The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria Part 55

Ea appeals to Bel:

Ea opened his mouth and spoke, spoke to the belligerent Bel: "Thou art the belligerent leader of the G.o.ds, But why didst thou, without consultation, bring on the rainstorm?

Punish the sinner for his sins, Punish the evil-doer for his evil deeds, But be merciful so as not to root out completely, Be considerate not to destroy everything."

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

Instead of bringing on a deluge, Let lions come and diminish mankind.[976]

Instead of bringing on a deluge, Let tigers come and diminish mankind.

Instead of bringing on a deluge, Let famine come and smite the land.

Instead of bringing on a deluge, Let pestilence[977] come and waste the land.

Ea then confesses that through his instigation Parnapishtim was saved.

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

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

Bel came to his senses, Stepped on board of the s.h.i.+p, Took me by the hand and lifted me up, Brought up my wife, and caused her to kneel at my side, Turned towards us, stepped between us, and blessed us.

'Hitherto Parnapishtim was human,[979]

But now Parnapishtim and his wife shall be G.o.ds like us.[980]

Parnapishtim shall dwell in the distance, at the confluence of the streams.'

Then they took me and placed me in the distance, at the confluence of the streams.

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

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

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

The slight variations between the Biblical and Babylonian narratives, and upon which it is needless to dwell, justify the conclusion that the Hebrew story is not directly borrowed from the Babylonian version.[982]

The divergences are just of the character that will arise through the independent development and the independent interpretation of a common tradition. The destruction of Shurippak has a Biblical parallel in the destruction of Sodom[983] and of the surrounding district. Sodom, like Shurippak, is a city full of wickedness. Lot and his household are saved through direct intervention, just as Parnapishtim and his family escape through the intervention of Ea. Moreover, there are traces in the Sodom narrative of a tradition which once gave a larger character to it, involving the destruction of all mankind,[984] much as the destruction of Shurippak is enlarged by Babylonian traditions into a general annihilation of mankind. It is to be noted, too, that no emphasis is laid upon Lot's piety, and in this respect, as in others, Parnapishtim bears more resemblance to Lot than to Noah.

The hostility between Bel and Ea, which we have seen plays a part in the Babylonian narrative, belongs to the larger mythological element in the episode, not to the specific Shurippak incident. Bel, as the G.o.d whose dominion includes the atmosphere above the earth, controls the 'upper waters.' At his instigation these waters descend and bring destruction with them. But Ea's dominion--the 'deep' and the streams--are beneficent powers. The descent of the upper waters is in the nature of an attack upon Ea's kingdom. It is through Ea that the mischief produced by Bel is again made good. Such a conception falls within the domain of popular mythology. An ancient rivalry between Nippur, the seat of Bel and Eridu (or some other seat of Ea wors.h.i.+p), may also have entered as a factor, if not in giving rise to the story, at least in maintaining it. If this be so, the story would belong to a period earlier than Hammurabi,[985]

since with the ascendancy of Babylon and of Marduk, the general tendency of religious thought is towards imbuing the G.o.ds with a kindly spirit towards one another, joining issues, as in the creation epic, for the glorification of Marduk. The absence of Marduk from the deluge story is another indication of the antiquity of the tradition.

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

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

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

Parnapishtim says to his wife: "Look at the man whose desire is life.

Sleep has fallen upon him like a storm."

Says the wife to Parnapishtim: "Transform him, let the man eat of the charm-root,[986]

Let him return, restored in health, on the road that he came.

Through the gage let him pa.s.s out, back to his country."

Parnapishtim says to his wife: "The torture of the man pains thee.

Cook the food[987] for him and place it at his head."

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

While he[988] slept on board of his s.h.i.+p, She cooked the food and placed it at his head.

While he[988] slept on board of his vessel, Firstly, his food ... ; Secondly, it was peeled; Thirdly, moistened; Fourthly, his bowl (?) was cleansed; Fifthly, _s.h.i.+ba_[989] was added; Sixthly, it was cooked; Seventhly, of a sudden the man was transformed and ate the magic food.[990]

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

The man whom thou hast brought is covered with sores.

The eruption on his skin has destroyed the beauty of his body.

Take him, O Ardi-Ea, to the place of purification, To wash his sores in the water, that he may become white as snow.

Let the ocean carry off the eruption on his skin, That his body may become pure.[991]

Let his turban be renewed and the garment that covers his nakedness.

Ardi-Ea carries out these instructions and Gilgamesh at last is healed.

The hero is now ready to return to his land. But though returning in restored health, he is not proof against death. Parnapishtim, at the suggestion of his wife, reveals the 'secret of life' to Gilgamesh just before the latter's departure. The s.h.i.+p is brought nearer to the sh.o.r.e, and Parnapishtim tells Gilgamesh of a plant that wounds as a thistle, but which possesses wonderful power. Gilgamesh departs on the s.h.i.+p, and with the help of Ardi-Ea finds this plant, which is called 'the restoration of old age to youth.' It is a long journey to the place. The plant grows at the side or at the bottom of a fountain. Gilgamesh secures it, but scarcely have his hands grasped the plant when it slips out of his hand and is s.n.a.t.c.hed away by a demon that takes on the form of a serpent. All is lost! Gilgamesh sits down and weeps bitter tears.

He pours out his woe to Ardi-Ea, but there is nothing left except to return to Uruk. He reaches the city in safely. His mission--the search for immortality--has failed. Though healed from his disease, the fate of mankind--old age and death--is in store for him. With the return to Uruk the eleventh tablet ends. It but remains, before pa.s.sing on, to note that the narrative of the deluge in this tablet is connected with the character of the eleventh month, which is called the 'month of rain.' We may conclude from this that the mythological element in the story--the annual overflow--predominates the local incident of the destruction of Shurippak. Gilgamesh, we must bear in mind, has nothing to do with either the local tale or the myth, except to give to both an interpretation that was originally foreign to the composite narrative.

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

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

Gilgamesh puts his question to Eabani:

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

Eabani replies:

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

He seems to feel that Gilgamesh could not endure the description. The life after death, as will be shown in a subsequent chapter, is not pictured by the Babylonians as joyous. Eabani reveals glimpses of the sad conditions that prevail there. It is the domain of the terrible Allatu, and Etana[993] is named among those who dwell in this region.

Eabani bewails his fate.[994] He curses Ukhat, whom, together with Sadu, he holds responsible for having brought death upon him. In Genesis, it will be recalled, death likewise is viewed as the consequence of Adam's yielding to the allurements of Eve. Special significance, too, attaches to the further parallel to be drawn between Adam's punishment and Eabani's fate.

Dust thou art, and unto dust shall thou return

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

On a soft couch rests, Drinking pure water, Who dies in battle, as you and I have seen,[997]

His father and mother supporting his head, His wife[998] ... at his side,--

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

But he whose corpse remains in the field, As you and I have seen, His spirit[999] has no rest in the earth.

The one whose spirit is not cared for by any one, As you and I have seen, He is consumed by gnawing hunger, by a longing for food.

What is left on the street he is obliged to eat.[1000]

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

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

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