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Ledgends of Babylon and Egypt

by Leonard W. King

Lecture II

Deluge Stories and the New Sumerian Version

I n the first lecture we saw how, both in Babylonia and Egypt,
recent discoveries had thrown light upon periods regarded as
prehistoric, and how we had lately recovered traditions concerning
very early rulers both in the Nile Valley and along the lower
Euphrates. On the strength of the latter discovery we noted the
possibility that future excavation in Babylonia would lay bare
stages of primitive culture similar to those we have already
recovered in Egyptian soil. Meanwhile the documents from Nippur had
shown us what the early Sumerians themselves believed about their
own origin, and we traced in their tradition the gradual blending
of history with legend and myth. We saw that the new Dynastic List
took us back in the legendary sequence at least to the beginning of
the Post-diluvian period. Now one of the newly published literary
texts fills in the gap beyond, for it gives us a Sumerian account
of the history of the world from the Creation to the Deluge, at
about which point, as we saw, the extant portions of the Dynastic
List take up the story. I propose to devote my lecture to-day to
this early version of the Flood and to the effect of its discovery
upon some current theories.

The Babylonian account of the Deluge, which was discovered by
George Smith in 1872 on tablets from the Royal Library at Nineveh,
is, as you know, embedded in a long epic of twelve Books recounting
the adventures of the Old Babylonian hero Gilgamesh. Towards the
end of this composite tale, Gilgamesh, desiring immortality,
crosses the Waters of Death in order to beg the secret from his
ancestor Ut-napishtim, who in the past had escaped the Deluge and
had been granted immortality by the gods. The Eleventh Tablet, or
Book, of the epic contains the account of the Deluge which
Ut-napishtim related to his kinsman Gilgamesh. The close
correspondence of this Babylonian story with that contained in
Genesis is recognized by every one and need not detain us. You will
remember that in some passages the accounts tally even in minute
details, such, for example, as the device of sending out birds to
test the abatement of the waters. It is true that in the Babylonian
version a dove, a swallow, and a raven are sent forth in that
order, instead of a raven and the dove three times. But such slight
discrepancies only emphasize the general resemblance of the
narratives.

In any comparison it is usually admitted that two accounts have
been combined in the Hebrew narrative. I should like to point out
that this assumption may be made by any one, whatever his views may
be with regard to the textual problems of the Hebrew Bible and the
traditional authorship of the Pentateuch. And for our purpose at
the moment it is immaterial whether we identify the compiler of
these Hebrew narratives with Moses himself, or with some later
Jewish historian whose name has not come down to us. Whoever he
was, he has scrupulously preserved his two texts and, even when
they differ, he has given each as he found it. Thanks to this fact,
any one by a careful examination of the narrative can disentangle
the two versions for himself. He will find each gives a consistent
story. One of them appears to be simpler and more primitive than
the other, and I will refer to them as the earlier and the later
Hebrew Versions.[1] The Babylonian text in the Epic of Gilgamesh
contains several peculiarities of each of the Hebrew versions,
though the points of resemblance are more detailed in the earlier
of the two.

[1] In the combined account in Gen. vi. 5-ix. 17, if the following
passages be marked in the margin or underlined, and then read
consecutively, it will be seen that they give a consistent and
almost complete account of the Deluge: Gen. vi. 9-22; vii. 6, 11,
13-16 (down to "as God commanded him"), 17 (to "upon the earth"),
18-21, 24; viii. 1, 2 (to "were stopped"), 3 (from "and after")-5,
13 (to "from off the earth"), 14-19; and ix. 1-17. The marked
passages represent the "later Hebrew Version." If the remaining
passages be then read consecutively, they will be seen to give a
different version of the same events, though not so completely
preserved as the other; these passages substantially represent the
"earlier Hebrew Version". In commentaries on the Hebrew text they
are, of course, usually referred to under the convenient symbols J
and P, representing respectively the earlier and the later
versions. For further details, see any of the modern commentaries
on Genesis, e.g. Driver, /Book of Genesis/, pp. 85 ff.; Skinner,
/Genesis/, pp. 147 ff.; Ryle, /Genesis/, p. 96 f.

Now the tablets from the Royal Library at Nineveh inscribed with
the Gilgamesh Epic do not date from an earlier period than the
seventh century B.C. But archaeological evidence has long shown
that the traditions themselves were current during all periods of
Babylonian history; for Gilgamesh and his half-human friend Enkidu
were favourite subjects for the seal-engraver, whether he lived in
Sumerian times or under the Achaemenian kings of Persia. We have
also, for some years now, possessed two early fragments of the
Deluge narrative, proving that the story was known to the Semitic
inhabitants of the country at the time of Hammurabi's dynasty.[1]
Our newly discovered text from Nippur was also written at about
that period, probably before 2100 B.C. But the composition itself,
apart from the tablet on which it is inscribed, must go back very
much earlier than that. For instead of being composed in Semitic
Babylonian, the text is in Sumerian, the language of the earliest
known inhabitants of Babylonia, whom the Semites eventually
displaced. This people, it is now recognized, were the originators
of the Babylonian civilization, and we saw in the first lecture
that, according to their own traditions, they had occupied that
country since the dawn of history.

[1] The earlier of the two fragments is dated in the eleventh year
of Ammizaduga, the tenth king of Hammurabi's dynasty, i.e. in 1967
B.C.; it was published by Scheil, /Recueil de travaux/, Vol. XX,
pp. 55 ff. Here the Deluge story does not form part of the
Gilgamesh Epic, but is recounted in the second tablet of a
different work; its hero bears the name Atrakhasis, as in the
variant version of the Deluge from the Nineveh library. The other
and smaller fragment, which must be dated by its script, was
published by Hilprecht (/Babylonian Expedition/, series D, Vol. V,
Fasc. 1, pp. 33 ff.), who assigned it to about the same period; but
it is probably of a considerably later date. The most convenient
translations of the legends that were known before the publication
of the Nippur texts are those given by Rogers, /Cuneiform Parallels
to the Old Testament/ (Oxford, 1912), and Dhorme, /Choix de textes
religieux Assyro-Babyloniens/ (Paris, 1907).

The Semites as a ruling race came later, though the occurrence of
Semitic names in the Sumerian Dynastic List suggests very early
infiltration from Arabia. After a long struggle the immigrants
succeeded in dominating the settled race; and in the process they
in turn became civilized. They learnt and adopted the cuneiform
writing, they took over the Sumerian literature. Towards the close
of the third millennium, when our tablet was written, the Sumerians
as a race had almost ceased to exist. They had been absorbed in the
Semitic population and their language was no longer the general
language of the country. But their ancient literature and sacred
texts were carefully preserved and continued to be studied by the
Semitic priests and scribes. So the fact that the tablet is written
in the old Sumerian tongue proves that the story it tells had come
down from a very much earlier period. This inference is not
affected by certain small differences in idiom which its language
presents when compared with that of Sumerian building-inscriptions.
Such would naturally occur in the course of transmission,
especially in a text which, as we shall see, had been employed for
a practical purpose after being subjected to a process of reduction
to suit it to its new setting.

When we turn to the text itself, it will be obvious that the story
also is very primitive. But before doing so we will inquire whether
this very early version is likely to cast any light on the origin
of Deluge stories such as are often met with in other parts of the
world. Our inquiry will have an interest apart from the question
itself, as it will illustrate the views of two divergent schools
among students of primitive literature and tradition. According to
one of these views, in its most extreme form, the tales which early
or primitive man tells about his gods and the origin of the world
he sees around him are never to be regarded as simple stories, but
are to be consistently interpreted as symbolizing natural
phenomena. It is, of course, quite certain that, both in Egypt and
Babylonia, mythology in later periods received a strong
astrological colouring; and it is equally clear that some legends
derive their origin from nature myths. But the theory in the hands
of its more enthusiastic adherents goes further than that. For them
a complete absence of astrological colouring is no deterrent from
an astrological interpretation; and, where such colouring does
occur, the possibility of later embellishment is discounted, and it
is treated without further proof as the base on which the original
story rests. One such interpretation of the Deluge narrative in
Babylonia, particularly favoured by recent German writers, would
regard it as reflecting the passage of the Sun through a portion of
the ecliptic. It is assumed that the primitive Babylonians were
aware that in the course of ages the spring equinox must traverse
the southern or watery region of the zodiac. This, on their system,
signified a submergence of the whole universe in water, and the
Deluge myth would symbolize the safe passage of the vernal Sun-god
through that part of the ecliptic. But we need not spend time over
that view, as its underlying conception is undoubtedly quite a late
development of Babylonian astrology.

More attractive is the simpler astrological theory that the voyage
of any Deluge hero in his boat or ark represents the daily journey
of the Sun-god across the heavenly ocean, a conception which is so
often represented in Egyptian sculpture and painting. It used to be
assumed by holders of the theory that this idea of the Sun as "the
god in the boat" was common among primitive races, and that that
would account for the widespread occurrence of Deluge-stories among
scattered races of the world. But this view has recently undergone
some modification in accordance with the general trend of other
lines of research. In recent years there has been an increased
readiness among archaeologists to recognize evidence of contact
between the great civilizations of antiquity. This has been
particularly the case in the area of the Eastern Mediterranean; but
the possibility has also been mooted of the early use of
land-routes running from the Near East to Central and Southern
Asia. The discovery in Chinese Turkestan, to the east of the
Caspian, of a prehistoric culture resembling that of Elam has now
been followed by the finding of similar remains by Sir Aurel Stein
in the course of the journey from which he has lately returned.[1]
They were discovered in an old basin of the Helmand River in
Persian Seistan, where they had been laid bare by wind-erosion. But
more interesting still, and an incentive to further exploration in
that region, is another of his discoveries last year, also made
near the Afghan border. At two sites in the Helmand Delta, well
above the level of inundation, he came across fragments of pottery
inscribed in early Aramaic characters,[2] though, for obvious
reasons, he has left them with all his other collections in India.
This unexpected find, by the way, suggests for our problem
possibilities of wide transmission in comparatively early times.

[1] See his "Expedition in Central Asia", in /The Geographical
Journal/, Vol. XLVII (Jan.-June, 1916), pp. 358 ff.

[2] Op. cit., p. 363.

The synthetic tendency among archaeologists has been reflected in
anthropological research, which has begun to question the separate
and independent origin, not only of the more useful arts and
crafts, but also of many primitive customs and beliefs. It is
suggested that too much stress has been laid on environment; and,
though it is readily admitted that similar needs and experiences
may in some cases have given rise to similar expedients and
explanations, it is urged that man is an imitative animal and that
inventive genius is far from common.[1] Consequently the wide
dispersion of many beliefs and practices, which used generally to
be explained as due to the similar and independent working of the
human mind under like conditions, is now often provisionally
registered as evidence of migratory movement or of cultural drift.
Much good work has recently been done in tabulating the occurrence
of many customs and beliefs, in order to ascertain their lines of
distribution. Workers are as yet in the collecting stage, and it is
hardly necessary to say that explanatory theories are still to be
regarded as purely tentative and provisional. At the meetings of
the British Association during the last few years, the most breezy
discussions in the Anthropological Section have undoubtedly centred
around this subject. There are several works in the field, but the
most comprehensive theory as yet put forward is one that concerns
us, as it has given a new lease of life to the old solar
interpretation of the Deluge story.

[1] See, e.g. Marett, /Anthropology/ (2nd ed., 1914), Chap. iv,
"Environment," pp. 122 ff.; and for earlier tendencies,
particularly in the sphere of mythological exegesis, see S.
Reinach, /Cultes, Mythes et Religions/, t. IV (1912), pp. 1 ff.

In a land such as Egypt, where there is little rain and the sky is
always clear, the sun in its splendour tended from the earliest
period to dominate the national consciousness. As intercourse
increased along the Nile Valley, centres of Sun-worship ceased to
be merely local, and the political rise of a city determined the
fortunes of its cult. From the proto-dynastic period onward, the
"King of the two Lands" had borne the title of "Horus" as the
lineal descendant of the great Sun-god of Edfu, and the rise of Ra
in the Vth Dynasty, through the priesthood of Heliopolis, was
confirmed in the solar theology of the Middle Kingdom. Thus it was
that other deities assumed a solar character as forms of Ra. Amen,
the local god of Thebes, becomes Amen-Ra with the political rise of
his city, and even the old Crocodile-god, Sebek, soars into the sky
as Sebek-Ra. The only other movement in the religion of ancient
Egypt, comparable in importance to this solar development, was the
popular cult of Osiris as God of the Dead, and with it the official
religion had to come to terms. Horus is reborn as the posthumous
son of Osiris, and Ra gladdens his abode during his nightly journey
through the Underworld. The theory with which we are concerned
suggests that this dominant trait in Egyptian religion passed, with
other elements of culture, beyond the bounds of the Nile Valley and
influenced the practice and beliefs of distant races.

This suggestion has been gradually elaborated by its author,
Professor Elliot Smith, who has devoted much attention to the
anatomical study of Egyptian mummification. Beginning with a
scrutiny of megalithic building and sun-worship,[1] he has
subsequently deduced, from evidence of common distribution, the
existence of a culture-complex, including in addition to these two
elements the varied practices of tattooing, circumcision,
ear-piercing, that quaint custom known as couvade,
head-deformation, and the prevalence of serpent-cults, myths of
petrifaction and the Deluge, and finally of mummification. The last
ingredient was added after an examination of Papuan mummies had
disclosed their apparent resemblance in points of detail to
Egyptian mummies of the XXIst Dynasty. As a result he assumes the
existence of an early cultural movement, for which the descriptive
title "heliolithic" has been coined.[2] Starting with Egypt as its
centre, one of the principal lines of its advance is said to have
lain through Syria and Mesopotamia and thence along the coastlands
of Asia to the Far East. The method of distribution and the
suggested part played by the Phoenicians have been already
criticized sufficiently. But in a modified form the theory has
found considerable support, especially among ethnologists
interested in Indonesia. I do not propose to examine in detail the
evidence for or against it. It will suffice to note that the Deluge
story and its alleged Egyptian origin in solar worship form one of
the prominent strands in its composition.

[1] Cf. Elliot Smith, /The Ancient Egyptians/, 1911.

[2] See in particular his monograph "On the significance of the
Geographical Distribution of the Practice of Mummification" in the
/Memoirs of the Manchester Literary and Philosophical Society/,
1915.

One weakness of this particular strand is that the Egyptians
themselves possessed no tradition of the Deluge. Indeed the annual
inundation of the Nile is not such as would give rise to a legend
of world-destruction; and in this respect it presents a striking
contrast to the Tigris and Euphrates. The ancient Egyptian's
conception of his own gentle river is reflected in the form he gave
the Nile-god, for Hapi is represented as no fierce warrior or
monster. He is given a woman's breasts as a sign of his fecundity.
The nearest Egyptian parallel to the Deluge story is the "Legend of
the Destruction of Mankind", which is engraved on the walls of a
chamber in the tomb of Seti I.[1] The late Sir Gaston Maspero
indeed called it "a dry deluge myth", but his paradox was intended
to emphasize the difference as much as the parallelism presented.
It is true that in the Egyptian myth the Sun-god causes mankind to
be slain because of their impiety, and he eventually pardons the
survivors. The narrative thus betrays undoubted parallelism to the
Babylonian and Hebrew stories, so far as concerns the attempted
annihilation of mankind by the offended god, but there the
resemblance ends. For water has no part in man's destruction, and
the essential element of a Deluge story is thus absent.[2] Our new
Sumerian document, on the other hand, contains what is by far the
earliest example yet recovered of a genuine Deluge tale; and we may
thus use it incidentally to test this theory of Egyptian influence,
and also to ascertain whether it furnishes any positive evidence on
the origin of Deluge stories in general.

[1] It was first published by Monsieur Naville, /Tranc. Soc. Bibl.
Arch./, IV (1874), pp. 1 ff. The myth may be most conveniently
studied in Dr. Budge's edition in /Egyptian Literature/, Vol. I,
"Legends of the Gods" (1912), pp. 14 ff., where the hieroglyphic
text and translation are printed on opposite pages; cf. the
summary, op. cit., pp. xxiii ff., where the principal literature is
also cited. See also his /Gods of the Egyptians/, Vol. I, chap.
xii, pp. 388 ff.

[2] The undoubted points of resemblance, as well as the equally
striking points of divergence, presented by the Egyptian myth when
compared with the Babylonian and Hebrew stories of a Deluge may be
briefly indicated. The impiety of men in complaining of the age of
Ra finds a parallel in the wickedness of man upon the earth (J) and
the corruption of all flesh (P) of the Hebrew Versions. The
summoning by Ra of the great Heliopolitan cosmic gods in council,
including his personified Eye, the primaeval pair Shu and Tefnut,
Keb the god of the earth and his consort Nut the sky-goddess, and
Nu the primaeval water-god and originally Nut's male counterpart,
is paralleled by the /puhur ilâni/, or "assembly of the gods", in
the Babylonian Version (see Gilg. Epic. XI. l. 120 f., and cf. ll.
10 ff.); and they meet in "the Great House", or Sun-temple at
Heliopolis, as the Babylonian gods deliberate in Shuruppak.
Egyptian, Babylonian, and Hebrew narratives all agree in the divine
determination to destroy mankind and in man's ultimate survival.
But the close of the Egyptian story diverges into another sphere.
The slaughter of men by the Eye of Ra in the form of the goddess
Hathor, who during the night wades in their blood, is suggestive of
Africa; and so too is her drinking of men's blood mixed with the
narcotic mandrake and with seven thousand vessels of beer, with the
result that through drunkenness she ceased from slaughter. The
latter part of the narrative is directly connected with the
cult-ritual and beer-drinking at the Festivals of Hathor and Ra;
but the destruction of men by slaughter in place of drowning
appears to belong to the original myth. Indeed, the only suggestion
of a Deluge story is suggested by the presence of Nu, the primaeval
water-god, at Ra's council, and that is explicable on other
grounds. In any case the points of resemblance presented by the
earlier part of the Egyptian myth to Semitic Deluge stories are
general, not detailed; and though they may possibly be due to
reflection from Asia, they are not such as to suggest an Egyptian
origin for Deluge myths.

The tablet on which our new version of the Deluge is inscribed was
excavated at Nippur during the third Babylonian expedition sent out
by the University of Pennsylvania; but it was not until the summer
of 1912 that its contents were identified, when the several
fragments of which it was composed were assembled and put together.
It is a large document, containing six columns of writing, three on
each side; but unfortunately only the lower half has been
recovered, so that considerable gaps occur in the text.[1] The
sharp edges of the broken surface, however, suggest that it was
damaged after removal from the soil, and the possibility remains
that some of the missing fragments may yet be recovered either at
Pennsylvania or in the Museum at Constantinople. As it is not
dated, its age must be determined mainly by the character of its
script. A close examination of the writing suggests that it can
hardly have been inscribed as late as the Kassite Dynasty, since
two or three signs exhibit more archaic forms than occur on any
tablets of that period;[2] and such linguistic corruptions as have
been noted in its text may well be accounted for by the process of
decay which must have already affected the Sumerian language at the
time of the later kings of Nisin. Moreover, the tablet bears a
close resemblance to one of the newly published copies of the
Sumerian Dynastic List from Nippur;[3] for both are of the same
shape and composed of the same reddish-brown clay, and both show
the same peculiarities of writing. The two tablets in fact appear
to have been written by the same hand, and as that copy of the
Dynastic List was probably drawn up before the latter half of the
First Dynasty of Babylon, we may assign the same approximate date
for the writing of our text. This of course only fixes a lower
limit for the age of the myth which it enshrines.

[1] The breadth of the tablet is 5 5/8 in., and it originally
measured about 7 in. in length from top to bottom; but only about
one-third of its inscribed surface is preserved.

[2] Cf. Poebel, /Hist. Texts/, pp. 66 ff.

[3] No. 5.

That the composition is in the form of a poem may be seen at a
glance from the external appearance of the tablet, the division of
many of the lines and the blank spaces frequently left between the
sign-groups being due to the rhythmical character of the text. The
style of the poetry may be simple and abrupt, but it exhibits a
familiar feature of both Semitic-Babylonian and Hebrew poetry, in
its constant employment of partial repetition or paraphrase in
parallel lines. The story it tells is very primitive and in many
respects unlike the Babylonian Versions of the Deluge which we
already possess. Perhaps its most striking peculiarity is the
setting of the story, which opens with a record of the creation of
man and animals, goes on to tell how the first cities were built,
and ends with a version of the Deluge, which is thus recounted in
its relation to the Sumerian history of the world. This literary
connexion between the Creation and Deluge narratives is of unusual
interest, in view of the age of our text. In the Babylonian
Versions hitherto known they are included in separate epics with
quite different contexts. Here they are recounted together in a
single document, much as they probably were in the history of
Berossus and as we find them in the present form of the Book of
Genesis. This fact will open up some interesting problems when we
attempt to trace the literary descent of the tradition.

But one important point about the text should be emphasized at
once, since it will affect our understanding of some very obscure
passages, of which no satisfactory explanation has yet been given.
The assumption has hitherto been made that the text is an epic pure
and simple. It is quite true that the greater part of it is a myth,
recounted as a narrative in poetical form. but there appear to me
to be clear indications that the myth was really embedded in an
incantation. If this was so, the mythological portion was recited
for a magical purpose, with the object of invoking the aid of the
chief deities whose actions in the past are there described, and of
increasing by that means the potency of the spell.[1] In the third
lecture I propose to treat in more detail the employment and
significance of myth in magic, and we shall have occasion to refer
to other instances, Sumerian, Babylonian, and Egyptian, in which a
myth has reached us in a magical setting.

[1] It will be seen that the subject-matter of any myth treated in
this way has a close connexion with the object for which the
incantation was performed.

In the present case the inference of magical use is drawn from
certain passages in the text itself, which appear to be explicable
only on that hypothesis. In magical compositions of the later
period intended for recitation, the sign for "Incantation" is
usually prefixed. Unfortunately the beginning of our text is
wanting; but its opening words are given in the colophon, or title,
which is engraved on the left-hand edge of the tablet, and it is
possible that the traces of the first sign there are to be read as
EN, "Incantation".[1] Should a re-examination of the tablet
establish this reading of the word, we should have definite proof
of the suggested magical setting of the narrative. But even if we
assume its absence, that would not invalidate the arguments that
can be adduced in favour of recognizing the existence of a magical
element, for they are based on internal evidence and enable us to
explain certain features which are inexplicable on Dr. Poebel's
hypothesis. Moreover, we shall later on examine another of the
newly published Sumerian compositions from Nippur, which is not
only semi-epical in character, but is of precisely the same shape,
script, and period as our text, and is very probably a tablet of
the same series. There also the opening signs of the text are
wanting, but far more of its contents are preserved and they
present unmistakable traces of magical use. Its evidence, as that
of a parallel text, may therefore be cited in support of the
present contention. It may be added that in Sumerian magical
compositions of this early period, of which we have not yet
recovered many quite obvious examples, it is possible that the
prefix "Incantation" was not so invariable as in the later magical
literature.

[1] Cf. Poebel, /Hist. Texts/, p. 63, and /Hist. and Gram. Texts/,
pl. i. In the photographic reproduction of the edges of the tablet
given in the latter volume, pl. lxxxix, the traces of the sign
suggest the reading EN (= Sem. /siptu/, "incantation"). But the
sign may very possibly be read AN. In the latter case we may read,
in the traces of the two sign-groups at the beginning of the text,
the names of both Anu and Enlil, who appear so frequently as the
two presiding deities in the myth.

It has already been remarked that only the lower half of our tablet
has been recovered, and that consequently a number of gaps occur in
the text. On the obverse the upper portion of each of the first
three columns is missing, while of the remaining three columns,
which are inscribed upon the reverse, the upper portions only are
preserved. This difference in the relative positions of the textual
fragments recovered is due to the fact that Sumerian scribes, like
their later Babylonian and Assyrian imitators, when they had
finished writing the obverse of a tablet, turned it over from
bottom to top--not, as we should turn a sheet of paper, from right
to left. But in spite of the lacunae, the sequence of events
related in the mythological narrative may be followed without
difficulty, since the main outline of the story is already familiar
enough from the versions of the Semitic-Babylonian scribes and of
Berossus. Some uncertainties naturally remain as to what exactly
was included in the missing portions of the tablet; but the more
important episodes are fortunately recounted in the extant
fragments, and these suffice for a definition of the distinctive
character of the Sumerian Version. In view of its literary
importance it may be advisable to attempt a somewhat detailed
discussion of its contents, column by column;[1] and the analysis
may be most conveniently divided into numbered sections, each of
which refers to one of the six columns of the tablet. The
description of the First Column will serve to establish the general
character of the text. Through the analysis of the tablet parallels
and contrasts will be noted with the Babylonian and Hebrew
Versions. It will then be possible to summarise, on a surer
foundation, the literary history of the traditions, and finally to
estimate the effect of our new evidence upon current theories as to
the origin and wide dispersion of Deluge stories.

[1] In the lecture as delivered the contents of each column were
necessarily summarized rather briefly, and conclusions were given
without discussion of the evidence.

The following headings, under which the six numbered sections may
be arranged, indicate the contents of each column and show at a
glance the main features of the Sumerian Version:

I. Introduction to the Myth, and account of Creation.
II. The Antediluvian Cities.
III. The Council of the Gods, and Ziusudu's piety.
IV. The Dream-Warning.
V. The Deluge, the Escape of the Great Boat,
and the Sacrifice to the Sun-god.
VI. The Propitiation of the Angry Gods, and Ziusudu's Immortality.

I. INTRODUCTION TO THE MYTH, AND ACCOUNT OF CREATION

The beginning of the text is wanting, and the earliest lines
preserved of the First Column open with the closing sentences of a
speech, probably by the chief of the four creating deities, who are
later on referred to by name. In it there is a reference to a
future destruction of mankind, but the context is broken; the lines
in question begin:

"As for my human race, from (/or/ in) its destruction will I cause
it to be [. . .], For Nintu my creatures [. . .] will I [. . .]."

From the reference to "my human race" it is clear that the speaker
is a creating deity; and since the expression is exactly parallel
to the term "my people" used by Ishtar, or Bêlit-ili, "the Lady of
the gods", in the Babylonian Version of the Deluge story when she
bewails the destruction of mankind, Dr. Poebel assigns the speech
to Ninkharsagga, or Nintu,[1] the goddess who later in the column
is associated with Anu, Enlil, and Enki in man's creation. But the
mention of Nintu in her own speech is hardly consistent with that
supposition,[2] if we assume with Dr. Poebel, as we are probably
justified in doing, that the title Nintu is employed here and
elsewhere in the narrative merely as a synonym of Ninkharsagga.[3]
It appears to me far more probable that one of the two supreme
gods, Anu or Enlil, is the speaker,[4] and additional grounds will
be cited later in support of this view. It is indeed possible, in
spite of the verbs and suffixes in the singular, that the speech is
to be assigned to both Anu and Enlil, for in the last column, as we
shall see, we find verb in the singular following references to
both these deities. In any case one of the two chief gods may be
regarded as speaking and acting on behalf of both, though it may be
that the inclusion of the second name in the narrative was not
original but simply due to a combination of variant traditions.
Such a conflate use of Anu-Enlil would present a striking parallel
to the Hebrew combination Yahweh-Elohim, though of course in the
case of the former pair the subsequent stage of identification was
never attained. But the evidence furnished by the text is not
conclusive, and it is preferable here and elsewhere in the
narrative to regard either Anu or Enlil as speaking and acting both
on his own behalf and as the other's representative.

[1] Op. cit., p. 21 f.; and cf. Jastrow, /Hebrew and Babylonian
Traditions/, p. 336.

[2] It necessitates the taking of (/dingir/) /Nin-tu-ra/ as a
genitive, not a dative, and the very awkward rendering "my,
Nintu's, creations".

[3] Another of the recently published Sumerian mythological
compositions from Nippur includes a number of myths in which Enki
is associated first with Ninella, referred to also as Nintu, "the
Goddess of Birth", then with Ninshar, referred to also as Ninkurra,
and finally with Ninkharsagga. This text exhibits the process by
which separate traditions with regard to goddesses originally
distinct were combined together, with the result that their
heroines were subsequently often identified with one another. There
the myths that have not been subjected to a very severe process of
editing, and in consequence the welding is not so complete as in
the Sumerian Version of the Deluge.

[4] If Enlil's name should prove to be the first word of the
composition, we should naturally regard him as the speaker here and
as the protagonist of the gods throughout the text, a /rôle/ he
also plays in the Semitic-Babylonian Version.

This reference to the Deluge, which occurs so early in the text,
suggests the probability that the account of the Creation and of
the founding of Antediluvian cities, included in the first two
columns, is to be taken merely as summarizing the events that led
up to the Deluge. And an almost certain proof of this may be seen
in the opening words of the composition, which are preserved in its
colophon or title on the left-hand edge of the tablet. We have
already noted that the first two words are there to be read, either
as the prefix "Incantation" followed by the name "Enlil", or as the
two divine names "Anu (and) Enlil". Now the signs which follow the
traces of Enlil's name are quite certain; they represent "Ziusudu",
which, as we shall see in the Third Column, is the name of the
Deluge hero in our Sumerian Version. He is thus mentioned in the
opening words of the text, in some relation to one or both of the
two chief gods of the subsequent narrative. But the natural place
for his first introduction into the story is in the Third Column,
where it is related that "at that time Ziusudu, the king" did
so-and-so. The prominence given him at the beginning of the text,
at nearly a column's interval before the lines which record the
creation of man, is sufficient proof that the Deluge story is the
writer's main interest, and that preceding episodes are merely
introductory to it.

What subject then may we conjecture was treated in the missing
lines of this column, which precede the account of Creation and
close with the speech of the chief creating deity? Now the Deluge
narrative practically ends with the last lines of the tablet that
are preserved, and the lower half of the Sixth Column is entirely
wanting. We shall see reason to believe that the missing end of the
tablet was not left blank and uninscribed, but contained an
incantation, the magical efficacy of which was ensured by the
preceding recitation of the Deluge myth. If that were so, it would
be natural enough that the text should open with its main subject.
The cause of the catastrophe and the reason for man's rescue from
it might well be referred to by one of the creating deities in
virtue of the analogy these aspects of the myth would present to
the circumstances for which the incantation was designed. A brief
account of the Creation and of Antediluvian history would then form
a natural transition to the narrative of the Deluge itself. And
even if the text contained no incantation, the narrative may well
have been introduced in the manner suggested, since this
explanation in any case fits in with what is still preserved of the
First Column. For after his reference to the destruction of
mankind, the deity proceeds to fix the chief duty of man, either as
a preliminary to his creation, or as a reassertion of that duty
after his rescue from destruction by the Flood. It is noteworthy
that this duty consists in the building of temples to the gods "in
a clean spot", that is to say "in hallowed places". The passage may
be given in full, including the two opening lines already
discussed:

"As for my human race, from (/or/ in) its destruction will I cause
it to be [. . .],
For Nintu my creatures [. . .] will I [. . .].
The people will I cause to . . . in their settlements,
Cities . . . shall (man) build, in there protection will I cause
him
to rest,
That he may lay the brick of our houses in a clean spot,
That in a clean spot he may establish our . . . !"

In the reason here given for man's creation, or for his rescue from
the Flood, we have an interesting parallel to the Sixth Tablet of
the Semitic-Babylonian Creation Series. At the opening of that
tablet Marduk, in response to "the word of the gods", is urged by
his heart to devise a cunning plan which he imparts to Ea, namely
the creation of man from his own divine blood and from bone which
he will fashion. And the reason he gives for his proposal is
precisely that which, as we have seen, prompted the Sumerian deity
to create or preserve the human race. For Marduk continues:

"I will create man who shall inhabit [. . .], That the service of
the gods may be established and that their shrines may be
built."[1]

[1] See /The Seven Tablets of Creation/, Vol. I, pp. 86 ff.

We shall see later, from the remainder of Marduk's speech, that the
Semitic Version has been elaborated at this point in order to
reconcile it with other ingredients in its narrative, which were
entirely absent from the simpler Sumerian tradition. It will
suffice here to note that, in both, the reason given for man's
existence is the same, namely, that the gods themselves may have
worshippers.[1] The conception is in full agreement with early
Sumerian thought, and reflects the theocratic constitution of the
earliest Sumerian communities. The idea was naturally not repugnant
to the Semites, and it need not surprise us to find the very words
of the principal Sumerian Creator put into the mouth of Marduk, the
city-god of Babylon.

[1] It may be added that this is also the reason given for man's
creation in the introduction to a text which celebrates the
founding or rebuilding of a temple.

The deity's speech perhaps comes to an end with the declaration of
his purpose in creating mankind or in sanctioning their survival of
the Deluge; and the following three lines appear to relate his
establishment of the divine laws in accordance with which his
intention was carried out. The passage includes a refrain, which is
repeated in the Second Column:

The sublime decrees he made perfect for it.

It may probably be assumed that the refrain is employed in relation
to the same deity in both passages. In the Second Column it
precedes the foundation of the Babylonian kingdom and the building
of the Antediluvian cities. In that passage there can be little
doubt that the subject of the verb is the chief Sumerian deity, and
we are therefore the more inclined to assign to him also the
opening speech of the First Column, rather than to regard it as
spoken by the Sumerian goddess whose share in the creation would
justify her in claiming mankind as her own. In the last four lines
of the column we have a brief record of the Creation itself. It was
carried out by the three greatest gods of the Sumerian pantheon,
Anu, Enlil and Enki, with the help of the goddess Ninkharsagga; the
passage reads:

When Anu, Enlil, Enki and Ninkharsagga Created the blackheaded
(i.e. mankind), The /niggil(ma)/ of the earth they caused the earth
to produce(?), The animals, the four-legged creatures of the field,
they artfully called into existence.

The interpretation of the third line is obscure, but there is no
doubt that it records the creation of something which is
represented as having taken place between the creation of mankind
and that of animals. This object, which is written as /nig-gil/ or
/nig-gil-ma/, is referred to again in the Sixth Column, where the
Sumerian hero of the Deluge assigns to it the honorific title,
"Preserver of the Seed of Mankind". It must therefore have played
an important part in man's preservation from the Flood; and the
subsequent bestowal of the title may be paralleled in the early
Semitic Deluge fragment from Nippur, where the boat in which
Ut-napishtim escapes is assigned the very similar title "Preserver
of Life".[1] But /niggilma/ is not the word used in the Sumerian
Version of Ziusudu's boat, and I am inclined to suggest a meaning
for it in connexion with the magical element in the text, of the
existence of which there is other evidence. On that assumption, the
prominence given to its creation may be paralleled in the
introduction to a later magical text, which described, probably in
connexion with an incantation, the creation of two small creatures,
one white and one black, by Nin-igi-azag, "The Lord of Clear
Vision", one of the titles borne by Enki or Ea. The time of their
creation is indicated as after that of "cattle, beasts of the field
and creatures of the city", and the composition opens in a way
which is very like the opening of the present passage in our
text.[2] In neither text is there any idea of giving a complete
account of the creation of the world, only so much of the original
myth being included in each case as suffices for the writer's
purpose. Here we may assume that the creation of mankind and of
animals is recorded because they were to be saved from the Flood,
and that of the /niggilma/ because of the part it played in
ensuring their survival.

[1] See Hilprecht, /Babylonian Expedition/, Series D, Vol. V, Fasc.
1, plate, Rev., l. 8; the photographic reproduction clearly shows,
as Dr. Poebel suggests (/Hist. Texts/, p. 61 n 3), that the line
should read: /[(isu)elippu] si-i lu (isu)ma-gur-gur-ma sum-sa lu
na-si-rat na-pis-tim/, "That ship shall be a /magurgurru/ (giant
boat), and its name shall be 'Preserver of Life' (lit. 'She that
preserves life')."

[2] See /Seven Tablets of Creation/, Vol. I, pp. 122 ff. The text
opens with the words "When the gods in their assembly had made [the
world], and had created the heavens, and had formed the earth, and
had brought living creatures into being . . .", the lines forming
an introduction to the special act of creation with which the
composition was concerned.

The discussion of the meaning of /niggilma/ may best be postponed
till the Sixth Column, where we find other references to the word.
Meanwhile it may be noted that in the present passage the creation
of man precedes that of animals, as it did in the earlier Hebrew
Version of Creation, and probably also in the Babylonian version,
though not in the later Hebrew Version. It may be added that in
another Sumerian account of the Creation[1] the same order, of man
before animals, is followed.

[1] Cf. /Sev. Tabl./, Vol. I, p. 134 f.; but the text has been
subjected to editing, and some of its episodes are obviously
displaced.

II. THE ANTEDILUVIAN CITIES

As we saw was the case with the First Column of the text, the
earliest part preserved of the Second Column contains the close of
a speech by a deity, in which he proclaims an act he is about to
perform. Here we may assume with some confidence that the speaker
is Anu or Enlil, preferably the latter, since it would be natural
to ascribe the political constitution of Babylonia, the foundation
of which is foreshadowed, to the head of the Sumerian pantheon. It
would appear that a beginning had already been made in the
establishment of "the kingdom", and, before proceeding to his
further work of founding the Antediluvian cities, he follows the
example of the speaker in the First Column of the text and lays
down the divine enactments by which his purpose was accomplished.
The same refrain is repeated:

The sub[lime decrees] he made perfect for it.

The text then relates the founding by the god of five cities,
probably "in clean places", that is to say on hallowed ground. He
calls each by its name and assigns it to its own divine patron or
city-god:

[In clean place]s he founded [five] cit[ies].
And after he had called their names and they had been allotted to
divine rulers(?),--
The . . . of these cities, Eridu, he gave to the leader, Nu-dimmud,
Secondly, to Nugira(?) he gave Bad-. . .,[1]
Thirdly, Larak he gave to Pabilkharsag,
Fourthly, Sippar he gave to the hero, the Sun-god,
Fifthly, Shuruppak he gave to "the God of Shuruppak",--
After he had called the names of these cities, and they had been
allotted to divine rulers(?),

[1] In Semitic-Babylonian the first component of this city-name
would read "Dûr".

The completion of the sentence, in the last two lines of the
column, cannot be rendered with any certainty, but the passage
appears to have related the creation of small rivers and pools. It
will be noted that the lines which contain the names of the five
cities and their patron gods[1] form a long explanatory
parenthesis, the preceding line being repeated after their
enumeration.

[1] The precise meaning of the sign-group here provisionally
rendered "divine ruler" is not yet ascertained.

As the first of the series of five cities of Eridu, the seat of
Nudimmud or Enki, who was the third of the creating deities, it has
been urged that the upper part of the Second Column must have
included an account of the founding of Erech, the city of Anu, and
of Nippur, Enlil's city.[1] But the numbered sequence of the cities
would be difficult to reconcile with the earlier creation of other
cities in the text, and the mention of Eridu as the first city to
be created would be quite in accord with its great age and
peculiarly sacred character as a cult-centre. Moreover the evidence
of the Sumerian Dynastic List is definitely against any claim of
Erech to Antediluvian existence. For when the hegemony passed from
the first Post-diluvian "kingdom" to the second, it went not to
Erech but to the shrine Eanna, which gave its name to the second
"kingdom"; and the city itself was apparently not founded before
the reign of Enmerkar, the second occupant of the throne, who is
the first to be given the title "King of Erech". This conclusion
with regard to Erech incidentally disposes of the arguments for
Nippur's Antediluvian rank in primitive Sumerian tradition, which
have been founded on the order of the cities mentioned at the
beginning of the later Sumerian myth of Creation.[2] The evidence
we thus obtain that the early Sumerians themselves regarded Eridu
as the first city in the world to be created, increases the hope
that future excavation at Abu Shahrain may reveal Sumerian remains
of periods which, from an archaeological standpoint, must still be
regarded as prehistoric.

[1] Cf. Poebel, op. cit., p. 41.

[2] The city of Nippur does not occur among the first four
"kingdoms" of the Sumerian Dynastic List; but we may probably
assume that it was the seat of at least one early "kingdom", in
consequence of which Enlil, its city-god, attained his later
pre-eminent rank in the Sumerian pantheon.

It is noteworthy that no human rulers are mentioned in connexion
with Eridu and the other four Antediluvian cities; and Ziusudu, the
hero of the story, is apparently the only mortal whose name
occurred in our text. But its author's principal subject is the
Deluge, and the preceding history of the world is clearly not given
in detail, but is merely summarized. In view of the obviously
abbreviated form of the narrative, of which we have already noted
striking evidence in its account of the Creation, we may conclude
that in the fuller form of the tradition the cities were also
assigned human rulers, each one the representative of his city-god.
These would correspond to the Antediluvian dynasty of Berossus, the
last member of which was Xisuthros, the later counterpart of
Ziusudu.

In support of the exclusion of Nippur and Erech from the myth, it
will be noted that the second city in the list is not Adab,[1]
which was probably the principal seat of the goddess Ninkharsagga,
the fourth of the creating deities. The names of both deity and
city in that line are strange to us. Larak, the third city in the
series, is of greater interest, for it is clearly Larankha, which
according to Berossus was the seat of the eighth and ninth of his
Antediluvian kings. In commercial documents of the Persian period,
which have been found during the excavations at Nippur, Larak is
described as lying "on the bank of the old Tigris", a phrase which
must be taken as referring to the Shatt el-Hai, in view of the
situation of Lagash and other early cities upon it or in its
immediate neighbourhood. The site of the city should perhaps be
sought on the upper course of the stream, where it tends to
approach Nippur. It would thus have lain in the neighbourhood of
Bismâya, the site of Adab. Like Adab, Lagash, Shuruppak, and other
early Sumerian cities, it was probably destroyed and deserted at a
very early period, though it was reoccupied under its old name in
Neo-Babylonian or Persian times. Its early disappearance from
Babylonian history perhaps in part accounts for our own
unfamiliarity with Pabilkharsag, its city-god, unless we may regard
the name as a variant from of Pabilsag; but it is hardly likely
that the two should be identified.

[1] The site of Adab, now marked by the mounds of Bismâya, was
partially excavated by an expedition sent out in 1903 by the
University of Chicago, and has provided valuable material for the
study of the earliest Sumerian period; see /Reports of the
Expedition of the Oriental Exploration Fund/ (Babylonian Section of
the University of Chicago), and Banks, /Bismya/ (1912). On grounds
of antiquity alone we might perhaps have expected its inclusion in
the myth.

In Sibbar, the fourth of the Antediluvian cities in our series, we
again have a parallel to Berossus. it has long been recognized that
Pantibiblon, or Pantibiblia, from which the third, fourth, fifth,
sixth, and seventh of his Antediluvian kings all came, was the city
of Sippar in Northern Babylonia. For the seventh of these rulers,
{Euedorakhos}, is clearly Enmeduranki, the mythical king of Sippar,
who in Babylonian tradition was regarded as the founder of
divination. In a fragmentary composition that has come down to us
he is described, not only as king of Sippar, but as "beloved of
Anu, Enlil, and Enki", the three creating gods of our text; and it
is there recounted how the patron deities of divination, Shamash
and Adad, themselves taught him to practise their art.[1] Moreover,
Berossus directly implies the existence of Sippar before the
Deluge, for in the summary of his version that has been preserved
Xisuthros, under divine instruction, buries the sacred writings
concerning the origin of the world in "Sispara", the city of the
Sun-god, so that after the Deluge they might be dug up and
transmitted to mankind. Ebabbar, the great Sun-temple, was at
Sippar, and it is to the Sun-god that the city is naturally
allotted in the new Sumerian Version.

[1] Cf. Zimmern, /Beiträge zur Kenntniss der Bab. Relig./, pp. 116
ff.

The last of the five Antediluvian cities in our list is Shuruppak,
in which dwelt Ut-napishtim, the hero of the Babylonian version of
the Deluge. Its site has been identified with the mounds of Fâra,
in the neighbourhood of the Shatt el-Kâr, the former bed of the
Euphrates; and the excavations that were conducted there in 1902
have been most productive of remains dating from the prehistoric
period of Sumerian culture.[1] Since our text is concerned mainly
with the Deluge, it is natural to assume that the foundation of the
city from which the Deluge-hero came would be recorded last, in
order to lead up to the central episode of the text. The city of
Ziusudu, the hero of the Sumerian story, is unfortunately not given
in the Third Column, but, in view of Shuruppak's place in the list
of Antediluvian cities, it is not improbable that on this point the
Sumerian and Babylonian Versions agreed. In the Gilgamesh Epic
Shuruppak is the only Antediluvian city referred to, while in the
Hebrew accounts no city at all is mentioned in connexion with Noah.
The city of Xisuthros, too, is not recorded, but as his father came
from Larankha or Larak, we may regard that city as his in the Greek
Version. Besides Larankha, the only Antediluvian cities according
to Berossus were Babylon and Sippar, and the influence of
Babylonian theology, of which we here have evidence, would be
sufficient to account for a disturbance of the original traditions.
At the same time it is not excluded that Larak was also the scene
of the Deluge in our text, though, as we have noted, the position
of Shuruppak at the close of the Sumerian list points to it as the
more probable of the two. It may be added that we cannot yet read
the name of the deity to whom Shuruppak was allotted, but as it is
expressed by the city's name preceded by the divine determinative,
the rendering "the God of Shuruppak" will meanwhile serve.

[1] See /Hist. of Sum. and Akk./, pp. 24 ff.

The creation of small rivers and pools, which seems to have
followed the foundation of the five sacred cities, is best
explained on the assumption that they were intended for the supply
of water to the cities and to the temples of their five patron
gods. The creation of the Euphrates and the Tigris, if recorded in
our text at all, or in its logical order, must have occurred in the
upper portion of the column. The fact that in the later Sumerian
account their creation is related between that of mankind and the
building of Nippur and Erech cannot be cited in support of this
suggestion, in view of the absence of those cities from our text
and of the process of editing to which the later version has been
subjected, with a consequent disarrangement of its episodes.

III. THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS, AND ZIUSUDU'S PIETY

From the lower part of the Third Column, where its text is first
preserved, it is clear that the gods had already decided to send a
Deluge, for the goddess Nintu or Ninkharsagga, here referred to
also as "the holy Innanna", wails aloud for the intended
destruction of "her people". That this decision has been decreed by
the gods in council is clear from a passage in the Fourth Column,
where it is stated that the sending of a flood to destroy mankind
was "the word of the assembly [of the gods]". The first lines
preserved in the present column describe the effect of the decision
on the various gods concerned and their action at the close of the
council.

In the lines which described the Council of the Gods, broken
references to "the people" and "a flood" are preserved, after which
the text continues:

At that time Nintu [. . .] like a [. . .],
The holy Innanna lament[ed] on account of her people.
Enki in his own heart [held] counsel;
Anu, Enlil, Enki and Ninkharsagga [. . .].
The gods of heaven and earth in[voked] the name of Anu and Enlil.

It is unfortunate that the ends of all the lines in this column are
wanting, but enough remains to show a close correspondence of the
first two lines quoted with a passage in the Gilgamesh Epic where
Ishtar is described as lamenting the destruction of mankind.[1]
This will be seen more clearly by printing the two couplets in
parallel columns:

SUMERIAN VERSION

At that time Nintu [. . .] like a [. . .],

The holy Innanna lament[ed] on account of her people.

SEMITIC VERSION

Ishtar cried aloud like a woman in travail,

Bêlit-ili lamented with a loud voice.

[1] Gilg. Epic, XI, l. 117 f.

The expression Bêlit-ili, "the Lady of the Gods", is attested as a
title borne both by the Semitic goddess Ishtar and by the Sumerian
goddess Nintu or Ninkharsagga. In the passage in the Babylonian
Version, "the Lady of the Gods" has always been treated as a
synonym of Ishtar, the second half of the couplet being regarded as
a restatement of the first, according to a recognized law of
Babylonian poetry. We may probably assume that this interpretation
is correct, and we may conclude by analogy that "the holy Innanna"
in the second half of the Sumerian couplet is there merely employed
as a synonym of Nintu.[1] When the Sumerian myth was recast in
accordance with Semitic ideas, the /rôle/ of creatress of mankind,
which had been played by the old Sumerian goddess Ninkharsagga or
Nintu, was naturally transferred to the Semitic Ishtar. And as
Innanna was one of Ishtar's designations, it was possible to make
the change by a simple transcription of the lines, the name Nintu
being replaced by the synonymous title Bêlit-ili, which was also
shared by Ishtar. Difficulties are at once introduced if we assume
with Dr. Poebel that in each version two separate goddesses are
represented as lamenting, Nintu or Bêlit-ili and Innanna or Ishtar.
For Innanna as a separate goddess had no share in the Sumerian
Creation, and the reference to "her people" is there only
applicable to Nintu. Dr. Poebel has to assume that the Sumerian
names should be reversed in order to restore them to their original
order, which he suggests the Babylonian Version has preserved. But
no such textual emendation is necessary. In the Semitic Version
Ishtar definitely displaces Nintu as the mother of men, as is
proved by a later passage in her speech where she refers to her own
bearing of mankind.[2] The necessity for the substitution of her
name in the later version is thus obvious, and we have already
noted how simply this was effected.

[1] Cf. also Jastrow, /Hebr. and Bab. Trad./, p. 336.

[2] Gilg. Epic, XI, l. 123.

Another feature in which the two versions differ is that in the
Sumerian text the lamentation of the goddess precedes the sending
of the Deluge, while in the Gilgamesh Epic it is occasioned by the
actual advent of the storm. Since our text is not completely
preserved, it is just possible that the couplet was repeated at the
end of the Fourth Column after mankind's destruction had taken
place. But a further apparent difference has been noted. While in
the Sumerian Version the goddess at once deplores the divine
decision, it is clear from Ishtar's words in the Gilgamesh Epic
that in the assembly of the gods she had at any rate concurred in
it.[1] On the other hand, in Bêlitili's later speech in the Epic,
after Ut-napishtim's sacrifice upon the mountain, she appears to
subscribe the decision to Enlil alone.[2] The passages in the
Gilgamesh Epic are not really contradictory, for they can be
interpreted as implying that, while Enlil forced his will upon the
other gods against Bêlit-ili's protest, the goddess at first
reproached herself with her concurrence, and later stigmatized
Enlil as the real author of the catastrophe. The Semitic narrative
thus does not appear, as has been suggested, to betray traces of
two variant traditions which have been skilfully combined, though
it may perhaps exhibit an expansion of the Sumerian story. On the
other hand, most of the apparent discrepancies between the Sumerian
and Babylonian Versions disappear, on the recognition that our text
gives in many passages only an epitome of the original Sumerian
Version.

[1] Cf. l. 121 f., "Since I commanded evil in the assembly of the
gods, (and) commanded battle for the destruction of my people".

[2] Cf. ll. 165 ff., "Ye gods that are here! So long as I forget
not the (jewels of) lapis lazuli upon my neck, I will keep these
days in my memory, never will I forget them! Let the gods come to
the offering, but let not Enlil come to the offering, since he took
not counsel but sent the deluge and surrendered my people to
destruction."

The lament of the goddess is followed by a brief account of the
action taken by the other chief figures in the drama. Enki holds
counsel with his own heart, evidently devising the project, which
he afterwards carried into effect, of preserving the seed of
mankind from destruction. Since the verb in the following line is
wanting, we do not know what action is there recorded of the four
creating deities; but the fact that the gods of heaven and earth
invoked the name of Anu and Enlil suggests that it was their will
which had been forced upon the other gods. We shall see that
throughout the text Anu and Enlil are the ultimate rulers of both
gods and men.

The narrative then introduces the human hero of the Deluge story:

At that time Ziusudu, the king, . . . priest of the god [. . .],
Made a very great . . ., [. . .].
In humility he prostrates himself, in reverence [. . .],
Daily he stands in attendance [. . .].
A dream,[1] such as had not been before, comes forth[2] . . . [. .
.],
By the Name of Heaven and Earth he conjures [. . .].

[1] The word may also be rendered "dreams".

[2] For this rendering of the verb /e-de/, for which Dr. Poebel
does not hazard a translation, see Rawlinson, /W.A.I./, IV, pl. 26,
l. 24 f.(a), /nu-e-de/ = Sem. /la us-su-u/ (Pres.); and cf.
Brünnow, /Classified List/, p. 327. An alternative rendering "is
created" is also possible, and would give equally good sense; cf.
/nu-e-de/ = Sem. /la su-pu-u/, /W.A.I./, IV, pl. 2, l. 5 (a), and
Brünnow, op. cit., p. 328.

The name of the hero, Ziusudu, is the fuller Sumerian equivalent of
Ut-napishtim (or Uta-napishtim), the abbreviated Semitic form which
we find in the Gilgamesh Epic. For not only are the first two
elements of the Sumerian name identical with those of the Semitic
Ut-napishtim, but the names themselves are equated in a later
Babylonian syllabary or explanatory list of words.[1] We there find
"Ut-napishte" given as the equivalent of the Sumerian "Zisuda",
evidently an abbreviated form of the name Ziusudu;[2] and it is
significant that the names occur in the syllabary between those of
Gilgamesh and Enkidu, evidently in consequence of the association
of the Deluge story by the Babylonians with their national epic of
Gilgamesh. The name Ziusudu may be rendered "He who lengthened the
day of life" or "He who made life long of days",[3] which in the
Semitic form is abbreviated by the omission of the verb. The
reference is probably to the immortality bestowed upon Ziusudu at
the close of the story, and not to the prolongation of mankind's
existence in which he was instrumental. It is scarcely necessary to
add that the name has no linguistic connexion with the Hebrew name
Noah, to which it also presents no parallel in meaning.

[1] Cf. /Cun. Texts in the Brit. Mus./, Pt. XVIII, pl. 30, l. 9
(a).

[2] The name in the Sumerian Version is read by Dr. Poebel as
Ziugiddu, but there is much in favour of Prof. Zimmern's
suggestion, based on the form Zisuda, that the third syllable of
the name should be read as /su/. On a fragment of another Nippur
text, No. 4611, Dr. Langdon reads the name as /Zi-u-sud-du/ (cf.
Univ. of Penns. Mus. Publ., Bab. Sec., Vol. X, No. 1, p. 90, pl. iv
a); the presence of the phonetic complement /du/ may be cited in
favour of this reading, but it does not appear to be supported by
the photographic reproductions of the name in the Sumerian Deluge
Version given by Dr. Poebel (/Hist. and Gramm. Texts/, pl. lxxxviii
f.). It may be added that, on either alternative, the meaning of
the name is the same.

[3] The meaning of the Sumerian element /u/ in the name, rendered
as /utu/ in the Semitic form, is rather obscure, and Dr. Poebel
left it unexplained. It is very probable, as suggested by Dr.
Langdon (cf. /Proc. Soc. Bibl. Arch./, XXXVI, 1914, p. 190), that
we should connect it with the Semitic /uddu/; in that case, in
place of "breath", the rending he suggests, I should be inclined to
render it here as "day", for /uddu/ as the meaning "dawn" and the
sign UD is employed both for /urru/, "day-light", and /ûmu/, "day".

It is an interesting fact that Ziusudu should be described simply
as "the king", without any indication of the city or area he ruled;
and in three of the five other passages in the text in which his
name is mentioned it is followed by the same title without
qualification. In most cases Berossus tells us the cities from
which his Antediluvian rulers came; and if the end of the line had
been preserved it might have been possible to determine definitely
Ziusudu's city, and incidentally the scene of the Deluge in the
Sumerian Version, by the name of the deity in whose service he
acted as priest. We have already noted some grounds for believing
that his city may have been Shuruppak, as in the Babylonian
Version; and if that were so, the divine name reads as "the God of
Shurrupak" should probably be restored at the end of the line.[1]

[1] The remains that are preserved of the determinative, which is
not combined with the sign EN, proves that Enki's name is not to be
restored. Hence Ziusudu was not priest of Enki, and his city was
probably not Eridu, the seat of his divine friend and counsellor,
and the first of the Antediluvian cities. Sufficient reason for
Enki's intervention on Ziusudu's behalf is furnished by the fact
that, as God of the Deep, he was concerned in the proposed method
of man's destruction. His rivalry of Enlil, the God of the Earth,
is implied in the Babylonian Version (cf. Gilg. Epic. XI, ll.
39-42), and in the Sumerian Version this would naturally extend to
Anu, the God of Heaven.

The employment of the royal title by itself accords with the
tradition from Berossus that before the Deluge, as in later
periods, the land was governed by a succession of supreme rulers,
and that the hero of the Deluge was the last of them. In the
Gilgamesh Epic, on the other hand, Ut-napishtim is given no royal
nor any other title. He is merely referred to as a "man of
Shuruppak, son of Ubar-Tutu", and he appears in the guise of an
ancient hero or patriarch not invested with royal power. On this
point Berossus evidently preserves the original Sumerian
traditions, while the Hebrew Versions resemble the
Semitic-Babylonian narrative. The Sumerian conception of a series
of supreme Antediluvian rulers is of course merely a reflection
from the historical period, when the hegemony in Babylonia was
contested among the city-states. The growth of the tradition may
have been encouraged by the early use of /lugal/, "king", which,
though always a term of secular character, was not very sharply
distinguished from that of /patesi/ and other religious titles,
until, in accordance with political development, it was required to
connote a wider dominion. In Sumer, at the time of the composition
of our text, Ziusudu was still only one in a long line of
Babylonian rulers, mainly historical but gradually receding into
the realms of legend and myth. At the time of the later Semites
there had been more than one complete break in the tradition and
the historical setting of the old story had become dim. The fact
that Hebrew tradition should range itself in this matter with
Babylon rather than with Sumer is important as a clue in tracing
the literary history of our texts.

The rest of the column may be taken as descriptive of Ziusudu's
activities. One line records his making of some very great object
or the erection of a huge building;[1] and since the following
lines are concerned solely with religious activities, the reference
is possibly to a temple or some other structure of a sacred
character. Its foundation may have been recorded as striking
evidence of his devotion to his god; or, since the verb in this
sentence depends on the words "at that time" in the preceding line,
we may perhaps regard his action as directly connected with the
revelation to be made to him. His personal piety is then described:
daily he occupied himself in his god's service, prostrating himself
in humility and constant in his attendance at the shrine. A dream
(or possibly dreams), "such as had not been before", appears to him
and he seems to be further described as conjuring "by the Name of
Heaven and Earth"; but as the ends of all these lines are broken,
the exact connexion of the phrases is not quite certain.

[1] The element /gur-gur/, "very large" or "huge", which occurs in
the name of this great object or building, /an-sag-gur-gur/, is
employed later in the term for the "huge boat", /(gish)ma-gur-gur/,
in which Ziusudu rode out the storm. There was, of course, even at
this early period a natural tendency to picture on a superhuman
scale the lives and deeds of remote predecessors, a tendency which
increased in later times and led, as we shall see, to the
elaboration of extravagant detail.

It is difficult not to associate the reference to a dream, or
possibly to dream-divination, with the warning in which Enki
reveals the purpose of the gods. For the later versions prepare us
for a reference to a dream. If we take the line as describing
Ziusudu's practice of dream-divination in general, "such as had not
been before", he may have been represented as the first diviner of
dreams, as Enmeduranki was held to be the first practitioner of
divination in general. But it seems to me more probable that the
reference is to a particular dream, by means of which he obtained
knowledge of the gods' intentions. On the rendering of this passage
depends our interpretation of the whole of the Fourth Column, where
the point will be further discussed. Meanwhile it may be noted that
the conjuring "by the Name of Heaven and Earth", which we may
assume is ascribed to Ziusudu, gains in significance if we may
regard the setting of the myth as a magical incantation, an
inference in support of which we shall note further evidence. For
we are furnished at once with the grounds for its magical
employment. If Ziusudu, through conjuring by the Name of Heaven and
earth, could profit by the warning sent him and so escape the
impending fate of mankind, the application of such a myth to the
special needs of a Sumerian in peril or distress will be obvious.
For should he, too, conjure by the Name of Heaven and Earth, he
might look for a similar deliverance; and his recital of the myth
itself would tend to clinch the magical effect of his own
incantation.

The description of Ziusudu has also great interest in furnishing us
with a close parallel to the piety of Noah in the Hebrew Versions.
For in the Gilgamesh Epic and in Berossus this feature of the story
is completely absent. We are there given no reason why Ut-napishtim
was selected by Ea, nor Xisuthros by Kronos. For all that those
versions tell us, the favour of each deity might have been
conferred arbitrarily, and not in recognition of, or in response
to, any particular quality or action on the part of its recipient.
The Sumerian Version now restores the original setting of the story
and incidentally proves that, in this particular, the Hebrew
Versions have not embroidered a simpler narrative for the purpose
of edification, but have faithfully reproduced an original strand
of the tradition.

IV. THE DREAM-WARNING

The top of the Fourth Column of the text follows immediately on the
close of the Third Column, so that at this one point we have no
great gap between the columns. But unfortunately the ends of all
the lines in both columns are wanting, and the exact content of
some phrases preserved and their relation to each other are
consequently doubtful. This materially affects the interpretation
of the passage as a whole, but the main thread of the narrative may
be readily followed. Ziusudu is here warned that a flood is to be
sent "to destroy the seed of mankind"; the doubt that exists
concerns the manner in which the warning is conveyed. In the first
line of the column, after a reference to "the gods", a building
seems to be mentioned, and Ziusudu, standing beside it, apparently
hears a voice, which bids him take his stand beside a wall and then
conveys to him the warning of the coming flood. The destruction of
mankind had been decreed in "the assembly [of the gods]" and would
be carried out by the commands of Anu and Enlil. Before the text
breaks off we again have a reference to the "kingdom" and "its
rule", a further trace of the close association of the Deluge with
the dynastic succession in the early traditions of Sumer.

In the opening words of the warning to Ziusudu, with its prominent
repetition of the word "wall", we must evidently trace some
connexion with the puzzling words of Ea in the Gilgamesh Epic, when
he begins his warning to Ut-napishtim. The warnings, as given in
the two versions, are printed below in parallel columns for
comparison.[1] The Gilgamesh Epic, after relating how the great
gods in Shuruppak had decided to send a deluge, continues as
follows in the right-hand column:

SUMERIAN VERSION

For [. . .] . . . the gods a . . . [. . .];

Ziusudu standing at its side heard [. . .]:

"At the wall on my left side take thy stand and [. . .],

At the wall I will speak a word to thee [. . .].

O my devout one . . . [. . .],

By our hand(?) a flood[3] . . .

[. . .] will be [sent].

To destroy the seed of mankind

[. . .]

Is the decision, the word of the

assembly[4] [of the gods]

The commands of Anu (and)

En[lil . . .]

Its kingdom, its rule [. . .]

To his [. . .]"

[. . .]

[. . .]

SEMITIC VERSION

Nin-igi-azag,[2] the god Ea, sat with them,

And he repeated their word to the house of reeds:

"Reed-hut, reed-hut! Wall, wall!

O reed-hut, hear! O wall,understand!

Thou man of Shuruppak, son of Ubar-Tutu,

Pull down thy house, build a ship,

Leave thy possessions, take heed for thy life,

Abandon thy property, and save thy life.

And bring living seed of every kind into the ship.

As for the ship, which thou shalt build,

Of which the measurements shall be carefully measured,

Its breadth and length shallcorrespond.

In the deep shalt thou immerse it."

[1] Col. IV, ll. 1 ff. are there compared with Gilg. Epic, XI, ll.
19-31.

[2] Nin-igi-azag, "The Lord of Clear Vision", a title borne by
Enki, or Ea, as God of Wisdom.

[3] The Sumerian term /amaru/, here used for the flood and rendered
as "rain-storm" by Dr. Poebel, is explained in a later syllabary as
the equivalent of the Semitic-Babylonian word /abûbu/ (cf.
Meissner, /S.A.I./, No. 8909), the term employed for the flood both
in the early Semitic version of the Atrakhasis story dated in
Ammizaduga's reign and in the Gilgamesh Epic. The word /abûbu/ is
often conventionally rendered "deluge", but should be more
accurately translated "flood". It is true that the tempests of the
Sumerian Version probably imply rain; and in the Gilgamesh Epic
heavy rain in the evening begins the flood and is followed at dawn
by a thunderstorm and hurricane. But in itself the term /abûbu/
implies flood, which could take place through a rise of the rivers
unaccompanied by heavy local rain. The annual rainfall in Babylonia
to-day is on an average only about 8 in., and there have been years
in succession when the total rainfall has not exceeded 4 in.; and
yet the /abûbu/ is not a thing of the past.

[4] The word here rendered "assembly" is the Semitic loan-word
/buhrum/, in Babylonian /puhrum/, the term employed for the
"assembly" of the gods both in the Babylonian Creation Series and
in the Gilgamesh Epic. Its employment in the Sumerian Version, in
place of its Sumerian equivalent /ukkin/, is an interesting example
of Semitic influence. Its occurrence does not necessarily imply the
existence of a recognized Semitic Version at the period our text
was inscribed. The substitution of /buhrum/ for /ukkin/ in the text
may well date from the period of Hammurabi, when we may assume that
the increased importance of the city-council was reflected in the
general adoption of the Semitic term (cf. Poebel, /Hist. Texts/, p.
53).

In the Semitic Version Ut-napishtim, who tells the story in the
first person, then says that he "understood", and that, after
assuring Ea that he would carry out his commands, he asked how he
was to explain his action to "the city, the people, and the
elders"; and the god told him what to say. Then follows an account
of the building of the ship, introduced by the words "As soon as
the dawn began to break". In the Sumerian Version the close of the
warning, in which the ship was probably referred to, and the lines
prescribing how Ziusudu carried out the divine instructions are not
preserved.

It will be seen that in the passage quoted from the Semitic Version
there is no direct mention of a dream; the god is represented at
first as addressing his words to a "house of reeds" and a "wall",
and then as speaking to Ut-napishtim himself. But in a later
passage in the Epic, when Ea seeks to excuse his action to Enlil,
he says that the gods' decision was revealed to Atrakhasis through
a dream.[1] Dr. Poebel rightly compares the direct warning of
Ut-napishtim by Ea in the passage quoted above with the equally
direct warning Ziusudu receives in the Sumerian Version. But he
would have us divorce the direct warning from the dream-warning,
and he concludes that no less than three different versions of the
story have been worked together in the Gilgamesh Epic. In the
first, corresponding to that in our text, Ea communicates the gods'
decision directly to Ut-napishtim; in the second he sends a dream
from which Atrakhasis, "the Very Wise one", guesses the impending
peril; while in the third he relates the plan to a wall, taking
care that Ut-napishtim overhears him.[2] The version of Berossus,
that Kronos himself appears to Xisuthros in a dream and warns him,
is rejected by Dr. Poebel, who remarks that here the "original
significance of the dream has already been obliterated".
Consequently there seems to him to be "no logical connexion"
between the dreams or dream mentioned at the close of the Third
Column and the communication of the plan of the gods at the
beginning of the Fourth Column of our text.[3]

[1] Cf. l. 195 f.; "I did not divulge the decision of the great
gods. I caused Atrakhasis to behold a dream and thus he heard the
decision of the gods."

[2] Cf. Poebel, /Hist. Texts/, p. 51 f. With the god's apparent
subterfuge in the third of these supposed versions Sir James Frazer
(/Ancient Stories of a Great Flood/, p. 15) not inaptly compares
the well-known story of King Midas's servant, who, unable to keep
the secret of the king's deformity to himself, whispered it into a
hole in the ground, with the result that the reeds which grew up
there by their rustling in the wind proclaimed it to the world
(Ovid, /Metamorphoses/, xi, 174 ff.).

[3] Op. cit., p. 51; cf. also Jastrow, /Heb. and Bab. Trad./, p.
346.

So far from Berossus having missed the original significance of the
narrative he relates, I think it can be shown that he reproduces
very accurately the sense of our Sumerian text; and that the
apparent discrepancies in the Semitic Version, and the puzzling
references to a wall in both it and the Sumerian Version, are
capable of a simple explanation. There appears to me no
justification for splitting the Semitic narrative into the several
versions suggested, since the assumption that the direct warning
and the dream-warning must be distinguished is really based on a
misunderstanding of the character of Sumerian dreams by which
important decisions of the gods in council were communicated to
mankind. We fortunately possess an instructive Sumerian parallel to
our passage. In it the will of the gods is revealed in a dream,
which is not only described in full but is furnished with a
detailed interpretation; and as it seems to clear up our
difficulties, it may be well to summarize its main features.

The occasion of the dream in this case was not a coming deluge but
a great dearth of water in the rivers, in consequence of which the
crops had suffered and the country was threatened with famine. This
occurred in the reign of Gudea, patesi of Lagash, who lived some
centuries before our Sumerian document was inscribed. In his own
inscription[1] he tells us that he was at a loss to know by what
means he might restore prosperity to his country, when one night he
had a dream; and it was in consequence of the dream that he
eventually erected one of the most sumptuously appointed of
Sumerian temples and thereby restored his land to prosperity.
Before recounting his dream he describes how the gods themselves
took counsel. On the day in which destinies were fixed in heaven
and earth, Enlil, the chief of the gods, and Ningirsu, the city-god
of Lagash, held converse; and Enlil, turning to Ningirsu, described
the sad condition of Southern Babylonia, and remarked that "the
decrees of the temple Eninnû should be made glorious in heaven and
upon earth", or, in other words, that Ningirsu's city-temple must
be rebuilt. Thereupon Ningirsu did not communicate his orders
directly to Gudea, but conveyed the will of the gods to him by
means of a dream.

[1] See Thureau-Dangin, /Les inscriptions de Sumer et d'Akkad/,
Cyl. A, pp. 134 ff., Germ. ed., pp. 88 ff.; and cf. King and Hall,
/Eg. and West. Asia/, pp. 196 ff.

It will be noticed that we here have a very similar situation to
that in the Deluge story. A conference of the gods has been held; a
decision has been taken by the greatest god, Enlil; and, in
consequence, another deity is anxious to inform a Sumerian ruler of
that decision. The only difference is that here Enlil desires the
communication to be made, while in the Deluge story it is made
without his knowledge, and obviously against his wishes. So the
fact that Ningirsu does not communicate directly with the patesi,
but conveys his message by means of a dream, is particularly
instructive. For here there can be no question of any subterfuge in
the method employed, since Enlil was a consenting party.

The story goes on to relate that, while the patesi slept, a vision
of the night came to him, and he beheld a man whose stature was so
great that it equalled the heavens and the earth. By the diadem he
wore upon his head Gudea knew that the figure must be a god. Beside
the god was the divine eagle, the emblem of Lagash; his feet rested
upon the whirlwind, and a lion crouched upon his right hand and
upon his left. The figure spoke to the patesi, but he did not
understand the meaning of the words. Then it seemed to Gudea that
the Sun rose from the earth; and he beheld a woman holding in her
hand a pure reed, and she carried also a tablet on which was a star
of the heavens, and she seemed to take counsel with herself. While
Gudea was gazing, he seemed to see a second man, who was like a
warrior; and he carried a slab of lapis lazuli, on which he drew
out the plan of a temple. Before the patesi himself it seemed that
a fair cushion was placed, and upon the cushion was set a mould,
and within the mould was a brick. And on the right hand the patesi
beheld an ass that lay upon the ground. Such was the dream of
Gudea, and he was troubled because he could not interpret it.[1]

[1] The resemblance its imagery bears to that of apocalyptic
visions of a later period is interesting, as evidence of the
latter's remote ancestry, and of the development in the use of
primitive material to suit a completely changed political outlook.
But those are points which do not concern our problem.

To cut the long story short, Gudea decided to seek the help of
Ninâ, "the child of Eridu", who, as daughter of Enki, the God of
Wisdom, could divine all the mysteries of the gods. But first of
all by sacrifices and libations he secured the mediation of his own
city-god and goddess, Ningirsu and Gatumdug; and then, repairing to
Ninâ's temple, he recounted to her the details of his vision. When
the patesi had finished, the goddess addressed him and said she
would explain to him the meaning of his dream. Here, no doubt, we
are to understand that she spoke through the mouth of her chief
priest. And this was the interpretation of the dream. The man whose
stature was so great, and whose head was that of a god, was the god
Ningirsu, and the words which he uttered were an order to the
patesi to rebuild the temple Eninnû. The Sun which rose from the
earth was the god Ningishzida, for like the Sun he goes forth from
the earth. The maiden who held the pure reed and carried the tablet
with the star was the goddess Nisaba; the star was the pure star of
the temple's construction, which she proclaimed. The second man,
who was like a warrior, was the god Nibub; and the plan of the
temple which he drew was the plan of Eninnû; and the ass that lay
upon the ground was the patesi himself.[1]

[1] The symbolism of the ass, as a beast of burden, was applicable
to the patesi in his task of carrying out the building of the
temple.

The essential feature of the vision is that the god himself
appeared to the sleeper and delivered his message in words. That is
precisely the manner in which Kronos warned Xisuthros of the coming
Deluge in the version of Berossus; while in the Gilgamesh Epic the
apparent contradiction between the direct warning and the
dream-warning at once disappears. It is true that Gudea states that
he did not understand the meaning of the god's message, and so
required an interpretation; but he was equally at a loss as to the
identity of the god who gave it, although Ningirsu was his own
city-god and was accompanied by his own familiar city-emblem. We
may thus assume that the god's words, as words, were equally
intelligible to Gudea. But as they were uttered in a dream, it was
necessary that the patesi, in view of his country's peril, should
have divine assurance that they implied no other meaning. And in
his case such assurance was the more essential, in view of the
symbolism attaching to the other features of his vision. That this
is sound reasoning is proved by a second vision vouchsafed to Gudea
by Ningirsu. For the patesi, though he began to prepare for the
building of the temple, was not content even with Ninâ's assurance.
He offered a prayer to Ningirsu himself, saying that he wished to
build the temple, but had received no sign that this was the will
of the god; and he prayed for a sign. Then, as the patesi lay
stretched upon the ground, the god again appeared to him and gave
him detailed instructions, adding that he would grant the sign for
which he asked. The sign was that he should feel his side touched
as by a flame,[1] and thereby he should know that he was the man
chosen by Ningirsu to carry out his commands. Here it is the sign
which confirms the apparent meaning of the god's words. And Gudea
was at last content and built the temple.[2]

[1] Cyl. A., col. xii, l. 10 f.; cf. Thureau-Dangin, op. cit., p.
150 f., Germ. ed., p. 102 f. The word translated "side" may also be
rendered as "hand"; but "side" is the more probable rendering of
the two. The touching of Gudea's side (or hand) presents an
interesting resemblance to the touching of Jacob's thigh by the
divine wrestler at Peniel in Gen. xxxii. 24 ff. (J or JE). Given a
belief in the constant presence of the unseen and its frequent
manifestation, such a story as that of Peniel might well arise from
an unexplained injury to the sciatic muscle, while more than one
ailment of the heart or liver might perhaps suggest the touch of a
beckoning god. There is of course no connexion between the Sumerian
and Hebrew stories beyond their common background. It may be added
that those critics who would reverse the /rôles/ of Jacob and the
wrestler miss the point of the Hebrew story.

[2] Even so, before starting on the work, he took the further
precautions of ascertaining that the omens were favourable and of
purifying his city from all malign influence.

We may conclude, then, that in the new Sumerian Version of the
Deluge we have traced a logical connexion between the direct
warning to Ziusudu in the Fourth Column of the text and the
reference to a dream in the broken lines at the close of the Third
Column. As in the Gilgamesh Epic and in Berossus, here too the
god's warning is conveyed in a dream; and the accompanying
reference to conjuring by the Name of Heaven and Earth probably
represents the means by which Ziusudu was enabled to verify its
apparent meaning. The assurance which Gudea obtained through the
priest of Ninâ and the sign, the priest-king Ziusudu secured by his
own act, in virtue of his piety and practice of divination. And his
employment of the particular class of incantation referred to, that
which conjures by the Name of Heaven and Earth, is singularly
appropriate to the context. For by its use he was enabled to test
the meaning of Enki's words, which related to the intentions of Anu
and Enlil, the gods respectively of Heaven and of Earth. The
symbolical setting of Gudea's vision also finds a parallel in the
reed-house and wall of the Deluge story, though in the latter case
we have not the benefit of interpretation by a goddess. In the
Sumerian Version the wall is merely part of the vision and does not
receive a direct address from the god. That appears as a later
development in the Semitic Version, and it may perhaps have
suggested the excuse, put in that version into the mouth of Ea,
that he had not directly revealed the decision of the gods.[1]

[1] In that case the parallel suggested by Sir James Frazer between
the reed-house and wall of the Gilgamesh Epic, now regarded as a
medium of communication, and the whispering reeds of the Midas
story would still hold good.

The omission of any reference to a dream before the warning in the
Gilgamesh Epic may be accounted for on the assumption that readers
of the poem would naturally suppose that the usual method of divine
warning was implied; and the text does indicate that the warning
took place at night, for Gilgamesh proceeds to carry out the divine
instructions at the break of day. The direct warning of the Hebrew
Versions, on the other hand, does not carry this implication, since
according to Hebrew ideas direct speech, as well as vision, was
included among the methods by which the divine will could be
conveyed to man.

V. THE FLOOD, THE ESCAPE OF THE GREAT BOAT, AND THE SACRIFICE TO THE SUN-GOD

The missing portion of the Fourth Column must have described
Ziusudu's building of his great boat in order to escape the Deluge,
for at the beginning of the Fifth Column we are in the middle of
the Deluge itself. The column begins:

All the mighty wind-storms together blew,
The flood . . . raged.
When for seven days, for seven nights,
The flood had overwhelmed the land
When the wind-storm had driven the great boat over the mighty
waters,
The Sun-god came forth, shedding light over heaven and earth.
Ziusudu opened the opening of the great boat;
The light of the hero, the Sun-god, (he) causes to enter into the
interior(?) of the great boat.
Ziusudu, the king,
Bows himself down before the Sun-god;
The king sacrifices an ox, a sheep he slaughters(?).

The connected text of the column then breaks off, only a sign or
two remaining of the following half-dozen lines. It will be seen
that in the eleven lines that are preserved we have several close
parallels to the Babylonian Version and some equally striking
differences. While attempting to define the latter, it will be well
to point out how close the resemblances are, and at the same time
to draw a comparison between the Sumerian and Babylonian Versions
of this part of the story and the corresponding Hebrew accounts.

Here, as in the Babylonian Version, the Flood is accompanied by
hurricanes of wind, though in the latter the description is worked
up in considerable detail. We there read[1] that at the appointed
time the ruler of the darkness at eventide sent a heavy rain.
Ut-napishtim saw its beginning, but fearing to watch the storm, he
entered the interior of the ship by Ea's instructions, closed the
door, and handed over the direction of the vessel to the pilot
Puzur-Amurri. Later a thunder-storm and hurricane added their
terrors to the deluge. For at early dawn a black cloud came up from
the horizon, Adad the Storm-god thundering in its midst, and his
heralds, Nabû and Sharru, flying over mountain and plain. Nergal
tore away the ship's anchor, while Ninib directed the storm; the
Anunnaki carried their lightning-torches and lit up the land with
their brightness; the whirlwind of the Storm-god reached the
heavens, and all light was turned into darkness. The storm raged
the whole day, covering mountain and people with water.[2] No man
beheld his fellow; the gods themselves were afraid, so that they
retreated into the highest heaven, where they crouched down,
cowering like dogs. Then follows the lamentation of Ishtar, to
which reference has already been made, the goddess reproaching
herself for the part she had taken in the destruction of her
people. This section of the Semitic narrative closes with the
picture of the gods weeping with her, sitting bowed down with their
lips pressed together.

[1] Gilg. Epic, XI, ll. 90 ff.

[2] In the Atrakhasis version, dated in the reign of Ammizaduga,
Col. I, l. 5, contains a reference to the "cry" of men when Adad
the Storm-god, slays them with his flood.

It is probable that the Sumerian Version, in the missing portion of
its Fourth Column, contained some account of Ziusudu's entry into
his boat; and this may have been preceded, as in the Gilgamesh
Epic, by a reference to "the living seed of every kind", or at any
rate to "the four-legged creatures of the field", and to his
personal possessions, with which we may assume he had previously
loaded it. But in the Fifth Column we have no mention of the pilot
or of any other companions who may have accompanied the king; and
we shall see that the Sixth Column contains no reference to
Ziusudu's wife. The description of the storm may have begun with
the closing lines of the Fourth Column, though it is also quite
possible that the first line of the Fifth Column actually begins
the account. However that may be, and in spite of the poetic
imagery of the Semitic Babylonian narrative, the general character
of the catastrophe is the same in both versions.

We find an equally close parallel, between the Sumerian and
Babylonian accounts, in the duration of the storm which accompanied
the Flood, as will be seen by printing the two versions
together:[3]

SUMERIAN VERSION

When for seven days, for seven nights,

The flood had overwhelmed the land,

When the wind-storm had driven the great boat over the mighty waters,
In which it had fought like a host.

The Sun-god came forth sheddinglight over heaven and earth.

SEMITIC VERSION

For six days and nights

The wind blew, the flood, the tempest overwhelmed the land.

When the seventh day drew near, the tempest, the flood, ceased from
the battle

Then the sea rested and was still, and the wind-storm, the flood,
ceased.

[3] Col. V, ll. 3-6 are here compared with Gilg. Epic, XI, ll.
128-32.

The two narratives do not precisely agree as to the duration of the
storm, for while in the Sumerian account the storm lasts seven days
and seven nights, in the Semitic-Babylonian Version it lasts only
six days and nights, ceasing at dawn on the seventh day. The
difference, however, is immaterial when we compare these estimates
with those of the Hebrew Versions, the older of which speaks of
forty days' rain, while the later version represents the Flood as
rising for no less than a hundred and fifty days.

The close parallel between the Sumerian and Babylonian Versions is
not, however, confined to subject-matter, but here, even extends to
some of the words and phrases employed. It has already been noted
that the Sumerian term employed for "flood" or "deluge" is the
attested equivalent of the Semitic word; and it may now be added
that the word which may be rendered "great boat" or "great ship" in
the Sumerian text is the same word, though partly expressed by
variant characters, which occurs in the early Semitic fragment of
the Deluge story from Nippur.[1] In the Gilgamesh Epic, on the
other hand, the ordinary ideogram for "vessel" or "ship"[2] is
employed, though the great size of the vessel is there indicated,
as in Berossus and the later Hebrew Version, by detailed
measurements. Moreover, the Sumerian and Semitic verbs, which are
employed in the parallel passages quoted above for the
"overwhelming" of the land, are given as synonyms in a late
syllabary, while in another explanatory text the Sumerian verb is
explained as applying to the destructive action of a flood.[3] Such
close linguistic parallels are instructive as furnishing additional
proof, if it were needed, of the dependence of the
Semitic-Babylonian and Assyrian Versions upon Sumerian originals.

[1] The Sumerian word is /(gish)ma-gur-gur/, corresponding to the
term written in the early Semitic fragment, l. 8, as
/(isu)ma-gur-gur/, which is probably to be read under its Semitized
form /magurgurru/. In l. 6 of that fragment the vessel is referred
to under the synonymous expression /(isu)elippu ra-be-tu/, "a great
ship".

[2] i.e. (GISH)MA, the first element in the Sumerian word, read in
Semitic Babylonian as /elippu/, "ship"; when employed in the early
Semitic fragment it is qualified by the adj. /ra-be-tu/, "great".
There is no justification for assuming, with Prof. Hilbrecht, that
a measurement of the vessel was given in l. 7 of the early Semitic
fragment.

[3] The Sumerian verb /ur/, which is employed in l. 2 of the Fifth
Column in the expression /ba-an-da-ab-ur-ur/, translated as
"raged", occurs again in l. 4 in the phrase /kalam-ma ba-ur-ra/,
"had overwhelmed the land". That we are justified in regarding the
latter phrase as the original of the Semitic /i-sap-pan mâta/
(Gilg. Epic, XI, l. 129) is proved by the equation Sum. /ur-ur/ =
Sem. /sa-pa-nu/ (Rawlinson, /W.A.I./, Vol. V, pl. 42, l. 54 c) and
by the explanation Sum. /ur-ur/ = Sem. /sa-ba-tu sa a-bu-bi/, i.e.
"/ur-ur/ = to smite, of a flood" (/Cun. Texts, Pt. XII, pl. 50,
Obv., l. 23); cf. Poebel, /Hist. Texts/, p. 54, n. 1.

It may be worth while to pause for a moment in our study of the
text, in order to inquire what kind of boat it was in which Ziusudu
escaped the Flood. It is only called "a great boat" or "a great
ship" in the text, and this term, as we have noted, was taken over,
semitized, and literally translated in an early Semitic-Babylonian
Version. But the Gilgamesh Epic, representing the later
Semitic-Babylonian Version, supplies fuller details, which have
not, however, been satisfactorily explained. Either the obvious
meaning of the description and figures there given has been
ignored, or the measurements have been applied to a central
structure placed upon a hull, much on the lines of a modern
"house-boat" or the conventional Noah's ark.[1] For the latter
interpretation the text itself affords no justification. The
statement is definitely made that the length and breadth of the
vessel itself are to be the same;[2] and a later passage gives ten
/gar/ for the height of its sides and ten /gar/ for the breadth of
its deck.[3] This description has been taken to imply a square
box-like structure, which, in order to be seaworthy, must be placed
on a conjectured hull.

[1] Cf., e.g., Jastrow, /Hebr. and Bab. Trad./, p. 329.

[2] Gilg. Epic, XI, ll. 28-30.

[3] L. 58 f. The /gar/ contained twelve cubits, so that the vessel
would have measured 120 cubits each way; taking the Babylonian
cubit, on the basis of Gudea's scale, at 495 mm. (cf.
Thureau-Dangin, /Journal Asiatique/, Dix. Sér., t. XIII, 1909, pp.
79 ff., 97), this would give a length, breadth, and height of
nearly 195 ft.

I do not think it has been noted in this connexion that a vessel,
approximately with the relative proportions of that described in
the Gilgamesh Epic, is in constant use to-day on the lower Tigris
and Euphrates. A /kuffah/,[1] the familiar pitched coracle of
Baghdad, would provide an admirable model for the gigantic vessel
in which Ut-napishtim rode out the Deluge. "Without either stem or
stern, quite round like a shield"--so Herodotus described the
/kuffah/ of his day;[2] so, too, is it represented on Assyrian
slabs from Nineveh, where we see it employed for the transport of
heavy building material;[3] its form and structure indeed suggest a
prehistoric origin. The /kuffah/ is one of those examples of
perfect adjustment to conditions of use which cannot be improved.
Any one who has travelled in one of these craft will agree that
their storage capacity is immense, for their circular form and
steeply curved side allow every inch of space to be utilized. It is
almost impossible to upset them, and their only disadvantage is
lack of speed. For their guidance all that is required is a
steersman with a paddle, as indicated in the Epic. It is true that
the larger kuffah of to-day tends to increase in diameter as
compared to height, but that detail might well be ignored in
picturing the monster vessel of Ut-napishtim. Its seven horizontal
stages and their nine lateral divisions would have been
structurally sound in supporting the vessel's sides; and the
selection of the latter uneven number, though prompted doubtless by
its sacred character, is only suitable to a circular craft in which
the interior walls would radiate from the centre. The use of pitch
and bitumen for smearing the vessel inside and out, though unusual
even in Mesopotamian shipbuilding, is precisely the method employed
in the /kuffah's/ construction.

[1] Arab. /kuffah/, pl. /kufaf/; in addition to its common use for
the Baghdad coracle, the word is also employed for a large basket.

[2] Herodotus, I, 194.

[3] The /kuffah/ is formed of wicker-work coated with bitumen. Some
of those represented on the Nineveh sculptures appear to be covered
with skins; and Herodotus (I, 94) states that "the boats which come
down the river to Babylon are circular and made of skins." But his
further description shows that he is here referred to the /kelek/
or skin-raft, with which he has combined a description of the
/kuffah/. The late Sir Henry Rawlinson has never seen or heard of a
skin-covered /kuffah/ on either the Tigris or Euphrates, and there
can be little doubt that bitumen was employed for their
construction in antiquity, as it is to-day. These craft are often
large enough to carry five or six horses and a dozen men.

We have no detailed description of Ziusudu's "great boat", beyond
the fact that it was covered in and had an opening, or light-hole,
which could be closed. But the form of Ut-napishtim's vessel was no
doubt traditional, and we may picture that of Ziusudu as also of
the /kuffah/ type, though smaller and without its successor's
elaborate internal structure. The gradual development of the huge
coracle into a ship would have been encouraged by the Semitic use
of the term "ship" to describe it; and the attempt to retain
something of its original proportions resulted in producing the
unwieldy ark of later tradition.[1]

[1] The description of the ark is not preserved from the earlier
Hebrew Version (J), but the latter Hebrew Version (P), while
increasing the length of the vessel, has considerably reduced its
height and breadth. Its measurements are there given (Gen. vi. 15)
as 300 cubits in length, 50 cubits in breadth, and 30 cubits in
height; taking the ordinary Hebrew cubit at about 18 in., this
would give a length of about 450 ft., a breadth of about 75 ft.,
and a height of about 45 ft. The interior stories are necessarily
reduced to three. The vessel in Berossus measures five stadia by
two, and thus had a length of over three thousand feet and a
breadth of more than twelve hundred.

We will now return to the text and resume the comparison we were
making between it and the Gilgamesh Epic. In the latter no direct
reference is made to the appearance of the Sun-god after the storm,
nor is Ut-napishtim represented as praying to him. But the sequence
of events in the Sumerian Version is very natural, and on that
account alone, apart from other reasons, it may be held to
represent the original form of the story. For the Sun-god would
naturally reappear after the darkness of the storm had passed, and
it would be equally natural that Ziusudu should address himself to
the great light-god. Moreover, the Gilgamesh Epic still retains
traces of the Sumerian Version, as will be seen from a comparison
of their narratives,[1] the Semitic Version being quoted from the
point where the hurricane ceased and the sea became still.

[1] Col. V, ll. 7-11 are here compared with Gilg. Epic, XI, ll.
133-9.

SUMERIAN VERSION

Ziusudu opened the opening of the great boat;

The light of the hero, the Sungod, (he) causes to enter into the
interior(?) of the great boat.

Ziusudu, the king,

Bows himself down before theSun-god;

The king sacrifices an ox, a sheep he slaughters(?).

SEMITIC VERSION

When I looked at the storm, the uproar had ceased,

And all mankind was turned into clay;

In place of fields there was a swamp.

I opened the opening (lit. "hole"), and daylight fell upon my
countenance.

I bowed myself down and sat down weeping;

Over my countenance flowed my tears.

I gazed upon the quarters (of the world)--all(?) was sea.

It will be seen that in the Semitic Version the beams of the
Sun-god have been reduced to "daylight", and Ziusudu's act of
worship has become merely prostration in token of grief.

Both in the Gilgamesh Epic and in Berossus the sacrifice offered by
the Deluge hero to the gods follows the episode of the birds, and
it takes place on the top of the mountain after the landing from
the vessel. It is hardly probable that two sacrifices were
recounted in the Sumerian Version, one to the Sun-god in the boat
and another on the mountain after landing; and if we are right in
identifying Ziusudu's recorded sacrifice with that of Ut-napishtim
and Xisuthros, it would seem that, according to the Sumerian
Version, no birds were sent out to test the abatement of the
waters. This conclusion cannot be regarded as quite certain,
inasmuch as the greater part of the Fifth Column is waning. We
have, moreover, already seen reason to believe that the account on
our tablet is epitomized, and that consequently the omission of any
episode from our text does not necessarily imply its absence from
the original Sumerian Version which it follows. But here at least
it is clear that nothing can have been omitted between the opening
of the light-hole and the sacrifice, for the one act is the natural
sequence of the other. On the whole it seems preferable to assume
that we have recovered a simpler form of the story.

As the storm itself is described in a few phrases, so the cessation
of the flood may have been dismissed with equal brevity; the
gradual abatement of the waters, as attested by the dove, the
swallow, and the raven, may well be due to later elaboration or to
combination with some variant account. Under its amended form the
narrative leads naturally up to the landing on the mountain and the
sacrifice of thanksgiving to the gods. In the Sumerian Version, on
the other hand, Ziusudu regards himself as saved when he sees the
Sun shining; he needs no further tests to assure himself that the
danger is over, and his sacrifice too is one of gratitude for his
escape. The disappearance of the Sun-god from the Semitic Version
was thus a necessity, to avoid an anti-climax; and the hero's
attitude of worship had obviously to be translated into one of
grief. An indication that the sacrifice was originally represented
as having taken place on board the boat may be seen in the lines of
the Gilgamesh Epic which recount how Enlil, after acquiescing in
Ut-napishtim's survival of the Flood, went up into the ship and led
him forth by the hand, although, in the preceding lines, he had
already landed and had sacrificed upon the mountain. The two
passages are hardly consistent as they stand, but they find a
simple explanation of we regard the second of them as an unaltered
survival from an earlier form of the story.

If the above line of reasoning be sound, it follows that, while the
earlier Hebrew Version closely resembles the Gilgamesh Epic, the
later Hebrew Version, by its omission of the birds, would offer a
parallel to the Sumerian Version. But whether we may draw any
conclusion from this apparent grouping of our authorities will be
best dealt with when we have concluded our survey of the new
evidence.

As we have seen, the text of the Fifth Column breaks off with
Ziusudu's sacrifice to the Sun-god, after he had opened a
light-hole in the boat and had seen by the god's beams that the
storm was over. The missing portion of the Fifth Column must have
included at least some account of the abatement of the waters, the
stranding of the boat, and the manner in which Anu and Enlil became
apprised of Ziusudu's escape, and consequently of the failure of
their intention to annihilate mankind. For in the Sixth Column of
the text we find these two deities reconciled to Ziusudu and
bestowing immortality upon him, as Enlil bestows immortality upon
Ut-napishtim at the close of the Semitic Version. In the latter
account, after the vessel had grounded on Mount Nisir and
Ut-napishtim had tested the abatement of the waters by means of the
birds, he brings all out from the ship and offers his libation and
sacrifice upon the mountain, heaping up reed, cedar-wood, and
myrtle beneath his seven sacrificial vessels. And it was by this
act on his part that the gods first had knowledge of his escape.
For they smelt the sweet savour of the sacrifice, and "gathered
like flies over the sacrificer".[1]

[1] Gilg. Epic, XI, l. 162.

It is possible in our text that Ziusudu's sacrifice in the boat was
also the means by which the gods became acquainted with his
survival; and it seems obvious that the Sun-god, to whom it was
offered, should have continued to play some part in the narrative,
perhaps by assisting Ziusudu in propitiating Anu and Enlil. In the
Semitic-Babylonian Version, the first deity to approach the
sacrifice is Bêlit-ili or Ishtar, who is indignant with Enlil for
what he has done. When Enlil himself approaches and sees the ship
he is filled with anger against the gods, and, asking who has
escaped, exclaims that no man must live in the destruction.
Thereupon Ninib accuses Ea, who by his pleading succeeds in turning
Enlil's purpose. He bids Enlil visit the sinner with his sin and
lay his transgression on the transgressor; Enlil should not again
send a deluge to destroy the whole of mankind, but should be
content with less wholesale destruction, such as that wrought by
wild beasts, famine, and plague. Finally he confesses that it was
he who warned Ziusudu of the gods' decision by sending him a dream.
Enlil thereupon changes his intention, and going up into the ship,
leads Ut-napishtim forth. Though Ea's intervention finds, of
course, no parallel in either Hebrew version, the subject-matter of
his speech is reflected in both. In the earlier Hebrew Version
Yahweh smells the sweet savour of Noah's burnt offering and says in
his heart he will no more destroy every living creature as he had
done; while in the later Hebrew Version Elohim, after remembering
Noah and causing the waters to abate, establishes his covenant to
the same effect, and, as a sign of the covenant, sets his bow in
the clouds.

In its treatment of the climax of the story we shall see that the
Sumerian Version, at any rate in the form it has reached us, is on
a lower ethical level than the Babylonian and Hebrew Versions. Ea's
argument that the sinner should bear his own sin and the
transgressor his own transgression in some measure forestalls that
of Ezekiel;[1] and both the Hebrew Versions represent the saving of
Noah as part of the divine intention from the beginning. But the
Sumerian Version introduces the element of magic as the means by
which man can bend the will of the gods to his own ends. How far
the details of the Sumerian myth at this point resembled that of
the Gilgamesh Epic it is impossible to say, but the general course
of the story must have been the same. In the latter Enlil's anger
is appeased, in the former that of Anu and Enlil; and it is
legitimate to suppose that Enki, like Ea, was Ziusudu's principal
supporter, in view of the part he had already taken in ensuring his
escape.

[1] Cf. Ezek. xviii, passim, esp. xviii. 20.

VI. THE PROPITIATION OF THE ANGRY GODS, AND ZIUSUDU'S IMMORTALITY

The presence of the puzzling lines, with which the Sixth Column of
our text opens, was not explained by Dr. Poebel; indeed, they would
be difficult to reconcile with his assumption that our text is an
epic pure and simple. But if, as is suggested above, we are dealing
with a myth in magical employment, they are quite capable of
explanation. The problem these lines present will best be stated by
giving a translation of the extant portion of the column, where
they will be seen with their immediate context in relation to what
follows them:

"By the Soul of Heaven, by the soul of Earth, shall ye conjure him,
That with you he may . . . !
Anu and Enlil by the Soul of Heaven, by the Soul of Earth, shall ye
conjure, And with you will he . . . !
"The /niggilma/ of the ground springs forth in abundance(?)!"
Ziusudu, the king, Before Anu and Enlil bows himself down.
Life like (that of) a god he gives to him, An eternal soul like
(that of) a god he creates for him.
At that time Ziusudu, the king, The name of the /niggilma/ (named)
"Preserver of the Seed of Mankind".
In a . . . land,[1] the land[1] of Dilmun(?), they caused him to
dwell.

[1] Possibly to be translated "mountain". The rendering of the
proper name as that of Dilmun is very uncertain. For the probable
identification of Dilmun with the island of Bahrein in the Persian
Gulf, cf. Rawlinson, /Journ. Roy. As. Soc./, 1880, pp. 20 ff.; and
see further, Meissner, /Orient. Lit-Zeit./, XX. No. 7, col. 201 ff.

The first two lines of the column are probably part of the speech
of some deity, who urges the necessity of invoking or conjuring Anu
and Enlil "by the Soul of Heaven, by the Soul of Earth", in order
to secure their support or approval. Now Anu and Enlil are the two
great gods who had determined on mankind's destruction, and whose
wrath at his own escape from death Ziusudu must placate. It is an
obvious inference that conjuring "by the Soul of Heaven" and "by
the Soul of Earth" is either the method by which Ziusudu has
already succeeded in appeasing their anger, or the means by which
he is here enjoined to attain that end. Against the latter
alternative it is to be noted that the god is addressing more than
one person; and, further, at Ziusudu is evidently already pardoned,
for, so far from following the deity's advice, he immediately
prostrates himself before Anu and Enlil and receives immortality.
We may conjecture that at the close of the Fifth Column Ziusudu had
already performed the invocation and thereby had appeased the
divine wrath; and that the lines at the beginning of the Sixth
Column point the moral of the story by enjoining on Ziusudu and his
descendants, in other words on mankind, the advisability of
employing this powerful incantation at their need. The speaker may
perhaps have been one of Ziusudu's divine helpers--the Sun-god to
whom he had sacrificed, or Enki who had saved him from the Flood.
But it seems to me more probable that the words are uttered by Anu
and Enlil themselves.[1] For thereby they would be represented as
giving their own sanction to the formula, and as guaranteeing its
magical efficacy. That the incantation, as addressed to Anu and
Enlil, would be appropriate is obvious, since each would be
magically approached through his own sphere of control.

[1] One of them may have been the speaker on behalf of both.

It is significant that at another critical point of the story we
have already met with a reference to conjuring "by the Name of
Heaven and Earth", the phrase occurring at the close of the Third
Column after the reference to the dream or dreams. There, as we
saw, we might possibly explain the passage as illustrating one
aspect of Ziusudu's piety: he may have been represented as
continually practising this class of divination, and in that case
it would be natural enough that in the final crisis of the story he
should have propitiated the gods he conjured by the same means. Or,
as a more probable alternative, it was suggested that we might
connect the line with Enki's warning, and assume that Ziusudu
interpreted the dream-revelation of Anu and Enlil's purpose by
means of the magical incantation which was peculiarly associated
with them. On either alternative the phrase fits into the story
itself, and there is no need to suppose that the narrative is
interrupted, either in the Third or in the Sixth Column, by an
address to the hearers of the myth, urging them to make the
invocation on their own behalf.

On the other hand, it seems improbable that the lines in question
formed part of the original myth; they may have been inserted to
weld the myth more closely to the magic. Both incantation and epic
may have originally existed independently, and, if so, their
combination would have been suggested by their contents. For while
the former is addressed to Anu and Enlil, in the latter these same
gods play the dominant parts: they are the two chief creators, it
is they who send the Flood, and it is their anger that must be
appeased. If once combined, the further step of making the
incantation the actual means by which Ziusudu achieved his own
rescue and immortality would be a natural development. It may be
added that the words would have been an equally appropriate
addition if the incantation had not existed independently, but had
been suggested by, and developed from, the myth.

In the third and eleventh lines of the column we have further
references to the mysterious object, the creation of which appears
to have been recorded in the First Column of the text between man's
creation and that of animals. The second sign of the group
composing its name was not recognized by Dr. Poebel, but it is
quite clearly written in two of the passages, and has been
correctly identified by Professor Barton.[1] The Sumerian word is,
in fact, to be read /nig-gil-ma/,[2] which, when preceded by the
determinative for "pot", "jar", or "bowl", is given in a later
syllabary as the equivalent of the Semitic word /mashkhalu/.
Evidence that the word /mashkhalu/ was actually employed to denote
a jar or vessel of some sort is furnished by one of the Tel
el-Amarna letters which refers to "one silver /mashkhalu/" and "one
(or two) stone /mashkhalu/".[3] In our text the determinative is
absent, and it is possible that the word is used in another sense.
Professor Barton, in both passages in the Sixth Column, gives it
the meaning "curse"; he interprets the lines as referring to the
removal of a curse from the earth after the Flood, and he compares
Gen. viii. 21, where Yahweh declares he will not again "curse the
ground for man's sake". But this translation ignores the occurrence
of the word in the First Column, where the creation of the
/niggilma/ is apparently recorded; and his rendering "the seed that
was cursed" in l. 11 is not supported by the photographic
reproduction of the text, which suggests that the first sign in the
line is not that for "seed", but is the sign for "name", as
correctly read by Dr. Poebel. In that passage the /niggilma/
appears to be given by Ziusudu the name "Preserver of the Seed of
Mankind", which we have already compared to the title bestowed on
Uta-napishtim's ship, "Preserver of Life". Like the ship, it must
have played an important part in man's preservation, which would
account not only for the honorific title but for the special record
of its creation.

[1] See /American Journal of Semitic Languages/, Vol. XXXI, April
1915, p. 226.

[2] It is written /nig-gil/ in the First Column.

[3] See Winckler, /El-Amarna/, pl. 35 f., No. 28, Obv., Col. II, l.
45, Rev., Col. I, l. 63, and Knudtzon, /El-Am. Taf./, pp. 112, 122;
the vessels were presents from Amenophis IV to Burnaburiash.

It we may connect the word with the magical colouring of the myth,
we might perhaps retain its known meaning, "jar" or "bowl", and
regard it as employed in the magical ceremony which must have
formed part of the invocation "by the Soul of Heaven, by the Soul
of Earth". But the accompanying references to the ground, to its
production from the ground, and to its springing up, if the phrases
may be so rendered, suggest rather some kind of plant;[1] and this,
from its employment in magical rites, may also have given its name
to a bowl or vessel which held it. A very similar plant was that
found and lost by Gilgamesh, after his sojourn with Ut-napishtim;
it too had potent magical power and bore a title descriptive of its
peculiar virtue of transforming old age to youth. Should this
suggestion prove to be correct, the three passages mentioning the
/niggilma/ must be classed with those in which the invocation is
referred to, as ensuring the sanction of the myth to further
elements in the magic. In accordance with this view, the fifth line
in the Sixth Column is probably to be included in the divine
speech, where a reference to the object employed in the ritual
would not be out of place. But it is to be hoped that light will be
thrown on this puzzling word by further study, and perhaps by new
fragments of the text; meanwhile it would be hazardous to suggest a
more definite rendering.

[1] The references to "the ground", or "the earth", also tend to
connect it peculiarly with Enlil. Enlil's close association with
the earth, which is, of course, independently attested, is
explicitly referred to in the Babylonian Version (cf. Gilg. Epic.
XI, ll. 39-42). Suggested reflections of this idea have long been
traced in the Hebrew Versions; cf. Gen. viii. 21 (J), where Yahweh
says he will not again curse the ground, and Gen. ix. 13 (P), where
Elohim speaks of his covenant "between me and the earth".

With the sixth line of the column it is clear that the original
narrative of the myth is resumed.[1] Ziusudu, the king, prostrates
himself before Anu and Enlil, who bestow immortality upon him and
cause him to dwell in a land, or mountain, the name of which may
perhaps be read as Dilmun. The close parallelism between this
portion of the text and the end of the myth in the Gilgamesh Epic
will be seen from the following extracts,[2] the magical portions
being omitted from the Sumerian Version:

[1] It will also be noted that with this line the text again falls
naturally into couplets.

[2] Col. VI, ll. 6-9 and 12 are there compared with Gilg. Epic, XI,
ll. 198-205.

SUMERIAN VERSION

Ziusudu, the king,

Before Anu and Enlil bows himself down.

Life like (that of) a god he gives to him.

An eternal soul like (that of) a god he creates for him.

In a . . . land, the land of[1] Dilmun(?), they caused him to dwell.

SEMITIC VERSION

Then Enlil went up into the ship;

He took me by the hand and led me forth.

He brought out my wife and caused her to bow down at myside;

He touched our brows, standing between us and blessing us:

"Formerly was Ut-napishtim of mankind,

But now let Ut-napishtim be like the gods, even us!

And let Ut-napishtim dwell afar off at the mouth of the rivers!"

Then they took me and afar off, at the mouth of the rivers, they
caused me to dwell.

[1] Or, "On a mountain, the mountain of", &c.

The Sumerian Version thus apparently concludes with the familiar
ending of the legend which we find in the Gilgamesh Epic and in
Berossus, though it here occurs in an abbreviated form and with
some variations in detail. In all three versions the prostration of
the Deluge hero before the god is followed by the bestowal of
immortality upon him, a fate which, according to Berossus, he
shared with his wife, his daughter, and the steersman. The
Gilgamesh Epic perhaps implies that Ut-napishtim's wife shared in
his immortality, but the Sumerian Version mentions Ziusudu alone.
In the Gilgamesh Epic Ut-napishtim is settled by the gods at the
mouth of the rivers, that is to say at the head of the Persian
Gulf, while according to a possible rendering of the Sumerian
Version he is made to dwell on Dilmun, an island in the Gulf
itself. The fact that Gilgamesh in the Epic has to cross the sea to
reach Ut-napishtim may be cited in favour of the reading "Dilmun";
and the description of the sea as "the Waters of Death", if it
implies more than the great danger of their passage, was probably a
later development associated with Ut-napishtim's immortality. It
may be added that in neither Hebrew version do we find any parallel
to the concluding details of the original story, the Hebrew
narratives being brought to an end with the blessing of Noah and
the divine promise to, or covenant with, mankind.

Such then are the contents of our Sumerian document, and from the
details which have been given it will have been seen that its
story, so far as concerns the Deluge, is in essentials the same as
that we already find in the Gilgamesh Epic. It is true that this
earlier version has reached us in a magical setting, and to some
extent in an abbreviated form. In the next lecture I shall have
occasion to refer to another early mythological text from Nippur,
which was thought by its first interpreter to include a second
Sumerian Version of the Deluge legend. That suggestion has not been
substantiated, though we shall see that the contents of the
document are of a very interesting character. But in view of the
discussion that has taken place in the United States over the
interpretation of the second text, and of the doubts that have
subsequently been expressed in some quarters as to the recent
discovery of any new form of the Deluge legend, it may be well to
formulate briefly the proof that in the inscription published by
Dr. Poebel an early Sumerian Version of the Deluge story has
actually been recovered. Any one who has followed the detailed
analysis of the new text which has been attempted in the preceding
paragraphs will, I venture to think, agree that the following
conclusions may be drawn:

(i) The points of general resemblance presented by the narrative to
that in the Gilgamesh Epic are sufficiently close in themselves to
show that we are dealing with a Sumerian Version of that story. And
this conclusion is further supported (a) by the occurrence
throughout the text of the attested Sumerian equivalent of the
Semitic word, employed in the Babylonian Versions, for the "Flood"
or "Deluge", and (b) by the use of precisely the same term for the
hero's "great boat", which is already familiar to us from an early
Babylonian Version.

(ii) The close correspondence in language between portions of the
Sumerian legend and the Gilgamesh Epic suggest that the one version
was ultimately derived from the other. And this conclusion in its
turn is confirmed (a) by the identity in meaning of the Sumerian
and Babylonian names for the Deluge hero, which are actually found
equated in a late explanatory text, and (b) by small points of
difference in the Babylonian form of the story which correspond to
later political and religious developments and suggest the work of
Semitic redactors.

The cumulative effect of such general and detailed evidence is
overwhelming, and we may dismiss all doubts as to the validity of
Dr. Poebel's claim. We have indeed recovered a very early, and in
some of its features a very primitive, form of the Deluge narrative
which till now has reached us only in Semitic and Greek renderings;
and the stream of tradition has been tapped at a point far above
any at which we have hitherto approached it. What evidence, we may
ask, does this early Sumerian Version offer with regard to the
origin and literary history of the Hebrew Versions?

The general dependence of the biblical Versions upon the Babylonian
legend as a whole has long been recognized, and needs no further
demonstration; and it has already been observed that the
parallelisms with the version in the Gilgamesh Epic are on the
whole more detailed and striking in the earlier than in the later
Hebrew Version.[1] In the course of our analysis of the Sumerian
text its more striking points of agreement or divergence, in
relation to the Hebrew Versions, were noted under the different
sections of its narrative. It was also obvious that, in many
features in which the Hebrew Versions differ from the Gilgamesh
Epic, the latter finds Sumerian support. These facts confirm the
conclusion, which we should naturally base on grounds of historical
probability, that while the Semitic-Babylonian Versions were
derived from Sumer, the Hebrew accounts were equally clearly
derived from Babylon. But there are one or two pieces of evidence
which are apparently at variance with this conclusion, and these
call for some explanation.

[1] For details see especially Skinner, /Genesis/, pp. 177 ff.

Not too much significance should be attached to the apparent
omission of the episode of the birds from the Sumerian narrative,
in which it would agree with the later as against the earlier
Hebrew Version; for, apart from its epitomized character, there is
so much missing from the text that the absence of this episode
cannot be regarded as established with certainty. And in any case
it could be balanced by the Sumerian order of Creation of men
before animals, which agrees with the earlier Hebrew Version
against the later. But there is one very striking point in which
our new Sumerian text agrees with both the Hebrew Versions as
against the Gilgamesh Epic and Berossus; and that is in the
character of Ziusudu, which presents so close a parallel to the
piety of Noah. As we have already seen, the latter is due to no
Hebrew idealization of the story, but represents a genuine strand
of the original tradition, which is completely absent from the
Babylonian Versions. But the Babylonian Versions are the media
through which it has generally been assumed that the tradition of
the Deluge reached the Hebrews. What explanation have we of this
fact?

This grouping of Sumerian and Hebrew authorities, against the
extant sources from Babylon, is emphasized by the general framework
of the Sumerian story. For the literary connexion which we have in
Genesis between the Creation and the Deluge narratives has hitherto
found no parallel in the cuneiform texts. In Babylon and Assyria
the myth of Creation and the Deluge legend have been divorced. From
the one a complete epic has been evolved in accordance with the
tenets of Babylonian theology, the Creation myth being combined in
the process with other myths of a somewhat analogous character. The
Deluge legend has survived as an isolated story in more than one
setting, the principal Semitic Version being recounted to the
national hero Gilgamesh, towards the close of the composite epic of
his adventures which grew up around the nucleus of his name. It is
one of the chief surprises of the newly discovered Sumerian Version
that the Hebrew connexion of the narratives is seen to be on the
lines of very primitive tradition. Noah's reputation for piety does
not stand alone. His line of descent from Adam, and the thread of
narrative connecting the creation of the world with its partial
destruction by the Deluge, already appear in Sumerian form at a
time when the city of Babylon itself had not secured its later
power. How then are we to account for this correspondence of
Sumerian and Hebrew traditions, on points completely wanting in our
intermediate authorities, from which, however, other evidence
suggests that the Hebrew narratives were derived?

At the risk of anticipating some of the conclusions to be drawn in
the next lecture, it may be well to define an answer now. It is
possible that those who still accept the traditional authorship of
the Pentateuch may be inclined to see in this correspondence of
Hebrew and Sumerian ideas a confirmation of their own hypothesis.
But it should be pointed out at once that this is not an inevitable
deduction from the evidence. Indeed, it is directly contradicted by
the rest of the evidence we have summarized, while it would leave
completely unexplained some significant features of the problem. It
is true that certain important details of the Sumerian tradition,
while not affecting Babylon and Assyria, have left their stamp upon
the Hebrew narratives; but that is not an exhaustive statement of
the case. For we have also seen that a more complete survival of
Sumerian tradition has taken place in the history of Berossus.
There we traced the same general framework of the narratives, with
a far closer correspondence in detail. The kingly rank of Ziusudu
is in complete harmony with the Berossian conception of a series of
supreme Antediluvian rulers, and the names of two of the
Antediluvian cites are among those of their newly recovered
Sumerian prototypes. There can thus be no suggestion that the Greek
reproductions of the Sumerian tradition were in their turn due to
Hebrew influence. On the contrary we have in them a parallel case
of survival in a far more complete form.

The inference we may obviously draw is that the Sumerian narrative
continued in existence, in a literary form that closely resembled
the original version, into the later historical periods. In this
there would be nothing to surprise us, when we recall the careful
preservation and study of ancient Sumerian religious texts by the
later Semitic priesthood of the country. Each ancient cult-centre
in Babylonia continued to cling to its own local traditions, and
the Sumerian desire for their preservation, which was inherited by
their Semitic guardians, was in great measure unaffected by
political occurrences elsewhere. Hence it was that Ashur-bani-pal,
when forming his library at Nineveh, was able to draw upon so rich
a store of the more ancient literary texts of Babylonia. The
Sumerian Version of the Deluge and of Antediluvian history may well
have survived in a less epitomized form than that in which we have
recovered it; and, like other ancient texts, it was probably
provided with a Semitic translation. Indeed its literary study and
reproduction may have continued without interruption in Babylon
itself. But even if Sumerian tradition died out in the capital
under the influence of the Babylonian priesthood, its
re-introduction may well have taken place in Neo-Babylonian times.
Perhaps the antiquarian researches of Nabonidus were characteristic
of his period; and in any case the collection of his country's gods
into the capital must have been accompanied by a renewed interest
in the more ancient versions of the past with which their cults
were peculiarly associated. In the extant summary from Berossus we
may possibly see evidence of a subsequent attempt to combine with
these more ancient traditions the continued religious dominance of
Marduk and of Babylon.

Our conclusion, that the Sumerian form of the tradition did not die
out, leaves the question as to the periods during which Babylonian
influence may have acted upon Hebrew tradition in great measure
unaffected; and we may therefore postpone its further consideration
to the next lecture. To-day the only question that remains to be
considered concerns the effect of our new evidence upon the wider
problem of Deluge stories as a whole. What light does it throw on
the general character of Deluge stories and their suggested
Egyptian origin?

One thing that strikes me forcibly in reading this early text is
the complete absence of any trace or indication of astrological
/motif/. It is true that Ziusudu sacrifices to the Sun-god; but the
episode is inherent in the story, the appearance of the Sun after
the storm following the natural sequence of events and furnishing
assurance to the king of his eventual survival. To identify the
worshipper with his god and to transfer Ziusudu's material craft to
the heavens is surely without justification from the simple
narrative. We have here no prototype of Ra sailing the heavenly
ocean. And the destructive flood itself is not only of an equally
material and mundane character, but is in complete harmony with its
Babylonian setting.

In the matter of floods the Tigris and Euphrates present a striking
contrast to the Nile. It is true that the life-blood of each
country is its river-water, but the conditions of its use are very
different, and in Mesopotamia it becomes a curse when out of
control. In both countries the river-water must be used for
maturing the crops. But while the rains of Abyssinia cause the Nile
to rise between August and October, thus securing both summer and
winter crops, the melting snows of Armenia and the Taurus flood the
Mesopotamian rivers between March and May. In Egypt the Nile flood
is gentle; it is never abrupt, and the river gives ample warning of
its rise and fall. It contains just enough sediment to enrich the
land without choking the canals; and the water, after filling its
historic basins, may when necessary be discharged into the falling
river in November. Thus Egypt receives a full and regular supply of
water, and there is no difficulty in disposing of any surplus. The
growth in such a country of a legend of world-wide destruction by
flood is inconceivable.

In Mesopotamia, on the other hand, the floods, which come too late
for the winter crops, are followed by the rainless summer months;
and not only must the flood-water be controlled, but some portion
of it must be detained artificially, if it is to be of use during
the burning months of July, August, and September, when the rivers
are at their lowest. Moreover, heavy rain in April and a warm south
wind melting the snow in the hills may bring down such floods that
the channels cannot contain them; the dams are then breached and
the country is laid waste. Here there is first too much water and
then too little.

The great danger from flood in Babylonia, both in its range of
action and in its destructive effect, is due to the strangely flat
character of the Tigris and Euphrates delta.[1] Hence after a
severe breach in the Tigris or Euphrates, the river after
inundating the country may make itself a new channel miles away
from the old one. To mitigate the danger, the floods may be dealt
with in two ways--by a multiplication of canals to spread the
water, and by providing escapes for it into depressions in the
surrounding desert, which in their turn become centres of
fertility. Both methods were employed in antiquity; and it may be
added that in any scheme for the future prosperity of the country
they must be employed again, of course with the increased
efficiency of modern apparatus.[2] But while the Babylonians
succeeded in controlling the Euphrates, the Tigris was never really
tamed,[3] and whenever it burst its right bank the southern plains
were devastated. We could not have more suitable soil for the
growth of a Deluge story.

[1] Baghdad, though 300 miles by crow-fly from the sea and 500 by
river, is only 120 ft. above sea-level.

[2] The Babylonians controlled the Euphrates, and at the same time
provided against its time of "low supply", by escapes into two
depressions in the western desert to the NW. of Babylon, known
to-day as the Habbânîyah and Abu Dîs depressions, which lie S. of
the modern town of Ramâdi and N. of Kerbela. That these depressions
were actually used as reservoirs in antiquity is proved by the
presence along their edges of thick beds of Euphrates shells. In
addition to canals and escapes, the Babylonian system included
well-constructed dikes protected by brushwood. By cutting an
eight-mile channel through a low hill between the Habbânîyah and
Abu Dîs depressions and by building a short dam 50 ft. high across
the latter's narrow outlet, Sir William Willcocks estimates that a
reservoir could be obtained holding eighteen milliards of tons of
water. See his work /The Irrigations of Mesopotamia/ (E. and F. N.
Spon, 1911), /Geographical Journal/, Vol. XL, No. 2 (Aug., 1912),
pp. 129 ff., and the articles in /The Near East/ cited on p. 97, n.
1, and p. 98, n. 2. Sir William Willcocks's volume and subsequent
papers form the best introduction to the study of Babylonian Deluge
tradition on its material side.

[3] Their works carried out on the Tigris were effective for
irrigation; but the Babylonians never succeeded in controlling its
floods as they did those of the Euphrates. A massive earthen dam,
the remains of which are still known as "Nimrod's Dam", was thrown
across the Tigris above the point where it entered its delta; this
served to turn the river over hard conglomerate rock and kept it at
a high level so that it could irrigate the country on both banks.
Above the dam were the heads of the later Nahrwân Canal, a great
stream 400 ft. wide and 17 ft. deep, which supplied the country
east of the river. The Nâr Sharri or "King's Canal", the Nahar
Malkha of the Greeks and the Nahr el-Malik of the Arabs, protected
the right bank of the Tigris by its own high artificial banks,
which can still be traced for hundreds of miles; but it took its
supply from the Euphrates at Sippar, where the ground is some 25
ft. higher than on the Tigris. The Tigris usually flooded its left
bank; it was the right bank which was protected, and a breach here
meant disaster. Cf. Willcocks, op. cit., and /The Near East/, Sept.
29, 1916 (Vol. XI, No. 282), p. 522.

It was only by constant and unremitting attention that disaster
from flood could be averted; and the difficulties of the problem
were and are increased by the fact that the flood-water of the
Mesopotamian rivers contains five times as much sediment as the
Nile. In fact, one of the most pressing of the problems the
Sumerian and early Babylonian engineers had to solve was the
keeping of the canals free from silt.[1] What the floods, if left
unchecked, may do in Mesopotamia, is well illustrated by the decay
of the ancient canal-system, which has been the immediate cause of
the country's present state of sordid desolation. That the decay
was gradual was not the fault of the rivers, but was due to the
sound principles on which the old system of control had been
evolved through many centuries of labour. At the time of the Moslem
conquest the system had already begun to fail. In the fifth century
there had been bad floods; but worse came in A.D. 629, when both
rivers burst their banks and played havoc with the dikes and
embankments. It is related that the Sassanian king Parwiz, the
contemporary of Mohammed, crucified in one day forty canal-workers
at a certain breach, and yet was unable to master the flood.[2] All
repairs were suspended during the anarchy of the Moslem invasion.
As a consequence the Tigris left its old bed for the Shatt el-Hai
at Kût, and pouring its own and its tributaries' waters into the
Euphrates formed the Great Euphrates Swamp, two hundred miles long
and fifty broad. But even then what was left of the old system was
sufficient to support the splendour of the Eastern Caliphate.

[1] Cf. /Letters of Hammurabi/, Vol. III, pp. xxxvi ff.; it was the
duty of every village or town upon the banks of the main canals in
Babylonia to keep its own section clear of silt, and of course it
was also responsible for its own smaller irrigation-channels. While
the invention of the system of basin-irrigation was practically
forced on Egypt, the extraordinary fertility of Babylonia was won
in the teeth of nature by the system of perennial irrigation, or
irrigation all the year round. In Babylonia the water was led into
small fields of two or three acres, while the Nile valley was
irrigated in great basins each containing some thirty to forty
thousand acres. The Babylonian method gives far more profitable
results, and Sir William Willcocks points out that Egypt to-day is
gradually abandoning its own system and adopting that of its
ancient rival; see /The Near East/, Sept. 29, 1916, p. 521.

[2] See Le Strange, /The Lands of the Eastern Caliphate/, p. 27.

The second great blow to the system followed the Mongol conquest,
when the Nahrwân Canal, to the east of the Tigris, had its head
swept away by flood and the area it had irrigated became desert.
Then, in about the fifteenth century, the Tigris returned to its
old course; the Shatt el-Hai shrank, and much of the Great Swamp
dried up into the desert it is to-day.[1] Things became worse
during the centuries of Turkish misrule. But the silting up of the
Hillah, or main, branch of the Euphrates about 1865, and the
transference of a great part of its stream into the Hindîyah Canal,
caused even the Turks to take action. They constructed the old
Hindîyah Barrage in 1890, but it gave way in 1903 and the state of
things was even worse than before; for the Hillah branch then dried
entirely.[2]

[1] This illustrates the damage the Tigris itself is capable of
inflicting on the country. It may be added that Sir William
Willcocks proposes to control the Tigris floods by an escape into
the Tharthâr depression, a great salt pan at the tail of Wadi
Tharthâr, which lies 14 ft. below sea level and is 200 ft. lower
than the flood-level of the Tigris some thirty-two miles away. The
escape would leave the Tigris to the S. of Sâmarra, the proposed
Beled Barrage being built below it and up-stream of "Nimrod's Dam".
The Tharthâr escape would drain into the Euphrates, and the
latter's Habbânîyah escape would receive any surplus water from the
Tigris, a second barrage being thrown across the Euphrates upstream
of Fallûjah, where there is an outcrop of limestone near the head
of the Sakhlawîyah Canal. The Tharthâr depression, besides
disposing of the Tigris flood-water, would thus probably feed the
Euphrates; and a second barrage on the Tigris, to be built at Kût,
would supply water to the Shatt el-Hai. When the country is freed
from danger of flood, the Baghdad Railway could be run through the
cultivated land instead of through the eastern desert; see
Willcocks, /The Near East/, Oct. 6, 1916 (Vol. XI, No. 283), p. 545
f.

[2] It was then that Sir William Willcocks designed the new
Hindîyah Barrage, which was completed in 1913. The Hindîyah branch,
to-day the main stream of the Euphrates, is the old low-lying
Pallacopas Canal, which branched westward above Babylon and
discharged its waters into the western marshes. In antiquity the
head of this branch had to be opened in high floods and then closed
again immediately after the flood to keep the main stream full past
Babylon, which entailed the employment of an enormous number of
men. Alexander the Great's first work in Babylonia was cutting a
new head for the Pallacopas in solid ground, for hitherto it had
been in sandy soil; and it was while reclaiming the marshes farther
down-stream that he contracted the fever that killed him.

From this brief sketch of progressive disaster during the later
historical period, the inevitable effect of neglected silt and
flood, it will be gathered that the two great rivers of Mesopotamia
present a very strong contrast to the Nile. For during the same
period of misgovernment and neglect in Egypt the Nile did not turn
its valley and delta into a desert. On the Tigris and Euphrates,
during ages when the earliest dwellers on their banks were
struggling to make effective their first efforts at control, the
waters must often have regained the upper hand. Under such
conditions the story of a great flood in the past would not be
likely to die out in the future; the tradition would tend to gather
illustrative detail suggested by later experience. Our new text
reveals the Deluge tradition in Mesopotamia at an early stage of
its development, and incidentally shows us that there is no need to
postulate for its origin any convulsion of nature or even a series
of seismic shocks accompanied by cyclone in the Persian Gulf.

If this had been the only version of the story that had come down
to us, we should hardly have regarded it as a record of world-wide
catastrophe. It is true the gods' intention is to destroy mankind,
but the scene throughout is laid in Southern Babylonia. After seven
days' storm, the Sun comes out, and the vessel with the pious
priest-king and his domestic animals on board grounds, apparently
still in Babylonia, and not on any distant mountain, such as Mt.
Nisir or the great mass of Ararat in Armenia. These are obviously
details which tellers of the story have added as it passed down to
later generations. When it was carried still farther afield, into
the area of the Eastern Mediterranean, it was again adapted to
local conditions. Thus Apollodorus makes Deucalion land upon
Parnassus,[1] and the pseudo-Lucian relates how he founded the
temple of Derketo at Hierapolis in Syria beside the hole in the
earth which swallowed up the Flood.[2] To the Sumerians who first
told the story, the great Flood appeared to have destroyed mankind,
for Southern Babylonia was for them the world. Later peoples who
heard it have fitted the story to their own geographical horizon,
and in all good faith and by a purely logical process the
mountain-tops are represented as submerged, and the ship, or ark,
or chest, is made to come to ground on the highest peak known to
the story-teller and his hearers. But in its early Sumerian form it
is just a simple tradition of some great inundation, which
overwhelmed the plain of Southern Babylonia and was peculiarly
disastrous in its effects. And so its memory survived in the
picture of Ziusudu's solitary coracle upon the face of the waters,
which, seen through the mists of the Deluge tradition, has given us
the Noah's ark of our nursery days.

[1] Hesiod is our earliest authority for the Deucalion Flood story.
For its probable Babylonian origin, cf. Farnell, /Greece and
Babylon/ (1911), p. 184.

[2] /De Syria dea/, 12 f.

Thus the Babylonian, Hebrew, and Greek Deluge stories resolve
themselves, not into a nature myth, but into an early legend, which
has the basis of historical fact in the Euphrates Valley. And it is
probable that we may explain after a similar fashion the occurrence
of tales of a like character at least in some other parts of the
world. Among races dwelling in low-lying or well-watered districts
it would be surprising if we did not find independent stories of
past floods from which few inhabitants of the land escaped. It is
only in hilly countries such as Palestine, where for the great part
of the year water is scarce and precious, that we are forced to
deduce borrowing; and there is no doubt that both the Babylonian
and the biblical stories have been responsible for some at any rate
of the scattered tales. But there is no need to adopt the theory of
a single source for all of them, whether in Babylonia or, still
less, in Egypt.[1]

[1] This argument is taken from an article I published in Professor
Headlam's /Church Quarterly Review/, Jan., 1916, pp. 280 ff.,
containing an account of Dr. Poebel's discovery.

I should like to add, with regard to this reading of our new
evidence, that I am very glad to know Sir James Frazer holds a very
similar opinion. For, as you are doubtless all aware, Sir James is
at present collecting Flood stories from all over the world, and is
supplementing from a wider range the collections already made by
Lenormant, Andree, Winternitz, and Gerland. When his work is
complete it will be possible to conjecture with far greater
confidence how particular traditions or groups of tradition arose,
and to what extent transmission has taken place. Meanwhile, in his
recent Huxley Memorial Lecture,[1] he has suggested a third
possibility as to the way Deluge stories may have arisen.

[1] Sir J. G. Frazer, /Ancient Stories of a Great Flood/ (the
Huxley Memorial Lecture, 1916), Roy. Anthrop. Inst., 1916.

Stated briefly, it is that a Deluge story may arise as a popular
explanation of some striking natural feature in a country, although
to the scientific eye the feature in question is due to causes
other than catastrophic flood. And he worked out the suggestion in
the case of the Greek traditions of a great deluge, associated with
the names of Deucalion and Dardanus. Deucalion's deluge, in its
later forms at any rate, is obviously coloured by Semitic
tradition; but both Greek stories, in their origin, Sir James
Frazer would trace to local conditions--the one suggested by the
Gorge of Tempe in Thessaly, the other explaining the existence of
the Bosphorus and Dardanelles. As he pointed out, they would be
instances, not of genuine historical traditions, but of what Sir
James Tyler calls "observation myths". A third story of a great
flood, regarded in Greek tradition as the earliest of the three, he
would explain by an extraordinary inundation of the Copaic Lake in
Boeotia, which to this day is liable to great fluctuations of
level. His new theory applies only to the other two traditions. For
in them no historical kernel is presupposed, though gradual erosion
by water is not excluded as a cause of the surface features which
may have suggested the myths.

This valuable theory thus opens up a third possibility for our
analysis. It may also, of course, be used in combination, if in any
particular instance we have reason to believe that transmission, in
some vague form, may already have taken place. And it would with
all deference suggest the possibility that, in view of other
evidence, this may have occurred in the case of the Greek
traditions. With regard to the theory itself we may confidently
expect that further examples will be found in its illustration and
support. Meanwhile in the new Sumerian Version I think we may
conclude that we have recovered beyond any doubt the origin of the
Babylonian and Hebrew traditions and of the large group of stories
to which they in their turn have given rise.

2. http://www.worldwideschool.org/