CHAPTER III. THE FLOOD.

The Biblical account—Its circumstantial nature and its great length—The Babylonian account—The reason of the Flood and why Pir-napištim built the Ark—His devotion to the God Ea—Ea and Jah—Ea’s antagonism to Bêl—The bloodless sacrifice—Ea’s gift of immortality—Further observations—Appendix: The second version of the Flood-story.

Noah, son of Lamech, had reached the age of five hundred years, and had three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japhet; and at this time men had begun to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them; then “the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair, and they took them wives of all that they chose.”

The question naturally arises, “Who were these sons of God?” According to Job xxxviii. 7, where we have the statement that “The morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy,” it would seem to be the angels that are intended by these words, and this is apparently the opinion generally held by scholars and divines on the subject. This view seems to be favoured by the Second Epistle of Peter (ii. 1), though, as the words do not actually agree with those of the text of Genesis quoted above, nothing very positive can be maintained concerning the apostle’s dictum—in fact, his words in the passage referred to, “for if God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains and darkness, to be reserved unto judgment,” can much more reasonably be regarded as referring, and therefore giving authority to, the story of the fall of the angels, as indicated in Avitus, Caedmon, and Milton, a legend of which the germs are found in the Babylonian account of the Creation, referred to in Chapter I. The other passages of Job where this expression occurs (i. 6, and ii. 2) are not conclusive as to the meaning “angels,” for the expressions “sons of God,” in those passages, who are said to have come before the Almighty, may very well have been merely men.

However the matter may stand, for the passages in Job, there is every probability that it is not the angels that are intended in the description we are examining as to the reasons of the coming of the Flood. As the late George Bertin was the first to point out, the Babylonians often used the phrase “a son of his god,” apparently to designate “a just man,” or something similar. The connection in which this expression occurs is as follows—

“May Damu, the great enchanter, make his thoughts happy, May the lady who giveth life to the dead, the goddess Gula, heal him by the pressure of her pure hand, And thou, O gracious Merodach, who lovest the revivification of the dead, With thy pure incantation of life, free him from his sin, and May the man, the son of his god, be pure, clean, and bright.”

In this passage the phrase in question is (in Akkadian) _gišgallu dumu dingirana_, and (in Assyrian) _amēlu mâr îli-šu_. It is a frequent expression in documents of this class, and always occurs in a similar connection. In some cases, instead of “the man, the son of his god,” the variation “the king, the son of his god” occurs, and is apparently to be paraphrased in the same way, and understood as “the pious king.”

May it not be, then, that “the sons of God,” who saw that the daughters of men were fair (lit. good), and took of them as many wives as they wanted, were those who were regarded as the pious men of the time? For who among the angels would at any time have thought of allying himself with an earthly and mortal spouse, and begetting children—offspring who should turn out to be “mighty men which were of old, men of renown,” as verse 4 has it? In this case, the “daughters of men” would be children of common people, not possessing any special piety or other virtue to recommend them, the only thing being that their daughters were fair, and good enough, in the opinion of those “sons of God,” to have as their wives.

It is apparently given as the result of these unions between the pious men and the daughters of the people that wickedness became rife in the earth, and man’s imagination continually evil; and this was so to such an extent that the Almighty repented of having created man, and decided to destroy the wicked generation—both man, and beast, and creeping thing, and fowl of the air—dwelling upon the earth—all except Noah, who found favour in the eyes of Yahwah.

Having decided to destroy the life of the world by means of a flood, God communicated His intention and the reason thereof to the patriarch, and instructed him to build an ark in which he was to save both himself and his family from the impending destruction. The vessel is to be built of gopher-wood, to have rooms in it, and to be pitched within and without with pitch. The dimensions also are specified. Its length was to be three hundred cubits, its width fifty cubits, and its height thirty cubits. He was to make the ark “with light” (צהר or רהצ), that is, with windows, and their length or height, apparently, was to be a cubit. The vessel was to have a door, and to be built with three stories, lower, second, and third. In accordance with God’s covenant with the patriarch, he, his sons, and his sons’ wives were to be saved, along with every living thing, male and female of each kind. For all this great multitude a sufficiency of food was directed to be provided.

Then comes the command (the ark having been duly built, and all the directions followed) to enter into the vessel, and further instructions are given with regard to the creatures that are to be saved, with a slight modification in the numbers, for the clean beasts are to be taken in “by sevens,” and all the rest, “the unclean,” by pairs. God then announces that in seven days’ time He will cause rain to come upon the earth for forty days and forty nights. “All the fountains of the great deep” were broken up, and the Lord shut up those upon whom He had favour in the ark.

Then, as the rain continued, the waters “prevailed exceedingly” upon the earth, and the high hills that were under the whole heaven were covered, the depth of the waters being “fifteen cubits and upwards.” Everything was destroyed, “Noah alone remained alive, and those who were with him in the ark.”

“And the waters prevailed upon the earth an hundred and fifty days.”

The “fountains of the deep” and “the windows of heaven” having been stopped, and the “rain from heaven” restrained, the waters abated, leaving the ark high and dry upon the mountains of Ararat; and after the tops of the mountains were seen, Noah looked out of the window that he had made. He then sent forth a raven and a dove, and the latter, not finding a resting-place, returned to him, to be sent forth again at the end of another week. The dove again returned bearing in her beak an olive-leaf. Seven days more passed, and the dove, having been sent out a third time, returned to him no more. Recognizing that the waters were now all returned into their old channels, and that the land was dry enough for him and his, Noah removed the covering of the vessel, and saw that his supposition was correct, and having received the command to come forth from the ark, which had been his abiding-place for so long, and to send forth the living creatures that were with him, the patriarch obeyed, and, when on dry land, built an altar to Yahwah, and offered burnt offerings thereon of every clean beast and every clean fowl.

“And the Lord smelled a sweet savour (lit. a savour of rest); and the Lord said in His heart, I will not again curse the ground any more for man’s sake, for the imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth.... While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.”

Then comes, in the ninth chapter, the blessing of God, with a charge concerning the shedding of blood. He makes also a covenant with Noah, by the sign of the rainbow, declaring that a like calamity shall never again come upon the earth to destroy all life that is upon it.

Such is, in short, the Bible story of the great flood that destroyed, at a remote age of the world, all life upon the earth. It is a narrative circumstantially told, with day, month, and year all indicated, and it forms a good subject for comparison with the Babylonian account, with which it agrees so closely in all the main points, and from which it differs so much in many essential details.

As in the case of the Babylonian story of the Creation, it has been thought well not only to give a fairly full translation of the Babylonian story of the Flood, but also to indicate under what circumstances that story appears in the series of tablets in which it is found.

The first to detect the nature of the series of tablets giving the story of the Flood was the late George Smith, who had unrivalled opportunities of making himself thoroughly acquainted with the treasures of the British Museum in the matter of Assyrian records. As the story runs, it was whilst searching for the fragments of the Creation-series that he came across a fragment of a tablet mentioning that “the ship rested on the mountain of Niṣir,” and this at once suggested to him that this was a reference to the Flood, as, in fact, it turned out to be. Continued and unremitting research among the treasures of the Department in which he was employed enabled him to bring together a large number of other fragments of the series, leaving, in fact, very little indeed for any future student to do in the way of collecting together texts from the fragments that he had an opportunity of examining. The _Daily Telegraph_ expedition to Assyria, which was conducted by Mr. Smith himself, enabled him to add many other fragments to those which he had already recognized in the Oriental Department of the British Museum, and Mr. Rassam’s very successful excavations in the same place have since very considerably increased the list of additions.

The story of the Flood, as known to the Babylonians and Assyrians, is one chapter or book of a legend consisting of twelve similar divisions, the first line of the series beginning with the words _Ša naqba imûru_, “He who saw everything,” and to this is added in the colophons, “the legend of Gilgameš.” The number of fragments extant is large, but the individual tablets are very imperfect, that giving the account of the Flood being by far the most complete, though even that has very regrettable lacunæ. Incomplete as the legend is as a whole, an attempt will nevertheless be made here to give some sort of a connected story, which may be regarded as accurate in all its main details.

The first tablet begins with the words that have been quoted above, “He who saw everything, [who] ... the land.” This is followed, it would seem, by a description of the hero, who, apparently, knew “the wisdom of the whole (of the lands?),” and “saw secret and hidden things.... He brought news of before the flood, went a distant road, and (suffered) dire fatigue (?).” All his journeyings and toils were, apparently, inscribed on tablets of stone, and records thus left for future ages.

Gilgameš, as we learn in the course of the narrative, was lord or king of _Uruk supuri_, or “Erech the walled,” and at the time when the story begins, the fortifications were in a ruinous state, and the treasury (?) of the sanctuary Ê-anna, the temple of the goddess Ištar, which is mentioned in the legend immediately after, was, we may suppose, empty. Other details of the desolation of the temple are given, and the ruinous state of the walls of the city are spoken of, together with the decay of their foundations.

No other fragment of Col. I. of the first tablet of the Legend of Gilgameš seems to have been recognized, so that the further references to the city are lost. An interesting piece that Mr. G. Smith thought to be part of the third column of this text refers to some misfortune that came upon the city when the people moaned like calves, and the maidens grieved like doves.

“The gods of Erech the walled Turned to flies, and hummed in the streets; The winged bulls of Erech the walled Turned to mice, and went out through the holes.”

The city was, on this occasion, besieged for three years, until at last the god Bêl and the goddess Ištar interested themselves in the state of things. As to who the enemy was who brought the people into such distress, there is no means at present of finding out, but Mr. G. Smith suggested, with at least some show of probability, that they were the Elamites under Ḫumbaba, who appears later as the opponent of our hero. The indifference of the gods and the divine bulls that were supposed to protect the city is well expressed in the statement that they respectively turned into flies and mice, buzzing about and active, but doing no good whatever.

After the reference to the state of Erech, the text is exceedingly mutilated, and the sense difficult to gather, but it would seem to have contained a further description of the hero, who, according to Jensen’s translation, is described as “two parts god and the third part man.” To all appearance there was none in all his realm like him, and also no consort suitable for him, though he collected to him all the young men and maidens in the land. This was a matter for grief, which the (divine powers ?) heard, and they called upon the goddess Aruru to make another in his likeness. This being was Êa-banî,(7) the mighty one, to all appearance made to be the rival of Gilgameš, but if this be the case, he did not fulfil his destiny, for his delight was to remain with the beasts of the field. All his body was covered with hair, and he had long tresses on his head, like those of a woman (recalling Samson’s luxuriant locks). Far, too, from being the rival of Gilgameš, he became his most devoted friend and companion.

“ ‘Thou, Aruru, hast created (mankind), Now make thou (one in) his likeness. The first day let his heart be (formed?), Let him rival (?) and let him overcome (??) Erech.’ Aruru hearing this, Made the likeness of Anu in the midst of her heart. Aruru washed her hands, She pinched off some clay, she threw it on the ground— (Thus?) Êa-banî she made, the warrior, The offspring, the seed, the possession of Ninip. Covered with hair was all his body, He had tresses like a woman, The amount (?) of his hair grew thick like corn. He knew not (?) people and land. Clothed with a garment like the god Gira. With the gazelles he eateth the grass, With the wild beasts he drinketh drink, With the dwellers in the water his heart delighteth. The hunter, the destroyer, a man, Beside the drinking-place he came across him, The first day, the second day, the third day, beside the drinking-place he came across him. The hunter saw him, and his (Êa-banî’s) countenance became stern, (He) and his wild beasts entered his house, (He became an)gry, stern, and he called out.”

Apparently he did not like being watched so long by the hunter, and becoming suspicious of his intentions, showed resentment, and tried to drive him away. It may be noted by the way, that this description of Êa-banî would answer excellently to the state attributed for a time to Nebuchadnezzar in the Book of Daniel.

The hunter has a conversation with his father, who was with him, and the upshot of it is that they decide to communicate to Gilgameš an account of the terrible man whom they had seen. It was therefore decided to try to catch or, rather, entice him to Erech by means of a female named Samḫat. In accordance with the instructions received, therefore, the hunter took with him the woman who was intrusted to him, and they awaited Êa-banî in the same place, by the side of the water. After watching for him for two days, they got into communication with him, and the woman asked him why he dwelt with the wild animals, depicting at the same time all the glory of Erech the walled and the nobility of Gilgameš, so that he soon allowed himself to be persuaded, and, in the end, went and took up his abode there.

Various things are then narrated, the most important of them being the episode of the Elamite Ḫumbaba, the same name, though not the same person, as the Kombabos of the Greeks.

Gilgameš seems to have gone to a place where there was a forest of cedar-trees, accompanied by Êa-banî. Near this place, apparently, there was a splendid palace, the abode (?) of a great queen. Judging from what remains of the text, they ask their way of her, and she it is who seems to tell them how to reach the dominions of the potentate whom they seek.

“A distant road is the place of Ḫumbaba. A conflict that he (Gilgameš) knoweth not he will meet, A road that he knoweth not he will ride, As long as he goeth and returneth, Until he reach the forest of cedars, Until the mighty Ḫumbaba he subdueth, And whatever is evil, what ye hate, he shall destroy in the l(and).”

Evidently, from the extent of the record in this place, many adventures befell them, but the fragmentary lines and the numerous lacunæ make a connected narrative absolutely impossible, and it is not until we reach the first column of what Mr. G. Smith regarded as the fifth tablet that we get something more satisfactory than this. The hero has apparently come within measurable distance of his goal—

“They stood and looked on the forest, They regarded the height of the cedar, They regarded the depth of the forest, Where Ḫumbaba walked, striding high (?), The roads prepared, the way made good. They saw the mountain of the cedar, the dwelling of the gods, the shrine of the god Irnini, Before the mountain the cedar raised its luxuriance— Good was its shade, full of delight.”

They had still a long way to go, however, and many things, seemingly, to overcome, before they should reach the abode of the dreaded Elamite ruler, but unfortunately, the details of their adventures are so very fragmentary that no connected sense whatever is to be made out. The last line of the tablet referring to this section, mentioning, as it does, the head of Ḫumbaba, leads the reader to guess the conclusion of the story, whatever the details may have been.

It is with the sixth tablet that we meet, for the first time, almost, with something really satisfactory in the matter of completeness, though even here one is sometimes pulled up sharp by a defective or doubtful passage.

Apparently, Gilgameš had become, at the time to which this tablet refers, very prosperous, and that, combined with his other attractions, evidently drew upon him the attention of the goddess Ištar—

“Come, Gilgameš, be thou the bridegroom, Give thy substance to me as a gift, Be thou my husband, and let me be thy wife. I will cause to be yoked for thee a chariot of lapis-lazuli and gold, Whose wheels are gold and adamant its poles. Thou shalt harness thereto the white ones, the great steeds. Enter into our house mid the scent of the cedar.”

At his entering, the people were to kiss his feet, and kings, lords, and princes do him homage, and lastly, he was to have no rival upon the earth.

In the mutilated passage that follows, Gilgameš answers the goddess, reproaching her with her treatment of her former lovers or husbands, which seems to have been far from satisfactory. Reference to a “wall of stone,” and to “the land of the enemy,” seem to point to imprisonment and expulsion, and the words “Who is the bridegroom (whom thou hast kept?) for ever?” indicate clearly the opinion in which the hero held the goddess. From generalities, however, he proceeds to more specific charges—

“To Tammuz, the husband of thy youth, From year to year thou causest bitter weeping. Thou lovedst the bright-coloured Allala bird, Thou smotest him and brokest his wings, He stayed in the forests crying, ‘My wings!’ Thou lovedst also a lion, perfect in strength, By sevens didst thou cut wounds in him. Thou lovedst also a horse, glorious in war, Harness, spur, and bit (?) thou laidest upon him, Seven _kaspu_ (49 miles) thou madest him gallop, Distress and sweat thou causedst him, To his mother Silili thou causedst bitter weeping. Thou lovedst also a shepherd of the flock, Who constantly laid out before thee rich foods (?), Daily slaughtering for thee suckling kids, Thou smotest him and changedst him to a jackal, His own shepherd-boy drove him away, And his dogs bit his limbs. Thou lovedst also Išullanu, thy father’s gardener, Who constantly transmitted (?) thy provisions (?), Daily making thy dishes bright. Thou raisedst thine eyes to him, and preparedst food. ‘My Išullanu, divide the food, let us eat, And stretch forth thine hand, and taste of our dish.’ Išullanu said to thee: ‘Me, what (is this that) thou askest me? My mother, do not cook (this), I have never eaten (of it)— For should I eat foods of enchantments and witcheries? [Food bringing?] cold, exhaustion, madness (?)?’ Thou heardest this [the speech of Išullanu], Thou smotest him, and changedst him into a statue (?), Thou settest him in the midst of (thy) dom(ain?), He raiseth not the libation-vase, he descendeth (?) not.... And as for me, thou wouldst love me and (make me) even as these!”

Ištar being angry at these reproaches and accusations of the Babylonian hero, immediately ascended to heaven and complained to her father Anu and her mother Anatum that Gilgameš had reproached her with her enchantments and witcheries, and after a long conversation, a divine bull is sent against the hero and his friend. The heavenly animal is overcome, principally by the activity of Êa-banî, who after its death, when the goddess Ištar was lamenting its overthrow, cut off a portion of the body, and threw it at her. Great were the rejoicings at Erech the walled at the triumph of the hero and his counsellor, and after the feast that was held, they all lay down to sleep. Êa-banî also lay down with the rest, and during the night he saw a dream, of the details of which nothing is known, though, from the words with which it seems to be introduced, “My friend, on account of what do the gods take counsel,” it may be supposed that the defiance and opposition which these mortals had offered to the goddess Ištar was engaging the attention of the heavenly powers with a view to some action being taken. As it is with these words that Êa-banî begins to tell his dream to Gilgameš, there is no doubt that the Babylonians regarded the former as having been admitted, whilst asleep (as in the case of the Babylonian Noah), into the councils of the gods. The solitary line that is quoted above is the first of the seventh tablet.

The details of the legend now again become obscure, but thus much can be gathered, namely, that Gilgameš in his turn had a dream, and that, all appearance, Êa-banî interpreted it. Later on, Êa-banî falls ill, and lies without moving for twelve days. Though unwilling to regard his friend as dead, Gilgameš mourns for him bitterly, and decides to make a journey, apparently with the object of finding out about his friend Êa-banî, and ascertaining whether there were any means of bringing him back to earth again.

He sets out, and comes to the place where the “scorpion-men,” with their heads reaching to heaven, and their breasts on a level with Hades, guarded the place of the rising and the setting sun. The horror of their appearance, which was death to behold, is forcibly described on the tablet. The hero was struck with terror on seeing them, but as he was of divine origin (“his body is of the flesh of the gods,” as the scorpion-man says to his female), death has no power over him on account of them. He seems to describe to them his journey, and the object he had in view. Pir-napištim, the Babylonian Noah, is mentioned in the course of the conversation, and it may be supposed that it is on account of his desire to visit him that he asks these monsters for advice. He afterwards comes into contact with the goddess Siduri, “who sits upon the throne of the sea,” and she, on seeing him, shuts her gate. He speaks to her of this, and threatens to break it open. Having gained admission, he apparently tells the goddess the reason of his journey, and she, in return, describes to him the way that he would have to take, the sea that he would have to cross, and of the deep waters of death that bar the way to the abode of the Babylonian Noah, who had attained unto everlasting life, and whose pilot or boatman, Ur-Šanabi, was to take the Erechite hero to his presence.

After a long conversation with Ur-Šanabi, concerning the road that they will take, they start together, and after passing through a forest, they embark in a ship, and reach, at the end of a month and ten days, the “waters of death.” There Gilgameš does something a number of times, and afterwards sees afar off Pir-napištim, the Babylonian Noah, who apparently communes with himself concerning the visitor who has come to his shores. The conversation which follows is very mutilated, but in the course of his explanation of the reason of his visit, Gilgameš relates all his adventures—how he had traversed all the countries, and crossed difficult mountains, his visit to Siduri, and her refusal to open the door to him, with many other things. The conversation apparently, after a time, becomes of a philosophical nature, for, in the course of it, Pir-napištim says—

“Always have we built a house, Always do we seal (?) (the contract). Always have brothers share together, Always is the seed in (the earth?), Always the river rises bringing a flood.”

He then discourses, apparently among other things, of death, and says—

“The Anunnaki, the great gods, are assembled (?). Mammitum, maker of fate, sets with them the destinies. They have made life and death, (But) the death-days are not made known.”

With these words the tenth tablet of the Gilgameš series comes to an end.

The Eleventh Tablet Of The Gilgameš Series, Containing The Story Of The Flood.

As this tablet is the most complete of the series, it may not be considered out of place to give here a description of the outward appearance of the document—or, rather, of the documents, for there are many copies. This description will serve, to a certain extent, for all the other tablets of the series, when in their complete state.

The size of the document which best shows the form is about 8-½ inches wide, by 5-7/8 inches high. It is rectangular in form, and is inscribed on both sides with three columns of writing (six in all). The total number of lines, as given in the text published in the second edition of the fourth vol. of the _Cuneiform Inscriptions of Western Asia_, is 293, including the catch-line and colophon, but as many of these lines are, in reality, double ones (the scribes frequently squeezed two lines into the space of one, so as to economize space), the original number of the lines was probably nearer 326, or, with the catch-line and colophon, 330. It is probable that the other tablets of the series were not so closely written as this, and in these cases the number of lines is fewer.

The tablet opens with the continuation of the conversation between Gilgameš and “Pir-napištim the remote”—

“Gilgameš said also to him, to Pir-napištim the remote: ‘I perceive thee, O Pir-napištim, Thy features are not changed—like me art thou, And thou (thyself) art not changed, like me art thou. Put an end in thine heart to the making of resistance, (Here?) art thou placed, does that rise against thee, (Now?) that thou remainest, and hast attained life in the assembly of the gods?’

Pir-napištim said also to him, to Gilgameš: ‘Let me tell thee, Gilgameš, the account of my preservation, And let me tell thee, even thee, the decision of the gods. Šurippak, the city which thou knowest, Lies (upon the bank) of the Euphrates. That city was old, and the gods within it. The great gods decided in their hearts to make a flood. There (?) was (?) their father Anu, Their counsellor, the warrior Ellila, Their throne-bearer, Ninip, Their leader, En-nu-gi. Nin-igi-azaga, the god Ae, communed with them, and Repeated their command to the earth: “Earth, earth! Town, town! O earth, hear: and town, understand! Surippakite, son of Umbara-Tutu, Destroy the house, build a ship, Leave what thou hast (?), see to thy life. Destroy the hostile and save life, Take up the seed of life, all of it, into the midst of the ship. The ship which thou shalt make, even thou, Let its size be measured, Let it agree (as to) its height and its length; (Behold) the deep, launch her (thither).” I understood and said to Ae, my lord: “[Behol]d, my lord, what thou, even thou, hast said, verily (?) It is excellent (?), (and) I will do (it). (How?) may I answer the city—the young men and the elders?” Ae opened his mouth and spake, He said to his servant, to me: “Thus, then, shalt thou say unto them; ‘It has been told me (that) Ellila hates me, I will not dwell in ... and In the territory of Ellila I will not set my face— I will descend to the deep, with (Ae) my lord I shall (constantly) dwell. (As for) you, he will cause abundance to rain down upon you, and (Beasts and?) birds (shall be) the prey (?) of the fishes, and ... he will enclose, (?), and ... of a storm (?), (In the night) the heavens will rain down upon (y)ou destruction.” ’ ”

With these words the second paragraph comes to an end, the total number of lost or greatly mutilated lines being about nine. Very little of the contents of these lines can be made out, as not much more than traces of words remain. Where the lines begin to become fairly complete, the text seems to refer to the building of the ship, upon which four days had already been spent, its form being laid down on the fifth day. The description of the building, which is somewhat minute, is exceedingly difficult to translate, and any rendering of it must therefore, at the present time, be regarded as tentative. Its bulwarks seem to have risen four measures, and a deck (apparently) is mentioned. Its interior was pitched with six _šar_ of bitumen, and its outside with three _šar_ of pitch, or bitumen of a different kind. The provisionment of the vessel is next described, but this part is mutilated. A quantity of oil for the crew and pilot is referred to, and oxen were also slaughtered, apparently as a propitiatory sacrifice on the completion of the vessel. Various kinds of drink were then brought on board, both intoxicating and otherwise, plentiful (this may be regarded as the word to be supplied here) “like the waters of a river.” After this we have references to the completion of certain details—holes for the cables above and below, etc., and with this the third paragraph comes to an end.

In the next paragraph Pir-napištim collects his goods and his family, and enters into the ark:—

“All I possessed I transferred thereto, All I possessed I transferred thereto, silver, All I possessed I transferred thereto, gold; All I possessed I transferred thereto, the seed of life, the whole I caused to go up into the midst of the ship. All my family and relatives, The beasts of the field, the animals of the field, the sons of the artificers—all of them I sent up. The god Šamaš appointed the time— _Muir kukki_—In the night I will cause the heavens to rain destruction, Enter into the midst of the ship and shut thy door.” “That time approached— _Muir kukki_—In the night the heavens rained destruction. I saw the appearance of the day: I was afraid to look upon the day— I entered into the midst of the ship, and shut my door. For the guiding of the ship, to Buzur-Kurgala, the pilot, I gave the great house with its goods.

At the appearance of dawn in the morning, There arose from the foundation of heaven a dark cloud: Rimmon thundered in the midst of it, and Nebo and Šarru went in front Then went the throne-bearers (over) mountain and plain. Ura-gala dragged out the cables, Then came Ninip, casting down destruction, The Anunnaki raised (their) torches, With their brilliance they illuminated the land. Rimmon’s destruction reached to heaven, Everything bright to darkness turned, ... the land like ... it ... The first day, the storm (?) ... Swiftly it swept, and ... the land (?).... Like a battle against the people it sought.... Brother saw not brother. The people were not to be recognized. In heaven The gods feared the flood, and They fled, they ascended to the heaven of Anu. The gods kenneled like dogs, crouched down in the enclosures. Ištar spake like a mother.(8) The lady of the gods(9) called out, making her voice resound: ‘All that generation has turned to corruption. Because I spoke evil in the assembly of the gods, When I spoke evil in the assembly of the gods, I spoke of battle for the destruction of my people. Verily I have begotten (man), but where is he? Like the sons of the fishes he fills the sea.’ The gods of the Anunnaki were weeping with her. The gods had crouched down, seated in lamentation, Covered were their lips in (all) the assemblies, Six days and nights The wind blew, the deluge and flood overwhelmed the land. The seventh day, when it came, the storm ceased, the raging flood, Which had contended like a whirlwind, Quieted, the sea shrank back, and the evil wind and deluge ended. I noticed the sea making a noise, And all mankind had turned to corruption. Like palings the marsh-reeds appeared. I opened my window, and the light fell upon my face, I fell back dazzled, I sat down, I wept, Over my face flowed my tears. I noted the regions, the shore of the sea, For twelve measures the region arose. The ship had stopped at the land of Niṣṣir. The mountain of Niṣir seized the ship, and would not let it pass. The first day and the second day the mountain of Niṣir seized the ship, and would not let it pass, The third day and the fourth day the mountain of Niṣir, etc., The fifth and sixth the mountain of Niṣir, etc., The seventh day, when it came I sent forth a dove, and it left, The dove went, it turned about, But there was no resting-place, and it returned. I sent forth a swallow, and it left, The swallow went, it turned about, But there was no resting-place, and it returned. I sent forth a raven, and it left, The raven went, the rushing of the waters it saw, It ate, it waded, it croaked, it did not return. I sent forth (the animals) to the four winds, I poured out a libation, I made an offering on the peak of the mountain, Seven and seven I set incense-vases there, In their depths I poured cane, cedar, and rosewood (?). The gods smelled a savour, The gods smelled a sweet savour, The gods gathered like flies over the sacrificer. Then the goddess Maḫ, when she came, Raised the great signets that Anu had made at her wish: ‘These gods—by the lapis-stone of my neck—let me not forget, These days let me remember, nor forget them forever! Let the gods come to the sacrifice, But let not Ellila come to the sacrifice, For he did not take counsel, and made a flood, And consigned my people to destruction.’ Then Ellila, when he came, Saw the ship. And Ellila was wroth, Filled with anger on account of the gods and the spirits of heaven. ‘What, has a soul escaped? Let not a man be saved from the destruction.’ Ninip opened his mouth and spake, He said to the warrior Ellila: ‘Who but Ae has done the thing And Ae knows every event.’ Ae opened his mouth and spake, He said to the warrior Ellila: ‘Thou sage of the gods, warrior, Verily thou hast not taken counsel, and hast made a flood. The sinner has committed his sin, The evildoer has committed his misdeed, Be merciful—let him not be cut off—yield, let (him) not perish. Why hast thou made a flood? Let the lion come, and let men diminish. Why hast thou made a flood? Let the hyæna come, and let men diminish. Why hast thou made a flood? Let a famine happen, and let the land be destroyed (?). Why hast thou made a flood? Let Ura (pestilence) come, and let the land be devastated (?). I did not reveal the decision of the great gods— I caused Atra-ḫasis to see a dream, and he heard the decision of the gods.’ When he had taken counsel (with himself), Ae went up into the midst of the ship, He took my hand and he led me up, even me He brought up and caused my woman to kneel (?) at my side; He touched us, and standing between us, he blessed us (saying): ‘Formerly Pir-napištim was a man: Now (as for) Pir-napištim and his woman, let them be like unto the gods, (even) us, And let Pir-napištim dwell afar at the mouths of the rivers.’ He took me, and afar at the mouths of the rivers he caused me to dwell. Now as for thee, who of the gods shall restore thee to health? That thou see the life that thou seekest, even thou? Well, lie not down to sleep six days and seven nights, Like one who is sitting down in the midst of his sorrow (?), Sleep like a dark cloud hovereth over him. Pir-napištim then said to his wife: ‘See, the hero who desireth life, Sleep like a dark cloud hovereth over him.’ His wife then said to Pir-napištim the remote: ‘Touch him, and let him awake a man— Let him return in health by the road that he came, Let him return to his country by the great gate by which he came forth.’ Pir-napištim said to his wife: ‘The suffering of men hurteth thee. Come, cook his food, set it by his head.’ And the day that he lay down in the enclosure of his ship, She cooked his food, she set it by his head: And the day when he lay down in the enclosure of his cabin First his food was ground, Secondly it was sifted, Thirdly it was moistened, Fourthly she rolled out his dough, Fifthly she threw down a part, Sixthly it was cooked, Seventhly he (or she) touched him suddenly, and he awoke a man!

Gilgameš said to him (even) to Pir-napištim the remote: ‘That sleep quite overcame me Swiftly didst thou touch me, and didst awaken me, even thou.’ ”

Pir-napištim, in answer to this, tells Gilgameš what had been done to him, repeating the description of the preparation of his food in the same words as had been used to describe the ceremony (for such it apparently is), and ending by saying, “Suddenly I touched thee, (even) I, and thou awokest, (even) thou.” Thus putting beyond question the personality of the one who effected the transformation which was brought about, though he leaves out the word “man,” which hid from the hero the fact that a transformation had in consequence taken place in him. The ceremonies were not by any means finished, however, for the boatman or pilot had to take him to the place of lustration to be cleansed, and for the skin, with which he seems to have been covered, to fall off. The Babylonian patriarch then tells him of a wonderful plant which would make an old man young again, and Gilgameš gets possession of one of these. On his way to his own country in the company of the boatman or pilot, he stops to perform what seems to be a religious ceremony, at a well, when a serpent smells the plant,(10) and, apparently in consequence of that, a lion comes and takes it away. Gilgameš greatly laments his loss, saying that he had not benefited by the possession of this wonderful plant, but the lion of the desert had gained the advantage. After a journey only varied by the religious festivals that they kept, they at length reached Erech, the walled. Here, after a reference to the dilapidation of the place, and a statement seemingly referring to the offerings to be made if repairs had not, during his absence, been effected, the eleventh and most important tablet of the Gilgameš series comes to an end.

Of the twelfth tablet but a small portion exists, though fragments of more than one copy have been found. In this we learn that Gilgameš still lamented for his friend Êa-banî, whom he had lost so long before. Wishing to know of his present state and how he fared, he called to the spirit of his friend thus—

“Thou restest not the bow upon the ground, What has been smitten by the bow surround thee. The staff thou raisest not in thine hand, The spirits (of the slain) enclose thee. Shoes upon thy feet thou dost not set, A cry upon earth thou dost not make: Thy wife whom thou lovest thou kissest not, Thy wife whom thou hatest thou smitest not; Thy child whom thou lovest thou kissest not, Thy child whom thou hatest thou smitest not. The sorrowing earth hath taken thee.”

Gilgameš then seems to invoke the goddess “Mother of Nin-a-zu,” seemingly asking her to restore his friend to him, but to all appearance without result. He then turned to the other deities—Bêl, Sin, and Ea, and the last-named seems to have interceded for Êa-banî with Nerigal, the god of the under-world, who, at last, opened the earth, “and the spirit of Êa-banî like mist arose (?).” His friend being thus restored to him, though probably only for a time, and not in bodily form, Gilgameš asks him to describe the appearance of the world from which he had just come. “If I tell thee the appearance of the land I have seen,” he answers, “... sit down, weep.” Gilgameš, however, still persists—“... let me sit down, let me weep,” he answers. Seeing that he would not be denied, Êa-banî complies with his request. It was a place where dwelt people who had sinned in their heart, where (the young) were old, and the worm devoured, a place filled with dust. This was the place of those who had not found favour with their god, who had met with a shameful death (as had apparently Êa-banî himself). The blessed, on the other hand—

“Whom thou sawest [die] the death (?) [of] . .[I see]— In the resting-place of .... reposing, pure water he drinketh. Whom in the battle thou sawest killed, I see— His father and his mother support his head And his wife sitteth [? beside him]. Whose corpse thou hast seen thrown down on the plain, I see— His spirit on earth reposeth not. Whose spirit thou sawest without a caretaker, I see— The leavings of the dish, the rejected of the food, Which in the street is thrown, he eateth.”

And with this graphic description of the world of the dead the twelfth and concluding tablet of the Gilgameš series comes to an end.

With the Gilgameš series of tablets as a whole we have not here to concern ourselves, except to remark, that the story of the Flood is apparently inserted in it in order to bring greater glory to the hero, whom the writer desired to bring into connection with one who was regarded as the greatest and most renowned of old times, and who, on account of the favour that the gods had to him, had attained to immortality and to divinity. Except the great Merodach himself, no divine hero of past ages appealed to the Babylonian mind so strongly as Pir-napištim, who was called Atra-ḫasis, the hero of the Flood.

The reason of the coming of the Flood seems to have been regarded by the Babylonians as two-fold. In the first place, as Pir-napištim is made to say (see p. 100), “Always the river rises and brings a flood”—in other words, it was a natural phenomenon. But in the course of the narrative which he relates to Gilgameš, the true reason is implied, though it does not seem to be stated in words. And this reason is the same as that of the Old Testament, namely, the wickedness of the world. If it should again become needful to punish mankind with annihilation on account of their wickedness, the instrument was to be the lion, or the hyæna, or pestilence—not a flood. And we have not to go far to seek the reason for this. By a flood, the whole of mankind might—in fact, certainly would—be destroyed, whilst by the other means named some, in all probability, would escape. There was at least one of the gods who did not feel inclined to witness the complete destruction of the human race without a protest, and an attempt on his part to frustrate such a merciless design.

Little doubt exists that there is some motive in this statement on the part of the Babylonian author of the legend. It has been already noted that Merodach (the god who generally bears the title of _Bêl_, or “lord”) was, in Babylonian mythology, not one of the older gods, he having displaced his father Ea or Ae, in consequence of the predominance of Babylon, whose patron god Merodach was. Could it be that the Babylonians believed that the visitation of the flood was due to the vengeful anger of Merodach, aroused by the people’s non-acceptance of his kingship? It seems unlikely. Pir-napištim was himself a worshipper of Ae, and on account of that circumstance, he is represented in the story as being under the special protection of that god. To all appearance, therefore, the reason which Pir-napištim is represented as having given, for the building of the ship, to his fellow-townsmen, was not intended to be altogether false. The god Ellila hated him, and therefore he was going to dwell with Ae, his lord—on the bosom of the deep which he ruled. An announcement of the impending doom is represented as having been made to the people by the patriarch, and it is therefore doubly unfortunate that the next paragraph is so mutilated, for it doubtless gave, when complete, some account of the way in which they received the notice of the destruction that was about to be rained down upon them.

It has been more than once suggested, and Prof. Hommel has stated the matter as his opinion, that the name of the god Aê or Ea, another possible reading of which is Aa, may be in some way connected with, and perhaps originated the Assyro-Babylonian divine name Ya’u, “God,” which is cognate with the Hebrew Yah or, as it is generally written, Jah. If this be the case, it would seem to imply that a large section of the people remained faithful to his worship, and the flood of the Babylonians may symbolize some persecution of them by the worshippers of the god Ellila, angry at the slight put upon him by their neglect or unwillingness to acknowledge him as the chief of the Pantheon. Some of the people may, indeed, have worshipped Ae or Aa alone, thus constituting a kind of monotheism. This, nevertheless, is very uncertain, and at present unprovable. It is worthy of note, however, that at a later date there was a tendency to identify all the deities of the Babylonian Pantheon with Merodach, and what in the “middle ages” of the Babylonians existed with regard to Merodach may very well have existed for the worship of Ae or Ea at an earlier date. The transfer, in the Semitic Babylonian Creation-story, of the name of Aê to his son Merodach may perhaps be a re-echo of the tendency to identify all the gods with Ae, when the latter was the supreme object of worship in the land. There is one thing that is certain, and that is, that the Chaldean Noah, Pir-napištim, was faithful in the worship of the older god, who therefore warned him, thus saving his life. Ae, the god who knew all things, knew also the design of his fellows to destroy mankind, and being “all and always eye,” to adopt a phrase used by John Bunyan, he bore, as a surname, that name Nin-igi-azaga, “Lord of the bright eye,” so well befitting one who, even among his divine peers, was the lord of unsearchable wisdom.

It is unfortunately a difficult thing to make a comparison of the ark as described in Genesis with a ship of the Babylonian story. It was thought, by the earlier translators of the Babylonian story of the Flood, that its size was indicated in the second paragraph of the story (p. 102, ll. 11, 12), but Dr. Haupt justly doubts that rendering. If the size of the vessel were indicated at all, it was probably in the next paragraph, where the building of the ship is described. This part, however, is so very mutilated, that very little clear sense can be made out of it. The Babylonian home-land of the story seems certainly to be indicated by the mention of two kinds of bitumen or pitch for caulking the vessel, Babylonia being the land of bitumen _par excellence_. Those who were to live on board were to sustain themselves with the flesh of oxen, and to all appearance they cheered the weary hours with the various kinds of drink of which they laid in store. They were not neglectful, either, of the oil that they used in preparing the various dishes, and with which they anointed their persons. All these points, though but little things in themselves, go to show that the story, in its Babylonian dress, was really written in the country of that luxury-loving people. The mention of holes for the cables, too, shows that the story is the production of maritime people, such as the Babylonians were.

Apparently the Babylonians found there was something inconsistent in the patriarch being saved without any of his relatives (except his sons), and the artificers who had helped him to build the ship which was to save him from the destruction that overwhelmed his countrymen and theirs. For this reason, and also because of the relationship that might be supposed to exist between master and servant, his relatives and the sons of the artificers(11) are saved along with his own family, which, of course, would not only include his sons, but their wives also. On this point, therefore, the two accounts may be regarded as in agreement.

When all was ready, the Sun-god, called by the usual Semitic name of Šamaš, appointed the time for the coming of the catastrophe. This would seem to be another confirmation of the statement already made, that the Babylonians, like the Hebrews (see Gen. i. 14-18), regarded one of the uses of the sun as being to indicate seasons and times. It was a great and terrible time, such as caused terror to the beholder, and the patriarch was smitten with fear. Here, as in other parts of the Babylonian version, there is a human interest that is to a large extent wanting in the precise and detailed Hebrew account. Again the maritime nation is in evidence, where the consigning of the ship into the care of a pilot is referred to. Of course such an official could do but little more than prevent disastrous misfortune from the vessel being the plaything of the waves. In the description of the storm, the terror of the gods, Ištar’s grief, and Maḫ’s anger at the destruction of mankind, we see the production of a nation steeped in idolatry, but there are but few Assyro-Babylonian documents in which this fact is not made evident.

We have a return to the Biblical story in the sending forth of the birds, and the sacrifice of odoriferous herbs, when the gods smelled a sweet savour, and gathered like flies over the sacrificer. In the signets of Maḫ, “the lady of the gods,” by which she swears, we may, perhaps, see a reflection of the covenant by means of the rainbow, which the Babylonians possibly explained as being the necklace of the goddess. Instead of the promise that a similar visitation to destroy the whole of mankind should not occur again, there is simply a kind of exhortation on the part of the god Ae, addressed to Ellila, not to destroy the world by means of a flood again. To punish mankind for sins and misdeeds committed, other means were to be employed that did not involve the destruction of the whole human race.

Noah died at the age of 950 years (Gen. ix. 29), but his Babylonian representative was translated to the abode of the blessed “at the mouths of the rivers,” with his wife, to all appearance immediately after the Flood. In this the Babylonian account differs, and the ultimate fate of the patriarch resembles that of the Biblical Enoch, he who “was not, for God took him” (Gen. v. 24).

Appendix. The Second Version Of The Flood-Story.

This was found by the late George Smith at Nineveh when excavating for the proprietors of the _Daily Telegraph_, and was at first supposed to belong to the text translated on pp. 101-109. This, however, is impossible, as the narrative is in the third person instead of the first, and in the form of a conversation between Atra-ḫasis (= Pir-napištim) and the god Aê—

Tablet D. T. 42.

...................... ....... may it be ....... like the vault of ....... may it be strong above and below. Enclose the ... and ............... [At] the time that I shall send to thee Enter [the ship] and close the door of the ship, Into the midst of it [take] thy grain, thy furniture, and [thy] goods, Thy . . ., thy family, thy relatives, and the artisans; [The beasts] of the field, the animals of the field, as many as I shall collect (?), [I will] send to thee, and thy door shall protect them.

[Atra]-ḫasis opened his mouth and spake, Sa]ying to Aê, his lord: “...... a ship I have not made ....... Form [its shape (?) upon the gr]ound. Let me see the [plan], and [I will build] the ship. [Form] ...... on the ground ........ ........ what thou hast said ....... .........................

It is not improbable that the fragment published by the Rev. V. Scheil, O. P., belongs to this legend (see _The King’s Own_,(12) April 1898, pp. 397-400).