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the list several other myths and legends, among the still unpublished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.