CONTENTS Articles K. Lawson Younger, Jr. The Deity Kur(r)a in the First Millennium Sources ........................................................... Keith Dickson The Wall of Uruk: Iconicities in Gilgamesh ... Philip C. Schmitz The Owl in Phoenician Mortuary Practice ............................................................................... Book Review Amar Annus Review Article. The Folk-Tales of Iraq and the Literary Traditions of Ancient Mesopotamia ...................

1 25 51

87

THE DEITY KUR(R)A IN THE FIRST MILLENNIUM SOURCES K. LAWSON YOUNGER, JR. Trinity International UniversityDivinity School AbstractRecent epigraphic evidence from Cebel res Da, ineky and Tell amad have provided further important additional documentation in Phoenician for a deity Kur(r)a. This article investigates the growing attestations for this deity in the rst millennium sources, both cuneiform and alphabetic. In light of the growing occurrences of b l kr, it proposes a reassessment of the enigmatic phrase b l krntry in the Phoenician text from Karatepe. The article also presents the limited second millennium data and evaluates the possible connections with the third millennium Eblaite deity Kura. Lvidence pigraphique rcente de Cebel res Da, ineky et Tell amad a fourni encore plus de documentation importante en phnicien pour une divinit nomme Kur(r)a. Cet article tudie les attestations croissantes pour cette divinit dans les sources cuniformes et alphabtiques du premier millnaire av. J.-C. la lumire des occurrences croissantes de b l kr, cette tude propose une rvaluation de lexpression nigmatique b l krntry dans le texte phnicienne de Karatepe. Larticle prsente galement les donnes limites du deuxime millnaire et value les liens possibles avec la divinit blate du troisime millnaire Kura. Keywords: Kur(r)a, Ba al, Karatepe, Ebla, ineky, Cebel res Da, Tell amad

1. Introduction The discoveries and publications of the Phoenician inscription from Cebel res Da and the PhoenicianHieroglyphic Luwian bilingual inscription from ineky have raised again the question of the identity of a deity b l kr.1 The name of such a deity was previously known in Phoenician only from a small four-sided gray1 I am very grateful to Gary Beckman, JoAnn Scurlock, Richard Beal and Philip Schmitz for their kindness in reading an earlier draft of this article and for their criticisms and suggestions. An earlier version was read at the annual meeting of the American Oriental Society, March, 2008. All errors are my responsibility.

Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009 Also available online brill.nl/jane

JANER 9.1 DOI: 10.1163/156921209X449134

2

k. lawson younger, jr.

marble bowl or mortar from Sidon (formerly in Berlin, VA 569, unfortunately now lost). It measured 15 cm high, carved with bullhead handles, from whose mouths rings hang. The depression in the center of the top is encircled by a snake in relief. On the sides (their starting point is uncertain) are incised ritual scenes each in a rectangular panel (Drawing 1 below).2 On the basis of the form of the letters, a date in the 4th century BCE would seem likely for this object. In 1969, R. D. Barnett offered the rst detailed study of this bowl and proposed that the term kr was derived from a geminate root krr to enclose,3 thus b l kr, Ba al of the pasturage/the encloser. Barnett argued that the four scenes on the bowl form a coherent whole and may be identied with the rituals of burning a god on a pyre, recorded at Tyre in the cult of Melkart. He also noted that a similar ritual is reported from Tarsus in the half-Asianic cult of Sandon.4 In 1970, E. Lipiski proposed to connect kr to a hollow root kwr, a lexeme attested in Hebrew kr furnace, hence Ba al of the furnace.5 This appeared to be a better proposal since one scene on the bowl appears to depict a large seething cauldron, and another seems to show a gure (possibly representing Melqart?) bathed in ames. Other scholars have followed this understanding of kr (see Panel A in Drawing 1).6 In 1988, J. Elayi published another marble stemmed bowl that seemed to be a parallel to the Sidon bowl. She argued that both bowls were pieces of popular art due to their irregular carvings. She also noted the form of the bowls and their apparent intent for use in an oven or furnace.7 She concluded that the four scenes represented on the vase [i.e. the Sidon bowl] have likely a link with the myth of Milqarts inhumation and resurrection.8 T. Mettinger has recently used the Sidon Bowl as evidence in an argument for a dying and rising deity.9See Barnett 1969; Elayi 1990: 63-64 and drawing p. 298; Gressmann 1927; Pietschmann 1889: 24. 3 Barnett 1969: 11. He was followed in this interpretation by Tomback 1978: 149, s.v. kr2. 4 Ibid., 10. 5 Lipiski 1970: 43. 6 Delcor 1974: 68-74; Bonnet-Tzavellas 1983; Bonnet 1988; 1992. 7 Elayi 1988: 547; 1990: 64. See also Bonnet 1988: 78-80; 1992. 8 Elayi 1988: 547. 9 Mettinger 2005. However, since the iconography of this bowl is still not fully understood, caution is perhaps required.2

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sources

3

With the publication of the Cebel res Da inscription by Mosca and Russell in 1987, a second attestation of the phrase b l kr appeared. They opted to understand this as Lord of the furnace, stating: In support of this interpretation, we may recall that Cilicia had been for centuries an important source of iron for Mesopotamia, and presumably also for Phoenicia. It would thus not be surprising to nd b l kr in both Rough Cilicia and Sidon.10 However, the interpretation of b l kr as Ba al of the furnace is not problem free. First, the drawings incised on the second bowl published by Elayi do not really match those of the Sidon bowl. There is no gure in the ames as on the Sidon bowl and the connections are rather loose. Second, it is not certain that the gure in the ames depicted on the Sidon bowl (see Panel A of Drawing 1) is supposed to represent b l kr, since the inscription is n another side panel where the gure is holding a bird in each hand between four palm brancheshardly a furnace! Third, in the context of the Cebel res Da inscription, understanding b l kr as Ba al or Lord of the furnace really does not make good sense. The inscription11 (lines 4a-7a) states:w p . (4a)mt . ytn . lkl . d . z(4b)bl . wkrmm . bd . zbl . t t . qrt . wkr(5a)mm . . t t . ml . w p . (5b)b l . kr . yb . bn . wqb . mt . qbt . drt (6a). lbl . gzly . dm . d . (6b) m . krm . bd . p . kl . bkl . . ytn (7a). l . mt . And furthermore, Mutas gave to Kulas the eld of the Prince and the vineyards within the eld of the Prince below the town as well as the vineyards below ML. And furthermore, he (Mutas) settled b l kr in it, and Mutas pronounced a mighty curse so that no one should illegitimately seize iteld or vineyardfrom the possession of the family of Kulas among everything which Mutas had given to him.12

Why settle in a eld a deity connected to the furnace or to smelting? Why pronounce a mighty curse in the name of a deity of the10 Mosca and Russell 1987: 14. They also noted the possibility that b l kr could refer to human beings rather than a deity. Thus just as Hebrew ba al i m, lit. lords of arrows (Gen 49:23; cf. the similar expression in Ugaritic b l ) designates archers, so here *ba l kr, lords of the crucible, might designate metal workers or smelters. But as they rightly observed this understanding of the phrase does not t the context of the awesome curse which follows. Thus their preferred understanding of b l kr is as a reference to the deity Lord of the furnace. See also Elayi 1990: 64 and DNWSI 534 s.v. kr4. 11 KAI 5 no. 287; Mosca and Russell 1987. 12 See Younger 2002 with references.

4

k. lawson younger, jr.

furnace or smelting on anyone who might illegitimately seize the eld or the vineyard? In 1995, Lipiski suggested another possible understanding of the term kr, connecting the term with a north Syrian deity named Kura.13 This deity is well-attested as early as the late third millennium at Ebla. In fact, Kura (written dKu-ra) was the most important deity at Ebla, receiving the major number of offerings. In order to assess these different proposals, the following sections will briey investigate the evidence for a deity Kura from the third, second and rst millennia (with particular focus on the rst millennium). 2. Possible Third Millennium Attestations Archi argues that the Eblaite pantheon is the expression of an urban society in which two linguistic and cultural elements have come together, the substrate and the Semitic.14 At the head of this pantheon was a triad of deities composed of Kura (dKu-ra), the citys major god,15 who belongs to the substrate, and two Semitic deities: the Storm-god, Adda (d-da), and the sun-goddess, dUtu (logogram to be read ama).16 Thus, of the little over forty deities17 that comprised the Eblaite pantheon, some were Semitic and others were from an earlier non-Semitic context. But one must be somewhat cautious here since, as Pomponio and Xella point out,18 the hypothesis of Archi is based on the connection of Kura to the dynasty and city; it is not explicitly documented. Archi also notes that Kura seems to manifest some of the same functions as the storm-god, probably because in the rainfall zone of the ancient13 Lipiski 1995: 239-240. He argues that Kura was a god of the harvest and agriculture because the deitys name is non-Semitic, standing for the deied grinding stone (derived from Old Sumerian kurax). Thus the gods cult was a fertility cult, linked to the myth of the dying and rising deity, resulting in the association with Melqart (p. 240). It seems rather odd, however, that the name of the major deity at Ebla would be derived from a Sumerian term. 14 Archi 1992: 7; 1993: 12. 15 It is clear that Kura was the citys major god from the close to 300 attestations of the deitys name. See Pomponio and Xella 1997:223-245; Waetzoldt 2001: 593-594. 16 Archi 1992: 7; 1993b: 470. 17 In the offering lists, the number of deities listed slightly exceeds forty. See Archi 1993a: 9. 18 Pomponio and Xella 1997: 246; Wilhelm 1992: 24.

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sources

5

Near East (i.e. Anatolia, Syria, and Northern Mesopotamia), the main male god usually has the feature of being in control of meteorological phenomena.19 Kuras feminine counterpart is Barama (written: dBa-ra-ma). The evidence indicates that the deity Kura and his consort Barama are considered as the divine projection of the Eblaite sovereign couple who, after the marriage, are identied by their superhuman archetypes (i.e. Kura and Barama).20 Hence, while the mortal royal pair serve as projections for the divine pair, through the codication of the projection, the divine pair serve as the archetype for the mortal pair and the basis for their connection to the divine pair. Thus, Kura serves as the dynastic deity par excellence.21 This divine pair is intimately connected with the cult of the dead kings (ARET 3 178; note also dKu-ra wa dBa-ra-ma in ARET 3 419).22 From ARET 3 178, as Stieglitz notes,23 it seems clear that the deities Kura and Barama were the principal deities in a seven-day ritual termed the a-ba-tum ma Greater aba tum. These liturgies were performed in the temple of Kura at Ebla and its adjoining mausoleum called The House of the Dead ( ma-dm/tim).24 Stieglitz comments:The Eblaite term aba tum is to be derived from the root B seven, and as such is no doubt related to the Akkadian sebtu 7th day (of the month) and of course to Biblical Hebrew ba week. A connection between the Eblaite word and Akkadian apattu 15th day (of the month) seems less likely to me.25

In the legal texts, Archi notes that Kura forms a triad with dUtu and Adda, and seems in some texts to represent directly all the gods.26 Thus Kura is invoked with dUtu, Adda, and the gods, in TM.75.G.1444 (SEb 4 [1984] 35-39) to serve as witness to a royal decree.Archi 1993a: 11. Pomponio and Xella 1997: 245. . . . le dieu Kura et sa pardre Barama taient considrs comme la projection divine du couple des souverains blates qui, aprs le mariage, sidentiaient leurs archtypes surhumains. 21 Often occurring in personal names at Ebla. E.g., A-b-dKu-ra; En-nu-dKu-ra; Mi-kum-dKu-ra; Mi-nu-dKu-ra; Puzur4-ra-dKu-ra; Si-ma-dKu-ra; -ma-dKu-ra; u-ma-dKu-ra; dKu-ra-i-da-ma; cf. the Indexes of ARET I-VIII. 22 Stieglitz 2002: 212. 23 Ibid. 24 Fronzaroli 1988: 26. 25 Stieglitz 2002: 212. 26 Archi 1982: 210.19 20

6

k. lawson younger, jr.

In the administrative texts, the gods NIdaBAL (Itab/pal) and Kura have more than twice as many attestations than any other deity. That NIdaBAL preceeds Kura is explained by the fact that he is represented by several hypostases. But Kuras pre-eminence over the other deities is conrmed by the annual accounts (about twenty in number) of silver and gold expended by the Palace. They invariably begin with the recording of one mina silver for the head (of the statue) of Kura. This donation likely refers to a yearly renewal rite of the main gods statue in the city (well known in many cultures).27 The temple of the Kura was situated at Saza. This was a complex of buildings at Ebla which served as not only the most sacred religious place of the city (where marriage rites, oaths, verdicts, etc. took place), but whose single grand sanctuary was the political and administrative hub of the city.28 The fact that Kura had a preeminent place in the devotion of the king is attested by a number of documented events: rst, the king pronounced a solemn verdict concerning an inheritance in favor of the minister Ibrium (SEb 1 1981: 38, 44); second, he swore (an oath) by invoking in order the deities Kura, dUtu and Adda. While the invocation of the solar deity is perfectly explained by that deitys traditional function as the guarantor of oaths, treaties, and contracts, the invocations of Kura and Adda were invoked precisely because they were the two major divinities of the national pantheon and of the king, not only in his devotional preferences, but also in the ofcial and public aspects of the cult.29 While Kura was unquestionably the most important deity at Ebla, he was not venerated exclusively there. There is evidence that he was venerated at Munutium, a kingdom of north-west Syria,30 at ila a (perhaps in the region of Ebla?),31 and at Armi (TM.75. G.10201 r, I 10).32 Of course, one of the difculties of identifying Phoenician kr with Eblaite Kura is the apparent absence of any second millennium attestations of the deity. Stieglitz professes: we know littleArchi 1993a: 11. Cf. Milano 1989-90: 155-173. 29 For Kuras absence in the treaty between Ebla and Abarsal, see Pomponio and Xella 1997: 246. 30 Bonechi 1990: 162. 31 Bonechi 1993: 296. 32 Archi, Piacentini and Pomponio 1993: 162.27 28

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sources

7

about this deity (i.e. Kura), especially since the name is unattested elsewhere in Bronze Age or Iron Age sources.33 3. Possible Second Millennium Attestations There may be a few occurrences of this divine name in the second millennium, though none can be considered certain.34 3.1. First, a possible attestation is found in the God-list An: Anu a amli, where dKur-ra is given as a name of Anu and explained as of the land (a mti).35 3.2. Second, G. Wilhelm has explicated the possible connection of a deity dku-ur-ri with Eblaite Kura found in a tablet from attua.36 The name appears in the fth tablet associated with the Hurrian feast of iuwa.37 An offering of 1 silver cup of wine is given to Kurri in the same context as the same offering given to other Hurrian deities of destiny (Zimazzalli, Eui, and utena and utellurra); and the underworld goddess Allani receives two silver cups of wine. Wilhelms proposal has been taken up by Haas38 and accepted by Archi.39 3.3. Third, Dalley and Postgate suggest that Kur(r)a may possibly be attested at Mari in the personal name mab-Kur-i.40 3.4. Fourth, two attestations may be found in texts from Nuzi, d ku-ur-we-e (AASOR 16, 47:1) and Kr-we-e (AASOR 16, 48:1).41 Whether any of these attestations are to be connected with the

33 Stieglitz 2002: 212. About a decade earlier, Sollberger stated: The existence of this deity [Kura] outside of Ebla is unknown to me (ARET 8:10). 34 Pomponio and Xella mention the possibility of recognizing the name of Kura in the Ugaritic personal name ilmkr (as cited in Grndahl 1967:151), though they wisely express uncertainty about this (Pomponio and Xella 1997: 247). Grndahl (1967: 369) cited UM 321 I.9 ( CAT 4.63) and he analyzed the name (1967: 151) stating: ilmkr, unsicher, vielleicht il + -m (emphat. Partikel) + kr El/mein Gott ist wahrlich ein Widder. However, CAT 4.63 reads the name as ilmhr (El is a warrior). For this name, see del Olmo Lete and Sanmartn 2004: 57-58. 35 See Litke 1998: 229, A.6 and plate XLIII. 36 Wilhelm 1992. 37 Wilhelm 1992: 26 (line 41); KBo XV 60 Vs. I; KBo VII 45 + XX 114 (+) 118 Vs I; KBo XV 50. 38 Haas 1994: 545-547. 39 Archi 1992: 11. 40 Dalley and Postgate 1984: 100. See footnote 21 above, rst name in the list: A-b-dKu-ra. 41 Ibid.

8

k. lawson younger, jr.

Eblaite deity and the later rst millennium citations is difcult to assess. But it must remain possible.42 4. Possible First Millennium Attestations For the rst millennium, there is a growing number of attestations of a deity Kur(r)a.43 These are found in cuneiform sources from the Neo-Assyrian empire and in West Semitic alphabetic, almost exclusively Phoenician, sources. 4.1. Cuneiform Sources 4.1.1. First of all, according to ADD 1252, there was a temple of the god Kur(r)a in the Neo-Assyrian period in Nineveh ( dkur.a).44 In this text describing the division of an inheritance, A u-iddina, son of [. . .]numi buys from his brother Zeru-ukin the share that he inherited of their fathers house in Nineveh. The text is from the reign of Assurbanipal, dated by eponym to 636 BCE, and the temple of Kur(r)a is listed here as one of the adjoining properties to the inherited estate. 4.1.2. Furthermore, a deity Kur(r)a is also attested in personal names from the Neo-Assyrian period. In two of these, the theophoric element serves as the second component in the name: Abdi-Kur(r)a and Amat-Kur(r)a. There are two individuals who bear the name Abdi-Kur(r)a.45 First, a cook from Nineveh during the reign of Assurbanipal (634 BC) is named Abdi-Kurra (spelled mab-di-kurra).46 Second, a man from Nineveh whose son owed six shekels of silver is named Abdi-Kura (spelled mab-di-dkur-a).47 In the case of42 Pomponio and Xella note that it is possible to see in Kura a dynastic deity, a paternal and royal gure, and to envision in the divine pair Kura-Barama a formal analogy with the Ugaritic divine pair El-Athirat. They speculate that there may be some analogy also between Kura and Adda on the one hand, and El and Baal on the other hand (Pomponio and Xella 1997: 248). 43 Lipiski 1995: 239-240; Dalley and Postgate 1984: 100. 44 Postgate 1976: 117, no. 19:13; Mattila 2002: 96, no. 111:13. 45 Fales and Radner 1998: 6. 46 Postgate and Ismail 1979: 30, no. 15.1 and 14. 47 Postgate and Ismail 1979: 17, no. 6.2

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sources

9

Amat-Kur(r)a,48 only one individual bears this name. A woman from Nineveh named Amat-Kura (spelled fgem-dkur-a) is pledged by her husband, along with her daughter, two sons and another person (ADD 78.5).49 4.1.3. The theophoric component is found fronted in the personal name Kur-ilya. M. Stolper suggested reading the name, previously taken as Mat-ilya, as Kur-ilya.50 There is now a consensus that this is the correct understanding of the name. There are thirty-nine occurrences of this name, and twenty-six individuals bore it in texts from the reign of Sargon II to the end of the Assyrian empire.51 The very meaning of this personal name (Kur(a) is my god)52 argues strongly for the existence of a deity Kur(r)a.53 4.1.4. Thus, in the cuneiform texts from the rst millennium, there are forty-one occurrences in personal names with the deity Kur(r)a as the theophoric component. That a temple to this deity existed in Nineveh at the height of the Assyrian empire is further evidence to the deitys importance.

Fales 1998. Mattila 2002: 152, no. 181.5; Fales 1998. 50 Stolper 1980: 85. 51 Thirty times the name is written: mkur-dingir-a-a. See Baker 2000: 641-642, although her last two entries, mku-ri-il-la-a-a (Af O 27 85:7 r. 5) and mkur-il-la-a-a (2 R 64 r. iii 24), may be a different name. I am adding mku-ur-la-a-a (Wunsch 1993: 99, 21) to the count, even though it is in a Babylonian text. Lipiski (1997: 90-91) suggested that the name is based on kurillu pile of sheaves, i.e. Born at the end of harvest. This might explain the last two entries in Bakers article, but it is not an adequate explanation of the other spellings. 52 Zadok 1998: 59. He states: Ku-ur-la-A+A . . . is the same name as NA Kurla-A+A, Kur-ri-la-A+A, Kur-l-A+A (SAA 6, 344, 10, 26 r. 2 and 170, 2 resp.) Kur(a) is my god with dropping of a short unstressed -i-. 53 One should compare the name Bl-ilya (Bel [Ba al] is my God) written m en-dingir-a-a, not once mden-dingir-a-a. See Kessler 1999. Compare also the name Adad-ilya (Adad is my god) which is often written m10-dingir-a-a. See Radner 1998.48 49

10

k. lawson younger, jr.

4.2. West Semitic Sources 4.2.1. In Personal Names 4.2.1.1. The rst possible attestation is found in a legal text dating to 686 BCE.54 In it, an unnamed governor of Arzuhina, and two other men (Rmanni-ilu55 and Ahu-ilu) were obligated to pay back a loan for three minas of silver to Mamu-iqbi56 in Nineveh (BT 124).57 A cylinder seal inscription on this tablet reads [ ]bdkr. It is likely that this is the name of the governor of Arzuhina, whose name is not mentioned in the document.58 Amadasi Guzzo,59 following Watanabe,60 has suggested that since the rst letter of this name is not preserved, it is possible that the name should be read with an aleph, not an ayin,61 hence: [ ]b-dkr (Ab-dekr), an Aramaic name attested a few times in cuneiform sources. However, this name is not attested in alphabetic script,62 and the persons bearing this name do not match the period of this tablet. Thus it is more likely that the name should be read with an ayin, hence [ ]bd-kr (Abd-Kur), a name attested in cuneiform (see 4.1.2. above), as well as alphabetic sources (see next paragraph). 4.2.1.2. A second possible attestation is found in a Punic text (CIS 2630.3) where the personal name bdkrr occurs.63 This is the same name as found in the cuneiform examples discussed in 4.1.2 above. Clearly,Watanabe 1993: 114, Taf. 5.6; Fales and Radner 1998. Baker 2002. 56 Van Buylaere 2001: 676. This individual is attested in a number of texts from the latter part of the reign of Sennacherib. 57 Parker 1963: 97; BT 124 FNALD 20 (Postgate 1976: 119-122). 58 Radner in Fales and Radner 1998: 6. 59 Amadasi Guzzo 2002: 318. 60 Watanabe 1993: 114. 61 This is Maraqtens restoration [ ]bdkr (1988: 65). Vattioni (1968: nr. 160) apparently read brhd? 62 Maraqten 1988: 113; Breckwoldt 1998: 9. The name is always written with the logogram ad: mad-de-kr or mad-de-ki-ri. See Breckwoldt 1998: 9. 63 Benz 1972: 154. He states: Unknown deity or epithet (with sense of to leap, dance? if not a misspelling of KR (Inventor-craftsman divinity and patron of arts). Perhaps related to non-Sem. krr found as name in Ug. (Hurrian?, PTU 237) (Ibid., 335). The possibility of misspelling is lessened by the growing number of attestations of kr(r) as a theophoric element in personal names.54 55

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sources

11

the second element of the name is a theophoric.64 There may be other examples of this theophoric element in other personal names as yet unidentied.65 4.2.1.3. A recently published sherd from Tell amad (SH 95 / 6543 I 142) contains a clear ve-letter inscription of ownership: l zkr Belonging to Oz(i)kur(r)a.66 Rllig notes that while the name zkr is not attested until now, the formation of Phoenician personal names with the element z strength, might is common in the onomasticon: see e.g. zb l, zyb l, zmlk, zmlqrt, ztnt. Since the second component in these names is a theophoric, it is natural to assume that kr is also a theophoric element.67 4.2.1.4. Finally, the deity appears to be attested in an Old Aramaic text from the Gozan-Harran area written as krly, which is the alphabetic writing of the cuneiform name Kur-ilya.68 4.2.2. In Combination With B l 4.2.2.1 ineky. Besides the Sidon Bowl and the Cebel res Da Inscription (discussed above), the term kr is found in combination with the word64 See Delcor 1974: 73. He states: De fait, il existe dans lonomastique punique un nom thophore bd krr, le serviteur du brl, o le second terme parat dsigner un attribut de Melqart. Cf. Halff 1965: 129. Krahmalkov (2000: 243, 356) analyzes the name as Abd-Kirr servant of Kirr, where Kirr is the god of the seventh month. 65 The personal names of two rulers in the region of Que merit mention. After marching to the city of Tarsus (uru.tar-zi), Shalmaneser III appointed a man named Kirr (mki-ir-ri-i) as king in the place of his brother Kat, the Quean. See Verardi 2000. In 696, during the reign of Sennacherib, an Assyrian army invaded Cilicia because a former loyal supporter of Assyria named Kirua (mki-ru-a) a city lord of Illubru (l.en-uru a uru.il-lu-ub-ri) had incited revolt, supported by the inhabitants of Ingira (Anchiale) and Tarzu (Tarsus). He was captured and ayed in Nineveh. See Frahm 2000. 66 Rllig 2001: 46-52, photo p. 47. 67 Ibid., 48. 68 Obviously, this requires the syncope of the aleph. See Lipiski (1997: 90-91), although he derives the name from Akkadian kurillu, which does not seem to match the majority of spellings as well as Zadoks analysis (see note 52 above). Postgate (Dalley and Postgate 1984: 100) suggests emending the deity kd in the Sere treaty to kr . This, however, has not been accepted by most scholars.

12

k. lawson younger, jr.

b l in the Phoenician version of the recently published hieroglyphic Luwian and Phoenician bilingual inscription from ineky that dates to the last quarter of the 8th century.69 The Phoenician text is inscribed in an area on the statue base between the hind legs of two bulls who are pulling a chariot in which the statue of a storm-god stands. The inscription belongs to Awariku/Urikki,70 king of Adana, of the lineage of Mopsos,71 and mentions an alliance between the Danunians and the Assyrians. The passage concerning the deity reads as follows (restorations mine):[yt]n b l(17)

kr tq y b w[kl] n m72 (18)

(18)

l mlk h(17)

[May] b l kr [give ] and [every(?)] good.(17)

to this king

tranquility(?), deliverance, abundance,

It is possible that this deity was the dynastic deity for the house of Mopsos.73 Unfortunately, the preserved portion of the hieroglyphic Luwian inscription does not contain the passage which may have given the precise equivalent to kr in that language. However, it is apparent that b l kr corresponds to Tarhunza, the storm-god in the Luwian version. 4.2.2.2 Karatepe. Azatiwada, a powerful subordinate of Awariku, built a town that he named after himself, Azatiwadaya (modern Karatepe),74 erecting gates and a monumental statue of the storm-god standing on a bull base upon which he incised a hieroglyphic Luwian-Phoenician bilingual text that related his accomplishments and invoked blessings69 Tekolu and Lemaire. 2000; for the discovery with photos, see pek, Tosun, and Tekolu 1999. 70 The name written in Phoenician wryk (Awariku in the Luwian source; Urikki in the Assyrian sources) is attested at Karatepe and Hassan-Beyli where the references are to a king of the Danunians (Que). For Karatepe, see Rllig 1999 and Younger 1998. For Hassan-Beyli, see Lemaire 1983. While this is the same name in the Cebel res Da inscription, it is not the same person (based on the dates of the inscriptions). See Lipiski 2004:116-130. 71 Lemaire 2006; Hawkins 1995; Vanschoonwinkel 1990. Interestingly, the Phoenician and Luwian versions of the ineky Inscription preserve the Greek name spelled variously and , mp and muksas (alternation -ps- / -ks-). See Vanschoonwinkel 1990: 197; Forlanini 2005; Lebrun and Vos 2006. 72 The letter before b l kr is either k or n. Thus possible restorations would include: brk bless, nsk pour, ytn give. In Biblical Hebrew, neither brk or nsk occur with the preposition l; ntn is used with l. Thus it is likely that the verb ytn should be restored here: may Baal Kura give . . . to this king. 73 Lemaire 2006:106. 74 ambel and zyar 2003; Hawkins 2000.

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sources

13

on himself, his city and its citizens. In the Phoenician version75 (found on the North Gate [A], the South Gate [B] and the Statue [C]), a deity called b l krntry is mentioned nine times: North Gate [A] II.19 b l krntry III.2-3 b l kr[n]try III.4 b l/krntry (entire word is written alone on the next orthostat)76 South Gate [B] II.6 [b l] krntry II.8 [b l] krntry Statue [C] III.16 b l III.17 b l III.19 b l IV .20 b l krntry krntry krntry krntry

Importantly, the variant on the statue itself identies the statue with this deity (C III.15b-16a; and IV.19-20).77 Scholars have suggested a number of different ways to understand these sevenletters: krntry. From the time of its discovery, the most common explanation has been toponymic.78 Of these, the most promising proposal was to identify the term krntry with Kelenderis (modern Aydnck),79Rllig 1999; Younger 1998; 2000. Rllig (1999: 52, n. 4) suggests that the scribe forgot the word and added it. But above this word, there are two letters r that are part of a word r plowing that must have been incised together at the same time (the heth is actually missing in a break, but this does not change my point). Since this word ([ ]r) was not added secondarily, it is doubtful that krntry was. 77 Rllig 1999: 64-67. 78 Gibson (1979 SSI 3: 60) simply comments that krntry is obviously nonSemitic, perhaps a place-name, but gives no suggestions. Rllig (1967 3: 42) added the possibility of krntry containing the Hittite royal name Kurunta. 79 For an identication with Kelenderis, see Alt 1948; Barnett 1953: 142, n. 5; Vattioni 1968. Marcus and Gelb (1948: 198) stated: It (the shin) probably stands for a simple s in the spelling of b l krntrjs (iii.16, etc.), where the ending j may express the normal Indo-European gentilic formation ios or ias. With due caution it may be suggested that the remaining krntr corresponds to the classical Kelenderis, the name of a city situated on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea in Cilicia Tracheia. The change of the rst r to l could easily be due to dissimilation because of the second r. For an identication with Krindion, see Alt 1949-52: 282 and Rllig 1967 3: 42.75 76

14

k. lawson younger, jr.

a city on the southern coast near the border with Rough Cilicia. However, recent excavations have demonstrated that there was a signicant gap in occupation from the end of the Bronze Age until the late Sub-Geometric period, i.e. from 1200 to 800 BCE.80 It seems doubtful that the Karatepe term krntry is referring to Kelenderis. Another place-name that scholars have attempted to see in krntry is Tarsus, being composed of the last four letters try, resulting in different suggestions for the rst three letters. Honeyman proposed an unattested Indo-European compound, *kuirwan(a)-tarayas lord of Tarsus.81 Dupont-Sommer suggested Greek chief compounded with -try Tarsus. 82 Bron favored this interpretation, though acknowledging the orthographic problem that Tarsus is written Trz in Phoenician and Aramaic.83 Lebrun argues against -try being Tarsus because of this orthographic issue.84 He suggests isolating the initial segment krn, comparing Akkadian kurinnu divine symbol,85 with the remaining letters -try being Luwian sufxes. Thus while he does not reconstruct the phrase in a translation, it would seem that Lebruns suggestion would be something like Ba al of the divine symbol (with additional Luwian sufxes signifying?).86 This seems doubtful linguistically. Other scholars have seen in krntry a possible adjectival form. Bossert speculated that krntry could represent Greek sovereign.87 M. Weippert discussed krntry comprehensively, concluding that it is an unattested Luwian adjectival form so that b l krntry corresponds to k0r(0)natariyassis Tarhuis (0 represents a vowel).88 Rllig has recently suggested that while the Luwian text clearly refers to Tarhunza (he reads the deity name as Tarhuis),Ylndrs and Gates 2007: 332. Honeyman 1948. He states: . . . the writer has conjectured that the new cult is that of the Tarsian Sandan, who is here given a native appellation suzerain of Tarsus and identied with the Semitic Baal, and who later is called the Baal of Tarsus (Honeyman 1949: 37). 82 Dupont-Sommer 1948: 173. 83 Bron 1979: 183. He cites Hill 1964: 162-164. For a recent discussion of Ba altarz (Aramaic reads: b ltrz) Baal of Tarsus, see Casabonne 2002: 21-31. 84 Lebrun 1992. 85 According to CAD K 560 s.v. kurinnu, the meaning of (a divine symbol) is mainly attested in inscriptions from Boazky. See also AHw 511, s.v. kurrinnu 2. 86 For this suggestion and its anticipated criticism, see Weippert 1969: 213, n. 105. 87 Bossert 1953: 183. 88 Weippert 1969: 211-213; reprint 1997: 125-126.80 81

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sources

15

the Phoenician text might be referring to an additional Anatolian deity.89 He suggests understanding b l krntry as a phrase meaning Ba al krn (and) Tarhuis. He suggests that Ba al krn may be read *kur(in),90 and thus associated with the epithet bl kurrinni connected to the Teub of Ka at. In my opinion, this solution is unsatisfactory, for it is unlikely that the Luwian deitys name would be spelled in Phoenician Try, particularly if the Luwian should be understood as Tarhunza, not Tarhuis.91 But even granting that Try stands for Tarhuis, in a Phoenician text one would expect a conjunction w between the phrase b l krn and Try (i.e. asyndeton is unlikely). Since the epithet bl kurrinni is only attested in Akkadian, its occurrence in a Phoenician text from Karatepe seems problematic. Finally, Rlligs proposal yields an awkward combination repeated in the text nine times: lord of the (divine) symbol (and) Tar unza. G. Bunnens has recently suggested that perhaps the name b l kr is a shortened form of b l krntry.92 But this still does not solve the Karatepe syntagm. Instead, it attempts to explain a simple form by an enigmatic one. Moreover, the cuneiform and alphabetic inscriptional evidence demonstrates that kr is very likely not a shortening of the Karatepe term krntry, but refers to a deity named Kur(r)a. P. Schmitz has recently suggested that the phrase b l krntry at Karatepe should be understood as b l plus a Greek adjective *, thus yielding the mace-bearing Ba al.93 He argues that * is a calque or loan translation of the Northwest Semitic word md mace (attested in Ugaritic [e.g. CAT 1.2 IV 15] and Phoenician [KAI 5 24.15]). Moreover, he equates this macebearing Ba al with the mace-smiting storm-god of Aleppo (as particularly seen on orthostat 7 in the recently excavated temple).94 There can be no doubt that there were Greeks in the region and that Greek inuence was felt there during this period. Schmitz has ably assembled the evidence for this.95 Therefore, his suggestionRllig 2001: 49. Following Lebrun 1992, see above. 91 Note here Brons comment: Les spcialistes du hittite ne se sont pas mis daccord sur la lecture de ce nom divin : Tarhunda pour Laroche, Tarhui pour Meriggi, Tarhuis pour Weippert (Bron 1979: 183, n. 7). In recent years, there has been a growing consensus that the name should be understood as Tarhunza. 92 Bunnens 2006: 128, n. 88 93 Schmitz forthcoming. I would like to express my sincere appreciation to Philip Schmitz for kindly allowing me to see his forthcoming study. 94 See Kohlmeyer 2000: Taf. 8. For the iconography, see Bonatz 2007. 95 See Schmitz forthcoming.89 90

16

k. lawson younger, jr.

merits full consideration. However, there are some signicant difculties. For example, why would a Greek term be used in a Phoenician inscription to calque a perfectly good Phoenician term md? Why not just use b l md? Another difculty is that the Greek adjective as proposed by Schmitz is an unattested form. A third problem is the iconology of the statue at Karatepe that is identied as b l krntry does not have a smiting pose (nor does the ineky statue). Conclusion It is clear that there was a rst millennium deity Kur(r)a. Besides the Sidon Bowl, the Cebel res Da and ineky inscriptions, there are clear occurrences in Phoenician personal names. Furthermore, the cuneiform sources add signicantly to the evidence, both in personal names and in the existence of a temple to this deity in Nineveh. Here, the use of the divine determinative is highly signicant testimony. Therefore, it would seem likely that the Karatepe inscriptions also refer to this deity b l kr. If this is granted, then the term krntry must be divided into two words: kr and ntry. Thus the second word might be an adjective or a place name. There is a Luwian adjective nanuntarra/i-.96 However, for various reasons this does not seem to work. Thus a place-name may yet be the solution, though here too there is, as yet, no solid suggestion. Was Kur(r)a a storm-god? From the rst millennium bilingual inscriptions and from the sculpted iconography which is clearly tied to storm-god imagery, the answer would seem to be afrmative. The ineky Inscription equates b l kr with Tarhunza.97 Lebrun rightly notes that b l krntry is the name under which the Phoenicians at Karatepe venerated the storm-god of the country of Adana.98 It is also possible that the term krntry at Karatepe is another term altogether and the kr should not be separated from the other letters. In this case, Karatepe would not serve as an attestation96 However, the nanutarra/i- family all derive from nanun now > nanuntarriya- of the presentwhich is of course a different concept from the meaning of the nuntara- family in Hittite. See Melchert 1993: 156, 160. Similarly, the hieroglyphic Luwian adjective ana(n)tari- lower (Hawkins 2000: 625) may match in form, but does not yield a clear meaning. 97 For syncretism, see Xella 1999; 1995. 98 Lebrun 1992.

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sourcesDrawing 1: The Sidon Bowl (Pietschmann 1889; Gressmann 1927; Barnett 1969; Mettinger 2005)

17

Lipiski (1970) suggested that the four scenes should be read in the same order as the Phoenician script, i.e. from right to left. He interpreted the pictures as references to (A) the pyre, (B) the tomb, (C) the mourning, and (D) the epiphany in glory of Melqart-Heracles. The inscription b l kr is in (D).

to the deity Kur(r)a as the other inscriptions bearing b l kr from Sidon, Cebel res Da and ineky do, as well as the other rst millennium evidence discussed in this article. However, the great similarity between the statues at ineky and Karatepe would argue in favor of the baals followed by kr in the inscriptions from both sites referring to the same deity.

18

k. lawson younger, jr.

This combination b l kr should perhaps be understood as either the generic term b l proceeding the proper name of the deity (e.g. b l dgn, b l rkb or b l z),99 or alternatively, as another case of the phenomenon of a double deity100 as seen in the Moabite tr . km,101 Samalian Aramaic rqrp,102 and in the Phoenician-Punic world, with names like rp mkl, rsp mlqrt, mlqrt d, mlqrt mn, mlk trt.103 Along with these, b l kr would thus represent the theological development in the rst millennium of double deities. There can be no doubt that at third millennium Ebla, there was a deity called Kura. While there may be some possible evidence from the second millennium, it is perhaps not as yet sufcient to establish a denite link between the third and rst millennia citations. On the other hand, there is some possibility. An interesting parallel with Kura can be seen in the Eblaite deity Gami (dGami-i ). This god was important in both private and ofcial religion at Ebla; there is little rm evidence from the second millennium; and of course, during the rst millennium was the major deity of Moab: Kamo (Mller 1995). Therefore, a possible link between the third millennium evidence for Kura and the rst millennium evidence for such a deity cannot be ruled out. ReferencesARET DCPP DNWSI KAI 5 PNA SEb Archivi reali di Ebla. Testi, Roma, 1981-. E. Lipiski. Editor. Dictionnaire de la civilisation phnicienne et punique. Leuven: Peeters, 1992. J. Hoftijzer and K. Jongeling. Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions. Handbuch der Orientalistik 1/21. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1995. H. Donner and W. Rllig. Kanaanische und aramische Inschriften. Band 1. 5th Expanded and Revised Edition. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2002. S. Parpola, K. Radner, H. Baker, et al. Editors. The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1998-. Studi Eblaiti

99 For Tarsian b l dgn, see Lemaire 1991: 45; for Samalian b l rkb, see Fales 1980: 144, line 11 and Fales 1999; for b l z, see Xella 1993. See Lipiski 1995: 240. For the deity rkb in a Phoenician personal name, rkb , see A. Lemaire Amulette phnicienne giblite en argent, in Shlomo. Studies in Epigraphy, Iconography, History and Archaeology in Honor of Shlomo Moussaieff (ed. R. Deutsch. Tel Aviv-Jaffa: Archaeological Center Publications, 2003) 155-174, esp. pp. 156-158. 100 Xella 1995; 1999: 146-147. 101 The 9th century BCE Mesha Inscription, line 17 (KAI 5 no. 181). See Smith 1995. 102 Hadad Inscription (KAI 5 214, line 11). See Lipiski 2000:617-620. 103 See Pardee 1988.

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sources

19

Alt, A. 1948. Die geschichtliche Bedeutung der neuen phnikischen Inschriften aus Kilikien. Forschungen und Fortschritte 24:121-124. . 1949. Die phnikischen Inschriften von Karatepe. WO 1/4:272-287. Amadasi Guzzo, M. G. 2002. Review of K. Radner, The Prosopography of the NeoAssyrian Empire, Vol. 1, Part 1. Or 71:315-320. Archi, A. 1982. About the Organization of the Eblaite State. Studi Eblaiti 5:201-220. . 1992. Substrate: Some Remarks on the Formation of the West Hurrian Pantheon. Pp. 7-14 in Hittite and Other Anatolian and Near Eastern Studies in Honour of Sedat Alp, eds. H. Otten, H. Ertem, E. Akurgal and A. Sel. Ankara: Trk Tarih Kurumu Basmevi. . 1993a. How a Pantheon Forms. Pp. 1-18 in Religionsgeschichtliche Beziehungen zwischen Kleinasien, Nordsyrien und dem Alten Testament, eds. B. Janowski, K. Koch, and G. Wilhelm. OBO 129. Gttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. . 1993b. Fifteen Years of Studies on Ebla. A Summary. OLZ 88: 461-471. Archi, A., P. Piacentini and F. Pomponio. 1993. I nomi di luogo nei testi di Ebla. Archivi reali di Ebla 2. Rome: Baker, H. D. 2000. Kur-ili. PNA 2/1:641-642. . 2002. Rmanni-ilu. PNA 3/1: 1042-1043. Barnett, R. D. 1953. Mopsus. Journal of Hellenic Studies 73:140-143. . 1969. Ezekiel and Tyre. Pp. 6-13 and pl. iv in W. F. Albright Volume. Eretz-Israel 9. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Beckman, G. 2002. The Pantheon of Emar. Pp. 39-54 in Silva Anatolica. Anatolian Studies Presented to Maciej Popko on the Occassion of His 65th Birthday, ed. P. Taracha. Warsaw: Agade. Benz, F. L. 1972. Personal Names in the Phoenician and Punic Inscriptions. Studia Pohl 8. Rome: Biblical Institute Press. Bonatz, D. 2007. The Iconography of Religion in the Hittite, Luwian, and Aramaean Kingdoms. Iconography of Deities and Demons: Electronic Prepublication. http://www.religionswissenschaft.unizh.ch/idd/prepublication.php (accessed 2/18/2008). Bonechi, M. 1990. I regni dei testi degli archivi de Ebla. Aula Orientalis 8:157174. . 1993. I nomi geograci dei testi di Ebla. Rpertoire gographique des textes cuniformes 12. Wiesbaden: L. Reichert. Bonnet, C. 1988. Melqart. Cultes et mythes de lHracls tyrien en Mditerrane. Studia Phoenicia 8. Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters; Namur: Presses universitaires de Namur. . 1992. Baal kr. P. 58 in DCPP. Bonnet-Tzavellas, C. 1983. Le dieu Melqart en Phnicie et dans le bassin mditerranen: un culte national et ofciel. Pp. 195-207 in Studia Phoenicia I-II. Leuven: Peeters. Bossert, H. T. 1953. Die phnizisch-hethitischen Bilinguen vom Karatepe 4: Fortsetzung. Jahrbuch fr kleinasiatische Forschung 2:167-188. Breckwoldt, T. 1998. Abi-dekr. PNA 1/1: 9. Bron, F. 1979. Recherches sur les inscriptions phniciennes de Karatepe. cole pratique des Hautes tudes 2: Hautes tudes orientales 11. Genve/Paris: Droz. Bunnens, G. 2006. A New Luwian Stele and the Cult of the Storm-god at Til BarsibMasuwari. With a Chapter by J. David Hawkins and a Contribution by Isabelle Leirens. Publications de la Mission archologique de lUniversit de Lige en Syrie, Tell Ahmar 2. Louvain-Paris-Dudley, MA: Peeters.

20

k. lawson younger, jr.

ambel, H., and A. zyar. 2003. Karatepe-Aslanta , Azatiwataya: Die Bildwerke. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern. Casabonne, O. 2002. Dans les pas dAlexandre le grand: divinits, sancturaires et pouvoirs locaux en Cilicie. Hethitica 14:19-41. Dalley, S. M., and J. N. Postgate. 1984. The Tablets from Fort Shalmaneser. CTN 3. Oxford: British School of Archaeology. Delcor, M. 1974. Le hieros gamos dAstarte. RSF 2:63-76. Elayi, J. 1988. A Phoenician Vase Representing the God Milqart? BaM 19: 545-547, Taf. 17-20. . 1990. Sidon, cit autonome de lempire perse. 2nd Edition. Paris: Editions Idaphane. Fales, F. M. 1980. New Assyrian Letters from the Kuyunjik Collection. AfO 27: 136-152. . 1998. Amat-Kurra, PNA 1/1: 99. . 1999. Bar-ri. PNA 1/2: 274. Fales, F. M., and K. Radner. 1998. Abdi-Kurra, PNA 1/1:6. Forlanini, M. 2005. Un peuple, plusieurs noms: le problme des ethniques au proche orient ancien. Cas connur, cas dcouvrir. Pp. 111-119 in Ethnicity in Ancient Mesopotamia. Papers Read at the 48th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale Leiden, 1-4 July 2002, eds. W. H. van Soldt, R. Kalvelagen, and D. Katz. RAI 48. Uitgaven van het Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten te Leiden 102. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten. Frahm, E. 2000. Kirua. PNA 2/1: 620. Fronzaroli, P. 1988. Il culto dei re defunti in ARET 3:178. Pp. 1-33 in Miscellanea Eblaitica 1, ed. P. Fronzaroli. Quaderni di Semitistica 15. Firenze: Universit di Firenze. Gressmann, H. 1927. Altorientalische Bilder zum alten Testament. Berlin-Leipzig. Grndahl, F. 1967. Die Personennamen der Texte aus Ugarit. Studia Pohl 1. Rome: Ppstliches Bibelinstitut. Haas, V 1994. Geschichte der hethitischen Religion. HdO 15/1. Leiden: Brill. . Halff, G. 1965. Lonomastique punique de Carthage. Karthago 12: 129. Hawkins, J. D. 1995. Muksas. RlA 8:413. . 2000. CHLI 1. Hill, G. F. 1964. Catalogue of the Greek Coins of Lycaonia, Isauria, and Cilicia. Reprint of 1900 Edition. Bologna: A. Forni. Honeyman, A. M. 1948. Phoenician Inscriptions from Karatepe. Le Muson 61:43-57. . 1949. Epigraphic Discoveries at Karatepe. PEQ 81:21-39. pek, ., A. K. Tosun, and R. Tekolu. 1999. Adana Ge Hitit Heykeli Kurtarma Kazs 1997 Yl al mas Sonular. Pp. 173-188 in IX. Mze Kurtarma Kazilari Semineri: 27-29 Nisan 1998, Antalya. Ankara: Kltr Bakanligi Milli Ktphane Basimevi. Kessler, K. 1999. Bl-il . PNA 1/2: 313. Kohlmeyer, K. 2000. Der Tempel des Wettergottes von Aleppo. Gerda Henkel Vorlesung. Mnster: Rhema. Krahmalkov, C. R. 2000. Phoenician-Punic Dictionary. OLA 90. Studia Phoenicia 15. Leuven: Peeters. Lebrun, R. 1992. Baal krntrysh. DCPP 58-59. Lebrun, R., and J. de Vos. 2006. A propos de linscription bilingue de lensemble sculptural de ineky. Anatolia Antiqua 14:45-64. Lemaire, A. 1983. Linscription phnicienne de Hassan-Beyli reconsidere. RSF 11:9-19.

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sources

21

. 1991. Notes dpigraphie nord-ouest smitique. Semitica 40: 39-54. . 2003. Amulette phnicienne giblite en argent. Pp. 155-174 in Shlomo. Studies in Epigraphy, Iconography, History and Archaeology in Honor of Shlomo Moussaieff, ed. R. Deutsch. Tel Aviv-Jaffa: Archaeological Center Publications. . 2006. La maison de Mopsos en Cilicie et en Pamphylie lepoque du Fer (XIIe-VIe s. av. J.-C.). Revue Res Antiquae 3:99-107. Lipiski, E. 1970. La fte de lensevelissement et de la rsurrection de Milqart. Pp. 30-58 in Actes de la XVII e Rencontre assyriologique internationale. Harm-surHeure: Comit belge de rcherches en Msopotamie. . 1995. Dieux et desses de lunivers phnicien et punique. OLA 64. Leuven: Peeters. . 1997. The Personal Names Hand, Harrnay, and Kurillay in NeoAssyrian Sources, Pp. 89-93 in Assyrien im Wandel der Zeiten, eds. H. Waetzoldt and H. Hauptman. RAI 39. Heidelberger Studien zum Alten Orient 6. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag. . 2000. The Aramaeans. Their History, Culture, Religion. OLA 100. Leuven: Peeters. . 2004. Itineraria Phoenicia. Studia Phoenicia 18. OLA 127. Leuven, Paris and Dudley, MA: Peeters. Litke, R. L. 1998. A Reconstruction of the Assyro-Babylonian God-Lists, AN: dA-NU-UM and AN: ANU AMLI. Texts from the Babylonian Collection 3. New Haven: Yale Babylonian Collection. Mander, P. 1990. Administrative Texts of the Archive L. 2679. MEE 10. Materiali per il vocabolario sumerico 1. Rome: Universit degli studi di Roma La Sapienza. Maraqten, M. 1988. Die semitischen Personennamen in den alt- und reichsaramischen Inschriften aus Vorderasien. Texte und Studien zur Orientalistik 5. Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag. Marcus, R., and I. J. Gelb. 1948. A Preliminary Study of the New Phoenician Inscription from Cilicia. JNES 7:194-198. Mattila, R. 2002. Legal Transactions of the Royal Court of Nineveh, Part II. Assurbanipal through Sin-arru-ikun. SAA 14. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Melchert, H. C. 1993. Cuneiform Luvian Lexicon. Lexica Anatolica 2. Chapel Hill, NC. Mettinger, T. 2005. The Dying and Rising God: The Peregrinations of a Mytheme. Pp. 198-210 in Ethnicity in Ancient Mesopotamia. Papers Read at the 48th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale Leiden, 1-4 July 2002, eds. W. H. van Soldt, R. Kalvelagen and D. Katz. RAI 48. Uitgaven van het Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten te Leiden 102. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten. Milano, L. 1989-90. Luoghi di culto in Ebla: economia e sistema delle offerte. Scienze dellAntichit 3-4:155-173. Mosca, P. G., and J. Russell. 1987. A Phoenician Inscription from Cebel Ires Da in Rough Cilicia. Epigraphica Anatolica 9:1-28. Mller, H.-P. 1995. Chemosh. Cols. 356-362 in Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible, eds. K. van der Toorn, B. Becking and P. W. van der Horst. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Olmo Lete, G. del, and J. Sanmartn. 2004. A Dictionary of the Ugaritic Language in the Alphabetic Tradition. 2 Vols. Trans. W. G. E. Watson. HdO 67. 2nd Revised Edition. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Pardee, D. 1988. A New Datum for the Meaning of the Divine Name Milkashtart. Pp. 55-68 in Ascribe to the Lord. Biblical and Other Studies in Memory of P C. Craigie, . eds. L. Eslinger and G. Taylor. JSOTSup 67. Shefeld: JSOT Press.

22

k. lawson younger, jr.

Parker, B. 1963. Economic Tablets from the Temple of Mamu at Balawat. Iraq 25:86-103. Pietschmann, R. 1889. Geschichte der Phnizier. Allgemeine Geschichte in Einzeldarstellungen 1. Berlin: G. Grote. Pomponio, F., and P. Xella. 1997. Les dieux dEbla. tude analytique des divinits blates lpoque des archives royales du IIIe millnaire. AOAT 245. Mnster: Ugarit-Verlag. Postgate, J. N. 1976. Fifty Neo-Assyrian Legal Documents. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Postgate, J. N., and B. K. Ismail. 1979. Texts from Nineveh. Texts in the Iraq Museum 11. Baghdad: Republic of Iraq: Ministry of Culture and Information, Directorate General of Antiquities & Heritage. Radner, K. 1998. Adad-il . PNA 1/1:26. Rllig, W. 1967. Karatepe. Pp. 39-51 Kanaanische und aramische Inschriften, eds. H. Donner and W. Rllig. 2nd Edition. Vol. 3. Wiesbaden, Harrassowitz. . 1999. Appendix 1: The Phoenician Inscriptions. Pp. 50-81 in Corpus of Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions. Volume 2: H. ambel. Karatepe-Aslanta . The Inscriptions: Facsimile Edition. Untersuchungen zur indogermanischen Sprach- und Kulturwissenschaft, N. F. 8.2. Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter. . 2001. Phnizisches aus Nordsyrien und der Gott Kurra. Pp. 41-52 in Punica, Libyca, Ptolemaica: Festschrift fr Werner Huss zum 65. Geburtstag dargebracht von Schlern, Freunden und Kollegen, eds. K. Geus and K. Zimmermann. OLA 104. Studia Phoenicia 16. Leuven: Peeters. Schmitz, P. C. forthcoming. Phoenician RR , Archaic Greek *, and the Storm God of Aleppo. Smith, M. S. 1995. The God Athtar in the Ancient Near East and His Place in KTU 1.6 I. Pp. 627-640 in Solving Riddles and Untying Knots: Biblical, Epigraphic and Semitic Studies in Honor of Jonas C. Greeneld, eds. Z. Zevit, S. Gitin, and M. Sokoloff. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Starke, F. 1990. Untersuchung zur Stammbildung des keilschrift-luwischen Nomens. Studien zu den Boazky-Texten 31. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Stieglitz, R. R. 2002. Divine Pairs in the Ebla Pantheon. Pp. 209-214 in Eblaitica: Essays on the Ebla Archives and Eblaite Language, eds. by C. H. Gordon and G. A. Rendsburg. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Stolper, M. 1980. Two Neo-Assyrian Fragments. AfO 27:83-85. Tekolu, R., and A. Lemaire. 2000. La bilingue royale louvito-phnicienne de ineky. CRAIBL 961-1006. Tomback, R. 1978. A Comparative Semitic Lexicon of the Phoenician and Punic Languages. SBLDS 32. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press. Van Buylaere, G. 2001. Mamu-iqbi. PNA 2/2: 676. Vanschoonwinkel, J. 1990. Mopsos: lgendes et ralit. Hethitica 10:185-211. Vattioni, F. 1968. Note fencie. AION 18:71-73. Verardi, V 2000. Kirr. PNA 2/1: 619-620. . Waetzoldt, H. 2001. Wirtschafts- und Verwaltungstexte aus Ebla: Archiv L. 2769. Materiali per il vocabolario sumerico 7. Materiali epigraci di Ebla 12. Rome: Universit degli studi di Roma La Sapienza. Watanabe, K. 1993. Neuassyrische Siegellengenden. Orient. Report of the Society for Near Eastern Studies in Japan 29:109-138. Weippert, M. 1969. Elemente phnikischer und kilikischer Religion in den Inschriften vom Karatepe. ZDMG Supplementa I. XVII. Deutscher Orientalistentag. Wiesbaden, pp. 191-217. Reprinted in Jahwe und die anderen

the deity kur(r)a in the first millennium sources

23

Gtter: Studien zur Religionsgeschichte des antiken. Forschungen zum Alten Testament 18. (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997) 109-130. Wilhelm, G. 1992. Zum Eblaitischen Gott Kura. Vicino Oriente 8:23-31. Wunsch, C. 1993. Die Urkunden des babylonischen Geschftsmannes Iddin-Marduk: zum Handel mit Naturalien im 6. Jahrhundert v. Chr. Cuneiform Monographs 3. Groningen: Styx Publications. Xella, P. 1993. Le dieu B L Z dans une nouvelle inscription phnicienne de Kition (Chypre). SEL 10:61-69. . 1995. Divints doubles dans le monde phnico-punique. Semitica (Hommages Maurice Sznycer) 38:167-175. . 1999. Le problem du syncrtisme au Proche-Orient pr-classique. Pp. 131-148 in Les syncrtismes religieux dans le monde mditerranen antique. Actes du colloque international en lhonneur de Franz Cumont loccasion du cinquantime anniversaire de sa mort. Rome, Academia Belgica, 25-27 septembre 1997, eds. C. Bonnet and A. Motte. Etudes de philologie, darchologie et dhistoire anciennes 36. Brussels and Rome: Institut historique belge de Rome. Ylndrs, B., and M.-H.Gates. 2007. Archaeology in Turkey, 2004-2005. AJA 112:275-356. Younger, K. L., Jr. 1998. The Phoenician Inscription of Azatiwada. An Integrated Reading, JSS 43/1:11-47. . 2000. The Azatiwada Inscription. COS 2.31. . 2002. Cebel Ires Dai. COS 3:137-139. Zadok, R. 1998. West Semitic Material in Neo/Late-Babylonian and NeoAssyrian Sources. NABU no. 56 (pp. 58-61).

THE WALL OF URUK: ICONICITIES IN GILGAMESH KEITH DICKSONWe all secretly venerate the ideal of a language which in the last analysis would deliver us from language by delivering us to things. M. Merleau-Ponty, The Prose of the World

AbstractThe Wall of Uruk: Iconicities in Gilgamesh. This article examines the invitation in the SV prologue to Gilgamesh (I 1-28) as a device to engage the reader in a series of iconic acts that aim to preserve heroic glory. Since two artifacts in particularthe wall of Uruk and the inscribed tabletmediate these acts, I investigate the nature of artifacts in general in the poem, and specically focus on three: the corpse of Enkidu, his funeral statue, and the divine fruit in the garden at the end of Tablet IX. These three stand related to each other as a series of iconic representations of the emplacement of life within various bodies. In the context of these representations, the lapis lazuli tablet on which Gilgamesh allegedly inscribes his tale also gures as a kind of body: a relatively permanent one that appropriates the readers voice through the act of recitation to grant Gilgamesh perpetually renewable life.

The invitation in the prologue to the Standard Version (SV) of the Babylonian Gilgamesh epic remains compelling despite even its long exposure to time and scholarship, which is no small feat.1 This has much to do with the degree of engagement it evokes from the reader. As audience, each one of us individually is summoned by the narrators voiceas was Ur-shanabi by the voice of Gilgamesh himself in the nal tablets ring-composed coda (XI: 323-329)to survey the concrete structure of Uruk, examine the oven-red brickwork of its walls, and acknowledge that the seven sages or apkallu themselves laid the foundations on which the1 All references (by tablet and line) and quotations from Gilgamesh rely on the translation by George (2003). Other translations consulted are those of Foster (2001: 3-95); George (1999); Bottro (1992); Tournay and Shaffer (1992); and Dalley (1989: 39-153).

Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009 Also available online brill.nl/jane

JANER 9.1 DOI: 10.1163/156921209X449152

26

keith dickson

hero subsequently built.2 Along with Ur-shanabi I am urged not just to look, but also to mount the rampart and walk upon it back and forth (I: 18 = XI: 323), marking out its density and extent with my own moving body. In an apparent shift back to the medium of sightbut to sight now informed by the bodily effort involved in the climb and the pacing of the wallsUruks greater dimensions (city, date-grove, clay-pit, temple) are then measured off and tallied, amounting to a total expanse of roughly ve square miles. The prologue then goes even farther than Ur-shanabi could, inviting me forward to see and touch, unlock and open a cedar box with clasp of bronze, lift up its lid and take from it a tablet made from lapis lazuli (I: 24-27).3 At this point what has been so far a progression of increasingly more tactile experiencefrom sight to embodied movement, then to touch and the felt weight of cedar lid and cool stone slabperhaps surprisingly modulates into an act of oral recitation. This essay aims to map that shift. The attention that has often been drawn to the circular conceit linking audience in Tablet I with Ur-shanabi in Tablet XIa neat conation of analepsis and prolepsis (de Villiers 2005: 123-124.) has perhaps made it easier to overlook a similar kind of mirroring that occurs within the opening lines of the prologue itself to link the audience more closely with Gilgamesh. For the progression from2 On the literary and documentary history of this tour of the city, see Tigay (1982: 146-149) and Hurowitz (1992: 1, note 1, with references). On the rhetorical impact of the prologues direct, personal address to the reader, see Oppenheim (1977: 258-259) and Moran (1991: 16-17). 3 Walker (1981: 194) notes the parallel to the deposition of royal inscriptions in the foundations of buildings; see also Moran (1991: 17-18) and, more generally, Ellis (1968). The conceit of the tablet is certainly not unique. Its status as a literary topos in the Mesopotamian tradition has been noted by Oppenheim and others, and its style identied as that of a gestural, mannerist claim to textual authorityas if Gilgamesh himself were the author of the inscription no less than of the wall. Oppenheim (1977: 258) is suspicious of how seriously an original audience was meant to have taken this claim, nding it more likely instead that its use presupposes a reader who is sophisticated enough to accept it as a literary ction and not as proof of the authenticity of the text. He concludes that the reference to the tablet, and no less the earlier invitation to examine the walls, establish a relationship between author and his readers on the level of pure imagination (259). It may be asked, of course, on what other level a textual relationship ever exists, but his point is still well taken. Oppenheims comments are motived principally by his thesis that the introit is strictly literary rather than the product of an oral, bardic tradition, and that it properly assumes an audience of readersor at least of a public that lives in a social context that makes it possible to hear the epic read (259). See also Tigay (1982: 144-145) and Pongratz-Leisten (1999: 80-90) on the topos in both royal inscriptions and epic literature.

the wall of uruk: iconicities in

GILGAMESH

27

sight to embodied movement to reading in the invitation (I: 13-28) actually amounts, mutatis mutandis, to a reprise of the heros own general progress in lines 1-12. There He who saw the Deep, who saw the secret and uncovered what was hidden (I: 1, 7), becomes the one who afterwards returned to Uruk, inscribed on a stele all (his) labours (I: 10), and then proceeded to build the very rampart and wall I am called to inspect (I: 11-12). The actions the prologue invites me to perform are structured by a kind of implicit imitatiostylized and perhaps even mannerist, but for all that nonetheless still mimetic.4 Just as Gilgamesh saw the Deep, I am asked to see [the] wall of Uruk and view its parapet (I: 13-14), survey the foundation platform, inspect the brickwork (I: 19). Of course, the distance here between original and simulacrum might well seem too great to support the analogy between the object of the heros vision and what I must now imagine lies before me. What he presumably saw was the aps itself, the foundation of the world as such, on which Ea once built his own dwelling, the worlds primordial ediface (Enuma Elish I: 71-78).5 What narrows that distance, however, is recognition of the degree to which material construction gures in Mesopotamian mythic narratives and civil engineering no less as the icon of genuinely primal, cosmogonic works.6 Insofar as all human foundationsespecially4 On the complex issues of literacy and orality in Mesopotamian literature, see the essays collected in Vogelzang (1992), especially 23-69 (B. Alster, Interaction of Oral and Written Poetry in Early Mesopotamian Literature), 227-245 (P. Michalowski, Orality and Literacy and Early Mesopotamian Litarature), and 265-278 (M. Vogelzang, Some Aspects of Oral and Written Tradition in Akkadian). On the shift from orality to writing as an inuence on the scribalization of wisdom in Mesopotamia, see van den Toorn (2007). 5 On the polysemy of the term nagbu (either subterranean aps or totality) in the opening line of the SV prologue, see George (2003: 444-446), who also discusses a related ambiguity in the phrase i$di: ma:ti (foundation, basis of the country), which might be understood to have a literal, cosmological reference, for the realm of men was believed to stand on top of the cosmic abode of Ea; see also Castillo (2001: 91-92). For English texts of the Enuma Elish, see Foster (1993: 351-402) and Dalley (1989: 228-277). 6 On the status in ancient Near Eastern thought of man-made edifaces as simulacra of the primal, cosmogonic structures wrought by the gods, van Leeuwen (2007: 67) observes: Both Mesopotamians and Israelites grounded human wisdom in the divine wisdom, which gave order, meaning and life to the cosmos as a whole. Creation was portrayed as a macrocosmic housewith its elds, waters, and variegated activitiesto which temples and ordinary houses with their lands corresponded as microcosms. His essay is a detailed study of this iconic relationship. On the same issue, see also Hurowitz (1992), especially Appendix 5 (Temples, Temple Building and Divine Rest) and Appendix 7 (The Cosmic Dimensions

28

keith dickson

(but by no means exclusively) the regal, monumental onesintentionally mirror that rst cosmic basis, what Gilgamesh saw and what the text invites me to see are metaphorically one and the same, in particular since it is the apkallu who are said to have established the foundation on which Gilgamesh built the wall of Uruk.7 In turn, the labor of his journey home along a distant road (I: 9) is matched, however faintly, by my own physical effort to take the stairway . . . go up to the wall . . . and walk around (I: 15, 18) to view the citys total expanse. In both cases, sight leads to embodiment in the form of the return of Gilgamesh home and my own return, via the trope, from wherever I might be at the opening of the prologue to virtually the same place the heros distant road once brought him. My return is of course perhaps best understood as temporal just as much as spatial, since my movement in space back to the wall is actually a movement back in time to the original time of its construction. The course of the imitatio intends to lead my steps to where his own went generations earlier, and to the very place where his heroic journey culminatednamely, to the site of Uruk.8 Finally, Gilgameshs inscription of his labors is literally echoed in my recitation of the text engraved on the tablet taken from the cedar box. This engages once again the theme of return, but here with reference less to location and time than to the production of the narrative itself. Moreover, the relation between inscription and recitation is not one of sameness but instead complementarity; his writing and my reading aloud what he has written are in fact collaborative events. One depends upon the other: the silent act of writing on stone, that is, requires voicing to bring its narrative back to lifefrom mute glyph to audible enunciationand therebyof Cities and Temples). On the theme in general, see also Edzard (1987). 7 On the apkallu, primordial sage-craftsmen, especially with reference to the common connection between wisdom and building construction, see Sweet (1990: 47), who later comments (51) on the typical Mesopotamian understanding of wisdom as the intelligence and skill that enable one to perform practical deeds, particularly for the benet of the gods. Note in this context the high frequency of references in Mesopotamian royal inscriptions to divinely-based wisdom as the means for projects specically related to engineeringespecially temple-building and the restoration of ruined cities. 8 In its most basic form, the traditional heroic narrative proceeds along the circular track of Departure outward and subsequent Return, travel to the limits of the world and then the long trek home again. On this narrative structure, see Campbell (1968: 3-46), along with Raglan (in R. Segal 1990: 89-175) and Propp (1968) for earlier typologies of the heroic narrative.

the wall of uruk: iconicities in

GILGAMESH

29

also to bring it back to the attention of an audience on whose renewed memory of the hero depends the heros own perpetually renewable fame. Jesper Svenbro, in the course of his extended anthropology of reading in ancient Greece, remarks as follows on the relationship between the author and the reader of inscriptions (1993: 44-45):9At the moment of reading, the reader nds himself before a written word that is present in the absence of the writer. Just as he foresees his own absence, the writer foresees the presence of his writing before the reader. The reading constitutes a meeting between the reader and the written marks of someone who is absent. The writer . . . counts on the reader and the reading aloud that the reader will accomplish, for in a culture in which klos [glorious fame] has a fundamental part to play, what is written remains incomplete until such time as it is provided with a voice. . . . The text is thus more than the sum of the alphabetic signs of which it is composed. These signs will guide the voice that will permit the vocalization of the text, its sonorous realization. This, then, is the way in which the text includes the voice that its mute signs are lacking. If the text is to nd total fulllment, it needs the voice of the reader, the reading voice.

As long as it remains silent, the heros life was indeed a terminal one after all, a history of acts consigned now to the mute and unrecoverable past; once it appropriates new voice through recitation, however, that life speaks anew and therefore somehow lives again. What Svenbro refers to as sonorous realization applies equally well to Gilgamesh as to the Greek inscriptions that are his subject. The implicit imitatio of the SV prologue, in which the reader performs a stylized, bodily re-enactment of the heros career, also speaks to this theme. Both kinds of engagement, moreover, sonorous no less than physical, entail the readers involvement with things in the text and with the text itself as a thing.10 A look at the things involved will bear this out. George (2003: 446) and others (cf. Tigay 1982: 144-145) plausibly assume that the passage from Gilgamesh in question requires the original stele or nar (I: 20) to be identical to the lapis lazuli tablet in line 27, and that as9 On the connection in Greek culture between mute written signs and public recitation, especially in the context of heroic glory, see also Nagy (1983 and 1990: 202-222), along with Vernant (1974: 9-25) and C. Segal (1982). 10 See Pongratz-Leisten (1999: 85-86) for discussion of the intended audience in so-called nar-texts, which (in both inscriptional and literary forms) make explicit appeal to an other to see, hear, call out, or voice what has been written. On nar in general, see e.g. Gterbock (1934: 62-86); Gurney (1955); Ellis (1968: 145-147, 166-167); Longman (1991: 44-47); and especially Pongratz-Leisten (1999), with references.

30

keith dickson

a consequence I am expected to imagine that I hold in my hands the very stone on which Gilgameshs own hand etched the tale. This is a precious conceit, as Oppenheim points out, and certainly a fragile one, on which we are probably not meant to push too hard.11 It is perhaps enough that the content of what is read aloudall the misfortunes, all that the hero went through (I: 28)precisely matches that of what was writtenall [his] labours (I: 10)inasmuch as the narrative proper of Gilgamesh, coinciding with the introit (Surpassing all [other] kings . . . [29]) of the earlier, Old Babylonian (OB) version, begins at this point.12 The mimetic and performative acts with which the prologues invitation opens, that is to saysight, movement, appropriation of the tabletnow culminate in the recitative performance of the poem itself. In this sense, at least, the modulation noted earlier, from bodily experience to what would seem to be the qualitatively different experience of reading a text aloud, is possibly not so surprising after all. Reading the tablet, no less than touching and pacing the wall, involves representation in the form of a kind of renewal via re-embodiment of the hero. They differ chiey in the materialsesh and soundin and through which this realization takes place. This is of course its aim. The conceit itself is actually the reex of a wider and deeper theme that supports the literary convention and expresses motives that appear just as foundational to the genre of epic as the wall is to Uruk. The best way to appreciate this is to recognize that the bodily imitatio and the equally mimetic and collaborative act of reading aloud in the opening lines of Gilgamesh are not direct but instead mediated activities. Each, moreover, is mediated by a simple artifact: the wall of Uruk and the inscribed stone text, respectively, are the devices by which the spatial, temporal, and narrative distance between reader and authorial hero is narrowed. Were it not for the wall, Gilgamesh would not be present via the product of his hands, which (given his status as king) in fact reprises the foundational, cosmogonic act of a god; were there11 Difcult and impertinent questions follow on the assumption that Gilgamesh himself is the author of the tablet; see Oppenheim (1977: 257-259). Moran (1991: 17-19) draws attention to the parallel between the tablet in the SV prologue to Gilgamesh and the pseudo-autobiographical stele of Naram-Sin. See also van den Toorn (2007: 27-28); and Tigay (1982: 144-146), with references. 12 On the literary history of Gilgamesh, and especially the differences between the Old Babylonian (OB) and Standard (SV) versions of the text, see Tigay (1982), with summary in Maier (1977: 40-49) and George (2003: 22-33).

the wall of uruk: iconicities in

GILGAMESH

31

no engraved tablet, in turn, the very agency that made the wall a metonym for that cosmic foundation would be inaccessible. The fact that neither of those things is actually present in my experience as a readerassuming I do not in fact stand on the wall of the city and take a slab of lapis from a cedar boxis not especially relevant to the point; and here Oppenheims reasonable comments seem a little obtuse.13 The real point is that, however mannered the conventions that give rise to this undeniably literary trope, what underlies them are implicit claims that (1) both a functional and also perhaps even a literal equivalence holds between tablet and wall; and (2) precisely as artifacts, tablet and wall are instrumental in engaging the reader in a set of stylized acts that endorse the heros accomplishments and perpetuate his life by conrming that both have been transformed into (ideally) renewable things. Both are the media for the fulllment of an aim that is central to this narrative, and probably also to epic as such. Their functional equivalence is not hard to see. Insofar as both tablet and wall are artifacts made by the hand of Gilgamesh himself, both survive him to make the absent hero present, and in a form more durable than were his once exquisite body and spectacular acts. He now lives on in (and somehow also as) this wall of Uruk and this inscribed narrative; in a sense yet to be fully explored, he has become them. As already suggested, however, there is an important difference between wall and tablet. Two issues are involved here; despite how intimately bound they are in fact, for the sake of argument they need to be dealt with separately. On the one hand, there is the artifact as product, as a thing that in one sense leads a life of its owna life simultaneously cultic, utile, political, economic, for instanceindependent of that of its maker (who in this case is in fact long dead), though in another sense it never severs the connection to the one who made it. That connection is sometimes simply expressed by the makers name, whether actually inscribed on it (as in royal depositions) or in some other way associated with the product. Both tablet and wall bear the mark of his hand at the same time as they remain clearly different from him: they survive while he does not. On the other, there is the artifact as index of an agency moved by the specic intention to preserve itself by somehow making itself concrete. This is perhaps a less straightforward sense of artifacts, a13

See above, note 3.

32

keith dickson

sense easily conated with the idea of the artifact as product, but nonetheless (and especially within the world of epic) a critically distinct one. This is because artifacts in epic are more than just the carriers of tags, simple witnesses of their authors presence at some time or another (indenite or specied) in the past. As such a tag, in fact, the wall of Uruk would differ only in degree, not in kind, from lines scratched on a rock, even if those scratches happened to spell the name Gilgamesh or Kilroy. Epic heroes do not dedicate their livesand the genre of epic as such is not devotedto the deposition of objects that merely assert a quondam presence. Those objects are meant instead to concretize and thereby also somehow to maintain a life, both to embody it as fact and also perpetually to keep it living. In the case of tags, the material on which the name is written is in one sense immaterial to the writing; its relation to the name it bears is a supercial one, simply that of medium to inscription. Epic artifacts (and the epic as itself an artifact) instead intend a deeper and more intimate relation, one that offers something resembling genuine embodiment, rather than just a surface on which to etch a name. As products, both tablet and wall serve as signs of the absent Gilgamesh, and thus maintain for him a presence in the world generations after time has demolished his own material body. As indices of the agency that produced them, in turn, they both offer themselves as instruments for the sort of imitatio encouraged by the invitation in the SV prologue. That is, they provide the concrete means for various kinds of mimetic, surrogate enactments that aim to bring the hero back to life. To appreciate both these issues separately and in their connection with each other, we need rst to look more closely at the nature and function of other manufactured objects in the poem. Artifacts in Gilgamesh turn out to be comparatively few in number. The material landscape of the poem is stark and almost minimalist, especially when set next to the rich inventory of things that ll the Homeric epics, for example, that appear and then disappear almost epiphanically throughout the Sanskrit Mahabharata, and that lurk behind the characters in the tale of Beowulf. The list here is relatively short: clothing, ale, baked bread, an amulet, a few thresholds and doors, ritual implements (censer) and crafted offerings (throw-stick, ask, ute, throne, clasp, bangles), weapons (axe, sword, dirk, knife), roads, buildings, gates, a bed, a statue, two boats, punting-poles, a wall, a cedar box, a tablet made of lapis

the wall of uruk: iconicities in

GILGAMESH

33

lazuli.14 These are the props of the drama, so to speak; though to call them that falsely suggests that they play a merely ancillary role in the story. More often than not, on the contrary, they tend to lead the story from one episode to the next, or at least to act as crucial signposts along its course. Moreover, rather than providing ground for dismissing the artifacts in Gilgamesh as unimportant, their relative lack of clutter instead lends them considerable weight. The things that appear in the text are freighted with signicance; most seem to lead what Appadurai has aptly called a rich social life.15 Few if any are neutral, few simply lie inert in the world of the tale, as if in a kind of at background detached from the characters that move among them. Instead, most exercise real transactional force. Through use, gifting, and exchange, that is to say, artifacts both symbolize and also effect real changes in the poem. This is because they are never mere objects, but instead things thoroughly traversed by intentionality16whether as indices of categories in whose terms the human world is organized, as the instruments by which specic aims are furthered, as products that come at the end of a process of renement of raw material and thereby embody cultural advance, or else as the simple objects of human desire. Articles of clothing are an obvious case in point, since they serve as one of the principal signiers in a familiar system of signs through which distinctions between nature and culture are expressed.17 A vestimentary code structures much of what takes place in the poem, guiding the story along a well-marked trajectory and also bringing14 For the sake of this short sketch, and somewhat arbitrarily, I include only those real manufactured objects mentioned by the principal narrator of the SV Shamhats reference to drums (I: 229), for example, as an instance of embedded . narration, is excluded from the list, as is the axe of Gilgameshs dream (I: 278). Likewise excluded, as metaphorical, are the net with which Enkidu is compared (IV: 13) and the rope that forms part of the traditional adage in V: 76. 15 See Appadurai (1988). The bibliography on material culture is extensive. See also, for instance, Bonnot (2002); Brown (2004); Knappett (2005); and Riggins (1994), with references. 16 For an extreme position on agents and objects as purely correlative entities, see the comments of Latour (quoted by Knappett 2005: 31): Consider things, and you will have humans. Consider humans, and you are by that very act interested in things. Bring your attention to bear on hard things, and see them become gentle, soft or human. Turn your attention to humans and see them become electric circuits, automatic gears or softwares. We cannot even dene precisely what makes some human and others technical On agents and artifacts, see Pickering (1997); on the distinction between objects and things, see Brown (2004: 1-22). 17 On the nature/culture opposition in Gilgamesh, see especially Mobley (1997: 220-223); Tigay (1982: 202-203); and Kirk (1970: 146-147).

34

keith dickson

about signicant transformations in its characters. The dressing of Enkidu by Shamat, the self-adornment of Gilgamesh after his defeat of Humbaba, the lthy pelts that later signify the heros lapse from civilization into a state of wildness, the immaculate robe loaned to Gilgamesh by Uta-napishtimall function as indices of position and value along a continuum that runs from beast to divinity. At the same time, however, they do more than simply indicate: Enkidus attire is both a sign of his acculturation and also one of the things (along with grooming, for instance) that in a very real, practical sense render him civilized. That is, clothing gures as both product and also as a kind of agencyin this latter function, behaving more like a signal than a sign, in fact,18 not merely to reference but even to trigger a particular effect. Clothes do make the man. The same is true of foods, and with respect to precisely the same issue. Food specic to human beings qualies as artifact because it represents the transformation of raw, natural stuff into something different, whether through an overt process of cooking or else by the subtler heat of fermentation. The contrast between the diets of animals (water and grass) and humans (beer and bread) in the Gilgamesh story (I: 110-112, II: 44-51) thereby marks out and also creates fundamental differences among living beings. The alchemy by which animal feed becomes human food likewise affects those who eat the latter: Enkidu is directly humanized by the mere act of eating breadas if, somewhat magically, he becomes what he eats, as the saying goesand the fact that he eats bread (and not grass) conversely signies that transformation.19 The power of certain things both to signify and to effect real change is critical to advancing the purpose of heroic endeavor, whose aim is precisely to make the heros concrete sign a renewable signal. This becomes clear from an examination of the imagery that underlies the motive Gilgamesh announces for his journey to the Cedar Forest; though preserved only fragmentarily in the SV it is ,18 On the distinction between sign and signal, see Leach (1976), who remarks (23-24): The contrast between signal and index [=sign] is that between dynamics and statics. With a signal, one event causes another event; the signal itself is the message. With an index, the message-bearing entity is an indication of the . . . existence of a message. No cause and effect relationship is involved. 19 If the logic of this claim seems strained, it is because the claim verges on a mythic one in its view both of objects and also of signs as agencies rather than instruments. At the base of this logic is a confusion, often operative in magical thinking, between indices and signals; see Leach (1976: 29-32).

the wall of uruk: iconicities in

GILGAMESH

35

by now conventional enough. His statement to Enkidu implicitly plays on the contrast between materiality and nothingness, thing and absence (II: 234-235):20As for man, [his days] are numbered, all that ever he did is but [wind.]

The couplet is structured by a familiar trope:21 in its invisibility, its erratic and shifting nature, and especially in its apparent lack of substance, wind is a common gure for the instability and the resulting evanescence of human accomplishments. Like air, mans deeds are insubstantial; they have no density, as it were, and therefore neither reality nor true permanence. Transient, they perish along with their wraith-like agents, or (at best) not long afterwards, rendering the agency that produced them futile and ultimately vain, however weighty its initial intent. Though fragmentary in the SV this motive for the heroic exploit , can be eshed out by reference to lines preserved in Version A of the early Sumerian poem Gilgamesh and Humbaba (The Lord to the Living Ones Mountain), which enjoyed the status of a favorite copy-text in Old Babylonian schools (George 1999: 149),22 suggesting in turn that its sentiments were in some sense recognizably mainstream. Here what stands as an implicit opposition in the SV passage just quotednamely between wind and some other unnamed thing that is truly substantialnow comes to expression in terms of a more overt contrast between river and mountain, water and stone. Despite its use of different comparanda, the couplet of lines from the SV clearly intend as their substrate precisely the same metaphorical20 George (2003: 456) speculates: perhaps to distract Enkidu from his misery [viz. over his lack of family], Gilgamesh proposes that the pair make a glorious expedition to the Cedar Forest. This ignores its broader, epic signicance. 21 George (2003: 457) glosses the proverb as Life is short and given over to mundane activities, which fails to acknowledge the full metaphorical value of wind as index of insubstantiality. Tigay (1982: 164-165) reads it differently: Gilgamesh argues that fear of the danger should not deter them, since death is mans lot in any case. He suggests that the Akkadian version of the proverb is ultimately dependent on the Sumerian. On Sumerian proverbs in general, see Alster (1975). West (1997: 253), noting that Akkadian sru, the ordinary word for wind, may be used as a metaphor for the vain and insubstantial, cites Old Testament parallels. The image is of course polyvalent. See Leick (1994: 33, 38, 45) on wind as a sexual metaphor. Where wind has substance, it is often disease wind or the destructive wind of stormboth of which do the work of undoing what human hands have made. 22 The translation that follows is that of George (1999: 161-166). For an edition of Version A, see Edzard (1990 and 1991).

36

keith dickson

reference. The insubstantiality and transience expressed by the trope of human action as mere wind represent one term in an implied contrast whose sense is essentially identical to what the following lines from Gilgamesh and Humbaba express by the contrast between water and rock, movement and permanence, uidity and xity. On the eve of his expedition to the forest, Gilgamesh addresses the god Utu with the words (A 23-33; cf. B 5-16):In my city a man dies, and the heart is stricken, a man perishes, and the heart feels pain. I raised my head on the rampart, my gaze fell on a corpse drifting down the river, aoat on the water: I too shall become like that, just so shall I be! ... Since no man can escape lifes end, I will enter the mountain and set up my name. Where names are set up, I will set up my name, where names are not yet set up, I will set up gods names.

Wind and water vs. substance and stone: the same oppositional structure underlies both gures. In the lines just quoted, the heros response to the sight of the oating corpse in the river is the urge to enter the mountain and there set up his name. This image of the corpse operates in two distinct but closely related registers. On the one hand, it is of course his own dead body aoat that Gilgamesh sees. In the later OB and SV Gilgamesh, this rst and still somewhat detached visiona corpse drifting . . . aoat in the waterwill become the closer and far more intimate sight of the corpse of beloved Enkidu, the mirror of the heros own inevitable death. Even more signicantly, the dead body in the river is Gilgamesh himself in his most obscene manifestation: no longer fused with subjectivity and life, the corpse is just an inert lump, a dumb thing with no agency, the naked object of a horried gaze.23 Further, and in direct contrast with the inanimate corpse is the constant movement of the river in which it is adrift, like so much otsam to be snagged on the bank somewhere downstream, or else to be carried out helplessly into the vast and anonymous waters of the Gulf. Its eshly corruption and the rivers endless ow are therefo