* Their embarrassment is shown in the way in which they have

classed this god. In the original triad, Ishtar, being the

smallest of the three heavenly bodies, naturally took the

third place. Ramman, on the contrary, had natural affinities

with the elemental group, and belonged to Anu, Bel, Ea,

rather than to Sin and Shamash. So we find him sometimes in

the third place, sometimes in the first of the second triad,

and this post of eminence is so natural to him, that

Assyriologists have preserved it from the beginning, and

describe the triad as composed, not of Sin, Shamash, and

Ramman, but of Ramman, Sin, and Shamash, or even of Sin,

Ramman, and Shamash.

The gods of the triads were married, but their goddesses for the most

part had neither the liberty nor the important functions of the Egyptian

goddesses.* They were content, in their modesty, to be eclipsed behind

the personages of their husbands, and to spend their lives in the shade,

as the women of Asiatic countries still do. It would appear, moreover,

that there was no trouble taken about them until it was too late--when

it was desired, for instance, to explain the affiliation of the

immortals. Anu and Bel were bachelors to start with. When it was

determined to assign to them female companions, recourse was had to the

procedure adopted by the Egyptians in a similar case: there was added to

their names the distinctive suffix of the feminine gender, and in this

manner two grammatical goddesses were formed, Anat and Belit, whose

dispositions give some indications of this accidental birth. There was

always a vague uncertainty about the parts they had to play, and their

existence itself was hardly more than a seeming one. Anat sometimes

represented a feminine heaven, and differed from Anu only in her sex.

At times she was regarded as the antithesis of Anu, i.e. as the earth in

contradistinction to the heaven. Belit, as far as we can distinguish her

from other persons to whom the title “lady” was attributed, shared with

Bel the rule over the earth and the regions of darkness where the dead

were confined. The wife of Ea was distinguished by a name which was not

derived from that of her husband, but she was not animated by a more

intense vitality than Anat or Belit: she was called Damkina, the lady

of the soil, and she personified in an almost passive manner the earth

united to the water which fertilized it. The goddesses of the second

triad were perhaps rather less artificial in their functions. Ningal,

doubtless, who ruled along with Sin at Uru, was little more than an

incarnate epithet. Her name means “the great lady,” “the queen,” and her

person is the double of that of her husband; as he is the man-moon, she

is the woman-moon, his beloved, and the mother of his children Shamash

and Ishtar. But A or Sirrida enjoyed an indisputable authority alongside

Shamash: she never lost sight of the fact that she had been a sun like

Shamash, a disk-god before she was transformed into a goddess. Shamash,

moreover, was surrounded by an actual harem, of which Sirrida was the

acknowledged queen, as he himself was its king, and among its members

Gula, the great, and Anunit, the daughter of Sin, the morning star,

found a place. Shala, the compassionate, was also included among them;

she was subsequently bestowed upon Ramman. They were all goddesses of

ancient lineage, and each had been previously worshipped on her own

account when the Sumerian people held sway in Chaldaea: as soon as the

Semites gained the upper hand, the powers of these female deities became

enfeebled, and they were distributed among the gods. There was but one

of them, Nana, the doublet of Ishtar, who had succeeded in preserving

her liberty: when her companions had been reduced to comparative

insignificance, she was still acknowledged as queen and mistress in her

city of Eridu. The others, notwithstanding the enervating influence

to which they were usually subject in the harem, experienced at times

inclinations to break into rebellion, and more than one of them, shaking

off the yoke of her lord, had proclaimed her independence: Anunit, for

instance, tearing herself away from the arms of Shamash, had vindicated,

as his sister and his equal, her claim to the half of his dominion.

Sippara was a double city, or rather there were two neighbouring

Sipparas, one distinguished as the city of the Sun, “Sippara sha

Shamash,” while the other gave lustre to Anunit in assuming the

designation of “Sippara sha Anunitum.” Rightly interpreted, these family

arrangements of the gods had but one reason for their existence--the

necessity of explaining without coarseness those parental connections

which the theological classification found it needful to establish

between the deities constituting the two triads. In Chaldaea as in Egypt

there was no inclination to represent the divine families as propagating

their species otherwise than by the procedure observed in human

families: the union of the goddesses with the gods thus legitimated

their offspring.

* The passive and almost impersonal character of the

majority of the Babylonian and Assyrian goddesses is well

known. The majority must have been independent at the

outset, in the Sumerian period, and were married later on,

under the influence of Semitic ideas.

The triads were, therefore, nothing more than theological fictions. Each

of them was really composed of six members, and it was thus really a

council of twelve divinities which the priests of Uruk had instituted to

attend to the affairs of the universe; with this qualification, that the

feminine half of the assembly rarely asserted itself, and contributed

but an insignificant part to the common work. When once the great

divisions had been arranged, and the principal functionaries designated,

it was still necessary to work out the details, and to select v agents

to preserve an order among them. Nothing happens by chance in this

world, and the most insignificant events are determined by previsional

arrangements, and decisions arrived at a long time previously. The gods

assembled every morning in a hall, situated near the gates of the sun in

the east, and there deliberated on the events of the day. The sagacious

Ea submitted to them the fates which are about to be fulfilled, and

caused a record of them to be made in the chamber of destiny on tablets

which Shamash or Merodach carried with them to scatter everywhere on his

way; but he who should be lucky enough to snatch these tablets from him

would make himself master of the world for that day. This misfortune had

arisen only once, at the beginning of the ages. Zu, the storm-bird, who

lives with his wife and children on Mount Sabu under the protection of

Bel, and who from this elevation pounces down upon the country to ravage

it, once took it into his head to make himself equal to the supreme

gods. He forced his way at an early hour into the chamber of destiny

before the sun had risen: he perceived within it the royal insignia of

Bel, “the mitre of his power, the garment of his divinity,--the fatal

tablets of his divinity, Zu perceived them. He perceived the father

of the gods, the god who is the tie between heaven and earth,--and the

desire of ruling took possession of his heart;--yea, Zu perceived

the father of the gods, the god who is the tie between heaven and

earth,--and the desire of ruling took possession of his heart,--‘I will

take the fatal tablets of the gods, I myself,--and the oracles of all

the gods, it is I who will give them forth;--I will install myself on

the throne, I will send forth decrees,--I will manage the whole of the

Igigi.’--And his heart plotted warfare;--lying in wait on the threshold

of the hall, he watched for the dawn.--When Bel had poured out the

shining waters,--had installed himself on the throne, and donned the

crown, Zu took away the fatal tablets from his hand,--he seized power,

and the authority to give forth decrees,--the god Zu, he flew away and

concealed himself in the mountains.” Bel immediately cried out, he was

inflamed with anger, and ravaged the world with the fire of his

wrath. “Anu opened his mouth, he spake,--he said to the gods his

offspring:--‘Who will conquer the god Zu?--He will make his name great

in every land.’--Bamman, the supreme, the son of Anu, was called, and

Anu himself gave to him his orders;--yea, Bamman, the supreme, the son

of Anu, was called, and Anu himself gave to him his orders.--‘Go, my son

Kamman, the valiant, since nothing resists thy attack;--conquer Zu by

thine arm, and thy name shall be great among the great gods,--among the

gods, thy brothers, thou shalt have no equal: sanctuaries shall be built

to thee, and if thou buildest for thyself thy cities in the “four houses

of the world,” * --thy cities shall extend over all the terrestrial

mountain! ‘Be valiant, then, in the sight of the gods, and may thy

name be strong.’ Bamman answers, he addresses this bpeech to Anu his

father:--‘Father, who will go to the inaccessible mountains? Who is the

equal of Zu among the gods, thy offspring? He has carried off in his

hand the fatal tablets,--he has seized power and authority to give forth

decrees,--Zu thereupon flew away and hid himself in his mountain.--Now,

the word of his mouth is like that of the god who unites heaven and

earth;---my power is no more than clay,--and all the gods must bow

before him.’” Anu sent for the god Bara, the son of Ishtar, to help him,

and exhorted him in the same language he had addressed to Ramman: Bara

refused to attempt the enterprise. Shamash, called in his turn, at

length consented to set out for Mount Sabu: he triumphed over the

storm-bird, tore the fatal tablets from him, and brought him before Ea

as a prisoner.

* Literally, “Construct thy cities in the four regions of

the world (cf. pp. 12, 13 of the present work), and thy

cities will extend to the mountain of the earth.” Anu would

appear to have promised to Ramman a monopoly; if he wished

to build cities which would recognize him as their patron,

these cities will cover the entire earth.

[Illustration: 186.jpg SHAMASH FIGHTS WITH ZU AND THE STORM BIRDS.]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from Layard.

[Illustration: 186a.jpg The Plenisphere taken from the Temple of

Tentyra]

[Illustration: 186b.jpg Text of The Plenisphere]

The sun of the complete day, the sun in the full possession of his

strength, could alone win back the attributes of power which the morning

sun had allowed himself to be despoiled of. From that time forth the

privilege of delivering immortal decrees to mortals was never taken out

of the hands of the gods of light.

Destinies once fixed on the earth became a law--“mamit”--a good or bad

fate, from which no one could escape, but of which any one might learn

the disposition beforehand if he were capable of interpreting the

formulas of it inscribed on the book of the sky. The stars, even those

which were most distant from the earth, were not unconcerned in the

events which took place upon it. They were so many living beings endowed

with various characteristics, and their rays as they passed across the

celestial spaces exercised from above an active control on everything

they touched. Their influences became modified, increased or weakened

according to the intensity with which they shed them, according to the

respective places they occupied in the firmament, and according to the

hour of the night and the month of the year in which they rose or

set. Each division of time, each portion of space, each category of

existences--and in each category each individual--was placed under their

rule and was subject to their implacable tyranny. The infant was born

their slave, and continued in this condition of slavery until his life’s

end: the star which was in the ascendent at the instant of his birth

became his star, and ruled his destiny. The Chaldaeans, like the

Egyptians, fancied they discerned in the points of light which

illuminate the nightly sky, the outline of a great number of various

figures--men, animals, monsters, real and imaginary objects, a lance, a

bow, a fish, a scorpion, ears of wheat, a bull, and a lion. The majority

of these were spread out above their heads on the surface of the

celestial vault; but twelve of these figures, distinguishable by their

brilliancy, were arranged along the celestial horizon in the pathway of

the sun, and watched over his daily course along the walls of the world.

These divided this part of the sky into as many domains or “houses,” in

which they exercised absolute authority, and across which the god could

not go without having previously obtained their consent, or having

brought them into subjection beforehand. This arrangement is a

reminiscence of the wars by which Bel-Merodach, the divine bull, the

god of Babylon, had succeeded in bringing order out of chaos: he had not

only killed Tiamat, but he had overthrown and subjugated the monsters

which led the armies of darkness. He meets afresh, every year and every

day, on the confines of heaven and earth, the scorpion-men of his ancient

enemy, the fish with heads of men or goats, and many more. The twelve

constellations were combined into a zodiac, whose twelve signs,

transmitted to the Greeks and modified by them, may still be read on

our astronomical charts. The constellations, immovable, or actuated by a

slow motion, in longitude only, contain the problems of the future,

but they are not sufficient of themselves alone to furnish man with the

solution of these problems. The heavenly bodies capable of explaining

them, the real interpreters of destiny, were at first the two divinities

who rule the empires of night and day--the moon and the sun; afterwards

there took part in this work of explanation the five planets which we

call Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Mars, and Mercury, or rather the five gods

who actuate them, and who have controlled their course from the moment

of creation--Merodach, Ishtar, Ninib, Nergal, and Nebo. The planets

seemed to traverse the heavens in every direction, to cross their own

and each other’s paths, and to approach the fixed stars or recede from

them; and the species of rhythmical dance in which they are carried

unceasingly across the celestial spaces revealed to men, if they

examined it attentively, the irresistible march of their own destinies,

as surely as if they had made themselves master of the fatal tablets of

Shamash, and could spell them out line by line.

The Chaldaens were disposed to regard the planets as perverse sheep who

had escaped from the fold of the stars to wander wilfully in search of

pasture.* At first they were considered to be so many sovereign deities,

without other function than that of running through the heavens and

furnishing there predictions of the future; afterwards two of them

descended to the earth, and received upon it the homage of men* --Ishtar

from the inhabitants of the city of Dilbat, and Nebo* from those of

Borsippa. Nebo assumed the _role_ of a soothsayer and a prophet. He

knew and foresaw everything, and was ready to give his advice upon any

subject: he was the inventor of the method of making clay tablets,

and of writing upon them. Ishtar was a combination of contradictory

characteristics.****

* Their generic name, read as “lubat,” in Sumero-Accadian,

“bibbu” in Semitic speech (Fr. Lenormant, _Essai de

Commentaire de Berose_, pp. 370, 371), denoted a quadruped,

the species of which Lenormant was not able to define;

Jensen (_Die Kosmologie_, pp. 95-99) identified it with the

sheep and the ram. At the end of the account of the

creation, Merodach-Jupiter is compared with a shepherd who

feeds the flock of the gods on the pastures of heaven (cf.

p. 15 of the present work).

** The site of Dilbat is unknown: it has been sought in the

neighbourhood of Kishu and Babylon (Delitzsch, _Wo lag das

Paradies?_ p. 219); it is probable that it was in the

suburbs of Sippara. The name given to the goddess was

transcribed AeXckit (Hesychius, _sub voce_), and signifies

the herald, the messenger of the day.

*** The role of Nebo was determined by the early

Assyriologists (Rawlin-son, _On the Religion of the

Babylonians and Assyrians_, pp. 523-52G; Oppeet, _Expedition

en Mesopotamie_, vol. ii. p. 257; Lenormant, _Essai de

Commentaire de Berose_, pp. 114-116). He owed his functions

partly to his alliance with other gods (Sayce, _Religion of

the Ancient Babylonians_, pp. 118, 119).

**** See the chapter devoted by Sayce to the consideration

of Ishtar in his Religion of the Ancient Babylonians (IV.

Tammuz and Ishtar, p. 221, et seq.), and the observations

made by Jeremias on the subject in the sequel of his

Izdubar-Nimrod (Ishtar-Astarte im Izdubar-Epos), pp. 56-66.

[Illustration: 190.jpg ISHTAR AS A WARRIOR-GODDESS]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a heliogravure in Menant’s

_Recherches sur la Glyptique orientale_.

In Southern Chaldaea she was worshipped under the name of Nana,

the supreme mistress.* The identity of this lady of the gods,

“Belit-ilanit,” the Evening Star, with Anunit, the Morning Star, was

at first ignored, and hence two distinct goddesses were formed from the

twofold manifestation of a single deity: having at length discovered

their error, the Chaldaeans merged these two beings in one, and their

names became merely two different designations for the same star under a

twofold aspect. The double character, however, which had been attributed

to them continued to be attached to the single personality.

* With regard to Nana, consult, with reserve, Fk. Lenormant,

Essai de Commentaire de Berose, pp. 100-103, 378, 379, where

the identity of Ishtar and Nana is still unrecognized.

[Illustration: 191.jpg NEBO]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from an Assyrian statue in alabaster

in the British Museum.

The Evening Star had symbolized the goddess of love, who attracted

the sexes towards one another, and bound them together by the chain

of desire; the Morning Star, on the other hand, was regarded as the

cold-blooded and cruel warrior who despised the pleasures of love and

rejoiced in warfare: Ishtar thus combined in her person chastity and

lasciviousness, kindness and ferocity, and a peaceful and warlike

disposition, but this incongruity in her characteristics did not seem

to disconcert the devotion of her worshippers. The three other planets

would have had a wretched part to play in comparison with Nebo and

Ishtar, if they had not been placed under new patronage. The secondary

solar gods, Merodach, Ninib, and Nergal, led, if we examine their role

carefully, but an incomplete existence: they were merely portions of the

sun, while Shamash represented the entire orb. What became of them apart

from the moment in the day and year in which they were actively engaged

in their career? Where did they spend their nights, the hours during

which Shamash had retired into the firmament, and lay hidden behind the

mountains of the north? As in Egypt the Horuses identified at first with

the sun became at length the rulers of the planets, so in Chaldaea

the three suns of Ninib, Merodach, and Nergal became respectively

assimilated to Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars;* and this identification was

all the more easy in the case of Saturn, as he had been considered from

the beginning as a bull belonging to Shamash. Henceforward, therefore,

there was a group of five powerful gods--distributed among the stars

of heaven, and having abodes also in the cities of the earth--whose

function it was to announce the destinies of the universe. Some,

deceived by the size and brilliancy of Jupiter, gave the chief command

to Merodach, and this opinion naturally found a welcome reception at

Babylon, of which he was the feudal deity. Others, taking into account

only the preponderating influence exercised by the planets over the

fortunes of men, accorded the primacy to Ninib, placing Merodach next,

followed respectively by Ishtar, Nergal, and Nebo. The five planets,

like the six triads, were not long before they took to themselves

consorts, if indeed they had not already been married before they were

brought together in a collective whole. Ninib chose for wife, in the

first place, Bau, the daughter of Anu, the mistress of Uru, highly

venerated from the most remote times; afterwards Gula, the queen of

physicians, whose wisdom alleviated the ills of humanity, and who was

one of the goddesses sometimes placed in the harem of Shamash himself.

Merodach associated with him Zirbanit, the fruitful, who secures from

generation to generation the permanence and increase of living beings.

Nergal distributed his favours sometimes to Laz, and sometimes to

Esharra, who was, like himself, warlike and always victorious in battle.

Nebo provided himself with a mate in Tashmit, the great bride, or

even in Ishtar herself. But Ishtar could not be content with a single

husband: after she had lost Dumuzi-Tammuz, the spouse of her youth, she

gave herself freely to the impulses of her passions, distributing her

favours to men as well as gods, and was sometimes subject to be repelled

with contempt by the heroes upon whom she was inclined to bestow her

love. The five planets came thus to be actually ten, and advantage was

taken of these alliances to weave fresh schemes of affiliation: Nebo was

proclaimed to be the son of Merodach and Zirbanit, Merodach the son of

Ba, and Ninib the offspring of Bel and Esharra.

* Ishtar, Nebo, Sin, and Shamash being heavenly bodies, to

begin with, and the other great gods, Anu, Bel, Ea, and

Ramman having their stars in the heavens, the Chaldaeans

were led by analogy to ascribe to the gods which represented

the phases of the sun, Merodach, Ninib, and Nergal, three

stars befitting their importance, i.e. three planets.

There were two councils, one consisting of twelve members, the other

of ten; the former was composed of the most popular gods of Southern

Chaldaea, representing the essential elements of the world, while

the latter consisted of the great deities of Northern Chaldaea, whose

function it was to regulate or make known the destinies of men. The

authors of this system, who belonged to Southern Chaldaea, naturally

gave the position to their patron gods, and placed the twelve above

the ten. It is well known that Orientals display a great respect for

numbers, and attribute to them an almost irresistible power; we can

thus understand how it was that the Chaldaeans applied them to designate

their divine masters, and we may calculate from these numbers the

estimation in which each of these masters was held. The goddesses had

no value assigned to them in this celestial arithmetic, Ishtar excepted,

who was not a mere duplication, more or less ingenious, of a previously

existing deity, but possessed from the beginning an independent life,

and could thus claim to be called goddess in her own right. The members

of the two triads were arranged on a descending scale, Anu taking the

highest place: the scale was considered to consist of a soss of sixty

units in length, and each of the deities who followed Anu was placed ten

of these units below his predecessor, Bel at 50 units, Ea at 40, Sin at

30, Shamash at 20, Ramman at 10 or 6. The gods of the planets were not

arranged in a regular series like those of the triads, but the numbers

attached to them expressed their proportionate influence on terrestrial

affairs: to Ninib was assigned the same number as had been given to Bel,

50, to Merodach perhaps 25, to Ishtar 15, to Nergal 12, and to Nebo

10. The various spirits were also fractionally estimated, but this as a

class, and not as individuals: the priests would not have known how to

have solved the problem if they had been obliged to ascribe values

to the infinity of existences.* As the Heliopolitans were obliged to

eliminate from the Ennead many feudal divinities, so the Chaldaeans

had left out of account many of their sovereign deities, especially

goddesses, Bau of Uru, Nana of Uruk, and Allat; or if they did introduce

them into their calculations, it was by a subterfuge, by identifying

them with other goddesses, to whom places had been already assigned;

Bau being thus coupled with Ohila, Nana with Ishtar, and Allat with

Ninhl-Beltis. If figures had been assigned to the latter proportionate

to the importance of the parts they played, and the number of their

votaries, how comes it that they were excluded from the cycle of the

great gods? They were actually placed alongside rather than below the

two councils, and without insistence upon the rank which they enjoyed

in the hierarchy. But the confusion which soon arose among divinities

of identical or analogous nature opened the way for inserting all the

neglected personalities in the framework already prepared for them. A

sky-god, like Dagan, would mingle naturally with Anu, and enjoy like

honours with him. The gods of all ranks associated with the sun or fire,

Nusku, Gibil, and Dumuzi, who had not been at first received among the

privileged group, obtained a place there by virtue of their assimilation

to Shamash, and his secondary forms, Bel-Merodach, Ninib, and Nergal.

Ishtar absorbed all her companions, and her name put in the plural,

Ishtarati, “the Ishtars,” embraced all goddesses in general, just as the

name Hani took in all the gods. Thanks to this compromise, the system

flourished, and was widely accepted: local vanity was always able to

find a means for placing in a prominent place within it the feudal

deity, and for reconciling his pretensions to the highest rank with the

order of precedence laid down by the theologians of Uruk. The local

god was always the king of the gods, the father of the gods, he who

was worshipped above the others in everyday life, and whose public cult

constituted the religion of the State or city.

* As far as we can at present determine, the most ancient

series established was that of the planetary gods, whose

values, following each other irregularly, are not calculated

on a scheme of mathematical progression, but according to

the empirical importance, which a study of predictions had

ascribed to each planet. The regular series, that of the

great gods, bears in its regularity the stamp of its later

introduction: it was instituted after the example of the

former, but with corrections of what seemed capricious, and

fixing the interval between the gods always at the same

figure.

The temples were miniature reproductions of the arrangement of the

universe. The “ziggurat” represented in its form the mountain of the

world, and the halls ranged at its feet resembled approximately

the accessory parts of the world: the temple of Merodach at Babylon

comprised them all up to the chambers of fate, where the sun received

every morning the tablets of destiny. The name often indicated the

nature of the patron deity or one of his attributes: the temple of

Shamash at Larsam, for instance was called E-Babbara, “the house of

the sun,” and that of Nebo at Borsippa, E-Zida, “the eternal house.” No

matter where the sanctuary of a specific god might be placed, it always

bore the same name; Shamash, for example, dwelt at Sippara as at Larsam

in an E-Babbara. In Chaldaea, as in Egypt, the king or chief of the

State was the priest _par excellence_, and the title of “vicegerent,”

so frequent in the early period, shows that the chief was regarded as

representing the divinity among his own people; but a priestly body,

partly hereditary, partly selected, fulfilled for him his daily

sacerdotal functions, and secured the regularity of the services. A

chief priest--“ishshakku”--was at their head, and his principal duty was

the pouring out of the libation. Each temple had its “ishshakku,” but he

who presided over the worship of the feudal deity took precedence of

all the others in the city, as in the case of the chief priests of

Bel-Merodach at Babylon, of Sin at Uru, and of Shamash at Larsam or

Sippara. He presided over various categories of priests and priestesses

whose titles and positions in the hierarchy are not well known. The

“sangutu” appear to have occupied after him the most important place, as

chamberlains attached to the house of the god, and as his liegemen.

To some of these was entrusted the management of the harem of the god,

while others were overseers of the remaining departments of his

palace. The “kipu” and the “shatammu” were especially charged with the

management of his financial interests, while the “pashishu” anointed

with holy and perfumed oil his statues of stone, metal, or wood, the

votive stelae set up in the chapels, and the objects used in worship

and sacrifice, such as the great basins, the “seas” of copper which

contained the water employed in the ritual ablutions, and the victims

led to the altar. After these came a host of officials, butchers and

their assistants, soothsayers, augurs, prophets,--in fact, all the

attendants that the complicated rites, as numerous in Chaldaea as in

Egypt, required, not to speak of the bands of women and men who honoured

the god in meretricious rites. Occupation for this motley crowd was

never lacking. Every day and almost every hour a fresh ceremony required

the services of one or other member of the staff, from the monarch

himself, or his deputy in the temple, down to the lowest sacristan. The

12th of the month Blul was set apart at Babylon for the worship of Bel

and Beltis: the sovereign made a donation to them according as he was

disposed, and then celebrated before them the customary sacrifices, and

if he raised his hand to plead for any favour, he obtained it without

fail. The 13th was dedicated to the moon, the supreme god; the 14th to

Beltis and Nergal; the 15th to Shamash; the 16th was a fast in honour

of Merodach and Zirbanit; the 17th was the annual festival of Nebo and

Tashmit; the 18th was devoted to the laudation of Sin and Shamash; while

the 19th was a “white day” for the great goddess Gula. The whole year

was taken up in a way similar to this casual specimen from the calendar.

The kings, in founding a temple, not only bestowed upon it the objects

and furniture required for present exigencies, such as lambs and oxen,

birds, fish, bread, liquors, incense, and odoriferous essences;

they assigned to it an annual income from the treasury, slaves, and

cultivated lands; and their royal successors were accustomed to renew

these gifts or increase them on every opportunity. Every victorious

campaign brought him his share in the spoils and captives; every

fortunate or unfortunate event which occurred in connection with the

State or royal family meant an increase in the gifts to the god, as

an act of thanksgiving on the one hand for the divine favour, or as an

offering on the other to appease the wrath of the god. Gold, silver,

copper, lapis-lazuli, gems and precious woods, accumulated in the sacred

treasury; fields were added to fields, flocks to flocks, slaves to

slaves; and the result of such increase would in a few generations

have made the possessions of the god equal to those of the reigning

sovereign, if the attacks of neighbouring peoples had not from time to

time issued in the loss of a part of it, or if the king himself had not,

under financial pressure, replenished his treasury at the expense of the

priests. To prevent such usurpations as far as possible, maledictions

were hurled at every one who should dare to lay a sacrilegious hand on

the least object belonging to the divine domain; it was predicted of

such “that he would be killed like an ox in the midst of his prosperity,

and slaughtered like a wild urus in the fulness of his strength!... May

his name be effaced from his stelae in the temple of his god! May his

god see pitilessly the disaster of his country, may the god ravage his

land with the waters of heaven, ravage it with the waters of the

earth. May he be pursued as a nameless wretch, and his seed fall under

servitude! May this man, like every one who acts adversely to his

master, find nowhere a refuge, afar off, under the vault of the skies or

in any abode of man whatsoever.” These threats, terrible as they were,

did not succeed in deterring the daring, and the mighty men of the

time were willing to brave them, when their interests promoted them.

Gulkishar, Lord of the “land of the sea,” had vowed a wheat-field to

Nina, his lady, near the town of Deri, on the Tigris. Seven hundred

years later, in the reign of Belnadinabal, Ekarrakais, governor of

Bitsinmagir, took possession of it, and added it to the provincial

possessions, contrary to all equity. The priest of the goddess appealed

to the king, and prostrating himself before the throne with many prayers

and mystic formulas, begged for the restitution of the alienated land.

Belnadinabal acceded to the request, and renewed the imprecations which

had been inserted on the original deed of gift: “If ever, in the

course of days, the man of law, or the governor of a suzerain who will

superintend the town of Bitsinmagir, fears the vengeance of the god

Zikum or the goddess Nina, may then Zikum and Nina, the mistress of the

goddesses, come to him with the benediction of the prince of the gods;

may they grant to him the destiny of a happy life, and may they accord

to him days of old age, and years of uprightness! But as for thee, who

hast a mind to change this, step not across its limits, do not covet

the land: hate evil and love justice.” If all sovereigns were not so

accommodating in their benevolence as Belnadinabal, the piety of private

individuals, stimulated by fear, would be enough to repair the loss,

and frequent legacies would soon make up for the detriment caused to

the temple possessions by the enemy’s sword or the rapacity of an

unscrupulous lord. The residue, after the vicissitudes of revolutions,

was increased and diminished from time to time, to form at length in the

city an indestructible fief whose administration was a function of the

chief priest for life, and whose revenue furnished means in abundance

for the personal exigencies of the gods as well as the support of his

ministers.

This was nothing more than justice would prescribe. A loyal and

universal faith would not only acknowledge the whole world to be the

creation of the gods, but also their inalienable domain. It belonged to

them at the beginning; every one in the State of which the god was

the sovereign lord, all those, whether nobles or serfs, vicegerents

or kings, who claimed to have any possession in it, were but ephemeral

lease-holders of portions of which they fancied themselves the owners.

Donations to the temples were, therefore, nothing more than voluntary

restitutions, which the gods consented to accept graciously, deigning

to be well pleased with the givers, when, after all-, they might have

considered the gifts as merely displays of strict honesty, which merited

neither recognition nor thanks. They allowed, however, the best part of

their patrimony to remain in the hands of strangers, and they contented

themselves with what the pretended generosity of the faithful might see

fit to assign to them. Of their lands, some were directly cultivated by

the priests themselves; others were leased to lay people of every rank,

who took off the shoulders of the priesthood all the burden of managing

them, while rendering at the same time the profit that accrued from

them; others were let at a fixed rent according to contract. The

tribute of dates, corn, and fruit, which was rendered to the temples to

celebrate certain commemorative ceremonies in the honour of this or that

deity, were fixed charges upon certain lands, which at length usually

fell entirely into the hands of the priesthood as mortmain possessions.

These were the sources of the fixed revenues of the gods, by means of

which they and their people were able to live, if not luxuriously, at

least in a manner befitting their dignity. The offerings and sacrifices

were a kind of windfall, of which the quantity varied strangely with the

seasons; at certain times few were received, while at other times there

was a superabundance. The greatest portion of them was consumed on

the spot by the officials of the sanctuary; the part which could be

preserved without injury was added to the produce of the domain, and

constituted a kind of reserve for a rainy day, or was used to produce

more of its kind. The priests made great profit out of corn and metals,

and the skill with which they conducted commercial operations in silver

was so notorious that no private person hesitated to entrust them with

the management of his capital: they were the intermediaries between

lenders and borrowers, and the commissions which they obtained in these

transactions was not the smallest or the least certain of their profits.

They maintained troops of slaves, labourers, gardeners, workmen, and

even women-singers and sacred courtesans of which mention has been made

above, all of whom either worked directly for them in their several

trades, or were let out to those who needed their services. The god was

not only the greatest cultivator in the State after the king, sometimes

even excelling him in this respect, but he was also the most active

manufacturer, and many of the utensils in daily use, as well as articles

of luxury, proceeded from his workshops. His possessions secured for him

a paramount authority in the city, and also an influence in the councils

of the king: the priests who represented him on earth thus became mixed

up in State affairs, and exercised authority on his behalf in the same

measure as the officers of the crown.

[Illustration: 203.jpg A VOTARY LED TO THE GOD TO RECEIVE THE REWARD OF

THE SACRIFICE]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a Chaldaean intaglio in the

Berlin Museum.

He, had, indeed, as much need of riches and renown as the least of his

clients. As he was subject to all human failings, and experienced all

the appetites of mankind, he had to be nourished, clothed, and amused,

and this could be done only at great expense. The stone or wooden

statues erected to him in the sanctuaries furnished him with bodies,

which he animated with his breath, and accredited to his clients as the

receivers of all things needful to him in his mysterious kingdom. The

images of the gods were clothed in vestments, they were anointed with

odoriferous oils, covered with jewels, served with food and drink; and

during these operations the divinities themselves, above in the heaven,

or down in the abyss, or in the bosom of the earth, were arrayed in

garments, their bodies were perfumed with unguents, and their appetites

fully satisfied: all that was further required for this purpose was the

offering of sacrifices together with prayers and prescribed rites. The

priest began by solemnly inviting the gods to the feast: as soon as they

sniffed from afar the smell of the good cheer that awaited them, they

ran “like a swarm of flies” and prepared themselves to partake of it.

[Illustration: 204.jpg THE SACRIFICE: A GOAT PRESENTED TO ISHTAR.]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from an Assyrian intaglio

illustrated in A. Rich, _Narrative of a Journey to the Site

of Babylon in 1811_. The sacrifice of the goat, or rather

its presentation to the god, is not infrequently represented

on the Assyrian bas-reliefs.

The supplications having been heard, water was brought to the gods for

the necessary ablutions before a repast. “Wash thy hands, cleanse thy

hands,--may the gods thy brothers wash their hands!--From a clean dish

eat a pure repast,--from a clean cup drink pure water.” The statue, from

the rigidity of the material out of which it was carved, was at a loss

how to profit by the exquisite things which had been lavished upon it:

the difficulty was removed by the opening of its mouth at the moment

of consecration, thus enabling it to partake of the good fare to its

satisfaction.* The banquet lasted a long time, and consisted of every

delicacy which the culinary skill of the time could prepare: the courses

consisted of dates, wheaten flour, honey, butter, various kinds of

wines, and fruits, together with roast and boiled meats.

* This operation, which was also resorted to in Egypt in the

case of the statues of the gods and deceased persons, is

clearly indicated in a text of the second Chaldaean empire

published in _W. A. Insc_, vol. iv. pi. 25. The priest who

consecrates an image makes clear in the first place that

“its mouth not being open it can partake of no refreshment:

it neither eats food nor drinks water.” Thereupon he performs

certain rites, which he declares were celebrated, if not at

that moment, at least for the first time by Ea himself: “Ea

has brought thee to thy glorious place,--to thy glorious

place he has brought thee,--brought thee with his splendid

hand,--brought also butter and honey;--_he has poured

consecrated water into thy mouth--and by magic has opened

thy mouth._” Henceforward the statue can eat and drink like

an ordinary living being the meat and beverages offered to

it during the sacrifice.

[Illustration: 205.jpg THE GOD SHAMASH SEIZES WITH HIS LEFT HAND THE

SMOKE OF THE SACRIFICE.]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a Chaldaean intaglio pointed out

by Heuzey-Sarzcc; the original is in the Louvre. The scene

depicted behind Shamash deals with a legend still unknown. A

goddess, pursued by a genius with a double face, has taken

refuge under a tree, which bows down to protect her; while

the monster endeavours to break down the obstacle branch by

branch, a god rises from the stem and hands to the goddess a

stone-headed mace to protect her against her enemy.

In the most ancient times it would appear that even human sacrifices

were offered, but this custom was obsolete except on rare occasions, and

lambs, oxen, sometimes swine’s flesh, formed the usual elements of

the sacrifice. The gods seized as it arose from the altar the unctuous

smoke, and fed on it with delight. When they had finished their repast,

the supplication of a favour was adroitly added, to which they gave a

favourable hearing. Services were frequent in the temples: there was one

in the morning and another in the evening on ordinary days, in addition

to those which private individuals might require at any hour of the day.

The festivals assigned to the local god and his colleagues, together

with the acts of praise in which the whole nation joined, such as that

of the New Year, required an abundance of extravagant sacrifices, in

which the blood of the victims flowed like water. Days of sorrow and

mourning alternated with these days of joy, during which the people and

the magnates gave themselves up to severe fasting and acts of penitence.

The Chaldeans had a lively sense of human frailty, and of the risks

entailed upon the sinner by disobedience to the gods. The dread of

sinning haunted them during their whole life; they continually

subjected the motives of their actions to a strict scrutiny, and once

self-examination had revealed to them the shadow of an evil intent, they

were accustomed to implore pardon for it in a humble manner. “Lord, my

sins are many, great are my misdeeds!--O my god, my sins are many, great

my misdeeds!--O my goddess, my sins are many, great my misdeeds!--I have

committed faults and I knew them not; I have committed sin and I knew

it not; I have fed upon misdeeds and I knew them not; I have walked in

omissions and I knew them not.--The lord, in the anger of his heart,

he has stricken me,--the god, in the wrath of his heart, has abandoned

me,--Ishtar is enraged against me, and has treated me harshly!--I make

an effort, and no one offers me a hand,--I weep, and no one comes to

me,--I cry aloud, and no one hears me:--I sink under affliction, I am

overwhelmed, I can no longer raise up my head,--I turn to my merciful

god to call upon him, and I groan!... Lord reject not thy servant,--and

if he is hurled into the roaring waters, stretch to him thy hand;--the

sins I have committed, have mercy upon them,--the misdeeds I have

committed, scatter them to the winds--and my numerous faults, tear them

to pieces like a garment.” Sin in the eyes of the Chaldaean was not, as

with us, an infirmity of the soul; it assaulted the body like an actual

virus, and the fear of physical suffering or death engendered by it,

inspired these complaints with a note of sincerity which cannot be

mistaken.

Every individual is placed, from the moment of his birth, under the

protection of a god and goddess, of whom he is the servant, or rather

the son, and whom he never addresses otherwise than as his god and

his goddess. These deities accompany him night and day, not so much to

protect him from visible dangers, as to guard him from the invisible

beings which ceaselessly hover round him, and attack him on every side.

If he is devout, piously disposed towards his divine patrons and the

deities of his country, if he observes the prescribed rites, recites the

prayers, performs the sacrifices--in a word, if he acts rightly--their

aid is never lacking; they bestow upon him a numerous posterity, a

happy old age, prolonged to the term fixed by fate, when he must resign

himself to close his eyes for ever to the light of day. If, on the

contrary, he is wicked, violent, one whose word cannot be trusted, “his

god cuts him down like a reed,” extirpates his race, shortens his days,

delivers him over to demons who possess themselves of his body and

afflict it with sicknesses before finally despatching him. Penitence

is of avail against the evil of sin, and serves to re-establish a right

course of life, but its efficacy is not permanent, and the moment at

last arrives in which death, getting the upper hand, carries its victim

away. The Chaldaeans had not such clear ideas as to what awaited them in

the other world as the Egyptians possessed: whilst the tomb, the mummy,

the perpetuity of the funeral revenues, and the safety of the double,

were the engrossing subjects in Egypt, the Chaldaean texts are almost

entirely silent as to the condition of the soul, and the living seem to

have had no further concern about the dead than to get rid of them

as quickly and as completely as possible. They did not believe that

everything was over at the last breath, but they did not on that account

think that the fate of that which survived was indissolubly associated

with the perishable part, and that the disembodied soul was either

annihilated or survived, according as the flesh in which it was

sustained was annihilated or survived in the tomb. The soul was

doubtless not utterly unconcerned about the fate of the _larva_ it had

quitted: its pains were intensified on being despoiled of its earthly

case if the latter were mutilated, or left without sepulture, a prey

to the fowls, of the air. This feeling, however, was not sufficiently

developed to create a desire for escape from corruption entirely, and to

cause a resort to the mummifying process of the Egyptians.

[Illustration: 208.jpg DECORATED WRAPPINGS FROM A MUMMY (Color)]

The Chaldaeans did not subject the body, therefore, to those injections,

to those prolonged baths in preserving fluids, to that laborious

swaddling which rendered it indestructible; whilst the family wept and

lamented, old women who exercised the sad function of mourners washed

the dead body, perfumed it, clad it in its best apparel, painted its

cheeks, blackened its eyelids, placed a collar on its neck, rings on its

fingers, arranged its arms upon its breast, and stretched it on a bed,

setting up at its head a little altar for the customary offerings of

water, incense, and cakes.

[Illustration: 209.jpg Chaldaean coffin in the form of a jar]

[Illustration: 209a.jpg A VAULTED TOMB IN URU]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a sketch by Taylor.

[Illustration: 210.jpg CHALDAEAN TOMB WITH DOMED ROOF.]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a sketch by Taylor.

Evil spirits, prowled incessantly around the dead bodies of the

Chaldaeans, either to feed upon them, or to use them in their sorcery:

should they succeed in slipping into a corpse, from that moment it could

be metamorphosed into a vampire, and return to the world to suck the

blood of the living. The Chaldaeans were, therefore, accustomed to invite

by prayers beneficent genii and gods to watch over the dead. Two of

these would take their invisible places at the head and foot of the bed,

and wave their hands in the act of blessing: these were the vassals

of Ea, and, like their master, were usually clad in fish-skins. Others

placed themselves in the sepulchral chamber, and stood ready to strike

any one who dared to enter: these had human figures, or lions’ heads

joined to the bodies of men. Others, moreover, hovered over the house in

order to drive off the spectres who might endeavour to enter through the

roof. During the last hours in which the dead body remained among its

kindred, it reposed under the protection of a legion of gods.

We must not expect to find on the plains of the Euphrates the rock-cut

tombs, the mastabas or pyramids, of Egypt. No mountain chain ran on

either side of the river, formed of rock soft enough to be cut and

hollowed easily into chambers or sepulchral halls, and at the same time

sufficiently hard to prevent the tunnels once cut from falling in.

[Illustration: 111.jpg CHALDEAN TOMB WITH FLAT ROOF.]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a sketch by Taylor.

The alluvial soil upon which the Chaldaean cities were built, far from,

preserving the dead body, rapidly decomposed it under the influence of

heat and moisture: vaults constructed in it would soon be invaded by

water in spite of masonry; paintings and sculpture would soon be

eaten away by nitre, and the funereal furniture and the coffin quickly

destroyed. The dwelling-house of the Chaldaean dead could not, therefore,

properly be called, as those of Egypt, an “eternal house.” It was

constructed of dried or burnt brick, and its form varied much from

the most ancient times. Sometimes it was a great vaulted chamber, the

courses forming the roof being arranged corbel-wise, and contained the

remains of one or two bodies walled up within it.* At other times

it consisted merely of an earthen jar, in which the corpse had

been inserted in a bent-up posture, or was composed of two enormous

cylindrical jars, which, when united and cemented with bitumen, formed a

kind of barrel around the body. Other tombs are represented by wretched

structures, sometimes oval and sometimes round in shape, placed upon a

brick base and covered by a flat or domed roof. The interior was not of

large dimensions, and to enter it was necessary to stoop to a creeping

posture. The occupant of the smallest chambers was content to have with

him his linen, his ornaments, some bronze arrowheads, and metal or clay

vessels. Others contained furniture which, though not as complete as

that found in Egyptian sepulchres, must have ministered to all the

needs of the spirit. The body was stretched, fully clothed, upon a

mat impregnated with bitumen, the head supported by a cushion or flat

brick,** the arms laid across the breast, and the shroud adjusted by

bands to the loins and legs. Sometimes the corpse was placed on its left

side, with the legs slightly bent, and the right hand, extending

over the left shoulder, was inserted into a vase, as if to convey the

contents to the mouth.

* Vaulted chambers are confined chiefly to the ancient

cemeteries of Uru at Mugheir; they are rather over six to

seven feet long, with a breadth of five and a half feet. The

walls are not quite perpendicular, but are somewhat splayed

up to two-thirds of their height, where they begin to narrow

into the vaulted roof.

** The object placed under the head of the skeleton is the

dried brick mentioned in the text; the vessel to which the

hand is stretched out was of copper; the other vessels were

of earthenware, and contained water, or dates, of which the

stones were found. The small cylinders on the side were of

stone; the two large cylinders, between the copper vessel

and those of earthenware, were pieces of bamboo, of whose

use we are ignorant.

[Illustration: 213.jpg THE INTERIOR OF THE TOMB]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a sketch by Taylor

Clay jars and dishes, arranged around the body, contained the food and

drink required for the dead man’s daily fare--his favourite wine,

dates, fish, fowl, game, occasionally also a boar’s head--and even stone

representations of provisions, which, like those of Egypt, were lasting

substitutes for the reality. The dead man required weapons also to

enable him to protect his food-store, and his lance, javelins and baton

of office were placed alongside him, together with a cylinder bearing

his name, which he had employed as his seal in his lifetime. Beside

the body of a woman or young girl was arranged an abundance of spare

ornaments, flowers, scent-bottles, combs, cosmetic pencils, and cakes

of the black paste with which they were accustomed to paint the eyebrows

and the edges of the eyelids.

Cremation seems in many cases to have been preferred to burial in a

tomb. The funeral pile was constructed at some distance from the town,

on a specially reserved area in the middle of the marshes. The body,

wrapped up in coarse matting, was placed upon a heap of reeds and rushes

saturated with bitumen: a brick wall, coated with moist clay, was built

around this to circumscribe the action of the flames, and, the customary

prayers having been recited, the pile was set on fire, masses of fresh

material, together with the funerary furniture and usual viaticum,

being added to the pyre. When the work of cremation was considered to

be complete, the fire was extinguished, and an examination made of the

residue. It frequently happened that only the most accessible and most

easily destroyed parts of the body had been attacked by the flames, and

that there remained a black and disfigured mass which the fire had

not consumed. The previously prepared coating of mud was then made to

furnish a clay covering for the body, so as to conceal the sickening

spectacle from the view of the relatives and spectators. Sometimes,

however, the furnace accomplished its work satisfactorily, and there was

nothing to be seen at the end but greasy ashes and scraps of calcined

bones. The remains were frequently left where they were, and the funeral

pile became their tomb. They were, however, often collected and disposed

of in a manner which varied with their more or less complete combustion.

Bodies insufficiently burnt were interred in graves, or in public

chapels; while the ashes of those fully cremated, together with the

scraps of bones and the _debris_ of the offerings, were placed in long

urns. The heat had contorted the weapons and half melted the vessels

of copper; and the deceased was thus obliged to be content with the

fragments only of the things provided for him. These were, however,

sufficient for the purpose, and his possessions, once put to the test

of the flames, now accompanied him whither he went: water alone was

lacking, but provision was made for this by the construction on the

spot of cisterns to collect it. For this purpose several cylinders of

pottery, some twenty inches broad, were inserted in the ground one

above the other from a depth of from ten to twelve feet, and the last

cylinder, reaching the level of the ground, was provided with a narrow

neck, through which the rainwater or infiltrations from the river flowed

into this novel cistern. Many examples of these are found in one and the

same chamber,* thus giving the soul an opportunity of finding water in

one or other of them. The tombs at Uruk, arranged closely together

with coterminous walls, and gradually covered by the sand or by the

accumulation and _debris_ of new tombs, came at length to form an actual

mound. In cities where space was less valuable, and where they were free

to extend, the tombs quickly disappeared without leaving any vestiges

above the surface, and it would now be necessary to turn up a great

deal of rubbish before discovering their remains. The Chaldaea of to-day

presents the singular aspect of a country almost without cemeteries, and

one would be inclined to think that its ancient inhabitants had taken

pains to hide them.** The sepulture of royal personages alone furnishes

us with monuments of which we can determine the site. At Babylon these

were found in the ancient palaces in which the living were no longer

inclined to dwell: that of Shargina, for instance, furnished a

burying-place for kings more than two thousand years after the death

of its founder. The chronicles devoutly indicate the spot where each

monarch, when his earthly reign was over, found a last resting-place;

and where, as the subject of a ceremonial worship similar to that of

Egypt, his memory was preserved from the oblivion which had overtaken

most of his illustrious subjects.

* The German expedition of 1886-87 found four of these

reservoirs in a single chamber, and nine distributed in the

chambers of a house entirely devoted to the burial of the

dead.

** Various explanations have been offered to account for

this absence of tombs, Without mentioning the desperate

attempt to get rid of the difficulty by the assumption that

the dead bodies were cast into the river, Loftus thinks that

the Chaldaeans and Assyrians were accustomed to send them to

some sanctuary in Southern Chaldaea, especially to Uru and

Uruk, whose vast cemeteries, he contends, would have

absorbed during the centuries the greater part of the

Euphratean population; his opinion has been adopted by some

historians, and, as far only as the later period is

concerned, by Hommel.

The dead man, or rather that part of him which survived--his

“ekimmu”--dwelt in the tomb, and it was for his comfort that there were

provided, at the time of sepulture or cremation, the provisions and

clothing, the ornaments and weapons, of which he was considered to stand

in need. Furnished with these necessities by his children and heirs, he

preserved for the donors the same affection which he had felt for them

in his lifetime, and gave evidence of it in every way he could, watching

over their welfare, and protecting them from malign influences. If

they abandoned or forgot him, he avenged himself for their neglect by

returning to torment them in their homes, by letting sickness attack

them, and by ruining them with his imprecations: he became thus no

less hurtful than the “luminous ghost” of the Egyptians, and if he were

accidentally deprived of sepulture, he would not be merely a plague

to his relations, but a danger to the entire city. The dead, who were

unable to earn an honest living, showed little pity to those who were

in the same position as themselves: when a new-comer arrived among them

without prayers, libations, or offerings, they declined to receive him,

and would not give him so much as a piece of bread out of their meagre

store. The spirit of the unburied dead man, having neither place of

repose nor means of subsistence, wandered through the town and country,

occupied with no other thought than that of attacking and robbing the

living. He it was who, gliding into the house during the night, revealed

himself to its inhabitants with such a frightful visage as to drive them

distracted with terror. Always on the watch, no sooner does he surprise

one of his victims than he falls upon him, “his head against his

victim’s head, his hand against his hand, his foot against his foot.”

He who has been thus attacked, whether man or beast, would undoubtedly

perish if magic were not able to furnish its all-powerful defence

against this deadly embrace.* This human survival, who is so forcibly

represented both in his good and evil aspects, was nevertheless nothing

more than a sort of vague and fluid existence--a double, in fact,

analogous in appearance to that of the Egyptians.

* The majority of the spells employed against sickness

contain references to the spirits against which they

contend--“the wicked ekimmu who oppresses men during the

night,” or simply “the wicked ekimmu,” the ghost.

With the faculty of roaming at will through space, and of going forth

from and returning to his abode, it was impossible to regard him as

condemned always to dwell in the case of terra-cotta in which his body

lay mouldering: he was transferred, therefore, or rather he

transferred himself, into the dark land--the Aralu--situated very far

away--according to some, beneath the surface of the earth; according to

others, in the eastern or northern extremities of the universe. A river

which opens into this region and separates it from the sunlit earth,

finds its source in the primordial waters into whose bosom this world

of ours is plunged. This dark country is surrounded by seven high walls,

and is approached through seven gates, each of which is guarded by a

pitiless warder. Two deities rule within it--Nergal, “the lord of the

great city,” and Beltis-Allat, “the lady of the great land,” whither

everything which has breathed in this world descends after death. A

legend relates that Allat, called in Sumerian Erishkigal, reigned alone

in Hades, and was invited by the gods to a feast which they had prepared

in heaven. Owing to her hatred of the light, she sent a refusal by her

messenger Narntar, who acquitted himself on this mission with such a

bad grace, that Ann and Ea were incensed against his mistress, and

commissioned Nergal to descend and chastise her; he went, and finding

the gates of hell open, dragged the queen by her hair from the throne,

and was about to decapitate her, but she mollified him by her prayers,

and saved her life by becoming his wife. The nature of Nergal fitted

him well to play the part of a prince of the departed: for he was the

destroying sun of summer, and the genius of pestilence and battle. His

functions, however, in heaven and earth took up so much of his time

that he had little leisure to visit his nether kingdom, and he was

consequently obliged to content himself with the _role_ of providing

subjects for it by despatching thither the thousands of recruits which

he gathered daily from the abodes of men or from the field of battle.

Allat was the actual sovereign of the country. She was represented with

the body of a woman, ill-formed and shaggy, the grinning muzzle of a

lion, and the claws of a bird of prey. She brandished in each hand a

large serpent--a real animated javelin, whose poisonous bite inflicted

a fatal wound upon the enemy. Her children were two lions, which she is

represented as suckling, and she passed through her empire, not seated

in the saddle, but standing upright or kneeling on the back of a

horse, which seems oppressed by her weight. Sometimes she set out on

an expedition upon the river which communicates with the countries

of light, in order to meet the procession of newly arrived souls

ceaselessly despatched to her: she embarked in this case upon an

enchanted vessel, which made its way without sail or oars, its prow

projecting like the beak of a bird, and its stern terminating in the

head of an ox. She overcomes all resistance, and nothing can escape from

her: the gods themselves can pass into her empire only on the condition

of submitting to death like mortals, and of humbly avowing themselves

her slaves.

[Illustration: 220.jpg THE GODDESS ALLAT PASSES THROUGH THE NETHER

REGIONS IN HER BARK.]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a bronze plaque of which an

engraving was published by Clermont-Ganneau. The original,

which belonged to M. Peretie, is now in the collection of M.

de Clercq

[Illustration: 221.jpg NERGAL, THE GOD OF HADES; BACK VIEW.]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin. This is the back of the bronze plate

represented on the preceding page; the animal-head of the

god appears in relief at the top of the illustration.

The warders at the gates despoiled the new-comers of everything which

they had brought with them, and conducted them in a naked condition

before Allat, who pronounced sentence upon them, and assigned to each

his place in the nether world. The good or evil committed on earth by

such souls was of little moment in determining the sentence: to secure

the favour of the judge, it was of far greater importance to have

exhibited devotion to the gods and to Allat herself, to have lavished

sacrifices and offerings upon them and to have enriched their temples.

The souls which could not justify themselves were subjected to horrible

punishment: leprosy consumed them to the end of time, and the most

painful maladies attacked them, to torture them ceaselessly without any

hope of release. Those who were fortunate enough to be spared from

her rage, dragged out a miserable and joyless existence. They were

continually suffering from the pangs of thirst and hunger, and found

nothing to satisfy their appetites but clay and dust. They shivered with

cold, and they obtained no other garment to protect them than mantles of

feathers--the great silent wings of the night-birds, invested with which

they fluttered about and filled the air with their screams. This gloomy

and cruel conception of ordinary life in this strange kingdom was still

worse than the idea formed of the existence in the tomb to which it

succeeded. In the cemetery the soul was, at least, alone with the dead

body; in the house of Allat, on the contrary, it was lost as it were

among spirits as much afflicted as itself, and among the genii born of

darkness. None of these genii had a simple form, or approached the

human figure in shape; each individual was a hideous medley of human

and animal parts, in which the most repellent features were artistically

combined. Lions’ heads stood out from the bodies of scorpion-tailed

jackals, whose feet were armed with eagles’ claws: and among such

monsters the genii of pestilence, fever, and the south-west wind took

the chief place. When once the dead had become naturalized among this

terrible population, they could not escape from their condition,

unless by the exceptional mandate of the gods above. They possessed

no recollection of what they had done upon earth. Domestic affection,

friendships, and the memory of good offices rendered to one

another,--all were effaced from their minds: nothing remained there but

an inexpressible regret at having been exiled from the world of light,

and an excruciating desire to reach it once more. The threshold of

Allat’s palace stood upon a spring which had the property of restoring

to life all who bathed in it or drank of its waters: they gushed forth

as soon as the stone was raised, but the earth-spirits guarded it with a

jealous care, and kept at a distance all who attempted to appropriate a

drop of it. They permitted access to it only by order of Ea himself, or

one of the supreme gods, and even then with a rebellious heart at seeing

their prey escape them. Ancient legends related how the shepherd Dumuzi,

son of Ea and Damkina, having excited the love of Ishtar while he was

pasturing his flocks under the mysterious tree of Eridu, which covers

the earth with its shade, was chosen by the goddess from among all

others to be the spouse of her youth, and how, being mortally wounded by

a wild boar, he was cast into the kingdom of Allat. One means remained

by which he might be restored to the light of day: his wounds must be

washed in the waters of the wonderful spring, and Ishtar resolved to

go in quest of this marvellous liquid. The undertaking was fraught with

danger, for no one might travel to the infernal regions without having

previously gone through the extreme terrors of death, and even the gods

themselves could not transgress this fatal law. “To the land without

return, to the land which thou knowest--Ishtar, the daughter of Sin,

turned her thoughts: she, the daughter of Sin, turned her thoughts--to

the house of darkness, the abode of Irkalla--to the house from which he

who enters can never emerge--to the path upon which he who goes shall

never come back--to the house into which he who enters bids farewell

to the light--the place where dust is nourishment and clay is food; the

light is not seen, darkness is the dwelling, where the garments are the

wings of birds--where dust accumulates on door and bolt.” Ishtar

arrives at the porch, she knocks at it, she addresses the guardian in an

imperious voice: “‘Guardian of the waters, open thy gate--open thy

gate that I may enter, even I.--If thou openest not the door that I may

enter, even I,--I will burst open the door, I will break the bars, I

will break the threshold, I will burst in the panels, I will excite the

dead that they may eat the living,--and the dead shall be more numerous

than the living.’--The guardian opened his mouth and spake, he announced

to the mighty Ishtar: ‘Stop, O lady, and do not overturn the door until

I go and apprise the Queen Allat of thy name.’ Allat hesitates, and then

gives him permission to receive the goddess: ‘Go, guardian, open the

gate to her--but treat her according to the ancient laws. Mortals

enter naked into the world, and naked must they leave it: and since

Ishtar has decided to accept their lot, she too must be prepared to

divest herself of her garments.’” The guardian went, he opened his mouth:

‘Enter, my lady, and may Kutha rejoice--may the palace and the land

without return exult in thy presence! ‘He causes her to pass through the

first gate, divests her, removes the great crown from her head:--‘Why,

guardian, dost thou remove the great crown from my head?’--‘Enter, my

lady, such is the law of Allat.’ The second gate, he causes her to pass

through it, he divests her--removes the rings from her ears:--‘Why,

guardian, dost thou remove the rings from my ears?’--‘Enter, my lady,

such is the law of Allat.’” And from gate to gate he removes some

ornament from the distressed lady--now her necklace with its attached

amulets, now the tunic which covers her bosom, now her enamelled girdle,

her bracelets, and the rings on her ankles: and at length, at the

seventh gate, takes from her her last covering. When she at length

arrives in the presence of Allat, she throws herself upon her in order

to wrest from her in a terrible struggle the life of Dumuzi; but Allat

sends for Namtar, her messenger of misfortune, to punish, the rebellious

Ishtar. “Strike her eyes with the affliction of the eyes--strike

her loins with the affliction of the loins--strike her feet with the

affliction of the feet--strike her heart with the affliction of the

heart--strike her head with the affliction of the head--strike violently

at her, at her whole body!” While Ishtar was suffering the torments of

the infernal regions, the world of the living was wearing mourning on

account of her death. In the absence of the goddess of love, the rites

of love could no longer be performed. The passions of animals and men

were suspended. If she did not return quickly to the daylight, the

races of men and animals would become extinct, the earth would become a

desert, and the gods would have neither votaries nor offerings.

[Illustration: 226.jpg ISHTAR DESPOILED OF HER GARMENTS IN HADES]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a Chaldaean intaglio in the

Hague Museum. Salomon Reinach has demonstrated that the

naked figure is not the goddess herself, but a statue of the

goddess which was adored in one of the temples.

“Papsukal, the servant of the great gods, tore his face before

Shamash--clothed in mourning, filled with sorrow. Shamash went--he

wept in the presence of Sin, his father,--and his tears flowed in the

presence of Ea, the king:--‘Ishtar has gone down into the earth, and

she has not come up again!--And ever since Ishtar has descended into

the land without return... [the passions of men and beasts have been

suspended]... the master goes to sleep while giving his command, the

servant goes to sleep on his duty.’” The resurrection of the goddess

is the only remedy for such ills, but this is dependent upon the

resurrection of Damuzi: Ishtar will never consent to reappear in the

world, if she cannot bring back her husband with her. Ea, the supreme

god, the infallible executor of the divine will--he who alone can modify

the laws imposed upon creation--at length decides to accord to her

what she desires. “Ea, in the wisdom of his heart, formed a male

being,--formed Uddushunamir, the servant of the gods:--‘Go then,

Uddushunamir, turn thy face towards the gate of the land without return;

--the seven gates of the land without return--may they become open at

thy presence--may Allat behold thee, and rejoice in thy presence! When

her heart shall be calm, and her wrath appeased, charm her in the name

of the great gods--turn thy thoughts to the spring’--‘May the spring, my

lady, give me of its waters that I may drink of them.’” Allat broke

out into a terrible rage, when she saw herself obliged to yield to her

rival; “she beat her sides, she gnawed her fingers,” she broke out into

curses against the messenger of misfortune. “‘Thou hast expressed to me

a wish which should not be made!--Fly, Uddushunamir, or I will shut thee

up in the great prison--the mud of the drains of the city shall be thy

food--the gutters of the town shall be thy drink--the shadow of

the walls shall be thy abode--the thresholds shall be thy

habitation--confinement and isolation shall weaken thy strength.’”* She

is obliged to obey, notwithstanding; she calls her messenger Namtar and

commands him to make all the preparations for resuscitating the goddess.

It was necessary to break the threshold of the palace in order to get at

the spring, and its waters would have their full effect only in presence

of the Anunnas. “Namtar went, he rent open the eternal palace,--he

twisted the uprights so that the stones of the threshold trembled;--he

made the Anunnaki come forth, and seated them on thrones of gold,--he

poured upon Ishtar the waters of life, and brought her away.” She

received again at each gate the articles of apparel she had abandoned

in her passage across the seven circles of hell: as soon as she saw the

daylight once more, it was revealed to her that the fate of her husband

was henceforward in her own hands. Every year she must bathe him in pure

water, and anoint him with the most precious perfumes, clothe him in a

robe of mourning, and play to him sad airs upon a crystal flute, whilst

her priestesses intoned their doleful chants, and tore their breasts

in sorrow: his heart would then take fresh life, and his youth flourish

once more, from springtime to springtime, as long as she should

celebrate on his behalf the ceremonies already prescribed by the deities

of the infernal world.

* It follows from this passage that Ishtar could be

delivered only at the cost of another life: it was for this

reason, doubtless, that Ea, instead of sending the ordinary

messenger of the gods, created a special messenger. Allat,

furious at the insignificance of the victim sent to her,

contents herself with threatening Uddushanamir with an

ignominious treatment if he does not escape as quickly as

possible.

Dumuzi was a god, the lover, moreover, of a goddess, and the deity

succeeded where mortals failed.* Ea, Nebo, Gula, Ishtar, and their

fellows possessed, no doubt, the faculty of recalling the dead to life,

but they rarely made use of it on behalf of their creatures, and their

most pious votaries pleaded in vain from temple to temple for the

resurrection of their dead friends; they could never obtain the favour

which had been granted by Allat to Dumuzi.

* Merodach is called “the merciful one who takes pleasure in

raising the dead to life,” and “the lord of the pure

libation,” the “merciful one who has power to give life.” In

Jeremias may be found the list of the gods who up to the

present are known to have had the power to resuscitate the

dead; it is probable that this power belonged to all the

gods and goddesses of the first rank.

[Illustration: 229.jpg DUMUZI REJUVENATED ON THE KNEES OF ISHTAR.]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a Chaldaean intaglio.

When the dead body was once placed in the tomb, it rose up no more, it

could no more be reinstated in the place in the household it had

lost, it never could begin once more a new earthly existence. The

necromancers, indeed, might snatch away death’s prey for a few moments.

The earth gaped at the words of their invocations, the soul burst forth

like a puff of wind and answered gloomily the questions proposed to it;

but when the charm was once broken, it had to retrace its steps to

the country without return, to be plunged once more in darkness. This

prospect of a dreary and joyless eternity was not so terrifying to the

Chaldaeans as it was to the Egyptians. The few years of their earthly

existence were of far more concern to them than the endless ages which

were to begin their monotonous course on the morrow of their funeral.

The sum of good and evil fortune assigned to them by destiny they

preferred to spend continuously in the light of day on the fair plains

of the Euphrates and Tigris: if they were to economize during this

period with the view of laying up a posthumous treasure of felicity,

their store would have no current value beyond the tomb, and would thus

become so much waste. The gods, therefore, whom they served faithfully

would recoup them, here in their native city, with present prosperity,

with health, riches, power, glory, and a numerous offspring, for the

offerings of their devotion; while, if they irritated the deities

by their shortcomings, they had nothing to expect but overwhelming

calamities and sufferings. The gods would “cut them down like a reed,”

and their “names would be annihilated, their seed destroyed;--they would

end their days in affliction and hunger,--their dead bodies would be at

the mercy of chance, and would receive no sepulture.” They were content

to resign themselves, therefore, to the dreary lot of eternal misery

which awaited them after death, provided they enjoyed in this world a

long and prosperous existence. Some of them felt and rebelled against

the injustice of the idea, which assigned one and the same fate, without

discrimination, to the coward and the hero killed on the battle-field,

to the tyrant and the mild ruler of his people, to the wicked and

the righteous. These therefore supposed that the gods would make

distinctions, that they would separate such heroes from the common herd,

welcome them in a fertile, sunlit island, separated from the abode of

men by the waters of death--the impassable river which leads to the

house of Allat. The tree of life flourished there, the spring of life

poured forth there its revivifying waters; thither Ea transferred

Xisuthros after the Deluge; Gilgames saw the shores of this island and

returned from it, strong and healthy as in the days of his youth. The

site of this region of delights was at first placed in the centre of

the marshes of the Euphrates, where this river flows into the sea;

afterwards when the country became better known, it was transferred

beyond the ocean. In proportion as the limits of the Chaldaean

horizon were thrust further and further away by mercantile or warlike

expeditions, this mysterious island was placed more and more to the

east, afterwards to the north, and at length at a distance so great that

it tended to vanish altogether. As a final resource, the gods of heaven

themselves became the hosts, and welcomed into their own kingdom the

purified souls of the heroes.

These souls were not so securely isolated from humanity that the

inhabitants of the world were not at times tempted to rejoin them before

their last hour had come. Just as Gilgames had dared of old the

dangers of the desert and the ocean in order to discover the island of

Khasisadra, so Etana darted through the air in order to ascend to the

sky of Anu, to become incorporated while still living in the choir of

the blessed. The legend gives an account of his friendship with the

eagle of Shamash, and of the many favours he had obtained from and

rendered to the bird. It happened at last, that his wife could not bring

forth the son which lay in her womb; the hero, addressing himself to

the eagle, asked from her the plant which alleviates the birth-pangs

of women and facilitates their delivery. This was only to be found,

however, in the heaven of Anu, and how could any one run the risk of

mounting so high, without being destroyed on the way by the anger of the

gods? The eagle takes pity upon the sorrow of his comrade, and resolves

to attempt the enterprise with him. “‘Friend,’ she says, ‘banish the

cloud from thy face! Come, and I will carry thee to the heaven of the

god Anu. Place thy breast against my breast--place thy two hands upon

the pinions of my wings--place thy side against my side.’ He places his

breast against the breast of the eagle, he places his two hands upon the

pinions of the wings, he places his side against her side;--he adjusts

himself firmly, and his weight was great.” The Chaldaean artists have

more than once represented the departure of the hero. They exhibit him

closely attached to the body of his ally, and holding her in a strong

embrace. A first flight has already lifted them above the earth, and the

shepherds scattered over the country are stupefied at the unaccustomed

sight: one announces the prodigy to another, while their dogs seated at

their feet extend their muzzles as if in the act of howling with terror.

“For the space of a double hour the eagle bore him--then the eagle spake

to him, to him Etana: ‘Behold, my friend, the earth what it is; regard

the sea which the ocean contains! See, the earth is no more than a

mountain, and the sea is no more than a lake.’ The space of a second

double hour she bore him, then the eagle spake to him, to him Etana:

‘Behold, my friend, the earth what it is; the sea appears as the girdle

of the earth! ‘The space of a third double hour she bore him, then the

eagle spake to him, to him Etana: ‘See, my friend, the earth, what it

is:--the sea is no more than the rivulet made by a gardener.’”

[Illustration: 233.jpg ETANA CARRIED TO HEAVEN BY AN EAGLE.]

Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a Chaldaean intaglio.

“They at length arrive at the heaven of Anu, and rest there for a

moment. Etana sees around him nothing but empty space--no living thing

within it--not even a bird: he is struck with terror, but the eagle

reassures him, and tells him to proceed on his way to the heaven of

Ishtar. “‘Come, my friend, let me bear thee to Ishtar,--and I will place

thee near Ishtar, the lady,--and at the feet of Ishtar, the lady, thou

shalt throw thyself.--Place thy side against my side, place thy hands

on the pinions of my wings.’ The space of a double hour she bore him:

‘Friend, behold the earth what it is.--The face of the earth stretches

out quite flat--and the sea is no greater than a mere.’ The space of

a second double hour she bore him: ‘Friend, behold the earth what it

is,--the earth is no more than a square plot in a garden, and the great

sea is not greater than a puddle of water.’” At the third hour Etana

lost courage, and cried, “Stop!” and the eagle immediately descended

again; but, Etana’s strength being exhausted, he let go his hold, and

was dashed to pieces on the ground.

The eagle escaped unhurt this time, but she soon suffered a more painful

death than that of Etana. She was at war with the serpent, though the

records which we as yet possess do not vouchsafe the reason, when she

discovered in the roots of a tree the nest in which her enemy concealed

its brood. She immediately proposed to her young ones to pounce down

upon the growing snakes; one of her eaglets, wiser than the rest,

reminded her that they were under the protection of Shamash, the great

righter of wrongs, and cautioned her against any transgression of the

divine laws. The old eagle felt herself wiser than her son, and rebuked

him after the manner of wise mothers: she carried away the serpent’s

young, and gave them as food to her own brood. The hissing serpent

crawled as far as Shamash, crying for vengeance: “The evil she has done

me, Shamash--behold it! Come to my help, Shamash! thy net is as wide as

the earth--thy snares reach to the distant mountain--who can escape

thy net?--The criminal Zu, Zu who was the first to act wickedly, did he

escape it?” Shamash refused to interfere personally, but he pointed out

to the serpent an artifice by which he might satisfy his vengeance as

securely as if Shamash himself had accomplished it. “Set out upon the

way, ascend the mountain,--and conceal thyself in a dead bull;--make

an incision in his inside--tear open his belly,--take up thy

abode--establish thyself in his belly. All the birds of the air will

pounce upon it....--and the eagle herself will come with them, ignorant

that thou art within it;--she will wish to possess herself of the

flesh, she will come swiftly--she will think of nothing but the entrails

within. As soon as she begins to attack the inside, seize her by her

wings, beat down her wings, the pinions of her wings and her claws, tear

her and throw her into a ravine of the mountain, that she may die there

a death of hunger and thirst.”

The serpent did as Shamash advised, and the birds of the air began to

flock round the carcase in which she was hidden. The eagle came with the

rest, and at first kept aloof, looking for what should happen. When she

saw that the birds flew away unharmed all fear left her. In vain did the

wise eaglet warn her of the danger that was lurking within the prey; she

mocked at him and his predictions, dug her beak into the carrion, and

the serpent leaping out seized her by the wing. Then “the eagle her

mouth opened, and spake unto the snake, ‘Have mercy upon me, and

according to thy pleasure a gift I will lavish upon thee!’ The snake

opened her mouth and spake unto the eagle, ‘Did I release thee, Shamash

would take part against me; and the doom would fall upon me, which now

I fulfil upon thee.’ She tore out her wings, her feathers, her pinions;

she tore her to pieces, she threw her into a cleft, and there she died a

death of hunger and of thirst.”

The gods allowed no living being to penetrate with impunity into their

empire: he who was desirous of ascending thither, however brave he might

be, could do so only by death. The mass of humanity had no pretensions

to mount so high. Their religion gave them the choice between a

perpetual abode in the tomb, or confinement in the prison of Allat; if

at times they strove to escape from these alternatives, and to picture

otherwise their condition in the world beyond, their ideas as to the

other life continued to remain vague, and never approached the minute

precision of the Egyptian conception. The cares of the present life were

too absorbing to allow them leisure to speculate upon the conditions of

a future existence.

[Illustration: 230.jpg Endplate]