a storm moving across the heavens like a flock of birds. In the Etana legend, a reference occurs to Zu, who, as it would appear, is unable to escape from the control of the supreme judge Shamash.[1069] Zu is there called the chief worker of evil--a kind of arch satan. A story has been found which illustrates an attempt made by the bird Zu to break loose from the control of the sun. A storm was viewed as a conflict between the clouds and the sun, much as an eclipse symbolized a revolt in the heavens. The myth represents the conflict as taking place between Zu and En-lil, the Bel of Nippur. The latter holds in his possession the tablets of fate, by means of which he enjoys supreme authority over men and gods. Zu's jealousy is aroused, and he plans to tear these tablets from En-lil. The tablets of fate, it will be recalled, play an important part in the Marduk-Tiamat episode.[1070] Kingu--the symbol of chaos, like Tiamat--wears them on his breast, but he is obliged to yield them to the conqueror of Tiamat and of her brood, who replaces 'chaos' by 'order.' This conqueror was originally Bel of Nippur, and the Zu myth in representing En-lil as holding the tablets of fate confirms the view above set forth,[1071] according to which the original Tiamat tale has been modified by the substitution of Marduk for the old Bel. But the story, while thus admitting the legitimacy of En-lil's claim to supreme power, is yet so constructed as to contribute to the glory of Marduk. The attack of the Zu-bird was suggested--as the Tiamat myth--by the annual storms that work such havoc in Babylonia. The forces of 'chaos' are let loose, and an attempt is made to overthrow the 'order' of the world, symbolized by the tablets of fate which En-lil holds in his possession. Whoever has these tablets is invincible. But En-lil is unable to resist the attack of Zu. The tablets are taken away from him, and it is left for Marduk to recapture them. The tablets once in Marduk's possession, En-lil's supremacy comes to an end, and the triumph of Marduk is complete. To substantiate this interpretation of the myth, an analysis of the text is necessary. The beginning of the story is unfortunately missing. It appears to have been devoted to a glorification of the god who controls the fate of the universe. The second column opens as follows:
And the oracles of all the gods he determined.
From the context it is clear that Bel of Nippur is meant. Up to this point, the myth reflects the old view according to which it was En-lil who succeeded in overcoming Tiamat or at any rate, in snatching the tablets of fate from the breast of Kingu. Nippur's god lays claim to being the one who established 'order' in the universe. His authority could only be threatened if he were robbed of the tablets which symbolize absolute control over the course of affairs. Zu boldly attempts this:
His eyes saw the mark of rulership, The crown of his[1072] sovereignty, the garment of his[1072] divinity. Zu saw the divine tablets of fate. He looked at the father of the gods, the god of Dur-an-ki,[1073] Desire for rulership seizes hold of his heart.[1074] 'I will take the tablets of the gods And decree the decisions [of all the gods.] I will establish my throne, I will proclaim laws. I will give all orders to all the Igigi.'
Zu proceeds to the dwelling-place of En-lil and waits for a favorable moment to make an attack.
His heart was bent on the contest. With his gaze directed toward the entrance of the dwelling,[1075] he awaits for the beginning of day. As En-lil poured forth the brilliant waters, Took his seat on his throne and put on his crown, He[1076] snatched the tablets of fate out of his hands, Seized the authority--the promulgation of laws. Thereupon Zu flew off and hid himself in his mountain.
On seal cylinders a god is frequently pictured pouring forth streams of water from jars placed on his shoulders. This is generally the sun-god, but the symbol also seems to belong to other deities[1077] and is appropriate to Bel of Nippur, who as the god of the atmosphere above the earth, controls the upper waters. As long as these are poured out by him, they are beneficent; but once beyond his control, the blessing of rain is turned into the curse of a deluge and storm, flooding the fields and sweeping away the habitations of men. This misfortune happens when Zu robs En-lil of the tablets by means of which law and order are established. En-lil is powerless. The bold act of Zu causes consternation among the gods. Anu calls upon some one to pursue Zu and capture him. The bird dwells in an inaccessible recess in the mountains, and the gods are afraid to approach his nest. The scene that ensues reminds us of the episode of the creation epic, where Anshar calls upon Anu, Bel, and Ea in turn to subdue Tiamat.
Anu opens his mouth and speaks, Addressing the gods his children: 'Who will force Zu to submit And thus make his name great among the inhabitants of the whole world?'
Ramman the storm-god par excellence is first called upon by the assembled gods:
'Ramman the chief,' they cried, 'the son of Anu.' Anu communicated to him[1078] the order.[1079] 'Go, my son Ramman, conqueror who yields to no one, Subdue Zu with thy weapon,[1080] That thy name be glorified in the assembly of the great gods. Thou shall be without a rival among the gods thy brothers.'
Anu furthermore promises Ramman that if he triumphs, lofty shrines will be erected in his honor in many cities.
'Temples will be built in thy honor, In all quarters of the world thy cities[1081] will be situated, Thy cities[1082] will reach up to Ekur.[1083] Show thyself strong among the gods, so that thy name be powerful.'
Ramman, however, is afraid of the contest.
Ramman answered the speech, Addressing his father Anu: 'My father, who can proceed to the inaccessible mountain? Who is there like Zu among the gods, thy children?'
He furthermore pleads that Zu, who has the tablets of fate in his hands, is invincible. He has the power to decree the fates of the gods, and all must bow to his will. At this point, unfortunately, the text becomes defective. Anu calls upon two other gods to take up the contest with Zu. The name of one of these is altogether lost; the second is called Bar,[1084] and is designated as an offspring of Ishtar. Both these deities decline, answering Anu in precisely the same manner as Ramman. What finally happens we are left to conjecture. Harper[1085] supposes that Shamash is finally called upon by Anu and accepts the challenge. He bases this opinion upon the passage in the Dibbarra legend[1086] where the serpent, appealing to Shamash, extols the sun-god's power by declaring that even Zu could not escape the net of Shamash. There are, however, grave objections to this view. In the first place, the passage in question occurs in a defective part of the text, and Harper himself[1087] is not certain of the restoration that he proposes.[1088] Secondly, if Shamash conquers Zu, we should expect the sun-god to have the tablets of fate in his possession. Such, however, is not the case, and the only god besides En-lil who is represented in the religious literature of the Babylonians as holding the tablets is Marduk. Moreover, in a hymn to Marduk, which Harper himself quotes,[1089] the bird Zu is referred to as among the evil forces captured by Marduk. In view of this, there seems no reason to question that, in the present form of the Zu myth, Marduk was introduced as the hero, precisely as, in the present form of the Tiamat episode, Marduk successfully carries out a deed from which the other gods shrink in fear. The theological purport of the myth thus becomes clear. It is to account for the fact that Marduk holds the tablets which were originally in the hands of En-lil. Marduk supplants the old Bel. In the Tiamat episode his name is substituted for that of En-lil, and the latter is represented as giving his consent to the transfer of his name to the god of Babylon. In the Zu myth, En-lil's claim to the supreme control of the laws and fate of the universe is freely acknowledged, but, En-lil being unable to resist the attack of Zu, it was left for Marduk to capture the bird and thus acquire by his own efforts what the old Bel had lost through lack of strength. Babylon replaces Nippur as the center of power in the Euphrates Valley, and the god of Babylon, naturally, was imbued by his worshippers with prerogatives that originally belonged to the rival god of Nippur.[1090]
If this view is correct, Harper's interpretation must be abandoned. The Zu myth does not represent, as he supposes, an attack upon Marduk as the symbol of the early morning sun, but upon En-lil, the Bel of Nippur, as the one who, by virtue of having the tablets of fate in his possession, controls the laws of the universe and fixes the fate of the gods and of mankind. The annual rain-storm passing apparently beyond the control of the gods is viewed as a revolt against En-lil's authority. It is left for Marduk to reestablish order, and in return, he retains control of the precious tablets. That the conception of Marduk as a solar deity constitutes a factor in the myth is not, of course, to be denied, precisely as in the Tiamat myth, the solar character of Marduk plays an important part. The sun triumphs over the storms. Rain and wind are obliged at last to yield their authority to the former. But for the theologians of Babylon, the position of Marduk as the head of the pantheon was a much more important factor. The myth served to show how Marduk came to supplant the role of the old Bel of Nippur.
Viewed in this light, the Zu myth appears in more senses than one as a pendant to the Marduk-Tiamat episode. Not only do both symbolize the same natural phenomenon, but in both, Bel of Nippur was originally the central figure of the pantheon, and in both Marduk replaces Bel. The Zu myth is made to account in a somewhat more respectful, conciliatory manner for the position of Marduk as the head of the pantheon. Instead of setting aside En-lil altogether, as was done by the compilers of the Tiamat myth, Marduk conquers for himself the supremacy that his followers claimed for him. The contradictions between the two myths need not disturb us. As variant versions of a tale intended to account for one and the same fact,--the supremacy of Marduk,--they may well have arisen even in the same place. Such inconsistencies as the assumption, in the Zu version of the nature myth, that En-lil is the original establisher of order in the world, as against the Tiamat version where Marduk snatches the tablets of fate directly from Kingu, are inevitable when stories that arose among the people are taken in hand by theologians and modified and adapted to serve doctrines developed under scholastic influences.
The Adapa Legend.
The myths and legends that we have so far considered--including the creation and Gilgamesh epics--will have illustrated two important points: firstly, the manner in which historical occurrences were clothed in mythical form and interwoven with purely legendary tales, and, secondly, the way in which nature myths were treated to teach certain doctrines. The story of Gilgamesh is an illustration of the hopelessness of a mortal's attempt to secure the kind of immortal life which is the prerogative of the gods. Popular tales, illustrative of the climatic conditions of Babylonia, serve as a means of unfolding a doctrine of evolution and of impressing upon the people a theological system of beliefs regarding the relationship of the gods to one another. A collection of war-songs is given a semi-mythical form, and the original purport of the collection is modified to serve as a talisman against misfortunes. In the case of these legends it is necessary and, as we have seen, also possible to distinguish between their original and present form and to separate the story, as in the case of the Gilgamesh epic, into its component parts.
The legend that we are about to consider proves that this process of the adaptation of popular myths begins at a very early period. The text was found on the cuneiform tablets discovered at El-Amarna in Egypt.[1091] Since the El-Amarna tablets date from the fifteenth century B.C., we have a proof of the compilation of the legend in question at this date. The legend is again suggested by the storms which visited Babylonia, but instead of a pure nature-myth, we have a tale which concerns the relationship between the gods and mankind. In its present form, it is an object lesson dealing with the same problem that we came across in the Gilgamesh epic and that we will meet again in another form,--the problem of immortality.
The beginning of the story, as in the case of the Zu myth, is missing, but we are in a position to restore at least the general context. A fisherman, Adapa, is engaged in plying his trade when a storm arises. Adapa is designated as the son of Ea. The place where he is fishing is spoken of as 'the sea.' The Persian Gulf is meant, and this body of water (as the beginning of the great Okeanos) being sacred to Ea,[1092] the description of Adapa as the son of Ea is a way of conveying the idea that, like Parnapishtim, he stands under the protection of Ea. The story, like most legends, assumes a period of close intercourse between gods and men, a time when the relationship involved in being 'a son of a god' had a literal force which was lost to a more advanced generation. Adapa, accordingly, is portrayed as fishing for the 'house of his lord,' i.e., for Ea. When the storm breaks loose the fisherman, though a mortal, subdues the fierce element. The storm comes from the south, the direction from which the most destructive winds came to Babylonia. The south wind is pictured, as in the Zu myth, under the form of a bird. The wind sweeps Adapa into the waters, but, since this element is controlled by Adapa's father,--the god Ea,--Adapa succeeds in mastering the south wind, and, as we learn from the course of the narrative, in breaking the wings of the storm-bird. When the tablet becomes intelligible we find Adapa engaged in this contest with the south wind.[1093]
The south wind blew and drove him[1094] under the water. Into the dwelling-place[1095] [of the fish] it engulfs him. 'O south wind, thou hast overwhelmed me with thy cruelty (?). Thy wings I will break.'
Adapa's threat is carried out.
Even as he spoke the wings of the south wind were broken. For seven days the south wind did not blow across the land.
Seven is to be interpreted as a round number, as in the Deluge story, and indicates a rather long, though indefinite, period. Anu, the god of heaven, is astonished at this long-continued disappearance of the south wind, and asks a messenger of his, who is called the god Ilabrat, for the cause. Anu inquires:
"Why has the south wind not blown for seven days across the land?" His messenger Ilabrat answered him: "My lord! Adapa, the son of Ea, has broken the wings of the south wind."
Of this god Ilabrat nothing is known. The interpretation of his name is doubtful.[1096] He probably is one of the numerous local gods who was absorbed by some more powerful one and who thus came to have a position of inferior rank in the pantheon.
Anu, upon hearing the news, is enraged, and cries for 'help' against an interference in his domain. He denounces Adapa in solemn assembly, and demands his presence of Ea, in whose domain Adapa has taken refuge. The text at this point is defective, but one can gather that Ea, who constitutes himself Adapa's protector, warns the latter, as he warned Parnapishtim. He advises him to present himself at the throne of Anu for trial, and to secure the intervention of two gods, Tammuz and Gishzida, who are stationed at the gate of heaven, Anu's dwelling-place. To accomplish this, Adapa is to clothe himself in garments of mourning, and when the doorkeepers ask him the reason for his mourning, he is to answer:
... Two gods have disappeared from our earth, therefore do I appear thus.
And when he is asked:
"Who are the two gods who have disappeared from the earth?"
Tammuz and Gishzida will look at one another; they will sigh and speak a favorable word before Anu, and the glorious countenance of Anu they will show thee.
Tammuz and Gishzida will know that they are meant. The mourning of Adapa will be regarded as a sign of reverence for the two gods, whose sympathy and good-will will thus be secured.
The introduction of Tammuz and Gishzida introduces a widely spread nature-myth into the story. Gishzida is identical with Nin-gishzida, a solar deity whom we came across in the old Babylonian pantheon.[1097] Tammuz similarly is a solar deity. Both represent local solar cults. At a later period, Nin-gishzida is entirely absorbed by Ninib, but the Adapa legend affords us a glimpse of the god still occupying an independent, though already inferior, position. The Babylonian calendar[1098] designates the fifth month as sacred to Gishzida, while the fourth month is named for Tammuz. The two deities, therefore, take their place in the systematized pantheon as symbolical of the phases of the sun peculiar to its approach to the summer solstice. The disappearance of the two gods signifies the decline of the year after the summer solstice. Of Tammuz, the popular myth related that it was Ishtar,[1099] represented as his consort, who carried him off. Since the disappearance of Gishzida embodies precisely the same idea as that of Tammuz, it was natural that the story should in time have been told only of the one. The annual mourning for Tammuz was maintained in Babylonia to a very late period. The Adapa legend shows us that at one time the festival was celebrated in honor of the two related deities. The Tammuz festival was celebrated just before the summer solstice set in, so that the mourning was followed immediately by rejoicing at the reappearance of the god whose coming heralded the culmination of vegetation.
The destructive storms take place during the winter, when Tammuz and Gishzida have disappeared. Adapa's mourning is thus an indication of the season of the year when his encounter with the south wind took place. Since Adapa succeeds in overcoming the destructive wind, the wintry season has passed by. Summer is approaching. The time for celebrating both the fast and the festival of the two solar deities has arrived. Tammuz and Gishzida, the gods of spring, accordingly stand at Adapa's side, ready to plead his cause before Anu. So much being clear, we may advance a step further in the interpretation of the legend. By the side of Tammuz and Gishzida, there is still a third solar deity who belongs to the spring of the year,--Marduk, who, by virtue of his later position as the head of the pantheon, sets aside his two fellows and becomes the solar god of spring par excellence. Marduk, it will be recalled, is commonly designated as the son of Ea,[1100] and we have seen that, apart from political considerations, the sun rising out of the ocean--the domain of Ea--was a factor in this association. Adapa dwells at the sea, and is forced into the ocean by the south wind, in the same way that the sun dips into the great 'Okeanos' every evening. The identification of Adapa with Marduk[1101] thus becomes apparent, and as a matter of fact the Babylonian scribes of later times[1102] accepted this identification.
The basis of the Adapa legend is, therefore, the nature-myth of the annual fight of the sun with the violent elements of nature. At the same time, other ideas have been introduced into it, and Adapa himself, while playing the role of Marduk, is yet not entirely confounded with this god. His name is never written with the determinative for deity. Moreover, the nature-myth is soon lost sight of, in order to make room for an entirely different order of ideas. The real purport of the legend in its present form is foreshadowed by the further advice that Ea offers to Adapa:
When thou comest before Anu they will offer thee food of death. Do not eat. They will offer thee waters of death. Do not drink. They will offer thee a garment. Put it on. They will offer thee oil. Anoint thyself. The order that I give thee do not neglect. The word that I speak to thee take to heart. The messenger of Anu approached.[1103] 'Adapa has broken the wings of the south wind. Deliver him into my hands....'
Ea obeys the order, delivers up Adapa, and everything happens as was foretold.
Upon mounting to heaven and on his approach to the gate of Anu, Tammuz and Gishzida were stationed at the gate of Anu. They saw Adapa and cried 'Help,[1104] Lord! Why art thou thus attired? For whom hast thou put on mourning?'[1105]
Adapa replies:
'Two gods have disappeared from the earth, therefore do I wear a mourning garment.'
'Who are the two gods who have disappeared from the earth?'
Tammuz and Gishzida looked at one another, broke out in lament. 'O Adapa! Step before King Anu.' As he approached, Anu saw him and cried out to him:
'Come, Adapa, why hast thou broken the wings of the south wind?'
Adapa answered Anu: 'My lord! For the house of my lord[1106] I was fishing in the midst of the sea. The waters lay still around me, when the south wind began to blow and forced me underneath. Into the dwelling of the fish it drove me. In the anger of my heart [I broke the wings of the south wind].'
Tammuz and Gishzida thereupon intercede with Anu on behalf of Adapa, and succeed in appeasing the god's wrath. If the story ended here, we would have a pure nature-myth--the same myth in a different form that we encountered in the Creation epic, in the Deluge story, and in the Zu legend. Adapa would be merely a designation of Marduk and nothing more. The sun triumphs over the storms, and the only objectionable feature in the tale--to a Babylonian--would be the degradation involved in obliging Marduk to secure the intercession of other gods. But this feature of itself suggests that the nature-myth has been embodied in the legend, but does not constitute the whole of it. A second element and one entirely independent in its character has been added to the myth.
Anu is appeased, but he is astonished at Ea's patronage of Adapa, as a result of which a mortal has actually appeared in a place set aside for the gods.
Why did Ea permit an impure mortal to see the interior of heaven and earth? He made him great and gave him fame.[1107]
The privilege accorded to Adapa appears to alarm the gods. As among the Greeks and other nations, so also the Babylonian deities were not free from jealousy at the power and achievements of humanity. Adapa, having viewed the secrets of heaven and earth, there was nothing left for the gods but to admit him into their circle. The narrative accordingly continues:
'Now what shall we grant him? Offer him food of life, that he may eat of it.' They brought it to him, but he did not eat. Waters of life they brought him, but he did not drink. A garment they brought him. He put it on. Oil they brought him. He anointed himself.
Adapa follows the instructions of Ea, but the latter, it will be recalled, tells Adapa that food and water of death will be offered him. It is Ea, therefore, who, although the god of humanity, and who, moreover, according to the tradition involved in the Adapa legend, is the creator of mankind, who prevents his creatures from gaining immortality. The situation is very much the same that we find in the third chapter of Genesis, when God, who creates man, takes precautions lest mortals eat of the tree of life and 'live forever.' The problem presented by the Hebrew and Babylonian stories is the same: why should not man, who is descended from the gods, who is created in the likeness of a god, who by virtue of his intellect can peer into the secrets of heaven and earth, who stands superior to the rest of creation, who, to use the psalmist's figure, is only 'a scale lower than god,' why should he not be like the gods and live forever? The Hebrew legend solves the problem in a franker way than does the Babylonian. God, while as anxious as Ea to keep man from eating of the tree of life, cautions Adam against the act, whereas Ea practises a deception in order to prevent man from eating. That in both tales eternal life is contained in food points again (as we have found to be the case with the Biblical narratives of Creation and of the Deluge) to a common source for the two traditions. Similarly the phrase 'waters of life' is a figure of speech of frequent occurrence in Biblical literature in both the Old and the New Testaments. It is no argument against a common source for the Hebrew and Babylonian stories explaining how man came to forego immortality, that the waters of life should be found in the one and not in the other. If we assume with Gunkel[1108] that the stories embodied in the first chapters of Genesis were long current among the Hebrews before they were given a permanent form, the adaptation of old traditions to an entirely new order of beliefs involves a casting aside of features that could not be used and a discarding of such as seemed superfluous. The striking departures in the case of the Hebrew legends from their Babylonian counterparts are as full of significance as the striking agreements between the two. The departures and agreements must both be accounted for. For both there are reasons. So, to emphasize only one point, in a monotheistic solution of the problem under consideration, there was no place for any conflict among the gods. In Genesis God simply wills that man should not eat of the tree of life. In the Adapa legend the gods, including Anu, are willing to grant a mortal the food and water of life, simply because they believe that Ea, the creator of man, wishes him to have it. Accordingly, Anu and his associates are represented at the close of the legend as being grieved that Adapa should have foregone the privilege.
Anu looked at him[1109] and lamented over him. 'Come, Adapa, why didst thou not eat and not drink? Now thou canst not live.'
Adapa replies, unconscious of the deception practised on him:
'Ea, my lord, commanded me not to eat and not to drink.'
Adapa returns to the earth. What his subsequent fate is we do not know, for the tablet here comes to an end. It is possible that he learns what Ea has done, and that the god gives him the reason for the deception practised. A scene of this kind could not find a place in the Hebrew version that emphasizes the supreme authority of a power besides whom none other was recognized. God acts alone.
Adam, it will be recalled, after eating of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, makes a garment for himself. There can be no doubt that there is a close connection between this tradition and the feature in the Adapa legend, where Adapa, who has been shown the 'secrets of heaven and earth,'--that is, has acquired knowledge,--is commanded by Ea to put on the garment that is offered him. The anointing oneself with oil, though an essential part of the toilet in the ancient and modern Orient, was discarded in the Hebrew tale as a superfluous feature. The idea conveyed by the use of oil was the same as the one indicated in clothing one's nakedness. Both are symbols of civilization which man is permitted to attain, but his development stops there. He cannot secure eternal life.
On the other hand, in comparing the Hebrew and Babylonian versions of the problem of knowledge and immortality, one cannot help being struck by the pessimistic tone of the former as against the more consolatory spirit of the latter. God does not want man to attain even knowledge.[1110] He secures it in disobedience to the divine will, whereas Ea willingly grants him the knowledge of all there is in heaven and earth. In this way the Hebrew and Babylonian mind, each developed the common tradition in its own way.
Leaving the comparison aside and coming back for a moment to the Adapa story, it is interesting to observe that as we have two tales, both intended to explain the position of Marduk at the head of the pantheon, the one by making him the conqueror of Tiamat and forcing from Kingu the tablets of fate, the other by representing him as recovering from Zu the tablets which En-lil, who originally held them, could not protect against the storm-bird, so we have two solutions offered for the problem of immortality. The one in the Gilgamesh epic, where the hero is told of the plant of life, succeeds in finding it, but as he is about to eat the 'food' loses his grasp upon it. The exertions of man are in vain. True, there is Parnapishtim, a mortal who with his wife has obtained immortal life. He is the exception that proves the rule. Moreover, it is Bel, and not Ea, who places Parnapishtim 'at the confluence of streams,' there to live forever, and Bel does this as a proof of his pacification, a kind of indemnity offered to Ea for having destroyed the offspring of the god of humanity. The Adapa legend attacks the problem more seriously. Ea, the same god who has created man, endowed him with wisdom, bestowed all manner of benefits upon him, Ea, who protects humanity against Anu, against Bel, and other gods, Ea himself deceives man. Evidently the lesson that the Babylonian theologians intended to teach through the Adapa legend was, that it was not good for man to 'live forever.' Ea himself prevents it. That is the point of the story. Anu and the other gods are satisfied, but Ea does not desire it, and Ea's decision cannot be to the disadvantage of mankind, so dearly beloved by him. With this conclusion humanity must be content--and be resigned to the inevitable.
Of the various legends that we have been considering, the story of Adapa is perhaps the most significant, and none the less so for the manner in which a philosophical problem has been grafted on to a nature-myth. Adapa is made to play the role of Marduk, and it is nothing short of remarkable that at so early a period as the one to which the existence of the story can be traced back, a nature-myth should have been diverted from its original purpose and adapted to the end that the Adapa story serves in its present form. The process involved in this adaptation is a complicated one. The story serves as an evidence of the intellectual activity displayed in the schools of theological thought that must have flourished for many centuries before a story like that of Adapa could have been produced out of a nature-myth. Hardly less remarkable is it that the theologians and scribes of later times no longer understood the story, for otherwise they would not have identified Adapa with Marduk through the superficial circumstance that he is introduced into the story instead of Marduk, or some other solar deity allied to Marduk.
The Adapa legend takes us back to the beginning of man's career--to the time when, as in the early chapters of Genesis, man stood closer to the gods than at a later time, the time when there was a constant intercourse between man and the gods, and more especially between man and his protector, Ea. The story forms part of a stock of traditions of which we have another specimen in the Eabani-Ukhat episode, incorporated in the Gilgamesh epic.[1111] No doubt when the treasures still existing in the British Museum shall have been thoroughly examined and as additional remains of the religious literature of the Babylonians will be brought to light, we will find further traces of these early traditions as well as of other myths. Those that we have discussed in this and in the preceding chapters illustrate the system adopted by the priests in elaborating these traditions and myths and in adapting them to serve as illustrations of certain doctrines and beliefs. We may also feel tolerably confident that the religious ideas conveyed through these various epics and legends and myths fairly represent both the popular and the advanced thought, as it unfolded itself in the course of time. By the aid of these specimens of the religious literature, we have been enabled to analyze the views of the Babylonians regarding the creation of the world, its structure, and government. We have obtained an insight into the problems of life and death which engaged the Babylonian thinkers, and we have noted some of the solutions offered for these problems. In a consideration of the views held by the Babylonians and Assyrians of the life after death, to which we now turn, it will again be a specimen of the religious literature that will serve as our main guide.
FOOTNOTES:
[1011] Some of these were already indicated (but only indicated) by George Smith in his Chaldaeische Genesis (German translation), pp. 136-142. It is the merit of Dr. E. J. Harper to have prepared an excellent publication of the material contained in Smith's work, pp. 103-120, under the title "Die Babylonischen Legenden von Etana, Zu, Adapa und Dibbarra" (Delitzsch and Haupt's Beitraege zur Assyriologie, ii. 390-521). Additional material is furnished by two publications of mine: (a) a monograph, "A Fragment of the Dibbarra Epic" (Boston, 1891), and (b) "A New Fragment of the Babylonian Etana Legend" (Delitzsch and Haupt's Beitraege zur Assyriologie, iii. 363-381). See also Friedrich Jeremias in Chantepie de la Saussaye's Lehrbuch der Religionsgeschichte (2nd edition), i. 218-221.
[1012] See above, p. 511.
[1013] See my remarks in Delitzsch and Haupt's Beitraege zur Assyriologie, iii. 376.
[1014] I Kings, v. 11.
[1015] Harper in Delitzsch and Haupt's Beitraege zur Assyriologie, ii. 391-408.
[1016] Ib. pp. 405 seq.
[1017] Lit., 'the Inquirers,' a designation of the priests in their capacity of oracle-seekers.
[1018] The matter is not certain because of the sad condition of the fragments.
[1019] K. 2606, Harper, ib. pp. 399, 400.
[1020] Only a part of the name, I-si, is preserved.
[1021] See pp. 108, 163.
[1022] I.e., an army's march of two hours.
[1023] The dwelling of Ea. See Meissner, Alexander and Gilgamos, p. 17.
[1024] I.e., still smaller.
[1025] See above, p. 458.
[1026] See p. 460.
[1027] See p. 511.
[1028] Harper, ib.. p. 404, note.
[1029] See Harper, ib.. pp. 406, 407.
[1030] See above, p. 469.
[1031] Harper, pp. 392-394.
[1032] I.e., one cannot escape from Shamash, since he traverses all space.
[1033] A personification of the storm. See below, pp. 537 seq. The line is very obscure owing to the break in the tablet.
[1034] So Harper, but see pp. 541, 542.
[1035] I.e., he will dig his beak into the juicy part of the meat.
[1036] Of the carcass.
[1037] As shown by the colophon of K. 2606, and also by the fact that K. 1547, which contains on the obverse the tale, contains on the reverse Etana's prayer to Shamash.
[1038] De la Saussaye's Lehrbuch der Religionsgeschichte (2nd edition), i. 218.
[1039] See above, p. 195.
[1040] Perrot and Chiplez, History of Art in Sardinia, Phoenicia, Judea, Syria, and Asia Minor, ii. 176.
[1041] Pinches, Babylonian and Assyrian Cylinders, etc., of Sir Henry Peak, no. 18. Cf. Harper, ib. p. 408.
[1042] A lexicographical tablet, IIR. 56, col. iii. 22-35, mentions four dogs of Marduk.
[1043] See p. 232.
[1044] See Harper, ib. p. 426.
[1045] The ra is either a phonetic complement to the ideograph or is perhaps added to suggest to the reader the identification with Gir-ra.
[1046] Namely, the connection with Hebrew deber, 'pestilence.' Cf. Harper, ib. p. 426.
[1047] Babylon.
[1048] Text obscure. "Sharpen badly" seems to be the idiomatic phrase used.
[1049] See above, p. 154.
[1050] See p. 475.
[1051] A solar deity. See p. 99.
[1052] Ishum.
[1053] See above, p. 501.
[1054] I.e., seven. A collective personification of the seven evil spirits.
[1055] Ishum.
[1056] IIR. 51, 19c and 4a. Khashur is also used as a name for the cedar. See Delitzsch, Assyr. Handwoerterbuch, p. 295a.
[1057] The one published by the writer.
[1058] Hammurabi is the conqueror of Palestine mentioned in Gen. xlv. under the name Amraphel. See, e.g., Hommel, Altisraelitische Ueberlieferung, p. 106.
[1059] Num. xxi. 14. The 'song of Deborah' (Judges, v.) belongs to this collection. For further specimens of Babylonian war-songs, see Hommel, ib. pp. 180-190,--all dealing with the memorable Hammurabi period.
[1060] K. 1282, Harper, ib., pp. 432 seq., and King's fragment, Zeitschrift fuer Assyriologie, xl. 60, 61.
[1061] The gods of vegetation are mentioned.
[1062] I.e., give wisdom to the one who honors me.
[1063] Text 'Dibbarra.'
[1064] See above, p. 114.
[1065] As Mr. King has shown (Zeitschrift fuer Assyriologie, xi. 53). See above, p. 269.
[1066] Deut. vi. 9.
[1067] See p. 483.
[1068] See p. 263.
[1069] See p. 525.
[1070] See p. 420, 428.
[1071] See pp. 439 seq.
[1072] I.e., En-lil's.
[1073] I.e., 'the bond of heaven and earth,' the name probably of a temple-tower in Nippur, sacred to En-lil.
[1074] Zu's heart. These two lines are repeated.
[1075] The word Kissu applies more especially to the dwelling places of the gods. Delitzsch, Assyr. Handwoerterbuch, p. 349b.
[1076] Zu.
[1077] See e.g., Ward, Seal Cylinders of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, p. 12.
[1078] Ramman.
[1079] These two lines are repeated.
[1080] The thunderbolt.
[1081] Cities sacred to thee.
[1082] I.e., the sacred edifices in these cities.
[1083] The lofty dwelling of the gods is here meant. See chapter xxvii.
[1084] Ideographic reading--the ideograph signifies 'shrine.' The verbal stem bararu means 'to shine.'
[1085] See p. 414.
[1086] See p. 525.
[1087] See p. 400.
[1088] It is quite possible that the line in question declares that Zu is in collusion with the eagle, against whom the serpent seeks the assistance of Shamash.
[1089] See p. 417.
[1090] It is hardly possible that the illustration on seal cylinders mentioned by Ward, ib. pp. 13, 14, represents the Zu bird brought before a deity for punishment; and certainly not before Shamash, who only enters into the story in so far as Marduk is a solar deity.
[1091] Published by Winckler and Abel, Der Thontafelfund von El-Amarna, iii. 166a, b; translated also by Harper, ib. pp. 420, 421.
[1092] See above, p. 63.
[1093] My rendering is given in continuous lines. The legend is in narrative, not in poetic form.
[1094] Adapa.
[1095] Lit., 'house.'
[1096] Neither Delitzsch's suggestion 'god of dwellings' nor Harper's 'god thou art strong' is acceptable.
[1097] See p. 99.
[1098] See p. 462.
[1099] See the following chapter.
[1100] See pp. 139 seq.
[1101] First suggested by Zimmern.
[1102] Of the eighth century. See Harper, ib. p. 424.
[1103] To Ea.
[1104] Anu, it will be recalled, utters the same cry. See p. 546.
[1105] Referring to his garments of mourning.
[1106] I.e., Ea.
[1107] I follow Zimmern's rendition of the line.
[1108] Schoepfung und Chaos, pp. 168 seq.
[1109] Adapa.
[1110] The phrase 'knowledge of good and evil' (Gen. ii. 17) is simply an expression equivalent to our 'everything,' or to the Babylonian 'secrets of heaven and earth.'
[1111] See pp. 476 seq. Sayce has even gone so far as to suggest an identification of Adapa (by reading Adawa) with the Biblical Adam, but this conjecture is untenable.