The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria

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Parnapishtim is satisfied, leaves the ship, and brings a sacrifice to
the gods on the top of the mountain. In seven large bowls he places
calamus, cedarwood, and incense.

The gods inhaled the odor,
The gods inhaled the sweet odor,
The gods gathered like flies around the sacrificer.

A solemn scene ensues. Ishtar, the 'mistress of the gods,' swears by the
necklace given to her by her father, Anu, that she will never forget
these days.

Let the gods come to the sacrifice,[973]
But Bel must not come to the sacrifice;
Since, without consultation,[974] he caused the rain-storm,
And handed over my creation[975] to destruction.

Bel thus appears to be the one who alone knew of the extent which the
destruction was destined to reach. The annihilation of all mankind was
his work, undertaken without consulting his associates. The latter were
aware only of the intended destruction of a single place,--Shurippak.

At this moment Bel approaches. He does not deny his deed, but is enraged
that the planned destruction should not have been complete, since
Parnapishtim and his household have escaped.

As Bel approached
And saw the ship, he was enraged,
Filled with anger against the gods--the Igigi.
'What person has escaped (?)?
No one was to survive the destruction.'

Ninib reveals the fact of Ea's interference:

Ninib opened his mouth and spoke, spoke to the belligerent Bel:
"Who but Ea could have done this?
For is it not Ea who knows all arts?"

Ea appeals to Bel:

Ea opened his mouth and spoke, spoke to the belligerent Bel:
"Thou art the belligerent leader of the gods,
But why didst thou, without consultation, bring on the rainstorm?
Punish the sinner for his sins,
Punish the evil-doer for his evil deeds,
But be merciful so as not to root out completely,
Be considerate not to destroy everything."

The terrors inspired by the deluge are well portrayed in the
continuation of Ea's speech. He tells Bel that he should have brought on
anything but a deluge.

Instead of bringing on a deluge,
Let lions come and diminish mankind.[976]
Instead of bringing on a deluge,
Let tigers come and diminish mankind.
Instead of bringing on a deluge,
Let famine come and smite the land.
Instead of bringing on a deluge,
Let pestilence[977] come and waste the land.

Ea then confesses that through his instigation Parnapishtim was saved.

While I did not reveal the decision of the great gods,
I sent Adra-Khasis[978] a dream which told him of the decision of the
gods.

It is a misconception to regard this answer of the god as equivocal. Ea
means to say that he did not interfere with the divine decree. He simply
told Parnapishtim to build a ship, leaving to the latter to divine the
reason. Ea, it is true, tells Parnapishtim of Bel's hatred, but he does
not reveal the secret of the gods. After Ea's effective speech Bel is
reconciled, and the scene closes dramatically, as follows:

Bel came to his senses,
Stepped on board of the ship,
Took me by the hand and lifted me up,
Brought up my wife, and caused her to kneel at my side,
Turned towards us, stepped between us, and blessed us.
'Hitherto Parnapishtim was human,[979]
But now Parnapishtim and his wife shall be gods like us.[980]
Parnapishtim shall dwell in the distance, at the confluence of the
streams.'
Then they took me and placed me in the distance, at the confluence of
the streams.

The streams are, according to Haupt,[981] the four rivers--Euphrates,
Tigris, Karun, and Kercha, which at one time emptied their waters
independently into the Persian Gulf. Parnapishtim's dwelling-place is
identical with the traditional Paradise of the Babylonians and Hebrews.

It will be proper before leaving the subject, to dwell briefly upon the
points of contact between this Babylonian tale and the Biblical
narrative of the Deluge. The source of the tradition must be sought in
the Euphrates Valley. The ark of Noah can only be understood in the
light of methods of navigation prevailing in Babylonia; and it is in
Babylonia, and not Palestine, that the phenomenon was annually seen of
large portions of land disappearing from view.

The Babylonian tale is to be differentiated, as already suggested, into
two parts,--the destruction of Shurippak and the annual phenomenon of
the overflow of the Euphrates. The combination of these two elements
results in the impression conveyed by Parnapishtim's narrative that the
rain-storm took on larger dimensions than was originally anticipated by
the gods. The Biblical narrative is based upon this combination, but
discarding those portions of the tale which are of purely local interest
makes the story of a deluge, a medium for illustrating the favor shown
by Yahwe towards the righteous man, as represented by Noah. The Biblical
narrative ends, as does the Babylonian counterpart, with the assurance
that a deluge will not sweep over the earth again; but viewed from a
monotheistic aspect, this promise is interpreted as signifying the
establishment of eternal laws,--a thought that is wholly foreign to the
purpose of the Babylonian narrative.

The slight variations between the Biblical and Babylonian narratives,
and upon which it is needless to dwell, justify the conclusion that the
Hebrew story is not directly borrowed from the Babylonian version.[982]
The divergences are just of the character that will arise through the
independent development and the independent interpretation of a common
tradition. The destruction of Shurippak has a Biblical parallel in the
destruction of Sodom[983] and of the surrounding district. Sodom, like
Shurippak, is a city full of wickedness. Lot and his household are saved
through direct intervention, just as Parnapishtim and his family escape
through the intervention of Ea. Moreover, there are traces in the Sodom
narrative of a tradition which once gave a larger character to it,
involving the destruction of all mankind,[984] much as the destruction
of Shurippak is enlarged by Babylonian traditions into a general
annihilation of mankind. It is to be noted, too, that no emphasis is
laid upon Lot's piety, and in this respect, as in others, Parnapishtim
bears more resemblance to Lot than to Noah.

The hostility between Bel and Ea, which we have seen plays a part in the
Babylonian narrative, belongs to the larger mythological element in the
episode, not to the specific Shurippak incident. Bel, as the god whose
dominion includes the atmosphere above the earth, controls the 'upper
waters.' At his instigation these waters descend and bring destruction
with them. But Ea's dominion--the 'deep' and the streams--are beneficent
powers. The descent of the upper waters is in the nature of an attack
upon Ea's kingdom. It is through Ea that the mischief produced by Bel is
again made good. Such a conception falls within the domain of popular
mythology. An ancient rivalry between Nippur, the seat of Bel and Eridu
(or some other seat of Ea worship), may also have entered as a factor,
if not in giving rise to the story, at least in maintaining it. If this
be so, the story would belong to a period earlier than Hammurabi,[985]
since with the ascendancy of Babylon and of Marduk, the general tendency
of religious thought is towards imbuing the gods with a kindly spirit
towards one another, joining issues, as in the creation epic, for the
glorification of Marduk. The absence of Marduk from the deluge story is
another indication of the antiquity of the tradition.

Coming back now to the epic, Parnapishtim, whose sympathy has been
aroused by the sight of Gilgamesh, makes an attempt to heal the hero of
his illness.

The life that thou seekest, thou wilt obtain. Now sleep!

Gilgamesh falls into a heavy stupor, and continues in this state for six
days and seven nights. An interesting dialogue ensues between
Parnapishtim and his wife.

Parnapishtim says to his wife:
"Look at the man whose desire is life.
Sleep has fallen upon him like a storm."
Says the wife to Parnapishtim:
"Transform him, let the man eat of the charm-root,[986]
Let him return, restored in health, on the road that he came.
Through the gage let him pass out, back to his country."
Parnapishtim says to his wife:
"The torture of the man pains thee.
Cook the food[987] for him and place it at his head."

It is interesting to note that the woman appears as the exorciser of the
disease. The wife of Parnapishtim--whose name is not mentioned as little
as is the wife of Noah or Lot--proceeds to prepare the magic food. A
plant of some kind is taken and elaborately treated.

While he[988] slept on board of his ship,
She cooked the food and placed it at his head.
While he[988] slept on board of his vessel,
Firstly, his food ... ;
Secondly, it was peeled;
Thirdly, moistened;
Fourthly, his bowl (?) was cleansed;
Fifthly, _Shiba_[989] was added;
Sixthly, it was cooked;
Seventhly, of a sudden the man was transformed and ate the magic
food.[990]

Gilgamesh awakes and asks what has been done to him. Parnapishtim tells
him. But Gilgamesh is not completely healed. His body is still covered
with sores. The magic potion must be followed by immersion into the
fountain of life. Parnapishtim instructs Ardi-Ea to convey Gilgamesh to
this fountain. He speaks to the ferryman.

The man whom thou hast brought is covered with sores.
The eruption on his skin has destroyed the beauty of his body.
Take him, O Ardi-Ea, to the place of purification,
To wash his sores in the water, that he may become white as snow.
Let the ocean carry off the eruption on his skin,
That his body may become pure.[991]
Let his turban be renewed and the garment that covers his nakedness.

Ardi-Ea carries out these instructions and Gilgamesh at last is healed.
The hero is now ready to return to his land. But though returning in
restored health, he is not proof against death. Parnapishtim, at the
suggestion of his wife, reveals the 'secret of life' to Gilgamesh just
before the latter's departure. The ship is brought nearer to the shore,
and Parnapishtim tells Gilgamesh of a plant that wounds as a thistle,
but which possesses wonderful power. Gilgamesh departs on the ship, and
with the help of Ardi-Ea finds this plant, which is called 'the
restoration of old age to youth.' It is a long journey to the place. The
plant grows at the side or at the bottom of a fountain. Gilgamesh
secures it, but scarcely have his hands grasped the plant when it slips
out of his hand and is snatched away by a demon that takes on the form
of a serpent. All is lost! Gilgamesh sits down and weeps bitter tears.
He pours out his woe to Ardi-Ea, but there is nothing left except to
return to Uruk. He reaches the city in safely. His mission--the search
for immortality--has failed. Though healed from his disease, the fate of
mankind--old age and death--is in store for him. With the return to Uruk
the eleventh tablet ends. It but remains, before passing on, to note
that the narrative of the deluge in this tablet is connected with the
character of the eleventh month, which is called the 'month of rain.' We
may conclude from this that the mythological element in the story--the
annual overflow--predominates the local incident of the destruction of
Shurippak. Gilgamesh, we must bear in mind, has nothing to do with
either the local tale or the myth, except to give to both an
interpretation that was originally foreign to the composite narrative.

In the twelfth tablet--which is in large part obscure--we find Gilgamesh
wandering from one temple to the other, from the temple of Bel to that
of Ea, lamenting for Eabani, and asking, again and again, what has
become of his companion. What has been his fate since he was taken away
from the land of the living? The hero, now convinced, as it seems, that
death will come to him, and reconciled in a measure to his fate, seeks
to learn another secret,--the secret of existence after death. He
appeals to the gods of the nether world to grant him at least a sight of
Eabani. Nergal, the chief of this pantheon, consents.

... he opened the earth,
And the spirit[992] of Eabani
He caused to rise up like a wind.

Gilgamesh puts his question to Eabani:

Tell me, my companion, tell me, my companion,
The nature of the land which thou hast experienced, oh! tell me.

Eabani replies:

I cannot tell thee, my friend, I cannot tell thee!

He seems to feel that Gilgamesh could not endure the description. The
life after death, as will be shown in a subsequent chapter, is not
pictured by the Babylonians as joyous. Eabani reveals glimpses of the
sad conditions that prevail there. It is the domain of the terrible
Allatu, and Etana[993] is named among those who dwell in this region.
Eabani bewails his fate.[994] He curses Ukhat, whom, together with Sadu,
he holds responsible for having brought death upon him. In Genesis, it
will be recalled, death likewise is viewed as the consequence of Adam's
yielding to the allurements of Eve. Special significance, too, attaches
to the further parallel to be drawn between Adam's punishment and
Eabani's fate.

Dust thou art, and unto dust shall thou return

applies to Eabani as well as to Adam. He was formed of clay, as we have
seen,[995] and when he dies he is 'turned to clay.'[996] Still the
fortunes awaiting those who die are not alike. Those who die in battle
seem to enjoy special privileges, provided, however, they are properly
buried and there is some one to make them comfortable in their last hour
and to look after them when dead. Such persons are happy in comparison
with the fate in store for those who are neglected by the living. The
one who is properly cared for, who

On a soft couch rests,
Drinking pure water,
Who dies in battle, as you and I have seen,[997]
His father and mother supporting his head,
His wife[998] ... at his side,--

the spirit of such a one is at rest. The circumstances attending death
presage in a measure the individual's life after death.

But he whose corpse remains in the field,
As you and I have seen,
His spirit[999] has no rest in the earth.
The one whose spirit is not cared for by any one,
As you and I have seen,
He is consumed by gnawing hunger, by a longing for food.
What is left on the street he is obliged to eat.[1000]

To be left unburied was the greatest misfortune that could happen to a
dead person.

With this sentiment the epic closes. Gilgamesh must rest content with
the unsatisfactory consolation that Eabani offers him. Man must die, and
Gilgamesh cannot escape the universal fate. Let him hope for and, if
possible, provide for proper burial when death does overtake him. He
will then, at least, not suffer the pangs of hunger in the world of
spirits to which he must go.

The twelfth tablet exhibits somewhat more traces of the theology of the
schools than the others. Eabani's speech, while conveying sentiments
that thoroughly represent the popular beliefs of Babylonia, is couched
in terms that give to the address the character of a formal declaration
of doctrines. The conjuring up of the spirit of Eabani is also a feature
that appears to be due to theological influences, and the whole episode
of Gilgamesh's wandering from place to place seeking for information
appears to be a 'doublet' suggested by the hero's wanderings, as
narrated in the ninth and tenth tablets.

The problem propounded in the earlier tablets--the search for
immortality--is, as has been shown, a perfectly natural one and of
popular origin, but the problem with which Gilgamesh wrestles in the
twelfth tablet,--the secret of the life after death,--while suggested by
the other, belongs rather to the domain of theological and mystic
speculation. This aspect of the twelfth tablet is borne out also by the
fact that the problem is not solved. The epic ends as unsatisfactorily
as the Book of Job or Ecclesiastes. There is a tone of despair in the
final speech of Eabani, which savors of the schools of advanced thought
in Babylonia. For the problem of immortality, a definite solution at
least is offered. Man can reach old age; he may be snatched for a time
from the grasp of death, as Gilgamesh was through the efforts of
Parnapishtim, but he only deludes himself by indulging in hopes of
immortal life. 'Man must die' is the refrain that rings in our ears. The
plant of 'eternal youth' slips out of one's hand at the very moment that
one believes to have secured it.

The Gilgamesh epic, as we have it, thus turns out to be a composite
production. Gilgamesh, a popular hero of antiquity, becomes a medium for
the perpetuation of various popular traditions and myths. The adventures
of his career are combined with the early history of man. Of actual
deeds performed by Gilgamesh, and which belong to Gilgamesh's career as
a hero, warrior, and ruler, we have only four,--the conquest of Erech,
his victory over Khumbaba, the killing of the divine bull, and the
strangling of the lion.[1001] The story of Eabani, Ukhat, and Sadu is
independent of Gilgamesh's career, and so also is the story of his
wanderings to Mashu and his encounter with Parnapishtim. Gilgamesh is
brought into association with Eabani by what may be called, a natural
process of assimilation. The life of the hero is placed back at the
beginning of things, and in this way Gilgamesh is brought into direct
contact with legends of man's early fortunes, with ancient historical
reminiscences, as well as with nature-myths that symbolize the change of
seasons and the annual inundations.

Popular philosophy also enters into the life of the hero. Regarded as a
god and yet of human origin, Gilgamesh becomes an appropriate
illustration for determining the line that marks off man's career from
the indefinite extension of activity that is a trait of the gods.
Gilgamesh revolts against the universal law of decay and is punished. He
is relieved from suffering, but cannot escape the doom of death. The
sixth tablet marks an important division in the epic. The Ishtar and
Sabitum episodes and the narrative of Parnapishtim--itself a compound of
two independent tales, one semi-historical, the other a
nature-myth--represent accretions that may refer to a time when
Gilgamesh had become little more than a name,--a type of mankind in
general. Finally, scholastic speculation takes hold of Gilgamesh, and
makes him the medium for illustrating another and more advanced problem
that is of intense interest to mankind,--the secret of death. Death is
inevitable, but what does death mean? The problem is not solved. The
close of the eleventh tablet suggests that Gilgamesh will die. The
twelfth tablet adds nothing to the situation--except a moral. Proper
burial is essential to the comparative well-being of the dead.

The fact that Gilgamesh is viewed as a type in the latter half of this
remarkable specimen of Babylonian literature justifies us in speaking of
it, under proper qualification, as a 'national epic.' But it must be
remembered that Gilgamesh himself belongs to a section of Babylonia
only, and not to the whole of it; and it is rather curious that one, of
whom it can be said with certainty that he is not even a native of
Babylonia, should become the personage to whom popular fancy was pleased
to attach traditions and myths that are distinctively Babylonian in
character and origin.

The story of Gilgamesh was carried beyond the confines of
Babylonia.[1002] Gilgamesh, to be sure, is not identical with the
Biblical Nimrod,[1003] but the Gilgamesh story has evidently influenced
the description given in the tenth chapter of Genesis of Nimrod, who is
viewed as the type of Babylonian power and of the extension of
Babylonian culture to the north.

The Gilgamesh epic is not a solar myth, as was once supposed,[1004] nor
is the Biblical story of Samson a pure myth, but Gilgamesh becomes a
solar deity, and it is hardly accidental that Samson, or to give the
Hebrew form of the name, Shimshon, is a variant form of
_Shamash_[1005]--the name of the sun in Babylonian and Hebrew. The
Biblical Samson appears to be modelled upon the character of Gilgamesh.
Both are heroes, both conquerors, both strangle a lion, and both are
wooed by a woman, the one by Delila, the other by Ishtar, and both
through a woman are shorn of their strength. The historical traits are
of course different. As for the relationships of the Gilgamesh epic to
the Hercules story, the authority of Wilamowitz-Moellendorf[1006] is
against an oriental origin of the Greek tale, and yet such parallels as
Hercules' fight with a lion, his conquest of death, his journey and
search for immortality (which in contrast to Gilgamesh he secures),
certainly point to an influence exercised by the oriental tale upon the
Greek story. It is not surprising that the elements contributed through
this influence have been so modified in the process of adaptation to the
purely Greek elements of the Hercules story, and, above all, to the
Greek spirit, as to obscure their eastern origin.[1007] Most curious as
illustrating the continued popularity of the Gilgamesh story in the
Orient is the incorporation of portions of the epic in the career of
Alexander the Great.[1008] In Greek, Syriac, and Rabbinical writings,
Alexander is depicted as wandering through a region[1009] of darkness
and terror in search of the 'water of life.' He encounters strange
beings, reaches the sea, but, like Gilgamesh, fails to secure
immortality. Such were the profound changes wrought by Alexander's
conquests that popular fancy, guided by a correct instinct of
appreciation of his career, converted the historical Alexander into a
legendary hero of vast dimensions.[1010] The process that produced the
Gilgamesh epic is repeated, only on a larger scale, in the case of
Alexander. Not one country, but the entire ancient culture
world,--Babylonia, Persia, Egypt, Arabia, Judea, and Syria,--combine to
form the legendary Alexander. Each country contributes its share of
popular legends, myths, and traditions. Babylonia offers as her tribute
the exploits of Gilgamesh, which it transfers in part to Alexander. The
national hero becomes the type of the 'great man,' and as with new
conditions, a new favorite, representative of the new era, arises to
take the place of an older one, the old is made to survive in the new.
Gilgamesh lives again in Alexander, just as traits of the legendary
Alexander pass down to subsequent heroes.

FOOTNOTES:

[844] See above, pp. 245-247.

[845] Or Gishdubar or Gishtubar.

[846] _Babylonian and Oriental Record_, iv. 264. For previous readings
of the name, see Jeremias' article on 'Izdubar' in Roscher's
_Ausfuehrliches Lexicon der Griechischen und Roemischen Mythologie_, ii.
col. 773, 774.

[847] _Historia Animalum_, xii. 21.

[848] See p. 524.

[849] In the Oriental legends of Alexander the Great, this confusion is
further illustrated. To Alexander are attached stories belonging to both
Izdubar and Etana. See Meissner's _Alexander and Gilgamos_, pp. 13-17
(Leipzig, 1894).

[850] See, _e.g._, Perrot and Chiplez, _History of Art in Babylonia and
Assyria_, i. 84.

[851] Article 'Izdubar,' col. 776; see Delitzsch, _Handwoerterbuch_, p.
678. Hommel (_e.g._, _Altisraelitische Ueberlieferung_, p. 39) regards
Gilgamesh as a contraction from Gibil (the fire-god) and Gam (or Gab),
together with _ish_, an 'Elamitic' ending. If the name is Elamitic, one
should hardly expect a Babylonian deity entering as one of the elements.

[852] See above, p. 167.

[853] See above, p. 284.

[854] Haupt's _Das Babylonische Nimrodepos_, p. 93.

[855] Lit., 'he who is applied to for giving a decision.'

[856] _Ta-par-ra-as_.

[857] _Das Babylonische Nimrodepos_ (Leipzig, 1884-91). This edition
includes all but the twelfth tablet, which was published by Haupt in the
_Beitraege zur Assyriologie_, i. 48-79. For other publications of Haupt
on the Gilgamesh epic, see the Bibliography, Sec. 6. The identification
with the Biblical Nimrod is now definitely abandoned by scholars, though
the picture drawn of Nimrod is influenced by the traditions regarding
Gilgamesh. See p. 515.

[858] The best general work on the epic (based on Haupt's edition) is A.
Jeremias' _Izdubar-Nimrod_ (Leipzig, 1891), a reprint with additions, of
his article on 'Izdubar' in Roscher's _Ausfuehrliches Lexicon der
Griechischen und Roemischen Mythologie_ ii.

[859] _Vorgeschichte der Indo-Europaer_, p. 112.

[860] The words for 'city' in the Semitic languages embody this idea.

[861] _Old Babylonian Inscription_, i. 2, p. 48.

[862] IIR. 50, 55-57; VR. 41, 17, 18. An interesting reference to the
wall of Frech occurs Hilprecht, _ib._ i. 1, no. 26.

[863] _Kosmologie_, p. 172.

[864] Jeremias' _Izdubar-Nimrod_, p. 15, conjectures that the death of
the king has evoked distress, but that is highly improbable. That the
fragment under consideration belongs to the beginning of the epic is
tolerably certain, though not absolutely so.

[865] Sixth tablet, l. 192. He brings offerings to Lugal-Marada, _i.e._,
the king of Marada--a solar deity. See p. 486.